The Irish and Welsh Guards were also reorganising, but the 1st Guards Mechanised Brigade was no longer going to be spearheading the division, the Scots Guards and both battalions of the Grenadier Guards were passing through them to resume the advance to contact with whatever else the PLA’s 3rd Army’s 1st Corps had in store.
The ANZACs had also taken losses, although no one yet realised their commander was among the New Zealanders dead.
The ANZACs would not permit the British 8 Infantry Brigade to liberate the last occupied piece of Australia, not while they could still muster a single rifle section.
From the ANZAC ranks, four New Zealand and three Australian infantry companies had been overrun; the remainder sent the wounded to the rear, recharged their magazines, replaced the smoke and fragmentation grenades and wiped the gore off their bayonets before stepping off again, shaking out into spearhead formation once more.
“Target IFV.”
Che Tran peered through the sight, using the IR facility despite bright sunshine.
“Another cold one.” The Chinese fighting vehicle was yet another vehicle out of gas and abandoned in the streets of Port Kembla. The crews of these fighting vehicles had doubtless joined the ranks of the infantry for the last suicidal attack on the allies. Thousands had died in order for the PRC’s leadership to save face, to show the rest of the world it was still to be feared and respected. The prisoners the allies were now taking tended to be rear echelon types, but the Australian tanks and infantry moved tactically despite the evidence before their eyes.
SASR were carrying out a heliborne assault of 3rd Army’s 1st Corps HQ, fast roping onto the roof of the Woolongong City Council building, but they found only pen pushers and bean counters, all of whom were happy to surrender.
The Chinese armour that had attacked was now burning to the south of them and naval gunfire had malleted the last of the enemy artillery.
“Boss…skinny sailors at twelve o’clock!”
C Troop had arrived at a vast barbed wire enclosure where both Reg Hollis and Admiral Putchev came out to meet them, making the liberation of the town complete.
Australian National Flags began to appear on the roofs of buildings in Woolongong and Kembla, and hung from windows as it became clear that New South Wales was back in the hands of Australians.
Several hours later, as the operations officers for all the units in Australia began working on plans for the liberation of Singapore, Taiwan, Japan and the remainder of the Philippines, the Politburo finally bowed to the inevitable, replacing Premier Chan and calling for a ceasefire.
President Kirkland ended the call and looked up at the clock on the wall of the conference room and wondered if this was in fact the first time a war really had been ‘All over by Christmas.’ The time was 2359hrs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Private yachts were not an unusual sight in the bay and the latest arrival was not even close to being as ostentatious as some of the vessels. They also had beautiful bikinied young things sunning themselves on their decks, but aboard the Krasivaya Dama the beautiful girl strolling about the decks wearing only mirrored aviator’s sunglasses and a captain’s uniform cap was the owner and not the owners ‘niece’. She stayed beneath the sun awnings generally, but when she sunbathed she was nude and did so at specific times, retreating back to the shade at the gentle chimes of a small travelling alarm clock.
She dined alone in the best restaurants, lovely, although aloof from the other diners.
A one night stand with a local boy who possessed a packed pair of speedos and an enviable physique, and again a week later with a nubile blonde French scuba diving instructress, were the acts of someone scratching an itch, not one who was reaching out for companionship. Despite these instances of waterbed gymnastics she remained rather lonely and one evening she accepted an invitation to a rather wild gathering at a shore side villa. She partied hard and fell asleep both sated and naked on a sun lounger beside its pool.
She was awoken next morning by a maid who was worried that the sun, already well above the horizon, would inflict a bad sun burn on the girls back, but 99 miles above their heads Kondor-138 had already passed by twice in an orbit that also included the Spratly Islands. Its recognition software was working as advertised.
Still in London, in the low rent bedsit, the specialist received a text message and immediately departed, returning the key to the landlady and took a cab ride to Bond Street. A gold credit card bought a first class seat on a flight to Kingston, Jamaica, new luggage and a new wardrobe.
Pennant number CVN-74, the USS John C Stennis, still marked with the scars of war was a fitting gathering place for the memorial service, held three months exactly from the moment the city had been destroyed. The President of the United States and the Australian Prime Minister cast wreaths upon the waters. The tide would carry the items the remaining way to shore, to the ruins of the city and the final resting place of so many.
General Henry Shaw attended, standing as close to the spot where his eldest children had last lived and breathed, as close as the experts would allow.
Once the midnight memorial service had ended the President was preparing to depart with Prime Minister Perry Letteridge, when he saw the lonely figure still stood at the edge of the flight deck staring into the night, towards the horizon.
The President and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs had not spoken in three months, not since the night Sydney had died, with Matthew and Natalie Shaw aboard their ships in the harbour. Henry had made no move to alter that situation even now, and as rumour had it that he was about to resign from the service, Theodore Kirkland crossed the flight deck.
“Henry?”
General Shaw turned and the President could not but help notice the change in his top soldier in just three months.
“Mister President, sir?”
“I was sorry to hear of Jacqueline’s passing.”
He meant it genuinely, but it was as if there was now a wall between the President and his once closest advisor.
“We received the flowers, thank you sir.”
He caught the whiff of the peppermints Henry used constantly to cover the smell of bourbon, and the eyes confirmed it, and those eyes also held no spark of the amity they had once held.
“Is it true that you are leaving the service, General?”
Instead of answering, Henry asked a question of his own.
“Is it true that you are planning to bankrupt the UK and the other European countries that kicked the politicians out?”
The general may have been absent from the President’s side but he was well informed nonetheless.
“That is not technically correct, no.” But he knew that Henry saw it for the lie it was.
“And you are backing the Vietnamese in their claim on the Spratly Islands, instead of the Philippines, Mister President?”
He was indeed very well informed indeed, the President concluded.
One of the terms of the ceasefire was the withdrawal from the islands and relinquishment of any future claims upon it by the People’s Republic of China. Vietnam had occupied them upon the departure of the Chinese troops.
Various US oil companies had already brokered a deal with the Vietnamese.
“That is not yet something we have released to the public, but yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they have them, and possession is nine tenths of the law.”