Marshal Liang paced back and forth in a captured Wells Fargo bank building. As he marched, his bad eye flickered due to the constant tic. He couldn’t help either the pacing or the eye. Disaster stared him in the face.
The Americans had tricked him, tricked Chairman Hong and—
No, no, no, it was the perfidious Germans. Chancellor Kleist made a deal with the enemy, freeing too many American soldiers.
By remaining in Cuba before, the GD had tied down nearly a million American GIs from the East Coast to the Gulf of Mexico. Now those soldiers poured to the Midwest and south along the penetration to Colorado Springs.
They’ve trapped over two thirds of my Third Front. I can’t believe this is happening.
Marshal Liang massaged his forehead. He’d been busy while General Zhen attacked the Americans and the Brazilians hammered to break through the encirclement. Both assaults had failed, which was more bad luck.
During that time, Liang had sent a flurry of orders to his generals. The bulk of Tenth and Fifteenth Armies disengaged from Greater Denver. At the same time, Army Group B in the north gathered assault troops, while the others held the line in Cheyenne and the forward areas near the North Platte River.
In the south, Liang gathered his garrison troops and those hunting partisans in New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma and southeastern Colorado. From now on, he’d use armored convoys for the supply routes and let the rest of the Occupied Territory fend for itself. Let the partisans roam free for a time in most of those places. After freeing Third Front and with rushed reinforcements from China, he would reoccupy his designated states. Unfortunately, it was taking time to gather the scattered formations. His portion of the Occupied Territory was huge. The good news was that he already had eight divisions here in Pueblo and there would be more pouring in during the next few days.
The Americans had encircled the Third Front, but they could never hold such a mass of soldiers. Field Marshal Sanchez reconfigured his divisions in order to give him a decisive assault force. The SAF commander understood that the war could go either way now. Liang had begged Chairman Hong for reinforcements from Fourth Front in the east. Marshal Wen didn’t like the idea, but the man understood the terrible need. This was the battle for North America. The Pan-Asian Alliance and the South American Federation could smash the Americans and Canadians for good now if they could free Third Front.
A little more time and quicker concentrations of troops and I will drive through and resupply my Army Groups.
“Sir,” said Chief of Staff Ping. “The generals are ready.”
Liang turned around. His left eye quivered. He nodded, and strode into the other room. Eight generals snapped to attention around the situational map, saluting him. The map showed the area between Pueblo, Colorado Springs and Denver.
Saluting back, striding to the table, Liang picked up a pointer and began to outline the coming assault.
The eight divisions around Pueblo would become Army Group C. The burnt-out remains of Tenth and Fifteenth Armies and fast formations from Greeley were altogether Army Group A. These two Army Groups, in a coordinated attack, would hit the American Second Tank Army in and around Colorado Springs.
“We have five to one odds, gentlemen,” Liang told the generals. “Yes, the enemy still maintains a few of the Behemoths. Fortunately for us, Intelligence has reported that each of the super-tanks has taken severe damage. We have the means to defeat them and the combined-arms skills to crush these over-bold Americans. Gentlemen, they turned the situation against us like skilled jujitsu fighters. They failed to perceive that we are better jujitsu warriors than they are. Now it is our turn to flip them. The Americans have put themselves in a precarious situation and we will use it to our advantage.”
“When do we begin the assault?” a general asked.
Liang tapped the map with the pointer. He had read the reports. He knew the Americans raced supplies and extra soldiers to the Second Tank Army. U.S. fighters could dig, and behind trenches, they become stubborn foes indeed. He had to strike before they hardened the defenses. But he needed time to coordinate the attack.
“Two days,” he said. “In two days, Army Group A will be ready. During those two days, I hope to add another division-worth of troops to Army Group C.”
In the Oval Office, Anna sat to the side of the President. Last night, their lovemaking—how had she ever doubted his affection for her? It had been tender and beautiful. He’d told her how the stress had eaten at him as a man. It had made him, well—
Anna smiled to herself. There hadn’t been anything impotent about the President last night. He’d been a tiger.
Now David Sims rocked back and forth in his chair. From time to time, it gave off a wooden squeal, a comfortable noise. He wore his old, Alaska Joint Force Commander uniform, as today was a military meeting.
Having flown in from the Colorado Penetration, General McGraw sat across from David in a big stuffed chair. There were others here. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs sat on one end of a couch while Director Harold sat on the other end.
David regarded the group as his Brain Trust. Months ago, they had decided to accept Chancellor Kleist’s offer. And these three had helped David to decide on the risky and so far successful counterattack against Third Front.
“We’ll make this meeting short,” David said. “General, I know you’re anxious to get back to your men.”
“Yes sir, Mr. President,” McGraw said. He had a burn mark on his right cheek. The skin around it was red.
“Alan, you’ve seen the reports,” the President said. “The entire Chinese and Brazilian military is on the move. Our drive has upset every one of their timetables. Marshal Sanchez’s First Front has pulled back from the Platte River Defenses. Even Marshal Wen’s Fourth Front is retreating from the Des Moines Line. Clearly, Marshal Liang is gathering strength in Pueblo. He’s freed much of Tenth and Fifteenth Armies in the Denver area. We can’t keep things the same on our side if they’re changing up the game on theirs.”
“Mr. President,” Director Harold said. “I’m anticipating you, perhaps. But are you talking about a general offensive everywhere?”
“You’re asking about our northern defense lines?” David said.
“Yes sir,” Harold said.
“It’s crossed my mind to launch a general offensive, yes,” the President said. “We must push now that the Aggressors are shaken. We mustn’t allow them time to regroup and catch their breath.”
Max Harold shook his head. “I would advise against a general offensive everywhere, sir. We’ve learned the hard way that the Militia battalions are fragile formations. On the defense behind built-up works, they can fight as hard as most Regular formations. Out in the open in battles of maneuver…” Harold shook his head.
“What do you think about that?” the President asked Alan.
“The Director has a cogent point, sir,” Alan said.
“Hmm,” the President said. “You don’t think the Militia should leave their defense works?”
“It would be a risky move,” Alan said. “Perhaps it’s even premature.”
“But we must keep up the pressure,” David said. “If we let the enemy withdraw as he wishes, he can reform at will. Then he can select where to strike back. No. The enemy is on the run. We have to keep him running and unbalanced.”
“What if this is a massive trick?” Harold asked. “What if these pullbacks are meant to lure our Militiamen out in the open where the Aggressors can cut them to pieces?”