A NATION DIVIDED - THE SECOND CIVIL WAR (The Second Civil War - BOOK I 1)

by Marshall Huffman

  “Absolutely. I know one of them was the Seymour-Johnson Air Force Base.” Craig told him.

  “Seymour-Johnson? Where the heck is that?”

  “Goldsboro, North Carolina.”

  “I don’t have a clue where that is,” Bob said.

  “Kind of in the center of the state but to the east.”

  “Well, I sure know where it is now...not. I’m not too good with that kind of stuff.”

  “Something tells me you will be a lot better by the time all of this is over,” Craig said laughingly.

  “Does the General know about this?”

  “Not yet. I just found out today. It is harder for my contact to get to me now. Things have changed and information isn’t coming as fast,” Craig replied.

  “If we can contact them and let them know we exist maybe we could feel them out about using that facility.”

  “I’m not sure they would trust us that much but it would certainly be worth a try.”

  “I can’t wait for the General to find this out. This could be a really significant break for us,” Bob said.

  Craig was amused at Bob’s reaction. The man was normally very reserved and always serious. He seldom smiled and went around with a frown on his tanned face a good deal of the time. He knew Bob’s wife of twenty-seven years had died in an automobile accident because of a drunk driver. Craig could empathize with Bob. His wife had died just two years ago from cancer. He still thought he could see her in a crowd every once in a while. He knew it was silly but he understood what Bob was going through.

  ***

  HEADLINE NEWS – In an unprecedented move, President Quasim ask for the resignation of FEMA head, Todd Bailer. The FEMA director had only been in office for ten months but the President said that the most important thing is leadership in getting every available resource to the stricken areas.

  President Qusaim announced that he was personally overseeing the operation. He has already directed General Winfield and General Erickson to immediately start airlifting vast quantities of food, clothing, and other necessities to make life better for the residents of the devastated area. Those hurt or needing medical attention will be medivaced to military hospitals and bases. The Navy has been directed to have the hospital ship, USS Mercy, T-AH-19 leave Baltimore, Maryland tomorrow morning. The Mercy has twelve operating rooms and over one thousand hospital beds.

  The President said that he has given the Navy permission to run at flank speed in order to get relief to the Pensacola area as quickly as possible.

  C-130J Super Hercules and C-5A Galaxies are being sent to any available airport that can handle them. The Hercules are able to land on much shorter runways. The C-5A needs at least a 6,000 foot runway facility.

  Military warehouses and storage facilities are being opened in order to get supplies to the residents as fast as humanly possible. Huge military tents and kitchens are being flown in almost non-stop.

  The President said that every means of transportation is being utilized. Navy cargo ships are being deployed as soon as they are loaded. The Air Force will be flying around the clock missions and Army personnel will be on the ground helping in every way they can.

  One spokesperson said this is possibly the largest operation of this type since D-day. One thing can be said for sure, all the stops are being pulled out to get relief to the panhandle area.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Are you guys ready?” the leader whispered to the man next to him.

  “Yeah, let’s get this over with,” the man said.

  “Tell the others to watch what they are doing and keep it as quiet as they can. I don’t want to start shooting if we don’t have to.”

  “They know that.”

  “Damn it, just pass it along shithead.”

  “Buttwipe,” he muttered but passed the message on down the line.

  He raised his hand and everyone stood, crouching over. They started forward toward the fence.

  The leader froze when he heard someone talking. He stopped and looked around. It was one of his men. He wanted to go over and knock him on his butt but instead he just stopped the advance. The talking stopped and he waited a few seconds before starting up again.

  Ten yards before they got to the fence he had them all lay flat as he slithered forward with a pair of cutters. He snipped out an L shaped section and bent the fence back.

  Within seconds the fourteen men had penetrated the perimeter of the National Guard, 870th Engineer Co. at Crestview, Florida. The driving force behind the infiltration was to procure as many explosives as possible. The 870th were not only able to construct but to demolish as well. It stood to reason that a vast store of C-4, Semtex 10, and even dynamite would be stored at the facility.

  It looked like the ideal time since the National Guard Engineers had been called to help with the Pensacola catastrophe caused by Simon.

  The leader had one man stay behind to watch the fence and have it ready if they needed to make a hasty retreat. The others slowly made their way toward the larger building, stopping to check for guards.

  Within a few minutes they were just outside the main building. The leader held up his hand and everyone stopped. He slowly pushed on the door and it opened a crack. He quickly glanced inside and saw no one in the hall. He carefully opened the door and slipped inside. He crouched, listening, but didn’t hear a thing. He left two men outside to watch the door and the others entered the building.

  He pointed to two men and then down the hall. They slowly made their way to the end and quickly looked around the corner. No one. The rest advanced to where the two men had kneeled down.

  “I hear a radio,” one of the men whispered to the leader.

  He nodded his head, indicating he could hear it too. He was starting to feel pretty good about the operation. If they were lucky they would be able to get the explosives and no one would get hurt. They continued deeper into the building, checking offices and doors as they went. They finally got to a door where they could hear several men talking. They seemed to be watching a baseball game from what they could hear.

  “Face masks down,” he whispered and they all pulled their balaclavas over their faces. He held up three fingers, lowering them one by one. When he made a fist, the men rushed into the room.

  The men watching the ballgame jumped up. Alarm and shock registered on their faces.

  “Freeze. No one move and no one gets hurt,” the leader said.

  “Man, what do you want? We ain’t got no weapons to speak of here,” a Corporal said.

  “Shut up. I’ll tell you when to talk. Now I want the one in charge to raise his hand,” he said.

  No one moved.

  “Hey, don’t screw with me. Who is in charge?” the leader said raising his gun higher.

  “Can I speak?” one of the other men asked.

  “What?’

  “You mean in charge of the base or tonight’s duty roster?”

  “What do you think dumbutt?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Way to go Einstein. Yeah, tonight.”

  “That would be Master Sergeant Burrows.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In the bunk room racked out.”

  “How many more of you are here?”

  “Six all total.”

  “Where are the other two?” the leader asked.

  “I don’t have a clue. Probably in one of the offices on a computer.”

  “You four,” he said, indicating four of his men, “Take the Corporal and have him find the others. If he does anything stupid, shoot his dumb ass.”

  “Come on,” one of the insurgents said.

  They grabbed hold of the Corporal's collar and led him out of the room.

  “You two, sit on the floor over there facing the wall.”

  He waited until they were seated.

  “Cross your legs, hands behind you,” the leader ordered.

  “Cuffs,” the said and plasticuffs were placed on the two men’s wri
sts.

  Satisfied, and leaving two men to watch them, he said, “Let’s go find us a Master Sergeant.”

  They located him sound asleep in the bunk room. They had him dress and lead them to where the explosives were kept. He opened the storage facility under threat of being shot.

  “Holy shit. Look at all of that stuff,” one of men said.

  “Go back and get the rest of the men. We will watch the Sergeant and start loading the backpacks.”

  One of the men broke off and headed back to the main building. The men with the leader started filling the backpacks.

  “Look for C-4 and Semtex 1A or 10. That’s the good stuff we want,” the leader told them.

  They had finished filling their backpacks when the others arrived and started loading up.

  “Two of our men are with all the others. They are in the rec room. We can grab them on the way out.”

  “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

  Fifteen minutes later the backpacks were all filled and they were heading to the rec-room when they heard gunfire erupt.

  “Son of a bitch,” the leader yelled and started running down the hall.

  They were dragging the Master Sergeant along like a sack of potatoes. They rounded a corner and immediately saw that somehow the prisoners were shooting at his men. One was down on the floor with blood spurting out of his leg. The other was behind a cement pillar trying to shoot back.”

  The leader could see one of the soldiers trying to move into position to shoot his man. He raised his weapon and fired, striking the man in the shoulder and neck. He went down hard.

  “How many are there,” he shouted to his man.

  “Four more. The bastard lied to us.”

  “Okay, we are going to get you out of there.’

  “One is behind that big desk that is turned over,” he shouted back.

  The leader turned to one of his men and nodded. He took the Accuracy International SA50 off his shoulder and jammed a five round magazine in it. He racked a bullet and aimed at the desk. Three rapid ear shattering booms rattled the windows. He knew he had hit the target when an arm came flying out from behind the desk. It had been severed from the body.

  “The rest of you. Throw down your weapons and no one else will get hurt.”

  “One of them went to try to call the police or someone,” his man yelled.

  The leader shook his head and sent four men to find the guy. A few minutes later several gunshots rang out and then nothing. One of his men came running down the hall.

  “He had already made the call, we need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Saddle up, let’s go,” the leader said, “You two, grab our guy and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They made it out of the building without further incident but they could hear sirens in the distance. They sprinted across the grounds and through the fence and disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The flood waters had started to receded and for the most part things had gone well. People were sheltered, fed, and given clothing. The Medical ship had made excellent time and had treated over 2,200 patients and had performed 321 operations.

  The C-130 and A-5a had flown non-stop bringing in tons of food and clothing. Huge tents that could hold three hundred people were set up and only a few had to be relocated. The press had praised the President’s ability to handle the relief aid.

  The military presence was so great that virtually no looting took place. Those that did attempt to steal were quickly arrested. All outside civilian repair teams had to check in with the military and show documentation of insurance and sign a compliance statement. Shoddy workers were turned away by the hundreds.

  President Quasim was on the news almost every night doing something to direct the program. The photo ops were enormous. The Secret Service were even shown helping at one point, working alongside the President. Of course as soon as the photos were wrapped up he was whisked away to a state of the art RV. No one made an issue of it since it was more or less expected. He was the President after all and the other duties had to be attended to as well.

  He stayed in the Pensacola area for five days before he was flown back to Washington. A huge crowd was shown greeting him as he arrived. It was the first time in many months that both the media and population seemed pleased at what he had done.

  ***

  Vice-President Jason had been left out of the limelight totally. It was the President's way of punishing him for not going along with Operation Clean Sweep wholeheartedly. It was also the President's way of showing him that he would not support him if he ran for President during the next election.

  The tension between the two became so intense that they practically ignored each other. The only time Jason heard from the President was when he wanted him to cover some function. Even then he didn’t call himself but had his Chief of Staff, Sarah Slone, work out the details.

  It came to a head one afternoon when Slone reported back to the President that the VP could not cover a function because of a planned vacation. Quasim went ballistic and immediately called the VP.

  “I understand you are not going to cover the French Delegation next week while I am in California.”

  “That’s correct. I will be on vacation with my family during that time. I cleared this with you over a month ago and again when you came back from Pensacola.”

  “Strange, I don’t recall that.”

  “Then you need to check with Ms. Slone. Since you haven’t talked to me in almost a month, I have been communicating about this with her.”

  “I’m afraid you are going to have to postpone your vacation. We can’t have the French here and not have proper representation,” the President said tensely.

  “I’m afraid I can't do that. We are meeting my two sons and their families. I simply can’t cancel at this late date.”

  “Jason, maybe you are misunderstanding what I am saying. You are to be here in Washington to meet the French. I’m sorry about your vacation.”

  “And I am sorry I must refuse. I will be going with my family.”

  “Damn you. Don’t you dare try to pull this crap on me. I won’t stand for it,” the President said, raising his voice.

  “And Mr. President, exactly do you plan to do about it? Fire me? Oh, that’s right you can’t. You have been pouting like a little child ever since I didn’t embrace your Clean Sweep Operation. You are acting more like a child than the President of the United States,” Jason said calmly.

  “You bastard. Don’t you dare think you can do this to me. You will not get away with it, I promise you that.”

  “What will you do? Have me killed like the fake assassin?” Jason said and gently hung up the phone.

  Quasim almost yanked the phone out of the wall he was so mad. He paced back and forth in front of his desk, fuming. “That pipsqueak. He thinks he is going to get away with this. How dare he defy me,” he ranted.

  He got so loud that at one point his phone rang.

  “Yes,” he said angrily.

  “Is everything alright Mr. President?” Sarah asked.

  “No. And don’t bother me again,” he said and slammed down the phone.

  Jason on the other hand was quite calm. It was just like that bastard to try to pull something like this at the last minute. Well this time he could go to hell. He wasn’t the least bit worried. He had already accepted the fact that the President wasn’t going to back his bid for the White House. In fact that may even be to his advantage. After all, after people started to forget the Pensacola Hurricane, they would start to focus on Operation Clean Sweep again.

  Of course he had enough dirt on the administration that he felt secure as well. No, he would go on his vacation and just let Quasim figure out what to do. Hell, he was just being a prick anyway. It really should have been Secretary of State Hanna Cole he sent in his place.

  ***

  The President was still angry the next day and everyone could sense t
hat it was not going to be a pleasant meeting.

  “What are we doing about these raids on our National Guard bases?” he asked.

  “We have put them on alert now that they are starting to be released from Pensacola.”

  “So Pensacola is the excuse?” he asked.

  “No Sir. I’m just saying that they were spread thin with so many men and women out of their area.”

  “Fine. So now that they are back, we won’t have any more, is that what you are saying?”

  “Mr. President. I can’t guarantee that other attempts won’t be made but the bases will be on alert and properly manned,” the Secretary of Defense replied.

  “Well, I guess I can sleep better now. Moving on, what about the other million or so guns still out there? Is anything being done about that?”

  “The FBI and ATF in conjunction with the local police are going back to interview those with registered guns a second time. They are going to have to provide proof of the disposal of the guns.”

  “And we didn’t do this the first time because?”

  “Time. We didn’t have time to really press the issue,” Clarke replied

  “So the guns could have been right under their noses and they wouldn’t have found them.”

  “Mr. President,” Adam Little of Homeland Security interrupted, “I think what Roland is saying is that due to the huge number of residences we had to cover quickly, interrogations were not possible at the time.”

  “Damn it Adam, I know what he is saying. That still doesn’t change the fact that we left a hell of a lot of weapons in the hands of those people.”

  “No sir it doesn’t but we are in a better position to fully investigate now.”

  “Great. They have had three weeks to hide them so we will never find them,” the President said.

  No one spoke. Nothing anyone could say would make any difference when he was like this.

  “Sir, one good note,” Sarah Slone his Chief of Staff said.

  “And that is?”

  “Your approval rating is up fifteen percent over last month.”

  “It damn sure should be after the effort that went into Pensacola. Hell, they did everything but showing me taking a bath. The damn media was everywhere.”