by Greg Gotti
Royal Hues of Blue
Book One
Written by Greg Gotti
Copyright 2016 Greg Gotti
All rights reserved.
Acknowledgements
The author would like to thank the following:
My children… Greg, Mark, Stephanie and Joey for teaching me what it is to love beyond measure.
My father… Gregory C. Gotti, for instilling the work ethic within me that has allowed me to succeed and for raising me to revere loyalty and honor.
Marcia… for the years of my journey she shared with me and the love she gave our children.
Dr. Pam Lieske… for assigning our class to read 1984 and changing my life forever.
The DC crew… for your love and support throughout the darkest of days and your encouragement throughout the creative process.
Everyone who ever showed me love when I was not acting lovable. You showed me how to be.
My siblings, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins… for being my family and the many years of wonderful memories. I love you all.
The 85… for showing me we really are all the same inside. This book is for you.
Everyone who has ever served our country… I have the freedom to write anything I want because of you.
The kids of Brighton Street and the east side… I’ll always be one of you.
BCA and CMBC for giving me the lifelong compass to guide me whenever I am lost.
Amazon… for providing this venue for my work.
Andrea… for being there when it felt like nobody else was. You restored my faith.
Chapter One
Conquest, War, Famine and Death… these were the names of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. John Wallace had known them well from the day he was born in what had once been the American southwest. He didn’t know much about The Fall; only what he had been taught in school. Weapons of sickness and disease had wiped entire nations off the map, and the fall of governments around the world had led to the deaths of many more. Mankind had become dependent upon technology to live. The loss of so many of those who understood the technology had left much of the world without ample power, food and medicine. People had turned against those they had once considered friends, and each day became a battle just to survive. Lawlessness and anarchy had spread like wildfire, and it was only the formation of the Soona Nation that had saved his people from annihilation.
The Rista Federation had come up from the south and attempted to wipe his people off the face of the earth. Those brown-skinned savages blamed them for The Fall; saying it had been the white Soona who had carried the disease among them and infected them. Their armies had slaughtered entire towns, stolen their land and denied them access to the rivers that provided them with drinkable water. It was only the creation of the Soona Nation that had allowed them to organize a militia to fight off the Ristas. The militia had grown into a well-organized army, and the decades-long war between the Soona and the Ristas had begun. Each side would make inroads into the territory of the other and hold that ground for a time, only to lose it when the enemy made its own push. John had learned all of this as a child. By the time he was 12, he had already hated the Ristas. The war had seen the borders of the two nations change as territory was won and lost, but the past few decades had seen virtually all of the fighting occurring within a strip of territory about 30 miles thick. This had become known as “The Front,” and countless soldiers had fought and died within that zone of hatred and death. Nobody had aircraft of any kind, so all the fighting was done on the ground. Neither side had been able to sustain any sort of successful push into enemy territory for decades.
John had been an exceptionally intelligent little boy, and his instructors had identified him as a candidate for the Elite Academy, a separate school system where the best and brightest minds were trained to serve the state. The state ran everything in the Soona Nation, and there was no greater honor than to serve it. John’s red hair and deep-blue eyes gave his chiseled features a unique look among his classmates, and he had been an exceptional student. He had applied and was accepted into the prestigious Officer Candidate School for the Soona Security Service. The SSS was the intelligence agency of the Soona Nation; they kept tabs on enemy movement along the southern front and kept watch for traitors within Soona land. Spies were everywhere in the war and the state kept vigilant watch for sedition and treason. John had been thrilled to be accepted into the SSS, and in his final year of school, he had volunteered to do his required field work on the front lines with the Western Army as it prepared to make a southward thrust into territory that had once been Soona land.
John had acquitted himself well in the field. He had been a track star at both the Elite Academy and Officer Candidate School, so his first job was as a runner. He delivered messages between units as the army fought its way slowly through The Front. The Ristas were excellent at intercepting and decoding radio transmissions, so John delivered each message in person as the commanding officers communicated with each other. The campaign had started well, but stalled after pushing just over eleven miles south. The media, controlled by the state, had reported the campaign as a rousing success, and celebrations had broken out across the land. John was perplexed by this, but he shrugged it off. He had gotten a taste of war, and he had found his calling. He yearned to take the fight to the hated Ristas, and upon his graduation from OCS, he had requested to be assigned to The Front.
John’s request had been granted, and he had been sent back to the Western Army and given command of a small elite reconnaissance unit. He was a natural leader, and he inspired courage and devotion in his men as he led from the front, never from the rear. They followed him anywhere he led them, and John Wallace soon became a famous name on both sides of The Front. He was a brilliant strategist and fearless warrior, and his star steadily rose through the years. He was promoted up the chain of command until at age 33, he had become the youngest officer to ever earn the rank of Field Captain in the history of the Soona Nation.
John had been given command of the entire forward division of the Western Army. Tired of the back-and-forth cycle of gains and losses between the two sides, he had devised a new strategy and used fresh tactics to launch a new invasion of Rista territory. This had brought incredible success. Where so many previous attempts had failed, Wallace had smashed through the Rista’s front lines and driven all the way to the river that had originally marked the border between the two peoples. His forces now freshly supplied and reinforced, he prepared to lead them across the river and begin a historic invasion of the Rista homeland.
John now stood on a small hill overlooking the river valley below. He took a sip of hot coffee as he surveyed the land before him. Off to one side, the last of the sun was slipping below the horizon, casting shades of purple and pink throughout the sky as the river wound through the valley. Tonight was the night. He had planned the invasion carefully, and his forces had drilled for it until they were executing the maneuvers like a well-oiled machine. They were as prepared as an army could be. Wallace had quickly developed a reputation for bringing out the best in his forces. He was demanding, but equally loyal to every soldier under his command. He never left anyone behind. He inspired the kind of devotion and loyalty in his men that most commanders could only dream about. He took a deep breath of the crisp spring air and exhaled slowly as he raised his cup to take another drink. The hot liquid felt good as it warmed him from within, and he turned his head slightly as someone approached from his left.
John watched as his SSS compatriot and old classmate, Karl Schwarz, stopped next to him and took a look out over the valley. Schwarz wore his trademark sly grin as they stood in silence for a few moments, just watchi
ng the sun’s light slowly dim in the west.
“Your men ready, Karl?” John asked as he saw the first of the stars appear in the dimming sky. He was really enjoying this cup of coffee. There was something different about it; a hint of spice or something he couldn’t quite identify. He would have to ask the supply guys about it.
“We’re always ready, Johnny. You know that. You did enough of these missions with us to know better,” Schwarz answered while pretending to scold his friend.
“You weren’t ready that time I had to cut you loose from that cactus.”
Schwarz winced.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? Seriously, how could I have avoided it? I started taking a leak and realized I was in the middle of a snake pit.”
“Maybe try less beer next time,” John offered with a shrug. “That’s like volunteering to spend your whole evening peeing. I still don’t know how you managed to wedge yourself in the middle of three of those things.”
“Man, I was just getting out of there. Needles don’t kill you; snakes do.”
Wallace broke into a small laugh and Schwarz laughed along with him. The two had been friends ever since John’s first day at the Elite Academy. They had graduated one-two from the EA and gone on to be roommates at the OCS. They had both been head and shoulders above their classmates every step of the way, but Wallace had always possessed a certain quality that made him the clear leader of the two. He and Schwarz had served together in the Elite Forces, where they had been part of many missions behind enemy lines. Their Rista counterparts, the feared Rista Special Forces, had quickly developed a grudging respect for the secretive Soona division that had wreaked such havoc within their borders. Schwarz had stayed with the EF and became his unit’s commander when John left to lead regular army forces. Now, they were about to launch the biggest push into enemy territory that had ever been attempted by the Soona.
“It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it, John?” Schwarz asked. “We graduated OCS at a time when we were wondering if it was possible to stop the Ristas from rolling right over us, and here we are driving farther south than we’ve been since the war started.”
“We haven’t been aggressive enough,” John stated matter-of-factly. “We have spent decades fighting a defensive war; allowing the Ristas to attack and retreat back across borders they imposed on us. Our people have always fought hard. The only difference between then and now is the location. Now, we do our fighting in their land instead of ours.”
“Yeah, we do,” Schwarz replied, his voice trailing off just a bit. “This push of yours has really caused a lot of changes. It’s caused a lot of changes everywhere. Not everyone is happy about it.”
“Our people deserve to taste victory, Karl. I have watched the same thing play out for years. We start to make progress. We win some key hilltop, only to sit back and wait for orders instead of pressing our advantage. We never get anywhere, and Soona keep dying when they could be winning. We have talked about this already.”
“Yes, we have, and you still seem to think you are the only one who knows how to win a war!” Schwartz’s voice rose as he finished, and John turned to shoot him a look. Realizing he was dangerously close to crossing a line, Schwarz looked down and sighed.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I do appreciate everything you’ve done out here. I’m sure the High Council does as well. It’s just that… well, they like officers they can control. What if they see you as a loose cannon?”
“The High Council has had decades to end this war one way or another,” John answered coolly. “They could have used diplomacy or formed an alliance with one of the other nations. They could have done something other than just watching this same old script play out over and over. I took command here with orders to lead an invasion, and I have.”
“Yes, a summer invasion to secure access to a small tributary where we could have fresh water,” Schwarz said carefully. “Instead, you go thirty miles to the west and end up driving all the way to the main river. Then you demand supplies and more men to keep pushing. They weren’t happy, John. I’ve heard the talk in briefings. They think you’re trying to run the war by yourself out here.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” John retorted angrily as he whirled to face Schwarz. “We took out their entire forward army in a single day! It took us less than two weeks to recapture every single acre of land the Ristas stole from us decades ago! We drove all the way to the banks of this river and have been stuck here waiting for our supplies and reinforcements while the enemy takes advantage of our dallying by digging in and reinforcing with fresh troops. We could be halfway to their capital by now!”
Schwarz saw John’s face grow red like his hair and knew he’d pushed too far. He raised his hands in mock surrender and bowed his head slightly to signal his submission.
“You’ve done more than anyone ever dreamed could be done. People are celebrating throughout our nation, John. You’ve given them hope again. They are singing your praises in the streets. Maybe you’re becoming too popular for the council’s liking. I don’t know. I just want you to be sure about this next step. If you think they’ve had time to retrench and reinforce their troops, maybe we should consider digging in ourselves right here at the river. We have reconquered the land that was taken from us; all of it! Isn’t that what we’ve always said this whole war was about?”
John frowned at Schwarz. He knew his friend was speaking out of concern for him and his men. Nobody had thought an invasion here would be successful, but it had been successful beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. John knew the terrain from years of running missions behind enemy lines. He knew the enemy’s tactics inside and out. He had studied them carefully for years. He knew their supply routes and the areas where their secret installations had to be. He knew how to beat them, and he had proven it for years. He was not about to let a bunch of bureaucrats who’d never served at The Front tell him how to fight this war.
“Karl, we have killed or captured every Rista soldier north of this river. We have eliminated their entire forward army, and they still don’t understand how we did it. The Texans hit them hard at Amarillo, and they had to send everything they had to hold it. They would usually have entire divisions flooding into this area to repel us, but they’re tied up holding off the Texans. This is our one chance. We could stay here and feel good about taking back our land, but they’d eventually invade us again. They have superior numbers, and they’ll just keep training new soldiers to send at us. More of our sons will die; just like mine.” A look of sorrow crossed John’s face for just an instant, but Schwarz caught it. He knew he needed to be careful with his next words.
“Johnny, I am really sorry about Paulie. He was the best kid.” Schwarz’s voice carried an authentic sadness as he spoke of John’s son. “All he ever wanted was to be a soldier. I remember him with his little toy guns and pretending rocks were grenades as he threw them in the yard. Losing him so soon after Vanessa died… I can’t even imagine that pain.”
“He was still just a kid,” John said quietly. “We make boys into soldiers at fourteen and send them into battle at fifteen. It’s too young, Karl.”
“I know, John. It’s just our numbers are so much lower than theirs…”
“Exactly!” John exclaimed, cutting him off with a wave. “That is exactly why we have to strike while we have the advantage! If our leaders won’t end this war, we have to end it by winning it. We can’t stay on our side of the river knowing it means we sentence thousands more of our children to death when the Ristas eventually attack again. I won’t do it. We have a good plan. We have the men and the firepower. Let the elites in Mile High City click their tongues in disapproval all they want. They can have their fancy cocktail parties and their deliberations about things they know nothing about. They will come rushing to take the credit when we march victoriously into Hidalgo and fly our flag over the Rista President’s palace. Let them. I care nothing for glory. These savages to our south have slaught
ered our sons, our brothers, our fathers… they show no mercy as they sweep like locusts across the land devouring everything in their path. Now, for the first time I have ever seen, they are scared. They cannot understand how we wiped out their army, and from the intel I have gathered, they have still not made the necessary adjustments to repel our next advance. Now is our one chance; before they learn what it is we have done to put them in these dire straits, to break them and change the entire dynamic of this never-ending war.”
Schwarz nodded in understanding. He realized there was no changing his friend’s mind. Not only was his argument valid, this was personal for him. They had killed his son, and he was determined to make them pay for it. He felt sympathy for John, and he wished there was a way to take away his pain.
John looked Schwarz over as he waited for some kind of response. Getting none, he leaned in slightly.
“Karl, I only need to know one thing. Are you with me, or should I find someone else? I need you, my friend. Of all the days since we first met, I need you now the most.”
“I’m with you, Johnny. I’ve always had your back, and I’ve got it now.”
John smiled as he clapped Schwarz on the shoulder.
“Good! Let’s get ready to move. It will be dark soon.” He dumped the last swallow of coffee, now cold, from his cup, and walked with Schwarz to gather his men for the most important night of his life.
High General Juan Rodriguez stood on a hill overlooking the river that currently separated Rista territory from that of the Soona. Dusk was beginning to give way to twilight, and the air was rich with the scent of the cherry tobacco he smoked in his pipe. He was only now beginning to be able to sleep through the night again. This invasion by the Soona had caught his forces completely off-guard, and he had been roused from his sleep in the Rista capital city of Hidalgo to be told of the attack. Radio communications were still being jammed somehow, so he had to rush to the front by jeep on one of the few passable highways remaining. By the time he had arrived, the entire forward army division in the region had been killed or captured. Rodriguez was the highest ranking officer in the Rista military and a genuine legend in the Rista Federation. He had risen to his current position on the strength of his many improbable victories in the wars against both the Soona to the north and the Texans to the east. Rodriguez already had his hands full with the defense of Amarillo, and now he had this to deal with. The Soona army had traditionally been a glorified militia; little better than riflemen who hid in the trees and used guerilla tactics and the mountainous terrain to prevent the Ristas from advancing any farther into their territory.
