Captain McRae raised his hand. “Sir, I lost 60 % of my command, and nearly half of my remaining tanks and Bradleys have extensive battle damage. Shoot, my own tank took three hits, which tore large chunks out of our armor. What are they planning to do with our battalion after we took these heavy losses?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t just sunk his career. He felt that he had to ask for the sake of his remaining soldiers.
Lieutenant Colonel Lewis’ face fell. He seemed to be overcome with immense sadness. In a calm and reassuring voice, he replied, “I said as much to Brigade. They can’t take us off the line entirely, but they’re going to hold our battalion in reserve. What I need to know from you guys is how many of your tanks are combat effective, and how many have too much battle damage to continue to fight? I’m going to form a small task force of tanks combining those that are still combat effective to form our reserve force. The rest of you will serve in support functions until your vehicles are ready.”
Everyone nodded. Once they had tallied up the tanks that could still fight, they had roughly twelve tanks out of the original thirty-six that were still battle-ready.
The battle in Siberia raged on for another five days before the remnants of the Indian Army withdrew back to Irkutsk to lick their wounds, and to figure out what to do next. With the battle of Siberia largely over, the US First Army Group now turned its attention to Mongolia and the liberation of Ulaanbaatar, the capital of the country. With little in the way of Chinese forces in the area, the capture of Ulaanbaatar wouldn’t take long, and the liberation of Mongolia would have the immediate effect of cutting off access to the mineral-rich mines the Chinese factories desperately needed.
The Resistance
“Slowly let your breath out and then hold it. Then gently squeeze the trigger,” the shooting instructor said calmly as George Philips applied pressure to the trigger.
Bang!
The round hit center mass. “Excellent shot, George!” his instructor said.
Smiling, George felt good about the hit. “Finally,” said George with a sigh of relief. “Now I just need to consistently hit the target like that.”
The instructor laughed at the comment. “You know, George, when you came here several months ago, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. Now you’re hitting targets 600 yards away. I think you’re more than ready for that corporate hunting trip this fall. No one is going to laugh at you because you can’t shoot,” he replied.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” George said as he ejected the spent casing out of the chamber and left the bolt open to show that the rifle was unloaded. Then he placed the Winchester Model 70 rifle on the ground and proceeded to get up.
“It helps that you have an excellent optical sight on that rifle,” George’s instructor commented. “That Trijicon Accupoint makes all the difference when shooting a target at the distances you guys will be shooting at. I personally love hunting elk out in South Dakota, but man, are they long shots.”
“This is going to be my first hunt,” George admitted. “Who knows if I’ll even see an elk? But at least if I do, I know I’ll be able to hit it. Thanks again for all your help; I’ll let you know how things go when I get back.” George extended his hand and shook his instructor’s hand before he finished packing his rifle and other belongings and headed to his car.
Secretly, George hated guns. Like many of his fellow Antifa activists, he was all for taking away people’s right to “bear arms.” However, he didn’t see any other course to stopping this fascist regime from waging their global war than to try and cut the head of the snake off. When George’s younger brother shipped off to the Pacific with the Marines, he suddenly felt a sense of urgency to do something.
Once George had decided on his course of action, he researched hunting and the types of rifles used by hunters when they were going to shoot something beyond 400 yards. His investigation led him to elk hunting. Then he looked into the types of rifles and optics used by those types of hunters. Next, George created a cover story for why he had developed a sudden interest in hunting. When he bought his rifle, he found a range that offered training on how to shoot a rifle and used this tall tale about a corporate hunting trip to make it all seem normal.
Every Saturday for the past three months, George had spent between two and four hours at the rifle range with his instructor. With each outing, George became better and more comfortable with the rifle. He even had to admit to himself that he was actually starting to understand why people enjoyed sport shooting. It was fun to hold an object that could reach out and kill something from so far away.
After placing his rifle back into its case, George closed the trunk, got into his vehicle and headed back to his apartment in Providence. Once home, he looked over the map of where the GOP rally was going to be held and felt confident that the Airbnb room he had rented would give him the best vantage point for what he was going to do. Now it was a matter of waiting until the appointed time.
“Hang in there, little brother,” he thought as he looked at a picture of his kid brother. “This war will end soon enough.”
“Someone, please tell me what the heck is going on in Great Britain?” demanded the President.
Secretary of State Travis Johnson looked exhausted and haggard as he stared back at the President. He shook his head before responding, “I honestly don’t know, Sir. I think something is seriously wrong inside Prime Minister Chattem’s office. It was one thing for them to withdraw from the war and sue for a separate peace, but to try and intern our forces operating on the bases we’re leasing from them is going too far,” he replied.
Jim Castle, who was speaking to them through a secure video conference from the Pentagon, broke in to add, “This is ludicrous, Mr. President, and illegal. We have base rights to use those bases as we see fit. Furthermore, the United Kingdom had agreed to allow us to use those bases in defense of Europe. They cannot simply renege on the agreements!” he added angrily.
“They’ve already reneged on their treaty obligations with the Global Defense Force. Why should we expect them to honor our basing rights?” said the National Security Advisor in a snarky voice.
“I’m with Secretary Johnson on this one,” said Jedediah Perth, the Director of the CIA. He was also joining via teleconference. “I think there is more going on behind the scenes in 10 Downing Street than we are aware of. I have no proof, but a friend of mine who works for MI5 believes something is amiss with the PM. They’re currently looking into the situation, but right now, they say it’s completely out of character that he would be issuing this threat.”
Gates nodded. “JP, continue to look into this further,” he ordered. “Find out what’s going on. Maybe the Russians somehow got to Chattem and have him over a barrel. Something just isn’t right with what’s going on over there.”
“I’ve had more than a few generals reach out to me, Mr. President, saying the mood within the Ministry of Defense is rather foul,” Castle added. “While they wouldn’t openly talk about removing Chattem from power, there’s a lot of grumbles about what he’s doing. One of the generals — I won’t say his name — did say that if the PM was to order the MOD to intern our forces, they would not obey that order. He said they may have to cease fighting the Russians, but they won’t lift a finger to help the Russians defeat us or Europe.”