I made a TVTropes page for this story...
It can be found here:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/WebOriginal/LandOfFlatwater.
It can be found here:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/WebOriginal/LandOfFlatwater.
Land of Flatwater: Protect and Survive Middle America
- Thread starter Chipperback
- Start date
WOW!
A Turtledove Award....and a post in TV Tropes? (Thanks Unknown, especially picking up on the Allohistorical Allusions
)
Whoa! This is just TOO MUCH FOR WORDS! TOO MUCH!
Thanks everybody for your support! I never expected to win an award. I just wanted to tell a story.
Congrats also to the founder of the feast, Macragge1 for his Turtledove for Best Continuing Timeline!!!!!!
To be considered among the best with all the talent, passion and imagination here within this website, is extremely humbling. It is also motivating to continue to sharpen the skills and improve.
And the Protect and Survive world has grown.
Pro Aris et Pro Focis: 8 million stories in the Naked City.
There Won't Be Any Illuminations: A new Protect and Survive tale from the nation that started it all.
Northern Wind: The Norwegian Front of World War III
These new timelines join an incredible story that spans the globe.
Protect and Survive: The Original
Duck and Cover: Protect and Survive USA Book 1
The Day After: Protect and Survive USA. The Definitive History.
The Last Flight of XM594: Her Majesty's Nuclear Deterrent
Land Of Sad Songs: Finland, caught between the superpowers.
No noi ci saremo: Italy vs. the Warsaw Pact...and themselves.
Don't Turn Your Back On The Wolfpack: “I have survived a war – TWO nuclear wars, cancer, arthritis…I swear, I think I might never die at this rate…heaven doesn’t want me, and Satan must be afraid I’m going to take over.”
That Damned Bridge: The P&S tale of the American North.
No Rest For The Wicked: Mercenaries and mayhem on a wild post-attack African continent.
and of course, this timeline, and its backdrop in the American midwest of my youth. A youth changed forever by the events of February 21, 1984.
Updates will begin anew this week:
Attacks+3 weeks: Stress is the operative word now. From overwhelmed makeshift hospitals and decision makers facing problems, fears and nightmares.
There is the stress of staying alive....while on the run....in Europe...and in Buffalo County.
There is the unknown. Where are the vaccines? Where's the food? Where's other people?
And there's the fear of an enemy....returning.
From Newcastle....to the ruins of London.....from the hills of Italy, the battlefields of Germany to the Iron Range of Minnesota.....from Manhattan's skyscrapers, the rush of Niagara Falls.....from the wilds of the Congo....from the fiords of Norway, the snows of Finland....to the skies above Russia, to the great plains of Nebraska....the worldwide struggle to survive continues.
This country has been attacked with nuclear weapons
This is the world of Protect and Survive.
A Turtledove Award....and a post in TV Tropes? (Thanks Unknown, especially picking up on the Allohistorical Allusions
)Whoa! This is just TOO MUCH FOR WORDS! TOO MUCH!
Thanks everybody for your support! I never expected to win an award. I just wanted to tell a story.
Congrats also to the founder of the feast, Macragge1 for his Turtledove for Best Continuing Timeline!!!!!!
To be considered among the best with all the talent, passion and imagination here within this website, is extremely humbling. It is also motivating to continue to sharpen the skills and improve.
And the Protect and Survive world has grown.
Pro Aris et Pro Focis: 8 million stories in the Naked City.
There Won't Be Any Illuminations: A new Protect and Survive tale from the nation that started it all.
Northern Wind: The Norwegian Front of World War III
These new timelines join an incredible story that spans the globe.
Protect and Survive: The Original
Duck and Cover: Protect and Survive USA Book 1
The Day After: Protect and Survive USA. The Definitive History.
The Last Flight of XM594: Her Majesty's Nuclear Deterrent
Land Of Sad Songs: Finland, caught between the superpowers.
No noi ci saremo: Italy vs. the Warsaw Pact...and themselves.
Don't Turn Your Back On The Wolfpack: “I have survived a war – TWO nuclear wars, cancer, arthritis…I swear, I think I might never die at this rate…heaven doesn’t want me, and Satan must be afraid I’m going to take over.”
That Damned Bridge: The P&S tale of the American North.
No Rest For The Wicked: Mercenaries and mayhem on a wild post-attack African continent.
and of course, this timeline, and its backdrop in the American midwest of my youth. A youth changed forever by the events of February 21, 1984.
Updates will begin anew this week:
Attacks+3 weeks: Stress is the operative word now. From overwhelmed makeshift hospitals and decision makers facing problems, fears and nightmares.
There is the stress of staying alive....while on the run....in Europe...and in Buffalo County.
There is the unknown. Where are the vaccines? Where's the food? Where's other people?
And there's the fear of an enemy....returning.
From Newcastle....to the ruins of London.....from the hills of Italy, the battlefields of Germany to the Iron Range of Minnesota.....from Manhattan's skyscrapers, the rush of Niagara Falls.....from the wilds of the Congo....from the fiords of Norway, the snows of Finland....to the skies above Russia, to the great plains of Nebraska....the worldwide struggle to survive continues.
This country has been attacked with nuclear weapons
This is the world of Protect and Survive.
Falkenburg
Monthly Donor
Congratulations, Chip. A well-deserved accolade.
Looking forward to a resumption of your gripping take on the world of Protect & Survive.
Falkenburg
Looking forward to a resumption of your gripping take on the world of Protect & Survive.
Falkenburg
And you deserve each and every pound of respect that comes with that reward, congrats!
Congratulations, Chip! Your TL was an inspiration to me in giving the P&S universe a go (which I intend to resume as soon as tonight).
The one idea that stands out to me about your TL is its hopefulness....that Nebraska at least won't give in to despair, but will fight for survival and, long term, for life. That theme is inspiring, to say the least.
The one idea that stands out to me about your TL is its hopefulness....that Nebraska at least won't give in to despair, but will fight for survival and, long term, for life. That theme is inspiring, to say the least.
I completely agree, Chip. Your timeline is superb. Heartiest congratulations!
Land of Flatwater: Our men in Finland
a police station in Raahe, Finland 12:35pm local time -- Tuesday March 6, 1984.
Land Of Sad Songs: The Interrogation
Captain Rittinen was led back to the cell. The rest of the crew were waiting.
Major Rochelle asked immediately, "What happened in there, Navs?"
"I did what you told me to do, sir. I didn't say anything..But they want to cut a deal."
"A deal?" Captain Braswell asked. "What kind of deal?"
"It's on this paper," Rittinen said. "They are curious. They believe we bombed them. They say if we talk about our mission, we'll be moved to a POW camp and then be sent to Sweden."
"Seems they are talkin' out of both sides of their mouths, Captain," Major Rochelle said. "One minute we are prisoners of war. They next minute we are criminals."
"The guy doing the questioning is Finnish Air Force -- an officer," Rittinen said. "They seem to be keeping to the Geneva Conventions. I think they know that I can understand them or at least I think they can."
Ralph was thinking, what would be the strategy now?
"Sir, they want an answer in an hour. They are going to be back for me. They think I'm ranking officer."
"Navs, don't let them spook you with that. It's a mind game, son," Ralph said. "The VC tried doing the same things in Vietnam. It's bullshit. If they come back for you...You tell them that the ranking officer is the only person who can cut a deal. That buck stops here. They want to deal? They talk to me."
"Sir," Lieutenant Rossman asked. "Why not tell them? We didn't bomb these guys so why do they think we did? Why would we bomb Finland? Aren't they on our side?"
"Why would we bomb them?" Captain Braswell agreed.
"Who knows what others did while we were in Russia," Ralph said. "Maybe tactical strikes against Russian army here? Who knows. All I know is, these guys who talked to Navs may have to answer to somebody else. That 'somebody else' may not be from Finland."
"It doesn't seem that way," Rittinen said.
"Maybe, maybe not," Ralph answered. "but if they had Russian troops coming up in here, you can guess they may still be here. I think we treat these guys as if their bosses are from Moscow, until they show otherwise. We maintain discipline and ranks. We are U.S. Air Force personnel. We will continue to act like it."
"This war isn't over."
to be continued -- next: Our Man In France. Where's Tony?
a police station in Raahe, Finland 12:35pm local time -- Tuesday March 6, 1984.
Land Of Sad Songs: The Interrogation
Captain Rittinen was led back to the cell. The rest of the crew were waiting.
Major Rochelle asked immediately, "What happened in there, Navs?"
"I did what you told me to do, sir. I didn't say anything..But they want to cut a deal."
"A deal?" Captain Braswell asked. "What kind of deal?"
"It's on this paper," Rittinen said. "They are curious. They believe we bombed them. They say if we talk about our mission, we'll be moved to a POW camp and then be sent to Sweden."
"Seems they are talkin' out of both sides of their mouths, Captain," Major Rochelle said. "One minute we are prisoners of war. They next minute we are criminals."
"The guy doing the questioning is Finnish Air Force -- an officer," Rittinen said. "They seem to be keeping to the Geneva Conventions. I think they know that I can understand them or at least I think they can."
Ralph was thinking, what would be the strategy now?
"Sir, they want an answer in an hour. They are going to be back for me. They think I'm ranking officer."
"Navs, don't let them spook you with that. It's a mind game, son," Ralph said. "The VC tried doing the same things in Vietnam. It's bullshit. If they come back for you...You tell them that the ranking officer is the only person who can cut a deal. That buck stops here. They want to deal? They talk to me."
"Sir," Lieutenant Rossman asked. "Why not tell them? We didn't bomb these guys so why do they think we did? Why would we bomb Finland? Aren't they on our side?"
"Why would we bomb them?" Captain Braswell agreed.
"Who knows what others did while we were in Russia," Ralph said. "Maybe tactical strikes against Russian army here? Who knows. All I know is, these guys who talked to Navs may have to answer to somebody else. That 'somebody else' may not be from Finland."
"It doesn't seem that way," Rittinen said.
"Maybe, maybe not," Ralph answered. "but if they had Russian troops coming up in here, you can guess they may still be here. I think we treat these guys as if their bosses are from Moscow, until they show otherwise. We maintain discipline and ranks. We are U.S. Air Force personnel. We will continue to act like it."
"This war isn't over."
to be continued -- next: Our Man In France. Where's Tony?
Last edited:
Falkenburg
Monthly Donor
I like the way the Threads are intertwining. Very effective way to allow convincing shifts in perspective.
Hopefully there's more of that to come (At least where plausible)?
Falkenburg
Hopefully there's more of that to come (At least where plausible)?
Falkenburg
I am a loyal member of Buckeye Nation and even made the Holy Pilgrimage to the Shrine of St. Woody the Victorious (which is no longer ITTL), but the way you wrote that post was amazing. I wasn't born until 1987, but if Cleveland survived (Geez, we're really bad if the Soviets didn't bomb us) and I was around in February of '83, I would have teared up if then-WWWE 1100 AM started off the broadcast with the Buckeye Battle Cry... This, like Macragge's original timeline is amazing.
Heh. I made these for Gen Patton's Duck and Cover, but seeing as this is in the same timeline, you might like this. It is for the unfortunately named Cleveland Community Cooperation Pact. The colour choice is completely intentional.
It isn't the best, but hopefully you'll enjoy it.
Voinovich would never allow these posters to be produced. Dennis "The Truth is Out There" Kucinich maybe, but not Voinovich. What are those kids at the Cleveland Institute of Art smoking?
And if Toledo, Mansfield, Wooster, Canton, and Youngstown survived (as well as Erie, PA), that's a fairly decent size of Ohio relatively unscathed and a large highway corridor (State Route 2 west of Westlake, I-80/90, US 422, US 30, and I-71) intact. Not to mention there are probably a few airliners at Hopkins with the range to make it to Nebraska.Land Of Flatwater: Where's Tony?
Girl, you’re lookin’ sweeter now
You got it every day, girl
Wish that I could love you now
In a special way
You light my fire
I feel alive with you, baby
You blow my mind
I’m satisfied..
An Armée de Terre base outside Verdun, France -- 7:45am Thursday March 8, 1984.
Specialist Tony Freeman, United States Army, Omaha, Nebraska.
It almost had Tony believing he was back in Omaha on a Saturday night. Just him and his partners. In their best "lady-snatching" threads, ready to hit out of the clubs and dancehalls Downtown, or maybe they were piling into the car to head to the Budweiser Superfest Concert in Kansas City during the summer. He was hearing the beats of some good R&B...
The music was real, but the rest was a dream.
He awoke into a in a aluminium-lead quonset hut , surrounded by a lot of fellow troops. Tony, Specialist Ricardo Brown and 2nd Lieutenant Bill Michelle trudged into the refugee camp after almost three weeks on the move.
The trek began in horror. The sought refuge in a French national forest only to be bombed out of it by a group of Soviet fighter-bombers. They dropped hig explosive bombs and napalm on the forest. 45 NATO soldiers were killed. More would have lost their lives if a group of British RAF Tornadoes hadn't jumped into the fight. The RAF pilots shot down 3 of the Soviets, but also lost 2 of their own numbers. The remaining opponents fled back to what was left of East Germany or Czechoslovakia.
They were a part of the convoy of British, French and American forces who zigzagged west away from France-West Germany border. They encountered many small towns, deserted and/or damaged. They were attacked by frightened citizens who thought they were Russian. Some in the French countryside held these soldiers responsible for the nuclear war. Some jeered them as they went down the roads.
They were attacked by bandits operating like medieval highwaymen. Five days ago, 2nd Lieutenant Michelle was shot fighting them. His upper right thigh was wounded. A medic within their group stitched him up as best they could, but they had to reach a hospital, or an aid station. Anything.
The next day, Ricardo picked up a radio transmission. The French Army was sending a call to any suriviving NATO forces in France. The rally point would be Verdun.
They got here last night, after three days walking, running, and trying to stay safe through gunshots and fallout.
Verdun, on a foggy gray morning. Some of the bloodiest fighting of the World War One was here.
The trenches the separated American and French doughboys from the "Hun" of Imperial Germany, are now poured with concrete and filled with bodies. Filled with the casualties of a war that those who fought in the "War To End All Wars" couldn't begin to imagine, and this war wasn't over. You can hear the faint strains of weapon's fire and artillery. The surviving forces of the battle for West Germany are still fighting, even as much of their command structure is dead or fled.
"Good Morning, Amigo...I heard you made it to this town. Good to see you again," Staff Sargeant Gabriel Siffuentes said. The upbeat Marine from Florida had been here week. He, and a number of the those who fled firebase FINISH LINE just before it was destroyed by a tactical nuclear weapon.
"Hey Staff Sargeant," Tony said happily, "Nice to see a familiar face. But, i figured you'd have stay at that racetrack until...you know.
The Marine turned somber. "Colonel Gerhardt ordered me and my squad to evacuate. The Russians were maybe twenty clicks away, and being harassed by a forward team with antitank rockets and RPGs. By the time the WP guys pushed through, both side were nuclear committed. FINISH LINE got an airdropped nuke, and the rest were all the SCUDs pouring in. The Colonel died in the blast that came maybe 45 minutes after we had gone.
Tony's heart sank again. Siffuentes' squad saved Tony's life and the lives of his mate at the start of the war. They were surrounded by Spetsnaz forces, and pinned down, when a group of recon Marine outflanked and killed each of the Spets. FINISH LINE was a special place for Tony. It was the new base after the madness of the first 24 hours at war. It was a memory now, if memories still exist in these post-attack times.
A different voice awoke Tony from a morning daydream, "Specialist Freeman!" It was an Army officer, perhaps a junior aide-de-camp. "The Boss needs to see you, now.
"We have a boss?"
"Yes soldier, the ranking American officer. He's a colonel"
The officer led Tony to a command building. Inside a group of men were studying maps of the area.
"Specialist Freeman reporting as requested, sir!"
The officer before with average height, medium build, a short-haired guy with intense eyes, which hid a demeanor that was scholarly. At first glance he could be taken as a strategy room man than a field man.
Colonel Wesley K. Clark, United States Army, Chicago, Illinois.
"At ease, Specialist. I'm Colonel Clark. I've heard than you and two of your mates got here last night."
"That is right, sir. We been on the move since we got the evac order back on The Day."
"What unit where you with, and where were you in West Germany?"
"Second Armored, sir," Tony answered. "I drove an Abrams. We were under fire since the very start and maybe spent an hour at most outside of the tank. How about you, sir?"
"I was in the planning staff at SHAPE HQ Belgium. I was rotated to Heidelberg before the war started. When the balloon went up, they bugged out and headed to bases in France, at least the command staffs did. My group wound up here. The actual base we were going to head to was destroyed before we got there. When we got here we realized that I was highest rank left. I'd personally pass on the job, soldier. However, its a part of war."
"Are we still at war, sir?" Tony asked.
"I didn't hear about a cease fire or an armistice signed yet," Colonel Clark said. "Plus, we have to secure this area and this country along with the French Army. We still have a duty, and that's why I need you for a mission."
Tony nodded. "Action? Okay, sir..What do you have?"
"Records we have on you say you are quite the athlete. Football, Track...and Hockey? That's interesting."
"My Hockey team when I was stationed in Minnesota won an Armed Forces Championship," Tony said.
"Well, we have whole new sport for you Specialist," the Colonel said as he pointed to the three men in room with him. There were each in technical, tight warm weather gear.
The older man in the group, "Good morning monsieur, I called Cyrille. I have been asked by your Colonel to put together recon group. We are going to take an advanced look at some villages up the road. French Army says there is a depot at Carignan, 72 kilometers away. My team has volunteered to....reconnaissance the area."
"Sir, why not send an armored convoy there," Tony asked. "I'd drive that."
"Fuel," the Colonel said. "We have to save every drop before we start sending trucks and maybe tanks into the fray, we need to know what is there and if its worth using the fuel to get it."
"Well sir how are we getting there," Tony asked. "Horses?"
Cyrille shrugged. "Well....In a sense....oui."
"Follow these guys to the quartermaster," the Colonel said. "He has your gear. Captain Landrigan will be leading our part of the team. He's the contact."
Tony left the tent with two of Cyrille's men. One was stocky and quiet. The other was wiry and wore glasses.
"Another added to the group," the younger one said.
"I'll go on the trip if it means action. I'm Tony."
The younger one answer, "Je m'appelle Laurent."
The quartermaster had a light pack prepared, and a working M-16 ready, and some new clothes. A cross between basic BDUs, NBC and what looked to be..well "
"What the hell is this," Tony shrieked. "I'm not wearing tights, dude."
"Specialist," the quartermaster said. "Trust me, you'll want these"
Just beyond the quartermaster's tent, a group of soldiers were massing. It was the ready area. And at the center was the group leader for the military mission.
Captain Roger Landrigan, United States Army. Boulder, Colorado.
"You must be Specialist Freeman. Colonel told me he got another recruit," the Captain said excitedly. "I suggest you get some more chow while you can. You'll need it for the duty. Our friends here brought some good stuff...and by the way...we have a vehicle for you."
Landrigan pointed to a shed. In there was more food. A lot of apples and what smelled like cheese, but it wasn't typical Army issue. It was gourmet.
"Can you believe this," one of the troops said. "Best eating we've had since before the war. I wonder if these Frenchies have some wine around."
Tony grabbed as much as he could pack, and then headed to the next room. A couple of men were working on what look like.....bicycles.
"Excuse me," Tony said. "Where's the vehicles?"
"These are it," one of the men said in French accent. "This one is ready for you. Have a good ride."
Tony took hold of the bike. It certainly wasn't the Free Spirit he had back in Omaha. It was light, fast Gitane.
"This bike weighs nothing," Tony said.
"Very light, Americain," the mechanic said. "And light...means fast."
Tony traded his combat boots for cycling shoes, and he headed back to the ready area. Captain Landrigan was quite pleased. "Now you look ready for duty, troop."
"A very different sort of duty sir," Tony said. "A bike ride?"
"Specialist," Captain Landrigan said. "I live to ride, man. All I did back in Colorado. If I wasn't in the Army, would have been one of these guys"
Landrigan pointed at the civilians the army troops would ride with a protect. "You wouldn't believe who stumbled onto this camp. The best cycling team in the world was training here when all hell broke loose!"
For the Captain, this was bigger than Christmas. Roger Landrigan was an LRRP man. Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol, he was also a man who took every leave possible to follow a world-class bike race. He's followed the Grand Tours calendar since he got his first road bike at 11 years old. Being in the Army has allowed him to see Giros, Vueltas and Tours de France up close.
The Verdun camp had military, and thousands more refugees, many of them from France and Belgium. A few of the battered, tired civilians saw the massing of bicycles. Word had spread throughout the early morning. It seemed to surge the collective strength of people who felt hungry, tired and displaced.
Cyrille and a driver got in a small Renault and began to head up the road, a second and third car followed. The carried spare parts, bikes and first aid.
The refugees began to form a crowd. It was time to go.
The group formed slowly. The lead bike flanked by two French Army troops, followed by a second group and the U.S. Army and Air Force men who were chosen. It was odd to see men on bikes with rifles. But the crowd didn't see the rifles...They only saw the bikes, and two of their heroes again leading a charge on a French road.
Captain Landrigan was riding next to Tony. "Sir, these civilians are a bike team?"
"You got it, soldier," the Captain replied. "They volunteered to push the pace. You see the guys up front? The guy in the glasses? He won the Tour de France last year. The stocky dude? He's known as "The Badger". A real fighter. He's won Le Tour four times.
As the bikes began heading up the road. Refugees were cheering them on, and every rider seemed to find a little more energy. More crowds gathered as they headed through the town and out toward open road. People huddled in their homes went outside. They forgot about the gray, cold day. The didn't think of what the rad level was (they were within "safe levels" on this day). They heard the beautiful French symphony of gears and chains. They saw racing bicycles on parade.
From behind Tony, a rider swooped past and got into his rhythm. He looked like a young kid compared to the rest of the team.
Captain Landrigan knew who the young hotshot was. "One of the reasons I really hate this war," he said.
"Excuse me, sir?" Tony asked.
"The kid who just blew by us," the Captain replied. "He's one of ours, an American. Helluva young rider, too. That kid has the ability to win a Grand Tour someday.. He won't get the chance now."
The roars and cheers of the passers where constant, and the riders pushed the pace more. Even Tony felt his legs generating more power, even with a pack and a rifle on his back. They were leaving Verdun and heading out into the unknown.
Just behind, scared survivors smiled. Even after a nuclear war, there would still be a peloton heading up a French road.
Crevaison sur les paves. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Le velo vite repare. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Le peloton est regroupe. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Camarades et amitie. Tour de France. Tour de France.
to be continued.
Girl, you’re lookin’ sweeter now
You got it every day, girl
Wish that I could love you now
In a special way
You light my fire
I feel alive with you, baby
You blow my mind
I’m satisfied..
An Armée de Terre base outside Verdun, France -- 7:45am Thursday March 8, 1984.
Specialist Tony Freeman, United States Army, Omaha, Nebraska.
It almost had Tony believing he was back in Omaha on a Saturday night. Just him and his partners. In their best "lady-snatching" threads, ready to hit out of the clubs and dancehalls Downtown, or maybe they were piling into the car to head to the Budweiser Superfest Concert in Kansas City during the summer. He was hearing the beats of some good R&B...
The music was real, but the rest was a dream.
He awoke into a in a aluminium-lead quonset hut , surrounded by a lot of fellow troops. Tony, Specialist Ricardo Brown and 2nd Lieutenant Bill Michelle trudged into the refugee camp after almost three weeks on the move.
The trek began in horror. The sought refuge in a French national forest only to be bombed out of it by a group of Soviet fighter-bombers. They dropped hig explosive bombs and napalm on the forest. 45 NATO soldiers were killed. More would have lost their lives if a group of British RAF Tornadoes hadn't jumped into the fight. The RAF pilots shot down 3 of the Soviets, but also lost 2 of their own numbers. The remaining opponents fled back to what was left of East Germany or Czechoslovakia.
They were a part of the convoy of British, French and American forces who zigzagged west away from France-West Germany border. They encountered many small towns, deserted and/or damaged. They were attacked by frightened citizens who thought they were Russian. Some in the French countryside held these soldiers responsible for the nuclear war. Some jeered them as they went down the roads.
They were attacked by bandits operating like medieval highwaymen. Five days ago, 2nd Lieutenant Michelle was shot fighting them. His upper right thigh was wounded. A medic within their group stitched him up as best they could, but they had to reach a hospital, or an aid station. Anything.
The next day, Ricardo picked up a radio transmission. The French Army was sending a call to any suriviving NATO forces in France. The rally point would be Verdun.
They got here last night, after three days walking, running, and trying to stay safe through gunshots and fallout.
Verdun, on a foggy gray morning. Some of the bloodiest fighting of the World War One was here.
The trenches the separated American and French doughboys from the "Hun" of Imperial Germany, are now poured with concrete and filled with bodies. Filled with the casualties of a war that those who fought in the "War To End All Wars" couldn't begin to imagine, and this war wasn't over. You can hear the faint strains of weapon's fire and artillery. The surviving forces of the battle for West Germany are still fighting, even as much of their command structure is dead or fled.
"Good Morning, Amigo...I heard you made it to this town. Good to see you again," Staff Sargeant Gabriel Siffuentes said. The upbeat Marine from Florida had been here week. He, and a number of the those who fled firebase FINISH LINE just before it was destroyed by a tactical nuclear weapon.
"Hey Staff Sargeant," Tony said happily, "Nice to see a familiar face. But, i figured you'd have stay at that racetrack until...you know.
The Marine turned somber. "Colonel Gerhardt ordered me and my squad to evacuate. The Russians were maybe twenty clicks away, and being harassed by a forward team with antitank rockets and RPGs. By the time the WP guys pushed through, both side were nuclear committed. FINISH LINE got an airdropped nuke, and the rest were all the SCUDs pouring in. The Colonel died in the blast that came maybe 45 minutes after we had gone.
Tony's heart sank again. Siffuentes' squad saved Tony's life and the lives of his mate at the start of the war. They were surrounded by Spetsnaz forces, and pinned down, when a group of recon Marine outflanked and killed each of the Spets. FINISH LINE was a special place for Tony. It was the new base after the madness of the first 24 hours at war. It was a memory now, if memories still exist in these post-attack times.
A different voice awoke Tony from a morning daydream, "Specialist Freeman!" It was an Army officer, perhaps a junior aide-de-camp. "The Boss needs to see you, now.
"We have a boss?"
"Yes soldier, the ranking American officer. He's a colonel"
The officer led Tony to a command building. Inside a group of men were studying maps of the area.
"Specialist Freeman reporting as requested, sir!"
The officer before with average height, medium build, a short-haired guy with intense eyes, which hid a demeanor that was scholarly. At first glance he could be taken as a strategy room man than a field man.
Colonel Wesley K. Clark, United States Army, Chicago, Illinois.
"At ease, Specialist. I'm Colonel Clark. I've heard than you and two of your mates got here last night."
"That is right, sir. We been on the move since we got the evac order back on The Day."
"What unit where you with, and where were you in West Germany?"
"Second Armored, sir," Tony answered. "I drove an Abrams. We were under fire since the very start and maybe spent an hour at most outside of the tank. How about you, sir?"
"I was in the planning staff at SHAPE HQ Belgium. I was rotated to Heidelberg before the war started. When the balloon went up, they bugged out and headed to bases in France, at least the command staffs did. My group wound up here. The actual base we were going to head to was destroyed before we got there. When we got here we realized that I was highest rank left. I'd personally pass on the job, soldier. However, its a part of war."
"Are we still at war, sir?" Tony asked.
"I didn't hear about a cease fire or an armistice signed yet," Colonel Clark said. "Plus, we have to secure this area and this country along with the French Army. We still have a duty, and that's why I need you for a mission."
Tony nodded. "Action? Okay, sir..What do you have?"
"Records we have on you say you are quite the athlete. Football, Track...and Hockey? That's interesting."
"My Hockey team when I was stationed in Minnesota won an Armed Forces Championship," Tony said.
"Well, we have whole new sport for you Specialist," the Colonel said as he pointed to the three men in room with him. There were each in technical, tight warm weather gear.
The older man in the group, "Good morning monsieur, I called Cyrille. I have been asked by your Colonel to put together recon group. We are going to take an advanced look at some villages up the road. French Army says there is a depot at Carignan, 72 kilometers away. My team has volunteered to....reconnaissance the area."
"Sir, why not send an armored convoy there," Tony asked. "I'd drive that."
"Fuel," the Colonel said. "We have to save every drop before we start sending trucks and maybe tanks into the fray, we need to know what is there and if its worth using the fuel to get it."
"Well sir how are we getting there," Tony asked. "Horses?"
Cyrille shrugged. "Well....In a sense....oui."
"Follow these guys to the quartermaster," the Colonel said. "He has your gear. Captain Landrigan will be leading our part of the team. He's the contact."
Tony left the tent with two of Cyrille's men. One was stocky and quiet. The other was wiry and wore glasses.
"Another added to the group," the younger one said.
"I'll go on the trip if it means action. I'm Tony."
The younger one answer, "Je m'appelle Laurent."
The quartermaster had a light pack prepared, and a working M-16 ready, and some new clothes. A cross between basic BDUs, NBC and what looked to be..well "
"What the hell is this," Tony shrieked. "I'm not wearing tights, dude."
"Specialist," the quartermaster said. "Trust me, you'll want these"
Just beyond the quartermaster's tent, a group of soldiers were massing. It was the ready area. And at the center was the group leader for the military mission.
Captain Roger Landrigan, United States Army. Boulder, Colorado.
"You must be Specialist Freeman. Colonel told me he got another recruit," the Captain said excitedly. "I suggest you get some more chow while you can. You'll need it for the duty. Our friends here brought some good stuff...and by the way...we have a vehicle for you."
Landrigan pointed to a shed. In there was more food. A lot of apples and what smelled like cheese, but it wasn't typical Army issue. It was gourmet.
"Can you believe this," one of the troops said. "Best eating we've had since before the war. I wonder if these Frenchies have some wine around."
Tony grabbed as much as he could pack, and then headed to the next room. A couple of men were working on what look like.....bicycles.
"Excuse me," Tony said. "Where's the vehicles?"
"These are it," one of the men said in French accent. "This one is ready for you. Have a good ride."
Tony took hold of the bike. It certainly wasn't the Free Spirit he had back in Omaha. It was light, fast Gitane.
"This bike weighs nothing," Tony said.
"Very light, Americain," the mechanic said. "And light...means fast."
Tony traded his combat boots for cycling shoes, and he headed back to the ready area. Captain Landrigan was quite pleased. "Now you look ready for duty, troop."
"A very different sort of duty sir," Tony said. "A bike ride?"
"Specialist," Captain Landrigan said. "I live to ride, man. All I did back in Colorado. If I wasn't in the Army, would have been one of these guys"
Landrigan pointed at the civilians the army troops would ride with a protect. "You wouldn't believe who stumbled onto this camp. The best cycling team in the world was training here when all hell broke loose!"
For the Captain, this was bigger than Christmas. Roger Landrigan was an LRRP man. Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol, he was also a man who took every leave possible to follow a world-class bike race. He's followed the Grand Tours calendar since he got his first road bike at 11 years old. Being in the Army has allowed him to see Giros, Vueltas and Tours de France up close.
The Verdun camp had military, and thousands more refugees, many of them from France and Belgium. A few of the battered, tired civilians saw the massing of bicycles. Word had spread throughout the early morning. It seemed to surge the collective strength of people who felt hungry, tired and displaced.
Cyrille and a driver got in a small Renault and began to head up the road, a second and third car followed. The carried spare parts, bikes and first aid.
The refugees began to form a crowd. It was time to go.
The group formed slowly. The lead bike flanked by two French Army troops, followed by a second group and the U.S. Army and Air Force men who were chosen. It was odd to see men on bikes with rifles. But the crowd didn't see the rifles...They only saw the bikes, and two of their heroes again leading a charge on a French road.
Captain Landrigan was riding next to Tony. "Sir, these civilians are a bike team?"
"You got it, soldier," the Captain replied. "They volunteered to push the pace. You see the guys up front? The guy in the glasses? He won the Tour de France last year. The stocky dude? He's known as "The Badger". A real fighter. He's won Le Tour four times.
As the bikes began heading up the road. Refugees were cheering them on, and every rider seemed to find a little more energy. More crowds gathered as they headed through the town and out toward open road. People huddled in their homes went outside. They forgot about the gray, cold day. The didn't think of what the rad level was (they were within "safe levels" on this day). They heard the beautiful French symphony of gears and chains. They saw racing bicycles on parade.
From behind Tony, a rider swooped past and got into his rhythm. He looked like a young kid compared to the rest of the team.
Captain Landrigan knew who the young hotshot was. "One of the reasons I really hate this war," he said.
"Excuse me, sir?" Tony asked.
"The kid who just blew by us," the Captain replied. "He's one of ours, an American. Helluva young rider, too. That kid has the ability to win a Grand Tour someday.. He won't get the chance now."
The roars and cheers of the passers where constant, and the riders pushed the pace more. Even Tony felt his legs generating more power, even with a pack and a rifle on his back. They were leaving Verdun and heading out into the unknown.
Just behind, scared survivors smiled. Even after a nuclear war, there would still be a peloton heading up a French road.
Crevaison sur les paves. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Le velo vite repare. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Le peloton est regroupe. Tour de France. Tour de France.
Camarades et amitie. Tour de France. Tour de France.
to be continued.
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Wesley Clark eh? At least in this case he can't actually try to start WW3, in TTL someone else has done it for him.
Jackson said that Clark's staff had no faith in him, even the Americans. Jackson has publicly said that Clark told him to remove the Russians from Pristina Airport using force if necessary.
Jackson strikes me as more of a professional than Clark, but that's just MVHO.
Jackson strikes me as more of a professional than Clark, but that's just MVHO.