by Adam Yoshida
“That is emphatically not our view,” insisted General Liguo.
“If that is not your view,” said the President, “then why is that your plan?”
“This is a consensus plan,” said the General quietly.
“Ah,” replied the President, “so am I to take it, then that the consensus is that this is the best that China can do and hope to accomplish?”
The room fell deathly silent.
Temporary Seat of the Government of the United States, Colorado Springs, Colorado
“I’m glad that you were able to come in person, Governor,” said the Acting President as he greeted his running mate.
“I was on my way from Arizona back to the Midwest anyways,” said the Kentucky Governor.
“Well,” said Rickover, “I’ll get right to it: the latest internal polling we have isn’t good.”
“I’ve seen it,” said the Governor with a grimace, “but I think that five points isn’t an insurmountable…”
“No, no,” said the Acting President, “we have other internal polling results. Ones that we only circulate inside of a very trusted circle. I am admitting you to that circle as of this moment.”
Rickover pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to the Governor. Chan spent nearly a minute scrutinizing the document before he spoke.
“This is worse than I knew,” he flatly said.
“Yes,” agreed Rickover, “eight points doesn’t seem like much of a difference versus five. But the state numbers are actually, arguably, even worse. It’s bad enough that they’re winning the election: they’re winning the argument. The people want peace, even if it means some awfully unacceptable concessions.”
“I must admit,” said the Governor, “I think I see their point. Not to say that I agree with it, but it’s a defensible one intellectually and politically.”
“Go on,” replied the Acting President.
“Why continue this war if the people who live in the Federation truly want to be independent? It seems to me like, even if we win, we’re buying a lot of political trouble. I understand the rhetoric - about never letting America be divided and also the potential geopolitical concerns - but they do need to be balanced against more practical considerations…”
“I’m glad that you’re thinking along these lines, in a way,” said Rickover, interrupting.
“You are?” said the Governor, slightly mystified.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to fully convince you - and we’ll come back to that in just a moment - but your words have reinforced a decision that I made earlier today. These polling numbers are such that I can’t possibly hope to win the election without some kind of miracle. Perhaps we will win enough victories over these next few days to get a surge - I’m not sure. But I’ve never been one to simply rely on luck and leave it at that. I am going to accept Randall’s challenge and debate him.”
“That’d be a complete reversal,” said the Governor, “I mean, the entire time we’ve been saying that such a thing - that sort of spectacle - would be beneath the dignity of a Commander-in-Chief during wartime. It just hasn’t been done before. Not during this sort of conflict.”
“I know all of those arguments,” said Rickover, “in fact, I came up with more than a few of them personally. But I also know that we need a game-changer. More than that, forgetting the raw politics of it, doesn’t it make sense that the American people ought to have a chance to hear the positions of both sides on this matter directly and completely?”
“Fair enough,” said Chan, “I guess the question is whether or not Randall will want to debate now, especially if his internal polls show the same thing as the one you just showed me.”
“I don’t like the guy,” said Rickover, “but he’s no coward.”
The Kremlin, Moscow, Russian Federation
“Ah, Chancellor,” said the President of the Russian Federation, “it’s been far too long. It’s good for us to get a chance to catch up.”
“Yes, too long,” said the Chancellor curtly.
“Good, good,” said the President, “I wanted to reach out because I know that the British have carried the latest proposals made by our Foreign Minister into your latest meetings and that they’ve caused some controversy.”
The German Chancellor didn’t bother to ask how the Russian President knew that already. Instead, he simply remained silent.
“I know that you, in particular, had some reservations about the notion. That is understandable, given the history of our two nations. I know that I would be very unpopular if I proposed that we should station German troops near Moscow.”
“Yes, it is a difficult matter, Your Excellency,” agreed the Chancellor.
“You should understand, that this is not a take-it-or-leave-it proposal from us. Of course, Russia recognizes that there have been mistakes in its past, as certainly Germany does the same. We have no wish to repeat any of those mistakes. Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, but I hope that you would join me in the belief that the history of hostility between our nations is certainly one of those mistakes.”
“There were errors made,” said the Chancellor.
“Yes, of course,” said the President, “but now we are the leaders of Russia and Germany and we must look forward together. Do you not agree?”
“I do.”
“Ah,” continued the President, “I thought as much. The Foreign Minister was not so sure. He is a very dour fellow and something of a pessimist, but I always believed that we could work together productively. Anyways, an important point - one that I fear may not have been conveyed fully, is that the new relationship for Russia and the rest of Europe that we propose is intended to take many different forms. I do not mean a one-way street and I know that Russia cannot lead Europe alone.”
“Perhaps,” said the Chancellor, “we can work with one another upon that sort of basis. Mutual cooperation between Russia and Germany for the benefit of all of Europe. That is something that I think that we could get behind. We fully recognize that Russia has certain proprietary interests…”
“As Russia recognizes that Germany must have the same,” said the President.
“Yes, upon that basis we could do business,” said the Chancellor.
“Of course,” added the Chancellor, “if we really want to move Europe forward together, we do have one problem: the Goddamned English. They can’t be trusted, you know.”
The Russian President heartily laughed.
“The French said the exact same thing,” he said.
Unified Army Group Headquarters, Brossard, Quebec
The latest maps laid out in front of General Wesley showed a worrying and inarguable trend: the American army was pushing to the north quickly and could probably launch an assault at any point.
“They just move faster than us,” he said sadly as he watched the map refresh with the latest updates. The tool that ran the board was supposed to refresh automatically, but the General wasn’t patient enough to wait. Instead, he repeatedly tapped the manual refresh button and watched the Americans crawl a little further north with every single tap on the heavily-zoomed in map.
“Well,” pointed out his Chief of Staff, “the goal was always to draw them across the river. Given the terrain of Quebec, they’re going to have to fight us at some point.”
“Yes,” said Wesley, “but we saw in Montreal what their air power - however much diminished it is - can still do. We can’t concentrate our own forces effectively.”
The General walked over towards the map and hit the manual refresh again.
“They’re going to cross at multiple points,” he said, “they’re going to use the bridges at both Trois-Rivières and Quebec City. I can see it on the map.”
“I don’t know, General,” said the Chief of Staff, “that would leave them two desperate divisions that could potentially be cut off from their sources of supply- and with a lot of mobility troubles given the difficulty of keeping any of the bridges in service. After
all, we’e not talking about an area that can be crossed by ordinary bridging gear. They’d have to use boats to ferry gear across the whole damned river.”
“Take out all of the bridges,” ordered Wesley.
“That’s something that can’t be quickly reversed,” pointed out the Chief of Staff, “once we pull that trigger, we’ll have caused economic devastation for years.”
“The people who run the Federation love make-work programs,” said the General, “they can create tens of thousands of jobs rebuilding bridges.”
“Not every bridge was thought to be in immediate danger,” said the Chief of Staff, “I don’t think that they’re all ready to go.”
“What?” demanded Wesley.
“Things don’t always run smoothly around here,” said the Chief of Staff with a shrug.
“Demolish them all as soon as possible,” Wesley ordered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Struggle
2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division, Over Quebec City, Quebec
The C-17 Globemaster III was slowing down and lowering its altitude, Second Lieutenant Albert Sousa could feel it. The soldiers of the 82nd Airborne Division, freshly landed in California, had only had a few hours to prepare for a cross-continental journey followed by a combat jump. Having not slept in more than twenty-four hours the Platoon commander let loose an involuntary yawn in spite of the deadly seriousness of the moment.
The door of the Globemaster dropped open and the one-hundred and two paratroopers onboard began to make the jump, one after another. The C-17 was carrying two Platoons and Sousa’s was the second to jump. There hadn’t been time for more than the most general of briefings before the mission had begun. Their target was the Pierre Laporte Bridge, a massive nearly kilometre-long suspension bridge over the St. Lawrence River in Quebec City. A full battalion of paratroopers was tasked with taking and holding the bridge against any force that sought to destroy it, while another battalion was assigned to take and hold the Quebec Bridge.
Sousa’s decent to the ground was rapid. As soon as he felt his feet touch the earth he immediately discarded his parachute and raised his rifle into the air. The rough fall winds had managed to blow his unit at least somewhat off-course. They were supposed to land at the foot of the western side of the bridge, but they had managed to land a considerable distance away. He was still trying to get his bearings when he heard the first shot.
The Lieutenant stopped for a second simply to listen and orient himself. He the first shot was followed by several more in quick succession. It was, he realized, the familiar sound of semi-automatic rifle fire. Several other paratroopers had landed on the ground near where he was. He turned to them in the darkness and gestured for them to follow him.
There was more gunfire that was followed seconds later by the explosion of a grenade.
“Fuck,” said one of the paratroopers, “we must have landed right on top of some of them.”
Sousa gestured for the man to shut up and began to trot forward in the direction of the sound of the guns. It didn’t take long for the sound to become significantly louder. In the distance the Lieutenant spied a man with an AR-15 firing in the direction of a small group of paratroopers who had taken cover. The man wasn’t wearing anything that looked like a military uniform to Sousa.
They must, he realized, have called out the Goddamned police to protect the bridge against what they thought would be a couple of commandos.
Sousa aimed his rifle and fired a three-round burst. The bullets caught the man squarely in the chest and sent him falling forward to the ground. Squinting in the darkness, he saw that the man was still moving and reaching for his fallen rifle. With only a little reluctance, Sousa responded to this by raising his gun again and firing another burst into the top of the man’s head. That stopped him.
By the time that he’d suppressed the fire of the policeman more of the platoon had begun to get their own bearings. Squad leaders began to form up as best as they could, though the chaos of the air drop had led to some dispersal.
“Let’s move to the target,” Sousa ordered.
There were only a handful of men, also seemingly police officers, guarding the foot of the bridge. Even watching them from a distance, the Lieutenant could tell that they were terrified. As they watched the approach of the paratroopers the men at the edge of the bridge had a small discussion amongst themselves and then set to running. However, with the American paratroopers in front of them they had judged that it was impossible for them to flee forwards, since this would take them towards people who had just shot one of their colleagues. So, instead, they ran outwards and on to the bridge. Sousa had no idea where exactly they planned to flee from there.
“Should I take them out?” asked the sole airborne soldier in the Platoon who had jumped with a long-range sniper rifle, an XM-109 anti-materiel rifle intended to give them some extra punch if the forces defending the bridge had had some light vehicles for support.
“They’re just running away as fast as they can,” said Sousa somewhat sadly.
“They could be running to detonate explosives,” the sniper pointed out.
“Take the shot,” said Sousa, somewhat disgustedly.
Without saying another word the sniper opened fire on the fleeing men. The first shot was almost a miss, going lower than intended. However, when one is dealing with a weapon firing a 25x59mm bullet (technically a grenade, actually), any kind of hit is bound to be fatal. The round struck the man below the leg, blowing apart his thigh and sending the wreckage of the man splattering across the surface of the bridge. The second round was an outright miss, sailing high and missing its target. However, this also proved to be effective in its own way as the man it was aimed towards jumped and plunged over the side of the bridge either in an effort to evade the bullet or out of a desire to evade the fate that had befallen his comrade. Whatever it was, the western edge of the bridge was now open for Sousa’s platoon to seize.
XII Corps Headquarters, Saint-Jerome, Quebec
General Jackson broke the news to the headquarters himself.
“We’ve got both bridges,” he said simply. The men and women in XII Corps headquarters cheered loudly in response.
“Ok, ok,” said the General, raising his hands, “that’s the easy part. Now we need to make sure that it’s not a bridge too far. Where is the 42nd Infantry Division?”
“Just south of Trois-Rivières,” reported Colonel Dunford.
“There’s no point in hiding the real target now, have them pass through the lines of the 200th Division and head to Quebec City as fast as they can,” ordered Jackson.
Unified Army Group Headquarters, Brossard, Quebec
“At least we managed to blow the bridges at Trois-Rivières,” mused the Army Group’s G3.
“Small comfort, given that they have the bridges at Quebec City,” shot back General Wesley.
“With a light battalion of paratroopers without much support,” said the G3.
“But they’ve got two divisions of armor and mechanized infantry racing to the north to change that Goddamned fast,” said the General.
Wesley stopped for a second as he gazed intensely at the map of the theatre. He had planned this battle as a delicate dance along the river but, instead, he found that each wheezing side was simply trading hammer blows.
“I don’t see an opportunity for an end run,” he said, “as much as I want one. I’m just looking at this damned map here and every possible move suggests a counter-move. If we attack in the Montreal theatre, I think that they’ll let us continue to chew up the units there and instead move to attack our rear areas. If we try and cross back the river, I think that - from what we’ve seen of their air power - they can strand us on the other side. If they take Quebec City, they’ll be able to turn our flank and destroy our entire position. Plus, with the air assets that they have, we’ll be strung out along the highway and totally vulnerab
le.”
“The only way to win is not to play,” observed Colonel Chernow with a tone of mock-profundity. Everyone else in the briefing glared at him.
“The General is right,” he said, “every option that we have for fighting a battle of mobility is a bad one. So let’s not fight that battle. I know that we’re all supposed to be soldiers here, but these considerations are as much political as anything else. They’re trying to cross the river to turn our flank. Fine: let them. The actual result of the battle matters less now than the political perceptions. What does a major defeat in the days before the election mean for the current U.S. Administration? And, really, does the defeat have to be a defeat in military terms?”
“The Tet offensive model,” said Wesley with a grim look.
“Exactly, General,” said Colonel Chernow.
General Wesley got up and folded his arms.
“The damaged forces holding the line in Montreal have become tactically irrelevant to the outcome of the operations in this theatre, as in who will ultimately hold the field, but taking casualties there would be politically horrible for the American Government,” he said.
“Even their successes could be problematic for them,” pointed out the Colonel, “consider the political fallout that we’ve seen from the last battle in Montreal.”
“Yes, yes,” agreed General Wesley. He stopped for a moment to contemplate the disposition of forces a little further.
“However,” continued Chernow, “if we let them race all the way south to Montreal, they’re going to lift the siege there before we do do any serious damage. We may not have much, but we can play the cards that we do have carefully in order to slow them down and give ourselves a little bit of breathing room.”
