Anti-assimilation army: A Spark

Chapter 3

Falling Dominos

As the Lees and Hayes listened intently to the updates on the war front, they were disappointed, to say the least, to hear of Vancouver’s surrender to the enemy. There was also bad news on the eastern front as the province of Quebec officially surrendered to their Anglophone invaders, with the Premier making peace talks with the American generals. Cut off from the rest of Canada, it would not be long before Newfoundland joined the growing list of provinces conquered by the US, bringing them ever closer to their goal of manifest destiny over North America.

Brian picked his teeth discreetly with a fish bone and sarcastically acted as if the war were over. “Well folks, that’s that, Vancouver is now part of the ‘US’ of ‘A’. Shall we congratulate the victors waving our white flags?”

“As long as the Canadian army is still resisting, we must support the AAA and continue to put up a fight against our American invaders.” 

Many heads nodded with Joel’s common sense, and they couldn’t help being fired up with patriotic pride for doing their part in helping the Canadian Army.

“Well, speaking of other things, we officially caught our first rabbit! It’s still in its bucket but I wanted to get a consensus on what to do; do we have the stomach to kill such a cute animal for dinner?”

All around, everyone was hesitant but slowly nodded as they realized they were in no position to be fussy about what they ate.

“Alright, we’ll gut the animal near the river to wash away any smell of blood, but make sure to dispose of any bones and such into the river. We don’t want any nosy bears sniffing around our camp again.”

Pretty soon, everyone was gathered around the fire, watching the rabbit meat sizzle over the hot pan. Being a lean meat, there wasn’t much fat and the cooking of it was surprisingly fast. Brian allocated a small portion to each person, they all hungrily devoured the meat, putting aside any hesitant sentiments they had before. 

As the women washed the pans and dishes in the greywater bucket, the men got a tally from their kids about their current food stockpiles. “So, Arthur, we have twenty trout after the two we gave to Chris? Very good. And Joel, we have about five baskets full of tubers? Make sure to keep those tubers under the water as well. Bears will eat anything edible if they can smell it and find it.”

Brian was confident that they could sustainably harvest the trout throughout the year after seeing great multitudes of fish swimming near the surface looking for insects to eat. They also made sure to do their part in sustaining the Canadian Army, providing some food every day for Chris to bring to the front lines. They were also keeping an eye out for any thrushes, hoping to domesticate them into a substitute for egg-laying hens. The eggs would be a welcome sight to their families, having subsisted on trout and tubers for almost three weeks now. The bland flavour of the tubers made them wish they had some sort of seasoning for the food other than salt and pepper. 

The next day, Chris was loading up the food supplies they offered, and came back with a rifle which he handed over to Brian. “Thanks for contributing your food to our army, hopefully this will make hunting big game easier for you guys. If you need more bullets, let me know alright? Just be careful, moose, caribou and deer can be dangerous when threatened. So make sure to be stealthy and make a clean shot.”

Brian and Josh thanked Chris for the firearm and went back to camp, admiring the rifle, and trying to figure out how to fire it. They loaded ammunition into the magazine and pulled back the operator handle before firing a shot into the forest, causing a few birds to fly off in fright. Now armed with a proper hunting gun, they would be able to take down larger animals now, which could be a game-changer when it came to their survival in the winter months. They knew ammunition had to be used sparingly but agreed to try hunting tomorrow, learning to track animals and hopefully be able to bring back a deer or moose which could feed the two families for one to two weeks at the very least.

After another meal of fish and roots they retired for the night and as both families slept in their cars, Arthur woke up in the middle of the night thirsty, and grabbed his soda can which he had filled with boiled spring water. He quenched his thirst and looked out the window at the night sky, filled with glimmering stars which he had never seen before in the city thanks to the urban area’s bright lights. But out in the forest, there was no such light pollution and hence, the beauty of the stars could be admired almost every night. He lay his head back on his pillow and drifted slowly off to sleep, wondering what surprises would be in store for them tomorrow.

While they ate breakfast the next morning, Joel and Arthur were both enamoured by Alex’s beauty, jostling with one another to ask her if she wanted to help them forage for food. Not surprisingly, she decided to go with Joel to gather tubers, not being thrilled at having to deal with slimy fish all day. Arthur figured though that come dinner time, Alex would be more grateful for his contribution than Joel’s meagre roots. For the time being though, he worked on building rapport with Alex’s father, hoping to get his blessing as well as his approval to let him date her. Picking a good spot to set up their fishing expedition, Josh and Arthur tied their hooks and baited them before casting as far as they could into the pristine turquoise waters of Garibaldi Lake. While they waited for the fish to bite, they talked of bygone delicious meals and treats, describing lavish deserts and delectable dinners.

“You’ve never had haggis? You have to try it Arthur! It’s absolutely delicious, along with blood sausage.”

Grimacing at the thought of eating offal, the teenager kindly refused the suggestion, then held on tight to his pole as his line got a bite.

“Hold her steady, steady!” dipping the net into the water, Josh scooped up the sizable trout and placed it into the bucket where it wriggled and squirmed, trying to get back into the water. By the end of the day, three more fish were added to the total, and they both carried the bucket between them as they made the long trek back to basecamp. 

Arriving back to see a fire started and people sitting around it, Arthur was jealous as he saw Joel discretely chatting with Alex, who would giggle now and then, much to his dismay. 

Selecting the largest trout to be cooked for dinner, the other three were safely deposited into the stream cache, keeping the fish fresh till they were needed. Besides the fish, they also had a sizeable stockpile of tubers, all thanks to Alex and Natalie helping Joel with the harvesting. Inside the cache, they had also caught two more deskinned and gutted rabbits, but they were to be offered to Chris to help feed the troops on the ground.

Turning the fish around to cook the outward facing side, Josh credited the catch of the large specimen to Arthur, who beamed at the praise given to him. 

“Arthur did a nice job. He landed this beauty all by himself!”

Blushing with his ears turning bright red, Arthur scuffed the ground with his shoe and tried to be humble. “Oh, it was nothing. Just helping out the family you know?”

“This place would be great for paintballing or laser tag. So many places to hide!” said Joel enthusiastically.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, especially with bears and coyotes living nearby. Unless you fancy being a midnight snack,” replied Brian in a matter-of-fact tone.

Brian heard his son sadly sighing out loud, so he reassured him that someday, things will get back to normal—or at least something close to normalcy. “When this war is all over, the first thing I’ll do is to take you paintballing okay?” Seeing his son’s face light up, Brian smiled and patted him on the back before helping clear away the traces of their dinner. 

The next morning, Chris sped off down the Sea to Sky Highway towards North Vancouver, loaded with supplies and food from communities and families like the Lees and Hayes, contributing what they could to help the war cause. He knew that the old saying was true, that ‘an army marches on its stomach,’ and his delivery would provide crucial supplies needed by the defenders. Arriving at the new temporary headquarters Chris signaled to some soldiers to help unload the goods from the back of his truck. 

Speaking with the lieutenant, Chris detailed what goods he was able to bring to help with the war effort. “Got some fish, moose and shellfish, all donated by families living off the land. We also found some clothing, blankets and flashlights along with a few cans of gasoline. I wish I could’ve brought more, but things are looking very meagre up north with winter approaching. People are barely able to subsist let alone donate food. Hopefully the promised supplies from Ontario coming around from the north will come soon enough. It’s vital that we keep the second front open, otherwise Ontario won’t stand a chance against the full force of the Americans.”

“Thank you, Chris. The food will go a long way for our troops and we understand how hard it must be on the people who are trying to scrape by in the wilderness. Let everyone contributing know though that we will fight with every ounce of strength we have left, and will defend our people till the very end. They have my word,” said the Lieutenant.

Chris left the headquarters and he raced back up the highway with the hopeful optimism and encouragement from the people in charge still striving for victory. As General Choi organized his defences along the banks of the inlet, he initiated blackouts and radio silence to keep the Americans guessing where the Canadian defences were located. Infrared scans could be fooled by reflective aluminum blankets, and with most of their operations in bunkers underground, the deadly waiting game of cat and mouse continued.

***

In the medical tent of the American camp, General MacMillan was recovering from the gunshot to his throat, and it was a miracle that surgeons were able to save his life, thanks to a ventilator and quick thinking by the medical doctors. Unable to speak yet, the General lay on his back, reading the latest reports on what the Canadians were doing and how the attack was progressing. Satisfied that his Major had made the right call secretly crossing the Fraser River and establishing a working beachhead, he realized they were now in a similar position as before, only now with the waters of the Burrard Inlet blocking their routes forward. The Navy had also informed the General that the last of the barge barricades would be removed by tomorrow, and ships would be able to start navigating into the small inlet by the afternoon, able to provide cover fire or ferry troops across the inlet.

MacMillan tried to get up as Sigmund approached him, and his second-in-command rushed forward and helped the General lay back down, telling him not to exert himself. “You need to rest Sir, it’s a miracle that you survived that sniper shot though.”

He held both his hands forward as if they were chained and the Major immediately understood what the General was asking. “Yes sir, we’ve captured two of their men who appeared to be snipers. They were the ones who shot at you we think.”

The General than smashed his fist into his other hand, conveying to his Major to do whatever it takes to get the prisoners talking.

With a nod of his head, the Major understood once again: “Physical force is not off the table when we’ll do our interrogations. Don’t worry, by the time we’re finished, they’ll be babbling like a brook in no time!”

Laying his head back down onto the pillow, the General gave a thumbs up to the Major, who exited the medical tent and headed to the command post. “Alright everyone, the General is recovering still so he will be out of action at least for another week. The question is, should we formulate an attack without the oversight of the General or should we wait till he recovers fully?

A lieutenant raised his hand and interjected the proposed idea. “If we wait another week, it will give the Canadians time to bolster their defences. We know from satellite imagery that they are being supported by supply lines reaching the far north of the province. The longer we wait, the more dug in they will be.”

Many-a-head were nodding in agreement at the notion and the Major understood they all concurred with the idea of a quick attack as soon as possible. “I had spoken to the General and he trusts our judgement while he is still unable to lead. So, an attack it is then. The question is where, and how.”

“An amphibious landing with cover from our ships keeping their heads down just might work. Factor in our drone strikes and we should be in a good position to send those Cariboozers packing. Once all of Metro Vancouver is taken, we can bide our time to wait out winter before flushing out any resistance in the interior or far north of the province. But if we fail to drive them out of the northern suburbs of Vancouver, who knows what plans those Canadians may formulate. They have proven to be a resourceful enemy to say the least.”

The Major took out his hunting knife and twirled it around in his hand as he informed the command personnel of their plans for the prisoners. “We’ll see if we can tickle some information out of the captured snipers before we attack. Perhaps they might give us some useful intel on the enemy positions.”

After he sheathed his knife, Sigmund headed over to the interrogation tent where the two Canadians were tied up to large posts on the ground. He cleared his throat to get the attention of the officer in charge, who promptly saluted the Major. Then he paced around the pitiful prisoners who were shirtless and exposed to the cold winter air. “Have our guests been cooperating officer?”

“Negative sir, but they’ll start talking when hunger and fatigue sets in. They haven’t slept in two days now, so they must be feeling it by now.”

Sigmund lifted the chin of one of the prisoners up to face him eye to eye, and the Major could see the distain and hatred in the man’s facial expression before letting his head drop, breaking the gaze. “Must be cold gentlemen. Let’s see if we can get the negotiations started. If you tell me the name of your commander, we’ll let you have your clothing back. How’s that for a deal…eh?”

“Hah! I’m sure you’re enjoying yourself staring at our handsome shirtless bodies.”

Stroking his chin, Sigmund responded with a hint of danger in his voice; “Hmm, you’ve still got a sense of humour I see. Just be careful, a smart-aleck response can be reckless you know. Officer, keep them awake and withhold their food and water till they start talking.”   

As he walked out of the tent, one of the prisoners shouted back at him in anger; “Us Canadians will always be strong and free, if not politically then mentally in our minds!”

Turning his head back and stopping, the Major responded: “Aye, you may think we cannot chain your thoughts, but the mind, just like the body, can be broken given enough time and pressure. Enjoy the rest of your evening you two.”

As he left, the two prisoners belted out the Canadian anthem, which seemed to amuse Sigmund even more. They’ve got heart, that’s for sure, he thought.

Back at the Canadian camp, the sleeper cell snipers were just returning back to their base, but General Choi was worried as two of their group were not present or accounted for. “Sergeant Barnes and Willows haven’t shown up yet…tell patrols to keep an eye out for the two stragglers.”

McGilvery took Choi aside and quietly asked in a hushed tone. “Do you think they could’ve been captured? It’s not like one of the sleeper cells to be this late for the rendezvous back at base.”

“They were given instructions to circle around east to regroup. We’ll give them some more time, if not, we’ll have to assume they are either dead, injured or worse, captured by the Americans.”

“A rescue mission would be impossible to say the least. If they are imprisoned, we don’t even know where they are being held,” said McGilvery, clearly worried.

Putting his hand on McGilvery’s shoulder, Choi walked over to the returning snipers and congratulated them on their successful mission in incapacitating the American General. “You boys did us proud, we have fish and some bread if you’re hungry so dig in. You guys deserve it!”

When the last soldier was out of earshot, Choi took his Major aside and detailed out his plan to find or rescue their two missing sergeants. “Take a hand detonating remote control and we’re going to pretend that we have an explosive set up on one of their ships. You’re going to go up to their camp and tell them that if they don’t release the two prisoners back to you, that you’ll let go of the trigger and the explosive will go off, sinking one of their vessels. Once you have Sergeants Willows and Barnes with you, we’ll cover you as you cross back over the inlet and retreat back to our base.”

“Are you sure they won’t call our bluff? They’re not completely incompetent you know.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. So, are you up to the task or should I ask for another volunteer?” he raised his eyebrows as he waited for his Major to reply.

“Oh, why the heck not? Worse come to worse, I’ll join the sergeants and keep them company.”

“You’ve got guts McGilvery. You’ve got guts, that’s for sure.” 

Confidently patting his Major’s back, their lighthearted sense of optimism seemed mismatched with the direness of their situation.

As the sun rose over the American’s new base in the ruins of Vancouver, General MacMillan joined his Major to visit the prisoners, hoping that by now they would be willing to talk. Brushing aside the tent door flap, the bright morning light blared in the eyes of the Sergeant Willows and Barnes, causing them to squint and advert their faces from the sun.

“Good morning sleeping beauties. I trust you both had a pleasant night?”

The dark rings around the two men’s eyes clearly showed that they did not and the Major’s sarcastic joke caused the two to scowl, knowing they had been sleep deprived for nearly three days in a row.

“Still not feeling like talking yet…eh?” grabbing hold of Willows, Sigmund punched him right in the stomach, causing him to fall back several steps.

Willows looked up with eyes of defiance, as he taunted his enemy, putting on a sly smile on his face. “Is that the best you can do? You punch like a little girl!”

“Bold words for someone in no position to judge. Too bad you can’t eat confidence or drink resilience. We’ll check on you two tomorrow and see if you’re in a more cooperative mood by then.”

Sitting back down at his post, Barnes checked out the bruising on Willows stomach, feeling sorry for his fellow prisoner. “Well that bruise is going to mess up your grand looking six-pack man!”

“I probably won’t have any packs left by the time we’re finished here at the rate we’ve been starving. Your body starts to eat itself when it gets too hungry.”

“Speaking of hungry, I could eat a sirloin steak right now with arugula salad and a side of French fries.”

Yawning for the umpteenth time, Willows begged Barnes to stop mentioned food as his stomach growled ever so loudly. 

They took micro-naps in between shocks that would wake them up every few minutes, and the sleep deprivation was torturous and grueling, as their bodies screamed for a proper night of rest and food to satisfy their hunger.

As night began to fall upon the two warring sides, Major McGilvery held out a megaphone and yelled out truce with a soldier holding up a white flag in the back of his raft.

When the Major approached the American side, searchlights trained in on the small vessel, and a crowd of soldiers gathered, clutching their weapons and clearly uneasy about the parlay. 

“Hello, I am Major Sigmund, acting commander while General MacMillan is recovering. Have you come to surrender?”

Trying not to snort out of distain at the thought of giving up the fight, McGilvery held out his remote control which had been activated as he held the button firmly down. “We’ve planted an explosive on one of your naval vessels and unless you want it to blow up to smithereens, we request a trade be made. We will not blow up your vessel in exchange for the two prisoners you have captured a couple days ago. Let them go with me and your pretty toy boats will stay intact.”

Major Sigmund’s face went from surprise to unimpressed as he realized they were not surrendering but were blackmailing them for the release of their two soldiers. “I’m afraid we can’t comply with your demands, as the two captured men hold much valuable information we have yet to extract from them. Now unless you wish to join them in our interrogation tent, I suggest you leave and know that if you even try to sink one of our Navy vessels, you will face the full weight of the US Army and Navy in reprisal.

Watching the dejected Canadian flee back across the inlet on their raft, Sigmund took a sigh of relief as he had correctly assumed the Canadians were only bluffing when they threatened to demolish one of his ships. He was regretting not taking the negotiator in as a prisoner alongside his two comrades, but out of respect for the rules of war, the flag of truce had to be followed. Nonetheless, having an enemy major on the racks to be interrogated would have resulted in much useful information that could have been exploited. 

As the crowd of soldiers dispersed and retired for the night, the Major escorted General MacMillan back to the field hospital, which had been set up in what remained of a general hospital in Vancouver. Although the hospital building had suffered some damage, much of the equipment and tools were still usable, hence the Americans converted it to a medical camp of sorts. 

As they passed by a sign that read ‘St. Paul’s Hospital,’ the General and Major entered the building and hoped that MacMillan’s injuries would heal quickly so he could resume command of the operations. 

General Choi watched as McGilvery got out of the raft and shook his head disappointedly. “Sorry boss, they didn’t take the bait. I was lucky they didn’t take me in as well for good measure!”

“Then I’m afraid there’s not much more we can do about the sergeants’ situation. If we had any prisoners, we could organize a swap, but we don’t have any POWs at the moment.” 

“When I met with their leader, there seemed to be a gentleman with him who had a wound in his neck area. Do you think he’s the General who was injured?” 

“Well, one of our Sleeper Cells said he got a clean shot on who he thought was the General exiting the command post tent, so you might be correct Major. If their general is injured, that should buy us some time before they regain their momentum and get on the offense again.”

Entering their bunker underground to avoid the bombardment of shells by the US Navy, which started after they cleared the entrance to the inlet, they strategized on how to dig in and resist the Americans despite their tactical, numerical and technological advantages.