New World Order: California Invasion (Vol. 2)

by W. R. Benton

  “Why hasn't the CSA struck us with more air raids like they were doing last year?” the President asked his staff. “I thought for a while they were getting organized to invade us. Do you have any idea, General Steele?”

  “They still may plan to invade, sir, and they may be conserving fuel, as well as other resources in preparation of an invasion.” the senior military officer present, who was also the Chief of Staff, said.

  Looking at his intelligence officer, President Norton asked, “Tom, what does our intelligence section know?”

  “We have intercepted thousands of messages, but all were sent in code. We currently have a dozen of the sharpest minds in the nation working on breaking it, and we will, eventually. Now, people we have behind the lines tell us some very interesting things. They are, just like us, experiencing problems getting enough oil and gas, they're having problems with their economy, but they were in better shape when we broke apart, financially. Many of the liberal states had few resources. I know they have their hands full with riots in Chicago and Saint Louis, and few pay attention to their curfew. I don't see them invading anytime soon, but my military section tells me they are capable of launching an invasion any day. I don't see them doing that until they can get the country more stable, but they may.”

  “So, in essence, you're telling me you have no damned idea when they'll invade, if at all.”

  “Until we can break their code, it's impossible to say, sir.”

  “Images taken by our photo aircraft show they have the equipment to invade, but we've not seen daily deliveries of fuel or oil. From what we guess, they're getting shipments in, but it appears to be every other day. Now, they have a long coast line and we can't spy on all of it at once, so we hit them at different places as often as we can. We do know their military units are constantly moving, and lately they've been seen moving into Missouri where the action is, and the states that touch California. My guess is, they'll not want to invade California until they have plenty of surplus fuel. I can't see them starting a fight and then not having enough resources to finish the battle.”

  “That makes sense, but keep your folks busy with images. I want to know when there is a change or if they start getting regular deliveries of oil and gas. If we have any spies out there, I want all the information they know. Maybe send in some special troops one night and blow some of their fuel tanks to hell and back.”

  “That could very well work, but we'd have to find out where the most fuel is stored and then destroy it.” the General said and then smiled, hoping the President would forget the fact he had no answer to the invasion question.

  Standing, the President said, “I want that code broken or heads will roll. Use computers or something, but we must be able to read their messages. So, get on it hard, Tom.”

  “Yes, sir, and I'll get the word out this evening.”

  “Sir?” One of his military liaisons stuck his head in the door and said, “Radar shows an aircraft at an especially high altitude flying toward us. They have alerted defenses in the state and just wanted to let you know.”

  “What kind of aircraft do they think it is?”

  “U-2 or SR-71 due to the altitude, and the fact both are super reconnaissance aircraft.”

  “I'll be right there.” he said and then, turning to the General, he said, “Get a special group together to hit the CSA at their fuel centers. I want to see a plan of attack by the end of this week.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After the President left, the General shook his head and thought, Some installations will be easier to hit than others, but I need to discover where most of their Petroleum, Liquids, and Oils (POL) are stored. Then I can send in some teams.

  The President entered the part of the bunker where the radar operators worked, and there was a Lieutenant Colonel bent over a screen marking positions with a grease pencil. Because of the nature of their work, no one called the room to attention when the President entered.

  “What do you have, Colonel Besser?”

  “A lone plane, flying at just a little below 80,000 feet and at more than Mach 3. I know of only one aircraft that can fly like that and it's the SR-71. We had many of them years ago, but they were retired before I came on active duty.”

  “Bring it down.”

  The Colonel met his eyes and said, “I don't think we can, sir. I don't know much about the aircraft except by the time most of our rockets and missiles run out of fuel they burn for thrust, they'll still be too low to touch the bird, sir.”

  “You mean to stand there and tell me we can do nothing?”

  “Uh, well, sir, we can fire missiles at it and see what happens. I know of no missile that we currently have in our inventory that can bring it down, not at that altitude.”

  “Damn! Fire something, but for God's sake, don't let it come down and hit a city or kill anyone.” The President paced around the room and had his hands on his hips.

  “Sir, we can destroy the missile before it strikes the ground, but the debris from the self-destruct explosion we have no control over. That means we don't want to fire a missile near a populated area.”

  “Fire when you think it's safest and I'll take the hits. I find it hard to believe we're sitting here unable to bring down an aircraft. Why are they flying it to start with, I mean if it was retired? Looks to me like satellites would give them all the images they need.”

  “I can't answer that question, sir. Except some terrorist group has hacked the internet and has a statement that all nations have to pay two billion dollars to be able use it again. I don't know much about satellites, but maybe the lack of a viable computer system, an internet if you will, has made them worthless. I know they can no longer send emails, because we can't either. If that's the case, the U-2 and SR-71 may return to flying regular missions, sir.”

  “Sonofabitch! You fire at the damned thing right now!”

  The operator moved a red cross-hair to the blimp on his screen, the Colonel used his key to unlock the missiles and then said, “Push the red button on the left of your console, son. That will fire two missiles at the bandit.”

  When the young man met his eyes the Colonel said, “Go on, son. That is our enemy.”

  The button was pushed and two red dots moved toward the aircraft. Just when they neared the aircraft within 20,000 feet, the dots faded and then went out. The Colonel leaned over the console and pushed a green button to destroy both missiles.

  “The aircraft is too high, sir. The missiles were never a serious threat to him.”

  “I appreciate your trying, Colonel, and thank you. I think I need to speak to my Air Force General and see what she can tell me.” With that said, the President left the room.

  Chapter 12

  Dick was improving, but still weak and confined to his cot. The helicopter they'd heard the other night must have been a false insertion and they must have inserted troops in another area, because no sign of them was found. Gator, their best man at tracking, found no proof they'd landed or deployed troops nearby, and he'd spent a whole day circling the camp. He'd moved out as far as five miles and discovered nothing except deer tracks.

  To warn them of others who may want to visit without an invitation, they circled the camp with mines from prior battles with UN troops. They were always picking up gear they would have use for in future battles. Often, they'd leave a few rounds of ammo with the powder removed and filled with C-4, an explosive, which will cause a weapon to explode as soon as the firing pin strikes the primer embedded in the shell casing, or they changed the timers on grenades to zero, which meant the grenades would explode as soon as the lever left the man's hand. This was usually fatal for the thrower and those nearby.

  Some of the mines around the camp were grenades with the timers on zero, the spoons held in place by a can in which the grenade was inserted. Thin fishing line, usually two pound test from Gator's old store, was stretched across the trail and usually tied to a growing sapling. A person would walk into the line, p
ull the armed grenade from the can and it would instantly explode. The traps were cheap, easy to make and very effective. They did leave a clear zone through the mines, so they could come and go freely, but at night it was mined, as well.

  This morning they sat around a campfire sharing coffee, with Joda on guard.

  “Captain,” James said, “we need to get you to the army as soon as we can. I think the CSA needs every pilot that can fly and the A-10 is a great bird in this war. It reminds me of the old A-1E 'Skyraider,' or 'Sandy,' which my uncle flew in Vietnam. They're both slow, excellent for close air support and carry a lot of munitions. We need you back in the air, sir.”

  “I agree with returning as soon as I can, but almost 30 miles is a lot of dangerous miles to cover on foot.”

  “You'll not go by foot, but by motorcycle, and Ben will take you tonight as soon as it gets dark.” Then turning to Ben, James asked, “Do you remember the old Route 66 way to Fort Leonard Wood?”

  “Sure, I can pick it up north of Newburg near Doolittle, and follow it west. Is the bridge over the Gasconade River still in place?”

  “Yep, it's still there, and the road will take you right into Waynesville, which touches the Post. Take him to the main gate and leave him there. I'm sure from that point they'll arrange transportation for him to return to his unit.”

  “But why the motorcycle?” Gator asked.

  “It's easy on gas, if things turn to shit it will go off the road easily enough and be hard to follow. It's also a much smaller target to hit and it won't take long, barring any trouble, to get him to the gate.”

  “What of the curfew?” Ben asked.

  “The Captain will wear his flight suit and you will be dressed in the current CSA field uniform, so you'll look like what you are, soldiers returning to camp. The only exception is, you'll have a yellow rag tied around your left arm, which identifies you as a partisan.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Captain Cook said, and then smiled.

  “What about weapons?” Ben asked as he looked over the rim of his tin cup. He then took a sip of his coffee.

  “You will both be armed with a 9 mm pistol and a M-16 rifle. Take three or four magazines for the pistol and bandoleer for the rifle. Just make sure to get the weapons from Captain Cook before he approaches the gate.”

  “Do ya reckon those guards at the gate will be trigger happy?” Gator asked.

  “Not really, but we'll take no chances. Captain, when you walk to the gate, keep both arms high in the air and do exactly what the guards tell you to do. They'll likely want you to get on your knees with your arms behind your back or they may want you flat on the ground with your arms extended. No matter what they want, just do it and no arguing. Once they get you on the post, they'll debrief you, give you a room, feed you, and start working on transportation to your unit.”

  “I understand, and they'll have no trouble from me.” Cook replied.

  “Okay, for today, we're going to scout a bit to the north-east, maybe ten miles, circle this place and then come home. Now, I want all of you to understand that chopper the other night may have inserted a team to look for us. I want everyone attentive as we move and no talking at all. Ben, you and Captain Cook will not be coming with us. If we're not back by dark, something has happened, so take him to the Post and you stay there, too. If possible, we'll contact you by radio, if we can, later.”

  Ben said, “I understand. Good hunting.”

  “Good, now everyone saddle up and let's get ready to move. I want Shaw on point and Gator, you bring up the rear.”

  “What about me?” Nancy asked, “Do I go or stay here with Dick?”

  “Stay, because he's not completely out of the woods yet. Mine the clear path as soon as we leave.” James said, and then waved as they moved from camp.

  Shaw was nervous on point and always was. His senses were on edge, so he heard, smelled, and saw much, but what worried him the most was an ambush or mines. As long as he heard small animals running from him, he suspected no one was around. He moved just slightly slower than a normal walk and knew if he moved too fast, he'd eventually be seriously injured or killed.

  Near noon, he discovered where it looked like a squad of men had spent the night. He motioned for James to come forward. Grasses were pushed over where about ten men slept overnight and near one spot, Shaw discovered a white plastic spoon and small empty tin. The tin had contained fish and the text on the labeling was in English and Japanese. The tin read, “Sardines packed in olive oil,” and the spoon had the faint smell of fish.

  James whispered, “They were here last night.”

  “I saw no tracks moving toward us, so they must have moved north.” he whispered in reply.

  James turned to walk back to the group waiting on a deer trail when Shaw moved toward him. There was a sudden explosion and Shaw's body was surrounded by flames shooting toward the sky. He screamed as shrapnel tore his legs and lower torso to shreds. Dust, blood, and debris, as well as smoke hung over the fallen man. The smell of cordite was strong as was the coppery smell of fresh blood.

  James moved to him but found him dead, his chest pierced many times by metal. He removed the man's weapons and ammo, checking each for damage. Little remained of either leg and what did remain resembled hamburger, and long links of pink intestines were scattered near Shaw's body.

  He returned to the trail, shook his head and said, “They mined the camp after they left and Shaw is gone. Let's return to camp, but move overland, and Joda, you take point.”

  “What about Shaw's body?” Joda asked.

  “What about it? You don't think we're going to bury him, do you, or pack him back with us?”

  “He was a good man and deserves to be buried.” All could see the anger in Joda's eyes, but he was trying to control it. He'd been a close friend of Shaw.

  “Listen, I suspect Japanese troops were here last night, by the remains of a ration we found. For all I know, they may still be close enough to have heard that explosion. We can't risk the time to bury him, and I see no need to carry his body all the way back to camp.”

  “It makes sense, but I don't like it.”

  “I don't either, my friend, but it's very likely none of us will be buried if we die in this war.”

  “I don't think Shaw would want us to put our lives in danger to recover his body. I say we move and now, overland if possible.” Gator said, and then met the eyes of Joda.

  “I agree, so I'll take point and Gator, you bring up the rear.”

  The walk back was rough, with the overland route filled with brush, high grasses and copperhead snakes. More than one person was shocked by the sudden appearance of a snake on the freshly made trail and Frank had one strike at him, only to have a fang get entangled in his trousers. He pulled his skinning knife and cut the head from the snake. He then very carefully removed the head and tossed it into some brush.

  They arrived back at camp about two hours before dusk. Ben was checking the motorcycle over closely when they neared camp. Captain Cook was sitting by a small fire and appeared to be sleeping, but he wasn't. When James moved toward the safe area through the mines, the Captain's rifle was suddenly pointed in their direction.

  “It's just us.” James said, and Ben moved to the mines to make each safe. Once the mines were safe with cotter pins, the small force moved into camp.

  “Any problems?” Cook asked.

  “We lost Shaw to a mine at a camp where some Japanese troops from the UN had spent the night.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” Ben said and then added, “because he was a good man. I guess you couldn't bring the body back. We're lucky we haven't lost more of us.” In a matter of a few minutes, he had all the mines safe.

  “Very lucky, actually.” James said, and led the group to the fire.

  “Earlier today, a couple of hours after you left, I heard the noise of a chainsaw and then later the sound of an ax. We may have new neighbors almost dead south of us and maybe a mile.”

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sp; “We'll check them out tomorrow. This was a rough day, but I can honestly say, Shaw didn't suffer. I think he was dead before he struck the ground.”

  “That's the best way to go, and I think most of us hope for a fast death, I mean, when it comes.”

  Glancing at the setting sun, James said, “Don't you think that it's about time for your trip to Fort Lost in the Woods, as the Army calls it?”

  “Yup, the gas is full, and I just checked it over a few minutes ago. I figure to load in a few moments and leave.”

  “Did you eat yet?” James asked.

  “We had a couple of cans of stew from Gator's store. Now, I have no idea how long this trip might take me, but if I'm not back by sunup something has happened. Just so you know.”

  “I'll make contact with the Army by radio right after you leave, so the guards will expect you.”

  “That's fine. Listen, don't forget about the noise I heard today. If it's a bunch of rednecks, they ain't got the sense God gave an ant, so one of us will have to move.”

  “I'll deal with it in the morning. I want you to take no chances tonight, either.”

  “We'll take no chances at all, James. Captain Cook, if you'll climb on behind me, we'll get this show on the road.”

  Soon the two men were moving down the dirt back roads, looking for the old route 66 signs. They soon moved over the bridge and across the train tracks on an old blacktop road that led them into Newburg. As usual, the town was dead, and not a soul was seen as they moved north toward Doolittle, which was normally even quieter. This night a few lights were seen, but it remained quiet as Ben turned left on old Route 66. The pavement was in sad shape as they moved west, and in some spots the road was in terrible condition.

  Captain Cook said nothing as they moved, but he did realize the extreme risk this small group of partisans was taking to return him to his unit. These are the kind of Americans our country needs, those who understand what we're fighting for and are willing, and very likely, to die for this nation. Liberals would never fight for any nation because they lack sand, and I can remember, just before we split as a country, they'd not stand for the passing or raising of the flag. Many wouldn't stand during the national anthem either. People like that didn't deserved to be treated fairly or called Americans.