The Badlands Brigade (A Captain Gringo Adventure Book 12) by Lou Cameron

Author:Lou Cameron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: costa rica, lou cameron, captain gringo, ramsay thorne, dick walker, steamy ebook, gaston verrrier, mens erotic adventure
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

He stepped over the body of another adelita who’d died packing ammo for her soldado. She might have been pretty, too. It was hard to tell with her head smashed flat like that.

A severed human hand lay crushed in the reeds like a stepped on crab. They detoured an overturned supply cart to see a junior officer’s body pinned under his gutted mule. The mule was still breathing despite the way its bloody guts lay festooned across the path. So Captain Gringo drew his .38 and shot it. The pistol report sent a covey of carrion crows skyward, but the big fat flies crawling over everything didn’t seem to notice.

It got worse as they neared the far side, where most of the shells had landed as most of the people bunched up. Some of the kids tagging along with the adelitas had been pretty young. A girl of eight or ten lay face up across the body of a soldier. Her skirt was up around her waist and her long brown legs and exposed hairless groin made one think of a molested and murdered child. A big green parrot was perched on her chest, biting at the little budding breasts exposed through a rent in her blouse. Captain Gringo shot the parrot, even though he knew something else would soon replace it. He told Gaston, “I know that was dumb. Parrots are supposed to be vegetarians, damn it!”

Gaston shrugged and said, “Most of them are. But evolution has gone mad in the tropics. Where else would one encounter goldfish that swallow people alive, hein? At the moment I am more concerned with the species of insects that were supposed to provide our artillery cover. I did not hear any counter-battery fire when all these 155s were coming down, did you?”

“No. Gomez ordered Tex Travis to wheel his guns in place, too, now that I think about it. But what the hell, Gomez said he’d start across after we secured the bridgehead, too. He must have sent away by mail for his commission. He sure never cracked a library book on basic field tactics.”

As any ditch digger can tell you, dry earth is easier to move than wet. So the shell craters grew larger as they approached the far side of the marsh. As he struggled up the shattered slope with his outfit in tow, Captain Gringo spotted one of the 75s upside down near an awesome crater and muttered, “Sorry, Tex. I wasn’t thinking. Naturally they had the bivouac area zeroed before they opened fire.”

Just beyond the wrecked 75, he spotted a familiar figure seated on the ground with his back braced against an overturned caisson. It was Major Gomez. Two soldiers on either side were trying to comfort him. Gomez looked as if he needed a damn good doctor more than the canteen of water they were trying to get down him. Captain Gringo called out, “You don’t give water to a gut-shot man, Goddamn it!” And then as the major looked up weakly at him, Captain Gringo saluted and said, “Reporting for orders, sir.

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