Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

“I swear we were being fired on,” Meyers said.

General McNabb nodded. “There was a casualty in the café behind your position, a fifteen-year-old girl. From the limited information we’ve gathered so far, you would have had to turn around and fire away from the crowd, deliberately targeting the café.”

“We didn’t!” Specialist Stein said.

The general held up his hand. “I know. You couldn’t possibly be responsible for that casualty.”

“They’re not responsible for any of the casualties,” said the governor. Everybody watched him. “Maybe there were guns in that crowd. Maybe not. All the video footage I’ve seen so far is mostly a confused and garbled scramble, partially hidden by smoke and tear gas by the time the shooting started. Can’t tell what’s going on. We may never know the truth. But we do know that the numbers aren’t adding up. You soldiers couldn’t possibly have caused all the casualties.

“As governor, I’m responsible for all of this. I should have called in more law enforcement earlier so the situation didn’t get so bad. Maybe that would have prevented this. I don’t know. But I do know that I gave the National Guard a lawful order to stop an unlawful and dangerous riot. That’s what they did. They carried out my orders. That’s the end of the story.”

He took a moment to look us all over. Either he was a great politician, or he was being really honest, because I believed him. He pulled a chair out from the table, sat down, and leaned forward. “Listen to me, because I promise you this. I will not sell you out. Things are going to get ugly for a while. People are already upset about what happened. But so far, nobody knows which units were there to stop the riot. We’re going to keep it that way.” He looked toward the general. “I’m ordering this whole thing classified. Nobody will ever know the identities of the soldiers involved in this. Nobody will know which officers gave what orders. Any matter of investigation on this issue must come directly to me, General.”

“Understood, sir.” The general snapped to attention. “With your permission, I’d like to begin carrying this order out immediately.”

“Do that, General McNabb. Also, get some helicopters ready to take these men home. The faster we get them back, the fewer people will know they were here.” He motioned to us. “Do not talk about this event with anyone. Not even your family. This is for your protection and theirs. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you aren’t punished for carrying out my orders, but you have to help by keeping your involvement in this a complete secret. If anyone does know you were activated tonight, you will tell them that you were simply on standby in case the situation worsened and you were needed. You flew down to Boise where you sat in an armory all night.”

I checked my watch. A quarter to one in the morning. I hoped they’d hurry up and get us back. I’d told Mom I was going to be out late with the guys, but if she’d seen the news about this and got the idea I was involved… I tried not to think about how bad she’d be freaking out.

“I’m sorry this happened,” said the governor. “I’m sorry about the deaths and injuries. Sorry you’re caught in the middle of it.” His jaw seemed to tense. “If that… president hadn’t passed that…” He held his hands up. “Sorry. This isn’t the time for politics.” He stood. “I have a lot of work to do. Stay here and try to relax. Someone will be here soon to get you once your transportation has been arranged.” He looked us over again. I felt his eyes stop on me, but I couldn’t meet them. “You did your jobs tonight. You are soldiers, and sometimes soldiers have to do… unpleasant things.” There was a long pause. “Thank you for your service.”

I kept my eyes fixed on the table until long after he’d left. Eventually some officers arrived, giving our comms back and escorting us to the helicopters that waited to take us home.

I had felt proud to wear my uniform on the way home from my first weekend drill at the beginning of the month. I’m not gonna lie. I even made an extra stop at a gas station to buy pop and beef jerky, just so I could walk around in public as a soldier. I didn’t feel proud about anything tonight. As soon as we returned to the 476th Engineer Company armory, I changed into some old sweats that I found in my locker. I crammed my MCUs into my duffel bag and drove home in silence, leaving my comm and radio shut off. I didn’t want to hear any news.

At home, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Mom asleep in her recliner, covered up with Dad’s old Army blanket. The living room screen was on with a reporter in Boise. “You can see that behind me, some sort of canvas barricade has been put in place, and we can only assume that this is to keep us from seeing the cleanup after tonight’s tragedy. Although the protests here have been crushed, outrage is already building in cities across—”

“Living room screen, off,” I said. The stupid thing blinked out. Then I stood in the dark, listening to Mom’s slow, deep breathing. Would I ever feel peace like that again? Would I ever get the images of blood, of that girl’s torn body, out of my head? I bit my fist as my eyes stung.

“Danny?” Mom’s voice was quiet in the dark.

“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

“What are you doing?”

I swallowed. “I got home a second ago. I was about to wake you so you could go to bed.” I turned away from her so that in case she switched the lamp on, she wouldn’t see the tears on my cheeks. “You know you always have a sore neck if you sleep all night in your chair.”

“Ah, you worry too much,” she said. “Did you have a nice night?”

“Yeah, Mom.” I swallowed. “It was just great.”

—• Welcome back to Sunday on Fox News. A nation mourns the tragedy at Boise. While details of what actually happened remain sketchy at best, we have now received word that the families of all the victims have been notified of their injuries or deaths, and the victims’ names are now being released. We do not yet know much about those who were killed or injured, but we will be bringing you that information as soon as it is available. The list of those confirmed dead after the shootings: Nineteen-year-old Allison Danter of Twin Falls, Idaho. Twenty-one-year-old Damarcus Washington of Boise. William Seiffert, nineteen years old, from Bozeman, Montana. •—

—• Sandra Schneider, a twenty-year-old nursing major at Boise State. Jeffrey Markinson, also twenty, who was studying to become a teacher. Brittany Barker, only fifteen years old, was a bystander in a café well behind the soldiers. Her parents say she dreamed of being an actress. Three of the twelve who were killed in Boise Friday. More on this when Sunday with the Press continues •—

—• Weekend from NPR News. I’m Renae Matthews. I’m here with Craig White, author of Sixty-Seven Bullets: Understanding the Kent State University Shootings . Craig, your book focuses not only on May 4, 1970, when Ohio National Guardsmen were responsible for the deaths of four young people on the Kent State University campus, but also on the aftermath of that tragedy. There are obviously some similarities between Friday night’s shootings and those at Kent State. What do you think we can expect to see unfold from these events?”

“Well, Renae, first, I think it’s really quite inaccurate to refer to the murder of twelve innocent people as ‘The Battle of Boise.’ That implies that the twelve dead and nine wounded had some chance of fighting back. Just like at Kent State, these innocent people had no chance once the National Guardsmen began firing. This is really a massacre, and if Governor Montaine gets his way, this could all work out a lot like it did at Kent State, when nearly every legal authority agreed the Guardsmen were unjustified in killing the students, but that somehow killing the students did not interfere with their civil rights. •—