by James Rosone
Marshall Grant, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, answered. “This would be a Marine-led operation. By the time the end of summer rolls around, the Corps will be standing at nearly one million Marines. We’ll have 60,000 Marines operating with the ROK in northern China on the right flank, another 60,000 operating with the JDF on the left flank, and then nearly 550,000 leading the charge from Nantong to Hefei. We’re going to make central China howl as we look to divide the country,” Grant said with a mischievous grin. His devil dogs would be chomping at the bit to be released once they reached full strength.
The President smiled at the confidence his Marine commander was showing, but he still had concerns and questions. “Assuming all of this goes according to plan, what will we do with the Army forces in Europe once they have defeated the Russians? Also, what type of resistance are we potentially looking at?” he asked.
The Marine Commandant replied, “We expect there to be heavy resistance, Mr. President. In addition to the PLA’s reserve force, they also maintain a multimillion-man militia force. These soldiers are much less trained and probably equipped with subpar weapons compared to their regular army counterparts, but they have numbers. Their goal will be simple, to try and overwhelm us wherever they can.”
He pulled up a map on the PowerPoint. “Our plan, or at least the Marine plan, calls for us to advance in a relatively slow and methodical approach. We’ll be establishing firebases with artillery support at set intervals throughout the lines of advance. Every so often, a brigade of soldiers will be left to support the bases as a quick-reaction force. Our goal with this 441-kilometer line here is to prevent any additional reinforcements from arriving up north to where the battle of Beijing will be taking place. I suspect that as the army units from Europe start to arrive, we’ll start to be reinforced by them as well.”
Gates sighed for a moment, wishing they had more time to get into the details. But as he thought about it, he felt he had enough information from these guys to feel comfortable in giving them the go-ahead to begin the plans for this major operation. It might still be nine months away, but it would be imperative to get the planning of it underway.
The President briefly stood, signaling for the others to stay seated for the moment. They had been talking for several hours and were probably hungry. “This has been a productive meeting. I’d like to talk privately with McMillan and Jim about some of these options over lunch. I would like to request that you all remain here and continue to flesh out more details on this new alliance we’re going to form. Start to identify what countries we should extend an olive branch to and why. Determine what they’ll be able to offer the alliance and how much long-term support we should expect from them. I’ll have lunch brought in for everyone. We’ll reconvene in two hours.”
* * *
NSA McMillian and Jim Castle pulled out their chairs and sat down for an informal lunch with the President. When Gates wanted to have a frank and open discussion, he usually held them over a meal at his personal kitchen table. It was less formal and provided a softer environment for everyone to talk freely, something he greatly valued.
“OK, so what countries do you believe we should include in this new alliance?” asked the President, wanting to get right down to business.
Jim smiled. “I think we want to ensure the UK, Germany, France, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, Poland, Romania and the Nordic countries stay in the alliance. We should also work with Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, South Korea, Brazil, Argentina, Columbia, Thailand, Israel, and South Africa. These should at least be the charter members of the alliance. We can expand it in the coming years to include other countries, but for the time being, I believe these countries should make up the bulk of the alliance,” the SecDef said as he popped open the can of Coke he had grabbed from the counter before he sat down.
“Why not try and include India, Indonesia, Malaysia or any of the other Gulf states?” asked the President.
McMillian responded, “Frankly, Sir, while it may not be the PC answer, Indonesia has a large Muslim population, so they would have a huge problem being in an alliance with Israel. The same goes for the rest of the Gulf states. Malaysia is not the most stable government and has issues with Indonesia. That could cause problems if the two of them restarted their border disputes, believing they now have a protective alliance that can bail them out if they get into trouble.”
The President nodded. These were the off-the-cuff comments he had been hoping for.
Tom continued, “While it would be ideal to have India as part of the alliance, we’re not certain they would join right now, given the open hostilities with China. They just signed a nonaggression treaty with them. I suspect that once the war has concluded, they’d be more than open to becoming a member.”
Less than thirty minutes later, the White House chefs brought out a five-star lunch fit for a king, and the three men continued to discuss their ideas and plans for how this new military alliance should work and the finer details of actually implementing it.
They determined that a special military and diplomatic emissary should be commissioned and given power to negotiate the establishment of this new alliance. This would allow the existing generals and senior diplomats to stay focused on their current tasks and what they were working on, which was doing whatever was necessary to win this war. Following their lunch, they had plenty to discuss with the rest of the national security team and the military leaders. It would be a busy couple of weeks as the wheels of progress moved forward with lightning speed.
All’s Quiet on the Eastern Front
Landstuhl, Germany
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
Master Sergeant Luke Childers lay in his bed, looking out his window. As the morning dragged on, the snow began to fall more steadily. It was beautiful watching the white “fluffy cotton balls of love,” as his mother used to call them, fall from the sky to blanket the ground below. Luke was grateful that his bed was placed next to the window; at least he had an excellent view of the wintery weather unfolding.
He eventually glanced over to his other side at the row of nine other beds with wounded soldiers in each of them. Some of the soldiers had what appeared to him to be minor injuries — a cast on a foot or an arm, or some minor bandages. Others were in much more serious condition, with obvious amputations or covered head-to-toe in dressings from second- or third-degree burn wounds.
An orderly entered their room with a wheelchair and headed towards Luke. It was time for his physical therapy session. While he hated these sessions, he knew if he wanted to get out of this hospital and back to his unit, he needed to try to push through the pain and regain his strength.
The man wheeled the chair right up to the edge of his bed and locked the wheels before coming around to the side of his bed. “You need me to help you up, Master Sergeant?” the orderly asked with a warm smile.
“No, I can get into the chair myself, Jim. I’ve been practicing the last couple of days while you’ve been gone,” Luke said with a smile and a wink.
He slowly lifted himself up and turned his legs towards the edge of the bed until they were just above the floor, then used the button on the side of the bed to lower it a bit until his feet were level with the floor. Then with a gentle lift of his arms, he was standing; albeit with a little bit of pain, but he was standing on his own. He took a few steps towards the chair and slowly lowered himself into it, wincing a little as he did.
“It looks like you’re starting to heal up nicely, Master Sergeant. The physical therapy must be working,” the orderly replied as he unlocked the wheels. He pushed Luke out of the room and down the hall to the elevator that would take them to the floor with the physical therapy rooms.
Jim had been working as an orderly for the hospital for the past two years, enjoying every minute of it. While stationed there at Ramstein Air Force Base, Jim had met a local woman, fallen in love and gotten married. When his enlistment had been up, he’d opted to stay
in Germany and found a government civilian job at the hospital as an orderly. The rest was history.
The physical therapy room was busy, but Patricia, Luke’s therapist, was waiting for him.
“Hello, Luke,” she said with a bright smile and a twinkle in her eye. “How’s my favorite patient doing today?”
Luke felt his face flush a bit as her warm brown eyes sparkled at him with that gorgeous smile and bright white teeth, “God, she’s gorgeous,” he thought.
“I’m doing good, Patricia. You going to work me hard today?” he joked.
“You know it, soldier boy,” she said with a devilish grin on her face, which warmed his spirits.
Jim locked the wheels to Luke’s wheelchair and watched in amazement as Luke slowly stood up, then proceeded to take a couple of steps towards the physical therapist. With his work done, Jim left to go get the next patient.
“This is the best part of my job, seeing these wounded soldiers recover,” he thought as he whistled a soft cheerful tune.
Patricia worked strenuously with Luke’s right leg, lower back and left arm for the next two hours. She ran him through a number of different exercises before turning him over to the next therapist, who would guide him through a series of water exercises before he had massage therapy.
Master Sergeant Childers was lucky. The shrapnel he had taken in his lower back, leg, and arm had not caused any serious long-term problems. It hadn’t severed any tendons or nerves, and just needed time and physical therapy to heal up. The doctors had told him he would probably be ready to go back to his unit around Christmas or maybe just after the New Year, which was fine by Luke. He hated being separated from his soldiers and the rest of his unit. They had been through so much since the start of the war, and he wanted to hang on to those friendships he had left.
Following an afternoon of physical therapy, Luke was wheeled back to his bed in the room with the other wounded soldiers. As he entered the room, he saw the first lieutenant who had woken up screaming a couple of times last night. He looked rather sedated. At the foot of the lieutenant’s bed, he saw the officer’s name was Joe Dukes and he apparently hailed from some armor unit.
When he had asked the nurse about him earlier that morning, she’d lowered her voice and said, “He and two other soldiers were the only ones who survived from his battalion. He’s taking it hard. To make matters worse, the poor guy lost a brother and his mother, who were visiting San Francisco when it was destroyed by the North Koreans.”
The staff was really not supposed to share information on the other soldiers, but it had become somewhat commonplace in these large recovery units to give at least basic information about the people the soldiers were sharing a room with. As Luke rolled past him on the way back to his bed, he could tell that physically, Dukes was nearly healed up, but mentally, the poor guy was a mess.
“I should try to talk with him after dinner, see if there’s anything I can do to help him,” Luke thought.
Childers, who always had his ear to the ground, had heard one of the doctors say that Dukes had been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, but it had been officially upgraded to the Congressional Medal of Honor. It was a big distinction, and clearly, this poor guy had been through the wringer to have been awarded such a medal. A week after arriving at the hospital, Luke had been awarded his third Purple Heart and second Silver Star and had also been put in for the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions in the Kiev breakout. While he felt honored to be awarded these medals, he knew there were others who had done more than him and also deserved to be recognized.
After settling back into his bed, Luke saw one of the orderlies had left him yesterday’s copy of the Wall Street Journal. He picked it up, skimming through the headlines and trying to decide if he even wanted to read it. Drafting of New Army Continues… War in Europe on Hold Until Spring… Battle for Taiwan Enters Second Week — Fighting Said to be Fierce… Allied Forces Stop Chinese Offensive in Korea… US Secures North Korean Capital Despite Chinese Counterattack.
“I think I’ll skip the paper today,” Luke thought as he placed it on the nightstand between him and the soldier in the bed next to him. He reached over and began to read a new book that had been brought to him by one of the hospital volunteers.
As he finished the third chapter, he looked up at a familiar face who had entered his room and begun walking towards him — Lieutenant Jack Taylor, who was now sporting captain’s bars. Luke placed his book down and smiled at Captain Taylor as he approached.
“I see congratulations are in order, my friend. How are you doing, Sir?” Luke said as he held out his hand to shake Jack’s.
“I’m doing good. I should be the one asking how you are doing. You’re the one still stuck here in the hospital,” Captain Taylor responded as he stood next to Luke’s bed.
“I’m doing OK. Getting better, slow and steady. They say I should be able to return to the unit around Christmas or New Year’s at the latest. How are the other guys in the unit doing?” he asked now out of concern for the soldiers in his unit with whom he had not had a lot of contact since their breakout of Kiev.
Jack looked down at his battered platoon sergeant for a second before responding. He had to admit, Sergeant Childers was looking a lot better now than he had when they’d first left Kiev. He hadn’t been sure he was going to make it for a while. “Three of the wounded guys have been flown back to the States, where they’ll recover and probably be discharged from the military. Two of our other guys are still here with you, as you know, though they should be discharged within the next week or two and will return back to the unit.”
He paused for a second before continuing. “You probably haven’t heard yet, but the 2nd Calvary Regiment is being reorganized with Fifth Corps now, so we’ve been effectively taken off the line for the time being. It’s probably best, since we were down to less than 40 % strength. The colonel has our regiment focusing on resting and recovering and writing out as detailed of an account as we can of our various engagements. They want us to break down what went right and wrong with each engagement, so we can develop some training scenarios around them. It’s a good idea, and it’s taken our minds off the losses we’ve sustained. We’re also getting a ton of new raw recruits fresh from basic training, so we’re working hard at getting them as ready for combat as we can,” Taylor explained.
Childers had been desperate for information from outside his four walls; Taylor’s visit was just what he’d needed.
“Does it look like there will be any fighting in the near future?” Luke asked, not sure if he wanted to be a part of it or miss out on it entirely.
Captain Taylor smiled. “From what we’ve been told, there won’t be any new offensives until sometime in the spring. They want to build up our forces and then go for the jugular when the time is right. Besides, the situation is still very tense with China, and the Pacific is taking a lot of resources away from Europe.”
Looking up at Captain Taylor, Luke asked, “Where does the colonel want me when I’m able to return to duty?”
Taylor thought about how to respond before he answered, “I was hoping you’d be assigned back to work with me, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen. We’ve lost a lot of officers and NCOs. I heard a rumor you may either get promoted to command sergeant major and be assigned to one of the battalions or end up being promoted to officer.” He wasn’t sure if this was what his friend wanted to hear or not.
Luke sighed and then nodded. “I guess I’ll see when I report back. As long as I can continue to lead soldiers, I’ll be content wherever they place me,” he responded, although he felt a bit uncertain about the future now. The two of them talked for a little while longer before Captain Taylor said he needed to get going, but he promised to visit again in a couple of weeks.
* * *
A couple of days later, Luke worked up the nerve to go talk to Lieutenant Dukes, the tanker who was having a hard time mentally with all that had transpired. He wanted
to offer up a few words of encouragement to the guy. It was clear JD (as Childers learned he was usually called) had been an NCO before he had been an officer; he was too old to be a fresh lieutenant. Childers hoped their shared bond as sergeants might help him break through whatever was haunting him.
Luke sat down at JD’s table. “I’m Master Sergeant Luke Childers,” he said as he extended his hand.
JD paused and then looked up at Childers. He took a moment to focus on who had just introduced himself and looked at Luke’s extended hand before shaking it.
“I heard you are being awarded the Medal of Honor for your actions in Kiev,” Childers said.
JD looked up at him with sad eyes. “Not like it did a lot of difference. Thousands of soldiers were still trapped in that god-awful city, and nearly everyone in my battalion was killed,” he replied, clearly trying to gain control of his emotions.
Luke paused for a moment before responding. “JD, I know it’s hard losing a lot of the friends you had in your battalion, but it wasn’t you who killed them. That was the Russians. I was one of those soldiers trapped in the Kiev pocket with the 2nd Cav. We broke out with a lot of help from tankers from your battalion who were still trapped with us and a lot of help from a German tank unit. Those guys from your unit that were trapped in Kiev, they helped us break out of the city and saved thousands of other soldiers.” He spoke with genuine gratitude.
JD took a deep breath. He had never heard about how some of his trapped comrades had helped the soldiers stuck in Kiev. It was somehow a relief to him that they had been able to assist in the escape, even if most of them had been killed in the process.
Luke added, “It stings losing soldiers under your command, JD, but your soldiers died doing their job, a job they volunteered to do and a job they were proud of. You can’t let their loss eat you up. Save that anger for the enemy.”