Fortress Farm - The Pullback

by G.R. Carter

  Chapter Sixteen

  Illinois University

  Two Months after the Great Reset

  “You now hold the rank of Captain in the Reconstructed American Army. I will hold each of you personally responsible for your assigned sector of the Reconstructed Zone. That means that I expect you to devote yourselves 100% to the protection of your respective sector and the production of valuable resources for New America. Do you all agree to fulfill your duties?”

  “We do,” was the unified reply.

  Colonel Darian Walsh could command a room, and keep a soldier’s attention just with presence alone. These men were now the leadership of New America. That’s what he called the city around Illinois University and the area now stretching for miles in every direction. The new name highlighted to his people what their mission was. They would take this opportunity to rebuild civilization the way it ought to be.

  Still a gamble…if the power came back on I’ll have some explaining to do, Walsh thought. But I don’t see any choice. Each second the electrical grid stayed dark, modern society crumbled and fell further away from what they knew as normal. Utter desperation took over this small city in a matter of days; similar situations must exist across the country. He had to get Reconstruction spread as soon as possible to keep the small farm towns from suffering the same fate. Those who could supply his efforts with steady food and new soldiers were critical to his mission.

  Officers in the room each received packets containing current intelligence data for their assigned sectors of the Reconstructed Zone. Typewritten lists outlined hard assets and auxiliary troops allocated to their command. No officer needed an introduction to the ten veteran soldiers making up their executive team. Each Sector commander took the opportunity to select whoever they felt most comfortable with, though Walsh retained final say. These men would work and live together in the sector command posts. Walsh’s command center at the base would be at most a few miles away but poor communications meant the remote groups would have to depend on each other in emergency situations.

  The last man to receive his packet was Capt. Martin Fredericks. Since the episode with the former mayor, Colonel Walsh had kept a close eye on the captain. Walsh was reassured the slip was merely an isolated incident and Fredericks was now back on track with the master plan. Fredericks recently followed orders to a tee and was responsible for isolating and eliminating a group of looters caught near the campus just yesterday.

  His confidence restored, Walsh would both reward Fredericks and give him a chance to use experience gained in the Sandbox. He’d get to see what life was like outside of the civilized outpost they had created here and help another community reach the same level of organization.

  Fredericks’ assignment included a forty-five mile trip to Decatur, where messengers recently established contact with the surviving National Guard outpost. The Decatur National Guard commander, Major Terry Stillman, gladly agreed to defer to Colonel Walsh’s overall command. Under the arrangement, Stillman became Walsh’s sector commander for New America’s westernmost province. Fredericks’ assignment was to help Major Stillman put the same structure in place that New America’s capital used. During their brief radio contact and subsequent dispatches, Walsh could tell that Stillman lacked the forethought and discipline needed to act on his own. But the willingness to accept the authority of New America’s Reconstruction meant Walsh could use him until a better replacement was installed.

  Fredericks will appreciate what we’ve done here once he sees the mess that Decatur is in. He just has to remember that the people here are no different than the ones we pacified overseas. This trip will make that plain as day. Reconstruction is necessary to save lives and any chance at returning America to civilization.

  One of Walsh’s few hobbies included the study of Abraham Lincoln. Before the Reset, his little free time was spent at the Lincoln Museum in Springfield, mostly focused on reading Lincoln’s personal letters. Walsh was fascinated with Lincoln’s decision-making, though he felt that the policies Lincoln enacted during the Civil War were contrary to the spirit of the United States Constitution. Walsh related to the sixteenth president’s turmoil – during his first tour in the Sandbox, Walsh also struggled with his actions to restore order. American officers were supposed to be benevolent when dealing with local populations, no matter how hostile the natives were. Lincoln’s justification of difficult decisions subduing a rebellious population brought comfort to the young officer. From the first time Walsh was put in impossible situations by his country to now when he commanded large groups of fighting men, Lincoln’s arguments always resonated with him.

  Walsh intended to implement Lincoln’s wishes for Reconstruction of the country after the Civil War, wishes Lincoln couldn’t implement personally because of his assassination. Unfortunately, all resistance had to be squashed before the rebuilding process could begin. Just like the former Confederate states had to be pacified, Walsh needed the local populations here to become more pliable to the future he had in mind.

  That included Old Main College, which sat towards the southern edges of the area New America currently had under Reconstruction. The leadership of Old Main, including the ex–Senator now serving as President of the college, rejected New America’s repeated overtures to diplomacy carried by his motorcycle envoys. Walsh fumed silently when he thought about former Senator Julia Ruff. A former leader of the United States government should better understand the high stakes. This is no time to play “Game of Thrones.” We have a nation to restore.

  Walsh’s envoys reported that Old Main had developed a good system to integrate their students with what remained of the surrounding community. Food production was exceeding their minimum daily requirements for survival, allowing Senator Ruff’s people to take on other tasks like improving their defensive capabilities. They were even training their own militia – a group of young people that would fit nicely into his Legions.

  Most of all, though, Walsh desperately wanted the expertise held by Old Main’s Agriculture staff for his supply chain. Most of the faculty and staff at the University here disappeared sometime after the Great Reset. Those that remained seemed more interested in a handout than helping out.

  Walsh’s teams found some gardeners and farmers surviving in the reconstructed areas. That plus the field manuals they had on base would help get their gardens started. But he really wished for people with a lifetime of research and training. New America’s quartermaster determined they possessed about two years of supplies, counting the hundreds of thousands of MREs available in the hidden missile silos. That would do for now, but Walsh knew from experience that dried foods weren’t enough to feed an effective fighting force. New America’s Legions needed real food; he’d prefer to use the MREs to trade for allegiance when they began assimilating the surrounding communities.

  To get started tilling the new gardens, his sector commanders would each be assigned about a thousand Qualified Civilians. Qualified Civilians, or QCs as they referred to them, were townies who showed the initiative to arrive at a food distribution center Walsh set up on each side of the city. Once at the FDC, each family received evaluation for assignment to a task New America needed. Some became security officers, others became foragers sent into the local countryside. Still others were put to work training as food production specialists. Somehow, Walsh just couldn’t get around to calling them farmers.

  Of course, each resident will take whatever task that needs doing. Even soldiers will be helping during planting and harvest season. New America’s Legions will be as Roman Centurions: skilled in engineering, farming, architecture, and of course, warfare, Walsh thought, allowing himself a small smile at the quality of soldier New America already produced.

  One last item issued to each new sector commander was a brand new American flag to fly above the sector HQ. Walsh made a point to have each flag raised on the base flagpole, then lowered and r
efolded for presentation every day. Symbolism was a huge part of the armed services; he wanted something that would keep each sector tied to the Command Headquarters of New America.

  Walsh and his team briefly discussed producing a new flag or symbol. But since he was pushing the concept of New America, he decided to stick with the well–recognized emblem. Besides, he had a whole closet full of the Stars and Stripes. There was no time or resources to devote to anything new just yet. Even the uniforms he issued would be changed at some point; the standard gray urban camouflage pattern no longer relevant in this rural area.

  Small details, but each decision will have ramifications throughout the future. The death of empires gave birth to new societies.

  Each evening, he spent thirty minutes reading more about Rome’s final days in Britain. Really, that empire’s withdrawal took years; no sudden overnight departure. Walsh made sure to make mental notes of decisions made by generals and emperors that resonated down through history. The greatest impact always landed on future generations. He struggled to figure out what circumstances led Britain to become a great empire. Perhaps with the right groundwork New America would rise as a great empire someday. Not empire, democracy, he corrected himself.

  With sector commanders squared away and headed out to their assignments, Walsh’s devoted his afternoon to reviewing new recruits at the former Illinois University campus. The provost there turned out to be a real asset, much to Walsh’s surprise. He expected a bleeding-heart who would insist on an equal society. Regardless if it was self–preservation, the provost had carried out his commands to the letter. Due to that, he now had over four thousand former students stationed in the dorms near the courtyard. The rest of the ten thousand students once housed on or around campus made off for home or simply melted away into the city itself.

  For now, he was keeping the female and male students in different buildings. Soon he would begin to pair them up based on talents and a compatibility test developed by an Illinois University psychology professor. He wasn’t against the concept of two people falling in love. New America just didn’t have time for that to work out on its own. These newly trained troops needed to deploy into the city to help the sector commanders finish up any bandits and looters. Reconstruction at its heart was about security. Therefore, New America staff would be assigning matched couples a campus room as soon as their compatibility tests were completed.

  Most of the young men would receive assignments to the Legions, with the women filling in the duties required to keep a civilization going. There might be a few women able to become Legionnaires, but based on the training regime his officers created, they would be the exception.

  The first two thousand would form the nucleus of New America. Their offspring would be the leaders and warriors of the empire. I’m finally being honest…that’s what we’ll create here. New America would be aggressive and expansive once he felt it was ready. The experience he gained overseas, as well as the history he read, told him that democracy was a farce. True peace and security was only achieved through strength. Democracies were by their very nature corrupt. Whoever promised the most goodies to the most people would be in charge. How could that ever hope to be sustained?

  I’ll stay in charge for just a while, until I find someone else to hand it off to. He didn’t want to be a dictator, so he would make sure his executive committee had a major say in the decisions. Maybe, someday, he might even allow something like the Roman Senate or the British House of Lords. But the final decisions belong to someone unafraid to face a decision or the consequences. One man…every decision ultimately comes down to one man.

  As his command Humvee pulled off the street through the tunnel leading underneath the stands and onto the former football field, he could see hand-to-hand combat training already taking place. Memorial Stadium’s synthetic turf over concrete meant that this area wouldn’t be converted to food production like the campus golf course and soccer fields were. The all–weather padded surface suited training like this perfectly. Walsh climbed out of the Humvee and quickly climbed the stairs to the press box perched several stories above. He kept a high knee form and running pace over each flight of stairs.

  I’ll show them the old man can still get after it.

  Shouts of commands and the sharp clang of wooden practice weapons echoed off the brick and metal stadium surrounding the bright green turf. Occasionally a young man would trot off to the side, holding an arm or leg. Medical personnel assigned from the two large hospitals here in the city quickly attended to the inevitable breaks, cuts and strains resulting from simulated combat. Walsh wasn’t one to immediately disqualify a cadet because of an injury; he suffered a few himself while sparring over the years. If you’re not hurtin’, you’re not tryin’, he smiled to himself.

  Two veteran officers acknowledged Walsh’s entrance as he strode into the skybox that once held football coaches. Just as quickly, they returned to observing several hundred young men going through combat drills down on the field below. The observing officers furiously scribbled notes into composition notebooks printed for a now-defunct chemistry class. Several previously completed books sat in neat stacks on the work area. Large paper numbers hung from the backs of the most talented recruits on the field, signifying the best candidates for leadership in the new Legions. “Legionnaires,” they would be called. So much nobler sounding than “soldier.” The most regal of titles bestowed upon the best of the best.

  “Have we identified a large enough pool of candidates for Centurion status?” Walsh asked the men. Neither replied at first, too caught up in the evaluations. Each Legion would be made up of one hundred Guardsmen, split into ten-man squads. Each squad featured a Legionnaire in command, who then reported to the Lead Centurion. For now, only Walsh’s soldiers with previous combat experience would serve as Lead Centurions.

  Finally, one officer turned with a shark-tooth grin. “You were right as usual, Sir. I didn’t think these college boys stood a chance of making it when things got tough. But a little hunger and a lot of competition brought out the best in them. I’d say you’re going to have plenty of candidates to choose from. Some of these Legionnaires are going to keep our Lead Centurions sharp.” The man eagerly returned to his work, comparing notes with the other as he leaned in.

  In a very short time, spoiled American youth had volunteered to become something they could have never imagined when first heading off to school. When Walsh and the rest of his veterans were the age of the young men on the field, their first stop was basic training. Then they all ended up in godforsaken armpits of the world like the Sandbox. When the group of boys on the football field below first left home, they thought they would seek four to six years of pleasure and leisure. Maybe with the right connections they’d learn how to get a big-dollar job in DC or the Regional Capitals. Instead, they were now becoming hardened men willing to inflict pain on another person to get noticed by their superiors.

  Walsh took the panoramic sight in, feeling a wave of optimism. The view from up here allowed him to see for blocks around. Many of the campus buildings almost had a Romanesque look to them. Perhaps this would be the Capital of New America, even after the rest of the country was reconstructed.

  How long will that really take? Walsh asked himself. At first I thought it would be my lifetime and more.

  But if he could turn young men into Guardsmen and Legionnaires this fast, perhaps he was underestimating their abilities. What could New America accomplish in one year? In five?

  Perhaps we might need to expand our goals.