Pedestals of Ash (27 page)

Peterson had been at his barracks when the first prote
st outside the main entrance
started getting out of hand. An unknown MP had rushed through the building screaming for every available man to report to the front gate, with weapon, as soon as possible. The crowd of about 1,000 people hadn’t even flinched while facing the line of a hundred or so soldiers with their carbines. It had taken two Abrams tanks rolling up to disperse the mob.

Over the next week or so, larger and larger crowds could be seen milling around the entrance to the base. Peterson remembered some asshole had a bullhorn. The guy seemed to be intent on inciting the throng. When the wind was just right, the guards at the front gate could make out the words. “Why should the army get all the food when we paid for it? Why should the military get to sit back in comfort while we, the people, are starving? Why don’t they use their guns on the predators roaming our streets and killing our families instead of us? There must be thousands of tons of food on that base and a huge hospital as well. The military has to share. Our children are starving
,
and our elderly are dying. We have to demand justice! We demand what is ours!”

For a
few days, it was all talk. The c
orpor
al wasn’t sure if it was the eleventh or the twelfth
day w
hen two police cars approached
the gate. Inside was the head of the city council of El Paso and a ranking police officer. The other car was driven by two heavily armed SWAT officers. The two civilians asked to speak to the base commander and were passed through the gate.

Corporals aren’t privy to
high-level
meetings such as the one that took place that day. What eventually filters down to the lower ranks is a mixture of fact, rumor
,
and speculat
ion. All over Fort Bliss, gossip
spread that the city of El Paso was in a war with gangs of civilians and drug cartel soldiers from Juarez, and the city po
lice were losing. The word was
that the city officials had come to ask for help with the invasion from the south.

Peterson was at the gate when the guests left. The look on their faces said it all – no help would be forthcoming from Bliss. The reaction among the troops was mixed. Some people thought Mother Green should mount up and go kick some ass. America was what everyone had taken an oath to defend. Others agreed with th
e decision, reasoning that “T
he army can’t help everyone all at once.” It was three days later when two separate events occurred.

The first involved a firefight between several city police officers and a bunch of heavily armed men in black SUVs. The police were losing and retre
ating back toward the guardhouse of the base
. N
o one knew
if it was intentional or merely coincidence that the
fight ended up at
the front of Bliss
.

Several members of the 1
st
Armored D
ivision looked on as the cops fought like co
rnered animals. The vicious gun
battle raged for several minutes as more and more soldiers came to the front gate to watch the fight. The cops had no chance. Whoever the attackers were, they had the advantage in numbers and weapons
.
Two of the police cars were even destroyed by RPG rockets. The last few remaining police officers retreated back to the
guardhouse
and begged for help or sanctuary.

By that time, one of the brigade commanders, a full colonel, arrived at the gate and took command. He was on the radio pleading for permission to help the police officers. The reply was always the same – any action is authorized to protect and secure Fort Bliss. No other action is authorized.

Two police officers were draggin
g a wounded comrade back toward the colonel’s position
while a fo
u
rth was covering their retreat. It was at that point that one of the attackers rose up and threw a hand grenade. Everything got a little confused after that. One story had it that the shrapnel from the grenade hit a private from A-Company. Someone else claimed that a piece of hot steel flew right over the colonel’s head. Whatever the motivation, the reaction was swift and overwhelming. Within seconds of the blast, orders were being screamed up and down the line – HIT THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS
,
AND HIT THEM HARD!

It was one thing to take on
11
lightly armed law enforcement officers. It was another to fight an armored brigade of the United States Army. The two M1A2 Abrams tanks were the first to open fire with their heavy M2 and coaxial machine guns. They were quickly joined by over a hundred M4 and M16 rifles creating a
firestorm
of lead. The
hostile
SUVs were instantly shredded to scrap metal, with one of them exploding and burning. There was no cover for the attackers that could withstand the blistering fire leveled in their direct
ion. It was over in less than fifteen
seconds with zero survivors. Unfortunately, all of the police officers died that day as well.

That evening, just as the bodies were being bagged for
cremation
, the second event occurred. The normal gathering of protestors was joined by a large crowd of onlookers gawking at the results of the “battle.” As usual, agitators began working everyone into a frenzy. Before long, the soldiers at the gate started seeing the occasional rock or glass bottle being thrown their way. Just before dusk, someone shot at the post. The shot was low and slammed into the concrete roadway well short of any sentries, but the message was clear – this was turning into a riot.

Fortunately, the colonel was still present, supervising the cleanup. It only took a single, short .50 caliber burst, intentionally fired high, to make the approaching crowd break and run. Even though no one was hurt, the message was clear to both sides – the army is not your friend and will shoot at you. The soldiers understood that the population they had sworn to protect hated them. Neither side was pleased with the outcome.

It was a few days later that someone in high command finally grasped the situation at hand. Suddenly, orders were issued for several thousand troops to form up. The 1
st
Armored Division was going to establish law and order in El Paso.

Peterson remembered watching column after column of vehicles full of troopers move out into the city. It took less than three days to establish rule of law. Those invading from the south were pushed back or killed. While tens of thousands were starving and thousands more were already dead, El Paso was firmly back in American control – for whatever that was worth. The army couldn’t feed, house or treat the population, but order had been established.

Ever since that time, the front gate had been peaceful. Occasionally, civilians came to the guards
,
begging for food or medicine. Now and then, someone would walk up to report a problem. For the most part, the base was on a quiet state of alert.

Corporal Peterson was bent over
,
re-lacing his boot
,
when he heard a nearby sentry’s voice. “Corporal, we have a visitor.” Peterson finished his re-tie
,
and then looked up to see a single man approaching on foot. The guy was armed, but his rifle was on his back and the barrel pointed down. He carried a small white cloth in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other.

Peterson let the man approach to within 50 feet and yelled, “Halt! State your business at Fort Bliss.” The stranger yelled back, “I have a letter for the base commander. I am here under orders of the President of the United States and have urgent information for his eyes only.”

Peterson heard the priva
te whisper “
B
ullshit”
under his breath, and had to admit this guy’s answer didn’t make any sense. Still, a decision like this was above his pay grade. He yelled back, “Stand where you are and wait – don’t move, sir.”

Peterson turned to the radio and eventually w
as connected to the duty watch c
aptain. The man seemed annoyed that he was be
ing bothered, but informed the c
orporal to take no action until he got to the gate. It was almost five minutes later when a
Humvee pulled up, discharging the c
aptain and bri
sk, square-
shouldered sergeant.

The Captain immediately walked to the sandbags su
rrounding the gate to sum up
the stranger. He motioned a quick “
beats the hell out of me
” gesture to the sergeant, and then returned his attention to the man standing patiently on the roadway.

“State your business.”

The man paused for just a moment and then calmly replied. “Captain, I have traveled through 200 miles of hell to get here. I’m tired, sore, and low on food,
water,
and patience. I was ordered to report here and brief the President of the United States. I have a letter of introduction to the base commander. I suggest you read it
,
and let the general know I’m here.”

Something about the man’s tone rubbed the Captain the wrong way. Still, he didn’t want his ass in a sling. “Please place your weapon on the ground, walk forward
10
steps,
and go to both knees with your hands behind your head.”

“Fuck you.”

The Captain wasn’t pleased with Bishop’s answer. “Look hotshot, I don’t know who you are
,
or why you’re here. I wasn’t told to expect anyone, so as far as I’m concerned
,
you are nothing but a target. Now do as I ask
,
or be on your way.”

The harsh response drew a sharp look from the sergeant, but the officer ignored it. He started to say something when the stranger answered the challenge.

“No, you look c
aptain, we can stand here all day and play ‘who’s got the biggest swinging dick,’ but I’m not in the mood. Why don’t you send someone out and retrieve the letter. If it’s bullshit, then shoot me or whatever. If it’s not, I promise not to tell the general that your fucking IQ is less than your boot size.”

Bishop’s remark generated a couple of muffled
chuckles among the men, and the c
aptain threw a harsh look in their general direction. He started to respond when the sergeant interrupted. “Sir, what would it hurt to take a look? He doesn’
t look like the typical trouble
maker we see here at the gate.”

“Fine
,
Se
rgeant. If you want to see the man’s paperwork, feel free to go get it. I’m telling you this is some sort of con.”

“You’re probably right sir, but it will only take a minute.” And with that, the NCO cli
mbed over the sandbag and strode toward
Bishop.

After Bishop handed over the letter, the sergeant stood and quickly read the first page of
handwriting. When he
finished the note, he flipped to the second page and quickly checked the document. He concluded by looking Bishop in the eye
,
and then nodded. He did a nimble about face and
double-timed
back to the gate
,
holding the papers in his hand. Without saying a word, he walked up
to the c
aptain and handed over the documents. The first page read:

Dear General Westfield,

The man carrying this letter has information critical to the President of the United States. He is delivering this under executive order 15-23442, issued directly to me personally. I, in execution of my duties, have suffered severe injury and am incapacitated.
This man is my surrogate
.

The information being delivered should be considered G15CS-Eyes-Only.

The letter was signed by a colonel. Attached to the note was a
n official
lo
oking order, complete with the p
resident’s signature and the official seal of the White House. Everything appeared to
be in order and official. The c
aptain looked up from the papers and squinted at Bishop through narrow eyes. After a moment, he looked back at the sergeant and asked, “What do you think I should do with this
,
S
ergeant?”

“I would inform the base commander
,
sir. The order should be easy enough to verify. In the meantime, I would ask that gentleman to unload and safe his weapon
,
and then offer him some shade and a drink of water.”

The officer considered the recommendation for a moment and nodded. “Go ahead, but keep a close watch on him. I still think this is some sort of game. I’ll call the CO.”

Bishop was sitting on a sandbag wall with his weapon unloaded and drinking a cup of water
,
when a second
Humvee
joined the first. This time, it was a full bird colonel that jumped out
and walked directly toward the c
aptain. Again, after a quick review of the paperwork, another radio transmission was made. The two officers stood, ignoring Bishop.