Luke Vs. the Nuke: Forsaken Territory

By Frederick Carpenter

In the aftermath of war, Corporal Luke Bowen, US army, survived the worldwide conflict between Eastern and Western cultures. He was present when the most horrible scenes played out. Near the end of the war, the United States dropped a tactical nuclear bomb close to its own lines to stop an enemy suicide attack.

Somehow, he made it out of the conflict, but at a substantial cost. Recovering in a field hospital, he discovered that his injuries, although life-changing, were not as devastating as those around him affected by the nuclear radiation.

After rehabilitation, Luke chose the army as a career. No longer capable of serving in the infantry, he was assigned a desk job in the new frontier of America. During the war, the United States also suffered several nuclear strikes. Not only did America have to manage the ravages of war but it also had to deal with a separatist movement brewing in the central states.

Luke's life takes several twists and turns. He falls in love as he becomes embroiled in the tensions in the Midwest. During that time, he was accused of violating base rules. Busted in rank, he was removed from his desk job.

Cleared of charges against him, Luke inspects border towns controlled by the suspected breakaway organization. On a mission in Ohio, Luke got the real picture of what was happening. As the situation became more serious, Luke was given one more opportunity. He would accompany a group of negotiators to the separatist stronghold in St. Louis.

With the US army moving west to crush the uprising and with negotiations breaking down, the separatists had one last of card to play. They were about to unleash smuggled nuclear weapons on the army.

Would the United States have to use nuclear weapons in retaliation? Again, in the shadow of a nuclear strike, Luke had to find a way to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798885057554

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

About the Author

cover.jpg

Luke Vs. the Nuke

Forsaken Territory

Frederick Carpenter

Copyright © 2023 Frederick Carpenter

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

ISBN 979-8-88505-754-7 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88505-755-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

1

It was a war on a two-thousand-mile front that spilled over into scores of countries around the world. From Africa to South America, everyone was embroiled in the fight. The world broke down into two factions, east versus west, the alliances that would decide planetary domination.

One group was made up of the countries of the west, Canada, Australia, and the United States—English speakers all. Also, the United Kingdom and the European union stood fast on the front lines in this war, as they had in the past.

The east was made up of the totalitarian giants, Russia and China. They formed a menacing bond with a blueprint to overrun their neighborhood and spread their vision worldwide.

India was valiantly trying to hold out on the Asian continent, mostly controlled by the east. Japan, the Philippines, and Indonesia had fallen and had been absorbed under Eastern Alliance's influence.

Luke Bowen was an American soldier entrenched in the newly reunified Yugoslavia. He was part of a unit trying to keep it from falling to the eastern alliance across the Danube River.

NATO forces were massed in the hills around Dobra Serbia, west of Belgrade. This was the frontier. There was nothing in front of them but the enemy. To make matters worse, the rumor moving around the foxholes was, a large enemy force was massing along the Bulgarian border, on the same side of the river as the allies. They were thought to be preparing to cross into Serbia, attack, and then push along the Danube toward the Capital.

In front of their own lines, a squad of soldiers, including Bowen from Charlie Company, were on night patrol. They were acutely aware of the reports of enemy infiltration. Everyone was on high alert.

Moving in line, team leader Sergeant O'Neil stopped, listened, and looked intently to his right. He said in a muffled voice, Enemy on the right, everybody down. Simultaneously the squad dropped to the deck. O'Neil using hand signals maneuvered the squad in position for an assault.

Looking to the soldier on his left, he said, Morgan, alert HQ there is an enemy force approaching along the river toward their lines.

Morgan dutifully conveyed O'Neil's message. After making his report, he received new orders.

Morgan said, Sarge, we have to get back to the lines ASAP.

O'Neil, without saying a word, raised his right hand and made a fist. Everyone froze, waiting for the next command. With his index finger raised, he made a gesture, rotating his hand around, pointing to the rear. The squad slowly stood up, turned, and cautiously started back.

Back on the main defensive line, Corporal Jerry Colvin watched as a line of enemy tanks burst through the trees, followed closely by ground troops.

Colvin yelled: Here they come!

Like mice taking cover from a tomcat, the troops scurried to protection of their foxholes.

NATO forces were badly outnumbered. It was a desperate situation, and the Commanders in the rear at headquarters understood what they had to do. Orders were sent down to the front, Shields on! To the men in the foxholes, this was a clear signal what command was going to do.

A lot of training had taken place for just this moment. Heavy, reinforced radiation shields in the form of thick multilayered blankets were issued for just this event. If the signal was given, soldiers would use them to cover their foxholes as tightly as possible. Then they would wait and pray they weren't at ground zero. After the weapon was detonated and if they were to survive, they would receive an alert to get up and move to the rear as quickly as possible.

When the order to get back to the lines was given, A Squad Charlie Company took the order seriously. Bowen and the others were now running for their lives toward friendly lines. Sergeant O'Neil urged the men forward through woods and then into open ground. In an area where the vegetation was low, the tree line to their left exploded with gunfire.

The enemy had discovered them. Two squad members were hit. O'Neil, the third, spun and crashed down in the brush, a bullet lodged in his neck. The squad hit the deck and returned fire.

Corporal Luke Bowen was now in charge. He rallied the remaining squad members to their feet to help the casualties. One private, Giannopoulos, was hit but was able to stand and continue without help. Bowen checked the second man. He was more seriously wounded.

Bowen called out, Garcia, McKay, get Grady up and moving!

Knowing the situation of the impending nuclear strike, he said to the rest of the squad, We've got to move! If we stay here, we are going to die. Run, run for your lives!

As they stood, they fired wildly in the direction of the enemy and continued their move. Taking a final look, Bowen saw that Sergeant O'Neil was down. As enemy fire poured down, he worked his way to his position. As soon as he reached him, he knew that he had made a mistake. O'Neil was dead, and he was now alone, left behind by his retreating squad.

Sensing the enemy all around him, he knew he couldn't stay there. Capture was not an option when dealing with the Huns. They had a take-no-prisoner policy. The option of being killed in a nuclear strike didn't appeal to him either. Knowing this, he got up and started to run.

Running in an evasive pattern, he was making progress toward the line. No one had fired at him the first half of his escape, but he didn't feel that lucky. Getting down in the prone position, he looked toward the location where he thought the line was. It was dark, but he was wearing night-vision goggles. Studying the route, he saw a group of Huns between the lines and his location. They were crouched down low and were spread out in a single line.

Bowen thought to himself, I'll never get by these guys. Just then the group of eight enemy soldiers stood up and calmly walked directly up to the allied defensive line. There was no opposition as they walked right in.

Bowen said to himself, Charlie Company was under the blast blankets!

When he saw the enemy open fire on the first foxhole, Bowen urgently got up and dashed toward the line.

He yelled, Huns all over the line. Defend yourselves!

He fired. The closest Hun went down, but Bowen had drawn the attention of the rest of the group. They returned fire, hitting him several times. He felt a burning pain in his left arm and agony in his right leg. He went down hard.

Bowen remained conscious, and he knew what was coming. But before the Huns could approach and finish him off, covers were flung back off the foxholes, and Allied lead was pouring into them. Bowen could only listen. When the firing stopped, he laid there; the searing pain was more than he could stand.

Suddenly the hills became quiet. Aircraft engines could be heard in the western sky.

Bowen heard someone shout, Get underground now!

Hearing this, Bowen could only listen as everyone clamored back to their foxholes. He heard the other sound too. The airplane was coming closer. His heart sank.

Overcoming the pain, he realized he had to get the attention of someone while there was still time.

Help me! he called out. He called out again, Help me!

He heard faint, muffled talking in the holes, but he didn't hear any flaps going back. No one was coming.

It's me Bowen. I can't walk.

He heard more talk and then yelling, That's my corporal out there. I'm going to get him.

Another voice said, If you go out there, you can't come back in here.

The first voice Luke heard, he recognized. It was Giannopoulos, the wounded soldier from A Squad. With his eyes closed, still straining to listen, he heard someone coming out of the safety of the foxhole. He hoped that someone was searching for him.

When he heard the rustling of the flap and heard footsteps approaching him, his despair lessened.

Where are you, Corporal?

Listening for his rescuer, Bowen heard two other things; the first was the flap closing behind Geo's exiting the foxhole, and the second was the engine droning louder in the sky.

Heartened, Luke yelled, Over here!

Geo was close enough to walk right by him when he heard the shout. Quickly he turned, finding him. He knelt down to help him.

Geo said, Come on, Luke. We can make it.

Helping Bowen to his feet, he realized that he was deadweight, unable to stand. Lifting him using all his strength, they both fell backward, crashing through the low shrubs and falling. Although it was dark, Geo became acutely aware of his condition. With little time to get back to the foxhole, he wrestled Luke back to his feet and carried him to the hill.

A faint whistling sound could be heard, becoming louder as they reached the line. Bowen remembered the closest hole, the one the Huns fired into.

He gestured to Geo, saying, We have to get to that one.

Suddenly an ungodly sound pierced the darkness, followed by a flash of light. A bomb had detonated down the line. It was several miles away, giving Geo and Bowen precious seconds to save themselves.

Falling to the ground, they reached the foxhole. Paying no attention to anyone inside, Geo pulled back the flap, grabbed Bowen's collar, and dragged him into the hole. As the powerful concussion of the explosion crossed their hill, Geo managed to fumble the flap closed, securing it.

As fierce winds roared above the foxhole, a tremendous tremor hit, shaking the ground. It seemed to go on forever. When it finally stopped and the blast wind stopped blowing, there was still a distant roar.

Geo realized that this foxhole was totally void of life. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small three-inch flashlight and flipped the switch. Looking around the tight space, he saw two soldiers lying dead. Aghast by the amount of blood, he looked at Bowen. He had fallen into a state of unconsciousness. Geo checked him for signs of life. Finding that his pulse was strong, he relaxed knowing that, for the moment, Bowen was still alive. Now they had to wait for all clear.

When Luke woke, he was in a field hospital. He had been in a coma. He was very groggy but remembered everything that had happened to him. Did it happen yesterday? Last week? He had no way of knowing.

He was in a ward tent with a dozen other soldiers. It was eerily quiet. He wouldn't have known there were other soldiers there if he kept his eyes closed.

He noticed that he had intense pain in his left arm while his right leg was throbbing. He looked around to see if he could identify anyone there. He didn't recognize any of the soldiers nearby, but then again, he could only see his small corner of the tent. Surely, Grady must be here somewhere. Even Geo had a wound of some kind. Grateful to Geo, he thought, Thank God it didn't slow him down.

He looked around for medical staff members, but there was no one there except the silent wounded. He knew he was heavily drugged and was feeling a little paranoid. The feeling came from imagining that he was not among friendlies. He heard the stories about the enemy bringing allied wounded back across enemy lines to their camps, pretending that they were in an allied field hospital. They only found out later that they were prisoners of war. He feared that was what happened to him. He listened carefully for any language spoken in the tent.

It was only minutes, but it seemed like hours before medics and doctors started to make their rounds. Hearing a doctor speaking a foreign language to a patient several cots down the line didn't reassure him about his whereabouts. He thought, I've been kidnapped and taken to Romania.

Only after the same doctor came to his cot did he hear English. The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Gruber, a German surgeon. He asked how Luke was feeling.

How long have I been here, Doc? Bowen asked.

You have been here three days, and now that you are awake, we can determine when you can go home. You were airlifted here to Naples, Italy, on the day of your injury. We are at a medical facility at the Capodichino airport. You have been comatose until this moment. Welcome back, Corporal Bowen

Excited, Luke said, I'm in Italy! Wow, you guys work fast. These other guys here aren't from my unit.

No, they are from all over the front. From battles in Ukraine to Belgrade, the casualties are pouring in. The good news is, we are holding our own against the powers of the East. My understanding is that they have twice as many casualties as we do.

Did you say I am going home? I still have two years on my enlistment.

Yes, you are going home, at least for a while until you heal. However, you won't be coming back to the front. Your injuries won't permit that.

What do you mean, Doc? I'm going to heal up, aren't I?

Yes, you will heal, but unfortunately, I have unwelcome news. Your lower leg, your tibia, and fibula were smashed by a heavy caliber bullet. I'm sorry, but we couldn't save your right lower leg.

Panicked, Bowen said, You cut off my leg?

In a calm and comforting voice, Dr. Gruber replied, Yes, I am afraid so. We had no choice.

That can't be. I still feel pain in my leg.

As Luke frantically assessed the absence of his lower leg, Dr. Gruber said, "Yes, that is not uncommon. What you feel is known as phantom pain. It feels like the limb is still there, with pain radiating from that part of the body. In reality, the discomfort is coming from the spinal cord. It is quite common in amputation patients. If it continues or becomes serious, we can treat it with medication.

On a happier note, your arm should heal nicely. It was struck by a much-smaller caliber round, perhaps a 9mm. It passed through your deltoid muscle, exiting out the back. That will take a couple of weeks to heal, but it will be fine.

Now sobbing with grief, Bowen said, I can't believe this. My life is ruined.

It's not as bad as you say. Your future will depend on your recuperative powers, Corporal Bowen. We will send you home to your family for rehabilitation, and then you will finish out your enlistment in your home country, the United States.

In an anguished tone, Luke said, My mother died six months before I enlisted. My father left ten years before that. I have a brother and a sister, but I have no idea where they are. Other than that, I have no relatives and no home to go to.

Dr. Gruber responded optimistically, Then the army is your home, and as it promised, it will take care of you. It will give you a new leg, specialized therapy, and then you can continue your life in the service and as a fully functional civilian when you get out. You will lead a normal life.

Gruber continued, I think that we will have you on a plane back to the States in a couple of days. Until then, try to rest. You have gone through a traumatic experience. You need to understand that currently, a prosthetic leg is as good as a real leg. There won't be any barriers for a young man in your condition.

Dr. Gruber patted him on the shoulder and left the tent, leaving Bowen with his thoughts. Looking closer at the men in cots around him, he noticed that many of them had terribly burned flesh. They were displaying sores and bumps on their exposed skin.

Luke was trained to recognize this type of burn was from radiation. He learned this from instructional films in boot camp. He started to feel lucky that Geo pulled him out of the nuclear conflagration happening above the shield, covering their foxhole.

Looking to his right, he noticed that the man in the cot next to his was awake.

Bowen spoke, Hey, buddy, how are you doing?

The soldier said, I'm doing okay, I think. How about you?

I just got some unwelcome news, and I'm not feeling very well right now.

Where were you on the front?

I was in Serbia, east of Belgrade. How about you?

I was in Hungary, twenty miles east of Budapest. The enemy attacked us like it was their last stand. They sent everything at us. We could only stop them with tactical nukes.

That sounds exactly like what happened to us in Serbia.

The soldier got up on his elbows and looked at Bowen. You got no burns. How did you manage that?

Someone got me to a protected foxhole, covered with a shield.

Shields! We didn't have any shields. Look what happened to us. We had as many casualties as the Huns.

You didn't have shields! I would be dead now if we didn't have them.

With a smirk on his face, he said, Well, I guess we didn't rate. Looking at Bowen, he said, If you're not radiated. Why are you in the hospital?

I got shot. The doctor just told me my lower leg was blown off. I'm having a tough time dealing with it. He told me I will live a normal life, but I just don't know.

The soldier said, Look around, most of these guys are going to die… Massive radiation poisoning. Me, I'm not sure. I was told I was one of the lucky ones, but as far as I'm concerned, it's too early to tell. At least you know you're going to make it.

Concluding his conversation, Bowen looked around the tent and saw most of the other men in the cots weren't asleep. Many laid with their eyes open, staring off into space. He came to understand that they knew they were dying, and all they could do was wait for the inevitable.

At that moment, he developed a different attitude. I lost part of my leg, but I'm alive, and I am going to be almost normal again. I am the lucky one.

With time to think, he looked back on the circumstances that got him to where he was. It was school where he first thought of the army. Public education had been downgraded in importance for the last twenty-five years. School consisted of very few teachers that taught by way of video link. With the explosion of technology, schools only hired one teacher in each academic discipline. Budgets only allowed the students one shot at passing a course. If they didn't get it, it didn't matter; they were moved along anyway.

He remembered French class. It was French 1. Mrs. Le fleur was the teacher. The students would attend class, sitting at tables in front of a large TV monitor. There was no interaction between teacher and students. The teacher would drone on while students were taking notes, or they would practice verbal skills with a classroom aide.

When school was over for the day, he would get aboard the bus and sit quietly as everyone around him were on social media. There was no interaction at all.

At the opening of the hostilities, cities in the Midwest were bombed with small tactical nuclear devices. The war escalated until it reached the point where attacks and counterattacks were established along a battle line in Europe from the Baltic Sea to the Mediterranean.

The ebb and flow of battle finally stabilized in those regions. Hard battle lines developed, and neither side were able to advance to achieve any kind of advantage.

During this time, the draft was reinstated. Many young men and women were carried off to war. The lessons from wars in the twentieth century were forgotten with the desperate need for soldiers in this growing conflict. It was simply a case of; if you get called up, you were off to war. One of the lessons learned from those past wars was, there were no deferments from service. Rich and poor were called up, side by side. At least at first.

No one had a clear picture of why the Western Alliance, which included the United States, was involved with countries across the world.

Bowen was still in high school. He had just turned eighteen years old and had one more year after the summer break. He was an okay student with no real incentive to go to college. After high school, he figured he would get a job in construction or even in civil service.

He was not held back by his lack of drive because students stopped being graded in high school ten years earlier. Self-motivated students usually advanced to higher learning institutions, but in these times, they were drafted into the army.

Colleges were emptying out, and the battalion rolls were filling up. Anyone between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five were scooped up and sent to war.

When his mother died, finishing high school for Luke wasn't going to happen. His father left town with his new wife ten years earlier, leaving Luke an orphan of sorts. He had an aunt that had four young children of her own, and she was always complaining of one ailment or another.

After living with his mother's sister for six months, he joined the army. He needed the signature of his aunt, but that was no problem. After twenty-four hours of quitting high school, he was on the bus to army boot camp.

With several days of recovery, Bowen was getting stronger. He could sit up in bed, stretch, and move his limbs. He was aware that the number of wounded was steadily turning over. The cots were always filled. Very few of them improved. On the contrary, he watched as medical personnel periodically came in with a priest, minister, or rabbi and carefully placed the departed in body bags.

The day before he was scheduled to leave, he was told that he would be assigned to Fort Drum in New York. He would be hospitalized for rehabilitation and fitted for a prosthesis.

Brian, a medic he got close to, wanted to get him up and moving around. I need you to practice using these crutches. You want to walk to the airplane, don't you?

Bowen tried, but putting weight on his injured arm caused enough pain to prevent him from using them. It wasn't going to work.

Brian cheerfully said, Don't worry. I'll figure something out before your flight. You'll be on the plane back to the good old USA.

The night before he was going to leave, Brian was helping Bowen prepare for his medivac flight. Brian said, If you ask me, you're getting out of here at the right time. All around here, troop morale is shot. It's not just the wounded guys like you. It's everybody. I got a set of fatigues out of your duffel bag so you can look sharp for your trip tomorrow. I couldn't find any corporal pins for your collar though, so you're going to look like a private.

At 6:30 the next morning, Brian came in to get him ready to go. Bowen had a restless night and was in some pain, but he was more than ready to go home. Together they worked hard to get the fatigues on. Brian put a shrinker, an elastic stocking, over the bandages on his stump. Bowen stood and leaned on Brian as he pulled on his pants. He left the right pant leg loose, hanging down.

Brian gave him two thumbs-up. He then assisted him into a wheelchair he spirited away from a different tent. He didn't have permission to use it, but he took it anyway. After Brian placed Luke's duffel bag on his lap, they were ready to go.

Once Bowen settled in, Brian started pushing him to the evacuation point. Walking toward the airplane, Brian said, You're lucky you're on the way out of here. We're filling these tents over capacity. It's almost impossible to keep up with the number of casualties coming in.

Approaching the transport plane, Brian stopped the wheelchair next to the tarmac and went over to an NCO with a clipboard. From there, Bowen watched as the plane was loaded up with stretchers containing wounded able to go home. He was relieved that not everybody in this tent city died.

It looked to him that it was filling up and there wasn't going to be any room for him.

He thought to himself, What's the rush? I don't have anywhere special to go.

Sitting on the edge of the runway, Brian returned with a glum look on his face.

He said, Sorry, man! It looks like you're going to have to wait for the next flight. I can't understand it. There's usually plenty of room on these flights. I guess we can try again tomorrow.

As Brian started wheeling Bowen back to the tent, he said half-jokingly, I hope there's still a cot for you.

2

Moving along the edge of the runway, Brian was hailed down by a crew chief, an army master sergeant, at the door of a slick private jet. He walked right up to Brian and Luke.

Speaking to Bowen, he said, "Did you miss your flight, soldier?

Brian replied, It's hard to believe, but that flight is leaving full.

Well, today is your lucky day. The general was looking out the window, and he saw your plight. He told me to ask if you want a ride.

Stunned by the offer, Bowen didn't know how to respond.

Brian chimed in, saying, What a great offer. What do you say, Corporal? Do you want to stay here or do you want to go back to the states in a luxury jet?

I don't want to inconvenience anyone.

Crew chief said, Oh, there's no inconvenience. It's the general's idea.

I'm supposed to go to Fort Drum. Is it out of his way?

It's his plane. He can go where he wants, when he wants, with whom he wants, and he wants to give you a ride.

Brian didn't wait for Bowen to say anything else. He just wheeled him onto the runway, over to the stairs of the jet.

Come on, Corporal. I'll help you up the stairs.

Smiling, the crew chief said, Smart move.

With one arm over Brian's shoulder and his free hand on the railing, he hopped up the three stairs. Moving into the fuselage, Bowen looked toward the back. To his right, there was a galley, and to the rear of that was a partition hiding the main cabin. At the partition, there were two small crew seats.

The cockpit was to his left. The instrumentation filled the entire area. The crew members were going through the checklist, preparing for takeoff.

Guiding Luke through the galley, the crew chief pointed to one of the seats, Why don't you sit here.

Brian helped him sit down then said, I'm glad you're getting out of here today.

Thank you, Brian. You brought light to a dark situation.

Brian shook his hand and said, It was a pleasure meeting you, Corporal Bowen. When you get back to the States, kiss the ground for me.

Heading for the door, Brian turned and said, Have a safe trip.

With that said, he turned and disappeared out the door.

Cheerfully, the crew chief said, Make yourself comfortable, Corporal, and enjoy the ride.

A voice came from behind the partition, Bring that young man in here, Master Sergeant Chew.

Yes, sir.

Bowen looked at the army sergeant with an apprehensive expression. He had never been summoned by a general before. He had never even been in the same room with one.

Helped into the main cabin, Bowen saw two white overstuffed leather chairs on the right side and a couch running along the wall on the left. He could tell that the chairs could swivel on their bases while the couch faced inward. Beyond another group of chairs, at the far end of the cabin was a wooden desk with a rich black leather chair. The general was nowhere to be seen.

Master Sergeant Lawrence Chew directed him to one of the chairs and plopped him down. Bowen sank deep into the plush cushions.

He said, You have seat belts along the inside of the armrest. Buckle up. I'll be in the forward cabin with the pilot. If you need something, press that button at the front of the armrest.

Someone will come to help you out.

Bowen thanked him and pulled the straps of the seat belt across his lap. He anticipated the general making his appearance. He didn't have to wait long.

Through the hatch in a rear partition of the main cabin, the general entered the room, followed by his aide.

Speaking to his aide, he said, Thank you, Sergeant. That will be all.

The general, a distinguished-looking man in his fifties, had gray hair but had the body of a thirty-year-old. He walked directly over to Bowen.

Hello, soldier. I'm General Louden. I am very glad to be able to help out a wounded GI today.

He waited for Bowen to respond.

In a shaky voice, Bowen said, It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Corporal Lucas Bowen from Charlie Company, Serbian Brigade.

Serbian Brigade. Your unit was in a big fight earlier in the week. Is that where you were wounded?

Yes, sir. There was a major assault from the east. A nuclear device was used to make them stop.

Yes, it was a terrible fight, many casualties on both sides. If you didn't already know, that day the Eastern Alliance staged a major attack all up and down the front from the Baltic to south of your position.

Changing the subject, General Mark Louden said, Tell me about yourself, Corporal Bowen. Where are you from?

I was born in Manchester, New Hampshire, and lived there for eleven years. I have a brother and a sister. When my father left, I moved with my mother to her family's home in Albany, New York. I was attending high school there when the war broke out.

Were you drafted after high school?

No, sir. I dropped out of school after my mother died. I bounced around from job to job until I enlisted.

How long have you been in the army?

Twenty-one months, sir.

Twenty-one months! You made corporal at an accelerated rate.

I made corporal in twelve months, sir.

In a pleased manner, General Louden said, Now that's fast…very impressive. Corporal, make yourself at home. We will be taking off soon. Most of the time, I will take up to six servicemen back to the States. It's rare that I only have one passenger. Anyway, relax and enjoy the ride. You have the run of the plane.

He looked at Luke's leg and added, In a manner of speaking.

Thank you, sir.

General Louden walked over to his desk and sat in his leather chair. He locked the base in the forward position and clicked his seat belt on. Casually working like he was in a business office, he started reading documents that were spread out in front of him.

When the jet engine started, he gathered up the documents and secured them with a clamp built into the edge of the desk. It made sense to Bowen that it would keep the papers from flying around during takeoff.

Louden sat back and relaxed as the plane started to move. Taxiing to the end of the runway, the plane turned and raced forward for takeoff. It was a smooth departure. When the Learjet leveled off, the general unclamped his papers and started to work again.

Bowen thought that he was an interesting man. He didn't talk down to him, and his staff genuinely seemed to like him.

Now flying at cruising altitude, Luke looked out the large, circular windows. He thought, This is a pretty fancy plane for just one man. Even though he was a general.

Staying quiet in the presence of this high-ranking officer, it was General Louden that broke the silence again.

Tell me, Corporal, about your experience in the army.

Thinking of an appropriate answer, he said, Well, sir, as I said, after my mother died, my options as a civilian dried up. I had no skills, and I wasn't making any money, so with a friend, I went down to the recruiting office in Albany. In the army, I was hoping to get training in a skill, but I wound up in the infantry.

Approvingly, Louden said, You are a member of the backbone of the army.

Bowen continued, "Yes, sir. It was hard training, but I didn't mind. I started in Fort Jackson, South Carolina, in BCT (Basic Combat Training) and went on to Fort Benning, Georgia, for AIT (Advanced Individual Training School.)

"From there, I shipped out to Istanbul, where we trained for two weeks to acclimate. Once we got used to our surroundings, they moved us to the southeast corner of Turkey, near the border of Iran. On my third day, we attacked across the border, moving miles into Iranian territory. At the end of the day, our advance stalled. There was a counterattack by the Eastern Alliance with overwhelming numbers. They pushed us back to where we started. It was so bloody! Men were dying all around me.

I have to ask, sir, is the Eastern Army that much larger than us? They came over the hills in a swarm, covering the ground like a blanket.

Louden answered, "We know that they have greater numbers