James Rosone - Battlefield Russia

The captain snorted. “I suppose you Americans are making this same proposal to other police stations around the city as well?”

“Yes, and to your local and city officials. Again, our disagreement is not with the people of India, it’s with your government. Until your leaders end your alliance with the Chinese, we are going to stay here.”

The two of them stared at each other for a few tense minutes, not saying anything as they sized each other up. Captain Anand eyed the oversized Private Leiter standing in his door and his huge machine gun. He shook his head.

“Fine,” he replied. “My men will go about their normal duties, just like any other day. We’ll work with you to keep our part of the city calm and under control. I can’t control what happens in other parts of the city or what the government does.”

“None of us want to see any more bloodshed, Captain. We have an opportunity to make the best of a bad situation. I hope you understand that. This situation will hopefully be resolved in with your government in a few days now that we’ve arrived.”

Slater stood, then instructed his interpreter to tell the captain to bring his officers in so they could all be briefed on what had been agreed to and what they would be doing next. What happened in the next few hours could very well determine if their sector of Chennai would be peaceful or turn into a complete mess.

Chennai Container Terminal

Major General Alan Morrison stood near the terminal building as he observed the second RO-RO ship pull up to the dock to begin offloading its equipment. The first ship had docked half an hour ago, and already, 1st Armored Regiment had B Squadron offloaded and ready to go. The thirty-eight M1A1 Abrams battle tanks were even now moving to a marshaling point near the port entrance. Morrison’s hope was to get his entire brigade offloaded before sunup, so the unit could begin to get their part of the city secured before the area became a zoo. The Americans would then move in with their own RO-RO ships and get the rest of their divisions offloaded.

“Any word yet from our scout units? Have they made it to the Ripon building and secured it?”

“Yes, General,” replied a major who was coordinating the brigade’s operations. “Captain Foster’s unit just checked in. They’re securing the building as we speak. He said we probably won’t be able to make contact with most of the government officials until later in the morning.”

“Good,” said General Morrison. “I also want to know immediately when SAS makes contact with the mayor and the governor. They should be securing them both by now.”

“Sir, the mayor and governor have already been secured and are being driven to the Ripon building as we speak. They’ll be there waiting for you when you arrive,” replied the major.

An hour later, as the light of dawn began to push away the night, Major General Morrison found himself sitting across a table from the governor of the state, the mayor, the head of police and a couple of other senior members of the city government. None of them looked very pleased to be speaking with him.

“I demand to know what you are doing in our country!” shouted Governor Bakshi, who looked disheveled and out of sorts. The SAS men clearly had not given him much time to throw some clothes on before they’d carted him away in a vehicle to be at this meeting.

“Governor Bakshi, please calm yourself,” General Morrison said in his thick Australian accent. “Our quarrel is not with you or your city. However, until your prime minister renounces his unholy union with the Eastern Alliance and makes peace with the Allies, I’m afraid we are going to be turning Chennai into an Allied base camp of sorts.”

This announcement generated a lot of looks of concern from the politicians.

“You can’t simply occupy our city like this,” countered the mayor hotly.

“I can’t?” asked General Morrison, who was clearly enjoying himself. He waved his hands around and gestured out the windows. “I believe I already have. By the end of the day, I’ll have 12,000 soldiers in Chennai, and in three days I’ll have over 50,000… and more will continue to come. I’m not sure if you are aware, but the Allies recently defeated the Russians. Where do you think that large European army is headed?” he asked.

Wisely, the chief of police replied, “What do you want?”

A smile crept across Morrison’s face as he surveyed the men before him. “I’m going to offer you two options, although I hope you choose the first one. In option one, we would leave you in power to govern your city as you see fit. In time, as we secure the state, you’ll continue to administer it as you previously have. There would be no immediate changes. The police would continue to do their jobs, and life would go on as our army steadily makes its way to the countryside to do battle with your army. The second option is this—I will have you all removed and replaced with those that will comply with our requirements. You will be locked up as enemy prisoners of war until the war is concluded and prisoners are either released or swapped. I’ll give you all five minutes to discuss this amongst yourselves, but I advise you to take me up on option one. Being a former Commonwealth member, I do hope we can keep things civil, but the Americans are not as understanding as I am.”

He then stood up and left the room to let them deliberate for a moment and to check in on the rest of his units. The first six hours of this landing were critical. Either things were going to go smoothly, or there were going to get ugly quickly.

Chennai

Hill Five

The sun was fully up and so was the city. Hundreds of people had come out to see who these odd-looking soldiers were that had suddenly taken over this hilltop position overlooking the airport. The main highway running next to the airport had been closed off and so had nearly every entrance to the highways in the city. Tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, helicopters and fighter planes could be seen everywhere as the sleepy city woke up to suddenly find out it had been not only invaded by a foreign power, but seemingly been completely occupied without so much as a shot fired.

“Sergeant Price, what kind of plane is that?” one of his soldiers asked, pointing at a propeller-driven plane that was being offloaded. It looked like nearly a dozen of them were being pulled out of the cavernous bay of the giant cargo plane.

Lifting his pocket binoculars to his eyes to get a better look, Price smiled. “That, my friend, is our close air support. It’s one of the Air Force’s new Beechcraft AT-6 Wolverine turboprop ground-attack planes. It’s a freaking beast.”

The soldier grinned. “Good. We may need them if the Indians don’t surrender.”

“It’ll work out, Specialist. If not, that’s what we’re here for,” Sergeant Price replied good-naturedly.

His radio chirped. “Zombie Five, this is Zombie Six. How copy?”

Price depressed his talk button. “Zombie Six, this is Five. Go.”

“I need you to report to my location,” his captain explained.

“Copy that. I’m on my way,” Price responded. He bade the group farewell as they continued to watch the Air Force offload additional helicopters, vehicles and other equipment they would need.

Trudging through the camp that the Airborne troopers had quickly begun to set up, he made his way over to what appeared to be a headquarters area. Spotting Major Fowler and Lieutenant Martinez, he walked over.

“What’s going on, Sir?” Price asked.

Major Fowler replied, “We’ve got a new mission and some wheels. Major General Morrison—you know, the Australian general—he’s given us a mission. We’re going to head to a small village by the name of Voyalanallur a couple of kilometers outside the city here. Once we get there, we’ll need to identify a suitable location for an artillery regiment to set up shop, establish a firebase, and create a base of operations for reconnaissance.”