State of Defense (State of Arizona Book 1)

by Doug Ball

  The Sergeant ran to the door and yelled, “Tan, come here please.”

  Tan had his back to the scene facing the rock wall at the end of the parking lot. He lifted his tear filled eyes to the sky, wiped them with his sleeve, and yelled, “On my way.” He didn’t move. He stood, breathing deeply for a moment longer before turning to become the cop again and re-involved with the scene. It took every ounce of his strength to make the turn and take the first step.

  After listening to the Apache’s story, Tan agreed that stuff sounded like what he had experienced. The question then became how the stuff got in the room. After twenty minutes of looking, one of the investigators found a hole in the bathroom window, on the backside of the motel, where someone had enlarged a crack to allow air to move into the room. The screen was so dirty it was difficult to see; only the intensity of the search brought it to light. On the ground below the window were the remains of three matches that had been stomped on in the damp weeds. A set of fresh moccasin prints would be casted. A camera clicked taking pictures of everything.

  “So how did they make the smoke go in the room?”

  “Probably with some kind of bellows contraption or a hose attached to a large funnel at the bottom which would cause the warm smoke to rise through the hose into the hole in the window. If you look closely you can see where something was pressed tightly around the hole, probably something sealing around a tube going in the window?”

  The Sergeant finally called, “Okay people, we need to get everything to the lab soonest, but don’t gloss over anything.”

  One man from the crime scene investigation unit yelled, “Okay, boss. We’s jus learnin’ heah.”

  A couple of laughs were heard.

  Tan did not laugh.

  Governor’s Office

  “Governor, every tribe in the state will be coming to your dinner. Most tribal leaders are bringing at least five others with them.” Josie held out a large sticky note. “Here’s a list and the total. Those Indians will eat up all the money you’ve saved in the past three weeks.” She raised an eyebrow.

  The Governor took one look at the list and sat down. “That’s a bunch of Indians to feed. No problem, call the caterer and inform them. Make sure that so called “Native American food our specialty” caterer brings lots of food. I would rather have a couple thousand dollars’ worth left over than go one mouthful short. Got that, it’s important?”

  “Got it. I’ll also make sure there’s enough steak for you and I.”

  “You better add enough for six legislative leaders and my husband. I’m sorry, I never asked. You got a boyfriend or special fella?”

  “Sure do. Nice guy. May I bring him?”

  “As long as he doesn’t get in your way and he’s good looking in black tie.”

  “He’ll knock your socks off. Jim’s better looking than the guys in the hall. Got it all. I’m off to get it all lined up. Wonder what a rental tux costs? He’s really not into dressup.”

  Southern Border

  Arivaca

  1:00 PM

  The General was behind the old gas station draining his bladder when the messenger came running around the building shouting, “General, General.”

  “Yes?” He buttoned his fly.

  “Action reports from every post. Mexican’s are getting set to move. Troops are manning vehicles and the grunts are checking their gear. Chopper and balloon surveillances report a few choppers winding up behind the lines and two old Warthogs are just leaving the ground about 30 miles south of Nogales. Looks like it’s time to rock and roll. I hope they stop, don’t you, General?”

  “Yes, Son, I do.”

  As they entered the garage, the movements around them were those of a choreographed modern dance as reports of movements came in and pieces were moved on the map spread out on plywood covering the old car hoist. One look told the General all he needed to know. He stopped and listened, watching every move as Mexico invaded his country and his state. Within moments it was fairly clear that the main thrust would be split between Nogales and Sasabe. The Warthogs were aiming for Nogales and the choppers toward Sasabe.

  “Radioman, to me,” the General shouted. “Okay troops, they are falling into one of the options we had planned for.

  “Nogales sector - begin evacuating as much as we can south of Tumacacori and set our forces as harassers along I-19 up to exit 17, we stand just north of there as staged and planned.

  “Sasabe sector – pull back five miles slowly, harassing as much as possible, to the stand point planned.

  “Lukeville – carry out plan A.

  “Yuma – plan A.

  “Naco and Douglas – Plan B - Harass and then hold at 92 and Double Adobe Road.

  “Coronado National Monument – Plan B - Harass and then hold at 92. Harass in the mountains to your west.

  “Santa Cruz River – Plan B - Harass and then hold when you can.

  “Pajarita Wilderness – Harass.

  “The Gate – Harass and hold when possible.

  “Fly one – Nogales west to Sasabe. Hit everything you can.

  “Fly two – Sasabe to San Luis. Hit everything you can.

  “Let’s do it, people. Your state and your country are expecting great things.”

  He pulled the cigar he had been saving for this moment, “Anybody got a light.” Nobody responded, their concentration was so intense.

  He walked over to the gas burner with the coffee pot on it and lit up. Sucking in a great drag of smoke, ‘I knew I would need this to calm me down at this time. I got one more if the plan falls apart. Then I grab a gun and start fighting. At least that’s my personal plan.’

  “You okay, General. You looked lost there for a minute.”

  “Doing great, Son, thanks for asking.”

  He grabbed his cell phone and called the Governor. “My dear lady, the war is on. They are heading up I-19. We will stop them.”

  “Thank you, General. Carry on.”

  They both hung up.

  27

  Nogales

  1:00 PM

  The center group of the Mexican 1st Army, 20,000 strong, began their three pronged crossing with confidence, flags waving, and banners flying. Troops of the center prong marched with weapons at the ready past the border station and into the town led by two new armored scout vehicles with the flag of Mexico on each fender. No one lined the road to greet them.

  The first man to appear stood tall with a U.S. flag in one hand and a sign in the other that read, No Libortador, invasor, under these words were, Mexicans, go home. The Hispanic man chanted the words as he stepped into the street and began weaving through the troops, one of which took his flag and threw it to the ground. His sign was ripped from his hands and torn apart. Many more people appeared on the sidewalks, chanting and carrying signs. Most of them appeared to be of Hispanic origin with a few Anglos mixed in.

  The point man of the Mexican troops slipped his finger in the trigger guard of his weapon and brought it up to his shoulder, swinging it back and forth sweeping the zone before him. His actions were followed by most of the others in his squad. The Officers said nothing, instead they drew their pistols and walked poised for battle two rows behind the front lines. One officer stopped as if to survey the situation, but allowed his men to keep walking which put him way behind the front. A Sergeant called, “Alto!” and everyone stopped.

  The chants of the people got louder and louder as more men and then women filled the roadway, surrounding the armored vehicles, calling out for the troops to go home. Within minutes the rooftops were lined and garbage began to fly. One good looking young Hispanic woman with a saucy walk stepped to the middle of the road and screamed in the face of the point soldier sticking her finger practically up his nose, “Go home, you are not wanted here.”

  The man kept walking into her, “Puta, andale! Move or die.” His rifle barrel jabbed into her stomach. As the scene unfolded between trooper and woman in the middle of the road, those lining the side
walks and roof tops stopped chanting. She pushed the gun aside with her left hand and tore into the man with her right, fingernails gouging furrows in his face. He swung the rifle butt up, hard under her chin. The crack of the blow was heard as the woman was lifted from her feet by the blow and fell flat on her back, limp, her head unnaturally bent too far. The trooper kicked her, wiping his face with his sleeve, the blood of her scratches clearly seen by many of the bystanders.

  With his hands behind his back like a man in thought, a small Hispanic civilian on the sidewalk looked a trooper in the eye, “There is one thing you have forgotten, Senor.”

  The trooper replied, “Que?”

  “Arizona is a free carry state.”

  “What does this mean to me?” the trooper said in clear English.

  “It means that most of us are armed, and she was my daughter.” He brought his hands to the front, each holding a semi-automatic pistol, he began firing. The first two rounds took the trooper in the belly. The third round was buried in the sound of firing from all directions. The man had one round left when he was hit and fell to the gutter crying, “Libertad!” and trying to bring his gun to bear on the enemy. Another round caught him in the chest, slamming him into the curb.

  The sound of firing came from all directions as the troops resumed advancing. The armored vehicles opened up with heavy caliber automatic weapons, sweeping the armed civilians with devastating results. The civilians took cover wherever they could as Molotov cocktails tossed from the rooftops hit the armored vehicles from two sides, burning friend and foe alike. Neither of the units had been locked down because their commanders felt this would be a walk in the park with many of the citizens rushing out to greet them with open arms and flowers of peace. The vehicles and all in them were engulfed in flame in a matter of heartbeats.

  The sound of windows shattering in storefronts joined the cacophony as more and more combatants sought cover behind the solid walls below the windows, rising occasionally to shoot again. Troops fell as rapidly as civilians. Screams came from all sides, voices of anger as loud as the voices of pain.

  Private Gomez, a forward observer for the Guard, reported on his handheld radio that there was a general melee on the streets of Nogales and, with the direction of his Sergeant, asked permission to commence firing. The response was, “Wait.”

  Over the roof tops came a single chopper quickly aligning itself with the highway, moving from north to south. Unable to distinguish friend from foe, it did not fire. The Mexican Army stopped.

  Sergeants shouted, “Take cover.”

  The fight turned for the worse as troops tried to take cover where the civilians were already entrenched. More Nogales citizens rushed into the road to retrieve the weapons and ammo from downed troops. Within moments the tide was turned as new firing began with these weapons put to good use from the behind the cover of the stacked bodies of the fallen troops in the middle of the street.

  Private Gomez received his answer, “Fire at sure targets.”

  The six men of the forward observer’s squad opened fire.

  The central column was stalled and under heavy fire from civilian and Guard. It’s amazing what six men in uniform can do to a basically untrained enemy when assisted by hundreds of angry civilians.

  Sasabe

  The western Mexican attack hit the border at Sasabe with caution. Fifteen-thousand troops moved with skirmishers out in front covered by a helicopter that looked like a slick from the Viet Nam war with a new paint job. Not two minutes after they crossed the border three stingers reached for the chopper from three different angles. The rotary winged aircraft had no chance at all regardless of the frantic maneuvers the pilot put it through. Two of the missiles hit at the same time and the third blew up in the fireball. The Colonel spread his troops out wider.

  No other resistance came until the Mexican Army attack force was three miles inside Arizona when automatic weapons fire hit from both sides and the front simultaneously. There was no place for the Mexican troops to hide on the flat desert terrain, although a few of the attackers did a fine job of imitating gophers in the sand. While sitting in his air conditioned vehicle at the rear of the column, the Mexican Colonel ordered his rear units to swing the flanks wide and envelop the firing points.

  The firing stopped as quickly as it began. The Colonel ordered the attack to continue. The flanking maneuver found nothing but empty cartridges still warm from the chambers of the guns that had fired them. Casualties were bypassed or stepped over as the troops moved forward, left for the medics in the rear to deal with.

  Two hundred yards further four mortar rounds exploded in the midst of the attackers killing eighteen and wounding many others, including the second in command. After ten minutes of sorting out the bodies they moved out again. It was a long way to Phoenix.

  All units of the attack on Arizona met with varying intensities of resistance with none of them moving more than four miles inside Arizona by sundown.

  General Rios counted his lucky stars as he began shuffling troops to hold positions during the night and meet the enemy in the morning.

  Cafeteria

  Arizona State Capitol

  3:45 PM

  The Governor stood at the door of the cafeteria which was super decorated in a southwestern Native American theme, greeting each and every delegation from the tribes of Arizona as they entered. Tuxedo wearing ushers escorted each delegation to their assigned seats. Josie had worked hard to find the connections of friendship and animosity between the various tribes and put each tribe near the ones they got along with and away from the ones that didn’t play well together. The Navajo and the Hopi were at opposite ends of the semicircle of tables fanning out from the Governor’s table. The number of chairs at each table was just enough to seat the announced members of the Tribal leaders’ entourage from the Mojave’s two to the twenty-seven from the Navajo tribe. A table for the press was filled at the back of the room. Each reporter poised with pen and pad. Waiters and waitresses in formal attire served soft drinks, coffee, and tea to those seated with a calm efficiency, as a five piece combo played popular pieces at a low volume.

  6:00 PM

  Promptly at 6, the 4 PM dinner meeting was called to order by a crash of cymbals and a blast of the drums followed by the Governor rising to the mike. Two tribes had still not arrived while the vast majority of the others arrived in the last 30 minutes. Josie had to remind the Governor, “You have to work on Native American time for this shindig, Governor.”

  The Governor started things off with, “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight on such short notice. At the table with me are the Senate Majority Leader, Merle Hopkins, also known as the Hawk; the Speaker of the House, Anthony White; Native American Advisor to the Legislature, Ronald Bitse; my assistant, Josie Rosales; and last but not the least for sure, His Honor Ivan Bradford, Chief Justice of the Arizona Supreme Court.”

  A trickle of quiet, polite applause sounded.

  “I will now ask my special assistant for the night, Jim Hilliard, to hand to each of you a copy of the Arizona Tribal County Act passed by the Legislature this morning, for your reference. You all received this by fax and email this morning, but this is the final, official version. There are a few minor changes to what you received this morning. Those changes are highlighted in green to assist you in finding them quickly. Please enjoy the meal as you discuss this among yourselves. Feel free to wander around the room as you see fit to discuss this with other reservations and tribes. We will discuss this after the meal. Enjoy.”

  Jim worked his way around the tables and each individual present received a nicely done embossed personal copy of the law. The empty seats received their copy in anticipation of the arrival of its assigned occupant. Another delegation was greeted and seated just as he finished. The Governor mumbled under her breath, “One more to go.”

  Twenty minutes later all seats were filled and served, cups or glasses refilled. The group in the room was sitting silent
ly. None of them had moved away from their chair except to use the restroom. The Governor was dumbfounded by this. She had expected much conversation amongst the tribes and reservations, especially amongst the Apache where the tribal lines did not necessarily match the reservation lines. She was just getting ready to stand and open the floor to discussion when the main door to the ballroom opened and a man in a rumpled suit entered.

  He walked straight to the podium like he was carrying a heavy burden, bypassing the Governor and her table. “Ladies and Gentleman,” he began, pulling a folded paper from his inside jacket pocket. “My name is Lewis, Drew Lewis. I am the State Department Representative for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. I have been directed to inform you of the following, and I quote.” He began reading from the prepared statement.

  “To all leaders of the Native American reservations and tribes in Arizona, should you accept the opportunity presented by the Arizona Tribal County Act you will no longer receive funds from the Federal Government. The land that you are on will be deeded to the Tribe or Reservation Government, whichever applies, to do with as they see fit. Signed, William Barton, Undersecretary for Indian Affairs.

  “That’s all I have to say. I am not here to discuss this with you. There are no ifs, ands, or buts. Thank you and good night.”

  He marched out shaking his head, a tired drag in his step and a crooked smile on his face, and closed the door. The paper he read from remained on the podium.

  Not a sound could be heard in the room. The Governor’s table was even silent, which for politicians can be a very unpleasant experience.

  Slowly a murmur built up in the room. Reservation groups gathered in corners and around tables. The discussions got louder and louder. Josie walked around with her boyfriend listening to try to get the feelings and directions of the groups. The Governor watched her face as she walked. For all others in the room it would appear that Josie and friend were just having a few moments together while there was nothing else to do, but to the Governor, Josie was taking in all that was around her. Josie’s smile grew bigger and bigger until she got around to the Governor’s table again.