The Second Civil War- The Complete History

by Adam Yoshida

  Rickover nodded thoughtfully.

  “Ok, take me through how this works one more time, Mr. Secretary.”

  “Alright,” said Mark Preston as he stood and walked towards the giant screen.

  “Right now the 7th Fleet has control of Hawaii and the other major bases in the Pacific. The Pacific, aside from littoral zones, is essentially ours. However, the entire West coast - aside from that held by the Western Republic in the North along with that of Alaska - belongs to the Washington government. If we were to attempt to run supplies through Vancouver or Prince Rupert - the two major ports in the Western Republic on the Coast - we would not only have to bring the Western Republic into the war, but we would then have to run a long supply line through contested territory. And, if we want to do this now, we’ll have to fight in the Pacific Northwest and parts of the Mountain West in the winter. Now, Washington isn’t Siberia by any means - but local conditions will still pose an obstacle to our operational plans.”

  “Given this, the Joint Chiefs of Staff have unanimously recommended that we take control of a major port in the State of California. The supply lines are shorter. The weather is better. In addition, though this is a secondary consideration, it is their unanimous belief that the loss of a major Californian city will be a severe blow to what remains of the prestige of the Bryan Administration.”

  “Mr. President,” said Secretary Huffington, “we may be down only to bad choices, but this would be the worst. Even if - and I admit that I am no military expert - the Washington government lacks the ability to launch a new offensive against us in the near future, I can tell you that a major military operation would mean severe civil dislocation. We are straining every resource that we have right now just to keep people fed and warm.”

  “And, while I’m not a military expert by any means, I would point out - again - that we have the largest concentration of military force in the history of the world on its way back to here.”

  “Audacity, Mr. President!” interjected Secretary Preston, “the victory is going to belong to the bold. Speed is of the essence. Even in this moment of peril we still live in a twenty-four hour news cycle. Do you really think that the American people will be patient for four years of conflict, like in the First Civil War? The time to act is now.”

  “May I point something out?” asked House Majority Leader Michael Nelson.

  “Certainly,” said the Acting President.

  “Look,” said Nelson, “I’ve been appreciative of all of the assistance offered by Praetorian, our friends in the Western Republic, and in CENTCOM as well. But I think, Mr. President, that there’s something that needs saying here - and I feel that this is as good a space as any to do so. We don’t really know - not fully - what those people want. Who is to say that if the whole of the East Coast is liberated by General Mackenzie, paid for by Praetorian International and other international financial conglomerates, that they won’t try and take over the entire show for themselves? It would hardly be without precedent.”

  “But,” noted Huffington, “the same can be said with equal justice of the Chinese.”

  “Do,” said the President, turning to face the Secretary of State, “we truly know what the Chinese want from us for our assistance?”

  “Well, they haven’t been explicit. The bastards never are. But it’s been implicit in all of the discussions that I’ve been a party to that they expect to have more or less a free hand in Asia after the war.”

  “Couldn’t we leverage the Chinese offer - perhaps with the Japanese and Koreans - to get the sort of resources that we require?” asked Major General Ira Skelton, the President’s recently-appointed Chief of Staff.

  Secretary Preston shook his head.

  “The Japanese and the Koreans - everyone else, really - just don’t have the ability to produce on the scale that we require at the present time. The Chinese do.”

  “Better,” said Rickover, “a deal with many devils than a deal with one.”

  The Acting President looked around the table.

  “I’ve made my decision. We’ll cut our deal with the Chinese and go for the West Coast as soon as possible. But with one caveat.”

  “What’s that, Mr. President?” said Secretary Preston.

  “We’re going to time it so that, when CENTCOM embarks and heads our way, our main forces here in Colorado and the West move at the same time. We’re going to hit them everywhere at once.”

  The Situation Room, The White House

  The members of the National Security Council shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as they waited for the President. War or no war, many of the members of the NSC were dressed for the evening - somehow Washington’s social life stopped for nothing. Being called to the White House by the President on one hour’s notice at 8PM was never a good sign.

  “Do you know what’s up?” Gerald Ransom asked White House Chief of Staff Jamal Anderson. Anderson shook his head sadly.

  “I’m as in the dark as you, I’m afraid.”

  General Hall, still looking impeccable in his uniform, pointedly glanced at his watch but otherwise remained silent.

  Finally, at 9:17PM, the President strode into the room.

  “Good evening, I hope that I didn’t put anyone out with the last-minute call,” said President Bryan, smiling widely as he dropped into his chair at the head of the table.

  “Not at all, Mr. President,” said Ransom as other members of the NSC half-heartedly added their own disavowals.

  “It is increasingly clear to me today, as it has been for many recent days,” said Bryan, “that if matters persist along present lines, then this government will be defeated and replaced by the Rebel government one way or another. Either they will militarily conquer us or, failing that, they will use the fraudulent results of an election conducted within their territories in order to bring about a collapse in our popular support. Either way, it is essential that we complete our own victory before the end of the year if we are to save this government.”

  “I don’t know if it is as catastrophic as that, Mr. President,” began Ransom.

  “I am speaking, Mr. Secretary,” shot back Bryan icily.

  “The question today is no longer one of restoring the Union as it was. The question now is one of creating a new nation as it shall be,” explained the President.

  “Mr. President…” began Anderson.

  “No, Jamal,” said Bryan, “let me finish.”

  “The question is what the future of this nation is going to be. The challenge before us is ensuring that not only is the nation reunited, but that the country that comes out of this war is better place. More accepting. More open. More tolerant. One in which there is no place for the sort of selfishness and divisiveness that held sway before the war, and which led us to where we are today.”

  The President pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and began to read.

  “The American dream has always been to welcome all of the people of the Earth to this great land. This dream has always clashed with that of certain nativists who have opposed immigration on many grounds, both principled and unprincipled. Now, during this hour of national need, America - the rainbow America that we are building - requires the aid of all who will assist. Therefore, in my capacity as the President of the United States and the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, I hereby proclaim the following…”

  Bryan looked around the table. Everyone was listening. This was new.

  “First, that amnesty is offered to all persons resident in this country in violation of any current immigration law for any and all violations of said laws. This grant of amnesty is dependent upon the registration of such individuals by such entity as the Secretary of Homeland Security may designate and the satisfactory completion of a criminal records check.”

  “Second, that conditional amnesty is granted to anyone convicted of any offense under the unjust and racially-biased drug laws of this nation whose enforcement is presently under abeyance per the dire
ction of the Attorney General.”

  “Third, that pursuant to Section 504 of Title 10 of the United States Code, that the Secretary of Defense is hereby directed to accept the enlistment for service of any individual, whatever their background or previous immigration status, who is meets the standards for enlistment in the Army of the United States for the duration of the present hostilities.”

  “Fourth, that pursuant to Section 1440 of Title 8 of the United States Code, the Secretary of Homeland Security is directed to offer immediate naturalization to any individual inducted into the armed forces under Section 2 of this proclamation.”

  The President sat the paper down upon the table and looked around.

  “Mr. President…” began Ransom.

  “Yes, Mr. Secretary?” said Bryan, smiling serenely.

  “Just to make this clear - since I wasn’t consulted in advance…”

  “Well, no one here was consulted.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” continued the Secretary of Defense, “just to make this clear… This proclamation offers to let anyone - from anywhere in the world - enlist in the armed forces and obtain instant citizenship. Along with a million drug offenders.”

  “Well,” said Bryan, “almost. Apparently, for some reason, they need to be physically present in an American territory before they can actually become citizens. But we can just fly them to California or wherever and make that happen.”

  “Right. But, logistically… I don’t know that we have any studies on what happens next,” said Ransom.

  “Fortune favors the bold, Mr. Secretary,” said the President.

  Bundeskanzleramt, Belin

  Chancellor Walter Solf impatiently tapped his desk as the Bundeswehr’s Chief of Staff methodically ticked off his reasons why not.

  “Are you finished, General?” asked the Chancellor.

  “There are additional technical reports, Herr Bundeskanzler,” replied the General.

  “I don’t give a fuck about the details of how we load tanks onto our fucking ships. Can you do it?”

  “If given the orders, we will do our best to execute those orders. I believe that the probability of success would be high. But, Herr Bundeskanzler, I think that it really is necessary to pause and consider the full political ramifications of such a course of action.”

  “Let me deal with the Goddamned politics,” snapped Solf.

  “The major question would, of course, be whether they would be resistance on the part of the British armed forces in the event of our deployment,” explained the General, “though, going back to the political parts of this, our staff were in unanimous agreement that the arrival of German soldiers on British soil would not be well-received by the overwhelming majority of the British public.”

  “Well, fucking duh,” replied the Chancellor, “could the British military repel the arrival of the RRF?”

  “If they acted together? Yes,” said the General, “but that is not a scenario we anticipate given the disposition of the British government within the context of this scenario.”

  “And these plans, they would leave us with an adequate reserve force to act here at home, should be experience our own difficulties?”

  “Ja, Herr Bundeskanzler.”

  Chicago, Illinois

  The former President reflected, as he set down his phone, that he hadn’t felt quite this good in years. The press - the friendly press at any rate - were calling the President’s proclamation a “Second Emancipation Proclamation.” Of course, he’d always wished to do such a thing during his own Presidency, but his advisors had repeatedly talked him out of it on the grounds that it would be illegal. Such things mattered a lot less now, of course, with most of the nation’s Republican lawmakers off in Colorado.

  “He just blind-sided us, Mr. President,” Secretary Ransom had told his old boss just moments before, reflecting on the NSC meeting where the surprise had been sprung.

  “It’s fine Jerry,” said the former President, “we always knew that there would be bumps along this road.”

  When he’d left office the better part of a decade ago, the former President’s approval rating had sunk to 34%. Of course, as he - and especially his wife - were fond of pointing out, that was far from evenly distributed. He still had, right up until his last day in the White House, something like majority support in New York, Illinois, California, and all of the places in America were decent people actually lived. Really, after all, what did it matter that only 24% of voters in Texas approved of him? It wasn’t like he’d ever be going there again.

  For the first few years after leaving the White House he’d done the usual post-Presidential thing. He’d travelled around the world giving speeches for money and signed off on an indifferently-received memoir written for him by an old college professor acquaintance. But, still, something of the way in which his Presidency had gone down did not sit well with him. He wasn’t even sixty yet and people already treated him like a relic. In fact, he was younger than both President Bryan and Terrance Rickover. He wanted to be of use.

  The former President had spent many hours thinking about the situation, quietly smoking away in his den. Perhaps in all of this, there was some chance for redemption both for himself and, really, for the American people who had failed him at least as much (and really much, much more) than he’d failed them. If the obstructionists could be cast off - and what did they really bring to the table anyways - perhaps he could achieve some of the things that had eluded him during his first epic battle with the forces of racism.

  For his plan to work, however, the battle on the ground would have to be sustained. If the Federal Government were to fall apart immediately, then Terrance Rickover would certainly simply move into the White House and everyone, however reluctantly, would simply recognize it as a fait accompli. Perhaps a few states or localities would attempt to hold out even in the event of a Federal collapse, but they’d be coerced back into line soon enough.

  If, on the other hand, resistance was prolonged and difficult and if major forces were prepared to continue to resist the Rebel Government… Well, then he could make history. Again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Blood-Dimmed Tide

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  President Kevin Bryan stood up before the thinned-ranks of the graduating class of Harvard University. It had surprised - shocked even - many people when nearly a third of the graduating class had decided to leave early in order to engage in military service. What was even more surprising was the high number, despite the well-known liberalism of the university, who had opted to fight for the Rebel cause. Some of this was written off to the ideological straying to be expected of the young, while another part of it was attributed to regional loyalty. Still, even allowing for the fact that those whose personal constitutions and character made them fitted for military service were more likely to be sympathetic to the Rebels, the 50-50 split was an ill omen. Nevertheless, even given this one ill-omen, it was generally felt that there was nowhere the the President was more likely to gain a sympathetic hearing than at at Harvard commencement.

  “Today,” said the President, “we are engaged in the difficult work of building a New America. I know that the hazards and horrors of this work are falling disproportionately upon your generation and for that I am very sorry. However, your generation is bearing that responsibility brilliantly. Nevertheless, I want you to understand what exactly it is that you are being asked to fight for. I want all Americans to understand why they are being called to sacrifice.”

  “There is a view out there - a cynical view that I emphatically reject, but one that must be acknowledged nevertheless - that this is a conflict about money. We want other people’s money and they don’t want to give it. So we fight. Nothing could be further from the truth. This war is about justice. It is about righting the historic wrongs that America has done and building a better and more equitable country. This is about undoing wrongs that originate from a single concept: privilege.”
/>
  “There are those in America who have a great deal - and we don’t begrudge them that. All we ask is that everyone have an equal opportunity to gain the same. All we ask is that those who were born into so much contribute just a little bit to undoing centuries of discrimination and wrong. That is what we are doing today. We are fighting against prejudice and privilege. We are fighting against the attitude that said that it was ok for America to lock up millions of racial minorities for trivial - and often invented - crimes so that white people could enjoy the privilege of keeping their neighborhoods as regimented and orderly as they would like. We are fighting against the attitude that women in this country are and ought to be second-class citizens, with their rights put up for a vote. We are fighting against the privileged attitude that those who have land or capital today are entitled to use it however they wish, the consequences to future generations be damned. That is what we are fighting for.”

  “And that is the work that I am asking for you to join in today. Not a fight over a single bill or what our tax rates should be, but rather a fight for a single and fundamental principle: equality. Let us have equality for all humans, regardless of where they were born or what their talents are. And let us have it in our lifetimes, not in some distant age so far-off that it can only be imagined in works of science fiction.”

  Camp Erik Prince, Near Colorado Springs, Colorado

  Major General William T. Jackson had been up since just after 6AM reviewing the latest round of status reports transmitted to him in his position as the commander of the 200th Infantry Division. In the two months since the soldiers of his joint Western Republic-United States division had charged across the fields at Pueblo, letting out a massive Rebel Yell as they smashed the Loyalist 42nd Division along with a Division of supporting French soldiers, Jackson had increasingly found himself a place among the inner circle of men (for they were all men) who commanded the newly-organized Army of the Colorado. A former politician and attorney, General Jackson was a man who could read a spreadsheet. Every day he could see that more and more men and supplies were following the formation, which had now grown to more than 150,000 soldiers. Given the severity of the civil situation all of that food and fuel wasn’t going to sit in depots. He knew that something big was coming. When the call came in just after 8AM he wasn’t surprised at all.