Battle of Mesquite

by David Pope

  A large window fronted the dining room near the main entrance, and between closed drapes a crack let in a ray of sunlight. Without disturbing the material, he looked through the small opening. His view faced south, the direction they’d came, across a sliver of front yard to a street bordered on the far side by scrub-covered desert. Above it all a blue sky blazed. There was no sign of the enemy. Good.

  A room at a time, he moved around the house, glancing through openings in the window covering. Twice he pulled back curtains just enough to get a better view outside. In every case, he spotted no other living thing, not even a cat or dog.

  What he did learn was that the house sat on a corner lot. The back of the house faced north and was encircled by an adobe fence. Behind the fence sat a neighboring home, as did a house along the west side. None of the neighbors appeared to be home. Upton guessed the residents had evacuated either before, or just after, the shooting started. Satisfied, he headed back to the bathroom.

  “No sign of the bad guys. Could be our lucky day,” said Upton, looking down at Lisa lying in the bathtub, her eyes still closed.

  “Yeah, some lucky day,” she answered. “I failed my squad, didn’t do my job, and lived through hell. I’m done with playing soldier.”

  Thinking about his own squad, Upton felt a tinge of guilt and regret. He yearned to get back and rejoin the Army. Maybe by doing so, he’d get a chance to make things right. “We can’t stay here long. I think we need to clean up, eat, rest, and head out once it turns dark. There’s a smaller town just southwest of here: Bunkerville. We should head for it.”

  “I shot down one of those things …” blurted Lisa pointing towards the ceiling “… out of the air, just after the shelling. It was a lucky shot. I should’ve been killed for the effort.”

  Not for the last time, Upton looked at Lisa with amazement. Somehow, using hand-to-hand combat, she had defeated the US soldier in the pipe. Now, after surviving a heavy precision tank and artillery bombardment, she was claiming to have shot down a Custer. Hell, during the attack, he hadn’t even got off a shot. Sure, he took out her assailants, but looking at her, no more than a buck-ten soaking wet, he was amazed at her fortitude. “Well, you’re alive,” he said, “and in my opinion, one a hell of soldier. But it’s not over. Now our duty is to escape.”

  “Ha! I’m done screwing up. It’s time for me to go home and be with my kids.”

  “In my opinion, you haven’t screwed up anything. Seems to me we’re both damn fortunate. But I understand the desire to go home.”

  “You got kids, too?” she asked.

  “No,” said Upton. He was always uncomfortable talking about his personal life. “Never found the right partner or felt the desire to settle. For now, the Army gives me what I need.”

  Lisa sat up higher in the tub and, as if seeing him for the first time, she looked at Upton for a long few seconds. At last she said, “Well, good luck with that. If by some miracle we get out of here alive, I’m done. Right now, I’m hungry, thirsty, and a mess.” Then she laid her head back and reclosed her eyes.

  “Agreed,” said Upton.

  Looking around, in the far corner where Lisa dropped it, he spotted the pack given to them earlier by the medics. Interested, he crossed the room and rummaged inside. He fished out two pre-packaged meals and was about to toss them to Lisa when he noticed a large zippered side pouch. Intrigued, he grabbed the metal zipper and slid it open. Recognition dawned, and he smiled.

  Reaching in, he pulled out a satellite phone, a battery, and a rotating docking stand. With care, he laid the objects side by side on the linoleum. “Lisa, look at this.”

  “Give me a clue,” she said, eyes still closed.

  Upton examined the electronics and recalled his training. This wasn’t just a typical SAT video phone. No, something more sophisticated. It appeared to be laser equipped. He also knew the latest models leveraged quantum cryptography mastered by the ROAS. Designed to avoid interception, these phones weren’t standard issue. Instead, senior officers, special ops, and emergency personnel received the phones to communicate when typical secure infrastructure was unavailable. Upton guessed the medics carried one for large-scale civil emergencies. The phone was a gift from heaven. “Lisa, it’s a secure satellite phone. Impossible to detect or crack.”

  Lisa sat up in the tub, “We can call home and let our families know we’re okay.”

  “Not directly. This phone is for dedicated, secure, point-to-point connections. My guess is a direct link to Central Command. Once we contact them, I’m sure they’ll get us out of here. After making contact, I’m sure they’ll notify your family.”

  “That’ll work,” said Lisa in a hopeful voice.

  “One problem, though,” said Upton. “These work on line of sight—direct laser. We need to point it towards the open sky, unobstructed, and move it around until it detects and locks onto a quantum satellite. Once locked, the call establishes. We should point the thing towards the southwest, but we need to be outside with an open view. It’d be safer to wait until tonight when it gets dark, or we can try to figure out a way to stay hidden and do it now.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” she said.

  Upton examined Lisa. She still wore the field jacket the medics had given her, along with the loose-fitting boots. Worse, her face was a filthy, blood-streaked mess, and he knew her pants were stiff with dried blood. She also smelled and was missing a front tooth. He wasn’t much better. Plus, his ribs needed tending. Both were operating on little sleep and pain pills. Outside, the enemy may or may not be hunting them. Still, using the SAT phone at that moment made the most sense. Afterward, they could focus on getting clean, bandaged, and refreshed. There was only one problem: To avoid capture and stay alive, he needed to figure a way to set up the connection while staying hidden.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  DISCOVERED

  May 9, 08:30 (PDT)

  With less than four hours of sleep, General Story was back at work. As he paced near his post in ROAS Central Command, the building was a beehive of activity. The plans provided by SALI hours earlier were moving forward at a rapid pace. At his disposal were real-time updates on supply shipments, engineering, troop positions, and weapons systems. By his reckoning, if all went well, the ROAS Army of Defense needed at least another thirty-seven hours to be ready.

  Operation Heavy Metal, SALI’s ROAS defensive plan for Las Vegas, was underway. Thanks to the foresight of President Ortega, a lot of effort had already taken place but much work remained. In his meeting with SALI he learned that President Ortega, two months prior, had listened to the AI and in secret begun executing the plan. Without the head start, Heavy Metal wouldn’t be workable.

  Still, the reality of the situation was mind-blowing. General Story stopped pacing and looked at a digital map of his troop deployment. The entire ROAS Army combat capability was comprised of only two divisions. The First ROAS Infantry Division based in California with elements in Nevada, and the Second Infantry Division headquartered in Washington State with units stretching into Oregon. Combined, the two divisions and their support staff contained just over thirty thousand troops.

  Meanwhile, over the last twenty years, the US Army had doubled in size. Now totaling fifty-one active combat divisions with another twenty-one independent combat brigades, the US Army was a behemoth containing more than a million combat troops.

  To make matters worse, the ROAS had no navy, just a small Coastal Defense Fleet and a small air force containing a few squadrons of tactical fighters, vertical-lift aircraft, and logistical supply craft. Compared to the overwhelming might of the United States Army, along with the US Navy, Marines, and Airforce, the ROAS military was insignificant.

  Deployed to protect Nevada, he had a single infantry brigade containing 4,400 soldiers, minus the battalion already wiped out in Mesquite. Other than fighting vehicles and armored personnel carriers, the Nevada brigade contained no heavy armor.

  In comparison, an entire US
Armored Division, the Fifty-Fifth, about eighteen thousand men, maneuvered against Nevada. A subset of the Fifty-Fifth Division, two Armored Brigade Combat Teams comprised of eight thousand men, was used against Mesquite and now threatened Las Vegas. The balance of the US Fifty-Fifth Division formed a second attack prong and sat poised on the US–Utah border threating Reno.

  The general paused and considered the possibilities again. To help meet the Nevada threat and improve the odds just a bit, the general could commit the remaining elements of the ROAS First Division based in California. But such a course was inadvisable and would leave California open to attack by the hulking US Seventh Marine Division stationed within the US Military District of San Diego (USMDSD or DSD).

  The DSD was a key element of the secession agreement, allowing the US to keep naval and marine installations in and around San Diego and Hawaii. Without that agreement and the direct US Naval access to the Pacific it afforded, there would’ve been no secession.

  With a full US Marine division in the District of San Diego, moving the California-based ROAS First Division units into Nevada wasn’t an option.

  Nor was moving elements of the ROAS Second Division out of Washington and Oregon. After secession, when the US abandoned Fort Lewis near Seattle, to replace it, they opened a new military Installation in Fort Lewiston, Idaho. Near the Washington and Oregon border, Lewiston was now the home of the US Fifty-Sixth Armored Division. To counter the threat, the ROAS Second Division needed to stay in place.

  Too many ROAS forces consolidated at any point would weaken another. The math was simple and overwhelming.

  But SALI’s plan wasn’t counting on numerical superiority.

  Looking at a digital map, General Story examined his forces around Las Vegas. Heavy Metal called for half of the Fourth Brigade, three battalions totaling 1,800 soldiers, to hold the city. The remainder of the brigade would need to remain in Reno to protect against the US threat poised on the Utah border. Outnumbered by more than four to one and out-gunned, the thin line holding Vegas, in conventional terms, wasn’t enough. Regardless, it was the maximum the ROAS could afford and the minimum needed to pull off SALI’s plan.

  The general shifted his attention to the reports coming in about the logistics needed to execute the plan. Vital supplies from Central California were still on the way, and the defensive works around Las Vegas remained under construction.

  Meanwhile, the enemy kept a watchful eye, and he doubted they were missing any of his moves. Combined with around-the-clock satellite coverage, US Airforce AWACS and satellites monitored the entire Las Vegas area, and once the shooting started could detect and coordinate against his defenses. But Heavy Metal took that into account—he hoped.

  Tired, the general sat down at his workstation and rubbed his eyes. Deep in thought, a sudden burst of applause broke out. The general looked up and spotted several people from the S6 Communications Area smiling and clapping.

  Seated next to the general, hearing the commotion, Lieutenant Colonel Andrea Simpson stood up and said, “I’ll find out, sir.”

  General Story watched Simpson go, then turned back to his monitor and scanned the latest aerial surveillance footage from outside Las Vegas. He clicked on several pictures, zooming in to check on the defensive structures. So far, progress appeared on track. Pleased, he shifted his attention to the main supply delivery concern and looked for potential sources of trouble.

  Returning from across the room, Simpson said, “Sir, good news.”

  Eyes red with fatigue, the general looked up and asked, “What do you have?”

  “Staff Sergeant Lisa McMichael. She’s alive.”

  The general recognized the name. He’d briefed the president about her and provided the video now running on every ROAS press broadcast. She was a hero. But the news of her survival seemed like a long shot. The final video of her position showed it pounded by 30 mm cannon fire. Still, anything was possible. “Fill me in.”

  “Yes, sir. The S6 just received an unsolicited laser satellite video call from Mesquite. Facial recognition confirmed McMichael along with another missing front-line ROAS soldier—a Master Sergeant Corey Upton. Intelligence is testing the video for final authenticity, but at first blush, it looks genuine.”

  “Are they POWs, or injured?” asked the general.

  “No sir. Somehow, they’ve evaded capture and are hiding in a suburban home near the southern edge of town. Both are tending small wounds but appear mobile and well armed.”

  “Could be a trick. All the publicity she’s been getting, the enemy must know about her. They might be using her.”

  “Sir, intelligence is evaluating the circumstances. We should have their recommendation soon,” said Lieutenant Colonel Simpson.

  “What else did you learn?”

  “Sir, the full video file is available for your viewing, but in essence, they are requesting exfiltration assistance.”

  “Out of the question,” said the general. “Assuming their claims are true, the best chance for survival is to stay low until the enemy leaves the area and pushes towards Las Vegas. Then we can consider recovery. For now, they need to hang on for a couple of days. Meanwhile, her escape must stay top secret. If the enemy were to find out, they’d go after her.”

  “Understood. Our S3 officer in charge managed the transmission, and he requested they call again in an hour for further orders. By then we should have further intelligence confirmation, and we’ll pass along your instructions,” said Lieutenant Colonel Simpson.

  “Excellent,” replied the general. This was the first good news out of Mesquite since the fight had broken out. He couldn’t wait to tell Ortega, and he would, but it was vital to keep a lid on the story. “Colonel, this entire event is classified. No leaks to the press. Both of their lives could be at stake. If anything changes, I want to be the first to know.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Simpson with a smile.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Colonel Paulson sat across from Federal Inspector Cone in a small pre-fabricated conference room attached to the mobile command post. The colonel half listened to the rationale concerning the mission. Truth was the battalion commander didn’t care why the mission mattered; instead, he was excited about the opportunity. Once again, the gods of war were shining on him, putting him in another heroic position. “Yes, yes, Inspector Cone, I get that it’s important we capture her. I’ll put a plan together and get everything organized. We can execute this evening just before dark. It’ll give us an advantage with our night vision.”

  “With most of the day to escape, I’m worried she’ll run,” Cone reasoned.

  “She’s under surveillance. I’ve seen the live feed from the UAV. Neither of them is going anywhere without being spotted. If they move, we’ll alter our plans, no problem. With my leadership and the men under my command, I’ll make it happen.”

  “I need to review your plan and approve it,” said Cone.

  Paulson didn’t need this bureaucratic spy telling him how to do his job. “Negative. I call the military shots, you call the political ones. End of story.”

  Cone wrung his hands. “Colonel, I understood you’re in charge of the troops, and you’ll execute the planning, but the needs of the president come first. General Gist has given me overall authority for her capture. I must see and approve any plans.”

  Paulson gritted his teeth and looked hard at the skinny dark-haired man with the pointy nose. “No inspector. You can review the plans and offer opinions. But you won’t approve them. I lead my men into battle. You haven’t the talent or the requisite military skills. You’re nothing more than a political cop.” Paulson caught himself as he saw Cone turn red in the face. Worried he’d stepped out of bounds, he put on his best smile for the federal inspector. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I get a little overzealous. Still, you must trust my superior skills in planning and executing the mission. No one in the entire Army can do it better. You are fortunate to have me.”

  With a dar
k look, Cone stared back. After a long, tense pause, he nodded. “All right Colonel Paulson. I appreciate the opportunity to review your plans and offer suggestions. You know your business. But can you give me an idea of how you propose to capture her?”

  Paulson sat back, pleased. He’d forced Cone to reconsider and see the light. Keeping the man subservient wasn’t going to be easy, but Paulson felt a surge of confidence. Excited, hands out of sight, he reached for the cloth in his right front pocket. There it was, the torn name tag. Between his fingers he twisted and rubbed the material. The power from the memento strengthened him. With conviction and complete faith in his military prowess, Paulson answered, “We’ll surround her and use the man she’s with against her. And I never fail.”

  * * *

  From the garage, Lisa entered the house, and Upton closed and locked the door behind them. As ordered, they had just completed their second video call with CENTCOM. The setup and use of the satellite phone turned out to be easier than expected. Concealment from prying eyes remained the highest priority, and Upton had come up with the idea to make it happen. After opening the side door to the garage and setting the phone on the ground inside, he aimed it through the splintered doorway at the western sky. Unseen from the outside, the phone, rotating on its base, found and locked onto an ROAS quantum secure satellite. Seconds later they were in direct contact with CENTCOM.

  What they learned wasn’t altogether comforting. As they assumed, the entire battalion was routed, and they were stuck behind enemy lines. Right now, extraction wasn’t practical. US Army roadblocks ringed the roads in and out of Mesquite, and no civilian traffic was allowed. Around the entire area, US surveillance drones monitored the area. Their orders were clear: both were to remain hidden in place until the enemy presence decreased. Once the heat was off, the ROAS would aid in their escape and rescue. Meanwhile, they were to call in every eight hours for further updates and instructions.