The Second Civil War- The Complete History

by Adam Yoshida

  “Then fuck them,” said Rickover, stabbing at the Resolute desk with his finger, “I’ll veto any garbage that you can’t bottle right on up.”

  “That’s just it, Mr. President, I don’t think that I can bottle it up anymore,” said Nelson.

  The Acting President looked at him blankly for a moment before speaking.

  “Et tu, Brute?” said Rickover.

  “It’s not like that, Mr. President,” replied Nelson, “you’re going to be gone come January 20th. I have the future to think about…”

  “This is the future!” said the Acting President, his voice raised.

  “Sir, with all due respect for all that you’ve accomplished, there is going to be a new President and the Congress wants to be able to work with him. If I am to be effective in my own role, I have to have the support of my own caucus.”

  “Then send me your bills,” shot back Rickover, “and let me fucking veto them.”

  “This isn’t personal, Mr. President,” said Nelson.

  “Well, it is on my side,” replied Rickover, “go fuck yourself.”

  The Majority Leader stood up and looked over at the Acting President for a long moment. Then he looked around the room. When no one other than Rickover, who looked at him with eyes filled with hatred, met his gaze Nelson turned and simply left.

  Third Army Headquarters, Near Michigan City, Indiana

  As a way of adding insult to injury, the Acting President had insisted that the new formation created by the joining of XII Corps and the Army of Northern Virginia under the command of General Jackson be designated as the “Third Army”, whose headquarters and organization had been inactivated when Mackenzie’s forces had been first split and then merged with the forces stationed in the Virginia theatre of operations. As the commander of the entire Third Army, it had proven necessary for General Jackson to notably increase the size of his staff and to take onboard several people who had previously served under General Mackenzie. This had not proven to be conducive to harmony among the staff of Third Army.

  “I don’t think that this plan fully accounts for the difficulties involved in fighting in such a built-up area,” said Lieutenant General Calvin Olson, who had attained command of the former Army of Northern Virginia forces when they had been reorganized as XIV Corps.

  “General,” said Jackson, “I’ve fought in multiple major cities.”

  “Montreal is not Chicago, General,” said Olson, “and it wasn’t built up as an armed camp the way that Chicago and its suburbs have now been.”

  “I fully recognize that,” replied Jackson, “and that’s why our plans incorporate new weapons and new techniques.”

  “With all due respect to the efforts of General King and Praetorian,” said Olson, “I don’t believe that these toys will make a decisive difference in a battle that looks to be practically on the scale of Stalingrad. Simply driving for the centre of the city is incredibly reckless. What is required here is a deliberate and methodical advance.”

  “Which is something that we do not have time for,” said Jackson.

  “Politics can’t be allowed to dictate matters of military necessity,” answered General Olson.

  “Nor can military plans be blind to political realities,” shot back Jackson, “we are going in and we’re going to hit them fast and hard.”

  Bravo Troop, 2nd Squadron, 7th Cavalry, 3rd BCT, 2nd Armored Division, Gary, Indiana

  Fresh off their stand in Buffalo, the 2nd Armored Division had been assigned the task of leading the advance into Gary, Indiana. The plan for the Battle of Chicago called for repeated fast movements that would allow American forces to penetrate the centre of the city far faster than the leaders of what was left of the Federation expected. By so doing, it was hoped that they would catch those leaders off-guard and be able to swiftly capture them and, by so doing, to bring the resistance of the remaining forces of the Federation to a swift end.

  The soldiers of Bravo Troop had spent much of the night before they were ordered to advance learning how to use the new applications that had been loaded onto their personal tablets and other devices. Now Captain Dumont was simply left praying that they actually worked the way that the technicians from Praetorian had said that they would.

  Second Armored Division was actually going in before serious preparation from the air began. It was hoped that this would catch the remaining FNASA soldiers off-guard and disrupt any planned response. The Fourth Infantry Division was likewise advancing towards Naperville and the 1st Cavalry Division was moving in from the northwest. It was hoped that the sudden movement would flush multiple FNASA formations into the open and allow them to be struck from the air without inflicting excessive civilian casualties.

  The first Strykers had made their way down most of a street filled with strip malls when a Javelin missile came out of nowhere and struck one of the leading vehicles. Dumont hadn’t seen where the missile had been fired from, but a sharp-eyed Private in another of the vehicles had.

  “The mid-rise to the northwest, at the corner,” reported the Corporal who commanded the Stryker that the Private was riding in.

  Normal procedure at this point would have required them either to withdraw or to call in air or artillery to flatten the building, since Bravo Troop’s vehicles didn’t have any weapons capable of engaging an enemy so-situated. Instead, Dumont found the location on the map on his tablet and double-tapped it. The second tap triggered an option for him to issue a vocal command.

  “Missile team or teams in the building,” he said. A beep indicated that the command had been received. Dumont and the other soldiers sat still for several tense seconds.

  Within moments a swarm of tiny specks began to fill the sky above Bravo Troop’s position. No one had yet had time to give them a proper military designation (or even to figure out what branch of the service they belonged to) since they had been developed on spec and simply give to the armed forces. Praetorian, however, had decided to designate them simply as “Honey Bees” and the name, at least in part, had already spread.

  “Here come the bees,” said the Sargent who controlled Dumont’s command vehicle.

  The tiny drones were incredibly simple. Each of them consisted of a number of quickly-fabricated plastic parts that had been mated with a large battery and a twenty-pound of load of enhanced high explosives. For the moment each one of them was manually controlled. Most of the people “flying” the micro-drones weren’t even members of the armed forces, but rather Praetorian contractors, many of them teenagers who had been selected for their video gaming skills and quick reflexes. The micro-drones simply remained on call and flew in giant swarms to engage any target that obstructed the advance of the soldiers on the ground.

  Cameras onboard the drones transmitted first-person video back to their operators in real time. The first missile team was silly enough to remain in position even as the swarm of Honey Bees approached their position. They quickly paid the price for their impertinence when a drone flew directly into their position and detonated, killing the entire team.

  A second team had the good sense to flee the second they saw the unknown objects quickly approaching them. Unfortunately for them they were spotted by the cameras of several of the Honey Bees. This gave the operator of one of the drones a chance to try to execute in the real world a feat that he’d previously only tried in simulations. Because there were typically more drones than operators, the drones could be ordered to follow one another in a line and an operator could immediately jump from controlling a destroyed drone to controlling the next live one in the chain. As a result the operator was able to first order a drone to collide with a large window that the missile team had been firing through. As soon as the first detonation occurred the operator took control of the second Honey Bee in the chain and flew it through the window and towards the second missile team. Within seconds he found his target and destroyed it. Regrettably, the deaths of the two traitors who made up the second missile team required the expend
iture of five drones in total since the operator had ordered the whole group to follow one another. As a result of this the third, fourth, and fifth explosions did little more than render the job of some future coroner all the more challenging.

  2nd Platoon, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 66th Armor Regiment, 3rd BCT, 4th Infantry Division, Naperville, Illinois

  The defending FNASA soldiers hadn’t had the slightest idea how to deal with the sudden deployment of nearly ten thousand micro-drones by the first wave of Third Army’s advance. As a result the initial penetration of the suburbs had proceeded much faster than either side’s plans had anticipated. The FNASA plan had called for utilizing their precious armored forces to counterattack once the advancing soldiers had become bogged down. Instead, however, the American forces had quickly blown clear of the outer suburbs and, as a result, heavy forces were now headed for the core of the city itself.

  The four M1A2 tanks of the Second Platoon were leading the way, moving along the road at nearly fifty miles per hour when an overhead Predator drone had reported that a full company of older M1A1 tanks that the FNASA had obtained from an Illinois Army National Guard depot were headed towards them. The Platoon commander had ordered his unit to stop at the crest of a small hill and wait for additional support.

  No sooner had the Army Abrams tanks stopped than four AH-64E Apache helicopters, accompanied by two Avenger drones, came in close overhead and began to fire AGM-114 Hellfire missiles in the direction of the approaching tanks. Within seconds some twenty-eight Hellfires were in the air and headed towards the enemy tanks.

  The missiles impacted one after another, destroying or disabling every single one of the advancing tanks. As soon as the missiles had struck their targets, the 1st Battalion was ordered to resume its advance.

  The Second Platoon quickly increased its own speed back to more than fifty miles per hour, moving rapidly towards its target of the city of Chicago itself.

  Olympia, State of West Washington

  The briefer, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps, struggled for a minute as he connected his computer to a projector.

  “I can’t believe we haven’t found a better solution for these things,” he said. After thirty seconds spent playing with the settings on the computer, an image showing the rapid advances made by the Third Army appeared on the screen that hung at the front of the room.

  “Mr. President-elect, our initial attack has been overwhelmingly successful. At the present rate of advance, the leading elements of the Army should be in the city of Chicago itself by this afternoon.”

  Mitch Randall swallowed hard.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but this afternoon?”

  “Yes sir,” said the Marine, “our rate of advance has been very rapid. The FNASA forces seem to have been preparing to fight a very different battle than the one that we are now waging. They were planning to fight a siege, to fight infantry battles on a block-by-block basis. The new drones broke their outer defenses very rapidly and our air power blunted their counterattacks. There are now elements of three divisions - 2nd Armored, 4th Infantry, and 1st Cavalry - all on their way to downtown Chicago.”

  “I thought that the estimates were that there were better than a quarter of a million FNASA forces in the region,” said Randall.

  “Yes, Mr. President-elect,” replied the Marine Colonel, “and we still believe that those estimates are fairly reliable. However, they’re not really in a position to effectively resist our advance as the new Honey Bee drones have proven to be very effective at responding to attacks on our forces from buildings and the like and they can’t really move about given our overwhelming air strength.”

  “What is the situation like on the ground in Chicago?” asked Randall

  “People are just trying to stay out of the way. We’re not seeing any kind of mass-mobilization on the streets or anything of that nature. I think that people get that this is a very serious matter.”

  “Ok,” said Randall, “thank you, Colonel.”

  The Colonel nodded, packed up, and left the room. As soon as he did, the President-elect turned to face his advisors.

  “Well,” he said, “where does this leave us?”

  After a long silence, the Vice President-elect finally spoke up.

  “I think that this means that we’re on the one-yard line and about to spike the ball,” said Governor Schmidt, “and that we’d might as well let the Acting President have the touchdown.”

  Third Army Headquarters, Near Michigan City, Indiana

  “O’Hare is ours,” reported Colonel Benson to cheers in the headquarters.

  The surviving FNASA soldiers had hoped to make a stand at Chicago’s primary international airport, but highly-accurate fire support from a group of B-52 bombers whose cargo was guided by a group of drones using laser-designators had quickly dashed those hopes. Tanks from the 1st Cavalry Division had simply smashed through the chainlink fences that had surrounded the airport and quickly suppressed all resistance.

  General Jackson had spent the entire day bouncing from one end of the sprawling headquarters to the other. As he stopped for a moment to rest, General King walked up next to him.

  “Did you ever imagine that we’d end up here?” King asked.

  “Back when we were in Vancouver?” replied Jackson, “I thought that we’d probably end up in some Canadian jail, filing legal complaints to the effect that internet connections so slow that we could only stream in standard definition constituted a human rights violation.”

  “General,” said Colonel Benson, walking over to the two men, “the President-elect is on Fox right now. I think that you should watch.”

  Jackson and King walked over to the nearest monitor as Benson turned up the volume.

  “…Well, look,” said the President-elect, “I think that one of the most important talents that a leader has to have is the ability to adjust one’s plans and positions to reflect the facts on the ground. Obviously there were tremendous risks in going into Chicago and in continuing the war - and very many lives have already been lost in the process - but, from a Constitutional point of view, the Acting President will retain his office until the 20th of January. It would have been my preference to seek a negotiated peace earlier but, at this point in time, given the current conditions on the ground I do believe that the best course of action, in the name of humanity, would be for whoever is in charge of the Federation to surrender immediately and unconditionally.”

  As soon as the words left Randall’s mouth, a vast wave of applause and enthusiasm swept through the headquarters. Jackson had to strain to hear the anchor’s next words.

  “…this notion that the people who have participated in the Federation could expect more lenient treatment if they were able to hold out until you take office?”

  “First of all,” said Randall, “that has never been my policy. I have always said that war criminals will be held accountable and, further, I have never disagreed with the notion that, from the moment that he was impeached and removed from office by the Senate, all of Kevin Bryan’s acts ceased to have any official force. That means that anyone who he claimed to have pardoned or granted clemency to is a fugitive from justice and that anyone who was illegally resident in the country at that moment and who has not been legalized under one of our own laws passed by the Congress remains illegal.”

  “What about the leaders of the Federation?” asked the anchor, “the Acting President has repeatedly referred to them as traitors with the implicit promise that he will have them executed. Do you agree with that?”

  “I don’t want to prejudge any judicial process that may take place and that I may be asked to make decisions about as President,” said Randall, “but I will say that, whatever will happen, I don’t think that being the cause of needless bloodshed will increase anyone’s chances of mercy.”

  “Do you have anything else to say, Mr. President-elect?” asked the anchor.

  “Yes. I hope that this fighting will come
to a swift end and that as many lives can be saved as possible. I’m also praying for our armed forces and for all of America.”

  “Thank you sir,” said the anchor.

  Jackson turned to King.

  “It looks like your Bees changed a few minds,” he said.

  “I just wish that we could have had them developed and deployed earlier,” said King.

  “Well,” said Jackson, “just know that those things helped to save the country.”

  “Yes,” said King, “I suppose they did. On the same subject, we were able to get that other thing made.”

  “And shipped to the front?”

  “Yes,” said King, “I picked one of our most distinguished units for the… honor.”

  Bravo Troop, 2nd Squadron, 7th Cavalry, 3rd BCT, 2nd Armored Division, Chicago, Illinois

  By the time the first Strykers had rolled into the Loop, the streets had descended into chaos. Fires of varying degrees of seriousness were burning everywhere that Captain Dumont could see and people were running in almost every possible direction. The resistance of the remaining Federation forces had largely collapsed as Third Army pushed into the city itself, with most of the remaining FNASA soldiers simply joining the confused mob.

  As Dumont emerged from the back of his vehicle, he spotted a young man wearing a Federation uniform and running down the street. Dumont instinctively raised his M-16 and aimed, but then hesitated. There were people everywhere and the running young man didn’t look like he posed any particular threat. He dropped his rifle and turned to face the platoon of infantrymen who were beginning to gather around him.

  “Let’s get this done,” he finally said.

  “You’re coming with us, Captain?” a teenager, a Private from Wyoming, asked.

  “Fuck yes, you fuckers just try and keep up with me,” replied Dumont, “keep your eyes open: there doesn’t appear to be organized resistance here, but people always do crazy fucking things on days like today.”