Invasion: Colorado (36 page)

“In the past few months, we have faced many defeats,” Sims said. “In fact, we have faced
years
of Chinese aggression. First, they attacked us in Alaska where I had the great privilege of defeating their forces. Later, they successfully invaded Hawaii and obliquely attacked our interests with the clandestine invasion of Mexico. If that wasn’t enough provocation, they helped detonate a terrorist bomb at Livermore, a nuclear weapon. We haven’t forgotten that, their perfidy or the lack of courage to admit it was their doing.

“This year, they invaded California. We stopped them in Los Angeles. So they switched fronts. Starting this summer, they smashed their way into Texas and New Mexico. They’ve driven deeply into the Midwest. To do it, they needed help. The Chinese bully convinced the South American Federation that America lay supine, ripe for the taking. There is no doubt these two power blocs have caused havoc and immense destruction to our beloved land, but the fight is far from over.

“Due to our diplomacy, we convinced the German Dominion of the danger of remaining an aggressor against us. With the removal of their troops from Cuba, we have been able to shift many formations from the East Coast to here. I know that many of you gentlemen have spent the summer and autumn waiting for those Germans to land. But they’re gone.”

There was some pointed coughing from the audience. Stan saw it came from the Canadian officers, who sat as a bloc. One tall officer had a tattoo on his cheek.

The President noticed the coughing, too. He shifted his stance and regarded the Canadians. “As the price of their withdrawal, the Germans demanded Quebec Province from our staunch ally, Canada. Believe me when I say that such a land grab won’t stand for long. America knows how to help its allies. The Canadian officers among us are a welcome addition to our great objective this winter. In the year to come, we will help you regain Quebec. First, however, we have another task to perform, a task of national honor demanding justice and fierce retribution.”

The President paused and dramatically scanned the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Canadian and U.S. Armed Forces, Operation Saturn represents our turn to twist the screws on the Aggressors. We have gathered the elite formations of both militaries and pressed them into one awesome force of destruction. Army Group Washington will be composed of three Armies: the U.S. Second Tank Army, the U.S. Ninth Army and the Canadian First Army.”

The President shuffled papers on the podium, glancing at them. When he looked up, he said, “Before I go into detail on your objective, I want you to understand the nature of your task. Operation Saturn will be a two-pronged assault. The first part of the operation is a mass assault against the South American First Front. You will have no part in this. You are the exploitation thrust that will only come after a general offensive meant to shatter a critical section of the SAF forces. Once this has been achieved, I will unleash you upon the Chinese.

“Second Tank Army will lead the attack. In it are the bulk of our cutting-edge armored divisions. This includes the Behemoth tanks that proved so decisive in California. It also includes the new American main battle tank, the MBT-8 Jefferson.”

As the President spoke, various slides appeared on the screen behind him.

Stan saw a Behemoth tank shown from various angles. He now saw the new U.S. Jefferson. It was radically different in appearance from the Behemoth or even the old M1A3 Abrams. The Jefferson was five meters long and 2.4 meters tall, making it the puniest of the MBTs on the battlefield. It had much better high-tech materials than an M1. Like the Behemoth, it had magnetically balanced hydraulic suspension and armored tracks. Unlike the Behemoth, it had inner wheels for highway movement, giving it greater mobility. With its heavy armor, it also had a huge 175mm cannon. It fired rocket-assisted shells: anti-personnel, anti-armor or anti-air. The fire control computer could lock onto targets and direct a six-salvo round in two minutes. It had six Beehive flechette launchers and 25mm autocannons to blast down most incoming enemy missiles or shells. It was a vast improvement to the mainstay but old M1A3.

The President glanced back at the screen before regarding the crowd again.

“It is true we do not yet have the Jefferson MBTs in great number. But there are two divisions of them in Second Tank Army. We have carefully tested and saved them for this moment. Instead of feeding the new MBTs piecemeal into the summer and autumn battles, we wanted a significant number of them to use as a hammer at the right time and place. That time is now and that place is here in Nebraska and Colorado.

“Instead of spreading the Jeffersons around, we’ve gathered the best armor into a mailed fist. That’s the secret to this venture. We have combed our forces for the latest and best formations. You are the cutting edge, gentlemen. It will be up to you to drive to …”

The President peered at them, scanning the crowd as if searching for something special.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the purpose of Operation Saturn is to bring a swift end to the enemy invasion. The Germans thought to bargain with us while we were down so they could drive a hard deal. Very well, I accepted their offer. This was to give us a single objective: hurt the Aggressors in the Midwest hard enough to drive them back into Mexico and end their venture.

“My advisors tell me that the SAF formations have lost their fighting spirit,” Sims said. “For the last several weeks, the SAF troops have fired artillery at our soldiers, but not dared to attack across the Platte River. They’ve become scared. They are the weak sister in the coalition presently directed at us. Therefore, we will overwhelm a portion of their line with a giant offensive, smashing their confidence and sending them reeling back in disarray. Once we achieve that, you will go onto the offensive.

“You will be the spear that tears out the enemy heart. Army Group Washington must sprint to Colorado Springs, reaching the Rockies. By doing this at speed—by making the greatest tank drive in history—you will trap the PAA Third Front in a gigantic cauldron. In order to destroy Third Front, we will have to keep them inside the bag and any enemy breakout attempts from outside.”

The President grinned a predatory smile.

Stan found himself grinning in return.

“That means a twofold operation for you,” Sims said. “The first part, as I’ve said, is to drive to Colorado Springs at great speed, letting nothing slow you down. I’ve already hinted at the second objective. It will be to build two fortified defenses along your deep penetration route. The western defense line—stretching from the Platte River to Colorado Springs—will keep the PAA Third Front captive. The eastern defense stretching the same distance will stop any SAF forces from breaking through and letting the enemy escape the trap.

“If we can do this,” Sims said, “—and I most certainly believe we can—if we can do this, we will have destroyed or captured one-half of the Chinese invasion force. That will cripple the enemy and swiftly bring about his total destruction. As a matter of fact, it will do so before the devious Germans can change their minds and decide to invade our respective countries from Quebec.”

The President reached inside the podium, picking up a glass of water. He drank and set the glass down. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have assembled Army Group Washington with great secrecy and care. As Marshal Liang concentrates on completing the subjection of Greater Denver and attempts to batter into Cheyenne, you will be the tornado that howls down on his head. We’ve waited a long time for this: I mean the turning of the tide of war.”

President Sims paused, studying the audience. “Let me speak very frankly for a moment. Everything depends on your success. If you fail, you might be the last U.S. Army to attack anywhere. We have to knock out the Chinese
now
, in a blitz of several weeks. You have the means. Hopefully, we have given you enough numbers. My question, gentlemen, is do you have the will and the drive to kick the Chinese in the teeth and boot him out of our country?”

President Sims waited then, watching expectantly.

General Tom McGraw was the first man onto his feet. “We have the will, Mr. President! We have the drive!” McGraw’s words boomed throughout the auditorium.

Stan found himself on his feet as everyone else stood up.

“Yes, Mr. President,” the chamber full of officers said. “We have the will! We have the drive!”

“Good,” Sims said. “It’s good to hear your heart. We have much to do before we unleash Operation Saturn. Therefore, I will give the microphone to General McGraw as he explains the coming attack in greater detail.”

Stan grinned. They were going to attack. They’d saved the Behemoths for the most important battle yet. He was going to get a chance to reach his son.

Is Jake still alive in Denver? Boy, you’d better have stayed alive. You
—

Colonel Higgins pushed the thought aside. He had to concentrate. He had to listen to McGraw. If his boy still lived, this drive was going to save him.

Nothing is going to stand in my way—nothing!

REAR EDGE OF THE BATTLE AREA, NEBRASKA

It was the second day of the offensive against the SAF formations across the Platte River Line. The particular South American Federation soldiers around here were Venezuelans, junior partners with the dominant Brazilians.

Master Sergeant Paul Kavanagh, Romo and Sergeant Kline lay on a low, icy hilltop well behind the main enemy defense.

Paul wore cold-weather gear, as did his two companions. The gear was camouflaged white, and included a helmet with a special HUD visor allowing night vision and binocular sight. The rest was composed of body armor and an internal heater. It allowed him to lay on snow or ice for hours without freezing.

It was nearly dawn in this winter netherworld. Temperatures fell far below freezing and it was only supposed to get worse. It reminded Paul of Alaska and his trek across the Arctic ice. He wondered what had ever happened to John Red Cloud.

Paul shook his head. He needed to focus on the present. With this visor, he didn’t need binoculars, because with the proper move of his chin, he switched the HUD’s range-sight.

To the north, giant U.S. artillery tubes thundered. They created mighty flashes of light that reflected off the low clouds. Paul heard the accompanying booms much later. Those guns were miles away. The barrage was unending, and the artillery rained many varieties of munitions on the shocked Venezuelans.

“They don’t have these kinds of fireworks in Caracas,” Romo said.

“I guess not,” Paul said.

They were back to their old game of LRS—Long Range Surveillance. Instead of cross-country motorcycles, now they had snowmobiles. That reminded Paul of Alaska, too. He remembered the Green Berets on their snowmobiles, the ones from the submarine that had popped up out of the ice. What had ever happened to them? It was strange he’d never run across them in SOCOM. He’d have to ask General Ochoa about that. Not that Ochoa spoke to him much anymore, not since the little run-in with Colonel Valdez.

“Look,” Romo said. “I see movement.”

“Where?” asked Kline. He was the new guy.

“Six-three-six,” Romo said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Paul noticed Kline shift his helmet.

“What is that?” Kline asked.

Paul moved his jaw. This suit had taken getting used to, that’s for sure. He had to shift his jaw slightly to the left. Ah, there it was.

The visor zoomed the night-vision picture. Paul squinted. He couldn’t believe it.

“Looks like soldiers,” Romo said.

Paul grunted. That’s what he thought, too. He saw South American soldiers running across the snow, hundreds of them, many thousands of poor slobs. They weren’t running north at the American lines, but south, fleeing from the defenders.

He’d read some reports on the Venezuelans. They were warm-weather soldiers and had done well this summer. Likely, none of them had ever faced a winter like this. Maybe as importantly, Venezuelans didn’t feel the same about the war as the imperialistic Brazilians. Venezuelan hearts weren’t in the fight, and that made a huge difference sitting in a trench in the middle of America during an Ice Age storm and a violent assault by troops burning for serious payback.

“I don’t get it,” Kline said. “Who are those other soldiers attacking?”

In silence, Paul watched the dark horde. He had listened to the SOCOM captain during the briefing session. This was Operation Saturn. Of course, Paul had noticed the build-up of American troops for weeks. This part of the American defenses had crawled with new troops: Militiamen, Canadians, East Coast regulars and the hardened veterans of the earlier Midwestern battles.

“Those soldiers out there,” Paul said, “they’re not attacking.” Those boys were running away. As he scanned back and forth, Paul couldn’t spot a gun on them.

“They’re running away?” Kline asked.

Romo chuckled.

“Did I say something stupid?” Kline asked. He had a chip on his shoulder and was too aggressive. It seemed to Paul that Romo liked needling the new man.

“Our assault troops must have hit them pretty hard,” Paul said. “Maybe it’s our new Sleeper mines. They must be better than we were told.”

“The Venezuelans are coming our way,” Kline said, and for once, he sounded nervous.

Paul was well aware of where the enemy soldiers ran. The three of them were up on this small knoll behind enemy lines. This part of Nebraska didn’t have any real hills and nothing like the Rockies. At the bottom of the hill to the south were hidden three white snowmobiles with plenty of gas and other supplies.

“Don’t worry,” Paul said. “They’re not going to run all the way here. They’ll fall down from exhaustion long before that.”

Sergeant Kline swore soon after. “I don’t believe this. They just keep on coming. It looks as if the whole land is moving. There must be thousands, tens of thousands of them running away, which means running toward us.”

Paul silently agreed. What had caused this? Had it been the new Sleeper mines? They were deadly landmines fired into position by artillery tubes. Or had the Venezuelans buckled in the face of the assault troops launched across the ice? Before he left on this mission, Paul had seen the massed artillery. In his opinion, the government must have robbed every other park and site to put so many guns in one place. He actually pitied the poor slobs down there. He had listened in to some SOCOM chatter. The Venezuelans were sick of the cold and getting worried about reports of massing North Americans. Probably those boys sprinting across the snow just wanted to go home to their sweat
señoritas
.