by Adam Yoshida
The forward-most position that the enemy forces held was now no more than a thousand feet away. The enemy made that very apparent to Dumont when they rose up from a concealed position and fired a Javelin missile that disintegrated one of the troop’s Strykers. In response to the missile all of the surviving vehicles began to direct fire in the direction from which the missile had arrived, blanketing the enemy force in bullets. The cavalrymen, led by their squad leaders, moved at a run down the channels that were left open to them by the fire coming from their rear.
As the soldiers advanced so too did their supporting vehicles. As soon as the soldiers in the improvised works caught sight of the advancing Strykers, they ran. Here and there a handful of brave men and women stayed at their posts and attempted to slow down the advance of the armored vehicles by firing additional missiles in their direction, but these efforts proved to be mostly futile in view of the rapid and effective fire of the Strykers, which gunned down anyone who was brave or stupid enough to be caught out in the open.
With no effective obstacles in their way, Bravo Troop continued to surge forward.
Unified Army Group Headquarters, Brossard, Quebec
“They’ve got the better part of a brigade through our defenses and across the river, General,” reported the Operations officer, “intel says that it’s the 1st Brigade Combat Team of the 2nd Armored Division.”
“Ok,” said General Wesley, “what do they have coming up behind them?”
“The rest of the Second Armored Division is following, though they appear to be lagging a little bit.”
“Alright, continue to pull our forces back across the whole range of the city. Order the forces positioned in Montreal to engage as they cross the city.”
“Oh,” added General Wesley, “and tell our friends in Montreal that their time has come.”
XII Corps Headquarters, Blainville, Quebec
“1st BCT is now within Montreal itself,” said Colonel Dunford, “and they’re proceeding along at a good clip.”
“That’s good,” said General Jackson, “what sort of resistance are they encountering?”
“Well,” said Colonel Dunford, “that’s the next thing that we’re going to need to talk about. At the moment, we only have a handful of irregular forces taking potshots - though even those have inflicted about fifty casualties - but there’s a problem of a very different nature going on here. There are civilians gathering on the streets of the city.”
“Civilians?” asked Jackson.
“Yes sir,” replied Dunford, “basically we have an organized mob taking to the streets of Montreal to… Well, apparently to protest us, sir.”
“To protest… an army? Really?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, fuck,” said Jackson, “we can’t shoot them, can we?”
“I don’t think that the Joint Chiefs would appreciate that course of action,” said Colonel Benson dryly.
“Ok,” said Jackson, “what are we actually seeing on the ground beyond just Montreal? Where is the main body of the FNASA force?”
“They’re still sitting in place behind Montreal for the most part, General,” said Dunford.
General Jackson got up and began to pace.
“They’re just sitting there. Surely they can see that we’re moving towards their flank. Why aren’t they responding?”
Bravo Troop, 2nd Squadron, 7th Cavalry, 1st BCT, 2nd Armored Division, Downtown Montreal
The first sign that that Andy Dumont got that something was wrong was when word came over the radio that the highway bridges behind the entire 1st Brigade Combat Team had been detonated.
“I thought that those were fucking secured,” he said in response.
“So did I,” said Major Olafson, “we had people guarding them. I don’t know what happened. Neither does brigade.”
It wasn’t, however for the cavalrymen of the 1st BCT to reason why just now. Surely there would be an investigation later to figure out just who had fucked up and how, but that didn’t really matter much at the moment now that they found themselves cut off on an urban island with a river on one side and a large enemy force on the other. The sporadic missile and sniper fire that the entire Brigade had been dealing with throughout the morning suddenly intensified. A Javelin missile reached out and destroyed one of the lead Stryker vehicles of the troop. When the other men of the same platoon sought to come to the rescue of their injured comrades, they fell under sniper fire. Suddenly Dumont realized that they were actually in an extraordinarily vulnerable position.
“Get the wounded and then pull back,” he ordered as his own vehicle came under rifle fire. The small arms fire was not of much practical use against an armored vehicle, but it certainly worked to unsettle the soldiers within.
“If they’ve got a lot of missiles out here,” one of the Platoon commanders called out with a hint of panic in his voice, “we’re sitting ducks.”
“Shut up,” radioed back Dumont as he began to pour over the maps of the local area. Surveying the terrain, he could see that there was a small hill behind him with a clearing. That would be as good a spot as any to defend in a pinch.
“Ok,” he radioed out, “we’re going to turn around and mount a hasty defense from the hill around two clicks back down the highway. Let’s go.”
As he repeated the orders electronically, issuing commands via the touchscreen of his own tablet, he felt the driver of his Stryker execute a sharp turn and increase speed. He was observing the general movement of the entire squadron when he saw another anti-tank missile reach downrange and narrowly miss another one of his Strykers. He now realized that he faced infantry with anti-tank weapons from both sides.
“We need support,” he called out into his radio, “I think they’ve got us caught between a vice.”
“There are fire missions available,” came back the call from the Brigade operations officer, “just give us the coordinates.”
Dumont hesitated for a second. He was only somewhat sure that he had seen where the missile that had missed the Stryker had come from. That moment of hesitation bought him confirmation of the building that was being used but it also cost him a vehicle as a second missile was fired and struck another of the unit’s APCs.
“Sending grid location now. It’s a building,” he reported, “fire for effect.”
“Shot, over,” called out the artillery battery that had been designated to support the Cavalry squadron.
“Shot, out,” replied Dumont, suddenly realizing that he was also serving as the fire controller in this case. Moments later the first artillery round came crashing down, falling just short of a building that the Squadron commander was heading towards.
“Splash, over,” said Dumont.
“Splash, out,” came the reply.
“Adjust fire, approximately fifty meters to the west, over,” said Dumont.
“Adjusting fire, five-zero meters to the west, out,” said the Artillery battery followed seconds later by, “shot, over.”
“Shot, out,” replied Dumont.
This time the artillery fire was extraordinarily accurate. The artillery rounds crashed through the roof of the building and exploded, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.
“Repeat,” said Dumont. He then stopped and watched as a second burst of artillery fire totally caved in the roof of the building.
Unified Army Group Headquarters, Brossard, Quebec
“The American brigade managed to disengage and retire somewhat to the west once they realized what was up,” reported the operations officer, a Canadian Brigadier General who had previously commanded a division before the creation of the FNAS.
“What sort of casualties did they sustain?” asked General Wesley.
“We managed to take out around a dozen armored vehicles and to wound or kill a proportional number of soldiers,” answered the G3.
“But they managed to stay away from the crowds on the streets?”
“For the most part. The
y didn’t shoot any of them up, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It looks to me,” said General Wesley, “as if this was just a probe and the rest of the American Army was looking to swing to the north and attack our flank.”
“I think that’s a reasonable assessment,” agreed the intelligence officer.
“Ok then,” said Wesley, “start dropping any bridges that are in their immediate vicinity and put our air forces on standby. We don’t have much capacity there, but we have enough to at least cause them some difficulties. Maintain our CAP so that we can watch for any air mobility nonsense on their part as well.”
“General,” said the operations officer, “wouldn’t it be prudent, at this point, if we moved some of our own force to the north so as to guard against any forced crossing of the St. Lawrence that the Americans might attempt? Right now we’re out of position for anything like that.”
“No,” said General Wesley, “I want to stay right here. I want you to order the European Division to cross the river and head into Montreal themselves. They are to engage and destroy the 1st Brigade Combat Team, Second Armored Division on my order to advance.”
“General,” said the G3, “that isn’t what’s in our plan - the plan that was agreed to by both Chicago and Brussels.”
“No,” agreed Wesley, “it isn’t: but they don’t have tactical command here in the field. I do. We have the chance to either destroy or force the surrender of a complete brigade of the United States Army and we are going to take that chance.”
Bravo Troop, 2nd Squadron, 7th Cavalry, 1st BCT, 2nd Armored Division, Mount Royal
Captain Dumont couldn’t help but feel helpless as the air battle raged above him. He and the rest of the soldiers of the 1st Brigade had managed to extract themselves from the city proper and position themselves in the Mount Royal neighborhood, though not without first suffering substantial losses. Now they were stuck sitting around and waiting as the FNAS forces attempted to soften them up before an attack came on the ground. Fortunately, at least so far, none of the handful of air strikes that had gotten through had struck in Bravo Troop’s sector of the line.
The earth shook as an artillery round impacted nearby, shaking the vehicle that Dumont was riding in. The artillery fire from the FNASA was subject to instant counter-battery fire from the nearby support elements of the rest of the 2nd Armored Division, though it hadn’t yet been possible to get any other reinforcements on the ground to the rest of the 1st Brigade owing to the destruction of all of the rest of the nearby bridges to the west. Dumont yawned and returned to the maps before him.
“Alright,” the voice of the Squadron commander broke in over the radio, “they’re coming forward.”
“Roger that,” replied Dumont, “everyone look sharp.”
The enemy attack was spearheaded by a light brigade that consisted of both a German panzer battalion and a FNASA tank battalion that also happened to be equipped with the same Leopard 2 tanks as the German unit. With the tanks taking the lead, the Brigade commander directed that the Stryker and other infantry units should stand at the ready but otherwise hold their position while the sole armored battalion of the 1st BCT swung forward and, with heavy air support, attempted to repel the attack.
Dumont and the other soldiers of Bravo Troop were reduced to the role of inactive participants during this part of the action as they had being during the air and artillery battles that had preceded them. They sat in their vehicles and listened to their radio as a mix of Abrams tanks and Apache helicopters sought to fight off the furious enemy advance. The Americans and the opposing forces traded blows for fifteen furious minutes. They fired upon one another from maximum distance at first before they closed to murderously close ranges with tanks being taken out of action one after another. Dumont was acutely aware that every single tank that the radio reported as being sterilely “out of action” represented several dead or badly maimed men and women. Then came the call: the battalion (or rather, what little was left of it) was withdrawing.
“Ok,” said Dumont quietly, “I don’t think that those tanks are coming in to attack us now, but ours are at least as spent as theirs. Whatever comes next is going to hit us.”
Two entire battalions worth of American infantry (technically a Cavalry squadron and an infantry battalion) were now dug in along the hill, supported by their Stryker vehicles and all of the artillery that was in range. However, they now faced an enemy force that was twice their size and determined to fight a close-quarters battle. Protected by buttoned-up APCs, the European force roared forward through the streets of Montreal and took the quickest possible path to the American position, braving artillery fire the entire way.
As soon as Bravo Troop caught sight of the French VAB APCs approaching their position, they opened fire with both their Javelin missiles as well as the powerful .50 caliber machine guns that served as their main armament. The lightly-armored French vehicles weren’t built to stand up to that kind of fire and their commanders knew it. The French commander brought the vehicles to a halt outside of the effective range of the American machine guns, though they took one casualty from a missile in the process. The French infantry immediately began to set up their own ERYX anti-tank missiles and to fire them in the direction of the Strykers. Within seconds Dumont realized that there were a higher-than average number of missile teams among the French infantry now deployed and that they posed a serious danger to his vehicles. Faced with this threat he ordered that the Strykers be pulled back, even though this diminished their combat effectiveness.
Enemy artillery fire was renewed simultaneously with the French advance, with some of it actually falling upon the enemy’s own forces. In spite of this the French infantry surged forward and moved towards the American defensive positions, directing small arms fire at the embattled American soldiers. The fast-moving French infantry managed to close the distance between the two positions so quickly that both mortar and artillery fire was rendered useless as either side was as likely to hit their own soldiers as those of the enemy in any particular barrage.
Sitting inside of his Stryker, Dumont watched helplessly as the soldiers of Bravo Troop fired their weapons as quickly as they could in a desperate attempt to repel the advancing enemy force. However, in spite of the fact that they were taking murderous casualties, the French infantry continued to press towards Bravo Troop’s position, finally reaching a point where they were actually able to throw grenades into the American position.
“Fuck this,” said Dumont, “all Strykers - advance.”
The vehicles moved forward, again entering the range of the French missiles. The Stryker next to Dumont’s disappeared in a fireball as the guns of his own vehicle began to open up. The machine guns threw one bullet after another into the French mob, leaving the mangled bodies of the Frenchmen piling up towards the edge of the American position. Another Stryker was destroyed by the impact of a missile, leaving the Troop with just nine surviving vehicles. Still, however, the survivors continued to fire upon the enemy force without interruption.
Finally, the French advance broke apart as subordinate commanders began to orchestrate a disorderly retreat. The Americans did not let up their fire throughout this period. One French soldier after another fell as they were struck in the back while retreating. As the French passed beyond the range of the Americans’ individual rifles a number of rifle-mounted grenade launchers were used to add to the carnage.
By the time it was over the French unit that had launched the attack had, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist. However, as he looked around, Dumont noted that his own unit was in only marginally-better condition. Fully a third of their vehicles had been destroyed in the defense of the position and the ground was covered with wounded and dead men. After a single moment’s pause to catch his breath, Dumont climbed out of the Stryker and went to the aid of the injured.
XII Corps Headquarters, Blainville, Quebec
“1st BCT held off the attack, but only jus
t,” reported Colonel Dunford as he entered General Jackson’s headquarters with a hard copy of the latest numbers.
“How bad?” asked Jackson, looking up from his breakfast.
“30% casualties in some units. It looks like they chewed up the enemy pretty badly, for what its worth, but they’re also low on ammunition and pretty much everything that can be imagined. I already authorized the air drop of some supplies. We’re going to have to make a decision about what, in total, we’re going to send,” said Dunford.
“Presumably they don’t have the same problem,” said Jackson.
“Well, no sir, I don’t suppose they do,” said Colonel Dunford.
“Perhaps we should change that,” said General Jackson.
“Sir?”
“Let’s change it so that everything is equal. That’s what those people like, isn’t it? We’ll cut off their forces in Montreal as well. They dropped the bridges to the west. We’ll drop the bridges to the east,” said Jackson.
“They demolished the bridges to the west,” pointed out Dunford, “we’d have to destroy them from the air. That’s not quite the same thing.”
“Also,” said Jackson as he cut into an over-easy egg and began to wipe up some of the yolk with his toast, “I see that they’re using parts of the city as an assembly area for their forces. I see they did that yesterday, in fact. The areas where these protests have been going on, in fact.”
“Yes sir,” said Dunford, “we’ve already issued a press release condemning this as a war crime.”
“Indeed, so it is,” said Jackson, his mouth full, “though it also means that those areas are now legitimate targets.”
“I think that’s debatable, sir,” said Dunford.
“I might remind you, Colonel,” said Jackson, wiping his mouth with a napkin and standing up, “that I once dealt with this stuff for a living in another lifetime. If they’ve used a civilian area as a military staging ground and we have provided them with an adequate warning that we are aware of this, any action that we take in response would be a lawful reprisal under international law. Would that be frowned upon by certain weak-kneed individuals? Certainly. But would it be illegal? No, definitely not.”
