Jake looked up. Chinese infantry might show up at any time, firing down the hole. He grabbed the corpse’s left ankle and dragged. The armor scraped against the damp concrete.
Neither said anything more. Jake pried off the body armor. Since it would be hard carrying it, he put it on. It was a tight fit, but now he had armor.
Later, the Lieutenant gave Goose and him a hand out of the sewer system. They were in the basement of the blockhouse, with a heavy machine aimed at the hole.
The Lieutenant noticed the body armor. He said, “Where’s Barnes?”
Jake shook his head.
“Dead,” Goose said.
“It’s too bad about Barnes,” the Lieutenant said. “He was a good American.” He studied them. “You two did good work.” The man turned to go.
Jake’s mouth seemed to come alive. “Still think I’m a coward?”
The Lieutenant stopped, and slowly, he faced Jake.
Jake expected rage. He wondered if the Lieutenant would haul off and hit him. Instead, the wide face looked calm. The eyes regarded him and the Lieutenant reached toward him.
Jake didn’t move, but he was ready for anything.
The Lieutenant flicked a finger against the Chinese body armor, tapping it with a fingernail. “That was a good idea, Corporal.”
“This one is mine,” Jake said belligerently.
There was a flash in the Lieutenant’s eyes. Jake’s stomach muscles tightened. A second passed. Then the tiniest of grins touched the Lieutenant’s mouth.
“You ever play football, Corporal?” the Lieutenant asked.
The question surprised Jake. “No. I played hockey. I grew up in Alaska.”
“Hockey is a man’s sport,” the Lieutenant said. “Did your coach ever fire you up so you’d skate through a brick wall to defeat the opposing side?”
Jake got it then. It made him squint at the man. The bastard had played him. He couldn’t believe it.
The Lieutenant flicked the body armor a second time. “You earned this one. It’s yours, Sergeant.”
“Sergeant?” Jake asked.
“I’m promoting you. You’re going to be in charge of our sewer squad.”
Jake could only blink.
“Get some sleep,” the Lieutenant said, “and think about the sewers down there and how to beat the enemy when he comes crawling to take us out. This fight is far from over.”
THIRD FRONT HQ, COLORADO
Marshal Liang sat before a computer screen in his study. Under the desk, he soaked his feet in hot water. They had been aching lately. The heat felt good and allowed him to move his toes.
He awaited a call from Chairman Hong. The events of the past few weeks had not gone as planned.
Liang tapped the screen, putting up an operational map. Army Group B had taken Greeley and broken through the South Platte Defense Line all the way to Sterling. Zhen’s Tank Army drove for Cheyenne, Wyoming, but at a snail’s pace compared to the summer battles. The Americans were tougher now. Worse, the SAF First Front had only now reached the Platte River in Nebraska. As Liang had predicted, the Americans had turned the river position into a fortress line. The SAF attack had already stalled.
“Prepare to speak to the Leader,” an operator said.
Liang tapped the screen. Chairman Hong’s Polar Bear symbol appeared. A moment later, Jian Hong regarded him. The Leader’s eyes were red, and he looked angry. That was a bad sign.
“Marshal Liang, this is a pleasure,” Hong said abruptly.
Liang bowed his head reverently. He didn’t like the tightening of his chest. “The pleasure is mine, Leader. This a great honor.”
Hong closed his eyes and nodded in a manner that revealed he understood the honor he did Liang. When Hong opened his eyes, his manner resumed its hostility.
“I am not pleased with Third Front,” Hong began.
“I am grieved to hear this,” Liang said. He recalled stories about Hong’s displeasure with men who failed to accept reprimands. Maybe he could nip the Leader’s anger in the bud. “I am sure the fault lies with me,” he added.
“This I already know,” Hong said.
Liang paused, as the tightening of his chest worsened. In the past, it had always been tedious and dangerous speaking with Chairman Hong. Now…he felt growing alarm. Hong had never spoken to him like this before. And why were the Chairman’s eyes so red?
“I set a task for you, Marshal. I’m speaking about the capture of the Behemoth Tank Manufacturing Plant. The city still resists your arms. Until this moment, the Americans have not been able to hold onto a defensive position for so long.”
“Throughout the campaign,” Liang said, “the Americans have become increasingly stubborn. Here,