Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗
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The Commandant nodded to the dark corner at the back of the room. “Back there. Don’t worry, nothing’s missing. We just figured you boys deserved some sack time. You pretty much passed out on the way here.” He checked his watch. “Been sleeping for sixteen hours now.”
“Too long,” said Cooper, rubbing his back. He cleared his throat. He glanced around the dimly lit briefing room. He kicked Mike’s cot and the short SEAL stirred and coughed. The others began to rise.
“Where are we, sir?” he asked.
“This is the new…well, they’re calling it the Pentagon for now, but there’s only one Pentagon and everyone knows it. This place looks more like an outhouse to me.” He shrugged. “That’s for the desk jockeys to sort out. We’re in Denver, setting up shop in the new capital, or close enough. Technically, we’re at the damn airport, but nobody seems to care. I’m more interested in killing Koreans. How about you?”
“New capital?” asked Charlie.
“Denver?” asked Jax, sitting up in his cot. He examined the fresh bandages on his arms in amazement.
“Can’t you guys keep it down?” grumbled Mike, pillow over his head. He yelped when Sparky slapped him on the back of the head.
“Yes, Denver,” said the Commandant loudly. “The President—that would be Orren Harris now,” he said with a grin, “has declared Denver to be the new national capital. This place has been prepped for the move from D.C. since World War II, I guess.” He shrugged. “Again, above my pay grade. I’m a Marine, not a politician.”
“Long way from Chula Vista, man,” muttered Charlie.
“Sir,” said Cooper. “Any word on Coronado? My men have family—”
“Son,” said the Commandant in a softer tone. “I’m afraid no one has had contact with the base there for quite some time. That whole region of California was overrun in the first wave.”
“Overrun?” gasped Charlie.
“First wave?” asked Mike.
The commandant nodded. “Damn Gooks were hellbent on reaching L.A. and went through Coronado and San Diego like shit through a goose. That’s the bad news.”
“Oh Jesus…Allie, Junior—” said Charlie, his voice cracking.
Cooper’s parents had been killed by the Blue Flu and he’d only ever had a few girlfriends in the past, so he couldn’t hope to understand the fear and worry that Charlie had been carrying around inside, but he could see it finally cracking through to the surface. Charlie, his cool, calm, never-flustered, Terminator-like XO raised a trembling hand to his face.
Cooper put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at the Commandant. “Sir—”
“Son, my own boy and his family lived in Long Beach. I understand what you’re feeling. And I’m sorry, I truly am. There’s a shit-pot full of us who’re in the same boat.” He stood up straighter. “There is good news, though.”
Charlie’s shoulders shuddered and he sucked in a deep breath and came to parade rest, hands behind his back. The Terminator was back. Cooper turned to Commandant.
“Because the NKors were moving so fast, we think their objective was to cause chaos and drive out the civilian population before them, adding to the confusion which would allow them to reach Los Angeles unopposed. It worked. We got sporadic reports of heavy casualties along the coast, and then everything went dark and within hours, L.A. was swarming with Koreans. You boys ran into their advance scouts and got out just before the first wave rolled into town.”
“Good Lord,” muttered Jax.
“There’s a second wave offshore. Or, there was a few days ago. Last I heard, the Navy was supposed to sink that fleet before they made landfall but…” He shrugged. “Comms being what they are, we haven’t had much luck finding out what the hell is going on beyond the valley, let alone in the Pacific.”
Cooper looked at his XO, his brother, his righthand man, and saw the pain in his eyes. “What’s the sit-rep, sir? Sooner we finish up, the faster I get my men back to their families.”
The Commandant nodded. “Here’s the straight dope, SEALs, from God’s mouth to your ears: the call has gone out for the boys and girls overseas to come home, to report here. Our good friend President Barron,” he chuckled, “has declared anyone not swearing loyalty to him a traitor—that’s punishable by death, by the way,” the old man snickered, then turned serious again.
“The scary thing is, he’s getting a lot more support from the rank and file than we’d anticipated. Mostly just the troublemakers and slackjaws to begin with, but some of the officer corps are staying with him. This old leatherneck sees it as a simple payback for recently acquired promotions and big salary increases. To think they hold their honor so cheap.” He spat in disgust. “Bastards.”
“Shameful,” said Charlie.
“Ain’t that the truth,” the Commandant growled. “The latest estimate has roughly 60 percent of the armed forces on our side. I think it’s actually higher than that—we can’t reach a lot of the people and our fleets are completely off the grid. Damn near every Marine, I’m proud to say, is with us.”
“Great, surrounded by a bunch of jarheads. That makes me feel so much better,” muttered Cooper.
“You should feel better—my boys pulled your asses out of L.A. just in time.”
“We were doing just fine, thanks,” said Cooper.
“Mmmmhmmmm. Listen up, here’s the rest: Barron has announced the deputation of all Federal Agency security forces. He’s using some sneaky-ass, limp-wristed lawyer tactic and dredging up old executive orders from when Obama was in office—”
“President Obama? That was…When was he in office? Right around the time I was born. Barron’s using 30-year-old orders…?”
“Yep. Some little-known provision that allows the President to take control of Federal Agency security forces in times of crisis.” The Commandant turned and pulled some papers off the desk. He tossed a stack to Cooper.
Cooper glanced at the top page of the briefing notes:
Directive No. 3025.18
Defense Support of Civil Authorities
Dec. 29, 2010
“They’ve been stockpiling weapons and ammo for decades, and now it’ll be turned against anyone who doesn’t get into lockstep with his agenda. Barron just created his own private army. Add to that the traitors in the military—boys, we’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
“You’re talking another civil war!” said Charlie.
The Commandant folded his arms and grunted. “It appears that may be what Barron wants. He’s already buying most of his people—through jobs, food, access to what medical supplies there are, that sort of thing. If he could get President Harris to attack, it’ll drive a good chunk of the population into Barron’s arms.” The Commandant shook his head.
“You don’t think these agency security forces are anything to worry about, though, do you, sir?” asked Charlie. “I mean, come on—even raw recruits should be able to handle them easily. What kind of training could they possibly have that would be compared to war fighters? If this is real—and I do mean if—I think we’re looking at a bunch of guys playing soldier, not a real army.”
Cooper grunted as he skimmed the papers. “I remember my dad bitching about all the alphabet-soup agencies purchasing and stockpiling huge amounts of ammo and guns when I was growing up. He’d tell me how it could be excused if it were for Homeland Security, or the Coast Guard or something. But it was always for agencies that never actually needed armor-piercing rounds and 50-cal machine guns: the EPA, the IRS, DOE, FDA, NOAA; hell, even the damn Post Office was loading up.”
“That’s crazy…” muttered Charlie. “I don’t understand why they’d even try.”
Cooper sighed. “Dad always said he believed the liberals in government were preparing to turn the country into a dictatorship…Mom used to laugh at him and say if it was really all that big a deal, the media would be going crazy. They hate guns, right?”
“I sure don’t remember them covering all this with any kind of journalistic integrity,” said the Commandant with a sour look on his face.
Cooper nodded. “I can still see my old man rolling his eyes and explaining that the media would never cross their liberal masters.” Cooper shook the report in his hand. “I don’t know, man, I was just a kid, but it made a big impression on me. I remember thinking the mailman would drive up in a tank one day…”
“Too bad we didn’t have more people like your dad paying attention,” muttered the Commandant. “I was fresh out of the Academy when that all went down thirty years ago…There was a lot of grumbling in the ranks about it, but I was just starting my career and didn’t believe I needed to worry about politics.” He shook his head sadly. “Too many of us figured it wasn’t anything to worry about—we’d deal with it later. Back then, we had bigger things to tackle, like Afghanistan and Iraq and all the budget cuts and force reductions. Shit, then the Blue Flu hit and all hell broke loose with Iran.”
Cooper nodded again and skimmed the first section of notes outlining the directive. He looked up. “If Barron gets people to actually go along with this…”
“Oh, he is,” said the Commandant. “Plenty of people are joining his side every day.”
“Why the hell would they do that?” asked Charlie, leaning over to read the report in Cooper’s hands.
“Seems all those shiploads of food the Europeans have delivered to the East Coast are starting
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