Operation Red Dawn and the Siege of Europe

Fighting Retreat

By the end of October, the Chinese had managed to land nearly two million soldiers in Alaska. Prior to the full onset of winter, the Chinese had made one final hard push to capture the Susitna defensive line and the mountain ranges at Cooper Landing. During the ten-day battle that ensued, the Chinese were able to break through the Susitna line and drive the Americans back to the outskirts of Anchorage. With their northern flank collapsing, General Black was forced to withdraw his forces at Cooper Landing in order to avoid having them being surrounded and cut off. He ordered a full retreat of the American Second Army, falling back to the eastern most part of Alaska and the State of Yukon.

Despite a valiant effort by the 5^th Marine Division, they were ordered to withdraw with the rest of the Second Army so that they did not get cut off. The Russians had been nowhere near capturing Fairbanks, but with the loss of Anchorage, it would not be long before the Chinese were able to roll up and cut off the Marines from being able to retreat. Being a Marine himself, General Black was not about to leave behind an entire Marine division.

General Black had pulled the Second Army back to Glacier View, about 40 miles east of Anchorage. He had also pulled the 5^th Marine Division to Cartwell to act as a blocking force while the 12^th Infantry Division moved to Fairbanks. They were hoping to keep the Russians busy while the engineers continued to destroy Route 2 and implode several of the mountain passes, making it much more difficult for the Russians to transport their army or supplies. Since the 12^th was the one division that was fully equipped with the Raptor combat suits and the new Wolverine IFVs, it would be incumbent on them to buy the engineers the time they needed to complete their work and then conduct a fighting retreat down to Cartwell in order to link up with the Marines.

Lieutenant Allen did not feel comfortable at all with their new assignment. Their division was essentially being thrown out there as a glorified speed bump against a Russian army that outnumbered them by nearly 28:1. The Russians had shifted their focus from Europe to Alaska, which meant more troops and resources had arrived in Alaska over the last few months. As the Marines pulled out, the Russians slowly moved in.

Lieutenant Allen’s platoon had been given a hilltop a couple of miles away from the Fairbanks Airport to defend. Below them was the road junction between Route 2 and Route 3, a key throughway for moving around the interior of Alaska. Their platoon would be one of the first sections to be hit when the Russians showed up. As the remaining Marines moved through their lines, they passed along as much information as they could about the Russians they would be facing. They learned that several of the Russian units were using their own exoskeleton suits.

Allen immediately ordered his platoon to begin digging in, setting up prepositioned artillery plots, claymore anti-personnel mines and plenty of ammunition. Fortunately, an engineering platoon joined them and immediately began to construct a number of artillery bunkers. Intelligence said they probably had a couple of days, maybe a week at most before they could expect to see Russian units starting to show up in force. The engineers dug out several “hull down” positions for the Wolverines to settle into so they would have some protection from the inevitable artillery while still being able to provide accurate ground and air defense support.

Within a day, Russian drones, fighters and helicopters were spotted flying within the air defense zone; with their fifteen-mile range, the Wolverines put their railguns to work to create a virtual shield in the sky. The Russian aircraft retreated; they returned in short bursts to launch standoff missiles and cruise missiles to attack the American positions. Fortunately, the Wolverines were easily able to shoot the projectiles down as they flew.

Five days into their defensive operation, Allen’s platoon encountered their first Russian soldiers. The spotters determined that this was a small platoon, no more than forty fighters; they must have been there as a sort of probing force, scouting out the area. That small of a group barely put up any fight to Allen’s crew in their exoskeleton suits; however, it was only a matter of time before more soldiers arrived.

SFC Jenkins approached the back of the Tactical Operations Center (TOC) to see if he could find Lieutenant Allen. Jenkins thought the LT was a good guy-a lot younger than he was, but so were most soldiers in the army these days. At least the LT had seen plenty of combat, so Jenkins was pretty confident that he knew what he was doing when he gave orders. Unlike most of the new lieutenants who had just graduated ROTC or were being rushed through officer training school, at least the mavericks (the guys who received battlefield promotions) knew what they were doing.

As Jenkins turned the corner around a cluster of computer consoles, he spotted LT Allen talking to his CO. He walked over towards him to get his attention. “Excuse me Lieutenant, our scouts have spotted a large unit of soldiers heading towards our position. The First Sergeant said to come get you.” As he spoke, SFC Jenkins pulled out a fresh cigarette.

Every time LT Allen faced a battle, he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body; his heart started beating faster, his hands became sweaty, and it felt like butterflies were flitting through his stomach. He wasn’t a coward, but he had a healthy respect for the seriousness of the situation. He tried to conceal these reactions; as he turned back to Captain Shiller, he was as cool as a cucumber. “It looks like I better get back before the fireworks start, Sir. Is there anything else I should know before I head off?”

Captain Shiller shook his head. “Just remember, we have very limited air support. Rely mostly on your artillery. I’ve been assured that if we really need air support, there are some Razorbacks in the area that we can call in. However, they are limited in number, and they are supporting the entire front. It will really depend on what you are facing as to how quickly and how much support may arrive. Good luck, and hopefully I’ll see you at the next commander’s call tomorrow, if they don’t hit us too hard today.”

The Captain turned and began to bark orders to the soldiers nearby to get ready for the pending attack.

As Allen and the SFC Jenkins walked quickly back to their platoon positions, Allen asked, “Where is the First Sergeant now?”

“He’s at bunker one; he was making sure everyone had eaten when the report came in from the scouts.” Jenkins read through some information on his tablet before continuing, “They have spotted about a brigade-sized element heading our way. It looks to be about one armor battalion and two light infantry battalions. One of the infantry battalions appears to have the exoskeleton suits — that’s going to hurt. At least the others are just regular infantry.” SFC Jenkins continued puffing away on his cigarette as they walked, snuffing it out with his boot as they got closer to the frontlines. He realized that there was no reason to give up his position to a sniper by walking around with a lit up cigarette. Besides, he would have to be suiting up with his helmet shortly.

“Are these tanks something we should worry about, or can the Wolverines handle them?” asked Allen. He wondered if they were going to need that air support already.

“They appear to be T14 Armatas-not the T38s or T41s-so we should be fine once they start to show up,” Jenkins said confidently.

The T14 Armata was a formidable tank. It first came on to the scene back in the 2010s, but it had gone through several generation upgrades through the years. However, despite using reactive armor, it still could not stop a 20mm projectile traveling at Mach 10, which made it vulnerable to American attack.

As the two of them approached bunker one, they could see the First Sergeant talking on the radio to the scouts. Off in the distance, they could hear the low rumble of the enemy tanks as they approached through the valley.

When they got a little closer, they could hear what the First Sergeant was saying. “Copy that. Sending artillery to Tango 5 and Tango 7. Standby.” Then he picked up a different radio handset and began to relay the information to the Fire Support Team LNO. Within a couple of minutes, they could hear the distant sound of three artillery guns firing; seconds later, they could hear the whistle of the rounds as they flew over their heads headed towards the pre-determined targets.

Off in the distance, they could hear the explosions as the artillery rounds began to land on the other side of the valley. They could see several glowing fireballs rise high into the sky, indicating direct hits on tanks, fuel tankers or ammo carriers.

The radio crackled to life, the scouts came over the wire, “Gun bunnies, direct hit! Fire again, same trajectory.”

The First Sergeant picked up the radio set again and called the FIST, “Last rounds were direct hit. Fire for effect. Intermix the rounds with WP and airburst rounds.” This call to fire for effect meant that the entire battalion of eighteen guns would fire between three and five rounds each to blanket the area.

Within seconds, they could hear what sounded like a freight train flying over their heads heading towards the enemy positions. They could hear the concussions as the rounds began to impact on the other side of the valley. Shortly after the barrage was launched, a second set of whistling could be heard; the Russian artillery guns began their counter-battery fire, trying to hit the American guns that had just savaged their armored counter parts. The battle for Fairbanks had started in earnest.

A few minutes later, the lead enemy vehicles could be seen coming around the bend. They were no more than five miles away, and began to fan out into the valley heading towards their position. Artillery smoke rounds began to land all through the valley, blanketing it in a thick canvas of grey clouds that hung heavy to the ground, covering the advance of the enemy armored vehicles, tanks and infantry. Inside the Wolverine IFVs, the gunners quickly switched to their thermal imaging so that they could track the Russian tanks and IFVs heading towards their position. They quickly began to engage the enemy ranks.

Russian anti-tank missile teams began to fire off dozens of missiles in an attempt to take out the Wolverines. Fortunately, most of the Wolverines were in a hull down position, leaving only their turret exposed. As the missiles approached the Wolverines, the anti-tank missiles sprang into action, creating a veritable wall of protection approximately 1,000 feet away from the American lines.

Lieutenant Allen shouted at his soldiers, “Put on your helmets, and close up your suits, now! It’s time to show the world why the 32^nd INF was the best in the world.”

In short order, hundreds of Russian soldiers were within five hundred yards of their position, desperately trying to close the gap to get in range of their own weapons. Wave after wave of Russian infantry charged across the valley with the support of their tanks and IFVs. Artillery cover was continuous, keeping the Wolverines so busy defending their positions that they barely had time to launch into offensive mode.

The first hour of the battle was pure murder; the Russian infantry had no chance of getting close enough to the American positions to utilize their weapons before they were being systematically picked off. The HUD system in the Raptor suit, along with the M5 AIR, enabled the Americans to identify and kill the enemy at ranges as far as 600 meters; this was well beyond the range of the Russian infantry. It was not until the Russians began to blanket the area with so much artillery fire that even the Wolverines couldn’t keep up with shooting down all the incoming rounds down that things began to change.

Within a couple of hours, several of Allen’s Wolverines had been taken out by artillery or one of the many waves of anti-tank missiles. Steadily, the Russian artillery and anti-tank missile waves were finally starting to work their way through the Wolverine anti-missile screen and score a lot more direct hits against Allen’s defensive positions. Several of his bunkers were destroyed; dozens of soldiers were starting to get wounded as artillery rounds continued to land amongst their positions. Unless they received some serious help soon, they would be forced to withdraw back to another defensive position, ceding to the Russians a key piece of ground leading into Fairbanks.

Just as the situation was starting to look dim for Lieutenant Allen’s platoon, three Razorback helicopters swooped in low over the ridgeline to their left flank, and fired off a barrage of anti-personnel rockets and hellfire anti-tank missiles before ducking back below the ridgeline and moving off towards Ladd Army Airfield near Ft. Wainwright. This overwhelming barrage of missiles devastated the Russian advance, and forced them to retreat and regroup.

Lt. Allen seized on this opportunity to evacuate his wounded men and women from the front and reorganize their positions before the Russians came back. They needed to hold their position a little longer if possible.

Twenty-four hours after the first major attack against their lines, the rest of the Russian army began to arrive outside of Fairbanks. There was an increase in air activity, and a steady hammering of artillery against their positions. Allen knew this was going to be a tough battle ahead, and was determined to make the Russians pay for every inch of America they tried to take.

Through the display on his HUD, Allen received word that the engineers at the next position were almost done with their work. This meant that they could fall back soon and join the rest of the Marines in a fighting retreat out of the area to the next defensive position at Mt. McKinley. They just had to hold for two more days.

The Russians started their final assault against Lieutenant Allen’s position shortly after dawn. A massive artillery barrage vibrated the very fabric of the sky as it rushed towards the Americans. Then, wave after wave of light drone tanks and infantry, many of them using their own exoskeleton suits, swarmed towards Allen’s position. The infantrymen in the exo suits moved quickly, and needed to be the first ones taken out.

Allen used his HUD to alert his platoon sergeant. “Sergeant Jenkins, have the men focus on taking out the infantry in the exo suits. They are advancing fast!”

LT Allen began targeting an enemy soldier himself with his rifle. He spotted a Russian about 600 meters away, moving quickly and methodically; he was running from one area of cover to another, firing a few shots at Allen’s line as he ran. Paul used his sights to hone in on him; he squeezed the trigger, sending a .25mm projectile towards the man at Mach 5 speeds. The Russian was hit in the chest and flew several feet backwards off of his feet; soon he was lying dead on the ground being trampled over as dozens of his comrades moved past his limp body.

Seeing that even more soldiers in exoskeleton suits were rushing his position than anticipated, Allen’s heart began to race again. He used his HUD coms to call to the platoon TOC, “Requesting additional artillery support to our front positions. Have the Razorbacks on standby. We’ve got hundreds of exoskeletons headed our way, and I am starting to see waves of Russian tanks forming up.”

Checking his platoon’s status in his HUD, Paul could see that he had five soldiers injured and one soldier dead. The Russians were still getting closer, despite them picking off guys at maximum range.

As more artillery rounds began to land amongst their lines, the number of wounded and killed soldiers began to tick up. The Russians had now closed the distance to less than 200 meters away, and were still coming strong. Several of the light drone tanks began to speed ahead of the infantry, hoping to slash through Allen’s lines and cause further problems for his fighters. As they drew within 75 meters of the American positions, several of Allen’s soldiers lifted up their AT6s and fired off their anti-tank rockets. In seconds, four of the thirteen light drone tanks attacking their positions were destroyed, while the remainder continued to advance. As the drones moved to within 25 meters of their position, several additional infantrymen produced more AT6s and fired another volley of rockets at them, destroying another five more of the nine drone tanks. The remaining four drones blew through his lines and made their way for targets further behind Allen’s position. He quickly radioed in the threat to the company TOC and battalion, and returned his focus to the steady advance of the Russian infantry.

There were hundreds, if not a thousand infantrymen advancing on his position. They continued to pick them off with incredible accuracy, but they continued to progress, nonetheless. Like a relentless wave beating against the shore, they just kept coming. Soon they had advanced to within 25 meters of their position, and now both sides began throwing grenades at each other.

There was no room for doubt; the time to bug out and move to their second line of defense was right then, at that moment. LT Allen yelled over the HUD, “Everyone, fall back to the secondary positions and get ready to blow your claymores!” He hoped that they could all hear him over the growing cacophony of gun fire and explosions. As Allen got up to move to the next line, he was suddenly hit by half-a-dozen bullets and thrown on his back. Fortunately, the Raptor suit absorbed the hits, and they did not penetrate his armor, but the impact sure knocked the wind out of him. Time was of the essence though, and he had to move. He quickly injected himself with a shot of adrenaline from within the suit, and then moved swiftly to his fallback position.

Turning around to shoot at his pursuers, Allen jumped into his new foxhole and then immediately looked for the claymore mine clicker. He found three of them near the edge of the foxhole and grabbed them. In seconds, he was clicking through each detonator, setting off a chain of claymore anti-personnel mines in front of his position. Thousands of ball bearings were thrown like an iron wall against the attackers. He probably killed more than thirty enemy soldiers in that instant.

Seconds later, he was up shooting again at the attackers, assessing his surroundings. What he saw almost made his stomach turn. Blown apart bodies were strewn all over the place. The mines had torn the Russian soldiers apart as they advanced on him. There was no one left of the attacking force, at least for the moment. Ducking down in his foxhole again, he began to determine how many of his men were left and where they were. As he checked through his roster and blue force tracker, he could see only twelve of his soldiers had survived thus far; nearly a dozen lie wounded at their original defensive position, but there was no way they were going to be able to go back for them. Hundreds of additional Russian soldiers were advancing to fill the void of those that had recently been killed by the platoon’s latest round of claymore mines.

“Everyone that can hear me, I want you all to fall back to my position. We are going to try and bugout back to rally point Charlie. Now, move like you want to live!” he barked over the HUD. In a matter of minutes, what was left of his platoon had rallied to his position and they began to move as a group to the next rally point. Hot on their heels was the next wave of Russian soldiers. This time they were moving a little more slowly and cautiously as they approached the now empty foxholes and trench lines.

When the engineers were building the foxholes and trenches, they knew that they might have to sacrifice those positions at some point, so they had placed enough C4 in each of them to kill or maim any enemy soldiers unfortunate enough to be close by. Allen kept waiting for the Russians to reach a predetermined point when this weapon would be most useful. Without batting an eye, Allen pressed the red button on the remote detonator one of the engineers had given him. A series of loud explosions could be heard behind them as they moved quickly now to the rally point.

As they closed in on rally point Charlie, which was nearly five kilometers from their position, they began to see other members from their battalion show up on their blue force trackers. At least they wouldn’t be alone. Once there, they saw what was left of the battalion-not much, unfortunately. In total about one hundred and eighty-six soldiers had made it out. Their next orders were to move on into Fairbanks and join the rest of the division for their next defensive stand. This would be their last battle before they would fall back to the southeastern side of Fairbanks and catch their rides out of the area.

As they approached Fairbanks, they quickly saw the fortress the engineers had been building. This was going to be a house-to-house street fight through the city of Fairbanks. There was would be a total of 4,645 soldiers from the 32^nd Infantry Division, who would have to try and hold the city for as long as possible. They had originally thought they would have closer to 6,000 soldiers, but casualties had been significantly higher than they anticipated. Two hours after arriving and getting set up in the buildings that Allen’s group of twelve soldiers would defend, the advanced elements of the Russian infantry began to arrive.

At first, it was just a few soldiers taking shots at each other; then the artillery rounds began to land. Standing on top of one of the buildings looking towards the action, Allen and his platoon sergeant could spot dozens of Russian light drone tanks, supported by dozens of infantry fighting vehicles and a few of their venerable T14 Armatas.

They heard over the battalion net a call for whatever air support was left in the area and asked that they focus their effort on the T14s and then the light drone tanks. The infantry could handle the IFVs with their anti-tank rockets. Soon they saw five Razorbacks leave the area of Lad Army Airfield and begin their short trek to the edge of Fairbanks. Within minutes, they were on station and quickly decimated the Russian armor. They were laying a world of hurt on the Russian infantry. This would be their last support mission; they were going to rearm one more time and then begin their journey back to the Marine positions where they would rebase.

With the last bit of their air support gone, they were officially on their own. What was left of their self-propelled artillery was moving further down the line towards the Marine positions. Once they found a good firing position that could still support them, they would radio in. Allen had what was left of his company spread out across two low-rise buildings controlling the intersection of Airport Way and University Avenue. He had several soldiers positioned in the buildings and forest surrounding the area. Their goal was to establish a good crossfire to prevent the road from being used. Several other platoons were spread out ahead of them and to their flanks. Most of the defense of the city would be broken down by small units, platoon size elements spread throughout the city. The goal was to bleed the Russians as they moved in to the city.

A local Alaskan militia unit had also been raised; they had close to 1,500 volunteers who agreed to help the soldiers defend the town and turn it into a real meat grinder. There would be a soldier or militia man behind virtually every building, block and road in the city. Fairbanks and Anchorage were going to be a real test for the Alaskan militia. It would also be the first time a militia force had fought on American soil since the war of 1812. The Russians and Chinese were about to get their first experience at what it would be like trying to occupy an American city with a populace that is heavily armed.

As Lieutenant Allen sat in the Mt. McKinley Bank with his platoon sergeant, SFC Jenkins, waiting for the action to arrive, he hurriedly stuffed an MRE in his face and wondered how they had survived the past twenty-four hours. His Raptor suit was scarred from the shrapnel and bullets that had hit him. He was also filthy, covered in mud. All he wanted to do was take the suit off and get a hot shower. Unfortunately, the only thing he could take off right now was his helmet and let his head feel some freedom from the suit. “Sergeant Jenkins, what do you think our chances are of surviving another day?” asked Allen, in a way that was clearly joking at their misfortunes.

Jenkins chuckled in good humor. “Well, sir, you are our good luck charm. You survived the beach landing, the battle of Susitna and the last twenty-four hours. Not to mention the battle of Jerusalem and the Jordan Valley. I reckon you are at least indestructible. As for the rest of us… I think we are all up a creek without a paddle.” Jenkins laughed at his own joke as he spoke.

Sighing and sitting back against the wall, Allen was deep in thought. He had survived a lot of battles that not a lot of others had. Maybe his luck was starting to run out. Maybe today would be his last day… or maybe he’d live to see another day. Only time would tell.

Off in the distance, they could hear the Russians inching closer to their position. The last report had the Russians at least a mile down the road. They were hitting heavy opposition as they entered the city. The house-to-house, block-by-block fight had started. Despite heavy losses, the Russians kept sending soldiers, IFVs and tanks into the meat grinder that was Fairbanks. They needed to capture the city, even if they had to destroy it in the process. The airport, the Army Airfield and the Air Force base down the road were going to be critical positions for their future operations.

As the fighting continued to move closer with each hour, Allen’s men grew pensive as they waited for what felt like a death sentence, staying behind to defend the city like this. So far they had seen very few soldiers moving past their position or joining them. Several of the returning soldiers said their comrades had been completely overrun and did not have a chance to retreat. Others spoke of incredible bravery as one or two soldiers would stay behind and fight to the death while the rest of them retreated to fight another day. The hostilities were intense and brutal. Most of the combat was taking place less than twenty meters apart. Lots of hand grenades were being thrown in each direction. A number of soldiers had jerry-rigged claymore mines to the walls of some of the buildings overlooking the street, and when a number of Russians would rush the building or move through that area, they would detonate the explosives, wiping out entire squads of enemy soldiers before they even knew what had hit them.

Three hours had gone by and the Russians were still close to a mile away from LT Allen’s position. Soon though, Paul started to see a trickle of American soldiers starting to fall back to his platoon’s position. Nearly ninety soldiers joined his twelve men as they started to ready new defensive positions and re-arm. A truck had dropped off a couple of crates of claymore mines for them. Most had plenty of ammo, but they were starting to run low on grenades and claymores.

As nightfall loomed, the Russians had finally pushed their way to within half a mile of their position. As the Russians sensed victory, they rushed in several additional divisions of soldiers. Now they were attacking from three different points of the city, putting the squeeze on the defenders. By midnight, a call came across the Battle Net for everyone to fall back to the vehicles; the division was going to bug out. It took close to half an hour for his men to get ready to withdraw; they wired up a lot of booby-traps for the Russians, and also made sure to pass along as many claymores and grenades as they could to the surviving militia men who were going to stay behind.

The Russians knew the Americans were withdrawing, but did nothing to stop them or interfere with their efforts. After losing nearly 3,431 soldiers and three times that number wounded in a day, they were just happy the Americans were leaving. This was the first time they had gone up against an entire division using the Raptor suits. During the two days of combat, they had suffered some horrendous casualties just getting to the city, and then the house-to-house fighting was spectacularly brutal.

Russian soldiers had told each other stories of how they had shot an American in a Raptor suit and he just got back up and kept shooting like nothing happened. One Russian comrade said he fired nearly an entire thirty-round magazine into one soldier before he finally killed the American. If more American divisions started to field the Raptor suits, then this war was going to get a lot bloodier than it already had been.

The 32^nd Infantry had earned the reputation as one of the most elite divisions in the Army after their battle in Fairbanks. They had faced off against nearly 240,000 Russian soldiers with just 12,000 men. They had suffered nearly sixty percent casualties, but had bought enough time for the engineers to seriously destroy the infrastructure in northern and central Alaska. Now it was time for them to withdraw with the Marines, get to safety, and await their next assignment.