by James Rosone
One of the soldiers stuck his head out a little further from the bay of the helicopter and threw up. Thankfully, the soldier had had enough reasoning to understand that throwing up inside the helicopter would result in his vomit being thrown around on everyone.
Sergeant Schneider shook his head at everything he’d just gone through in the last sixty minutes. He slumped back against another wounded soldier and did his best to hold on to the helicopter and close his eyes. Tears streamed down his face as the emotional dam gave way. He wanted to put everything he had just seen behind him, but somehow, Schneider knew he’d never forget what had happened that day for the rest of his life.
Chapter 6
Decisions
January 25, 2021
Washington, D.C.
White House
President Jonathan Sachs lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. This was only his third night back in the White House. It felt good to be back in his own bed, but he had to admit, he missed being cooped up with General Peterson and his other two compatriots from the tunnel. Having never served in the military, he had previously not comprehended what soldiers meant when they talked about the “bond of combat.” Now he really understood why those connections were so tight.
Sachs looked at his alarm clock. Damn. Only eighteen minutes since the last time I checked.
Shaking his head in frustration, the President flipped the covers off his body and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He figured at this point, he might as well get dressed. In a moment, he’d already put on a polo shirt and pair of khaki pants.
Sachs looked back at the bed. His wife was still asleep, her breathing quiet. She’d told him that her sleep had been much more peaceful since he’d returned home.
He glanced at the alarm clock one last time—it was 4:26 a.m. He let out a sigh and headed down to the Oval to get a jump on the day.
As he exited the residence, his Secret Service detail quickly fell in line as he moved down the hallway. The Department of Homeland Security wasn’t messing around with the President’s safety—not that they had before, but now that he’d been rescued, they’d really beefed up the protective measures. The Marine guards who usually wore their dress uniforms were now tricked out in full body armor and carried their combat rifles. There was no more pretending all was normal and well at the White House.
When the President left for a public event, his head of security made damn sure he was guarded by a phalanx of heavily armed Marines in addition to ordering his Secret Service agents to openly carry assault rifles and wear body armor. He’d nearly been killed once; the Secret Service wasn’t about to allow it to happen again.
Once he walked into the Oval Office, the President made his way around the desk and took a seat at his chair. He reached for the inbox on the left side of his desk and immediately read through the materials and reports that required his signature. Sachs pored over some of them in detail, while he’d skim through others. He signed off on several documents, then put a bunch of other papers in a pile—those he either marked with red strikes through specific sections or left comments for the author to amend or clarify before he’d sign off.
In a way, it felt good just to bury his head in work. It kept his mind busy, and it kept him from flashing back to being trapped in the tunnel. For a while, he’d really believed he was going to die down there. It had scared him to think that his life was going to end, that he wouldn’t be able to see his kids or his wife again. That feeling made the entire situation he now found himself in feel all the worse. The country was being invaded and in the process of completely unraveling itself—thousands upon thousands of people were being killed across the country, and he felt powerless to stop it.
He ached for the families who were losing loved ones, especially those who were losing family members from the seemingly senseless political violence and retribution that were starting to spread. Yesterday, he’d read a report from the FBI that had said more than eight hundred people had been killed in politically motivated attacks. The President went down a rabbit trail of thought, trying to figure out how to stop America from becoming like the Balkans.
An hour into the President’s work, his Chief of Staff, Rich Novella, walked in.
“Morning, sir. Couldn’t sleep?” Rich inquired with a bit of concern in his voice.
Sachs looked up. “No. I figured I might as well do some work,” he answered nonchalantly. “But hey, since you’re here—what the hell is going on with Japan? How can they possibly expect us to be able to evacuate all our equipment and personnel from the country in two weeks? Hell, the West Coast is causing us all kinds of problems right now, so it’s not like we can just relocate most of those forces and equipment there.”
Rich sighed frustratedly. “They don’t want to be invaded, Mr. President. The Japanese don’t exactly have a large combat-ready military. They can’t stand up to the Chinese, and with us spread so thin, they know they won’t get any reinforcements from us. So rather than try and fight it out in a war they know they’d lose, they’re going to try and sit this one out.”
“Yeah, but can we reasonably get our stuff out of there in time?”
Rich shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. That’d be a better question to ask during the military briefing later this morning.”
The President shook his head. “What’s the situation like down in Cuba and Puerto Rico?”
Rich plopped down in the chair next to the President’s desk and shot Sachs an enigmatic look. “The Marines really kicked ass, sir. The Cuban Army landed one hell of a sneak attack on Gitmo, but that lasted for maybe twenty minutes. Once the Marines got themselves organized and retaliated, they managed to capture or liberate the entire eastern half of the country, all the way up to Las Tunas. Hell, if you gave them the order to march on Havana, I think we could probably capture it within a week.”
Sachs’s jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. “How is it the Cuban military has so thoroughly fallen apart like this? I mean, we don’t have a ton of Marines down there. How was that small force able to tear them apart so quickly?”
Rich shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think the Cuban Army is as strong or determined to die for their country as our Marines are. If you want more specifics, I think you’ll have to ask the Joint Chiefs. I’ve told you about as much as I know.”
Standing up, Rich walked over to the pot of fresh coffee that one of the stewards had brought in and proceeded to pour himself a cup. When he’d finished adding a dash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar, he carried his mug back to the chair next to the President’s desk and resumed his conversation. Sighing, he said, “Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic are a different story, sir.”
“How so? My understanding is that the Navy intercepted the Russians’ little convoy of ships on their way back from Venezuela.”
Rich took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “They did. But we’ve still got a brigade of Russian naval infantry on both islands to deal with. They’ve effectively taken control of Puerto Rico and the DR for the time being. They haven’t crossed over into Haiti yet, but I don’t think that was their mission.”
The President took a sip of his own coffee, then changed the subject. “So, how are things across the rest of the country? I mean, what’s the mood like?” He was still trying to get up to speed after being out of the loop for several days.
Rich shifted in his chair. “It’s tough right now, Mr. President. The West Coast is in open insurrection, and a good chunk of the Northeast is still under UN control. Fighting’s been pretty tough in the Midwest too. On top of that, people are concerned that we’re about to be invaded by the Chinese in the Southwest.”
Sachs snorted. “I think the VP’s little plan to nuke the Three Gorges Dam seems to have given them some pause.”
“It has, but I don’t think it’s going to stop them,” Rich replied glumly. “They haven’t slowed down their deployment of troops into Mexico. If anything, it’s given them time to beef up th
e protection of the dam.”
The President sighed. “One problem at a time, Rich.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Back to California and the rest of the West Coast—what are your thoughts on how to put down this rebellion and bring them back into the fold?”
His long-time Chief of Staff shook his head. “You aren’t going to like my suggestions.”
Sachs grunted at the honesty. “Why don’t you try me? Being trapped in a tunnel for six days has given me a new perspective on life.”
Rich smirked at the President’s answer. “We dissolve the state governments,” he proposed. “If they won’t comply with federal law and want to continue to pursue this path of recognizing that traitor Tate as President, then we dissolve their government and arrest them. Anyone that we catch in the act of taking up arms against the federal government, we execute, and we detain anyone who openly supports Tate.”
Rich paused for a moment, apparently trying to gauge the President’s facial reactions before he continued. “Look, we have to stamp this insurrection out quickly, Mr. President. If we don’t get the parts of the country we still control back under our authority, then the situation is only going to get worse and spread.”
The President swiveled his chair away to look out the window of his office. He kicked his feet out a bit as his body stretched out in the chair. Lincoln had arrested and detained folks during the first Civil War.
Do the ends justify the means? he asked himself.
*******
Four Hours Later
Washington, D.C.
White House
Situation Room
The President looked at Patty Hogan. “What are our options in California and the other states that aren’t responding to our inquiries?” he asked.
Leaning forward in her chair, she said, “I think we should use the newly expanded Federal Protective Service we’ve been training up. They aren’t military, and it’ll still keep things within the law enforcement community.”
General Vance Pruitt grunted at the idea. “I don’t think that force is going to be up to the task. Plus, I don’t think their first batch of recruits has finished training yet, if I’m not mistaken.”
Lifting her chin up in indignation, Patty responded, “It’s true that the first batch hasn’t finished their training yet, but when they do, this would be a good test for them. Besides, we’re going to stir up a negative publicity storm when you dissolve the state governments and move to arrest the legislators who are leading the rebellion. It’d be best to have these arrests made by federal law enforcement officials and not soldiers.”
“She’s right,” asserted FBI Director Polanski. “You don’t want the military to be the ones making the arrests. I’d recommend my agents go in, and we should use Patty’s folks for security and backup if needed.”
Sachs stroked his chin. In his opinion, the FBI was one of the few government agencies that were still somewhat respected and trusted by the public on both sides of the aisle. If he was going to follow through on arresting a few hundred legislators in these rebellious states, it’d be best to let the FBI be the public face of it.
Turning to face Patty, the President asked, “When will your first batch of trainees be ready?”
She glanced down at her notepad. “February first,” she responded. “Between the six training camps we’ve established with FLETC and US Special Forces, we’re going to start graduating six thousand trainees a week at that point. My goal is to get a thousand of them relocated into the capitals of the eighteen states that are in open insurrection to assist the FBI in restoring order.
“We’ll start with the states that are geographically closest to the ones still adhering to our authority and look to expand outwards as we get more folks trained up. It’s going to take some time, Mr. President, but it is a better approach for us to use the Federal Protective Service to handle the civil unrest than to place troops in the streets. Coupled with the FBI, I think this will give us much more public support and appear less like a hostile military takeover.”
Sachs nodded. “I agree, Patty. That was a good call you made when all of this started falling apart—keeping this in law enforcement lanes as opposed to using soldiers.”
The President then turned to his FBI Director. “Polanski, your agents will make the arrests. Coordinate with Patty on when and how you guys will execute the warrants. Start drawing up the papers right now, and let’s get things ready. I want this to happen rapidly when it gets moving. Make sure to make as many of those arrests as possible on the same day. Once word gets out about what’s happening, you can bet a lot of the conspirators are going to go to ground.”
Director Polanski smiled and shot Patty a mischievous look. He seemed like he was going to enjoy this mission.
Sachs stood up. “All right, that concludes the domestic affairs portion of this meeting. It’s time to clear the room for the rest of the National Security team,” he announced.
A couple of the military folks who were in the room remained while other staffers and military personnel filed in.
General Adrian Markus, who’d taken over for General Austin Peterson as the newly appointed Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, took a seat next to the President. Sachs couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow. Unfortunately, General Peterson’s leg had become severely infected during their six-day ordeal in the tunnel. The doctors had ended up having to amputate his leg, and now he was still struggling to fight off a series of infections that had spread to other parts of his body.
Sachs had assured Peterson that there would always be a place for him as a senior advisor in the White House when he got better, but for the time being, he’d been forced to appoint a replacement. Ideally, Sachs would have selected General Tibbets from NORTHCOM, but he had proven to be an incredibly effective overall military commander for US forces, and it was determined that he could better serve the country by staying in command of the defense of North America than being cooped up with the President.
After a few moments, General Markus surveyed the room and then cleared his throat. “Mr. President, I’m going to go over the bottom line up front for each sector of the war. We’ll stop and address any specific questions you may have as we go along. Otherwise, we’ll move through the information at a pretty rapid clip.”
The President nodded, and the general continued. “In the North Atlantic, we sank two Russian submarines and two additional UN warships as they attempted to break through the blockade. We lost another destroyer, and one of our guided-missile cruisers took a couple of hits. It looks like they’ll be able to limp back to port for repairs, which is a good thing. That said, the blockade continues to stay in effect.”
When Sachs didn’t have any direct questions, General Markus continued to the next theater. “In the Pacific, we sank five Chinese warships, and eight submarines in the South China Sea and along the Chinese coast just south of Taiwan. We lost two destroyers and two submarines—one Virginia-class and one Los Angeles-class attack sub. Of particular concern were two submarines we sank off the coast of Alaska. Apparently, a Russian Oscar had tried to get in close to Anchorage, probably to try and put their land-attack cruise missiles within range of Elmendorf Air Force Base and our antiballistic missile interceptor base at Fort Greely. The other Russian sub, an older Kilo-class, tried to ambush one of our boomers as it made its way under the polar caps. Both Russian subs were sunk with no losses to our own forces.”
Pausing for a moment, General Markus traded a nervous glance with Admiral Chester Smith, the Chief of Naval Operations, before he proceeded. “We have some concerns about Hawaii, Mr. President.”
Sachs surveyed Smith and Markus’s faces. “What specifically are you concerned with?” he asked.
Admiral Smith interjected, “We’ve received some signals intelligence that indicates that the Chinese are planning some sort of major attack in the near future. We’re not sure what specific kind of attack, but suffice it to say, they’re planning on hitting our f
orward bases in the Pacific in advance of any ground combat along the southern border.”
The President furrowed his brow. “So based on your most educated guess, what kind of attack are you thinking? What bases are most at risk?”
“They’ve already made good use of merchant raiders,” Admiral Smith asserted. “My money says they’re going to try and hit us with some sort of missile swarm attack. As to what bases are most at risk, I’d have to say Guam and Hawaii.
“While our bases in Japan would’ve been a threat, the Chinese were able to strong-arm the government into kicking us out of the country. The withdrawal has been kind of a mess. We’ve dispatched as many ships and planes as we can, but there’s a lot of equipment that’s going to end up being left behind.”
“What about getting some help from the Japanese?”
Admiral Smith nodded. “We’re working on that. As a matter of fact, the Japanese have offered to let us use several dozen of their large roll-on, roll-off ships to help get our vehicles, tanks, and other armored equipment out. For the moment, they’re going to move the equipment to Hawaii, unload it and then make one more trip before the two-week deadline ends. Once everything makes it to Hawaii, we’ll work on getting it moved over to California. On the plus side, sir, we’ll have the entire Third Marine Expeditionary Force relocating back to California. That will beef up our southern border defense and give us the additional resources we’ll need to put down these uprisings in California once DHS is ready to make a move.”
Sachs paused for a moment, contemplating the situation. “OK, then here is what I want to have happen,” he finally announced. “When those additional Marines get to San Diego, I want you to start having them put down this rebellion in Los Angeles. We need to get that city under control again, and we need those ports.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Admiral Smith responded.
The President still had one burning question. “If we know Guam and Hawaii are the most likely targets the Chinese are going to attack, then how do we want to defend them?” he asked.
