Box Set - The Time Magnet Series

by Russell Moran

  He witnessed the awesome destructive power of a Gray Ship and its terrible weapons. If he had known in advance of the Gray Ships’ existence, he would not have gone to war against the Union. In one battle he saw an army stripped of its artillery and ammunition, and its cavalry decimated.

  Davis, in a horse-drawn carriage, approached the capital. He couldn’t take the train that had brought him to Manassas because the Gray Ship had destroyed it. On his way to Richmond he stopped to inspect what was left of Lee’s Army. His journey had taken three days. He met with Lee in the General’s new command tent, the other one having been destroyed by an object from the sky. Davis had received a detailed report of the attack on Richmond by a rider while on his way to the capital, and he shared the information with Lee. He always thought of Lee as a man of granite, a person whose resolve never weakened.

  What Davis saw was a shaken man. Lee, with a military record of bravery and leadership, was always ready for whatever an enemy could throw at him. And he always prepared to strike back, only stronger. But Lee had no training, no experience, or even imagination for what he saw on the morning of July 22. It was an enemy that came out of the sky, an enemy that had no face, an enemy that hurled destruction in a way that was almost casual.

  Lee was both a strategist and a tactician. He saw the big picture of vast armies and the small picture of a supply list. He was a planner who knew how to execute the plans he made.

  But in the past few days Lee could come up with no plan, no strategy, not even a guess. He simply had no idea how to fight the Gray Ships and their strange captains.

  Neither did Jefferson Davis.

  Chapter 83

  It is 10 a.m. Eastern Time on April 10, 2013 in Washington DC. The USS California has been missing for seven hours. Defense Secretary Robert Gates is about to address the nation and the world.

  “My fellow Americans,” Gates began, “I’m here to talk to you about 630 people, 630 Americans, who are lost, 630 lives who have touched others. Moms and dads, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters, boy and girlfriends. Now these 630 people have touched the lives of all of us, here in the United States and around the world. It has been just over seven hours since the USS California disappeared from our radar and satellite scopes. A massive search and rescue operation is now underway, one of the largest ever conducted, looking for our 630 friends. We’re using the most sophisticated technology available, and we will continue our search. For anyone listening to me I ask you, if you know anyone who is a friend or relative of a California crew member, please reach out. Reach out with a call, a kind word, a hug.”

  An aide with a five-year-old girl in her arms approached the lectern from the left. She put the girl in Gates' arms.

  “I hear you made a card for your mom,” said Gates.

  She held the card up. It read, “I miss you Mommy.” At that the little girl broke down and cried.

  Gates, a man known for his steely demeanor, cried as well, the cry of a father who feels helpless to make a child’s pain go away.

  “God Bless the crew of the California, and God Bless America.” Gates concluded his address, his voice barely under control.

  ***

  On CNN, the camera panned to Wolf Blitzer, the veteran anchorman.

  “If what you just saw doesn’t summarize everyone’s feelings this morning, nothing does,” said Blitzer, his own voice choking. “As the minutes and hours go by, our hearts are with those families. We will break in with any new developments, any developments at all. In other news...”

  Chapter 84

  General Nathan Bedford Forrest, also known as the Wizard of the Saddle, was in Jefferson Davis’ office along with Robert E. Lee. Forrest was renowned as a daring horseman who used cavalry charges with strategic and tactical brilliance. Forrest had requested the meeting. It was July 29, 1861, eight days after the Battle of Bull Run/Manassas.

  “Sir,” said Forrest, “the word is all over the South about the events at Manassas, at General Lee’s camp, and here in Richmond. If I may be so bold I would summarize the thinking of many people, perhaps most, that the South cannot win a war with the Gray Ships on the Union side.”

  “I would agree with that summary, General,” said Davis. Davis looked at Lee, who nodded in agreement.

  “What we have to do gentlemen, is to challenge our notions of an army, throw away the history books, and start anew. I recommend that we take every one of our armies, corps, divisions, regiments, and brigades and break them down into cavalry battalions. We should then set up small headquarters throughout the countryside. An army may control a city, but will be useless against countless small battalions of raiders. Not only will an army be useless, but a Gray Ship will be useless as well.”

  “What you’re talking about, sir, is guerrilla war,” said Lee.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about General, guerrilla war. It’s the Spanish word for “little war,” and it’s been used for centuries. It’s a way for small units of soldiers to defeat large forces. I believe it’s the only way to wage war against a fleet of Gray Ships. We won’t fight the Gray Ships – we’ll ignore them.”

  Lee didn’t like what he heard. There had been elements of guerrilla warfare throughout the country even before secession. Kansas and Missouri were almost torn apart by raiding bands of “bushwhackers.” None other than the James brothers, two murderous lunatics, participated in those horrible attacks. Lee expressed his concern that these “battalions” could degenerate into bands of armed hooligans, subject to no authority.

  “Gentlemen,” said Forrest, “it is not that we have much choice. If we continue a traditional war, the South will be annihilated. The Gray Ships will turn the tide of any battle before the first bugle sounds. They will target our artillery, our munitions, and our command headquarters. Future battles will have nothing to do with bravery or resolve, things that we have in abundance. No, gentlemen, future battles will be determined by terrible weapons falling from the sky.”

  “The alternative,” Forrest said, “is to take to the hills. We can enforce discipline on the guerrilla battalions, although that may not be easy. But it is easier than continuing this conflict toward an inevitable defeat, a defeat that will leave us no possibility to negotiate. We will be forced into unconditional surrender. If we wage a guerrilla war, the North will want to end it. The Gray Ships will be useless against small, fast moving cavalry battalions.”

  Davis and Lee, both crushed by what they had seen at Richmond and Lee’s camp, looked at each other. Davis got out of his chair and paced the room. He looked again at Lee. Lee slowly nodded his head. Forrest was right, they both concluded. The Confederacy will have to wage a guerrilla war.

  Davis sat down and drafted an announcement to the press. He stated that the Armies of the Confederacy would soon be reorganized, concentrating on small cavalry battalions. He didn’t use the word “disband” when he referred to reorganizing the Armies, a word that sounded defeatist.

  The Confederacy would not give up; rather it would “reorganize.”

  Davis saw the wisdom of this idea, as did Lee. He also saw the potential tragedy. He would make the announcement to the press.

  But he said to Lee and Forrest, “Absolutely no steps will be taken reorganize the armies until some time goes by. I want to assess the Union response to the announcement.”

  Chapter 85

  On the morning of July 31, Lincoln called a hasty meeting with Navy Secretary Wells, Secretary of War Simon Cameron and Secretary of State William Seward.

  As they were ushered into his office, Lincoln stood behind his desk holding a copy of yesterday’s New York Times. The headline read:

  “Confederacy to Reorganize All Armies into Small Cavalry Battalions”

  It was a headline that Lincoln hoped he would never see. His advisors were stunned. The headline of one newspaper had changed everything. It made the difference between what was supposed to happen, and what would happen.

  With the help of t
he California, the Battle of Bull Run was a resounding Union victory. It was followed up by the attack on Lee’s Army, which decimated his artillery and munitions. Then the missile attack on the Richmond Armory was the final straw, or should have been.

  “Gentlemen,” said Lincoln, “my worst fears have come to full fruit. We know what ‘small cavalry battalions’ means. It means a guerrilla war of attrition, of lightning fast strikes against our larger forces, a war of endless bee stings. All of our military plans called for us to eventually occupy key Southern cities. But now, instead of occupying cities, we shall have to occupy a vast land area, an area the size of France, Germany, Italy, Poland, Spain, and Switzerland combined. Instead of dealing with a central government, we shall have to deal with countless bands of warlords. Our numerical superiority as well as our industrial strength will be sapped. Our plans call for us to engage large armies. Now there will be no armies to engage, just bands of marauding cavalrymen. The California was to be the key to forcing the South to come to its senses. Captain Patterson and her crew performed beyond our expectations. But instead of bringing the South to its senses, our recent victories have caused it to lose its senses.”

  “We have seen no reports that the Confederacy has realized that Operation Gray Ships was a ruse,” said Wells, trying to be helpful. “They still think that we have a vast fleet of terrifying ships.”

  “But,” continued Lincoln, “the Gray Ships deception is what caused the South to reorganize. After they saw what happened at Bull Run and Richmond, they knew they were fighting a force they could not resist. Our success is what has cornered them into their only option, guerrilla warfare. Not only is the California at a disadvantage in a guerrilla war, she is only one ship, as we all know. Captain Patterson has advised me that they are beginning to run low on munitions. They only have three Tomahawk missiles left, and a dwindling supply of other arms. They are also running low on the fuel they need to fly their aircraft, fuel that we cannot provide. We have deceived the enemy. Let us not deceive ourselves.”

  Lincoln went on to say that even the naval blockade would lose its power, because the South would no longer worry about provisioning large armies. Small guerrilla groups can live off the land. The California’s blockade assistance will become less important because of her constantly diminishing firepower.

  Abraham Lincoln, in addition to his qualities as a great leader, also suffered bouts of depression, his “black moods.” His mood had never been darker. They had achieved great military success, but they failed in the most important goal of all, to win the minds and hearts of the enemy.

  “Gentlemen,” said Lincoln, “I need to look at new war plans as soon as possible, because we suddenly have a new war.”

  Chapter 86

  Ashley kept a heavy boxing bag suspended from the overhead in the corner of her office. It was a great form of exercise, doing wonders for upper arm strength and agility. It was also a great way to let off steam, to give anger a way to vent, a way to punch the face of an opponent without causing trouble.

  When the news of the Confederate “reorganization” got to Ashley, she suddenly developed a lot of steam to let off.

  Ashley put on her gloves and started to work the bag. As she punched the bag, the image of Jefferson Davis was on her mind. After 20 minutes of the most intense workout she ever had, she steadied the bag and removed her gloves.

  Ashley felt better, or at least calmer. She took a quick shower, toweled off and changed into fresh fatigues. She needed to meet with her brain trust, her Time Travel Brain Trust. She picked up the phone and called Father Rick and Jack to her office. She then stood up, walked over to the bag and gave it one last punch. Maybe two.

  Father Rick and Jack showed up within moments of each other. Father Rick noticed the punching bag swaying on its chain, and Ashley’s boxing gloves hanging on the bulkhead.

  “Having a nice morning, are we?” said Father Rick with his usual smile and chuckle.

  Ashley walked over to each man and gave him a hug in place of a salute. Jack’s hug was a little longer than his, thought Father Rick with a smile.

  They sat around the conference table, with Father Rick and Jack on one side and Ashley on the other.

  “No, we are not having a nice morning, to answer your question, Father.”

  “As we steamed away from Richmond I ordered the navigator to lay out a course for our last position on April 10, 2013, the wormhole, our doorway to home. I don’t know if he’s done it yet, but suddenly there doesn’t seem to be a rush. Soon I’ll be meeting with President Lincoln, I’m sure. My guess is that he’ll see the strategic use of the California reduced to blockade duty. We’ll be back to ‘costume changes’ and firing warning shots, with our dwindling supply of ammunition. I can only imagine the shock that went through the White House when they heard of the Confederate ‘reorganization.’ ”

  “The bottom line is that we achieved military success beyond our expectations,” Ashley continued. “From Bull Run to Lee’s Army to the Richmond Armory, we showed the Confederacy the new face of warfare. Our job was to scare the shit out of them, and their job was to come running and waving a white flag. We did our job, but they have rethought theirs. Instead of surrendering, they decided to make warfare a continuing part of the future for both the North and South, a guerrilla war that will have no real end. I never saw this coming, and I don’t think President Lincoln and his people did either.”

  “Jack, you have an amazing talent for pulling together a bunch of facts strewn all over the place. How do you see our situation?”

  “In a way, it’s simple,” said Jack. “Not pleasant, but simple. I agree that Lincoln will probably want us to continue blockade duty. But with scattered forces all over the South, fresh supplies are less important. Fresh armaments are not as critical either. Guerrilla actions don’t take up a lot of materials or ammunition. Strike and run. Disrupt and seek cover. So we’ll steam up and down the coast until we run out of ammo, not to mention aviation fuel for our drones and the Apache. I heard the weapons officer say at the meeting the other day that we’re down to three Tomahawks, about 25 Harpoons, 30 Hellfires and enough gas to keep the drones flying for maybe 500 hours. It seems that everyone aboard the California will want to find a nice large target and fire everything we have in one big turkey shoot, and then start searching for the wormhole. That’s the way I size it up.”

  “Father Rick,” said Ashley, “your perspective?”

  “I see a diplomatic problem,” said Father Rick. “The South has no incentive to talk to the North until they try out their new plan. They think that guerrilla war may be a way of getting a peace they can live with. The problem is that it will probably take years. Right now, they have nothing to talk about. The North and South are at an impasse, and the California is stuck in between.”

  “Father, anything new to report on your meals with the crew?” asked Ashley.

  “Yes, there is. I see a lot less sadness, sullenness, or anger. What I see are glimmers of hope. It’s been an open secret that we were going to make an impact at Bull Run, and that the battle would be our key to the door marked home. Your public speeches over the last few months, Captain, have given the crew a stake in the battles. I can’t see how any of them will see a stake in a long protracted cruise on blockade duty. If I could summarize the crew’s thinking it would be this: ‘We’ve done our job. Let’s go home.’”

  “And we have done our job,” Ashley shouted as she slapped the table. “But our journey home has been delayed by some insane idea that you can achieve military success by turning your armed forces into roving gangsters. I just wish to hell I could grab Jefferson Davis by the lapels and tell him, 'hey shithead, we're all Americans. Get over it. Pull this crazy guerilla warfare crap and our country will be forever North and South.' "

  “But I think I have a solution,” Ashley said, after she took a deep breath..

  Both Jack and the chaplain leaned forward, expecting to hear something bold. They w
eren’t disappointed.

  “The three of us are going to visit Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee as a delegation from the future. From my reading about both of these guys, they’re men of honor, or at least they think they are. This is especially so of Robert E. Lee. Have you ever seen one of those old photographs of him when he didn’t appear to be posing for a marble statue?”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Captain.” said Jack. “Duty and honor are steeped in their DNA. That’s why Lee gave up a successful career with the Union Army so he could defend his beloved Virginia.”

  “We’ll probably violate a few hundred federal statutes,” Ashley said, “but we’re going to form a diplomatic team and try to talk some sense into their heads by appealing to their sense of honor. It’s not only their honor that’s at stake, but the honor of the entire South and the entire country. I suspect that’s a concept that will get their attention. I want you two with me, Father Rick for your historical knowledge and Jack for your time-travel experience. You two are brilliant. You’re also my good friends.”

  “I’m going to send a preliminary delegation ashore, led by SEAL Lieutenant Conroy, to set up the meeting and to have a carriage waiting for us. Even though the Executive Office Building is a just few blocks from the edge of the river, I don’t want to walk. We’ll be wearing dress whites and I don’t want to arrive in a sweat. Also, a colored girl dressed up like a naval officer may cause an unnecessary stir. We’ll travel in daylight in the motor launch, and we’ll fly a white flag to show that we’re looking to talk under rules of truce.”

  “And what if they find your message unconvincing, Captain?” asked Father Rick.