Homeland Security

by William L Casselman

  “Yes, yes, of course. You all know me, once I begin rattling on I forget all about the clock. Well, then, finish your sandwiches, and I do hope everyone has had a good lunch here and enjoyed getting to know Clay a little better. He and I will have another chat back at the office, and we’ll all get together later to discuss matters at hand. I’m only sorry we couldn’t of had the time to speak at length, but that is my fault. Pressures of the job. But, gentlemen and ladies, I do thank you.”

  There was a chorus of, “Thank you, Colonel,” as everyone wrapped up what was left of their sandwiches and left the room one after the other. Only one or two bothered to say goodbye to Clay and then suddenly, Clay realized only he and Silas were left alone in the room. They both remained in their chairs, as Silas set back and patted his stomach and removed a splotch of mustard from his shirt, “I really enjoy a good roast beef sandwich with all the fixings, but the wife hates the messes I make.”

  “Yes, sir…it was a very good lunch.” Clay wished he had longer to prepare his, but he was suddenly the man of the hour and his sandwich was nearly empty of all the goodies offered by the hotel. He had wrapped up three-quarters of his sandwich to take back to work with him. He also noticed the security equipment had quickly vanished, too.

  “So, have you formed an opinion about this bunch of mine?”

  “Sir, I have to admit I am somewhat confused.”

  “How so?” Silas set forward and reached for his glass of iced tea.

  “I expected a staff meeting with your staff from the dealership and ended up with these people. I must admit I find them to be a well-rounded group of Alaskans. You have men and women, Alaskan Natives, whites, and Afro-Americans. Most if not all of them are of a higher education, have former military experience and seem totally loyal to you. I also gather from you bringing me here, you’re interested in my joining this Alaska Defense Force militia. Am I correct, sir?”

  “Yes, Clay, I am. I am the Assistant Militia Commander for the Alaska Defense Force, and I desperately need a good training officer and also one who can pull duties as an 2nd Assistant Operational Officer. A man who has an understanding of combat tactics. I’ve been watching you, and the men and women in the shop already respect you because you get right in there and get your hands dirty, instead of standing back and shouting out orders. You know how to accomplish the necessary paperwork, without filling my box with useless junk. I’m already impressed, and you’ve only worked for me for a week. ”

  “Colonel, does my job have any bearing on my decision to join your staff with the militia?”

  “Cut right to it…I like that. But no,” Silas replied. “Truthfully, I’d be disappointed, but you’re a good shop supervisor, and I am not going to lose you because you’re wary of playing soldier. But, I’d keep working on you, and in time, I might turn you around to my way of thinking.”

  Clay used a thick white cloth napkin to wipe his mouth and pushed his chair back to stand up. “Sir, I may not have anything left in me to help your militia. I’m tired, my body is pretty well shot up, but I love Alaska and well do my best to defend it.” He hesitated briefly to show he was thinking and then replied, “Yes, sir. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me join up. I’ll do whatever I can to help with your unit.”

  “Great!” Silas exclaimed. “I have the all the paperwork in my office safe. We can fill it out, give you the oath and send everything down to Anchorage. You’ll retain your current rank as Captain. Now as to weapons, do you have any?” Silas was now standing, a smile now on his face as they slowly walked toward the door.

  “I have no rifle, but I have my grandfather’s pistol…a Colt .45 Model 1911…only thing I kept after he died. Oh, that and a family drum.”

  “That’s a great pistol, and we have lots of .45 ammo,” Silas replied. “We’ll see about picking you up a rifle for cost. You’ll need a new M-4, semi-automatic of course and with as many magazines as we can get. There always seems to be a shortage of magazines. We purchase our .45 and M-4 ammo by the truckload and have it hauled up here by the Guard for most of the Militia. Juneau has to have their weapons and ammo brought up by ferry from Seattle.”

  “What about uniforms, Sir?”

  “Not a problem, Captain. We have our own supply of woodland camouflage, which we obtained from the Guard sometime ago. Let Sally have your sizes when we get back to the office, besides being my secretary, she also handles supply needs for the Militia.”

  Once back in the Suburban and still parked outside the Princess Hotel, Silas, sat behind the steering wheel but didn’t start the truck. He turned to face Clay and asked, “Captain, what do you know about Alaska’s statehood and how it came about?”

  Wow! Things are happening way too fast now. I’ve got to watch my Ps & Qs with this old man, he’s a sharp one. I have to remember everything said here. No note taking, everything by memory until I meet with Doc Adams in the event they search my apartment… but the old mind isn’t all that sharp right now. Worn out... Need a break so bad. “Statehood, Sir? Only that it came about in 1959, we’re the 49th state, and before that, we were a territory. My people on the native side used to say this was all God’s land…or the Supreme Being. I’ve heard a lot of different God names as I was growing up. But, my people never felt that our land was owned by the Russians, nor the Americans.”

  “What would you say if I told you the whole election process for Alaskan statehood was a farce, completely illegal under United Nations’ Law and also unethical by civilized standards this USA was built on?” Silas had a serious expression on his face, so even though he had heard this all before in DC, he knew better than to make light of the matter. Even if hearing about it for the first time, his boss’s expression should’ve been a warning not to make jokes and Clay didn’t.

  Clay squirmed in his high backed bucket seat for a moment, thought of his response and then replied, “Then, Sir, I’d have to say I’d need to know a whole lot more information before drawing any conclusions.”

  Silas nodded his head and grinned, “Spoken like a former officer of the US Army, Clay. We were instructed well, not to jump to conclusions and make snap decisions, and I was curious the response I’d get out of you. Though you replied the way I expected you too.”

  “Sir, you’ve been testing me, challenging me and observing me and I am curious as to why so much careful investigation when you knew I had held a position of responsibility with the service?”

  “You answered your own question, Clay,” Silas replied. “You were up for your major’s gold leaf, but failed to achieve it and were asked to take a 70% disability retirement instead. I was concerned you were too worn out for what I have planned for the Militia’s future. A man can take only so much, and you’ve had more than your share, and anyone can attest to this. You’ve had people under your command killed and wounded, you yourself were wounded three times, and you spent more than your share of time in the sandbox. I needed to know if you still had some of that Army grunt in you. That officer’s integrity and do or die attitude that carried you over the top against impossible odds, yet able to tone it down when it was needed and even play the politician when required.”

  “Yes, Sir…I think I do, or I wouldn’t have taken the job, or even returned home.”

  “I agree,” Silas said. “I also had you challenged on the floor, had one of my men go after that chip on your shoulder, and you didn’t strike back or come running to me. I know full well you could’ve taken him out back and thrashed him near to death, but you did your best to ignore him because he didn’t work for you. He will now though. He’s part of the militia force and will be assigned to your training staff. He’s actually a pretty good guy, but he was following my orders and Clay, you’re right, I have a very loyal group of troops. The best in Alaska and they’re all true-blue Alaskans, whether or not they were born here or not. They love this state, as much as you or I do.”

  “Sir, what about this whole statehood thing you brought up? Was it simply a question,
or was there more to it than that?”

  “There is, but we’ll get into it later. I have another meeting right now and need to drop you off at the dealership.”

  An hour later, Silas, Norm, and Allen were sharing a park bench at a near-empty Pioneer Park off Airport Way in Fairbanks. They were in the area of The Salmon Cook-Out, which was now closed down for the season, but the 9-foot dirt walls surrounding the cook-out prevented them from being listened to by directional microphones. There was nothing they could do about microwaves or satellites, but last they heard the FBI up here wasn’t using anything like that outside of the Anchorage area for monitoring organized crime.

  All three men set atop the table, their feet on the benches; two men on one side and one man on the other, and the spoke over their shoulders. Silas arrived first, and he was the first to speak, “What do you think?”

  Allen Peterson spoke up, “Our search of his VA records is sound. We have his tribal records, birth records, and GED records. We also have his college and ROTC records. There’s nothing to hide, everything is in the open, and the Feds just aren’t that smart. The boy was raised in Alaska. He’s half-Athabascan and was raised by his maternal grandfather in Minto. He became an Army Officer through ROTC. He wasn’t well treated by family on either side because of his split heritage but seemed to have had found a home with the Army. He came home first for his grandmother’s funeral in Minto and then his grandfather’s. He was 82nd Airborne and also served with the 10th Mountain Group for a short time. He served as an advisor with an Iraqi infantry company that saw a lot of action with them and was wounded. He was wounded twice more before he came home to a medical discharge. For whatever reason, he wasn’t put on the Major’s promotion list and as to why, I haven’t been able to find out, but I am betting its basic politics. The kid saw too much action, is highly decorated and of mixed blood, and this offends some general officer. We’ve all seen it before. Fine to have them serve and all that, but not all that quaint to have them in the Officer’s Club wearing field grade rank. Better to save those gold leaves for some senator’s kid or that son of an industrialist, who might add some campaign funds to some general who’s about to retire and wants to go to Congress.”

  “My you’ve gained an attitude since retiring, Allen,” Silas said.

  “Colonel, it’s the same reason you never got your star. You were always there to protect your troops, and a lot of generals never liked that quality in you. They felt you selected the little people over them and you paid for it,” Norm said in stern words.

  “Be that as it may, we’re discussing, Clay Jefferson here. Norm, what is your view of the young Captain.”

  “We’ve thrown a lot at him in a very short time, mostly to see if he could handle it and he has. I’ve known a lot of the Athabascan people…nix that, I’ve known a lot of Alaskan Natives and have found them to be some of the most trusting, loyal and courageous, caring and considerate people I’ve ever had the good fortune to encounter. At the same time, if they have a drinking problem, we can’t trust a one of them. I’ve read where he was in the program and beat it, found religion and I have no problem with walking with the Lord. In my view, it shows even a higher character for the young man. Still, I think before we bring him into the inner circle, let's give him a few more weeks working with the regular militia and see how he operates. His injuries may prevent him from being able to carry out the role we have planned for him in the operation.”

  “I can agree with that,” Silas said and then stood up to stretch. “I like this kid, gentlemen and I can see him having a future with us and possibly with Emy. I hope we haven’t messed that up for them, but this operation and our expected results are bigger than all of us, though I would like to see them coming out of this together as a couple. Her mom is still not talking to me, which has Wendy Sue giving me a hard time at home. I’m too old and too out of shape to be playing cupid, so one of you are going to have to wear that funny outfit.”

  Norm and Allen looked at each other for a brief moment and then burst out laughing. It was time to get back to work and Silas still had another three appointments this afternoon before he’d be able to drive home and see if he had a warm meal or cold meatloaf waiting for him.

  Clay responded to his page, and he met Silas at his office. The militia documentation was pulled out of the safe and additional paperwork removed from a file cabinet devoted to Militia business and stacked on Silas’s desk. Once he was given the oath and the paperwork was signed and notarized by Sally, Silas gave Clay a copy of their current training schedule, location for indoor and outdoor shooting ranges and times they had set aside for them. He was also given a complete list of the Fairbanks Militia force by name, rank and social security number, phone number, plus street and mailing address. It was at that moment that Clay learned he was also responsible for turning out a weekly Militia newsletter, with attached training schedules for every activity called for that coming week. The Militia personnel were supposed to receive their newsletters on the Thursday prior to that coming Monday, which began that week’s schedule. Clay suddenly realized he was already behind.

  “Sally will give you a helping hand, she’s been doing it for the last few weeks, but I need her back in the saddle with her normal duties, or this place is liable to fall down around my ears. She knows where every skeleton is buried in this town, and I rely on her to keep the upper hand. Her father was a Superior Court Judge here and before that, a District Court Judge. He was also a town Magistrate, while still going to law school and for a while the only legal criminal attorney in Fairbanks prior to World War II.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t become a lawyer, herself,” Clay said.”

  “She is,” Silas replied. “But she stuck to business law and married another lawyer. They had a pretty large firm here until he died of a heart attack and that was enough for her. She was old friends with my wife, and Wendy knew I was looking for a secretary. She came to me, and I hired her on the spot. She has saved me from so many court battles, just by reminding me to sign my name here and there and not making any promises I didn’t plan to keep. I also enforce the Lemon Law strictly. If they bring back a used car within 30-days, they get their money back and no complaints. Oh, I may try to talk them into another car. But they get that money back. I’ve got really great PR with the Military, and I’m not about to lose it over a $3500 Chevy mini-van.”

  “I thought she was about 35-yrs old…I’m usually pretty good at estimating ages.”

  “Tell her that, and you’ve really made her day, Clay. Now being a gentleman, I will not share with you her true age, mostly because I don’t remember the exact year, but it would get back to Wendy Sue, and I’d pay for it. No, she takes very good care of herself, but her one husband was her only husband, and she now spends her time with two Newfoundland dogs, a temperamental Siamese cat that even those massive dogs avoid and some really expensive saltwater fish that resemble rainbows.”

  Before he left the office, Silas presented Clay with a piece of paper and on it was written the words, “Jaybird’s Wing World- North Pole - 9:30 p.m.”

  “Sir?”

  “Captain, my best advice is for you to be there. You have a loaner, you have gas money, and I know you can afford a basket of wings at Wing World.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Clay said with a hint of smile forming on his face. He had a fairly good idea this rendezvous had nothing to do with dealership work or militia duty, but a certain young lady with beautiful blonde hair and eyes that sent his stomach to twittering. Is it smart? If I don’t go, what might happen in my dealings with these militia people? I’m so close, I can feel it, but at what cost and who will have to pay the piper?

  “Thank you, Colonel.” Clay opened the door and started to walk out, but Silas stopped him.

  “And about that loaner, Captain… I dearly hope in the very near future you decide to actually purchase one of my fine new vehicles. I am paying you now.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Clay said in a l
augh. “I’ll check out the new car lot as soon as I get the newsletter out, but it seems I have a meeting on for tonight.”

  Silas closed the door and shook his head, “I knew this whole Cupid thing Wendy Sue dreamed up was going to cost me money. I’ll go ask Sally, see if there is some way to declare it on my taxes… welfare of my employees.”

  7 - “EMY”

  JAYBIRD’S WING WORLD - NORTH POLE, ALASKA

  10:46 P.M. 18 OCTOBER

  The first few moments between them were tense and awkward, with several apologies battered back and forth, and then the smiles broke out, and they relaxed. After an hour of conversation, they were on their second helping of barbecued wings and onion rings, with Jaybird’s, a well-known Alaskan eatery, special sweet and tangy Gold Rush sauce, to dip everything into. They had a quiet booth in the corner of a nearly empty restaurant, and Clay had already gone through a handful of napkins to wipe sauce off his hands and face, and he was now into his third glass of iced tea.

  “I’m full, how about you?” Emy asked. She glanced back and forth between Clay and the television monitor mounted in the corner of the room opposite them. The eatery had several monitors of assorted sizes mounted for the customer’s pleasures, and at the moment all of the channels were on the NFL Network; showing the highlights of last Sunday and Monday Night’s games. Afterward, they would be showing the highlights of the Sunday day games and what was scheduled for this coming Thursday night game on the NFL Channel, and who was favored to win. According to the schedule, Emy, who was an avid NFL fan, knew the Seattle Seahawks were playing. She and her dad were Seahawk and Saints’ fans, and both tried to watch TV whenever these two teams were playing. While serving overseas, she was even able to catch the first half of the Super Bowl, before having to report for duty.