2053 K-Town

2053 K-Town

Chuck Cecil was nothing but resourceful. And lucky. And probably cursed.

At the age of 34 he had seen his share of all of the above: resources, luck, and curses.

Resources were abundant and spare in a time such as this. Luckily, as the lone survivor of his company trapped in the middle of Central Asia, he was not the most cursed of his group. He was still breathing.

Everything in the history of the earth seemed to push him and his interests into this spot, and a tight one it was. He was surrounded: literally, proverbially, tactically. He had spent a good share of days considering his options. Of all the people in his platoon, he realized that he had the most contingency plans. It can be a great sign of hope to have options C-M when plans A and B go down the drain. Options A and B were ended over a week ago, which now seemed like a year ago. He was going to try out Plan C, with a little mix of D and E.

He and his battalion had been deployed in Kyrgyzstan for over seven months when all of it went sideways. It fell apart in August. Power was cut, supplies chains were broken, communication was severed. And then the enemy swarmed. 

Over the course of seven weeks his company of 89 were cut down to one. The one was him, as far as he knew. Three were missing, so at least he had some hope that any of those battle buddies might have made it out alive, or perhaps were holed up somewhere like he was. He had his doubts. One of them was Swiniarsky; he was a lucky dog. Resourceful. He, a junior soldier of 21, had cut out of the deadly fray, surviving early, because on his mission to do forward reconnaissance while they advanced north into Kazakh territory they were ambushed while "Swinny" slipped from the noose. His fellow Flyer buddies were not so lucky. Swiniarsky confirmed that sad fact back to his Platoon Sergeant before he went radio silent. Those were victims 3, 4, and 5 by Cecil's count. And then it got worse.

His platoon had lost its grip left and right. Cecil thought back to the British regiment of thousands of soldiers that were wiped out by the Pashtuns back in the 1800s. The legend went that the Afghan conquerors purposely allowed one survivor to leave the battlefield, of thousands, to recount the tale after the mostly fatal massacre.

Cecil knew that the Chinese and Russians, including some treacherous nurses, earnestly tried to eliminate him. Multiple times.  This type of event was what people write books and movies about, he thought. But he had a bigger scene in mind.

Lucky dog. Maybe luckier than Swinny ... Who knew?

Kazakhstan was doing better than Kyrgyzstan when it came to enemy numbers, but things were not going well at all, from all he knew. The Sino-Russos were over running Central Asia writ large.

Australia and Antarctica had flared up throughout the summer, so the Chinese and Russians took advantage of the distraction way down there by pushing up from Afghanistan and sweeping the former Soviet states. Nobody predicted this development. Bad luck for US and allied forces.

Thousands of US, Canadian, Mexican, Chilean, and Argentine troops were taken off guard. And like so often happens, the American forces were poised at the brunt of it. Cecil's battalion, the Army 3/166th, was the ultimate loser when it came to targeting. The Russians had placed some international nurses who posed as Scandinavians; it proved a successful ploy when the tides suddenly turned. Would be nurses became very deadly when the command was made from Moscow. And his unit had been tasked to host the nurses. It was made worse that some of the battalion Americans got too close to those Norsemen and ladies. Not pretty.

Plan C: So Cecil came across an encrypted satellite phone not far from the Karatal River where he was hiding. It was laying randomly about 200 meters from a wrecked Flyer. Maybe it was thrown from it somehow? Or someone carried it away? Maybe an animal? No, that was silly, why would an animal carry an eight pound sat-phone? Perhaps the scent of the humans who had handled it? Something sweet on their breath? No matter, he had it and he intended on using the battery power he had remaining.

Encrypted was good, because even if the Sino-Russo forces triangulated his disposition, they would not understand the severity and lethality of his communiques.awa

He called early in the morning when his nephew would most likely be going to bed, but fully awake playing his games. Games these days were mostly about becoming smarter and training for the battles that had rocked the world the last 4 years. This was pretty early in the morning local Kazakh time. Late evening in California.

"Carlitos?"

"Uncle Chuck?"

"Yep, little buddy, soy yo!"

"Wow, Tio, it's been a long time! I heard bad things about your unit. Are you okay, mi heroe?"

"Yes, fine for now, but I don't have a lot of time, and this is really serious. As a matter of fact, this is tan serio that we are going to break the law a little bit, but in a couple weeks we might be considered national or international heroes. No kidding. Estas listo o no?"

"Oh, yeah, Tio, I'm ready like Donkey Kong! Well, I mean... "

"Yeah, yeah, good. I getcha. Ok, you know where Camp Hunter Liggett is, right?

"Yep, I remember some trips there."

" 'Member how I told you that we had some drones stored about 8 minutes north of the chow hall?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Great. I need you to go with cousin Susie, because we can trust her, get over there as soon as convincingly possible, meaning don't let other family and authorities know what you are up to, and then once you are there ping me back."

"Should Cousin Susie talk to you or will she believe me?"

"Try talking to her directly, and hit me up if she does not fall in line. She's 18, and she knows you and I do not lie. In case, just call, but my batteries are way to low to play around..."

"Okay, Uncle Chuck, I am on it."

"Thanks. Talk soon!"

Three and half hours later Cecil was explaining to Carlitos how to make sure the drones were armed properly,  how to set their launch sequences, and how to code them for attack. And of course they checked for fuel/power. It all went surprisingly fast. Susie stood guard in case any snoopy eyes came prowling around.

Chuck knew that there would be little problem moving the 8 drones from California heading over the Pacific. He remembered as a teenager when the long-endurance battery technology had enables super charge UAVs (unmanned aerial vehicles) fly half way around the world with one charge.

They could make it though Siberia, Mongolia, and then sweep into his spot of southeast Kazakhstan. Plan C was actually working!

The conventional, cyber, space, and bio-chem forces were so bogged down doing anything, Cecil knew this was his best chance at doing what he needed to do. The one part he knew that would be extremely gamey was getting positive airspace from the Argentines and Chileans Co-command that controlled it. Fortunately for Cecil, aka Sargento Cecil, he was completely conversant in Spanish, even the Argentine variety with its confidence inducing lumfardo touches of the La Pampa. He had lived in the Argentine plains for two years in a previous life.

The Argentine and Chilean officers were impressed.

"Sargento Cecil (sounded like Say Seal), we are not used to American soldiers like you! God bless you."

"Thank you sirs and ma'ams, I believe that history will affirm our steps right now."
________________________

Three days later after the initial launch and 8 hours after the Argentine Air Command request, the drones showed up. The coordinates that Cecil had input on the Chinese (through his nephew Carlitos) did not have to be adjusted much. He mostly listened with satisfaction as the missiles exploded on the enemy positions. He was close enough to two direct hits to hear exclamations in Chinese.

That was the best way for Cecil to know the Russian implants had moved on. It was easier to identify Chinese than Russians, because uniforms in the mid-21st century war was a deadly joke for all involved.

Geneva codes, proper rules of war ... As antiquated as having babies after marriage.

A week later Sergeant Cecil walked into friendly territory, 500 miles to the west.

He let them know he was a friendly from 10 klicks out with a smoke grenade.

The superiors at the base in western Kazakhstan wanted to hear the story. He knew it was highly classified, and he had warned Carlitos and Susie to keep it quiet, or he would never talk to them again.

"All right Sergeant Cecil, we expect your verbal and written testimonies of this whole affair within the next twenty four hours. Also, we need to corroborate the facts with your niece and nephew."

"Yes, ma'am, they are good kids. Well, Susan is an adult, but both of them are incredibly responsible and I credit them for me being alive and talking to you."

"Yes, Sergeant, war in 2053 is not what it used to be. I guess you are extremely lucky."

Yes, he thought, and cursed with resourcefulness.