Battlefield Pacific

Britain’s Out?!

It was nearly 2000 hours local time when General James Cotton, the commander of all Global Defense Force troops in Europe, received an urgent phone call. Judging by what was unfolding in the British election, he suspected his call had something to with the results. It was looking like Anthony Chattem, the Labour MP, would become the next Prime Minister of England.

Cotton’s military aide held the smartphone out for him. “It’s the Secretary of Defense,” he said in a hushed tone.

Nodding, Cotton took the phone and held it to his ear. “This is Cotton. I assume you have new orders for me?” he inquired.

A grunt could be heard on the other end. “This is a complete mess, James,” said Castle. “We just spoke with the outgoing British National Security Adviser, Sir Mark Ricketts. He told us the new government would be announcing a new policy with regard to the war and our alliance. He didn’t come right out and say it, but we all know PM Chattem is going to issue a ceasefire and separate peace with the Eastern Alliance.”

“Is he really going to do it?” General Cotton wondered. He didn’t understand how Chattem could be completely oblivious to how badly that would end for Great Britain. He had worked for years with the British Army and served in Britain with many of the finest soldiers, and it pained him to think of all those people being told that everyone who had died up that point was all for nothing.

“I suppose you’re calling to tell me my offensive I was going to start in a few days is now on hold?” Cotton asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Castle responded. “I don’t want to risk losing many thousands of British soldiers on an offensive they won’t be able to fully take part in. It would be cruel and wrong to order them into battle, only to tell them they have to leave because their government has signed a separate peace deal. I won’t be responsible for that… and neither will you. Is that understood, General?”

James took a deep breath and slowly let it out before he responded, “I disagree with your assessment, Sir, but I will follow your orders and hold off on starting our summer offensive. If you wish, I’ll order the British forces back from the lines as well,” he offered, though it greatly angered him to do so.

“We have a lot of details that need to be worked out in Europe with this whole situation in London. Right now, I need you to make sure the French, Germans, and Polish hold together. If we lose more of the alliance members, then I am frankly not sure what will happen,” the SecDef replied, not at all pleased with the situation.

“Mr. Secretary, I can postpone my main offensive for a couple of months, but I’d like to still move forward with Operation Nordic Thunder,” insisted General Cotton. “It’s imperative that we threaten the Kola Peninsula and St. Petersburg. I also don’t want to let the Russians gobble up any further land in Norway or Finland. I’ve transferred a large German contingent to shore up the Helsinki line, and I’d like to move forward with that operation.”

There was silence on the other end for a second while the SecDef thought about the options for a moment. “OK, General. You can continue with Nordic Thunder. But Baltic Fury has to be delayed until the end of September. No exceptions on this one, James. The President wants the Philippines and Taiwan captured before the typhoon season starts in November. That means Asia’s going to get the bulk of reinforcements and equipment. I think you should plan to start Baltic Fury toward the end of September, or October if you want to be safe.”

“OK, I can make that work,” Cotton responded. “Just don’t turn the supply spigot off entirely, and allow me to keep building up what I can.” He knew that was the best he was going to get.

“Look, I need to get ready to brief the President,” said the SecDef. “I’ll talk with you once we’ve sorted a few more things out.” The phone clicked.

“Why didn’t I retire last year like I told my wife I would?” thought Cotton. He had regretted that decision many times over the last few months. He hadn’t planned on becoming the commander of all European forces right in the middle of World War III.

“Shall I get you another refill of coffee, General?” asked his military aide.

Cotton grunted. “Well, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, so why not?” he thought.

He nodded, then stood up and walked over to the large wall map he had set up of Finland. The map showed the Allied unit positions in relation to the Russian units opposing them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his J3, Major General Millet, walk into the room. “Is Fifth Corps fully fielded and ready for combat?” asked General Cotton.

Millet walked up and stood next to Cotton at the map. “Yes, Sir,” he answered. “They deployed to the field two days ago and are currently making their way to the front lines. The German 23^rd Panzer Division is also on the road to the front as well. We’ll be ready to commence Operation Nordic Thunder on time. What did the SecDef say about Baltic Fury? Are we still a go for that operation?” he inquired, clearly hoping that they could still proceed.

Shaking his head in disgust, Cotton said, “Nordic Thunder is a go, but Baltic Fury has been placed on hold until the fall. The SecDef said that with the British pulling out of the alliance, we’re going to have to wait until they can fully support our operations here in Europe, as well as the ongoing conflict in Asia. The President wants to liberate the Philippines and Taiwan before the next typhoon season rolls in, which starts in November and runs through March. For the time being, we’re going to have to try and contain the Russians in Europe while we press them hard in the Scandinavian countries.” General Cotton turned to look back at the map, analyzing the various units represented on it.

A devilish grin slowly spread across the general’s face. “Millet, I want you to convey to Ernie that I’d really like his forces to capture Kotka and Kouvola, if at all possible. Tell him if he’s able to capture both of those cities from the Russians and he still feels froggy, then I would greatly enjoy buying him a beer at a local pub in Vyborg.”

Millet snickered. He obviously realized that the general wanted to go way outside of the parameters of Operation Nordic Thunder and invade Russia proper. “OK, Sir. I think I know what you mean, and I’ll make sure to craft the orders in such a manner as to indicate your desires while still staying with the general parameters of the original operation,” he replied.

General Cotton nodded and took a sip of the hot coffee that had just arrived.

Two days after the election, Anthony Chattem was seated and going over a tentative proposal with his new National Security Adviser, the current Minister of Defense, and the Chief of the Army. “I campaigned on the message that Great Britain would pursue a separate peace with the Eastern Alliance, withdraw our military forces from the Continent, and end our membership in the Global Defense Force alliance, and I intend to honor the will of the people who voted for me to enact those policies,” he began.

Chattem turned to face the Minister of Defense first. “Sir Craig, I understand the Americans were about to start a new military offensive any day. What is the current status of that?” he inquired, hoping the Americans weren’t going to make it any more difficult for him to implement his strategy.

“The American president ordered the offensive to be paused for the time-being, until our situation can be sorted,” Minister Martin reassured him. “I have spoken personally with General Cotton, the Allied commander for Europe, and he has ordered all British forces to be pulled from the front lines in anticipation of our withdrawal.”

Minister of Defense Craig Martin paused a moment, apparently bracing himself for what he would say next. “I would personally like to commend him in doing that, because it wasn’t a popular decision… I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Prime Minister, the military is adamantly against this decision and does not support it. If the Eastern Alliance prevails, Great Britain will not have any allies to call upon for help,” he replied bluntly. He probably spoke a bit more freely since he knew he was on his way out.

“Duly noted, Sir James. If the generals have a problem with our new stance, they’re free to resign, and I’ll replace them with ones that are willing to comply,” Chattem said with a grin on his face.

He was relishing the angst he was causing within the military. His goal was to keep Britain out of the war, and secretly, he didn’t think switching sides to the Eastern Alliance was all that bad of an idea. He was already sold on elements of the Russian-Chinese model of techno-communism.

Clearing his throat briefly, the National Security Adviser spoke up. “The country is still in the midst of a large military buildup, Mr. Prime Minister. We have tens of thousands of soldiers currently in training and nearly a hundred thousand soldiers on the Continent that will be returning. What is going to be our plan with them moving forward?”

“Our country cannot afford to sustain and build this large of a military, especially in light of our withdrawal from the war. This conflict has been the Americans’ doing from the beginning, and we never should have been involved. When our forces return from combat, I want an immediate halt to the expansion of the military, and I want a demobilization to start. We will return the military to its prewar size. Once we do, we will look for ways to trim the budget where we can, to give more monies to the reconstruction of our nation from the damage sustained during this disastrous war.”

Chattem turned to the Chief of the Army. “General, I’d like your resignation on my desk by tomorrow morning. You are relieved of your duties. Please assign your deputy to take over until I can appoint my own man. Sir Craig Martin, you are also relieved of your duties, and I expect your resignation on my desk by tomorrow as well. I ask that you both leave now so I can work with my own staff. Thank you both for your service,” Chattem said, concluding the meeting with the two senior members managing the war during the transition period.

The two got up and left without saying another word, though the scowls on their faces said everything that needed to be said. As they left the room, Mr. Chattem smiled when he overheard the General of the Army muttering something about needing a stiff drink.