Prologue

Ten years ago, I began considering the idea of writing a book chronicling the tales of American soldiers, marines, airmen, and sailors who participated in the Great Russo-American War. I grew up near Richmond, Virginia hearing tales of brave Americans who had sacrificed their lives to protect the United States.

During the opening stages of the war, when the Russians invaded the East Coast, Richmond became home to more than a million refugees. When I was little, there were still many in the city. My own family hosted an elderly woman from Boston until I was eight.

However, it was not until the 50th anniversary of VR day neared that I was asked to begin collecting the experiences of veterans. What follows are the accounts I collected through my two year search.

Note to Reader;

Italics:Subject of Interview speaking

Bold and Italics: Me speaking

November 3, 2069

Douglas Pierce is a former U.S. Army Ranger and served in the Battle of Washington DC, the Polish Campaign, and the Moscow Offensive. His face bears the scars of the battles of his youth and he walks with a limp given to him by a Russian landmine.

Though he is almost seventy, the former soldier still has a proud attitude. Every morning when he wakes up he polishes the picture of his old Ranger unit, most of whom are dead.

When I arrived on the morning of November 3rd, he asked if we could conduct the interview on the porch in front of his house so he could see the leaves on his lawn which he said were relaxing for him. Just happy to have the opportunity to interview this man, I readily agreed. We proceeded to sit in the two antique rockers on his front porch as he poured the both of us a cup of warm coffee. As he did so I turned on my recording device.

Thank you, Mr. Pierce.

He simply nodded his head and took a sip of coffee and motioned for me to proceed.

Mr. Pierce, could you please tell me of your experience in the Russo-American War?

He looked at me for a moment before responding.

You may call me Doug. Now, it was a long war, so could you be more specific?

Of course, Doug. Would you tell me of your experience in the opening stages of the war, during the Invasion of Washington?

He looks over his small yard, his eyes seeming to glaze over slightly.

I remember that day. At the time, the military was just recovering from the war against Al-Asad. Every time a conflict flared up somewhere in the world, the first thing everyone thought was 'what are the chances there's a nuke?'

The allusion of American invincibility was shattered. A country simply can't survive losing 30,000 of its best soldiers in less than a month and not seem vulnerable, at least not nowadays.

On that day, I was in the hospital visiting a friend of mine who was also a Ranger who had had Appendicitis. We were just sitting there, discussing something stupid, when over the PA we heard, 'All military personnel report to the nearest military instillation immediately.' At the time I had assumed it was some stupid NBC drill the military had started doing but I still rushed to join my unit.

I was part of the 1st Battalion of the 75th Rangers. When I arrived I found the place in chaos. I couldn't believe it when a soldier ran up to me, shoved a helmet, armor, a gun, and ammo in my face and told me the Russians were invading.

Now, I wasn't stupid, at least I'd like to think not. I knew the Russians were pissed about the massacre at Zakhaev International, but I never thought they would have the balls to invade the US.

It was common knowledge the Russians had been mobilizing, I just thought they were trying to save face and make NATO piss itself. How wrong I was.

My first op that day was to help secure a large building, I think it was a bank or something, I don't know. We didn't stay long enough to sight-see. The Russians hadn't gotten there yet so it went well, until we tried to leave.

We loaded into our Humvees, which weren't armored at the time because they hadn't been deployed to any combat zone, and we headed off toward the supposed position of a platoon of Russian paratroopers. About a mile from the objective, we were ambushed.

RPGs slammed into the lead and rear vehicles and boxed us in. The only remaining mounted machine gun in the convoy opened up, but was silenced almost as quickly. We all tried to get out of the vehicles, but anyone who tried was met with a hail of bullets.

I managed to get my leg out before an AK round grazed my calf.

At this moment, he pulls up his pant leg to reveal a small trench-like indentation in his calf. He lays his finger inside and it sinks almost halfway.

First Purple Heart. A buddy of mine helped me limp out, and we managed to escape. Barely. Out of the twenty six men in our column only me and three others made it out. Nineteen were killed. The other three were captured.

Normally a wound like mine would've had me out for a few weeks, but we were so short on men during the invasion, they just wrapped it and gave me a small supply of local anesthetic to keep it numb.

An hour later I was back in the field. After that, it get kind of blurry. For about three days, the only sleep I got was in transports between ops. They all started to blend together. Everyone was tired, everyone was scared. We thought it was the end of the world.

Russians were everywhere. Everything was failing, radar was down, the Air Force was always busy. The only thing I remember distinctly is the Battle of the Washington Monument and retaking the White House.

I was one of the defenders at the Monument. That was one of the worst battles. The Russians brought out every trick they had. Dozens of helicopters, BTRs, BMPs, anti-tank missiles. Everything. Dozens of soldiers died to buy the civilians time to escape.

The Russians had set themselves up in the World War 2 memorial and they were raining all kinds of hell on our heads. And all this was happening right in the National Mall. All these government buildings, the Capitol, the White House, the Washington Monument.

This fighting in the seat of American power, pride, and arrogance was all burning to the ground. Even when we retook the White House all we had was a white-washed smoking ruin filled with Russian corpses.

That's why we invaded Russia. Politicians try to justify it today, saying we needed to negate a threat to American sovereignty. The truth is that's bull-shit.

On the day when the green smoke rose above DC we knew why we were going to Moscow. We wanted revenge. Plain and simple. That's why Moscow hasn't been on a map for almost fifty years.

Lieutenant Colonel Marshall Fairbanks is a teacher at the Air Force Academy. Fifty years ago he was a pilot of an F-22 Raptor. His was one of the few dozen available for combat operations during the invasion.

We decided to meet in his office at the Academy. On his walls rest photos of the pilots he used to fly with. His desk is neat and organized as one would expect. He showed me a picture of him taken shortly before the invasion. It shows a young man of about twenty-five with a strong jaw and firm muscles.

Today, though his hair has grayed and he bears the scars of war, he still has the confidant eyes of the man in the picture.

Colonel Fairbanks, where were you when you heard about the invasion?

Actually, I was preparing for takeoff. I was being fueled and armed when the PA announced, 'All pilots report to their plains. This is not a drill. An attack on American soil is under way."

Of course we all assumed it was another terrorist attack and the Pentagon just wanted us to escort jet liners to the ground, but we acted as though it was Pearl Harbor.

We were in such a hurry my flight was in the air before we were briefed. At first none of us believed it; that the Russians could come out of a civil war with enough balls to attack us.

Our initial engagement was against a massive formation of cargoes and fighters. It was seven Raptors and fifteen F-15s against almost 100 enemy aircraft, three-fourths of which were SU-27s. The Raptors attacked the 27s while the Eagles shot down the transports.

/we later learned those planes were headed to New York. If they had reached it, Manhattan was unguarded as all assets had been diverted to Maryland and Virginia.

Have you ever been in a dogfight? A real dogfight, not what they show on television. On TV its the American launches a missile and the Russian jet banks before bursting into flames. That's how its supposed to work, but not that day.

After we fired our AMRAAMs, there were still way too many Russians in the sky We closed along with a couple Eagles because we needed the support. Its true the Raptor was the most sophisticated fighter in the world at the time, but you just can't take on 75 experienced Russian pilots in high-performance jets with seven Raptors and walk away unscathed. That's why I'm in this.

At this point, Colonel Fairbanks moves from behind the desk to reveal he is in a wheelchair. His right leg is missing just above the knee.

The Russians couldn't get locks on us so they resorted to using their guns. It would normally be almost harmless, a Flanker using guns against a Raptor with both, but when you have 75 of the bastards it gets tough.

You'd be fighting one plane, banking this way and that, and your escape from one of his attacks would lead you into the jaws of another 27. Half the Raptors were shot down, mine included. Six F-15s survived.

When I ejected, a piece of my plane, my baby, came flying out of nowhere and chopped my leg off. It was so hot it actually cauterized the wound, saved my life. Even in death my plane was still keeping my ass alive.

At this point, he pulls out a shard of jagged metal from his desk.

This was found in my leg in my leg afterward. The way it was jammed in prevented an artery from gushing blood. The doctors said the odds of both instances occurring were one in a billion.

When I talk to new pilots, the first thing I tell them is respect their planes, because they'll save your life. When they doubt me, I show them this.

Well, tell my how you guys like it and if I should continue. Any reviews, good or bad, are welcome. Just, no flames.