“Any news?” Barbier asks.
“Still waiting on orders.”
“Well, it’s too late now anyways. We’ll never make it to Quimper for the assault.” He replies.
“I know.”
Actually, I realised that we wouldn’t make it for the assault about an hour ago. Whatever reason the command has for keeping us here, it must be good. We’ve finally turned the tides of the war, we’ve almost pushed the fascist Americans completely out of France. Their last holdup is on the Brittany Peninsula. This is the first time in five years that we might actually defeat them once and for all. Hopefully we won’t make the same mistake as the war in 2040. We will not let them stay, not a single American boot will be left on this continent. But that can not be what the hold up is about, right? War command can not possibly make the same mistake again, could they? I understand that after five years, everyone is tired, everyone just wants some sort of peace. But surrendering even one inch of land to the Americans would unequivocally lead to a new conflict in the future, surely they can see that. Although, if we were to achieve a ceasefire, a large number of the United European Nations forces on the western front could regroup and be sent to the eastern front. That would secure our victory against the Russians. But that would give the Americans enough time to recover and reorganize. We have a chance right now to bring them down and throw them out forever. With the Royal Navy keeping the American Navy at bay, we have a chance. Please let the high command see this and not agree to anything, do not give them a life-line.
“It’s been four hours now.” Barbier says.
Edwards and Rossi are both asleep in the back seat. Everyone is tired.
“I’m going to have a look at how everyone is doing. Call me back if you hear anything.”
“Yes sir.” Barbier replies.
Stepping out of the PPV and stretching my legs feels good. The autumn morning sun and the silence makes the scene filled with tanks, anti aircraft vehicles and Protected Personnel Vehicles seem peaceful somehow. There are at least twenty tanks ahead of us, their Platoon leader Nicklausson, the crazy Swede. He earned that nickname after his insane strategies gave us the victory in Dinant, Belgium. I guess I should head up there and see how he’s doing. Just like my men, Nicklausson's men are asleep as well, just not inside their vehicles, they are asleep on top of them. I put my hand up as I reach the final tank to knock on the tank and wake the two sleeping men but right before I do, I realise none of them are Nicklausson. I put my hand down and look around. There he is. He’s about 100 meters further down the dirt road, pissing and smoking from the looks of it. He does not turn around as I approach him and he speaks to me with his back turned towards me.
“Is it a cease fire?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I hope not.” I reply.
The view from where we’re standing is beautiful, there is nothing but open fields covered in early morning fog and frost for as far as we can see.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“I think we both know that high command is going to fuck this all up.” he says as he turns to me.
“We are finally the aggressors, we have the upper hand and we’re going to lose because of cowards who have never fought a day in their lives.”
I say nothing. What am I supposed to say? He’s right. If they agree to a ceasefire now that will be it. The Americans will be back and we’ll have to do it all again.
“It must be a ceasefire, we should have connected with the Spanish and Portuguese by now.” He continues.
“It might just be a change of tactics.” I finally say.
“Would the General show up just to tell us about a tactical decision?" he replies.
“What?”
He points with his cigarette back towards the Brigade. I turn around and there is General Gallagher, led by Barbier, heading straight for us.
“At ease Captain.” He says as he approaches.
“Yes sir.”
“I have some bad news..”
“You fucking cowards.” Nicklausson interrupts him.
“Watch your mouth, soldier.” The General responds.
“Why would I? You agreed to a surrender, right? That means we’re not at war anymore. We are no longer soldiers.”
“You Swedish dogs are all the same.”
“We would not be where we are without the Swedes.” I interject. “Nicklausson, please let the General tell us the news, no more interruptions.”
Nicklausson is not happy, I can see that, but he says nothing and allows the General to continue.
“Right, the bad news. The high command has agreed to a temporary ceasefire. We will all stand down immediately. The Spanish and Portuguese are setting up blockades at the frontline as we speak.”
“So the Americans get to stay?” I ask.
“Yes, they will stay on the Brittany Peninsula for now.”
Everyone is silent for a moment.
“I apologise, I know you wanted to keep going but you must see that the decision was made for the good of the whole continent.”
“Respectfully sir, this is not peace. This is just a pause, the Americans will be back again.” Barbier says.
“I believe that this cease fire will lead to a longstanding peace.” The General replies.
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Nicklausson says.
The General looks to me to say something to the Swede, but I won’t. Instead I speak to the General.
“So when do we ship to the eastern front?”
“Excuse me?” General Gallagher says.
He looks around at the three of us, it looks like he is expecting one of us to clarify the question. What is there to clarify? He finally speaks again.
“I think you misunderstood. The cease-fire is not just with the Americans. It is an agreement with the Russians as well.”
“What?” I ask. “What about the Baltics and Poland?”
“The frontlines have been frozen.” He says.
Nicklausson starts laughing.
“You spineless cunts. Did you just give away three countries and parts of Poland to the enemy? Do you know what will happen to all those people living there that have fought the Russians? And the families that supported our side?”
The General does not answer the questions, he simply says.
“I am sorry you feel disappointed.”
And then he walks away.
