Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

“Tragedy has apparently struck tonight in downtown Boise, Idaho, where a number of shots were fired outside the state capitol building, the site of an ongoing and increasingly violent demonstration. National Guard troops dispatched by Idaho governor James Montaine to augment the state police are alleged to have fired into the crowd of protestors, with some reports indicating that as many as sixty or seventy gunshots were fired. Now, we do not have any official word on the number of casualties, but some raw video shot by a CBS aerial camera drone would seem to confirm soldiers have fired their weapons, and we should perhaps prepare for terrible news from Boise. Taking you now to that video •—

—• another video angle sent to us via the CNN Citizen Reporter app. We should warn you the footage you’re about to see is very graphic and may not be suitable for sensitive or younger viewers, but it reminds one less of a police action and more of an all-out battle, with •—

—• word yet on whether any arrests have been made, Tom. Everything here on the ground is still very chaotic. I’m standing about a block away from the heart of the riot. As you can see, the situation behind me is one of total panic and devastation. Moments ago, hundreds of shots rang out. Then my camera crew and I were nearly trampled as the protestors rushed to escape the •—

—• No word yet from Governor Montaine or the president, but certainly we can expect a response from authorities very soon. We will continue to bring you updates as they come in. Until then, we’re going to go to Dr. Timothy Hemand of Princeton University, an expert in crisis situation management. He’s studied these types of mass shootings and has served as an advisor on numerous panels, including •—

Sometime later I felt hands on my arms. Kemp, maybe. Sparrow too. They stood me up and led me away with the rest of the squad.

Somehow we found ourselves alone in a windowless boardroom somewhere in the basement of the capitol. The room was dimly lit and empty except for a long wooden table surrounded by cushioned swivel chairs. The walls were stark white and blank except for a row of framed photographs. Military guys. Some generals. A colonel. They were the Idaho Army National Guard chain of command photos. There was a set like this in the 476th armory, showing who was in command all the way up to the governor and the president. I stared at them, not able to look at my squad.

Officers came in and confiscated our gas masks, weapons, and comms. Then they left us alone again. After a while, most of the guys sat down.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sergeant Kemp said. I jumped and spun around to see the sergeant slap his hands down on the table. His face was bright red and there was sweat on his brow, even though it was cold in the air-conditioning.

I shook my head. “Sergeant, I didn’t—”

Kemp waved his hand as though brushing my comment aside. He leaned over the table toward Meyers. “Why the hell did you fire?”

Meyers’s face twisted into a kind of snarl as he stood up. “You talking to me, Sergeant Kemp?”

“Damned right I am!” Kemp pushed himself away from the table and paced the room.

“Well, you better check that attitude right now, Sergeant Kemp, because—”

“What are you going to do? Court-martial me?” Kemp threw his hands up. “We’re probably already headed to prison for that colossal screwup out there!”

Meyers circled the table in four long, fast strides. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

Kemp ran at Meyers and grabbed him by his uniform coat. “Why’d’ya shoot!?”

“There were shooters in the crowd. Self-defense!” Meyers shoved Kemp back.

“Bullshit!” Kemp drew back his fist.

“Luchen!” I dove for Sergeant Kemp, caught his arm, and pulled him clear. Luchen knocked his chair over as he rushed for Meyers, dropping his shoulder into Meyers’s gut and doing his best to push the big staff sergeant back.

“Let him go,” Kemp said. He threw his elbow into my stomach to break away. He held up his fists for a fight, but the other guys had rushed between them both now. Everybody except Lieutenant McFee.

“You shouldn’t have fired,” Sergeant Kemp growled.

Meyers backed away from the guys, holding his arms out from his sides as though he was so stacked that he couldn’t put them down. He made a big show of breathing real loud through his nose and staring at Kemp. The quiet settled. “We took fire from armed protestors in the crowd. I called Lieutenant McFee for instructions. He ordered us to fire.”

“That is not what happened!” Kemp said.

“Yes it is!” Meyers stepped up to the lieutenant. “LT?” McFee did not look up. Meyers grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “LT! You told us to fire, right? You gave the order. Tell him.”

“I don’t care what he says,” Sergeant Kemp said. “That is not what happened!”

“Listen to me, you dumb sons of bitches!” Meyers shouted. “It doesn’t matter what really happened out there. Okay? I don’t know what really happened. Neither do you.” He pointed at one of the generals on the wall, at the picture of Governor Montaine. “But these guys are going to want to know. They’re going to bust in here any second and we better have an answer for them.”

Was he talking about cooking up a story? A cover-up? When people were dead? How did I get stuck in the middle of something like this? I couldn’t let them lie for me. Dad always used to say that a man should never lie to avoid responsibility for the wrong he’s done.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” I said quietly.

Specialist Stein sat back in his chair. Everyone but me sat down too. “They did have guns,” said Stein. “I swear to God there was more than one guy shooting at us from the crowd. That’s why—” He swallowed. “That’s why I fired. Shooting at them.”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” I said louder.

Kemp glared at Stein. “There was no way that—”

“I shot first!” I shouted. “I got nailed in the middle of my mask by a rock and I… I don’t know… I jerked the trigger or something. The weapon fired. It’s my fault.”

Sergeant Kemp slouched in his seat. He put his face in his hands. “It’s okay, Wright. It might have happened to anyone.”

“Yeah,” said PFC Nelson. “But the Army gets real pissed about accidental discharge.”

“Yeah,” Meyers said. He looked hard at Kemp. “One of the guys in your team—”

“In your squad!” Kemp said.

“In my squad,” Meyers agreed, speaking calmly. “In the lieutenant’s platoon. We’re all in this. And we better figure out what we’re going to say because when they start asking—”

Sergeant Ribbon sprang to his feet. “Atten- tion !”

We all stood up and snapped to attention as an officer in a dark blue Army service dress uniform opened the door. He stood for a moment in the shadows at the end of the room. I couldn’t see him all that well, because at the position of attention I couldn’t move my head, but out of the corner of my eye I could tell he wore a ton of ribbons on his chest. He took three even steps forward until he stood in the glow cast by the lights over the table.

“At ease,” said the officer. We all shifted so that we stood with our feet shoulder width apart and our hands behind our backs. Now that I was allowed to move my head, I saw he was a short man, broad in the chest, with his little remaining gray hair buzzed short to Army regulations. “I’m Brigadier General McNabb, Commander, Idaho Army National Guard.” The general looked at each of us in turn. “You soldiers can relax. Have a seat.”