American Meltdown: Book Two of The Economic Collapse Chronicles (14 page)

CHAPTER 29

“If we desire to avoid insult, we must be able to repel it; if we desire to secure peace, one of the most powerful instruments of our rising prosperity, it must be known, that we are at all times ready for War.”

-George Washington

Pastor John Robinson had just walked to the pulpit Sunday morning when Albert Rust ran to the stage. The Security protocols had been put in place weeks ago, so there was no need to get permission from Pastor John before Albert began his announcement.

“Folks,” Rust began, “I want everyone to take a deep breath and remain calm, but we have to dismiss church right now. Our observation post on State Road 55 has reported several armored personnel carriers headed this way. We think an attack on Young Field is imminent. Militia, you know your positions for an attack from the south. Everyone who is assigned to the north, east and west borders, hold your positions unless we call you to the southern border. We don’t know if we’re going to get hit from multiple directions. Ladies, you know where you are supposed to be hunkered down, let’s get there right away. The ladies who are responsible for the medical aid tent, let’s get everything set up just as if you have injured
already coming in. If it turns out to be nothing, it will be a good drill. If the worst happens, you’ll be ready to start saving lives.”

Pastor John stopped everyone. “Before everyone runs out, I want to say a quick prayer. I know we have to hurry, but I feel the Holy Spirit asking us to give God one minute even though it goes against everything in our being.”

The congregation fought the urge to run out anyway. They all stayed for Pastor John’s quick prayer.

Pastor John quickly bowed his head and began praying from the third Psalm. “But you are a shield around me, O LORD; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head. To the LORD I cry aloud, and he answers me from his holy hill, I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me. I will not fear the tens of thousands drawn up against me on every side. Arise, O LORD! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked. From the LORD comes deliverance. May your blessing be on your people. Amen.

“Now go fight for your families, fight for your liberty and fight for your freedom to worship your God.”

The congregation’s fear melted away with those few short words inspired by God’s Holy Book. They were supernaturally charged with courage and faith as they took their battle stations.

Albert Rust and several of his men were the first to arrive on the southern side of Young Field. They saw hundreds of federal troops rolling out of their personnel carrie
rs quickly and orderly. The Federal troops formed up into squads and began to take defensive battle positions.

Several pickup trucks and
a few more Humvees provided by the Idaho National Guard were still taking their defensive positions inside of Young Field as the commander of the Federal troops called out to them from the other side of the fence. “If you throw down your weapons and surrender, you will be given quarter. There is no reason to lose your lives today. We have you completely outnumbered, out trained and outgunned. You have five minutes to comply or your blood will be on your own head.”

Trey Dayton told the men near him on the line, “Don’t listen to him! That is the same thing they told those soldiers that were infected with the Ebola virus. If we
’re going to die, let’s die right here and die with our dignity.”

Albert Rust looked at Will Pender and said, “I’m going to go down the line and give everyone a heads up. Wait two minutes and blow all the mines on the south side.”

The militia had fragmentation mines buried outside of the barbed wire fence. They were hard-wired into four detonators. One for each side of the camp. Will Pender was holding the detonator for the south side in his hand.

Albert started up the left side of the line to tell them to open fire after the detonation. He was trying to avoid using the walkies in case the federal troops were listening in on their frequency. He sent James Macintosh up the right side of the line with the same message.

Will looked back and forth from his watch to the detonator. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was making his hand shake. The seconds counted down slowly. There were 20 seconds before he was to light up the enemy line. The enemy was oblivious to the fact that they were sitting right on top of the mines. 10 seconds. Will focused on the watch and the toggle switch. 5, 4, 3...

“Don’t blow it!” Will’s walkie screeched out. It was Albert Rust’s voice.

Will’s shaking hand was on the toggle. The sound almost made him hit the switch.

“Don’t blow the mines yet Will!” Rust reiterated. “There are a bunch of soldiers surrendering to us.”

More than a hundred soldiers had thrown down their weapons and were walking quickly towards the militia’s line.

Bill Maxwell was right beside Albert Rust and Pastor John Robinson. Bill said, “I think it’s a trap. I think we should shoot.”

Pastor John said, “Let’s put some men on them and see what they have to say. If it is a trap, we’ll mow them down.”

Rust said, “I agree Pastor, but you should be in the shelter. These people need a spiritual leader.”

Robinson replied, “God is their leader. If He sees fit to bring me home today, He’ll raise up someone else to fill the gap.”

Albert Rust called over the walkies, “If your last name begins with an S, escort
the prisoners to the meeting barn.”

The federal commander shouted out over the loudspeaker, “Open fire on the deserters. Kill the deserters!”

The
federal troops that had not walked off the line seemed confused by the number of their fellow soldiers who were walking away and hesitated to follow the command they were given.

“I said fire!” the loudspeaker rang out. The commander ran up to the line and began firing with his side arm. The men walking off the line began to run towards Young Field.

The commander hit the soldier beside him and screamed, “Fire!”

The trooper began to fire on the deserters. Soon the entire federal line was shooting. Many of the federal deserters began to fall. Many more reached the safety of the Young Field line.

“Hold your fire,” Albert Rust said over the radio.

They moved two Humvees
and propped up the bottom strand of barbed-wire to make a space for the defectors under. Once they were all inside or shot down, Albert Rust called to Will Pender on the walkie, “Blow the mines, Will.”

Will immediately complied. He hit the main toggle switch which was labeled “fire all”.

The militia watched as thirty separate mines blew up. Four armored vehicles flipped over. One flipped up in the air and fell right on a fire squad of federal soldiers. The federal commander was three feet away from one of the mines when it blew. He was blown to pieces. The explosions caught the federal troops completely off-guard. Hundreds were killed or injured beyond being able to continue the fight.

“Fire at will,” Rust called over the radio.

The militia began cutting down the federal troops as they spun around in confusion. Many of those not killed or severely injured by the blasts were temporarily deafened or blinded by the explosions. All of them were confused and disoriented by the quantity and quality of the eruptions, but that didn’t last long.

The federal troops began to organize and return fire. One soldier fired a stinger missile into one of the Humvees being used as a shield for the militia in Young Field. The Humvee exploded and killed several men in the vicinity. Five more stingers were fired into the militia’s line killing many more.

Albert Rust called to the two Bradleys positioned in the tree line. They were manned with Idaho national Guardsmen who had been given strict orders not to fire on federal troops unless Young Field was fired upon. “Bradley Alpha, Bradley Bravo, I think this qualifies under your rules of engagement. We could use a little support.”

All Rust heard back over the radio was, “Roger.” Seconds later the 25mm shells from the Bradleys began tearing through the armored vehicles of the federal troops. Once again, the federal troops were caught off-guard. Hundreds more were cut down in the cross fire of the Bradleys and the militia.

The militia’s line was not unscathed. Their dead were piling up. Others were injured and some were unable to continue in the battle. Pastor John took his rifle and stole away to the meeting barn where the
defectors were being held.

He grabbed one of the defectors and asked, “Why did you men cross over?”

The man replied, “A bunch of us decided to leave the Federal States after we heard about the prison camps. They told us it was the Coalition that had sent in the contaminated food, but we knew better. This was the only hope we had of defecting. We were just hoping you all wouldn’t shoot us.”

“Will you fight with us?” Pastor John asked.

“We’d be honored, sir,” The soldier replied.

Pastor John called out, “Militia, defectors, follow me. We need every man on the line. Defectors, take off your shirts
bearing US insignia so we don’t have any friendly fire issues. You’ll find rifles on the ground by the fallen militia. Just grab one and start firing. If you can’t find one, I’ll try to get some side arms from some of the men. That will at least make some noise. Let’s go!”

They all returned to the line.

Albert Rust called out to the northern border, “North border, if your last name ends with a letter between A and R, we need you on the south border. We are taking casualties. East and west, if your last name ends in A through L, we need you on the southern line. Everyone else, hold your position.

The six men from the observation post were just arriving from the two mile hike on foot since they spotted the vehicles
approaching Young Field. They arrived directly behind the federal troops. They took up positions in the tree line at an angle so their stray bullets would not end up hitting the militia inside the camp. They were able to take sniper shots without being noticed as the Bradleys were making so much noise.

It soon became obvious that the federal troops were not going to win the day. The man who stepped into command after the original commanding officer
was killed called out over his radio “Cease fire!”

The few remaining federal troops laid down their weapons. They were rounded up by the militia. The prisoners were held under heavy guard. They would be transported to an Idaho National Guard facility the following day.

CHAPTER 30

“He who is void of virtuous attachments in private life is, or very soon will be, void of all regard for his country. There is seldom an instance of a man guilty of betraying his country, who had not before lost the feeling of moral obligations in his private connections.”

-Samuel Adams

Anthony Howe poured a bit of whiskey into his coffee. He had never been a morning drinker but, then again, he never had such a shocking defeat as the one in Idaho yesterday.

The phone rang and rang but he didn’t pick it up. Finally his Chief of Staff came into his study.

“Sir,” Alec Renzi began, “we missed you at the briefing this morning.”

“I am sick, Alec,” Howe said.

Renzi inquired, “Would you like me to have the physician come take a look at you?”

“I drank myself to sleep last night, Alec,” Howe answered matter-of-factly. “No one else needs to know about that, so no, I don’t want to see the doctor.”

“Mustafa Al Mohammad is on the phone for you sir. He has been calling all morning. He insists that you speak with him,” Renzi stated.

“
Give me five minutes and I’ll call him back,” Howe said.

“I’ll let him know, Mr. President
.” Renzi let himself out of the room.

Howe’s staff
cleared out when he was like this. He put the coffee down and took a gulp of the straight whiskey instead. He felt his stomach flip and the saliva began to flow into his mouth. He fought back the vomit and breathed. Howe poured himself a glass of whiskey and mixed it with a bit of water to cut the strength so he could get it down without getting sick. He took out his cell and called Al Mohammad.

The former president answered on the first ring. “Anthony! What are you doing? If it gets out that you had these troops exposed to the Ebola virus, they
’ll have you beheaded! What happened in Idaho yesterday? You took your first military action against a Sunday school class? And lost?”

Al Mohammad’s voice got louder with each question. Howe finally lost control.

“Shut up, Mustafa!” Howe screamed. The liquor kicked in just in time for him to let it rip. “You’re not going to control me by hanging that video recording over my head anymore. Do you think the country cares that I had a couple of underage hookers in Brazil when the economy is tanking? I control all of the mainstream media. If they run that story, I’ll have the FCC pull their license. Do you think Jenna will care? She’s along for the ride. I’ll call her right now and tell her myself!”

Al Mohammad was silent. He may have assumed he had Howe on a leash, but evidently he didn’t. Mustafa said, “I’m sorry you won’t take my counsel, Anthony. I only wanted to help. I am afraid you
’re going to find out that you’re not the emperor sooner than you think.”

Howe shot back
, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Al Mohammad said
, “Ask your father.” Then, he hung up.

Howe finished his whiskey and water then called Scott Hale. The Secretary of Defense was there within fifteen minutes.

“Mr. President I am very sorry about the way things turned out yesterday.” Hale said as he walked in. He looked nervous.

Hale continued to explain himself without being asked, “We sent a thousand men in there. We didn
’t get the intelligence that they had Bradley fighting vehicles, and we had no way of knowing that over one hundred of our men would walk off the line, sir. They had mines buried right underneath the positions our troops took. It was just really bad luck. Any one of those things, we could have worked around, but all together, sir, it was more than we were prepared for.”

“You’re forgiven, Scott.” Howe said. “Do you want a drink? You look a little shook up.”

“No, sir, I’m fine,” Hale answered.

“I insist,” Howe answered. “I am having a drink. Don’t make me drink alone, Scott.”

“If you insist, sir,” Hale said.

“Good.” The President responded. He poured them both a neat shot of whiskey.

“Neat?” Howe asked.

“May I have a little ice?” Scott Hale asked.

“Get it yourself. I’m not your waiter,” Howe said.

Hale dropped the subject of ice and drank the whiskey neat.

“Scott,” Howe began. “I think there may be a conspiracy inside Mount Weather to eliminate me. I think Paul Randall has people inside of the Secret Service. I need to get out of here and I need a black ops team for my security detail. I don’t know who in the Secret Service is conspiring with Randall.”

If Hale thought the President was drunk or perhaps delusional, he didn’t voice his concerns. He didn’t oppose him in any way.

“I can have a team together by tomorrow morning, Mr. President,” Scott said.

“Get a team together to move me by tonight
,” Howe responded. “Just me. Jenna can stay here. No one needs to know about this but you. I’ll handle my communications through you and you alone. Can I trust you with this?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” The Defense Secretary conceded.