The Winter War

Chapter Sixteen

USS Andromeda

Anticosti Island

With an endless screeing sound report after report came off of the telex in the corner of the officer's wardroom that had been converted into a war room. Most of the tables had sectional maps covering them, detailed areas of the battle that was raging across the United States and Canada; but the northern neighbors were none of the concern of the men in the room. They had enough to worry about as it was. As the reports came in a section code at the head of the page helped get it to the correct table where staff would move blue or red markers around the maps. In some places they were making amazing progress, others not so much. And some the lines had broken in the opposite direction and the Druidth were counterattacking. It was the last ones that were causing the Secretary of Defense's stomach to hurt.

Chalk covered his tongue and helped dull the pain as he drank down Maalox straight from the bottle. "Goddamn ulcers," He grunted as he watched the 158th Infantry Regiment of the Arizona National Guard move forward to repel an attack. There weren't too many units strong enough to do that and he had to keep his Operational Maneuver Groups intact for when the breakthroughs happened. If they happened.

"John," Burbank held up a report from the enlisted wardroom one deck down where they were keeping up with reports of the battles raging elsewhere around the globe.

Wheeler took the page with a heavy sigh and saw that it was from the Bundesministerium der Verteidigung, the German Ministry of Defense. He was pleased to see the Germans had already doubled their lines and pushed the Druidth back almost a hundred kilometers. Whatever it was they did, the Germans made great soldiers.

"The Brits had made pretty good advances too," Burbank reported. "As have the French, who are pushing towards the German border before moving to Paris. Which is kind of odd..."

"Not really. Paris is the Druidth's central command for Europe. From what I read they had two fighter wings stationed at the airport and..." Wheeler sipped on his coffee as he remembered the report the DGSE had sent. "Almost a half of an army corps for rapid response deployment around Western Europe. Taking Paris is gonna' be hard."

"Like New York?"

Wheeler grimaced, whether from the pain in his stomach or from the thought of trying to take New York City he wasn't sure. "Don't get me started on New York..."

The tall buildings had anti-aircraft guns and SAM launchers. The seven airports around the city each had a squadron of planes. And to top it all off a full regiment was stationed in Manhattan and the surrounding area with reports claiming bunkers every few blocks. Even with the resistance fighters striking from the rear, taking New York would have been a lot like taking Tokyo in the Second World.

But all of this relied on winning in the next few days. Breaking the Druidth at the Malcolm Line and keeping them on the retreat all the way to the East Coast. And he still had to worry about their rear.

Damn Marines better pull through, he thought while more markers were moved on the tables. "How's Tom?"

"Tired. He's up on the bridge talking with Watson," Burbank replied, referring to the captain of the Andromeda while taking a ham and cheese sandwich from one of the unoccupied tables.

Across the room the sound of a coffee mug shattering against the deck brought both of their attentions to the row of satellite fed telex machines. A young rating moved to clean up the mess immediately and the intelligence officer that dropped the mug came rushing over to Wheeler.

"Sir, Priority One," He reported while handing the message over.

Wheelers stomach instantly knotted up in pain as he expected the worst. The Druidth have broken through in more than one area. The Marines have already been pushed back into the sea. My daughter is pregnant. That last one made him smile from the shear randomness.