Free Invasion: New York (Invasion America) by Vaughn Heppner Page B

Chinese and Brazilians wisely pulled back to New Mexico and Oklahoma.”
    Field Marshal Wessel worked his mouth several times. Maybe in desperation, he finally turned to the Chancellor.
    “Interesting,” Kleist said in a suave voice. “Perhaps there is merit to your opinion. I refer to the idea that it was closely fought at the critical phase. The important point lies elsewhere. The Chinese and Brazilians will now need time to gather their strength for a renewed offensive. The Americans surely realize this: that they have little to fear concerning a 2040 Chinese offensive. That means the Americans will be able to safely siphon large numbers of troops from their Midwestern defensive line and place them against us.”
    “Perhaps,” Mansfeld said, “although I doubt it.”
    “General,” Kleist said, “you are not here to sit in judgment of my words. I am here to sit in judgment of yours.”
    “Yes, Excellency,” Mansfeld said. “Then perhaps it is time for me to give you a clearer reading of the situation.”
    The chamber seemed to drop to freezing as the military men sat motionlessly, as the security detail along the walls held their breaths and as the color brightened on Kleist’s cheeks.
    Mansfeld saw his death in the Chancellor’s eyes. Yet he also saw the curiosity there. He could have spoken with meekness a moment ago. Mansfeld did not do so in order to teach Kleist a lesson the Chancellor would remember. He needed Kleist to understand that only one man could give him what he desired in North America—and that man one was General Walther Mansfeld. There was going to come a time this summer when Mansfeld would need Kleist to keep his nerve. That’s why he spoke as he did to the Chancellor. For others, this might have been a mad gamble. For the supreme strategist and tactician on Earth, this was a precise move calculated to perfection.
    Wessel turned his head as if the neck had rusted into place. “Excellency,” Wessel said in a choking voice. “Let me—”
    “Silence,” Kleist said.
    Wessel blinked several times until the man dipped his chin.
    “You have courage,” Kleist told Mansfeld. “And some acclaim you as the most gifted strategist since Erich von Manstein. Very well, tell me how you see the situation.”
    Mansfeld noted the tell me , not tell us . The distinction was important.
    “Excellency,” Mansfeld said, “the Chinese-Brazilian invasion hurt the Americans deeply, both in terms of slain, captured, destroyed materiel and in lost territory. While it is true the Americans have made up for lost numbers, they have a long way to go to replace the destroyed trucks, tanks, planes, trains, missiles, helicopters and other equipment. And if they have more numbers, they have lost many trained troops. A large percentage of their new soldiery are Militiamen. They lack Army or Marine training.”
    Mansfeld put his hands on the table. This was the moment. “If you will permit me to explain in greater detail, Excellency?”
    There was a half-second hesitation before Kleist gave him a nod.
    Mansfeld pulled out a memory stick and inserted it into the nearest computer slot. Then he pulled out a keyboard and began to type. A holographic map appeared in the center of the conference table.
    “First,” Mansfeld said, “we need to examine the strategic overview. Despite the greatest battlefield victory in their history this winter—greatest in terms of enemy killed and captured—the U.S. is still in a critical situation. Our combined coalitions threaten them with a two-front war and with an even larger number of enemy soldiers than the previous year.”
    “You’re badly mistaken if you think Chairman Hong will coordinate with us now,” Kleist said. “We have burned our bridges with him.”
    Mansfeld shook his head. “We don’t need Hong’s cooperation, Excellency. China is too deeply engaged in North America to pull out. They need our help. That forces the Chinese into making predictable