Firebase Freedom

by William W. Johnstone

  “You have seen the United Nation’s resolution?” Rahimi asked.

  “I have, Imam. I’m sorry if I have brought disgrace to the country.”

  “It is not the country who is disgraced,” Rahimi said. “It is the United Nations. When we establish the World Caliphate, bringing everyone into Islam, we will replace the United Nations with the Organization of Islamic Cooperation. And we will use the old UN building in New York as our headquarters.”

  Ohmshidi smiled. “Yes, Imam, that is a wonderful idea.”

  “I have a new program I want you to establish across the land,” Rahimi said. He slid a manila folder across the desk toward Ohmshidi. “Put it into effect at once.”

  “Yes, Imam.”

  One hour later, after having read the document Rahimi had given him, Ohmshidi called out to his chief of staff.

  “Hassan?”

  “Yes, Great Leader?” Raj Hassan answered, hurrying to respond to the president’s call.

  “You have read the resolution passed by the United Nations?”

  “I have, Great Leader.”

  “I know it is because of the incident of the young boy having his arm crushed for stealing.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency, I believe that is so.”

  “It was televised for the whole world to see,” Ohmshidi said. “I’m sure that there will be many who don’t understand the necessity of such stern treatment. But if we are truly to create a new world, an Islamic world of Moqaddas Sirata, then we can make no exceptions.”

  “Oh, I quite agree, Great Leader.”

  “That’s why I have conceived of Operation Blooming Flowers. If this young man had been part of Blooming Flowers, there would not have been the necessity of crushing his arm.”

  “Blooming Flowers, Great Leader?”

  “Yes. If we are to have a country united in Moqaddas Sirata, we must take steps so that the next generation will be united in service to Allah. We will accomplish that by intensive schooling of the young people.”

  Ohmshidi, having revised the document given him by Rahimi so that it would appear to be his own idea, handed it to Hassan.

  Hassan read the document, then nodded. “Yes, this is good. The entire country will bless you for your wisdom and compassion in establishing such a benevolent policy.”

  “How soon can we start?”

  “I will have to arrange for the learning centers, but I will get started right away, Great Leader.”

  “Very good. Tell me now, where do we stand with the Jewish problem?”

  “We have begun Operation Ultimate Resolution,” Rahimi said. “Already we are confiscating Jewish property and wealth, and soon the relocation will take effect.”

  “Good. I want to be kept informed of the progress of both Ultimate Resolution and Blooming Flowers.”

  “I will do so, Great Leader.”

  Dallas

  Sam Gelbman stood in the alley behind his house on Davenport Court and looked out across the railroad track and the creek that ran parallel with the track. For the first few months after the country had collapsed, and during that time when there was neither water nor electricity, this creek had been the sole source of water. They purified it by boiling it over a charcoal grill, though as charcoal was not readily available, they had used scavenged wood.

  Sam and Sarah had already been gardeners, and canners, so they fared better than many others, not only having a supply of food, but using it as a form of barter for other necessities. Sam had a .22 rifle that his father had bought for him for his twelfth birthday. Initially he had kept it as a remembrance of his youth, but it quickly became one of his most valuable possessions during the hard times, because he was able to use it to kill squirrels, rabbits, a few doves, and even a beaver. Once the national confiscation of personal weapons began, he wrapped the rifle in oil cloth and buried it in his garden, rather than give it up.

  Electricity and water were available again, as was food. However, because he and Sarah were Jewish and not authorized to convert to Islam—not that he would have—their struggle to survive was only marginally easier than it had been during the time of total collapse.

  And now that struggle was going to be even more difficult because his business, his house, and all personal property were being taken away by the Decree on the Registration of the Property of Jews. Sam had not yet told Sarah of the decree, and as he stood out in his backyard now, he was trying to come up with a way of breaking the news to her.

  Like Sam, Sarah’s grandfather had survived the Nazi concentration camps, though his parents had not. While still young, Sarah’s grandfather had been adopted by Major David Goren, an American officer of Jewish descent, when the camp where he had been held was liberated. Brought to America when he was nine years old, he had grown to adulthood in Dallas, though the horror of the concentration camps was never far from his mind.

  When Ohmshidi was first elected, there had been an unexpected wave of anti-Jewish sentiment that began to emanate from his administration, manifested first by America turning its back on Israel, then spreading to include American Jews as well. That movement had frightened Sarah, and Sam tried to comfort her, assuring her that what happened in Germany decades ago would never happen in America.

  “I fought in Afghanistan for this country,” Sam told her. “I know America isn’t going to turn its back on me.”

  Sam had, indeed, fought in Afghanistan, where he received the Silver Star. But, he realized, the America he had fought for was no more. And while the America he was born in, grew up in, and was proud to serve would not have turned its back on him, the American Islamic Republic of Enlightenment had done just that.

  With a sigh, Sam went back into the house. There was a possible way out of all this. Along with the decree that had taken his business, was an offer that would allow Jews to relocate to an area where they could establish their own community.

  Jews

  Do You Wish to Relocate?

  Land is being made available for you in West Texas.

  Land and work are waiting for all Jews who would take advantage of this opportunity to relocate. You will be able to grow your own garden, raise your own poultry, and engage in productive labor which will be personally rewarding. If you refuse to take advantage of this opportunity you will see more and more of your freedoms taken from you, as good Muslims of faith will not stand by and watch our new society be corrupted by Jewish infidels.

  Work shall make you free.

  Of course, taking advantage of this opportunity meant that they would have to leave home, but the same decree that took his business was also taking his house, car, and all furnishings, so that was not even a consideration. When he asked how they were supposed to get to the new area without a car, he was told they would be transported, free of charge, by bus. Sam could see no alternative but to take the offer.

  Sarah had been born and raised in Dallas, and Sam knew that it was going to be difficult for her to leave. They had met in college during a production of Fiddler on the Roof, Sam playing the role of Motel, and Sarah as Tzeitel. The stage romance developed into a real romance and the two planned to be married as soon as they got out of school. Upon graduation, however, Sam had to fulfill an ROTC obligation with the army. He went to Afghanistan, and they put the wedding off until he got back. Postponing the marriage had been Sam’s idea, because he didn’t want to leave a wife behind in case something happened to him. They were married as soon as he returned from Afghanistan twelve years ago.

  Sam began working for Sarah’s father, Nat Goren, at Mid-American Trucking. He worked first as a driver, then as a manager, then he bought half the business, and when Nat Goren retired, Sam bought the entire business from him. It had been an extremely profitable operation until the total collapse of the nation, which closed banks and rendered money useless. The collapse had cost Sam over four million dollars.

  When Sam went back inside he could smell the aroma of roast chicken with carrots and zucchini.

 
“Mmm, it smells delicious. What are we celebrating?”

  Sarah chuckled. “We are celebrating that we have chicken,” she said.

  “Reason enough for celebration,” Sam agreed.

  “Does it look like rain?” Sarah asked.

  “No.”

  “Too bad, the garden could use a little rain. Dinner’s about ready.”

  “Good, I’m starved.”

  “Tell me when you aren’t starved,” Sarah teased.

  Sarah filled two plates, then sat down to the table with her husband. He reached across the table and took her hand. “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too.”

  “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  “Why would you have to imagine it? I haven’t found any new boyfriends,” Sarah teased.

  “You just try, I’ll tell them how much you snore,” Sam said, smiling back at her.

  “I do not snore.”

  “And lemons aren’t sour.”

  They ate their dinner before Sam gathered enough nerve to tell her what had happened today.

  “Sarah, I’ve something I want to talk to you about,” he said.

  “What?”

  Sam showed Sarah the decree.

  “What? What does this mean?” she asked, her voice weak.

  “It means we no longer own the company,” he said.

  “They can’t just make you sell out to them, can they?”

  Again, Sam reached across the table to take Sarah’s hand. “My love, I wish they were buying us out. They aren’t. They’re just taking the company, lock, stock, and barrel.”

  “No!” Sarah said, as her eyes welled with tears.

  “There is an alternative,” Sam suggested. “Another path we could take if you are willing to do it.”

  “What is that?”

  Sam showed Sarah the relocation document. “I want you to read this, and tell me what you think of it.”

  She looked at it for a moment, then glanced up at him, her eyes showing some hope. “Sam, do you think this is for real? I mean is there really a place where we can go and start all over, away from . . . from all this?” She made a motion with her hand to encompass “all this.”

  “Yes, I do think it is for real.”

  “Well, what’s the catch? There must be some catch to it.”

  “The only catch I’ve been able to learn about, is that we will be signing over not only our business, but all our property—house, furniture, and cars. Also, when we report for transport, we can each carry only one suitcase.”

  “Well, if we’re leaving Dallas, what good is our property to us? We may as well sell it.”

  “Uh-uh,” Sam said, shaking his head. “The truth is, Sarah, whether we take this offer or not, we are going to have to give up our house, and we won’t be paid for it.”

  “You mean it’s not just our business? They’re going to take our home as well?”

  Sam shook his head. “No, they are taking our house, not our home. We are our home.”

  Sarah paused for a moment, then nodded. “All right,” she said. “Yes, let’s do it.”

  “I’ll go down and make the application tomorrow,” Sam replied, relieved that it had gone easier than he thought it would.

  “What do we have here, anyway?” Sarah asked. “A little bit of this, and a little bit of that?”

  “A pot, a hat,” Sam replied, smiling as he remembered the lines. Together, they began to sing.

  “Anatevka.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mobile, Alabama

  The first casualties of all public schools were the extra-curricular activities such as band, orchestra, chorus, and drama. History books were changed as well, and the students were taught that there had never been the holocaust, and that the continued perpetuation of that lie would be a sin. The country once known as the United States, was the most hated country in the world because of its sins against the Muslim people. It was by an act of Allah that the United States was destroyed.

  They were also taught that life for non-Muslims, and for all women, even Muslim women, is worth but a fraction of that of a Muslim male. The greeting, “Peace be upon you,” is specifically for Muslims, and cannot be spoken to infidels. Jihad in the path of Islam is the noblest of acts.

  Eddie Manning was a student at LeFlores High School in Mobile, Alabama. Eddie’s father, Paul, had played football at the University of Alabama for Paul “Bear” Bryant, graduating in 1983, the year Bryant coached his last game. For his entire life, Eddie, who was sixteen years old, had dreamed of playing football for the Crimson Tide. He had been the backup quarterback for LeFlores High School during his sophomore year, and would have been the starting quarterback his junior year, but there would be no football at LeFlores High School this year. There would be no basketball, baseball, or track either. Eddie’s girlfriend, Jane Poindexter, would have been a cheerleader this year, but of course, that program was also dropped.

  The natural competitive spirit was such, however, that Eddie and many of his friends continued to play football in pickup games. But even these non-sanctioned games were banned, and one day twelve boys from the ages of fourteen to sixteen were gathered in an empty lot for a football game as two cars arrived. The cars were unmarked, and for a moment they just sat at the curb.

  “Eddie, what do you think that is?” one of the boys asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like the looks of it,” Eddie said. Eddie was sixteen, and a born leader, so it was natural that the others should defer to him.

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “I think we should get out of here.”

  “There’s no markings on the cars,” one of the other boys said. “Maybe they’re just football fans, and they’ve come to watch us play.”

  “I don’t think so,” Eddie said. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. I think we should . . .”

  That was as far as Eddie got before eight bearded men, all wearing dishdasha and taqiyah, spilled out of the two cars and started toward them. All eight men were carrying automatic weapons.

  “Run!” Eddie shouted when he saw what was happening.

  All twelve boys were athletes, so they were able to outrun the men, but not the bullets from their weapons. The eight men opened fire, and three of the running boys were shot down. Eddie and the other eight got away.

  Later that same day, the nine boys who had been playing in the open field gathered in the garage of one of the boys. Shortly after they gathered, they heard the Adhan, or Call to Prayer.

  Allahu Akbar

  Allahu Akbar

  Ash hadu alla ilaha illallah

  Ash hadu alla ilaha illallah

  The boys had left the door open to the garage and all of them got down on their knees, bowing toward Mecca. But this was just for show, because they knew that there were patrols through the neighborhoods, checking to see if the people were obeying the call to prayer.

  In fact, though from some distance it looked as if they were being reverential, they were anything but, because they carried on a conversation throughout the ten minutes of “prayer.”

  “Eddie, Keith’s mama asked me if I knew where he was,” a boy named Timmy said.

  Keith Leslie was one of the three boys who had been killed that morning. All three bodies had been picked up and taken away. As a result, none of the families of those who had been killed knew what had happened to them.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I said I didn’t know.

  “That’s good. Don’t tell them anything.”

  “Don’t you think their own parents should know what happened to them?” Carl, one of the other boys asked.

  “You think they aren’t going to find out? They just don’t need to find out from us,” Eddie said.

  All the time the boys were talking, they were bowing repeatedly.

  “That don’t seem right,” Carl said.

  “Listen guys, you can’t tell anyone that we kn
ow about this, not your brother, sister, parents, or best friend.”

  “You think they’ll tell on us? My mom or dad would never tell on me,” another said.

  “That’s not the point, Burt,” Eddie said. “Anyone we tell is going to be involved, and then they’ll be in danger. Do you want the police to come looking for your mother and father?”

  “No.”

  “Then do like I say, and don’t say a word about this to anyone.”

  The “prayers” were just finishing when a car stopped out front.

  “Eddie, what do you think this means?” Burt asked.

  “Nothing,” Eddie said. “Everyone, sit down and be holding a Koran. I’ll talk to them.”

  Two bearded men, each of them wearing dishdasha, walked up to the garage where, by now, the boys were all sitting on the floor, each of them holding a copy of the Koran.

  “Salaam,” Eddie greeted the two men. He saluted them. “Obey Ohmshidi.”

  “Alaykum,” one of the two answered. “Obey Ohmshidi.”

  “We have just finished with the prayers,” Eddie said. “Now we are reading the Koran. Would you like to join us?”

  “You are Eddie Manning, aren’t you?”

  Eddie felt his blood run cold. “Yes, sir.”

  “You played something called ‘quarterback’ last year. I am told this is an important position in the infidel game of football.”

  “I was backup quarterback.”

  “I am also told you would have been starting quarterback this year. This, too, is said to be important.”

  “It was important before I learned better. Now I have learned that football is evil and a sin against Allah, so I have no wish to play the game. I don’t want to sin against Allah.”

  “Suppose a group of young men gathered to play the game, not for a school and before large crowds, but on an empty lot somewhere? Would that be a sin?”