bottom of Prairie Point. Now I'll agree that you have enough firepower and experience here to keep the all but the National Guard at bay for quite some time; but that's my very point. We're dealing with an organized force of undetermined strength, that's packing all the requisite firepower to be called an army. Whatever fight you propose to give these boys won't last long, and that's an undeniable fact."
Harper sat back down. If nothing else he took satisfaction having quieted some of the mummers and clarified his reason for proposing capitulation.
The Headmaster appealed for quiet with raised hands. Then he faced the Patrolman.
"Officer Harper, I ask you to think for one moment about the following," he turned and addresses the entire room, "I ask you all to consider the following." He began ticking off on his fingers.
"One. We have an enemy of unknown strength that are using tractor-trailers for transport.
"Two. Besides automatic weapons and RPG's they probably have nothing in the way of heavy weapons; but those RPG's force me to concede that the individual soldier probably also has a limited amount of grenades on him.
"Three. If they had any air assets we surely would have seen them by now. I conclude this simply because attacking Schonefield is a waste of effort since this area has no conceivable military value whatsoever. No airfields, bases, depots, nothing. That leads me to conclude that this is a distraction raid Mr. Harper, pure and simple. Distraction from what I have no idea. But I do know this. If they had any air transport at all they would have blitzed a military target worth the effort."
Harper could see that there was general agreement among the staff with nodding and low murmurs leaning toward the Headmaster's conclusions. What he did not know was that the collective military experience in the room exceeded well over two hundred years. Still, he had been in a sort of up close and personal knife fight with these guys, one- sided granted, bit still that, and his assessment, should carry some weight. As far as his lawful authority went, that stopped several miles short of here. He briefly considered running a bluff in that direction, but dismissed that out of hand. Morgan was possibly a lot of things, but Harper knew that being a fool was not one of them. Finally he realized any argument he could put forth would seem specious when the fate of those unfortunates already under enemy control was indeterminable. But damn! It was hard to reconcile the alternative Morgan was proposing. The throbbing in his left arm, surreal memories of his cruiser absorbing what seemed to be a continuous maelstrom of angry hornets, both left him cold with dread imagining children caught in similar circumstances with no protection at all.
"Four," the Headmaster continued. "Once our own air power starts reducing first their transports to scrap metal, then interdicting organized units, those soldiers are quickly going to panic. My guess is they realized from the beginning, that even if their attack was in conjunction with some greater master plan, their butts were expendable. Panicked soldiers lose unit cohesion quickly, and that leads to desperate men armed to the teeth with nothing to lose. If this attack originated in Canada, and I believe it probably did, they will quickly realize that a return to the Great White North merely runs them into Canadian forces positioning themselves on the frontier, probably as we speak. That being the case, it becomes a turkey shoot with them in the title role. So they'll draw the same quick conclusions. Namely, that they need something to bargain with if they have a snowball's chance in hell of saving their skin. This leads us to five Officer Harper.
"Five." Here Morgan's voiced low, menacing. "I will not give them a single hostage from this institution to use as a bargaining chip as long as there is a chance of getting the children to safety. No matter a unit's size, there's only so many troops that they can detach to guard hostages. The more they place on guard duty the less of an offensive bite they can take. That makes negotiations both inevitable and problematic. Schonefield, as I've already stated, has no strategic worth save one: its citizenry is American. They know the value we place on our own; and knowing that, they have to gather as many of those precious assets as possible. For a while, they'll take good care of their prisoners. They'll demand the world because they have the upper hand and that's their trump card. Then things will start to go south and quick. Food and utilities will be the first thing to force a showdown. People will be executed just to prove a point. Schonefield's hotheaded young bucks, and Officer Harper, you know we have a town full of them…" Harper nodded, at the station they were often referred to with dread as the 'weekend renegades.' "… full of piss and vinegar," Morgan continued, " will get macho stupid pretty quick. That will bring on reprisals. Not to mention the enemy. As the stalemate drags on discipline erodes fast. Tired, scared, men who feel they have nothing to lose find an outlet generally two ways: alcohol and women. Schonefield has plenty of both. Let me remind you of the behavior of Japanese troops during our recapture of Manila.
That reminds me, Mrs. Glass would you mind returning to the office and monitoring the local radio stations. If whoever is commanding those troops is not a total waste he has reconnoitered the town ahead of time and knows where both our illustrious Mayor resides and where the local communications are located. Smart move would be to persuade Mayor King on the air informing his constituency of the new world order at least as far as Schonefield is concerned."
Mrs. Glass hesitated, nodded and left.
Well that's basically it folks. Schonefield got ambushed and I'll certainly pray for them. They didn't see this coming so I'll cast no aspersions on what the city fathers are forced to do. But we have advanced warning; and I say again, no child under my care will be captured and used as a pawn in their own country.
That I believe is worth fighting, and if necessary dying, for." He paused.
"What about you, Officer?" He stared at Harper for a moment. Turning, he addressed the assembly.
"What about all of you?"
After that the main questions revolved around what kind of defense and how to properly prepare it. All teachers were aware of the architectural tricks Morgan had built-in to the building. Frequent exercises, considered a useless waste of time by the entire faculty at one time or another, now appeared to be a stroke of genius on the headmaster's part. Everyone, save the cafeteria staff, had trained on the hidden defensive measures Morgan had chosen to hide in plain sight. The training had been conducted in light-hearted fun, strictly a familiarization exercise. Now as faces became set in acceptance of the task at hand the training's humorous aspects were forgotten. The phrase "the element of surprise" was repeated over and over in the dissonance of discussion. Despite severe misgivings, even Patrolman Harper became actively engaged. Morgan patiently allowed them the time, circulating and answering questions on a one on one basis.
Five minutes later the two- way intercom between the cafeteria and the office interrupted the discussion and made up their minds. It was Mrs. Glass.
"Headmaster, Security cameras have locked on to deer breaking from the woods through the rifle range. They've run from the west. Hold."
The tension electrified the room. Not a word was said. All eyes were glued to the ceiling speaker. With a composed finality the speaker crackled to life once more.
"There they are. Multiple intruders, helmets, light ruck and woodland camo, all armed, looks like AK's and RPG's. No local militia, they're dressed too uniform. West, heading east. Straight toward us."
Harper looked at the Headmaster. Resigned determination clouding his face. Without looking at anyone in particular Morgan said, "They're three miles away. With luck, we have an hour.
George Morgan issued a flurry of orders.
Teachers! I want your classes assembled behind the building in five minutes. I wish I could give you more time, but obliviously you can't say anything to panic the children. No goodbyes, no locker or bathroom visits. If they have their jackets with them fine! If not they go as they are." He paused, looking at the cafeteria staff that had resumed stuffing brown bags with food. "Teachers, get the kids to empty their back pa
cks if they have them handy. They can carry several lunches apiece in them."
"Lauren! You and the upper class students are in charge of the children. I won't pretend to speak for the admin or lunch staff," he turned to the teachers. "Or any of you for that matter. But if you're going to make a break for it, you better move now."
One voice, (Lauren couldn't remember whose) spoke for them all.
"Let's do this." That broke the tension. The decision was made.
"Thank you. Thank you all," Morgan said. "Braden, assemble the Rifles on the north and south side out of sight of the kids. Get all their arms and ammo issued. Keep Lloyd with you for commo. Put 'Becca in charge of the other gro…" He caught himself. "Sorry son…I mean colonel. Your command, your call."
Lauren looked at Braden. His expression of rapt attention toward the Headmaster was almost reverential; and it frightened her more than she would care to admit.
"Not at all sir. I've appreciated your advice and guidance over the years. Major Morgan would be my choice to lead the second group."
"Thanks son. That means a lot to me."
Turning to the teachers, but still speaking to Braden, George said, "Make sure that nothing is left behind. Teachers will be down to claim the remaining
Their Bit Page 18