by Bobby Akart
“I will miss you, but I promise that I’ll come home to you safely. Okay?”
Sook smiled and wiped away her tears. She gave Duncan a kiss with another hug as Espy was pulling up in the Humvee.
They broke their embrace, and Duncan walked toward the truck. “I love you, Sook. Tell Daddy I will call him on the phone.”
“I will, I love you,” she shouted back.
Duncan stood for another moment, not wanting to leave. Then a smile came over his face. Sook came racing back to him.
“One more kiss for good luck!”
Chapter 61
January 16
West Texas
The shooter calmly slid his rifle up in a smooth, efficient motion, one honed by many years of repetitive practice. Despite the chilly conditions and the inhospitable ground underneath him, he masterfully slid into a prone position, the most stable for long-range shooting. His tripod was extended, and it lay perfectly in place, as he’d practiced since he’d chosen this sniper hide.
The shooter slid under his rifle and gripped it using all of the skill learned from many kills. His spotter’s eye slid behind the Schmidt & Bender scope. The exceptional optics snatched every bit of light from the rising sun and provided him an intimate view of the target. The target turned toward him, having no idea he was making the job much easier.
With his thumb, the shooter flicked off his safety and settled in.
“Ready,” he whispered to his spotter, who continuously looked through the spotting scope. He began to call out the numbers needed by the shooter to be precise and deadly.
“Distance, one thousand nine hundred six yards. Altitude, two thousand three hundred twelve feet. Temperature, thirty-nine degrees. Windage is one-point-five mils left. Elevation is sixty-point-two mil. Twenty-four-point-seven in rail, twenty-three-point six in turret, and ten-point-seven in hold over.”
Okay, the shooter thought to himself as he made the last second corrections to his scope and settled the crosshairs on his target. My apologies, brother.
He gently squeezed the trigger. The shooter knew as the gun slammed into his shoulder and his line of sight to the target disappeared as a result of the recoil. He’d made the perfect shot, one that could only come from years of experience and mental preparedness during all of these hours sitting on a hillside in West Texas.
At the split second when the firing mechanism of the TAC-50 sent the heavy-caliber bullet toward the target, his trained brain was able to analyze the shot in mere milliseconds. It was an incredibly brief moment in time that was impossible to comprehend. His rifle had held true. The scope, zeroed in to the precise distance and under exact conditions, placed the crosshairs exactly where he wanted them. The trigger pull was smooth, unhurried. His shooting position was solid. There was no last second twitch or flicker of doubt.
He whispered the universal sniper’s motto.
“One shot, one kill.”
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READ ON FOR A BONUS EXCERPT from FIFTH COLUMN, book FIVE in the Lone Star series.
EXCERPT from FIFTH COLUMN
Preface to Fifth Column
The Post-modern Fifth Column: The Deep State
Author’s Note to the Reader:
The following is not required reading in order to continue the Lone Star series; however it will provide you a valuable understanding of the threats to our nation, from within. If you choose to skip over the preface to find out who was on the receiving end of the sniper’s bullet, may I encourage you to return to this preface at a later time.
Thank you and enjoy.
The year was 1942, and it marked the beginning of an era in which a centuries-old geopolitical strategy morphed into today’s modern political warfare. America had been blindsided at Pearl Harbor, and feelings of patriotism were running high. The nation rallied together as scores of young men volunteered to fight, and families helped one another fill the void left behind—both in the home and the workplace.
To say that a monumental event like a worldwide military conflict would have a profound impact on a population is certainly a given. The Second World War, which caused an enormous number of deaths, saw the European continent divided as armies attacked one another. When the war ended, much of Europe was in ruins and the rest impoverished.
The end result was a transformation of Europe politically, socially, and economically in the immediate postwar years and for decades to come.
The same was true in America although the battlefield remained abroad. The war resulted in an appreciable change in the role of women in American society. During the war, the number of women in the workplace rose by fifty percent. Millions of families, seeking to maintain a two-earner household, flocked to the cities to work in the military defense industry.
This vast migration resulted in higher divorce rates, housing shortages, and challenged school systems unable to deal with the postwar baby boom. The family dynamic changed, and the country’s view on social issues of the time began to change as well.
Politically, the New Deal of President Franklin Roosevelt gave way to the Fair Deal of his running mate, President Harry Truman, who took office upon President Roosevelt’s death in April of 1945. An era of huge government spending was ushered in, which resulted in higher and higher levels of taxation.
With more government spending came a larger bureaucracy, and the burgeoning federal government began to take root in America. The larger the federal bureaucracy, the more out of control it became. Soon, as many limited government, constitutional conservatives like to say, the inmates began to run the asylum.
Enter the deep state, the modern-day equivalent of the fifth column.
The use of the term fifth column dates back to 1936 during the Spanish Civil War between anarchist-communists and conservative-nationalists. The conflict lasted for three years in the lead-up to World War II and was indicative of the struggle between democracy and fascism throughout Europe.
The nationalist general, on the eve of his assault on Madrid, Spain’s capital, told a news journalist that his strategy involved his four columns of troops, which would attack the city, and a fifth column, a group of unlikely supporters within the city, who worked to undermine the government from within. This fifth column, a group of sympathetic government workers, committed acts of sabotage on the government that employed them in order to aid the advancing troops. Madrid eventually fell, and the war was brought to an end.
The concept of using opponents who were not necessarily loyal to a cause but were also an opposing party of a common enemy was not a new one. Early Sanskrit writings dating back to the fourth century BC espoused the basic premise:
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Following the Siege of Madrid and the subsequent fall of France in 1940, which many at the time blamed on a pro-German fifth column within the Parisian government, a series of articles began to run in the media. One such article in Life magazine warned of Signs of the Nazi Fifth Column Everywhere.
In a speech given to the House of Commons in 1940
, Winston Churchill promised to put down fifth-column activities with a strong hand. The New York Times reported on the spasms of fear engendered by the success of fifth columns in less fortunate countries.
The western nations of the world became beset by fears of enemy infiltration of their governments, and the fears continued after World War II, especially in America. This leads us to a United States senator who was often vilified but who may have been on the right track—Joseph McCarthy, republican from Wisconsin.
Senator McCarthy became famous for his investigations into communist subversive techniques in the U.S. within our media, Hollywood, and the government. He was a student of history who warned America of the First Red Scare, a period following World War I in which concerns over radical political agitation in American society coupled with the spread of communism and anarchy within the American labor movement fueled fears of an undermining of the U.S. government.
The so-called Second Red Scare occurred after World War II and lasted through 1956. Fears of fascist, Communist, and subversive activities against the American way of life permeated the nation’s psyche. During the McCarthy era, many Americans were accused of being communists or socialist subversives, agents of the Soviets, or generally treasonous.
The fifth column was resurrected once again as those operating within our government came under McCarthy’s scrutiny. Over time, however, McCarthy was attacked by the press as a demagogue, accused of making reckless and unfounded accusations against everyone from high-ranking government officials to members of the media, including in Hollywood.
Now, fast-forward to the headlines of 2018. Accusations of Russian collusion with a political campaign without basis in fact. Counteraccusations of a deep-state apparatus that works against an administration’s policies. The players include the media, the nation’s intelligence agencies, and the FBI.
The definition of McCarthyism via Wikipedia is the practice of making accusations of subversion or treason without proper regard for the evidence. I would submit to you, my friends, that the efforts of those within the United States government who are advancing false narratives without evidence are just as guilty of McCarthyism as the famed senator was alleged to have been.
Further, with the exposure of the deep-state apparatus in the United States, the tool once known as the fifth column is more powerful than ever. It is so deeply rooted into our federal government that it may be impossible to dislodge. And, as we’ve seen by the actions of high-ranking FBI officials and others, activities of this new fifth column can be more impactful than the onslaught of the world’s most powerful armies.
Today, we must ask ourselves. Where does noble opposition to your political foes end and treasonous collaboration to undermine our government and the will of the people through the electoral process begin?
Chapter 1
January 16, 2023
Klondike High School
Patricia, Texas
Manuel Holloway feared no man. Desensitized as a teen to the concept of death as he played video games like Call of Duty, his days in the United States Army hardened his soul even further. But all semblance of feeling within his heart was sucked out the day one of his recruits and trainees in Afghanistan detonated the bomb strapped to his chest, killing dozens and taking Holloway’s eye. Filled with anger after being denied the ability to continue in military service, Holloway became a murderer, a killing machine who had found his niche in the universe—a post-apocalyptic world.
He was reunited with recently anointed General Kyoung-Joo Lee, formerly a commander in North Korea’s Lightning Death Squad and now in charge of the entirety of the invasion forces within the continental United States and Texas. Combining their brilliant strategic minds, the commandos broke through the border security maintained between Texas and New Mexico, quickly making a hole large enough to allow their forces to invade the new nation, together with tens of thousands of refugees.
Holloway’s strategic preplanning provided the means to plow through the undermanned Texas border patrols and quickly move undetected to this desolate part of West Texas, where they regrouped.
The Klondike High School outside Patricia, Texas, was the perfect facility to house the commandos as they reunited for the next stage of their mission. There was plenty of cover for the dozens of shiny new Ford pickup trucks stolen in Lubbock. The classrooms allowed the commandos the opportunity to rest in a shelter far superior to the caves at Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico. And the operable showers with hot water in the school’s gymnasium provided Lee’s men the opportunity to wash off the stench of living like animals for weeks.
Holloway and Lee walked quietly through the dimly lit hallways. The school was darkened to practice light discipline, preventing discovery from the Texas military helicopters, which were abuzz to their west. As they found their way through desks and chairs stacked haphazardly through the corridors, Holloway glanced into each room. Despite the low light, he could make out the silhouettes of the steely-eyed commandos staring back at him. They couldn’t be seen nor heard, but the intensity of their resolve could be felt.
Occasionally, a glimpse of moonlight peeked through a classroom window, revealing the sclera of the commando’s eyes, the protective outer layer known as the white of the eye. The eyes were said to be the windows to one’s soul. Holloway saw glimpses of white, but mostly, he saw the darkness behind them, much like his own.
There was a difference between Holloway and the men whom he was growing to admire. It was commitment. Despite the oppressive nature of the DPRK’s totalitarian regime in which they had lived, these men were fiercely loyal to North Korea and the Kim dynasty. They were prepared to lay down their lives as they followed General Lee’s orders, as if the orders came directly from the mouth of Dear Leader himself.
In the coming days, a wave of commandos would spread across Texas, seeking to destroy infrastructure, commandeer military and civilian assets, as well as instill the fear of God in the minds of all who would stand in their way. When their mission was accomplished, under the command of General Lee, they would move on to the next strategic target in the war with America, leaving behind bedlam and death.
Holloway had a different design for his future. He was an opportunist, not unlike tens of thousands like him throughout North America who were seeking financial gain from the collapse. In normal times, there were always those who took advantage of a crisis to advance their political, social, or economic agenda. Never let a good crisis go to waste.
For Holloway, the crisis created an opportunity for advancement. The perfect catalyst to allow him to fulfill a dream of wealth, power, and pride of ownership in which he was respected. He would assist General Lee and his commandos in fulfilling their mission. In the meantime, Holloway would advance his cause centered around me, myself, and I.
Chapter 2
January 16
Klondike High School
Patricia, Texas
Holloway escorted Lee to the faculty lounge, which was located in the center of the high school. The windowless room was one of the few that was illuminated. Each of the men remained surrounded by their top lieutenants at all times, eagerly awaiting orders from their respective superiors. However, as the two men got settled onto the sofas in the lounge area, they unscrewed the caps on two aluminum bottles of Budweiser, which were covered in a graphic depicting the Statue of Liberty on the side.
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses,” said Lee with a chuckle as he offered a toast to Holloway. Both men laughed at the irony.
“I’m impressed with your knowledge of American hypocrisy,” Holloway added with a hint of snark. Once a red-blooded, patriotic American, he’d lost his way over time.
“Outside, please,” instructed Lee with a wave of his arm. Soon the room had emptied and the door was closed, leaving the two commanders alone together.
Holloway stood and retrieved a couple more beers from the refrigerator. The supplies he’d procured from the convenience store w
arehouse in Lubbock had yielded Bulls and Buds, as Holloway had joked when he made reference to his favorite beverages—Red Bull and Budweiser.
The men unscrewed the tops of the second round and immediately relaxed, a posture they rarely took in front of the soldiers. Commanding respect of their troops required maintaining a certain decorum when around their men. This was a rare opportunity for the two unlikely allies to converse as equals, a level of status much coveted by Holloway.
“Geonbae!” Holloway said with a smile as he offered his beer to toast Lee’s. The aluminum bottles clanked together.
“Very good, Holloway. Cheers to you as well!”
“General, your command of the English language is much better than the few words I know in Korean.”
“I’ve spent the last decade instructing my men to blend in to American society. Between living in Canada and teaching the commandos conversational English, I’ve become fluent.”
“Well, General, it serves you well.”
Lee studied Holloway and took another drink. His voice deepened as he asked, “Will you?”
“Will I what?” Holloway was confused.
“Will you serve me as well?”
Holloway laughed, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on a small table in front of them. His brown leather boots were covered with dirt, which left a slight cloud in the air as they hit the table.
“I prefer to look at our relationship as one of mutual respect and collaboration,” started Holloway. “General, my fight is not one of ideology or patriotism for a particular country. I’ve been a man without a cause for many years, other than my own self-interest, of course.”
“My men fight with you,” interrupted Lee. Holloway sensed a point being made by Lee, and he wanted to be muted in his response. Under other circumstances, this type of conversation would turn heated, and someone would be killed. Holloway, by virtue of the fact that he was still breathing, typically won the arguments.
