Land Of Flatwater: Where Were You At 1155 ZULU? part 2
Fremont Medical Center/Fremont, Nebraska Tuesday February 21, 1984 7:15 am CST/1315 ZULU
”I wish we got that damn Tyles, Bob,” Frank lamented. “I heard reports that he got away.”
”Agent Clayton already filled me in, Frank,” the Governor said. “We have bigger problems right now. I need my people back here now, and that includes you.”
Frank's face fell hard, “But Governor, I just got my daughter back. I hear they are moving her to Hastings. The transport will be here soon.”
There was a short silence. “Okay,” the Governor said. “You ride with her to Hastings, but get back here by 11:30 at the latest. I want all principals back here as soon as possible.”
”I’ll get back there, Governor.” Frank said happily. “I just hope they turn this cease fire into ceasing, period.”
”You and me both, Frank….And I’m very happy for you. How is your daughter?”
”She is beautiful.”
National Airborne Command Post (NEACP) E-4B “Guardian”/Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska – 7:25 CST/1325 ZULU
A lot of stars on shoulders in the main meeting room of the E-4B. Both active E-4s are patched into the meeting with the CINC-SAC and the Secretary of Defense.
”How the hell can anybody circumvent PALs,” CINC-SAC asked. “C’mon Cap, we aren’t the news boys and girls. What is really going on here.”
”We don’t know what happened,” Defense Secretary Weinberger said. “We think somebody sent the Colonel who called for the nuke strike inaccurate information from the attack on the ammo dump. In any case, RAWHIDE is trying to talk Ogarkov off the ledge.”
”Fat chance of that happening,” Glenn whispered.
”Do you realize what this mistake is costing us right now?” Another general said.
”General, you don’t need to remind me,” Weinberger snapped. “I got more brass than a jewelry store in this damn situation room saying the same shit.
Gentlemen, I suggest you get cracking on adjusting the SIOP. Whatever Ronnie is selling…Ogarkov’s not buying.”
Stetten, West Germany – 1330 ZULU
”Attention all forces,” Vanquish 1-0 reported. “A cease fire across all theaters has come through by order of SACEUR.”
That was welcome news for Yankee 3-1. Once again in this war, Yankee 3-1 was at the wrong end of a rocket attack. One of the rockets impacted one of the track assemblies. The crew was able to escape the battlefield, take cover and try to fix the tank.
Once again, fortune had smiled on them.
”What else have you heard?” Tony asked he worked with his mates and another Abrams crew to get their tank battle-ready.
”Who knows,” the tank commander responded.
”According to what I picked up,” the radioman said. “The bomb was dropped somewhere up north…someplace called Eschwege.”
”Eschwege,” one of the other tankers said. “That was in bloody Soviet hands, mate…”
Lieutenant Michelle’s jaw dropped. “We fired first. Wow! I didn’t think we’d ever fire first.
FIREBASE FINISH LINE – Hockenheim, West Germany – 1335 ZULU
Colonel Mitchell Gerhardt, United States Marine Corps, International Falls, Minnesota.
To say that Mitch Gerhardt is intense is an understatement. He's been intense from the time he was a hockey-playing/chess-playing little boy in Northern Minnesota.
His grandfather taught him both games, to teach him how to think. Chess, to teach how to analyze. Hockey, to teach how to analyze in the middle of constant chaos.
He always had that certain look. That deep focus on a problem. It could scare you if you weren’t used to it. You welcomed it, if you were. It made ‘Mad Mitch’ the leader he is. A leader that those under him trust.
He was studying the positions of the sandlot platoons he was putting on the line between his area to Heidelberg in the north and Stuttgart to the south. The mixed-up gumbo of NATO forces had done the impossible. Even with the Warsaw Pact in Frankfurt, and the command in Heidelberg fleeing capture. He had withstood the siege, and even was managing to push them back. That was until – Eschwege.
”Frustrating sir,” the Lieutenant said. “We were stemming the tide until this mess.”
”I don’t know about stemming the tide, Marine,”’ Colonel Gerhardt said. “I could understand a mistake being made. I hear Hofgeismar is still burning. They had enough ammo up there to blow a good chunk out of the world without nukes. Phosphor munitions make a big flash when they go up. Somebody probably saw that and reported back that it looked nuclear.”
”Lieutenant, send the word down the pipe. Tell everybody FULL NBC protocols. That’s from this office all the way across the line.”
”Sir, even with the cease-fire?”
The Colonel looked up at the Lieutenant. “Better safe than sorry. If this thing kicks off again. It will escalate. The Warsaw Pact will start throwing up chemicals and possibly germs, and we have some news reconnaissance pictures…Take a good look at these Polaroids.”
The Lieutenant saw the photos. Soviet mobile launchers were rolling into positions in East Germany.
” Yes, Lieutenant. Those are Scud missiles. Tactical nuclear weapons.”
Rick’s farm – Schuyler, Nebraska – 7:45am/1345 ZULU
The TV and the radio were both on. A number of news reports flying across all the networks. The entire house was meeting in the living room.
Worried looks on every face. Since Chip woke up the entire house with the panicked news of nuclear fire abroad, there was a shock, disbelief.
Somebody actually dropped the bomb.
”I think we should start boarding up the windows now at least,” Ed said. “If we start hearing attack warnings we won’t have much time. Chip…how long would we have?”
”Best case? Half-an-hour, dad. Worst case? Maybe 10 minutes,” Chip said.
”That little nerd doesn’t know,” Kevin said.
Denny shot back, “Uh, uncle Kevin? Yes, he does.”
”30 minutes? All the way from Russia?” Meg said.
”15,000 miles per hour.” Chip chirped in response.
”Damn, and I thought I was fast,” Ira said.
Ed let what his son said sink in. Thirty minutes. That's all.
Nebraska Public Radio news time 7:50am – Governor Bob Kerrey will address the state at 8:30am today in regards to the events abroad and here at home.
Fremont Municpal Airport – 7:50am/1350 ZULU
Two Chinook helicopters were on the flight line at the Fremont Airport. In one chopper, a group of medical and child specialists were with the fifteen girls who were rescued. One of them clinging close to her newly-found father.
Frank walked on the tarmac. The early morning orange-gold sun of what would be another warm spring-tease day on the plains beamed in his eyes. It dimmed next to his happy smile.
He looked up to the heavens. “Lieh Anh. I found her,” he thought. “I promise my life to our daughter. I wish you were here to see this.”
”Hey JARHEAD,” a voice yelled across the tarmac. A smiling, happy Agent Clayton was running across the tarmac. Most people think Toussaint Clayton doesn’t know how to smile. Right now, you could light up the world with the cheesing grin on his face.
”Hey CORNBREAD,” Frank said.
”CORNBREAD”?
”Yeah, son,” Frank said. “CORNBREAD is your new official Nebraska codename. No names on the net. Since you fought along side us, you get a name partner."
”I’ll take that,” Agent Clayton said.
He looked at the tiny, cute young lady next to Frank. “So is this…your daughter?”
”This is her,” Frank beamed. He hasn’t been this happy since the day Cao Vieh was born.
Agent Clayton smiled even wider. “Listen,” Clayton said. “I’m being sent back to HOTEL. That’s where the FBI field office moved to. I’m hitching a ride back. Sometime soon we need to talk, Frank.”
”What about?”
”Tyler Tyles,” Clayton said. “I will bring that man to justice. My justice. I want you to ride with me.”
Clayton didn’t need to ask twice. “Brother, I’m ready to saddle up when you are.”
”We’ll talk soon. Get on that chopper and hug your daughter. Take as much time as you can. With what’s going on, we may not have much time left.”
Frank and Cao Vieh boarded the Chinook with the other girls and the officials from Hastings.
One of the specialist notices the scruffy ex-Green Beret, still in battle dress. “You must be Frank McGonigal,” the pleasant thirty-something woman yelled over the rotors.
”Yes ma’am,” Frank responded.
”Suzanne Maddox, Hastings College School of Education. I’m a child psychologist.”
”Pleased to meet you ma’am.”
”Governor Kerrey told us about you, said you were coming along. I’m glad you are with us. The Governor told us you speak Vietnamese, we’ll need your advice and your help."
The Chinook lifted off and heading southwest toward Hastings and a safe haven.
”Ms. Maddox,” Frank asked. “How did all this come about. I know about Camp Wednesday and all.
”Yes,” Suzanne Maddox responded, “The Voice of the Cornhusker State is behind this. Her and JIMINY.”
”Yes…We have to use the codename on the transports…I know yours JARHEAD…I’m SCHOOLMARM.”
Frank laughed. Suzanne did have the look of the classic prairie schoolteacher. Thin brunette with the type of glasses that make her look bookish in a outfit that makes her look rather rural. Even the cadace of her voice harkened back to a time when Nebraska was just a territory. A time the state may be returning to.
Frank also notice that she is pretty.
”SCHOOLMARM, Huh?”
She smiled. “Yeah, that’s me. I love kids and I care about their development. And we need that in rural areas even more…and if things get worse…we’ll really need it.”
Suzanne felt distressed and afraid at that moment. Frank couldn’t blame her.
”I’ll tell you one thing ma’am,” Frank said. “If things go to hell, we have some good people making decisions. People like PEGLEG…”
”And JIMINY,” Suzanne added.
”I’ve heard a lot about this ‘JIMINY’ Will I get to meet him or her.”
”Him.” Suzanne answered. “He’ll be at the airport when we land.”
Colfax County Building – Schuyler, Nebraska – 8:00 am CST/1400 ZULU
The lines leading into the county building were overflowing, even with diverting people to Norfolk, Columbus and Fremont. The uncertain situation in Fremont led many people here.
In the middle is Colfax County’s Sheriff. He’s trying his best to keep things calm, along with Schuyler’s Mayor. Two old friends from high school through thick and thin..and right now, the situation is thick and patience is getting thin.
”Thankfully, FEMA and NEMA have set up a camp on the backside of Wagner Mills. We have shelters ready, thanks to our friend from Omaha, but so many people are flocking to here and Norfolk.” The Mayor said.
”Can’t blame them,” the Sheriff said. “Especially with what happened in Columbus and Fremont.”
”I heard a loud explosion coming from there this morning,” the Mayor said.
”According to the Dodge County Sheriff, the national guard moved on those white supremacists out there this morning. They arrested Fremont’s Mayor.”
”He was involved with them?”
”Him and most of the city council,” the Colfax Sheriff said. “I’m worry about these kooks…and the arms they had. They weren't typical of those type of folks."
”What do you mean?”
”Most of these wannabe Klansmen have second-hand stuff. You know, guns you get at a gun meet or a swap. Maybe surplus stuff at the gun shop. These guys were equipped with the same things our boys are using in Germany right now. These guys had weapons civilians aren’t supposed to have."
”And they aren’t alone,” the Sheriff continued. “I got a radio dispatch from the sheriff’s office out near Chadron. A road gang attacked a convoy of refugees last night. 19 dead, 31 wounded.”
”Dear Lord,” the Mayor said. “Is this what we are coming to?”
”That’s not the worst of it. The people were part of a convoy coming from Pine Ridge, South Dakota. Sioux folks. They were trying to get to North Platte.
”You remember that attack up at Winnebago last week?” the Mayor asked.
”Yes, I heard about that.”
”Well some of those people are here. There’s a man who was at the attack at the refugee camp. He gave some information to FEMA about this.”
”I want a word with this man,” the Sheriff said. “He may have seen those Fremont jackasses. I need to know what I might be up against."
BASE ALPHA/Geneva, Nebraska – Executive Briefing Room – 8:05 am/1405 ZULU
”WHY THE HELL AM I JUST HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW!” The Governor roared in agitation.
”I just got the dispatch, too,” the State Patrol Commander said. “With all the scrambling we’re all doing, we’re all spread out. The county sheriffs are spread thin, too.”
”Jesus Christ! 19 DEAD? It’s bad enough that we have a small army out in Fremont, but now this? This Tyles bastard has been selling weapons statewide?!”
”We don’t know if Tyler Tyles was involved.”
”Major,” The Governor said. “They hit the van with an RPG with a warhead that disintegrated the van and caused a 50-yard firestorm. Where the hell does some local yokel get something like that? You sure as hell can’t get this hardware at the bait and tackle shop.”
”And to top it off, A hero to this state had a cross burnt on his lawn last night.”
”What?” the state patrol commander was stunned when he heard that.
”It happened in Kearney. Local police said that some people wearing hoods and sheet burnt a cross. Reportedly, it was at a house Turner Gill was staying at.”
”Who the hell would want to mess with Turner Gill?”
”Maybe Klansmen don’t watch football, Major.”
”Klan? In Nebraska?
”This is the type of thing that will hurt us. I have to tell the people of Nebraska about this in 20 minutes or so.”
”Governor,” the state patrol commander pleaded. “Maybe you shouldn’t yet. Let my people look into it.”
”Everybody needs to look into this right now,” the Governor answered. “Let me tell you. A nuclear bomb doesn’t discriminate. Unfortunately, people do. That’s why I’m taking this case to the people.”
The Governor sighed. “I’d have paid any amount of money to have seen Tyler Tyles get a bullet in his head today. “
A Soviet mobile missile launcher in East Germany. 1405 ZULU.
Major Pavel Andreivich Markin, Sovetskaya Armiya. Oktyabrsky, Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik.
Major Markin was fidgety. He didn’t get his morning run in today. He’s barely had a chance in the last few, at least since the war with the imperialists started.
He looked to the west. Watching. Waiting. Deep down he’d rather be anywhere else. He’d rather be running with his little cousin.
His thoughts turned to his last vacation. Helsinki, last summer. He went to the Athletics World Championships to see his little cousin run and run fast.
It was the last event of the week 4x400 relay. His cousin got the stick maybe a half-meter ahead of a dangerous American sprinter. This same sprinter beat him earlier in the week in the 400 meters by an inch for a spot in the finals.
The cousin that Pavel cheered for, trained and pushed as kids wouldn't be denied. He held off the American to secure the gold for the relay team and the Rodina.
Down on the track His cousin Viktor celebrated with his teammates and then looked up at the stands. There was Pavel looking down happily.
Viktor yelled to him from the track, “Come down Pavel Andreivich! Come! Share this with me!”
Pavel streaked down the stadium stairs. He ignored the security and jumped the railing onto the track. Together there they were on the track in Helsinki. Both waving the scarlet banner of the Soviet Motherland. Their image played all over the Soviet Union on that night's Vremya. Their picture frozen forever on the front page of next day’s Pravda.
”Comrade Major!” the corporal ran up to him, holding a piece of paper. “You have orders, sir.”
”Spasibo, Corporal”
His eye grew wide as he read the orders. He confirmed with the two other officers.
”Major Markin, did you read this??” another Major asked. “Are they mad?”
The third officer chided the second. “You panic monger. Our motherland calls us to duty!”
Pavel read the orders again. He couldn’t believe it.
”Authentication confirmed – Set yield for 20kt, target is NATO headquarters at Kassel."
The order chilled him to the bone.
Pavel looked to the heavens. Something the psychological screens nor the unit zampolit caught about Major Markin. He was as much a devout orthodox Christian as he was a proud Soviet soldier. “May God have mercy on us all,” he thought.
Pavel entered the launcher with his fellow officers. “Enter priming keys.” Each officer entered the keys.
”Enter launch sequence code”
The codes were entered. Each matched their pre-programmed orders.
”Comrade Major, place yield selection..20 kilotons."
”Yield selected.”
”Turn keys on mark for final launch sequence..” MARK!
The Scud rose in the afternoon sky…ready for launch
“Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven….Six….Five….Four…Three….Two….One…."
”PUSK!”
The Major pushed the button…and the Scud raced off the pad of the mobile launcher…
Pavel silently prayed as the missile blasted away toward West Germany. In
less than 4 minutes, Kassel would be no more..
Kassel, West Germany … 1414 ZULU
”Colonel Cathcart, the Soviets are pulling back,” the Lieutenant said..
At that moment…alarms screamed…INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!”
The Colonel picked up the phone, “Radar…what do you have?!”
”Single target…speeding fast towards us inbound.”
”Plot interception course and fire interceptor rocket!”
”Almost have a plotting solu-----“
A loud pulsing tone came through the phone line.
It was the last thing Colonel James Longstreet Cathcart would ever hear.
The bright light blanketed Kassel. It would be the last thing he would ever see.
His last feeling of his life would be the feeling of his porcelain skin, roughened by growing up in West Texas, melting and burning off of his bones.
The man who used the first nuclear weapon in anger in almost 40 years, was destroyed by the second.
to be continued.
