Sweetness in the Dark

by W. B. Martin

  The same was true in the Sierras, where American troops held Reno, Las Vegas, and Arizona east of the Colorado River. Everyone prepared for what they all knew was coming.

  Ed waited for his representative to arrive from the new American government. The Chinese had arrived the previous week under a white flag and asked for a meeting. Ed had forwarded the request to Cheyenne and now the Special Envoy of the President was flying to represent the new national government.

  The tent flap was thrown back by the guard and the Special Envoy walked in. Ed stopped in his tracks.

  “Holy cow, its you!” Ed exclaimed.

  “I don’t know if I’ve been elevated that high yet, General Gale, but thanks for the sentiment. But cow definitely fits this position,” Paul answered.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I was not expecting you, but I’m glad you’re here.” Ed offered in way of an apology. “But you understand the situation here. We’re about to wade neck deep into you-know-what.”

  “I will excuse the phrase, General,” Amanda said as she followed Paul into the tent.

  “Ms. Savage, excuse my language. You’re a surprise too,” Ed said. “Glad to see both of you.”

  “We need an update on the Chinese situation,” Paul said.

  “We have our first meeting with them tomorrow morning with the general in charge and his commissar for political cover. We’ll find out what they have in mind then,” Ed said.

  “I don’t imagine that they are going to say ‘Oops’ and pronounce they they are leaving forthwith,” Paul said.

  “Hardly, I have a tent set up for you both. Best we can do in the field.”

  “We’ll make do,” Paul said, as he and Amanda followed the adjutant out of the tent toward their accommodations.

  “Chow is at 0600. That’s 6 AM for you civilians,” the general said.

  * * *

  They arrived at 0550. The adjutant was ready and waiting for Paul. He escorted Paul and Amanda to the head table. As representatives of the national government, food would be brought to the table for them.

  The troops all filed through the chow line and walked into the dining area where Paul and Amanda sat. They stopped as they realized that they had important guests. No one appeared willing to be the first to sit down.

  Paul made a motion for the men and women to sit and eat. The adjutant returned with meals for his guests. Ed had made sure they were eating the same as the troops. Good, we need to establish a new tone in the country. No special food for the higher-ups, Paul thought.

  As Paul dug into his ham and eggs, he glanced up and noticed the seated troops were still not eating.

  “Eat. No need to stand on ceremony for anyone here,” Paul told them.

  They all began digging in, but he noticed that most of them were still staring at the head table. He noticed they weren’t staring at him. Amanda had caught the troops attention, at least the male troops. He smiled and returned to his breakfast.

  The general walked in and sat down next to Paul. The troops snapped to attention and Ed gave them the command to carry on.

  “Paul, I’ve been thinking about our first meeting and I believe you need to stay here at headquarters,” Ed said.

  “But why?” Paul asked.

  “The Chinese are sending a general and a political commissar. By having you there without a similar ranked official from their country would be demeaning to our country. I can offset the general and Amanda can act as our political officer. Meet on equal terms for now.”

  “I understand. Sounds right. I’m new to this, so keep the suggestions coming,” Paul said.

  “Roger that, sir. This is new to me also. Who was the last general to negotiate foreign invaders off of our shores?” Ed asked.

  The three all looked at each other. Ed’s face froze. “Oh, him. I see what you mean. It is a little intimidating, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  Amanda waved to Paul as the two negotiators headed down the freeway with a Stryker Company for transport. Amanda sat beside the general in the second Stryker armored car as the six vehicles headed south. They were to meet the Chinese at a local Grange Hall, half way between their respective forces.

  Arriving at the appointed time, Amanda saw a convoy of Chinese vehicles come into view through the gun slots in the Stryker. She climbed down behind the general and took her place beside him.

  The lead Stryker had a large white flag flapping from its roof. The old ‘Stars and Stripes’ flew next to it. The new National Government had yet to designate a new National Standard.

  The lead Chinese jeep had a similar white flag tied to its driver’s mirror, a Chinese National flag beside it. A large armored car pulled up in front of the Americans. It was all Amanda could do to control her emotions when she saw the red star on the hood.

  Two Chinese men in uniform stepped out of the armored car. They stood rigid and offered no gestures. No salute or handshake was offered. Ed and Amanda offered none back. This was two adversaries meeting and polite gestures were not in the playbook.

  Ed looked at his translator, who acknowledged the opposite Chinese translator. Each side would get their own version of the talks.

  “My general wishes to acknowledge the representatives of the People’s Republic of China to these meetings. We may enter the building and begin.”

  “And my general also acknowledges the representative of the United States to this meeting. We shall enter first,” the translator for the Chinese said.

  “Correction, sir. I am the Commanding General of the Union of American States,” Ed retorted. Ed’s translator related the comment to his opposite.

  The Chinese party ignored the comment. They turned and walked into the Grange. Ed, Amanda and their staff followed behind. Amanda noticed the initial snub, as the Chinese had asserted their position of dominance by going in first. She concluded quickly that this would be a long session.

  She was wrong. The discussions didn’t last very long in international terms. The Chinese went right to their point of contention.

  “My general wishes to point out that your forces have taken up a hostile position. Threatening the People’s Army will be met with a strong response.”

  Ed spoke slowly so that his translator could keep up. “I wish to point out that the People’s Army is occupying my country. All Chinese troops and Chinese civilians are to be removed forthwith from American soil. And that includes the State of Hawaii and the Territory of Guam.”

  The Chinese were taken back by the directness of the American general. Their anger visibly grew.

  “My general wishes to inform you that he has no intention of leaving. The Chinese people bought California by way of the trillions of dollars of U.S. Securities they hold. The People’s Army is only here to protect its investment. When that money is repaid, we can negotiate any further action.”

  “Well, as a history lesson, the United States is no longer in existence. I repeat. I am a representative of the Union of American States and as such no debt is owed to anyone. Just as the Communist Chinese abrogated the debt of the Nationalist Chinese when they came to power, so the world works,” Ed offered.

  Screw you on getting any money, Amanda thought. Ed stuck it to the invaders and they deserved it. There was no ‘save face’ negotiating position being offered.

  The two Chinese officials scowled at this answer. They expected respect for the position they were representing. To be treated by a Western in such a manner was unforgivable.

  Ed loaded on, “Now the only thing I’m here to discuss is how fast your sorry asses can get out of my country.”

  The Chinese translator froze. He couldn’t translate such an insult. Ed looked at his translator, who was equally aghast, and told him to translate, word for word.

  The Chinese jumped to their feet and quickly exited the building. The Chinese general yelled what was an obvious insult as he stormed out of the Grange Hall. Out the open front door Amanda could see the Chinese convoy speed around the building and hea
d south.

  “I suppose we better get out of here. Hostilities seemed to have been initiated,” Ed said.

  Amanda joined the translator in climbing into the Stryker. The staff spread out into the other armored cars, as Ed nodded to get things moving. The column spun around and headed north. As they left the area, the Grange Hall exploded into flames from incoming artillery.

  The Strykers picked up speed as they tried to outrun the rounds impacting the area. The Chinese didn’t seem to have an observer, so the artillery stayed on the Grange target until nothing remained standing.

  “I guess future generations won’t be traveling to Willows Grange Hall to witness where the peace treaty was signed,” Ed joked. “Sorry to put you through that. I’m just glad Paul didn’t have to waste his time.”

  “Sir, you didn’t seem to be in much of a negotiating mood just now,” Amanda said carefully.

  “I’ve dealt with these clowns before. They think they have right on their side. As in ‘Might is Right’. Their arrogance precedes them. It has, ever since they came to power,” Ed offered. “What was that little tidbit the general threw out when he left?” he asked the translator.

  “‘You will die, Imperialist dog’ I’m afraid.”

  “Imperialist. That’s rich. He’s in our country and he calls us Imperialists,” Ed said.

  “General, why do you think they even invaded America? They must have known we would fight for our country,” Amanda said.

  “Well, I think they got caught with their pants down,” Ed answered. He explained that the Chinese had been preparing for something like ‘the Pulse’ for some time. Probably an EMP attack by their buddies, the North Koreans or Iranians. The CME from the sun was a gift for them.

  “They had definitely read the U.S. Congressional EMP Commission Report and assumed that most of America would be dead. A ninety percent death rate as outlined by the report would have left only thirty million people in the United States.”

  “And having that asshole in the White House thank the Chinese for coming to our aid only encouraged them. They took that as a tacit agreement that they deserved California and anything else they wanted,” Ed finished.

  Amanda noticed the bulges in the veins on Ed’s temple. Ed was passionate and wouldn’t rest until the Chinese were dead or back in China, she thought.

  Chapter 32

  Aorere, South Island, New Zealand

  Noel had recovered physically from his wounds suffered at the Battle of Bombay Hills. The intervening weeks had allowed him to heal the bullet wounds in his body and to begin getting his strength back.

  But all was not well in the Leffingwell home. Noel suffered the shock of battle mixed with losing his great grandfather. He felt responsible for coming home alive and leaving GG in a grave near Hamilton. They had both discussed the risks when they marched off together to save their country from the invading Indonesians. But as a boy just turning seventeen, Noel couldn’t separate the pain and confusion he felt. He felt that he should be lying in a grave next to his great-grandfather. That was the agreement they had reached. They were willing to put their lives on the line for their country, but only if they suffered the same fate.

  That one should survive while the other one died was unacceptable. Everyday Noel would struggle with his loss. His family and friends tried in vain to explain that his great-grandfather wouldn’t want him to stop living. Nothing reached Noel in his depression.

  Noel’s dad continued to try anything to help his son overcome his guilt. Desmond tried to understand his son, but he had never fought in a war and watched men die. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t reach Noel and Noel’s depression worsened.

  Finally, Noel’s grandfather Leslie offered Desmond a suggestion. Desmond announced that he would be gone for a week or so. He returned two weeks later with someone who he thought might be able to help.

  Noel was still asleep in bed when his bedroom door was rudely shoved open.

  “Mate, it’s almost tea time. Time to get up,” the voice bellowed.

  Noel awoke with a start. He blinked his eyes to clear his mind and try to determine who was rousing him out of bed.

  “Syd! Bloody hell. What brings you to these parts, mate?” Noel exclaimed. Standing before him was his ‘old’ friend Syd, of German machine gun fame. Although they had only known each other a short time, fighting together creates a quick bond. “Last time I saw you was in hospital. We shared a room together, but you probably don’t remember. You were bloody well out cold the whole time.”

  “Don’t remember a bloody thing after our fight on the hills. At least ‘til I finally woke up in a hospital in Christchurch.”

  “But what are you doing here?” Noel asked.

  “Your dad wrote me. I have no idea how he found out where I was, but he found me. Suggested I stop by,” Syd answered. “I was heading back up north to retrieve the family heirloom and figured ‘what the hell’.”

  Noel knew the family heirloom was the ‘beast’, the German MG 42 machine gun his grandfather had brought back from the European War.

  “Thought you might need a change of scenery. Want to join me?”

  Noel thought for awhile and concluded that was a grand idea. He jumped out of bed, dressed and started packing his rucksack. As he reached for his AK-47 under the bed, Syd interrupted him.

  “Bloody hell mate. I think we can wait a day or two so I can meet your family at least,” Syd said.

  * * *

  It was a difficult wait for Noel, but on the second day they finally headed off to Picton. The ferry was back running across the Cook Straits to Wellington. From there they caught a ride to New Plymouth.

  As the pair walked up to the hospital there, Noel asked, “Who are we visiting?”

  “My mate from Blenheim. He was with us on Bombay Hills. His grandfather had a lot of the ammunition for the ‘beast’. Our great-grandfathers had served together in North Africa,” Syd answered.

  Finding the room that Syd’s friend was assigned to, the two walked in to a hearty New Zealand welcome. Syd’s mate had lost a leg in battle, and with some other internal injuries was still recuperating.

  Syd pulled out a six pack of DB beer. “I thought we needed to celebrate Kiwi style.”

  “Syd, the nurses will be pissed,” his mate said.

  “The hell with the nurses. Bloody time to celebrate living through what we did, by crikey,” Syd retorted.

  “Why not? And DB too. None of that Foster’s piss. Good old Kiwi beer,” his mate said. Foster’s was an Australian beer, and with ‘the Pulse’ knocking out transport across the Tasman Sea, the old DB Beer plant had started back up. DB Beer had been bought up in the beer wars and had been replaced by Fosters. Now it was back and the Kiwi’s enjoyed their national drink of choice.

  The three sat and finished their drinks, chatting the whole time about their experiences fighting the ‘Indos’. Noel felt better than he had in ages just being around his mates. The darkness receded from his life.

  Syd and Noel stayed overnight in New Plymouth and then hitched a ride north. Upon reaching Hamilton, Noel sought out Major Smith, of the 24th Infantry Division of the American Army. No new information was available. The Kiwis and the Americans were sitting in place waiting for orders. It had been a quiet few months since the allies had taken the Bombay Hills away from the Indonesians.

  Syd was happy to hear that Major Smith thought that the Marines still had the ‘beast’ with them. The two men would start their search there.

  Locating the Marines’ position in the battle line was easy, and then locating the ‘beast’ was rudimentary. Its reputation proceeded it. Syd and Noel walked into the area that they had determined had the machine gun.

  “What can I do for you?” the platoon sergeant asked.

  “We understand that you might have an MG42 German machine gun from World War II here,” Syd said.

  “Damn straight we do. The things a beast. The ‘Indos’ keep a wide berth from our area becaus
e of its reputation,” the sergeant exclaimed.

  Syd proceeded to explain the importance of the gun to his family and that he would like to reclaim it. The Marine sergeant looked disappointed but understood traditions with fighting men. They would not be responsible for breaking that tradition.

  “I’ll send one of my men down to get it squared away. We’ll have to replace it with one of our squad machine guns. Not as good, believe me, but we appreciate the loan. And we took good care of it,” the sergeant said. “We carefully retrieved all the brass for reloading. Found a good reloader in Hamilton that keeps us in quality ammunition.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. My family will appreciate the gun getting home safe.”

  “But if you head home now, you’ll miss the upcoming fight. Rumor has it we’re going on the offensive soon. Summer is almost here. Hate to have the ‘beast’ miss all the fun,” the Marine said.

  Noel and Syd again thanked the sergeant and headed back to Hamilton. Walking through the center of town carrying an MG 42 over Syd’s shoulder with Noel working hard pushing a bicycle loaded down with all the gun’s ammunition made quite a sight. But a sight Kiwi’s were now used to.

  “Noel, I’ve been thinking. If we’re going to be fighting the ‘Indos’ soon, I can’t rightly take the gun away. And I don’t feel right deserting my other mates who will be doing the fighting,” Syd said.

  “I’ve been thinking too. Major Smith still needs a liaison. Maybe I can get ‘our’ job back.” Noel realized that he had said ‘our’ as soon as he said it. With his great-grandfather dead, the liaison job wouldn’t be a two-person job anymore. The darkness started to close in.

  “Well, I could use a good Gunner’s Mate. Someone to feed the belt for me,” Syd offered. Noel knew his mate was trying to change the subject. “But I guess I might have to switch roles with you after your work at Bombay Hills, eh mate?”