Homefront: A Story of the Future Collapse

by Matthew Gilman

  Clive was a strange guy, and Budd had no nickname for him since the accent threw him off. Leaving the mountains of Kentucky opened one’s eyes to the rest of the world.

  The next man in the unit was Kelly Hu, a second generation Korean who joined the Army to go to college for free, then decided to work towards special forces. Being fluent in Korean set him apart from many recruits who didn’t speak a foreign language. Unlike the rest of the guys, Kelly was married with a child, a son he made sure had a purely masculine name. He hated how his parents gave him a sexually neutral name. Many of the guys would refer to him as the woman in their group or “G.I. Jane.” Having grown up hearing similar comments from adolescent boys, Kelly learned to brush off the comments and play along with the homo erotic culture that develops when men are packed together for a long time.

  Boot camp can be awkward at first. Many of the men who enlist are not used to dozens of men stripping naked and showering next to one another. After a few weeks, dick jokes start to make the rounds and the culture becomes more graphic after that.

  Kelly continued to apply for a transfer to special forces and knew that time was running short. The age range for new recruits was coming to an end for him and if he wasn’t selected this time around his dream would never be realized. Who would have thought hitting thirty years of age could end a man’s dreams? The sad thing was that Clive was offered a path into special forces towards the end of boot camp because of his background and education. This left some resentment between Kelly and Clive. One man is offered the job the other sought after so bad, and turns it down.

  The other white boy that Dallas was close to was Ben. A natural athlete, Ben was the kind of guy that made it into the Rangers because people suggested it. Ben went with the motions and followed orders without questions, which in turn made him a great soldier. After boot camp an instructor suggested he try out for airborne, which he did simply because it was mentioned. After that, another instructor said he should try out for Ranger school which he did, simply because it was mentioned. He passed through that and waited for the next suggestion to be brought up, having never made any decisions on his own. When Dallas asked him how he ended up in the Army, Ben said “my dad suggested it because my parents couldn’t afford college.” And so he signed up.

  Ben was the stereotypical “good ol’ boy” who spent his off time hunting and fishing. Although, hunting was out of the picture these days with no personal firearms allowed on base. On occasion he was able to borrow a rifle from some locals that he knew and bagged an elk one year only to take the liver back to base and the rest was processed for a homeless shelter in the area. Many of the guys were surprised by the skill this man had in hunting and he was the only one to actually kill anything outside of the military bigger than a deer.

  Kelly had done a tour in Iraq but was stuck doing police style work in Baghdad which pissed him off. When he was sent home he figured he could put it on his resume when he was discharged and possibly get a law enforcement job.

  Budd had been a grunt during his tour in Iraq and claimed to have killed dozens of Iraqis during his year and a half overseas. Not many people gave any credibility to these claims. Most of the guys that saw action and ended up killing people didn’t talk about it afterwards. Dallas wondered if Budd felt disappointed in his lack of real service or if he was a rare exception that not only killed people, but was comfortable with talking about it.

  Kelly and Dallas became quick friends with Kelly’s desire to join the Special forces. He tried to learn as much as he could from Dallas about weight training and physical fitness. Some photos were found online of Dallas posing for body building competitions and it only fueled the homo erotic jokes. However, if somebody had an issue with passing their PT test they would go to him for advice or training.

  Dallas tried to learn how to relax from Ben who never appeared stressed and went with the flow, which was important in a culture that was known to rush people only to wait in the end.

  Clive was the go-to guy everyone came to with questions about everything. It was not uncommon for there to be a discussion about philosophy or religion since one of Clive’s degrees was in Theology. Budd referred it as a degree in bullshit and sometimes Clive agreed just to appease him. Later Clive would add that at least he had a degree while Budd lied his way into the Army by never finishing high school. Recruiters were quick to forge the documents in rural areas to keep their numbers high. Hell, most jobs never asked for a high school diploma and simply went by the application they held.

  Early in the morning, the members of the 2nd Ranger Battalion stood in formation ready for their morning PT. The morning dew was still in the air and most of the men were half awake, accustomed to performing their usual routine while still half asleep. Moving out of formation into two rows, they started their march through the base for their cardio. The chants and insults bellowed from their bellies as they worked on their 5 km jog. About half way through the air sirens howled through the base.

  “Don’t think this gets you out of anything. Keep marching, things aren’t over.” The Platoon Sergeant stopped as his men jogged past taking in his orders. The sirens never stopped and after a few minutes even the Sergeant became concerned. He never stopped the training though. They finished their jog and started doing their push-ups and sit-ups in the field. While the men were working, a private ran up to the Sergeant that wasn’t part of the unit. He was a desk jockey that the Sergeant recognized from the office.

  “Sergeant!” the private said, standing at attention.

  “What do you want?” The Sergeant gave him the politest greeting he could muster.

  The private handed the Sergeant a note from the office. Hand written it stated that the base was on high alert and for all personal to return to their barracks and await further orders.

  “Alright, Uncle Sam has given you an unscheduled break from PT. You are to return to your barracks and await further orders.”

  The men broke from their groups and returned to their bunk areas. Rumors started to spread immediately.

  “Maybe Saddam bombed us,” Budd said.

  “Stupid. Saddam is dead,” Kelly responded

  “No. That’s Osama.” Ben tried to correct.

  “They’re both dead. Get your facts straight.” Clive finally corrected them.

  “If they are both dead who would dare to fuck with us?” Budd said, hinting towards his notion of American superiority.

  “Who said anything about a bomb anyway?” Dallas inquired. He hated when people assumed, since assumptions could get people killed. “If you want a list of people who hate us just look at the list of our allies and figure out who is not on it.”

  Kelly came to the center of the room with his cell phone.

  “See for yourself.”

  On the screen was a CNN story about Washington D.C. being leveled by a nuclear detonation. The poor image of a mushroom cloud filled half the screen and the story was almost thirty minutes old.

  “Bullshit, that’s like The Onion or something,” Ben said looking at the screen.

  “It’s CNN. Check Fox News. You know those guys only post the same shit if it’s true.” Budd suggested.

  Kelly swiped his finger over the screen and brought up the Fox News page. It was the same story.

  “Holy shit!” Ben said.

  Before Kelly knew it, hands were fighting over his phone.

  “Hey. HEY! Hands off.” Kelly put his phone in his pants and went back to his bunk.

  In the corner of the room, Dallas continued his PT, pumping out pushups and exhaled with every push.

  “Dallas, what are you doing?” Budd said.

  “Our capital was bombed and you guys are fighting over a phone. I’m preparing for the war that is ahead.” He finished his first set of fifty.

  “WE’RE GOING TO WAR!” Budd hollered. All of the men cheered and yelled as the testosterone could be smelled in the room.

  Twenty minutes later the men were sitting at t
heir bunks bored.

  “When are they going to tell us something?”

  “When they need to.”

  “They probably don’t know who did it.”

  “Man this is like 9-11. I bet it was us.” Budd said making reference to his 9-11 conspiracy theory.

  “Shut up with that shit.” Clive hated when Budd talked about it.

  “9-11 was an inside job. I’m telling you.”

  “You don’t really believe that.” Kelly stepped in.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You still joined.” Kelly answered.

  “To blow shit up.”

  “By prostituting yourself to the man? Face it you don’t believe half the shit you say.”

  The men of the 75th Ranger Regiment stood at attention in the field waiting to hear what their orders were. The feedback from the speakers rang through their ears as a general took the podium.

  “Gentlemen, as you may have heard today our country is under attack. We are still waiting for details, what we know so far is that a nuclear device did go off in Washington D.C. We are still waiting to hear who was killed and what the status of our government is. In the meantime, the base will remain on high alert. Leave for base has been canceled until further notice. At this moment realize that we are at war.”

  The feedback rang over the speakers again as the general left the podium. The men were dismissed and went back to their barracks for further orders.

  Chapter 3

  One week later

  Flying the C-130 cargo plane into Seattle was nothing out of the norm for Garrett. In fact, it was boring compared to some of the things the Army had him doing. Being a pilot, he had seen much of the world from the air, and was able to experience more of the positive things the Army had to offer. He had flown overseas to Germany, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, and in one case Venezuela, but he wasn’t allowed to talk about that one. Usually these trips went off without a hitch but things were different these days. The United States was at war again and while he still took orders, he was curious who they really came from. The military had decided to take a defensive approach to their thinking since it was still unclear as to who had destroyed D.C. The orders came down and Garrett was on a plane flying to Seattle dropping off supplies. He had been here before and while he liked the landscape he didn’t care for the city itself.

  The plane was starting its descent and everything was looking good. The humming sound of the flaps lowering was music to his ears. These days the planes flew themselves for the most part. Sure, he had to flip switches and time everything, but even the timing was left to a computer. He was waiting for the day that the plane’s computer would do the takeoff and landing on its own and he would be in the cockpit for nothing more than a formality. The nose of the plane lifted and the horizon moved down in his vision as the plane glided through the air. Everything was looking good.

  Without a warning, the lights on the console and motors of the plane stopped working. Garrett sat up from his seat, shifting his thinking from relaxation to total panic. These were the moments he couldn’t panic though. This was the time that his training had to take over.

  “We lost power,” Garrett said over the intercom and radio. The radio wasn’t working and a second later he noticed the intercom wasn’t either. “Hello,” he said while flipping switches trying to figure out what caused the power to go out.

  The plane was starting to change its pitch, the horizon moving higher in view as the nose dropped. The runway was in view, but at this angle the plane was not going to make it. Garrett gripped the controls and pulled back. The plane shook as the flaps shifted and the force of the wind resistance along with the weight of the plane were placed in his hands.

  Garrett was a tall thin man. He didn’t look like a star athlete, but he did play basketball in high school and college. He was so good that the college gave him a partial scholarship for aviation school. The rest he was hoping the Army would pay off like the recruiter said. After three years the Army still had not approved the transfer of funds. None of that mattered now. Student loan debt was the last thing on his mind.

  Pulling back on the controls, Garret’s muscles strained as the nose of the plane continued to dip. The propellers of the C-130 were spinning but not from the motors. Garrett put his feet on the dashboard and did his best leg press, pulling the controls back. The nose started to move as his back muscles strained against the force. The plane continued to shake and as the runway approached Garrett realized he needed to have the wheels put down manually, or land on the belly. Considering the weight of the cargo the plane would rip apart. He never realized he was screaming as he pulled the controls. From behind him his copilot reappeared pulling himself into the cockpit.

  “What happened?” he said, pulling himself into the seat.

  “Power went out.”

  “Did you try…”

  “Yes!”

  The copilot, Frank, joined in with pulling on the controls.

  “We need the landing gear down,” Garrett shouted.

  “No time,” Frank said, seeing the ground coming closer.

  A few seconds later the C-130 connected with the asphalt of the runway. The engines of the plane dragged on the ground as the wings slowly fell apart and left a trail of flames behind it as the fuel escaped and combusted. The belly of the plane ripped open leaving crates and other cargo behind and breaking apart. The tail snapped off on impact causing the plane to start a slow spin as it worked towards a halt. Garrett and Frank didn’t remember anything after the final jolt. If one was to ask Garrett later how he ended up in the field, he couldn’t give an answer. He had to guess that the emergency release had malfunctioned in his favor. He didn’t recall having his hands on the lever that would send his seat flying into the air and engage the parachute. Part of him thought maybe Frank had done it at the last minute. Frank didn’t make it out of the plane before impact.

  Garrett didn’t know how long he was unconscious, but when he awoke the plane was in flames along the length of the runway and somehow he wasn’t in it. Garrett had trouble getting himself out of the harness of the seat and looked around for fire trucks and rescue crews to get his men out. He had nightmares about things like this happening in Afghanistan since it was common for large planes like this to receive RPG fire while trying to take off and land. There had been a few times were he was lucky and watched as an RPG flew past his cockpit on takeoff. Lucky for him RPGs were unreliable and inaccurate for the most part, unless placed in capable hands.

  The buckles on the harness clicked and he fell sideways out of the seat. Men from the hangers were running towards him after seeing the parachute drifting in the field.

  “Hey buddy you alright?” The man was wearing overalls and it was obvious he was mechanic.

  “Where are the trucks?” Garrett asked looking at his copilot and crew burning up in the wreckage.

  “They aren’t working, nothing is working. It’s like somebody turned the power off to everything.” The mechanic looked at Garrett. “You need a medic?”

  The statement didn’t sound like a question, but Garrett treated it like one, and brushed off the man as he walked towards the flames several hundred yards away.

  “Hey you can’t go over there. Our men are on it.”

  “No they’re not.” Garrett watched the flames climb towards the sky and knew that his men were dead. His hope was that it was quick and relatively painless. It was the hope of so many men that came before him. “Can I see your radio?”

  “Doesn’t work,” the mechanic answered.

  Garrett’s head hurt with the level of frustration he was feeling. No plane, no trucks, no radio, what the hell did they have? The smoke was starting to block out the sun and Garrett looked up as another shadow passed overhead. The figure was unmistakable as a Warthog. The tank killer of a few wars, the Warthog was also referred to as a flying tank, or the jet version of an Apache helicopter. The Warthog glided overhead and disappeared beyon
d the tree line in the distance. The shock wave and concussion of the impact surprised Garrett.

  “Holy Shit,” the mechanic muttered without realizing it.

  In the distance more jets and planes could be seen as specks falling from the sky. It was like somebody had flipped a light switch for the entire planet, or at least where he was.

  There was nothing for the two of them to do but stand there and watch, feeling the impact of the moment and the helplessness of their situation. For the first time since World War I the United States did not have air superiority.

  Chapter 4

  The base stayed on its usual schedule. Morning PT and the classes scheduled for the afternoon continued. There didn’t appear to be any point in changing anything at the moment. Contact outside of the base was limited to the higher brass until they received some definitive answers on what was happening.

  A week later the lights flickered in the barracks and they didn’t come back on again. The men of the 75th Ranger regiment walked outside to see if anyone else had power.

  “Man, my phone isn’t working.” Kelly looked at his screen.

  “The battery dies all the time anyway,” Budd added.

  “Hasn’t stopped you from taking it and watching porn,” Kelly added, taking the battery out and looking at it.

  As the men looked around they heard rumbling in the distance. A brief flash with smoke rising into the sky. Something had exploded a few miles away and they didn’t know what it was. Then the hand crank air raid siren was howling through the base. The dust had been wiped off of the WWII relic and now it howled back to life.

  A C130 plane was in the distance approaching the base but it was dropping fast. The propellers didn’t appear to be moving like they should, spinning from the wind instead of the power of the engines. The men watched the large aircraft in the distance.

  “Why is it coming in like that?” Clive said to himself, as if he was going to find the answer.