“Thank you, Captain Higgins. You are clearly Jake Higgins’s father. I will now patch you through to him.”
“Is Jake all right?”
“You can confirm that in…” she checked her watch. “In fifteen seconds.” She faded from view.
Stan waited, and in exactly fifteen seconds, Jake appeared onscreen.
“Dad, are you okay?”
Stan found himself grinning from ear-to-ear. “It’s good to see, son. Are you in trouble?”
A wary look came over Jake. “No sir, I’ve learned my lesson. America is the greatest country in the world and President Sims is just the man to see us through these terrible times. I made a stupid mistake in protesting against him. I see that now.”
Stan nodded, but he felt saddened. Yes, America was the greatest country, but no one should have to force that idea onto his boy. It should have come naturally. Still, he couldn’t fault Jake. The Detention Center surely monitored the call. The more he’d thought about it during the weeks, the more he’d liked it that his boy had stood up to them. But there was a time and place to speak up and a time to keep your mouth shut. Maybe this was a sign of Jake finally growing up: knowing when to fight his battles.
“Are you leaving the Detention Center?” Stan asked. “Are you coming home?”
“I am leaving,” Jake said. “But I’m not coming home. I’ve signed up.”
“In the Militia?” Stan asked.
“That’s why I’m calling, sir. I want to thank you.”
“What did I do?”
“You won the Medal of Honor in Alaska, and the exploits of your tanks in California have been in the news almost every day. The Detention Center Commandant has spoken to the President about me, asking for a reprieve.”
Stan’s face split into a huge smile. “That’s wonderful!”
“Yes sir. It means I can volunteer for any service I want.”
Stan blinked rapidly. “What’s that? What are you talking about?”
“I’m enlisting in the Army, sir. America is under siege and she needs every patriotic citizen she has. I’m going to request armor, but I’ll go wherever my country needs me.”
“When do you leave for boot camp?”
“Today, sir.”
Stan stared at his boy. There was something different about Jake, about how he was acting. “Is this your idea?”
“Of course it is.”
“I’m—”
Jake glanced to his left, and he nodded to someone mumbling off-screen. He faced Stan again and said, “Sorry, Dad. My time is up. The train is leaving in twenty minutes and I have to be aboard. I’ll call you once I’m out of boot camp.”
“You can write letters during boot, can’t you?”
“I don’t think I can.” Jake stared hard at him then. It almost felt to Stan as if Jake was giving him a secret message. “I’m going to make you proud of me, sir.”
“I’m already proud.”
“Bye, Dad.”
“Good-bye, Jake. You take care of yourself, and you remember what it really means to be a good American.”
“I understand you. Believe me, I do.”
Before Jake could say more, the screen dissolved. The former Detention Center officer reappeared and congratulated Stan on the news.
“Yes,” Stan said distractedly. “Thank you.”
Shortly thereafter he left the Rite Aid store. His tank was ordered out of the front line. The Chinese storm had stopped for the moment. Now it sounded as if the Behemoths were going to be regrouped again. That was a good idea. What about Jake, though? What had all that been about? Stan didn’t know, and he wondered what branch of the service Jake would enter. At least it wasn’t the Militia. They were good people, but their training and equipment were always substandard.
Stan headed for the young driver and his jeep. Jose would want to hear this. All the Behemoth tankers would, those who had survived the terrible battle.
Several days after Stan spoke to his son, Anna Chen listened as the briefing major spoke in the underground bunker.
There had been a massive shift in Chinese behavior. It was clear the Chinese offensive in southern California had halted. Through drone-intel and other sources, they learned key formations had already left the area and were headed for the Second or Third Front.
“Are the Chinese going to attack in Texas?” the President asked.
“We’re not sure if it’s Texas or New Mexico,” General Alan said. “What does seem clear is that the Chinese and the South Americans are planning a summer offensive somewhere there and sometime soon.”
“What about the Germans?” Sims asked.
“We expect them to attack, too, yes sir.”
“In Florida?”
“That would seem the likely candidate, sir, although we cannot rule out Georgia or Louisiana. If it were me, I would attack Louisiana while the PAA and the SAF assaults Texas. They could help each other.”
“That would also allow us to concentrate against them in one area,” Sims said. “It would help us.”
“There are pros and cons for them no matter what they decide,” Alan said.
“If they even do decide to attack,” Sims said.
“I’m certain they will attack, sir. Every indicator points that way.”
“What about California? Are they done with it for now?”
“That’s an interesting question, sir. They smashed irreplaceable equipment on our side and killed and captured far too many of our soldiers. What’s more, Los Angeles and the Bay Area are under a state of siege. The fight isn’t over there, just the intensity has receded. Yet they could resume their offensives at any time.”
“We’ll be better prepared if they do,” Sims said.
“In some ways, yes sir,” Alan said.
The President tapped his computer stylus on the table. “What are your recommendations for the state?”
“We should shift forces to the Bay Area and drive the Chinese into the sea,” Alan said. “Los Angeles can hold for now. It’s excellent defensive terrain with even better defensive areas behind it. I mean the Grapevine Pass in particular.”
“Can we spare the troops elsewhere to use in the Bay Area?”
“Maybe the right kind of troops, sir,” Alan said. “I’m thinking about the Behemoth tanks.”
“No. That’s the wrong kind of terrain for them.”
“Then—”
“Here’s what I believe,” Sims said. “I was thinking about this last night.” He grinned. “You used historical evidence before, telling me about World War I. I think it was about the Battle of the Somme.”
“Yes sir.”
“The British and French attacked Turkey during World War I. It was called the Gallipoli Campaign.”
“I’ve heard of it.”
Sims nodded. “In all, the British sent 410,000 soldiers there and the French 70,000. They were tied down on a narrow strip of land, never able to achieve anything other than dying in ill-coordinated attacks against the Turks. Those badly needed troops could have been used elsewhere to great advantage to help hasten the defeat of Kaiser Germany. Instead, because of a number of unforeseen problems, the British and French jailed themselves on the Gallipoli Peninsula with the Turkish Army acting as their wardens. I’m wondering if we might stymie the Chinese in a similar way, at least those attempting to capture the Bay Area.”
“You mean lure them into staying there, useless? That could be one way of looking at it,” Alan said. “The enemy troops also tie down our men there.”
“We would have to leave soldiers there anyway to guard the Bay Area from other amphibious assaults.”
General Alan became thoughtful. “Your theory might work, sir, provided the Chinese don’t land too many more troops. I still think we should use the Behemoths to drive them into the sea.”