Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I

by R A Peters

  The president wrestled with his disgust. “So that’s it? With the stroke of a pen, you’ll hand the delicate virtue of a 240-year-old republic into the hands of a dictator? All to avoid assuming a little responsibility.”

  “Beat your chest all you please, but ending this war quickly and with minimum destruction for both sides is going to be an epic challenge. You stand the best chance of pulling it off.”

  The president leaned back, digging his head into his chair. “Yeah, I bet they told Caesar the same thing.”

  He didn’t mention his primary fear. The real challenge of giving up that absolute power when the job was done. The president snatched the lighter from his drawer. He sucked deeply on the delicious, minty tar air. He prayed he was strong enough to give up at least one of these vices eventually.

  Havana, Cuba

  25 March: 1000

  Donaldson basked in herodom and sunshine on a Cuban beach with thousands of other runaway Florida fighters. They all tried to avoid watching television. They also tried to ignore their leaders always walking around in deep conversation with their Cuban counterparts and some wild-eyed man in a Hawaiian shirt.

  Out West, the population and their leaders slowly woke up to the novel idea that the Federal Government wasn’t even close to falling, no matter how much hopeful rhetoric they told themselves. All those fence sitters were finally forced to pick a side. That helped the fledging new government more than the old. Every day brought new regular military desertions to their cause. Often in whole bases with much of their equipment and most of their personnel. Most of the staff, but never all.

  More civilians were also migrating west than east. That was far more important than the raw numbers suggested. Someone willing to leave their home and strike out for something new is the most loyal and motivated type of citizen you could find. At least most fanatical, as some critics pointed out.

  So many people, both in America and America 2.0, wondered when the other shoe would drop. The weakness of the central government was a driving force behind the referendums in the first place, but when they didn’t fold people got worried. Why weren’t they stomping on the West? Crushing these people they so vehemently called rebels?

  The baby new government consisted of just 14 states: Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska. Barely a third of the population of the United States, and that was only paper strength. Here in the early stages of the separation, the reality was less impressive. In every state loyal to the new nation there existed vocal and sometimes militant minorities threatening the new system. Some towns and whole counties, especially along the nebulously defined border, were more hostile than the real USA.

  Not that the Feds were in much better shape. Their sweeping military advantage existed only in the media’s imagination. A large chunk of the Armed Forces, especially air and naval assets, were still deployed overseas. To redeploy them stateside would take weeks. Large losses, particularly in equipment, during the “low intensity domestic operations” in Florida took yet another big bite out of immediately available resources. Garrisoning a tropical land of 19 million hostiles drained even more.

  Concerns, well, panic over the loyalty of the various state reserves and National Guard forces ensured they would not be committed to battle any time soon. This paranoia, arguably justified, nevertheless resulted in the United States voluntarily removing half their army from the equation. When you consider the gargantuan defections to the west, from individual soldiers going AWOL to whole brigades assimilating into the new rebel command structure, the military balance between the two sides approached equality.

  Besides the lack of military options, the single biggest concern holding back both US governments was political. More accurately, no one had a clue what the hell to do. This stuff was all so damn new. Breaking away from the crumbling old government was one thing; figuring out what to do next was something else. Not to mention that, so far, military action hadn’t paid off so well. Something the Feds could attest to.

  The two sides continually cast about for quick solutions to this incredibly difficult strategic situation, but kept coming up short. Neither leadership camp could accept that the only way to win this fight was to launch a long, protracted land war to subdue and occupy the enemy. A massive, continent spanning war appeared necessary, but also impossible. The politicians couldn’t imagine the population of either side stomaching such a war. Of course, a negotiated peace settlement was even more unimaginable.

  Unlike the Florida fiasco, the two sides would not stumble into this fight. They’d have to approach the slaughter with their eyes wide open. Every day of political inaction strengthened the cohesiveness of the new nation’s military and government while sapping the power of the old. Well, draining power, but not resolve.

  The West represented 40% of the American land mass, not something that could be blitzed even if the US military was at full strength. They were no banana republic to be steamrolled in a day’s campaigning. A gargantuan buildup would be needed. A generation defining type of expansion to the Armed Forces not seen since the Second World War.

  So, with surprisingly little reluctance, that’s what the leadership on both sides set out to do. What needs to be done must be done. If it just so happens that billions could be made in the process, well, there’s no reason that patriotism can’t be profitable.

  Oh, and profitable it was. Shortly after the new nation’s foundation, thousands of Preppers “bugged out.” They were ready for the widespread disruption to the financial institutions and trade infrastructure. Civilization did not implode; that would have been easier. No, it was more a sizzle. Sure, for a time, luxury goods were in terribly short supply. New smartphones, fancy cars and overpriced sports jerseys were hard to find at any price. To quite a few Americans, that alone was a sign of the Apocalypse.

  However, production of the necessary things in life actually increased. When supply is crimped, prices soar. When prices jump, everyone becomes an entrepreneur and tries to make a quick buck from the disruption. Before you know it, supply will flood demand. Just like after a devastating hurricane, for example. Bottled water, canned food and fuel for generators are in short supply for a while, but not too long.

  When someone in trouble is willing to pay a 300% premium for a gallon of gas, well, then you can’t argue the efficiency of a free market. Out of the goodness of their hearts, everyone and their mother fills up a car with whatever aid supplies have the highest profit potential and rushes in from out of state. Those first to market reap the rewards. Those coming later find an oversaturated market.

  The Preppers were right about inflation though, but it was distributed fairly evenly. Everything went up in price, especially when, in a boldly populist move, both governments indexed minimum wage to inflation. Despite the government’s rampant money printing, wage increases nearly matched the price spikes. The Federal Reserve pumped an unprecedented, some would say unholy, stream of new dollars into the economy to calm the commodity markets. All they succeeded in accomplishing was fueling the fear more. At least they created bubbles across the board, rather than in any one asset class. They could get away with this without crashing the dollar mainly because of the economic wildfires consuming the rest of the world.

  With heavy manufacturing slowly, but steadily returning stateside to take advantage of revitalized military spending, the Chinese Yuan became practically junk. You could forget the Euro. Those Europeans responded to the crisis with their typical wishful thinking. Cut government spending even further, except for welfare of course, while drastically hiking the already oppressive taxes.

  It didn’t take long for the core Eurozone economies, France and Germany, to consume 60% of their gross domestic product with taxes. De facto communism, without at least partially effective central planning. It was impossible for the private sector to expand faster than the tax burden. They’d chewed their legs off to get out of
a trap, only to bleed to death later.

  By the time populist anti-austerity, anti-globalization politicians took over power, things were beyond repair. In Germany, a distant grand cousin of a once frightening Austrian celebrity would soon be addressing dem deutschen Volke as their latest chancellor. He had some interesting ideas about who was to blame for the disaster and what to do about it. The European Union experiment wouldn’t survive the year. That left the US the only safe harbor for vulnerable cash in this worldwide Tsunami, war or no war. The foreign money poured in. Stocks, bonds, real estate, all prospered, but the hottest investments were new arms manufacturer startups.

  Making economic recovery even easier, the militarized border existed only on maps. It was just too long and far too new for any side to “secure the border.” With all the money to be made, cross-border trade continued the same as always. Sometimes overzealous customs agents made it necessary for trucks to take county roads and avoid the major interstate crossing points, but not always. Most of these “smugglers” operated in plain sight since they had no problem spreading a little of the wealth around to local custom officials and soldiers.

  Regardless of the particular arrangements, the sealed border might be the most lucrative in the world. Wheat, corn, soybeans, potatoes… you name it, all these foodstuffs continued to find their way from the wide-open fields of the URA to the grocers of New York. There were also no shortages of coal or manufactured goods coming west in exchange. By the truck or trainload, you couldn’t stop people from making money. That’s the thing in America: Political passion runs deep…but capitalism runs deeper.

  Sacramento, California

  29 March: 1500

  “Pray tell, General, how did the Feds just waltz into Alaska without a fight? What are we paying you for? One week into the job and you’ve already lost an entire state! I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next week.”

  The head general in charge of the “free” US Armed Forces withered under the fire of this tiny woman. California’s Governor Salazar, or the Provisional President of the United Republics of America as she called herself, was not the quiet type. This short, slightly chubby woman had more ambition and drive in her little finger than most of her advisors had in their whole families. Unfortunately, her military experience did not match that passion.

  “Well, Ms. President, except for a small contingent in Anchorage, they’ve only reoccupied the military bases. Bases that we stripped of personnel and equipment to reinforce the border, at your request.”

  “Spare me the excuses. You’re missing the big picture. From a propaganda standpoint, with the capitol in their hands, they own the whole place. Do you realize how much work went into getting Alaska on board? All that politicking pissed away by raw military force. Damn if there’s not a lesson to be learned there. What are you going to do to retake it?”

  “Ma’am, we don’t really have any options at the moment. After the surprise federal assault Canada began enforcing their declared neutrality. They’ve ordered their borders closed to military traffic from both sides. With the Feds having such naval superiority in the Pacific, I don’t see how we can risk an amphibious operation either. For the time being, we just have to move on.”

  “And what about our navy? I thought we captured something like 100 ships. I saw two aircraft carriers just the other day in San Diego. Surely that’s more than what the Feds have in Hawaii.”

  “The paper strength is misleading, ma’am. Combat power is not simply the sum of our weapons and delivery systems. These ships require a vast number of highly trained technical specialists. With our extreme manpower shortages, we can sortie only about 50 major vessels. Maybe including one carrier, with a reduced crew complement, if we accept lower overall combat efficiency. Even that small force would strain our limited resources. No ma’am, at best we can scrounge up half the naval assets we believe the Feds could muster.”

  She wasn’t terribly interested in the details. “Fine, then. Alaska will have to wait. What about that scheme in Florida? Have we made any progress?”

  The general couldn’t help but sigh as he sourly answered, “Mr. Esterline can best field that question, ma’am.”

  The fledging new government didn’t have an official intelligence service yet. The few professional spies and analysts that “came over” were obviously a little suspect. The best they had was this freelancer. You couldn’t tell by that expensive suit and slowly graying hair, but this ex-Green Beret had trained and advised paramilitary forces in a half-dozen exotic locales. Even that wasn’t the primary qualification on his impressive resume.

  Back in his CIA days, they called him a top-notch strategic operations officer. Hell, one referral claimed he was the acknowledged master at waging proxy wars. He manipulated or outright bribed God knew how many Arab and African dictators into launching seemingly random military interventions against extremists. While the official records were sealed for 70 more years, legend has it that with a single well-timed drone strike he once sparked a short but deadly power-struggle war between the original Al Qaida group and their affiliate branch in Yemen.

  After abruptly leaving civil service, “tossed out on his ass,” according to most insiders, he joined the private sector as “a troubleshooter, of sorts.” Since he was fired in an embarrassing manner back before The Split, and had an obvious axe to grind with his former employers, his loyalty wasn’t such a mystery. His sanity was an entirely different question.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ve rearmed the exiled Florida guardsmen in Cuba. Our negotiations with the People’s Republic there have paid off handsomely. The Reconquista will handily liberate Miami. Those few thousand fighters will lead a People’s uprising of millions well beyond just Florida. Within a week, I will raise for you fresh armies inside the walls of Rome! Despite the general’s skepticism, success is assured.”

  General Stewart smacked his palm on the polished mahogany round table. He had everyone’s undivided attention. “What the hell are you talking about? Ma’am, please tell me you’re not actually considering this fantasy? As we’ve discussed, we need to focus all our energy on building a viable defensive force. That’s your only chance to negotiate peace from a position of strength. The last thing we can afford is to escalate things. Especially not with such off the wall stunts like this.”

  President Salazar appeared genuinely surprised. “General, we are way beyond finding ‘a peace we can live with.’ I’m in this to win it, and you can bet that the Washington crowd is as well. I want to make sure you’re not laboring under any false pretenses. We’re at war!”

  Salazar took a deep breath and fixed her hair. She forced down her dragon instincts, which only made her snark more threatening.

  “In this war, Mr. Esterline has so far gathered us much more success than your dawdling. His maneuverings brought Kansas and Nebraska into our corner, without even holding referendums. He’s why our soldiers are facing off with the Feds across the Missouri River and not in the streets of Denver! With that record, when he speaks, he will be listened to.”

  For his part, Esterline wasn’t smug about the public dressing down the boss gave his uniformed rival. He was so self-assured he didn’t need any external validation. Those puckered lips held pity and not spite for the poor general who lacked his brilliance.

  Esterline jumped up and buzzed about the room with his usual intensity, shoving printouts into everyone’s hand. “As I was saying, there’s more combat power over there than you think. Here are the details. I’ve worked everything out with the Cubans. In exchange for most favored nation trade status and some other direct aid, they will support the liberators with the full weight of the Revolutionary Armed Forces.”

  Another military man took over for the smarting general. “Um, I’m not seeing much in the way of weight here. A few dozen obsolete planes and even older warships. Where are the troops?”

  Esterline grinned knowingly, or psychopathically, as some critics worried. “That’s where our brave Flo
ridian Freedom fighters come in. Come now, we will use the barbarians, but we won’t repeat Rome’s mistake. No foreign fighters on our soil! But we can take advantage of their support to get our people into Miami.”

  With a flourish, he produced his own digital projector and computer. The leadership crowd stared awestruck at the fabulous projections on screen. Crazy or not, you have to admit he believed every word he said. Sincerity always lends a certain credibility.

  “If we launch a diversionary attack along the border, where they’re expecting us anyway, the Gaul’s, I mean Feds, will leave Florida totally exposed. Their occupation forces are scattered all over the state. They aren’t ready to meet an external invasion. Practically all of the Air Force and Navy are deployed along the border or in transit to blockade our coast. They are naked. We need to hit now! While they’re still weak and disorganized.”

  More heads nodded than at the beginning. President Salazar carefully studied their expressions. Even a few of the military ones were in grudging agreement.

  “Ok, I think we have plan. This is a low risk, high payoff proposition. Unless we come up with something better, it’s time to set a date. Can we be ready by next Monday?”

  The general knew when he was beaten. Well, at least they’d have the element of surprise. Who in the USA would guess they’d do something so reckless? “Yes, ma’am. We can be. On 17 April, we’ll launch our offensive.”

  Esterline’s face held no sense of triumph. He didn’t feel any obstacle had been overcome. The outcome of this meeting was never in doubt. His scheme was the best way to go; anyone could see that. He refilled his water glass yet again and let his mind run loose with the million little details to be worked out. No matter who ran the operation, this was still his war.

  Chapter 13

  Sacramento, California

  1 April: 1500