Nuclear Spring

by Td Barnes

  Bradley turned down an offer to ride the handcar, preferring to walk instead to provide him time to organize his thoughts. Barlow and Callahan were waiting for him when he arrived at the Command Center. He briefed them on the latest news followed by his thoughts.

  In summation, he said, “Once it is safe for us to leave the shelter of the mountain, there is no question of our being desperate for supplies and under attack for our survival. That is a given. That said, I propose we take the battle to our enemy under our terms., we will have the camera on the mountain to provide intelligence, but to do so; we need to know where to look. The enemy will transport their soldiers in by air, so we need to know which airport for us to be looking at.”

  He paused to afford others the opportunity to comment. Receiving no comments or opposition to his idea thus far, he continued. I suspect the enemy will fly a recon unit in to assess the situation at the dam. Callahan, I propose that you station observers at the airports at Boulder City, Henderson, McCarran, North Las Vegas, and Nellis AFB to determine which they chose. We need to assess who and what they send. We will be using our radios to coordinate our people, and once we learn where they deploy, the others can join up to surveil them. We will not engage. I repeat, this is a recon operation, and we will not fight unless necessary to escape. Any comments?”

  Barlow and Bradley could tell that Callahan was mulling something over in his mind.

  Thinking as he spoke, he said, “We have junior officers and NCOs who have never experienced combat. I suggest we assign them to our seasoned noncoms to provide them some training and expertise. With the advanced weapons that we have here, I do not think their absence will hurt our defensive capabilities here at the mountain.”

  Bradley turned to Barlow. “What about supplies? This would be an excellent opportunity to stock up on last minute items. I suggest you prepare a shopping list that we can send shopping details to fill. Callahan, your people, can provide them security to get them in and out.”

  “Let’s do it,” Callahan said. He picked up his weapon and Kevlar to conclude their talk. Barlow stood up as well.

  Bradley stood up and likewise prepared to leave. “HOOAH,” he called on his way back.

  “HOOAH,” the others responded with a revived gung-ho attitude inspired by their colonel’s departing call.

  Bradley stopped at the exit and turned to face Barlow. “Would your hubby George and you like to join me for dinner tonight? I have something that I would like to run by you.”

  He turned to leave again, but stopped and turned to address Barlow again. I think we should see where our Muslim member of the mountain stands on our war against the Jihadists. I don’t want him to set foot in the war room, do you mind if you and I interview him here?”

  “I agree. He hadn't shown up on our radar since the picnic when he heckled you.” She turned to the Sergeant Major and asked him to summon Dr. Shahidullah Fazlullah, the nuclear physicist who heckled Colonel Bradley at the picnic.

  Doctor Fazlulla arrived with the Sergeant Major, concern, and fright etched on his face. The Sergeant Major showed him to a chair at the conference table and returned to the entrance to secure the room from visitors.

  “Sir, if this is about my actions at....”

  Bradley waved his hand to dismiss the thought. “It is not that at all, Doctor. You did us a service by revealing the lack of spine of our civilians. You a right to state your opinion for your religious beliefs, but I fault the rest for not standing up to you when they did not agree with you.”

  Fazlullab’s look of concern transformed into one of confusion.

  Bradley noticed Major Callahan turning away at the entrance when he saw what was occurring inside. Bradley motioned for him to join them. Callahan took a seat and listened.

  Bradley continued. “We are confident that you must know about the attack on our shopping detail in Las Vegas, the execution of Sergeant Harper, and the attack on the mountain by jihadist activists. You must take my word for it that we intercepted their radio transmissions wherein they plan to attack us again. We will, of course, take military action to preempt another attack on us here at the mountain.”

  His raspy voice softened. “We realize that the jihadist movement is not monolithic and that there are varying degrees of ideological difference—including goals and objectives. They are the motivated by an ideology having no real distinction between religion, politics, and culture. They believe that it is their religious duty to propagate their strain of Islam that forces everyone follows the Prophet Mohammed and his early believers’ example—that everyone must follow the Quran and the Sunnah. What we need to know from you is where you will stand in a war against jihadism. Before you answer, let me say that because of your religious beliefs, we would not expect you to bear arms against those of your faith. We need to know if you would aid them to harm our people here inside the mountain.”

  To Fazlullab’s credit, he stated his position boldly and with apparent sincerity. “I assure each of you that I am not an activist or warrior in any sense. I am not al Qaeda or a member of the Brotherhood. I am a Muslim who believes that God is one and incomparable and the purpose of existence is to submit to and serve God., there is a widely held narrative that jihadists have psychotic and sociopathic personalities who prescribe to violence. A wide array of actors employs both terrorism and insurgency. They have no single creed, ethnicity, political persuasion, or nationality having a monopoly on terrorism. The Jihadists that we see here employ terrorism as they do insurgency—as one of many tools used to achieve their objectives. They allow very little space for extra-religious ideas and severely limit the use of reason to interpret the divine texts. These jihadists seek to conquer and expand until they encompass the earth. I am not one of them.”

  The three officers looked at one another as though to read one another’s thoughts.

  Bradley said, “Your actions here inside the mountain these past four years have never conflicted in any way that I am aware of., you will never be able to resume your previous occupation other than to pass your knowledge on to future generations. If we were to draft you into our military as a noncombatant, what occupation or position do you envision having that would support the rest of us inside the mountain?”

  Bradley’s question surprised both Barlow and Callahan.

  Fazlullah thought for a moment but gave no indication of being disturbed by the notion of the military drafting him. “As you said, I could teach. I would like to study new ways of using nuclear power for peaceful purposes. As to occupation, my family and I would perform any service that does not go against our religious beliefs.”

  “Questions, anyone,” Bradley asked Barlow and Callahan.

  Callahan said, “I have one. Dr. Fazlullah, what would you do if Islamic jihadists attacked the mountain again?”

  “I would fight the jihadists to defend my friends and family—all of us here inside the mountain.”

  “Even if they are Muslim?”

  “You don’t seem to understand, Major. Muslims have always fought other Muslims. Only the Muslim extremists engage in attacks on what they call non-Muslims or infidels. I am an American, and I’ll fight for America. In my opinion, jihadism negates itself like Ouroboros, the legendary snake that swallows its tail. If not fighting non-Muslims, they will find other Muslims to fight. They are animals who happen to share my religion, but bend it to their religious beliefs.”

  Barlow stood extended her hand to shake the hand of Fazlullah. Without hesitation, he grasped her hand and shook it, demonstrating to the officers that he did not hold a woman in disdain as did most Muslim men.

  “Military draft? Barlow asked probingly.

  “That is what I intended to talk to you about over dinner. We talked earlier about deadbeats and jobs. Think about it.”

  He looked at Callahan and back at her. “Let’s skip the dinner.” He looked at Callahan. “When you plan your mission and select your teams, I would like to address them before they deploy.
”

  Callahan nodded his concurrence. “Sir, if you don’t mind, I think we should use the War Room to plan our mission. You and Colonel Barlow should be involved in the mission also involve scrounging for supplies as well. We will need to work with the radio operators on frequencies, call signs, and procedures.”

  Colonel Barlow spoke up to inject her thoughts. “Major, since this is a recon mission, I suggest we also recon the survivor camps to determine how many survived, how they survived, and if they can continue to survive. We cannot take them in, but if they are salvageable, perhaps we can aid in their survival. We need to know if we can make a difference.”

  1700 Hours-Same Day

  1SG Jack Curtis led the four-second lieutenants and six non-commissioned officers into the War Room, placing them in standing position at the conference table to await Colonels Bradley, Barlow, Lieutenant Colonel Schwartz, Major Callahan, and SMG Marshall whom they could see leaning over the console doing something in the radio room. Callahan heard their arrival and with a raised a finger motion indicated that he needed another moment or so.

  The first sergeant started to call them to attention when Bradley and the others turned from the radio console to enter the central portion of the War Room. All of them came equipped with several pounds of combat equipment, so Bradley waved him off and sat down at the head of the table with Barlow taking a seat beside him. Major Callahan moved to a projector where projected a map of Las Vegas and the adjacent towns of Henderson and North Las Vegas.

  “Listen up, troops. This is a recon mission. Do not initiate action unless you have no choice to escape. Because this is Intel gathering, we are including Colonel Bradley’s staff in the planning and execution.”

  All eyes turned toward Bradley. He motioned for Callahan to continue.

  Callahan distributed to each of them a copy of the map on display. “The call sign for this mission is Ghost Rider. We have split you into five teams with an officer, NCO, and radioman on each team. Two of you will take charge of the shopping detail. The shopping detail will conduct our shopping mission and get the hell out of Dodge as soon as possible. Depending on the availability of supplies, you may carry out more than one shopping sortie.”

  He turned to study the map for a moment before continuing. “We are expecting the arrival of hostiles by air. The objective of this mission is to identify their landing site. Colonel Bradley’s group will take it from there. Keep your radio transmissions to a minimum. Your call sign will determine the landing site. The remote camera programming includes the coordinates of each airport. The moment we receive notification here that a plane has landed, we will focus the camera on the action and track them from there.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Schwartz, the S-2 officer, interjected, “Your target will be airborne, so there is no need for you to be within sight of the landing site. You will not attempt to follow the arrivals. Like your code name, you are ghosts. Report the landing site and lay low for further instructions.”

  Callahan continued, “The Colonel is correct. We do not want to show our hand. Doing so will compromise the entire mission and our existence.” He looked at each of the officers. “None of you officers receiving your commissions here inside the mountain have experienced combat; however, the NCOs have tactical experience. You will consider this a training exercise and the NCOs, your instructors. Listen to your sergeants. Sergeants, the officer that you train may be your leader on the next mission. Do I need to say more?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Most likely there will be only one landing site, so once it is reported everyone head to the Lee Canyon cutoff on the Widow Maker to rendezvous with the others. When you arrive, radio in with your call sign and just the word ‘arrival.’ Do not leave anyone behind. First Sergeant, please give them the team assignments.”

  The first sergeant shifted around the conference table to face the mission members.

  “Here are the assignments. Shopping sortie. Sgt Evans and Sgt Smith, Ghost Rider 1: 2Lt. Riley, Sgt. Adams, and Specialist Allison - Nellis AFB, Ghost Rider 2: 2Lt. Leavitt, Sgt. Goldfein, and Specialist Staple - North Las Vegas Airport, Ghost Rider 3: 2Lt. Hornfield, Sgt. Farris, and Specialist Humphry - McCarran International Airport, Ghost Rider 4: 2Lt. Zvenno, Sgt. Thompson, and Specialist Balassa - Henderson Executive Air Terminal, and Ghost Rider 5: 1Lt. Riester, Sgt Porter, and Specialist Nelson - Boulder City Municipal Airport. The shopping detail will have four enlisted men.”

  “Thank you, First Sergeant. I do not think the Boulder City is viable for landing anything like a C-130. They will want to land close to the dam, so I bet that they land at the Henderson airport. It is a reliever airport for McCarran International and much closer than the other three airports. Colonel Barlow, do you want to describe the secondary mission?”

  Colonel Barlow stepped to Callahan’s side. “This is a secondary mission with low priority. It will be at your call. If feasible, we would like to know what you can gain about the survivors of the nuclear winter. Be very careful—these will most likely be desperate and resourceful individuals to have survived. Do not consider them as victims to be trusted. If you can, try to learn their numbers, and how they managed to survive. You might warn them that winter will return within a week or so, and at the same time learn how they propose to survive another siege of nuclear fallout.”

  Barlow stepped back, and Callahan continued. “See the circles drawn on the maps? We have numbered each one for identification purposes. If you use the radio to call the base, identify the location as Camp One, Camp, Two, etc. Any questions?”

  No one answered.

  “Sir?” Callahan to Colonel Bradley in case he anything to say.

  Bradley whispered, “Check your equipment, your dosimeter. We don’t expect the front to hit before Friday, but be alert just in case.”

  Callahan concluded the briefing with, “I’ll have the vehicles waiting outside the north portal serviced and loaded. Colonel Barlow some cots set up outside of the guard station. Get some rest. The mess hall will have breakfast ready for you at 0200. We will load out at 0230 hours. Good luck, men. HOOAH.”

  ####

  Colonels Barlow and Bradley, and Major Callahan wanted to be with their men for the send-off, so they elected to have cots moved into the War Center where they would remain throughout this mission. They awoke before 0200 to the sounds outside the alcove of the soldiers heading to the mess hall. The soldiers were boisterously ragging one another, griping about the early hour, the food, and joshing with one another as only happy soldiers do. “Come on, LT, I’ll race you-you pussy.”

  Barlow sat up on her cot chuckling. “Kids. They are no more than kids.”

  Bradley bent over to pull on his socks. “As were we, Colonel, when we engaged in our first war. I imagine we played grab-ass just as they are. At that age, we didn’t have a care in the world.”

  Barlow and Callahan looked at each other. If Bradley was grieving now, he did not show it.

  In a mess, the senior officers mixed in with those deploying, joking with them as though they were one of them and went on the mission. For the occasion, the mess hall officer served each of them a hearty breakfast of steak and eggs, a rarity breakfast inside the mountain.

  The portal doors opened, spraying light into the pitch-black darkness. The only audible sound was that of the air intake for the tunnel. The night seemed eerie with no bright moon in the sky, or outdoor sounds, no sound of wild animals or sight of insects flying into the lights. The soldiers checked one another’s gear before loading. The engines of the vehicles roared to life, and with a salute to the senior officers, the soldiers disappeared into the night.

  Bradley looked from the darkness that enveloped the vehicles and into the sky at the glimmering stars. Somewhere up there, a deadly jet stream was swooping down on them to deliver a second bout of nuclear winter to deny them summer and to end their nuclear spring. With that thought in mind, the others and he entered the mountain.

  The portal do
or clanged shut as he saluted the collage before going into the War Room. It was back to monitoring their connections to the outside. This time, in addition to the radiation readout and the external camera monitor, they had the camera and the repeater on Mt. Charleston, the radios, and the big screen continuously streaming weather data from a satellite orbiting high in the heavens above.

  Barlow and Callahan both stretched out on their cots to grab a couple of hours of sleep before the detail reached Las Vegas. Bradley checked to ensure the Mt. Charleston camera focused on the Henderson Airport and the radio monitoring the mission frequency before doing the same.

  At 0400 hours, SP5 Dawson slipped through the War Room to enter the radio room, surprising the radio operator on duty. “I can’t sleep while knowing that we have people headed into harm's way. What is the ETA?”

  “Lee Canyon turn off in 15 minutes. The call sign is Ghost Rider. The mission will split up there. We do not expect radio contact after ETA confirmation until they have something to report.” He slid the map to her showing the code names of the various locations.

  “Could be a long day,” she said. She handed him a headset and placed one over her head as well. “Let them sleep until needed,” she said while reaching the switch to mute the speakers. “It could be a long day for them as well.” She nodded her head to indicate the officers are sleeping in the War Room.

  Callahan woke first, smelling breakfast and hot coffee. He rubbed his eyes and looked towards the clock showing the time 0910 hours. Mitchell was quietly working at his computer and through the entrance to the radio room; he saw Dawson joined the radio operator. Sleeping beside him were the two colonels. Walking in his stocking feet, he entered the radio room.

  “Good morning, sir. The Ghost Riders checked in on schedule, and all has been quiet since. Negative activity on the camera. The mess hall just now delivered your breakfast, so we should wake the others.”