by G. R. Carter
“Target smoke!” Tripp yelled and immediately she hit a lever releasing two large spring-loaded canisters high in the air. The red smoke billowing from inside the football-shaped containers would alert Raptor and balloon pilots of a priority target in the area. Rarely used, the alert spoke to how seriously Tripp considered the immediate threat.
She cleared her head and returned her view to the periscope giving a panoramic look out the back. After counting out the time, she stopped the vehicle and swung the forward viewer back to her eyes. Several New American vehicles sat smoldering near their three ruined Red Hawks. There was no fear in her mind, only a fierce hatred of the people responsible for the senseless violence going on around them. Up until now, this fight had been hypothetical, a live-fire training exercise to be completed successfully and then discussed around the roaring fireplace back at the Great Hall.
The truth sank in…Those Grays are really trying to kill me and my people. I’m not going to let that happen.
“Infantry, driver side,” said Tripp, his trademark composure returning as his computer-like brain started to process the information in front of him.
Porter grabbed the periscope with one hand and the machine gun control with the other. The weapon wasn’t easily aimed, but spread enough deadly projectiles out to discourage unarmored creatures from approaching.
“Those aren’t infantry…they’re ditchmen!” she shouted back into the comm system, not sure if it was even toggled on.
Her answer came in the form of rebuke: “Targets on foot are infantry, Porter. Deal with them.”
Porter began to fire her weapon as she watched seven scraggly forms, each carrying some sort of backpack, sprint up towards one of the Turtles. She put two of the creatures down without a moment’s remorse. All civilized people considered those who lived in the wild to be a different species, an animal without use or worthy of pity. The dark days after the Reset left a lasting impression on the survivors, now that hatred was passed down to those they raised.
Another driver took out two more, but the three remaining bandits removed their backpacks simultaneously and flung them at the nearest Red Hawk vehicle. Two soared through the air while the third one landed just a couple feet in front of group; a bullet found the Ditchman just as he was throwing the bag. Porter watched as the two survivors scrambled to get away but all three satchels detonated at the same time – destroying the targeted Turtle and its assailants at the same time.
“Holy crap! Commander, did you see that?”
“I saw it. Give me ammo flares and rally flares,” was the reply.
Porter reloaded the same mechanism that flung the target marking smoke canisters with a flare to alert the ammunition wagon to be ready back near the gate. She ejected it and then loaded a different colored flare alerting all remaining vehicles of the Fortress Farm to immediately fall back to their home base.
The return trip felt just as long as the outbound trip was brief. Only half the vehicles with them less than an hour before were back. Formed in a defensive semicircle, crews began to scramble around, loading ammunition and refueling. Armor covering the refueling spout of one of the surviving Razorback suffered a rocket hit, making the job twice as hard as mechanics tried to work around the long dent.
The air & ground coordinator sprinted up next to Tripp, “Sir, I have several things to report. First off, Mrs. Tripp says to tell you that the Grays continue to come. Biggest force she’s ever seen by a factor of ten.”
“Go on, son.”
“Next, we’ve lost one of the Raptors to antiaircraft fire. Jake brought it back, but he’s out of the fight for now. No idea when it will be fixed.”
Tripp fought back a mixture of relief and disgust. Jake was his nephew and an excellent pilot. The young ace survived but the loss of his bird would be a big blow to the defenses.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, sir. Commander Fredericks sent a message that Alpha Plan 2 was in effect. To plan for his arrival in the morning. He needs you to put as big a dent in the Grays as possible between now and then. But he was adamant to tell you that Alpha Plan 2 was in effect. Authorization: Patton 1943. He wanted you to wire it to all the other farms. I know a couple of other Fortress Farms sent their Pipers to the capital also, so the message should get replicated. I can’t over-emphasize how insistent the pilot was to make sure you got that dispatch,” the young man concluded.
Tripp pulled off his old American army-style helmet and ran his fingers through the thinning hair underneath. A little gray was now mixed in; each strand earned in moments like this, he joked inwardly.
He turned and spoke aloud to his group of warriors: “Okay, listen up. We’ve got a long night ahead of us. I can’t promise you how it will turn out, and I respect you all too much to lie about that.”
Tripp soaked in the intensity of the men and women staring back at him. Each previously fought occasional skirmishes before but this was different. People they knew had just been killed in the near blink of an eye, and they had witnessed it all. A real-life slugging match like he faced in the Sandbox at their age. Life and death experiences changed people, it was his job to make sure it changed them for the better.
“The Grays threw us some surprises this morning, and I take full responsibility for that. But our friends went down fighting for their homes. We are going to honor their memories by destroying these evil vermin that dare to cross our land. Stay in the fight, don’t give an inch. And let me tell you, the Founder has something extra special for these snakes tomorrow. A secret that will end this God-awful war once and for all. But we have to hold out until then. Can we do it?”
“FALL BEFORE THE CRAWL!” came back the response. Fewer voices this time, but just as loud and twice as vicious as before.
Red Hawk Republic
Shelbyville
Capital City – Red Hawk Republic
Maps covered every square inch of wall and table in the conference room of the Red Hawk Republic’s Self Defense Cooperative headquarters. The ornate brick building once housed the original Founder of the Republic and his Council of Mayors; now Phillip Hamilton’s son Alexander held the Founder’s Chair and his father’s familiar spot at the head of the room-sized oak table. The Commander of the SDC, Martin Fredericks stood beside him, attempting to see the same things as Alex.
Fredericks considered himself a fairly competent strategic mind; after all, it was his plan that originally defeated the National Guard unit in Decatur when the Republic was still young. And his plans helped defend Red Hawk territory from the many incursions suffered at the hands of Colonel Darien Walsh’s New American Legions over the past few years.
But Fredericks had to admit that Alex was just…different. He had the strategic foresight of his ancient namesake to see several steps ahead in a battle. Some kind of uncanny sense allowed him to predict how his enemy would react to each situation and position his forces to be in the optimal place. Not just most of the time, but what seemed like every time.
“Right here, Commander. That’s where we’ll send the secondary force to complete the pincer. The railway and old Interstate 57 will carry the main force right into the heart of New America’s capital, and the secondary force will go up old Route 49 all the way to Interstate 74 to cut off Walsh’s retreat towards the east. Hammer and vice,” the Founder said confidently.
“I’ve learned not question whether your tactics will work, sir. But don’t you think we ought to use the reserve force to counterattack Walsh right now? Our frontier farms are being overwhelmed by the size of the Gray force. I know they’ve already suffered very heavy losses,” Fredericks explained.
“I know we’d defeat them if we did that, Commander. But then they’d just retreat back to their bases, regroup and come at us again. We have to put an end to this war now. Our farms will thrive when the specter of the Grays is gone from over their heads. You know Walsh even better than I do. He’ll never stop until we’re destroyed,” Alex said, employing the urgent charm that won many ar
guments regardless of his title.
“That’s true. I suppose they’ll have to break off their attack as soon as they know we snookered them, anyway,” Fredericks conceded.
“Right. And then they’ll be trying to attack us while we’re firmly entrenched in their own city. They’ll have to decide to try and level their own capital, or give up and move east towards the remaining center of power,” Alex said.
“What if they try to head west? They’ve got the entire Interstate 74 corridor under Reconstruction out towards Blackhawk territory. There’s just as many people and territory out that way,” Fredericks questioned.
“That’s not how Walsh thinks. Those areas out west are semi-autonomous. He allows them to self-govern as long as they pledge allegiance to him and fly the American flag. They send tribute and conscripts and food, and he agrees not to force a leadership change on them. I think they’ll come over to us as soon as we can get rid of those Legions hanging over them like a hammer,” Alex said with that look in his eye. Fredericks knew he wanted more territory to buffer his Okaw homeland. “Plus, we’ll be sending Sam’s Raptors from the Decatur Air Base to destroy anything that moves on the western side. Walsh won’t be able to reinforce,” Alex finished, referring to his brother’s squadron of attack planes.
“So Alpha Plan 2 goes as soon as we can get the trains rolling. Do we know when that will be?” Alex asked.
“The Raptors take off in one hour to start clearing any threats along the rails. The trains will pull out right after that. Then we’ll get word to the secondary force to start rolling north up Route 49 after midnight. They should be passing through the frontier farms at daybreak,” Fredericks informed him.
“Excellent work as always, Commander. The Republic wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for your efforts, and I hope you’ll see your hard work rewarded when we end this conflict once and for all,” Alex said, patting his friend on the shoulder.
The sound of panting and heavy feet on the stairs startled both of them as one of Clark Olsen’s deputies half fell into the doorway.
“Sirs! Sheriff Olsen wants me to tell you that a huge force is attacking from the west. Origination…unknown…no markings…but thousands of them,” the man finished, nearly throwing up from the exertion.
Fredericks and Hamilton looked at each other with shock.
“Where are they at now?” Fredericks was able to stammer out first.
“Our Millersville outpost is overrun, and they’re now going through Pana. All our resistance is wiped out by the numbers. They’ve attacked a couple of our frontier farms, but mostly they bypass the heavier fortifications. There’s another group headed down the Assumption blacktop, probably headed for here,” the deputy continued, regaining his composure.
“We’ve got to get those trains unloaded and get the Razorbacks out there,” Fredericks said, heading for the door.
“Commander wait!” Alex barked. He pulled out the area map and pointed towards the spot that said Tower Hill.
Alex looked up at Fredericks. I’ve got to do this now, end this war while I can, and this might be my last shot he assured himself. “I want you to take the reserve force north without me. The attack goes off without delay. I don’t know what this is coming from the west, but it’s meant to distract us. We both agreed that our counterattack on New America is the best way to end this war. A diversion doesn’t make that less true.”
“Sir, it won’t do any good to win up north if our own capital is overrun! You’ve got to commit our reserves to fight this new threat!” Fredericks implored.
“No, Commander, the attack goes, and you go with it. Tell the secondary force to roll now, also. I think our adversary has botched his timing, and we’re going to exploit it. I’ll stay back and take command of the defense of the capital. You take Eric Olsen as your second, and send a note to Sam that the plan stays the same. Tell him to hit New America with every bird we have,” Alex concluded.
Fredericks remained in shock at his orders. The professional soldier straightened and prepared to follow the plan handed down to him. “Sir, we’re not leaving you much to fight with. Some old Turtles and some obsolete planes that aren’t fast enough to make the run north.”
“I know, Commander. On your way out, will you contact the Wizards and tell them I need everything they’ve got. Rally point will be the airport out west of town. We’re going to make our stand there and at the fortress in Tower Hill. Experimental or obsolete, I need anything that can carry a weapon. And have the town guard sound the alarm, tell them we have an all hands emergency,” Alex said.
“May I ask what your plan is, sir?”
“Whoever this is will have to get through Tower Hill to get to here. We’ll bottle them up there, then pivot back to the other group and crush them up against the side of the lake. They won’t have anywhere to go.”
Fredericks took a moment to size up his friend and leader. Thoughts flashed through his mind that this might be the last time he ever spoke with him. War had a funny way of ending friendships. Words failed him as all he could say was, “Best of luck, then, sir.”
“You too, Commander,” Alex nodded and turned away.
He walked over to the Sheriff’s still lingering deputy. “I would like you to get back to Sheriff Olsen. Tell him his fortress is where we’ll make our stand. Tower Hill will be the rock this mystery force breaks against. And tell him I’ll be there soon, myself.”
The deputy's eyes got wider, “Yes, sir!”
The room was empty and Alex walked to the old style phone in the corner of the room. He picked up the receiver and waited until the clerk on the other end answered. In the past year, the Wizards managed to get nearly every major Fortress Farm and hamlet in the Republic wired with insulated coax cable. Mostly underground, the system linked remote areas with the capital, providing a burst communication similar to 19th century telegraph.
The wiring also made the hundred-plus-mile trip to the Red Hawk Republic’s primary ally.
“Who would you like to send a message to, sir?” the voice asked.
“Priority transmission, ARK Headquarters. Tony Diamante.”
*****
“When I said experimental, Celeste, I guess I was thinking of weapons that might still be useful,” Alex said to his brother’s wife. Celeste Ford Hamilton led the engineering group created by her grandfather and his best friend, which meant that she had a very special love-hate relationship with the Founder of the Republic. He made unreasonable requests, and she told him “no” every time. Supposedly, the previous generation’s relationship had been much the same.
The tall brunette tipped her stocking cap back and pointed to a huge monstrosity sitting by itself in the open grass field next to the runway. Six-foot tall tires held up what could only be described as a battleship on wheels. In fact, the Wizards called the thing a landship. The engineers designed it to haul cargo from farm to towns and back. Weapons mounted on top meant that no additional escorts would be necessary to protect the precious cargo it carried. Alex remained unclear what it might be good for besides enemy target practice.
“Alex, you asked for the impossible. And once again, we’re doing our best to exceed expectations,” she said with a fake smile that left little doubt about her current state of mind.
As he nodded and smiled, she continued. “I’ve got a few of the new twin-engine planes ready, and six mobile rocket launchers that should arrive any moment from the Magic Kingdom,” she said, referring to the headquarters of the Wizards. Mass manufacturing was completed at assembly plants around the Republic. But all prototypes were built on the grounds of what was once Celeste’s grandfather’s farm. “We’ve got the new light weapons for infantry also. Old Main’s militia is stopping by to pick them up and will set up behind the walls in Shelbyville.”
Alex considered having that group join him here, but thought better. If they were in the town militia at this point, that meant there was a reason they weren’t mounted and rolling north wi
th the reserve force he sent to break through to the New American capital. Too old, too slow, lightly wounded or some other ailment that kept them out of a mobile armor seat. Good people and plenty brave, but best to keep them behind the walls bolstering the defenses in case forces in the field failed.
Alex intended to take his twenty-three Turtles – he still called them Turtles most of the time, the more formal names never really stuck – and lead a flanking mission around the group of invaders coming between his location and Decatur. That wasn’t nearly enough if the force was as big as observers said it was. But he hoped the shock and violence of his attack would convince the raiders to turn around and go home.
“Now that’s useful,” he said, pointing to a low-boy semi-trailer pulling into the airport parking lot. Perched on the long metal platform rode another Mark 2 Rhino armored bulldozer. Every farm within contact distance provided vehicles currently armed or that had once been armed. The driver of the truck was a Land Lord who owned the Rhino and would drive it himself. Alex recognized Easton Stabler as he climbed out and saluted. They quickly shook hands and the newcomer nodded to Celeste.
“Where would you like us to deploy?” Stabler asked Alex.
“Stay loaded. Head west on Route 16 to Tower Hill. Only about a ten-mile trip. All Rhinos are going to fight there. Limited maneuvering room so you can slug it out with the bad guys. They’ll have to come to you instead of you trying to chase them,” Alex replied.
“Ok, sounds good. Sheriff Olsen’s men will point me where to go?”
“That’s right. They’ve already reported lead elements are in contact with the Sheriff’s outer defenses,” Alex relayed.
“Any idea what we’re up against yet?” Stabler asked.
Alex fought off impatience as he relayed the same information to the tenth different person. These were good people, leaving their own farms and families behind to answer his call to action. None questioned why, they just showed up. They deserved to be informed about what might cause harm to their person or property.