Icarus Falls (An Alternate 1960s)
- Thread starter AnywhereButOTL
- Start date
In which the nation reacts to Kennedy's shooting and Jerry Springer distinguishes himself.
22.
Headlines from June 4, 1968 - June 6, 1968
KENNEDY SHOT IN LA, REPORTED IN CRITICAL CONDITION
ROMNEY: OUR PRAYERS WITH RFK
REAGAN: BEST WISHES AND PRAYERS TO KENNEDY FAMILY
Johnson had just laid down in bed and was beginning to read through the first polls coming from Illinois when an aide knocked on the door and then opened it. He looked shocked and Johnson felt a little twinge of apprehension as he saw that the man’s face was pale as ash.
“Sir, Kennedy has been shot in Los Angeles!” The reports fell from Johnson’s hand and suddenly he was taken back to that terrible day in 1963.
“Oh God.” He said, “is he…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. First it had been John, now Robert. What the hell had happened?
“No.” The aide shook his head, “we don’t know if he’ll survive the night though, he’s been shot twice and the doctors have listed him in critical condition.”
“We need to get to Los Angeles. Now.” Johnson got up out of bed and pulled on his pants. The aide was gone, no doubt telling the others to bring the campaign bus around to the airport. If Kennedy died before he got there to visit him then the nightmare would be complete. It would be exactly like 1963.
_______
Ronald Reagan was puzzling over Romney’s bizarrely strong surge in California when an aide rushed into the room.
“Governor. Robert Kennedy has been shot.” Reagan blinked and turned to face the aide.
“What? By who?” The aide shrugged, he hadn’t heard any details beyond that Kennedy had been shot in Los Angeles and was possibly dying in one of its many hospitals.
“We need to get over there.” Reagan said, “Romney is probably already on his way.” Then, turning to his aide he added, almost as an afterthought. “Oh yeah, and call Wallace too, he might be good to bring along.”
_______
George Romney’s campaign bus was going well over the speed limit but he didn’t care. Los Angeles wasn’t terribly far from San Francisco, they could be there by the morning. Hearing of the Kennedy shooting, Romney had jumped out of bed, checked out of his hotel room and been in the campaign bus, racing for Los Angeles within minutes of the announcement. He needed to be there. Robert Kennedy may have been a Democrat but he was also a fellow American and Romney supposed he deserved to have some people around him when he passed.
_______
Jerry Springer was panicked. He hadn’t wanted to stay out very late during the event at the Ambassador, but Kennedy had insisted. It had been a very big thing to win the California primary, and the horde of Kennedy supporters there were ecstatic and couldn’t get enough of their man.
“We’ll leave at midnight Jerry, but in the meantime go have some fun, you’ve done good.” Springer had drank some champagne and chatted with a number of actors and actresses, a few of whom had giggled and nudged each other as Kennedy approached. They were obviously infatuated with him and Springer supposed that if Kennedy was not married he might have disappeared away with one of the starlets or another. If the rumors were true his brother John had been prone to doing that a bit.
Midnight had rolled around and Springer had watched Kennedy begin towards the front door before abruptly turning into the kitchens. That worried him a little bit, the kitchens had no security, what was he doing?
Following him inside, Springer dodged past a waiter and was midway through the kitchen when the first shot rang out.
He had frozen for a second, terror slamming through him as more gunshots hammered his ears. Then there was screaming and he had turned into a hallway to see a tangle of people, some downed by bullets, more hunched over another figure, fists and feet punching and stomping. Then he had seen Kennedy sprawled up against a wall, his eyes wide and vacant and a young Hispanic busboy cradling his head, speaking urgently to him in a low voice that Springer couldn’t hear.
“Hey, kid.” He said, his voice shaking so badly he was amazed he was coherent at all. The busboy looked up at him, his eyes glazed with shock.
“We need to stop the bleeding, take off your apron.” More people were surrounding Kennedy now and Springer waved them away, directing some to call the police and more to get clean fabric that could be used as makeshift bandages until an ambulance arrived.
“We can’t move him, his spine might be injured.” Springer said as two cooks volunteered to carry Kennedy out into the ballroom. One of the two bullet wounds he had taken was dangerously close to the center of his chest, and since it had not come out of his back Springer had no idea where it was lodged.
The busboy had pressed his apron over Kennedy’s chest wound and another cook had ended up using his hat to stem the blood flow from the ugly wound in Kennedy’s shoulder.
“Have the police been called?” Springer asked. Hotel security had begun evacuating the ballroom and had taken away the battered shooter as well.
Two others had been injured by stray bullets during the shooting, but by some sort of luck both of them had been only superficially wounded had had managed to leave the hallway under their own power.
It seemed to take an eternity for the ambulance to arrive, and as Kennedy was loaded into the ambulance, an oxygen mask on his face and IV tubes dangling from his wrist, Springer had clambered in as well, showing his campaign manager ID. He wanted to stay with Kennedy, leaving him to face his fate alone just felt cruel.
The ride to the hospital had been short and one of the EMTs had managed to extract the bullet from Kennedy’s shoulder. Kennedy looked pale as a corpse though and if it weren’t for the periodic beeping from the life support machine Springer would have guessed that he was long dead.
He had been wheeled into the ER for emergency surgery and Springer had been left in the hallway, shaking with leftover adrenaline and splattered with blood.
Sitting down, he buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. He wasn’t going to leave until he knew that Kennedy was safe.
22.
Headlines from June 4, 1968 - June 6, 1968
KENNEDY SHOT IN LA, REPORTED IN CRITICAL CONDITION
ROMNEY: OUR PRAYERS WITH RFK
REAGAN: BEST WISHES AND PRAYERS TO KENNEDY FAMILY
Johnson had just laid down in bed and was beginning to read through the first polls coming from Illinois when an aide knocked on the door and then opened it. He looked shocked and Johnson felt a little twinge of apprehension as he saw that the man’s face was pale as ash.
“Sir, Kennedy has been shot in Los Angeles!” The reports fell from Johnson’s hand and suddenly he was taken back to that terrible day in 1963.
“Oh God.” He said, “is he…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. First it had been John, now Robert. What the hell had happened?
“No.” The aide shook his head, “we don’t know if he’ll survive the night though, he’s been shot twice and the doctors have listed him in critical condition.”
“We need to get to Los Angeles. Now.” Johnson got up out of bed and pulled on his pants. The aide was gone, no doubt telling the others to bring the campaign bus around to the airport. If Kennedy died before he got there to visit him then the nightmare would be complete. It would be exactly like 1963.
_______
Ronald Reagan was puzzling over Romney’s bizarrely strong surge in California when an aide rushed into the room.
“Governor. Robert Kennedy has been shot.” Reagan blinked and turned to face the aide.
“What? By who?” The aide shrugged, he hadn’t heard any details beyond that Kennedy had been shot in Los Angeles and was possibly dying in one of its many hospitals.
“We need to get over there.” Reagan said, “Romney is probably already on his way.” Then, turning to his aide he added, almost as an afterthought. “Oh yeah, and call Wallace too, he might be good to bring along.”
_______
George Romney’s campaign bus was going well over the speed limit but he didn’t care. Los Angeles wasn’t terribly far from San Francisco, they could be there by the morning. Hearing of the Kennedy shooting, Romney had jumped out of bed, checked out of his hotel room and been in the campaign bus, racing for Los Angeles within minutes of the announcement. He needed to be there. Robert Kennedy may have been a Democrat but he was also a fellow American and Romney supposed he deserved to have some people around him when he passed.
_______
Jerry Springer was panicked. He hadn’t wanted to stay out very late during the event at the Ambassador, but Kennedy had insisted. It had been a very big thing to win the California primary, and the horde of Kennedy supporters there were ecstatic and couldn’t get enough of their man.
“We’ll leave at midnight Jerry, but in the meantime go have some fun, you’ve done good.” Springer had drank some champagne and chatted with a number of actors and actresses, a few of whom had giggled and nudged each other as Kennedy approached. They were obviously infatuated with him and Springer supposed that if Kennedy was not married he might have disappeared away with one of the starlets or another. If the rumors were true his brother John had been prone to doing that a bit.
Midnight had rolled around and Springer had watched Kennedy begin towards the front door before abruptly turning into the kitchens. That worried him a little bit, the kitchens had no security, what was he doing?
Following him inside, Springer dodged past a waiter and was midway through the kitchen when the first shot rang out.
He had frozen for a second, terror slamming through him as more gunshots hammered his ears. Then there was screaming and he had turned into a hallway to see a tangle of people, some downed by bullets, more hunched over another figure, fists and feet punching and stomping. Then he had seen Kennedy sprawled up against a wall, his eyes wide and vacant and a young Hispanic busboy cradling his head, speaking urgently to him in a low voice that Springer couldn’t hear.
“Hey, kid.” He said, his voice shaking so badly he was amazed he was coherent at all. The busboy looked up at him, his eyes glazed with shock.
“We need to stop the bleeding, take off your apron.” More people were surrounding Kennedy now and Springer waved them away, directing some to call the police and more to get clean fabric that could be used as makeshift bandages until an ambulance arrived.
“We can’t move him, his spine might be injured.” Springer said as two cooks volunteered to carry Kennedy out into the ballroom. One of the two bullet wounds he had taken was dangerously close to the center of his chest, and since it had not come out of his back Springer had no idea where it was lodged.
The busboy had pressed his apron over Kennedy’s chest wound and another cook had ended up using his hat to stem the blood flow from the ugly wound in Kennedy’s shoulder.
“Have the police been called?” Springer asked. Hotel security had begun evacuating the ballroom and had taken away the battered shooter as well.
Two others had been injured by stray bullets during the shooting, but by some sort of luck both of them had been only superficially wounded had had managed to leave the hallway under their own power.
It seemed to take an eternity for the ambulance to arrive, and as Kennedy was loaded into the ambulance, an oxygen mask on his face and IV tubes dangling from his wrist, Springer had clambered in as well, showing his campaign manager ID. He wanted to stay with Kennedy, leaving him to face his fate alone just felt cruel.
The ride to the hospital had been short and one of the EMTs had managed to extract the bullet from Kennedy’s shoulder. Kennedy looked pale as a corpse though and if it weren’t for the periodic beeping from the life support machine Springer would have guessed that he was long dead.
He had been wheeled into the ER for emergency surgery and Springer had been left in the hallway, shaking with leftover adrenaline and splattered with blood.
Sitting down, he buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. He wasn’t going to leave until he knew that Kennedy was safe.
In which Johnson finally meets Reagan and Wallace. Things happen.
23.
“He’s been put in an induced coma sir.” The doctor looked tired but happy as he took Johnson to Kennedy’s bedside. But even though the doctor was evidently happy, Johnson couldn’t help but wince seeing the formerly energetic young Senator lying in a hospital bed, pallid and hooked up to a battery of machines.
“This might be a dumb question but...can he hear us?” The doctor shrugged.
“I wish I knew. You can talk to him if you want but try to make it brief, we have more visitors behind you.” Johnson nodded and sat down besides Kennedy’s bedside.
“If you can hear me, I want to wish you congratulations on your very well deserved victory in California...and hang in there. The world doesn’t need any more dead Kennedys.” Johnson talked for a little bit more but trailed off as he looked down at Kennedy’s still face.
“Good luck Bobby.” He said quietly and exited the room, almost running into George Romney as he walked into the waiting room.
“Hi George.” Said Johnson as he walked past. Romney nodded and, escorted by the doctor, walked into Kennedy’s hospital room. He looked very tired and Johnson wondered how his campaign against Reagan was going.
“Mr. President.” Came a voice from ahead of him and Johnson looked up to none other than Ronald Reagan advancing down the hallway towards him.
There was another figure behind him but KJohnson dismissed it as an aide or a bodyguard for a moment before realizing who he was seeing.
George Wallace and Ronald Reagan were walking down the hallway towards him, and Johnson couldn’t be more displeased.
“What are you doing here Wallace?” He asked, eyeing Wallace warily. Wallace smirked in response. He had smirked exactly like that while standing in front of the doorway of the University of Alabama and it filled Johnson with hot, molten anger.
“Visiting Kennedy, just like you.” Said Wallace and tried to move past but Johnson put out his arm and bounced Wallace back.
“Are you two buddies now? First Reagan goes racist, then you go conservative?” Wallace’s smirk vanished and Johnson could see a disquieting look flash in his eyes.
“Contrary to whatever you might think, that is not the business of the US government.” Reagan said. Johnson ignored him, still looking at Wallace.
“Just tell me Wallace, when are you going to get down on your knee and ask Ronald here the big question?” Wallace’s face was hard and as he opened his mouth to answer Johnson cut him off.
“Then after you go and goose step your way to the White House, who are you going to target first? The Negroes? The hippies? The Jews?” Johnson was practically chest to chest with Wallace now, staring him directly in the eyes, his voice raised.
“The answer is, you’re going to target none of those, because you won't get to the White House, because come November 6th I’m going to kick your racist ass all the way back to Alabama, what do you think about that you piece of -” Wallace shoved him, hard, and Johnson nearly fell before grasping onto a handrail. Reagan looked shocked and stared at Wallace with widened eyes.
Johnson straightened up and looked at Wallace who was still staring at him but with more than a little fear in his eyes, little spots of color standing out on his cheeks.
“You touch me again I will take you apart Wallace, you understand that?” Wallace didn’t respond for a moment before nodding slowly. Then he turned on his heels and walked stiffly down the hallway. Johnson turned his gaze to Reagan and feigned a look at his watch.
“Better get going Hollywood, visiting hours are over.” Reagan shot Johnson a murderous look and turned around, following Wallace, but a bit more reluctantly.
As Johnson watched them go he felt a sharp pain flare up in his stomach and sighed as he dug out his antacid. He had just made a pair of very dangerous enemies.
_______
“What the hell was that?” Wallace shouted as Reagan boarded his campaign bus. “You stood there and did nothing!” Reagan sighed and shook his head.
“He’s the president of the United States, what am I supposed to do?” Wallace slapped his forehead and gave Reagan an incredulous look.
“You fight him! I don’t care if he’s the president of the entire world, if he gives us lip then we fight him!” Reagan ground his teeth as he listened to Wallace rant.
“Whole lot of fighting you did when you walked out of there after SHOVING THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!” Wallace fixed Reagan with a chilly glare and shook his head slowly.
“Lets just forget this. It was a stupid idea anyways. We need to talk about the Illinois primary, because if you don’t win there then Romney could very possibly become the Republican nominee and the last thing we need is two Negro loving liberals fighting it out for the presidency.”
Reagan nodded, glad that Wallace had dropped the subject. The man was wildly abrasive and Reagan didn’t know how much longer he could have argued with him before walking away and never returning.
But even as they organized for Illinois, Reagan had a plan forming in his head and though it was immensely risky, he liked it.
_______
George Romney was in a dark mood. Seeing Kennedy lying in his hospital bed, pale and corpse like had drained just about all of the joy out of his day, and there was precious little there to begin with anyways.
Illinois was going to be a challenge to pull off, and he had precious little money to carry out a major campaign anyways. He had spent a significantly larger chunk of money than he had meant to in California and now, despite his otherwise responsible campaign spending he was short on money.
“Once we get to Chicago we need to organize a fundraiser. Any ideas where?” He said, an aide began to search for buildings that were available to rent and Romney began to plan out his trip around the state. He would have to make sure to spend a lot of time in rural areas to negate Reagan’s influence there. The man was probably already on his way there to spread his poisonous ideology amongst the people there. As Romney unfolded a road map of the state he hoped that it wasn’t already too late.
Headlines from June 6, 1968 - June 9, 1968
WALLACE ENDORSES REAGAN, DISBANDS AMERICAN FREEDOM PARTY
ROMNEY NETS 502K IN CHICAGO FUNDRAISER
KENNEDY CONDITION UPGRADED TO SERIOUS, STILL COMATOSE
SPRINGER: KENNEDY CAMPAIGN WILL BE ENDED, NO POINT IN FIGHTING ANY LONGER
MCCARTHY: KENNEDY CONCESSION A LOSS FOR THE NATION
The ending of Robert Kennedy’s campaign by campaign manager Jerry Springer on June 6, 1968 was a shock, with thousands of fans vowing to write him in anyways, and even a Draft Kennedy movement springing up. But as Springer, who had become a minor hero of sorts for his handling of Kennedy’s shooting at the Ambassador Hotel, calmly but firmly confirmed his statements, the nation seemed to calm down a bit. Suddenly, President Johnson was running unopposed.
However, in the Republican fold the race was as heated as ever as Romney raced through Illinoian cities, energizing the minority vote and leaving behind chants of ‘BREAK THE CHAINS,’ which was rapidly becoming an iconic statement.
Meanwhile, Reagan, who was making his way through the state’s small towns and rural areas, was igniting fears about increased crime carried out by Negroes and hippies and ensuring that every town he left had a goodly number of Reagan supporters within its boundaries.
Then, on June 6, as Jerry Springer was making his statement in Los Angeles, George Wallace entered the state and began to preach his rhetoric. But instead of shouting in support of the American Freedom Party, Wallace announced on national radio, in front of forty million listeners, that he endorsed Ronald Reagan for president of the United States and that the American Freedom Party was going to be dissolved.
Though the majority of his staff had endorsed the move, almost every state reacted differently, with more positive results further north in Idaho and Montana, and more indifferent results in the deep south, where some saw it as Wallace bowing down before the two party system that he had spent so long decrying.
“It has been a long and difficult decision process but I have finally come to a conclusion that will make everyone involved happy.” Wallace said as the nation’s politics fans erupted in debate over the significance of the move. “I am disbanding the American Freedom Party and am officially endorsing Governor Ronald Reagan for president of the United States.”
“Shit.” Said George Romney mildly in Chicago, the first time many of his staff had ever heard him swear. But if there was ever a time, this was it. Wallace was influential in the rural areas of Illinois and despite the money that he had raised, Romney was still more or less stuck in Chicago until the 9th. That would give Reagan plenty of time to travel the country, riding on the back of Wallace’s endorsement.
“Shit.” He said again and sat down. It was going to be an ugly campaign period.
23.
“He’s been put in an induced coma sir.” The doctor looked tired but happy as he took Johnson to Kennedy’s bedside. But even though the doctor was evidently happy, Johnson couldn’t help but wince seeing the formerly energetic young Senator lying in a hospital bed, pallid and hooked up to a battery of machines.
“This might be a dumb question but...can he hear us?” The doctor shrugged.
“I wish I knew. You can talk to him if you want but try to make it brief, we have more visitors behind you.” Johnson nodded and sat down besides Kennedy’s bedside.
“If you can hear me, I want to wish you congratulations on your very well deserved victory in California...and hang in there. The world doesn’t need any more dead Kennedys.” Johnson talked for a little bit more but trailed off as he looked down at Kennedy’s still face.
“Good luck Bobby.” He said quietly and exited the room, almost running into George Romney as he walked into the waiting room.
“Hi George.” Said Johnson as he walked past. Romney nodded and, escorted by the doctor, walked into Kennedy’s hospital room. He looked very tired and Johnson wondered how his campaign against Reagan was going.
“Mr. President.” Came a voice from ahead of him and Johnson looked up to none other than Ronald Reagan advancing down the hallway towards him.
There was another figure behind him but KJohnson dismissed it as an aide or a bodyguard for a moment before realizing who he was seeing.
George Wallace and Ronald Reagan were walking down the hallway towards him, and Johnson couldn’t be more displeased.
“What are you doing here Wallace?” He asked, eyeing Wallace warily. Wallace smirked in response. He had smirked exactly like that while standing in front of the doorway of the University of Alabama and it filled Johnson with hot, molten anger.
“Visiting Kennedy, just like you.” Said Wallace and tried to move past but Johnson put out his arm and bounced Wallace back.
“Are you two buddies now? First Reagan goes racist, then you go conservative?” Wallace’s smirk vanished and Johnson could see a disquieting look flash in his eyes.
“Contrary to whatever you might think, that is not the business of the US government.” Reagan said. Johnson ignored him, still looking at Wallace.
“Just tell me Wallace, when are you going to get down on your knee and ask Ronald here the big question?” Wallace’s face was hard and as he opened his mouth to answer Johnson cut him off.
“Then after you go and goose step your way to the White House, who are you going to target first? The Negroes? The hippies? The Jews?” Johnson was practically chest to chest with Wallace now, staring him directly in the eyes, his voice raised.
“The answer is, you’re going to target none of those, because you won't get to the White House, because come November 6th I’m going to kick your racist ass all the way back to Alabama, what do you think about that you piece of -” Wallace shoved him, hard, and Johnson nearly fell before grasping onto a handrail. Reagan looked shocked and stared at Wallace with widened eyes.
Johnson straightened up and looked at Wallace who was still staring at him but with more than a little fear in his eyes, little spots of color standing out on his cheeks.
“You touch me again I will take you apart Wallace, you understand that?” Wallace didn’t respond for a moment before nodding slowly. Then he turned on his heels and walked stiffly down the hallway. Johnson turned his gaze to Reagan and feigned a look at his watch.
“Better get going Hollywood, visiting hours are over.” Reagan shot Johnson a murderous look and turned around, following Wallace, but a bit more reluctantly.
As Johnson watched them go he felt a sharp pain flare up in his stomach and sighed as he dug out his antacid. He had just made a pair of very dangerous enemies.
_______
“What the hell was that?” Wallace shouted as Reagan boarded his campaign bus. “You stood there and did nothing!” Reagan sighed and shook his head.
“He’s the president of the United States, what am I supposed to do?” Wallace slapped his forehead and gave Reagan an incredulous look.
“You fight him! I don’t care if he’s the president of the entire world, if he gives us lip then we fight him!” Reagan ground his teeth as he listened to Wallace rant.
“Whole lot of fighting you did when you walked out of there after SHOVING THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!” Wallace fixed Reagan with a chilly glare and shook his head slowly.
“Lets just forget this. It was a stupid idea anyways. We need to talk about the Illinois primary, because if you don’t win there then Romney could very possibly become the Republican nominee and the last thing we need is two Negro loving liberals fighting it out for the presidency.”
Reagan nodded, glad that Wallace had dropped the subject. The man was wildly abrasive and Reagan didn’t know how much longer he could have argued with him before walking away and never returning.
But even as they organized for Illinois, Reagan had a plan forming in his head and though it was immensely risky, he liked it.
_______
George Romney was in a dark mood. Seeing Kennedy lying in his hospital bed, pale and corpse like had drained just about all of the joy out of his day, and there was precious little there to begin with anyways.
Illinois was going to be a challenge to pull off, and he had precious little money to carry out a major campaign anyways. He had spent a significantly larger chunk of money than he had meant to in California and now, despite his otherwise responsible campaign spending he was short on money.
“Once we get to Chicago we need to organize a fundraiser. Any ideas where?” He said, an aide began to search for buildings that were available to rent and Romney began to plan out his trip around the state. He would have to make sure to spend a lot of time in rural areas to negate Reagan’s influence there. The man was probably already on his way there to spread his poisonous ideology amongst the people there. As Romney unfolded a road map of the state he hoped that it wasn’t already too late.
Headlines from June 6, 1968 - June 9, 1968
WALLACE ENDORSES REAGAN, DISBANDS AMERICAN FREEDOM PARTY
ROMNEY NETS 502K IN CHICAGO FUNDRAISER
KENNEDY CONDITION UPGRADED TO SERIOUS, STILL COMATOSE
SPRINGER: KENNEDY CAMPAIGN WILL BE ENDED, NO POINT IN FIGHTING ANY LONGER
MCCARTHY: KENNEDY CONCESSION A LOSS FOR THE NATION
The ending of Robert Kennedy’s campaign by campaign manager Jerry Springer on June 6, 1968 was a shock, with thousands of fans vowing to write him in anyways, and even a Draft Kennedy movement springing up. But as Springer, who had become a minor hero of sorts for his handling of Kennedy’s shooting at the Ambassador Hotel, calmly but firmly confirmed his statements, the nation seemed to calm down a bit. Suddenly, President Johnson was running unopposed.
However, in the Republican fold the race was as heated as ever as Romney raced through Illinoian cities, energizing the minority vote and leaving behind chants of ‘BREAK THE CHAINS,’ which was rapidly becoming an iconic statement.
Meanwhile, Reagan, who was making his way through the state’s small towns and rural areas, was igniting fears about increased crime carried out by Negroes and hippies and ensuring that every town he left had a goodly number of Reagan supporters within its boundaries.
Then, on June 6, as Jerry Springer was making his statement in Los Angeles, George Wallace entered the state and began to preach his rhetoric. But instead of shouting in support of the American Freedom Party, Wallace announced on national radio, in front of forty million listeners, that he endorsed Ronald Reagan for president of the United States and that the American Freedom Party was going to be dissolved.
Though the majority of his staff had endorsed the move, almost every state reacted differently, with more positive results further north in Idaho and Montana, and more indifferent results in the deep south, where some saw it as Wallace bowing down before the two party system that he had spent so long decrying.
“It has been a long and difficult decision process but I have finally come to a conclusion that will make everyone involved happy.” Wallace said as the nation’s politics fans erupted in debate over the significance of the move. “I am disbanding the American Freedom Party and am officially endorsing Governor Ronald Reagan for president of the United States.”
“Shit.” Said George Romney mildly in Chicago, the first time many of his staff had ever heard him swear. But if there was ever a time, this was it. Wallace was influential in the rural areas of Illinois and despite the money that he had raised, Romney was still more or less stuck in Chicago until the 9th. That would give Reagan plenty of time to travel the country, riding on the back of Wallace’s endorsement.
“Shit.” He said again and sat down. It was going to be an ugly campaign period.
Suspense before the Republican convention! 
24.
Illinois Primary Results, Democratic Party
Lyndon Baines Johnson - 77%
Other - 13.8% (13% are Robert Kennedy write ins)
Unpledged - 9.2%
Illinois Primary Results, Republican Party
Ronald Reagan - 42.7%
George Romney - 37.3%
Other - 15.5% (13.1% are George Wallace write ins)
Unpledged - 4.5%
“This is a disaster.” Said Romney into the phone. Rockefeller was on the other end of the line and he was just as worried as Romney.
“When the convention comes I’m going to grant my delegates to you, and Ford probably will as well, that should be enough to put you ahead of Reagan.” Romney nodded, that news put him a bit more at ease, but awoke new concerns within him all the same. Ford was somewhat unpredictable in his motivations and very well could align more with Reagan than him and Rockefeller. If he decided to go against him then things could get very very bad.
_______
It was Gerald Ford’s first day back at the capitol and already he could tell that the other representatives looked at him differently. Even when talking with his friends and advisors he knew that they were all holding back one essential question. Who would he give his pitiful handful of delegates to? It was a good question, especially in a race as close as the one between Romney and Reagan.
“Hey Jerry.” Ford looked over to see Everett Dirksen looking at him from the doorway of his office. His cheeks were flushed and he had evidently run over from the Senate building.
“Hey Ev...what’s going on?” He asked, Dirksen looked happy and as he opened his mouth to speak, Ford had a sneaking suspicion of why.
“Reagan won the Illinois primary. Romney is cooked!” He said and smiled, then looked at the empty phone jack in the wall.
“I was trying to call you earlier but got no tone, I suppose now I know why?” Ford smiled ruefully.
“I took my phone on campaign with me, I couldn’t spare the funds to buy a new one.” Dirksen laughed and slapped Ford on the back.
“Come on Jerry, lets go get a burger and then we can talk about the convention. I’m expecting you’ll give your delegates to Reagan?” Ford just smiled in response, because he truly had no idea what to do.
_______
“It’s advised that you do not attend the convention Mr. President.” Johnson was speaking to Mayor Richard Daley, and as the man spoke he could feel a very familiar anger bubbling up in his stomach.
“I’m the clear winner of the primaries, my only other scoring opponent is in a coma.” He said testily and swallowed another antacid tablet. His stomach was acting up again and the headache he had gotten the night of Kennedy’s shooting still had yet to go away.
“There are a lot of...young people out. Yippies, hippies, yuppies, a couple Black Panther groups. You know the sort.” Johnson did indeed know the sort but he was in no mood to argue with Daley. If he didn’t go to the convention then he would look weak, well, weaker. His defeat in California had turned Kennedy into a an avenging hero rather than simply a defeated Senator and in recent days he had even been hearing conspiracy theories about the shooting being carried out by a pro government death squad commanded by him. It was ridiculous and he wondered how many of those people actually voted, the answer would probably depress the hell out of him.
“I know that but I cannot afford to look weak right now. I am going to the convention and that is that. You got that Richard?”
“Fine.” Daley sounded unhappy, “but bring extra security, and do NOT announce that you are coming, that’ll just piss the hippies off.” Johnson affirmed and promised to bring extra security before hanging up. Sitting back in his chair he leafed through a small stack of papers on his desk before reaching one that made him smile. Rockefeller was trying to gather support for Romney from the other various Republican candidates who had been knocked out of the race. So far he had convinced Harold Stassen to hand over his one lonely delegate from New Hampshire, but Ford had remained aloof and Johnson knew that he was likely struggling with the decision he would soon have to make. Ford was in a tough spot, soon he would be the one to decide the Republican presidential nominee.
_______
Wallace looked at the primary results in Illinois and nodded. Reagan had won solidly and with this being the final primary before the convention in just a few weeks, then that left the inevitable gathering up of the small candidates who had won a handful of delegates before being knocked out of the race. Stassen and Rockefeller had been snapped up by Romney, which put him worryingly close to Reagan, but there still was Ford.
“We might have to give Representative Ford a call.” Said Wallace. Reagan nodded and picked up the phone. He hoped that Ford would be willing to do the right thing.
24.
Illinois Primary Results, Democratic Party
Lyndon Baines Johnson - 77%
Other - 13.8% (13% are Robert Kennedy write ins)
Unpledged - 9.2%
Illinois Primary Results, Republican Party
Ronald Reagan - 42.7%
George Romney - 37.3%
Other - 15.5% (13.1% are George Wallace write ins)
Unpledged - 4.5%
“This is a disaster.” Said Romney into the phone. Rockefeller was on the other end of the line and he was just as worried as Romney.
“When the convention comes I’m going to grant my delegates to you, and Ford probably will as well, that should be enough to put you ahead of Reagan.” Romney nodded, that news put him a bit more at ease, but awoke new concerns within him all the same. Ford was somewhat unpredictable in his motivations and very well could align more with Reagan than him and Rockefeller. If he decided to go against him then things could get very very bad.
_______
It was Gerald Ford’s first day back at the capitol and already he could tell that the other representatives looked at him differently. Even when talking with his friends and advisors he knew that they were all holding back one essential question. Who would he give his pitiful handful of delegates to? It was a good question, especially in a race as close as the one between Romney and Reagan.
“Hey Jerry.” Ford looked over to see Everett Dirksen looking at him from the doorway of his office. His cheeks were flushed and he had evidently run over from the Senate building.
“Hey Ev...what’s going on?” He asked, Dirksen looked happy and as he opened his mouth to speak, Ford had a sneaking suspicion of why.
“Reagan won the Illinois primary. Romney is cooked!” He said and smiled, then looked at the empty phone jack in the wall.
“I was trying to call you earlier but got no tone, I suppose now I know why?” Ford smiled ruefully.
“I took my phone on campaign with me, I couldn’t spare the funds to buy a new one.” Dirksen laughed and slapped Ford on the back.
“Come on Jerry, lets go get a burger and then we can talk about the convention. I’m expecting you’ll give your delegates to Reagan?” Ford just smiled in response, because he truly had no idea what to do.
_______
“It’s advised that you do not attend the convention Mr. President.” Johnson was speaking to Mayor Richard Daley, and as the man spoke he could feel a very familiar anger bubbling up in his stomach.
“I’m the clear winner of the primaries, my only other scoring opponent is in a coma.” He said testily and swallowed another antacid tablet. His stomach was acting up again and the headache he had gotten the night of Kennedy’s shooting still had yet to go away.
“There are a lot of...young people out. Yippies, hippies, yuppies, a couple Black Panther groups. You know the sort.” Johnson did indeed know the sort but he was in no mood to argue with Daley. If he didn’t go to the convention then he would look weak, well, weaker. His defeat in California had turned Kennedy into a an avenging hero rather than simply a defeated Senator and in recent days he had even been hearing conspiracy theories about the shooting being carried out by a pro government death squad commanded by him. It was ridiculous and he wondered how many of those people actually voted, the answer would probably depress the hell out of him.
“I know that but I cannot afford to look weak right now. I am going to the convention and that is that. You got that Richard?”
“Fine.” Daley sounded unhappy, “but bring extra security, and do NOT announce that you are coming, that’ll just piss the hippies off.” Johnson affirmed and promised to bring extra security before hanging up. Sitting back in his chair he leafed through a small stack of papers on his desk before reaching one that made him smile. Rockefeller was trying to gather support for Romney from the other various Republican candidates who had been knocked out of the race. So far he had convinced Harold Stassen to hand over his one lonely delegate from New Hampshire, but Ford had remained aloof and Johnson knew that he was likely struggling with the decision he would soon have to make. Ford was in a tough spot, soon he would be the one to decide the Republican presidential nominee.
_______
Wallace looked at the primary results in Illinois and nodded. Reagan had won solidly and with this being the final primary before the convention in just a few weeks, then that left the inevitable gathering up of the small candidates who had won a handful of delegates before being knocked out of the race. Stassen and Rockefeller had been snapped up by Romney, which put him worryingly close to Reagan, but there still was Ford.
“We might have to give Representative Ford a call.” Said Wallace. Reagan nodded and picked up the phone. He hoped that Ford would be willing to do the right thing.
Are the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army as depleted as they appear to be? What's happened to the growing numbers of enemy operatives active in South Vietnam and the VC tunnel network in the south? Is the NVA developing and utilizing the Ho Chi Minh Trail as per OTL? The American people are being lied to about this war and need to know the truth!
George Wallace got 45.6% of the vote?
(I think that first one is supposed to be Romney.
In which events in Vietnam are clarified and a star rises for the right.
25.
July 3, 1968 was hot and muggy as First Lieutenant John Kerry stepped off of the plane. Though he had been assured by his superiors on the USS Gridley that he would be assigned to the Swift Boat division, the post Operation Liberty troop crunch had made it necessary for him to be assigned instead to a river patrol boat, or RPB. While he hadn’t been particularly happy about that he knew that if he was to go to Vietnam there were many worse things that he could be doing.
“Lieutenant Kerry.” Kerry looked over to see a young captain standing on the tarmac of the landing strip, holding a clipboard. “Welcome to NAB Coronado, now lets get you situated.”
_______
Even as John Kerry was thinking of Vietnam, across the Pacific ocean the country itself was oddly peaceful. Ever since the announcement of the Paris Peace Talks casualties on both sides had dropped dramatically and it seemed that both sides were taking the opportunity to rest and regroup.
But even though Operation Liberty had destroyed a significant number of VietCong and NVA units, the South Vietnamese led guerilla units had taken the brunt of the casualties and were a mere shadow of themselves four months after the disastrous offensive into South Vietnam.
In Hanoi, northern Party officials had seen a golden opportunity even amidst the chaos and had swiftly replaced the dead VietCong officials with northerners more sympathetic to northern plans for the south. This had alarmed and dismayed many of the surviving VietCong commanders, but for the moment they had neither the numbers nor the political power to fight their northern compatriots.
Somewhere near the North Vietnamese border, a group of VietCong commanders was sitting in a bunker and speaking urgently of the war.
“Effective immediately.” Read one, a short, balding man with a bandage still wound around his head from a wound suffered during the Tet Offensive. “Promotional responsibilities for VietCong and NVA units fall under the responsibility and jurisdiction of Hanoi and officials sanctioned by the government there.” The other commanders looked unhappy. Many of them had lost their entire units and perhaps even family in the horrific bloodshed of four months earlier. And now there was this.
“The North is trying to squeeze us out of existence...replace us with Northern officers.” Said an older man bitterly, fiddling with a sheet of paper that contained a copy of the orders that had just been read.
“They think we’re too weak to protest? We need to tell Hanoi that this is not going to happen.”
“You know just as well as I that they’re not going to listen.” Replied the man with the head bandage. “We’re going to have to take matters into our own hands. We can still work with the North, but if they’re going to try to push us out of command then we will not obey their rules.”
The rest of the group was silent for a moment, then one man nodded and ripped his copy of the orders in half.
“We need to take a stand, and now is as good a time as any.” The group nodded and as the meeting ended an hour later with a basic strategy planned out, the commanders each returned to their units and briefed them of the plan.
They would continue their own promotions despite the orders from Hanoi. How the north would react was still not clear, but the commanders doubted that it would be positive.
_______
Several thousand miles away, in Washington D.C., Gerald Ford was sitting in his office, typing a letter to an Illinois representative on the subject of his vote on an upcoming education reform bill that was being shoved through Congress by the Johnson administration when the phone began to ring. It was Governor Romney. Ford sighed, he didn’t want to talk about his delegates, all he wanted was to deal with that decision on his own.
“Hello Governor.” He said.
“Hi Jerry, I’m sure you guessed but I’m just trying to get a fix on your motivations for the convention, it’d help me calm down I guess.” Romney sounded tired, he’d probably been up late each night trying to strategize on how to win the nomination. The unexpected combination of Reagan and Wallace had been unusually adept and had to be causing panic amongst liberal Republicans everywhere.
“I’m just trying to settle that decision on my own." Ford said simply. People like Everett Dirksen and what seemed like half of his constituents had been urging him to give his delegates to Reagan, but the closer Reagan seemed to creep to Wallace the less sure he felt about that.
"Well. Just be sure to put a lot of thought into whichever decision you make." Said Romney. He didn't want to push Ford, doing so could easily make him go to Reagan, and that would be a disaster. The poor man had a lot on his plate and he didn't want to make the situation worse.
"See you at the convention George." Said Ford and set down the phone.
As he hung up on his end Romney knew that Rockefeller and Stassen wouldn't be pleased that he hadn't gotten a definite answer out of Ford yet but he wasn't worried about them...or Reagan for that matter.
The real danger was Wallace.
25.
July 3, 1968 was hot and muggy as First Lieutenant John Kerry stepped off of the plane. Though he had been assured by his superiors on the USS Gridley that he would be assigned to the Swift Boat division, the post Operation Liberty troop crunch had made it necessary for him to be assigned instead to a river patrol boat, or RPB. While he hadn’t been particularly happy about that he knew that if he was to go to Vietnam there were many worse things that he could be doing.
“Lieutenant Kerry.” Kerry looked over to see a young captain standing on the tarmac of the landing strip, holding a clipboard. “Welcome to NAB Coronado, now lets get you situated.”
_______
Even as John Kerry was thinking of Vietnam, across the Pacific ocean the country itself was oddly peaceful. Ever since the announcement of the Paris Peace Talks casualties on both sides had dropped dramatically and it seemed that both sides were taking the opportunity to rest and regroup.
But even though Operation Liberty had destroyed a significant number of VietCong and NVA units, the South Vietnamese led guerilla units had taken the brunt of the casualties and were a mere shadow of themselves four months after the disastrous offensive into South Vietnam.
In Hanoi, northern Party officials had seen a golden opportunity even amidst the chaos and had swiftly replaced the dead VietCong officials with northerners more sympathetic to northern plans for the south. This had alarmed and dismayed many of the surviving VietCong commanders, but for the moment they had neither the numbers nor the political power to fight their northern compatriots.
Somewhere near the North Vietnamese border, a group of VietCong commanders was sitting in a bunker and speaking urgently of the war.
“Effective immediately.” Read one, a short, balding man with a bandage still wound around his head from a wound suffered during the Tet Offensive. “Promotional responsibilities for VietCong and NVA units fall under the responsibility and jurisdiction of Hanoi and officials sanctioned by the government there.” The other commanders looked unhappy. Many of them had lost their entire units and perhaps even family in the horrific bloodshed of four months earlier. And now there was this.
“The North is trying to squeeze us out of existence...replace us with Northern officers.” Said an older man bitterly, fiddling with a sheet of paper that contained a copy of the orders that had just been read.
“They think we’re too weak to protest? We need to tell Hanoi that this is not going to happen.”
“You know just as well as I that they’re not going to listen.” Replied the man with the head bandage. “We’re going to have to take matters into our own hands. We can still work with the North, but if they’re going to try to push us out of command then we will not obey their rules.”
The rest of the group was silent for a moment, then one man nodded and ripped his copy of the orders in half.
“We need to take a stand, and now is as good a time as any.” The group nodded and as the meeting ended an hour later with a basic strategy planned out, the commanders each returned to their units and briefed them of the plan.
They would continue their own promotions despite the orders from Hanoi. How the north would react was still not clear, but the commanders doubted that it would be positive.
_______
Several thousand miles away, in Washington D.C., Gerald Ford was sitting in his office, typing a letter to an Illinois representative on the subject of his vote on an upcoming education reform bill that was being shoved through Congress by the Johnson administration when the phone began to ring. It was Governor Romney. Ford sighed, he didn’t want to talk about his delegates, all he wanted was to deal with that decision on his own.
“Hello Governor.” He said.
“Hi Jerry, I’m sure you guessed but I’m just trying to get a fix on your motivations for the convention, it’d help me calm down I guess.” Romney sounded tired, he’d probably been up late each night trying to strategize on how to win the nomination. The unexpected combination of Reagan and Wallace had been unusually adept and had to be causing panic amongst liberal Republicans everywhere.
“I’m just trying to settle that decision on my own." Ford said simply. People like Everett Dirksen and what seemed like half of his constituents had been urging him to give his delegates to Reagan, but the closer Reagan seemed to creep to Wallace the less sure he felt about that.
"Well. Just be sure to put a lot of thought into whichever decision you make." Said Romney. He didn't want to push Ford, doing so could easily make him go to Reagan, and that would be a disaster. The poor man had a lot on his plate and he didn't want to make the situation worse.
"See you at the convention George." Said Ford and set down the phone.
As he hung up on his end Romney knew that Rockefeller and Stassen wouldn't be pleased that he hadn't gotten a definite answer out of Ford yet but he wasn't worried about them...or Reagan for that matter.
The real danger was Wallace.
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George Wallace got 45.6% of the vote?
(I think that first one is supposed to be Romney.
Oh dear, with their first names being the same I seem to have confused gentle Michiganite Romney with angry segregationist Wallace!
Yes, Mitt is likely home and doing things in Michigan to help daddy Romney out.
Seeing the effect of a right wing candidate on the Republican party (Reagan, with Wallace in the background) might do interesting things to his political affiliation too.
Imagine a moderate Democratic Mitt Romney going up against Obama and Hillary Clinton in the primaries in 2008. That would be unique.
Ford would not do this to Romney or Rockefeller; especially if it put Reagan and Wallace in the GOP driver seat. GR & NR are his friends and his ideological "soul mates". Reagan's emerging racist POV would be An anathema to him
In which things in Vietnam get ugly and the Republican Convention approaches.
26.
Headlines from July 4, 1968 - August 3, 1968
JAMES RAY: I WAS SET UP IN MLK JR KILLING
ROMNEY: REAGAN, WALLACE AN IRRESPONSIBLE CHOICE FOR THE NATION
PRESIDENT JOHNSON ADDRESSES NATION ON WAR, ECONOMY
ARE THE PARIS PEACE TALKS USELESS?
President Johnson frowned heavily at the headline. The lack of progress was worrying and while the North Vietnamese had been slightly more compliant in the past few days after American diplomats agreed to recognize them as a sovereign country in exchange for an ending of hostilities against the south, the exact nature of the DMZ that was to be maintained between the two countries was now under dispute, with the North favoring it being moved forwards several miles to where they would be able to overlook southern defenses from the hills and the South wanting to keep it where it was. That particular bit of gridlock had been in effect for two days now and both sides were beginning to get annoyed with each other.
Wallace was still a novelty on the national political scene and he had been on no less than five national radio talk shows in the past two weeks, explaining his and Reagan’s platform of state’s rights and law and order. At one point a host had flat out asked if he was seeking a spot as Reagan’s running mate but Wallace had just laughed. That had made Johnson scowl, of course he was looking to be the man’s running mate. He had already flattered Reagan into accepting his platform, now he was going to ride his charisma and popularity all the way to the convention.
The planning for the Democratic Convention was still underway but even now, with weeks still left before the event would actually kick off there were hordes of hippies in Chicago’s streets, which had resulted in more than one stormy phone conference with Mayor Daley in recent days.
Even worse was the continuing coma that Robert Kennedy was stuck in. Though his race had been conceded there was still a Draft Kennedy movement simmering around the edges of the Democratic Party and Johnson knew that unless the man woke up and told his followers to knock it off and let Johnson through then he would likely he waylaid by a stream of rogue California delegates at the convention, which would do nothing beneficial to his appearance whatsoever.
The only thing that comforted him was that Romney seemed to be planning to fight Reagan to the death at the Miami convention in just a couple of days. If he were successful in his goals he might not only make Reagan look bad...but also win the nomination for himself.
Johnson thought about that. A vanquished Reagan would be great, but a resurgent Romney would almost be too much trouble to be worth it.
“Goddamnit.” He said and brushed the papers to the side. Why couldn’t things be as simple as they had been in 1964 when he had smacked Goldwater back to Arizona and gone home again in just a couple of months?
That had been before the war had gotten so bad he guessed. At least he still had his domestic achievements to run on, people liked the Great Society, even if he was bringing Negroes into it, so long as he left the war alone then he should be alright. But even as he thought the phone began to ring.
“Hello, President Johnson speaking.” He said as a nervous voice responded.
“Mr. President, we have an update about Vietnam, there is a large force of VietCong that are on the move.” Johnson felt his stomach drop for a moment.
“Where are they going?” He asked, if they were heading south then they had clearly learned nothing from Operation Liberty.
“They’re spreading out. One battalion crossed over into North Vietnam, the others seem to be setting up alongside the trail.” Now Johnson was confused. There were few American and South Vietnamese units around there.
“The trail?” He asked.
“Yes sir, one of the segments of the Ho Chi Minh Trail we can see from the air. We’re not sure yet, but it looks an awful lot like they’re setting up an ambush on their own guys.”
_______
The North had rejected his latest promotions and suspended his rank. Tran Van Tra had appealed to Hanoi seven times throughout the month of July but his words had ultimately fallen upon deaf ears except for one brief reply announcing that his replacement, a North Vietnamese general, was going to arrive in two weeks time.
He had gathered his compatriots, the other survivors of the Tet Offensive who had agreed to join him in his disobeyal of Hanoi’s promotional standards, two of whom had had their ranks suspended as well, and told them that the time to strike was now.
“They wish to erase us from this conflict, we who have done so much and fought so hard for the liberation of this country from the corrupt reign of the Americans and their lackeys in Saigon.” He had told the man as they gathered in a refurbished rice bunker somewhere near the border of North Vietnam.
“They disregard our sacrifices to this struggle and replace us with their own. Our words fall upon deaf ears in Hanoi so now we shall test their hearing.”
After some discussion the others had agreed to follow him and had gathered their men and told them the situation, assuring them that they were free to not take part if they did not want to, but to Tra’s delight, the vast majority of men had agreed to stay put. They had survived the horrors of the Tet Offensive after all, how bad could this new fight be?
So now they were crouched on the side of a hill, looking down at the nearly invisible trail at the bottom. Tra was lying on his stomach behind a rock, peering down through binoculars. They were Russian and had a fine little mesh over the lenses so that they would not give away his position and he liked them very much. He had even left the little hammer and sickle emblem on the side though he had pasted a tiny little VietCong emblem next to it.
Once South Vietnam was liberated and the North reminded of its place in this conflict he hoped that the Russians could be persuaded to form an alliance with Vietnam and together push back the corrupt Maoist Chinese. But of course, those were goals for far in the future, not now where smaller things had to be done.
“Sir, I see them coming through the cleft in that hill to the left.” Tra nodded at the young lieutenant who had spotted the lead vehicle of the convoy they had been waiting for.
“Good. Now wait until the lead vehicle is beyond the split palm tree and only then open fire.” As they had taken up positions on the side of the hill, Tra had had his men split a palm tree down its center, forming a distinctive but natural looking indicator for a kill zone. Everyone within ear shot nodded and passed the order along quietly before falling silent, nothing could be said from now on for fear of alerting the targets. This was ambush time.
There were seven vehicles in the convoy, with an additional twenty soldiers walking alongside them as they bumped and coughed their way over the uneven track. They were old Soviet and Chinese trucks left over from the Second World War and Tra doubted that they were in very good repair. For a moment he considered telling his men to spare the vehicles, he was in desperate need of hauling power, but then reconsidered. He wasn’t going to sacrifice any of his men for machinery, that was an awfully capitalistic thing to do.
The first truck passed the split palm tree and time seemed to slow as Tra moved his arm up and then chopped it fiercely down.
For the North Vietnamese soldiers, the hills surrounding them seemed to erupt into flame. A rocket propelled grenade spun overhead and exploded in the bushes as fire from AK47s and SKS rifles pounded their trucks, shattering glass and shredding metal canvas and rubber as the officers inside scrambled to get out.
Mortars began landing as well and a Chinese truck was flipped onto its side, its cab flaming as a mortar exploded next to it. The North Vietnamese tried desperately to form a defensive perimeter, but the fire they were taking was simply too extreme and as they ran for the jungle they encountered the trip mines that Tra had set up earlier.
A flanking squad then rushed onto the trail and poured fire into what remained of the North Vietnamese detachment, shattering their cohesion and forcing a desperate retreat that only led to a second flanking squad on the other end of the kill zone.
“Cease fire!” Bellowed Tra as the final vehicle burst into flames and he heard no return fire from the flaming remains of the North Vietnamese convoy. Slowly, fire from the VietCong units sputtered and stopped, leaving an eerie silence behind as the last shots faded into the jungle.
“Anyone left alive in that convoy can come out now. You will not be shot or mistreated!” Tra called out and after a couple seconds of hesitation a small group of North Vietnamese soldiers slunk out from a small hollow in a bush, hands in the air and weapons on the ground.
The VietCong units converged on the shattered convoy as the few survivors were taken into custody and the few tripmines that hadn’t been set off were carefully dismantled and put away for future use. One of the flanking units had suffered one wounded from flying shrapnel but otherwise their victory had been flawless.
Amongst the burnt out remains of one of the trucks Tra noticed something shiny and flicked it out of the ash with the tip of his rifle. It was the metal remains of a general’s insignia. He had evidently roasted his replacement alive in the attack. Tra ground the insignia into the ground with his boot heel and walked away. There was plenty more to do before the North heard about this and not nearly enough time.
26.
Headlines from July 4, 1968 - August 3, 1968
JAMES RAY: I WAS SET UP IN MLK JR KILLING
ROMNEY: REAGAN, WALLACE AN IRRESPONSIBLE CHOICE FOR THE NATION
PRESIDENT JOHNSON ADDRESSES NATION ON WAR, ECONOMY
ARE THE PARIS PEACE TALKS USELESS?
President Johnson frowned heavily at the headline. The lack of progress was worrying and while the North Vietnamese had been slightly more compliant in the past few days after American diplomats agreed to recognize them as a sovereign country in exchange for an ending of hostilities against the south, the exact nature of the DMZ that was to be maintained between the two countries was now under dispute, with the North favoring it being moved forwards several miles to where they would be able to overlook southern defenses from the hills and the South wanting to keep it where it was. That particular bit of gridlock had been in effect for two days now and both sides were beginning to get annoyed with each other.
Wallace was still a novelty on the national political scene and he had been on no less than five national radio talk shows in the past two weeks, explaining his and Reagan’s platform of state’s rights and law and order. At one point a host had flat out asked if he was seeking a spot as Reagan’s running mate but Wallace had just laughed. That had made Johnson scowl, of course he was looking to be the man’s running mate. He had already flattered Reagan into accepting his platform, now he was going to ride his charisma and popularity all the way to the convention.
The planning for the Democratic Convention was still underway but even now, with weeks still left before the event would actually kick off there were hordes of hippies in Chicago’s streets, which had resulted in more than one stormy phone conference with Mayor Daley in recent days.
Even worse was the continuing coma that Robert Kennedy was stuck in. Though his race had been conceded there was still a Draft Kennedy movement simmering around the edges of the Democratic Party and Johnson knew that unless the man woke up and told his followers to knock it off and let Johnson through then he would likely he waylaid by a stream of rogue California delegates at the convention, which would do nothing beneficial to his appearance whatsoever.
The only thing that comforted him was that Romney seemed to be planning to fight Reagan to the death at the Miami convention in just a couple of days. If he were successful in his goals he might not only make Reagan look bad...but also win the nomination for himself.
Johnson thought about that. A vanquished Reagan would be great, but a resurgent Romney would almost be too much trouble to be worth it.
“Goddamnit.” He said and brushed the papers to the side. Why couldn’t things be as simple as they had been in 1964 when he had smacked Goldwater back to Arizona and gone home again in just a couple of months?
That had been before the war had gotten so bad he guessed. At least he still had his domestic achievements to run on, people liked the Great Society, even if he was bringing Negroes into it, so long as he left the war alone then he should be alright. But even as he thought the phone began to ring.
“Hello, President Johnson speaking.” He said as a nervous voice responded.
“Mr. President, we have an update about Vietnam, there is a large force of VietCong that are on the move.” Johnson felt his stomach drop for a moment.
“Where are they going?” He asked, if they were heading south then they had clearly learned nothing from Operation Liberty.
“They’re spreading out. One battalion crossed over into North Vietnam, the others seem to be setting up alongside the trail.” Now Johnson was confused. There were few American and South Vietnamese units around there.
“The trail?” He asked.
“Yes sir, one of the segments of the Ho Chi Minh Trail we can see from the air. We’re not sure yet, but it looks an awful lot like they’re setting up an ambush on their own guys.”
_______
The North had rejected his latest promotions and suspended his rank. Tran Van Tra had appealed to Hanoi seven times throughout the month of July but his words had ultimately fallen upon deaf ears except for one brief reply announcing that his replacement, a North Vietnamese general, was going to arrive in two weeks time.
He had gathered his compatriots, the other survivors of the Tet Offensive who had agreed to join him in his disobeyal of Hanoi’s promotional standards, two of whom had had their ranks suspended as well, and told them that the time to strike was now.
“They wish to erase us from this conflict, we who have done so much and fought so hard for the liberation of this country from the corrupt reign of the Americans and their lackeys in Saigon.” He had told the man as they gathered in a refurbished rice bunker somewhere near the border of North Vietnam.
“They disregard our sacrifices to this struggle and replace us with their own. Our words fall upon deaf ears in Hanoi so now we shall test their hearing.”
After some discussion the others had agreed to follow him and had gathered their men and told them the situation, assuring them that they were free to not take part if they did not want to, but to Tra’s delight, the vast majority of men had agreed to stay put. They had survived the horrors of the Tet Offensive after all, how bad could this new fight be?
So now they were crouched on the side of a hill, looking down at the nearly invisible trail at the bottom. Tra was lying on his stomach behind a rock, peering down through binoculars. They were Russian and had a fine little mesh over the lenses so that they would not give away his position and he liked them very much. He had even left the little hammer and sickle emblem on the side though he had pasted a tiny little VietCong emblem next to it.
Once South Vietnam was liberated and the North reminded of its place in this conflict he hoped that the Russians could be persuaded to form an alliance with Vietnam and together push back the corrupt Maoist Chinese. But of course, those were goals for far in the future, not now where smaller things had to be done.
“Sir, I see them coming through the cleft in that hill to the left.” Tra nodded at the young lieutenant who had spotted the lead vehicle of the convoy they had been waiting for.
“Good. Now wait until the lead vehicle is beyond the split palm tree and only then open fire.” As they had taken up positions on the side of the hill, Tra had had his men split a palm tree down its center, forming a distinctive but natural looking indicator for a kill zone. Everyone within ear shot nodded and passed the order along quietly before falling silent, nothing could be said from now on for fear of alerting the targets. This was ambush time.
There were seven vehicles in the convoy, with an additional twenty soldiers walking alongside them as they bumped and coughed their way over the uneven track. They were old Soviet and Chinese trucks left over from the Second World War and Tra doubted that they were in very good repair. For a moment he considered telling his men to spare the vehicles, he was in desperate need of hauling power, but then reconsidered. He wasn’t going to sacrifice any of his men for machinery, that was an awfully capitalistic thing to do.
The first truck passed the split palm tree and time seemed to slow as Tra moved his arm up and then chopped it fiercely down.
For the North Vietnamese soldiers, the hills surrounding them seemed to erupt into flame. A rocket propelled grenade spun overhead and exploded in the bushes as fire from AK47s and SKS rifles pounded their trucks, shattering glass and shredding metal canvas and rubber as the officers inside scrambled to get out.
Mortars began landing as well and a Chinese truck was flipped onto its side, its cab flaming as a mortar exploded next to it. The North Vietnamese tried desperately to form a defensive perimeter, but the fire they were taking was simply too extreme and as they ran for the jungle they encountered the trip mines that Tra had set up earlier.
A flanking squad then rushed onto the trail and poured fire into what remained of the North Vietnamese detachment, shattering their cohesion and forcing a desperate retreat that only led to a second flanking squad on the other end of the kill zone.
“Cease fire!” Bellowed Tra as the final vehicle burst into flames and he heard no return fire from the flaming remains of the North Vietnamese convoy. Slowly, fire from the VietCong units sputtered and stopped, leaving an eerie silence behind as the last shots faded into the jungle.
“Anyone left alive in that convoy can come out now. You will not be shot or mistreated!” Tra called out and after a couple seconds of hesitation a small group of North Vietnamese soldiers slunk out from a small hollow in a bush, hands in the air and weapons on the ground.
The VietCong units converged on the shattered convoy as the few survivors were taken into custody and the few tripmines that hadn’t been set off were carefully dismantled and put away for future use. One of the flanking units had suffered one wounded from flying shrapnel but otherwise their victory had been flawless.
Amongst the burnt out remains of one of the trucks Tra noticed something shiny and flicked it out of the ash with the tip of his rifle. It was the metal remains of a general’s insignia. He had evidently roasted his replacement alive in the attack. Tra ground the insignia into the ground with his boot heel and walked away. There was plenty more to do before the North heard about this and not nearly enough time.
I did not think about that and kind of misjudged Ford's personality, thanks for making me aware of that. I have written a new conversation between Ford and Romney. Now Ford is merely ambivalent, but mostly for suspense purposes.