World War III - Home Front: A Novel of the Next American Revolution - Book One – As Day turns to Night

by William C. Seigler

  “Don’t forget, Smitty, the old settler stock didn’t want the white immigrants from Europe after the Civil War. Everybody wants to get in and then slam the gate behind him. I don’t even know when my own people came over; some were Indian and some were Spanish. Does it matter?”

  He paused a moment, then went on. “What does matter? Is it some sort of racial purity, whatever that is? Remember how the Nazis went all over the planet trying to prove some sort of Aryan race actually existed. How many millions did that get killed?

  “Six million Jews were murdered; how many Russians? Who knows, enough dead bodies for the rot and stench to reach the nose of heaven itself. Heck, maybe the human race isn’t worth saving. Why don’t we just forget this whole thing, find a bar and stay drunk. Four rummies, drunk on booze and self-pity.

  “But let me tell you, all of you, what I do know. All the evidence, the fossil evidence and the genetic evidence, tells us one thing. The whole human race came from East Africa somewhere near what’s now the Sudanese-Ethiopian border, and that’s the truth as best as I understand it. As Jesus said, we truly are all brothers.

  “So now, before you go out and kill another human being, and some of us will be killed, you better make sure you know what you are doing it for. Either our constitutional republic is worth killing for or dying for or it is not.”

  I had stopped breathing, I think. The three men who had been arguing looked at the floor, and no one said a word. In all my life, I had never heard such a thunderous silence.

  “Sorry Hector, I guess I’m just, I don’t know just a mite upset, disgusted, scared.”

  “Think nothing of it. I came on a little strong too.”

  The three men shook hands all around.

  A few moments later, Rico began again. “Not only is the north side group out of the fight, the feds are going after the sheriff’s posse up in Oklahoma. They intend to bring all patriot groups to heel.

  “Several years ago I was knocking on doors for the Republican Party; yes, it used to be a real party, and one lady told me of her experience with the IRS. She was told to her face ‘we are the government and we can do whatever we want’; that’s how far we’ve fallen. As someone has said, ‘We have left the gates of freedom unguarded for too long’.

  “You all know about the dry run in New Orleans where they went door to door confiscating weapons. They got away with it. I don’t know if you heard the story of a red haired woman who showed up at a National Guard encampment. Members of the New Orleans Police Force had raped her repeatedly. One of the guardsmen said she sat on the street corner and cried for twenty-four hours.

  “Now they’ve gone and started a shooting war in Syria and Iran. They don’t have enough soldiers to turn loose on us. Only the federal cops are left, and what they’ve got is the entire executive branch machine.

  “It’s not enough to stop us. Right now morale is low, we are short on everything, and it’s getting hard to even escape from the country. We have to fight, but we’ve got to start fighting smarter. I propose two things, a set of standing orders on how we conduct warfare and a change in tactics.”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked a girl who was pretty on the left side of her face, but the right side was swollen and blue from being butt-stroked by one of FEMA’s zombies. He was also very thorough when he checked her for weapons and drugs. She still complains of nightmares.

  “I’ve been meeting with several other team leaders; we’ve worked out some standing orders. Number one, we do not attack, kill, harm, rob, molest, intimidate, or threaten in any way civilians. This includes the lapdog media.”

  “Propaganda ministry is more like it,” interjected Hector.

  There was mumbling at this last. Rico shrugged and continued.

  “Two, in as much as is possible, we do not seek confrontation with the military, nor state, or local law enforcement.”

  “Wait a minute!” It was Raymond. “That’s who hurt many of us. It was the local pigs.”

  “Yes, we know that and your concern is legitimate. However, our main problem is the feds. If we only attack them and their facilities, we might be able to drive a wedge between them and the locals. If we attack the local cops, we risk driving a wedge between us and the people.”

  “Yeah, but what if we’re attacked?”

  “Then we will have to fight them. I will address that in a moment when we talk about tactics. Let’s continue.”

  “Three, we will attack only legitimate federal government targets.

  “Four, we will respect the persons of prisoners especially women.

  “Five, we try to take out the highest ranking people we can, when we can; hopefully it will not be necessary to go down to street level.

  “Six, we only kill as many as we have to.

  “Lastly, we only use as much violence as absolutely necessary. All war is inhumane, but we must be as humane as possible while waging war.”

  He stopped and let the group take in the list of standing orders on the screen. There was some grumbling. A hand went up.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s with all the rules?”

  “We need the people to understand that we are not the enemy. The media and the feds will call us every dirty name in the book. There is no lie they will not tell. There is nothing those who consider themselves above the law will not do, or rather have their lackey federal cops do for them. We must get the people on our side.”

  “We tried the hearts and minds bit in Vietnam.” It was an older man named Craig whose grandson had disappeared with a black bag over his head. Everybody claimed they were unaware of any action by their agency. The kid was just gone. The old man was ready to fight, if his body would hold up.

  “Yes sir I know, but this isn’t Vietnam. This is our country and these are our brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, and our neighbors.” That answer seemed to satisfy him.

  “Are we in agreement?” the Commander asked. He waited and looked around the room.

  “I don’t know how long your rules will hold up once the fighting starts, but I’m willing to go along with it.” It was the girl with the swollen face; Laura I think was her name. “Especially if you respect women,” she added.

  “Yes, nothing will turn the populous against us faster than behaving as badly as the feds and many of the local cops.”

  “We tried fighting in Afghanistan with our hands tied behind our backs,” said Hector.

  I had learned that once between deployments a couple of cops decided he was guilty of driving while black.

  “We are not fighting with our hands tied. We are fighting smarter and more focused.”

  “Okay, enough about that. What about tactics? We need something that will win,” Smitty, the bearded Iraq war veteran, injected.

  “Yeah, get on with it,” added Hector.

  Rico was a former military officer, army I think. He knew what he was doing.

  “Very well, tactics, as I said in the beginning many folks tried to hunker down in place. That created a situation where one or two people were fighting forty or fifty heavily armed federal agents who usually attack at two or three in the morning knowing that most people are asleep.”

  “So what do we do, get up at midnight and go back to bed in the morning?” asked Laura.

  “I hadn’t thought of that, maybe not a bad idea,” Rico responded with a good natured chuckle.

  “I propose we become proactive using hit and run tactics. We’ll burn up something or blow it up and disappear leaving them to swat at our shadows.”

  “That is the tactic used against us in Iraq after Fallujah,” interjected a vet who went by the nickname Slime.

  “Yes, tell us about Fallujah,” responded the Commander.

  “Real simple, in Fallujah they stood and fought. We wiped them out. After that, they used more roadside bombs along with hit and run tactics. If we dropped in on a building they were using, they would just get up and walk away. We found lots of equipment, guns and amm
o etc., but the fighters would just melt into the general populace.”

  “Exactly what we should do,” said Rico. “However, that brings up a problem. Most of us will not willingly walk off from a $1500 AR-15.”

  “I paid more for mine, and I’m not leaving it behind,” quipped Smitty.

  “Yes, but under certain circumstances we might have to do something like that. If not, you could get yourself and some of us killed.” There was no response.

  The Commander continued. “We are working on constructing our own weapon, but that’s still a ways off.”

  “What kind of weapon? asked Laura.

  “Right now we are looking at some sort of submachine gun or automatic shotgun, something like the resistance in Europe used during World War II. I’ll let you know something when we get a little further down the line.”

  He continued, “What we really need is a victory. We need something to raise the morale and galvanize all the freedom loving patriots. Now many of you are veterans, and most of you have weapons training. What we need is to start training together and train for a specific mission.”

  With that, he changed the projected image. “We will destroy one of their armored vehicles they use in their raids. We know where it is kept and how much protection it has.”

  “That’s not much of a mission,” said Slime.

  “Yes it’s a small target, I agree. However, it’s a good first step. They will have to increase security on all such targets, which will be a drain on manpower. We can practice the attack and perfect our technique. As time goes by, we will be able to hit bigger targets.

  “Now I know I can trust this group of people. What I don’t want to do is let anyone outside this circle know who we are or what we are doing, not your husband or wife, not your girlfriend or boyfriend, not your kids, nobody. Okay?” He looked around the room at each individual.

  Laura raised her hand. “Are you sure about how much protection it has? I mean, how do you know?”

  “An excellent question. For several years now, I have been putting together an intelligence operation. We’ve been watching several potential targets.

  “The target is in a nearby city. We will approach it in several vehicles. Make absolutely sure all your lights work, and do nothing to attract attention. I will assign each team different duties. The first team will start a fire just outside the fence away from where the target vehicle is located. A second team will cut through the fence and plant the explosives. Team three will cover them and their escape. The final team will monitor police frequencies and prepare to interfere with their communication should it become necessary.”

  “When do we know who does what and when do we get started?” asked Craig, the Vietnam vet.

  “Right now, Craig how about you take responsibility for Team 4?”

  “Okay.”

  “Laura would you like to work with Craig?”

  “Sure.”

  “None of you guys were snipers right?” There was no response.

  “What about hunting?”

  Smitty spoke up. I deer hunt.”

  “Me to,” added Raymond.

  “What kind of rifle do you have, and do you use a scope?”

  “I’ve got a .308,” said Smitty.

  “Bolt action?”

  “Yes.”

  “I use a .30-30. It’s lever action and has a small scope,” added Raymond.

  “Smitty, you’ve been in combat right?”

  “Yeah, it Iraq.”

  “You ever shoot anybody? I don’t mean just firing into the smoke; did you ever shoot anybody.”

  “Yeah, a guy came around a corner and I walked right into him. I fired first. That was my first; there were others.”

  “I don’t suppose you have Raymond.”

  “No.”

  “It’s one thing to talk about it. It’s a far different thing to look through that scope at a human being. Are you ready for that?”

  “I’m so mad at what they did to my sister; I could have killed the TSA people right then and there.”

  Raymond and his sister, Yolie, had been flying out to LA when the agent lifted up her skirt and rubbed her vagina. Raymond responded violently and the agents slammed both of them and pinned them to the floor. They were both body cavity searched after that right there in the open.

  “Yes, you were mad enough to shoot right then, but if Team 2 is discovered, you might have to shoot when you are not angry. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “I hope so.”

  Okay Smitty, will you lead Team 3?”

  “Sure.”

  “Raymond, I want you with him. Bring your deer rifles and your AR-15s.”

  Both men nodded.

  Ricki spoke up. “If you need a fire bug, I’m your girl.”

  “Will you take Team 1 and set the fire to distract the cops?”

  “Can it be a big one?”

  “Big enough for security to see.”

  “Can I take Timmy?”

  “Timmy, can you work with Ricki?”

  “Sure.”

  Ricki smacked him on the ass, and he turned red. I don’t know if they’d been up to anything yet. Timmy was tall and thin, but not sickly. Don’t know what his story is yet.

  Ricki, now that’s another matter. She’s maybe a hand shorter than Timmy, big boned, broad hipped, high cheek bones, and curvy. She wears tight jeans with holes and patches. She wears a long sleeve collarless top and an old Ike jacket with the arms missing. She has pins and medals on it.

  Her hair is cut short and spiked, colored red and purple. She has a nose pin and a lip ring. I expect her to assault Timmy at any moment. I don’t think she could stand his being so clean cut.

  She had been at a protest where she and others had sat down and blocked a road. A cop just walked up and down the line spraying them in the face with pepper spray. After the arrest, the cops felt her up like the other girls.

  Don’t know what the sexual thing is with cops. There was this town down Florida a few years ago where a good portion of the police force had screwed this civilian female employee in squad cars and parks, lots of places. She said some of it was consensual and some was not. The news report stopped short of calling it rape.

  “Slime and Hector, either of you guys messed with explosives much?”

  “Yeah, I blew stuff up in Afghanistan,” said Hector.

  “Okay, I’ll lead the demo team. You think you guys can cut the fence and get in without too much commotion?”

  Slime and Hector exchanged glances. “Sure,” said Slime.

  “Good. Pacho,” Rico said looking at me. “I want you to help us on Team 2. You won’t go through the wire, but I’ll need you to carry in the gasoline mixture.”

  “Do I still bring a weapon?”

  “Oh yes, everybody will be armed. I just need someone to carry the jugs to the fence.”

  “Okay, I’ll be the mule.”

  I want to rehearse the attack and work out the bugs. Come on; I’ll show you.

  Slime interrupted, “I’ve got a question.”

  The group stopped. “Okay.”

  “Why are you going through the fence? It seems to me that you would be better outside were you could keep an eye on everything.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t want to send people into a dangerous situation and not go in myself.”

  “I appreciate that, but if you are inside the wire, you have no control over the rest of the operation.”

  “Let me think about that. You may have a point.”

  So it began, first in the dirt drawing out the whole picture and at each stage people came up with questions that needed to be answered. What was Team 1 to do after the fire was set? Should they split or join the others? What was I to do after I had dropped off the explosive mix at the fence? Should we actually drive to our assigned places prior to the mission in order to check the place out?

  Neither of the men had ever actually cut a chain link fence. That had to be practiced. The plan may
seem simple, but there were details to be worked out.

  Finally, we were ready to go. Rico got there first and made sure the target was right where it was supposed to be. Only then did he send the coded signal on a prepaid cell phone. We all left our own cell phones at home. We also used radios, one frequency to transmit another to receive.

  People talk about luck. I’m not sure if I believe in luck any longer. Good luck is where careful planning and preparation meet opportunity. Bad luck comes from the lack of the above. Oh yeah, it’s possible that manna will fall from the sky or the ravens will feed you, but for the vast majority of us the vast majority of the time, don’t count on it.

  We picked a night that was cold and dark. The wind whipped, and it had been raining off and on. Team 3 was on the roof of a used car lot office about 300 yards from the fence near the target.

  Team 4 parked in the street in an old sedan that had a searchlight and looked like a narc. They had radio contact with Rico.

  I drove Team 2 to a side street near the drop off point and waited. The ten-gallon gas cans were in the back of the SUV. We filled each with packing peanuts prior to adding the gasoline. This was to make a sticky burning mixture. I was to drive to a point near the fence between two buildings and drop off the team.

  Team 1 coated several bushes and trees with the sticky flammable liquid, then set it off. Their work done, they headed back to the freeway.

  When Rico saw the fire, he signaled, “Get moving.” We had been nervous, but by the time we went in everyone was calm. I parked in shadows and kept the engine running. We used a big screen TV box to hide the explosive mix. We wanted nothing with fuel on it to contaminate the vehicle.

  “Okay, we’ve got traffic,” called Laura. That was the signal when the airport police had spotted the fire and were responding to it. So far, there was no mention of any intruders and no reason to initiate jamming.

  By the time I got the rest of the mix to the fence, they were through it. Each man carried two containers of the mix. I went back to the car and waited behind the wheel.

  Two police cars were at the fence on the other side of the airport and one other was on its way. Rico saw no activity in the strike team’s area. In the distance, we could hear the fire trucks.