Carefully he brought it back to where the others were seated. He set the shell in the center of the rug, orienting it so that it was aligned with true north.
There was an olive-drab tactical field phone at his elbow. He picked it up and began issuing orders, his eyes riveted to the cracked and dappled old shell that reminded him of a petrified leopard.
"Get me the Ninth Hispana Legion," he said firmly. "Indiana."
And where he sat, Chiun, Reigning Master of Sinanju, allowed himself a wan smile. The man was actually performing his task correctly. Who said whites were uneducable?
Chapter 24
General Shagdoof Aboona was utterly confident of victory.
His uniform was British, purchased in bulk from the United Kingdom after a thoughtless vice chancellor decided to clear out one of her majesty's Royal Army warehouses, thus leaving the British forces with only woodland camos. His assault rifle was Soviet. Air cover would be provided by Soviet MiGs, as well as French Mirages. He possessed American Stinger ground-to-air missiles liberated from Kurani stockpiles. His war-gas stockpiles were German. Chinese silkworms guarded Irait's tiny coast.
It was remarkable, he thought.
The UN had had to form a thirty-nation anti-bait coalition to assemble such impressive firepower. And still they lacked Russian equipment.
From his control bunker behind the line of earthworks, mine fields, tank trenches, and concertina wire spirals, General Aboona exuded confidence. Only weeks before, he had been a simple cobbler from Duurtbagh. When the criminal coalition forces had massed themselves on the new southern border of Irait, every able-bodied Iraiti had been conscripted into the Popular People's Popular Auxiliary. Since it was a brand-new element, it naturally needed generals. Because he was taller than most Iraitis,
Shagdoof Aboona went right to the top, acquiring three stars of silvered paper on his British epaulets.
"I am very proud," said General Aboona on the day his Precious Leader personally placed the stars on his epaulets. After licking the backs. "This could happen only in Irait."
When he had learned that he was to go to the front, General Aboona had experienced a twinge of misgiving. But the sight of the massive Maddas Line had been as fortifying to his spirits as it had been to the new border.
No power could breach it. And since the Popular People's Popular Auxiliary was strictly a defensive force, he felt safer here than in Irait, where one could be shot for odd reasons.
His feeling of complacency lasted less than two months. Then came the call from President Maddas Hinsein.
"I have orders for you, brave one," had said Maddas Hinsein.
"Allah be praised," said Aboona, saluting the telephone.
"You are destined to lead your nation into greatness."
"I am ready," said Aboona, holding his salute, lest the call was a test of his loyalty.
"At dawn you will lead the entire PPPA from your berms and bunkers and pour over the Hamidi border like the conquerors you are."
Aboona blinked. "But, Precious Leader, we have spent weeks building these fortifications. Is is not better to wait out the cruel sanctions?"
"It is better to be victorious," Maddas countered. "I have the exact deployment of the UN forces. They will not expect you. And the unexpected is our chief weapon in the great sheik of struggles to come."
General Shagdoof Aboona looked toward his Soviet Kalashnikov, thinking that he had been mistaken all along.
"I fear I am not worthy of this honor," he stammered.
"Do not fret, brother," came the unreassuring voice of Maddas Hinsein, "the Renaissance Guard is at all times at your back."
"Yes, of course they are," said Aboona, thinking that they were there, not to back him up, but to shoot him in the back if he did not advance. "It will be done as you command."
"Was there any doubt?" asked Maddas Hinsein, terminating the connection.
General Shagdoof Aboona replaced the receiver with the realization that he was cannon fodder, and had been all along. He went to the full-length mirror in his command bunker, noticing powdery sand on his fine British war-surplus uniform. He brushed himself off. All but one of the paper stars of silver fell to the floor. He could not understand why this kept happening, but he no longer cared.
He wished now for the first time that he was back in Duurtbagh, a simple cobbler again.
Then, tears in his eyes, he picked up his Soviet assault rifle and went to give the orders that would probably cause his own troops to contemplate fixing their sights on the small of his back.
No matter what he did, he wore an invisible target on his spine. This was how Maddas Hinsein ruled his people.
Chapter 25
The Battle of the Maddas Line went down in history as one of the most violent land engagements since Verdun.
It was also the briefest.
The Popular People's Popular Auxiliary poured over the line, shouting "Allah Akbar!" in loud voices and firing wildly into the air, in the hope that the UN forces would retreat from their fierce din. It was their only chance, they knew. If they fired toward the enemy, the enemy would probably shoot back. There were rumors that this was sometimes done in wars.
Such was the vastness of the desert that their cries went immediately undetected.
What alerted the waiting forces was the sounds of the PPPA attackers setting off their own antipersonnel mines. The mines had been laid by the Renaissance Guard under cover of darkness so the PPPA could not safely defect. Many were ashamed of the occupation of peaceful Kuran.
Explosions lit up the sky. Distant reverberations carried south. Body parts flew in all directions. And the dreaded defensive mine fields of the Maddas Line were totally cleared-by unfortunate Iraitis.
Since there were more PPPA forces than there were antipersonnel mines, most of the Iraiti troops got through.
They lacked tanks, APC's and field artillery. And so they yelled.
General Aboona called instructions to his field commanders from the safety of his behind-the-line bunker. When his soldiers had proved too demoralized to backshoot him, he decided not to press his luck.
"The First Armored Division is located to the south!" he exhorted. "Attack at will, brave ones. Captain Amzi, take your unit to Point Afar, where only a squad of marines lie dug in. You will overwhelm them manfully."
It was a good plan.
Except that where the division should have been was a force of less than brigade strength. And the squad of marines was a squad no longer. He did not know what it was. There were no forces of four hundred soldiers in either the American or Iraiti table of organization.
Discovering itself facing a mere brigade, the PPPA, emboldened, charged with bayonets fixed. The enemy pulled back. PPPA lungs shouting victory, they closed in for the kill.
And fell victim to the classic pincer maneuver first used by Hannibal during the Battle of Cannae to defeat the Roman Army. Two wings of the divisions rolled out of the night to encircle the PPPA in a ring of steel. The carnage was brief. The handful of survivors surrendered, which was an excellent decision inasmuch as they had few bullets and their bayonets kept falling off.
Meanwhile, in the face of the unexpectedly overmanned marine squad, Captain Amzi's PPPA unit was pounded into so much camel fodder by howitzer fire and mortar rockets. He died wondering what kind of unit it was he was fighting.
It was an ala, not that that would have meant anything to him.
After an hour of hearing the rattle of small-arms fire and the boom of 105-millimeter tank cannon coming through his walkie-talkie, General Shagdoof Aboona gave up issuing orders and began requesting battle damage assessments.