by Ryan King
Chapter 6 – Borders
General Clarence Anderson’s professional opinion was that he was too old to be in charge of the local Mayfield VFW chapter; much less the defense of what was the battered remnants of what passed for civilization these days. He had felt tired and stretched thin five years ago when he retired after thirty-six years of wonderful, challenging, and sometimes painful military service. Now, he was inexplicably back at it again, but not for the U.S. Army. General Anderson sipped his hot tea and scowled at the heavily scribbled and highlighted map on his dining room table.
He and Rita had intended to spend their remaining years traveling the country in a large RV purchased the year before Anderson’s retirement, but Rita started feeling tired and dizzy for no reason. It wasn’t long before they confirmed that his wife of over forty years had terminal and inoperable cancer.
The doctors gave Rita only six months to live with chemotherapy, but she refused, saying she had seen too many friends die without their dignity that way. The doctors’ subsequent prognosis was grim, no more than a month. Rita, ever the fighter, ignored them. She lived life with her typical boundless joy, lasting another three years before finally dying last June. Anderson had yet to figure out what to do with that ever-present and gaping hole left in his life.
He had spent most of his time pursuing his two hobbies: reading and gardening. A lifetime of military service had also instilled habits which he found difficult to ignore, even when they made no sense. Anderson still ran ten to twelve miles a week and executed a series of push-up and sit-ups as soon as he rolled out of the bed each morning. He was old, he thought, but at least he wasn’t old and soft. This was no self-delusion, Anderson’s body was slim and muscular, strikingly so given his age.
Before N-Day he dutifully spoke with his two children every week; his son had a family of his own out in Tucson and his daughter was a junior at the University of Miami. They worried about him, but there was really no need. He would never truly be happy again without Rita, but he lived the best life he could until the day they could be together again. He hoped and prayed his children were okay wherever they were, but he feared in his heart that both, given where they lived, were now likely dead.
Anderson was not sure what the rest of his lonely days would have entailed if not for the terrible attacks on his country, but he knew what his remaining days would be like now…driven, purposeful, and relentless. He had never been accused of being imaginative, but General Anderson had been famous for this methodical and detail-oriented nature, which, when combined with a stubborn persistence, made him one of the best strategic planners in the Army. He was also infamous for hard cutting sarcasm and unwillingness to suffer fools or incompetence. These characteristics served him well as a division commander and corps deputy commander, two of the most difficult and demanding jobs in the military. The tasks before him were not new, but familiarity was not the same as comfort.
He was stunned by the events of a few months ago. As surprised as Anderson was by those events, Lieutenant Governor Philips’ subsequent visit to his house a few weeks later left him incredulous. Reggie Philips officially recalled him to active duty and placed him in charge of the military district made up of the Jackson Purchase area. Anderson did not think Philips had the authority to recall retired military members back to active duty, nor to place them in charge of Reserve and National Guard soldiers, but Philips said “authority” at this point was moot. There was what was legal, and then there was what was necessary.
Anderson politely refused, and Philips insisted. Anderson then impolitely rejected the offer and asked the Lieutenant Governor to leave his house. Philips’ response struck him.
“General Anderson, I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but you are recalled to active duty and you are in charge of the defense of us all. You have men and women who will look to you for direction and leadership even if you stay cooped up in this house.” He paused for a long moment and looked Anderson up and down, “And frankly sir, you don’t strike me as the sort of man who is able to shirk his duty and responsibility.”
Anderson was speechless as Philips stood to go. He couldn't decide if he had just been offended or flattered.
Philips hesitated at the door. “I’ll be down at the Mayfield Court House until tomorrow morning when I head back to Murray, and we need to talk.” Philips opened the door, took one step out, sighed and came back in. “General Anderson, I know you didn’t ask for this any more than I did, but we need you. I hope you can see that.”
"Get out, sir," said Anderson tightly. Philips left and Anderson locked the door. Good try partner, but I’m done, he thought. Philips was right, however, and Anderson’s ingrained sense of service and responsibility would not let him turn his back.
Over the subsequent months, Anderson used the skills honed over a career to establish a defensible border and an almost competent military force. The border was the easy part. The Jackson Purchase was shaped like a horseshoe with the open end to the south. The horseshoe portion was made up of wide rivers: the Mississippi to the west, the Ohio to the north, and the Tennessee and Cumberland to the east. The south was the problem, simply a line on the map where the Kentucky and Tennessee borders met. The far western portion of this border wasn’t too open since it was contained Reelfoot Lake, an area of mainly low, swampy ground. The seventy or so miles to the east between this lake and the Cumberland River were an issue.
Anderson’s first order of business was to organize the National Guard and Reserve units within the Jackson Purchase. In many ways the area was fortunate in the fact that the FEMA plan had been briefed and rehearsed by all these units the previous year. Anderson also thought they were fortunate to have capable unit commanders. He was ashamed to admit he previously possessed a poor opinion of Guard and Reserve officers and soldiers, but he recognized that he couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, there had been problems, but by and large, the available forces had reacted with discipline and professionalism. Anderson thought it probably helped that all these units had recently served multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.
He controlled three main Guard units: a military police battalion stationed at Murray, an engineer battalion located at Benton, and a transportation battalion in Paducah. Fortunately, these units reacted as planned when the Governor declared martial law and activated the FEMA plan. The MPs out of Murray had moved to close the southern border, setting up checkpoints along the main roads and blockading the secondary ones with felled trees and debris. The engineer unit from Benton had what proved the most crucial mission: guarding the Kentucky Hydroelectric Dam at Grand Rivers and keeping it operational. They also secured the eastern ends of all the bridges along the eastern border leading into the Jackson Purchase. The transportation unit in Paducah had a difficult time securing the bridges along the northern and western border due to an additional requirement to quell unrest in Paducah itself. This was the only area in the Jackson Purchase to experience civilian unrest and it was attributable to looting and violence by large established gangs in the area.
Anderson took a page from Philips book and ordered all retired, reserve, or discharged military personnel recalled to active duty and placed under his command, forming the basis for a staff. He also recommended to Philips they make every effort to keep Murray State University open and functioning. The students had no place to go and were unlikely to be able to return home. Additionally, the university was a source of much needed, and potentially perishable, skills and information that could easily be lost under such dire conditions. As part of the university’s continued operation, Anderson was granted direct control of the ROTC program with the intention of keeping it functioning as not only a source of trained officers, but also eventually as the base for initial soldier training.
They were also able to establish liaison with other military units. Western Tennessee executed its FEMA plan and General Sampson, the senior National Guard officer, was in total, and some said ruthless, cont
rol of his military district. He was also on his own since both Nashville and Memphis were hit with nukes. The JP tried to work in cooperation with the West Tennessee Republic as they now called themselves, or the WTR as most referred to their neighbors to the south. Sampson would have nothing of it, distrusting the Jackson Purchase’s control of electricity. His demands had become so forceful and overbearing, that Philips ordered the border to remain closed and relations were currently chilly at best.
Anderson also re-enlisted numerous deserters traveling west from Fort Campbell and he assumed Sampson was doing the same. From what Anderson could tell, the 101st Airborne Division had been deployed during the attacks and the rear detachment elements and families at the base had simply dispersed in all directions. Nothing was heard or seen of any other federal or state government personnel.
Anderson looked again at the map spread out before him with units designated by different colors. He reviewed the available supplies, ammunition, and weapons, which were all woefully inadequate. He only hoped they didn’t have to face any serious threat in the near future because they would be in colossal trouble.
He threw himself into his work trying not to think about his children or how much he missed his wife.