The (New) American Way

by Mark R. Adams

  The liberal, socialist leaning, far left of the Democrat party had brought on what was about to happen on Monday.

  Chapter 6

  IT BEGINS

  I called Cindy on Sunday morning just to say hello and tell her that I loved her. I looked forward to the NFL games in the afternoon. I wasn’t going to be able to watch my Green Bay Packers, but I would be able to catch the updates and highlights while I watched the regionally televised game. The local game was Washington vs. Dallas. At least I could root for the Redskins, since I despised the Cowboys. The game took my mind off events coming Monday morning. I even fell asleep during the second half for a much-needed nap. I woke up to find out the Packers won, as did the Cowboys. Not perfect, but I’d take it.

  I spent the rest of the evening writing my prepared statement for the press. It wasn’t hard. I wrote a novel based on everything I believed and would say much of the same Monday night. I just hoped I could overcome my nerves and come across like I had some intelligence. I did get a little sleep, but 0700 Monday morning came quickly. I was taken to a command center and all the military men saluted me as I walked in. I knew to salute them back and show the respect that I truly had for the men and women in uniform. I would watch everything unfold on a TV screen just like most Americans would. At 0900, Operation New Dawn launched! Tanks rolled up blocked off streets to the White House as troops were deployed throughout the city. Jets flew over the capitol in a show of force. General St. Claire issued a statement to all television networks describing the situation and declaring martial law. Everyone was told to go about their business as usual, but that there would be a curfew of 7:00 p.m. est. that night so that the entire nation could be addressed as to what was happening and what the future held.

  The first network to report was CNN. The newscaster reported, “Never before in our nation’s history has our military or any faction of it engaged in a concerted action against its own leadership. As leading members of the Army, Marines, Navy, Air Force, and other military bodies secure control of Washington, D.C., we are getting reports of minimal violence, zero casualties, and maximum public cooperation. Indeed, according to some reports, and eruption of cheers arose as the President was removed from the White House earlier this afternoon. Meanwhile, rumors have been circulating about who exactly is in charge of this historic revolution.”

  It seemed that people were so shocked they just fell right into line with very few problems arising from the city occupation. They needed more information. They didn’t know who to blame, who to be mad at, or which side started this coup. They just knew the President was ‘fired’ along with everyone in Congress. Neither Republicans nor Democrats got preferential treatment. Only after my speech at 1930 hours would they begin to understand. I was the Commander-in-Chief now, so I’ve converted to military time. (Ha-ha)

  My old friend Craig from the FBI showed up to take me to the White House. I greeted him with a hearty, “Hello. It’s nice to see the guy who got me into this.”

  Craig smiled and laughed and said, “It’s an honor to see you again. I’m your ride to the White House.”

  “Good deal,” I said. “Let’s get going.”

  On the ride over, I saw the military presence deployed around the city. It was intimidating to say the least. I am glad all citizens had followed the directives so far, and were waiting to hear from whoever was in charge. Craig escorted me all the way to the oval office. He wished me luck and left. General St. Claire appeared in the doorway and said, “The press room will be ready in 15 minutes.”

  “Okay,” I answered.

  General St. Claire asked, “You ready? This is your moment, Mr. Marsh.”

  I answered, “It’s not all about me; it’s about the country.”

  The General smiled, “Well, let’s just say you’re about to become a lot more well known. I’ll see you in the press room.”

  The General turned to leave, but I interrupted, “I’ve been thinking a lot about your plan.”

  The General turned back to face me, “And . . .”

  I replied, “You chose wisely, General. I’ve always been an honorable man. I’ve been fair in my dealings and generous to my loved ones and neighbors. Loyal to the people I care about, and if I were in your position I’d have asked me, too.”

  The General put on a wide grin, “I’m glad we’re in agreement about your qualifications.”

  “But,” I asked, “what if the public doesn’t accept me in this role? What if I’m destined to be a celebrity but not a commander?”

  The General laughed and said, “Well then, you and Barrack Obama will have something in common.”

  That made me laugh out loud, but the General continued, “Many people will object to you. They will do so out of fear. Fear of our power. Fear of change. Fear of new ideas. It’s only natural. So, the important thing is: The people have to see benefits RIGHT AWAY. There can be no lag period. If we are to revolt, then we must do so at a tangible level. None of this “Obamacare” nonsense, where they put up a website built in 1992.

  I laughed out loud again.

  General St. Claire continued, “Trust will come when the tide turns for the better, Commander Marsh. For now, though, it’s on you to do something important.” The General turned to go out the door again and said, “Give ‘m one hell of a speech!”

  I was alone with my thoughts for a few moments. There was no turning back now. I was about to be introduced as the leader of the United States of America, not a President, but the Commander in Chief.

  I would be the leader of the free world. I would have power beyond my imagination. “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” But I know how power should be handled, and I must prove it to all the US citizens. My mouth is so dry, and my nerves are starting to affect me. I have to keep it together. I must find some water and take a deep breath.

  My time had arrived.

  Chapter 7

  NOW, IT’S MY TURN

  The pressroom was busting at the seams with reporters and cameras. General St. Claire stepped up to the podium. All eyes of the press looked up at him; their notepads, tape recorders, and cameras at the ready. General St. Claire began, “Before I introduce our new Commander-in-Chief, I’d like to take a moment to thank the press corps for their honest and straightforward reporting of today’s events. Lord knows if the Obama administration were still in power, the military’s actions on this day would be spun as an act of domestic terrorism. Quite the contrary; however, we are not terrorists. We are proud and patriotic Americans. And our new Commander-in-Chief will be pleased to explain our position in greater detail.”

  The entire audience stirred with anticipation.

  General St. Claire continued, “So without further ado, I introduce to you . . .” Cameras at the ready, recorders at the ready, notepads at the ready, “Commander Adam Marsh.

  A great stir swept across the room. A moment went by. The General viewed the room’s doorway. But then, after another moment, I walked in, smiling and confident. I replaced the General at the podium. Cameras flashed. Whispers came from all directions.

  I began to speak, “Allow me to echo the General’s gratitude about the press’ graceful use of the First Amendment. I hope that if I ever do anything unpopular, you will be equally candid in your evaluations.” I looked at the General. He nodded. I gave a quick nod back, then looked out at the press again. I continued, “Our country has been in enormous trouble for quite some time now. Congress spent years operating with an abysmal approval rating, and yet, despite the heartfelt complaints of the American people, we failed to do what we knew was truly necessary. We failed to rise-up, go to the polls, and clean house.

  Reporters’ hands moved FURIOUSLY upon their pads.

  I continued, “This will not be an uprising defined by violence. Nor is it a transition away from democracy. What it is, is more akin to an intervention. We’re here—temporarily—to straighten things out. After which point we’ll be more than pleased to step back
and welcome the old way of doing things. But know this: When I say ‘the old way of doing things,’ I don’t mean how it’s been in the immediate past. I mean how it was when the nation was growing, both economically and in terms of its great moral character.

  One female reporter raised her hand.

  I continued, “I’ll take your questions in just a moment. First, just some basic points about what the American people can expect in the near-term. For starters, as of now, we are in a state of martial law. All communities, from the major urban centers to our proud small towns will be graced with a military presence. Yet there will be No checkpoints. NO restraints upon the normal activities of your day-to-day lives. In fact, should any of our military officers become courageous and begin to interfere with the ordinary flow of your lives, you are to report them to us at the White House right away. They WILL be eliminated from their posts. In addition, I am known now as the Commander-in-Chief. That does not mean I am your President. This distinction is drawn because America has a proud tradition of electing its leaders, and sometimes the ones we vote for are actually the ones who win.”

  The press corps laughed.

  I continued, “So seeing as I have been appointed by our military, I am formally fit to lead them. And since they are our nation’s current leaders, then—yes—it can be said that, FOR NOW, I am the nation’s leader.

  I continued, “However, know this: The most tangible changes in the American people’s lives will relate to money. These monetary changes will surface soon. To be sure, there will be ideological shifts, as well, but no one in our nation is expected to agree with them. This is not, and shall never be, a kingdom. That being said, the changes we have in mind shall be implemented for the betterment of ALL.”

  The members of the press corps all began to chatter. Nodding, I pointed over at the female reporter who first raised her hand a moment ago. I said, “Yes? You—“

  She stood, “Commander Marsh—“

  I stopped her, “No, no, no. The military personnel call me commander. I expect the American people to call me Mr. Marsh or just Adam if you like. I’ve answered to much worse in my life,” I laughed.

  The female reporter said, “Okay, Adam . . .”

  I smiled and nodded.

  “What exactly are the changes we can expect? I mean, surely there must be some kind of plan—.”

  I nodded again and said, “The plan is a detailed and straightforward one. In fact, it’s the very same plan that the American people have read about in my book. Now don’t be afraid as you read it. Remember it is fiction. But it does contain many ideas we will be following. Next question,” I said.

  Every single reporter raised his/her hand and said my name at the same time. I finally got them to settle down, as I called on one of the male reporters most critical of President Trump. He began, “I’m not a bit upset that you have essentially fired President Trump, but I’m not quite sure I understand whose side you’re on.”

  “Let me stop you there for a moment, I declared. “I’m firmly on the side of the people of this great nation. I intend to affect change swiftly, without argument or discussion.”

  “Then you will operate as a dictator, I presume?” he chided.

  “Yes. If that is the label you choose, then so be it. The point is that decisions will be made that affect changes without going through red tape. This is a dictatorship, but I will be a benevolent Dictator, and you will make your mind up on that based on the results of my actions. And I welcome that,” I replied.

  “This won’t sit well with the people,” he claimed. “They will never accept this.”

  I replied, “Once again, I beg you, don’t prejudge or label me. I don’t want to be a dictator or labeled that way. I’m the guy the military chose to lead them and the American people for a short period of time. Our goal is to fix this mess the politicians have made. I’m just a guy with the answers that had no way to get my point across. Neither side would do what has to be done under normal circumstances. What was I to do, go to my congressman and lay it all out for him or her? He or she would have called for security to take me to jail and charged me with treason. Even if my ideas were put before Congress, there would have been zero cooperation as we have seen for the last 20 years.” I paused and raised both my hands to have all the reporters take a seat, and I said, “This press conference is finished. I know you have a million questions, but you can wait until tomorrow when things begin to unfold. Goodnight.”

  I headed back to the oval office to meet with General St. Claire.

  “Damn, you’re good,” he stated, as I took my seat. “You were born for this. You could not have been any more clear with those reporters. I loved it. We are going to do great things.”

  “I sure hope so, but what about my family? Are they under protective custody?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the General replied, “they are safe and tucked away in a secret location.”

  “My kids aren’t going to like that much, but Cindy is handling that end of it,” I said. I realized I would sleep in the White House that night. It was amazing and surreal.

  It was winter in D.C., and the grounds were bleak and well lit. As I gazed out the window, I thought about the people who had stood in this exact spot and contemplated their next move. Thinking about the rich history of the Oval Office and its occupants over the years, was overwhelming. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined I would be standing in the office of the leader of the free world. The rug in the middle of the room with the Presidential Seal of the United States had been walked on by world leaders. As a history teacher, I had a great deal of appreciation for where I was about to conduct business. I would be a part of history for this great nation. I had to do a good job. I had to make this work.

  Chapter 8

  FLASHBACKs

  I could only guess that people wondered how a high school history teacher/ construction business owner could ever write a novel. I really had no idea that I could; I just knew I wanted to--needed to--do or write something to wake up the people of this country. To wake them up to the fact that the gridlock we were experiencing was killing our nation. I remembered the day I decided to sit down and string together some pages. Twelve hours later, I had 40 pages. The English language was butchered in those pages, but I could find someone to help me correct all that. It only took me about two months to finish it. It was wintertime and construction was a little slow at the time, so I took advantage of my free time. Of course, with a family, life got in the way, and getting the book in a proper form to present to a publisher was a whole ‘nother ball of wax.

  Flashback—

  I was sitting in my home office in front of my computer, furiously writing away (on my legal pad). After several moments, I paused and looked toward the door. I yelled, “Cindy!” No answer. “Cindy?”

  Cindy yells back, “What?!”

  “You have to come in here. NOW!”

  I heard her footsteps rushing up the stairs and toward the office. Then Cindy entered, out of breath. She said, “What? Is everything alright?”

  I replied, “Everything’s fine. Everything’s GREAT.” I looked her in the eye. “I think I might have a best-seller on my hands.”

  She rolled her eyes and smiled, collected her breath and said, “Adam, sweetie, every beginning author thinks that. Step one is finishing the book and actually getting it published.”

  I grabbed her playfully and put her in my lap and scolded, “Thanks for the positive reinforcement. Ever think about coaching? (sarcastically) You’d be great!”

  She pinched me playfully and laughed. She inquired, “When will it be finished?”

  “Very soon,” I replied, “but I have some time to kill. You want to fool around?” She jumped up out of my lap and smiled, “No. I mean yes, but no; I have to pick the kids up after practice.”

  “Never hurts to ask,” I joked. “Just know this,” I added, “whether one person reads this novel or a million people do, our lives could really cha
nge.”

  Cindy gave me a loving look, nodded, and walked away.

  Flashback—

  I stood near a printer that was running off copy after copy of my completed book manuscript. As I watched the pages being produced by the machine, one of my employees, Marcus, a black man in his mid-40s, entered my room.

  Marcus asked, “What’s goin’ on here, Mr. Marsh?”

  “It’s my book. I finally finished last night.”

  Curious, Marcus stepped over to the machine and stood next to me. Marcus said, “Man, I didn’t know you were a writer.”

  “Me neither. But I am now,” I replied.

  Marcus looked at the growing stack of pages and asked, “What is it about?”

  I hesitated for a moment, then answered, “It’s about America. It’s fiction though. The character in it, he’s a regular guy, just like you or me. But he wants changes. And he starts a revolution. And makes the changes come true.”

  Marcus’ eyes widen a little. He nodded, clearly thinking his boss was nuts. Marcus asked, “What, um, kinds of changes, Mr. Marsh?”

  I started, “Well, first of all . . . uh, maybe you should just wait and read it for yourself. I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

  Flashback—

  Wearing a suit and tie, I sat in the company of Alexander Nance, a famous conservative talk show host. He was in his 60’s with gray hair and bifocals that he looked over the top of when he addressed me. He needed them to read his notes that rested in his lap with his legs crossed. The studio looked like a library in someone’s home with big, comfortable chairs. If not for the cameras and lights, I would have thought he asked me to stop by his house to talk for a while.