by Adam Yoshida
200th Infantry Division Headquarters, 36 Miles East of Pueblo, CO
"General," said Jackson over the phone as he spoke to Wallace Falcon, the Commander of the II Corps, "I'm telling you that they are coming this way in substantial numbers."
"General Jackson," said Falcon, "they're coming everywhere in substantial numbers. The 1st Armored Division is engaged along the I-70. They're holding off First Panzer, by the way, and the 101st is damned busy to the north, where there's a whole infantry division incoming."
"I realize that," said Jackson, "but they are attempting to make a breakthrough here. Our own drones suggest that there's another division stacked right behind the one that we're fighting right now. Probably 10th Mountain. And the French force. And the rest of their soldiers are out there somewhere. They're coming on Soviet-style at the moment, with one echelon launching an assault and then leapfrogging the other."
"Look, Jackson: I know that you're used to fighting against Canadians, but there is nothing in what I have here that suggests that we need to allocate special resources for your sector. You just need to make sure that you hold there."
"Yes, General," said Jackson, hanging up the phone before picking it up from the desk and throwing it against the wall.
"We are holding them, General," pointed out Colonel Dunford.
"Holding them isn't enough," said Jackson, "we have to utterly thrash them, otherwise they'll just keep on coming along in one wave after another."
"Corps is largely withholding air support for the north and the central fronts," pointed out Dunford.
"Falcon doesn't control everything," answered Jackson as he fished through his bag for his other phone.
U.S. Central Command Forward Headquarters, Jerusalem
Augustus King was rather busy when the call came through.
"Bill," he said, "what's up?"
"I need a favor," said General Jackson directly, "we're in this fighting out here in Colorado and the command is putting air support about in penny packets. I'm not getting anywhere in trying to get some serious air support along my front, and I think that we can win this battle right here."
"Bill..." said King, "we're pretty busy here ourselves."
As he spoke, King watched as the staff at Central Command's headquarters hurried about issuing the orders that would lead to the execution of Operation Deluge, the long-planned all-out strike against all enemy forces across the Middle East.
"I know," said Jackson, "but there's not going to be any point to whatever the fuck you're planning over there if we don't win here first."
"Ok," said King, "e-mail me what you need and I'll do what I can."
"Quietly, King," said Jackson, "I may need to work with this command for a while."
"Got it," said King as he hung up the phone.
"How's it going over there?" asked General Mackenzie, who was standing nearby.
"I'm not sure. Ask me again in a few hours," replied King, "where are we at here?"
"Almost everything that we have is in the air now. We're going to hammer the fucking Islamists with everything that we've got. And the rest of it is already in progress."
1st Battalion, 77th Armor Regiment, Near Flagler, CO
The 1st Battalion was now engaged in positional warfare with its German opponents. Charlie Company's swing up from the road had been the last move to really catch the 1st Panzer Division off-balance, as the half-dozen mangled Leopard 2s now burning (along with the crews) along the I-70 could attest. The tanks on both sides were in almost continuous motion, with one unit moving to fire and then the other either withdrawing or moving for a better firing position against their attackers. The two units were simply too evenly matched.
Colonel Harrington watched as an Abrams raced by and fired its main gun, before reversing and pulling back. At the same time, a pair of anti-tank missiles flew on by and ineffectually impacted against the ground.
"We're going to need to pull off the line pretty damned soon at the present rate of ammunition and fuel expenditure," noted the Battalion S-3.
"Negative," responded Harrington, "we've been ordered to hold this portion of the line. Anyways, the Germans have to be in pretty much the same position. Have you ever seen Patton? If we have to, we'll fight it out hand-to-hand."
The Colonel shuddered involuntarily as a round impacted a nearby tank, striking a non-lethal blow that was largely deflected by the armor of the Abrams.
United Nations Emergency Operations Headquarters, Tel Aviv, State of Israel
Lieutenant General Avigdor Aronov's face held a wider smile than it had in years as he watched a unit of Sayeret Matkal commandos break down the door of the United Nations' headquarters in nuclear-ravaged Tel Aviv. The year since the Iranian nuclear attack had devastated both Tel Aviv and Haifa had been the hardest of his life. Not only had hundreds of thousands of his countrymen perished, but the ensuing political chaos had led to the effective subjugation of the Israeli nation. The quisling politicians who formed the unelected post-war government of Israel were, in the opinion of Aronov and every other real Israeli, not even worth the effort of pissing on.
The real purpose of Operation Deluge, as was now being carried out across the whole of the Middle East, was to bolster the position of the allies of the United States to such a degree as would allow the American forces there to be extracted and to return home without leaving the entire region in the hands of hostile powers. As a major part of that operation, American, Kuwaiti, Iraqi, and Saudi Arabian aircraft were hammering Islamist targets across the Middle East without any restraint whatsoever. However, the ultimate operational objective would only be counted as achieved if there were stable governments left behind to manage the chaos afterwards. That meant, Aronov and his followers knew, that the government of the State of Israel would have to be placed into different hands.
The aged General looked carefully at the speech he was to deliver as soon as the deed was done.
People of Israel, your nation is re-born...
A loud explosion shook the building that housed the UN bureaucrats who had dared to attempt to impose an unjust settlement upon Israel, as well as the cowardly politicians who had attempted to retreat to the protection of their international friends as soon as what was happening had become evident. The negligible value of that protection was well-demonstrated by the two-dozen Blue Helmet-wearing Belgian soldiers whose corpses were strewn around the perimeter of the UN compound.
Aronov's radio crackled to life.
"General, the building is secure."
"Very good. Losses?" asked Aronov.
"None on our side. Some on the other," answered the Israeli commando before adding, "oh, and the American representative who demanded that the old government declare a Palestinian state – Archer – was unfortunately accidentally shot eight times in the head during the confusion."
"Ah. A pity."
First Army Headquarters, Near Bethune, CO
"We need to throw in the French mechanized brigade first," said Colonel Johal, "have them pass through the 10th Mountain's lines and launch the attack against the 200th Infantry Division now."
"But the 10th is ready to attack," objected General Walker.
"Yes," admitted Johal, "but the division out in front of Pueblo is proving to be tougher than we thought. So are our soldiers, but it's just becoming a big confused infantry fight out there and adding more infantry to that mix isn't going to help. We need intense armor and air support."
"Why not have them swing back to the centre and join the fight between 1st Armor and 1st Panzer? That might be enough to tip the scales there, given the latest status reports. Especially if we concentrate our air assets."
"We're running out of daylight. Our best chance to crack their position is to the south, right here," said Johal, pointing to the strung out positions of the 200th Infantry Division.
"Alright," conceded Walker, "cut the orders."
1st Battalion, Fourth BCT, 200th Infantry Division, Thirty-Eight
Miles East of Pueblo, CO
Christopher Sorensen raised his M16A2 rifle to his shoulder and fired two three-round bursts at the approaching infantryman and then dived to the ground.
"Fuck!" he muttered as he fumbled for another magazine. He hadn't even seen if he'd hit the guy.
The opposing 42nd Infantry Division was fighting an extremely aggressive battle, using careful fire-and-advance tactics to attempt to put maximum pressure on the defending 200th Division. They were paying a heavy price in terms of soldiers' lives for doing it, but they were gradually chewing up the primary force that defended the southern route to Colorado Springs and, in so doing, would eventually disfigure the whole defensive position of the rebel forces.
With a new magazine in place, Sorensen popped back up and continued to fire against the Loyalist position just a few hundred feet away. One of his rounds clipped an attacking soldier just above the eye, tearing away a chunk of flesh and sending him dropping to the ground dead.
"Second Platoon," his radio came to life, "withdraw to the next position."
"Fuck!" he shouted as he dropped to one knee and fired another burst at the stream of attackers who seemed to simply refuse to stop coming.
Temporary Seat of the United States Government, Cheyenne Mountain, CO
"The balance is still uncertain," Secretary of Defense Mark Preston briefed the Acting President as 5PM approached.
The map displayed on the wall changed to show the latest troop dispositions.
"It appears that the enemy advance is coming along three major fronts. In the center, the German 1st Panzer Division is engaged by the 1st Armored Division. That has become a stalemate. In the north, the 1st Infantry Division – that's a new government formation – is fighting the 101st Airborne. The Airborne is actually winning that one pretty clearly. And the fight in the south has become vicious. One inexperienced unit against the other."
"But," pointed out the President, "if this continues, the tie goes to the Bryan Administration, does it not?"
"Well," said Preston, "there are other options. Certainly, they'd have us in a pretty ugly position here in Colorado and the West, as we'd be sandwiched between states that they control on both sides. Resupply and rearming would be a problem. We'd still hold the South, though."
"They're already calling us the Confederacy 2.0," said Rickover, "I don't think our case that we aren't – that we are the legitimate government of the United States – will be helped if we only control states that belonged to the Confederate States of America."
"Certainly not," agreed Michael Nelson.
"And we also have our forces in the Middle East, even if they are tied down there," said Preston before adding, "though hopefully not for long."
"How do we win?" finally asked Rickover.
"We put everything into this fight," said Preston, "and I think we make that fight on the southern front. Put everything in, including the reserves."
"Are you sure?" said the Acting President, "that's not what the Joint Chiefs were recommending fifteen minutes ago."
"I have confidence in General Jackson," said Preston simply.
200th Infantry Division Headquarters, 36 Miles East of Pueblo, CO
"I would call the 4th BCT combat ineffective at this point," said Colonel Dunford as he reviewed the latest results from the front with General Jackson.
"Damaged, to be sure," replied Jackson, "but I think that they still have some fight in them. Scattered and shattered pieces can still cut."
"The first two brigades of the 42nd appear to be pretty cut up as well, though," noted Dunford as he continued to review the latest real-time reports from the front.
A Major on the Division staff charged into the Jackson's office.
"General," he said, "the 81st Brigade has arrived."
General Jackson smiled.
"When logic and reason fail, Colonel," he said to Dunford, "there's always politics."
U.S. Central Command Forward Headquarters, Jerusalem
"The damage from the strikes looks pretty extensive," noted Major General Fredrick Kahn, commander of the Fourth Infantry Division, as they reviewed the latest footage from the Middle East-wide strikes against military targets.
"Yep," said Mackenzie, "I don't think that the Egyptian military is going to be making trouble for a long while. Their Air Force is pretty much just gone now."
"We have near-complete destruction of the insurgent camps around Qom, too," noted Kahn.
"Aronov did his part in Israel," said another officer, gesturing towards the muted TV.
"Now we just have to worry about the Russians," said another.
"I think that we have a solution for that," said Mackenzie quietly.
The officer looked at him quizzically. Mackenzie looked around the room and, after pausing for a moment, decided that there was no real reason to hold the secret back any longer.
"We captured the remaining Iranian nuclear weapons. We've given them to the Saudis and the Israelis until the Israelis can get their own weapons program rebuilt. I don't think that the Russians are going to mess with that. Especially because we've kept some as well."
"General Mackenzie," another officer interrupted the conversation, "you have an urgent message from the USS Spruance."
"The Navy? What's happened at sea?"
"Sir," said the Captain, "they report that they're being signalled by the Chinese Carrier Liaoning , at the head of a convoy of nearly a hundred ships. They're asking for permission to come ashore at Bandar Abbas."
1st Battalion, Fourth BCT, 200th Infantry Division, Thirty-Five Miles East of Pueblo, CO
From his command post, Colonel Henry surveyed the wreckage of his battalion. For the last six hours the whole unit had been engaged in close-quarter combat with multiple units of equivalent size. At the absolute most, half of his soldiers were still capable of shouldering their rifles. The battalion had fallen back from one position after another, making the enemy pay a price in blood for every yard of ground that they claimed.
Now, after so much blood had already been shed, the order had come down from the division commander: no further withdrawals were to occur.
Stand or die, thought Henry bitterly, well, there's not much chance we'll succeed at the former. But we'll do the latter brilliantly.
Given the inflexibility of his orders, the Colonel reflected, there was little need for him to remain at his command post. He would do more good under these conditions at the front. He grabbed his helmet and rifle and, beckoning a few staffers to follow him, headed out the door.
Half a mile down the road from the battalion CP, Henry found the survivors of the Second Platoon, Bravo Company.
"Lieutenant," he said as he returned the salute of the young officer, "what's the situation here?"
"We're out of ammo. Everyone is freezing. And we're hungry. It's really all good, Colonel," replied Christopher Sorensen.
Henry nodded.
"I hope that you won't mind if I join you here," he said.
"Not at all sir. I just hope that you and your friends brought your own weapons," replied Sorensen.
Over Fowler, CO
Alison Miller, even with the help of whatever mess of pills the flight medic had given her, was having trouble keeping her eyes open. There hadn't been time for adequate pre-flight briefings. Instead, she – and every other damned pilot that could be scrounged up – and been re-fuelled, re-armed, and hastily thrown into the air with the stated objective of sweeping the air clean of opposing force aircraft.
Her F-16C, along with the seven others of her squadron that were operational, was now racing towards the forward edge of the battle area at supersonic speeds. Craning her neck to sneak a peak, she saw a sky that appeared to be filled by aircraft whose outlines could just barely be made out through the fading sun.
Trying to figure out who was who, amidst all of the confusion, was impossible. All that she and the other pilots could do was to fire their missiles one after another at the incoming ai
rcraft and hope and pray that they belonged to the enemy forces.
1st Battalion, Fourth BCT, 200th Infantry Division, Thirty-Five Miles East of Pueblo, CO
From the ground Colonel Henry and Lieutenant Sorensen watched as the sky filled with a vast array of diverse explosions.
"I wonder who's winning," mused Sorensen.
"I don't know if there are any winners here," said Henry sadly.
Henry pressed his radio to his ear and tried to sort of the various radio calls to at least figure out a little of what was going on.
Finally, after an eternity, a call came through clean.
"Arc Light, Arc Light."
200th Infantry Division Headquarters, 30 Miles East of Pueblo, CO
"Fuck yes!" shouted General Jackson as he watched the vast array of gravity bombs dropped by a whole squadron of B-52s light up the night with a series of rapid-fire explosions that took on a firecracker-like appearance from a distance.
"Jesus," whispered Dunford, contemplating the fact that each of the hundreds of explosions he was viewing represented anywhere from five hundred to two thousand pounds of high explosives being dropped upon human beings.
"Guam," said Jackson, answering the unasked question, "flew all the way over Alaska, down across British Columbia, and all the fucking way to here. I think the folks on the other side forgot about Guam."
1st Battalion, Fourth BCT, 200th Infantry Division, Thirty-Five Miles East of Pueblo, CO
As soon as the last of the bombs dropped by the B-52 strike detonated, Colonel Henry stood and picked up his radio.
"All units, attack," he ordered into the radio before grabbing his rifle and turning to face the remains of the two platoons that had gathered around him. He pointed at the tanks of the 81st Brigade, already moving past the infantry and towards the front lines.
"Those are our men, here to back us up," he said, "let's go and give them a hand!"
He then turned and, without a further word, began to move at a trot towards the sound of the fighting. The survivors of the day's fighting followed him instinctively, falling in behind their own individual leaders.
