Battle for New Chicago / Chapter 1

A/N: Chapter 1 is here and Chapter 2 is almost done but lately school has gotten the most of me. Hope you enjoy and please R&R!

The Queen Mary XVI's large horns blew a tremendous farewell as it began its voyage to the US. On board the behemoth, thousands of British troops said their own farewells to the mass of parents, children and wives on the docks. After their relatives had disappeared behind the horizon, the soldiers began their duties. All were eager to arrive in the US and pump lead into the Klitchko, all but one. The young boy lay on his bed in the tightly crammed cabins. He had not signed up for this. He never even wanted to go to the US.

"Get your ass up here Private Saunders! Don't think you can escape your duties." The young boy immediately sat up, bumping his head onto the frame of the bed.

"Be right up there sir!" Saunders replied. The life of a soldier was harsh and Saunders couldn't wait until his discharge in two years. But for now, he had to endure the hardship, for Mum and little Jane.

Over the course of the next week, the soldiers prepared for the battle that was to determine their fates.

The Queen Mary XVI had docked in New York while the United Infantry Division was preparing to disembark. The morning was sunny but crisp and Private Saunders was witnessing the beauty of a metropolis. The freshly fallen snow had cast an angelic feel to the towering skyscrapers, making them seem as if they were the very pillars of heaven. Below him, he saw hustle and bustle of a real city. Hundreds of civilians were walking the streets, completely unaware that Klitchko was planning to strike only 600 miles away. Saunders longed to keep the image in his mind as he closed his blue eyes and tried to imprint it into his head.

When he was sure that he had remembered every detail of the sight, he began to lug his pack off the ramp and into the giant warehouse. The atmosphere inside was drastically different. There was never a moment of silence or serenity as important officers and absent-minded soldiers trooped around the hanger-like building. All of a sudden, there was a hushed silence and the general began to speak.

"Soldiers of the United Infantry Division, today we prepare for the most crucial battle to ever take place on this planet. We will meet Klitchko and his troops head-on and with no hesitation," Saunders however, knew all too well that General Simpson was trying to raise his army's morale. Ever since Private Timothy Saunders was six years old, he had known about the Klitchkos. They were a ruthless radical group determined to revive the old Soviet Union. He had remembered the day when the Klitchkos attacked the US and killed his father. Yet, he never really remembered how the United British Empire got into the mess. "Our battle plans have been perfected and our soldiers have been expertly trained. Tomorrow at 0600 hours we board the victory planes to New Chicago!" Saunders silently scoffed. There was no way "perfected" battle tactics and "expertly" trained soldiers would stand a chance against Klitchko. It wasn't a secret that the Klitchkos were skilled fighters who took no prisoners. Anyone who enlisted was signing his life away. Simpson knew this, but he could not reveal it to his troops. They needed all the morale they could muster.

After the speech, many disheartened soldiers went to their corners of the giant warehouse to discuss their impending doom. Saunders had also silently walked towards his bags. He opened a large duffle bag to reveal his standard issue rifle. Throughout the years military specialists in the UBE were able to convert the M4 colt carbine into the most versatile weapon capable of piercing armor yet accurate enough to become a sniper rifle. This however, was not Saunders' weapon of choice. He quickly zipped the duffle bag up and withdrew a small and light case. Carefully he opened the gold cover and took out his most dangerous and most cherished weapon. Immediately, he grabbed a piece of paper from his diary and began to write. With the pen, Tim was able to defeat the most dangerous enemy and conquer the highest peak:

Dear Momma,

Even as I write to you, my heart sinks like the legendary Titanic. You and I both knew that this battle was going to be a losing one, but I still cannot stop the fear, the fear that is crawling ever so slowly; slowly but surely towards me. I write to you at the eleventh hour to plead for forgiveness, for I cannot be the man that my father was. As hard as I try, it was just not meant to be. This is goodbye.

I love you,

Tim

The letter was short but he knew that his mother would find a thousand meanings from it. Regrettably, Tim folded the letter and carefully placed it into a white envelope. He then nimbly picked off a strand of his brown untamed hair and placed it also into the envelope. While he waited for the mailman to come around, Saunders began to hum a tune that he had learned while he was only a little boy. Suddenly, he was reminded of the peaceful years before Klitchko came to power. Tears began to stream down his eyes and he was filled with a sense of rage and anger. But just as quickly as it had come, his anger diminished and he was sorrowful once again. Soon after his song had ended, the mail man came to him.

"Got a letter, Saunders?" The mailman inquired.

"Yea, it's for my mom." The mailman looked into Saunders' eyes and knew that the boy was scared

"Don't worry kid, I guarantee you that this letter will make it back to your momma. And kid, don't be so down. I know this battle is gonna be a tough one but I have a feeling. You'll come out alive kid, just you wait." With that, the mailman left to pick up mail from the next soldier. Tim thought hard about the possibility of him living after the battle, but no matter which way he approached it, it seemed as if he was going to die one way or the other. It would take a miracle to get him out of there alive and he thought nothing more of it.

A loud horn bellowed in the warehouse to signal departure. Saunders, who had been enthralled in a nightmare, was glad to be woken up. The soldiers had no time to clean themselves up as they grabbed all of their belongings and met at the center of the warehouse.

"Soldiers, this is the calm before the storm. There will be no looking back because the only thing ahead of us is victory. We will board the transport crafts by squadrons and it will be approximately one hour from here to New Chicago. So lets get over there and GIVE EM HELL!" As soon as the speech ended, the petty officers in charge of each squadron began to call out orders. "161st ground this way!" and "53rd paratroopers!" Tim followed the 7th ground squadron to the transport ships that had been recently parked at the far side of the warehouse.

"These Chinook Type-2s kick some major ass! These babies can maneuver into and out of any crack on the planet and they've got twin barrel machine guns for suppressive fire," an excited marine explained to Tim. However, he was not reassured one bit. The Chinook could have nukes strapped to it and Saunders would still feel vulnerable.

Inside the transport craft, Tim felt cramped and claustrophobic. The interior was packed with weapons and ammunition for the coming battle, but almost no room for the very soldiers that were going to fight it. As the Chinooks took off, the privates began to get roused about the fighting. Saunders thought this disturbing, for he could never kill someone and laugh about it. When the Chinook had exited the warehouse with ease, Saunders eagerly stared out of the small window where he was able to see the beautiful landscape of New York for the last time in his life. The magnificent scene had quickly faded into barren wastelands of snow and Tim was back to dreading the fight. The flight to New Chicago seemed to take eternity as the anticipation and fear began to accumulate, but they eventually arrived. The Chinooks once again, maneuvered into an even larger warehouse and the soldiers disembarked rapidly.

Far form the soldier's hearing range, the top officials gathered in a conference room overlooking the entire warehouse.

"This doesn't look good, Simpson. Klitchko and his army are advancing with amazing speed. They have already taken St. Louis and are advancing northeast," General Murphy of the United States Army sighed. The general, at age 52 wore a standard army haircut with a perfectly ironed uniform.

"I never said this was going to be an easy battle. Our only advantage now is New Chicago. We have to bait them in here and surround them," Simpson explained.

"But they already know we're here. Klitchko won't be stupid enough to walk right in here with his troops."

"That is taken care of. We evacuate most of New Chicago and post our troops just outside the eastern walls. When the Klitchkos come from the south, they will suspect that most of us are inside the city. Four platoons will remain inside the city as snipers and riflemen. When Klitchko's army sees the little resistance, they will march into the city and easily defeat the distraction. Meanwhile, the majority of the forces will wait until every Soviet soldier has passed into the city before they either scale the walls or block the southern entrance,"

"Sounds like a plan but the troops attacking from inside the city will surely die. That is complete suicide!"

"Desperate fights call for desperate measures. I'll send two of my platoons and you send two of yours." Simpson's words were dished out with much burden. He would have to sacrifice 80 men to make this plan work.

During the next morning, all of the troops were being briefed and Simpson was to pick his suicide team. After a whole night without sleep, the weary commander had made up his mind.