by James Rosone
“How many did we lose, Top?”
Instead of answering the question, he shouted, “Get me a medic up here!” and pointed at Diss.
The captain held his hand up in protest. “I don’t need a medic, Top. I’ll be fine.”
Keene shook his head. “You’ll be fine, but we need to get that bleeder under control before we go back into action. Look at yourself—you’re a bloody mess.” He pointed to Diss’s coveralls. The front shirt had blood smeared all over it.
The medic climbed up the turret. He wiped away the blood on the side of his face to get at the wound. He ripped open a pack of quickclot and doused the wound with it before attempting to place a makeshift bandage on it to cover it up.
“Hey, I still need to talk and be heard!” Diss said angrily to the medic.
Satisfied that his captain wasn’t going to bleed to death, First Sergeant Keene finally replied to the initial question. “We lost four crews outright. Another six soldiers were injured—four of them can return to the fight now that the medics have them patched up. The other two we had to medevac out. Second Battalion is hitting those Indian tanks now. From what I can tell, we’ll be ready to get back in the action as soon as you tell us to go,” he concluded.
Captain Diss nodded in acknowledgment.
Just then, they heard a series of propeller-driven planes fly over their position. The two of them looked up and saw the Air Force’s newest tank buster, the AT-6 Wolverine. Underneath the wing pilons, they could make out four hellfire antitank missiles and two anti-material rocket pods. Next to an A-10 Warthog, the Wolverine was definitely considered a godsend.
“OK, Top, let’s get everyone ready to move. I want to get us back into the action as soon as the colonel gives the go-ahead.”
His first sergeant nodded, then jumped down from the tank and ran back to his own vehicle.
Five minutes later, their battalion commander came over the radio net. “Advance!” he ordered. Second Battalion had blunted the enemy attack after they had withdrawn, and now they were going to push past their sister battalion and attempt to overrun the enemy unit.
As they moved past their earlier firing line, Captain Diss spotted a couple of his own tanks, now charred burning wrecks. A few minutes later, his company pulled up to their sister battalion, which was still firing at the enemy, who was now retreating. Once Diss and his men came abreast of the of the sister battalion, they stopped shooting.
Their battalion commander came over the radio again. “Charge!” he shouted.
“You heard the man, Mustangs. Charge!” Captain Diss shouted. He had secretly always wanted to say that. His tank lurched forward and picked up speed, and they quickly closed the gap on the retreating Indian regiment.
Looking into the commander's sight, Diss spotted two Arjun tanks. One was hiding behind a burnt-out wreck of a tank, and the other one was hiding behind a burning BMP-3 infantry fighting vehicle. Captain Diss yelled to his driver, “Stop the tank!”
He quickly lased the first tank to get a quick read on it. Winters punched in the targeting data, but suddenly, their targeting computer spat out an error.
“Damn it! It looks like they have a dazzler. It just blinded our targeting computer,” Winters said to everyone’s horror. The gunner immediately switched over to his auxiliary sight and got them back in the action.
“Back up now!” Diss shouted to his driver. In a fraction of a second, their vehicle lurched back, just as a round slammed into the front glacis of their armor. The round bounced off, but it rattled everyone in the vehicle hard.
Diss instantly popped more smoke grenades, hoping to throw off the enemy’s next shot, which was sure to be on the way soon.
Boom, bam!
One of his tanks had pulled alongside his to try and hit the tank that had just shot at him. Unfortunately, the crew failed to identify the second tank, which had been hiding behind the burned-out BMP, and was blown apart by it.
Winters found the tank that was sniping at them from behind the BMP and sighted in on it, calling the target out.
"Identified! Arjun tank," he exclaimed in a hurried voice.
Specialist Mann tapped the loader's door lever with his knee for what must have been his tenth or twelfth time of the morning, opening it up. He reached in the ammo well, grabbed a sabot round and slammed it into the breech of the cannon and pulled up on the arming handle.
“Up!” he yelled.
"Fire!" screamed Diss, hoping with all that was in him that they took that guy out. He wasn’t sure how many more times their luck would hold out. They’d already taken several direct hits, and so far, the enemy rounds hadn’t penetrated his tank, but he recognized that it was luck at this point that was keeping them alive.
"On the way!" Sergeant Winters shouted urgently.
Winters depressed the firing button and prayed for a hit.
Boom!
The cannon fired, recoiling back inside the turret as the vehicle rocked back on the tank’s springs. The spent aft cap of the sabot round clanged on the turret floor, joining the pile that was now cluttering the floor.
Diss watched the round cross the distance and slam right into the tank, which burst it into flames.
“You got it!” yelled Captain Diss to his gunner. “Quickly, find that other tank and take it out before he realizes we’re still alive.”
“Sabot up!” shouted the loader as he pulled up on the arming handle.
Seeing that they had found the last remaining enemy tank, Captain Diss yelled, "Fire!" He said a quick prayer as the round was released.
Boom!
The cannon recoiled one more time inside the tank, and they watched the round fly right next to the turret of the burning tank to slam into the side of the other Arjun tank. In seconds, the tank blew up in spectacular form, adding another billowing cloud of oily black smoke to the surreal scene around them.
Crump, crump, crump.
More artillery rounds landed near them, rocking their tank.
“Get us moving!” Captain Diss yelled at his driver. “We need to get out of here. The enemy artillery has us zeroed in.”
Once they were speeding along, Captain Diss again returned his attention to the rest of the company. He needed to figure out how many more tanks he’d lost during this charge. He knew the one next to him had been destroyed, but he didn’t know whose tank it was or if they’d lost any additional vehicles.
Ten minutes went by as they moved through the area, past burnt-out wrecks of Arjun tanks, BMPs and BTR armored vehicles. Several Apache helicopters flew ahead of them, looking for more targets to take out. Just as Captain Diss was starting to feel somewhat safe about having them around, one of the Apaches exploded in midair, hit by some unseen missile. Then he identified the sound of more fighters overhead. An aerial battle was now in full swing above him.
*******
Mons, Belgium
Global Defense Force HQ
General John Cotton, the Supreme Allied Commander, stormed into the briefing room.
“Why haven’t we broken through the enemy lines in the south of Poland yet?” he demanded. He singled out his operations chief, a German officer, and practically shouted, “Our forces in the north have routed the enemy—they pushed the Russians out of Poland and back into Belarus—we may very well capture Minsk in a few more days. What is the holdup with our forces in the south?”
Lieutenant General Wolfgang Kholman was not fazed by Cotton’s abrupt manner. He calmly responded, “The situation is still fluid at the moment, Sir. Despite being surprised by the Indian use of the Arjun Mk-2s, I just received a report that the US 1st Armored Division and the German 9th Panzer Division broke through the Indian positions there, and the Indians are now conducting a fighting retreat back to the Ukrainian border.”
Seemingly satisfied with his J3’s response, Cotton took a short breath and signaled for the others standing at the table to take a seat. “All right, everyone, we need to get the rest of the midafternoon upda
te. I have a secured video teleconference with the President before dinner, and I need to be fully caught up on everything.”
Two captains sitting against the wall pulled out their notepads, ready to take detailed notes on the meeting. They had the dubious task of creating the slide deck to be presented to the President.
“OK,” said Cotton, now more poised, “if the 1st AD and the German 9th Panzers broke through, then what’s happening to the small contingent of enemy troops that are trapped in the Kraków pocket? Do we have an idea of how many enemy soldiers we’re facing?” Cotton asked.
Major General Sarah Tyndale, his intelligence officer or J2, took this question on. “We’ve been going over a lot of drone footage to analyze the numbers on that, Sir. We’ve also been combing through a lot of interrogation reports from prisoners taken near the city. The best we can tell is that at least one battalion of Indian infantry is still trapped in the city, along with a Russian motorized rifle regiment. We estimate it’s 5,000 enemy soldiers, give or take.”
General Kholman added, “We’ve been hitting their armored vehicles with precision strikes as best we can. Right now, they don’t have enough armor or other vehicles to force a breakout in any particular sector. I can order the 9th Panzer Division in, but my concern is we’ll end up destroying a lot of the city trying to root them out.”
General Tyndale nodded, then asserted, “Sir, I’d recommend we let the PSYOPS guys have a crack at it. The enemy has been on defense for a while; they’re getting hit from the air, snipers, and artillery. If we can’t convince them to surrender by the end of the week, then we can look at sending troops in.”
General Cotton put his two index fingers together in the shape of a steeple as he thought that over. Sending troops in now would surely result in a bloody street fight that would cause significant damage to a historic city. “I could give them a week,” he finally determined, “but no more.” Without enemy units in their rear, a longer delay just didn’t make sense.
“OK, General Tyndale, your intel guys have one week,” General Cotton instructed. “If you can’t convince the enemy to surrender, then I’m going to have General Kholman send the 9th in. I can’t have that division stuck encircling Kraków trying to starve them out. I need their armor to help press home the attack elsewhere. Understood?”
She nodded, smiling slightly. General Cotton knew her well enough to understand that saving a beautiful city from destruction meant something to her.
Cotton moved on to the next topic. “Slovakia—have we pushed the Russians out?”
“Yes,” answered General Kholman. “It didn’t really seem like they planned on holding the country. We sent one Italian division, one Croatian battalion and two Austrian battalions in there, and all they encountered were two Russian motorized infantry regiments and one armor battalion. The Russians barely fought. They did carry out an effective fighting retreat, which tore up a lot of the country’s infrastructure. Nearly every bridge they crossed, they destroyed. It’s going to make launching any offensive operations from Slovakia a mess until we can get those bridges repaired.”
General Cotton snickered. “That was the Russians’ entire plan, Herr Kholman,” he said with a smile. “They were never going to hold Slovakia, but now they’ve denied us its use as a launchpad to invade Ukraine. They want to force us to face them from Poland, where they’ve built an in-depth defense for us.”
General Kholman nodded and pulled up a map on PowerPoint. “Right now, Sir, the enemy defensive line stretches from Košice, Slovakia, to Nowy Sacz, Poland, in the south. In the center, they hold at Lublin, Poland, and in the north, their line stretches from Baranovichi, Belarus, to just east of Riga, Latvia.” A bulge in the enemy lines in the center had clearly developed.
Seeing the opportunity before him, General Cotton sat up straighter in his chair and announced, “I want Fifth Corps in Belarus to break off from their attack and shift south. Move the French division we have in reserve to take their place. I want Fifth Corps to drive south and capture Kovel, Ukraine. If they can capture that city, it’ll cut the entire Russian center force off from resupply and place an entire corps in their rear area. We’ll collapse the entire Russian front if we can pull it off,” he said excitedly.
“This might be the ticket to ending this war if we can make it work,” Cotton thought happily.
Kholman looked at the map and paused. He scattered some notes on the paper in front of him, and Cotton surmised that General Kholman was calculating the distances. Suddenly, he frowned. “Herr General, I agree this would cause the Russian lines to collapse. However, I’m not sure if you are aware, but that would be roughly a 320 kilometer drive south, largely behind enemy lines. We would in all likelihood not be able to resupply them for several days, maybe even a week, depending on whether or not the enemy cut through our own supply lines,” he explained.
“What do you believe we’d need to have happen to make this plan work?” inquired Cotton. He really wanted to finish the Russians off there in Poland.
Kholman thought about that for a second. He looked at the units in the nearby area and consulted the map one more time. “Herr General, I’m not sure if the British are going to return to the war soon, or if they will at all, but if they did, we could probably complete the maneuver you requested if we could have the 16 Air Assault Brigade carry out a combat assault and secure Ivanava, Belarus, and Manevychi, Ukraine. I believe they would be able to keep our supply lines open and make sure Fifth Corps didn’t get cut off or surrounded.” He gestured to the locations on the map as he spoke.
General Cotton needed a moment to consider this option. No one spoke for a little while, although several of the people scribbled notes, apparently making their own calculations. Finally, Cotton replied, “I’ll talk to President Foss about that when I speak with him tonight. It’s only been twenty-four hours since the new British government was sworn in, and I’m not sure how quickly they’ll want to get back into the war.”
Looking now to his naval counterparts, Cotton said, “Changing subjects, are we ready to launch Operation Polar Bear yet?”
Operation Polar Bear was going to build on Operation Nordic Thunder by leveraging a naval task force to sail around the Kola Peninsula and finish off the remains of the Russian Navy. Once the Admiral Kuznetsov and the rest of the North Fleet were sunk, the amphibious assault portion of the operation could commence. The goal was to land a regiment of French Fusiliers Marins, the French version of the Marine Corps, who would assault Severodvinsk, Russia, in the White Sea, which would open up their access to the strategic city of Arkhangelsk. The French Marines would be supported by Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. Between the three Canadian battalions and the French forces, General Cotton believed they should have more than enough strength to secure this critically important Russian seaport and open it up for future offensive operations once spring thawed the winter snow and ice.
French Admiral Denis Béraud, who would be leading the expedition, responded, “The task force is ready to sail within seventy-two hours of your giving us the order.” He crossed his arms, hesitating. “However, if I could, General Cotton, I would advise that we wait to see if the British are going to rejoin the war. If they do, then I recommend we hold off on deploying the task force until we can get the British to join us.”
Admiral Béraud pulled up a screen with a summary of his naval forces. “Right now, we have the Italian carriers Cavour and Giuseppe Garibaldi. Combined, these carriers have thirty-eight vertical takeoff aircraft. Then we have the Spanish Juan Carlos I, which can carry twenty-eight VTOL aircraft. Then I have my own carrier, the Charles de Gaulle, which can carry forty aircraft. We also have three amphibious assault ships that could carry additional aircraft, but I have intentionally left them to be dedicated helicopter assault ships to support the ground invasion. If we add in the USS Kitty Hawk, the USS Enterprise, and USS John F. Kennedy, it will bring our naval airpower to over three hundred aircraft. However, if the HM
S Queen Elizabeth is able to join the fleet, it’ll add another fifty aircraft. Plus, we’ll be able to add the Royal Marines to the ground force. It’ll make our offensive much more effective.”
A smile spread across General Cotton’s face. “Admiral, I’m impressed. You’ve been given an incredibly difficult job of cobbling nearly a dozen navies together to form the largest allied fleet in the Atlantic since World War II, and you’ve done it. Again, I’ll speak with the President tonight to see what the status of the British is and if we may be able to count on them in this coming operation. Was there any trouble getting the American carriers manned and ready?” he asked. “I know they’d just recently been pulled out of mothballs, so they needed a lot of work done to them.”
Admiral Béraud nodded. “Yes, they needed a lot of work to get ready for this operation,” he replied. “However, I’d like to commend America on its ability to get these ships ready for war in such a short timeframe. In less than fifteen months, your shipyards were able to rewire them and install the most current defensive systems, targeting computers, and radars. It truly was amazing.”
General Cotton, who was now feeling much more optimistic than when he’d entered the room, concluded, “Thank you, everyone, for your hard work these past few days. We’re close to defeating the enemy. We need to stay focused on the task at hand and finish these snakes off.”
Then he got up and headed back to his office. He needed to prepare for his brief with the President, which would take place in two hours.
*******
Arlington, Virginia
Pentagon, National Military Command Center
The air was thick with tension and apprehension as the men who would decide the fate of the free world sat at the table in the large room of the National Military Command Center, deep in the bowels of the Pentagon. From this very room, the launch orders to unleash America’s nuclear arsenal could be generated and executed. The men and women that manned this room on a twenty-four-hour basis at times felt the weight of the world on their shoulders as six nuclear-armed powers waged war against each other. They never knew if one or all six would at some point unleash those horrid weapons of mass destruction.
