warfare.
-10-
Operation Saturn
SECRET BUNKER, NEBRASKA
Colonel Higgins nodded to several Canadian generals as he scooted past them to his seat in the underground auditorium. He had to work to keep his feet from tangling with theirs.
The place was filled with high brass from many different military branches. To get here, MPs had driven Stan over twenty miles from the new Behemoth Tank Park. The MPs had told him exactly nothing along the way, which was okay, as he already knew what was going on.
Much had changed since the midnight drive along I-70 to Salt Lake City. That had been weeks ago. Now the snowstorms howling across the Great Plains reminded him of Alaska during the bitter retreat to Anchorage.
He hadn’t heard from Jake since the phone call from Denver. It haunted him. Was his boy alive, dead or rotting in a Chinese POW camp? It ate at him not knowing.
Footage out of Denver had shocked the nation. Scenes of the Chinese laser tanks had particularly inspired awe and despair. The beam—it was better surely than a Behemoth’s rail-gun. Stan dreaded facing the Chinese laser tank in battle. How many of those did the Chinese have? How had the Chinese managed to generate enough energy for such a powerful beam? In America, only the strategic ABM sites had the means.
From Salt Lake City, tank haulers had brought the Behemoths north. They always traveled by night, with integral MPs going to great lengths with security procedures against enemy surveillance. Here was the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, a flat land of endless snow and wind. The Platte River Defense Line was thirty miles south from the tank park. South beyond the river was the SAF First Front, which stretched across the entire state of Nebraska and even a little into Iowa.
Stan glanced around the vast chamber. Generals and colonels abounded. From what he’d been seeing the past few weeks, America had finally gathered a force to hit back at the Aggressors.
The lights flicked in front, probably to get their attention. Sure, Stan recognized General Tom McGraw. McGraw strode up a short set of stairs onto the stage and moved to the podium.
The murmuring in the great chamber lessened.
McGraw cleared his throat into the microphone. That brought silence to the auditorium.
Stan felt a surge of expectancy.
“Welcome,” McGraw said. “I’ll get right to the point, as we still have much to do and very little time to get it done in. First, I want each of you to know that this location is secret to everyone but a handful of people. That is why each of you came in an unmarked car chauffeured by very special MPs. In fact, each of these MPs was actually a Secret Service agent.”
Stan’s eyebrows lifted. If the Secret Service was involved, that meant so was the President.
“That brings me to point two,” McGraw said. “This meeting has one purpose. To win this war, the United States must go on the offensive. To date, we haven’t had the mass or the resources to attempt a major offensive. We’ve been too busy trying to stave off defeat. Well, that has finally changed due to several critical circumstances. I would explain that to you, but the President of the United States has insisted on telling you personally. Therefore, it is now my honor and privilege to introduce President Sims.”
From speakers around the auditorium, a recording started playing “Hail to the Chief.” Stan felt it. Everyone else must have felt it too. As one, the massed generals and colonels in the auditorium rose to their feet. To the side onstage, a curtain fluttered. President Sims appeared. He marched toward General McGraw. The President held a sheaf of papers at his side, and against tradition, he wore an Army uniform.
Sims was considerably shorter than McGraw, but the President didn’t act like it. He grabbed McGraw’s outstretched hand and pumped it heartily. Stan could see Sims whisper to McGraw. Tom released his grip and saluted. Turning smartly, McGraw strode down the steps and took a vacant seat in the front row.
Sims faced the assembled officers. He put his papers on the podium and cleared his throat. Pulling the microphone closer to his mouth, he glanced behind him.
A screen appeared. On it were the American and Canadian flags.
“This is a rare privilege,” President Sims said. His voice reverberated through the loudspeakers. It told of his confidence and restrained excitement.
That excited Stan as well. He sat straighter. So did many others around him.
“I’ve been waiting for this meeting for