by R A Peters
He still had one card up his sleeve though. Some of his staff had an interesting plan to jam all GPS signals in a 20-mile radius. Normally, he never would have considered the idea, since it was such a huge threat to all the civilian aircraft around. Thanks to the Feds, they now had an opportunity…and the desperate need to try it.
He had a space operations team at the base; primarily staffed by contractors. As long as their paychecks kept coming, their loyalty wasn’t such an open question. They were pretty motivated about the idea of reprogramming some of the airfield’s powerful radio transmitters to override all military and civilian GPS bands in the vicinity. The job was theoretically straightforward, since they had all the hardware, software and codes necessary, but it had never been tried before.
The chance to do something truly new, to turn a radio antennae and computer into a weapon, guaranteed the loyalty of the civilian technicians more than the promised bonuses. Forcing them to stay on duty at the base during the eventual airstrikes helped guarantee high quality work as well.
The jamming could be overcome, of course. The military sinks a lot of money into R&D every year. Not all of it is siphoned off by unscrupulous, overbilling contractors. Every now and again, all that money spent yields useful products. For example, each of the $2 billion B-2 bombers closing in on Nellis was equipped with state-of-the-art anti-jamming equipment. All the electronic firepower aimed at the aircraft had little effect on their instruments. That’s why they didn’t have the slightest idea what the enemy was trying to do.
While the bulk of the Air Force’s aircraft were properly shielded, no one ever thought to protect the GPS-guided bombs they dropped. Putting $50k electronic countermeasures onto something you were going to blow up anyway was an expense that even those extremely generous congressmen on the Armed Services Budget Committee thought a tad wasteful.
After the infamous Nevada strike, the Air Force would get all the funding they needed to upgrade their ordinance. That came later, sadly. It wouldn’t do much to save the citizens of North Las Vegas today.
The great thing about GPS guided weapons isn’t how accurately they can be dropped. A 2,000 lb. bomb gives a lot of room for error. What is revolutionary is how far away they could be deployed from. You can stand off miles and, thanks to GPS controlled canards on the rear of the death sausages, still be sure the package will hit within five meters of the target.
Somewhere over the Hoover Dam, four stealth bombers unleashed their payloads from 50,000 feet high and almost 15 miles away. A mix of 24 large HE and cluster bombs arched towards the rebellious base below. With their GPS guidance shut off, the suddenly “iron bombs” made no corrections for atmospheric conditions or ballistic wobbling. In short, with every mile they fell, they missed their programmed targets by hundreds, sometimes thousands, of meters.
Cold War-era air raid sirens screeched all over Nellis Air Force base. The rebels scurried to shelter in the sturdiest structures they could find: the partially buried ordinance bunkers. None appreciated the humor of hiding in a bunker packed with explosives to survive the bombs coming towards them. At first. Once they heard faint blasts safely in the distance did they start joking again. The comedy respite ended abruptly when somebody pointed out they came from the west. In town. For some reason, out here in the middle of a sprawling desert, this military base jutted right up against civilian areas.
One great big bomb slammed into a Wal-Mart less than half a mile from the base’s main gate. The cheap corrugated tin roof of the sprawling shopping Mecca wasn’t sturdy enough to trigger the point fuse. The bomb didn’t detonate until it struck a shelf full of flat screen TV’s. 2,000 pounds of high explosive turned the entire electronics department into a crater and destroyed the building from inside out. Scores of satisfied shoppers and minimum wage earning associates were either vaporized or shredded apart by millions of cheap Chinese made chunks of plastic shrapnel.
A bit to the north, a cluster bomb sprayed hundreds of ball bearing packed death canisters over an elementary school. With class being out and all the kids at home, due to the self-imposed national crisis, that hit should have counted as a lucky break. Would have been too, if the school wasn’t also being used as a polling station for the referendum. In typical monkey fashion, dozens of people rushed out into the parking lot to see what all the booms in town were about…just as hundreds of small booms erupted around them. Even worse, this polling location had a number of reporters doing exit interviews. Some survived with their cameras intact.
Across the country pundits, politicians and other crazy people had their self-righteous rants interrupted with “breaking news” from out West. Washington maintained an impressively firm “no comment” line, hoping to avoid any mention of loose nukes. Their silence was far more incendiary than any rhetoric.
The first network to seize the initiative in this information vacuum got to define the narrative: that of a preemptive airstrike on a potentially rebellious state. Anti-Fed talking heads hopped up and down in their seats at the live footage of unarmed rebels being slaughtered, regardless of which way they were voting. Pro-Fed commentators, already a sinking majority, found themselves even further divided. That dwindling minority still preaching calmness and negotiation pretty much realized it was time to shut up and pick a side.
Biggs Army Airfield
Fort Bliss, Texas
15 March: 1500
“What a fucking joke!” General Lyon threw down his binoculars only to quickly snatch them up again. A battalion of Army Rangers waited helplessly in C-130’s on the Biggs Army Airfield because of a handful of Texas Rangers. Black and white SUV’s blocked their runways and kept 400 of his best men out of the fight. Of all the problems he had, this was the easiest to fix. Should have been, at any rate.
Even after kicking out the president’s pet idiot, the Pentagon, under obviously intense White House pressure, demanded he do nothing to engage these intruders. Something about a political solution in the works. Politics, at a time like this! Couldn’t those nitwits in Washington see the country was at war?
They had a couple of months to work out a political solution. Negotiation now should be confined to prisoner exchanges. The most important Special Forces operation since the Syrian chemical weapons seizure, derailed by some cowboy hat wearing amateurs! He could, and should, sweep these dozen or so poorly armed civilians aside without breaking a sweat.
Lyon gripped the radio mike, keyed to the Ranger commander, so tight his knuckles turned white. Discipline and obedience to orders made a last stand against the massed forces of common sense and outrage. Just before he unilaterally declared war on Texas, one of his intelligence officers reported.
“Sir, we have some new developments. It looks like the rebels are changing their plans.” He redirected the general’s attention back to the digital map screens.
“SIGINT believes, and two friendly human sources on the base have corroborated, that Sacramento charted some commercial flight out of the private airport in Vegas. The Hawk also clearly shows the rebels preparing to move out with several truckloads of nukes in one big convoy. Looks like the airstrike spooked them, even if we didn’t hurt them much.” He recovered from the shock caused by the unprecedented airstrike failure enough to be embarrassed.
The Rangers were suddenly irrelevant. Even if he got them airborne now, it’ll take at least two hours before they could hit the base. He reviewed what assets he had handy. Dicey as it was, he only had one logical option to choose.
“Redirect the SF boys to the airport. First and foremost, we need to get physical control over those nukes. Then we’ll figure out a way to extract them. We have to work with what we have, for now.”
This isn’t the mission to retake Nellis they ran through so many mockups and trained all morning for, but whatever. That mixed SF team were real pros and damn good at adapting on the fly. The only serious worry was air cover, or the lack of it, to be precise. Only a few F-15’s escorted the strike team. Every Air For
ce base in Nevada’s neighboring states either no longer responded to orders or were under siege. The planned reinforcements in Texas were also apparently out of the equation, thanks to the fucking politicians. For obvious reasons, no Air National Guard unit in a thousand miles of Nellis could be trusted.
“Find those guys some air support from somewhere as fast as possible, but send them in anyway.”
His operations officer said a silent prayer as he sent America’s finest on practically a suicide mission.
Two states west, and just a few miles short of the Nevada border, four specially modified Blackhawk helicopters finished their midair refueling at the same time the new orders came in. Their four plane fighter escort roared ahead to find and distract their rebel counterparts.
The troops in the slow moving choppers hashed out some quick changes to their plan, but other than that, they didn’t worry. Most grabbed a catnap. It might be a long night. Command always wet their pants over these “Big Missions,” but it was just another job to these guys.
Austin, Texas
15 March: 1530
The president had clearly learned from his previous mistakes. When the governor of Texas called his office he was put straight through. Never mind that the ultra-conservative show horse on the other end was an old political foe. Right now the president longed for the days when a political fight meant just name-calling. Back when “blood on the floor” was cute hyperbole.
“What can I do for you, Governor Berry? I hope there is a rational explanation for these peculiar reports I’m receiving.” The president’s voice managed the right balance of stern authority but willing tolerance. It must’ve had some effect, since the other man’s deep drawl nearly disappeared as he so carefully tried to articulate his hastily prepared speech.
“Mr. President, it is my duty to inform you that the Texas Legislature is meeting in an emergency session in response to the Federal Government’s recent combat operations in Nevada. With the imminent threat to Texan civilians so great, I have been forced to take action to defend our citizens. As long as the military situation remains fluid, we cannot allow federal forces to stage offensive operations from Texas soil. The risk of involving our state in open conflict with other state militias is too great.”
The president listened to enough of that nonsense. “What do you mean, ‘Texas soil,’ Governor? Last time I checked, Texas was a part of the United States. I’m warning you, now is the wrong time to play that old secessionist stunt card of yours.”
“Mr. President, I assure you, we stand behind the Stars and Stripes and loyal to her constitutionally chosen government. With that said, you’re rushing headlong into civil war and Texas is on the front lines. This may seem like a minor strategic problem way over there in Washington, but it sure looks like the end of the world from where we’re sittin’.”
The president turned his back on the room full of advisors. “I can see your point, sir, but now you must understand mine. You need to remove your people from federal property with all haste. Refusing to fully support federal forces in limited circumstances is one thing…actively hindering our troops is an act of treason.” He wondered if he’d pushed too hard.
Instead of cursing, or denials, or even threats, he just heard a long pause in response. Eventually, his longtime critic surprised him.
“Sir, look, I respect what you’re doing. These people want to destroy America as we know it and rebuild it in their crazy image. They need to be stomped out, and the sooner the better, before they gain any further traction. Heck, if I was in your shoes, I’d be just as aggressive, but I’m not in Washington trying to hold the country together. I’m down here in Austin trying to keep my state in the Union. That’s hard enough to do. You know that you personally, and the Federal Government in general, don’t have a lot of supporters in the Lone Star State.”
That was an understatement. The president’s party hadn’t carried the state in an election in over forty years.
“Folks down here are terrified. We’re trying to stay as neutral as possible, but everyone’s convinced California and company will hit back against us for your actions. The legislature can’t allow that. If I stand in the way, I’ll be impeached by the end of the day. Who knows what type of nut would take over in the current political climate? Please understand my position, sir.”
The president was far from understanding, but with the most populous state in the Union in open rebellion and the third most populated under martial law, he needed to walk a thin line to keep the second largest state on his side. He shook his head trying to wrap his mind around this whole “sides” thing. Way too late for “might have been’s.”
“What do you propose then? Your people are putting American soldiers in jeopardy by standing in our way. This isn’t politics as usual. You need to pick a side. The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.”
A bit of the governor’s drawl crept back. “Now you’re quotin’ the Bible to me?”
The president could only laugh with frustration. “Dante actually. Never mind. Look then; what do you propose we do? You have five minutes to convince me with hard actions, not just talk, that Texas is part of the solution and not part of the problem.”
“Sir, I wouldn’t have called ya’ up if we didn’t have a plan. We’re still polishing the details, but here’s what we know will pass both state houses here and in Oklahoma. First–”
The president’s voice held a razor edge, but he kept any worry out. “Why do you assume they will follow your lead? The Oklahomans had the sense to vote against the illegal ‘Freedom referendum.’ I don’t see them signing a suicide pact with Texas. Don’t take me for a fool, Governor.”
The Texan tried not to gloat about the card up his sleeve. Tried and failed. “The vote failed by less than a one percent margin, if you’ll recall. Mr. President, perhaps you should check on Tinker Air Force Base up in Oklahoma City. The Sooners threw in their lot with their cultural kin, not with some East Coast elites.”
The president bit off a sharp rebuttal. Several of the uniforms around him hung up their phones and nodded. This insanity was even more contagious than he assumed. He let the cowboy finish. Buy some time to think.
“As I was saying, sir, Texas and Oklahoma have no desire to war with anyone. However, we are not so naïve as to ignore the conflict around us. We will continue our membership in the Union; we are still Americans, after all. There are just two caveats. First, no federal forces will be allowed to originate combat operations against so-called rebels from our lands. So much as a single bullet fired across our border and it’s a deal breaker.”
The governor talked over the president’s grunt.
“Second, all Texas and Oklahoma military forces, both Guard and irregulars, will be independently commanded. We will comply with your Federalization order and our troops will fight with honor and distinction to defend the borders of the United States from internal or external threats. However, to make things clear from the start, none of our people will participate in offensive operations into any ‘rebellious’ state.”
Governor Berry threw down his speech pad. “In plain English, sir, we will defend the United States against any armed aggression, but will not help you wage a war in order to expand your powerbase. The formal declarations will be sent to Congress tomorrow but, out of respect, I wanted to give you a summary ahead of time.”
“Respect you say…sir, I don’t know where to begin pointing out all the fallacies in your position. You are not leaving me many peaceful options to mitigate this crisis. I am finished threatening and warning. This game ends now. Maybe we should take our chances with a new governor.”
Fear edged the governor’s voice as much as outrage, but all the president heard was his anger. “Sir, with all due respect, you don’t have a leg to stand on. These threats don’t hold any water. Don’t bite off more than ya’ can chew. If we’re going to be on the front lines, by God, th
en it’ll be on our terms, and on our eastern border, if need be! You wanna’ play the cowboy, Mr. President? That’s fine, but we aren’t going to be the Indians!”
Yet another state leader hung up on the President of the United States.
Las Vegas International Airport
15 March: 1630
“I just don’t understand why all the fuss over these Goddamn nukes! We can’t use them anyway. One of the Air Force guys told me they’ve all been deactivated remotely. Washington flipped a switch and poof! The insides are dead. Now they’re so much expensive, radioactive scrap metal. He called it a Permissive Action Link or something. There’s just no point to all this crap anymore.” The Humvee’s gunner peered between his legs into the crowded truck, looking for a reaction.
None of the Freedom Brigade fighters pulling security liked that perspective. This was “The Big Mission.” Everyone was counting on them. The driver chimed in and gave his two cents.
“Maybe, but once we get these things back to Cali them lab coat wearing types will figure out a way to fix ‘em. Once we got a real deterrent the East will have to back off and quit fucking with us.” Most of the crew nodded at his more hopeful prediction.
Mr. Know-it-all, with a flourish of borrowed knowledge, had a response even to that.
“I doubt it. They say bypassing one of these PAL’s is like performing a tonsillectomy while entering the patient from the wrong end. We’d have been better off sneaking into Texas and stealing a bunch of tanks. We could put them to a lot better use than these damn bombs.”
The driver popped another piece of nicotine gum. A poor substitute for the real thing. “Man, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Who needs tanks when we got nukes? Once we get this stuff working, the war’s as good as over.”
The gunner kicked the radio mount for attention. “Here, for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. Somehow, the bright boys figure out a way to rearm these things. What then? We aren’t crazy enough to use them in America, inside either border, I mean. Washington knows that. We’d look ridiculous and desperate threatening to nuke the East Coast over which government you should pay taxes to. As for those Washington assholes, they want to take over the country, not destroy it. You know what I’m saying? Who the hell is cold blooded enough to ever fire a nuke in this so-called war?”