Civil War II

by Eric Gurr

  Civil War II

  Eric Robert Gurr

  ISBN: 9781096813569

  Copyright 2019 Eric Robert Gurr

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2:

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Prologue

  John Hartwick

  Why do you squint so hard John?

  Hartwick looked over at his friend. Matt Davis had been with him from the start. He was one of the first people he had met when he moved to Indiana.

  “I broke my glasses a few months ago. I had contacts, but they’re gone as well. Can’t find any glasses of my prescription.” Hartwick answered.

  “No!? Damn, I guess I never thought of that. Did you break them when you got shot in the face?” Davis asked.

  “Yeah. It just cracked the left lens.” Hartwick unconsciously raised his hand and rubbed the small scars on the left side of his face.

  “I’ve heard there is a place outside of Dayton Ohio that is still running and can make glasses. But I haven’t had the time to take a few days off and get over there.”

  “Nowhere around here is open?” Davis said.

  “No. I guess the lenses I need all come from a few places in California and they can’t get transportation. I tried online, but you know how that is now. I pay five or six hundred bucks and it might be here in three months.”

  “Well, you look like an idiot squinting like that.” Davis smiled as he said it.

  And then he walked away with the smile still on his face. Everyone was in a good mood.

  It was nice. The last couple of months it had been calm. No fighting. Nobody dead or dying. Hartwick was standing just a few inches from a post next to a pharmacy just outside of Indianapolis.

  The fighting here was long over. He leaned against the post relax. Yet he was aware of every movement around him. That wouldn’t end for a long time. Hartwick was always on the lookout for the enemy. His ears ever alert for the first bullet.

  Too many had been wounded or killed by a lone sniper getting close enough fire a few shots and then run.

  He felt safe, but he was always aware. A civil war was a license to kill. Everyone could justify it. Neither side considered it murder. It was just war. So that brought the psychopaths out in the open.

  He took a last draw on his cigarette and flipped it into the parking lot in front of him. “Cigarettes and beer.” He thought to himself. Through all the hell of the last eighteen months, those two things were always available.

  The sound of a car just to the left caught his attention. He moved from the store and looked down the street. It was a black truck. Had to be one of their guys. It was moving too fast. Enemies tried to creep up on you.

  Just to be sure he walked a few steps out towards the road and checked his holster to make sure he had the pistol. The Ruger Mini 20 slung over his right shoulder had ammo in the magazine, but he wasn’t sure how much.

  “It’s just the guys that went over to Ohio to meet with the Cincy guys.” He heard someone say.

  That was good news. The men were back in less than a few hours. That meant they were organized and on the move from Ohio. He became aware of a rumbling behind him. Interstate 70 was less than a mile away. They were inside the 465 loop at one of the original rally points. No one knew why, but they always came back here before a big battle.

  Hartwick himself had been back for just a few weeks. This is where it had started for him, and he hoped this is where it would end. His wife and kids were here. It was becoming peaceful.

  He thought about the battles in St. Louis, Columbus, Atlanta and all those smaller cities in the Midwest. He had taken short trips to Pittsburgh, as far south as Atlanta and as far west as Des Moines.

  At one point he had been away from home for three months. He thought of the people he had met. Quick friendships that were ended when a bullet took a life. In the bad days, twenty or thirty would die in a single blast. Thankfully that was all coming to an end.

  The next battle would either end in victory or defeat. But either way, it would be over. If they lost, and Admiral Shock had double-crossed them there was no telling what the future held.

  He walked further out to the parking lot where a crowd of fifty or so had gathered to watch the buses. A few taunted insults at the prisoners of war inside the makeshift chain-link fence.

  They could see the overpass from where they stood. The rumbling was more than just one or two of the 18 wheelers that still passed every day or so. He walked out to the parking lot to get a better look.

  It was a line of yellow school buses. Hundreds of them heading west. Others started to notice as well. The distinctive bright red X painted on the side of every bus. A loud cheer went up.

  “Get them the hell out!” someone yelled.

  Then even louder cheers. But John wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. He knew there was nothing he could do. The buses were filled with the enemy, but at least they weren’t being lined up and shot. He knew that had happened. And both sides, (was it really just two sides?), had done it.

  The buses were coming more often. Yesterday the yellow bus caravan had been twenty buses. That was a big one. School bus after bus loaded with those considered enemies and moved west. But today the line just kept going. There were hundreds of them. A few celebratory shots were fired into the air.

  John Hartwick wondered if it was finally coming to an end. Or was this just the calm before the big storm? The battle was going to be huge. Even if he wasn’t double-crossed, he knew many of his men moving across the country towards Richmond were going to die.

  He made his way back to Matt Davis.

  “How is Evans doing?” He asked.

  “Good. Troy knows what’s coming. He knows they are ready for us. But he still thinks we’ll win.”

  “Well, of course they know we’re coming. You can’t move half a million men halfway across the country without someone figuring it out. Do we have any new news on enemy numbers?” Hartwick asked.

  “Not really. We are estimating best case a hundred thousand. Worst case could be as high as a million. If it’s a million, our reserves will fill in and we’ll still be evenly matched.”

  “What if they collapse that line on us?”

  “We’re sending a few diversions along the line to the north. But they’re so far away I don’t think it will matter. That’s not the biggest issue anyway.” Davis said.

  “What is?”

  “Just like we’ve talked about. The house to house stuff. If it comes down to that, Evans tells me we could lose half our army. Doesn’t mean we still won’t win. But that’s a lot of dead Americans on both sides.”

  “I still think I should go.” Hartwick said. “If I’m the top general, why shouldn’t I be there?”

  Davis shrugged his shoulders. “Evans and all the other guys with military experience say it’s a bad idea. They want you here. They’ll call you if it’s going well and we’ll be on our way. I’d like to be there too. But, it’s best we stay here for now.”

  “I’m going back home, Matt. I want to hug my kids and kiss my wife. I’ll be back in an hour or so and we’ll get ready for the call.”

  Davis stared at Hartwick and spoke very softly.

  “John, I want you to know how much I appreciate all of this. I can’t really find the words I want to say. I know what you did for me. I know what you’ve given up. I just want to thank you and tell you if something happens to
one of us, I hope we meet again someday on the other side. I really do.”

  “I know Matt. I know. Me too.”

  Chapter 1

  The early dark days

  18 months ago

  All twelve members of the FOMC of the Federal Reserve Bank were there. But in an unusual circumstance like this, they were meeting at the White House.

  The President was in attendance as well as ten members of Congress. The Democrat candidate was also in attendance since the presidential election was just weeks away.

  Conspicuously absent was the Vice-President. Hank Hoxworth was better known as Handsome Hank. A two-term congressman from Texas plucked by the President four years ago to be his running mate. He was one-quarter Mexican. His mother half Mexican and half Texan. His father was Henry Reese Hoxworth. The Texas oil magnate and once a candidate for President himself.

  It was unclear who would win the election coming up. It was apparent who would win in four more years.

  Hoxworth was tall, good looking, exceedingly wealthy and loved by the Republicans, Texans, most Mexicans, and secretly many Democrats.

  He had graduated from MIT with a degree in engineering at the age of twenty. It was expected he would go to work for his father’s company. But for ten years he traveled the world. He would be seen with Hollywood movie stars and leaders of nations. It was a common joke that there were no two pictures of him with the same woman.

  Although the Democrats had tried to paint him as a dumb playboy, it hadn’t worked. When at the age of thirty his father died Hank returned to Texas and took the reins of the business. The stock had fallen dramatically. So Hank bought it at pennies on the dollar. Within five years the company had tripled in size. He was worth over ten billion dollars and controlled sixty percent of the stock.

  When he finally settled down to marry he decided to run for Congress. To avoid any conflict he turned control of his business over to the board and walked away. During the Vice Presidential debates it became evident that not only was Handsome Hank extremely likable, he was also brilliant. President Johnson’s close victory was credited mostly to Hoxworth.

  This was the reason the Democrats wanted him as far away from the meeting as possible. On this issue, they would not budge. He would be a distraction, and with the nation in such bad shape, it would be bad for everyone they argued.

  The economy was bad. As unemployment rose banks, were under more stress. Foreclosures were rising but the homes the banks owned were not selling. So new lending was also falling fast.

  Protests had been growing more violent across the country. At first, it was fist fights. Over the last few weeks, sticks and knives had been used.

  In Europe, things were worse. Paris, Berlin, and London saw daily riots. Fires were set and clashes between immigrants and citizens had grown deadly. As the economies in Europe and America stalled, China, South Korea, and Japan suffered as well.

  The entire world was a boiling pot and governments were trying to keep the lid clamped down. The only thing the politicians could agree on was that things were getting worse. If the top blew off it was going to be bad. World war bad.

  It was under this cloud that an election would happen in just two weeks. The Fed wanted to save the banks. The politicians engaged in elections wanted what was best for them. The tension in the room was overwhelming. The meeting was scheduled for 9:00 AM. As individuals trickled, in there was no small talk, no friendly banter. Just an eerie silence.

  Everyone knew what the plan was. Print money. It wouldn’t be called that. There was a small chance it wouldn’t come to that. But few believed it. They were considering issuing over four trillion dollars in bonds. The interest rate would have to be raised meaning that the government wouldn’t be able to sell them. Bonds would be given to banks and the money would be created from thin air.

  The President and most Republicans wanted to cut spending. If they could pay unemployment benefits, social security, Medicaid and Medicare the nation would calm. For the first time, many Republicans were calling for spending cuts in military spending. They also wanted cuts in every other department.

  The Democrats wanted to raise taxes and borrow an additional trillion dollars. People needed help quickly, and they were promising that help. Their plan would put the deficit at over two trillion for the year.

  The people throughout the country were just as tense as those in the meeting. Unemployment was growing by the day. It had happened so fast. All were sure the President would lose his re-election bid. But many were starting to worry the Democrat would be worse. The polls had Johnson losing badly. But as law and oder began to break down, they were getting closer. Some showed the race within five points.

  There were thirty people in the conference room. Two stood out. The President and a congressman named Victor Van Driessen were the only ones in the room with their heads up. Everyone else pretended to look at something significant on their phones, or were scribbling notes. The President was looking from person to person. His eyes rested on Van Driessen.

  Van Driessen’s face showed no emotion. He was leaning back comfortably in his chair. He noticed the President staring at him and nodded slightly.

  The President began speaking.

  “It’s too close to the election to do something this radical. We have two weeks to go, can’t we just wait?” He spoke to Jane Watson.

  Watson was the chairwoman of the Fed. She was also frustrated, but for different reasons.

  “Mr. President we just don’t have the time. Lending has frozen up again and the troubles in Western Europe are aggravating the situation. This process has been done before. We are simply suggesting a repeat of 2008. It worked then and we have every reason to believe it will work again.”

  At the main table was the President and Doug Swindell, the Democrat who had won a fierce primary battle and was now ahead in the polls. The majority and minority leaders of the Senate were at the table as was the Speaker of the house and several other members.

  The other members of Congress, chosen by committee sat in chairs around the outside of the table.

  Victor Van Driessen was one of the most junior members of Congress and outside the table. He was appointed by the governor of Virginia to finish out the last six months of his deceased predecessor’s term.

  But in that short time, Van Driessen had made an impact on his fellow representatives. He was a Republican, but the Democrats grudgingly admitted the man knew economics and history. He could somehow put everything in context.

  Outside of Washington D.C., few people had heard of him. But inside the Capital, everyone knew him. Every committee he was on and every speech he had been a part of had been doomsday hyperbole. Or at least that’s what they thought initially. Now it was all coming true. From the widespread violence that had started across France and Germany, the credit crunch in Italy, Greece, Spain and once again France and Germany, to the current problems in the United States. Van Driessen had seen it all coming.

  Other than the President, Watson, and Swindell no one had spoken. Until now.

  “Just because it worked then doesn’t mean it will work now. And did it really work? Isn’t much of that money still floating around the banks propping them up?” Van Driessen said.

  Everyone at the table turned to see who had spoken up from the outside. The Vice President, Hank Hoxworth had suggested Van Driessen. The two had met just a handful of times, but Hoxworth knew a smart man when he met him. Van Driessen would keep him informed and make sure that the politicians didn’t screw it up.

  The Fed was supposed to fix this. It was a monetary problem, that’s what they do. The Speaker of the house and his fellow Democrat Swindell wanted to make sure the President and Republicans who controlled the Senate didn’t screw it up. Swindell, who was a governor of Vermont before running for President and had no idea who Van Driessen was, spoke up.

  “Uhh, Mister, I’m sorry I don’t know your name, but this is what the Fed does. They have a good track record her
e, and I think we need them to, uhhhhhh, to sort of take the ball on this one.”

  Swindell smiled graciously, always in campaign mode, but Van Driessen wasn’t moved. He had run his own business for thirty years. He knew a salesman when he saw one.

  “No, they have a terrible track record. And if the FED does this, we are going to find there are no buyers for the bonds. Same as last time. Only this time, they’re going to have to print even more money and it won’t help. The people of this country are fed up, and they aren’t buying it. They want jobs, stability, and security. This is going to get ugly.” Van Driessen said.

  Jane Watson tried to take control of the meeting. “Mr. Van Driessen, I’m sure you know we can always back the bonds. Inflation is still running at less than three percent. We’ll do it the way we did the last time. We’ll give the banks treasury bonds as loans. That way the inflation is tempered because the money won’t circulate so quickly.”

  “It won’t circulate at all.” Van Driessen said. “You’re just going to let them fix their balance sheets with worthless paper. But now, they have even less real assets than they did the last time. I’m telling you right now, you’re going to cause a civil war if you do this.”

  Van Driessen was drowned out by a chorus of voices. “Let’s not go there Vic, we’re a long way from that.”

  “Easy congressman Van Driessen. No one is going to start a civil war over monetary policy.”

  Every voice but one was now speaking. The President of The United States remained uncharacteristically silent.

  Van Driessen let them calm down. He spread his hands apart in mock resignation and said.

  “If you do as I suggest and cut spending, eliminate immigration and add moderate tariffs you’ll lower the deficit and add some jobs. It may not fix the problem entirely, but it will help. And it certainly won’t make it worse.