Best of the Union, August 21st

I glanced around, my rifle held loosely in my arms as my platoon spread out across the street. In the center of the road a T-72, its green paint scratched and faded, blackened by war, slowly moved forward. The large mine clearing blades attached to it casually shoving vehicles aside.

"Platoon sergeant, are we not advancing too slowly?" I glanced at the new butter bar Lieutenant, his uniform freshly pressed and cleaned as if he'd just gotten to the front lines from fob Fyodor.

"No sir, we're still on schedule, 1st and 3rd squads are still up ahead clearing the first few floors on either side." I replied. The Lieutenant looked like he wanted to continue arguing but stopped. The tarnished medal that was pinned to my chest gave many pause. 

"Can we hurry the men along Sergeant?" The Lieutenant asked.

"Sir, why don't you get out there and help clear buildings, I'm sure we could clear them faster with your expert leadership showing the way." I replied dryly.

"Was that sarcasm staff Sergeant?" The Lieutenant questioned, his face darkening.

"Sir, if you want to get my soldiers killed, you can go find another platoon, but since you seem so intent on killing us all, you can sit in the BTR, or go find another platoon to get killed." I replied. A couple soldiers nearby started sharing glances.

A few blocks behind us was the battalion's rally point, where C company was staged in case we came across a horde. I glanced up the street at the towering monoliths of Los Angeles a few blocks away. These streets were mostly empty, the odd car here and there, a bus crashed into a store.

"Sergeant Mira! This store's clear!" one of my squad leaders called to me, waving the all clear signal. I returned the signal, gesturing for the squad to continue.

I keyed the small handheld radio, looking at the T-72 idling in the middle of the road. "Lynx, we're moving up another block."

"Affirmative." The reply was brief and a few moments later the engine roared as the tank pushed up a few hundred yards with the rest of the platoon.

I continued walking up the street, my eyes on a swivel. There hadn't been a lot of undead, command was speculating we took care of most of them during the siege of Wilmington, then mopped up most of the rest during the first day of the operation. At this point we were supposedly just clearing the area to comb for survivors.

A small park opened up on the left. A private walked over to me. "Sergeant, someone was here, remains of a fire and some opened food cans."

I nodded, looking at the buildings that were growing increasingly taller as we moved up. "Alright, go let the LT know. Make him report it."

The private saluted and headed over to the BTRs waiting a bit behind. I looked around, something felt… off. Like we were being watched. I shrugged it off, waiting for the next series of all clears. They came soon enough and we moved up to the next block.

The lieutenant, finally stirring from within the confines of his BTR came over to me, a displeased look on his face. "The advance is to halt, B company came across a hostile group of survivors over at city hall."

"The lines being shuffled?" I asked, glancing east. But I didn't hear any gunfire, much less the explosions of artillery that I wanted to. Division had elected against any howitzers or rocket artillery, even company level mortars needed division approval for this phase of the operation. Something about minimizing collateral damage. Sounded like some political crap to me.

"No, but regimental headquarters put down a request for you to head back to the rally point, better get going sergeant." I gave the lieutenant an odd look but nodded, I passed my radio to one of my squad leaders then started heading back to the rally point.

It wasn't too long of a walk, but judging by the activity going on at the rally point, something serious had gone down. Soldiers were talking in hushed tones, half a dozen extra uaz's were parked outside the bay doors of the distribution building being used as a headquarters. As I walked into the headquarters I was nearly bowled over by a pair of soldiers running across the warehouse.

"Staff sergeant!" a soldier waved me over to a bay where a truck had been parked.

"What's going on corporal?" I asked, looking at the near frantic activity going on.

"Colonel Ivanov and Major Ivan are gathering some soldiers sergeant. There's a lot of talk at the moment, please get in the truck, you are the last person we were waiting on." The corporal quickly tried to explain while not quite pushing me into the back of the truck with half a dozen other soldiers. I looked around the headquarters, but…

"Sergeant, please…" the corporal again gestured for me to enter the truck. I bit my lip and nodded, ducking into the back. I looked around in the darkened interior, a few riflemen and a machine gunner nodded to me as the truck was started and quickly departed.

"Do you know what's going on sergeant?" a private asked. I shook my head, pulling the tarp back. Watching as the truck quickly moved onto the highway and rapidly accelerated. I frowned, watching as we recklessly drove past several convoys.

What could possibly make them this reckless? And why pull individual soldiers at random? The truck continued racing down crowded highways. Where were we going?

It wasn't too long before I figured it out. The truck was consistently heading south. Taking the large, cleared highways. Soon the sounds of aircraft engines roaring overhead became near constant. Some hinds roared a dozen feet overhead. Those large gantry cranes, the wall of containers…

The truck came to a stop and we all jumped out, looking up at the TracPac terminal building. Half a dozen other trucks were there with soldiers getting out. I looked around the parking lot. Maybe a hundred UAZ were parked, far more than the normal dozen or so. Maybe a hundred or so soldiers were randomly wandering around the parking lot, mostly motor riflemen, but VDV paratroopers and even a few Spetsnaz.

"Staff sergeant! Please head up to the command center." A Lieutenant found me in the crowd, gesturing for me to head up to the fourth floor. I looked around, at a total loss entering the command center.

The room was awfully silent, there were dozens of soldiers sitting at radios and computers, a few quietly moved markers in the map as reports came in. However in the center of the building, staring at a map of the south western United States were three people, one of them I didn't expect to see.

"Sir, Staff Sergeant Mira. Reporting as ordered." I briefly saluted Colonel Ivanov. He and Major Ivan looked at me, a bit of relief in their eyes. I looked over at the other figure, the one that surprised me. The First Lady, Veria Reichenbacher.

Ivan cleared his throat. "At 1746 last night we received confirmation that Sierra 6 was shot down over western Arizona."

I felt my blood freeze solid at the softly whispered statement. I felt the silent, heavy beats of my heart start racing in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak… but I couldn't. Nothing came out. I glanced over at Veria, her eyes were red, but they held a grim, almost desperate determination.

"Sierra 6 is currently alive with the other sole survivor of his escort, lion 11. They said they had landed near the Bagdad copper mine in Arizona." Ivan pointed to the spot on the map. I walked over. 

"The General, and his wife have us in a bind sergeant. You'll be taking command of the task force to make contact with Sierra 6. Find him, secure him, and bring him home." Ivanov spoke softly.

The General's wife spoke quietly in Spanish then looked at me. Her gaze almost frightening. "If anybody hurts him. You make them regret being born."

I nodded, glancing at the Colonel and Major, looking for their confirmation. They remained stone faced, but something about the tension in the air told me they approved.

"Task force Roses. We've scraped together soldiers from every formation in LA for this. Three Spetsnaz snipers, eleven VDV, and thirty six motor riflemen. You'll be using the UAZ in the motorpool."

"That's far larger than a platoon. I protested." Colonel Ivanov shook his head.

"If it wasn't for the General's orders to continue Operation Iron Gauntlet we'd be moving 2nd and 3rd motor rifle division to make contact. Given our commander's penchant for risk, he's likely to take the most direct route. Which will take him through Barstow…"

"That area is crawling with Black Horse."

"Which is even more imperative you leave now sergeant. Do whatever it takes to bring our commander back safe, and unharmed." Major Ivan said. His voice was unusually gruff.

I nodded, turning on my heel and taking my leave. Time was of the essence. I rushed downstairs, walking into the cramped motorpool and gesturing for all the soldiers still milling aimlessly about to gather around me.

"Soldiers of the Soviet Union, we've been tasked with making contact with our commander in chief, currently making his way to us across Arizona. We'll divy ourselves into three and four man fireteams, grab a vehicle, rush over to the fuel depots, top up in gas, grab as many fuel cans as we can, grab MREs, ammo and whatever else we'll need for three days of independent ops. Then we ride for Barstow."

The briefing ended quickly. I started putting soldiers in random trios, pointing them to a truck and pushing them on their way. There was no time to waste.