Foreign Enemies and Traitors (59 page)

“The ATF didn’t have too much luck, not after the first few surprise raids.  After that, the Feds
really
had a reason to be pissed at us, when a bunch of their agents got sniped.  Then the National Guard wouldn’t even go back in for round two.  I mean those Guardsmen that didn’t desert in the first place.  Regular Army units too—they just wouldn’t do it.  It was practically a mutiny.  They wouldn’t go.  Hardly any Guardsmen reported for duty.  They wouldn’t shoot Americans, not to take their guns away.  And there weren’t enough ATF agents to do squat, not unless they were backed up by soldiers.  They brought in some big-city cops from places like Chicago to back up the ATF, but it wasn’t nearly enough.  Not without the National Guard.

“So it was a standoff from about March to June.  The Feds wouldn’t come back in by themselves, because they knew damn well what would happen.  And if they couldn’t come in to enforce the federal gun laws, then they damned sure weren’t going to help us—and we damned sure weren’t going to give up our guns!  It was another vicious circle, another Catch-22: no gun confiscation, then no electricity and no bridges.  They said we were in a ‘state of insurrection against federal authority’.”

“I thought you were at Fort Bragg.”

“I’m saying ‘we’ because I was born around here.  Yeah, I was at Bragg last spring, listening to all the government propaganda.  If you watched network television, it seemed like it was just going to be a perpetual standoff.  Evil gun-toting white racist rednecks, versus the noble  multicultural federal agents, who just wanted to stop the violence and restore law and order.  But with each week that went by, the federal agents were looking more and more impotent.  Then they said that as long as Tennessee was in a so-called ‘state of insurrection,’ we wouldn’t get our electricity back, and we wouldn’t get our roads and bridges fixed.  We wouldn’t get a ‘rescue package’ like the one Memphis got.  Well, we damn sure wouldn’t give up our guns.  The Feds knew what that meant from the first time they tried, last February.  Come into Tennessee and try to take our guns away, and we’ll shoot.  That was no secret.  So it was a standoff, and we thought it would go on like that for a while.  We were at an impasse, or so we thought.

“Then in June…then came the big shocker.  That’s when they started sending in the foreigners.  That’s when we first heard about the North American Legion.  Mostly it was Mexican illegal aliens, and most of them were gangbangers.  You know, MS-13, the Mexican Mafia, real dirtbags like that.  Illegal aliens who had been given conditional amnesty.”

“What about officers and NCOs?” asked Carson.  “You can’t just pick them up off street corners.”

“Their officers are mostly Americans.  Americans who volunteered for Legion duty.  Mostly Hispanics with prior military experience.  And some active duty military transferred over to the NAL.”

“Good God, how could they get Americans to do that?” 

“Easy,” replied Boone.  “Just promise them extra pay, extra ration cards, and accelerated promotion.  Active duty American NCOs could transfer over and be commissioned in the NAL as lieutenants.  As soon as they transferred over, privates became sergeants, and lieutenants became captains.  Phil, I’m sorry to say that plenty of young American NCOs and junior officers would just as soon fight for the U.N. or the NAL as for the U.S. Army or Marines.  Especially if it meant more pay and a promotion.  They’ve been brainwashed from birth to love anything international.  They call it ‘a higher form of patriotism.’  Can you believe that crap?  A higher form of patriotism!  They actually say that, and they’re proud of it!  It’s all that ‘citizen of the world’ crap they’ve been force-fed all their lives.”

“Well, that’s damned depressing,” said Carson, shaking his head.  “Are these North American Legion troops under the U.N., or the U.S. Army?”

“I wish I knew.  That’s a pretty murky subject, and I think it’s meant to be murky.  I
think
the Legion is under the U.S. Army, but is the Army under the U.N. now?  You’d have to ask Tambo who’s really in charge.  What do you call it, when the president of your country is handing authority over to international commissions every chance he gets?  Who knows what’s really going on with the chain of command?  I’m just a guy hiding in a cave in Tennessee, so I really have no idea.  I’d just be guessing.  Maybe it’s sort of a test program, to see how Americans adjust to the idea of foreign troops.  It didn’t make any sense, except that they’re getting ready to pass the North American Union treaty.  The whole concept of the North American Legion seemed bizarre, until we figured out what was really going on.  With the Legion in Tennessee, we’d get relocated
out
, and they’d get relocated
in
.  The Legion troops and their
familias
.  Land is just about the only thing the Feds have left to pay anybody with. 
Our
land.  And that’s what the NAL troops were in it for: our land, and our homes.  That much I understand.  But the chain of command, the real lines of authority?  Clear as mud.”

Boone continued, agitated.  “The Legion troops were a joke at first.  Just thugs and clowns, dressed up in old Army surplus uniforms and led by American traitors.  Maybe they were big shots in Memphis and Nashville, but that’s about it.  They were nothing more than a bad joke last summer.  A joke, but I guess they did break the ice for foreign troops operating on American soil.  Well….sort of foreign.  They tried to sell us that whole North American Union line of bull crap.  Our North American brothers were coming to our assistance in our time of need.  Yeah, right!  I wonder if they really believed that line of crap up in Washington, or if they just did it to provoke us.  You know, I haven’t seen any Canadians down here, but I’ve sure seen a ton of Mexicans toting M-16s.  Only their uniform says North American Legion, not Mexico, and we’re supposed to treat them like brothers, like our fellow compatriots from the North American Union.  ‘Three Nations, One America.’  Well, fat chance of that!  Other than doing shakedowns at checkpoints, the NALs were worthless—at first.  They didn’t operate outside Memphis and Nashville.

“And that’s where it stood last summer.  Our own National Guard wouldn’t come in and fight us, and the North American Legion
couldn’t
fight, not at first anyway, and the standoff continued.  That’s when the president took the next step.  Tambo needed troops who were ready when their boots hit the ground, troops who didn’t need training.  Troops who would obey his orders.  You know he’s been a huge internationalist all his life, so he probably thought bringing in foreign contract soldiers was a great idea.  ‘We are the world,’ all that globalist bull crap.  Supposedly the world was returning the favor to America for all the help we’ve given the world over the years.  So Tambo’s new idea was to find the right foreign battalions and invite them over on contracts.  Offer them citizenship and free land, so it costs practically nothing.  They bring their own small arms and tactical gear, and we provide the air assets, military vehicles and some logistics support.   Counterinsurgency on the cheap—and they’re way better trained than the NALs, right from the start.  They bring their own rifles, and Uncle Sam provides the rest—trucks, armored vehicles, helicopters, and UAVs.”

Carson asked, “Do they even speak English?”

“Hell no, and since they don’t speak English, there’s no trouble with things like the Bill of Rights or the Constitution.  They never heard of them and can’t read them anyway.  They’ve just been told that we’re rebels and terrorists and outlaws.  That’s all they know about us, and we sure can’t convince them otherwise because they don’t speak English.  And they sure as hell don’t have any sentimental attachment to Southern rednecks, so they’re always ready to shoot any ‘rebel’ that looks cross-eyed at them.  Especially since we were sniping them like crazy when they first got here—before they started the reprisals.  It’s not a bad strategy, really.  Very cost effective.  You still have to scrounge up some American traitors to fly the helos and planes, but the Predators are a big force multiplier there.  There’s no denying it’s worked well.  Look at us, hiding in a cave, getting ready to haul ass out of the last unpacified county in West Tennessee.  Yeah, I’d say the president’s strategy is working.  Old Tambo’s a traitor, but he’s no idiot.  He’s a crafty son of a bitch.”

“You said they brought over their own small arms?”

“Pretty much.  I think each foreign battalion has its own arrangement.  Mostly I think they brought their own small arms, from what I’ve seen.  The Nigerians are using FN- FALs.  The Kazaks brought over their Kalashnikovs.  The NALs use our M-16s.  Most of the foreign groups use some of our weapons.  It’s all a mishmash.  They use their own small arms, but American crew-served weapons and vehicles.  Each country has a different working arrangement, different rules of engagement, different SOPs.  Mainly, we’re talking fifty-caliber machine guns and trucks, and some light armored vehicles.  We have plenty in the inventory, since Tambo cut the size of the U.S. Army in half.  Hey, you want to see a real pisser?”  Boone left the table, rooted around in a wooden ordnance crate, and returned with a small brown cardboard box the size of a pack of cigarettes.  He slid it across the table. 

Carson slipped on his reading glasses and read what was printed on the exterior.  “It says 5.45mm ball ammunition.  That’s for the new AKs, right?”

“AK-74s.  The Russians switched from AK-47s in the 1980s.  Same basic rifle, in a new caliber.  Great bullets, they’re hollow inside the tip.  Really tear you up.  Everybody still calls the rifles AK-47s, though.”

“It’s about the same size as our M-16 ammo,” observed Carson, removing a round from the box and comparing it to a loose 5.56mm cartridge left on the table.

“Right.  But read the rest of the box.”

“ ‘Lake City Ammunition.’  This AK ammo is made here in the
States
?”

“Yeah, that’s a real pisser, ain’t it?  Our own dear old Uncle Sam is making the very ammo that the Cossacks are shooting at us.”

“Damn…if that’s not treason, what is?”

“I can’t imagine,” replied Boone.

“What about the Constitution, and the president’s oath to defend it?”

“
Which
constitution?  That’s the problem.  The traitors claim they’re defending the
new
constitution.  That’s their excuse.  That’s what my old Army buddies say—the ones that stayed on active duty through all this shit.  They’re just defending the
new
constitution.  Of course, plenty of them don’t believe it.  They just want the paycheck and the pension, which they still hope they’ll get someday.  And even when the dollar is just about worthless, the military commissaries still get food supplies.  Plus, they get to stay in military housing for free.  It’s a pretty good deal—if you can stomach working with foreign enemies.  The whole thing is just a mess.”

“In a million years, I never would have imagined the United States could have sunk to this.”

“You and me both, brother.”

“So, when are we leaving?” asked Carson.

“Tonight.  How’s your ass doing after all this running around?”

“Sore, but it’s holding together.  I’ll live…just don’t ask me to ride any more horses for a while.”

“I’m not planning to.”

“So what’s the new plan?”

“We’re crossing the Tennessee River in a small boat.  It’s usually a more, uh, permissive environment on the other side in Middle Tennessee.  It’s mostly just NAL troops over there.  I have contacts on the other side that can get us up to Fort Campbell.  But until we can hook up with them, it’s going to be a couple of long nights.”  Boone pointed up toward the ceiling of the cave.  “Things are different since you and my father were running around in Southeast Asia.  Now it’s the eye in the sky that’s the biggest danger.  But we can’t just sit here and hide, not with what’s on these cameras.  And maybe I’m getting soft, but I can’t see hiding in this cave while that infant perishes.  What’s the point of that?  We’ve had a good run, you and me. 

“It’s the youngsters I care more about now.  Maybe because I never had kids, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s because Jenny’s so attached to the baby, and that’s touched me somehow.  Shit, listen to me, I sound like an old woman.  We’ll brief it, and then we’ll get ready to move out.  Once we’re ready, completely set to go, we’ll sleep.  We’ll take off later tonight, before midnight.  It’s about a two-thirds moon, and it won’t set until later in the morning.  Zack and Jenny won’t have night vision; they have to be able to pass as refugees if they’re stopped.  The moonlight will help them move faster in the dark.  They’ll have a compass, and a map that I marked with the best routes.”

“Have you got a spare rifle I can use?” Carson asked.

“Sure.  You want an M-16 or an AK?  The M-16 has a red dot sight, an Aimpoint.” 

“I’ll take the M-16.  With this much moonlight, a red dot sight will work well enough.  Do the Kazaks have night vision?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” replied Boone.  “They use night scopes and IR lasers and IR spotlights.”

“Do they have infrared scopes?” asked Carson.

“You mean thermal infrared scopes?”

“Right, the kind where they see people’s heat.”

“As far as I know, the only thermal infrared is what’s up in the UAVs and the helicopters.  I don’t think they’re giving thermal imagers to the foreign troops: they cost a fortune.  But the helos and UAVs, they have thermal for sure.  I’m pretty sure the Predators can downlink the FLIR video to the ground units.”  Boone pronounced the acronym so that it rhymed with near or beer.

“Fleer?”

“Forward-looking infrared,” Boone explained.  “That’s what they used to call thermal night vision.  They still call it FLIR in helicopters—I don’t know why.”

“So, we just have to worry about thermal infrared,
and
starlight night vision.”

“Phil, it’s not easy being a guerrilla fighter anymore.  Hiding in the forest ain’t what it used to be.  Not when the enemy can see right through it, and your body heat shows up like a lit candle in a dark room.  The days of playing Robin Hood and hiding out in Sherwood Forest are definitely over.  Especially in the wintertime.”