Ten Days. John Sheppard

away was deemed to be of international importance, and therefore no one would want it to fall into the hands of the barbaric Enemy. National treasures and history didn’t seem to interest the international community, much like this small nation itself.

      9:02 AM

      Stephen Newhouse walked briskly, with a bit of a limp, toward Republic Square, his favorite place in the entire city. He and Billy often met at the Square in the morning, since it was a reasonably secure place where they could talk unofficially. Hardly a square, it covered almost 350 acres of prime land in the dead center of the capital.

      A retired military officer, Stephen was unashamedly patriotic; this was the heart of his capital city. Certainly there must be a hundred similar sites throughout the world. Red Square in Russia, the Mall in Washington D.C. All places where a country’s people could celebrate, mourn, and gather as one. Republic Square was one of those places. It contained all the obligatory elements: monuments, fountains. It was a vast area to proclaim who they were or just relax.

      The pain in Stephen’s right leg had slowed him down a bit, and he would be uncharacteristically two minutes late. He hated being late; even more, he hated the fact that he was letting something like pain slow him down. At fifty-six, Stephen was physically active, trim, and had maintained his military bearing: the backbone ramrod straight, shoulders back, and head held high. Working through physical pain was just part of military life; he couldn’t believe this time pain was winning.

      “Ah, Steve, letting the wound get to you a bit, old man, I thought you’d never get here!” teased his best friend, General William Sutton, who he called Billy. Stephen actually preferred Stephen to Steve, but it was a habit his friend had fallen into early in their relationship.

      Billy had chosen Stephen’s favorite monument in his favorite place to meet. Unlike most of the other monuments in the capital, it had simple, clean lines. It was of green granite, from Norway, versus the pale marble used lavishly around the square. More importantly, it was dedicated to all those who had given their lives for this country. This monument was closer to symbolizing the man he wanted to be, simple and solid. Besides all that, it just looked good.

      As he approached, Billy stood up from being seated on a bench across from the monument. To keep from drawing attention to himself, Billy was dressed in civilian clothes. There was an attempt on Billy’s part to manage a smile and act like it was the good old days. But there was a slouch to his shoulders, and a weariness that couldn’t be masked. They firmly shook hands, both trying to make the other wince in their version of a vise grip. The grips soon melted into bear hugs.

      They each sat down, and waited for a minute. There was an awkward silence which had never been part of their relationship. Stephen spoke first.

      “So, where are we, Billy?”

      The general didn’t speak for what felt like hours. There was a distant expression on his friend’s face that said he’d rather be just about anywhere but here. Finally, in a voice devoid of emotion, he spoke.

      “We have ten to fifteen days, tops. I’ll have a firm assessment in the next two or three days, but I really think things will be worse, rather than better.”

      It was Stephen’s turn to be silent. The news was stunning. He had to actively resist the urge to vomit. While he hadn’t been expecting good news, it was like a cancer patient learning they had days to live, when they thought they might have six to eight months.

      “The Enemy will actually overrun us in days?”

      Stephen had heard the rumors, like everyone else, but thought they were just part of the panic which had swept the capital from time to time in the last three months. As an official advisor to the military, he knew the situation was grim, but he thought they could hold out longer than just days.

      “So, General Bartley got his wish, eh?”

      While Stephen would like to vividly express his opinion of the traitor, General Bartley and his cohorts, his head was spinning with thoughts on how to save what was left of the country. Not giving his friend a chance to reply, he said, “What about the UN? What is the GIE doing? Is there a major power willing to help?”

      GIE was military shorthand for Government in Exile. Most of the top government officials managed to leave the capital just before the Enemy had encircled it.

      “The major western powers aren’t interested in us, Steve. We don’t have any oil to speak of and we aren’t of any real strategic importance. When the war started, the US ambassador met with our president and told him not to count on them. In part due to our lack of strategic importance to their overall policies. There is also a new sense of isolationism gripping the USA. They no longer see themselves as having a responsibility to defend and promote democracy beyond their own shores.

      “As for the other western powers, their press covered the horrors of Kirkmont when it fell and their leaders all called for action, but nothing happened. It was not long afterwards until some sports star had an affair, or something important like that, and they moved on from us,” Billy replied with an edge of disgust in his voice.

      “As for the UN, I wouldn’t expect much. They certainly didn’t have much influence in the Sudan. Neither they nor the western powers did anything when Phnom Penh fell. Members of the US Congress had visited Phnom Penh just weeks before it fell and they warned of a bloodbath, but nothing was done. The same silence reigned when North Vietnam invaded South Vietnam, in violation of the 1973 Paris Peace Accords.”

      “But,” interrupted, Stephen, “they did help in the Balkans, during the 1990s.”

      “I guess I’ve become a bit cynical, Steve, but I think it was only because Western Europe was concerned about Eastern Europe becoming destabilized. They didn’t want to set up the same sort of situations which lead to World War I.”

      “Okay, what about the GIE?” asked Stephen.

      “You know everything has been a patchwork since the encirclement, including communications, Steve. From what we understand, they’re trying to set up a ceasefire. The hope is that we can at least negotiate saving the capital, the port city, some of the national forest, and the area around our last remaining major military facility, Stonecrest.”

      “That isn’t much, is it, Billy?” responded Stephen.

      “No, Steve, but it beats the alternative. I’ve got to ask a favor of you, and I know it’s very last minute.”

      “It sounds like we’ve only got minutes anyhow, Billy. Shoot.”

      “I need someone I can trust to check the outposts which ring the city. They are our last defense, and I’m hoping they can hold out to give the city a final warning. Besides, you’re the hero of Kirkmont. Without you, things would have gotten a lot worse, a lot sooner. The troops will be glad to meet you. I have no one like you, whom I can count on to give me a fast, accurate assessment.”

      The words of praise from Billy weren’t required, but felt good nonetheless. There was a weight on Stephen’s shoulders that came with that level of trust, but he enjoyed the challenge. Both he and Billy knew that Billy had a gift for finding words that would motivate him to that little extra required to take his performance to the next level.

      “It will take you a couple of days. I’ve got to get up to Stonecrest tonight to help them prepare. Plan to leave tomorrow morning. I’ll make all the arrangements, so they know you’re coming. Sure wouldn’t want to you to get shot again or anything.” A twinkle appeared in his eye and a slight smile played around Billy’s mouth as he spoke.

      Billy didn’t wait for Stephen to answer. He knew his friend well enough, and handed him the maps and some other documents from his attaché case.

      “We’ll meet here, Thursday, at 0700 hours. Try not being late this time, okay?” Now Billy smiled that huge, wide smile Stephen was used to.

      With that there was a final rematch of the vise grips, and another bear hug, which