Us old not-quite-married people followed suit not long after. Still had come catching up to do.
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The last leg was eight hundred miles, even though the tip of Cuba was only ninety miles from Cancún. We did it all over water, thinking that we would stay out of trouble, and flew on the deck, for the same reason. That best-laid plan didn’t work. We roared out of a low cloud layer, right upon a convoy that had no business being there. There being somewhere north of Jamaica, west of Haiti. They were flying the Imperial German Ensign, red, white, black, and started blazing away with everything they had as soon as they saw us burst out of the clouds.
It looked like a couple dozen merchant ships, five destroyers, and maybe a light cruiser. They didn’t have a chance against a hundred Fives and Tri Gunships. Earhart lead us around in a wide circle to the south and back to hit their flanks. It was pure murder. The Gunships were bad enough, the 37mms went right through the thin sides of the merchants, but the huge missiles from the Fives cracked open the destroyers like melons. We didn’t even have to make a second pass, but we did. The water was full of struggling men, and over-loaded lifeboats. I was standing in the narrow passage between the pilot’s seats, with Demetri filming from a crouch in front of me. These new Tris had the gun mounted below the floor boards, so we didn’t have to clamber over that hot steel tunnel. “You don’t have to shoot,” I yelled to Lucinda, but she ignored me, held the toggle down, watching the explosives and tracers hack through the sailors and soldiers. She kicked the rudder pedals back and forth to spread the wealth among the krauts.
Once we were through, and the gun stopped hammering, she said over her shoulder, “I’m from Minneapolis.” Yeah. Enough said. I just slapped her shoulder and went back to my seat. There’s a war on. Sometimes I forget.
The whole battle didn’t take ten minutes. I wondered how many men we had just killed, but the answer was “not enough.”
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Guantánamo, Gitmo, they call it, was waiting for us. They had smoke pots going, showing the onshore wind. We landed in order, men with flags waved us to parking positions, they had fire trucks waiting. We clambered out, blinking in the hot sun of late afternoon, formed up into gaggles, and wandered toward the reviewing stands. They even had a brass band.
Well, she said it was a set-up, right? Once we were assembled, if not in ranks, the Marine General welcomed us, brave pilots of Pacifica and the Estados Unidos de América Central, in the name of President Herbert Hoover, of the United States of America. Without qualifiers. About then I noticed that the flags flapping in the sea breeze had thirteen stars, in a circle in the blue field. Really? On a closer look, they were slightly handmade, neatly done, but not perfect. General Amelia said a few words, and the Euac Air General, Cruz, said a few more, in something he thought was English, but wasn’t. He was applauded with vigor anyway, and we all filed off to a nice cool hanger for dinner and drinks. More drinks than dinner, Earhart’s suspicion was correct, they had rum, and fish, and some beans and yellow rice, but it filled the gut. I guess most of the meat in the rice was octopus, chewy, but edible. I was so glad to be on the ground, and able to hear something except the droning of the engines, I would have eaten reptile assholes, if they had ketchup.
I was gratified, but mystified, but right after dinner, we were herded to one end of the hanger, Earhart and the Marine General, Kennesaw, Jim Kennesaw, filled us in, informally. Well, they had a blackboard but no stage. General Hernan Cruz was there too; he was translating for his people. He must have understood English better than he spoke it. “I have been informed,” Earhart began, “That the international situation, and therefore the war situation, had changed radically while we were in transit from Albuquerque. There have been so many rapid developments, that synopsis is difficult, but I will try to be concise. Be aware, however, that the situation is still in flux, and very little is settled.
“First, there has been considerable labor unrest in Great Britain, so much so, that King Edward VIII has been forced to abdicate, in favor of his younger brother, who is now George the VI. He is a young man, only thirty-five or six, and his position is described as precarious. He cannot take the United Kingdom out of the Reich, which is what the rioters and a goodly portion of both houses of Parliament have demanded. However, he has announced that British troops are to be brought home to maintain order. Sub rosa, I can tell you that a large part of this revolution has been officiated through the influence of Pacifica’s Vice President, the Honorable Winston S. Churchill.”
“It is also said that the Anglo-German invasion of Canada will be ended, Canada will become entirely British once more, and German troops will be employed in other theaters of war.” She paused and sipped from a glass from the ledge of the blackboard. “It is not stated, but it is obvious that the recent victories of Pacifica forces in Medicine Hat and Saskatoon have facilitated this process. All that aside, there have been even more momentous development in the United States, or at least in what used to be the United States. General Kennesaw?”
Kennesaw looked like he had been chopped out of brownstone with a dull pickax. He might have had more than a trace of Indian blood, and minced not a single word. “As you know, we at Gitmo have been left in the lurch by those clowns that used to be called our government. Patton hated the Gyrenes with a passion. We knew what a phony he was and always had been. Once he was gone, we were in a bad pickle, and the fact that turncoat Lejeune was a leatherneck just made matters even worse. He did what he believed in, but the first duty of the USMC is loyalty, not to a region, or a man, but to the Constitution. He failed that duty. I will not fail in my duty.”
“Franklin Roosevelt, President of the new nation of Pacifica, was forced into exile by Patton and John Hoover,” He didn’t quite spit on the floor, but it was a struggle. “John Hoover. FDR was forced to flee the country that he loved, that he served, but continued to fight for the Constitution and for America even in exile. I can tell you that Roosevelt, who I knew personally when he was Secretary of the Navy, has been in constant contact with Herbert Hoover, the rightful President of the United States, and they have come to an agreement, and a course of action to restore the country that we love, and to defeat our multitude of enemies.”
“America is not what it was, and may never recover its former glory of forty-eight states. We have thirteen now that pledge allegiance to President Hoover and the flag he stands for. Those states are Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Thirteen. That’s how many we started with, that’s how many we have now. We have no seaports, no navy, damn little of an army. But we do have the industrial heartland of the world, we have resources, and we have manpower. We will prevail. We will prevail.” The audience erupted in cheering at that point, drowning him out until he waved them down.
“We have allies. Pacifica has signed an alliance, as has los Estados Unidos de América Central.” He butchered the pronunciation but powered through a few titters from the audience. “The Empire of Japan has recognized Herbert Hoover as the sole and legitimate leader of the government of the United States, and has declared war on the Confederacy. Pacifica, EUCA, and the USA have also officially declared war on the Confederacy. That is Job One. We have to get our country back. We shall get our country back. For the time being, we shall take back everything to the east of the Mississippi River. Estados Unidos de América Central have a legitimate claim to most of the lands west of that river, but are willing to settle any disputes, in a peaceful manner, once the Confederacy, and the German lackey state of Texas, are defeated and restored to the Union.”
“This will not be any part of easy. This will take all we have. Our Founding Fathers pledged their “lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor” to their country. We shall do no less.” More cheering. He waited them out this time.
Once they calmed down, he continued. “In another matter, Gerardo Machado, the P
resident of Cuba, has applied for membership in EUAC, and expressly given permission to USA and Pacifica forces to use Havana as a prime naval base. That should be enough information for the time being. You all can see what we are up against, what we have to accomplish. I don’t have to spell it out for you. Personally, all I want to say is that we are in business, and we best get busy. We have a lot of hard dirty work to do, and we are already in action. Get a good night’s rest, we are going to be busy tomorrow. We have a war to win. Good night, and may God bless you all.”
And what could you say to that? I couldn’t wait to get to my typewriter. Journalism hell, this was history.
Brown Bear Blues Page 24