Free Invasion: Colorado by Vaughn Heppner Page B

large area, with the huge machines spread over a two-mile radius. Each monster vehicle was concealed under camouflaged, radar-scattering tarps. Several tac-lasers with accompanying SAMs ringed the area. Barracks and other buildings stood to the east on the road to I-70, which led to Denver. Behind, the mountains looked cold and majestic. What a crazy place to put the biggest tanks in the world. Crazy, but they were well hidden, which was the idea for now.
    The men stood at attention in their black tanker uniforms and parkas. Soon, the truly cold weather would hit, and the soggy ground would freeze hard. That would be the time to employ the Behemoths.
    “Professor?” asked General Tom McGraw. He squinted down at the smaller man.
    Stan saluted crisply. He could feel the charisma radiating from the big general and the vibrancy in the single word from the man.
    Tom McGraw stood six foot five and had to weigh a solid three-fifty. He was massive, a bear of a man. He reminded Stan of General Joffre of World War I fame. Joffre had been the commanding French general who’d stopped the Germans at the Battle of the Marne. Joffre had nerves of steel; some commenters said it came from his prodigious appetite and thick frame. Joffre had had the peasant’s calm even within trials of fire.
    McGraw had a thick face and a General Custer beard and mustache. Like Patton, McGraw wore a pistol at his side. Patton had worn a pearl-handled revolver. McGraw’s gun looked like a standard issue .45. The man’s eyes were pale blue and they stared hard like some lion. This was a man used to giving orders and seeing them obeyed. He looked like an old-style Viking, and Stan could envision him hefting a battleaxe. Stan could also envision McGraw wearing a cowboy hat and clutching a Winchester rifle, laying down fire as Apaches raided; or maybe McGraw would gun down outlaws as he fought a range war.
    “General,” Stan said in way of greeting.
    McGraw laughed. It was a loud sound. “It is you, Professor. I can’t believe it. They finally realized they had a genuine military genius hiding behind his books. I’m glad to see they gave you a fighting command. Even better, they’ve given you the greatest tanks in the world. I bet you’re itching to smash into the Chinese SOBs and send them scurrying home.”
    “As soon as the time is right, yes sir,” Stan said.
    “Do you hear that, General?” McGraw asked Larson. “The Professor is already worried I’m going to ask him to do something he thinks is stupid. Has he been filling your ears with ideas on how to keep the Chinese away from Denver?”
    “As a matter of fact he has,” Larson said. “They’ve been good ideas, too.”
    McGraw gave Stan a measuring study. “I hear you won the Medal of Honor up in Alaska during the first Chinese invasion.”
    “Yes sir,” Stan said.
    “Old son, don’t you ‘yes sir’ me. I read the brief. In Alaska, you went against orders, everyone’s orders, and blew up the storage tanks the Chinese desperately needed.”
    Stan should have known McGraw would have read up on the commanding officers in around the Denver area. The man was big and he looked as if he must be stupid, but Tom McGraw did his homework. He was like a football coach who stayed up until three A.M. each night watching film of the opposing team. Back in the day, little had caught Tom by surprise. It seemed as if that hadn’t changed.
    “Let’s hurry up and look at your men,” Tom said. “It’s cold out here and I don’t like a soldier freezing his balls off unless there’s a good reason for it. Afterward, you can show me a Behemoth. I’ll climb through it and gush about what it can do. We’ll do all that and then you and I are going to drink a lot of beer, do you hear me?”
    “I sure do, sir.”
    “Old son, who do you think you’re talking to?”
    “You bet, Tom. Let’s get drunk.”
    General McGraw grinned at Larson. It made deep skin-crinkles at the outer corners of his