Pro Aris et Pro Focis (P&S: New York City)
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Part 23: I Stood by the Deal, but the Colonel....
Friday, 18 February 1984
Bay Ridge, Brooklyn
1800 hours
Testaturco sat in the back of his car. His men sat in the front.
"They're going to fuck us over," his driver said. "Why should this Lieutenant pick us?"
"Because he knew us," the passenger said. "Who else was he going to turn to? He doesn't know the caporegime. He doesn't know the Boss. Just us. And we're lucky. That bomb goes off, no one is going to play the numbers."
"Shut up, both of you," Testaturco replied. "You see him?"
"Oh, yeah, here comes a bus... he's getting off," the passenger said.
"He armed?"
"He's got his pistol and he's got his rifle. But I don't see nobody else."
The Lieutenant stopped on the corner, looked around, and saw Testaturco's car. He walked over.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "Nice night considering. It will get a little colder tomorrow, the weatherman says. But no snow. Which is good, because I've driven Pennsylvania roads in snow, and I'd rather be facing the 107th Guards Motorized Rifle Division."
"Yeah. When are your people coming?"
"How many trucks do you have?"
"Four. Two are empty and can hold a lot of people. One has building materials. The other has stuff we can use for trade."
"Booze, cigarettes, and dope?"
"Sort of."
"How many men do you have with each truck?"
"Just the driver. He's got a CB so he can stay in touch."
"I'm putting a couple of my guys in with your driver. They'll know the way."
Testaturco frowned. "What the hell? Since when are they part of the deal?"
"They're husbands and fathers. Their families are getting out. But they're older guys. You scared of a few greybeards?"
"It wasn't in the deal."
"Testaturco, you're a smart man. You know if the word went out that you had construction materials and kerosene in those trucks, they'd be hijacked - or worse, confiscated by the government. We're making this official, in a way."
"Yeah. There will also be a couple of limousine buses. They have my family and my special friends," the underboss replied.
"XX-chromosome special friends?"
"Yeah. We're keeping it small. When they get to the mine, they'll call me and I'll follow."
"Okay. Let's get going, then," said the Lieutenant.
Two trucks pulled up. They opened the back. Women and children climbed in. A State Guardsman with a checklist counted them off as they came on board.
"It's not all bad in the back," Testaturco said. "We don't want to have anyone get hurt, so we put extra blankets and sheets and stuff in there so they can stay warm. There are even a few cots."
"That's kind of you."
"Hey, people are people. Except the fucking Russians. They would have to fuck over business. At least we can start over."
The last person loaded needed that extra padding. "Who the hell is that?" the driver asked. "What happened to him?"
"He's our C Company commander," the Lieutenant said. "He broke his hip slipping on ice. Lucky son of a gun."
"Lucky?"
The Lieutenant grinned. "For certain values of luck."
He walked away and checked with the Guards. "You guys know what to do?"
"Yes, sir," they chorused.
"Remember. You are on detached duty. You are still under military discipline. And when Captain McDonald recovers, you will place yourself under his orders."
"Yes, sir."
"Get out and good luck."
They saluted. The Lieutenant returned the salute. The trucks and limos drove off towards Staten Island.
The Lieutenant walked back to the Cadillac. "All right, gentlemen; I shall not see you again, I think. Good bye." He shook hands with all three, and then headed back to the bus stop.
The Cadillac followed the trucks and bus limos. A government car pulled up. Major Sholom and Colonel Capparelli were in it; so was Detective Sergeant King.
"Your wives and families are on the truck, sirs. They'll be at the shelter by tonight."
"What about Testaturco?"
Detective King spoke up. "I called some friends of mine."
Friday, 18 February 1984
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
2239 hours
"This is the truck stop," the driver said. "Everyone's pulling in. We wait for the locals from wherever this mine is to meet us?"
"That's the deal," Testaturco said.
"Good. You want me to get you some coffee or something, boss, while we wait?"
"Coffee, Joe. And make sure it's fresh," the underboss said.
Joe went over to the T&A and went inside. Several men in leather jackets and grey trousers were inside. They looked like cops, but they didn't notice him in particular.
A few more trucks showed up. A couple of vans pulled up next to the trucks with New York plates. "That's my cue," Joe said to himself. He picked up the coffee and went outside.
A white police car pulled up to the Cadillac, followed by another, and another. Two Pennsylvania State Police got out of each car. One of the policeman intercepted Joe. "Put the coffee down and put your hands up."
"What are you doing? We have a deal..."
"You're smuggling building materials without a permit," the trooper said. "You and your friends are coming with us."
"But what about our people?"
"They'll be fine unless they make trouble."
People got of a station wagon and a van, and took over the wheels of the trucks. The trucks lined up drove back on to the highway.
"Don't worry," the trooper said. "The county jail is nice and safe."
"That bastard Lieutenant."
"No, he stood by his word. He didn't promise his colonel wouldn't call the cops, though."
Friday, 18 February 1984
Bay Ridge, Brooklyn
1800 hours
Testaturco sat in the back of his car. His men sat in the front.
"They're going to fuck us over," his driver said. "Why should this Lieutenant pick us?"
"Because he knew us," the passenger said. "Who else was he going to turn to? He doesn't know the caporegime. He doesn't know the Boss. Just us. And we're lucky. That bomb goes off, no one is going to play the numbers."
"Shut up, both of you," Testaturco replied. "You see him?"
"Oh, yeah, here comes a bus... he's getting off," the passenger said.
"He armed?"
"He's got his pistol and he's got his rifle. But I don't see nobody else."
The Lieutenant stopped on the corner, looked around, and saw Testaturco's car. He walked over.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "Nice night considering. It will get a little colder tomorrow, the weatherman says. But no snow. Which is good, because I've driven Pennsylvania roads in snow, and I'd rather be facing the 107th Guards Motorized Rifle Division."
"Yeah. When are your people coming?"
"How many trucks do you have?"
"Four. Two are empty and can hold a lot of people. One has building materials. The other has stuff we can use for trade."
"Booze, cigarettes, and dope?"
"Sort of."
"How many men do you have with each truck?"
"Just the driver. He's got a CB so he can stay in touch."
"I'm putting a couple of my guys in with your driver. They'll know the way."
Testaturco frowned. "What the hell? Since when are they part of the deal?"
"They're husbands and fathers. Their families are getting out. But they're older guys. You scared of a few greybeards?"
"It wasn't in the deal."
"Testaturco, you're a smart man. You know if the word went out that you had construction materials and kerosene in those trucks, they'd be hijacked - or worse, confiscated by the government. We're making this official, in a way."
"Yeah. There will also be a couple of limousine buses. They have my family and my special friends," the underboss replied.
"XX-chromosome special friends?"
"Yeah. We're keeping it small. When they get to the mine, they'll call me and I'll follow."
"Okay. Let's get going, then," said the Lieutenant.
Two trucks pulled up. They opened the back. Women and children climbed in. A State Guardsman with a checklist counted them off as they came on board.
"It's not all bad in the back," Testaturco said. "We don't want to have anyone get hurt, so we put extra blankets and sheets and stuff in there so they can stay warm. There are even a few cots."
"That's kind of you."
"Hey, people are people. Except the fucking Russians. They would have to fuck over business. At least we can start over."
The last person loaded needed that extra padding. "Who the hell is that?" the driver asked. "What happened to him?"
"He's our C Company commander," the Lieutenant said. "He broke his hip slipping on ice. Lucky son of a gun."
"Lucky?"
The Lieutenant grinned. "For certain values of luck."
He walked away and checked with the Guards. "You guys know what to do?"
"Yes, sir," they chorused.
"Remember. You are on detached duty. You are still under military discipline. And when Captain McDonald recovers, you will place yourself under his orders."
"Yes, sir."
"Get out and good luck."
They saluted. The Lieutenant returned the salute. The trucks and limos drove off towards Staten Island.
The Lieutenant walked back to the Cadillac. "All right, gentlemen; I shall not see you again, I think. Good bye." He shook hands with all three, and then headed back to the bus stop.
The Cadillac followed the trucks and bus limos. A government car pulled up. Major Sholom and Colonel Capparelli were in it; so was Detective Sergeant King.
"Your wives and families are on the truck, sirs. They'll be at the shelter by tonight."
"What about Testaturco?"
Detective King spoke up. "I called some friends of mine."
Friday, 18 February 1984
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
2239 hours
"This is the truck stop," the driver said. "Everyone's pulling in. We wait for the locals from wherever this mine is to meet us?"
"That's the deal," Testaturco said.
"Good. You want me to get you some coffee or something, boss, while we wait?"
"Coffee, Joe. And make sure it's fresh," the underboss said.
Joe went over to the T&A and went inside. Several men in leather jackets and grey trousers were inside. They looked like cops, but they didn't notice him in particular.
A few more trucks showed up. A couple of vans pulled up next to the trucks with New York plates. "That's my cue," Joe said to himself. He picked up the coffee and went outside.
A white police car pulled up to the Cadillac, followed by another, and another. Two Pennsylvania State Police got out of each car. One of the policeman intercepted Joe. "Put the coffee down and put your hands up."
"What are you doing? We have a deal..."
"You're smuggling building materials without a permit," the trooper said. "You and your friends are coming with us."
"But what about our people?"
"They'll be fine unless they make trouble."
People got of a station wagon and a van, and took over the wheels of the trucks. The trucks lined up drove back on to the highway.
"Don't worry," the trooper said. "The county jail is nice and safe."
"That bastard Lieutenant."
"No, he stood by his word. He didn't promise his colonel wouldn't call the cops, though."
Anyone care to speculate just how reliable would police forces be in the event of a nuclear war.Meaning how many would still be doing their job and not simply run off once the risk of an all out nuke fest exceeds a certain point.I'm not saying all would run but some cracks might appear once the news starts to get really grim.Also what measures exist or existed at the time to prevent cops from simply abandoning their jobs and fleeing.Do they have anything more than a you're fired?It is interesting to read about the NYPD or the Pennsylvania State police and wonder how long until the obvious just what are we working for anyway question starts to arrise.As mentioned probably most cops would still be doing their jobs until the very end but some rookies possibly would simply run,older cops especially in their 50's I doubt since they would be saying I'm already old if i die now it really doesn't matter.
Many will stay on the job as long as possible, because police do have a sense of duty and esprit de corps. They will be needed. Some will leave early. Some will be sent away. But those who tend to be in public service are there because they believe in something greater than themselves, and they believe in the people they work with.
Part 24: You Sleep over There. You Cook Over There.
Robbie looked at his sister. "How many people do we have?"
Joan opened the notebook she carried. "117 people. We're still below capacity for the shelter."
"We're going to run out of water containers," Robbie commented.
"We could install a portable swimming pool," D.J. said. "The neighbors have one, don't they?"
"One step at a time," Joan said. She clapped her hands and raised her hand in a gesture any Girl Scout would recognize. The Girl Scouts in the crowd did recognize it and stopped talking.
"Ladies and gentlemen. I am Joan Boulanger. You may not know me but you know my husband. This is my brother, Robbie. He found the mine. Between us, we are responsible for organizing you."
Robbie said, "My sister is in charge. When she tells you to do something, you do it."
"Yeah?" One of the women pushed her way forward. She stood a foot away from Joan. "What the hell did you do with my husband?"
"And you are?"
"Maria Testaturco! Your husband struck a deal with us and the rat bastard broke that deal!"
"What was the deal?"
"That we get to stay here in exchange for building materials and fuel and generators."
"We don't break deals," Joan said. "You are your family are welcome. After the situation resolves, you can take your trucks and the building materials we don't use and the supplies we don't use and go. That wasn't part of the original deal, but I'm willing to bend."
"Who put you in charge?"
"We did," said a State Guards sergeant major. "In case you didn't hear, it just came on the radio. The Soviets have invaded West Germany. The Governor of Pennsylvania just declared martial law in the state. Governor Cuomo has followed. We're in charge, and Captain McDonald is in charge of us."
"When your husband is free, Mrs. Testaturco, he will be welcome to join us," Joan said. "We meant what we said. I don't know why the police grabbed him -- "
"-- Trafficking in construction materials in a state emergency without a permit." R.J. said.
"So why did the cops let you have the material?"
"Because we have several hundred people to shelter, and we have to start now. If the Sergeant Major is correct - that's Zimmerman? If Sergeant Major Zimmerman is correct, then we are racing against time. Work now, argue later."
"You can go to hell if you expect me to work? Do you know who you're talking to?"
"Yes. Won't you do it for the sake of your family? We're not going to do your work for you, Mrs. Testaturco."
An old woman in a black dress broke free and grabbed Maria Testaturco by the shoulders. The old woman then slapped her and started yelling something in Sicilian. "But Nonna - Sí, Nonna - Sí, Nonna - Sí, Nonna..." Nonna continued to lecture the Testaturco family. She turned back and said, "Signora, if my family gives you any trouble, talk to me."
"Yes, ma'am," Joan said.
She picked up her notebook. "Okay. We have to start moving. Let's get those trucks down into the shelter. Park them in the far corner. Joanna!"
Joanna said, "Yes, Joan?"
"This is Joanna Kingsley."
"Williams. We're engaged to be married."
"Joanna is our teacher. Children under 18 will be required to take lessons. So, R.J., get those books down here from the house, including the Encyclopedia Britannica I know you have. She is also in charge of registering everyone."
"But she can't see!"
"We're going into a cave for a long time, kid."
"Water supplies - I want the drinking water where I marked it, the nonpotable water for cleaning here, and I want the toilets over there, far from the drinking water and the cooking."
"Teenage boys and adult men. You're going to like this one. Go out and shoot every deer you can find. We need to salt the meat down. Thank God we're in a salt mine....
"Put bedding down. Cots for the pregnant women and the young and the very old and the sick. We'll work on making beds for everyone. You guys, on that....
"I want to run these cables out the mine entrance and rig antennas. Any Signal Corps veterans? Hide the antennas. I need one long wire running to this crystal set. We'll also need monitors....
"It's almost one-thirty. Let's get things ready enough so we can get some good rest....
"One last thing. I don't know if you believe in God or not, but if He's listening, let's pray for peace so we can go home looking silly. But if He has other plans, let's pray for the courage and will to survive. In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit - get to work!"
Robbie looked at his sister. "How many people do we have?"
Joan opened the notebook she carried. "117 people. We're still below capacity for the shelter."
"We're going to run out of water containers," Robbie commented.
"We could install a portable swimming pool," D.J. said. "The neighbors have one, don't they?"
"One step at a time," Joan said. She clapped her hands and raised her hand in a gesture any Girl Scout would recognize. The Girl Scouts in the crowd did recognize it and stopped talking.
"Ladies and gentlemen. I am Joan Boulanger. You may not know me but you know my husband. This is my brother, Robbie. He found the mine. Between us, we are responsible for organizing you."
Robbie said, "My sister is in charge. When she tells you to do something, you do it."
"Yeah?" One of the women pushed her way forward. She stood a foot away from Joan. "What the hell did you do with my husband?"
"And you are?"
"Maria Testaturco! Your husband struck a deal with us and the rat bastard broke that deal!"
"What was the deal?"
"That we get to stay here in exchange for building materials and fuel and generators."
"We don't break deals," Joan said. "You are your family are welcome. After the situation resolves, you can take your trucks and the building materials we don't use and the supplies we don't use and go. That wasn't part of the original deal, but I'm willing to bend."
"Who put you in charge?"
"We did," said a State Guards sergeant major. "In case you didn't hear, it just came on the radio. The Soviets have invaded West Germany. The Governor of Pennsylvania just declared martial law in the state. Governor Cuomo has followed. We're in charge, and Captain McDonald is in charge of us."
"When your husband is free, Mrs. Testaturco, he will be welcome to join us," Joan said. "We meant what we said. I don't know why the police grabbed him -- "
"-- Trafficking in construction materials in a state emergency without a permit." R.J. said.
"So why did the cops let you have the material?"
"Because we have several hundred people to shelter, and we have to start now. If the Sergeant Major is correct - that's Zimmerman? If Sergeant Major Zimmerman is correct, then we are racing against time. Work now, argue later."
"You can go to hell if you expect me to work? Do you know who you're talking to?"
"Yes. Won't you do it for the sake of your family? We're not going to do your work for you, Mrs. Testaturco."
An old woman in a black dress broke free and grabbed Maria Testaturco by the shoulders. The old woman then slapped her and started yelling something in Sicilian. "But Nonna - Sí, Nonna - Sí, Nonna - Sí, Nonna..." Nonna continued to lecture the Testaturco family. She turned back and said, "Signora, if my family gives you any trouble, talk to me."
"Yes, ma'am," Joan said.
She picked up her notebook. "Okay. We have to start moving. Let's get those trucks down into the shelter. Park them in the far corner. Joanna!"
Joanna said, "Yes, Joan?"
"This is Joanna Kingsley."
"Williams. We're engaged to be married."
"Joanna is our teacher. Children under 18 will be required to take lessons. So, R.J., get those books down here from the house, including the Encyclopedia Britannica I know you have. She is also in charge of registering everyone."
"But she can't see!"
"We're going into a cave for a long time, kid."
"Water supplies - I want the drinking water where I marked it, the nonpotable water for cleaning here, and I want the toilets over there, far from the drinking water and the cooking."
"Teenage boys and adult men. You're going to like this one. Go out and shoot every deer you can find. We need to salt the meat down. Thank God we're in a salt mine....
"Put bedding down. Cots for the pregnant women and the young and the very old and the sick. We'll work on making beds for everyone. You guys, on that....
"I want to run these cables out the mine entrance and rig antennas. Any Signal Corps veterans? Hide the antennas. I need one long wire running to this crystal set. We'll also need monitors....
"It's almost one-thirty. Let's get things ready enough so we can get some good rest....
"One last thing. I don't know if you believe in God or not, but if He's listening, let's pray for peace so we can go home looking silly. But if He has other plans, let's pray for the courage and will to survive. In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit - get to work!"
Hope the people in the mine make it. It would be a horrible irrony if a warhead aimed at NYC overshot and initiated over the mine. It's unlikely but still possible.
Yes, I have a deeply twisted imagination.
Yes, I have a deeply twisted imagination.
Not limited to those in uniformed public service. Pretty much my entire working life (regular/FT gigs, anyway) has been in the public sector; recently I've been networking more seriously with the private sector. Wow. What a bizarrely different world... like, nearly epistemologically.
(FTR: I honestly do not mean that as a value judgement, cloaked or overt. Just a different version of the 'Two Cultures' argument... uhm... but without even the partisanship of that original argument, you know?)
But more importantly: I am loving how this is rapidly turning out to be the most twisty-and-turny schemery scion of P&S yet. Gloom and gothy~butchy (anti)heroics are all very fine, but I do enjoy this dash of skullduggery!
What bunkers existed at the time in New York proper?And more importantly just how reliable would they be ,a bunker is only effective if you can provide at the very least an air filter which can handle the large number of persons,bunkers without that would be basically death traps with people slowly suffocating especially if there are large numbers in there.
No public ones. NYC stopped building them when it was clear H-bombs could wreck them.
I just have one thing to say about the Lieutenant:
That Magnificent Bastard.
Though he isn't a bastard, per se.
Waiting for more!!!
Hope he lives.
That Magnificent Bastard.
Though he isn't a bastard, per se.
Waiting for more!!!
Hope he lives.
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagnificentBastard
Thank you.
Does that make the Lieutenant's wife Mrs. Magnificent? Or Mrs. Bastard?
Thank you.
Does that make the Lieutenant's wife Mrs. Magnificent? Or Mrs. Bastard?
It depends on what she does to maintain control when people start getting sick down the mine [etc.], doesn't it?
yours,
Sam R.
Kingsley looked at Maggione. "What would Boulanger do?"
Maggione replied, "Something twisted and audacious that the Russians aren't expecting."
"Then why aren't we doing it, Carlo?"
Maggione grinned. "Damn straight. What was that phrase? Oh, yeah...
"Эй, вы, ублюдки коммуниста, у нас есть бесплатное пиво сюда! Хочешь?"
He held up a bottle in his hand.
"I sure hope they don't realize it's Budweiser."
This non-canon post has been brought to you because I'm too tired to think right now.
Part 25: Monday, Monday
Monday, 20 February 1984
Somewhere... in Manhattan.
He was somewhere... that's right, Alphabet City. And Alphabet City was burning. Boy, was it burning. You could read a newspaper from the flames. "Someone get me a newspaper... I want to see how the war is doing," he muttered.
"We're losing," his Top said. "The Russians are pushing us out of Germany."
"Yeah, yeah... figured that. How badly are we losing?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
"We're not dropping nukes on the Commies yet. That means we're sort of winning while we're losing."
"The radio said not enough to use nukes yet, LT. I think they're going to hold 'em at the Rhine."
"Like we're holding them here? Keeping the riot out of the rest of New York?"
"You send in three hundred retreads into that mess, none of us is going to come out. They're shooting at anything in sight. "
"Thank God."
"Lieutenant, maybe you should lie down for a few minutes. I'll wake you."
When did he last sleep? Two days ago? A day ago? He couldn't remember. He and C of the 5th had been deployed since ... when did the riots start?
Yeah. Saturday. Sunday, Monday... he'd been moving since Saturday morning. First Washington Square, and then through the Village, stopping looting. Then Canal Street. Bayonets out, arresting people left and right.
Then here. Firemen were trying to put out the worst flames. People were throwing things at them. People were shooting at them. Who was going to shoot back? Good old C Company.
Can't fall asleep. Must stay awake. On duty. Leader. Set. The. Example -
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
He raised his rifle. "Halt!"
"It's a fireman, LT."
"Advance and be recognized."
It was a fireman. Well, a probie.
"What's the password?"
"What password?"
Christ Jesus, Boulanger, you're turning stupid. Now. Focus.
The probie - said, "Lieutenant, orders from the command post. You are to take your company out of line and fall back to the staging area."
"Something worse going on?"
"I don't think so, Lieutenant. I think the Mayor is going to let Alphabet City burn."
"Okay, Top, let's get them out of the line," the Lieutenant said.
The State Guardsmen, one by one, stepped back. Their faces were grey masks of strain, sleeplessness, and fear. "It's like Vietnam," the platoon sergeants said.
"Worse than 'Nam. We could call in artillery or air," another veteran said.
"Top, we all here?" The First Sergeant nodded. "Move on out to the staging area."
He followed his men. The staging area was between First Avenue and Broadway on East Houston Street. The Salvation Army was handing out coffee and sandwiches. The Lieutenant waited until the men ate, then grabbed a tepid cup of coffee and a room-temperature ham and cheese hoagie. The coffee was like water for all the help it would give him. He sat down on a chair someone had borrowed from a local bistro and started to doze off.
"How are you doing, son?"
The Lieutenant snapped awake, then started to stand at attention.
"Relax, son. How are you doing?"
"I thought that was your question, Mr. Mayor."
"I know how I'm doing," Ed Koch said. "We're in trouble. You're the one helping me out. How are you doing, son?"
"Sir, my company needs 16 hours sleep and two good meals and a shower, and we can get back on the line again. They're great soldiers, sir... couldn't do better with any other unit in the Guard, sir... I'm proud of them..." Tears started to clean his cheek. "I wish we had more men. We could save those people from themselves."
Koch put his arm around the Lieutenant. "You've done great. We didn't expect miracles. You gave them what you had. There's nothing left to save here, that's all. Now it's time to save yourselves."
"Sir?"
"Tomorrow, at 2 p.m., the City government is pulling out and heading to Kingston. You're going with them."
"Thank you, sir."
"You've done well, son. Get some sleep. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."
Monday, 20 February 1984
Somewhere... in Manhattan.
He was somewhere... that's right, Alphabet City. And Alphabet City was burning. Boy, was it burning. You could read a newspaper from the flames. "Someone get me a newspaper... I want to see how the war is doing," he muttered.
"We're losing," his Top said. "The Russians are pushing us out of Germany."
"Yeah, yeah... figured that. How badly are we losing?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
"We're not dropping nukes on the Commies yet. That means we're sort of winning while we're losing."
"The radio said not enough to use nukes yet, LT. I think they're going to hold 'em at the Rhine."
"Like we're holding them here? Keeping the riot out of the rest of New York?"
"You send in three hundred retreads into that mess, none of us is going to come out. They're shooting at anything in sight. "
"Thank God."
"Lieutenant, maybe you should lie down for a few minutes. I'll wake you."
When did he last sleep? Two days ago? A day ago? He couldn't remember. He and C of the 5th had been deployed since ... when did the riots start?
Yeah. Saturday. Sunday, Monday... he'd been moving since Saturday morning. First Washington Square, and then through the Village, stopping looting. Then Canal Street. Bayonets out, arresting people left and right.
Then here. Firemen were trying to put out the worst flames. People were throwing things at them. People were shooting at them. Who was going to shoot back? Good old C Company.
Can't fall asleep. Must stay awake. On duty. Leader. Set. The. Example -
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
He raised his rifle. "Halt!"
"It's a fireman, LT."
"Advance and be recognized."
It was a fireman. Well, a probie.
"What's the password?"
"What password?"
Christ Jesus, Boulanger, you're turning stupid. Now. Focus.
The probie - said, "Lieutenant, orders from the command post. You are to take your company out of line and fall back to the staging area."
"Something worse going on?"
"I don't think so, Lieutenant. I think the Mayor is going to let Alphabet City burn."
"Okay, Top, let's get them out of the line," the Lieutenant said.
The State Guardsmen, one by one, stepped back. Their faces were grey masks of strain, sleeplessness, and fear. "It's like Vietnam," the platoon sergeants said.
"Worse than 'Nam. We could call in artillery or air," another veteran said.
"Top, we all here?" The First Sergeant nodded. "Move on out to the staging area."
He followed his men. The staging area was between First Avenue and Broadway on East Houston Street. The Salvation Army was handing out coffee and sandwiches. The Lieutenant waited until the men ate, then grabbed a tepid cup of coffee and a room-temperature ham and cheese hoagie. The coffee was like water for all the help it would give him. He sat down on a chair someone had borrowed from a local bistro and started to doze off.
"How are you doing, son?"
The Lieutenant snapped awake, then started to stand at attention.
"Relax, son. How are you doing?"
"I thought that was your question, Mr. Mayor."
"I know how I'm doing," Ed Koch said. "We're in trouble. You're the one helping me out. How are you doing, son?"
"Sir, my company needs 16 hours sleep and two good meals and a shower, and we can get back on the line again. They're great soldiers, sir... couldn't do better with any other unit in the Guard, sir... I'm proud of them..." Tears started to clean his cheek. "I wish we had more men. We could save those people from themselves."
Koch put his arm around the Lieutenant. "You've done great. We didn't expect miracles. You gave them what you had. There's nothing left to save here, that's all. Now it's time to save yourselves."
"Sir?"
"Tomorrow, at 2 p.m., the City government is pulling out and heading to Kingston. You're going with them."
"Thank you, sir."
"You've done well, son. Get some sleep. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."
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