Chapter 1: Invasion Day


October 5th, 1992.

Lieutenant John Anderson sat quietly at his kitchen table in his apartment deep within the Alaskan city of Anchorage. The army officer was a well-built man of 26 years with bright brown eyes and dark brown hair. Anderson took a sip from his cup of coffee and opened the day's newspaper. He was on leave, a reward for his outstanding service. World War III had already been raging in Europe for three years and Anderson had served there from 1991 to early 1992 under the command of a German-America man by the name of Fredrick Rhenall.

Although he was successful and no longer needed in the conflict, Anderson still felt that he could help in some way.

Anderson pulled his winter-fatigue coat around his body and finished off his coffee. Keys in hand, he made his way downstairs and to his car.

The sky was still dark as Alaska entered its black days of winter. It was cold and the city was very lonely as if its residents had entered a perennial hibernation. A slight snow began to fall as the day started off on a tired note.

He pulled up to a nearby café, whose owners he had known for quite some time. The place was nearly empty except for a man dressed in a business suit and the owner who was standing behind the counter, wiping it clean. Anderson felt a bit out of place, dressed in his white and gray military fatigues.

Suddenly he heard, "Ah, John! How've you been?"

The short, tubby man behind the counter called out to him, motioning him to come forward. John obliged and sat on one of the stools, "I've been good, Bob. You?"

Bob was a short, fat man with an extremely kind nature. He had short black hair and large circular glasses. Bob had his back turned to John, "Good. The usual I assume?" He asked as he began to fiddle with the ingredients and bottles on the shelves, "Are you and that Georgia dame still dating? The one you brought along with you last time?"

"Nah, unfortunately," He answered, "We broke up just before the war broke out."

"Hmm, that's disappointing..." Bob responded as he handed Anderson the cup he had prepared, "She seemed to be a very nice girl. That's the usual: vodka cosmo with and extra splash of cranberry and no lemon slice." He leaned forward on the counter, "Isn't it a bit early for that beverage, mi amigo?"

Anderson shook his head, "Nah, I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"My birthday," He said holding his cup up. He emptied the drank in one go, "Do you mind filling me up again?"

"Of course not. As long as you don't drink too much, mi amigo."

The day slowly dragged on. John said a goodbye to the kindly owner and drove home. The sun was already descending into the horizon early in the afternoon. Hanging up his coat, he made his way to the computer sitting dormant on his desk. The moment the computer came on, his phone rang. "Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Anderson slowly got up to answer it, "Hello. This is John Anderson speaking."

"Hey, John," He heard, "It's been awhile. It's Nicole, John."

Nicole Radcliffe.

Nicole was a nice 24-year-old girl from Georgia who John met in college. She had bright emerald eyes which fully complemented her dark-blonde hair. Delicately built, Nicole was a very pretty woman. She was smart, kind, and a fighter. They enjoyed a long relationship, but her opposition to him joining the army led to their break-up.

He hadn't talked to her for about two or three years, mainly because he had been serving in Germany, "Hey, Nicole. How've you been?"

"Good," She paused for a second, "I saw you on the news."

"You did?"

"Yeah, you did well, I'm proud of ya and what you did in Germany."Her tone changed from nervous to cheerful, "Where are you now?"

"I'm in Alaska, taking a break," He sat back down at the computer and brought up a French news website. The headline read, 'Soviets overrun Germany, France invaded!' "Yeah, I'm in Anchorage right now. Why?"

"Awww. I was hoping you could come visit me in Dallas." Nicole sighed, "That stinks...Quick question: Are you gonna go back to Europe and fight again?"

"Well," he began, "If they need me, I'll have to go..."

"I don't want you to go."

Nicole responded in firm tone. She was resolute and worried and was demanding him to stay home.

Anderson let out a long sigh, "I'm sorry, Nicole, but it's out of my hands."

"Can't you get stationed as national guard or something? I really don't want you to go back out."

They talked for hours, debating about John's current station on the military. Nicole arguing that he should leave the army, while John argued the opposite back. Eventually, both of them didn't know how they got to the subject, they began to talk about their former relationship. John was willing to admit that he still loved her and missed her very much, but he liked his job too. And if Nicole still loved him, he had no idea, "Nicole, what time is it?"

"Hmmm, eleven I think."

He turned to his clock, "It's eleven here, I'm asking about Dallas. What time is it over there?"

"One or two. I don't have a clock nearby."

"You should be in bed."

"I am in bed."

"Asleep."

He heard her chuckle, "I know. Goodnight, John."

"You too, Nicole."

He heard a click which indicated that she had hung up. With a sigh Anderson returned to his computer and continued to look up recent articles on the war in Europe. All said the same general idea; if the Soviets continued on the current warpath, France would be conquered in a week. In his search, Anderson ran into an article about his former commanding officer. The title said 'NATO Commander Makes Daring Attack.'

Fredrick Rhenall was always one heck of a man. It didn't surprise him that Rhenall would do something that crazy. According to it; Fredrick, along with his NATO battalions and a single German heavy tank regiment, had pushed back into Germany with minimal casualties.

There were two things that were stuck in his mind.

The first was Nicole. He hadn't seen her in years and would have loved to visit her in Dallas. If only she had called him a few days earlier. In fact, he hadn't stopped thinking about her since they had broken up. Anderson used her as an inspiration and a reason not to die in Europe, someone to come home to.

The second was the war. Anderson had worries about what the Russians were doing and how they were doing it. They were gambling. The missile incident in 1989 would definitely be mentioned again if the Russians lost, and by God they were determined not to lose.

He again wiped the sleep from his face and rose from the chair he was sitting in. He had made plans to go to the rifle range the next day and Anderson had yet prepared his rifle and pistols to do so. Dragging his gun case from underneath his bed, Anderson entered the key into its slot and unlocked it. Within it was an H&K G36 and two pistols; a SG P228 and USP Tactical. With a sigh, he began to load all three weapons magazines and was asleep by the time he finished.

When he woke up, the sun was already halfway through its orbit. Anderson trudged down the stairs, gun case in hand. The sky was mostly clear, only a few clouds dotted the open sky. Wind was nearly zero and the city buzzed with activity given the limited amount of sun they had on such a beautiful day.

Anderson had in his pocket one of those new-fangled cell phones. He figured that they were a bit pricey, but nonetheless useful. About halfway to the range, Anderson made a stop at a nearby ammunition and gun store.

It was a typically designed log cabin with hunting trophies and decorated with countless shelves of hunting rifles, military weapons, and conventional pistols. Anderson had been shopping inside this particular store before and found their inventory a bit over the edge, but that was not for him to judge.

"How can I help ya, stranger?" The old man behind the desk asked in between loud smacks of chewing tobacco.

He responded, "Do you happen to have any good deals on 5.56x45mm military rifles?"

"Hmm," The man said as he came around the corner, "I got a few AR-15s you might be interested in. What d'ya have right now?"

"A customized G36."

"G36, ay?" He said with a gritty smile, "Them's is tuffen to beat, I'll tell ya!" The man ducked underneath the counter, "If'n you'se livin under dem standards. Da only thing I can offer yous is this'n. A Steyr-Mannlicher." He took out a spiffy brand new Steyr gun case and opened it, "It's a bit pricey o'course. But it's the best I gots at the moment."

John picked it up and weighed it in his hands. After he looked down the gun sight, checked the breech and barrel, and gave the trigger a slight squeeze, Anderson said to the man, "This is a fine gun. I have to admit, thought, I've never used an AUG before."

"Are you in the military, son?"

"Yes sir, I am," John answered as he delicately placed the AUG A2 back into its case, "How do you figure?"

"The way you can handle dat gun, son. Have ya seen action yet?"

He nodded, "I served with the 42nd NATO tank division."

"The 42nd? Did you serve under Lieutenant Anderson and that man named Rhenall? They fought ha'd for Germany," The man sighed, "Too bad Germany's Red now right?" He extended his hand over the counter, "The name's Greg, Greg Hopkins."

John shook it, "Remember the man you mentioned? Lieutenant Anderson? That'd be me."

He retracted his hand instantly, "By gawd, I neva thought I'd be shakin' the hand of a legen'! I'm so pleased to me ya!" Greg looked John in the face long and hard, "By ma stars, it is you! Come to think o' it, I didn't notice yo uniform! How'd ya get all de way here in Anchorage of all places ta be!"

"I'm on leave, sir, taking a break from the war for a little while."

"I see," Greg drew his hand over the AUG, "Since you is such a fine man, and a legen' an' hero in ma book! You can take this AUG, 80% off! Ma gift ta you!"

"That's a hard offer to beat..."

"I can give it to ya fer free, but I need ta make some money offn such a goo' gun!"

Anderson laughed, "True...Very true..."

John ended up buying the AUG from the kindly old man; the price that he gave Anderson was irresistibly cheap. He chuckled at the thought of Greg. There was about an hour or two left before the sun sank beneath the horizon as Anderson pulled into the Rabbit Creek Rifle Range.

He fired his trusted Heckler & Koch first, making sure the gun still fired straight and true. After, he prepped his brand new AUG A2, the gun felt comfortably in his hands and the weapon fired as smoothly as it felt. And the weapon was already sighted perfectly.

After an hour or so, John had to reload his magazines. He sat by his car and started loading the gun bullet by bullet when his phone rang. Taking off his ear muffs he answered it, "Hello, John Anderson."

"John! Oh my God, I'm glad you answered! I called your home phone a million times!"

It was Nicole, "Wait, calm down, Nicole, what's up?"

"Are you at home? Check the news!"

"No, I'm not..." He put the gun down, "Okay, speak slowly, Nicole, and tell me what's going on."

"Alaska! John! Alaska is being invaded!"