* * *
Western Currency Facility, Fort Worth, Texas
The damage from the first fight had mostly been cleared; cleared, that is, to the extent it hadn't been added to in the interests of defense.
From one of the twin rectangular projections atop the main building, Major Williams gazed through binoculars eastward to Interstate 35.
"That's the First Cav passing through," he told Pendergast, standing next to him. "I think it is anyway. None of the tracks are flying Cav guidons. You suppose they are ashamed?"
"Dunno, sir. Might be."
Overhead another of the seemingly endless flights of Army helicopters passed by, bringing in another load of PGSS.
Williams looked upward. "How many is that now?" he asked.
Pendergast answered, "How many troops? About seven thousand would be my guess. I didn't know Rottenmuncher had that many in her private army."
"There's a lotta things about her people didn't know when she was running, Sergeant Major. Maybe more things she kept secret after she won."
Pendergast shrugged. Well, too late to do anything about that now.
A single shot rang out. To Pendergast it sounded like a .50 caliber. To a Guardsman standing just to Pendergast's left it didn't sound like anything at all . . . for it killed him instantaneously.
"Down! Goddammit, down!"
And so it begins again, Pendergast thought, as a steady spattering of rifle fire began to pelt the facility.
* * *
Houston, Texas
"Just come on, girl, forget the old man," Minh demanded of Elpi, he and a henchmen dragging her by each arm. The girl twisted and struggled to turn around and go back to stand beside Charlesworth in his hour of need, the hour which was possibly his final one. She struggled, but fruitlessly; for all his age and tiny stature the former Vietcong was still much stronger.
Even as they hustled Elpi through some merchant's doors, Minh looked behind him with a certain amount of satisfaction. Like some mindless colony of killer ants the EPP were wading into the crowd, beating, breaking, arresting in some cases. Photographers stationed by Minh in the overlooking windows would be catching all that, catching on film and tape the actions of the federals against a helpless, unresisting crowd. These images would appear everywhere soon; on television in unoccupied Texas and across the world, on the Internet in the still fully federated states; within the environs of Houston there would soon be no wall without its poster of bleeding women.
Minh gave Elpi a final push then turned around full and, with folded arms, watched the blue-clad horde chew its way closer to Charlesworth. So it was not all just an act, you blue-eyed devil; all those heroes you played.
Charlesworth, himself, kept to his microphone, speaking even until the club descended to shut his eyes and his mouth forever.
* * *
Bunker Hill, Texas
Once past Houston, proper, the point of the Marine's 2nd Division had split off southwest, towards Corpus Christi. The Army's 3rd Infantry Division continued almost due west towards San Antonio.
I don't know how long I can keep my eyes shut to what's happening, thought the grizzled, old sergeant major of the division. The boss didn't see, he was too far to the front, what was left of poor Charlesworth. But I saw . . . and this is not what I signed up to do.
The sergeant major was not alone. Almost two-thirds of the division had passed through or near the Galleria area on their way eastward. Many were too far away to tell much of anything. Still, a substantial number had seen the bodies, heard the screams.
The Army's Third Infantry was one very unhappy division.
* * *
El Paso, Texas
Smoke drifted on the breeze. Some of it was from the gasoline stations burnt and destroyed by the Guard on its retreat. As much came from wood cooking fires across the border in Juarez, Mexico. The Marines couldn't do much about Juarez. They were trying manfully to reduce the flames in and around El Paso.
But none of the locals will lift so much as a finger to help us, thought Fulton, unhappily. You would think that at least some of them would want to save what could be saved.
Fulton looked up as his G-4, his quartermaster, approached.
"Forget saving any of the diesel and gasoline, boss," announced the "Four," dejectedly. "It's all going up in smoke. I might be able to save some of the packaged POL"—Petroleum, Oil and Lubricants—"but we can't burn that in our engines."
"How far did you say we could go on what we have?" queried Fulton, though he knew the answer.
"Just like I told you, General—twenty miles past El Paso. By which point we are bone dry."
"Fine. Shit. Okay then, call a halt. Any word on clearing out our supply route back into and through New Mexico?"
The G-4 sighed deeply. "We've started getting what we don't need; ammunition, mainly. The fuel? Well, they cleared out the demonstrators at Las Cruces. So naturally, the State of New Mexico has declared all the roads closed and seized any trucks they can get their hands on of ours. But . . . General, sir? There's this driver, nice kid, a reservist who was at Las Cruces. Sir . . . you need to talk to this kid."
Fulton had a very strong feeling—nay, a certainty—that he was not going to like what the reservist had to tell him. Even so, never a coward—certainly not a moral coward—he agreed. "Send the kid to see me this evening, after chow."
Colorado River, Columbus, Texas
The sign by the highway said, "This far and no farther."
"You suppose that's directed to us?" Sergeant Soult asked his driver through the vehicle intercom.
Before the driver could answer, the Interstate 10 bridge spanning the river went up in a flurry of smoke and debris.
"Stop the LAV," Soult commanded. "Stop it now."
It was well he did so. Less than a minute after the bridge went down there came the sound of muffled freight trains. Soult instinctively ducked, pulling the hatch halfway closed above him. The driver merely hunched down a bit.
Ahead of them erupted a maelstrom of fire and flying shards as several dozen large-caliber artillery rounds went off more or less simultaneously at the near end of the bridge.
"Yeah, bubba," said Soult. "I think they mean it."
* * *
Northeast of El Campo, Texas
They did mean it.
AMTRACs and infantry—the bulk of 2nd Marine Division—moved slower than LAVs. And, though the Marine Corps had LAVs aplently, they were to a large extent constrained by the speed of their slowest movers; in this case LPCs, or Leather Personnel Carriers.
Thus there was plenty of warning that the Guard was serious and that no more warning shots would be fired.
During the night, small parties of Marines went forward to recon the west bank of the river from the east bank. One and all they came back with the report, "Too hard." That is to say, they all came back with the report except for one patrol that was caught trying to cross the river. This patrol did not come back at all. In its way, this confirmed what the others had said.
Chapter Fifteen
From the transcript at triaclass="underline" Commonwealth of
Virginia v. Alvin Scheer
DIRECT EXAMINATION, CONTINUED
BY MR. STENNINGS: