America- The Eagle has Fallen
Page 16
“Thank you sir,” I replied. “What do you think an EMP would have done to the system?”
“Well, I’m guessing here but I believe it definitely would have fried every step down transformer in the grid depending on the frequency of the Compton effect, magnitude of the surge and the location of the EMP blast. I think the high tension lines and step up transformers would have survived because there are switches that would have tripped if any power was trying to back feed into the system. Hydroelectric power balancing is a delicate business due to fluctuations in usage on the grid. A coal or natural gas generator is either on or off. The dams were used to turn up or down the volume of energy on the grid due to their size and ability to modulate flow by turning on and off the turbines and water flow quickly. Bottom line, we can turn the juice on but the power coming out of the wires isn’t usable and there is nowhere in the continental United States that manufactures transformers. I don’t know if the Grand Coolee is necessarily the answer you are looking for since all roads lead to Bonneville. There are actually fourteen hydroelectric generating dams on the Columbia River but the Grand Coolee is the great regulator of the system due to its size. It can power up to five Seattle sized cities all on its own. Over 75% of the State of Washington is powered by hydroelectric power.”
“Thank you sir,” I said giving the man a nod. “So we can probably generate and distribute high voltage power but nobody can use it in its current form.”
“Sir!” The first gentleman stood up and said, “I might be of assistance here. I ran one of the distribution hubs that tapped into the high tension system and was there when the EMP struck. The entire substation literally melted down before the shunts could stop the flow of the ultra-high tension lines’ electricity. The electricity came too fast at too high a voltage, it literally melted the wires in the step down transformers; there were sparks shooting out everywhere.”
“So everything downstream of the main backbone high tension system is shot?” I asked.
“Actually sir,” the gentleman said. “That isn’t entirely true. You see the Federal Government knew about the vulnerability of the grid and certain critical infrastructure was hardened against EMP using shielded cables and there are certain industries considered critical to national defense. The government could not replace every wire and cable in the country due to the cost but it did slowly upgrade the system over time based on the importance of the facilities. You might remember when the Alcoa aluminum plant in Bellingham had a direct feed from the Grand Coolee to produce aluminum for Boeing during the Second World War. This military base actually has its own hardened step down shielded substation as does the Tacoma refinery. Odds are that if Fairchild Air Force Base is a strategic air command or (SAC) as they are known, nuclear bomber base, then it too has a hardened substation. Boeing has one in Renton and Everett and Anacortes has one. The Army Corps of Engineers actually runs 10 of the dams on the Columbia river.”
“So you are both telling me that assuming the power lines are still in the air we can turn the lights on in any EMP hardened installation in the State just by flicking a few switches?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes sir. We would have to isolate the rest of the system by turning it off so we don’t start a bunch of fires but in theory it would work.”
“Why hasn’t it been done?” I asked.
“I have been asking the same question to everyone I can get to listen to me. I’ve been told that the entire Army Corps has been tasked with shutting down the nuclear plants so they don’t melt down. I would imagine that Washington State, Oregon and parts of California are not high on the priority scale since all the critical hardened facilities also have generators sir. All the housing on this base was replaced in 2004 so the entire system is hardened. That’s why I have been asking why I have to sleep in a tent on a cot when all they have to do is turn the power back on to the base housing.”
“Thank you gentlemen,” I said shaking my head. “Here is how this is going to work. You two gentlemen are now the department of energy. The rest of you now work for them. Those of you with a background in high voltage and switching, go with the dam crew while the lower voltage group go with the other gentlemen. We will get you diagrams of the grid, switching stations and substations. Your mission is to get the power up and running safely to a list of facilities we will provide you. We will work with the army corps of engineers but failing that we will get the five independently owned dams on the Columbia up and operational. Figure out a plan of attack and get after it.”
Next into the room was the oil and gas group who assured us that if they could get juice, get the pipeline pumping and if the Anacortes and Tacoma facilities had not been damaged beyond repair they could fire up the plants, get cracking and start refining oil into diesel, gas and jet fuel.
Transportation and logistics were the next group. They were tasked with figuring out how to get rail lines working using steam locomotion, river barges up the Columbia River and trucking from the various hubs created. The mood of the various meetings was upbeat and optimistic that while success was not assured, they would all give it their best and were happy to be moving in any potential forward direction. My upbeat mood was soon dissipated when I saw Mr. Killmer motioning me over.
“Status report?” I asked, walking up to him.
“Sir, we are loading busses as we speak. About ten percent of the camp population chose to leave in their own direction and there is a growing group of dissidents that refuse either of the two options you have afforded them and want to speak with you directly.”
“Let’s grab the general and go see this crew. Do we have a judge?” I asked Mr. Killmer.
“Yes sir, the honorable Thomas Smith is waiting with the general. He is a Pierce County Superior Court Judge.”
“Good, let’s bring them both along.”
The four of us stepped onto the marshalling yard and I was pleased to see people boarding busses and heading out behind the armored scout patrols we had already sent to secure the passageway to Cayuse Pass. There was a large group standing to the side with crossed arms and scowls pasted on their faces. I saw a large burly man who was speaking to a crowd and had the crowd nodding around him. I stepped right up to him and said, “Hi, I’m James Robertson. I understand you want to see me.”
“I don’t know what kind of bullshit election you held but I sure as shit have never heard of you and certainly didn’t vote for you. We’re not leaving. We paid for all this shit the government has here so we think it’s ours.”
“And you are, sir?” I asked.
“Brandon Canardo,” was the reply.
“Well Mr. Canardo; that is not an option. Is there any particular reason you refuse to leave or do you just feel entitled to be taken care of by the government?”
“I have a daughter who is a diabetic and a son that is asthmatic,” he said. “There is life-saving medication here for my children and I do not have the means to keep insulin refrigerated; us leaving here would be a death sentence for my children and I won’t do it.”
“I understand your position Mr. Canardo, I have a daughter of my own,” I said. “Mr. Killmer, where were you going to send Mr. Canardo here?”
Mr. Killmer regarded his tablet. “Mr. Canardo, his daughter Cloe and son Maxwell, were being sent to the corn canning plant in Spokane. It is right next to Fairchild Air Force base where insulin and corticosteroids are available. He has been issued emergency supplies of both insulin and an inhaler for the journey and any processing time at the other end.”
“Thank you Mr. Killmer,” I said, turning back to Mr. Canardo who was looking at me dumbfounded. “Do we still have a problem?”
Mr. Canardo shook his head, recovering quickly. “It says in the Constitution that in times of emergency the government has to defend and take care of us. You expect me to just pick up my family and leave to parts unknown and work for the government? That is Communism and I’m not signing up for any of that bullshit.”
“W
ell sir,” I began before Mr. Smith stepped forward putting his hand on my arm.
“Mr. Canardo,” Judge Smith began. “I don’t know where you read that in the Constitution but you are dead wrong on all accounts. The government has a responsibility to defend our country from all enemies, foreign and domestic and defend your rights and freedoms as an individual. Nobody is forcing you to do anything except to leave this federal facility. You don’t seem to have any common sense. I have heard your claim under your rights to petition the government and am now prepared to render judgement. You appear to be a danger to not only yourself but inexcusably your children as well. Your third choice is to be arrested for child endangerment, have your children removed from your custody and adopted into another family.”
“Over my dead body!” he said with his chest puffed out.
“That may be the result sir. Do you have any last words before final judgement is declared?” the Judge asked ominously.
“I’ll get on the damn bus but if anything happens to my children I’ll personally come back here and take matters into my own hands,” he said with finality.
“Sir,” the Judge said. “Your recourse is at the ballot box and I encourage you to exercise that right, I’m sure Mr. Robertson doesn’t want your vote. He is simply trying to keep you and your family alive and give them the best chance for survival. Now to the rest of you. You all have the right to petition your government. If any of you wish to be heard please line up in front of the large tent at the entrance to the facility over there away from the bus terminal. I will hear each of your cases but be forewarned, loser pays. If your case is adjudicated in your favor you keep your rations, if not, you lose them. If you miss your bus then another will not be provided and you will forcibly be removed from the facility or potentially shot for insurrection. Your call.”
“Listen everyone,” I said to the crowd. “There is no food. All the rations we have are being sent on the busses. You may go your own way and take your chances or follow our lead and take your chances. I wish you all good luck and Godspeed.”
There were no takers for the Judge. He turned to me. “I sure hope you have some type of legitimate legal authority here Mr. Robertson. You seem to be getting the lead out and moving with speed and conviction so I can support that. What else do you need from me?”
“Well Mr. Smith, the President gave me and three others this shitty responsibility so welcome to the shit show. You are now the acting Supreme Court Justice for the State of Washington until you find some other judge superior to you who is willing to take the job.”
“How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit, it seems you are a few loads short of a brick?” he laughed.
“Just keep us on the legal straight and narrow with the Constitution as the guiding principle and we should get through this mess, God willing. Now raise your right hand; good. Do you so solemnly swear to keep our chestnuts out of the fire, follow the Constitution and do what you are told?”
“That isn’t the oath you jackass!” he stammered.
“See Tom, you’re already doing your job,” I said as I turned away to see the progress of the evacuation.
I put my arm around Tom’s shoulders and we walked back to the command center. I introduced him to our gang of misfits while he was treated to a tirade from Mr. Stutz to Mr. Jackson.
“I did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“OK kids, what’s the problem?” I asked looking at Mr. Jackson on the screen.
“Jackson bet me two grand your eggheads couldn’t get a combine working after he’s had 100 John Deere people working on it for the last two months.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The eggheads showed up with a checklist and set the mechanics to work. They torched two holes in the floor of the cab, ripped out the electronic distributer and wired up a standard V-12 distributer cap they found in an old firetruck, then they ripped out the entire ignition system and rewired the solenoid to the starter. All the hydraulic wiring and switches were yanked. It takes three of them to run it and it sounds like a dying duck but one of them starts it with a screwdriver and runs the up-down arm with the same screwdriver by manually crossing the switch points. The second one has to hold a wire in place to start the threshing gears while a third one drives it. The machinists took some measurements and are searching for some lathes and CNC machines to haul back to Fairchild to make some new switches and modify the existing carburetors. The eggheads are taking their FrankenCombine for a spin looking for some wheat to mow while the John Deere people are shaking their heads in befuddlement. Jackson here is welching on our bet.”
“Does it work?” I asked with a smile.
“Don’t know yet but Jackson is light years ahead of where he was. Now we are trying to figure out how to get the grain trucks working and lord only knows how we can get a grain elevator working so we can get the grain from the bins into silos but all that was moot until FrankenCombine came around. This shit might just work.”
“What’s next?” asked Mr. Bujacich.
“Time to go home,” I said. “Mr. Jackson has the con.”
“Sir,” said the general in a panic. “You can’t go. We are making arrangements to bring your families to the base. We need to keep the continuity of government in place now that is has been reconstituted. There are decisions to be made and progress monitored.”
I laughed. “General, my wife would have you sanding a deck inside of five minutes if I let her anywhere near here. There are four of us and one will be on station at all times. We have communications available in an emergency. The one thing I know about management is put the best people you can find in place, give them clear direction and hold them accountable for the results. The best thing we can do right now is get the hell out of the way and let these people do their jobs. Manifest destiny general, it’s going to work or it’s not, fretting over every detail is a waste of time and energy and is often detrimental to the mission. Any of you guys want to stay other than Mr. Smith?”
“Hell no,” said Mr. Stutz and the Captain in unison. “Let’s get the hell out of this cluster fuck.”
The dune buggies and a different patrol boat took us back to Bujacich’s pier where Mr. Stutz was kind enough to drive us home. We were home in time for dinner and Mr. Stutz decided to stay. We enjoyed a meal of salmon and rice. I was only gone for a day but missed my extended family greatly. A lot of the debris from the attack was cleared and the windows were boarded up with plywood. Allison the nurse stayed over to watch over Marcus and Randy who were out cold. There were armed guards patrolling the grounds and set up in more fortified strategic positions around the house.
“What happened?” my wife asked.
“Not much,” I replied. “It seems Mr. Stutz, the Captain and a gentleman over in Spokane are the new Governors of the State. We had to get the lead out of some asses and kick a few others but other than that nothing unusual.”
“Well if you’re the Governor then I’m the Queen of England,” my wife said.
“Well your Majesty, I’m really tired and ready for bed. Want a one handed back rub?” I asked pointing at my arm in a sling.
CHAPTER 8
I woke up in the morning thinking the previous day was just a bad dream but seeing Randy grimacing at the breakfast table and plywood over my windows brought me back to reality. I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to a hearty breakfast thinking of all the things we still had to do to prepare for winter. The Major was looking intently at a picture his daughter Ellie had drawn for him with his wife Cindy hovering at his elbow with more grits and eggs. My daughter climbed into my lap to show me her picture and was explaining the intricacies of the horse she had drawn and how she wanted a pony. My heart ached when I saw the three empty seats usually occupied by Amy and her two beautiful children. I knew that I was the intended target and they were the unfortunate victims. It’s my fault. If we had just stayed here and kept my mout
h shut then none of this would have ever happened. How many people did I send to their deaths yesterday? The dark thoughts vanished though when my daughter asked me to go play dinosaurs with her and Ellie. I was glad for the distraction, immersing myself in her innocence. No, we are doing the right thing so my daughter can grow up in a non fucked up world. Joy made up a plate to take to Marcus who was stuck in bed and would remain so for a few more weeks. My arm was sore but it was tempered down to a dull ache with the aspirin I took when I got up. The morning was overcast with the usual marine layer misty rain we endure through the winter season here in Washington. The Major and I took a stroll with a second cup of coffee.
“How goes it?” I asked.
“They got the Vikings out of Seattle, Stutz has the con, Mrs. Katsich has volunteered to be the interim mayor downtown. Other than that, things are moving forward. Bujacich said he defers to you and Stutz and told us he was fucking off to Alaska with the Vikings to get the fishery unfucked. His words not mine. Besides the coming of winter and some tinpot despots running around, things are OK.”