The United States Marshals Service was responsible for managing and disposing of properties seized and forfeited by Department of Justice agencies. In their heyday, they managed around $6.4 billion worth of property. The United States Treasury Department was responsible for managing and disposing of properties seized by Treasury agencies. The goal of both programs was to maximize the net return from seized property by selling at auctions and to the private sector and then using the property and proceeds for law enforcement purposes.19
By the time it was all over, the Federal Government was seizing anything they wanted. It didn’t matter if there were criminal charges or civil actions. If someone in government wanted something, they took it. And, since there was a federal law allowing it, it was all legal.
As she walked up to me I could see her smiling. When Lily smiled, it was as bright as the sun. “How are you feeling Dad?” she asked as we walked on an old broken asphalt road.
“I’m pretty sore. But I seem to be moving okay. Thanks again for saving me the other day,” I said as I punched her left arm.
“Anytime. Thanks for giving your blessing to me and Adam,” she replied.
“Don’t tell him I said so, but I couldn’t have asked for a better man for you, Lily. He’s a good man. I always dreamed of a better world for you to make a family in. Know what I mean?” I said.
“It is what it is Dad,” she said looking off in deep thought. “When I was being held prisoner, I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to fall in love with the man of my dreams. And, as soon as I am rescued, I find him. Amazing isn’t it?” Lily asked.
Adam walked up on Lily’s right and put his arm around her neck. “Hello there gorgeous.”
There it was, that bright as the sun smile again on Lily’s face. “Well hello there handsome,” she said as she gave him a kiss.
“Oh geez, am I going to have to listen to this all the way to Brattleboro?” I said with a stifled chuckle.
“It’s only four days General,” Adam replied.
The rest of the day was relatively quiet as we made good progress. We travelled twenty-five miles before stopping to set up camp and stopped at an old Hess gas station to make camp in the parking lot.
“Adam, see if there’s any way we can get some diesel fuel for the tank. I’m sure the diesel tanks are empty, but we can at least try,” I said.
“Yes Sir,” he replied.
The night was very quiet. Soldiers scattered about having small meaningless conversations here and there. Everyone knew. Three days from now the battle to end all battles was more than likely going to be occurring. The Bear was waiting for us. His troops were waiting for us. Every once in a while, Tennessee would enter my mind and I would turn my thoughts to Lily and Adam’s impending wedding instead. But thoughts of Tennessee were always there, waiting to invade the battlefield of my mind.
“General?” the young soldier asked quietly.
A bright smiling young man stood to my right as I sat leaning against the front corner of the Hess building. He could not have been more than eighteen years old. He had long blonde hair and peach fuzz where a beard should be. He was slim and trim and dressed in old blue jeans, and a holey t-shirt with Harley Davidson splattered across the front. He was gripping tightly to his rifle; an old Weatherby Vanguard .30-06, with a battered black synthetic stock. He had a rusty looking Leupold 3 x 9 VX-1 scope mounted on top.
“Yes,” I replied.
“The Major wanted me to tell you he found some diesel fuel and was able to fill the tank about three-quarters full. He says we will need some more before the battle, but he’s confident we can find some,” he stated somewhat nervously.
“Would you like to sit down with me for a few minutes son?” I asked.
“A wide smile spread across his face as he answered, “Would I like to sit with THE General Hornady? You bet I would Sir!”
I pointed to the ground in front of me and said, “Go ahead, take a load off.”
He sat down and looked at me nervously, placed the Weatherby across his folded knees and started talking. “General, I just want you to know, the guys from the New Hampshire militia are honored to be fighting with you. I mean, you’re a living legend. We’d follow you anywhere Sir.”
“Thank you. What’s your name son?” I asked.
As he stuck his right hand across open air in an effort to shake my hand he said, “Name’s Ben Sir. It’s nice to finally officially meet you.”
I shook his hand, noticing the firm grip. “Are you any good with that rifle Ben?”
“My dad used to say I could shoot the hair off a frog’s ass at a hundred yards,” he replied.
“Can you?” I asked
Pulling a folded piece of paper from his right front breast pocket, he started unfolding it.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s my kill sheet Sir” he said as he kept unfolding. He leaned forward and handed me the paper.
I took it and I could see a large assortment of lines that appeared to be made with a pencil. For every four vertical lines, there was a long line marked through them to signify five. I saw the names of a lot of towns, some prominent ones, Albany, Bedford, Exeter, and Manchester. There were probably twenty-five towns listed on that piece of paper, each with its own set of hash marks. “How many are here Ben?” I asked.
Looking at him, I could see tears in his eyes. “One hundred seventy-eight,” he replied wiping his eyes.
In the top left corner of the page, I saw an old faded bible verse written in black ink in someone else’s handwriting. “Who wrote this Ben?” I asked pointing at the verse.
Wiping at his eyes again, he replied, “My Mama wrote that General.”
Knowing the verse, I looked at him intently for a few seconds, deciding on my next question. Ben was obviously emotional over the sheet. I pressed on. “What does the verse mean to you Ben?”
“The verse is 1 John 1:9, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness’
“What does this mean to me? Well, it means that if I confess my sin of killing men every night, and ask for forgiveness, I will be forgiven. It’s all I have to hold onto General. Otherwise, I will surely go to hell.”
I was pretty sure I knew the answer to the next question, but I asked it anyway. “Where’s your Mother now Ben?”
Wiping his eyes again he replied, “She’s dead Sir. Socialist soldiers killed her right after she gave me that piece of paper.”
I handed the paper back to him, he meticulously folded it back up, and put it back into his shirt pocket. “Ben,” I began. “In a few days we will fight those same soldiers that killed your mother, and countless other soldiers. Can you do me a favor Ben?”
“Anything Sir,” came the response.
“Starting tonight, don’t pray for forgiveness. Pray for strength in the upcoming battle. After the battle you can pray for forgiveness. Until then, we need strength.” I leaned forward toward him and placed my right hand on his left shoulder as I continued. “Ben, you’re obviously a hell of a soldier. I appreciate everything you have done for your country. I’m depending on you, son. You do your Mama proud and go into that battle with all of the strength that God can give you. Can you do that for me?”
I could see the swelling of pride and determination in him. “Yes Sir, I can do that. I will do that,” he replied.
As I removed my hand from his shoulder, I leaned back against the building, closed my eyes and said, “Very good Ben. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I heard a small rustling of clothing, followed by light footsteps as he stood and walked away.
With the morning came a quick departure. There was little talking in the camp. The tension was even higher than the day before. I knew Ben was okay now, but what about the others? The guys and girls were getting full of angst and needed encouragement. The rest of the soldiers needed that swelling of pride I saw in B
en’s chest last night. I felt I needed to address them, but what to say? As we all gathered, and prepared to leave that old Hess gas station, I took Adam’s old Winchester from him, jumped up on the tank at the front of the line and stood tall on top of the turret.
“Listen up!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I could hear the chattering slowly dissipating as soldiers were telling each other to be quiet. I continued yelling, “In a few days you glorious warriors will be taking part in the battle that will be the mother of all battles. People are going to talk about this one for years to come. And you,” I said pointing at them, “Get to be there for it. You get to be a part of it. America is coming back!” I yelled as I pierced the sky with the Winchester I held in my right hand. “When we form our new Constitution for the new America, some of you will be the new George Washingtons, the new Thomas Paines, and the new Benjamin Franklins. Now let’s go out and kick some commie ass, how about it?” I yelled stepping down from the tank and yelling one more time, “Move out!”
For the next two days our travels were very quiet. We did not encounter any socialist or Russian soldiers. We travelled twenty-eight miles each day and were only about seven miles from Brattleboro when we stopped at an old Exxon station.
As I grabbed Adam by the shirt collar and made eye contact with him I spoke, “Adam, find me some diesel fuel. We need that tank tomorrow.”
Every night we had stopped at a gas station to make our camp. The first two nights we found just enough diesel to keep the tank going another day. I needed that one more time.
“Paul, what do you think about sending out a search party to look for the scouts we sent ahead? We are only a day behind in our pre-established timeframe. We need to be sure they have waited one day for us,” General Thomas said.
“Make it happen Grant,” I replied.
General Davies approached. “I do say, General Hornady, I have not seen you the last three days. You’ve been keeping to yourself at night haven’t you?”
“I have General,” I replied.
He leaned forward and whispered in my ear as he patted me on the back, “This will not be Tennessee General, I can assure you of that. We are ready for those damned bloody Russian bastards.”
Looking at him, I could see that he totally believed his statement. He knew why I had been so quiet and kept to myself. He was inspiring me just as I had done for Ben and the others the day before yesterday as I stood on the turret of the tank and made my speech. I smiled and responded, “I’m sure you’re right General Davies.”
“Of course, I am bloody well right. The day of reckoning is upon those poor bastards. They just do not know it yet,” he replied laughing wholeheartedly.
With that, I smiled and went about the task of helping to set up an overnight campsite. “Poor bastards,” I muttered to myself walking up to Adam.
Chapter 17
The Iowa Militia
Return to Table of Contents
“Lay this unto your breast: Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.”
—John Webster
It was around 2024, that someone in the federal Government thought it would be a great idea to release all of the prisoners in all of the prisons and jails in the country.
The foundation for that release was laid in 2010 with the Fair Sentencing Act of 2010. While it was originally designed to be fair to drug dealers and users, by the time 2018 rolled around, it was implemented to all crimes.
The Fair Sentencing Act of 2010 (Public Law 111-220) was an Act of Congress signed into law by United States President Barack Obama on August 3, 2010. The law reduced the disparity between the amount of crack cocaine and powder cocaine needed to trigger certain United States federal criminal penalties from a 100:1 weight ratio to an 18:1 weight ratio and eliminated the five-year mandatory minimum sentence for simple possession of crack cocaine, among other provisions. Courts had also acted to reduce the sentencing disparity prior to the bill’s passage.
The Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986 implemented the initial disparity, reflecting Congress’s view that crack cocaine was a more dangerous and harmful drug than powder cocaine. In the decades since that time, extensive research by the United States Sentencing Commission and other experts had suggested that the differences between the effects of the two drugs are exaggerated and that the sentencing disparity was unwarranted. Further controversy surrounding the 100:1 ratio was a result of its description by some as being racially biased and contributing to a disproportionate number of African Americans being sentenced for crack cocaine offenses. Legislation to reduce the disparity had been introduced regularly since the mid-1990s, culminating in the signing of the Fair Sentencing Act by President Obama.
The Act was described as improving the fairness of the justice system in the United States. Shortly after the passage of the bill, prominent politicians and non-profit organizations began calling for further reforms. Those included making the law retroactive and a complete elimination of the disparity with a 1:1 sentencing ratio.20
In 2018, those reforms passed.
Once the reforms passed retroactively, thousands upon thousands of convicts were released onto the street. Their release put an even further strain on the United States economy, which was already bursting at the seams.
Once the full scale resistance by the militias became a certifiable war, President Obama recruited the ex-cons to be his soldiers. They became ruthless in their fighting. They used the war as an opportunity to get back at the citizens they blamed for their former punishment.
Most of the ex-cons were drug fiends and drunkards, which was good for the militias. The ex-cons were usually the first to fall in battle. However, the more ruthless convicts; those that didn’t have a drug or drinking problem, were just satanically evil. They were assigned to The Bear for their service to the Socialist States of America.
I took my usual spot on the front corner of the vacant gas station and rested my head against the building. I closed my eyes and was just about to drift off to sleep when Lily walked up.
“Dad?” she asked.
I opened my eyes but left my head against the building. “Hey baby, long time no see.”
“I know, right? Adam and General Davies left with the party to look for the scouts. So I was wondering if maybe we could talk?” she asked, standing there moving her feet nervously from side to side.
“Of course we can talk, have a seat,” I said, moving my head from the side of the building.
“What do you think Mom will say about my marrying Adam?” she asked.
I began laughing. I tried to speak, but could not because I kept laughing. I finally found myself laughing so hard I had tears coming out of my eyes. Lily began laughing with me, and trying to catch her breath, she was finally able to mutter, “What are we laughing at?”
I finally settled down after a few minutes. “God, I needed that,” I said beginning to chuckle again. I stopped it from getting out of control before I spoke again. “Lily, I love your mother with all my heart. You know that. If your Mom wasn’t married to me, you would not have had a chance with Adam. Do you hear me?” I said.
Lily’s laughing stopped immediately and a look of anger came across her face. “What do you mean Dad? Does Mom have the hots for my fiancé?”
My laughing stopped for good this time. “Lily, no, she does not have the hots for him. I’m just saying, your Mom has a type, and Adam is it. He saved her life and my life. They have a connection that you and I will never understand. Don’t worry about your Mom. She’ll love Adam like he was her own son. You worry too much.” I said, leaning back against the building and closing my eyes.
“General! General Hornady? Come quick! You’ve gotta see this!” Ben said, as he ran up to me and grabbed my right forearm and started tugging on me to get up.
Ben grabbed my arm where the stitches were just over seven days old in my forearm. The wound was still very sensitive to the touch and I jerked back. “Hold on a minute Ben,” I said as I stood up.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re back, and there are a lot of them coming!” he said excitedly and started tugging on my shirt to come with him.
Lily had walked about twenty feet away from me and I heard her gasp, “Oh my god!”
I started walking with Ben and then I saw it. Adam, General Davies, the scouts that had left us in New York and what appeared to be several thousand men walking behind them. My heart jumped in my throat as I tried to take it all in. To be sure they did not lead the Socialists and Russians to our camp.
Then I saw Adam smiling as Lily ran up to him and gave him a big hug and an even bigger kiss. Don’t know if I will ever get used to seeing my daughter kiss someone like that.
The Conspiracy of American Democracy - A Father's Revenge Page 13