Anti-assimilation army: A Spark

Chapter 6

One Last Stand

Huddling around the warmth of the dancing fire in their camp, everyone intently listened to the emergency news radio station to stay abreast of the war for Vancouver. What they heard was demoralizing and it seemed their hopes were to be soon dashed against the wall and broken to pieces.

“Today, Canadian forces have lost control of West Vancouver after a brazen amphibious assault during the night hours. Thousands of Yankee troops landed on Canadian territory and while our men and women fought bravely, they could not stem the tide of soldiers streaming from their transport vessels. It appears that it will only be little time before the North Shore will be taken over and Vancouver will have fully fallen into enemy hands.”

Brian chuckled loudly as he lamented at the consequences of losing the war to the Americans; “Well boys and girls, guess we’d better start learning the Star-Spangled Banner and change our maple leaves for stars and stripes.”

Arthur was shocked and replied with frustration: “You mean give up? How can we do that? We have to keep fighting, resisting till we have no other choice. Otherwise it will have been all for nothing!”

Samantha took her son’s hand and petting it, trying to reason with him about what is best for the family; “Arthur, we were lucky to have survived this long in the wilderness, but it cannot be forever. Sooner or later we will have to return home, no matter what home may look like or feel like when we return.”

Arthur rushed back to the car and slamming the door shut, he lay down on his seat, his mind in disbelief at how easily his family was just going to give up. But no, he would never give up. In his head he had made up his mind. The moment Chris arrives tomorrow morning, he would join him and help the AAA resist the Americans as best they could.

As dawn broke over the horizon, the smell of cooking deer meat brought everyone around the campfire once again, except for Arthur, who was visibly absent from the group. 

“Arthur! Arthur, it’s time for breakfast!” Hearing no reply, Brian opened the car door to find Arthur packed up and lugging a large backpack behind him. “Son, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I’m not just going to sit around and capitulate to the Americans. I’m joining Chris with the AAA and I vow to keep fighting till Canada is free from the Yankees.”

Samantha rushed to try and deter Arthur but Brian stopped her halfway, shaking his head, as if to let him go and make his own choices. “Son, I can’t tell you not to go, as you are a young man now capable of making your own decisions, but I urge you, think about this before you rush headlong into it and remember, if you ever want to come back home, we’ll be waiting to welcome you back, alright?”

“Can we get at least one more hug?” Samantha croaked out as tears began to well up in Samantha’s eyes. She realized the implications of Arthur’s decision; the risks, danger and consequences if captured, which caused her to worry all the more.

“I’ll be back with you guys as soon as I can,” said Arthur.

Leaning close to his mom, he joked light-heartedly to ease her grief: “I wouldn’t want to miss Joel’s wedding.”

Samantha smiled at her son and it was then she realized that her son was not just leaving to fight for his country, but he was leaving also because of the unbearable pain of losing Alex, whom he loved so much, to his brother Joel. She nodded her head understandably and kissed Arthur one last time before he got into Chris’ truck and drove south to help support the last front in Vancouver as best they can. 

As Chris drove along the Sea to Sky Highway, he knew that time was of the essence to get his supplies through to the Canadian detachment, as the Americans were closing in on the only road linking the North Shore with Squamish and rest of British Columbia. Surrounded by mountains, the Canadian forces would be essentially cut off and enclosed to any escape route, forcing them to fight, with the odds overwhelmingly against them.

At the Canadian headquarters, it seemed like everyone was scrambling to get ready for what seemed like a looming Apocalypse. Choi shook hands with the platoon leader of the Alberta Corps that just arrived in the nick of time, and he sent them off to North Vancouver, to give some relief to the soldiers entrenched and under fire from the advancing Americans. 

All available units were deployed to the west, including some of Colonel Smith’s men. Choi knew that if they lost their hold on North Vancouver and the surrounding regions, there would be a full-scale retreat to the mountains, through unpassable terrain and treacherous mountains. But there was some good news that day, as Major McGilvery walked to the General assisting the two men who had been successfully rescued from the American camp. 

“With all the fighting going on in West Vancouver, barely anyone noticed me marching these two to the river. There was the odd question here and there, but nothing we couldn’t weasel our way out of.”

Choi patted the shoulders of the two rescued snipers and welcomed them back to the Canadian camp, glad that they were out of danger for the time being. 

“So I hear the rednecks arrived today to help us out? Sure is kind of Davis, but then again he was always there to help those in need. Do you recall our tour in Afghanistan? He literally pulled our chestnuts out of the fire twice!”

“Well, the two dozen men he sent us will be extremely helpful, but it might not be enough to push enemy back to the shoreline. If they press on any further, they will cut off our supply line to the north, blocking Highway One.”

Wincing as the underground bunker shook after an explosion, Choi wiped some concrete dust off his uniform and regrouped his commanders. “I want every free man jack out there to help push the Americans out of West Vancouver. If we cannot hold them off there, I’m afraid our only option is the disperse into the forest and rely on guerilla tactics. Of course, the logistics of supplying an army hidden in the forest not accessible by roads will be extremely difficult, so I want to throw everything we got at this invasion and see if we can repel it.”

As the other commanders left to carry out Choi’s orders, the general sat alone in his chair, muttering to himself as he always did when deep in thought: “Our society…will it survive this onslaught?” 

Shaking his head, he buried it in his hands as the fear of what might become of his country, the thought, threatening to suffocate all sense of hope he had.

Chapter 7

Learning the Ropes

“Hold onto that rifle son, you might need it when we get off this coastline and head east towards North Vancouver. I’m not sure if the Yankees have taken over the highway yet so be on your guard. Have you ever shot with a gun before boy?”

“No sir, just maybe a few air guns and pellet guns.”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Chris tried his best to train his new apprentice in the art and science of shooting. “You want to give yourself enough room for the recoil; that way you don’t smack yourself after the shot. Then you aim by aligning the top marker with your target, and when you’re ready, pull the trigger and pray that you hit the target. You’ll get used to it son. Alright, look sharp here, we’ve got a convoy heading north.”

Arthur held onto his rifle with shaking hands and Chris reassured him that everything would be okay; “don’t worry Arthur, they’re Canadian. I think they are resupplying the troops just as we are doing,” said Chris as he rolled down his window and hailed down the driver, asking him how the front was looking.

“It doesn’t appear to be good; the troops are trying to hold off the Americans and keep them from crossing the road, but us transports would make easy targets for the Americans holed up in the west. If you want some advice, don’t chance a trip until it gets dark and drive like your life depends on it, because it does!” 

As he thanked the driver, Chris pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the engine, taking the advice to only cross during the cover of darkness. Taking a can of soda from the back, he handed one to Arthur, who hadn’t drank a soda pop since leaving Cloverdale in the fall. 

“Where in the world did you get these? It’s been ages since I drank one of these!” 

After popping the top, he drank deeply of the bubbly sugary soda, relishing the cool refreshing taste and the sweet notes that danced in his palate.

Chris looked at the distant mountains in the horizon and let out a huge sigh, explaining the situation to Arthur: “It might be a long time before life gets back to normal and we can enjoy products like this soda again. As long as the war drags on, no supplies are coming in and we Canadians are forced to live off the land and only look back at the luxury we once enjoyed.” 

“When do you think the war will end?” the hopeful sound in Arthur’s tone was wobbly and insecure, as if unsure of what was to come.

Chris leaned back and crossed his arms, trying to get some shut-eye as he answered his new apprentice; “some say it’ll be over in a few weeks, others are more hopefully that we’ll hold out for a year. It all depends on who you ask. But don’t worry yourself over the future, kick back and relax for now. Who knows when we’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep again? I’ll wake you up when it’s time to drive.” 

Lulled to sleep by the pitter-patter or rain falling on their windshield and roof, they both didn’t notice the convoy of unmarked new vehicles driving north towards Squamish.

A lanky masked figure gestured towards the parked truck on the side and murmured to his partner. “Yo, you think we’d better take out that truck in case they’ve seen us driving through?”

As he bit his lip, his superior rejected his subordinate’s suggestion; “It’s too risky stopping here, we’re too close to both forces fighting right now. Best to get as much distance as we can with our convoy from the troops.”

As roughly forty spanking new vehicles were stolen and driven north, the theft went without a hitch, with both the Canadian and American forces preoccupied with engaging one another so as not to notice the robbers.
 

Chapter 8

Battle for West Vancouver

Frustrated at the lack of progress his troops were making and the stubbornness of the Canadians who kept fighting with valour and grave determination, MacMillan was running out of patience. He was shipping in another five thousand troops by sea to ensure their success would not be jeopardized, and that nothing would be left to chance. He knew that the Canadians could not support casualties as much as his forces could, with troops that still outnumbered them two-to-one. Slowly but surely, they were making territorial gains and pretty soon, the last major lifeline connecting the Canadians all along the North Shore would be cut off, strangling the Cariboozers once and for all.

But even with air and naval superiority, removing the entrenched defenders had been difficult, and there were also reports that reinforcements had arrived for the Canadians from the east.

MacMillan yawned as he oversaw the frontal attack for the third day in a row now, only taking small breaks to get his much-needed sleep. His voice was slowly coming back to him, but he relied on a speech app most of the time as talking too much would make his throat sore. He couldn’t bear to not micro-manage the whole operation, for fear it would deteriorate if he left the reigns to another in charge. The Canadians were tantalizing him with the goal of finishing the conquest of Metro Vancouver, but success was always just out of reach, despite being so close.

“Hooligans, that’s what they are! A bunch of marijuana smoking hippies holding back an entire American army. Simply disgraceful!”

All heads around the command table were held low, afraid to aggravate the general when he was in one of his foul moods. 

“But sir, our forces are making headway, we shall conquer Vancouver in another week at most!”

MacMillan slammed his fist on the table in frustration before typing into his phone his response. “You’d better hope your predictions are correct Sigmund, because I would hate to be in your shoes, never mind the shoes of these incompetent fools around this table, if our mission extends beyond another week. I have written orders from the president himself that we are to take Vancouver by next week or my position will be reviewed.”

As he exited the command tent, he left the rest of the leaders baffled as to why their mission must be finished in such a short time, and worried that their necks may be on the line as well.

MacMillan rubbed his temples to relieve the stress as he recalled the dumbstruck face on the prisoner guards when they realized both prisoners were missing from their tents. He had immediately dismissed the guards with a dishonorable discharge, and angrily relayed the unfortunate news to the rest of the leaders. As he closed his eyes, he remembered the embarrassing speech he had to make in front of his command staff using his speech device:

“Gentlemen, it looks like our collateral has just been stolen. I’ve spoken to the guards and they said there was nothing out of the ordinary. Incompetent blaggards! Can’t even keep watch over two measly prisoners. We’ll need a thorough investigation into this situation. If there are rats inside our camp, our entire mission could be compromised. Major, I want you to do a background check of all the men in our camp right now. I want to know if any of them are immigrants from Canada or have a stake in Canadian property or businesses. I trust you can rely on your judgement for detecting any dishonesty in their responses.”

The general left behind a shaken major, and he confidently found his stride as he walked outside, eager to get some fresh air before returning to managing the operation. 

Finished his reminiscing, MacMillan looked back as a junior staff member blundered out of the tent, and he could tell something important had happened in his fight.

“Sir! We’ve taken over the main highway connecting the North Shore! It won’t be long before the North Shore will be ours!” the young soldier announced.

“That’s good news son, thank you for letting me know.” As he re-entered the tent, he smiled to his team, seeing there was much celebration and commotion. The main screens were showing the body cameras of some of the soldiers capturing the moment when the Canadians retreated back to the east.

“Ha ha! Look at them go! Like a dog with its tail between its legs!”

“Crawl back to the hole where you came from Cariboozers!”

As everyone was smiling at the first taste of success since their assault on the North Shore, MacMillan warned them not to celebrate too early, as there was still work to be done.

“We still have a fight ahead of us, and it might be the bloodiest one yet as the Canadians will fight with a ferocity of desperation and fear. But the end is near my friends, and we shall liberate all of Metro Vancouver before the week is done!”

All around, caps were raised and the cheering drowned out MacMillan’s computer voice so much he had to wait till it receded before continuing his speech.

“It will not be long before all our hard work and sacrifices will pay off, so I urge you to keep up the effort, as it will not all be in vain.”

Touching the healing wound at his throat, he hoarsely spoke with his real voice: “We shall prevail!”

As he returned to the board room, he sat down at the table of commanders, getting a briefing of the latest updates on the assault, and nodding his head throughout most of it. 

“So, we’ve set up blockades at three different points on Sea to Sky Highway so nothing can get through to the defending Canadians. We also have satellite imagery showing that some of the Canadian forces are retreating into the mountains and surrounding forests, perhaps trying to make an escape route. Lastly, Major MacArthur has notified us that his mission of securing Vancouver Island has been complete, so we have no need to worry about sneak attacks coming from behind us again.”

“Very good. Have another messenger send an offer for the Canadians to surrender, perhaps we can end this invasion without any more American blood being shed.”

As the two negotiators arrived on the North Shore, holding a flag of truce, MacMillan happily dug into his steak dinner, confident that his mission to conquer Vancouver was essentially finished. Hearing some commotion outside, he asked whoever was outside to come in. 

With their heads down and embarrassed, the two messengers were covered in paintball splatter, clearly showing the Canadian’s response to their offer to surrender.

“You’ve got to give it to those Canadians, they just don’t give up even with their backs against the wall. Tell the troops in West Vancouver to finish tidying up the North Shore. I want amphibious landings along the Burrard Inlet as well to help speed up the process. Victory is ours boys,” said MacMillan, his voice almost like a whisper.

The invasion lasted well into the night, with bombs and explosions illuminating the night sky for a fraction of a second before plunging everything back into darkness. Bullets danced back and forth from both sides and while most missed their targets in the pitch black, some found their mark, confirmed by the squeals and groans of their victims.

Confident in his army’s capabilities, MacMillan decided to take a much-needed nap, dreaming of marching throngs of captured Canadian troops and their general to internment camps in the Mid-West via railroad. He smirked as he walked by the whimpering prisoners, bringing his face to one of them, who was obviously frightened; shaking like a leaf.

In his dream, the Canadians capitulated and surrendered to the overwhelming American forces. MacMillan then started his lecture to the Canadian prisoners, telling them what would become of them. 

“You Canadian soldiers will now learn the subject of discipline. Discipline for your loyalty to your pathetic country. Discipline for the American blood on your hands. Discipline for resisting our armies and troops and lastly, discipline for even thinking of saving your homeland. Canada is gone, finished, capitulated. You have nowhere to go now, except to our internment camps. But we Americans are merciful, and if you prove to be cooperative and subject to our rules, you may earn your freedom in our new, grandiose and magnificent United States of America. But you are forbidden to return to any former territory held by Canada, and must settle in one of the fifty original states of our great nation. You will also be required to get a tattoo; a maple leaf symbolizing your shameful past as a Canadian. Every citizen of your pitiful country and anyone born of Canadian heritage will be marked in this way. But, in the meantime, you will be shipped east and I’ve just one last thing to say: welcome to the new manifested United States of America.”

Watching the prisoners pile into the train cars, MacMillan felt a surge of pride in his country, that they had successfully conquered their northern neighbour, who had been a thorn in their side for centuries. After the surrendering of the last pockets of Canadian resistance, the manifest destiny of America was complete and nothing could hold back the juggernaut that is the newly combined Canadian-American state. Little did he know that his dreams would come true hours later the following day.

Chapter 9

The Start of Something New

As the Americans closed in on Choi’s troops in their last remaining stronghold in Vancouver, they discussed the options they had moving forward. 

“We could keep fighting till the last man, or we can surrender and ensure the lives of our troops are spared. I personally side with the latter option, because what will remain of Canada if we are all dead? At least being detained in some internment camp, there is still the hope of continuing our lineage and heritage. Who knows? Our descendants may even liberate Canada from American rule one day. I know the AAA will have none of it, but that is their choice and not ours.”

Many heads nodded in agreement to the sage advice from Choi, but one person was visibly objecting to the idea. Colonel Smith knew that if the Canadian forces surrendered now, he would not have enough time to move his stash of valuables to a proper hiding spot. All his work and effort stealing the goods would be undermined if the Americans discovered his treasure and took it for themselves. Slipping quietly out the back exit from the tent, he found himself facing two armed guards wielding their weapons casually. 

“Good evening, Colonel. There is something we would like to…discuss with you in private. Shall we?” Pointing down the path to an ominous tent, Smith was shaking like a leaf as he followed the two gruff-looking men. “Now, I’d like to get straight to business. We’ve heard reports of your little treasure hunt around Deep Cove, and we were surprised that a well-respected commander like yourself would be involved with theft from the very people you are serving and protecting. Here’s the deal, if you give us half of your findings, me and Carlos here won’t breathe a word of your illicit activities. But if you don’t give us half, we’ll be forced to blow the whistle on you and you can say bye-bye to all your money and gold. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

“Treasure? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Where in carnation did you hear of something like that?”

As he reached into his coat pocket, Carlos pulled out a small golden plate, which shone as the firelight bounced off its smooth exterior. “Uh huh, wrong answer Colonel. Where do you think we got this beauty, eh? We know exactly where your treasure is. Either you give us half, or you lose it all. Am I clear?”

“Sounds very clear to me private!”

Jumping back at surprise, Carlos and his partner were shocked to see General Choi standing at the entrance to their tent and shaking his head in disapproval.

“Now I don’t know how you two think you could have gotten away with black mailing a colonel, but you two certainly had guts to try, I’ll admit. But wrongs are wrongs and you two are going to face the extent of the discipline we have for criminals. As for you colonel, I’m surprised at the obnoxiously blatant disregard for our code of honour as a military official, and you are officially removed of your duties and dishonorably discharged from the army. Now if you excuse me, we have an invasion to fend off without being sidetracked by thieves and black mailers.” 

As Choi asked one last time to make sure they were all in consensus with the move to surrender to the Americans, every hand rose in agreement to end the war on the western front and to cease the bloodshed fighting against something that was inevitable. 

As Choi and Major McGilvery got into a truck waving the white flag of truce, they drove towards the American line of attack. A guard stopped the vehicle and asked what it is that they wanted. 

The general only exclaimed one word: “Peace”

After being escorted in a naval vessel into the American camp in what used to be downtown Vancouver, the Canadian delegation met with MacMillan and his leaders to strike a deal between the two warring sides. After several hours of discussion, they came up with the terms of surrender given to the Canadian army in Vancouver, which quickly spread across the radio.

“The remaining Canadian forces in the entirety of Metro Vancouver shall cease fighting and recognize the formation of a new American state in the region. All non-Sino citizens and soldiers in Vancouver shall be deported south to internment camps in the Mid-West where they shall serve their mandatory three years in isolation before being allowed to join the American people. At no point shall the Canadians return to their homeland, and in return, their safety will be prioritized by the overseeing American authorities. An exception is made for Canadians of Chinese descent, who may remain in the Canadian territories, once they have proven that they had not fought with the Canadian military or other paramilitary groups.”

Chapter 10

Adjusting

Driving their two cars together, the Lees and Hayes slowly rolled down the packed highway south towards the border, where most Canadians would be deported to the American Mid-West. Whenever they saw anyone that looked as if they were part of the AAA, they would discretely ask if Arthur was safe and accounted for. Sadly though, there was no news of the young boy, and the family was desperately trying not to think of the worst that could have happened.

Travelling past the charred ruins of what used to be their home city, they could barely recognize the place, with half-crumbled high rises and skeletal remains of what used to be the City Hall. Before they checked in at the transport rendezvous to be transported south, both families decided to split up for a while to check on their homes before heading to the border. 

Joel and Samantha gasped at what was left of their house. Nearly all the windows were broken, and the front door lay ajar, as if someone had broken in and ravaged the place. The thick layer of snow hid most of the damage, but they could still tell their home was sorely in need of repair.

With the Hayes regrouping back at their place, they exchanged stories of what happened to their homes. 

“Yours was damaged as well, eh? We went in carefully to salvage what we could, or at least what was left after the looters. There were footprints all over the floor and they made off with much of our electronics, jewelry and artwork.”

“So we’re literally starting from scratch. Assuming we make it out of the internment camps in one piece,” grumbled Joel.

Samantha hauled one last ginormous bag into the fully loaded truck and gave Brian the all clear to start heading south to a foreign land, not as tourists, but as detained foreign nationals.

“Good thing those scoundrels didn’t touch much of our clothes. I packed several tops and pants for everyone, including Arthur.”

At the mention of his name, everyone went quiet, as if thinking in their heads what the worst-case scenario could be for their headstrong son and brother. 

Had he been captured? Interrogated? Tortured? 

Shaking his head as if to fling away the negative thoughts, Brian tried to muster a brave face, flaunting falsely confident assertions that Arthur was probably safe somewhere fishing with his new buddy Chris.

“I hope you’re right Dad,” said Joel as his voice trailed off awkwardly. One thing was for sure, they were all deeply concerned for Arthur’s wellbeing.