Fractured Nation

by Kurt Winans

  Looking in the direction of his co-pilots pointing finger, Major Bates nodded and said, “Good. Our available time for flying to the proper jump position is already tight enough, so we don’t need any delays. Just imagine what the general would do to us if we were late.”

  A moment later the fourteen men who had jogged across the grassy parade field divided into two groups of seven, and boarded the respective helicopters. Hidden behind their dark protective face shields, each man was loaded down with gear and weapons that were designed to simulate the standard issue equipment for dropping into a combat zone. Additionally, each man except the last had a large flag representing one of the original thirteen colonies strapped to their backs under the parachute pack. They would be followed by the modern day fifty star version of the American flag via the final jumper, as each would unfurl behind the men once their respective Air Ram rectangular parachutes were self-deployed.

  For decades there had been jumps far too numerous to count over a multitude of stadiums throughout the country for one celebratory fashion or another, but none of those had matched the intended purpose of this day. In a spectacle that had been choreographed to the minute, fourteen parachutes drifting down over the stadiums for each of the three military service academies would create a splendid visual to commemorate Veterans day in America’s two hundred fiftieth year of existence. Due to the late arrival and hurried boarding of the jumpers, neither Major Bates nor any member of the flight crews on either helicopter noticed that something wasn’t quite right before lifting off.

  After a short flight of fifteen minutes to obtain the proper altitude and jump position, the twin helicopters slowed their forward momentum to hover high above Michie Stadium and the surrounding grounds of the United States Military Academy. Based on a combination of factors that included an improved Army football product on the field of play, the geographic proximity of their opponent, New Jersey’s Rutgers University, and the planned celebration surrounding the Veterans holiday of three days prior, Michie Stadium was filled beyond the normal level of spectators. That assembled crowd approaching the stadiums capacity of thirty-eight thousand included the presence of several dozen generals and senior officers within the Army ranks, with some of them having taken leave from their overseas postings to fly in for the event. General Osborne, currently serving on the Joint Chiefs of Staff and per the directive from President Harwell, had traveled from Washington D.C. for the festivities and was seated next to the current commandant of the academy.

  Drifting down from the cloudless sky above their target of Blaik Field within Michie Stadium, fourteen parachutes and the men dangling beneath them could now easily be seen by the spectators within the crowd. Upon reaching a level just a few hundred feet above the playing surface, while having adjusted to their own predetermined choreography, the first four men focused their attention on the Hoffman press box area atop the second level of the west side stands. Simultaneously, the three men descending close behind aimed toward the northern portion of the east stands where the corps of current cadets stood in mass. Then each of the seven began firing their shoulder holstered grenade launchers into strategic locations on both sides of the stadium. Crashing through the large window panes on both levels of the press box, the ensuing explosions caused by grenades launched from the two Hawk MM-1 MGL magazines effectively destroyed the entire media center located within. The network television feed, radio transmission, and all other communication abilities that had been established to cover the celebratory pregame festivities and the events of the gridiron scuffle, were instantly lost. Shrapnel and the concussive force of the grenades had left dozens of human bodies lifeless within the media center, while also tearing multiple holes through the walls of the superstructure.

  Had the attack taken place a decade earlier, eliminating the communication center within the stadium would have been a less meaningful endeavor. During the time of 2016 the cellphone craze that had swept through American society was nearing its peak, so a significant percentage of those in the stadium would have been video tapping or “selfie” photographing each other at the game instead of actually watching the events unfold. That would have created the potential for thousands of video files that authorities could subsequently sift through in search of damaging evidence. Fortunately for the attacking force, most Americans had found that habit to be passé by 2024 as they redeveloped a desire to experience life once again instead of constantly starring at a tiny screen in the palm of their hand. That societal transformation meant that very few of the spectators gathered for a game in 2026 would have had the ability, or the desire, to film portions of the attack or those who had perpetrated it. With that lack of civilian captured evidence, an opportunity within the stadium had been created and the attacking force could not afford to ignore it. Although only a minimal amount of military personnel would be located within the media portion of the Hoffman press box, the area became a primary target in modern tactics much as it would have been fifty years earlier. The destruction of the media presence would aid in slowing the release of information, and the gathering of video evidence, with regard to the attack.

  A smattering of debris fell upon the outer entrance concourse below the back wall of the Hoffman press box, but as most patrons were already seated within the stadium, only a few lives were impacted as a result. On the press box side facing the field, a massive amount of debris including glass, fragments of concrete, wood framing, drywall, and sound insulation material had created a much higher injury and death toll as it showered onto the crowded seating area below. When a large television camera that had been dislodged from its mount as a result of the blast concussions then followed suit by tumbling downward, it claimed the lives of three more people in an instant.

  Roughly one-hundred fifty yards to the east across the playing surface, smaller grenade explosions from the PAW-20 Neopup launchers were ripping through the corps of cadets and sending bodies flying in all directions. When those who had launched the grenades then opened fire with their automatic weapons before touching down, the carnage was multiplied. Just seconds behind them, the other wave of seven drifted in and repeated the assault with the same three and four man directional focus. The only alteration in their tactics was that they began by firing their automatic weapons in a merciless barrage, and held the grenades back in reserve. Once they had all touched down onto the newly defined battlefield, each of the seven emptied their grenade launchers into the superstructure that supported the upper deck of stadium seating. Their hope was that the salvo would cause a stampede of panic as shards of concrete from various pillars and aisle ways began to fly.

  Under the cover of that overhanging deck, the explosions caused massive amounts of casualties, and many of the top Army officers in attendance, including four star General Osborne from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, were killed. Those patrons seated within the areas of both end zones or the southern portion of the east stands consisted mainly of non-targeted civilians, and were therefore far less affected by the assault. It had been understood by the attackers that no gun fire or grenades would be aimed toward those sections of the stadium, but some collateral damage was expected. A few injuries had indeed been caused by stray pieces of flying debris, but the majorities of the injuries in those locations, as had been anticipated, were self-inflicted due to panic after the attack began.

  Within the lower level of the Kimsey Athletic Center at the south end of the stadium complex, both football teams of the Army West Point Black Knights and the visiting Rutgers Scarlet Knights were massing in the corridor before taking the field. The pre-game schedule dictated that each team would wait to emerge until after the fourteen jumpers had landed and they, along with their parachutes, had been subsequently collected and moved towards the sidelines. Then the teams would take the field and observe a moment of silence with the assembled crowd in honor of America’s veterans within all branches of the military who had served. After that America the Beautiful and the National Anthem would be sun
g by the Corps of Cadets choir, followed by the ceremonious coin toss at midfield, and finally the game itself would begin. The clearly defined schedule designed to coincide with identical proceedings at the Naval Academy in Annapolis Maryland and the Air Force Academy just outside of Colorado Springs would no longer be adhered to however, as the horrific impact of the surprise attack had altered the course of events.

  After having stood in frozen amazement during the moments of the attack, a member of the stadium security staff partially regained his composure and rushed into the corridor leading towards the locker rooms. Then he shouted, “The stadium is under attack, take cover!”

  Having clearly heard the horrific sounds of multiple explosions overhead, the head coach of the visiting Rutgers team, who had previously served in the military, shouted back, “That’s obvious you idiot, but who is attacking the stadium?”

  Before that all important question was brought to light, each of the fourteen assailants had unclipped their parachutes and flags, expelled all of their collective ammunition into the crowd, discarded their now empty automatic weapons onto the playing surface, and began the process of attempting to escape under the cover of panic that surrounded them.

  The stadium security representative in the tunnel had taken offense to the personal comment of the Rutgers head coach, so as he ran past him he curtly replied, “How would I know who is attacking us? I only know that it’s much safer in here than it is out there!”

  Realizing that the man scampering by in gross neglect of his duty was neither a cadet nor a member of the armed forces, the Rutgers head coach had no reservations in yelling a trailing response of, “You are a coward who doesn’t deserve to be a representative of our stadium, let alone this one.”

  As the two attack waves assigned to West Point had been drifting down from the sky to begin their assault, the two waves of their brethren over Colorado Springs had begun theirs just seconds earlier. Having risen moments before from the hiding place near Monument, the camouflaged MIL MI-8 HIP-C helicopter slid into a lower altitude position of two thousand feet over the intended target mere seconds ahead of the twin helicopters from The United States Air Force Academy airfield. At that moment, they began what would become a tightly choreographed dance requiring precise timing.

  Many of the spectators within Falcon Stadium had no clue that something was out of order, but the commandant of the academy, seated next to his superior officer from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, was not one of them. Motioning with his hand for an aide seated behind him to lean forward, Brigadier General Vickers turned his head away from the higher ranking general. Then he quietly asked the aide, “Has there been a change in the scheduled format for the pregame festivities?”

  “No sir. I haven’t been informed of any changes.”

  “Then can you tell me why there are three helicopters positioned above us?”

  There was no time to contemplate the inquiry, as men began to bail out from the larger one hovering at the lower altitude. Within seconds their Air Ram rectangular parachutes had been self-deployed, the designated flags behind each jumper began to unfurl, and the helicopter quickly moved off to the west. The men and flight crews of the higher pair at two thousand five hundred feet were confused. They were witnessing a jump that they had been ordered to undertake, yet they had not been informed of another group in a different model helicopter joining them. Additionally, they had not been instructed to abort their mission, so the lead pilot ordered the human cargo of both birds to continue as planned.

  Within the stadium, the commandant, along with nearly everybody else, was watching the jumpers drift down from the sky. Then when he saw the second group begin to freefall, he motioned for his aide once again. With a quiet yet stern voice he said, “Well something isn’t right Major, and we need to find out what happened. Make a note that come Monday morning, I will want to speak with whoever just sent two separate flights and two groups of jumpers to perform the same mission while the highest ranking officer in the Air Force was here to see it!”

  Knowing that he had not been responsible for the ill-timed foul-up, but feeling as if he had been, the aide replied, “Yes sir general. I will find out who was responsible for this error, and have that officer in your office first thing Monday morning.”

  There was no reply, as his commanding officer was once again looking skyward. Then the first wave of seven began to alter their course somewhat with the easily maneuverable parachutes, and it looked as though they might not be able to land on the field of play as was intended. A few seconds later, the commandant uttered, “Wonderful. Not only do we have too many parachutes drifting down toward us, but now they are going to show a nationally televised audience that they can’t hit the target.”

  Already experiencing a level of displeasure toward the overall performance of his subordinate currently in command of the academy, coupled with the insult of then being ordered by President Harwell to sit with the buffoon during the proceedings, had made General Brooks more irritable than usual. Having heard the statement that had just been uttered, and the prior whispering conversation between the commandant and his aide, General Brooks of the Joint Chiefs replied to his subordinate, “I sincerely hope that you are incorrect general. The Air Force already gets enough grief from the Army and Navy about somehow being inferior to them, and both you and your men are not helping our cause to stifle that belief with this mid-air foul-up that is currently underway!”

  What hadn’t been realized by the man with four stars on his shoulder boards, or by his subordinate with only one, was that the first fourteen jumpers coming down knew exactly where they were headed. That was proven in earnest a few seconds later, as they used their shoulder slung grenade launchers to begin an attack on the press box area of the stadium and the seating area below. At first many of the spectators didn’t know what was coming their way, and the voice of one completely oblivious man claimed, “How cool! What a great promotional idea to have the parachute guys shoot balled up t-shirts towards us.”

  Before anyone could realize that the objects were far too small, and coming in way too fast, to be such a benign item as the claim had suggested, the first set of grenades pierced the glass frontage of the press box and media center. Seemingly an instant later, they exploded to send a shower of concrete and glass down upon those below. The salvo continued into the seating area until the launchers were empty, and then the automatic weapon fire began. Screams of panic were then heard as wounded patrons cried for help while most others began to climb over the motionless bodies of the dead in quest of cover.

  Seated on the opposite side of the stadium, many of those in the crowd looked on in amazed horror. Then seemingly in mass, they began to gaze skyward once again. Another two waves who had jumped from the higher altitude helicopters were floating down, but they were perhaps still a minute from landing. Realizing that their location could be the intended target of the additional waves, a desperate attempt to exit began by patrons of the stadiums east side. Unfortunately for those involved, the stampede did little more than cause injuries that never would have transpired. While the actual attacking fourteen floated out over the northwest rim of Falcon Stadium toward their landing zone, the helicopter that set them loose just moments before had circled back around from the west and swooped down to retrieve them. Having unclipped and abandoned their respective gear, the fourteen men sprinted a short distance across the parking area to the rendezvous point. In an action that resembled a drop off or pick up of ground forces in the combat zones of Viet Nam, the MIL MI-8 HIP-C barely touched the ground as the men climbed aboard through the aft ramp and were quickly whisked away.

  Within the stadium that was ripe with fear and panic, members of the Air Force Academy Falcons and the visiting University of Nevada Wolfpack football teams emerged from their respective locker room areas to a horrific scene. Expecting to run onto the field in preparation for the gridiron scuffle a few minutes later, they had heard the explosions and came out early to i
nvestigate. With the press box area and portions of the stadium below it engulfed in thick smoke and small fires, they witnessed the air corps of cadets which included Beau Tillman spill from their seats onto the playing surface. While seemingly uninjured or fired upon during the attack, and with a desire only to prevent additional death or injuries within the stadium, the cadets exhibited a true level of grit. Their collective intent was to subdue additional jumpers before those landing could continue the attack, and they would not be merciful while doing so. Unaware that the fourteen actually scheduled to perform the pre-game festivities were unarmed; the leading edge of the cadet wave tackled the first few of the jumpers as they landed and began to pummel them. Given the circumstances of the frenzied moment, the move on their part was both understandable and brave. Unfortunately it was also shortsighted, as their overzealous response to the situation had proved to be too much. Although one man would not succumb to the injuries until later that evening, three of the fourteen innocent jumpers lost their lives as a consequence.

  Under normal circumstances the teams would access the playing field at Michie Stadium by utilizing the large opening between seating areas at the southeast corner, and that was where the group of fourteen attackers began their daunting task of escaping the scene without capture. The plan was to use the crowd and the panic of the moment for their much needed cover, as each was now armed with nothing more than a silenced side arm. They would force their way through whatever resistance that might be encountered during the first few hundred yards, while staying as tightly formed for added security as possible. The 45-caliber pistols that had been secured to their thighs during descent were intended to be fired upon only those military personnel or stadium security that could potentially jeopardize the intended escape route. However, there would be no hesitation in waving or pointing them towards civilians to effectively clear a path through the crowd if necessary. Each man also understood that if they encountered a civilian hell bent on becoming a hero, they would be required to strike that person with their weapon repeatedly if need be. Above all other things, it was imperative that none of the fourteen be taken dead or alive.