by W. B. Martin
“What was that?” Major Smith asked.
“That, Sir, is why I picked those two for liaison duty. Don’t underestimate either one. They’re both cut from the same cloth down here. Tough men, even for their ages. And just so you know, that ‘old man’ you refered to was with a Kiwi Air Force fighter unit on Guadalcanal. He was a radioman when the Japs almost overran the airfield. He ran to support the Marines, taking over a machine gun after its crew had been killed. He single handedly stopped a Jap charge.”
“That guy?” the major asked.
“They estimated after the battle, ‘that guy’ wiped out close to three companies. Three hundred men sent to Jap heaven by that man. He was awarded the Victoria Cross for his work,” the Kiwi commander said. “Just don’t piss him off as I think you Yanks are fond of saying.”
“OK, but if he can’t keep up, I’ll be talking to you.”
“Major, if he can’t keep up, I’ll eat your hat, helmet and all,” the Kiwi said.
The major and his associates stepped over to where Noel and GG were sipping hot tea. Both looked up at the Americans standing in front of them.
“I guess we’re stuck with each other. Maybe we can get reacquainted?” the major said.
“The only reacquainting we need to do is when you Yanks are standing over a pile of dead Indonesians that you’ve bloody well killed. I appreciate all the bloody help we can get at a time like this, but piss off ‘til then.”
“Grandfather, please, the major is trying to make amends,” Noel interjected.
“And where in the bloody hell did you Yanks drop in from? It isn’t like we’re just around the corner from America. And from what I hear, you’ve got plenty of your own problems, eh what?” GG said.
Noel saw from the facial expression that the major was about to unload, but in good Allied cooperation mode, he held it in. Major Smith released the tension by explaining the situation his division had found itself.
The 24th Division had been part of the one hundred thousand Allied troops in Afghanistan when ‘the Pulse’ hit. With the communication satellites knocked out, shortwave radios had to substitute for sporadic contact with the United States. As the situation collapsed in America, the commanders realized that support was non-existent for their men.
Being stuck in Afghanistan surrounded by hostiles with no logistic support from home, they knew they had to get out. The major explained that a lucky communication link with a carrier battle group in the Pacific Ocean had led to a rescue plan.
The nuclear carrier and its escorts would meet the Allied forces near Gwadar, Pakistan, for evacuation. The army would have to march through southern Afghanistan and then cross Baluchistan to reach the Indian Ocean port.
But the Navy Admiral had stated that even packing the troops as tight as possible, they could only load a third of the force at a time. Since time was critical and everyone couldn’t be transported back to the States, it was decided to move one third to Australia, one third to New Zealand and the final third would ride back to America.
Stopping at the U.S. base on the island of Diego Garcia, two destroyers from the battle group picked up thousands of MREs to leave with the stranded troops until they returned for their extraction. Major Smith explained his unit was in the second evacuation. Thirty-three thousand American, Canadian, British and Danish troops had been off-loaded in Christchurch.
His battalion was being sent to reinforce the Desert Road sector while other units were assigned to the East Cape and to the area west of Mt. Tongariro. The full contingent of troops were mostly stuck around Christchurch, due to lack of logistical support.
Until enough food, fuel and transportation were found, New Zealand couldn’t support all the troops at the front line. But the troops committed would make the Indonesians think twice about charging south towards Wellington.
“So how long do you think we’ll have to hold out here, Major?” Noel asked. His great-grandfather continued to sulk over his tea.
“We heard that an offensive has started in the Pacific Northwest to get order restored. Right now the United States doesn’t have one West Coast port in friendly hands. The Chinese or criminal gangs have the entire coast locked up tight. Until something is done about that, America won’t be doing much out in the Pacific,” Major Smith said.
“How the bloody hell do gangs take over the whole West Coast of America? That wouldn’t have happened with my good friend, Paul Kendall, on watch. Now there was a fighting man. Not the wankers in uniform today,” GG mumbled as he again focused on his tea.
“My grandfather’s friend from Guadalcanal lives in Idaho. They have stayed in touch all these years by short wave radio. That’s how we know what happened after ‘the Pulse’,” Noel explained.
“It came as a shock to us, also. Fighting for freedom in Afghanistan and your hometown in America goes puff. I know lots of the men weren’t happy about getting dumped here, but they knew the score. Scuttlebutt on the ship I was on said that as each ship reached home port in the States, the crew all deserted. Going home to protect their own, like all of us would do,” the major said. “If our battle group had taken the first load back to the States, the rest of us would probably still be in Pakistan”
“Well, we’re glad they deposited you here. Sorry for the circumstances. Kiwis are usually a lot more hospitable. And I’m sure the Aussies are glad for your help, too. My grandfather and I had some very serious talks about the future before you guys showed up. I can tell you, reaching my next birthday was looking pretty grim,” Noel said.
“Well, we’ll do our best to make sure you have another one,” Smith offered. “Now, for GG here, I’m not making any guarantees.”
Noel looked at his great-grandfather as he grunted in response to the major. But Noel detected a slight curl of a smile on the corner of his great-grandfather’s mouth. The major would never see it from his angle, but Noel definitely noticed a smile.
Just to dissuade any thoughts of a cordial relationship developing, Great-grandfather Leffingwell asked, “So, since the Yanks have finally arrived, do we finally get to kill Indonesians today?”
“My orders are to defend the line, so we wait,” Major Smith said.
”What? You Yanks had the same orders sixty years ago on the ‘canal’. Defense. Wait. Can’t believe you sods actually made it to Tokyo Bay. Bloody hell, I can’t take it anymore. Where the hell is the loo? Might as well go piss off by myself,” Noel’s great-grandfather stormed off toward the latrine.
Noel looked at Major Smith and rolled his eyes in the international language that says ‘What can you do?’ The major returned the sympathetic look.
The Kiwi commander walked up. “Everything right here? I saw Mr. Leffingwell walk off.“
“We’re good. Just working out liaison duties with Noel and his grandfather,” Major Smith replied. “I was wondering why you picked Mr. Leffingwell as liaison though. I thought someone younger might be more appropriate.”
“Well, you have Noel if you’re looking for young. But you need to know that this unit is here because of Noel’s grandfather,” the commander said. “When he and Noel left their home with pushbikes laden with gear, they were heading north to meet the invaders. Just two Kiwis doing their duty. Word soon spread that Mr. Leffingwell was going to war with his grandson. By the time they reached Nelson, they had a company strength unit. By the time they hit Picton, their personal army had grown to battalion strength.”
“You mean your government didn’t call these troops up?”
“No. When the recipient of the Victoria Cross, the New Zealand Cross and a Bronze Star starts marching to war, abled bodied men and women just fall in behind. Even if that recipient is in his eighties. There have only been twenty-two Kiwis awarded the Victoria Cross - mostly during World War I. Eight received them in the Second World War, all but one in Europe. Only Mr. Leffingwell earned his in the Pacific. And since our military has been progressively shrunk over the years, no Kiwi has won one since 1945,” th
e Kiwi commander explained.
“Mr. Leffingwell earned a Bronze Star. Was that on the Canal?”
“Many say it should have been higher, but he wasn’t an American. Mr. Leffingwell is a local celebrity in the Marlborough Sound District. His birthday is celebrated each year at the various RSA Clubs.”
“RSA?”
“Returned Services Association. Where veterans go to socialize. I think you have your American Legion Posts,” the Kiwi commander said. “Well, the ‘Leffingwell Battalion’, as it’s become known, got transport over the Cook Strait and marched up here. The group elected me as their commander, since I’ve seen action, most recently as an officer with the British Army in Iraq.”
“I understand now. Noel, tell your grandfather when he returns we move out in the morning to reconnoiter the area ahead of us. We’ll need a squad of your men to provide security, Commander,” Major Smith said.
Chapter 17
Cheyenne, Wyoming
“Governor, your delegate almost blew it yesterday,” the Idaho governor was agitated. “With her on the Colorado delegation mouthing off with that liberal claptrap, the Texas delegation almost rode home with this Convention.”
“I am sorry about that. I had no idea how bad she was until I saw her in action. I thought a little counter argument would be good for things,” the Colorado governor said.
The Constitutional Convention had been adjourned for the weekend. Not because their business wasn’t critical - it was. The new country needed a proper government to assume responsibility. The Martial Law that had been declared by the member governors would work for a time, but a new form of permanent administration was needed to be put in place.
The weekend break had been agreed to by all parties to work behind the scenes in private. After the failed vote to adopt the old U.S. Constitution for the Union of American States, each side in the argument knew that they needed time to organize. Each would be ready on Monday morning to fight for the vision they had for the UAS.
What had become known as the Idaho Plan was being supported by the original six states plus Virginia, Nebraska and Ohio. The opposing group was being led by Louisiana and included Texas and most of the old Confederacy, with Wisconsin and Nevada being the only non-southern states in the Louisiana group.
The five Canadian Provinces were meeting with the Idaho group and supported their goals. But all five had taken on a certain aloofness since the vote on Friday. Realizing that they were outsiders in this debate, they were determined to watch the proceedings and decide where the new country was headed.
Their primary reason for joining with the American states was to assure that the Chinese invasion of British Columbia would be repulsed. They understood that American military power, even as crippled as it was presently, was their only hope for keeping the west coast of Canada free and open.
So with twelve members caucusing under the Idaho Plan and eight working on the Louisiana Plan, that left twenty member states maintaining a neutral position on the Constitution question. It was for these undecided votes that each side worked hard over the weekend.
“So what are we going to do about Rebecca? Can we throw her out of the Convention?” the South Dakota governor asked.
“I can’t very well kick her off the delegation now. It would appear obvious and our opponents would jump on it. They would accuse us of demeaning women and there goes our argument with the women delegates,” the Montana governor offered. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, our side is decidedly top-heavy with men. There are more women in the other delegations, especially those neutral members. We need their votes.”
“The governor is right. If I may suggest…” the Idaho governor stopped in mid-sentence. He had noticed that Paul had raised his pen beside him to inject something. “Er, I think Dr. Kendall might have a solution.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but my assistant, Ms. Amanda Savage, informed me she has a solution.” Amanda had jabbed him in the back to get his attention. By the force of the jab, he assumed it was relevant to the discussion and not a love tap. He turned to face a smiling Amanda. “Ms. Savage.”
“Thank you. I believe I could meet with Rebecca and have a one-on-one with her. Maybe a little woman-on-woman time can provide a solution. If that would meet the group’s approval, I’ll get on it right away,” Amanda said.
By the nods and murmurs of the delegates, they were happy to turn the Rebecca problem over to anyone willing to take it on. The Idaho governor read the reaction. “Amanda, I think our group has concurred. Thank you for taking this on and good luck. You’ll need it. And don’t forget, the future of our country is riding on what you do.”
“Oh, thanks a lot,” Amanda said.
“Just kidding. Do your best as I know you will,” the governor said.
Amanda stood to leave, but made a point of bending over Paul to ostensibly hand him a note. Paul felt her run her hand down his arm as she passed on the paper. Just a small reminder of her presence, he thought. I like the gesture.
“Now, let’s get down to business. We have this afternoon and tomorrow to swing some of the neutrals into our camp. What are our strongest arguments for a new Constitution?” the Montana governor asked.
The group settled into a brisk discussion on their issues. Paul sat and listened as each item came up. It would be a long weekend with countless meetings to gather more support.
* * *
Monday morning arrived much too early for Paul. Between all the late-night meetings, he was exhausted. He grabbed some coffee from the counter outside the Convention Hall then receded into the background to try and gain some strength. Amanda walked up all perky, carrying a coffee and two bagels.
“I grabbed a bagel for you. I figured you might need it this morning.”
“Thank you,” was all Paul could say. The coffee did its job of jump starting his system. He closed his eyes to let the caffeine work uninterrupted.
She stood close to Paul, looking out over the gathering crowd of delegates. Paul could smell her freshly shampooed hair. The smell stimulated him as much as the coffee. He leaned slightly toward her to get a stronger dose. She mumbled something that Paul was too tired and distracted to comprehend.
“I’m sorry, too many late meetings trying to move more states to our side,” Paul uttered.
“Are you sure it was the late-night meetings with those other states? Or maybe it was the other late-night activities that you’re complaining about?”
Paul knew that it was his trying to keep up with a younger woman as well as his political horse trading that had gotten to him. He leaned for support into the woman that certainly had changed his life.
Amanda smiled as she leaned into Paul. Now both their bodies were firmly squeezed tight against each other. From a distance they looked like two individuals jammed side by side together in a tight space. Except there was no one else around them.
Paul said, “I need to get some sleep tonight. Ben Franklin might have been up for this, but I’m not.”
“Ben Franklin? What are you…” Amanda was cut short.
“Did I hear someone mention Ben Franklin? Great American. They don’t make them like that anymore,” the Utah governor spoke as he stepped in front of the couple.
Paul and Amanda slowly moved apart to a more respectable distance.
“Yes, Governor. Ms. Savage and I were just discussing that you and your fellow governors are the Founding Fathers of our new nation. We were wondering if your names will one day be spoken with the same reverence as when we speak of the original Founding Fathers,” Paul offered. He was fully awake now. The coffee and shampoo had fired up all his synapses. He was ready.
“Hardly likely. Those men in 1786 were giants. True giants. If we can offer half the wisdom today that they provided back then, we can count ourselves deserving,” the Utah governor said. Luckily he was quickly led away as everyone began to enter the Convention Hall.
“Boy that was close. We need to be careful,” Paul said.
>
“But not too careful,” Amanda said as she turned to leave.
Paul was met by the Idaho governor as he entered the room.
“Well, we’ll soon find out if Amanda did her job.”
Paul stopped short. What job is he thinking about? he thought.
The governor noticed his hesitation and continued. “The Rebecca dilemma. Remember? Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been having a lot of late-night meetings.”
“I’m fine, Governor. Thank you for your concern,” Paul answered. “Yes, we’ll find out soon if Amanda did her job.”
The Convention moderator called the delegates to order. Everyone settled in for the first round of writing a new constitution. Lacking the required two-thirds vote for adopting the existing U.S. Constitution, the Convention was now committed to a new document.
“Mr. Moderator, I move that we open the floor to a discussion of using the existing U.S. Constitution as our rough draft and that amendments be proposed to it, rather than starting with a wholly new document,” the Louisiana governor said.
Paul motioned to his governor and his caucus that this would be acceptable. The real battle lay in the changes. The U.S. Constitution had been a sound document for over 200 years. Whether the member states could agree to major changes remained to be seen.
By acclamation, the old document was placed into discussion. The Canadian members sat quietly and watched. Paul nodded to the Alberta minister to assure him that the action was acceptable.
“Mr. Moderator, I would ask for the floor so that Idaho may present our proposed changes. Dr. Paul Kendall has been selected by our caucus to present our case,” the Idaho governor said.
Receiving permission to take the floor, Paul turned on the overhead projector so that he could offer a visual presentation. With every computer chip burnt out by ‘the Pulse’, life reverted back to old technology.
“Fellow delegates, thank you for the opportunity to present what has become known as the Idaho Plan. The proposed amendments to the way we will self-govern ourselves can easily be incorporated into the old Constitution,” Paul said. The bagel Amanda had given him was now adding its carbohydrate load to his blood stream. He was ready to argue his case. He continued, “The United States that we all knew had reached an impasse of insolvency and cronyism when the sun resolved our problems. It would be folly to just pick up where we were, and continue on as if nothing was wrong with our government in Washington D.C.”
