Homefront: The Voice of Freedom

by John

  Was there a “safety”?

  Walker once again pored over the machine, looking for the correct button. He found the select-fire switch—safe, semiautomatic, and burst fire. The gun still wouldn’t shoot when he flipped the switch away from “safe.” Finally, after much experimentation, he discovered the charging handle, a T-shaped device at the top of the receiver. He realized he had to pull it back and release it to “cock” the rifle.

  The gun had a negligible kick. He was mighty pleased with himself that he had fired an M4. He was so thrilled that he emptied the magazine in seconds, and then spent the next ten trying to figure out how to release the magazine from the weapon. (It was a button just above the magazine well.)

  Over the next week, Walker took advantage of the practice range and pretended he was a real soldier. He ran through the obstacle course and fired the M4 at imaginary adversaries. He set up targets and shot at them. He timed himself to be quick at loading a magazine, pulling the charging handle, and releasing burst fire in rapid succession. By the end of the month, he felt confident he could at least handle the weapon like an amateur. He may not have been an honest-to-God Marine, but maybe it would be enough training to keep him alive.

  It was not a bad existence and, aside from missing a hot shower and an occasional female companion, Walker was content.

  Then one morning he saw the planes again. The roar overhead woke him at the crack of dawn. Walker thought he was under attack, so he grabbed the M4 and rushed outside in his skivvies to see U.S. Air Force C-17s flying overhead in formation. He retrieved his binoculars to get a better look, and a shiver ran down his spine. The U.S. emblems were covered up as before, but this time by flags depicting a red-washed American flag with the North Korean coat of arms superimposed on top.

  Walker knew it signified that America was now occupied and under the control of the Greater Korean Republic.

  THIRTEEN

  APRIL 8, 2025

  Salmusa had been busy.

  Ever since the Korean People’s Army invaded the United States in January, he was given special assignments involving security, intelligence, and what the Koreans called “American compliance.”

  In late January he left the safe house in Van Nuys, drove the Volkswagen to San Francisco, and reported to KPA Military Command. The ad-hoc headquarters was set up in city hall after twenty thousand troops stormed the city and captured it. U.S. military resistance was strong at first, but the Americans were heavily outnumbered. The Koreans had come well-prepared, for they were trained in the use of American equipment and brought much of it along with them after having acquired it from Japan and South Korea. The U.S. forces were also in disarray after the years of downsizing and unfocused leadership. It took only two days for San Francisco to fall. Los Angeles, because of its massive sprawl, took four, although Edwards Air Force Base was secured in twenty-four hours. San Diego was under Korean control in only eight hours.

  At the same time, C-130H troop transport planes captured at Hickam Air Force Base in Honolulu carried paratroopers inland. KC-135 and KC-10 tanker aircraft, also seized in Hawaii, provided the extra fuel so the C-130Hs could return. KPA troops were dropped in Nevada, Arizona, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, New Mexico, and Texas.

  On January 27, Koreans flew C-17s from Edwards Air Force Base to drop troops even farther east, beyond the Mississippi River to the East Coast.

  Salmusa admired the Brilliant Comrade’s plan. It was ambitious, for America was a large country. The key was capturing strategic targets that gave Korea undeniable leverage against the puny American resistance. San Diego, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, as shipping ports, were the obvious primary objectives, followed by Seattle and Portland. Heavy tech areas, such as oil refineries, were also priority goals. Whatever natural resources could be exploited, the Koreans wanted them. In a speech delivered to the inner leaders of the Korean Workers Party, Kim Jong-un stated, “Consider America a rotting warehouse filled with vermin. We must take all that we can from it before it falls in on itself. It must be stripped clean.” He finished the speech with a rousing, motivational statement regarding the Korean strategy of a growing occupational foothold by saying, “The smallest germ, once planted, can spread to kill the largest giant.”

  Over the next three months, that germ had grown considerably.

  The Korean military set up different Areas of Responsibility similar to the Unified Combatant Command structure the U.S. had used worldwide for decades. These areas were designated around general purpose output and potential for KPA use. Hawaii and West Coast cities were obvious export hubs for oil and technology to Asia. Rocky Mountain and Midwestern states were divided into areas for agriculture, machinery, oil, and ores industries. While the Korean troops only occupied pockets of various states, they set up several Interest Zones under more direct authority, with a heavier number of troops.

  It was Salmusa’s job to oversee population control and implement plans to counter civilian opposition in these centers of weighty Korean presence.

  Approximately eighty thousand suspected dissidents such as thought leaders, local politicians, bloggers, and student protesters were rounded up and killed during the initial invasion. Salmusa ordered that mass gravesites be dug in Sunset Park in Las Vegas, Hayden Island in Portland, the Glendale Golf Course in Salt Lake City, and Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles. He also instituted the decree that any American could be detained indefinitely without trial upon the order of a Korean military officer with the rank of captain or higher.

  Salmusa was currently in the process of setting up detention centers, most of them on the sites of former prisons. West Coast tech and engineering personnel who refused to work with the Korean government to dismantle the U.S. infrastructure were sent to Alcatraz Interrogational Island for “rehabilitation.” Low-level prisoners and common criminals were placed in the Pasadena Rose Bowl. Cobb Park in Fort Worth became a “camp” for wives and children of oil workers in Texas and the Gulf Coast to make certain of the loyalty of “American employees.” Grants Pass, in Oregon, was enclosed by barbed wire and acted as a death camp for undesirables from the northwest cities of Tacoma, Portland, and Seattle.

  And then there were the executions. The different Areas handled the process in different ways. For example, Salmusa allowed the Korean Commander of Area One to hang condemned prisoners from electricity poles in their local townships. The Commander of Area Three often conducted executions at night with the disposal of bodies done by cremation. Americans in this area often never learned what happened to a missing loved one or a family member.

  California State Prison in Lancaster, a small community north of Los Angeles, was the newest Korean-operated detention center. Originally an all-male state prison that housed close to five thousand inmates with varying levels of security, half of the facilities were relegated to hold the types of prisoners the Koreans referred to as “dissidents.” They weren’t particularly dangerous civilians, but their ideas were. People who had been negatively outspoken in public toward the rise of Korean influence in the world fell into this category. Some of them were celebrities. Most were intelligent, college-educated citizens with strong opinions and the ability to organize, spread anti-Korean propaganda, and persuade the population to fight back. In Salmusa’s opinion, this made them more treacherous than armed resistance fighters.

  In order to make room for these enemies of the Republic, half of the original prison inhabitants had to be released. Salmusa forced the American warden to decide who deserved to remain incarcerated due to the heinous nature of crimes committed, and who might be eligible for release. Once the list was compiled, the warden was confined with the dissidents. He didn’t know that Salmusa delivered a death sentence to all of the Level IV prisoners—the ones under maximum security. Under the false pretense that they were being released, nearly two thousand men were burned alive by flame thrower-yielding KPA units in the prison exercise yard. The Koreans had no use for American criminals, so it was best t
o exterminate them altogether. Then, the newly arrived dissidents were moved into the maximum security housing, while the original lower level inmates remained in the more relaxed dormitories without a secure perimeter.

  Salmusa arrived that morning for an inspection. He was also due to visit the detention center at the Pasadena Rose Bowl, having been given orders to come up with a “deterrent” to resistance. But first things first.

  After touring the prison, Salmusa told the Captain-in-Command he would like to interrogate a certain dissident prisoner. He wanted to hear first-hand what the man had to say.

  His name was Horace Danziger. He was brought into a bare room and tied securely in a chair that occupied the middle of the floor. One other chair faced it; that was Salmusa’s seat. A noose hung menacingly from the ceiling above the prisoner’s chair. It was attached to a pulley capable of raising or lowering the intimidating stretch of rope.

  Danziger was a man in his fifties, but the strain of the past few months had taken its toll. He now looked seventy. The dissident was dressed in standard prison overalls.

  Salmusa stared at the man for a full minute without saying a word. Danziger attempted to hold the gaze, but he couldn’t help glancing up at the noose a couple of times.

  “What? What do you want?” Danziger asked.

  Finally, Salmusa said, “Your name is Horace Danziger and you have had many things to say that are insulting to our Brilliant Comrade, Kim Jong-un.”

  The man sighed heavily. He’d been through this dozens of times with other Korean interrogators. “Unlike your country, in America we have—or we had—the freedom of speech. We can say anything we want, not only about Korea, but our own country as well. That’s what happens in a democracy. Our Constitution protects that right.”

  Salmusa opened a manila folder in his lap and studied it. “I understand you had a website where you called the Brilliant Comrade a ‘pig in sheep’s clothing.’ I don’t understand. I always thought the expression was a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ ”

  “I meant what I said.”

  “The Brilliant Comrade might not have been so insulted if you’d kept to the original expression. He is something of a wolf. But he is not a pig. That was insulting.”

  “I didn’t think he’d see it.”

  “Why not? It was on the Internet. Anyone could see it.” Salmusa examined more reports in the folder. “Before the invasion, you posted several blogs warning the American public about Korea. Why? Most people in America paid no attention to us.”

  “Why? It was obvious what you were up to. I knew it was only a matter of time before you tried something. Somebody had to say something.”

  Salmusa paused. “I understand you had your own television talk-show. You are famous.”

  Danziger looked away. “Whatever.”

  “Most Americans know who you are, am I correct?”

  “I guess. Depends on if they watched TV.”

  “Even now, three months after our occupation of much of your country, the man on the street mentions your name. The people wonder where you are. If you are safe. If you are alive.”

  “Do they?”

  “They do. I have seen illegal homemade posters pasted on buildings in Los Angeles. They say ‘Free Danziger.’ ”

  “That’s nice to hear. I don’t suppose you’re going to do that, though, are you?”

  Salmusa smiled.

  Danziger’s eyes flared. “Where are my wife and daughter? Huh? Where are they? I haven’t seen them in three months, you bastard. Where are they?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. They were taken to another facility when you were arrested. I am sure they are fine. Tell me, Mr. Danziger, if there is one thing you could say to the American people right now, what would it be?”

  The man thought about it. “I’d tell them to fight you bastards in our streets and neighborhoods. I’d say pick up any weapon you can find and kill the first Korean you see. I’d tell ’em to organize into resistance groups and give you hell. And I’d wish them luck.”

  Salmusa nodded. “All right. We will distribute your words along with your photograph to the American people. We will drop thousands of them from airplanes, all over the country. How about that, Mr. Danziger?”

  The dissident frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Wait right there. Oh, forgive me. You can’t go anywhere, can you? I’ll be right back.” Salmusa stood and went to the door. He opened it and clapped his hands. Three men in KPA uniforms entered, one rolling a small wheeled table with a laptop computer on it. The other man carried a camera. The third soldier went straight to the pulley and lowered the noose level with Danziger’s face.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Danziger said. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to tell you?”

  The soldier slipped the noose over the prisoner’s head and slipped the knot tightly around his neck. Meanwhile, the Korean with the computer typed on the keypad. Salmusa addressed him, “You heard and got his words down verbatim?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Salmusa examined the monitor, which displayed a recently-created layout of an 8 1/2 by 11–inch flyer. The designer had placed text at the bottom—HORACE DANZIGER DIED FOR THESE WORDS: “FIGHT THE BASTARDS IN OUR STREETS AND NEIGHBORHOODS. PICK UP ANY WEAPON YOU CAN FIND AND KILL THE FIRST KOREAN YOU SEE. ORGANIZE INTO RESISTANCE GROUPS AND GIVE THEM HELL. I WISH YOU LUCK.”

  “Very good. Let’s see if Mr. Danziger approves.”

  The operator turned the laptop table around so the prisoner could see it. He shut his eyes and gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Please …”

  “I’ll take that as ‘approved,’ ” Salmusa said. “You see, Mr. Danziger, this will teach the American public that anyone who spouts treachery and disrespect will suffer the same fate as you.” He then nodded at the soldier operating the pulley. The man flipped a switch. The rope grew taut and slowly lifted Danziger, and the chair, off the floor.

  The photographer stepped forward and snapped several shots of the dissident hanging by his neck.

  Salmusa didn’t wait until the prisoner was dead. He ordered, “Pick the best one and paste it on the flyer. Then take it to the distribution center for printing and allocation. If this doesn’t strike fear in the hearts of our enemies, I don’t know what will.”

  He then left the room and made a call to the Pasadena Rose Bowl on the Captain-in-Command’s working radio.

  “This is Salmusa,” he said when Pasadena’s captain answered. “I have thought about the deterrent. I don’t have time to come down to Pasadena today, so this is what I want you to do. Select a hundred prisoners at random and hang them from street lamps all along Hollywood Boulevard. Make sure each of them has a sign around their necks that reads: ‘Anti-Korean Dissident.’ I want the task completed by the end of today.”

  The Captain-in-Command knew not to refuse Salmusa’s orders.

  WALKER’S JOURNAL

  MAY 20, 2025

  It’s hard to believe I’m alive—against all odds—and I’m in the company of a wayward National Guard unit.

  Out in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

  I know I haven’t been writing much in the journal. I spent almost four months at the Marine base, all alone, and not once did I lift pen to paper. What can I say? I didn’t feel like it. I had other things to do, like learn how to fire a friggin’ M4 rifle! To tell the truth, I was living like a hog in slop. I had enough food to feed an army, books to read, a gun to play with, and a vast obstacle course and miniature town to run around in.

  I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. The goddamned Koreans came.

  It was toward the end of February when the planes flew overhead and dropped flyers everywhere. I don’t think they thought anyone was at the base; they were probably just carpeting the country with them. They wanted every American citizen to see their propaganda.

  The first drop was a simple flyer urging the population to migrate toward “food shipment centers” in the big cities
like Los Angeles. “Displaced persons” programs had been implemented so everyone could get food, shelter, clothing, and other necessities. Supposedly the Koreans were “hiring” American workers to bring back the power grid and other utilities. The leaflet claimed there had been a “peaceful exchange” between governments and that the Norks were in our country to “help” us.

  Right.

  I knew then and there that if the Koreans were running these programs, I wanted no part of them.

  If the leaflet hadn’t been so scary, it would have been funny. Whoever wrote the thing needed a better command of the English language. One sentence read, “Make bathroom waste drops at local supermarket deposit facility for clean happyness.” WTF??

  Then, in March, planes dropped a slightly thicker document—a small twelve-page book wrapped in plastic. It was lightweight, but I’m sure it injured a few people when it hit them on the heads. The cover was all red, had that bastardized American flag with the Korean coat of arms plastered over it, and was titled: DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF AMERICA – OATH OF LOYALTY AND ASSIMILATION HANDBOOK. Well, this so-called handbook was nothing but bullshit. It was supposedly written by the “North Korean Liberation Assistance Bureau” for “Bringing America Back to Greatness.” Yes, there was an oath of loyalty that every American was expected to learn. Throughout the book were stupid pictures of Korean soldiers overlooking “happy” American families in their homes, or “friendly” Korean doctors and businessmen saying, “We are here to help you.” There were lists of new holidays, such as Kim Jong-un’s birthday, his father’s birthday, his grandfather’s birthday, and so on. And there were the rules, such as curfews run by the Koreans rather than our own people. At the end was a list of “helpful phrases” in Korean, but if you ask me, none of them were particularly helpful. They were subservient. How do you say, “I will obey,” in Korean?