Peacekeepers

by James Rosone

  “You ought to be more concerned with the Europeans in Canada,” Lobov insisted, tossing aside the Chinese admiral’s concern. “We Russians know how to fight. We’ve spent most of our history in one war or another. It’s the Europeans who buckle under the weight of a conflict.”

  Admiral Hu snickered at the retort. “You may be right on that account. We’ll see if the Germans and French are truly able to fight or if they’re just a paper tiger.”

  Pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, the Russian tapped it against his palm briefly before he pulled one of them out. He bent over slightly and lit it with a gold-plated Zippo lighter he had been given by President Romanoff himself. He held the pack out to Admiral Hu, who looked at the cigarette disapprovingly before he grudgingly took one. General Lobov lit it for him, and the two of them stood there in the hotel room, looking at the map on the table before them.

  General Lobov leaned over the map and examined it before he returned his gaze to Admiral Hu. “You realize, if we are successful in this endeavor, America will never be the same?” Lobov asked, almost rhetorically. “We will have altered the world balance for generations in China’s favor.”

  “Even if we fail, America will never be the same,” Hu shot back. “And, yes, the world balance will shift in our direction, but that is the direction it’s been heading for more than thirty years. If we are successful, General Lobov, Russia will prosper along with China. The Europeans will have spent themselves trying to go toe to toe with the Americans.”

  Lobov grunted. “And all it will have cost Russia is half of our air force, most of our navy and half of our surface-to-air missile platforms.”

  Crinkling his eyebrows at the glum proclamation, Admiral Hu exclaimed, “General, be real. What you are sacrificing is old, outdated equipment that is costing your country more to maintain than it would to just replace it. You may believe you’re throwing this equipment away, but what you’re going to gain in return is something far better.”

  Lobov snorted at Hu’s dismissive comment. “It’s not the equipment loss that bothers me, Admiral—it’s the trained men that we’ll be losing with that equipment. China may be a nation with more than a billion people, but Russia is not.”

  “Your country is being well compensated for its participation in this grand UN endeavor, General,” Admiral Hu asserted. “This effort is going to succeed; you wait and see.”

  Over the next couple of hours, they finished discussing the defensive plans for how Russia was going to turn Cuba into a massive surface-to-air missile swarm on the Americans. With dozens of S-300 and S-400 missile systems being set up in strategic points around Cuba, the Russians were going to make it nearly impossible for US aircraft to fly over Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and parts of Texas. With the American Southeast essentially tied down and the Northeast otherwise occupied, that would leave the Chinese to contend with the American Southwest. If they could succeed in removing the American Air Force from the equation, then the UN’s ground force should be on an equal footing with the United States Army, and that was a horse race they believed they could win.

  *******

  When General Semyon Lobov left his meeting with the Chinese, he turned to his deputy, Colonel Ivan Smirnov. “I don’t trust the Chinese one bit,” he admitted. “Mark my words, Ivan—they’ll betray us if it suits them, or if they can profit from it.”

  Colonel Smirnov looked surprised. “Why do you say that, sir?” he asked.

  Since it was only the two of them in the vehicle, Lobov turned to his deputy. “Because China is greedy,” he answered candidly. “China is also an untested military. They’ve never fought a serious war where they were looking defeat in the eyes. If they get their nose bloodied, they’ll likely back down. I don’t trust them, and I think we should make our own preparations in case they double-cross us.”

  Smirnov nodded. No other response was needed.

  He’s a good little soldier, Lobov thought with a smile.

  *******

  Orlando, Florida

  Seth Mitchell had planned his family trip to Disney’s Animal Kingdom with his usual military precision. The truth was, ever since returning from Yemen, he wasn’t that great with lines, so he’d organized the outing to minimize the amount of time spent waiting. They’d arrived promptly at 8:30 a.m., so they were some of the first people to make it into the park when it opened at 9:00 a.m. Then they’d made a beeline for the new Pandora section of the park, which tended to have the longest wait times.

  His wife, Dana, was sort of used to Seth’s idiosyncrasies at this point and had downloaded the app to keep up to date on exactly how long each line was, minute by minute. She’d already put the expectation out there with the kids that they probably wouldn’t be able to ride the Avatar Flight of Passage ride—even for her, the wait for that ride was usually too long, and fast passes had been snatched up way in advance. So, when she saw that the line for the Navi River Journey was remarkably short, she’d hurriedly steered the family in that direction.

  Seth found himself somewhat distracted by the beauty of his surroundings. Normally, waiting in lines and sifting through large crowds made him feel like he was about to break out in hives, but in this lush setting with greenery and streams, he almost felt like he was being transported to the scene of the movie Avatar. Then he heard some words that jolted him back to reality.

  “The Navi River Journey is currently down for maintenance. We aren’t sure exactly how long it will be down, so we are recommending that everyone go to a different ride.”

  Realizing that he shouldn’t swear in front of his kids, Seth managed a weird sort of growl instead. However, several people vacated the line right after the announcement, and then there were only about forty people between him and the entrance of the ride.

  “I think we should ride this one out, Dana,” he told his wife.

  “Really?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. Why don’t I take Lily to get her face painted at that stand over there while you hold the line with Eric? If we finish and there’s no movement, we can trade out.”

  “OK,” Dana said, smiling.

  Seth walked his daughter over to the nearby kiosk, and soon he was willingly paying over twenty dollars to have his daughter’s face decorated in fancy paint that would glow on the ride. Normally, he was a bit of a tightwad, but today, all that really mattered was the smile on his daughter’s face. She was so ecstatic. He tucked the memory of her delighted cheers into the back of his mind, hoping that what was going on in the world wouldn’t mean that this was the last of such happy occasions.

  Just as he and Lily rejoined the line, a crew of drummers showed up and started a performance twenty feet away from where they were waiting in line.

  “Aw, cool!” Eric exclaimed. “Dad, can you take me a little closer until the line starts moving?”

  “Sure thing, bud,” Seth answered. Truthfully, he didn’t like loud music anymore, but for his son, he would deal with the heightened level of anxiety and the elevated heart rate.

  Five minutes later, he felt his phone buzz. He checked the screen—it was Dana.

  “Zip your way on back here fast. We are moving,” she announced.

  Seth grabbed his son’s hand and they joined the herd that was lurching forward toward the line entrance. Soon, they were meandering through a maze of rope lines. To their right and left were many different lanes that could be opened when the waits grew long.

  Thank God we didn’t have to sit through all that, Seth thought.

  They kept moving along at a rapid clip until they lurched to an end right before everyone boarded the boats. They had totally lucked out waiting for this ride. It was pretty much the best-case scenario.

  Seth had to admit—it was pretty cool watching his daughter’s face paint light up with all of the other luminescent displays. However, the slow boat ride wasn’t all that exciting for an adrenaline junkie like himself.

  I’m
so glad we didn’t burn a fast pass on this, he mused.

  The day continued along in an almost ideal dreamlike state. His wife did shoot him a look when he bought the kids those enormous lollipops, but he calmly squeezed her shoulder, winked, and whispered, “It’s Disney, babe.”

  Truthfully, it was hard for Seth to stay mentally present. He kept thinking about where he was going to be sent next and whether or not he would come back home to see his wife and kids again.

  What’s going to happen to America? he wondered. Then he shook himself back to reality. Keep smiling, he told himself. Give them one perfect day.

  Chapter 3

  A Thief in the Night

  December 15, 2020

  It was nearly 0230 hours as the last lines were being cast off from the USS Nimitz. Captain Terry Pearl’s heart raced—he’d been preparing for this day for some time. There was only a skeleton crew aboard, since Pearl had given shore leave passes to those he thought might not side with him. Generally, everyone left on the Nimitz viewed Sachs as an illegitimate dictator.

  Captain Pearl smiled. It was as if Mother Nature had seen fit to assist them in their scheme. The area was being blanketed in a shroud of fresh snow, which severely cut down on visibility around the carrier. This gave them extra time to get the ship disconnected and have the tugs start pulling away from the pier before anyone else even noticed that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

  Slowly and steadily, the ship pulled away until it became safe for the captain to have their own propulsion help to get them moving. Now it was a race against time. They needed to travel up Puget Sound to the Canadian naval base CFB Esquimalt, roughly one hundred miles north.

  Captain Terry Pearl kept scanning the horizon for where he knew the main gate to be, watching and waiting somewhat patiently and somewhat afraid that the plan had fallen apart. Then the sight he had been waiting for manifested before him—one explosion broke the dark night sky, then another, then two more. Four mortar rounds had smashed into the area, three of them landing near the piers where some of the destroyers were tied up. The officers on watch on the remaining ships would scramble and put the ships to sea, hoping to protect their vessels from further attack. They’d come back to fetch their crews later.

  Pearl laughed, realizing that the reaction was a bit inappropriate, but he didn’t care. Right on time, he thought.

  The captain lowered his high-powered binoculars and turned to one of his radiomen. “Send a flash message out to the destroyers and to the base,” he ordered. “Tell them we’re putting to sea to protect the ships. Ask that they arrange for the Coast Guard to come to our assistance, in case there are additional attacks being organized against the fleet.”

  And just like that, our little coup d’état will slip away under escort to the Canadian side of the border, Pearl thought with a mischievous smile.

  *******

  Arlington, Virginia

  Pentagon

  Secretary of Defense McElroy reached for his smartphone as he climbed into the armored Suburban for the quick ride to the Pentagon. He’d been woken out of a sound night’s sleep ten minutes ago by the watch officer at the National Military Command Center, or NMCC, who’d told him that a mortar attack was underway at Naval Station Bremerton.

  At first, McElroy had thought it was a dream, but when the duty officer had told him his security detail was being instructed to bring him to the Pentagon, the SecDef had realized that the situation was all too real. Acting hurriedly, he’d thrown some clothes on and rushed out the door to find a vehicle already waiting for him.

  “What the hell is going on?” McElroy barked into the phone. The Suburban sped away from his home with its lights on to help cut through the early morning traffic.

  The voice on the other end replied, “The base has received two separate mortar attacks, sir. The first one consisted of four mortar rounds and started about fifteen minutes ago. The second attack consisted of sixteen mortars and just finished.”

  “Do we know who launched the attack? Or what type of mortars were used? Was anyone hurt?” McElroy peppered the poor man on the other end of the call with questions. He grabbed for the handle above the passenger door as his driver briefly swerved around a car that had pulled out in front of them.

  As he sat there listening to the report, McElroy’s stomach tightened at the realization of the damage sixteen mortars had probably done to the base. It appeared they had been trying to target the ships tied up at port in an effort to damage or disable them before they could put to sea to enforce the President’s naval blockade of Canada.

  A few minutes went by and then his vehicle pulled up to the executive entrance of the Pentagon. His door was held open for him by his security detail. McElroy stayed on the phone, being fed information as he weaved his way through the maze of the building down to the NMCC.

  As soon as he walked into the massive room, McElroy zigzagged through the busy beehive of desk clumps over to the duty officer.

  “Colonel, how the hell did this happen?” the SecDef yelled. “Did any of our ships get damaged?”

  “The USS Stockdale, one of the Arleigh Burke destroyers, took a direct hit to the forward missile magazine during the second mortar attack. The round caused one of the warheads to detonate, which caused a series of secondary explosions.” The officer shook his head as he explained. “It completely ripped the ship apart, sir. They don’t think anyone survived the explosion.”

  Damn it! thought McElroy.

  “Did they hit the Nimitz?” the SecDef asked.

  The officer shook his head. “No, sir. It appears the captain was able to get the ship underway fast enough that when the second wave of mortars hit the pier area, they were already out of the way.”

  “Thank God,” McElroy said in relief. “That would’ve been an even bigger disaster had they landed a few rounds on the carrier. What other damage has the base sustained, and what about the other ships that were there?”

  “Several of the other destroyers took some damage when the Stockdale blew up, but they’re all underway and, for the moment, out of harm’s way. As to the damage to the rest of the base, they’re currently assessing it. They alerted the Army over at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, and they’re scrambling a quick reaction force to head over to the naval base. The base commander also placed Bremerton on high alert and is getting a number of their helicopters airborne to make sure they don’t fall victim to the same type of attack.”

  The Secretary of Defense shook his head in disbelief. “I want to know who carried out this attack, and I want them found!” McElroy shouted in a voice so loud, the walls seemed to shake. The President would be demanding answers any minute now, and they needed to have something to tell him.

  *******

  Joint Base Lewis-McChord

  I Corps HQ

  Lieutenant General Andrew Biggs looked at the status of his forces in a depressed state. Two hours into the base-wide recall and two and a half hours after the mortar attack, the individual readiness numbers were still showing less than eighty percent. A sick feeling started to settle into the pit of his stomach.

  What if that remaining twenty percent isn’t coming because they’ve switched sides? he worried.

  That was the last thing on earth he needed. The SecDef had called him personally to rally up his command and prepare them to defend the naval facilities in the local area, along with his own base, should they be attacked again. That was quite possibly the most unpleasant phone call of his life, and he wasn’t interested in seeing what would happen if McElroy became even more displeased.

  Biggs calculated his options in his head, then found the man he was looking for, Major General Scott Stevens. “General, I want you to start getting your Stryker battalions rolling to the naval facilities immediately, before we start running into the morning rush hour,” he ordered. “Secure the naval facilities in the JB Lewis-McChord area. Live ammo is to be issued, and the use of deadly force has been authorized by the Secret
ary of Defense.”

  “Yes, sir,” Stevens replied. He began issuing orders to his various unit commanders. Tentative rules of engagement had been disseminated, and they all began working like a well-oiled machine, as if this were just another drill.

  As they headed out, General Biggs hoped that this attack at Bremerton hadn’t been the precursor to something more nefarious. The country was already at such a precarious tipping point. As it was, more than two hundred naval personnel had been killed already, and twice that many injured.

  *******

  USS Nimitz

  It was now 0742 hours, and the light of the new day was starting to brush aside the darkness, though the sky was still overcast with snow flurries that were supposed to continue for another hour or so. Rear Admiral Harold Ward joined Captain Terry Pearl out on the flying bridge.

  “Are we ready?” asked Ward.

  Captain Pearl nodded. “I sure hope this works, sir. Otherwise, they’ll hang us for sure.”

  Admiral Ward sighed. “Removing the Nimitz from the chessboard will hopefully cause the President to see reason. He needs to know that the entire military is not drinking his Kool-Aid. A reset needs to happen.”

  “I know,” Captain Pearl responded. “I just hope history judges us kindly.” His mood was remarkably more somber than it had been earlier in the day. He paused for a moment as he looked out at the Canadian coast. They’d be turning to head toward the Canadian base soon. “You heard the Stockdale took an unlucky direct hit to her missile compartment?” he asked.

  A look of sadness appeared on Ward’s face as he nodded. “I did. God, I wish those guys had been more accurate with those mortars. They were supposed to hit in the vicinity of the piers, not strike the ships that were tied up.”