World War III

They moved up the slope, Roberts in the lead. Kate struggled to keep up with Caffey. “Division’s been informed,” she said between pants. “I called them right after you talked to the general. I told them everything in your message. At least someone else with authority knows about this. I tried—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Caffey said quickly. “Whose bright idea was that?”

“I’m chief of S-2,” she shot back. “It’s my job to be here, Colonel Caffey.”

“Well, take a good look, Major, and pray it isn’t your last one.”

“Ho-ly shit!” General Roberts lowered the binoculars. He glanced at Caffey in astonishment, then scanned the column again with the glasses. “They’re fucking Russian troops!”

“I told you that, General.”

“But… Jesus Christ! How large did you say?”

“Battalion strength; eight, nine hundred infantry.”

“I don’t see any nukes,” Roberts said. “They have rocket launchers,” Caffey said. “You can see the mounts on the second vehicle. If they have nukes, they have the launch platforms concealed.

Those riggings won’t support even the smallest Soviet nuke.”

Roberts’s eyes got wide. “I count six launchers. Jesus, they’re loaded up!”

“They didn’t come here to be surprised, General.”

“Why didn’t they use them on us? On the helicopter?” The general handed back the binoculars and got to his knees, supporting himself against a tree. “Maybe they didn’t see us, Colonel. Maybe they’re not the crack outfit you think they are. They probably didn’t fire because they didn’t see us.”

“I doubt that, sir.”

“Goddamnit, Caffey, whose side are you on?”

“More likely they’re waiting to see if we spotted them. They know we’re here, General. I suggest you confirm the sighting on a direct link to TAG COM and then”—he nodded down the slope at the helicopter—”I think we should get the hell out of here.”

Roberts glanced at Kate.

“I agree, General. We’re not doing anyone any good sitting on this ridge.”

“Right,” Roberts said. He motioned to Lieutenant Speck. “Get on the radio. Get Wainwright pronto.

Tell them to patch through Fairbanks to TAG COM Pentagon, priority flash.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell them it’s Greenstreet seven-niner and that we. have a confirmed Green Giant in—” He looked to Kate.

“Alpha Echo Sector,” she said.

“Alpha Echo Sector. You got that, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.” Speck swallowed, his eyes big as quarters.

“Then move, Lieutenant. Move!”

“Yes, sir!” Speck took off on a run down the slope.

“And get the men in the chopper,” Caffey yelled after him. He turned to Roberts. “C’mon, General.”

“How the hell did they get in here?” Roberts said. “That’s what I’d like to know. How the hell did they get through our first defense?”

“I don’t know.” Caffey motioned for the others to move out. “We’d better move it, General. They’ve probably got patrols out on the ridge.”

“You think it was an airdrop, Colonel? You think they just dropped in here?”

Caffey nodded impatiently. “That’d be my guess, yes, sir. Probably coordinated with the weather… came in ahead of the front.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know, General. I expect it has something to do with that NORAD radar station going down. It’s in the right area.” Caffey slipped the binocular strap over his head. “C’mon. There’s nothing else we can do here.” Down the slope he heard the whine of the chopper’s engine starting up.

“The sonofabitches!” Roberts was staring down the ridge at the column as it faded into the distant whiteness. “They’ll pay for this.” He got to his feet. “The sonofabitches will pay for this!”

“Don’t stand up,” Caffey yelled. “That parka is like a beacon—”

“We’ll blast the bastards right back to hell,” Roberts said at the top of his voice. “They can’t just walk in here like this was goddamn Poland!”

“General—”

The sudden burst of gunfire exploded through the trees and cascaded an avalanche of snow from the pines onto Caffey’s head. He fell backward, rolling several feet down the slope before he could stop himself. General Roberts lay facedown in the snow at the top of the ridge. His parka was shredded. The back of his hood was blown away from the exiting bullet.

Caffey scrambled down the slope, putting trees between him and the Soviet soldiers who kept up a barrage of fire from their positions farther up the ridge. Bullets splintered pine all around him. He dove behind the protection of a fallen tree and slid into Sgt. Parsons.

“Return fire!” Caffey screamed. “Return fire!”

Suddenly the ridge was a roar of gunfire. Snapped tree limbs and snow fell everywhere from the intense firepower. Caffey grabbed the M-16 and cartridge belt of a soldier who lay bleeding from a chest wound. “Move back,” he yelled at Parsons and his men. “Move back to the snowcat!”

Then the slope was engulfed in a swirling snowstorm as the helicopter’s blade sang at full pitch. Caffey dragged the screaming GI down the slope to the cat. He’d lost his goggles on the ridge and he fought to see against the missiles of snowflakes. The Soviets kept up their fire, but they were also blinded by the driving snow and couldn’t pick targets to shoot at.