3rd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Armored Division (“Bulldogs”)
Truth or Consequences, NM
“Bulldogs don’t retreat.”
“I’m sorry, sir?”
Colonel Arnold F. Lathrup, West Point graduate, combat veteran, leader of men, was angry. After getting the shit bombed out of his unit on a random Sunday, he had been too busy to be afraid. Then he had been too concerned for his soldiers. Then he had been ordered to retreat. Now they had established a defensive position along the Caballo Mountain range. I-25 passed through here on its way north to Albuquerque; other than that, pretty much nothing interesting had happened in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico since they changed their name to win a radio contest in 1950. In all the time since the original attack, he hadn’t had time to really think. Now he did. And it made him angry. Deeply angry. Spitting mad. He turned back to Command Sergent Major Pylo. “I’ve fucking had it with falling back, Pylo.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What the hell is going on with the zoomies? Do we have any ISR yet?”
“No, sir. SatCom is still down. We have limited contact with Crystal Mountain; we have reports of armored PLA units coming across the border at El Paso.”
“Which is where we should be, goddamit!”
“Yes, sir.”
A communications technician walked into Lathrup’s tent, handed him a message form and walked out. Everyone knew how pissed off Lathrup was and there was incentive to move quickly around him. “About damn time! The 1st has sent their Aviation brigade down from Ft. Riley.” 1st Infantry Division, based in Fort Riley, Kansas was part of the larger III Corps which 3rd Brigade was also a part of. In theory, all of III Corps was supposed to fight together as a single unit, but the electronic warfare attack and chaos associated with the satellite-based attack had fragmented larger units like III Corps and forced smaller formations to act on their own. Not something the US Army trained for.
“Apaches, sir?”
“Yes, but more importantly Gray Eagles. Let’s get those operators into the ops tent right now. I want overhead.” The MQ-1C Grey Eagle was an upgrade to the well-known Predator drone. Driven by a diesel-powered propeller engine, it could be fielded from a very austere strip and didn’t require avgas. It could run on the same diesel fuel that powered all of the Army’s land vehicles. It was dead simple, ran forever and allowed commanders on the ground like Lathrup to have his own aerial surveillance. Something he desperately needed.
Two hours later, Lathrup was peering at a video screen, his unit commanders and intel team crowded around him. “What the fuck is that?”
The intel chief peered at the screen. “Tank traps, defiladed tanks, earth moving equipment, my guess. Minefield.”
“That is a textbook defensive position.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why would an invading army waste time setting up defensive positions like that?”
“They wouldn’t.”
“Who the fuck is running this shitshow?! These bastards aren’t invading here. They just want to keep me from moving south. Which they couldn’t do if we hadn’t retreated up here in the first place!” He turned to the sergeant manning the encrypted radio who had been very silent during his commanding officer’s tirade. “Get Crystal Palace. I want to talk to Northern Command Actual.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me, get that wing-wiping son of a bitch on the horn!”
Now everyone was silent. While Lathrup was famous for his invective, nobody had ever heard any Army officer refer to an Air Force general as a “wing-wiping son of a bitch” before. Sergent Major Pylo had been with the colonel for two years; as senior enlisted, it was his job to keep the officers on an even keel. “Sir, perhaps we should…”
Lathrup held up one finger. “Stand down, Pylo. This stops here.”
“Yes, sir.”
The communications tech held up a handset. “Crystal Mountain.”
“NORTHCOM, Bulldog One Actual.”
“Bulldog NORTHCOM Romeo, go for NORTHCOM.”
“Son, I want NORTHCOM actual.”
“Sir, the general is in a meeting.”
“Get him out.”
“With SecDef.”
That took the wind out of Lathrup’s sails. Of course, the man in charge of the defense of the United States would be meeting with Very Important People. He took a breath. Get ahold of yourself, Arnie. “Understood. There is an urgent tactical issue here that requires his immediate attention.”
“Wait one.”
It was more like ten minutes. Lathrop had plenty of time to regret his emotional outburst and question many of his major life decisions that had led him to this point. Perhaps I should just resign my commission now. When the handset came to life, he was calm, resigned to his fate. “NORTHCOM Actual,” he heard General Wilkes say.
“Sir, Colonel Lathrup here, 3rd BCT. As ordered, we have established a defensive position in New Mexico. We have gotten our air assets down from Riley and we are getting overheads.”
“Excellent, get that video up here anyway you can.”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I’m calling. The ChiComs are not moving north.”
“No?” General Wilkes seemed amazingly unsurprised at this news.
“No, sir, they have established defensive positions to our south, blocking I-25 at La Cruces and US 70 coming down from White Sands.”
“Are there any significant movements of Chinese forces that you can see with your overhead or other scouting?”
“No, sir.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Sir?”
“Colonel Lathrup, I am about to tell you something that is for your ears only. Do you understand me?”
Lathrup had no idea what was going on. He had planned to chew this man out, but now it seemed like the general already suspected what he wanted to tell him. “Yes, sir.”
“I have reason to believe that Russian intelligence has compromised one or more members of senior leadership. We do not know who, we do not know why. What we do know is that the Russians and Chinese are cooperating in this operation. The Russians are providing intelligence assets, and the Chinese are providing the muscle. I have been ordered to divert I Corps away from defending California and towards blocking the Chinese advance at the Mississippi.”
“But, sir, there is no Chinese advance.” Lathrup thought about this for just a second. I Corps, based in Washington State, was one of the most powerful formations in the US Army. Considering the mess that his command was in, I Corps was probably the only chance to stop a major Chinese advance. Having them move east was the worst thing they could possibly do.
“Exactly, Lathrup. Exactly.”
“Son of a bitch.”