If one were to ask historians what the most defining moment in the Cold War was, many would state it would be the successful decolonization and democratization of the former Reich Afrikan colonies.
Others would say it was RFK's successful passing of the Civil Rights Act, and the success of his domestic policies. Fully integrating the country, destroying the Klu Klux Klan, and showing just how corrupt the NPP-N were.
More would say it was his successful negotiation for the return of the ports of Los Angeles and San Francisco, as well as Hawai'i.
Some would say it was the disaster in the 1990s which forced us into this situation.
Regardless of the debates, the one thing that was proven in the unstable years since the 1950s. America had come out as the superpower following the victory of the Cold War.
Nazi Germany had retreated into Isolationism, and the Japanese Empire feebly clung to their last holdings.
Regardless, there was one fact that never changed. 'Freedom was always one generation away from extinction.'
1440 Hours, September 8th, 2020
Columbia Continent – Fort Moore Training Grounds
2nd Battalion, 131st Infantry Regiment
The whine of the M2A3 Clarke's engine stirred Jack awake as his shoulder bumped into the ramp. His eyes slowly adjusting to the dark interior, filled with five other men as the vehicle ran over a rock and slightly jumped.
"Staff Sergeant! Approaching the target!" Came from the driver as the ride got bumpier.
He craned his head to look at the left side seating. Immediately left of him was his battle buddy, the squad's anti-armor specialist, and all-around hotheaded tomboy. Specialist Aina "Shuri" Kikuchi. Brown eyed, with equally dark hair. In her hands she held a M6A1 at low ready, an 'Advanced Dragon' CLU attached to her hip, and two of the ATGM tubes on her back.
Behind her was Staff Sergeant Randy Hermann. His nickname was "Jackass" although, nobody called him that to his face. He enlisted at 24, and had been in for nearly ten years, and busted down in rank once or twice.
"Corporal McMann, take Kikuchi and set up a supporting position." Jack nodded as he shook his M240L SAW, replacing the regular ammunition of copper slugs with steel tips, they had green paint 'simunition' rounds, much like everyone else. "The rest of you, with me."
The first of the other three on the opposite side, directly across from McMann was Specialist Boris "Blazko" Blazkowicz. A Polish giant of a man, standing at six foot six inches, he was the squad's other automatic rifleman. The M240L in his hands looked more like a rifle than a medium machine gun.
Part of him wondered how the hell Boris fit into a Clarke at all. Even hunched over and kneeling, the top of his dark grey-green helmet scratched against the roof.
Next to him was Private First Class Gunther Halliday. The squad's grenadier, his M6A1 had the same M203s the first batches of M16s had way back when the South and West African Wars had occurred. He was a weird case, arrested after a part of the Russian Mob was caught stealing M16s from a National Guard Armory, the judge was willing to forgo his sentencing if he stayed in the Army for the better part of two decades. He was a couple months into that, now.
And finally, PFC Donovan Voight. Quiet, kept to himself. No reason to pry into a man that liked his silence. In a way, it made Donovan and the Clarke's driver, Specialist Orville quite alike.
The Clarke ran over another rock as the IFV shook, it's 25mm Bushmaster roaring to life with staccatos of fire as the radio cracked to life.
"Warhorse Red, Warhorse White, this is Hammerhead 1 Actual. Dismount your men behind cover and have them advance to the Krasnovian Positions. We'll cover, out."
The sound of 120mm guns firing joined the autocannons as McMann grabbed the fully enclosed helmet off his lap, 'Volkshalle or Bust' written across the left top, before placing it atop his head and hearing it click with a seal.
Kikuchi tapped his shoulder as she gave a thumbs up. Her own helmet clicking into position as the top had the silhouette of a pair of OPFOR'd Bradleys (Which looked more like the Reich's Marder II IFVs) with a slash through each.
"McMann, Kikuchi. We'll deploy at the tree line, you two deploy five yards into it. Support by fire with the Clarke. Rest of the team, with me. We'll push with the rest of the platoon, behind the Clarke."
A choir of 'Yes, sergeant!" followed as the IFVs came to a screeching halt, the vehicle lurching forward as the sound of the smoke projectors firing.
"We're here! Everyone out!" Echoed from the intercom as the ramp began to lower.
He felt her hand partially gripping the rear of his chestplate, giving a squeeze as one foot was placed on the ramp as it was halfway down, before running off to the left side and into the treeline with her following at the same pace before slowing.
The rest of the Clarkes had halted, their infantry jumping out of their compartments before the ramps rose and locked into position as the Abrams MBTs shifted back and forth, 50 yards ahead of the IFVs as the smokescreen began to dissipate.
"Recommend we move westwards, at least 300 yards. Slightly elevated and gives us a good firing position into the Krasnovian positions and good opportunity for me to hit any armor."
McMann nodded as the two broke into another sprint, weaving past branches, overturned logs and trees as the fight between the company team and battalion they were fighting continued.
Looking over, McMann could see the MG teams of the Krasnovian force trying their damnedest to take the vehicles out of commission. Yellow paint erupted across the front of the Clarkes and Abrams, coating it in an attempt to obscure their vision slits, while green paint fired back towards their trenches and across their tanks.
"White Platoon, keep advancing. Dismounts stay behind your IFVs." The Platoon leader, 1st Lieutenant Boden broke over the radio as the four-vehicle platoon slowly advanced behind three of the Abrams. Red Platoon did the same with the other trio.
"Corporal, over here!" Kikuchi had overtaken him a few yards ago and was sliding to a halt as she stopped against a toppled over tree. Laying against it as she placed a Dragon tube against it before attaching the CLU.
McMann fell to a prone next to her, swinging the M240 around and placing the bipod on the shallower end as he scanned over the Krasnovian positions. They had a company of M803 Rockenbachs dug in across the outer line, with individual man or fireteam-sized foxholes pockmarking the space between each vehicle. Behind them in staggered rows were M723A2 Bretts, spread out with guns providing additional support despite only being armed with .50 Cals. Mixed in between the Bretts were longer, deeply dug trench lines which went from the backs of each APC to another, with some going towards the foxholes by the Rockenbachs.
"Shit. I knew we were going against National Guard guys… but this seems kind of unfair." He muttered while sweeping the barrel of his gun over the trench line. The training rounds didn't have tracers, which would mean they'd have a slightly longer period before any of them figured out where the fire was coming from. The opposite was true as well, the Krasnovians had no tracers, and could spot them and wipe them out before they even realized they were being shot at.
Kikuchi slightly shifted over to look at him before looking through the CLU. The Rockenbachs weren't having the best time. They weren't equipped with the advanced armor composite the Abrams had, and with each 120mm paint round slamming into their cast steel fronts, a tank raised a blue flag from its commander's hatch to indicate being knocked out.
"Let them kill each other for a bit. We don-" McMann did a double take as the IFVs of Red Platoon suddenly shot past their Abrams escort, the infantry charging in the open with them as their LT led the way while hip firing. "Goddamnit." He swore while reaching for his radio.
The dismounts only got so far before yellow paint erupted across their chest plates, falling to the dirt as an exasperated sigh sounded from the duo. "Sarge, Lieutenant America just killed his men again."
A sigh came over the radio, dampened by the sounds of bushmaster and rifle fire. "Great…"
1450 Hours, September 8th, 2020
Falmart Continent – Highway 14
1st Battalion, 119th Infantry Regiment
"This is fucking stupid, sir." Specialist Lee muttered while racking the M3 HMG on the Humvee's pintle mount.
"It may be stupid, but the brass signed off on it. So, we must obey." The Lieutenant muttered in return as the rest of his platoon got the Humvees into position, men taking cover behind or next to the tactical vehicles.
"Lantern Blue Actual, this is Wolfram 1-6, over." Crackled over the radio.
"Wolfram 1-6, this is Lantern Blue Actual, send your traffic, over."
"Lantern Blue Actual, be advised we have spotted the potential IJA reconnaissance force. FLIR shows three vehicles in line formation. Komatsu Type-47 Armored Car in lead with likely-heavy mounted machine gun, Toyota Type 48 with likely-medium mounted machine gun, and unidentified Humvee-type vehicle, estimated time before they reach your position is fifteen mikes, over."
The Lieutenant looked over to his right, a pair of the air assault riflemen pulling an FGR-17 Python each from the trunks of a Humvee.
"Understood, Wolfram 1-6. Interrogative, do you have a definitive headcount of their dismounts, over?"
"Negative, Actual. Be advised, we cannot continue overwatch of IJA recon column. We are bingo fuel and heading to the barn to refuel. ETA twenty mikes. A pair of Kichais are inbound from the FOB and will cover for us, ETA on their arrival is ten mikes, out."
"Understood, 1-6, Out." The LT lowered his arm as he set a timer for fifteen on his watch.
'Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to see if it's them and they still hate our guts.' He thought before a cough from his left brought him back to reality.
"Um, Sir?" It was one of the squad leaders, a man ranked sergeant in a staff sergeant's job. He pointed back at the two men leaning against a tree on the stone road. One was holding a camera as the other checked his PDA. "What are we supposed to do with the embeds if this turns hot?"
The Lieutenant sighed before looking around, finding one of the utility Humvees with an upgraded armor package.
"Put them behind that one… And remind me why do we even have god forsaken embeds?"
1505 Hours
Fort Moore Training Grounds
2nd Battalion, 131st Infantry Regiment
"Go! Go! Get inside!" Came from Hermann as Kikuchi and McMann both rolled into a trench, landing on top of a 'dead' Krasnovian who groaned before they were on their knees and aiming down the rest of the trench.
"This is McMann, in position. Where's your flag?"
"Check your south-southeast bearing, Halliday's got it on his back."
The act of trench-clearing was an incredibly manpower intensive effort. You needed well-coordinated, well equipped and most importantly, well-informed troopers to go from trench to trench. Flinging grenades and emptying magazines at anything that so much as twitched.
Unfortunately, the flags mounted on a trooper's back were a double-edged sword, this let the other teams know where other teams were clearing, while also letting the enemy be aware of where they were moving to.
McMann slowly crouched forward as Kikuchi kept her hand on his shoulder, mirroring his movements as they slowly moved towards the rest of the squad.
"McMann." She silently spoke while tapping his shoulder. "I think there are guys in between us and Hermann."
He looked back at her for a moment before nodding and slowly peering around the corner with the M240, only to see a Krasnovian, or in practical terms, someone wearing standard battle dress with a black stripe down their shoulders staring at him with his rifle.
Both fired, green and yellow paint pockmarked each other's helmets before their radios butted in.
"All units! Cease fire, exercise is cancelled! Return to your company barracks immediately!"
The two soldiers ready to play dead stopped before slowly standing up. Dozens of other heads, including some drenched in green paint standing up and removing helmets, grabbing weapons, and walking back towards their vehicles.
Hermann and the rest of the squad met up with Aina and Jack, both who were looking at each other confused.
"The hell are they thinking?" Voight quietly asked while clipping his helmet to his hip.
"Don't know… Maybe someone got injured or something?" Was Blazko's response.
"If that were the case, there'd be an ambo or two, or even a MEDEVAC bird, you see any, or for that matter, hear any?" The shakes from three of the men were the response. "Something's off… I don't know what yet."
The ride back to the barracks were silent, only broken by music, specifically 'Green River' playing on the intercom as the troopers removed helmets and loosened their gear, letting the cold afternoon air cool them down as the Clarke drove back with all hatches unbuttoned and in a file with the rest of the platoon.
It only took twenty minutes for the forest and grassland to slowly blend into the more developed terrain, the four IFVs clacking onto the paved asphalt as they drove towards the 2nd Battalion's area.
The weird thing was how silent and abandoned it was, normally, a truck or two, alongside Humvees would be passing them regularly, but there was little to no motor traffic as they passed into the battalion's quarters.
"Hey! If your vehicle doesn't have any damage, park it and get to the commons, there's stuff on the news you'll want to see!" The gate guard yelled as the platoon passed.
Another five minutes, the Clarkes were parked in their positions, a skeleton crew from the maintenance teams taking over as they told them to move on.
"Okay, now this is really off." Orville quietly muttered as the group of nine shuffled single file past the crowd of fellow soldiers, some in PT uniforms, some still in their battle dress, most in cammies and some in casual wear as they pushed into the largest part of the commons.
"Hey! These guys are from the field exercise, give them your seats!" Someone shouted from behind, and nine people moved out of the way and towards the back.
One private was flicking through news channels, most were suddenly cutting with a 'breaking news' till he settled on CNN and placed the remote down.
The screen showed a countdown timer before it switched to the view of the CNN anchor facing the camera. The lower third stated one thing:
"CNN EMBEDS AND US SOLDIERS ATTACKED AND KILLED, POTENTIAL IJA SURPRISE ATTACK?"
For everyone in the room, there was a universal thought that echoed in everyone's mind.
Shit.
"Hello, and welcome back. We've just received reports that our embed reporter and cameramen with the 108th Airborne Division have been engaged in a gunfight with potentially Imperial Japanese troops. We will warn you, the following footage is quite graphic, but this represents the first time in twenty years since the evacuation of contact with Japanese forces. And if this is any indication of their wider disposition towards us, we may be on the path to war."
Aina and Jack looked at each other before back at the screen. It switched over to the camera crew, showing the tall, dark-skinned and black-haired reporter idly chatting with one of the specialists while several men with 'Air Assault' tabs on their shoulders loitered around several Humvees.
"LT! They're here!" The camera shifted to a man in the usual battle dress, his helmet clasped to his hip while wearing a maroon beret.
"They're early, by eight minutes." The LT muttered while moving past the Humvees towards a stack of three vehicles in an echelon formation, two vehicles with mounted MGs, both manned in the front. One was more heavily armored than the other, with what looked like bullet resistant glass compared to the other. "Takahara! With me!"
Another man with a maroon beret moved out from one of the Humvees, walking with the Lieutenant before they both halted halfway between their vehicles. The LT cleared his throat as the Japanese American next to him readied to translate.
"I'm First Lieutenant Jamie Chris Kennedy, 119th Infantry Regiment." He finished, before looking over at Takahara as silence continued for thirty seconds after. "Hey, are you sure they understood that?"
"I've been speaking it since I was born, so unless the language got replaced. Yeah." The other replied as they both looked back at the vehicles.
There was another pause as the cameraman looked at the reporter, who was looking at him then back at the vehicles. There was movement in the lead vehicle, the driver and passenger looking at each other and talking to one another, the passenger with his hand on the radio.
"We were wondering if you w-" Kennedy never got the chance to finish his sentence as a flash of light erupted from the armored vehicle's pintle mount. A round flying out and into the man's head. In a moment, the Lieutenant's head exploded, destroying everything from the lower jaw-up as he fell over, Takahara next to him joining him in the next instant.
Then all hell broke loose.
The Humvees retaliated with M3 HMG and M240 MMG fire, rounds pelting the armored vehicle and not penetrating while killing the passenger and pintle gunner of the other as all three started to back away immediately.
"They got the fucking lieutenant!" Someone shouted as the camera suddenly fell out of the cameraman's hands and onto the ground, on its side as a round punctured through a Humvee, into a soldier's leg and amputated it.
"OH GOD! MY FUCKING LEG!"
One of the men unfolded a Python, brought it to bear and nailed the unarmored gun carrier center mass, destroying it and killing any men inside as the armored vehicle cut him down as he attempted to throw the tube and take cover, before they both retreated at full speed.
And just as quickly as it started, it ended, adrenaline still running in the men for a few minutes before it flushed from their systems and returned to 'normalcy'.
"Call out if you're injured!"
"Medic! I need a medic; he's got a stomach wound!"
"Tourniquet! Tourniquet!"
The Platoon Sergeant ran into view, dragging their RTO with them as he pulled the phone off his pack and brought it to his ear.
"Timberwolf 1-1, 1-2! Just attacked by the IJA recon force. Disregard previous orders to overwatch us! LT. Kennedy is dead, chase after those guys and figure out where the hell they came from!"
The camera rested where it fell as the Japanese vehicles sped away and behind a hill, the air assault troopers dragging the wounded behind cover and attempting first aid. The camera remained there for a minute as a pair of helicopter gunships whizzed past them and in chase.
It went back to the news anchor, but Jack blocked it out as his brain started replaying what his grandfather, and great-grandfather told him about the proxy wars with Japan.
"They offered no surrender, took no prisoners, and would use every dirty trick in the book to ensure a victory. Even if it meant there was only one man, as long as that one man had the rising sun on his sleeve, still standing at the end of it."
Fuck. He thought. FUCK!
(A/N)
Well. I did it. I actually wrote something, this chapter will probably be anachronistic down the line but. Better for me to get something written and posted and keep at it with energy and then fix any mistakes for it down the line.
Protip. Don't expect this thing to be great, hell, don't expect it to be good. I'm still learning to be a quality writer, but my beta readers think it's good.
See you folks with another chapter again soon.
- 8th Krasnovian Motostrelki.