Fortress Farm - The Pullback
Chapter Ten
Illinois University
National Guard Armory
Just Days after the Great Reset
“You can’t order me around that way! You can’t order any civilian authority to do anything at all! I don't know who you think you are, but you have absolutely zero authority to force this city to what you want!”
Mayor Gabrielle Rosenberg – who was accustomed to being treated with respect – looked like a tomato perched upon a small body, bright red and ready to burst. She cared not one whit that the man sitting behind the metal desk was wearing a uniform and carrying a weapon. No one ordered her around, and especially not some weekend warrior who probably thought women were better suited as camp followers and not elected officials.
An impassive face looked back at her. Colonel Darian T. Walsh faced many civilians who not only didn’t respect the gray urban camouflage uniform he wore, but who frankly despised it. Since the Pullback began years ago, more and more citizens considered the military a liability. The only men and women left serving were those whose belief in a greater good could withstand the total lack of status they suffered in the world outside.
Colonel Walsh formed the assigned group of diverse servicemen into what he felt was a cohesive unit, one that would be able to respond to any crisis, whatever that might be here in the middle of the heartland of America. Since the country was abandoning its bases around the world, there was little reason to believe there would ever be another rotation overseas. As members left the service, their ranks were not replenished. Units simply merged and consolidated equipment in bases such as the one he was in now.
This base was probably left alone because the current congressman from this district had some pull over the base closure list. There was still enough economic benefit to a military facility to fight to keep it open. But once this wheeler-and-dealer left office for a lucrative lobbying gig, the colonel had no doubt all personnel and equipment here would rotate to a much larger city with a politician who mattered more.
That point was probably moot, now. All communications with the capital and the Pentagon had ceased. In fact, all communications everywhere ceased. His coffee pot and refrigerator still worked, but that was about it. Strangely, all of his newest vehicles quit working as soon as the computers inside were accessed. The oldest of the supplies trucks still ran, and some of the older model Humvees. However, the few pieces of modern heavy equipment sat like stones in the ready yard.
His last emergency flash communication was to prepare for civil unrest. No reason why, and no guidance as to what to do about it. Did the Solar Storms finally overwhelm the defensive structure that the geeks built? Terror attack? Or cyber–attack? He had no idea. But he was left here with 500 soldiers and their dependents, plus an increasingly irritated civilian population of almost 50,000 residents and students from the large public university located in the older part of town.
They all waited for a couple of days for the power to come back on. Temporary shutdowns happened frequently, as the Network defended itself against the intermittent Solar Storms that continued to bombard the planet. But each time the hum and purr of the servers and electrical engines would start up as the Network woke their modern world from a quick nap.
So they waited…and waited. Desperation set in by the second night, as electronics junkies became desperate without their fix. Then the real junkies got irritable without a supply of whatever their drug happened to be.
During his overseas deployments, back when America had those, Walsh witnessed firsthand the lengths people went to in securing food. If those people were parents, all bets were off. Civilized and pampered Americans never really knew hunger. Even the poorest neighborhoods here were lives of luxury compared to Third World slums. Those comfortable lives were quickly coming to a screeching halt just a few meals after the food deliveries stopped.
Instinctively, Colonel Walsh knew that if the power didn’t come back on immediately, the damage would be irreparable. His base was fine; they had enough food for at least two years between canned supplies and MREs that were a part of any rapid deployment forces inventory. Fortunately, water wouldn’t be a problem; even if water pressure dropped from the city mains, there was a well on site for disaster situations.
But the thought of 500 soldiers holding off 50,000 desperate starving zombie citizens chilled even his hardened backbone. Those people would figure out soon enough where a meal might be, and desperate people do desperate things.
He was surprised to realize that his only real consideration was how to keep his soldiers safe. How the world had changed! In the past his concern would have been for the mission of those soldiers, which was to safeguard the local community. Now, it looked like that community was a threat to be guarded against.
Which is precisely why I called the esteemed mayor and her merry band of idiots on the city council to meet with me. He needed to get a gauge on where their minds were. Did they know what his supply situation was on base? Did they intend to make demands of him? His own advisory council, made of up his two captains and their closest lieutenants, raised the concern that having these people on base would give them a look at their assets. Their concerns were valid, but the colonel felt that the reward outweighed the risk. And best to have these strutting peacocks on his territory, not theirs.
For a brief moment, the colonel was surprised that none of his men objected that they wouldn’t be helping the townspeople. He figured there would be at least one who demanded they fulfill their oath. Frankly, that lack of devotion to the average citizen that he felt left him a little sad. But nearly all of these soldiers had family there on base with them and their only real friends were fellow service members. Considering the treatment soldiers received over the last few years, there was little surprise in their priorities. Regardless, they were loyal to him. He knew that. And they would all follow his orders as long as that didn’t put their loved ones in senseless danger. His plans were about keeping them safe. He had no intention of sacrificing the lives of his men or their families for these moron politicians or any of the idiots who put them there.
He was going to give everyone in town a choice, and how they responded to that choice might be the difference between life and death. Not by his hand, but by nature’s hand. After all, survival of the fittest, right? He knew from watching the ways of the world that only the strong survived. The bleeding-heart religious types might feel the need to run around handing out their hard-earned food and treasure to lazy bums, but his experience taught him better.
His wife and kids still tried to get him into the church thing, but outside of Christmas it was a losing game. He played along that one day a year because he liked to see his wife smile at him but the hypocrisy of it all was too much for him to take on a weekly basis. A loving God? Yeah right. Not with the misery I’ve seen in my career. If there was a God, and he highly doubted it, humans had long ago been cut loose. They were all on their own, especially now.
All the modern electronic “miracles” were sitting there like paperweights. Not that there was much paper to be found. Everything had to be electronic, and finding a piece of scratch paper was like finding a lottery ticket. Except those didn’t exist anymore either, now random people were selected for extra dollar credits on their Wristbands. You didn’t even have to play, the ticket prices were just deducted from your weekly credit allotment.
I wonder if the mayor used her Wristband to get her food ration. Doubt it, I’m guessing she’s a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of person. Probably got a personal supply stashed. Now where would that food be stored? Maybe he could finally find out. But first he would have to defuse her anger from that last outburst.
“Madame Mayor, I do apologize if I sounded rude, we’re all under a lot of stress. And in the military, sometimes we are a little too blunt with one another. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds,” the colonel said. H
e put on his best apologetic look of concern. His second-in-command was the only one to know the face was something he practiced in the mirror. The expression was a way of disarming higher ranks when he needed something for his command.
The mayor softened her expression a bit. Finally, a little respect from this wannabe GI Joe, she thought.
The colonel continued, “I was merely concerned about the safety of the students on campus because food supplies have to be getting dangerously low there. I just thought that with the help of the police, we could secure the food supplies and get them in one central location. Perhaps with a combined team of troops from my command and officers from the police department.
“We both know what will happen if common citizens have access to limited food supplies. Chaos will ensue, and the people will think that the city has lost control of the situation. I just thought that this would be a good opportunity to show the entire city that our civilian authorities had a good plan. That the situation was under control.
“And you know that the sight of my big trucks with food stacked up would give peace to some who would worry about where their next meal would come from. Wouldn’t that be a great way to show everyone that you are firmly in control of this crisis?” The colonel had to keep from gagging. His second was probably doing his best to keep from busting out laughing.
Colonel Walsh gave nearly the same speech to a Somali warlord who was hoarding a UN food supply to control his local population. The colonel convinced the warlord to show everyone how he made the Americans follow his orders by transporting the food for him. Walsh promised that this would give the warlord credibility with his people by pushing around the Great Satan. By the time he realized the Americans were driving away with it all, he was almost dead from a crazed mob of hungry villagers.
Those who wish to lead for their own sake are much the same. No matter continent, education or background, they can all be controlled by the same methods, Walsh thought to himself.
Aloud, he went for the kill: “Of course, all actions will be under your authority. And I promise I will be on site myself. Of course, I will have to give the direct orders to my troops. Chain of command is important to my soldiers. But I will honor your wishes in logistics and security.”
The mayor, being a political creature, recognized the opportunity that had presented itself to her. The Feds would have the power back on any second. And when it came back on, she would have a great story to tell her higher-ups. Not only did she save the wealthy kids on campus, but she successfully brought an Army colonel to heel. There was probably a job with her name on it in the capital after pulling this off.
“When would you suggest we do this, Colonel? How much time do you need to prepare?” the Mayor asked.
“My command can roll right now, Madame Mayor. I think sooner is better than later, don’t you? We have those kids to think about,” the Colonel reminded her.
“Of course, we need to take care of those kids. Who knows when that power might come back on?” she replied. A genuine person would have meant that it was a catastrophe if it didn’t come back on for a while; the Mayor thought it would be a catastrophe if it came back on before she got this show organized.
“It’s ten o’clock now. Why don’t you meet Chief O’Toole at the old grocery warehouse down on south Highway 45 at about 1 pm? Do you know where that is? Good. That will give me enough time to get back and get him up to speed with what he’ll need to say. We know we have at least one old clunker running in the city fleet. But none of our CityLink Volts will even blink on. Unbelievable to me that we have two hundred vehicles belonging to the city and none of them will work except the oldest thing we have!
“By the way, why do your vehicles work if no one else’s will?” the mayor asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Simply because our equipment is designed to operate in the most remote corners of the planet, even where there was limited or no electrical grid at all. War doesn’t stop when the power goes out.”
The mayor nodded. “I guess we should have all thought of that before. It just seemed like we were really getting a handle on everything again. This glitch in the power system will probably set us back months.”
More like years…probably forever, the colonel thought to himself. As soon as rioting broke out in the major cities, the damage to America would be fatal. The country nearly collapsed just a few short years ago before trillions spent on the Pullback was credited with saving the economy. Walsh witnessed the effect of money printing in other countries and knew the miracle of the GRAPEVINE only delayed the collapse. Government monetary policy made the pain worse when time ran out. Others argued the transfer of assets and wealth from small cities and private business gave the illusion of recovery. Really, the national GDP hadn’t grown since the prior recession/depression. But the megacities sure had grown and any business wanting government money had to be in one of the Capitals. Any people who wanted jobs followed the businesses.
All of that was theory to Colonel Walsh. His situation was right here, right now. He now knew exactly where the city was storing the monthly food allotment sent by the Feds. That was a critical start to the success of his plan.
Now he nodded to his second, who excused himself and headed out of the office. A ready team of two Humvees, two transport trucks and twenty soldiers were waiting to make the two-mile trek to the University warehouses, where the separate food supplies they received were kept. Previous recon told the colonel that there was one security guard on duty there at any time. Chances were with the current blackout he wouldn’t be there either.
The look of suspicion returned to the mayor’s face, this time mixed with mild alarm. “Colonel, where is the major going?”
The mild alarm turned to panic when she heard the ready team vehicle’s engines roar to life.
“Colonel, tell me where in the hell those men are going, right now!” she demanded.
“I’m sorry, Madame Mayor, but those men have a different mission to attend to. One that is outside of your jurisdiction,” Colonel Walsh replied calmly.
“As of right now, nothing is outside of my jurisdiction, you wannabe dictator! I knew you’d try to trick us, I knew it! That’s why the police chief is sitting outside of your gates ready to arrest whoever comes out before I do!” The Mayor regained her tomato look.
“I hope he doesn’t try to stop those men. I’m sure your chief is a brave man. But that group coming at him has all done at least three tours in the Sandbox. There’s nothing your police officers can do to intimidate them,” the colonel said sternly.
His demeanor changed when he heard the sound of gunfire erupt outside. “Secure this group and keep them locked down,” he barked to the MP in the corner of the room.
Firmly, he yelled to the clerk just outside the door, “Sound the alarm, rapid response Delta to the gates!”
He began to run out the door of his office through the parking lot. Just a short hundred-yard dash down to the gates, but the gunfire had already ceased by the time he got there.
“SITREP!” he shouted, demanding a situation report of his officers as soon as he saw them thirty yards away. He could see an old city vehicle smoking from the engine compartment as he approached. Two men in police uniforms lay in the street in front of the vehicle. Another slumped figure behind the steering wheel, and a broken body draped over the bed of the truck. Two others had their hands behind their backs, laying face-down on the pavement. One seemed to be retching.
He glanced at a man slumped up against the lead Humvee. He saw the gray urban camouflage fatigues issued to all men on his base, but not the man’s face. His worst fears were realized when he got close enough to see the now ashen face of his second. More than that, his friend, a man whom he had served with for over ten years, and the only person who could legitimately claim to have saved his life, twice no less. Unlike himself, the major was a religious man. In fact, t
he only other time the colonel had been in church in recent memory was to stand as Godfather for the major's kids.
“What happened?” he shouted, half questioning, half commanding an answer. A second lieutenant assigned to the group came to attention.
“Sir, the major tried to peacefully negotiate the removal of that vehicle from our path so we could leave. While he and the police chief were arguing, that civilian in the back of the truck raised his weapon so we provided covering fire. Somehow, in the chaos, the major got hit. I’m sorry, sir.” The young lieutenant looked shaken, even though he had seen combat.
“Alright, Lieutenant. Let the medics take care of the major, and then you double-time up to that warehouse and secure that food, understood? No more negotiating. You get that food, and you bring it back here, ok? That was the major’s mission, and now it's yours. Go now!” the Colonel said firmly. The young officer shook off the shock and immediately began issuing orders to reorganize the column.
They're good men, the Colonel thought. They deserve to be saved. Deserve to have a future no matter what happens. Unlike some of the filth that occupied this country and this so-called city.
Colonel Walsh watched as the medics trotted his friend back to the base hospital via stretcher but he already knew it was too late. He witnessed the death of enough men to know when the spark of life was extinguished. This one was an unlucky shot that hit below the body armor he insisted all his men wear. The bullet severed an artery and it was over for him quick. Amazing how fragile the human body is in those circumstances. Then other times, a soldier could lose both arms and both legs and still live through it. That was with the miracle of modern medicine. What would medicine be like now? Back to roots and herbs? Maybe...better make sure the base library has reference books like that. We’ll search the campus and town libraries, bring that stuff back here. He’d also secure the two hospitals here in town. There would be a little time to accomplish that now.
The mayor and the chief of police moved up his timetable with their actions. He walked back to his office, where the two remaining members of his security council were waiting. The look on their faces would have been ominous to the mayor if she could have seen it. But she had been restrained during the gunfight after flying into a fit of rage, demanding to be released and to see the city attorney. She didn’t know that she would be seeing that attorney soon enough.
“Madame Mayor,” the colonel said calmly as he entered the office where she sat strapped to a chair, “by the authority given to me by the Emergency Powers Act, in the case of national crisis where no direct contact is established with the Federal Government and local military forces, I have the right of declaring martial law inside any municipal jurisdiction in which I am stationed.
“What that means is that Uniform Code of Military Justice is in effect here. I am the final say in how military justice is applied, understand?” The colonel couldn’t understand what the mayor mumbled, but he didn’t think it meant she agreed.
“Under that Code, anyone responsible for the deliberate death of a service member can be convicted of a Federal offense. Because you caused the death of one of my men, and in fact my second-in-command, I am charging you with capital murder.” Suddenly terror filled her face. He saw that she had a nasty bruise on her forehead and her blazer was torn.
She began to cry. “You can’t be serious! You’re going to put me in prison because I tried to stop you from stealing our food? Please, Colonel, I’m sorry. Let’s talk this through. I was just trying to help the people of my city. And now we really do need you if there are police officers hurt.”
“Not hurt, Madame Mayor, dead. Your police chief is dead, and so are some of your other officers. So effectively, we are now the only hope this city has for keeping order. You are responsible for removing one of the best men on this planet from my command. A man with experience in helping civilian populations through difficult times.
“Now I have to go explain to a wife and two children why their American hero, who survived situations that would make you die of fright, was gunned down on his own base by the very people he was trying to save,” the colonel said as he strained to keep his composure.
“No, Madame Mayor, I am not going to put you in prison. I am going to make you an example of military justice, which is what people like me should have been doing with political scum like you all along. I am going to take you to the town square, and along with your goon squad, I am going to personally put you in front of a firing squad.”
The room was completely silent. The four city council members who accompanied the mayor to the meeting were completely devoid of color. She sat eyes wide, staring at the colonel. As the colonel spun on a heel to walk out of the office, he noticed one of his captains had an odd look on his face.
Captain Martin Fredericks was a good man, and a brave soldier. He served two tours with the colonel, never questioning a single command. Fredericks had been on board with the securing of the food supply. So what was that look?
I’ll have to think on that. Did he disagree with my decision to declare martial law? Fredericks has been in enough situations to know how this is done, the Colonel thought.
They pacified dozens of villages all over the Sandbox, many times in ways just like this. If the village elder or tribal leader caused one of their men to get hurt, they held that leader responsible. What was the other choice, burn the village down? No American soldier wanted to hurt women or kids. So the man in charge, and it was always a man over there, paid the price. Amazing how when the tough-guy shot-caller faced the consequences, things quieted down.
That’s all he was doing now. Just keeping things quieted down. The mayor caused his best man to get killed. If I don’t punish that, what would happen next? This city was as big as any other place he had pacified. If he let this sniveling rat of a leader get away with murder, the whole place would spin out of control. When the laws stopped applying to the lawmakers, America came apart.
No, he knew he what he was doing was right. The Emergency Order was the last command given by the Pentagon, and this was what his experience told him was the right way to carry out that order.
Maybe Fredericks was troubled by the thought of executing a woman. That must be it. And if Fredericks was feeling that way, most of the others probably would feel squeamish about it, too. Better not have a firing squad do it. Okay, he understood that. The firing squad would execute the city council and two surviving cops.
As for the mayor? I’ll just do that myself.