Both sides of the Texas crisis pointed to this location as an indication of the tinder box effect that existed. Despite two prior incidents, troops from both sides occasionally tested each other by driving their vehicles close to the others’ encampments and hurling insults at each other.
A local CBS affiliate in Texarkana ran a story of Winona Mae, an elderly African-American widow living on a small Social Security check. It had been more than a month since she’d gotten her check. Winona Mae had not taken her blood pressure medication for more than two weeks. Her daughter, who lived in Baltimore, was denied entry at the I-30 checkpoints by federal troops because she wasn’t a Texas resident.
For two days she pleaded to enter and each time she was denied. On the third day, Winona suffered a stroke at her home. She died before an ambulance could get her to the hospital. Her daughter managed to sneak into Texas via a route she wouldn’t disclose to the reporter. She was livid. She blamed her mother’s death on President Johnson.
“Why would the president shut off Social Security to the elderly? She lived in Texas her entire life! What was she going to do, move because the president doesn’t like what Texas is doing? This president is responsible for my mother’s death!” Winona’s daughter was inconsolable.
The segment ran the night before. At noon on Sunday, more than forty pick-up trucks barreled down the wrong way of the shutdown frontage road on I-30 on the inbound side headed to the Texas Welcome Center. Hanging out of the trucks were dozens of men with shotguns, deer rifles, axes, broom handles and anything else they could find to inflict injury. Their horns blared and their lights flashed. Most had the Lone Star flag flying from the backs of their trucks and all the men were black.
Lt. Col. Luther Donaldson was sitting with several other officers of the Texas State Guard in the main building of the Welcome Center eating lunch when a junior officer ran inside.
“Sirs, we have a situation!” he screamed.
Everyone jumped up and ran outside just as the noise hit the Welcome Center. Most of the State Guard had brought weapons ready, not sure if these were friends or foes.
“Hold your damned fire!” yelled a lieutenant.
A man about forty, wearing denim overalls and holding a deer rifle, jumped out of a nearly rusted-out old Ford pick-up. He kept the weapon pointed up in the air.
“We’re here for payback for Winona Mae. We are going to open that damned interstate ourselves. Are you going to help us or are you going to sit on your asses?”
Lt. Col. Donaldson walked up to the man. The State Guard was obviously somewhat nervous of the aggressive display of weapons being waved and thrust into the air from the men in the trucks.
“What is your name, sir?” asked Lt. Col. Donaldson.
“Elijah Jefferson, but mostly I’m known as Bo.”
“Bo, I’m Lt. Col. Donaldson. This is my unit here, and I’m directly responsible to Gov. Cooper for this checkpoint.”
“Nice to meet you, Colonel. Now, we aim to open that interstate. Are you going to help us?”
Reports of this convoy of trucks had already made their way to the U.S. Army outpost less than a mile from Donaldson’s camp. The commander ordered an armed drone launched to observe at a minimum, but to be ready to strike if the convoy appeared to be a threat.
“Bo, I can’t let you do that, sir.”
“These folks don’t want anything like what just happened to Winona Mae to happen again,” Bo shouted. “We’re gonna make sure it don’t.”
“Bo, let me explain. If you launch that convoy of trucks and head toward that state line, two things are going to happen. The first is you and your men are going to be cut to shreds. Those troops are full-blown U.S. Army troops with advanced weaponry. I see your guys with shotguns, axes and shovels. They will certainly die. Secondly, the interstate will not get opened,” Donaldson reasoned.
“Why won’t you join us?”
“I take my orders from the governor, Bo.”
“Well, get him on the line!”
“Okay, Bo. If I let you talk directly with the governor, will you have your men stand down? Will you tell them to surrender their weapons and calm down?”
Bo was in no way expecting to be in a position to talk to Gov. Cooper. This tactic taken by the lieutenant colonel was completely disarming, and was a blind attempt to disarm the mob.
“Okay, well, I guess. But call him now.”
“Get your men to stand down, and you and me will go into the Welcome Center and make that call,” the officer said measuredly.
Bo yelled back at his friends to put their weapons down for now. “I’m going to talk to the governor!”
There were about fifty steps between the two forces and the Visitors’ Welcome Center.
The group had taken about ten steps when shots began ringing out from the back of several pick-up trucks.
“What the hell?” yelled the lieutenant colonel.
Within seconds, the unmistakable noise of automatic and semi-automatic heavy caliber weapons started drowning out the sounds of the shotguns and deer rifles. “We’re under attack!” Bo yelled.
Over the pine trees just beyond the frontage road, a drone was turning directly toward the Welcome Center. Two semi-automatic .50-caliber guns, mounted on tripods surrounded by sandbags, were operated by two men positioned at the center’s entry. The Texas State Guard knew these drones could be fully weaponized, and some started running for cover immediately.
Texas State Guard troops yelled at the contingent of civilians in their trucks to take cover. Men were running everywhere to get cover, including under the trucks and behind trees.
The drone banked sharply to the left, turning directly into the path of the .50-caliber guns. To the men on the ground, that drone took a menacing position, as if it were coming in to launch some type of attack. They’d have to take it out.
The Guard troops were effective at hitting the drone. Sparks flew with each impact, and the drone started to break up in mid-air less than five hundred feet from the ground.
Suddenly, the left wing of the drone broke free, cartwheeling to the ground as the drone crashed onto the asphalt of the eastbound lane of Interstate 30 and erupted into a small explosion.
As soon as the shooting at the drone started, the Army troops a mile away heard the gunfire. The alarm sounded for battle stations.
A similar alarm sounded at the Welcome Center for the State Guard. A few minutes of chaos followed the crash of the drone, with officers shouting orders, equipment being moved and troops scrambling into pre-determined positions.
Two news helicopters were stationed in Texarkana to monitor the roadblock. They immediately launched after receiving a tip about the convoy of pick-up trucks traveling down the interstate. They got the entire event on film before Lt. Col. Donaldson ordered them to leave the vicinity because they could get shot down by mistake.
Before the confusion, chaos, and shots subsided, several civilians jumped into the cabs of the two pick-up trucks, accompanied by several others who leapt into the beds of both trucks. The trucks rambled across the lawn of the Welcome Center headed for the frontage road.
“Wait! Stop them, dammit!” yelled the colonel.
It was too late. The two trucks hit the asphalt, tires spinning and white smoke rising from the asphalt.
There was no traffic on the inbound side of I-30 headed east. The occasional cars let through the roadblock were few and far between.
The two trucks got side by side, flashers flashing, lights on, and Texas flags flying. Men stood in the back with guns pointed forward.
The U.S. Army outpost commander received word over his radio that the drone was shot down and destroyed. Then word came that two vehicles were coming directly toward them at a high rate of speed.
Warning shots were fired across the front of the two trucks. A loudspeaker blared, warning the men inside to turn around.
“Sir, do we shoot?” an infantryman asked his squad leader.
“Dammit,” the squad leader yelled. “If they get to five hundred yards, take out the tires and engines!” At five hundred yards, the two trucks hadn’t slowed down. If they saw the warning flares that were shot at them, they didn’t flinch or slow down.
“Sir, we have four vehicles behind them mounted with .50-calibers, also traveling at a high rate of speed coming this way.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“500 yards, sir!”
“Fire! Fire! Fire now!”
Two .50-caliber and three .30-caliber machine guns began the blat, blat, blat as their empty shells were discharged all over the ground, smoke emitting from the used cartridges.
Within a few seconds, one of the trucks swerved wildly to the right, clipping the front quarter of the second truck. Both trucks began a death roll in unison, tossing their riders and the cab occupants out as if they were rag dolls. Both trucks were traveling more than eighty miles per hour at impact.
The Army gunners tried to render the trucks inoperable by taking out tires and radiators but, inexplicably, the machine guns were still shooting, finally stopping when the trucks stopped rolling. One truck rolled over six times before coming to a fiery stop. The second truck rolled four times before stopping, landing completely upside down.
“Stand down! Stop firing! Stand down!” yelled an officer.
A thousand yards behind, the four vehicles that had left the Welcome Center to try to intercept and stop the pick-up trucks rolled to a slow stop in shock. Bodies were strewn all over the highway and in the grassy median.
“Colonel, they took ’em out! Oh, my God!” the sergeant in the lead Hummer screamed into the radio.
“Shit! Any survivors?” yelled Donaldson.
“Sir, I need to get closer to tell.”
“Do not advance. Let’s get them on the radio.”
The Texas Guard at the Welcome Center was able to establish phone communications with the Army outpost. After explaining the first trucks were being driven by civilians who were not under any supervision from the Guard, the Texans were cleared to give aid to the victims in the trucks after the Guard commander dispatched two of the follow-up vehicles to assist. Civilian ambulances were called in; meanwhile, precious minutes were ticking away. If anyone had survived the carnage on the interstate, it was a miracle.
“Sir, we have nine casualties, but we haven’t determined how many survived.”
“Lieutenant, ambulances have been dispatched. Report back on any survivors ASAP!”
“Roger that.”
When the two Hummers pulled up to the site of the carnage, four State Guardsmen spread out to tend to the men who had been ejected and strewn about.
“I’ve got one breathing here!”
“This one’s still alive!” shouted another about forty yards away.
“This one, too, but he’s trapped under the truck!”
At the U.S. Army blockade, all troops moved forward to the temporary concrete emplacements on the interstate that were typically used to protect American assets such as embassies and checkpoints where terrorism was likely.
Lt. Col. Donaldson reached the U.S. Army commander in charge on the other side.
“This is Lt. Col. Donaldson with the Texas State Guard. Am I speaking to the U.S. Army commander on I-35?”
“This is Maj. Rippert.”
“Rippert, those two trucks were lone rangers. We tried to stop them but were unsuccessful. We have four civilian ambulances en route. I’m asking you to allow them to recover the injured.”
“We will not engage; however, I will warn you that any further attempt like that to test our checkpoint will meet the same fate.”
“Rippert, I’m not calling you to argue with you. If I have your word no shots will be fired, we will recover the civilian casualties.”
“Sir, you have thirty minutes. You already have two fully armed guard vehicles within five hundred yards of the checkpoint. If they have not retreated in that time frame, they will be engaged.”
As Donaldson hung up, he turned to two of his aides. “That goddamn son of a bitch! If we wanted his checkpoint, we could have it.”
The EMT staff arrived to find five men dead and four still alive. One of the truck drivers was pinned in his truck as it lay on its roof. Despite the efforts of the State Guard and the EMTs, they could not extract the driver, who was clinging to life.
“Sir, this is Cullen. We can’t extract one driver from the truck.”
“Sergeant, you have zero minus thirteen minutes to get him out,” snapped the colonel, looking at his watch.
Sgt. Cullen understood the clock was ticking on the life of the injured driver, but had no clue of the deadline imposed by Maj. Rippert. He didn’t have time to think it through.
Two ambulances left the scene with the other three injured. The dead were still lying on the interstate and the grassy median, strewn about as all efforts were being applied to free the last driver. They needed the Jaws of Life.
“Sir, the EMTs have called for the Jaws of Life from the Texarkana Fire Department.”
Donaldson looked at his watch.
“Damn! Raise the major on the radio.”
“Rippert here.”
“Major, the EMTs have dispatched the Jaws of Life from the downtown Texarkana Fire Department. They won’t get there by your thirty-minute deadline.”
“Sir, you have four minutes to pull back your troops. You can leave the EMTs there. The State Guard vehicles and troops must pull back.”
The colonel took his finger off the mic, his face red with anger.
“Sergeant, pull back. Leave the EMTs for the rescue effort.”
“But, sir, these folks need help.”
“Sergeant, the U.S. Army will begin engaging you in zero minus four minutes if you do not pull back.”
“What? We are recovering the injured!”
“Sergeant, pull back now.”
“Guys, I’m being ordered to pull back. Our Army friends over there do not want us to assist. They have threatened to fire on us.”
The EMTs still struggling to administer first aid to the trapped driver paused. They looked at the sergeant, then back at the Army checkpoint in disbelief. Two of them started yelling in that direction.
The two news helicopters were capturing the entire event live as every network broke into live programming to stream this new crisis.
“They won’t fire on civilians.”
“Bullshit! That’s why we’re here,” claimed one EMT.
“These guys intended to open that checkpoint, fellas. Ya’ll are tending to the injured.”
“I don’t trust them,” yelled another, holding the IV they had started on the unconscious driver from an awkward position lying on his back with one arm stuck inside the small opening between the roof of the truck and the pavement.
“I’m sorry. We’re under direct orders. Saddle up!” the sergeant yelled to the other State Guardsmen.
They piled into the two Hummers. Instead of turning around to take the most direct route back to the Welcome Center, the sergeant gave other orders.
“Circle in front of the trucks. Let’s give them a message!”
The two Hummers pulled around in a wide circle in front of the two trucks. Pulling around slowly, the troops stood on the Hummers and hung out the windows, shooting the finger at the U.S. Army troops, cussing at them while one waved a damaged Lone Star flag picked from the carnage of the trucks.
The Welcome Center was over a mile from the scene and the men from Texas were unable to see events as they unfolded. Officers and enlisted men gathered around two television sets streaming the scene on two different networks.
The troops stationed at the Welcome Center burst into cheers and wild celebration as the cameras zoomed into the two Hummers with the State Guard personnel hurling insults at their checkpoint counterparts.
“Bastards! Let me take out those two Hummers, Major!” yelled the Army infantryman who was manning one of the .50-cali
ber machine guns.
“Stand down! Hold your fire!” yelled Maj. Rippert.
* * *
Both President Johnson and Gov. Cooper received updates within minutes of the trucks being blown off the interstate.
Now the entire world was watching to see if the incident was going to be the spark that ignited an already tense stand-off between the federal government and the defiant state of Texas.
The president was monitoring the event from the Oval Office with Tibbs and Radford, interrupting a pre-scheduled meeting between the three of them. The close-up video of the Texas troops shooting fingers and yelling at the U.S. Army deployed at the checkpoint was about all Tibbs could take.
“Bastards! Mr. President, are we going to negotiate with these imbeciles? Let’s just take them out,” shouted the agitated attorney general.
CNN and other news outlets reported that federal troops would not let the State Guard render aid to the civilians and were forced to retreat or risk being shot at. The driver died before the Jaws of Life could arrive.
The Winona Mae story and the civilian deaths continued to add fodder to the building resentment by Texans. The mocking display by the Texan troops also agitated those in the administration camp.
Even the talking heads at MSNBC were questioning the logic of shutting off Social Security payments to the elderly in Texas. The death of Winona Mae was a huge public relations nightmare for the administration, aided by the fact that it touched off enough anger from a group in the local black community to strike out to open the interstate on their own, embarrassing the Left and Democrats who had been backing the administration on how it dealt with the Texas crisis up to that point.
Leaders from all over the globe were calling for calm from the administration. Human rights groups were condemning both the shut-off of entitlement payments but also questioned the need for Army troops to annihilate the pick-up trucks and their inhabitants. The administration kept making the case that the trucks were a threat to the checkpoint troops, but the trucks never opened fire.
The administration that used its internal polling more than any administration in U.S. history was stung by the fact that the president’s approval rating was plummeting again.
A State of Treason Page 9
