Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (70 page)

BOOK: Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga
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“Good Lord,” muttered Jax.

“There’s a second wave off-shore.
 
Or, there was a few days ago.
 
Last I heard, the Navy was supposed to sink that fleet before they made landfall but…” he shrugged.
 
“Comms being what they are, we haven’t had much luck finding out what the hell is going on beyond the Valley, let alone in the Pacific.”

Cooper looked at his XO, his brother, his right-hand-man and saw the pain in his eyes.
 
“What’s the sit-rep, sir?
 
Sooner we finish up, the faster I get my men back to their families.”

The Commandant nodded.
 
“Here’s the straight dope SEALs, from God’s mouth to your ears: the call has gone out for the boys and girls overseas to come home, to report here.
 
Our good friend President Barron,” he chuckled,
 
“has declared anyone not swearing loyalty to
him
a traitor—that’s punishable by death, by the way,” the old man snickered, then turned serious again.
 

“The scary thing is, he’s getting a lot more support from the rank and file than we’d anticipated.
 
Mostly just the troublemakers and slackjaws to begin with, but some of the officer corps are staying with him.
 
This old leatherneck sees it as a simple payback for recently acquired promotions and big salary increases.
 
To think they hold their honor so cheap.”
 
He spat in disgust.
 
“Bastards.”

“Shameful,” said Charlie.

“Ain’t
that
the truth,” the Commandant growled.
 
“The latest estimate has roughly 60% of the armed forces on our side.
 
I think it’s actually higher than that—we can’t reach a lot of the people and our fleets are completely off the grid.
 
Damn near every Marine, I’m proud to say, is with us.”

“Great, surrounded by a bunch of
Jarheads.
 
That makes me feel so much better,” muttered Cooper.
   

“You should feel better—my boys pulled your asses out of L.A. just in time.”

“We were doing just fine, thanks,” said Cooper.


Mmmmhmmmm.
 
Listen up, here’s the rest: Barron has announced the deputation of
all
Federal Agency security forces.
 
He’s using some sneaky-ass, limp-wristed lawyer tactic and dredging up old Executive Orders from when Obama was in office—”

“President Obama?
 
That was…When was he in office?
 
Right around the time I was born.
 
Barron’s using 30-year old orders…?”

“Yep.
 
Some little-known provision that allows the President to take control of Agency security forces in times of crisis.”
 
The Commandant turned and pulled some papers off the desk.
 
He tossed a stack to Cooper.

Cooper glanced at the top page of the briefing notes:
 

Directive No. 3025.18

Defense Support of Civil Authorities

Dec. 29, 2010

“They’ve been stockpiling weapons and ammo for decades, and now it’ll be turned against anyone that doesn’t get into lockstep with his agenda.
 
Barron just created his own private army.
 
Add to that the traitors in the military—boys, we’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

“You’re talking another Civil War!” said Charlie.

The Commandant folded his arms and grunted.
 
“It appears that may be what Barron wants.
 
He’s already buying most of his people—through jobs, food, access to what medical supplies there are, that sort of thing.
 
If he could get President Harris to attack, it’ll drive a good chunk of the population into Barron’s arms.”
 
The Commandant shook his head.
 

“You don’t think these agency security forces are anything to worry about, though, do you, sir?” asked Charlie.
 
“I mean, come on—even raw recruits should be able to handle them easily.
 
What kind of training could they possibly have that could be compared to warfighters?
 
If this is real—and I do mean
if
—I think we’re looking at a bunch of guys playing soldier, not a real army.”

“Man, I remember my Dad bitching about all the alphabet soup Agencies purchasing and stockpiling huge amounts of ammo and guns when I was growing up.
 
He’d tell me how it could be excused if it were for Homeland Security, or the Coast Guard or something.
 
But it was always for agencies that never needed armor piercing rounds and 50-cal machine guns: the EPA, the IRS, DOE, FDA, NOAA, hell even the damn Post Office!”

“That’s crazy…” muttered Charlie.
 
“I don’t understand why they’d even try.”

Cooper sighed.
 
“Dad always said he believed the liberals in government were preparing to turn the country into a dictatorship…Mom used to laugh at him and say if it was really all
that
big a deal, the media would be going crazy.”

“I sure don’t remember them covering all this with any kind of journalistic integrity,” said the Commandant with a sour look on his face.
 

Cooper nodded.
 
“I can still see my old man rolling his eyes and explaining that the media would
never
cross their Liberal masters—funny how it never seemed to be the Conservatives doing shit like this.”
 
Cooper shook the report in his hand.
 
“I don’t know, man, I was just a kid, but it made a big impression on me.
 
I remember thinking the mailman would drive up in a tank one day…”

“Too bad we didn’t have more people like your Dad paying attention,” muttered the Commandant.
 
“I remember I was fresh out of the Academy when that all went down…
 
There was a lot of grumbling in the ranks about it, but I was just starting my career and didn’t believe I needed to worry about politics.”
 
He shook his head sadly.
 
“Too many of us figured it wasn’t anything to worry about—we’d deal with it later.
 
Back then, we had bigger things to tackle, like Afghanistan and Iraq and all the budget cuts and force reductions.
 
Shit, then the Blue Flu hit and all hell broke loose with Iran.”

Cooper nodded and skimmed the first section of the notes, outlining what the directive entails.
 
He looked up.
 
“If Barron gets people to actually go along with this…”

“Oh, he is,” said the Commandant.
 
“Plenty of people are joining his side every day.”

“Why the hell would they do that?” asked Charlie, leaning over to read the report in Cooper’s hands.

“Seems all those shiploads of food the Europeans have delivered to the East Coast are starting to win hearts and minds…”

“Easiest way to win a man’s heart is through his stomach,” said Jax.

Cooper shook his head as he read.
 
He couldn’t believe what was on the next page of the report.
 
He read out-loud the first paragraph someone had typed up, summarizing the directive:
 


In emergency situations, to be determined by the President, Federal military commanders shall have the authority—including extraordinary emergency circumstances where prior authorization by the President is impossible and duly constituted local authorities are unable or unwilling to control the situation—to engage temporarily in activities that are necessary to quell large-scale, unexpected civil disturbances…”
 
Cooper looked up.
 
“That sounds like one big loophole to me.”

“This could be
real
bad,” muttered Jax.

Cooper looked up from the report.
 
“Where the hell was the ACLU on this?
 
I’m no lawyer, but damn, this sure sounds like it violates
something
.”

“Yeah, but the question is: who’s is going to actually go along with this?” asked Jax, taking a copy of the report.
 
“Surely people are going to see what this is…or was…?
 
I mean, come
on
—”

“Oh, he’s got people waiting in line to sign-up and be counted as loyal.
 
Lots of ‘em are desperate enough for food they already ‘volunteered’.
 
We have the training and discipline and a lot of big toys.
 
They have the rabble.
 
A hungry, motivated, and scared rabble.
 
But thanks to shit like this,” the Commandant slapped the report in Cooper’s hands, “they’ve got a lot more guns and bullets than us, now.”

“And the average Joe gets caught in the middle,” said Cooper.
 

Jax shook his head.
 
“What a fucking mess.”
 

“According to Barron’s latest radio address, use of this doctrine is necessary to keep the country together while he deals with the Koreans and the flu.
 
All it’s going to do is give his supporters a reason to shoot first, take their neighbor’s food, and ask questions later,” said the Commandant.
 

“When do we get back in the fight?” asked Charlie, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah, I got me some unfinished business with the Koreans,” rumbled Jax.

“Well, don’t get your knickers in a twist, but the Chinese have offered a truce, of sorts—on behalf of what’s left of the command structure of North Korea.”
 
He chuckled.
 
“One thing old Barron did right was to hit Pyongyang.
 
He sent in two more bombing raids—the Air Force turned that shit-hole into a pile of rubble.
 
So, now we get the word about no aggression from either side while the diplomats work things out.
 
One week.
 
Washington and
Denver want everyone to toe the line.”


Are we?” asked Cooper, looking up from the papers in his hands.

“Officially?
 
Yes.
 
President Harris is in talks with Beijing at the moment.
 
He’s trying to get recognized as the legitimate President.
 
It shouldn’t be too hard now that NORAD and most of the Air Force is with us.
 
But, until there’s a decisive winner in this Presidential pissing contest, Beijing will probably play coy and try to get us and the Koreans to kill each other a little more.
 
Or let Barron and Harris kill each other…”

Cooper glanced at the papers and dropped them on the desk in disgust.
 
“What do you think about it all, sir?”

The Commandant grinned.
 

I
think the Chinese are using the Koreans as patsies, plain and simple.
 
The NKors do the dying—and soften us up a little—and get wiped out for their trouble.
 
China is then free to reap the benefits over here and won’t have to deal with an unruly step-child anymore.
 
So, until all the dust settles, we’re officially supposed to sit back on our collective asses and let the diplomats hammer out a permanent solution.”

Charlie grunted. “I got a permanent solution—it’s called a .45 semi-auto.”
 

“Hooyah, baby,” said Jax with a high-five.

The Commandant chuckled.
 

Unofficially
, I’ve been sending my Recon boys behind the lines to stir shit up in the Occupied Zones.”
 
He chuckled.
 
“They’ve been having a great time.”
 
The old man looked surprised and raised his hands, “I’m so sorry, Mr. President, I have no idea why Korean platoons keep show up missing…jeepers, sir, it sounds like they’re meeting stiffer civilian resistance, doesn’t it?
 
Oh yes, sir, I assure you, my boys never left United States territory.”

Cooper grunted and walked over to the far wall to examine a detailed map of the United States.
 
It had been marked-up by someone.
 
His finger traced the angry, red demarcation line between the Occupied Zone along the West Coast and the Free States of the middle of the country.
 
On the East Coast, he saw the besieged cities with little European flags pointing toward each one, denoting who was in control.
 
The sight turned his stomach.

“It’s all happened so fast,” he said.

The Commandant joined him at the map and nodded.
 
“Shit like this usually does, son.
 
The Joint Chiefs are of the opinion this whole thing was orchestrated by Barron.
 
Especially after he fired our asses.”
 
He snorted.
 
“I don’t think the man’s got his shit together enough, though.
 
I think someone else was, or
is
pulling the strings.”

“The Joint Chiefs got fired?” asked Cooper.
 
“Can he do that?”

“Hell, he disbanded Congress.
 
What’s left to stop him?
 
Barron is, for all intents and purposes, the first American King.”
 
The Commandant sighed.
 
“Yeah, he fired all of us.
 
President Harris was all too happy to have us join
his
side.
 
So, you could say we’re getting the band back together.”
 

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