everyone, take a break for ten minutes while I speak with the hero from the Petawawa raid,” the colonel said. Suspicion turned to admiration on five young faces as they filed out, leaving Alex and Sam alone. The colonel closed the door.
Habit made Alex straighten up, almost to attention, but a tiny motion of Stevenson’s left hand said, “Stand at ease.” His right hand gave Alex a firm, welcoming handshake.
“Glad you’re here to join us, Alex. Good trip? You’ll meet the others a little later. Have a seat.” He motioned Alex to a chair in front of a smaller desk to the right of the main table. “Coffee, tea?” Alex declined both and sat down.
“Colonel Steele,” as his regular force soldiers called him, was hardly a Hollywood Rambo-style soldier. His hair, slightly greying, was trimmed short and neat. He was Docker-dressed, as the saying went: matching shirt and trousers, both pressed and creased. But the colonel was short for an action hero, at most five-seven, slight, physically unassuming, his posture concealing rather than emphasizing his exceptional fitness for a man in his mid-fifties. He wore thin-framed reading glasses hung around his neck, librarian-style.
“Do you know why you’re here, Alex?” Stevenson asked, dispensing as usual with small talk.
“Not exactly, sir. I was only told to come here to help you command the operation in this sector. Beyond which, Molly Grace told me you would fill me in. I must say, sir, that I am honoured to be with you, and I hope I can be helpful.” Alex blushed. Damn, he said to himself, that sounded trite – like I’m some ass-kiss, first day on the job in NDHQ.
“Never mind. I’m sure you’ll do fine, and like I said, I’m glad to have you. In fact, you’re here because I specifically requested you, before the raid on Petawawa. You have a fine record, brains, guts, and experience. That’s what I need, and frankly I don’t have enough of it here. They’re keen, Alex, and they’ll die for the cause, but they’re not all soldiers and there isn’t time to make them into soldiers. You’re going to hold them together, Alex. I’m giving you a big job: I’m giving you command of the Winnipeg battle group, the garrison in effect.
“Here’s the outline. Soon, when the operation begins, your mission will be to create a major disturbance, draw police and army units into the centre of the city, and then hold them there, pin them down, while we move the larger units from the north into the cities and vital points across the province. It’s a diversion within a diversion, Alex.”
Alex held out a hand. “Hold on please, colonel. With respect, you’re suggesting that we’re going to launch a full-scale attack on a major Canadian city, a city of some 700,000 people, with small groups of untested, so-called warriors, and intentionally invite the army and the police to counterattack us! Do you expect, one, that we’ll be able to hold on until the other untested warriors come to our rescue, and, two, do you expect any of us to survive the experience?”
“Well, Alex, yes, I do expect you will be able to hold until relieved, mainly because we have been preparing the teams you will lead for many months. They’re not all untested, as you say; the key sub-unit commanders are mostly trained soldiers with experience in the Canadian army and the U.S. Special Forces. And two, I’m not sending anyone on a suicide mission. You’ll have plenty of backup, and once we draw the army and the police into the centre of the city – get them committed there – you’re going to pull out.
“Remember, Alex, we have surprise on our side, and the army here is just the local militia, no better trained than our young people. As for the police, they’re simply not prepared for the kind of action we’re going to put them in.
“Let me give you the bigger picture, put things in context. After that, and once you’ve completed your recce of the area, if you have doubts or see a need to change the outline plan, well, we’ll discuss the details and make whatever changes fit the bigger strategy. Fair?”
“Fair enough, sir. It just seems rather too bold. I mean, I can’t think of many civilians who would believe the scenario even if we told them about it in advance.”
“That’s our major advantage, Alex, here and in the whole country. The Ottawa politicians just assume that the outrageous things they do can go on without any organized response from us, and they think, too, that we’re too lazy or drunk to figure how to organize a nationwide resistance movement. Complacency and prejudice is a deadly combination in politics and war.
“So, let me explain why Molly Grace sent you west when the action seems to be in the East.”
Alex nodded. “That would be helpful. I thought about it all the way here.”
“Well, what’s happening back there in the East is a bigger diversion, to draw forces into Ontario and Quebec so we can act here. Then we’re doing it again, or rather, you’re going to do it again. It won’t be easy for us to get south in sufficient numbers if the army and the police are able to block the roads south and concentrate their troops north of Winnipeg. So your job is to make them think the problem is in the city, a kind of native intifada. We need them to commit to the city before they see us moving south, and then we need to hold them and prevent their move north. It’s a kind of tar-baby strategy – a nice, little trap. But timing is everything. Here, look at the map.”
Stevenson unfolded the map he’d hidden so obviously when Alex entered. It covered much of the table and illustrated the city and its environs in considerable detail, with aerial photos of specific targets. It also showed military symbols, a familiar second language to Alex, denoting vital points such as electrical and water works, military establishments and units, police headquarters and substations. Two smaller, more detailed maps at one side of the table showed the inner city and the airport plus its infrastructure in greater detail.
“You can see,” Stevenson explained, “that we have two areas of concentration – the inner city with all its high-value targets, and the airport, because it’s the most likely place where the army would try to concentrate a large number of troops for a counterattack on the downtown. If they try to come by road from outside the province, well, too bad for them. We’ll trap them in skirmishes and by blowing up bridges and culverts all along the way.”
The tactical picture rapidly took shape in Alex’s mind and a stream of questions flowed from his quick intellect. “A rude question, colonel: hold till when? Until the cavalry arrives?”
“That’s two questions, but good ones. I could say, ‘Hold until relieved,’ like the British did at Arnhem – or so the movie has it. But we’re the Indians, remember? If the cavalry shows up, it’s not on our side.
“No, your job is to hold the city centre until the enemy is thoroughly committed to the fight in Winnipeg. When he realizes that Winnipeg isn’t the real target, he’ll be too late to cover our move south. Once I’m sure the white guys are stuck into it here and it’s too late for them to stop our bigger plan, I will pass the word to you that your job’s done, and then you’re to withdraw, taking your people north out of the city. It’s a big, bold plan, Alex. It’s been in the making for more than two years, and your operation is a critical part of the Central Committee’s grand strategy – which, I guess you know, means Molly Grace’s grand strategy. Come, sit down again and we’ll do the staff college thing, at least in outline for now.”
Despite the very different circumstances they were in now, Alex felt comfortable – like he was once again in uniform. And Alex and Sam were both soldiers, no matter that they’d taken off the Canadian Forces uniform. Colonel and captain, revered senior officer and trusted subordinate, played their parts automatically and effortlessly.
Stevenson opened his well-worn map folder
