A Triple Thriller Fest (40 page)

Even though Del Valle had been advised the evening before of the specific unit assigned to support the federal marshals, he affected a mild surprise, seeking in his reaction to elicit from Chidester some explanation of the Pentagon’s thinking.

Chidester understood and responded. “General Del Valle, the JCS felt that troops from outside California might be less offensive, given current conditions. And it’s a good redeployment exercise for us,” he added.

“I see. I’m sure we both hope that’s all it will be, General,” Del Valle said.

“General Del Valle,” Chidester continued, “I have been instructed to inform you that at eight o’clock this morning, six federal marshals from the justice department will present the governor and the Speaker of the House with documentation from the federal government. To wit: that inasmuch as the State of California is currently in a state of rebellion, all executive, legislative, appointed, and military officials have been, until further notice, relieved of their responsibilities, and that a state of military emergency exists. Authority and responsibility for control of civil affairs has been transferred to the United States Attorney’s office, with support from federal military forces. All police and uniformed law enforcement officers at the county and local level are to remain in place. General Del Valle, is it the governor’s intention to comply with these orders?”

Del Valle reached into the pocket of his field jacket and pulled out a cigar case. Removing one, he offered one to Chidester, who declined. Biting the end off of the cigar and spitting the tip on the ground, Del Valle glanced at his watch, lit his cigar, and looked up at Chidester.

“Sir, I make it 0612.”

Chidester lifted the Velcro cover over the top of his field watch. “Agreed.”

“Perhaps, General,” Del Valle continued, cigar clenched between his teeth, “we ought to get a bite to eat. It just might turn out to be a long day.”

Chidester’s eyes widened slightly, and a small grin crossed his face. “Is it your intention then, sir, to dispute these orders?”

Del Valle removed his cigar and looked squarely into Chidester’s eyes. “General, Governor Dewhirst didn’t want it to come to this. I can assure you I didn’t want it, and as far down my chain of command as I can fathom, they didn’t want it either. Yet, here we are. Now I’m quite certain the governor will be in touch with the president to protest your …
intrusion.
How this will play out over the next several weeks and months, we don’t know. But I intend to deal with today, and in that regard I have but one objective: I want your young men and my young men to go home this evening, safe and sound, to their wives and children. I’m sure you share my sentiments, General. But each of us has a duty and an obligation today. And hopefully, with restraint, we will carry out those duties and let the politicians behind the scenes wrestle with the political decisions.”

“Agreed,” Chidester nodded. “I’ll instruct my comm officer to keep an open channel with your counterpart for our communication needs. If there’s nothing else, then, good day to you, sir.” He turned to leave.

“General, a moment please. May I inquire as to your weapons status?” Del Valle asked.

Chidester turned back and hesitated momentarily, obviously assessing the need to advise a potential enemy regarding his weapons status. “The 82
^nd
will assume positions locked and loaded, General Del Valle,” Chidester replied.

“Thank you, sir. My father went into Normandy with the 82
^nd
. Despite the difficult situation, it’s an honor to meet them and their commander.”

“Yes, I know,” Chidester replied, smiling gently and confusing Del Valle somewhat. “Major Del Valle dropped twenty miles behind the beaches at Normandy with the second wave just after midnight on D-Day. A lot of good men now lie beside him in France. His name adorns the roll of honor at Fort Bragg, along with his citations.”

Del Valle’s eyebrows went up, but he remained silent.

“The JCS sent me your package, General Del Valle. Class of ‘74, battalion commander at thirty-three. I was ’79 myself, the first in the family,” Chidester continued, looking over General Del Valle’s shoulder as the first rays of morning began to break over the Capitol. “I’ll have one of those cigars now, if I may, General.”

“Certainly, sir,” Del Valle said, offering the case to Chidester.

“I pray God,” Chidester said, biting his cigar and leaning forward to accept Del Valle’s light, “that our respective leaders can find an amicable solution to this pending catastrophe, so that you and I can discuss old times over another cigar and a good glass of brandy at the ‘O’ Club.”

Both generals eyed one another for a few moments. Del Valle took one pace backward and saluted, which Chidester returned—two soldiers, once again responding to political directives, however distasteful.

“Jack,” Del Valle said to Colonel Harman as he climbed back into his vehicle and watched the 82
^nd
commander drive up Capitol Mall, “it’s time to deploy. Locked and loaded, Colonel. Once more, warn your company commanders. No individual incidents at all costs. The ratchet’s just been cranked up a notch.”

“Right, General.”

* * *

Three news helicopters flew overhead, unmolested by the Army Cobra attack helicopters also hovering over the area. Sound trucks from the three major networks, Fox News, and CNN adorned the grounds around the Sacramento Capitol Building, cables looping throughout the various vehicles—although finding space among the hundreds of troops positioned within the forested area of the grounds had been difficult.

Both commanding officers had agreed to allow the press close access, in the hopes that a highly visible public presence would serve to deter unwanted confrontation. The sight of nearly three thousand troops facing off on American soil did not, however, dispel the televised sense of impending conflict. Across America and throughout California, people watched the standoff from their living rooms, as for years they had watched evening clips of various military confrontations played out around the world. Most found it hard to believe that it was happening in America.

* * *

John Henry Franklin sat high above the fray in his palatial San Francisco office suite, watching the developing drama on live, big-screen TV. The altercation developing before him was a means to an end, and only the evening before, he had been briefed by Jean Wolff. If Wolff’s plan came off—and Franklin had no reason to doubt that it would, given the success of the past several months—today would drive the nail into the coffin, further limiting the options of those few politicians who had the power to bring this to an end. Franklin had heard the governor’s press conference the previous day and his analogy of driving the train. Dewhirst was lucky even to be
on
the train, Franklin thought, much less driving it.
Let him think he’s the engineer, if it pleases him,
Franklin thought.
It’s the master of the switchyard who determines where the train ends up.

* * *

Jean Wolff watched the show from a much closer perspective, having positioned himself on the corner of “L” Street and 8
^th
Avenue so as to have a clear view of the Capitol steps. The six operatives in his action squad were closer still. He had determined that the best method of infiltration was the ability to blend in with the locals. The recent incorporation of the Guard and SMR units, plus the gathering of Highway Patrol officers from all parts of the state, had provided the optimum environment for such an infiltration. Few component members knew each other. Acquisition of appropriate uniforms had been the simple part, at least so far, Wolff thought. There actually had been no hard part at all. Four of his team members were dressed in SMR uniforms and two were in Highway Patrol gear.

* * *

General Del Valle had deployed his troops on a broad perimeter, covering the grassy area and preventing the 82
^nd
from occupying Capitol grounds, thereby restricting them to surrounding streets and keeping them fully two hundred yards from any entrance to the building. None of the officers present felt that combat action would ensue, but the dance had been choreographed, and the participants ringed the ballroom floor, separated by their respective sides, much as boys and girls do at dances during their formative junior-high-school years, each too tentative to approach the other.

At three minutes to eight, the ballet began in earnest as two civilian vehicles were allowed through the 82
^nd
Airborne barricades and approached the steps of the west end of the Capitol. Dewhirst had chosen to make his presence available outside on the steps, in full view of the press, rather than waiting for a formal deputation in his office. His brief chat with President Eastman only moments earlier had failed to convince the president to reconsider his intended course of action.

Escorted by six federal marshals, several FBI agents, and four armed 82
^nd
airborne military police officers, Janice Shipley, U.S. attorney for the northern district of California, approached the steps. Governor Dewhirst, Lieutenant Governor Henricks, Speaker James Huntington, and General Del Valle stood partway down the steps leading into the west entrance to the Capitol.

Daniel Rawlings, along with several of the governor’s aides, stood on the top steps near the doors into the building. To Dan, the scene was reminiscent of news film he had seen of Governor George Wallace of Alabama resisting the integration of state schools in the fifties and early sixties.

“Good morning, Ms. Shipley,” Governor Dewhirst said.

“And a good morning to you, Governor Dewhirst. I am here at the direction of the president of the United States to present to you an order to suspend all further rebellion and to cooperate with federal authorities in the performance of their duties.”

Dewhirst remained silent.

“Governor?” Shipley pressed.

“Go on, Ms. Shipley.”

“Is it your intention, sir, to comply with these lawfully presented orders?”

Vocalizing the thoughts that had kept him awake the entire night, Walter Dewhirst assumed the role that destiny had placed in his path.

“Ms. Shipley, the state of California is currently in the process of reorganization. There is no historical precedent for the position in which we find ourselves—notwithstanding the actions of the Confederacy. Therefore, until such time as further declaration is rendered by this government, I must claim sovereignty of the soil on which we now stand. It is the intention of this government to respect the will of its citizens as expressed in the recent public election process. Therefore, it is my duty as chief executive of this government to refuse your order and to inform you that we intend, as soon as is practicable, to establish the Republic of California, with three independent states—North California, Central California, and South California. Once a majority of those three independent states has ratified the proposed constitution of this republic, we intend to establish diplomatic relations with the United States of America, with whom we sincerely hope to remain in solidarity. I call upon the international community to immediately recognize the validity of this newly established nation and to establish diplomatic relations with us forthwith.”

Unprepared for such a broad declaration, Ms. Shipley was momentarily taken aback and mumbled something unintelligible, which neither Governor Dewhirst nor the television microphones could pick up.

“Excuse me, Ms. Shipley?”

“I’m sorry, Governor, I … I believe I would like the marshals to present you with the president’s instructions and to give you some time to confer, as I obviously need to do,” she added, “and then perhaps we can determine our respective positions.”

The lead marshal came forward and presented Governor Dewhirst with a large, manila envelope, stepping back as Ms. Shipley turned to leave.

* * *

The two-hundred-thirty-year-old controversy regarding who fired the first revolutionary “shots heard round the world” at Concord and Lexington has never been fully determined to both sides’ satisfaction. Both British and American participants have blamed the other. The Battle of Capitol Mall provided the same confusion. Precisely where the first shot came from was later debated
ad nauseum
, with both sides claiming the other had fired first.

Both sides were wrong.

The first bullet struck the mass of microphones that had been placed on a riser in front of where the governor stood. General Del Valle immediately recognized the sound and grabbed Governor Dewhirst from behind, shoving him toward the rear. The second shot, seemingly from a similar quarter, struck Del Valle in the back of the neck, instantly dropping him. Governor Dewhirst stumbled to his knees, an action that saved his life. The third shot passed over his head, striking a State Military Reserve corporal standing on the steps of the Capitol, killing him instantly.

Equally confusing were the return shots from a distant location. Their fusillade was fired into the massed 82
^nd
airborne troops who were unlucky enough to have been assigned to the western sector of the blockade. Almost as a body, they dropped prone into the street, behind cars or trees, and assumed a position to return fire. Not having received an order to engage the enemy, their fire discipline held.

In the ensuing investigation, Colonel Harman, who had given specific orders not to fire unless directed, was able to determine that it was the ragged and undisciplined outburst from the SMR that caused the most damage on this fateful morning. Despite their restraint in returning fire, multiple casualties were inflicted upon the 82
^nd
. SMR forces suffered one dead trooper, plus General Del Valle’s neck wound. The disparity of injuries gave the appearance that the battle was a lopsided firefight, with the SMR the clear victor. The only bright side to the disastrous event was that no civilian casualties occurred.