by James Rosone
Master Sergeant Nick Waters nervously watched as two soldiers inserted the blasting caps into the blocks of C-4 they had fastened to the top of the tunnel. “Are you sure we should do this, Captain?” he asked. Even though there was no traffic due to their roadblock, he spoke in hushed tones as if they were about to be discovered. “Our orders are to bug out of the city and fall back to Morristown with the rest of the battalion.”
Captain Fielding shrugged dismissively. “We’ve gotta find ways to slow this UN force down, Master Sergeant,” he retorted. “We don’t have enough C-4 to drop any of the bridges, but at least we have enough to flood this tunnel. Besides, have you seen how dilapidated this thing is? We’d be doing the city a service. When this war’s over with, they’ll get a new tunnel out of it.” Fielding smirked.
Master Sergeant Waters shook his head. He trudged back to the JLTV and got in. The guys were nearly done, and they’d be heading out of there shortly. Moments later, the two soldiers and the captain piled into the vehicle. Waters shot them a look of disapproval.
“So, you guys got everything ready? Can I get us out of here now?” he asked.
Captain Fielding snickered at his less-than-enthusiastic response. “We sure are,” he said with a warm smile. “Nothing like leaving a little Suwannee Rifle surprise for those UN bastards.”
The others in the vehicle laughed as they drove out of the tunnel. They all understood the reference to the Army National Guard unit that had a track record in World War II for blowing things up behind enemy lines. The soldiers of Florida’s 868th Engineer Company in the Army National Guard were about to make a devastating impact on the cities of New York and Union City, New Jersey.
*******
When the French 7th Armoured Brigade had liberated Albany several days earlier, Governor Tim Shank had returned to his office to begin work on getting things ready for President-elect Marshall Tate to be sworn into office as the forty-sixth president. If they couldn’t swear him in in D.C., then they were determined to get him sworn in on the steps of city hall in New York City for the world to see.
Lieutenant General Ryan Jackman and the French contingent he was leading were a part of the lead element to secure New York City for this swearing-in ceremony. His column of Panhard VBLs was making steady progress down I-95 toward what would become the new de facto capital of the United States. Jackman was riding in the lead VBL. He smiled with satisfaction when he spotted signs for New Rochelle. They were now less than an hour away from New York City Hall.
General Jackman had already made contact with the New York City mayor, Mark Townsend, two nights ago. He seemed to be a remarkably compliant leader. Townsend had alerted Jackman to a Florida Army National Guard unit that had taken up residence in the city, but according to him, they were in the process of pulling out as Jackman’s French unit traveled their way.
The mayor actually seemed happy to speak with Jackman, but he did have one request. “Please try not to shoot up my city,” he’d pleaded. “There’s a lot of people living here.”
“We’ll do our best,” Jackman had promised, “but it will largely depend on whether we meet any resistance on our way into the city.”
Looking out the windows of his light armored vehicle, Jackman saw a few tanks and armored personnel carriers turn off to head toward the Van Cortlandt Park. The French were going to set up a small firebase at the park and make it their base of operations while the rest of their force continued to filter down into the city.
Two battalions of New York Civil Defense Force units were slated to join a battalion of French armor down the Palisade Interstate Parkway on the New Jersey side of the border. Their orders were to secure the New Jersey sides of the bridges that connected New York and New Jersey so the UN peacekeeping force could advance unencumbered deeper into the state once they were ready.
As Jackman’s caravan snaked through the city, one thing was very evident—a lot of people had left the metropolis. The city would typically be thriving with activity right now. However, at nearly 11 a.m., the sidewalks were all but vacant. It was eerie how empty the city was.
Jackman’s comrade, Major Gérard Lecointre, turned to him. “This place looks like a ghost town,” he remarked.
“Yeah, it’s usually hopping. Maybe people are just scared or unsure of what’s going on, so they’re all indoors,” Jackman countered.
Major Lecointre just shrugged. He continued to follow the GPS course without further comment. From Jackman’s point of view, Lecointre had a pretty easy duty assignment—his main job was to act as the liaison between Général de Brigade Joffre and the American Civil Defense Force commander.
Ring, ring.
Jackman was startled at the sound of his cell phone. He reached down and pulled it out of the pouch on his body armor.
The mayor’s office, he thought with a smile when he saw the number.
“This is Lieutenant General Jackman,” he said. He loved the sound of his own introduction. Never in a million years had he thought he’d make general. When he graduated ROTC in 1994, he’d done his obligatory four-year commitment on active duty. Then he’d gotten out of the military and taken a job on Wall Street for his dad’s firm and decided to continue his military service by joining the New York Army National Guard. He hadn’t realized how much his father’s connections with political heavyweights in New York would help him to advance his way through the ranks of the National Guard. In no time at all he’d gone from being a battalion commander in the National Guard to one of the senior leaders of the military resistance.
“General Jackman, I have some bad news for you,” said Mayor Townsend.
“Oh?”
“The Lincoln Tunnel was just hit with explosives. It’s completely flooded out and unusable.”
Jackman grimaced. Losing the tunnel would honestly do more to hurt the city than hurt his force or slow him down.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Jackman replied. “Are there any federal forces that you know of in the city?”
Major Lecointre shot him a sideways glance.
“My intel is that they’ve all cleared out.”
Jackman smiled and shook his head sideways, letting Lecointre know there shouldn’t be any problems.
“Excellent. We’re probably fifteen minutes from your location. I’ll see you shortly,” Jackman said. Then he disconnected the call. In a way, it felt good to be able to tell a mayor what to do and when to do it instead of the other way around.
I suppose that’s the benefit of having an army at your back, he thought. Jackman held back a snicker.
In what seemed like no time at all, they turned off FDR Drive and found themselves right in front of city hall among a throng of people waving UN, French, and American flags.
“Now this is what I’m talking about,” said Lecointre, excitement in his voice. He steered them toward a couple of police officers, who guided them to their parking space.
Steadily, the rest of their column of twenty or so vehicles arrived. Crowds of people moved in on the soldiers, waving flags and cheering.
Getting out of the vehicle, General Jackman saw the mayor standing not too far away with the police commissioner by his side. Both men were smiling and genuinely appeared to be happy to see him. As he walked up to them, Jackman extended his hand.
“It’s good to see you, Mayor Townsend, Commissioner.”
Townsend clasped Jackman’s hand with both of his. “It’s good to see you as well, Ryan—sorry, I mean Lieutenant General Jackman.”
The mayor and Jackman’s father were good friends. Jackman had met the man a handful of times, but he didn’t have the same relationship with him that his father had.
Seems like he might be trying to suck up now that I’m in with the new administration, Jackman thought. He smiled but also kept his wits about him to evaluate the mayor’s true motives.
He waved his hand around. “This is really great, Mr. Mayor. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you to organize. I know the
French and our other militiamen are loving it.”
Townsend shook his head. “No, it was no trouble at all for the men who liberated us,” said the mayor jovially. “Many people here are very glad to see you guys.”
Jackman leaned in. “Can we go to your office and talk?” he asked in a quieter tone. “We have a lot to discuss. We need to get things ready for the President’s swearing-in.”
Townsend nodded. Steadily, they made their way through the cheering crowds of well-wishers and into the main building. They took the elevator up to the mayor’s office and then made their way into his conference room. A handful of police captains were there, along with some of the political staffers that worked for the mayor.
Once the obligatory greetings were complete, Jackman got down to business.
“A man by the name of John Barry is going to be coming down from the governor’s office in a couple of hours. He’s traveling with two people from Tate’s security team. They’ll want to speak with you guys about the security situation for the swearing-in, along with other logistics. However, what I’d like to talk about right now is something a bit more pressing.”
The others in the room nodded. Several of them had their pens ready.
“General Guy McKenzie, the Head of the UN force, and Admiral Hill, our soon-to-be Secretary of Defense, have specifically asked me to speak with you about growing the size of the New York militia force. The situation is critical, and they want your help with raising twenty thousand volunteers. If we aren’t able to get the numbers we need in the next week, then we’re going to need to work out a system to draft them.”
The police commissioner scrunched up his face. “So, let me get this straight—you just rode into town on a French armored vehicle, and now you’re asking us to help you recruit twenty thousand people to join the governor’s militia force in a week? How do you expect us to do that?”
“Commissioner, I know this is a big ask, but it needs to be done. We’re in the fight of our lives right now. We have a president who’s refused to leave office. The world has come together to help us remove him so our duly elected leader can take charge of the country. We as New Yorkers must do our part too.” Jackman leaned forward. “What I’d like you to do is use the emergency alert system and send a message to everyone’s phone. Ask those who are physically able to please come down to Yankee Stadium tomorrow and the following day to volunteer to join the CDF.”
Mayor Townsend cleared his throat. “We’ll send the message out, General,” he responded. There was a short awkward silence before he said, “If you don’t mind me asking, how is the war going? We’re receiving mixed reports as you can imagine.”
Jackman sighed. “I won’t lie. It’s been a tough fight. Some sectors are going better than others.”
“We’ve heard a report that federal forces out west are cutting Canada in half. Is that true?” asked one of the mayor’s staffers.
Jackman cocked his head to the side as he calculated his answer. “As I said, some sectors are going better than others. What I can tell you is that the UN just liberated Chicago. Even now, they’re working their way to liberate Milwaukee before they expand out to Madison, Wisconsin. We’ve also liberated the entire upper East Coast and now New York. But we do need more volunteers. Our UN partners have been taking a terrible beating, and they need us to step up and do our part in this. It is, after all, our country.”
“We’ll make sure you get your volunteers,” the mayor said.
Everyone nodded their heads, and the police commissioner had at least uncrossed his arms at that point.
******
Bellingham, Washington State
Marcy finished packing a box of some items she felt had some real sentimental value to them. She’d had these family photo albums converted to digital a few years back, but she still liked looking at the old pictures. They reminded her of happier times, canoeing and hiking with her family at Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Those yearly trips with her grandparents and extended family had been a big part of her childhood. In the winter, they’d go snowmobiling through some of the trails, ice fishing and skiing, and then in the summer, they’d fish, canoe, hike, and climb. It was a lot of fun.
She then found an album of her and Jake. She briefly opened it, staring at some of the photos. This particular book started when they were in college, carried through their wedding, and then covered Jake’s time in the Army and the years they’d lived in Germany.
Marcy and Jake had met their first year at college. They were both on the cross-country team. She was a nursing student, and he was a civil engineering major. Over the next four years, the two of them spent a lot of time outdoors, running various trails and hiking to keep in shape. Jake had gone to her church and had taken a real liking to her family. He’d join them on their yearly pilgrimage to Mt. Baker and the surrounding area. It was no surprise when he’d proposed to her at the end of their junior year. They’d agreed they would get married the summer after they graduated.
After graduation, Marcy had found a job working as a nurse, and Jake had found a job working for an engineering firm. What Marcy hadn’t counted on was that a month after the wedding, Jake’s family would be tragically killed in a car accident. The deaths of his parents, brother, and sister had absolutely devastated Jake. He’d withdrawn from friends, and to an extent, from her. He’d said he felt like he didn’t have a purpose anymore. She knew that was extreme, but she also knew Jake had been very family-oriented, so the loss of his entire nuclear family had really thrown him for a loop.
When the US had invaded Iraq, several of Jake’s friends from college had joined the Army. They told him about how the Army was going to pay off their student loans and was handing out signing bonuses like candy. Then, one day, when Marcy came home from work, he told her he’d talked with an Army recruiter. She thought it was a phase, but when she saw some material on the kitchen table, she asked him more about it.
“I feel like I need to do my part,” he’d said. “I want to serve my country in this war.”
Marcy had been heartbroken. She’d understood the desire to be a part of something greater, but they had just gotten married. She couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving, or worse, possibly getting killed over there.
He told her about the student loan repayment and the sign-on bonus. The payment was large enough to pay off her student loans as well. He reasoned with her that a six-year stint would allow them both to walk away debt-free with a clean slate. The only catch was he had to go enlisted if he wanted both the bonus and student loan repayment, and he’d have to go into EOD. Not knowing what that was, she had agreed, and the next day, he’d started the process of joining the Army.
At first, she didn’t mind the Army. After his initial training, they were sent to Fort Lee, Virginia, just south of Richmond. Marcy appreciated Virginia; it was so different than Washington State. When Jake finished his advanced training, he was sent to a unit in Germany. This began their first great adventure as a married couple.
Marcy loved Germany. She just wished Jake had been able to see more of it with her. They had arrived in Germany at the height of the Iraq War, in January of 2005. Over the next four years, Jake had deployed twice, and one of the deployments had ended up being eighteen months. He extended to stay in Germany another four years, this time with a different unit. During the following four years, he only deployed once, to Afghanistan. The only reason he’d been able to come home early from Afghanistan was that he’d caught a piece of shrapnel in his right arm and leg. When his time in Germany ended, so did his Army career.
Truthfully, Marcy had been grateful that he’d left active duty. She was growing tired of being married to a guy who was hardly ever home. Plus, they’d been unsuccessful in starting a family. In between all of those deployments, she’d had a total of three miscarriages. After the third one, they’d decided to stop trying. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing another baby. Maybe they could adopt later. Returning to Washing
ton State after the roller coaster they’d been on had been good for her.
“Hey, Marcy. Do you have any more boxes for me to carry?” asked Jake, breaking into her trip down memory lane.
Placing the album back in the box, Marcy called out, “Yeah. I have a few boxes with our albums. I’d really like to take them if we can.”
Jake walked into the room, a bit sweaty from all the manual labor, and made his way over to her. He grabbed the first box and lifted it. “I’ll come back for the other one in a minute,” he said. “Why don’t you take a second to do a final walkthrough? We can always come back for one more trip, but I’d like to get this place locked up by nightfall.”
“Will do.”
She made a quick trip through each of the rooms, looking for anything she thought they would definitely need versus what they could leave behind. She hoped it would all still be there once the dust settled from this new war.
New war, she thought. She realized how strange the words sounded in her mind.
Not seeing anything of importance that she absolutely must have, she grabbed the last box of albums and headed outside. Jake was making some room inside the cab for her. The bed of the truck was already full.
“Anything else, or do you think we’re good?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, we’re good. You want me to help you with the windows?” Marcy offered.
“Sure. I’ll just need your help in holding up one side of the board while I drill the other side in place.”
The next three hours went by quickly. Jake covered all the windows with half-inch-thick pieces of plywood and drilled them into the windowsill. He made sure they were snug, so you’d need more than a crowbar to rip them open. When he moved to the front and back door, he did the same thing. Next, he placed several boards across the garage door, sealing it up as well.
“I don’t think the neighbors are going to like this one bit if you ask me,” Marcy commented when they were done. The place looked like the city had condemned it.
Jake shrugged his shoulders and started to head towards the truck. He turned to look over his shoulder as he replied, “Screw ’em. Half of the people in our neighborhood are welcoming the UN like liberators.”