A NATION AT WAR - The Second Civil War Book II (The Second Civil War - BOOK II 1)
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“What is happening with the Americans?” Mexico’s President Hermilo Medrano asked.
“They are killing each other by the thousands. President Quasim has ordered the American ships to load up the Army and Marines on the west coast and have them brought to the east coast.”
“So they are essentially leaving the west coast unprotected?”
“Si. That is what our intelligence is telling us. It will take the Navy many days to get to the other coast. No warships are allowed to pass through the Panama Canal.”
“So not only does it take a long time to get to the east coast it will be very difficult for them to head back to defend the west coast.”
“Si. That is correct, Señor President.”
“What about the Air Force?”
“Most have been transferred as well but like the ships it will take much longer to traverse the United States. The no-fly zone is from the top of Canada all the way to South America. They will have to refuel to make it.”
“Well, this certainly could play into our hands. How is the training and recruitment going?”
“We have started to enlist all males between seventeen and forty-five. We have made a deal with Russia to purchase forty of their Sukhoi-27 fighter jets. They will be delivered in two months.”
“Excellent. We need to increase the avenues for intelligence that is being reported. We need as many agents as we can get.”
“We have already been working on that Señor President. We have thousands of illegal aliens in southern California. We can recruit from a vast pool.
“Very well. I would like to have an update each week,” Señor Medrano said.
“It will be done.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
In a rather obscure little place named Williamson, the town is divided between West Virginia and Kentucky. The people on either side of the Tug Fork River were easy going and existed pretty much as one community.
The Second Civil War had changed all of that. Family and friends on one side of the river had to choose which of the opposing forces they were going to support. Within weeks, the peaceful little town became a hostile environment.
The three main passages across the river were closed along with the railroad trestle. The West Virginia side had a large train yard which gave them a significant edge in transporting supplies. Armies of citizens on both sides of the river quickly formed and several fierce battles broke out. With all of the other skirmishes going on along border towns, it seemed like Williamson was destined to be merely another footnote in the history of the Second Civil War. All of that changed on a Friday night in late October.
Aaron Crocker was a rugged Kentuckian who had little use for fancy words. Brash and blunt, he had no problem speaking his mind when asked.
“We need access to more supplies,” the leader of the citizen’s army, Hanford Wilhouse said, “The few raids that we have made have only been marginally effective.”
“We can only bring back so much at a time,” one of the army members replied.
“I agree, but we have to find a better way. With Highway 19 closed, getting supplies is almost impossible. We know Lexington is having their own problems so we can't expect much help from them. We need to do something that is more effective,” Wilhouse said.
No one spoke up for several seconds. Finally one man stood up.
“Y’all ain’t gettin’ the job done cause you’re not committed enough,” Crocker told them.
“Of course we are. We take great risks every time we cross over and raid their facilities.”
“No sir. That ain’t gonna’ get it done. Y’all want results? Ya’ gotta’ go all out. Quit these hit and run raids. If y’all want to eliminate the problem then just do it,” he said and sat back down.
“You’re Mr. Crocker aren’t you?” Wilhouse asked.
“That would be me.”
“Sir, what are you proposing exactly?”
“Simple. Go over and get the job done. The right way.”
“The right way? What is the right way in your opinion Mr. Crocker?"
“Take the entire town. Do whatever has to be done to make sure y’all don’t have to fool around with these raids.”
“You are suggesting we take the entire town of Williamson even though it is technically in West Virginia?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t you think West Virginia may have something to say about that?”
“Yep. But holdin’ is easier than taking it back,” Crocker replied.
“Thank you Mr. Crocker. We will take that under advisement.”
“Nah, ya’ won’t. You don’t want it bad enough, like I already said,” he replied and stood up and walked out of the room.
****
It was a month later, with supplies at their lowest point that Wilhouse went to see Crocker. He lived back in a heavily wooded area off of Central Avenue. The house was at least a hundred years old with shingle siding that had seen better days. The roof was metal and had rusted to a dull orange-brown color. A 1970 El Camino sat at the side of the house.
“Mr. Crocker,” Wilhouse yelled, knocking on the screen door. It was a few seconds before Aaron came to the door. He was holding a twelve gauge double barreled shotgun.
“Yes sir. What can I do for you?” he asked.
“You said that we were going to have to be more committed if we wanted to quit wasting our time. We believe you may have been right,” Wilhouse said.
“Huh,” was all he said.
“Would you be willing to share your thoughts with me about how we should proceed if we wanted to take over permanent control of the situation?” Wilhouse asked.
“I would,” Crocker said and opened the screen door.
Wilhouse stepped inside and was surprised by how clean the place was. It was a lot better inside than on the outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The rain had been coming down for the better part of two days. Wilhouse was looking across the river to the wooded area next to the 2nd Street Bridge. Normally there would be several lookouts on the other side watching from the pedestrian overpass. Now he could see no one.
“Where do you suppose they are?” he asked.
“Probably in the bank building. They could stay inside and still see the bridge.”
“What do you think Crocker?”
“Bank or in the cars in the parking lot between 2nd and 3rd Avenue.”
“So if we cross just upstream they won’t be able to see us coming. The embankment will hide us,” Wilhouse said.
“Yep.”
“Then we should go while it’s raining.”
“Best time,” Crocker replied.
“Weather forecast says it’s going to rain until tomorrow. Tonight would be the perfect time.”
****
“Crocker, this is Jamie Lee Simpson. She is one of, if not the best shooter we have. She is deadly at just about any distance,” Wilhouse, said by way of introduction.
Crocker just looked at the young woman. She was a tiny little thing but everyone was pretty small beside Crocker. At six four and a half and two hundred fifty pounds, he was an imposing figure.
Jamie was barely five foot four and weighed one hundred and sixteen pounds. She had chocolate colored eyes and auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“What we would like for you two to do is go across upstream around the bend and then work your way back to the BB&T Bank. We want you to get on top of the bank building and pick off anyone on the overpass or near the 2nd Avenue Bridge. We are going to come right down the middle of town. When we get to 1st Avenue we are going to split into four groups. One will go all the way to the railroad tracks, another down 3rd Avenue. The other two will split up with one taking 2nd Avenue and the other along the river up 1st Avenue,” Wilhouse told the two.
Crocker and Jamie had yet to say anything or even look at each other besides a quick side glance.
“When do you want us to cross over?” J
amie asked.
“Around midnight. That will give you two hours to get into position. We are going to cross at 2:00 a.m.,” Wilhouse said.
He opened the back of his SUV and pulled out two gun cases.
“These are .338 Barette Lapua rifles fitted with Gemtech suppressors. The scope is a 5 x 25 x 56,” he said, handing one to each of them, “They have been zeroed dead on at two-hundred yards.”
Crocker was looking it over carefully, checking every part of the rifle. He racked the chamber and dry fired it. The trigger was really sweet. He figured it was set at around 3 ½ pounds.
Jamie had used the gun several times before and was familiar with the operation. She looked through the scope a couple of times, made a small adjustment and put the sling over her shoulder. Crocker saw her out of the corner of his eye and didn’t know exactly what to think.
“Here are four loaded magazines. Crocker, do you have a sidearm?”
“Nope. Never needed one.”
“Well you should have one as backup,” Wilhouse said and handed him a Desert Warrior .45 ACP 1911.
Crocker took it and put it in the small of his back held in place by his belt. He glanced over and saw that Jamie already had a pistol hanging from a hip holster.
“Any questions?” Wilhouse asked as he closed the back of the SUV.
Neither said anything.
“Good. See you on the other side,” he said as he climbed in and took off leaving them standing there in the middle of the beauty school lot.
They started walking north to the river bend, neither saying anything.
Finally Crocker broke down and said, “You’re a good shot I understand.”
“Pretty fair. I can hit what I’m shooting at.”
“You use that rifle before?” he asked, touching the rifle slung over her shoulder.
“Yeah. Quite a few times. Never with the can on the end of it.”
“Yeah. I never shot a rifle with a suppressor either.”
They walked on in silence all the way to the bend.
A small raft with two paddles was waiting for them under the bridge just like Wilhouse said it would be. The rain made it easier to make their way down the bank and get in the raft.
As hard as they paddled the swollen river carried them on around the bend and further south than they had intended to go. They were finally able to get to the other side but both were dead tired.
“Damn,” Crocker mumbled.
“Double damn,” Jamie agreed.
They rested for five minutes, lying back letting the rain fall on their faces. Finally Crocker stood up and held out a hand to Jamie. She looked up at him for a second then reached out and took his hand. Wow she thought as he pulled her up, this guy is stronger than a horse.
They had to backtrack to get around the fence along the river. The finally made their way to the railroad tracks. The crossed the tracks and started making their way along the other side of the fence, back toward town. They were lucky. The rain was keeping almost everyone inside. Staying along the fence, they arrived a block from the bank. This would be the high risk part. They had to cross 1st Avenue and 2nd Avenue to get to the back of the bank.
It turned out to be easier than they had ever hoped for. Ten minutes later they were on top of the bank building looking through the rifle scopes at the highway crosswalk. They could see three men grouped together with raingear on. They looked miserable even at a distance.
He looked at his watch. Five more minutes. He walked over to the other side of the building and looked around. He sprinted back to Jamie.
“Three men are coming down 3rd Avenue. Probably gonna’ relieve the guys on the bridge.”
“That’s not good. If they linger and shoot the bull they will all be there when our men come,” Jamie said watching the three new men start to climb up the stairs to the overpass.
They both waited, watching through their scopes. The men were huddled together obviously talking.
“Come on, move it,” Crocket muttered.
“We are going to have to take them out. It’s gotta be quick. If they start shooting it will all be over,” Jamie whispered.
Crocket looked at his watch. Two minutes. Still talking.
“How many can you take down?” Jamie asked.
“As many as there are rounds in the magazine.”
“Don’t go macho on me Crocket. How many?”
“Three.”
“Good. Once we fire the first shot they will be startled. We have to get most of them right then. Anything to the left you take. Anything to the right is mine.”
“Don’t go macho-ette on me. Can you really get three?”
“Mocho-ette?” was she said, “Well talk about that term later. Ready.”
He looked at his watch. One minute.
“On three. One...two...three.”
Two men on the overpass were violently thrown back, one toppling over the railing onto the road below. The others froze for a second and that was all it took for two more to go down. The other two started running to the stairs but never made it. It was all over in seconds. Crocker looked at his watch. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.
Crocker looked over at Jamie, “Nice shootin’.”
“Not half bad yourself,” she said smiling.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jamie was so close to Crocker that he could feel her body heat. He looked over and watched as she studied the area with the rifle scope. Pretty little thing, he thought.
“What?” she said without taking her eye off the scope.
“What, what?”
“What are you looking at?”
Crocker almost swallowed his tongue. How had she known?
“I...uh...”
“It’s okay. I know what you were looking at anyway,” she said finally taking her eye off the scope and smiling at him.
“Damn,” was all he said.
****
The rest of the night was a series of firefights. Crocker and Jamie remained on top of the bank building, picking off targets of opportunity. Finally the fighting was too far away for them to be of any use.
“Should we go down and see if we can help?” Crocker asked.
“Honestly? We really can’t do much. I’m down to my last magazine and let’s face it; this isn’t the best weapon to use in a fire fight.”
“You want to just sit here in the rain getting soaking wet?”
“Can’t get any more soaked.”
“Well I’m gonna’ go see if I can do anything to help,” he said and started down the ladder.
“Dumbass,” she muttered and started to follow him down.
Water from all of the rain was running along the curbs.
Jamie pointed to it and said, “Got a red tint to it. Lot of blood mixed in with that rain water.”
Crocker just grunted and moved on. They found bodies lying in various places. Some from their forces and even more from the other. They could still hear the crack of machine gun fire in the distance but it was lessening in intensity.
Suddenly it got quiet. All they could hear was the rain hitting their hats and raingear.
“They must have taken the town,” Jamie said.
“Sounds like. Let’s go find them,” he said and started jogging toward the north part of town.
They found the men and women milling around the split going to Ben Street, 4th Avenue and Little Oak Street. Wilhouse was sitting on the ground and two medics were working on his arm. Crocker looked down at him.
“Nice job,” Wilhouse said when he saw Crocker and Jamie.
“Took a round?” Crocker asked.
“Yeah. Doc said it would be okay. Missed the bone. Probably lose some muscle.”
“I take it the town is secure?”
“For the most part. Probably some holdouts that we haven’t come across yet.”
“You need to send out teams and check every house. You need to get a perimeter set up as well,” Crocker told him.
“You want me to give orders?”
“Why not? You are probably more qualified that I am. Just do what you think is right.”
“Man. I don’t know about givin’ no orders.”
“Come on hot shot,” Jamie interjected, “Nothing to it. I’ll go with you.”
“Damn. Okay but I don’t do very good in front of people.”
“Just do what my speech teacher once told us to do. Think of them all being naked and just look slightly above their head when talking.”
“You gonna’ be naked too?”
“Why Aaron Crocker,” was all she said and then grinned.
If it hadn’t been so dark she would have seen that he was beet read.
****
Hanna Cole had never been a very nice person to be around. Even when she was in middle school and high school she had few friends. Guys thought she was attractive enough but her personality was so unpleasant that they seldom asked her out. Those that did usually only did so once.
While majoring in Political Science at Brown University, she made few friends. She stayed in her room most of the time studying. She earned her BA degree with a 3.92 GPA. She had been determined to finish first in her class but was bitter with her third place ranking.
After a brief internship at the Massachusetts Capital, she enrolled at Northwestern University to get her MPP, Master of Political Policy. Her temperament had not improved one bit and she had only three dates the entire time she attended classes there.
Once again, she fell just short of her goal to end up first in her class. Graduating with a 3.96 overall point average she came in third once again. The other two had 4.0 gpa’s.
She worked in Chicago for a time but decided that if she was ever going to realize her dreams of power, she was going to have to go to Washington DC.
Twenty-six years later at the age of forty-nine she was the Vice President of the United States. She was almost there. She was just a heartbeat from realizing her lifetime goal of being President. If it wasn’t for the current fool in the White House she would be sitting on the throne.