FREE on Amazon 9/10-9/12
While defending his country against Japanese invasion, archaeologist Chuan-Jay Hoo is taken as a prisoner of war when a behind-enemy-lines rescue mission goes horribly wrong. His captors force him to take part in the excavation of an ancient tomb, a process that unearths a ruthless force and the true origin of Chinese civilization.
The excavation ends; but China is still in dire need of help. Teamed up with American adventurer Dr. Harry Jones, a close friend of President Roosevelt, Chuan-Jay returns to the tomb and convinces the guardians of the tomb to interfere human affairs.
The tide of the war is turned but no one sees what is coming next: the rise of an otherworldly evil. Neither the Allies nor the Axis powers can stand in its way. Soon, our world is at the brink of an Armageddon.
At the final moment of human civilization, Chuan-Jay finds himself standing alone in the tomb of the First King, as the last line of defense for the survival of mankind.
October 07, 1943, Ba-Da-Ling, China
Colorful autumn leaves covered the land fifty miles northwest of Peking, the old capital of China. On the ridges of meandering mountains lay the ancient Great Wall among the green cypresses and red maples. At the highest peak of the mountain stood the North No. 8 Beacon Tower, a rectangular gray structure surrounded by low bushes and exposed rocks. Numerous bullet holes scarred its side wall.
To the south of the tower, a shadow suddenly appeared on a large flat rock. It was Tiger. From there, he looked back to the east for a few seconds before jumping onto the firing dais on the wall, which was about twenty-five feet above the ground. Then he disappeared into the beacon tower.
Down the flight of stairs, Tiger walked into a large room with a sand table in the middle. By the sand table, three officers in different uniforms were having a discussion. In the background, several staff members were busy at their own tasks.
“Attention, North Command Post,” the soldier at the door announced. “Salute!”
After exchanging greetings with General Aleksandr Vasilevsky, Generaloberst Heinz Guderian, and General Yoshijiro Umezu, Tiger went right to the battle planning against Tio’s army in Northern China.
“I just came back from the Ju-Yong Pass down the valley. Tio left no troop at the Ming’s Tombs. To the east of the pass, barely any sentry posts in sight.” Tiger spoke in English. “It looks like they have completely pulled back to the city of Peking. How are your preparations, Generals?”
“My Kwantung Army had crossed the Shan-Hai Pass several days ago. About two hundred thousand infantries were in place along the Chao-Bei River,” said Umezu. “We don’t have many airplanes left. Only about one hundred fifty are battle ready in Hsinking.”
“I have the Seventeenth Army and the Mongolian Cavalry Group in place to strike. The Twelfth Air Army are in Tamsagbulag. Two thousand planes will be ready,” Vasilevsky said in English with a heavy Russian accent. “The Thirty-sixth Army, Thirty-ninth Army, Fifty-third Army are back on the Mongolian grassland together with the Sixth Guards Tank Army. Artillery and tanks can only move after infantry starts the attack. It will take quite a few days to move all our forces to the battlefield.”
“This is good. Once they arrive, join the battle immediately. Tactically, our goal is to get our artillery within firing range and start hitting Tio’s battleship. It will be great if we can sustain the assault for three to four days,” said Tiger.
“Mr. Generaloberst, how about your Tigers?” Tiger turned to Guderian. “I like how you named your tanks.”
“They are back on the grassland but a little closer, in Ulanqab. Tigers are heavy and logistically more complicated. So they may arrive at the battlefield later,” answered Guderian.
“Hopefully, your lubricant will not freeze on a cold autumn day in China,” Vasilevsky joked. “Per Comrade Zhukov.”
“It was extremely cold in Moscow and our lubricant did freeze.” Guderian’s face flushed. “My Tigers will be here as we planned.”
“Generals!” Tiger raised his voice. “Let’s go over the northern battle plan of Operation Mad Cow once more, before the radio time. General Umezu, your infantry will start from the east at eleven hundred hours when the ground warms up. Please remind your soldiers to set all houses on fire as they go.”
“Yes, sir. Thermal background noises.”
“General Vasilevsky, all the heavy equipment will start moving south at nine hundred hours. Your infantry and air army will attack at thirteen hundred hours from the west.”
“Yes, sir. The first wave of tanks will join the battle around noon time the day after tomorrow,” confirmed Vasilevsky.
“Generaloberst Guderian, please make sure your Tigers will arrive for the main tank assault,” Tiger said. “I will probably ride with you. With your Tigers, we will have the best chance to get our artillery to the Sand River Line for a shot at Battleship Number Four parked at the Old Summer Palace.”
“Absolutely,” agreed Guderian. “It will be an honor to…”
“Excuse me, Generals,” a staff member interrupted Guderian with a headset in his hand, “it is radio time.”
“Good, we want Tio to know that we are coming,” Tiger murmured as everyone stopped talking.
The staff member unplugged his headset from the radio and out came the voice of President Roosevelt.
“Good day, people of America!”
Roosevelt’s greeting was followed by the voices of other world leaders in their native tongues.
“People of China.”
“People of the Soviet Union.”
“People of Japan.”
“People of Germany.”
“People of Great Britain.”
“And the people of the world. Tomorrow, October 8, 1943—a date which will live on in human history—if there is still one,” said Roosevelt. Each leader repeated the same paragraph after him in his own language.
“The United States of America, the Republic of China, the Soviet Union, The Empire of Japan, The Reich, and Great Britain together will go to war against an alien force who suddenly and deliberately attacked us with the intention to annihilate the very existence of mankind.”
People around the globe were listening, holding their breath.
“Our world was in a state of chaos and we were at war with each other—for what? Territories, ideologies, or supremacies. We never realized how childish and ignorant we were until our very existences were in grave danger. Indeed, one city after another—Manhattan, Shimonoseki, Nanking, Moscow, Rome, Munich, and London—was obliterated in a matter of seconds. Even a tiny island in the Indian Ocean was wiped out by a single strike from the sky. From that day, nothing will be the same again for mankind.”
Across East Asia, infantrymen on the Great Wall were listening; drivers of BM-8-24 Katyusha rocket launchers were listening; crews of Tiger tanks in the Mongolian grassland were listening; gunners on the battleship Yamato were listening; pilots of B-17 bombers in Oita Airfield were listening; sailors on the aircraft carrier USS Intrepid were listening. By the Leaning Tower of the Tiger Hill Pagoda in Suzhou, White-Goat, Black-Fish, and CJ were listening.
“For the first time, the people of Earth have put aside their differences and formed an opinion on the implications to the very life and safety of our civilization. For the first time in history, we are truly united,” Roosevelt said with force. “A new United Nations has been democratically formed to direct all the measures for our defense.
“As the president of the United States, I pledge my country to the United Nations and mankind,” he announced.
Roosevelt was followed by other world leaders.
“As the chairman of the Republic of China.”
“As the premier of the Soviet Union.”
“As the chancellor of Germany.”
“As the prime minister of Great Britain.”
“As the emperor of Japan.”
At this moment, the image of the Japanese delegates bowing to their skinny translator prior to the recording session of the Bermuda Summit flashed across CJ’s mind.
How could I not see this at the first glance?
Although Hirohito was heavily disguised, but those thick glasses!
The voice of Roosevelt continued, “Today, the world declared in one voice: we will not go quietly into the night! Tomorrow, we will fight. No matter how much sacrifice it may cost. No matter how long it may take. We will fight, fight for the existence of mankind.”
Roosevelt’s voice became stronger and stronger.
“Our United Forces may be far inferior, the final victory may not be inevitable, but we will fight, fight till the last resistance vanishes on the surface of our home planet — so help us God, FIGHT!”
About the Author
Ricardo Alexanders is the author of Bollywood Invasion and The Last Resistance: Dragon Tomb. He lives in Massachusetts, enjoys music, and loves to write time-travel stories that blend fantasy, science, and real history.
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