North Korea had crossed the thirty eighth parallel quite early in the conflict and invaded South Korea. With American forces tied up all over the world, there was little the troops garrisoned behind the demilitarized zone could do. North Korean tank divisions rolled south with little impediment to their progress, and their Navy had blockaded the peninsula. For the past five years, South Korea was steadily holding the southern tip of the small nation, guarding against both the land and sea invasions that were sure to come.
Their fate looked grim.
And then there was Africa. Their part in the conflict was, for once, not to fight amongst themselves. They had somehow put aside most of their differences, and went to war against just about everyone else. African warlords banded together and fought a swath through all of Africa before they moved north towards Europe and East towards Saudi Arabia. The entire Southern coast of Europe was on high alert for hordes of guerilla militia making their way towards the continent, and Spain was under constant threat. That situation could potentially become a horrible mess.
The one factor that was missing from the global war was the use of nuclear weapons. It was interesting how the threat of nukes always had the citizens of the world on edge, always wondering if the end was just around the corner. Everybody knew that only a small percentage of even one nation’s nuclear supply could bring about the end the world. Yet, once World War III began, nukes were completely non-existent, not once being employed on the battlefield.
The world’s unofficial “no-nukes” policy was hardly surprising, at least to me. Every finger poised over nuclear launch buttons around the world knew as soon as they allowed gravity to overcome the strength of their fingers, every other button of mass destruction would likewise be depressed. No one wanted to be responsible for wiping mankind off the face of the planet. Even so, life was just as tense as it was in the 1950’s, and sooner or later, someone was bound to get antsy and initiate a chain reaction that would lead to nothing short of the end of times. Total destruction was inevitable.
***
My two companions were dourly silent as we drove through the lush Italian countryside, but I couldn’t help but look off into the distance and admire the view. It was so rich in history that every hill had a story and every road a tale to tell. I’d studied Italian and Roman history ever since my mom had made me take Latin in high school. It had been the toughest class in my life, but after a few years it slowly became a passion of mine.
I’d enjoyed the subject so much that I continued my studies throughout college, and before joining the Navy, I’d begun work on a Masters Degree in Classical Studies. I was never sure why, exactly, it was just something I enjoyed immensely, but I never really sat down and figured out what to do with it. It had been a serious point of contention in my family, especially since my darling sister had her future perfectly mapped out.
By the time we reached the outskirts of Rome, I took out my camera and started taking pictures of whatever caught my eye. A semester of photography, and years of field recon ops, gave me a solid eye for picking out ideal shots. Most of Rome was left unscathed by the countless battles that plagued Eastern Europe, but it had still caught some flak over the years. It wasn’t long before Reynolds noticed my interest.
“Sightseeing, Commander?”
“Yes sir. I’ve always wanted to visit Rome. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
Reynolds nodded, but said nothing and the car continued through the sprawling ancient city, driving slowly through the narrow streets, making our way through cobbled streets of both modern and old form. I was photographing the remains of the Circus Maximus and the Colosseum when Father Vincent abruptly pulled into a seemingly random building just after we crossed the Tiber River. A few meters inside, the floor began to slope drastically downward, plunging us into darkness.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked suspiciously.
“You are a student of history,” Father Vincent replied, his eyes locked on the dimly illuminated road. “What lies beneath most cities the age of Rome?”
I knew that over time, cities as old as Rome simply built over existing parts of the original city. When new buildings were constructed, old ones would be simply filled in with dirt and built over, one of the main reasons why new discoveries in ancient cities were constantly being discovered.
“You’ve discovered some ancient ruins beneath the city and have renovated them to provide an underground tunnel system.”
“You are correct. Vast areas of the ancient city beneath and around the Vatican have been uncovered ages ago. Most were left alone, but some of which were converted into subterranean roads we use to gain unnoticed access in and out of the Vatican. We have also spent time expanding our subterranean land not infested with ancient catacombs as well. Very few know of its existence.”
Not a bad idea and not that surprising to tell the truth. It wasn’t like we were going to drive our secret car, traveling on a secret mission, through the front door. Governments always had secret lairs few knew about, and being the smallest sovereign governing body on the planet, the Vatican would be missing a prime opportunity to expand if they didn’t.
Even with what I assumed was a vast network of secret tunnels, it wasn’t long before the dark, narrow corridor came to an abrupt end. We emerged into a slightly larger room, shaped like a cul-de-sac, with an elevator opposite the entrance. Parking the car, Father Vincent stepped out and started towards the elevator. I grabbed my bag, and followed.
“You coming, sir?” I asked Reynolds, noticing he was staying with the car.
“This is the end of the road for me, son. My orders were to escort you here and report back to the President that your transfer was completed. Hell, I’m not even Catholic. I’m not even sure I’m allowed to be down here. Anyway, you take care of yourself, Commander, you’re representing your county on this one. Don’t let us down.”
“I won’t, sir. Thank you,” I replied snapping a crisp salute.
“You’ll be fine,” replied Reynolds, returning the salute, “just keep your head down.”
“Come,” Father Vincent said quietly from the elevator. “His Holiness is waiting.”
I nodded, slowly turning towards the waiting elevator. With one last glance over my shoulder at the retreating black car, I knew things were never going to be the same again.
***
Not long after the assassination attempt, the Pope, in a strange bout of fury, all but called for a crusade against the attackers. The public was furious, Catholic and Christian alike, and the militaries comprised of such people had no trouble filling their personnel quotas. Even elite unit like my SEALs had grown to unprecedented numbers to help fight anyone we could throw our strength against.
Additionally, the Pope also commissioned a new military unit to help in the war effort. Officially, it was a branch of the Swiss Guard meant to protect his person; unofficially, it was a Special Forces outfit meant to seek out and destroy any potential threat he may face. At least, that’s what the whispers around the water coolers were saying.
Little was known about the organization, including its name. Originally, members were selected specifically from a pool of veteran Swiss Guardsmen, but recently, in an attempt to further solidify friendships amongst Christian nations, the Pope had called for volunteers from the best they could offer.
It was rumored that members from Britain, France, and Germany had already transferred service, but the entire process was done behind closed doors. There were rumors of the first American from Delta transferring only a few days ago, but was again unconfirmed.
It wasn’t long after I began hearing these rumors that a young man, dressed in a well-tailored business suit, knocked on the door of my off-base home while I was on leave in Hawaii. The man spoke with a thick Italian accent, but in impeccable English, and explained to me the full reality behind the Pope’s Swiss Guard and that a spot was available to me for a two year stint.
Now, my mother was a devout Catholic, but my father never put much stock in religion. He was born Protestant, but non-practicing throughout his adult life. Easily not the most pious man, he was completely supportive of his bride-to-be and fully supported her wish that he convert to Catholicism and marry in a Roman
