Freedom vs.Tyranny

by Ira J. Tabankin

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  General Bracken leaves his home to visit a friend for dinner; he turns to lock his front door when he’s struck in the heart by a 9mm jacketed hollow point bullet fired from a silenced semi-automatic. The General didn’t feel a thing, he was alive one moment and dead the next; he was dead before he hit the ground. Captain Grover pressed an auto dial number on his secure phone, saying. “Brimstone complete, repeat brimstone complete” he walked down the dark street taking apart his sidearm, he started putting the parts into different garbage cans that line the street waiting to be picked up early the next morning.

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  General Simpson walks to the office of his friend for twenty years General Brownstone, the commanding general of the US Marines, “Rod, got a minute?”

  “Sure, come on it, what’s up?”

  “Rod, I’ve got bad news, you’ll get it in a couple of minutes, four of your boys, who were on leave, were shot at the Bloomington Illinois freedom march.”

  “General, do we know who they were? Who killed them?”

  “Rod, DHS alerted the local boys that the demonstrators were classified as domestic terrorists.”

  “They couldn’t have done it without the White House giving them the go ahead; the idiot, who runs DHS, doesn’t do anything without his leash holder telling him to.”

  “Rod what are you thinking?”

  “General, I’m going to issue orders that my people go on leave armed, I’m going to notify the DHS of these orders and tell my boys to wear their uniforms if they go armed. I won’t have that SOB shooting my boys and girls; I’ll have his head on a pike out front if he continues this. He’s declaring war on us.”

  “Rod, you can’t do that; the boys over at DHS will go nuts, they’ll arrest every one of your people; your people will resist, and it’ll turn into a bloodbath.”

  “Yes it will, too bad there’s not more of those bastard black Suburbans. My people could use the practice.

  Chapter 9

  Ron brought over the sheriff's manual on searching a home; somehow he also got his hands on the DHS firearm home search manual. A couple of beers later with the manuals in hand. We started at the front door; we both walked into my house, Ron read from his document, I read from mine; the two are similar; however, the DHS manual called for running metal detectors and powerful magnets over all of the inside walls and the ceilings. When we finished with each room, we looked at each other. I said, “Ron, this is bad, very bad, I can’t think of anywhere we can hide our firearms these manuals don’t cover, DHS must have hired a few really good preppers to show them every place they would hide weapons. Every location, I thought of, is on their one list. Any ideas?”

  “Brad, I have one crazy idea. However, it’ll put you at some inconvenience, want to hear it?”

  “Let me get us another beer first, OK hit me with your crazy idea.”

  “We take your washing machine and dryer apart; we put the disassembled firearms inside the appliances. They’re made of metal, anyone looking inside won’t see anything out of the ordinary. The sheriffs aren’t going to ask homeowners to start their washing machines. We would look behind it and in the dryer lint vent tube. The sheriff won’t take them apart without a search warrant, and probable cause to look inside maybe if we were looking for drugs, and our K9 sniffed them by the appliances we would take them apart, but I can’t think of any other reason we would disassemble them.”

  I look at Ron, he asks, “you pissed?”

  “Nope, trying to figure out if I should kiss you on your cheeks or just get you another beer, that’s a great idea. We don’t use our dishwasher; I can take the back wall off and hide some parts between the metal inner and outer walls. When do you want to start?”

  “We have thirty days from last night, I suggest we do not wait till the last minute, how about in 20 days, I’ll help you, and you help me.”

  “Great idea, have another beer.”

  “Thank God, I live pretty close by.”

  “Ron, with the curfew in place, stay the night in the guest room, the only people, who use it, are my kids and they're not here.”

  “Sounds, good, by the way, when’s my girlfriend Kathy returning?”

  “Slow down buddy, she may be your girlfriend, but she’s my wife. She’s up in New York City with her cousin; they’re due back in another day. Oh my God, if I take her washing machine apart she’ll kill me.”

  “Maybe we should take it apart now, to see if we can fit the broken down rifles inside the shell and the machines still work, I don’t know what would be worse losing all my firearms or having Kathy castrate me for ruining her washer and dryer.”

  “Hell, if she cuts your nuts off, I’ll have to take care of her.”

  “Some friend, you turned out to be and to think we used to think you are living in our neighborhood, meant we were safe, you’re just another wife stealing cop.”

  “Brad, I told you; I was never a cop, I was a sheriff.”

  As we laugh, Ron’s cell rings, “Hello, this is Ron.”

  I can only hear half of the conversation, what I hear is, “Yes sir, of course sir, long silence, you can count on me, I have a close friend who would be interested in joining us. Yes sir, I can trust him, yes sir, with my life, OK, tomorrow at breakfast, thank you for sir.”

  “Ron, what was that all about?”

  “Brad, how would you like to have some breakfast tomorrow with a group of ex-sheriffs?”

  “Ron, I can’t think of anything else I’d like to do but break bread with a bunch of ex-sheriffs. Where and when?”

  “iHop at 7:00.”

  “Whew, for a moment you were going to say Dunkin Donuts, count me in, if you’re staying here, we can go together, can you tell me who else is going to be there?”

  Smiling, Ron said, “No, just a few friends I think you might enjoy meeting.”

  As we enjoy our beers and chips, the 11PM local news begins. The lead local story is, a domestic terrorist has been taken into custody before he could harm people, the video showed Jake’s farm and Jake being led away in handcuffs and a blood-stained head bandage. Ron turns to me saying, “I told you he was on their list, did you see the farm in the background? His farm has DHS heavy equipment all over it; they're digging up his farm looking for buried firearms.”

  “The thirty-day grace period isn’t over yet.”

  “I told you they’re looking to nail a few locals in every town to make a point. It’s a good thing ours weren’t there; if we had given them to Jake, our doors would most likely have been kicked open before the news started. I’m sure DHS has rounded up most of his militia members. You joined too recently for your name to hit their list.”

  “Think they’re going to pick up more militias?”

  “Yes, every one of them they can before the 30-day grace period ends. DHS is afraid the militias will become real domestic terrorists fighting them.”

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  The Department of Homeland Security starts rounding up militia groups all over the country. Heavily armed DHS SWAT teams break into private homes in the middle of the night, they wake and arrest militia members before they can respond. A few wake in time or are still awake; they’re able to get a couple of shots off before they’re killed. Many militia members don’t go easy into the night; many have spies and informers in the local police, who’ve alerted the militia’s to the coming raids. Many of the militias have set up ambush sites waiting for the DHS black shirts to arrive. The DHS agents plan to strike the militias across the country at 3AM, they expect the militias to be taken by surprise. DHS expects to be able to kick in a few doors grabbing their suspects before the local communities wake to start their normal day. The DHS didn’t know some of the militias knew they were coming; the first black Suburbans arrived outside of Sleepy Hallow New York, the DHS vehicles arrive with their headlights turned off; DHS thinks they’ll be able to sneak in and out collecting their targets. When the DHS vehicles enter the town, they don’t realize the
y’re being watched. A one letter text message is sent by the sentry to his militia members. Their phones buzz with the message; they all grab their weapons, extra ammo, water and small handheld radios. As soon as the DHS troops leave their vehicles, the militia strikes, they slice all of the vehicle’s tires; they cut the vehicle’s fuel lines; they tie grenades to the drivers and passenger doors then they slip back into the night. This takes place at nine locations the DHS thought they’d surprise. The militia members regroup and launch a counter attack on eight regional DHS and police offices. They strike the offices without warning; catching the officers by surprise. In Sleepy Hallow they capture six of the local police officers who they lock in the officer’s own jail cells; the local militias shoot to kill the DHS agents who aren’t their neighbors as the police officers are. Short, violent firefights break out at DHS offices and rallying points. Surprise catches the DHS agents; none expected anything other than a successful quick grab of their targets, none of the agents expected to be surrounded and attacked from their targets. When dawn breaks, DHS counted one hundred militia members arrested, five killed in their homes, the militia members counted 842 DHS members shot and 1,246 DHS vehicles destroyed, many in DHS parking lots.

  The Secretary of Homeland Security is furious. He personally planned the early morning raids, he never expected the militias to be alerted, he never dreamed the militias would attack US government DHS agents. Since the DHS became the new national police force he never, thought anyone would dare mess with them. He didn’t think anyone would even think about directly challenging his officers. What the Secretary doesn’t know is in one hour twenty of his DHS garages are going to be blown up with homemade pipe bombs and Molotov Cocktails, the fires burn the parked vehicles, which explode when the flames reach their gas tanks. In all the DHS, loses an additional three hundred Suburbans. The Secretary thought to himself, It’s a good thing the Treasury Department owned General Motors stock because all of these destroyed vehicles are going to have to be replaced. The Secretary loses his temper, demanding that every militia member be picked up. He yelled down the hall; “I want them all behind bars, I want their families taken for questioning, I want their pets killed, burn their homes down, destroy everything they own.” When the first armored bulldozer reaches the initial militia home, the DHS agents are surprised to find three local police cars blocking the streets. The police are wearing body armor and holding M16s and shotguns, they tell the DHS agents to leave or face arrest. In a small sleepy town in Iowa, the DHS senior agent comes face to face with the local police chief. “Look chief, we have orders to destroy the house you’re protecting, by blocking the street, you’re interfering with official US government Department of Homeland Security business, you and you people can be arrested for interfering. Chief is this what you want? Your careers ruined? Your families ashamed when you have to be bailed out of jail? Each of you is facing huge fines and you, as their chief most likely will be sent to federal prison. Chief, just stand aside, and we’ll forget the entire thing.”

  “Agent, Braswell, we’ve had a few beers together; our families have gone to dinner together; I’m sorry, but there’s no way my people are going to allow you carry out your mission. If you don’t turn around, my people will arrest your people.”

  “Chief, we have a Mexican standoff; I don’t want to kill your people, and you don’t want to kill mine, so why not let us pass?”

  “I can’t do that, what you’re about to do isn’t legal. I can’t allow you to destroy a man’s home.”

  While the two commanders are standing in the middle of the street arguing five members of the local militia sneak up from behind the DHS vehicles. While others stand guard, one slides under each Suburban, cutting the fuel lines. When all of the militia members are clear, their leader tosses a small road flare into each puddle of gas, the two leaders are blown off their feet when the Suburbans start exploding. Agent Braswell looks at the Chief, “You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail for that.”

  “For what? I’ve been standing here arguing with you for the past ten minutes, how could I have blown up your SUVs?”

  “You had to have a hand in it; I’m placing you under arrest. Drop your sidearm on the street and put your hands up.”

  The Chief pulls his sidearm, saying, “Is this what you want?” In one swift move, the chief pulls his Glock and fires two rounds into agent Braswell’s stomach. “Lay there in pain asshole.”

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  In Phoenix Arizona, two US Marines are going for a walk; they’re carrying their personal AR 15s slung over their backs, Arizona is an open carry state plus they’re in uniform, enjoying a mild evening. Three police cars surround the two Marines, their lights flashing and sirens screaming, six police officers jump out of the three cars, each is holding their sidearm pointed at the two Marines.

  “Sir, Sergeant John Wilks United States Marines, is there a problem here?”

  “Lay face down on the ground, NOW, hands over your heads.”

  “Officer, what’s the charge? What’s wrong?”

  “Shut the fuck up, get down right now or we’ll shoot.”

  The second Marine refuses to get on the ground, he starts to reach behind himself for his wallet, one of the officers thinks he’s grabbing his rifle; they open fire killing both of the Marines.

  The national news carries the report that the two Marines attacked local police officers.

  The progressive left locked arms using the news report demanding all US Military be outlawed from owning and carrying a weapon off base. One after the other progressive Congressmen and Senator go on network television to demand action, they demand the US Military be disarmed off base. The President goes on national television to ask the people to support the disarming of the military when they are off their bases. He says he’ll start posting DHS agents at the entrances of all military bases to check everyone exiting the bases.

  US Marine Commandant General Brownstone is booked on the nationally televised “Meet the Press” television program. He’s invited to discuss the President’s military reduction plan. He arrives at the studio in his dress uniform, wearing every medal he’s earned in his thirty years of service to the country. General Brownstone has two Master degrees and a Ph.D. in Political Science from Harvard. The interviewers think they have an “ape," an uneducated military man who’s spent his life killing women and children. The writers have drafted a script they are sure to trick the general, making him and all of the military look dumb and out of step with the average American.

  The show goes on the air at 9:00 AM, the general shows up at 7:00 AM, he asks if there is anything in particular he’ll be asked so he can ensure he has the documentation he may require. The staff informs him; he’s been invited to give the military’s view on the President’s draw down and he should stay on track, or they will cut him off and cut to another interview. The General smiles, he knows he’s being set up as a pawn, he knows the host plans to make him look bad and through him, all of the military looks bad, he has a few surprises up his sleeve. Any good commander always understands his opposite commander; the general spent hours reviewing previous broadcasts. He understands how the host and writers operate, he understands how they maneuver anyone they don’t agree with into looking foolish; he’s prepared for battle, not one of bullets and tanks, a battle of words.

  Refusing makeup, the general said he’s earned his scars in the service to his country and sees no reason to cover them up. He takes his seat across from the host of the show, a very liberal David Gregs. Gregs knows his shows ratings are slipping he needs to turn his ratings around; he intends to use his interview with the general to demonstrate why the military needs to be not only reduced but also forced to pledge allegiance to the President, not the Constitution. Everyone knows the Constitution is outdated; it was written over 200 years ago, it’s the President who has his finger on the pulse of the country, it’s the President who is the true leader and must be followed. Only the President is strong e
nough to pull together the entire country and sell his policies to everyone. No one could bring out the voters as the current President, and there was no smarter man in the entire country or brighter political master than the President. Like everyone else on the left, Gregs thought it’s a brilliant plan to use the President’s address to Congress to announce his wife would replace him. There isn’t a need for costly primaries. The party will remain united behind the President whom everyone knew would de facto remain in office for another eight years pulling his wife’s strings. Gregs is a strong supporter of gun control, he once held up a 30 round AR 15 magazine on his program showing the world how dreadful it was. He could ignore the local laws that said even holding the demonized magazine was illegal in DC because he is one of the progressive elites; no judge would find him guilty of anything. He’s one of the select mouthpieces for the progressive left. Walking from his dressing room to the studio, Gregs reviews the day’s talking points which the White House issues every day at 4:30 AM. Ensuring when America wakes they hear the same story which includes the key talking points and sound bites on every station. Gregs enjoys his third latte while reviewing the daily talking points, and the President’s CoS suggested updated questions for the General, Gregs agrees, handing the questions to his staff who will type them into the teleprompter. Gregs smiles, he can taste his victory over the General; it’s not every day he gets to make a four-star General look foolish.

  The General and Gregs shake hands, they do a quick microphone check, satisfied that the general can’t see the teleprompter that is behind him, the sound queues, the lights go on, and the program is on the air. Gregs says Good Morning America, today on ‘Meet the Press’ we have the honor of spending the morning with the Commandant of the US Marines. “General, welcome to the program, I understand this is a first for you. I’ve been told; you tend to shy away from news programs. By the way, where did you pick up all of those fancy medals?”