The day they landed was the most horrible day I have ever been forced to
* * *
The Soviet Union had begun to regroup. It was not immediately joined by
the smaller and weaker nations that made up the northwestern region of the union.
The independent nations of Latvia, Estonia, and Lithua would not follow
under communist rule again; they were willing to die for their freedom. The
U.S.S.R was unable to persuade the remaining components to rejoin them in their
conquest and they were hasty to declare war on their counterparts.
With war waging in Eastern Europe the United Nations took action. The
leader of Russia's communist party and president rejected the UN's cease-fire
treaty. Russia was expelled from the United Nations early the next day.
The CIA agent, Newton, inched his way through the air conditioning make an
effort to remain as quiet as possible. Once he reached the ventilator above the
leader's bedroom he unveiled his device, a new prototype developed by his agency.
This devise would unscrew and disable any form of fastener. Using a laser
divertor to abstract the laser alarm system path the agent lowered himself into
Waiting for the man, a smaller man yet more powerful. The door creaked open
slowly and an exhausted fat man entered. As soon as the door had been closed the
fat man's throat had been gashed and he lay in a pool of his own warm blood.
The United States had volunteered to be a "cut-off" regiment. We would
put pressure on Russia to remove their troops from Eastern Europe and detain
their troops in Russia. If they failed to comply with this mandate we would have
no choice but to supply aid to Eastern Europe.
My regiment was originally from the Southern California area; we were to
be transported to San Francisco where we would rendezvous with a rather large
concentration of military. From San Francisco we would be transported by
carriers to the island of Hokkaido, specifically the town of Wakkanai. Our army
would form a percent of the United Nations army along with Japan and England and
launch an attack on a Russian city named Korsakov.
This was the plan as it stood, but when you are attacked on your own
soil there are priorities to attend to.
Later that week the leader of Russia was assassinated in chambers. The
assailant had entered through the overhead ventilator and slit the dictator's
throat. He had then fled through the window setting off a number of alarms and
finally escaping by slaying three of the soldiers on guard.
Russia was appointed an inexperienced dictator, he was the defense
minister's secretary, his name was Josef Koslov. Koslov was rumored to be a man
obsessed with genocide, he was brutal and restless.
* * *
"A very sloppy job, know who did it?" The Secretary of War asked one of
his friends employed by the Central Intelligence Agency.
"Not a clue," he replied, "we suspect corrupted KGB. We know the IRA
wouldn't get their nose in this." "Are you positive it wasn't one of your guys?"
"Positive...The Russians are going to have a fuckin' field day with this one, talk
about an international incident. We're expecting trouble from everyone. Do you
plan to attack the Russians on their own ground if we are attacked?" "I don't
see any good it would do, so long as their troops are removed. I am a man of
peace and I feel our nation should also be," the Secretary of War replied as he
entered his limousine returning to the White House. Once the limousine was out
of sight the CIA man whispered, "Get 'im," into his watch. Mere seconds later an
explosion rocked downtown Washington, DC.
With a new Secretary of War in office, a larger number of troops were ordered to
be at San Francisco for rendezvous with a fleet to Northeastern Asia. Koslov had
launched a nuclear weapon from Moscow on Dublin, Ireland, in an attempt to
eliminate the IRA's presence in the current state of war. It succeeded and
killed more than three million innocent victims.
The soldiers who were sent to battle were not the ones who would face a living
hell, those were the soldiers who would stay in America to defend our freedom.
They would see great cities fall into burning suit, and their children fly apart
like leaves from the nuclear assaults.
Koslov had consigned hundreds of thousands of his soldiers to the United States
and Canada. Their harriers and nuclear submarines took our troops by surprise in
San Francisco and besieged the city, our remaining troops had retreated to San
Jose where a massive force of ours was mounting. My unit had been relocated to a
small town north of San Francisco. Our general had adopted a "squeeze-play" to
suffocate Russian forces: one force would lay siege to their side of the city
while the other invade and plant bombs at the Russian's structures. A smaller
force was set up on Angel Island (a small island outside the San Francisco Bay),
this force would cut off any reinforcements and supplies coming to the Russian's
The day started like any other, except for the fact that we now carried loaded
weapons and were in the trenches most of the day. We had stopped shelling long
enough for them to start. Their large Howitzer machine guns tore us apart like
we were nothing. "Move men! Get the hell outta the trenches! Move!" As the
bombardment continued we scrambled out of the mud, following our captain's
orders. My left arm had been injured in the fusillade of shots, but, I ignored
the pain and took up a position behind a brick wall about three feet tall. The
remainder of my unit had fled to the hills surrounding the city just as the
Russians trudged over our previous barricade. They cast enormous shadows on the
empty ground, the smoke was clearing and the fire was dying as I caught my first
glimpse of one of their faces. Cold and lifeless was what I saw. They were
already dead, as were we. I stared in my complete and utter shock as at least
one thousand troops began searching the surrounding houses for enemy soldiers. I
could hear shots in the distance and they gradually grew nearer. One of my foes
hammered a few shots into the brick wall that I found sanctuary in. The brick
wall shattered like glass as I ran for cover, all the while doing my best to
slay my enemies. I must have killed a good number of Commies in that moment. I
was helping the dream, the dream of peace. "Killing for peace? Killing for peace
is like fucking for virginity," I told myself the searching question about what
I was doing. I wished I could have been somewhere else, anywhere else. I did not
like what I was doing. In a moment I would either be a KIA or a POW. Then peace
was settled, this peace was a dream...no, it was real. Real inside my lifeless
* * *
This brutal war continued for some time. The United States refused to
participate in a nuclear war. However, Russia launched many nuclear weapons,
particularly warheads from their submarines. San Francisco was lost, San Jose
annihilated. All the United States was thrown into a depression due to the loss
of most of California. During this time the world was a terrible place to dwell
in. England had been burnt as a whole and Ireland bombed until it was ocean.
The countries that began the resistance to Russia were once again under
communist rule. The only progress the UN had made was taken a portion of
western Russia near Alaska and also near Japan. The hope of the world lay with
these men, the soldiers. We had figured that once Russia had its existing lands
back under control they would proclaim a cease fire. They did not. Instead, they
conquered most of Eastern Europe and ravished the rest. An organization created
in the World War II era had been reinstated by congress. The OSS was an bureau
not only of America, but of Britain, France, and Germany also. Their chief job
was to assassinate Russian leaders...by any means.
"We gotta fuckin' pop this honcho. What the hell are they givin' us for this
chore?" A tall man, George Carlson, asked. "They gave me a bag fulla' all this
spy shit," Clark motioned to a canvas bag on the floor. He opened it and
revealed a Zippo lighter. Unlike the conventional models, when he flicked open
the top, a small barrel was exposed. "It shoots a nice little .22 bullet, made
by the OSS to kick the shit outta any motherfuck it wants to. They were also
gracious enough to send us each a bullet-proof vest. I bet these'll protect us
good, I mean, its not like the Ruskies shoot armor-piercing shots," Clark said
sarcastically. The two men waited as their taxi pulled up on a corner. They shot
the driver "execution style" then continued on into the city square. In the city
square, the Comrade of Russia was scheduled to give a speech on the "Dream of
Russia": a particularly worthless and boring lecture. The Comrade was led out by
four KGB agents. One located at his rear, one at his about-face, and two at
either side. This was when the first shots cleared the airwaves, two of the four
KGB men staggered then fell into oblivion. The two remaining began firing their
AK-47s into the nearby building. The other team of OSS agents fled the scene.
Once a distraction had been caused, Clark and Carlson opened fire on the crowd.
As the Socialist citizens began to dive for cover, a third party of OSS agents
shot Comrade into a hollowed mass. The OSS agents which actually conducted the
assassination were, in fact, corrupt KGB agents bought off by either the CIA or
OSS. Once Koslov was assassinated, Russia fell into a plague of failure. With
enemies on all possible sides, it was quickly invaded. Finally, after a string
of brutal battles where hundreds of thousands of soldiers were lost, Russia
surrendered. All high-ranking public officials were rounded up into
concentration camps on their native soil, awaiting execution.
The world was once again in good hands, but when the other country regrouped, we
prepared for the nuclear winter sure to follow.