Marty McKenzie could tell that Pershing respected General Kennedy, he knew this by the fact that Pershing had never referred to Kennedy as anything worse than a "bastard", a compliment rarely, if ever, used when speaking of Custer. Though being outnumbered nearly 2 to 1 at the wars' outset, the Confederate army was now at a sizeable numerical and equipment advantage over their adversary.
When news of the nuclear attack had reached the soldiers on the front lines, there was stunned silence. Slowly though, they began remembering the screams of civilians as the yankee soldiers had occupied their homeland, they remembered Fremont's remarks calling their land an embarrasment, the outlawing of their flags, their songs, their literature, and slowly but surely, the silence turned into slow, deliberate, applause. Justice had almost been served.
And now... now Marty watched as General Frasier Pershing paced methodically in the army's HQ outside of Crystal City. He had argued with President Anderson on the about going to the front lines for the better part of an hour, before reluctantly giving Jack his word that he would stay behind. Even now though, he fumbled his sidearm, as if hoping that the DS army would come bursting through the doors that he may send them to the infernal regions.
"We're there, boys, less than 25 miles to go, and we've got that cocksucker Fremont where we want him! I want every man and woman fit to shoot a gun out there, we push hard, we push fast, and we're gonna bowl over these sons of bitches. When Kennedy's army is large enough to fit in a phone booth, well go over the bastard and straight to Fremont, and I'll personally shoot that tree hugging son of a bitch!"
News from the front began to come in, the Yanks were dug in, and even after fierce bombardment, still remained stubborn to the last. Tanks pouring in on the left flank though reported that the DS lines were once again beginning to falter. Whether that would last though was anyone's guess.
His address to his staff finished, Pershing swore under his breath.
"Jack, you idiot, you nuked the wrong goddamn city!"
In the distance, B-52's could be heard, dropping their ordinance on Columbia....
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Anderson was still fuming about the shortsighted self righteousness of the international community when the phone rang.
"Mr President, I have Elliot Fremont on the line."
Anderson's stomach sank, this was either going to be peace talks, or the announcement of a retalitatory nuclear strike. He prayed it was the former.
"Patch him through."
