by Reed Hill
It was a dog-faced lot of men, not unlike the grunts he led in the desert and mountain passes, and they appreciated the honesty. "Those without military service can meet me back here in a half an hour – there are some things I need to get set up inside for the Governor." Doyle paused for just a moment before raising his hand, "Which brings me to a sensitive point. I would ask no one to leave the grounds. We can't have any word of the Governor being here, so you're going to be here for as long as we're here. I'm sorry in advance for that inconvenience, but it's necessary and in fact critical for the safety and security of all of us. As such, also please refrain from using your wireless devices from here on out." Doyle cursed inside as the mood turned sour again.
Brodie raised his hand and moved forward as the crowd began to murmur a bit in discontent, "Folks, I know this is all out of the ordinary, and you guys just came without knowing what you were signing up for. Believe me, this is tough for all of us. The Texas Rangers are putting the life of the Governor in our hands, so they want to get to know us a little better."
"That's right, thank you, Nick." Doyle jumped back in when the men appeared to be more at ease. That West Point training hadn't been a waste of taxpayer money – Brodie had a way about him that made you want to listen. He had forgotten how commanding and reassuring Nick Brodie could be. "I would like to spend a few minutes with each of you to see how best we can use your skills to make all of us a little safer. So please hang around here and I will start trying to talk to get to know each of you a little bit. Those with military backgrounds will do the same with the trooper Parker later on."
There were a few men with furrowed brows and frowns, but that's just the way it needed to be for now. A lean red-headed man with a long orange goatee looked particularly stressed, as did a short, owlish-looking man in horned-rimmed glasses. Doyle felt sorry for them. Normal folks not used to guns and the aspects of war would probably be really scared. As they moved to the house once more, Doyle set it in his mind to try to put those two at ease when he and Brodie spoke with them.
"I'm going to see about setting up inside." Brodie hustled toward the kitchen door.
Doyle nodded and stopped to enjoy the view and scents for just a moment. With the garden, orchards and stables in addition to the acreage, Doyle wondered how much this place was probably worth – it had to be millions. It was clearly an old family ranch passed down from father to son, something one didn't see very much of in the halls of power in Austin. It made Doyle feel good that traditional Texas still existed somewhere, despite the madness of immigration, housing and credit crises, water rights disputes and welfare and education reform. He was fortunate that he knew Nick Brodie and that he was willing to risk so much to help them. It said a lot about the man.
Doyle began to walk toward the kitchen when he heard voices just inside. He shrank back, seeing Brodie's wife pivot into the doorway facing away from him. He didn't want to intrude on any moment they might be able to have together.
"I hope you are happy, Nick." She shot a look that would have killed a horse as she shook a pointed finger, "I'll do this for you, but you owe me." Her hair whipped when she turned and walked back to the interior of the house, "I hope we can survive this, Nick I really do."
Doyle stood silent as he heard Brodie step further inside and pace away on the tile in his heavy boots. With all that had happened, there was no doubt that anyone's wife would be scared in this situation, especially knowing there were kids here as well. Doyle's mind raced to Callie. He wished he could see her face, and wondered how she was doing in court? Where did that come from? I barely know her.
He pushed his musings over Callie away trying to focus on the problems at hand. The border was under siege and Governor was on the run from the feds. They badly needed to get a functioning office up and running as soon as possible. The place was great, but it was huge and it would be difficult to see people coming from a couple of directions. The media was bound to find out about them being here at some point. No question this had to be stressful on Sara Brodie. It was stressful on Doyle, but that's what he signed up for. Doyle strode toward the kitchen door, hoping that they could catch a break and remain hidden here for a while before things boiled over. I hope we all survive this Mrs. Brodie.
*****
Biggs Airfield at Fort Bliss - El Paso Intelligence Center
El Paso, Texas - July 5th, 2017 - 1:56 pm
"When will you be ready for a push to the east Colonel Gallado?" Daniel Sifuentes' tone was cordial, yet direct. He held the wireless casually in his hand while propping his feet up on the desk. The office adjacent to the large monitoring room was modest, if comfortable. Most importantly, he thought, was that the wall of windows provided an unobstructed view of nearly the entire main monitoring center.
Gallado's voice was tinny and a bit unrefined. "We're nearly prepared, General. We lost a quite a few men in taking the air base, but more local voluntaríos have come in and replaced them. They are not Red Vipers, jefe, but I think they will do."
"What is your current force in Del Rio, Colonel?" Sifuentes masked his concern and looked out at the pair of young vipers who knelt arguing as they fidgeted with the complex bundle of multi-colored wires they had pulled from under one of the main stations in the large room.
"We have four squadrons of Vipers, each of two hundred men. These are supported by about a thousand of our regulars from the mainland, supplemented by nearly that many from the U.S. side."
"And the vehicles and hardware?"
"We've gained a considerable number of the armored trucks and Humvees from the air base, General. Perhaps as many as forty are found to be operational, and there is a virtually unlimited supply of gasolina and other fuels."
"Good," Sifuentes stroked his thick mustache. "Very good, Colonel."
"If we had qualified men, we could use the dozen or airplanes we hold here as well." Colonel Gallado paused and cleared his throat lightly. "However, we only have a handful of men who have ever piloted anything, and none have any experience with anything other than small propeller aircraft."
"It's just as well," Sifuentes dismissed the anxiety. "The air forces of the U.S. are considerable and far reaching – we're better off not trying to engage them. The anti-aircraft missiles should provide considerable assistance as well."
"That's wise, sir."
"What kind of resistance can we expect?" Sifuentes pressed the officer.
"Our scouts tell us the countryside is largely open at this time, with local civilians providing only loose opposition at best. In time, they will organize and gain numbers no doubt, but the scouts' reports from as far away as one hundred to one hundred twenty kilometers indicate there is no movement by military troops in meaningful numbers."
Sifuentes thought that door was open to push east now, but they needed to remain coordinated with the brigades in the south. Before long, the southern units would likely run into resistance from the naval station up the gulf coast.
"Very well, Colonel Gallado," Sifuentes sat up and leaned his elbows on the desk. "Be prepared for another call in four hours. I want an accurate head count of men and fighting vehicles at that time."
"Yes, General Sifuentes."
"I will coordinate with Colonel Ortiz and Colonel Ramos, and update you when we talk as to their progress. Stay focused and get the men fervoroso, fired up."
"They will be very passionate and motivated, I assure you."
"See that they are." Sifuentes hung up and intertwined his fingers in front of his face, resting them on his lips as he thought. The lack of response from the federal government was perplexing. All of his planning indicated that a response would come from U.S. paratroopers within eight to ten hours, but that timeframe had come and gone. Sifuentes stared at the large American flag on the wall of the monitoring station and leaned forward, fondling the small brass eagle on the desk in front of him. The resources of the U.S. Defense Department were vast – it didn't make sense. He looked at the face of the scr
eeching eagle and tapped on its beak. What game are you playing?
Chapter 12
Downtown – U.S. District Court
Austin, Texas –July 5th, 2017 – 2:07 pm
Callie’s head was beginning to hurt. They had been going around on a merry-go-round, caught in circular argument for the better part of an hour. Maria Baracho kept up with the line of reasoning that there were no such legal entities as the states of North Texas, West Texas and so on. Meacham kept pressing the angle of justified state elections certified by the Secretary of State as legal and binding.
“Let’s cut to the chase people,” the Judge sat up tall in his leather office chair, a bit of frustration beginning to show in the wrinkles of his face. “We’ve been chasing each other for nearly an hour, and we’re not getting anywhere.” The judge stood and walked around his desk, putting his weight against the long edge near the seated counselors. “Once, concisely and without flourish, what is the core of your respective arguments? Forget the past precedents – there are none for this situation. Give me your plain reasoning and nothing more.” He folded his arms in front of his pressed shirt and turned his gaze to Maria Baracho.
“Your honor, this case is simple. There is no basis for claiming any territorial boundaries or markers other than what existed yesterday and, in fact, exist today. The Congress of the United States has not recognized any amendment, revision or modification since 1850. Texas is a free state of the Union, a proud member of the United States of America, as recognized by every institution of the U.S. government and by every foreign nation chartered by the United Nations General Assembly.
We know from Texas v. White that the union of states is perfect and perpetual, and it is an indissoluble unity. When Texas became one of these United States it joined this indissoluble relation, including all obligations and guarantees upon incorporation with the various states. The fracture of the States of Texas is only possible in light of the dissolution of the current state and violates the perpetual and indissoluble accord of the states – this is simply not possible under the Constitution.”
Judge Hutchins turned the floor over to Meacham with an open hand, “Mr. Meacham, if you please.”
“The case truly is quite straightforward, your honor. It boils down to this: is the federal government prepared to accept the terms of an agreement they themselves made with the people of Texas, or are they intent on tyrannically nullifying a completely lawful joint resolution between the U.S. Congress and the Texas legislature presented to the President of the United States and signed by him? Article Four of the Constitution allows the creation of new states out of existing states with the consent of both the legislature in Texas and the U.S. Congress. Such an agreement was presented to President James K. Polk on December 29th, 1845. President Polk signed the agreement. The agreement called for and I quote, ‘New States of convenient size not exceeding four in number, in addition to said State of Texas and having sufficient population, may, hereafter by the consent of said State, be formed out of the territory thereof, which shall be entitled to admission under the provisions of the Federal Constitution.’
We have a signed law from the Texas legislature, HR 18, creating four new states, and legal and certified elections presented under seal by the Secretary of State for the State of Texas and four new states created by Texas HR 18. The states of Texas have executed the completely lawful and legitimate contract between the U.S. Government and its citizens resolved by the U.S. Congress, the President of the United States and the legislature of Texas. Let’s be clear on this issue. Texas is not withdrawing or seceding from the blessed Union. Our actions do not threaten the perpetual unity. We seek to make it more perfect. It’s the vision of what the 1845 Agreement between the people of Texas and the United States anticipated could be. Texas is simply seeking to execute the contract which was previously agreed to by the U.S. and Texas legislatures and signed by President Polk.”
The judge stood and paced at the far end of his desk, before wheeling to glare at Meacham and Callie. “Mr. Meacham, you put me a very difficult position. Ms. Baracho would have me invalidate a legal and sovereign contract which was agreed to as part of the terms of Texas entering the Union. Would Texas have joined the Union if it did not, in fact, have the terms of the agreement that Mr. Meacham states that Texas now seeks to execute? We simply cannot know this today. All we have is the law itself. To that end, I’ve heard nothing that suggests to me that the 1845 joint agreement between the U.S. and Texas legislatures signed by a sitting President of the United States is in some way invalid, illegal or unenforceable. I’m left to conclude that it is, in fact, valid. If it is in fact, valid, then Texas is free to execute its provisions as it sees fit.”
“But, your honor, you have to acknowledge--” Maria Baracho was halted with the raising of the judge’s hand.
“I’m unmoved by the argument that in order to execute the agreement the state of Texas first must dissolve, and thus, violate the perpetual and perfect unity which undergirds the Union. The State of Texas will exist in perpetuity under the terms of the agreement, and the agreement as executed only adds to the Union. The State of Texas has not withdrawn its support for the Union, from argument I’ve heard. The principle of “one people” clearly is not violated in this case. Texans will remain U.S. citizens. Perpetuity is not violated here. Texas has existed as a state since the agreement and will exist after.
“Mr. Meacham forces this court to accept the 1845 Agreement, and in so doing forces me to acknowledge that Texas entered into the agreement with the justified belief that its terms could be invoked at some point in the future. I do not believe that defense counsel wishes to argue that the U.S. entered into the agreement with no intention of ever allowing its fulfillment. Texas wishes to enact a different form of its representation in the union, one that is fully supported by the letter and, I find, the spirit of a lawful and legitimate agreement.”
Judge Hutchins went to his coat hanger and lifted his robes off the hook and put them on slowly. Were they really going forward? What had he decided? Callie glanced at Baracho, who looked flushed and irritated. Meacham had a bead of sweat roll down his cheek, and he resisted brushing it aside.
“Now,” Judge Hutchins straightened his robes and stood as tall as his old body allowed, “let’s return to the courtroom and continue.”
*****
Outside of El Dorado, Texas - July 5th, 2017 – 2:15 p.m.
The crew was only back on the road in their column of Humvees for about half an hour when the call came over the radio to Mathews. The guys seemed to have come to life a bit after catching some rack time, but Mathews was hurting. His head was throbbing, and his joints ached for some down time. He hadn’t gotten even ten minutes shuteye after overseeing the transfer of a dozen M-16s and a case of 5.56 for each. He had also managed to finagle four sets of PEC-4 night vision goggles as well as four M203 40mm grenade launchers for M-16 variants.
“Sergeant Mathews, this town looks like it will have something, over.”
“Roger.” Mathews pulled the lead Humvee into the turn lane as they arrived the small town, and he saw the chicken restaurant on the right side of the road opposite a decent community park, complete with stars and bars all over the lamp posts and the small gazebo at the center of the park. “You all pull over to the park and make a spot ready – I’ll grab a few buckets of this artery-clogging goodness, over.”
“We stopping, sar’nt?” private Williams grabbed his cover from the seat and threw it on his close-napped head.
“Looks that way, Williams,” Mathews started to wheel the Humvee into the parking lot, looking for a spot in the back, past the drive-thru, that would be out of the way of normal customers.
“Awesome,” Specialist Gaines in the back seat, slapped his thigh searching for his desert-camo boonie hat. “I’m starving fierce for something besides these MREs. That chicken will hit the spot.”
In truth, they were lucky to have found the restaurant. Almost ev
erything was closed. “Jesus, Gaines, how’d you ever survive the goddamn Sandbox?” Mathews shook his head looked at the small white enlisted man, who looked twenty years old tops. “In Iraq, all we had were MREs for fifteen, sometimes twenty days on a long op.”
When he scanned the lot, he noticed a couple of large trucks, one of which had a driver in the cab bobbing his head to the beat of a Tejano rhythm playing on the truck’s sound system. It was parked next to a twenty-five year large, old SUV with knobby tires. It was lifted and had a massive brush guard. Mathews laughed and thought how some of these old guys in these small towns had vehicles you could stage a coup with in some of the banana republics of the Caribbean.
“I dunno, but we’re back in the world now, sarge. We ain’t supposed to be eating dog food in foil every day. We’re supposed to be eatin’ good.” Dog food in foil – that was a good one. Mathews chuckled. In truth, the MREs weren’t actually that bad, and were probably a step up for some young, poor bastard like Gaines.
“Well you’re going to get your chance, now Specialist Gaines,” he turned the Humvee into a spot well past a parked minivan coated with dirt and away from the drive-thru lane.
Sergeant Mathews exited the vehicle, striding across the parking lot with Gaines and Williams in tow, and saw the other four Humvees round the bend and turn into the parking spaces of the small park across the street from them.
“Where you from in the world, Gaines?” Mathews walked toward the glass door of the chicken joint and as he reached out for it, he saw Corporal Andreson wave and point to an area where there looked to be five or six picnic benches lined up close to a small play area with monkey bars and swings. He gave him a thumb’s up signal and went in the restaurant.