By John Sievert
1986, 285 pages softcover, 0-8217-1790-1
Zebra Books, an imprint of Kensington Publishing
The Soviet Union commits a nuclear first strike against the US, destroying and occupying the East Coast -- but through poor planning, its victory is incomplete. The President is extracted by a 72-man squad wearing the US's secret weapon -- C.A.D.S. combat power armor. Returning to their subterranean research base in White Sands, New Mexico, they fight their way through Soviet probes and hordes of displaced Americans reverted to feral savagery and cannibalism; then reinforced with the latest prototypes, return to the Soviet HQ in North Carolina.
Interesting tech, passable plot, lousy writing. Judging from the "also available" lists, publisher Zebra Books specializes in stories of post-nuclear survivalists.
C.A.D.S. -- a commando unit created for penetrating radioactive areas after a nuclear strike, brings immense firepower to bear on the enemy with its nearly impervious servo-mechanism driven armorsuits. C.A.D.S. -- a few hundred men in the ultimate battle machine.
Living gods with their computerized attack/defense system suits, armed with hawk mini-missiles, electro-ball shells, submachine guns -- all computer-targeted and fired from a set of tubes under their metal sleeves. [...] [They] can voice-command a variety of Vision-modes that give data on enemy position, strategy and armament. The 7-ft.[sic] tall suit is the most powerful combat gear ever created.
But the Russian occupiers have a similar -- if cruder -- unit: The Gray Suits of General Petrin. [...] [p.1]
Their Tri-bikes had back wheels as thick and wide as beer barrels, making the sleek but oddly shaped vehicles nearly impossible to topple. They looked like men from another world. Astronaut-like hlemets, with thick tinted visors rested on immense jet black plasti-steel bodies -- their arms, waists, chests, legs bristling with dials, radar grids, sensors and weapons -- giving them a futuristic, threatening appearance. [...] [p.21]
Around Sturgis the C.A.D.S. men mowed down one after another of the cannibal marauders, turning them into piles of steaming guts and shattered bones. Nine mm SMG bullets ripped out of stainless steel tues slung beneath the C.A.D.S. suit forearms -- barrage after barrage of whistling death. The maimed, stumbling, food-seekers from the East fell like bowling pins beneath the combined firepower [...] Heads erupted into gushing red whirlpools of nothing. Backbones and chests were ripped apart as if pushed through a meat grinder. [p.24]
Five Russians ran forward; it was like trying to push over Mount Everest, as Horner pulled himself up and in [...] his gloved hands like steel vises grabbed them by the throats or skulls and squeezed them into a pulp that oozed between the suited fingers. One by one they popped like bugs under pressure, covering the suit's outer armor with blood and large, sticky chunks of muscle and bone. [p.45]