“He speaks out against you and General McGraw, sir. He has compared you unfavorably to the Caesars of old.”
“Interesting,” Harold said. “It’s an apt analogy, I suppose, although foolish to say aloud. I’m intrigued why McGraw would help Higgins if he’s become a political gadfly to us.”
With his back to the Militia general, Harold smiled. Another man might give his subordinate assurances, saying he wasn’t really a Caesar, as Colonel Higgins put it. Williamson wouldn’t care one way another about apt analogies. The Militiaman worked to get the job done and left higher-level thoughts to his superior.
Harold clicked his pen. Finally, he asked, “Colonel Higgins and the general are at odds, is that right?”
“Several months ago, I sat in an office together with them. I sensed displeasure in Colonel Higgins, more against us but also against McGraw. I would agree: they are at odds.”
Harold clicked the pen again, rocking in his chair. “If I recall correctly, Colonel Higgins is something of a war hero.”
“Yes, sir, the newscasts have made him one.”
“That’s only partly correct, but never mind,” Harold said. The man’s valor and hard fighting had made Higgins the hero. Harold swiveled around, facing Williamson.
“If this Colonel Higgins were McGraw’s good friend, I would deny the request. But seeing that Colonel Higgins is a gadfly…”
Williamson’s mouth became more pinched.
“You do not approve of me releasing Jake Higgins?” Harold asked.
“My opinion doesn’t matter, sir.”
“That isn’t what I asked you.”
“Very well, sir. No. I do not approve. We must stamp out the traitorous scum so we can build a strong America for the future.”
“That is exactly what I plan to do. However, sometimes one should use traitorous scum, particularly if they are good soldiers.”
Williamson actually moved on his chair, a possible squirm.
“We mustn’t fool ourselves, General. That is the worst sin of all. Jake Higgins, Stan Higgins and General McGraw are all fighting men. They’re good at what they do.”
There was no response from Williamson.
“Let us send these fighters to Burma to help the Indians. In fact, I’ve just had a brainstorm.” Harold grinned, putting crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes. “We’re going to send every troublemaker we have left to Burma. Yes, write that down.”
Williamson set the notepad on his knees, with his fingers poised.
“We’re going to comb the US Army and Marines of subversive elements and transfer them into the Expeditionary Force. They can fight for the United States as they take enemy bullets and artillery shells that might otherwise kill loyal citizens.”
Williamson typed as the director spoke.
“Remember, General, a wise man wastes nothing. We have used many subversive elements in the penal battalions. They served as a warning to others, even as they made useful shock troops. We’ll have to hide our intention this time, as we rid our country of the malcontents.”
Williamson looked up as he cleared his throat.
“You have a comment to make?” Harold asked.
“I don’t usually like to do so, sir.”
“I’m quite aware of that, General.”
“But in my opinion, sir…”
“Yes?” Harold asked.
“Yours is a brilliant idea.”
Harold nodded. He knew it was a great idea. It’s why he ran America and why, at the end of the day, he would still be in power to remake the United States of America the right way when the war ended.
Part II: 2042
Retribution
-8-
The Australian Situation
From Military History: Past to Present, by Vance Holbrook:
WORLD WAR III
OPERATIONS IN 2042
The Strategic Balance
This was the year of Chairman Hong’s greatest gamble. He yearned to return to three years ago when Greater China strode the globe as the world power without peer.
Since then, the German Dominion had dropped away. It had become the European Union, with close ties with the Russian-run Slavic Coalition. The South American Federation also defected. American resurgence combined with the nuclear strike unhinged SAF forces to an incredible degree, demoralizing all but the toughest Brazilian units. Effectively, by the end of the summer of ‘41, the SAF dropped out of the war except for supplying the PAA army with food and clothing. This represented a thirty-eight percent loss for aggressor forces.
The Chairman had several options regarding Mexico. He could abandon the country and admit defeat, concentrating on the Asian Pacific Basin, he could defend with the forces in place or he could reinforce Mexico and continue the war.
Believing his and China’s prestige hung on Mexico—if he lost the nation, he thought some PAA countries might defect—Hong chose the third option. He believed America was under tremendous strain, and that he could defeat them through attrition. The Chinese merchant marine shipped division after division into the country, along with new tanks, planes and artillery. Increased American submarine strength and activity took a growing toll of PAA shipping, further straining supply.
Incredibly, Hong not only repaired the staggering losses of last year—over two million casualties—but increased North American PAA forces. To achieve these numbers took harsher draft methods due to increasing reluctance among China’s youth to fight, and it took drastic reductions elsewhere. A simple look at A and B category units in PAA countries shows the difference.
Beginning in 2041:
Interior Reserves 600,000
Kazakhstan 300,000
Siberia 500,000
Korea 200,000
Japan 200,000
Philippines 100,000
Australia 300,000
Vietnam 100,000
Indonesia 200,000
New Zealand 25,000
Hawaii 50,000
Beginning in 2042:
Interior Reserves 100,000
Kazakhstan 200,000
Siberia 400,000
Korea 100,000
Japan 100,000
Philippines 50,000
Australia 150,000
Vietnam 50,000
Indonesia 100,000
New Zealand 15,000
Hawaii 30,000
By depleting these garrison troops, letting the interior reserves drop to almost nothing and by recruiting well over one million more men, China maximized its navy, brought the Invasion Army in Mexico back to full strength and increased the defending forces in Burma from one million soldiers to one and a half million.
China also added half a million PAA-allied forces to the army in Mexico. These drafts primarily came from Korea, Japan and Vietnam.
The gamble came in three areas. At this point, China could ill afford a war with the Indian League. Hong attempted to buy off the Indians with a similar deal as he’d made with Konev of Russia. The Indians showed interest, but played for time to see what the Americans could do.
The second gamble Hong believed his least worrisome. Hong trusted Konev because he understood the man’s authoritarian nature. The analysts assured the Chairman the Russians still smarted from the grim World Wars of the twentieth century. They would not willingly involve themselves in a bloodbath with China. With massive food shipments to Russia, Hong bought peace.
The Chairman had good reason to wish for tranquility with the Slavic Coalition. Counting Sino forces in Kazakhstan, Siberia and Interior China the differences went from 1,400,000 in 2041 to 700,000 in 2042. The rugged terrain combined with terrible winter weather and China’s vast resources behind the army in place convinced Hong the Russians would be mad to begin a land war in northeast Asia.
The Chinese food shipments meant even more belt tightening in selected PAA countries. Thus, Hong was ready to reinforce whatever nation became restless. He particularly kept his eye on Japan and the Philippines.
The last gamble was in North America. To invade anew and keep his army supplied over time, China would have to destroy the growing American submarine fleet. It was quickly becoming a priority issue.
As for the Indian League, the Red Dragon attack came as a frightening shock. Earlier, Hong and his High Command had discounted the Indian League military, believing their inferior antimissile abilities would give them pause. The Indian General Staff certainly recognized their deficiency. Instead of reacting as Hong wished, they prevailed upon the Prime Minister to seek Israeli help. For a stiff price, Israeli companies with accompanying advisors rushed the latest Iron Dome IIIs and other ballistic and cruise missile defenses to India in great number. The subcontinent was starving to death. They had to do something.
The Indian General Staff put three million soldiers near the Burmese border, and they anticipated an American Expeditionary Force. The Prime Minister put one proviso on the Americans—food. India needed massive amounts. Therefore, before the Indian League committed itself, it wanted to make sure America could live up to its commitments. That meant the Australian breadbasket. Much would hinge on the coming amphibious invasion.
Greater China with its Pan-Asian Alliance possessed the economic and military strength to face the combined Indian-American challenge. Given time to arm and train more of their people, the PAA would likely win an extended war of attrition.
The American Joint Chiefs and the Indians realized they needed to strike while the PAA forces remained in the wrong places—far away in Mexico. The time to act was now.
Around the Periphery of the Pan-Asian Alliance
Strategy and Buildup. Indian-American planning recognized the need for speed. Beginning in December of 2041, America gathered what remained of its merchant marine and Atlantic-based submarines. One of the riskiest ventures America had ever attempted was about to begin.
INVASION OF AUSTRALIA, 2042
2042, January-February. Preparations for Operation “Outback.” The invasion was planned for seizing Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne in southeastern Australia as bases for further operations in the liberation of the country. The bulk of China’s occupation force—a mere 150,000—resided in central and northern Australia, while the remnants of the Australian Army—83,000—held the southeast under the puppet regime.
This was the farthest amphibious operation in terms of port to beach ever planned. The Joint Forces Commander was Lieutenant General Daryl C. Forbes, formerly the commander of Ninth Army in Operation Reclamation. Admiral Spruce was the naval commander. This would be the first American operation of the war without any Militia units present.
The invasion fleet was divided into three main elements. From New York Harbor came Major General Frank Puffer’s Task Force A—45,000 men in 42 vessels, escorted by a submarine squadron under Rear Admiral Henry Knots. Its main target was the city of Brisbane. Major General Dwayne Rice—Task Force B, 39,000 men in 37 ships, from Miami—was escorted by a submarine squadron under Vice-Admiral Jeff Hodges. Its objective was Sydney. Task Force C sailed out of New Orleans. Major General Tony Trento, 41,000 men in 44 ships, would have the only surface vessels as escorts, three destroyers with accompanying submarines. Its objective was Melbourne.
Prepared and staged in the greatest secrecy, all three assault forces headed southeast toward Africa, trying to stay as far as possible from South America. Their first goal was the coast of Antarctica, to crawl down-under past the Indian Ocean without Chinese or Chinese allied surveillance drones spotting them. Despite prior clandestine contacts and agreements, Levin of the CIA suggested the Australian Army might not boil out of their barracks to resist the PAA occupation force once the Americans landed, but the amphibious commanders expected Aussie cooperation.
2042, March 1-6. The Swing Under. The voyage past the western coast of Africa and south to Antarctica proved extraordinarily successful. The bitter crawl along the frozen continent cost two troopships sunk and thousands of cases of frostbite. Despite these setbacks, the American amphibious personnel believed they headed for the proverbial rendezvous with destiny. Routine Chinese patrol planes spotted the first ships of Task Force A on March 5. An emergency Ruling Council meeting resulted in Admiral Niu Ling’s carrier group being dispatched from the Coral Sea to the Tasman Sea between Australia and New Zealand.
This encounter turned out to be the oddest naval battle of the war.
USS GRANT
Captain Darius Green was huge, a solid two-sixty in weight and six-nine in height. In 2040, he’d fought in a carbon fiber submergible in Lake Ontario against German Dominion forces. Now, he cruised the Tasman Sea in an Avenger VII-class submarine, part of Task Force A under Major General Puffer.
In the control center, Darius’s bulk filled the command chair. They submerged, having just launched a tiny surveillance drone. After reaching the desired depth, Darius would expel a small float radio with a wire trailing down to the submarine so they could receive data from the drone.
The only familiar face from Lake Ontario was the radio operator, Sulu Khan, a short man and a practicing Muslim like Darius. A small gold chain hung around Khan’s brown-skinned neck, the crescent moon on the end tucked out of sight under his uniform. In those days on Lake Ontario, it had just been the two of them. Now they had was an entire submarine of people. It still took some getting used to, as most of the crew was white.
Darius Green was a black man who had been born in the concrete, bankrupt jungle of Detroit. His father had run with the drug gangs, his grandfathers on both sides had been gangbangers. One died early in a turf war. The other died in prison. Darius Green had never met either of his grandfathers. He’d also never met his father, as the man had disappeared one night, presumed dead. His mother would have raised Darius if she’d been given the chance, but his uncle hadn’t let her. His dad’s brother had joined the Black Muslims of the Mustafa School. The man had known far too much about the ghettoes of Detroit to let his nephew grow up there.
So one day, Uncle Cyrus Green put Darius on his shoulder and marched outside to a waiting Harley. Darius held onto his uncle’s back the entire trip to Chicago. The gangs had been just as bad there, but Uncle Cyrus had moved into a Black Muslim compound. He’d been a foot soldier in the Mustafa School movement. From Darius’s youth on, Uncle Cyrus made sure he had discipline.
Darius practiced karate, read the Koran and studied math. Uncle Cyrus liberally used a leather belt on him to beat the lying and slothfulness out of Darius. Uncle Cyrus died several years later, never getting to see his nephew graduate from the compound’s high school.
His uncle’s death and the graduation had been many years ago. At this point in the war, Darius Green was thirty—four, a giant of a man with fierce convictions. He believed in the Mustafa School movement, and he believed in the betterment of the black man through his own hard work. He also knew that invaders had come to steal his country. In 2040, he’d worked with American white men to defend their united home. Now, they had him way out here to help other whites of another country.
Sometimes, it surprised Darius he commanded an Avenger VII submarine. He’d come to realize that America had to drive the Chinese back into their hole. The invaders used mass nuclear weapons. Black, white, whatever color, people had to unite against that.
Besides, Darius commanded the USS Grant. He liked it, and he’d found that his fellow officers were dedicated and skilled just like he was. He kept watching them, though, waiting for signs of disrespect. If anyone dared to dis him—but no, these sailors were honorable men, he’d found. Because of that, he gave respect in turn. That didn’t mean he agreed with what the white man had done to the black man, but he would join forces with them to defeat a worse aggressor.
Darius shifted in his seat. It had been a long voyage with too many icebergs to dodge. So far— “Oh, oh,” Sulu Khan said.
Everyone in the control center became quiet and still. The small radio operator in his white uniform tapped his screen.
“Report,�
�� Darius said in his deep voice.
“Captain,” Khan said. “I’m not sure about this. It’s a long visual. I could turn on the radar—”
“No,” Darius said.
Khan bobbed his head in agreement. “I’m at extreme magnification. I can’t tell one hundred percent, but that sure looks like a carrier to me, which would make it Chinese.”
With a grunt, Darius heaved himself to his feet. He walked to Khan’s screen. How the little man thought he saw a carrier, Darius had no idea.
“That’s a dot,” Darius said.
It was a small black dot in the great blue ocean. Even lighter specks might have appeared beside the distant dot.
“You have to understand the range, Captain,” Khan explained. “This isn’t Lake Ontario.”
Darius scowled. He excelled at it, and no one aboard the Grant dared to stand in his way when he looked like that.
Khan bobbed his head again. “In my humble opinion, that’s a carrier and those are its escort vessels. Ah, look, there’s another carrier.”
“Where?” Darius asked, baffled.
Khan pointed to the upper left part of the screen.
Darius bent lower, squinting. He saw it now, a barely visible dot, but darker than the former specs. “You think it’s Chinese?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet one hundred percent. I’d bet my savings it’s Chinese. Should I use the drone’s radar in order to make sure?”
“The enemy would detect radar in an instant.”
“I agree with you there, Captain, sir,” Khan said.
“Take the drone down closer. We need visual confirmation of this.”
Khan twisted around to look up at Darius. “Begging your pardon, Captain…”
“What is it?” Darius snapped. He hated hints and innuendos.
“The drone is on a preplanned flight. It’s giving these aimed signals in our direction using tiny bursts, changing its frequency all the time in tandem with our receiver. If I broadcast a signal, rerouting the small craft…”
Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5) Page 20