Retribution (Soldier Up - Book Five 5) (27 page)

It was 0500, two days after the Marines had breached the line of the Army of the Potomac and began moving men and material through the gap.  The aircraft was moving fast, at treetop level, flying nap-of-the-earth (NOE).  They were up and down along the treetops, dodging and rising, then dropping once more.  The pilots had night vision built into their helmets. They could read altimeter, speed, fuel, and anything relevant they needed was clearly displayed in the helmet screen.

              These were the most sophisticated aircraft that the United States had. They had lifted off from Andrews Air Force Base and were the biggest secret at the time.  In the next few minutes that secret would be out.  The aircraft were silent; they were also built to evade radar—not that it was an issue for this mission.  The pilots had trained for years on the aircraft and had never gotten the opportunity to fly them in combat, so this was the first time.

              For this mission there were three of them. These were the meanest and most ferocious aircraft the US Army had leading the mission.  Behind them, barely keeping up, were two other aircraft loaded with men from 1
st
SFOD-D, better known as Delta Force. This team was from Camp Parks in California.  Imagine the surprise of the original Delta Force located at the stockade on Fort Bragg. There was some heartburn over it at first by the Fort Bragg Delta members, until they found out that one Brigadier General John Clayton, former Delta legend, had trained them.  After that, they were all brothers in arm, not to mention that General Clayton told each of them he would personally kick each one of their asses if they didn’t find a way to get along.

              The two aircraft were flying NOE, dipping and diving along with the three lead aircraft. IN the rear of the aircraft the soldiers were blaring ‘Highway to Hell’ over a boom box they had brought with them.  It helped them relax, because these men had been in combat for a year straight now, first against the Islamic Army in the Midwest and then against the LA Gangs and Mexican Army.  Now they were going against their own, so it was a sad day for most of them. They didn’t relish the mission, but it still needed to be done.

              The aircraft continued to bob-and-weave over the tree tops, over the intercom the pilot said, “We’re three minutes out.”

              The OIC and NCOIC on each aircraft gave the command to lock-and-load.  The music had been turned off and the men on both aircraft were focused.  The three attack aircraft were already over their target, hovering, using advanced night vision equipment, and could also see heat signatures on the ground.  It would be decades before they could recreate this technology again. These aircraft were stored in the underground, EMP-proofed bunkers at Fort Bragg and guarded fiercely by the Special Forces units on post.  

              The Apache helicopters hovered and circled as the two Blackhawks came in hard and fast and unloaded the two Delta teams.  They knew exactly where their prey was, since teams from the 19
th
Special Forces Group had been trailing, watching and reporting on every move General Magnus and his staff had made.  The two Delta teams moved quickly as the three Apaches started to take fire and were quickly snuffed out; the soldiers didn’t have a chance.  The Apaches were painted black, with no reflection or runner lights and once a soldier fired on them, it gave them a heat signature.  They fired at the signature with their mini-guns cutting in half who had ever fired at them.  It was enough for most of the soldiers on the ground to see the helicopters there.  Where in the hell did they come from? They were told that by their own commanders there was no way for most aircraft to have survived the big
lights out
event.

              While the Apaches were suppressing any fire, the Delta teams moved quickly into the General’s CP, first tossing in a flash-bang, then moved in quickly, yelling, “US ARMY, US ARMY! Drop your weapons!”  If they didn’t it was three taps to the body and they were dead, since they were only there for one thing, to capture General Magnus.  They found their quarry standing in the back near the maps. He was easy to identify. Each man had pictures of him and knew him on sight, but he was standing there indignantly, with four stars on his uniform.  The first Delta operator said to him, “General your choice, easy or hard?”

              “Fuck you!” was all General Magnus said.

              With that the Delta operator butt stroked him, knocking him out.  Two of the other Delta operators picked him up and dragged him out of the CP and into one of the Blackhawks.  Both teams loaded back up and the helicopters took off heading back the way they came.  The five helicopters headed back east, not towards Washington, but back to the Hornet.  General Magnus wouldn’t be taken back to the capital; they were sending him back to the West Coast for court martial, unbeknownst to the good General.

Over the radio the military heard that General Magnus had been captured and his CP destroyed by three Apache helicopters, which of course lead to many questions regarding where the helicopters came from.  General Clayton and First Sergeant Diaz kept pushing through to the rear echelon units, many of not most of the units within the Army of the Potomac hadn’t heard of the capture of their commander.  Even if General Clayton and the First Sergeant told every commander of the Army of the Potomac they came in contact with that General Magnus had been captured, they wouldn’t have believed them.

              The next several Company’s and Battalions, they came across they repeated what they had the first time, they were no worse or better than their first encounter and the last one.  All that matter was that they surrendered, which they did.  There was a long line of Soldiers being taken back to Baltimore, and the Prisoner of War Camp that they had set up there.  The 82
nd
sent more Soldiers forward to help out the Marines, the more that surrendered, the more Marines it took to guard them.  This had an adverse effect, because it depleted the combat forces needed in the event one of the units decided not to surrender.

              Further to the west the 28
th
ID and the 184
th
Infantry Regiment were still battling it out with some of the combat units of the Army of the Potomac.  The Marines under the command of Colonel Bit that had been sitting out for the past few days had now received orders to join the fight.  Like their sister unit to the east, they were being sent to clear out the rear echelon, however unlike that sister unit they had no interest in taking prisoners.  The Marines under Colonel Bit jumped right back into it and overran two support Company’s, one quartermaster and the other an engineering, they didn’t put up much of a fight.  Neither unit had been resupplied for over a week, they were damn near starving.  Their supply train, which originated in the east, had been disrupted, they didn’t know why.

              Colonel Bit and his staff were well aware why the supplies hadn’t reached them and why the supplies lines had been disrupted.  All of the units responsible for supplying the items needed had surrendered to an Army General by the name of General Clayton.  The combat units of the Army of the Potomac seemed much more dedicated to the cause than the support units.  They fought hard and kept coming back even against overwhelming firepower.  As the days passed those units began running out of ammunition, once that happened they started to lay down their arms and surrender.  It took a while, but eventually all of the units surrendered, after it became evident what was happening the Marines and US Army started to back off, they secured the perimeter around an opposing unit, and basically let their supplies run out.               

              Since most, if not all of those units had been on the line for weeks prior to engaging with the enemy, it didn’t take long for food and water to run out.  They would try to hold on as long as they could, some sent unit representatives to work out a surrender. There were two or three units that felt the need to fight to the last man or woman.  The US Army and Marines were more than happy to facilitate their meeting with their maker.  It would take several more weeks to ferret out the most loyal units to General Magnus, and when those units broke down, the men and women that were the most loyal escaped.  They did their best to blend back into the population, well what there was of it, unfortunately for them the ones that had surrendered to the United States gave them up.

              The area around Fredericks all the way to Baltimore had been destroyed by the battles that had been fought.  There we not a lot of civilian casualties, as there weren’t many civilians in the area any longer.  In fact, there were far more civilian casualties at the hand of General Magnus on his march south, than there were in the battle to stop him.  What civilians there were in the area made quick haste and left when the two Armies started to face off, Fredericks was left in ruins, not one building was left standing.  It would be decades before people returned and started to rebuild. 

              Thousands of Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac were being marched down the freeways towards Baltimore, under heavy guard by the Marines or 82
nd
Airborne.  The Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac realized as they moved forward to Baltimore how their leaders had misled them.  The United States Military was alive and well, their supply lines reached all of the way back to Fort Bragg, North Carolina.  Soon Military Police started to show up from the 18
th
Airborne Corps out of Bragg, with their distinct Dragon unit patch.  The 11
th
ACR had moved more armor into the area, there was now at least two armor companies patrolling the area.  The Soldiers were confused, how was it possible they could be them all the way from California. 

              The POW Camps were set up along the coast, in clear view of the USS Hornet and Iowa, the Soldiers were thunderstruck when they saw the ships, how could they have ever thought they could beat that.  Several new ships had joined them, after dropping off more Marines in Norfolk, there was now an entire Marine Division in Virginia. 

              Brigadier General Lane left the field and returned to the Pentagon to discuss the status of the Marine Corps on the East Coast.  He was being tasked by the Secretary of the Navy to determine the status of Camp Lejeune in North Carolina.  It was close to Fort Bragg, that being relative to how close he was now to it in Washington.  The Army had asked to sit this one out, they were overly tasked for now, cleaning of the mess left by General Magnus and the Army of the Potomac.  They had to process all of the POW’s, and then return them home of record, which was going to take a logistical miracle.  

              The Commander of Fort Bragg offered the Marines the use of the Fort as a jumping off point, Lieutenant General Townsend, the post commander, had reported they had sent three teams to investigate Camp Lejeune, but were never heard from again.  Whether that had something to do with the Camp or other forces they didn’t know yet. 

              Brigadier General Clayton returned to Washington D.C. to brief the President on the overall operation.  The President had offered a full time position to the General as his special military advisor, but the General declined stating he wanted to get back to his family and he was happy with his role at Camp Parks.  The President said he understood, but that he would check in with him time and again, also that he would run cover for him, with regards to the Joint Chiefs.  General Clayton told him he appreciated it and reiterated his commitment to seeing the rebuilding of the country, no matter what it took.

The State House in Atlanta, Georgia was very busy, lots of people coming and going.  They were there to meet with Parliament members and the Prime Minister.  After the event there was a lot of upheaval and chaos in the former southern states.  Quite a few people, primarily activists of various origins, mostly race related, didn’t see the night the lights went out as the end-of-the-world, like many people did.  They saw it as a new beginning, an opportunity to redefine their world, to escape the shackles they believed that held them back previously.

              Jerimiah St. Michaels was a brilliant man. He stood five feet nine inches, was moderate build, and had a bald head – not to be confused with a shaved head, since he had lost his hair in his early twenties.  He was now forty-two years old, he had graduated from Brown University with a degree in African-American Studies, which he found out after he graduated really didn’t get him very far in the outside world, so he returned to the university to teach. There he got a second degree in Political Science.  He was focused and entered the world of university politic, while a grad student. He loved it because he stood up for what he thought was right.

              He didn’t believe that the white man kept him and his people down. He knew firsthand that hard work and dedication was respected by everyone regardless of race.  He was brought up in the projects in Philly, raised by his mom mostly. His dad was around until he was nine years old, but left.  He later found out when he was in his late teens when his dad came back that his dad left because he believed he wasn’t ready for a family.  But once he returned, he was a stand-up man, and did right by his family.  He got a job, which allowed them to move out of the projects and to a suburb, where the schools were much better.  Not to mention less gunfire, drugs and gangs. Once he was away from the projects and in a school that had teachers that really cared, he found he loved academia.  

              His dad and mom were able to put enough money away in two years that allowed him to go to college with the help of some student loans.  He thrived in college; he stayed away from the activist groups always running around blaming others for their problems.  If not the white man, then the police, the federal government. You name it they blamed it.  After earning his second degree, he moved on to grad school and continued to work on a graduate degree in Political Science; after his second year, he was elected student body president and he relished it.

              However, he knew it would be coming to an end soon once he entered his third year, because he’d graduate at the end of the semester.  During that third year he interned with a United States Senator from Georgia, and one of the first lessons he learned from the Senator, a black man, was that the Senator didn’t like to be referred to as African-American. He was a black American.  Part of the reason he believed that some blacks were having problems were that they were segregating themselves from the rest of the country.  He was another man that strongly believed that hard work and dedication would get you anything in life—no excuses, no blame, you wanted it, you worked for it.

              Once Jerimiah graduated he was offered a full-time position with the Senator and he gladly accepted it.  For two more years he worked with the Senator. He was like a sponge, watching and learning.  The Senator had recognized himself in the young Jerimiah and encouraged him to seek a seat on the local city council as a way to get his feet wet.  The Senator warned him about using his race as an equalizer or a negative. He told him to define his platform and be an American first, and people will respect and vote for him.

              The Senator was correct; Jerimiah ran on the issues and easily beat the other candidate that had held the office for over twenty years.  It also helped that the Senator was well liked in the district that Jerimiah ran in and got great support from those that supported the Senator.  One of the things the Senator saw in Jerimiah was that he saw everything through rose-colored glasses; he needed something to show him things weren’t always that clear.  He knew that Jerimiah wanted a career in politics, but he needed to see the world as it really was.  The city council in Atlanta was perfect for him. He was elected to represent one of the poorest districts, where the racial make-up was fifty percent black, and the rest was made up of Koreans, Vietnamese and new refugees from the Middle East, mostly Iraq and Syria.

              It was a real eye opener for Jerimiah, to say the least. He had of course toured the district because he had a residence there, but never really lived there.  He spoke with many people, but mostly with his black supporters and a few of the Korean businessmen.  It was enough to get him elected, but it was not enough for him to see the failures of the previous councilman, whose district it was.  Once he took the office, he was inundated with people looking for help. There was no way he could help most of them that took the money and the rest of the city council and mayor. 

              Jerimiah was actually able to make some headway after two years. He was able to get the state to allocate more funds for the schools, after-school programs for the kids, and allow corporations to come and offer college scholarships.  He worked diligently to convince parents to take more of an interest in their kids’ education; he repeated constantly that it took the entire family to successfully raise a successful child.  However, he was constantly questioned over the fact that he wasn’t married and had no children of his own. He went on to point out that common sense dictated that he was right, not to mention decades of research. After a while the parents realized he was right.

              His third year as a city councilman was the biggest challenge because the Federal Government had been dumping Iraqi and Syrian refugees by the hundreds over the past few years.  They were becoming the majority in some of the communities in Atlanta and were not assimilating well.  Several of the communities where they lived the majority they had created morality squads which patrolled the streets.  Those squads not only pounced on the Islamic population, but the Christians, Jewish, Buddhist, agnostics—it didn’t matter to them.   It came to a head when one of the squads raped several women and then tried to state it was their right as men because the women weren’t abiding by Sharia Law.  The men were quickly arrested, tired and sent to a Federal Prison; eventually the city council was forced to pass ordinances against such squads.  The more radical mosques that had risen over the past couple of years were enraged and stated they wouldn’t abide by these laws; these mosques caught the eye of Homeland Security, which I turn led to the arrest of several of the imams for inciting the people.

              The mayor and city council were making it clear that the only law that mattered was that which was allowed under the Constitution of the United States. Sharia Law would not be tolerated.  Jerimiah’s district was teetering on having more Syrians than blacks or others.  They opened a new mosque, which had calls to prayer five times a day over the mosque loudspeakers. Eventually they were ordered to shut it down.