*****
University City
Courthouse Square
“My fellow Americans,” Colonel Walsh announced from the top of the courthouse steps as he licked his lips. It looked like a few hundred of the townspeople had turned up. The rest must have fled or been in hiding. No matter, this would do for his purposes. “Our world has changed. I know that you are all concerned about what has happened to the power grid. I am, too.
“But more importantly, we are concerned about what is going to happen to our families. The soldiers under my command are committed to protecting each and every one of you. But to do that, we must have complete confidence that they will be able to return to their own families each day.
“Unfortunately, today one of my men was killed due to the actions of a group of people here. People who claimed to be your leaders. These same people also were trying to hoard the food that is the rightful property of the Federal government, and by extension, property of you good folk.
“They intended to hold that food for their own good, leaving you to your own fates until the power comes back on. My last command from the Government was to issue an emergency command protocol, giving my command authority over security and food distribution.” Colonel Walsh paused to let the crowd digest this information. The look in their eyes told him they were already in despair. The power had been out just a few days, and desperation crept over the city like a poison fog. Nine meals from chaos, indeed.
“Because both theft from civilians and murder are capitol offenses under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, I have acted on your behalf and charged the following people and sentenced them accordingly.”
Jude Burke, the city attorney, began to read off the names. When Walsh explained to him the situation, the bureaucrat immediately realized the direction the wind was blowing. He had a legal document agreeing with the Colonel’s assessment of the situation and the steps he was taking created, signed, and notarized in less than thirty minutes.
Burke’s compliance meant that he would have a job handling the civilian population for the Colonel. Those were tasks and duties his men didn’t have time for. Walsh then scheduled a meeting with the provost of the University to be held immediately after this assembly was over. He would use that woman’s administrative skills and campus infrastructure to handle the details there.
Walsh scanned the crowd as the Burke read the charges, the names, and the punishment. There was little reaction to the sentence. Just hungry faces looking at him, waiting for us to save them.
Maybe an impromptu change in agenda was necessary.
“Good people of University City. Let me explain what is going to happen next. We have set up food distribution centers on each side of town. If you follow Route 45 north or south, you will find a center set up right outside of the city. Additionally, if you follow Highway 150 east or west out of town, you will find another center.
“Each of you will receive three days of rations for each member in your family. I’m sorry, that’s the only way we can do it. Security would be impossible inside of town. I’m afraid that the out-of-towners at the University would try to overrun the distribution center if we put it too close. Does everyone understand?”
The looks on their faces told them he cut through the mental fog. Walsh knew how to play tribe against tribe with the best of them. What the townies didn’t know was that he was setting up a distribution center right in the middle of the campus, and that would give him exactly the opportunity he needed. The University gave him a recruiting base of thousands of eighteen to twenty-three-year-old men and women. Lots of deprogramming would have to be done with these kids, but enough could be trained to pacify the others. They had no way of getting home, and no food. He was sure he could win their hearts and minds through their stomachs.
He already had his command team updating the farmstead plan they used in Afghanistan to give the tribes something to do besides grow poppies and kill each other. He intended to assign groups of students to security, foraging or farming, depending on their skill sets. Plenty of land in parks and golf courses, plus whatever they had to confiscate on surrounding farms to get the right amount of production.
Able townspeople would enjoy the same opportunity. The point of setting up distribution centers away from where people lived was to weed out anyone too fat or lazy to be of use to the community. Those with ability and initiative would arrive at the centers to find a hook under the bait: they would be given the option of joining his command. He assumed the good men would jump at the chance to keep their families fed. Since entire families would arrive together to get the maximum amount of supplies, there would be no reason not to stay where it was safe.
On the other hand, those still expecting soldiers to drop food off at their house would eventually figure out help wasn’t coming to them. The scared and starving would descend as a mob on the centers. His new recruits would be the ones to hold off the zombies, keeping his veteran soldiers safe. Plus that would give new soldiers the terror of combat experience needed to understand chain of command.
Walsh figured it would take about two weeks to weed out the drones and identify those who would become valuable members of the community. An aggressive timetable, he admitted to himself. But he was able to accomplish similar results in places that still thought Allah would be saving them from the evil American devil. They were wrong, and he proved it to them countless times. Eventually they accepted he was their god.
The campus would be a bit trickier. But if he had to, he would just isolate that population for a while and then use his new townie recruits to pacify any resistance. Walsh remained confident at least a thousand or more students could be recruited right away to join the security force. With that, the rest could be turned into farmers or foragers after the desperation set in. I’ve got to keep enough females alive and not traumatized to pair up with the new soldiers. He learned that men who were married took commands a lot better than single men with time to think about their own version of right and wrong.
While he finished up his instructions for accessing the food, he could see a few people begin to melt away from the crowd. These would be the ones smart enough to start heading towards the food supply immediately. Consciously or not, they instinctively understood that first movers had a better chance of getting to the front of the food line. Any other information announced during the meeting would come to them via word of mouth and they didn’t need to see an execution when there were families to feed.
Good, Walsh thought. There were still some people with an idea of duty and responsibility. He would be happy to have those types in his auxiliary forces. Eventually he intended to assign each of his officers a sector of the city or surrounding countryside. Each officer would receive a contingent of real soldiers under their command, along with a force of auxiliaries to help produce food, fuel or other needed assets. There weren’t enough of his men to go around, so they’d need more good recruits to accomplish his ambitious goals.
Now I’m beginning to realize what all the training and difficult situations in my career were meant to accomplish, Walsh thought. His whole life existed as a lead-up to rebuild a civilization in a structured way. Not haphazard like America became. He would create a society built on honesty and organization.
I’ll have the base historian write a report on what the Romans left behind in Britain after the fall of the Empire did to survive. Surely they would have some insight into what it was like to be an outpost of civilization in the middle of barbarians. At least the barbarians he would face here would be unable to fight or fend for themselves. A far cry from the Pics or Celts that the Centurions faced.
Alright, Attorney Burke is finally done blathering. As the pudgy little man looked back at Walsh, the next step was finally settling in. He was participating in what the attorney saw as a real life coup.
The colonel didn’t see it that way, of course. The la
w was on his side, no question. Besides, who ever witnessed the collapse of an empire before? Certainly no one alive today. He had to do what he knew was right.
Walsh nodded to the lieutenant now in charge of in town security. Progressing through the firing squad commands, the khaki pants of one of the councilmen began to turn a darker brown. They all stood against the brick wall of the courthouse. No movie silliness, no final words, no cigarette for the doomed. This was real-world stuff, just like he did it in The Sandbox.
The sound of twelve rifles discharging, three pointed at each councilman, was like an explosion in the townspeople’s ears. As the bodies of the dead men pitched backward, several witnesses bent over and vomited uncontrollably. This would leave a lasting impression on every citizen here, and hopefully they would all take the message back to their friends and neighbors: don’t hurt a soldier.
Finally, Mayor Rosenberg was half-pulled, half-carried forward to the wall. Colonel Walsh looked in the Mayor’s hollow eyes. No understanding of what was happening. He held no pity for her. She murdered someone under his command, and this was justice.
Walsh pulled his .45 and announced, “I find you guilty of capital murder, and you are condemned to death.” The weapon cracked and the Mayor fell to the ground, a single entry and exit wound through each temple.
Before the echo stopped, Walsh shouted: “Citizens! You have seen justice done on your behalf. Please return home and prepare your families for a difficult time. We will do what we can to help, but please remember there are few of us and many of you. We have removed some bandits who wanted to cheat you, but you are still responsible for helping yourselves. Please make your way to your nearest food distribution center, where you will be given more information. Thank you for your cooperation,” Walsh concluded.
Walsh pivoted on one heel, striding to his command Humvee. As he climbed into the passenger seat, Walsh looked over at his personal bodyguard and driver and muttered: “At least the Afghans had the guts to shout something about God before we put them down. I’ve never seen such a passive response to facing death.”