Red Walker

by Scott Allen

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Dana was looking to the placement of half his platoon, carrying shoulder-launched rockets and camera drones, at five intersections a couple of hundred meters from the White House. In addition, they had placed stealth mines on the streets to blow up vehicles or personnel. Sergeant Blaine was in the White House placing the remaining men in defensive positions and watching the three men that were controlling the overhead missile drones. So far, there was no sign of the enemy. The previous night had been quiet and the men were well-rested.

  A private drew his attention down the street. Someone emerged from a building at the far end of the block in a far-too-bulky winter coat, head uncovered, clearly a woman. She was leading a little girl, perhaps 4 years old, by the hand. All of the men yelled to her to get back inside, but she continued to march towards them down the middle of the street. Dana yelled as loudly as he could, as well, but she continued to march. “Shoot her,” Dana ordered the three men. All hesitated. Dana raised his carbine and shot, and there was a tremendous explosion. None of his men were hurt, but all were knocked backwards. Of the woman and little girl, there was no trace. Dana immediately put out a warning on the internal comm about suicide bombers, possibly accompanied by children. The enemy was becoming desperate.

  Then, over the internal comm, he heard Evan’s voice, “Eyes in the sky report a battalion-size enemy element, infantry only, crossing the Potomac on eight naval craft, probably headed for E, F, and G streets. They believe their target will be the White House. Fifth Platoon will reinforce Third Platoon to the west. Lieutenant Dana, keep me appraised of your situation.”

  Dana redistributed his men and the new arrivals, and then waited for the attack. He had forty-two men on the streets to defend against perhaps five hundred enemy. He called for Blaine to begin destroying the boats from the air, if he could, and if not, do as much damage as possible while the enemy was bunched together getting off the boats. He contacted the Captain to ask that the other platoons do the same.

  Apparently their air attack was somewhat successful. Eyes in the sky reported two naval craft sunk and probably about sixty to eighty casualties on land. Nonetheless, at least two hundred enemy, probably two hundred fifty, were moving in their direction, now. Dana was thankful the enemy had no artillery.

  Dana moved his men back from intersections into the old Executive Office Building, which he believed offered more protection. Just as the last group took up positions, a small rocket hit the building, blowing off part of the second-floor wall. The enemy was coming.

  “Rockets!” yelled Dana, “Hold your fire until you have a clear target. Lock the AI onto an officer if you can, before you fire. Try to take out as many of the enemy as possible with each strike. Fire when ready.” He began to hear whooshing sounds as the men fired rockets at the advancing enemy. Many of the enemy were being clever, running inside buildings that allowed them to move east without exposing themselves to the street when they could. Enemy soldiers that ran out into the street became victims of mines, rockets, or bullets.

  The EOB began taking more and more hits, and Dana knew he was losing men, although they were killing many more of the enemy. “We’re almost out of rockets, Dana,” said Lieutenant Mickey from the Fifth Platoon. “I suggest we fall back to the White House.”

  “Negative, Mickey,” said Dana. “The EOB would be a perfect place to bombard the west wing, or attack it through the tunnel. Let’s hold it long enough to booby-trap it.” Mickey agreed.

  With the knowledge that the Captain was ordering a squad forward with explosives to the EOB basement, the remnants of Dana and Mickey’s platoons fought furiously as the enemy grew closer. Enemy officers were running behind their soldiers with pistols out, ready to shoot any that turned back. The enemy took heavy casualties crossing 17th street to get to the old EOB, but eventually got inside. Then, it was a matter of firing down hallways, both rockets and bullets, until they got the go-ahead to evacuate. Of the forty-two men, twenty-seven made it back to the west wing of the White House, racing though the basement tunnel, ten of them wounded and being dragged by their comrades.

  Those twenty-seven got to hear the largest part of the enormous roar as the EOB blew up and collapsed. A blast of hot air blew them all down and deafened them in the hallway. They saw the rubble blocking the EOB end of the tunnel and knew they would not have trouble from that quarter.

  Dana went to check on the prisoners, and found them OK. One of them screamed at him that they had finally provided some heat down here, although Dana only caught part of what she said. He raced upstairs with his men. Sergeant Blaine pointed to the three drone screens, showing the enormous ruins of the EOB. There appeared to be no enemy activity in the area, except for a handful of enemy soldiers retreating to the west. “It looks like we just about wiped them out, sir,” shouted Blaine, in deference to Dana’s deafness. Dana went to see to the wounded.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  As Captain Evan pointed out over the internal comm, there were still nearly 45,000 enemy troops moving in the direction of Washington. Intelligence indicated that they were coming in from the north, and thus the First Commando at the White House, Capitol, and Congressional office buildings might be expected to bear the brunt of their initial attacks. However, the Second Commando and the Airborne were finally mopping up at the Pentagon and the air base to the south, and could help. Altogether, the opposing forces around D.C. were in rough balance.

  The enemy were suffering large-scale rocket attacks from drones directed by the RA, which was now only about 150 kilometers behind them. The Captain said that air surveillance had shown quite a few desertions from the enemy units moving through Maryland, and had even picked up video of some on-the-spot executions. He said that the enemy was being bombarded by RA propaganda to further weaken their morale, and it was having the desired effect.

  The White House garrison was reinforced by an entire battalion of Airborne troops commanded by a lieutenant colonel. There were tunnels running from the White House to the Pentagon, the Treasury Building, and quite a few other strategic locations in the D.C. area. The lieutenant colonel moved three of his companies to government buildings north of the White House, using tunnels where possible. More rockets and other supplies were dropped. The tunnels were mined with explosives in the event that the enemy broke into them. Captain Evan’s company was left in place at the White House, concentrated in the west wing, while four Airborne companies occupied the rest, including buildings to the north.

  Dana’s platoon had begun the war with 29 men, and it was now down to 19, including himself. Five were dead, and five were wounded too badly too fight. The remaining 19 were mourning the dead and wounded, and were angry. Dana talked to each man, reminding him that, for the sacrifice of their comrades to be worthwhile, they needed to win without atrocities. “The enemy calls us rapists and murderers. We need to show the world that we are honorable soldiers, OK? Kill the enemy without mercy when they are fighting, and behave honorably when they are not,” Dana would say, pat him on the shoulder, and then move on.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  The attack, when it came, was much worse than anyone had expected. The leading units of the U.S. Army had concentrated almost half their forces against the White House, two weakened divisions, against one weakened battalion of Airborne and Commando troops around and in it. Captain Evan’s company and the four Airborne companies were outnumbered over twenty to one. The troops waiting in the White House could hear furious fighting in the blocks to the north of them, and saw on their camera drone viewscreens women soldiers in khaki moving forward in the streets, taking heavy casualties, but still moving forward. The viewscreens also showed an occasional soldier balking at running forward into the battle, and being shot in the back of the head by an officer.

  The Airborne companies were retreating to the White House. The White House defenders were using up their drone-launched larger missiles, but to good effect, collapsing smaller buildings on top of t
he enemy. Below them, they could hear the tunnels being blown up by the retreating Airborne troops. Every man in the White House, peering out of windows, was tense. They watched Airborne troops running towards them down streets and across Lafayette Square, to the north, some carrying wounded comrades. The Airborne lieutenant colonel issued commands for his surviving troops to reinforce the White House defense. Dana and his platoon welcomed some exhausted, bedraggled, but still fighting mad Airborne troops into their positions.

  Then shoulder-launched rockets began to strike the White House northern walls. Dana heard men scream over the internal comm. The enemy was concentrating on the upper floor, correctly anticipating that the president and cabinet officers were either in the basement or the deep underground command center. The men under Dana’s command began firing back, and made the enemy seek cover. The enemy attack seemed to stall, as if their officers were unsure how to take the White House. The large open areas around the building presented a problem for them. Dana ordered some of his men to the lower floors of the west wing, and sent extra men to the west and south of the first floor, anticipating a flanking attack.

  Captain Evan was circulating among his company on the west side of the building, checking on the situation. He approved Dana’s reinforcement of the west and south sides. As the two of them were looking south out an office window, a rocket exploded in the exterior wall, knocking them both down. When Dana recovered his senses, he realized he had taken a wound in his left thigh. But, Captain Evan was dead, his upper body split open.

  Dana called for a medic, and announced the Captain’s death over the internal comm, and that he was now in command of the company. He encouraged the men to keep firing as fast as they could, choose high-value targets, and to keep the enemy away from any doors or openings into the building. The medic glue-stitched his leg and bandaged it. Dana was in pain and considered turning over command of the company to Dylan, but decided against it. He knew that, even wounded, he would be better at it.

  Dana ordered the troops guarding the President, Vice-President, and cabinet officers to take them down to the secure rooms deep underground, and the medics to take the wounded there, and freeze the elevators at the bottom.

  He limped around the company positions and saw that his men were fighting furiously in all directions, trying to keep the enemy away from any entrance points, especially the westernmost walls facing the old executive office building. The rubble of the EOB would provide some cover. He found the men operating the camera drones and the large missile drones. He looked on the viewscreens for any places where the enemy could congregate for an attack.

  Blaine saw it first and drew his attention to it. There must have been a thousand enemy soldiers gathering on the south side of the EOB rubble, intending to swing around through the trees on the south lawn and come in the way that Dana’s platoon had. Dana told all the missile drone men to target the assembly with their remaining large missiles. Explosions began blowing the assembly of soldiers apart. He moved from screen to screen, looking for more concentrations of enemy. He contacted battalion command and asked for more large missile drones, and was sent some. Dana saw concentrations of enemy at various points to the west, southwest, and northwest, and had them destroyed. But, there were more behind them.

  They were out of large missiles, and down to shoulder-fired rockets and rifles. There were no more large missile drones available. Battalion said that troops from the First Commando were headed north, to reinforce them, but would take an hour. Dana knew the enemy would be inside the building by that time. He told all the men on the internal comm what was about to happen. They were going to have to fight room-to-room eventually, but help was on the way. He told them to use up all their rockets first, and to lay mines at all the entrances to the building.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  There was a massive attack all at once from three sides, north, west, and south. Dana’s first thought, before he had to direct the fire of his men, was that the enemy officers had finally gotten it right. They could overwhelm the White House defenders if they were willing to take hundreds of casualties. They barraged the upper floors of the White House with rockets, and then charged, their officers trailing behind to kill anyone who balked. They took fearful casualties from the return fire from the defenders, plus mines that had been laid. The south lawn, the parking lot to the west, and the lawns to the north were covered with khaki-clad bodies, many of them in pieces, and still the attack came on.

  Dana ordered the release of their three mechanical killer dogs, one in each direction. They were terrifying, racing toward the enemy and killing a soldier with every shot from the guns mounted on their backs. The body of enemy troops shrank back almost like a living thing being stabbed. Eventually, the dogs were cut down by rockets, and the attacks resumed. But, the White House defenders had taken the opportunity to regroup and reposition.

  Dana saw that the enemy would soon be able to enter the building. He called for all troops to cover in the stairwells leading to the basement, and kill the enemy as they entered. It would be 15 minutes, by his estimate, before the reinforcements arrived. Almost half of the company was down, and there were perhaps 70 commandos and an equal number of Airborne troops in the west wing.

  “Men, I don’t have to tell you what will happen to you if you are taken prisoner. Make your deaths expensive to the enemy!” Dana roared, as the first enemy soldiers appeared in the hallway and were cut down.

  In their stealthsuits, his men were hard to see, while the enemy was not. His company blended in with the walls behind them, sometimes even looking like a painting of some famous woman politician. The defenders were killing the enemy in a ratio of five to one, but still the attack continued. Dana saw that he was losing men, so he ordered men with explosive packets forward. “Blow the stairwells when everyone is out of them!” he ordered.

  The troops on the stairwells ran into nearby basement offices, while the explosives men surged forward, some of them being cut down, but still blowing the stairwells to rubble. His men aimed their carbines out of office doorways and waited for the enemy to clamber over the rubble.

  The first woman down appeared to have been thrown onto the rubble from above. She was sobbing “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” as she crawled painfully down the pile of sharp rubble. A pistol appeared above her, and then the face of a snarling woman in an officer’s cap, screaming that she was a traitor. Dana’s men obliterated her face, and her body fell onto the rubble. The young soldier in khaki crawled up to the nearest of Dana’s corporals and sobbed, “I surrender! Please don’t shoot me!” He helped her into an office and asked a private to keep an eye on her.

  There were no more attempts to come down the blown stairwells. There was clearly fighting above them, because they could hear explosions and screams. But, no one came down to attack. Dana’s men and the Airborne troops looked at each other with incomprehension. Dana looked at an office clock and realized that it had been one hour since he had been told that First Commando was an hour away. He told his men over the comm that the First Commando was probably attacking the enemy from the south, and to stay alert.

  He was standing in the middle of the hallway, checking the positions of his men in every direction, when there was an explosion over his head, then blackness.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  When he opened his eyes, he was staring at a white ceiling. He looked to the side, and saw Sergeant Blaine, in his black uniform, looking back at him and smiling. “I’m glad to see you’re awake, sir,” he said.

  Dana felt tired and stupid, and he had a pounding headache. There was a tube dripping something into his arm. He was out of uniform, in a loose hospital gown. “What happened?” he asked.

  “The First Commando saved our asses, sir. One of their missiles hit the first floor above us and knocked a piece of it onto your head. You’re not supposed to move much yet, sir. Looks like you’ve got a twenty centimeter scar on top. No one else was hurt. You’re in a hospital. All th
e doctors and other staff are women, but they seem inclined to take their professional oaths seriously, and they’ve been good at treating our wounded. We did explain to them what would happen if they didn’t,” he said, grinning.

  “The rest of the Rebellion Army arrived yesterday and took the city. There are parts of the RA moving north and south, but there’s almost nothing left of the enemy army. It was a very near thing, sir, but the war’s over. General Estevez accepted the surrender of the President. They are setting up a provisional government now, making announcements to the U.S. population that are in line with what they said they would do.”

  “What about the platoon and the company?” asked Dana, fearing the answers.

  “We have fourteen men from the platoon left, sir. Half. Four in the hospital, including you. The other ten of us are taking shifts by bedsides to make sure you all are treated well. The company has sixty-eight men left, a bit less than half,” said Blaine.

  “I guess as acting company commander, I have to notify the relatives of the dead,” Dana said, remembering scenes from old war movies. He was already imagining the phrases he would have to use for grieving families.

  “Actually, sir, the men have no known relatives. Some of them left contact information with Brigade headquarters for friends, like you did. You asked that someone named Nance be informed of your condition, and she has been,” Blaine said.

  “Of course. I can’t imagine what I was thinking,” said Dana. Had this all been a dream? It had been less than a year since he had been peacefully repairing appliances in Valley. Now, everything had changed. Literally everything. He had escaped. He had lived with and loved a woman. He had become a soldier. He had led men in battle. Half of the men under his care had been killed. Now that he was out of the action, he was feeling suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of both relief and grief, but he couldn’t show that to Blaine.