Sic Semper Tyrannis (32 page)

Chaos erupted.  The telltale whine of incoming mortar rounds made everyone pause.  Soldiers ran for cover as the noise grew in volume.  The ground shook with successive explosions.  The command center went up in a mighty fireball, showering anyone within 100 feet with broken bits of mortar, brick, and office furniture.

Stapleton adjusted his helmet and drew his sidearm.  The smooth, pearl-handled grip on his custom .45 felt comforting in his hand.  He leaned around the corner of the tollbooth and could see the entrance to the Holland Tunnel straight ahead.  Smoke billowed out of the tunnel.  It was red smoke, the kind used to signal aircraft. 

“Here they come!” he shouted in a hoarse voice.  “Concentrate fire on the entrance to the tunnel!”

To his satisfaction, he heard the sound of an M60 open up from somewhere to the right.  His men had scrambled for cover under the sniper and mortar fire.  Now as the first Russians appeared in the tunnel, they had no one to shoot but were easy targets themselves.

Stapleton watched in helpless frustration—his pistol was no good at this distance.  Russian soldiers leapfrogged their way up through debris and over abandoned and destroyed cars as they made their way close to the very edge of the ragged American line.

First one, then another fell screaming.  The soldiers around General Stapleton began to pour fire toward the tunnel entrance.  Russian bodies piled up and still they came.  More than one tried to throw a grenade.  One went off just on the other side of the Stapleton’s tollbooth.  The noise was deafening and instead of gunfire, all he heard was a loud high-pitched ringing.

The major next to Stapleton, who had appointed himself bodyguard to the general, said something and then handed over a radio.  Stapleton shook his head and the man shouted: “Sir, the outpost just north of us is reporting they’re being overrun!”

Stapleton took the radio and barked orders for troop deployments.   He needed intel and he needed it now.  More importantly, he needed Vinsen’s armored fist to join the fray.  “Honeybadger, I need a sitrep!”

A few tense moments lapsed as the screams of various units engaged in the battle clogged the airways.  At last someone called for the net to be cleared before Colonel Vinsen’s voice came through loud and clear.  “
I’m three miles north of your position, enemy forces are pouring out of the tunnel.  OP Two has been completely destroyed—they’re trying to wedge us.  I’ve moved half my squads back and we’re going to hold them at the interstate
.”

Major Winston appeared in the distance behind a nearby security shack, waving in an attempt to get Stapleton’s attention.  He grabbed the arm of the soldier next to him.  Pointing at the frantic major in the distance, he said, “Give her some covering fire!  She’s in contact with the Air National Guard.  We need some support—”

Another mortar shell exploded on the opposite side of the building that Winston was trying to hide behind.  She was knocked to the ground and struggled to get up.  Soldiers nearest her lay down suppressive fire on the entrance to the tunnel while two men raced off to help the dazed officer to her feet and bring her to the general.

Once safely behind the tollbooth, the general helped her reattach her helmet.  “Tell me you got a hold of those jet-jockeys!”

“That’s what I was on my way to tell you, sir,” she said.  Coughing, she tried to catch her breath.  “They’re only a few miles out, they’re selecting targets as we speak,” she gasped.  She handed over a smaller radio unit to the general.  “Channel 3.”

The general switched to the proper channel and radioed, “Air National Guard, this is Command Actual, how copy?”

“Roger that, Command Actual, this is Joker One, F-16 lead element inbound your location.  I suggest you pull your boys back, or be prepared for some danger close.”

“We’re ready!” Stapleton replied without hesitation.  “Bring it!”

“Copy that, Command Actual.  Keep your heads down—coming in hot.”

Stapleton grabbed his main radio and said in a voice that was calmer than he felt, “All units this net, this is Command-Actual.  Fast movers inbound—
repeat
, friendly fast movers inbound. 
Danger close, danger close, danger close!
”

One of his bodyguards pointed at the sky: “Look!”

“Duck and cover, people!” shouted the general.  He never saw the squadron of F-16’s in perfect formation as they screamed in from the southeast right over the Russian advance.

There was a tremendous roar—louder than anything he’d experienced in the last few decades.  General Stapleton felt the ground shake to the point where he thought his ribs might burst from his chest.  For a second he thought his eardrums would explode from the pressure.  And then all was quiet.  There was no ringing in his ears this time, just silence. 

General Stapleton tried to say something, but the acrid smoke was too thick and ended up coughing dust.  He couldn’t catch his breath and opened his eyes to see a swirling world of gray.  Angrily he rubbed the soot, smoke, and dust from his face.  His vision grew clearer, but he was still hampered by the thick smoke of the battle.  Faintly, he heard some low moans from the soldiers around him.  He felt a wetness on his cheek and scratched it absently.  Even in the cloudy gloom, he could tell his finger came away red.  Stapleton’s ears were bleeding. 

But he was alive.  Painfully, he crawled his way to the edge of the shattered tollbooth and peered around the corner.  It felt like he had been in a bar fight that lasted 12 hours.  His body was bruised, battered, and tired.  He peered through the smoke as the shifting winds parted the screen of dust in front of him.  He saw the entrance to the Holland Tunnel, or rather, what had been the entrance.  Whatever the hell those fighter jocks had dropped had collapsed damn tunnel and turned it into a graveyard.  He could see murky water seeping up from cracks in the pavement.

“I think—” said Major Winston, pausing to cough.  “I think they collapsed the tunnel!”

General Stapleton could tell that she was shouting by the cords standing out on her neck, but he only heard her voice as a whisper.

He looked around him and can see other soldiers coming to and shaking each other to make sure everyone was okay.  He could hear no gunfire.  He took another glance around the corner and saw only the bodies of broken soldiers, both Russian and American.  There was no movement.

“Son of a
bitch
.  That’s the last time I make fun of the Air Force…”

CHAPTER 22

The Burden of Leadership

PRESIDENT SUTHBY LOOKED AT the faces of his makeshift Cabinet.  The Joint Chiefs were represented not by the actual men who were appointed under President Reed, but by the highest ranking officers of each branch that he could find.  The commanding officer of NORAD itself had been promoted on the spot to the Chief of Staff of the Air Force.  The Navy and Marine Corps were bit harder to find on short notice.  A colonel from the Army had been field promoted to brigadier general, in order to claim the title of Chief of Staff of the Army.

“Well, we know something’s going on in New York City, but what exactly do we know?” asked Daniel.

The newly minted brigadier general looked at President Suthby.  “I’m getting reports from a few units outside of New York that the Russians have reinforced the rebels on Manhattan Island.  Last word we had from General Stapleton was that a number of Russian airliners and cargo planes had landed late last night and offloaded supplies and reinforcements.”

“I gathered as much from my conversation with that man,” said Suthby in a sour voice.  “That doesn’t tell us exactly what the hell is going on, though.”

“No, sir, it doesn’t.”  The brigadier general looked embarrassed.  He shot a glance at the Chief of Staff of the Air Force and cleared his throat.  He looked down at the papers in front of him and continued, “General Stapleton was planning to mount an offensive using elements from the remainder of his division which had arrived from Chicago this morning.  Unfortunately, before he could do so, the Russians mounted a surprise attack, hitting 9 of our 13 outpost along the Hudson River.  We think, based on pictures from handheld drones, that they also launched an expedition in New Jersey by crossing Long Island Sound.  They may be attempting to capture Long Island itself, as well.”

President Suthby put his head in his hands and sighed.  “That stupid fool.  I
told
him to back off.”  He looked up at Daniel.  “Didn’t I tell him to stand down and shore up his defenses?”

Daniel nodded grimly.  “Indeed you did, sir.”

Suthby turned back to the military men, anger clouding his face.  “Well, what’s the bad news then?  Was this general Stapleton wiped off the map?  What happened?  Why did we lose contact?”

The Chief of Staff of the Army cleared his throat again and shift papers.  “Sir, it appears that the Russians succeeded in wiping out most of our northern outposts.  They were able to gather a sizable number of troops on the western shore of the Hudson and began to turn our flank.  About two hours ago they began moving south.”

The President sighed.  “You’re telling me they’re going to wipe out Stapleton’s army—the last one we have standing in the Northeast?  That arrogant son of a bitch disobeyed my orders and now the entire army’s going to get wiped out for it.”  He closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples.

“Sir,” said the calm, deep, confident voice of the Chief of Staff of the Air Force.  “We were able to coordinate with the New York Air National Guard and bring down some assets—a squadron of F-16s—they were able to launch a successful counterattack against the main Russian forces.”

“What I want to know,” said the Army general with a renewed vigor, “is whether or not these Russians are operating under direct sanction of the United Nations?”

Suthby frowned and looked down at his desk.  How was he supposed to handle this?  He knew eventually this question would come up, he’d just hoped for a little more time.  The Russians and their aggressive actions in Florida and now New York had forced his hand a little too early. 

So, he was left with a hard choice: tell the generals that yes, the United Nations sanctioned the Russians takeover of Florida and New York City as hangman’s-price for the protectorate status that he had negotiated for… Or, inform them that the Russians were acting on their own, which is what he thought the general wanted to hear anyway and deal with the consequences of lying to his Cabinet later. 

Suthby frowned, deep in thought. 
It’s far easier to take on one country than the entire world.
  He sighed.  “General, you know about as much as I do, but I can tell you right now, I had no prior knowledge of this through my communications with the Secretary-General.  I don’t think the United Nations is sanctioning this event.  And if they do, the wanton destruction and confiscation of American property will be a sticking point in further negotiations.”

“”Well, thank goodness for that.”

Suthby shot the Air Force general an irate look for the sarcastic comment.  He was growing a little too big for his britches already.  Suthby marveled again at the arrogance that seemed inbred in all military men. 

“Here’s the deal—until we can get reliable communications established with The Hague, we’ve got to assume that if these Russians take any aggressive action, they will be acting on their own.  According to my conversations with the Secretary-General, the United Nations is supposed to be standing by to offer assistance to us and in no way wants to take land, prisoners, or property.”

“Sir,” said the Chief of Staff of the Navy in a low voice.  “Permission to do something. 
Anything
.  We have a handful ships available out of Norfolk that were in dry dock for refit when all this mess went down.  They’re not exactly shipshape and battle-ready, but they might be enough of a presence in New York harbor to give the Russians pause about whether or not they want to expand the territory they’ve already taken.”

Suthby stared at the Admiral.  There was merit to his plan.  If he could send a small fleet of ships north to New York to patrol the seas, it would show the Russians they do not own the whole of America.  Suthby nodded.  “A projection of force,” he said, “might be just enough to show the United Nations that America is not completely down and out.” 

Daniel concurred.  “That in itself could help our negotiating position with the Secretary-General for more aid and support of your presidency, sir.” 

Suthby nodded and placed his hands palm down on the desk.  “Very well, Admiral, that sounds like an excellent idea.  Make it happen, then send me the details—I want to know ship types, sizes, crew complements, the works.  With all of our satellites still down, we’re going to have to rely on word-of-mouth and paper communication to keep track of everything.”

A smile spread across the Admiral’s face.  “Of course, sir.  My pleasure.  Thank you, sir.”

Suthby was a little unsettled by the old man’s smile.  He wasn’t the most senior admiral in the navy, but he was the most senior man the President could call on at the moment.  The admiral had been visiting NORAD as part of a joint task force exercise when the power crisis had struck a few months back.  He had stayed to help coordinate the naval response. 

From what Suthby could tell of his personnel files, the new naval chief had served a long and honorable if not exciting career through multiple conflicts for the navy.  Steady, dependable, and loyal were the words that appeared most often in his paperwork.  Suthby made a mental note to keep an eye on this one.  He tried to write some notes down on a piece of paper, to stall and give himself time.  At length, he looked up.

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s see if I have everything straight.  So far, we have the Russians landing in force in New York City—taking control of Manhattan and LaGuardia.”  The Army General nodded solemnly.  Suthby spread his hands.  “There are rumors of a Russian fleet approaching New York City.   However, we’re going to dispatch our own set of ships, not so much to
meet
the threat as to monitor the situation.”  He turned to the Air Force General.  “Do we have any extra air assets that I need to know about?”

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs frowned and
harrumphed
from his side of the desk.  “Sir, most of my forces are deployed overseas.  What we have left is spread thin, mostly in the hands of the various state National Guards.  I authorized the dispatch of a squadron of F-16s out of Jersey to assist in the defense of New York City.  They’re providing close air support as we speak.”  He looked down at his notes.  “I’m coordinating with the ANGs from nearby states—Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Pennsylvania—in order to get some more wings in the air.  But…communications are spotty.  I don’t know if my orders got through or not.”  He sighed.  “Most of what I can find so far are tankers and transport planes.  We had a sizable number of ANG fighters, however when the Russians invaded Florida many of them were shipped south to meet that threat.  A small percentage of them came back.  These bastards timed everything very well,” the old man said.  His face was heavy with grief and anger. 

The Army’s Chief of Staff spoke up.  “They knew we would send people south, they knew most of our front-line troops were overseas, and they knew when they timed the hit on us what little defense we put up could be wiped out quickly.”

“Mr. President,” said the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, “my standing orders have been to keep the squadrons under low profiles across the country—we need to gather what strength we have, protect the assets that are still viable, and prepare to launch counterattacks.”

“You’re telling me we’ve all but lost the air war and it hasn’t even started yet?” asked Suthby, unable to hide the acid in his voice.  “Reports like this are just getting hard for me to believe.  This is the United States of America, gentlemen.  How the hell can something like this happen and leave us so utterly devastated?”

“Sir, with all due respect,” interjected Daniel, scanning his notes, “almost 80% of our combat troops and assets were stationed overseas at the beginning of this conflict.  We’ve been spread thin for
decades
.  It is through no fault of your own that the situation has arisen—your predecessors and Congress have done everything they could to eviscerate our military in order to bring us in line with the rest of the world.  President Reed being the shining example to the contrary.”

Suthby sighed.  “I’ve inherited a real mess, haven’t I?”  He waited for the commiserating responses from the gathered generals and their aides, but heard only the sound of the air quietly whistling through a vent in the ceiling.  He cleared his throat.  “In that case, what’s the status of our troops coming home from overseas?  Where are we at?”

The Chief of the Army smiled. “Sir, I’m happy to report three brigades from the 7th have returned safely back to American shores.  They arrived from Europe over the past 48 hours, on commandeered airliners and a few C-17’s.”

The Chairman spoke up, “The majority of our stealth bombers are still on home soil and accounted for.  We have solid contact with about half.  That’s a considerable amount of firepower still at our disposal, sir.”

“What about special forces?” asked Daniel.

“Roughly 2/3 of our special forces command has been spread out across the globe,” the Chairman said to Daniel, “as advisors in call kinds of third-world countries.  I wouldn’t worry about them.  Of all our troops, they have the smallest footprint and are the most capable of going gray and getting home.”

“Going gray?” asked the President.

“Yessir,” said the Chairman, looking a little uncomfortable discussing such a topic.  “Our SpecOps boys are trained to blend in with the locals, to disappear and pose no threat until it’s time to drop the hammer.  We’ve had them in Afghanistan for over a decade, learning the languages and customs.  Hell, they even have beards down to their chests.”   The Chairman shook his head.  “No, if
anyone
is going to get home, it’ll be them.  Delta, SEALs, you name it—they’re resourceful, highly trained, and highly motivated to defend this nation.  They’re our fanatics.  We may not hear from them, and it may take a while, but I think in the end most of them will make it home.”

“I have two SEAL Teams ready for action, Mr. President,” said the Admiral.  “I had already prepared orders for SEAL Team One—they’re in California, sir—to attempt to locate the Vice President.”

“Good, good!” said Suthby.  Inside he shuddered with revulsion and fear. 
Oh, my God, they can’t find him.  They can’t!

He shot Daniel a worried look as the Joint Chiefs lapsed into a quiet discussion on tactics.  He needed to wrap this meeting up quickly so he and Daniel could plan the next phase of their operation.  The Vice President’s fate had to be sealed.  Soon.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Suthby, sighing, “if we’re able to get our people safely home, is there a way for us to coordinate a counter—”

“Sir,” said the Chief of Staff of the Army, his hand raised to interrupt the President, “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation our troops are facing overseas.  Former allies, the worst of which we’ve seen in Germany, are turning against us at every corner.”

The Admiral nodded, giving support to the brigadier general.  “It’s the same with the Fleet,” he said sourly.  “I’ve got ships turned away from once-friendly ports like you wouldn’t believe.   We’ve lost seven cruisers and two destroyers in the past 48 hours after coming under attack from ‘friendly’ forces.  The Russians sank a few and the tag-team of the Germans and French—if you can believe that—nearly took out a sub.  Not to mention the fact that we’ve completely lost contact with the
Roosevelt
Strike Group.  We’ve confirmed that Iran launched a nuclear warhead at the fleet.  Well, they launched it at
Israel
, is what they’re saying.”