Romo leaned near Paul and whispered, “It is a trick I learned a long time ago. Kill the leader and the rest will want to listen. Still, it is too bad about Gaucho. He was a good fighter. I did not enjoy that.”
Paul nodded, wondering if Romo had really fixed the situation or if the guerillas were just biding their time.
Jian Hong stood with Marshal Kao in his underground bunker in Beijing. There were enormous framed photographs on the walls with Jian handing a leashed polar bear cub to various dignitaries. The old Chairman had brought Jian down here seven years ago. This time Jian had summoned Kao. He wanted China’s top military man to explain the situation between the two of them while they were alone from prying ears.
“Leader,” Marshal Kao said, pointing at the computer table, at the symbol of Los Angeles. “This is an intolerable situation. Marshal Nung can no longer cut through the enemy and slice his formations into pieces, capturing the trapped troops later at his leisure.”
“I do not understand your references,” Jian said. “Nung has done it again. He has broken through Pomona, through Fullerton, Anaheim, Huntington Beach and Costa Mesa. We are in Long Beach, and in some places, we have battled through to the actual city of Los Angeles. We are winning.”
“We are winning if you believe acquiring a little more territory achieves victory.” Kao looked up with surprise, maybe at his own boldness. “I beg your pardon, Leader. What I meant to say is that we have not yet broken
Jian pursed his lips, nodding finally. “Army Group SoCal has been destroyed as a military formation. You told me so yourself several days ago. These are new units facing us, the last remnants of the old and the Central Californian Reserves.”
“Leader, this is what I’m trying to explain. At the beginning of hostiles, with Army Group SoCal, we burst through them in places. Nung separated the various divisions and surrounded them. Those he killed or captured at his leisure. But there has always been just a little more in Los Angeles and reinforcements trickling in from the other states. Those formations have slowed us down or halted Nung from driving through Los Angeles at will.”
“You’ve just shown me that Nung is still driving the Americans from the field of battle.”
“But he no longer bursts
Jian frowned at the computer map. “Nung reports there are less than two hundred thousand enemy soldiers in Los Angeles. The Americans started the hostiles with eight hundred thousand in Southern California, didn’t they?”
“Yes. That is all true,” Kao said. “Yet we have taken just as staggering a proportion of losses, and we are still bottled in the southern portion of the state.”
“If they have so few soldiers left, why can’t we brush them aside?”
“Because their defensive area is shrinking and we’re battling through one of the largest urban areas in the world. It gives them perfect terrain and it means their lines are denser than earlier, harder to break through. We are also facing the toughest and cleverest survivors, veterans now.”
“A few more days and Nung says he will be through to the Grapevine Pass.”
Marshal Kao straightened. “It may be as he says. If so, we could yet conquer California. There is little left in the state in terms of military power and we have reports that reinforcements to California have slowed. That is what I wish to speak about, Leader. We must begin stockpiling supplies for our Texas thrust. This…” Kao indicated Los Angeles. “This is too small. You must unleash us in Texas and New Mexico. There, with our greater numbers in open terrain and our South American allies, we can win this war quickly. Instead, we are frittering away our strength for a worthless piece of real estate.”
Jian Hong studied the computer map. “I’m unsure. We have spent so much in California and Marshal Nung assures me of victory. I do not want to stop at the goal line if it is merely a matter of a few more feet and a few more days.”
It appeared that Marshal Kao would say more, but he didn’t. He held his tongue.
Anna watched the President rub his face as he listened to the late night report from the briefing major.
The woman used the holo-video and an electric pointer. It was quiet tonight. The situation had turned grim again.
“We saved several Behemoth tanks,” the major said. “The Chinese overran the others during the rout. Now…”
She continued to explain the Battle of Los Angeles. The Chinese had overrun too many places. They had killed thousands and made thousands more soldiers flee. The civilian death toll kept climbing higher and higher. The Chinese were merciless toward them.
“We have to hold somewhere!” Sims cried.
“Sir,” General Alan said. “We’re making the enemy pay for every step of the way. But it’s too much to expect our soldiers to stand in place and die. Instead, they trade space for time and set up new defensive positions. They booby-trap everything.”
“And the Chinese bring up their combat bulldozers,” Sims said. “They plow through buildings and set off hundreds, thousands of your precious booby-traps.”
“We’re bleeding them,” Alan said.
“It doesn’t seem to matter to the Chinese,” Sims said. “They’re squeezing us into a ball in Los Angeles. They’re taking away our maneuver room. Soon, our men will be shoulder to shoulder and the Chinese artillery will grind them into bloody pieces.”
“The other side is hurting, sir. You know that.”
“Do I?” Sims said, his voice nearly cracking.
“The commandos, sir,” Anna said. “They will change the situation.”
Sims shook his head. “We can’t count on that. We have to think of something else.”
Levin looked up and seemed ready to speak.
“No,” Sims said. “No. I’m not ready to nuke Los Angeles. Do you realize how many civilians are still living there? …maybe we have to start thinking about pulling back to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Maybe it’s time to let the Chinese have California.”
No one spoke. Finally, General Alan motioned for the major to continue with her briefing. She cleared her throat and did just that.
Paul swayed inside the big Chinese supply truck. There had been several fancy ideas about how to do this. One of them included putting each other in the big crates. Donovan had said it would be just like the Trojan Horse of legend.
Paul remembered reading that story as a kid. The Greeks had stuffed a gigantic hollow wooden horse with hoplites: soldiers with spears. The Trojans thought it was a victory honor, and had been dumb enough to accept the gift and had torn down their gates to drag it in. Afterward, with the gates partly repaired and the Trojans throwing a victory party, the Greeks had slipped out of the hollow horse and let in the rest of the Greek army, which had sneaked back to the city walls under cover of darkness. Donovan had loved the idea of their doing a similar thing to the Chinese. Romo had finally shot down the idea.
“Amigo, do you not remember your lessons? The gods helped the Greeks trick the Trojans. Who is going to help us trick the Chinese?”
“Pile the crates all the way up in the very back,” Paul said. “The rest of us will stay in front of the truck-bed behind them. If our trick doesn’t work, at least we can go out firing, not trapped inside the boxes like so many sardines.”
They had argued about all kinds of things, including the number of trucks to take. Paul had finally told Donovan they were going to take one.
“Why just one?” Donovan wanted to know.
