Chapter 19

March 22nd, 1964

Dallas, Texas, United States of America

7:00 AM

Invasion Day

The American city was gleaming with excitement, much more than what had been just four months earlier. People stood on the overpass, outside the fences, a few waving small flags as if it were a parade, and many taking photos with their portable cameras. It almost felt like a throwback to the previous decade, streets closed to traffic, news crews filmed the jubilant crowds cheering on their servicemembers, as salesmen made a killing on soda and coffee… no alcohol was being sold that Sunday.

Mixing intoxicating drinks with the millions in taxpayers' money worth of destructive equipment wasn't a recipe for anything other than disaster, much to the dismay of several Marines that would be going along with the mostly Army contingent.

“Ugh...”

“What?” Hillaire asked, raising an eyebrow as Milo seemed to be struggling to down the cup of coffee.

“Just tastes weird here. Texas coffee, man, I can’t get used to it.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Nerves, maybe.”

“Probably 'cause it’s not the dirt you have in wherever you’re from.”

Hillaire turned to the third guy, sipping the coffee as if it were a delicacy, his hair just behind regulation cut, the bushy brown mustache hidden behind the cup as he sipped.

“It’s God’s blessing on this state, I tell you.”

“Corporal Anthony, I assure you, California coffee is just as high in quality as your standards are down here, if not more so. My... refined tastes... Well, just don’t quite suit the local brew is all.”

“Hey... are you trying to piss him off?” Isaac asked.

Corporal Anthony laughed loudly, saying “My skin’s thick, son, I don’t care what some Russian commie prick has to say about our superior products.”

“Yugoslavian.”

“Pardon?”

Hilaire repeated, “Yugoslavian, corporal. He hates Russians more than anyone back in the Third.”

“Oh, that right?”

Milo muttered “If anyone hated that bastard Stalin more than Tito, I’d like to meet them. That’s what my old man says at least.”

He sipped a bit more of the coffee before tossing the plastic cup with a thrown.

“Uh huh... well, that makes two of us. Damn shame no one we’re about to fight knows anything about that.”

Isaac jumped at the chance then.

“It’s true we’re not going with the first wave?”

“Nope. Army’s going to spearhead. Honestly, boy, don’t you pay attention to the briefings?”

Isaac groaned “We’re Marines, I just figured I could get some good shots off before anyone else.”

“With your camera?”

“Uh... y-yeah.” Isaac mumbled, glancing at the M14 Battle Rifle on his back.

“No offense, but you sure you can handle that gun? It ain’t a Kodak, and you’re lanky as-”

Milo interjected, saying “We’re combat cameramen, we can handle our own if needed, corporal. Same as the guys in Iwo Jima.”

“Huh?”

“The guys who photographed the raising of the flag!” Isaac replied, irritated.

“Ahh... well... Eh, can’t be too sure about your capacity no more. Not with all the forced integration. Met a guy from the fourth that had a decent score in his accuracy until he actually had to put it in practice.”

Then, glancing at some Army troops walking by, Corporal Anthony said “Course, if you can get yourself one of them Mattel rifles, I'd bet even you could hit the broad side of a barn.”

Isaac smirked, adding “Yeah... Army guys and their space-age weapons...”

The soldiers slightly turned their gaze over to him, as if sensing someone was talking smack.

“Yeah, they’re eyeing us... smile, Army pukes.”

Isaac lifted up his camera and snapped a picture.

“Boy, you’re really fresh out of high school, huh?”

Isaac chuckled at the statement, taking another picture of other nearby Marines.

“Men with their rifles, and boys over there with their pellet guns. They’ll show up on Life, side by side; people can see who looks better.” Isaac sneered, chuckling to himself.

Ignoring the evil laugh, Milo only said “Yeah, and I think his girlfriend’s still in high school, right, Hilaire?”

“Huh? Oh, uh... y-yeah... but she’s going to graduate soon, too, so... Y’know... we’re waiting for each other.”

“With you? Let me guess, she’s curvy, and has a nice rack, too, right?”

“Maybe.”

“You have a picture?”

“Maybe.”

Anthony only chortled and continued sipping his coffee without another word.

Isaac pouted slightly at the skepticism but kept the picture to himself, a bit self-conscious of it being in the pocket of his M1955 Flak jacket.

Then, among all the commotion, some words caught his attention.

“...Probably think they’re better than us...”

“...Dumb grunts...”

“...wooden rifles... can’t even control ‘em in full-auto.”

He glanced at the soldiers with M16s and shouted “Yeah, that’s right! We still have real rifles, you pansies! Takes skill to use these!”

Milo groaned, saying “You know, they should send you back a year... or three. Are you-?”

“Nah, let him. I’d rather not miss all this.” Anthony interrupted, taking a last sip from the cup.

Isaac ignored them both, a crooked grin on his face as the guys with M16s marched over with crooked grins of their own.

***

Dennis Orville watched the civilian crowds with indifference, melancholy nipping at his thoughts with every step he took.

The small mural painted for the victims of the attack was riddled with photos and flowers, the restructuring of the nearby area to secure the Dealey Plaza and connect the main roads so that a third one entered directly into the sealed-up structure that housed the portal connecting both worlds, the contrast of the happy crowds of civilians and soldiers and the dangerous weapons of war all neatly lined up to enter the fight and get first blood in what would, by all accounts, be the very first interplanetary war.

Perhaps even inter-universal if some theories held any truth.

The scale certainly implied it.

The lines of trucks and supplies that had been amassed, the construction equipment, the manpower, the different branches of the American military working with each other. He watched a Navy officer walking next to an Air Force officer, both carrying notebooks, inspecting something in parked trucks, and marking something down before moving on to the next. He saw Army GIs and Marines chatting away like nothing.

It should have been uplifting.

And yet...

He turned to the Army personnel speaking with the Marines, distinguishable in part thanks to the occasional black strap across their M1 helmets compared to the Army’s green, though primarily the Marine flak jackets which were uniformly missing within the Army troops. Differences in gear were expected among the branches of the armed forces. And yet, of all the gear to compare, the men were comparing their rifles, the Army adopting the very new M16, the Marines keeping the not-so-old M14.

One wooden, one polymer.

“Look, all I’m saying is that if you're going lower in caliber, at least make the rifle look intimidating. This one’s intimidating and we can carry more rounds.”

“Sissy rounds that probably won’t kill in one hit. And even then, you can’t match the look of this wooden stock. It’s a classic.”

“It’ll kill the guys the same.”

“Well, sure, but yours will probably take more rounds to drop ‘em compared to this baby.”

“Wrap it up, kid.”

“Yeah, better do what your boss says, boy.”

“What’s that, mister sissy caliber? Wanna avoid fights?”

“Hill quit arguing with the dogs, we have to get moving.”

“W- Milo! Hey, let go!”

Dennis eyed them as the Marine was dragged off by the other one, both following their corporal as they began clearing out the main staging area.

“We’ll be going soon as well. Let’s go, Callahan.” the Army guys mumbled before heading out on their own way.

“Zero Hour is almost upon us... it’s good seeing everyone trying to stay calm and collected. Mostly.”

Dennis turned to Captain Rhodes, the man placing a picture inside his helmet, though Dennis didn’t quite catch who it was, before putting it on, letting the straps hang loose.

“You feeling alright?”

“Yes, Captain. Never been to Dallas is all. Taking the scenery in.”

Rhodes nodded, tying up his helmet saying “Well, save your awe for whatever we see on the other end. Technically we’re about to surpass the president’s Moon landing goal by visiting another world. Even the Berets didn’t technically set foot on the other end.”

Dennis nodded, noticing an older reporter he didn't recognize asking questions to the same Marines he could just faintly overhear.

"Do you feel confident you can beat back whatever force awaits you?"

"I would say so. I’m an auto-rifleman and we have other guys with M60s that shoot over five hundred rounds a minute, that’ll shred a Roman legion in probably the same amount of time. And uh... even if there's something the guns can't handle; the Patton tanks have ninety-millimeter cannons for the main gun. Know anything that can stand up to that?"

"Russian armor?" another voice cut in.

"Not a chance, chief! Hey, get outta here, traitor! You're stealing my minute of fame!"

Dennis glanced at the men for a second, well… kids, really. Guys his age, maybe younger. They were joking around, taking cigarettes, drinks, and whatever the girls were offering from outside the fenced section. He saw one guy get kissed on the cheek by three different girls who looked suspiciously alike to the point that he began wondering if they were identical triplets. He saw another guy, older than him, just walk up and kiss a random girl full on the lips before running off, leaving what was clearly a schoolgirl in a very flustered and perhaps disturbed state of mind as she pointed at the soldier who was running off before several other girls, similar in age began to laugh with her as if nothing unordinary had happened.

A random girl with fair skin and blue eyes gave him the brightest smile he had ever gotten from anyone, not his mother and he slowly waved back, although not really smiling as much as slightly showing his teeth. He gripped the sling on his M16 tightly, an emptiness in the stranger’s action. As though it was all for show. His thoughts briefly turned to the infuriating words from before, yet he felt very little of it, simply standing still as everything happened around him.

Then an older man, a veteran if the uniform was any indication, passed with a cooler and several liters of cola. He walked by him, handing him a nice cold bottle of soda.

He took it, forcing himself to smile.

“Thanks.” was all he could say.

"Godspeed, soldier! Teach 'em how we southerners treat ruffians like them!" the old man said.

“You a vet?” Dennis managed, suddenly finding the task of speaking difficult.

“Military Police, thirty-nine to forty-seven. Give ‘em hell, boy!”

Dennis' smile became slightly more genuine as the man walked on. Strangely enough, the support he was seeing from the crowds was proving his fears to be false. People backed him and those around him. This wasn’t a war that would slow down and be forgotten like Korea.

And yet…

Briefly, he remembered the photographs of his parents waiting for him in his now empty home. His smile weakened slightly as if even making it disappear took too much energy.

The order to fall in suddenly began ringing through, snapping him from his thoughts as he reacted almost mechanically, running into formation in step with everyone else. Another soldier, same as any other. As everyone scrambled to do as told, several speakers set up in the area began to ring out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the sky…"

Dennis stowed the still-cold bottle of soda and stood rigidly at attention before the order was given. As he did so, he turned to the sound of the approaching helicopter.

Huh… Marine One…

The Sikorsky H-34 landed in an area almost in the center of the plaza, right next to the structure shrouded in mystery.

As its doors opened, the American president stepped out, his wife and several secret service agents following. The crowd cheered as he set foot on the Texan soil once more.

Oh, great... political speeches...

The president waved to the crowd with a warm smile that Dennis wished he could replicate despite his mostly indifferent attitude towards the politician. The Commander-in-Chief quickly walked up the steps to a podium, his attention never changing from the cheering crowds, while the soldiers that remained, finished properly getting into formation.

The cameras rolled.

The crowd settled down.

The soldiers remained at strict attention.

His smile never fading, the American leader began the speech in the calm tone he'd used everywhere else before.

"Good morning, fellow citizens… Four months ago, to the day, to the shock of the entire world, our country was attacked by forces not of this earth. Instead of large war machines that overwhelmed everything we threw at them, we were faced with swords, bows, and other archaic weapons of war that do not compare to the destruction wrought by modern weapons. A weapon, however, is still a weapon, and two hundred and twenty-three Americans were killed with these archaic arms in the opening hours of this attack on our wonderful city. Over two hundred Men, women- fathers and mothers like many here… and at least twenty-three of the youngest sons and daughters in our nation were mercilessly snuffed out with the swing of the blade. Our armed forces, with help from the Dallas Police Department and armed citizens, bravely pushed back the enemy through the structure they came through and eradicated all resistance that could not escape in time."

The president turned around briefly to point at the steel barrier surrounding the portal, still sealed up.

"Now, for those first weeks, we had been preparing, hoping that perhaps the gross attack on our citizens was a mistake, praying that the forces that ruled this… other world… decided to open talks or negotiations. That has not happened in spite of our own efforts at seeking talks which were pushed aside through violent means."

At that statement, Dennis felt rage begin to bubble up.

If nothing else, he could begin to think that slaughtering the child-killing enemy would at the very least be palatable even to his late mother.

Right?

"This fight was thrust upon us against our will, and it is our decision whether to allow this injustice to pass, or to rise to the occasion and respond, bring the aggressors to justice. Those gathered here today are proof what our response will be.” he motioned to the lines of tanks and armored vehicles waiting for the order to charge in.

There was a pause as the crowd cheered.

Dennis, like every other serviceman there, remained at strict attention.

“And so… with support from both parties, our allies, and with great efforts from our diplomats, we begin this endeavor, not just to avenge those we lost or explore new lands, but to hopefully connect two worlds through the greatest ideals this world has ever known. We will teach the enemy the American way, the value of individual rights, individual God-given rights, the importance of guaranteeing them, and as evidence, our powerful military will show them how it is these ideals, these values that have made us not only the most powerful, most prosperous, most influential nation in the history of the world… but the greatest nation to ever be conceived on this world’s history."

Cheers erupted again.

Again, the president paused.

Then he continued, louder.

"We choose… and many of you may find this phrase familiar… we choose to continue our fight for liberty and justice for all. We choose to continue our ongoing struggle against injustice and the evils that perpetuate it. We choose to push forward into the unknown. We choose this fight, not because it is easy, not even because it is our duty or moral obligation, but because it is hard… and we know that we are the only ones who can accomplish this task. And. We. Will!"

More cheers.

Dennis noticed some of the guys around him stood with a mix between a confident smirk and nervous smile on their young faces.

His remained painfully indifferent.

Reelection campaign... bet this'll push his numbers through the roof. Whatever...

NCOs began reviewing the final orders.

No expenses had been spared.

No quarter was to be given.

Victory was to be achieved at any cost.

Amongst the men, Dennis overheard at least one officer say "Fill your heart with hate. These people met us with that much, let's return the favor."

As he walked past some tankers, he heard another one call out “Battle carrying HE, second we go through we unload on ‘em with Flechettes.”

An angry “Got it” was the reply he heard from the Patton tank's loader.

He sucked in a breath and checked his M16; glancing as a soldier walking opposite him inserted a fresh magazine into his M14. A part of him wondered if the M14 would prove better, but he set that aside. He had grown fond of his M16 in training, even if it was much lighter than anyone could expect.

As he followed the men into the M113 troop transports, the door sealing the portal began to be pulled open, a coldness spreading from it as the strange colors of the structure contrasted with the pitch-black darkness within.

The M48 Patton tanks stood at the now open entrance, ready. Dennis only saw the dark exhaust smoke as their engines roared to life before he ducked into the M113 and took a deep breath.

Rhodes entered and asked “Everyone set?”

There was a palpable tension in the air, everyone cautiously checking their inventory yet again and nodding as the door to the APC shut behind them. This was truly happening.

A part of him was nervous.

Another part of him was excited as hell, his mind pushing aside the inner worries and emotions until they were practically forgotten.

The order to advance came over the radio, and after a moment, he felt the APC begin to move forward.

One of the men said "You think they got witches and stuff over there? Think they'll turn us into frogs?"

Another soldier, a black man, Dennis could tell by the voice, simply said "Not much good it'll do against the amount of lead we're packing. Honestly, I'm more curious about the gals we might meet on the other end!"

Dennis huffed at that despite some of the guys beginning to chuckle.

"What's-a-matter, Orville? I think we're all looking forward to the gals we might meet on the other end. Personally, I'm quite curious about real-life playboy bunny girls!”

“Or Valkyries if they exist.”

"Miscegenation cases, the lot of you!" He barked back over the engines, finally unable to contain the grin.

This… This feels genuine.

"Actually, I'm from Indiana. Law about it got repealed a decade ago."

"Well, you heard him! Whatever girl we find, we move to Indiana to cohabitate!" Dennis called as the M113 began to enter the Gate.

"Yeah! Let's give a cheer for Indiana!" the black soldier called.

The men gave a childish but wholehearted whoop as the sun disappeared and the thick darkness of the inside of the portal overtook the interior of the vehicle, as if even inside the confines of the armored vehicle it somehow grew darker. The temperature dropped, vehicle lights were flipped on, and Dennis heard a lighter being flicked, but Rhodes stopped it.

“Save it for after. You may need it then.”

“Yes, Captain.”

He felt his grin vanish quickly after those words. Dennis gripped his M16 a little tighter, feeling his heart pounding against his chest. The ground beneath them was smooth given how little the APC was shaking. It was cold. There was only the sound of the engine now and occasional radio acknowledgments.

They had exited their world and began to enter another.

And he knew they brought war with them.