State of Defense (State of Arizona Book 1)

by Doug Ball

  “Lieutenant, we got a bigger unit, a good ten thousand or so, moving in the General’s direction at Arivaca. These guys look like they’re in for a long walk tonight.”

  The Lieutenant looked over his shoulder and then looked at the map in his lap. “Looks like a good call to me. Corporal, get on the radio and report movement in sector 21-Charlie moving to the northeast. Looks like the army we been fighting all day has turned east. Recommend we put troops between them and our lines to the west.”

  “Yes, Sir, sector 21-Charlie moving northeast, recommend troops moved.”

  “Send it.”

  The Lieutenant was so new he shined, well, at least this morning he had shined. At this point in the day he was rumpled, high on adrenalin, and burned out on coffee. “Can you track them on infrared or just visual with that drone?”

  “Infrared is what I’m using, Sir. Visual is okay but on a night like this with forty degree temp differential between country and people this is best. Night vision works okay, but I hate the green. It messes with my eyes. Okay, we got a small company spread out on point and a larger group travelling in line following. From the swing of their legs these boys are set for a long walk. Some of their troops are dumping equipment to lighten the load. Big, heavy guy in the middle is walking with lots of effort. Don’t think he’ll make it.

  “Let me zoom in. Yup, it’s an officer, Sir. Got a bird on his helmet. I’d bet he hasn’t walked in years more than from his lounge chair to the beer cooler and back. This should get interesting. According to the maps and the briefings, there is no water in that direction, either.”

  “Comms, order our left flank to shadow these troops to the north, between them and Arivaca. Reporting every 30 minutes.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Nogales sector

  The left wing of the attacking Mexican force continued around the west side of Nogales toward Rio Rico airfield where they expected new troops and supplies to be flown in. After having to leave all their mechanized transport behind, the resupply stop was going to be a necessity. The harassment they had been receiving from troops and civilians had depleted much of their ammunition. Even their antitank rounds were getting low after attempting to use them on small planes that were swooping out of nowhere to drop Molotov cocktails and explosives on them.

  The Colonel could not believe anyone would be stupid enough to light a Molotov cocktail in an aircraft and throw it out the window until they found one intact. Someone had developed a slow fuse to use so the gasoline didn’t ignite until the bottle broke with a whoosh that caused them problems not only with personnel getting burned, but lighting up their forces very well for small arms fire from the surrounding countryside. Backlit troops made great targets and they were feeling the results. He let fly with a cussing streak when he realized they had hit none of the aircraft with their small arms fire.

  It takes at least two men to carry one wounded man. Where one man was able to assist a wounded man, that one man had a hard time defending himself and taking cover when necessary. One very large man from southern Mexico figured out a system. He put his wounded buddy on his shoulders and handed him his weapon. The one walked and two fired when necessary. The big man wasn’t going to carry the wounded man too much further, but hopefully to Rio Rico.

  Two flashes hit near the western edge of the troops lighting up the left flank which immediately drew fire from the high ground along the northern side of Calabasas Canyon. One man decided it was time to stop that and attacked the hill. Twenty men followed him. Eleven came back.

  The Colonel sent a runner, “Tell them that they are not to charge without my orders, or they will feel my anger if the bullets don’t get them.”

  30

  Wednesday

  June 19

  Capitol Cafeteria

  1:00 AM

  At some tables an individual or two were beginning to leave the room. No hint of a solution had come to the front table as the murmurings and occasional heated voice continued. The stoic faces of the Native Americans changed little no matter what the tone of the words were. The Governor, along with her legislative and judicial coworkers, sat in the impatient quiet, awaiting some change. At the press table only two representatives were still seated, the rest were wandering around the room trying to get a hint of what was going on. None of them had much luck due to the tribes each using their own language to discuss things.

  The interesting thing to the Governor at that point was, at each table only one person spoke at a time and they spoke until they were done, at which time another person began to speak after a quiet pause of sometimes a few minutes duration. “If this were a Legislative meeting, Hawk, everyone would be trying to speak at the same time regardless of who had the floor.”

  “Maybe we need to change the rules or have these folks come in and teach us something.”

  Josie and Jim sat quietly looking into each other’s eyes. If one of them spoke the other usually smiled as if a fantastic dessert had been offered.

  Lukeville

  2:00 AM

  “Captain, it sounds like our friends from the south are leaving,” said a Sergeant as they hunkered behind a multitude of rocks. Plan A for Lukeville was harass, harass, harass, which had turned into a duel of snipers. The Mexicans would move a few men forward only to be met with shots from hidden troops. The Mexicans covered the area with firepower causing the Arizona troops to pull back under cover which occasionally got one of them shot. Arizona’s troops would then hunker down and await the movement of the Mexicans. It wasn’t really a fierce battle, more a test of patience and power.

  “You might be right. Wanna step out there and check for me?”

  “No.”

  The night vision gear the two men wore wasn’t showing much. Residual heat in the rocks and destroyed equipment was giving them fits in trying to pick out the living from the inert. The Arizona troops had dug in on a slight ridge line, the high side of a wash bank, around 2200 and were planning on staying. The battle continued to be mild with a few hundred or so Guard and civilians providing a delaying effort against the Mexican troops of about two thousand. Neither side had much other than small arms and grenades. Occasional shots and bursts kept everyone on the alert, ready to respond to any movement or challenge from either side.

  The Mexican troops had fought using steady sniping and feints until an hour ago when they stopped firing. Their forward movement was constantly thwarted by ambushes and other harassing efforts. What noise they were making now was fading slowly in a southerly direction.

  “Radioman, to the General, it appears the attack at Lukeville has ended and the enemy is on an orderly withdrawal. We are moving south to investigate.” The Captain paused before looking at the troops and adding, “Okay, Sergeant, let’s start walking and check this out.” The Captain moved through a gap between rocks and led the way. The Sergeant, using hand signals, directed his troops to follow as he moved out following the Captain. A few dead and two seriously wounded Mexican troops were all that was found as they spent the next four hours carefully working their way the four miles to the border.

  As they stood on the remnant of the fence between Mexico and Arizona, they watched the sun rising in the east and the backs of troops moving south a mile away. “Now what, Captain? Do we follow?”

  “No. Let’s move back to our noon positions and settle in until orders get here. One man sleeps the next man watches. Two hour stints.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain called for the Radioman.

  San Luis

  2:30 AM

  In the San Luis sector where plan A was ordered, over five thousand Guard and civilians had met the forward advance from the south with a withering fire of small arms and automatic weapons. Four mortars had provided a major fear factor for the green troops moving north. A stinger missile destroyed the chopper the Mexican army was using for ground attack on its first pass. The troops and local population watched as the gunship took out a half a block of hou
ses as it crashed.

  Better than half the civilians in the Arizona group were Hispanic and that fact had sent more ripples of uncertainty through the ranks of the Mexican troops than the weapons they met. Many of the Mexican Army troops refused to fire their weapons. Some just dropped their weapons and moved forward with arms in the air. The Sergeants and the Lieutenants tried everything from a rifle butt to a shot in the head to get them fighting, nothing worked. Sergeants and Lieutenants quickly became prime targets for the Arizona gunners. Two snipers set up a betting plan on the number each took out, with the price at $500.00 to the winner for each one downed over the number of the loser’s tally. They never got more than one apart in count.

  The battle now was a reverse of the hours before midnight. The Arizona group was working south from house to house, building to building. The Mexicans were surrendering in large numbers, but the occasional holdout made it a real battleground for attackers and POW’s alike. The breakthrough came when a hundred or so Mexican troops took off their shirts and helmets, turning on their former compadre’s and began leading the march south.

  At 0330 the Mexican Colonel struck his colors and surrendered, after being surrounded by his own troops backed by the Arizona contingent. The Mexican-troops-turned-Arizona-troops wanted to shoot him on the spot, but was stopped by the Captain of the Guard, Alfredo Roderiguez, formerly of Mexico by way of legal emigration and citizenship.

  Many of the Mexican troops asked for political asylum.

  Capitol Cafeteria

  3:00 AM

  Without warning or change in tone the feeling in the room changed as the leader of the Mojave tribe stood and walked to the table next to them, spoke a few words, and then walked to the next table where he sat next to the leader of the White Mountain Apache Reservation. The Tribal Chairman of the Navajo Reservation, not to be outdone by such a little tribe, began walking around the room gathering the leaders and moving them to the table where the Mojave leader was sitting. The other Apaches left that table to talk with friends at other tables.

  The murmur at the table full of leaders got louder.

  Within minutes the chairman of the Tohono O’odham reservation stood and walked to the Governor. “Governor, we have decided to take your offer. Every tribe represented here will be a county. There is just one caveat, there must be a two year trial period in which we may revert if this does not work for these peoples. We ask that this group here meet us at the Capitol entrance at 9 AM. Thank you for the dinner.”

  He turned and left the room, followed by all the others.

  The Governor stood to watch the back of the Chairman leave the room, her face incredulous. The press swarmed her.

  Aravaca

  5:00 AM

  The General was awakened from his catnap with a gentle kick to his boot by his friend and driver. “Time to rise and shine, General, before we lose the war.”

  “What? Lose. Never. You will charge bare handed if necessary, but I will never lose.” The General was a morning person. “Let’s see what’s going on, shall we.” The driver/friend/Sergeant handed him a cup of coffee. “Fresh?”

  “Fresh yesterday.”

  “Great, the aging does wonders for the brew, just like bourbon.” The General liked a shot or two now and then, not often and never more than two.

  “Okay, troops, what do we have going on?” He bellered.

  The bedraggled Major looked at him with bloodshot eyes, “West of Sasabe is over. All the enemy troops that attacked Sasabe are moving east toward a point two miles south of us. Our troops are shadowing them to their north, in other words, between us and them, about 3,000 meters to our south.

  Nogales is over. All enemy troops who have survived attack and the retreat have moved west and followed their west flank up toward Rio Rico. They are about a mile south of Rio Rico airport being harassed by our troops on both flanks and the front. At their current rate of advance they will arrive Rio Rico airport in an hour or so.

  Almost all of the east wing of the Nogales attack troops have pulled back and are chasing the west wing toward Rio Rico. A group of about 250 enemy are moving up highway 82 towards Sonoita. They are about a mile short of the Nogales airport and are being nibbled on by three or four hundred of our troops. They are completely surrounded only they don’t know it. Our troops will shut them down anytime now. All other attacks to the east have been stopped and the enemy troops are moving west, where I figure they will attempt to join with the Rio Rico attack group.

  “The Rio Rico attack group and the one to our south are the focal points of the battle at this moment.” He looked to his Radioman. “Wait a minute, General.”

  The General took a drink of his coffee. “Wow, this stuff will strip the paint off a tank.” He took a bigger drink as the men around him relaxed and laughed a bit.

  The Major continued, “The troops to our south report that this enemy group is moving faster toward the rising sun in an apparent attempt to join the Rio Rico group. Our troops will continue to interdict, protecting us and the hospital, and that about covers it in a nutshell. Request permission to take a nap, Sir?”

  “Granted, Major. Don’t drink any of this coffee, you won’t sleep for a month.”

  The General took a hard look at the map for five minutes, sipping his coffee. The Sergeant kept it full and hot. Troops moved around the map, pieces moved on the map, and the comms guys and gals kept up a low level murmur in the room. They waited.

  “Command Sergeant Major, how many troops we got walkin’, talkin, and ready to fight right now?”

  The CSM pulled his brains out of his leg pocket, flipped through the pages of the small notebook a couple times, and said, “I’d say somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty thousand in uniform and maybe forty thousand civilians with weapons, some with very serious weapons, General.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Those are all south of Phoenix. We have another five to six thousand watching the Indians along with local law enforcement officers of all kinds.”

  “How long would it take to get two-thirds of those troops south of Phoenix to Tumacacori and a third here?” He indicated a position just east of Arivaca. “Less a few to watch the other border posts.”

  The CSM looked at his book again, mumbled a bit under his breath thinking out loud, “Two hours for a third of them, six to eight hours for two-thirds. That’s if you can pull that much transport out of your magic box.”

  The General smiled and slugged down what remained in his coffee cup forgetting it was kept full and hot. His dance caused some entertainment for all. “Let’s pull a Dunkirk in reverse. Get every vehicle you can round up with a driver, private, state, school bus, van, VW, whatever rolling in the direction of Tucson loaded with troops. Order all troops to move to major highways nearest them, set up roadblocks, and politely asked the drivers to transport. Commandeer fuel wherever needed, platoon leaders have state forms and can sign for the gas. Set up a Military Police squad in Tucson to route the transports. Leave the ones currently positioned along the border where they are, just in case. Leave the Indian watchers alone, they may be needed. I hope not, but might.

  “And, Sergeant Major, I want that third here first and in one hour. We will hit that group heading east with all we’ve got in thirty minutes and that third is going to make it work by reinforcing our people out there harassing my cousins right now.”

  Everyone one in the room stared at the General with wonder, respect, awe, and total disbelief that this man’s idea would work. The CSM even stood up from his chair and saluted smartly before saying, “So you have commanded, so it will be. First group here and Tumacacori for the showdown. Request permission to meander toward Tumacacori, General.”

  “Denied, I need you with me, but I guarandamntee you that we will be there for the final fight.”

  “YES, SIR!” rang through the room as everyone got to work. Cell phones came out, radios chattered, and voices got loud.

  The General looked at his now e
mpty coffee cup, “Where’s the coffee, Sergeant? You wanna be a private again? CSM, make sure we keep about a hundred men at each border post and two good radios.”

  “Sir.”

  “General,” one of the communications troops said, “Nogales force reports the neutralization of the enemy unit advancing on the Nogales International Airport. Requests information on what to do with 200 plus POWs requesting asylum.”

  “CSM, deal with that will ya.”

  “Yes, Sir. Tell the Captain to disarm the POWs and tell them to go home.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that?” the General threw in.

  “Probably got other things on your mind.” The CSM reached for a coffee cup before yelling, “Cook, what kind of MRE we having for breakfast? My men need nourishment and energy so it better be your best effort.”

  A Private in the corner stepped to the door saying, “Yes, Sir, Top. I’ll break open a fresh pallet just for this occasion.”

  The place cracked up.

  All over southern Arizona troops were appearing on main roads and, where possible, asking some rather startled folks for a ride to the war. School buses were routed to major muster spots and then rolled toward Arivaca and Tumacacori by the shortest routes possible. From Yuma, a convoy of commandeered buses was led by two city police vehicles with sirens blasting. Down I-19 came City of Phoenix buses loaded and empty travelling at high rates of speed, those with empty seats stopping anywhere troops or someone waving a rifle appeared. From Yuma, Gila Bend, Quartzite, Casa Grande, Florence, Globe, Safford, and many other towns in the state rolled transports filled with angry people carrying guns .

  At Tucson, Military Police personnel were routing loads for 45 minutes to Arivaca, when an estimated 12,000 was moving in that direction.