Sweetness in the Dark

by W. B. Martin

  Task Force Alpha had crossed the Cascade Range and had split up. One prong headed to Salem and the other went down the McKenzie River towards Eugene. With no railroad for support, the Task Force would be halted in Eugene until supply trains could make their way down the valley.

  Ed radioed his arrival in a coded message to the U.S.S. Enterprise. He received a coded message back. He reached for his copy of the book and worked out the message. Admiral Lanciani would bring the battle group in a day ahead of schedule.

  * * *

  Ed sat by the South Jetty as he watched the Enterprise Battle Group approach the mouth of the Columbia River. He had arranged a river pilot from Astoria to take one of the few running skiffs out to the fleet and assist them in crossing the bar.

  The Columbia River Bar was called the graveyard of the Pacific for a reason. The shifting sand bars were notorious for grabbing unsuspecting boats and holding them while the crashing waves of the North Pacific pounded them to death.

  Ed wanted to make sure the battle group crossed without mishap. Luckily the coast area had missed much of the chaos. Communities knew to barricade the roads from the cities. With fish and other marine life to survive off of, people had come through relatively unscathed.

  The first destroyer made its run up the channel indicated by one of the pilots. Ed watched through his field glasses as the ship cleared the danger zone. Then, one by one, each of the ten ships of the battle group entered the river. The carrier was the last to make the attempt. A large contingent of townspeople had gathered to watch the historic event.

  Everyone sighed with relief as the Enterprise pulled up in front of the Astoria waterfront and dropped both its anchors. The other ships had all taken up anchoring positions around the large green bridge that towered over the river. Only the smaller ships could anchor upriver of the bridge.

  Ed met the admiral’s barge and was transported out to the Enterprise. He hadn’t seen his friend in a few years. Bud Lanciani had been Commanding Officer of the fighter wing he had been assigned to on the U.S.S. Nimitz. They had become close friends during their tour of duty and as Bud had moved up in rank, Ed had transferred to Special Ops.

  Their most recent meeting had been Ed’s last mission as a U.S. Navy Seal. Ed’s team had been flown onto Bud’s carrier in the Arabian Sea for helicopter insertion into Iraq. Over the last few years they had stayed in touch by email, but hadn’t seen each other since being together in the Middle East.

  Climbing up the side of the ship, Ed was escorted to the admiral’s quarters. He knew the way, but it had been a long time. The escorting ensign made sure he didn’t take a wrong turn.

  “Ed! Or rather General, it’s great to see you. I can’t get over you in a general’s uniform.” Bud Lanciani greeted him upon entering his stateroom. “Can I get you a drink? You look like you could use one.”

  “The Navy always did provide nice accommodations,” Ed said as he looked around at the large room. An admiral’s quarters on a nuclear aircraft carrier were quite luxurious by military standards. “I’ve been sharing an open Jeep with three guys for a couple of weeks now.”

  Sitting down with their drinks, the two friends looked at each other. Bud finally broke the silence.

  “I hear it’s bad out there.”

  “Worse than you can imagine. The big cities are empty. A few people came out of hiding when we arrived, but areas that didn’t prepare are desolate. The ninety percent fatality rate predicted by the EMP Commission was accurate I’m afraid,” Ed explained.

  “Those bastards in Washington. They had years to do something and they screwed the pooch instead.”

  “Just be glad for the states that did prepare. Without them this country would be ripe for a Chinese picking. A ninety percent fatality rate across the whole country would have left thirty million people to hold off the invaders. It would have been hard to stop them at the Mississippi River,” Ed explained. They both shuddered at the thought.

  “What kind of death rate did you suffer?”

  “The states that prepared suffered less than five percent. Mostly the old and badly compromised medically. The big cities like St. Louis and Houston took a big hit. It took a while to get those places under control,” Ed said.

  Bud looked at his friend of many years and asked. “What about Ellen and her family?”

  “I’m afraid that only my two grandkids survived. Ellen and her husband were in Italy at the time. I suppose there’s a chance…”

  “I’m sorry,” Bud offered.

  “But I hear you’ve been pissing off the high command. When I got your message there was another note from my commander. They wanted to know where you were and why you hadn’t reported to home base yet,” Ed said.

  “Those pissants. When ‘the Pulse’ hit, the SatNav went down along with any satellite communications. The CNO’s office radioed on the old net to immediately report back to the U.S. We heard the acknowledgements of the various deployed battle groups. They all headed home.”

  “But not you?” Ed said.

  “No sir, I wasn’t about to leave our boys trapped in Afghanistan. I turned off the radio and headed out to help. One of my destroyers picked up a small carrier with a Marine Expeditionary Force still at Diego Garcia. We loaded up food from Garcia and my destroyer captain convinced the Marines to do the right thing.”

  “Yeah, like that was very hard to do,” Ed offered.

  “You have to love those Marines. Anyway, we notified the commander in Afghanistan to move his forces to the Indian Ocean and we’d pick them up. We could only handle a third at a time, so we dropped off all the extra food. Then we took a third to Australia. Another third ended up in New Zealand, and we have the remaining third on board.”

  “Boy, are you going to catch hell. One hundred thousand troops safe because one old sea dog wouldn’t follow orders. How’s it feel to be a mutineer?” Ed asked.

  “Those pencil pushers in Washington can kiss my you-know-what. They can court martial me anytime now. I did what needed to be done.”

  “Hate to tell you, but you’ll probably get a medal. Those pencil pushers are probably all dead now. They are if the stayed in Washington. The place has been described by those close by as hell on earth. And besides, there’s a new country in town. The Union of American States. In fact, they’re meeting in Wyoming as we speak to hammer out a new constitution,” Ed offered.

  “So where does the old country fit in, so to speak, when it comes to the Armed Forces?” Bud asked.

  “Most of the Armed Forces swung over to the UAS when the old president went on the air to thank the Chinese for providing food and security to the suffering masses of California. After that, his authority seemed to evaporate. There are still a few holdout units, mostly in the Northeast,” Ed said.

  “That guy was a weasel from the start. I can’t believe enough people bought his line of crap to get him elected.”

  “If Santa Claus runs for president, Santa Claus will win, every time,” Ed said. “Too many people looking for a handout from the government, and he stood at the head of the line promising them the world. If ‘the Pulse’ hadn’t finished him off, the monetary day of reckoning that was fast approaching would have done the job,” Ed said.

  “Now, we need to talk about kicking some serious Chinese butt. How soon can we disembark the troops?” Bud asked.

  Bud and Ed went over the logistics of the coming campaign. The battle group was low on fuel and food. Ed assured him that supply trains would soon arrive with both. With over thirty thousand experienced troops on board, Ed could send his local units back to provide security in the towns they had passed through.

  He knew more bad guys were still out there waiting for an opportunity to strike. They had gone to higher ground when his superior force had arrived. Hunger would force them down out of the mountains and Ed wanted security ready to sweep them up immediately.

  But Ed needed to move these new troops now. And the admiral needed fuel for his ships. The fl
eet tanker that accompanied his battle group was empty. Before any other operations could be planned, the ships and the tanker would have to be topped off. That meant moving oil from the Montana refineries to Astoria.

  Food was the other critical need. Thirty thousand battle-hardened troops had been living on combat rations for a long time. Real food would have to be brought in from around the UAS to keep them healthy. Plus food for the over ten thousand sailors in the battle group.

  Ed worked with his staff to arrange train transport for both. Returning trains would take part of his force east to Spokane where it would find transportation west toward Seattle. He wanted to strike Seattle in force from two directions. Trains from Portland would head north with the remaining forces.

  The war had become a repeat of the Civil War of the 1860s. Even World War I had been a war dominated by the movement of armies by rail. At that time, motor vehicle transport was relatively new in warfare. Once again, trains were dictating movement since ‘the Pulse’ had eliminated most vehicles. The limited number of vehicles slowly coming back on line were reserved for the local movement of units.

  While some trains had been hardened by state edict before ‘the Pulse’, their numbers were being tested at the demands of the UAS. Ed only had a limited number of engines available for his campaign against the Chinese, and until more diesel locomotives were rebuilt, he would have to watch his logistics carefully. He reminded his staff of this, so only essential items found space on the rail cars.

  “How soon will everything be in place, Colonel?” Ed asked his logistics chief.

  “We’ll be lucky to be ready in a month. The fuel that the Navy needs is killing us. Is there any other option?”

  “No, the full battle group is essential to our plans. If you need any more troops to make it happen, I can reassign as many as you need,” Ed offered.

  “Not unless they can pull trains. I’m good on the manpower. It’s the train power I’m lacking. We had another engine go down near Missoula yesterday. We’re not getting proper maintenance done and its showing. I’ll do the best I can, Sir.”

  “I know you will. Your staff has done exemplary work getting us this far. Repairing the John Day Bridge so fast convinced me, if nothing else did. Carry on, Colonel,” Ed said. He knew he had the best staff and they would get it done.

  He could live with a month for preparations if he had to. It was still only late spring, which left plenty of time for fighting in good weather. He wanted this over before the notorious fall rainy weather hit.

  And he was nervous about how many Chinese troops had been inserted into the Seattle area. His intel confirmed at least one full strength infantry division of the Red Army had arrived. Reports were sketchy about an armored brigade arriving and that made him nervous. He still hadn’t received any tanks from the Regular Army. The few Regular Army units that were still intact were being sent to defend a line through the Sierra Mountains. Containment of Chinese forces to California was the order of the day.

  Consequently, any available M-1 Abrams tanks and Bradley infantry vehicles were being sent towards Arizona. The open desert between Phoenix and Los Angeles was perfect tank country. Infantry could hold the passes between Nevada and California, but mobile units were needed in the south.

  Ed would have to rely on his Strykers and whatever else he could scrounge up. Ed was a good scrounger, and he knew he had found the perfect replacement for his missing armored brigade.

  Chapter 19

  Seattle, Washington

  Chairman Z lay in bed trying not to move. His sore muscles screamed in pain whenever he changed positions. He opened his eyes slowly and looked out the window to his right. Another sunny day in Seattle. At least that was better than drilling in the damn rain. And it had been raining the last two weeks.

  He moved his arm and felt the muscles revolt. Chairman Z knew what was coming next. Ever since word had reached Seattle that the Americans were moving west, the Chinese had started preparing and training. His force of thugs had been formed into a formal brigade with Chinese officers overseeing training.

  That’s why Chairman Z was slowly moving to the bathroom to retrieve some aspirin. He needed relief from the pain. He and his ‘troops’ were being pushed hard by their Chinese handlers in order to be ready for battle.

  Gone were the days of drinking and pillaging. Now his men were constantly grumbling about how the good old days were over. This is giving a bad name to being a thug, Chairman Z thought. He longed for the old days of simple exploitation of a ravaged unarmed population.

  Colonel Lin of the Chinese Army walked in and spoke to Chairman Z. “The enemy force we have been preparing for has arrived. Our scouts came in this morning with news that the Americans have formed up on our defensive lines south of Tacoma and east of Bellevue.”

  “Then we’ll see action soon. I need to get to my Brigade,” Chairman Z said, putting on the show of being a real commander of troops. He knew the first chance they got, they would all head to the hills.

  “Not to worry. We have been expecting them for a month now. We aren’t sure what took them so long. We have our MiG21s ready. The Americans are in for a surprise. They still have only Strykers as their heaviest weapon. Our MiGs will make quick work of them,” the colonel said.

  It was true that besides the full infantry division that had been landed and deployed to prepare defensive lines, a full armored brigade had arrived. It would act as the Chinese ready reserve. If any spot on the line showed signs of breaking, the T-98 tanks would move in to support. A copy of the Russian T-72 main battle tank, the Chinese had made improvements to the T-98.

  Along with American M-1 Abrams tanks captured at Ft. Lewis, the Chinese armored reserve was substantial. The Chinese had even raided the Ft. Lewis Tank Museum and gotten many of those pieces operational.

  * * *

  “General Gale, the East Force is calling in, Sir,” the radioman said.

  “Gale here. What’s your situation?” Ed asked. He received the news he wanted. The North Force had called earlier that they were ready. His South Force had just placed its last units in position. All three prongs of his attack were ready. He turned to his Navy liaison officer. “Inform the admiral that we are ready. Execute Plan Freedom as outlined.”

  The Navy warrant officer got on the radio and in the prearranged code, informed the battle fleet to commence operations.

  Ed smiled as he received acknowledgement. The battle group had finished its preparations and had left the Columbia River two days ago. With the nuclear Los Angles class attack submarine leading the way, they headed north toward Puget Sound. Now stationed off the Olympic Peninsula, they would be the leading elements in the liberation of Seattle.

  Smiling inwardly, he thought of the surprise the Chinese were about to receive. Why bring an armored brigade to a fight when you can you can carry a nuclear aircraft carrier battle group in your back pocket? Ed pondered. The might of the old United States was about to be unleashed, and for the first time in two hundred years, Americans would be fighting to repel an invader.

  “First wave is airborne, Sir,” the Navy radioman said. Ed knew from his time on carriers that the first wave would consist of electronic warfare planes equipped with Hellfire missiles to blind the air defense system of the Chinese. Cruise missiles had taken over that job but with the GPS system fried when the satellites were knocked out, the Navy had to revert to old tactics. No drones either for surveillance. Too much had been tied to the satellites, Ed thought.

  Luckily the Navy still had fliers old enough to remember the old way. They had spent the time since ‘the Pulse’ training the new pilots what life without electronic help was like. The past six months work was about to pay off.

  “Sir, helicopters have just reported a Chinese submarine in the area.”

  “Take it out, now,” Ed yelled. The Chinese also had nuclear subs and it wasn’t surprising that they had one in the area. The threat to the battle group was significant, hence Ed’s e
mphatic order. Luckily the Chinese boat emitted significantly more noise than an American sub. It was therefore easier to spot and track.

  “Depth charges already on the way, Sir.”

  They waited for the next report. It seemed to take forever but it finally came.

  “They got her, Sir. Sonar reports sounds of a sub breaking up.”

  Ed was relieved. He knew Bud would tolerate zero mistakes right now. Everyone had standing orders to shoot first and ask permission later. As the only naval presence on the West Coast, Admiral Lanciani would guard his ships from all threats.

  “Second strike is forming up, Sir.” Ed knew this would be the F-18 Super Hornets making ready to attack the airfields. Eliminating the Chinese Red Air Force was crucial in attaining air superiority over the battle field. Once that was accomplished, then his troops would move out. The Navy would provide the heavy fire power needed to subdue any armored threat the Chinese could mount.

  The day progressed with Ed standing by his Navy liaison. Reports streamed in that Chinese radar units had been eliminated. Then the Super Hornets hit the airfields. The Chinese were scrambling their MiGs when the first F-18s hit them hard.

  A handful of MiGs got airborne, only to meet a superior adversary in the American fighters. Ed knew from his pilot days that there was no way the Chinese planes would survive. Americans had been fighting over other people’s countries for decades. They were not about to let any invader live through the day.

  By nightfall, the Navy reported all known air assets eliminated. The Chinese might have some planes hidden somewhere and they would be handled if they rose up to challenge the Navy. Tomorrow would begin the ground campaign.

  “General, you wanted to see me?” Sergeant Wilder asked.

  “Yes, Sergeant. I want your scouts moving out at first light to watch our left flank. The road over by Dash Point is lightly guarded and I want your unit to scout towards Tacoma for hostiles. If you run into anything, call in and we’ll crank up the Navy,” Ed said.