Anti-assimilation army: A Spark

Chapter 11

Till the Last Breath

As Chris punched his steering wheel and blasted the blaring horn from his truck, Arthur winced at the ear-splitting sound. “They struck a deal to surrender? Those lily-livered excuse for soldiers are giving up just like that! Can you believe it?”

“So, what do we do Chris?” Arthur’s face was one of dejection and defeatism. 

“They may have taken over Vancouver, but the Sea to Sky corridor is my turf. As long as me and my volunteers are alive and kicking, we’ll send those Yankees back if they try coming up north. Let’s get back to home base, we’ll organize a barricade of the highway just south of Squamish. We won’t be able to hold them long though without reinforcements.”

“But Chris, you heard the general, all Canadian forces in BC are to cease hostilities and surrender to the Americans.”

“Ah, that’s what our glorious general states, but you know what? The AAA works for the Canadian people, and no one in the Canadian forces can tell us what to or not to do. Now we’d better get you some practice with that rifle of yours. You’ll be needing it soon, mark my words.”

Arthur gripped his gun with extreme nervousness, simply nodding to indicate his compliance and understanding of how dire the situation really was.

As they pulled up their truck at the gas station, they got out and entered the underground basement of the building and walked into a packed meeting place for AAA members. 

As everyone noticed Chris enter the room, one man made a bold statement, asking what Chris thought of the General’s surrender of the Canadian Forces. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know these last few weeks have been…unsettling, but I can assure you that the weakness shown in our Canadian army has no place in our organization; the glorious Anti-Assimilation Army! We shall fight to the death, and take as many of the braggards with us or die trying.”

Amid the loud cheers and raising of jugs full of beer, Arthur kept his distance and soaked in the reality that he was in, that he might be part of the last stance in Western Canada against the American onslaught.

The next morning, Chris shook Arthur awake and took him outside where they would preoccupy themselves with target practice for some indefinite amount of time. Chris gave Arthur a pellet gun, and trained Arthur on how to sight the rifle, where to hold the gun and picking the right time to press the trigger. 

As he hit several beer cans off the bench they were lined up on, Chris then gave Arthur the real rifle, warning him to only try shooting once, as ammunition was quite scarce and they would need every bullet that could be spared.

Arthur lined up the sight down the barrel, took a deep breath, then pressed the trigger, blowing a gaping hole in the side of the can as it ricocheted onto the grass.

Chris then patted his new apprentice’s back, congratulating him on his marksmanship and took him towards the truck where they would make their rounds around the whole stretch of territory they were assigned to defend.

“I talked to some of the guys and they’re gonna get a head start on the barricade we talked about. We’re just going to do our rounds heading south to scope the lay of the land for them before heading north for Whistler. Sound good bud?”

Quietly approaching the small pier on Porteau Cove, they parked the car a fair distance away and quietly approached the bluff overlooking the surrounding area. For the time being, there was not a trace of American troops or sailors in the vicinity and they decided to report the situation and got back into the truck before heading north, to Whistler. 

The long drives along the perilous cliffside highway often lulled Arthur to sleep, unless Chris was giving one of his life lessons again. This trip was no different, and soon Arthur was nodding off, getting some much-needed rest.

As he looked over at the young lad clutching his rifle and sound asleep, Chris smiled as he recalled his first time shooting a rifle on the farm. His father had overestimated Chris’ ability to withstand the recoil of the gun and after the shot, the rifle knocked right into Chris’ face, resulting in an embarrassing black eye for several days. 

Ever since joining the army, Chris’ rookie status quickly changed to one of famously skilled soldier, as he completed mission after mission in several tours in the Middle East.

Overtime, the act of taking another life for the greater good was desensitized, and he no longer had nightmares or bouts of post traumatic stress disorder plaguing his sleep. He was a cold hard killer, born and raised as if for the sole purpose of defending his country with his own blood.

But something in him was envious of Arthur’s innocence, of living a simple peaceful life that didn’t involve the taking of another man’s life. Chris had seen it all before, lads like Arthur, eager to join the ranks, but deeply traumatized after their first kill. Most would recover from their shock and immersion into violence, but there were some that would never heal; forever haunted by their act of murder and traumatized by the events, even though it was for the greater good.

As he thought back to when Arthur first asked to join him with the AAA, his mother had taken Chris aside and asked him to promise her one thing. She asked that he would take care of Arthur as if he was his own son, and that after the war was over, if they had survived, he would return their child back into their arms, safe and sound. 

Chris had assured and promised Samantha that he will do as she said, but he now wondered where they might be, since throngs of civilians were surrendering and being shipped south to the American Midwest. At least Arthur was a free man still, while his family may be interned, casting doubt on whether he might ever be able to see them again. 

As they neared the resort town of Whistler, the shops, restaurants and snazzy bars were all closed, creating a frighteningly eerie scene, without a soul in sight. Heading for what used to be the municipal hall, they parked nearby and went downstairs to meet with the other rowdy AAA members. 

“Top of the mornin to you Chris, Arthur, you both doing well?” patting the two member’s backs heartily, Arthur tried his best to not fall over from the forceful shoves of the burly man.

“We’re good Ben, just need some supplies to shore up our defenses at Squamish. I’m sure you’ve heard of our general’s terms of surrender?” 

“Humph. That’s all everyone’s been able to talk about all day yesterday night. Many are absolutely indigent at how easy the army just capitulated. But we’re all with you Chris, we know the core values of the AAA: courage, undying hope and tenacity.”

“Thank you, Ben. It’s a breath of fresh air to hear someone with the guts to stand up against the Americans. It seems our military was not made up of the same stuff as our die-hard volunteers are; the difference is clearly night and day.”

“Well, we’ve got some supplies that came in from north of Pemberton, and folks have been donating foodstuffs, clothes, equipment and firearms. We’ll load it all onto your truck, in the meantime, you both want a soda? It’s the last of them since being cut off from the American soda manufacturers.”

Eagerly taking a can and popping open the top, Arthur slurped thirstily, only stopping to let out a surprisingly loud belch for a teenager. 

Chris meanwhile, sipped his slowly, relishing the taste of sugary carbonated water which had for more than a century, defined what it meant to drink like an American. It was surprising to find out how much of the things people buy in Canada were imports from the USA. From soda cans, to washing machines and even cars, which were all proudly American made. 

As they entered the truck waiting for the supplies to be loaded, Chris asked a question; “Hey Arthur, do you know a girl named Alex?”

Arthur coughed as some soda went down his windpipe, and the embarrassed apprentice tried to hide his surprise at hearing the name of his ex-crush. As he regained his composure, Arthur timidly answered Chris, trying not to betray his emotions. “Yes Sir, I did know an Alex. We were living together at Garibaldi; her family and ours.”

“Oh! The spunky girl from the campsite! Of course. If you’re wondering how I knew it, I just keep hearing you say her name when you’re asleep! Ha ha, no need to be embarrassed, I used to be like that as well when I was a young lad.”

“Yeah, but she only likes my brother Joel though; part of the reason why I joined you and the AAA. I can’t bear watching her falling in love with him as I stand by the sidelines.”

A single teardrop threatened to fall as the bundled emotions held deep inside swelled and brimmed to the surface.

Chris put his arm around the young teenager and consoled him, telling him that it would be alright in the end. “You want her to be happy, yes? Then maybe it’s for the best that she picks your brother, if he makes her happy? It’s not just about what you want bud, it also matters what the girl wants too.”

Chris rubbed his back and took out the pellet gun in an attempt to cheer up his young recruit. “Here, while they’re loading up our truck, give your shooting skills a test. I’ll line up some targets for you.”

Chris placed the two, now empty, soda cans on a tree stump then backed away from the line of fire and watched as Arthur took aim and shot, nailing both cans accurately. 

“Well done my boy!” 

Arthur smiled at the praise from Chris, despite still feeling quite depressed about the whole Alex issue.

As they drove back to Squamish with the midday sun beginning to slowly start its descent, Arthur asked a question that had been on his mind for the last few hours. “Chris, did you ever…you know…have a girlfriend?” 

“Ah, still thinking about that, eh? Well, I’ve had many girlfriends in my lifetime kid, but I was sort of a dating disaster. By the time I was thirty-one, I had been on several dates where either the girl never returned my call or I felt they were not a match for me. You see, I have very high standards of what I think a girlfriend and ultimately wife, should be. Anything less than par, I’d just rather pass and stay happily single. Marriage comes with its whole set of problems too. It’s not like some fairy tale where everything is happily ever after. You have to work on it, building up trust, strengthening your relationship and growing up while moving forward as a team.” 

Arthur sat still as he digested all the wisdom flowing from Chris’ expertise on relationships, feeling like a sponge, soaking up every little tidbit of information that might help him in his future. 

They reached Squamish by the early evening, then unloaded the supplies of food and clothing while keeping the firearms only for those at the front lines. They handed down the last box then jumped back in the truck and eagerly headed south, with Chris telling Arthur to be ready for anything as they neared the American controlled region. 

Arthur looked ahead and the sight was one that took his breath away. Several large metal containers were used as barricades to stop traffic from either side of the highway. Volunteers were scattered about, aiming their rifles at anything that moved too close to the man-made blockade. As they met up with the man in charge of the operation, Chris listened to all the events that had unfolded. 

“We got the barricade up just in time, as some American convoys tried coming up north. We traded a few potshots with them before hunkering down. Did you bring more weapons and food? We’re a tad low on both right now.”

Handing the commander a day-old bun, the man nodded his thanks as Chris went about distributing the food to all their men defending the area, much to their gratitude and thanks.

Arthur helped with the handouts and he noticed all sorts of people had volunteered to fight; the old, young, men and women, all ready to fight to the finish.

“Now it won’t be long before they start bringing in the big guns to clear out our blockade, so I want you to help me set these explosives on that bluff overlooking the highway. You’ll have to climb up the other side to reach the bluff, so be careful, it’s really steep. Make sure you don’t lose your footing while you’re up there. And please, don’t drop the C-4 alright? You got a mother right? I want to bring you back to her in one piece.”

Handing over the plastic explosives carefully, Arthur gently placed it in his backpack and started his ascent up the cliff. Reaching higher and higher, he chanced a look down and he could clearly see the sunset, simmering into the ocean. Not wanting to get stuck so high as darkness falls, he put on a spring to his step and finally got to the top of the bluff. As he took out the explosives and carefully wedged them into a crack in the stone, he activated the remote detonator and waited till the light turned green. Then he began his descent down the same way he came up, being extremely careful with each step, making sure to have good footing before shifting his weight. Taking a deep sigh of relief as he made it back to ground level, his mentor patted his back heartily, proudly smiling at the job well done. Moreover, Chris wasted no time in shamelessly telling the defenders of his apprentice’s harrowing feat climbing up the cliff.

Embarrassed at all the attention placed on him, Arthur simply shrugged it off and smiled nervously as Chris went on and on throughout the evening, droning out the chirping of crickets and the quiet rumble of engines signaling the arrival of destroyer vessels closing in on the barricade’s position.

As he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Arthur thought he heard a distant boom nearby but he went back to sleep, thinking nothing of it. Suddenly a second larger blast shook their truck, and immediately Chris told him to get the remote device to trigger the C-4. Frantically getting out of the car, he could see the metal barricade had been reduced to shrapnel, and a multitude of American convoys prepared to cross into the Sea to Sky territory. 

Yelling at the top of his lungs for everyone to get out, Chris made one last check around before detonating the explosives.

A large boom could be heard above, but nothing happened other than a few rocks tumbling down the cliff face. Fearing that the plan had failed, Chris quickly got inside the truck with Arthur and backed out just as a loud rumbling sounded and boulders the size of cars came crashing down from the bluff.

“Yee haa! It worked bud! It worked! It had me worried there for a second.”

Heading back north to Squamish, Chris knew that the blockade would only buy them a little time, and it wouldn’t be long before the Yankees would be breathing down their necks chasing them northward.

As snow began falling over Squamish, American destroyers glided through the wintery veil, becoming visible by the defenders who were determined to halt the enemy’s progress.

After packing a few supplies, Chris beckoned Arthur to get in the truck as they headed north once again to warn the northern territories that an attack was imminent. Reinforcements would be needed to defend Squamish and Chris knew that with the cellular communications down, they would need to tell the volunteers up north in person.

Carefully navigating the icy roads, they figured that if the snow was causing them problems, it would also hinder the Americans as well. With eyes wide awake and his heart pounding a thousand times a second, sleep during the long trip was the last thing on Arthur’s mind, as he pondered if he would make it out of this war alive.

Chapter 12

The Spoils of War

Walking around the centre of BC Place Stadium, General MacMillan was amazed that the sports arena was still intact, with scarcely any damage. 

“Imagine major, the best American sports teams battling it out in this stadium in front of thousands of cheering fans. We still have to come up with a name for our city. I personally think New Seattle would be a good candidate. Do you have any ideas Major?”

“Cascadia has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“We’ll have to bring it up with the city planners when they come. We should probably have a museum to commemorate our victory over the Canadians too. Major, it’s all about legacy; what you’re going to leave behind when your dead and gone. If nothing else, I’d like to be remembered as the general that conquered the great city of Vancouver. Although it did take far longer than I would have liked; and costed more than what my superiors would have liked as well.”

As they walked past the thousands of empty seats in the stands, he couldn’t help but think of those fans who a couple months ago might have been cheering on their favourite teams in the stadium, but were now being interned to the American Midwest. 

MacMillan snorted as he recalled the fierce resistance of the Vancouverites and he figured they would all learn the meaning of hard work as they are sent to manual labour camps set up for all Canadian prisoners of war. Having been grown up in Huston, Texas, Canadians had been always portrayed as lazy, liberal socialists, flirting with the dangers of overreaching governmental powers. Indeed, it was believed that Canadians always interfered with American trade policies, and practiced unfair trade agreements despite all that the USA was doing to help Canada out. Many conservative-minded Americans worried that Canada would slide into a socialist republic, taking the great democracy of the United States down with it.

With the European Union becoming seemingly more liberal by the day, MacMillan and other American leaders feared that the US would be the last bastion of defence for free trade, conservatism, capitalism and democracy. 

MacMillan picked up a flag for the local Vancouver soccer team, knowing that it was only a matter of time before they would be the victors, not just over Vancouver, but the entire country of Canada as well. A message sent out to all the American generals informed them that the main US division would be pushing into downtown Toronto soon, having quelled most of the resistance in the suburbs. While the Canadian leaders had long-since relocated to a safer headquarters up north, the loss of Canada’s largest city would be a definite blow to the moral of the defending Canadians. 

MacMillan recalled one prime minister describing Canada’s relationship to the US as a mouse sleeping with an elephant, except that the mouse showed no fear whatsoever of the larger animal.

The general believed that the American armies of the war of 1812 should have conquered Canada centuries ago, but were incompetent, undecisive and unmotivated to fight.

Heading back to his headquarters at the former Vancouver Museum of Anthropology, the educational building was temporarily converted to a makeshift command centre, with the hustle and bustle like that of a bee hive.

As he walked by staffers carrying loads of paper, folders and office materials, the flurry of activity seemed to not bother the general, who was not one to sit and lie around. He entered his office, took off his hat and poured himself a drink from his personal coffee pot. The General offered his Major a cup of Joe and the lesser ranked man took the cup gratefully, adding cream and sugar to his own taste. The General however took his coffee black, saying something about how drinking coffee straight up by itself was how real men drink.

They then took out a phone and tried out the hastily setup cell phone towers, calling the operations commander to see how the army’s drive up north was faring.

“I’m sorry sir, the rebels have blocked the route with a landslide. It will take some time to remove the rubble. In the meantime, we’re ferrying troops past the barricade to help secure the area while we wait.”

“Any casualties to report commander?”

“A few minor injuries from enemy fire but all troops are relatively healthy and accounted for.”

“Keep up the good work!”

Rubbing his chin as if contemplating some sage advice, MacMillan outlined the situation to his subordinate. “With the main Canadian army throwing the towel on our fight, it appears there is another group organizing the resistance to our forces. Do we have any knowledge of this group major?”

“Sir, our sources have confirmed that they are the AAA, or Anti-Assimilation Army. While not a division of the military, they are made up of highly-trained volunteers and are experts at guerilla warfare. They grew in popularity shortly after the invasion started and have been supplying the Canadian forces with foodstuffs, arms and ammunition. No doubt they won’t be letting us take their homeland easily.” 

“Humph! The AAA? They might as well call themselves the saviors of Canada. There’s no way they can stop our conquest of this land of the hippies. I want intel on the head honchos of the AAA and I want a bounty set on each one of them. There are many ways to kill a snake, but we’re going for the head and finishing it quick-like.”

Frantically writing down the General’s orders, the Major excused himself and hurriedly passed down the instructions to other subordinates, immediately putting into action what his superior wanted. 

After several days of intelligence gathering, espionage and satellite evidence, the Major was informed of the intel they had gathered. Sigmund then handed MacMillan a paper with photos attached, with vital information on the belligerent. 

“Chris Hadley, thirty-six years old and is the AAA division leader for the West coast. Our sources managed to dig up some photos of him.”

Casually flipping through the photos showing Chris in various places, the General nodded his head in satisfaction and admitted that the Major did a job well done given the time sensitivity of the order. 

“Have we figured out a way to infiltrate the ranks of the AAA? Are there any splinter cell groups willing to join our side?”

“I’ll have our sources keep an eye out for such an opportunity,” said Sigmund.

Leaning back in his armchair, the general cracked a smile. It seemed that the winds of fate were finally blowing his way.