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 reaty.
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 the room. 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 arriers 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? ” “PositiveThe 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 id. 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 dreamno, it was real. Real inside my lifeless body, anyway. * * * This brutal war continued for some time. The United States refused to participate in a nuclear war. However, Russia launched many nuclear weapons, articularly 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 ack 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 leadersby 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.