Invasion Colorado

-14-

Phase II, Continued





From Military History: Past to Present, by Vance Holbrook:



Invasion of Midwestern America, Phase II, 2039-2040



2039, December 2-10. Breakthrough. The Americans and Canadians achieved operational surprise against the Aggressor forces along the Platte River in Nebraska. In a bold tank assault, Army Group Washington burst between PAA Third Front and SAF First Front and drove to Colorado Springs. The Americans encircled the bulk of Third Front and fought off the initial Chinese and Brazilian counterattacks.



2039-2040, December 10-January 3. The Pocket Tightens. In the bitter winter weather, the Americans and Canadians continued to repulse every Chinese and Brazilian effort to break through to the trapped troops of Third Front. Giant air battles occurred as the Chinese attempted a vast airlift of supplies. American tac-lasers and growing SAM belts soon made the air operation too costly to continue.

To the east, Fourth Front pulled back in a fighting withdrawal. The Americans attacked out of St. Louis but were unsuccessful in trapping Fourth Front as they had done to Third Front.



2040, January 3-February 22. Marshal Gang takes over. After a swift political rearrangement, Hong relinquished direct military oversight of the North American Invasion. The Ruling Committee entrusted the position to Marshal Gang, formerly of First Front. Gang became the Commander-in-Chief of North America.

The last efforts to relieve the shrinking pocket holding Third Front failed. Using the Allied preoccupation with Third Front, Marshal Gang instituted the Great Pull Back.

In carefully arranged moves, which became the trademark of Gang’s oversight, the Aggressors successfully withdrew to the New Mexico-Oklahoma-Arkansas Line. There, Gang began to rebuild the weakened forces, pumping reinforcements into the tired divisions.

Renewed anti-guerrilla and partisan hunting campaigns proved the Aggressor intention of continuing the invasion assault come summer.

COMMENT. Chancellor Kleist’s offer and acceptance of GD neutrality allowed the Americans to make one of the greatest comebacks in history. Excessive Chinese aggressiveness and by exhausting their formations in the winter cold proved costly for both the Pan-Asian Alliance and to a lesser degree for the South American Federation. When the starving Third Front surrendered on March 15, over one million Pan-Asian Alliance soldiers marched into captivity. Hundreds of thousands had already died in the bitter winter battles. Perhaps no other coalition could have endured such staggering losses and continued to believe in ultimate victory. It was a testimony to Chinese tenacity and the lure of the productive American heartland in a world increasingly on the brink of worldwide Ice Age starvation.





MONTREAL, QUEBEC



John Red Cloud sat on a bench in a cold winter park in Montreal. The slates of the bench pressed against his back, as did a nub or rounded bolt of iron. The city was no longer Montreal, Canada, but Montreal of the nation of Quebec, a full member of the German Dominion.

An arctic wind blew through the park, whipping up icy particles and causing empty playground swings to ease back and forth. John didn’t shiver. He wore a thick parka with the fur-lined hood up and a thick pair of mittens. Still, when the gusts howled loudest, it felt as if someone shoved him in the back.

He thought about the news this morning. The last Chinese soldier in the embattled pocket around Cheyenne had surrendered to the Americans. That was historic. The Americans had obviously seized the opportunity given them. The Rocky Mountain victory should have brought an end to the war. That it hadn’t yet meant something important.

John sighed. He had a feeling he knew what that significance meant. He had not only read about Cheyenne on the blogs, but about the new Rationing Law that the Germans had so kindly inflicted upon the Quebecers. It was the second intrusive law the foreigners from across the Atlantic Ocean had forced on the new nation.

Did we make a mistake by accepting GD help?

By the “we”, John did not mean the rest of the Quebecers. He cared little about what happened to Quebec unless it related to the Algonquin Nation.

Several days ago, John had spoken to the GD ambassador. John had reminded the Berliner of promises made to him in secret and to the Algonquin Nation.

The ambassador had been polite at first. The man checked some computer files and smiled to him afterward. The tall man from Berlin had the gall to tell him there were no such accords on record. He suggested that John must be mistaken.

John had insisted the ambassador must know about the accord. He had come to Montreal as the Nation’s representative and he wished to begin membership proceedings with the German Dominion. John had even shown the ambassador his Algonquin credentials.

After studying the credentials in detail, the annoyed ambassador had said, “I will keep these.”

“I did not give them for you to keep.”

“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone.”

“I don’t care what you appreciate. Return my credentials to me at once.”

The ambassador had pressed a button. The door opened and two thick Germans with guns had entered.

“Mr. Red Cloud,” the ambassador had said. “Let me make this perfectly clear. The Dominion allows native identities to flourish. But we will not allow any terrorist activity or a fractioning of the new nation of Quebec. The Algonquin people have our best wishes. Unfortunately, your numbers—or lack of them, should I say—does not allow us to recognize you as a country. You are part of Quebec, and Quebec is part of the German Dominion. Do I make myself clear?”

John hadn’t answered. Instead, he had stared at the ambassador, memorizing the face.

With a flick of his polished fingers, the ambassador had said, “Remove him.”

The two guards had escorted John out of the building, but not before writing down his driver’s license number. The telling moment came when one of them had called it his identity card.

John Red Cloud of the Algonquin Nation now sat on a bench in a freezing Montreal park. He endured the wind and the cold as he waited.

He had been walking the city streets these past few days. He had counted the number of armored cars with GD lettering on them. He’d observed detachments of assault rifle-armed squads patrolling the streets.

At times, he stood on a street corner and watched big GD Army trucks roar toward the highways. The number of trucks, the tank carriers—John had been on his smart phone, placing calls.

As he sat on the park bench, he did some mental arithmetic. It caused his leathery eyelids to lower into a hunter’s squint.

There had to be over two million GD soldiers in Quebec. That was more than the Germans had put in Cuba. It was more than they needed to stop an American-Canadian invasion of Quebec.

Two million GD soldiers could not defeat the Americans. Maybe they could conquer the rest of Canada—if the Americans did nothing.

Two million Germans combined with the Pan-Asian Alliance and the South American Federation could well turn the tide of the war. Yet how could the Chinese trust the Germans after what Chancellor Kleist had done to them?

John Red Cloud sighed once more. He widened his eyes and looked up at the harsh sky. There were never any good choices for the Algonquin People.

The Germans had imposed rationing laws and movement laws on the Quebecers, which meant on the Algonquians as well.

As John sat on the bench, waiting, he noticed three men crossing the park. One was tall with a heavy coat. That one walked fast. Two shorter but thicker men followed. They hunched and they kept swiveling their heads, looking about.

As they neared his bench, one of the thicker men shouted. The tall man looked up. The thick man pointed at John. The tall man said something that was lost in the wind.

The two thicker men approached John. He recognized them. He should, as he’d been waiting for them. They were the two security men and belonged to the GD ambassador, the tall man waiting behind them.

Before John had gone to see the ambassador, he had been watching and studying the man’s habits. It was good to know your enemies, but it was even better to know your friends. Or who should have been his friends.

John took off one of his mittens and partly zipped open his parka. He did it in such a way that neither of the security men witnessed his action. Old habits died hard. He was bitter, and he realized this wouldn’t help his people. That didn’t matter. The ambassador had insulted the Algonquin Nation by treating their representative as he had. John could have farmed out the payback, but that wasn’t his way. He was the representative; he would repay the insult. Then he would begin his campaign to fight in the only way a small nation could, though cunning and ruthlessness.

Beneath the parka, John gripped a gun with a suppressor screwed onto the barrel.

The two security men approached him on a slippery sidewalk. One of them walked harder than his friend did. His shoes clicked on the cement.

The Loud Walker asked, “Why are you sitting out here in the cold?”

Slowly, John turned his head to stare at them. Neither recognized him.

“I asked you a question,” the Loud Walker said.

John Red Cloud raised his suppressed pistol and shot both security men in the head. He stood quickly and turned to the ambassador. The man shouted in fear and tried to flee. The man’s feet slid out from under him due to the icy sidewalk. He fell hard.

As if at a target range, John lifted the gun and emptied the rest of the magazine into the ambassador’s body. The man twisted this way and that. Finally, the ambassador turned toward John, opened his mouth, and recognition filled his eyes.

John walked closer, putting a new magazine into the gun.

“You,” the man whispered.

John nodded.

“Help…” The ambassador licked his bloody lips, staining his tongue. “Help me…”

John holstered the gun and zipped up his parka so the metal tab touched his throat. The ambassador was as good as dead, and now he must realize the wrong of having treated the Algonquin Nation so poorly.

The ambassador worked his mouth once more.

John turned and walked away. He had just declared war on the German Dominion. He didn’t have armies at his command. Instead, he had a gun. But he only needed to kill one man: Chancellor Kleist, the lying bastard.

Why should millions of simple soldiers die? No. John had a theory about war. Kill the leaders who start them. He hunched his shoulders and strode into the icy wind. He needed to get out of Montreal and then out of Quebec.

John Red Cloud didn’t smile, but his dark eyes smoldered. The Algonquin Nation was now at war with the Germans.



The End