Gordon Ryan - State of Rebellion

“First, ever since Senator Turner began beating the drum for his secession mania during the primary campaign, the Shasta Brigade has been vocal in their support. They jumped on that message like flies around a pig sty. But that’s a given. Most militia units feel that way. Second, after the general election in November, when that Turner-sponsored referendum for secession passed-by a surprisingly large margin, I might add-the brigade increased its rhetoric, and the sty got a whole lot larger, and so did the swarm of flies. The militia units in every state west of the Mississippi ate it up, and every gun-toting nut in the west joined in the hysteria. Their campaign to physically intimidate California government officials who oppose secession-including our governor-is reprehensible.”

Rawlings nodded in agreement, briefly amused at the General’s frequent use of barnyard metaphors. But Del Valle is right, Rawlings thought as he recalled the deliberate event two months earlier when the governor’s wife and daughter had been involved in a vehicular accident. The California Highway Patrol had ruled it a run-off-the-road, intentional assault on their vehicle. No one had been hurt, but the message had been clear.

“Third,” Del Valle said, reciting known facts as if he were making a case to a jury, “when the me-first, anything-goes, liberal crowd challenged the election results, and the superior court judicial panel ruled it unconstitutional, what, six months ago, the California Patriot Movement as they call themselves, took on a decidedly nasty IRA tactic. They killed. . no, executed, they called it, Judge Rowe and Judge Chen, and publicly claimed responsibility. The only reason they didn’t get Judge Evans is that he was in Europe. As far as I know, he still is, and I don’t blame him for a minute. And then, finally, the governor sent the whole convoluted mess to the California Supreme Court, and they’ve been sucking their thumbs for months, too scared to act. Can’t blame them, can we?”

Dan could see that while the general had been silent while they were flying, he had not been mentally wandering. He’d put the whole picture into perspective, as Dan had seen him do numerous times over the several years Dan had served in the guard.

“General,” Rawlings said, “we don’t actually know the militia committed those murders. It might have suited their needs to claim responsibility.”

“Are you crazy, Captain? What did they teach you in that law school? They did it, all right. They’ve banded together under this ‘patriot movement’ umbrella. Son, we’ve got to accept the fact that we have the makings of a full-fledged, Irish-type insurrection on our hands. A real ‘let-my-people-go’ barnburner. You can see how fifty years of internal war practically destroyed Northern Ireland. Their cities and towns were totally boarded up for a quarter of a century. Believe me, this secession fever will escalate faster than crib corn can flow through a goose.”

“That just seems hard to accept, General, no matter how the facts stack up. We’re all Americans.”

“ What?” Del Valle bellowed into his mike, sharply banking the helicopter to avoid a flock of birds. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that ‘ we’re all Americans’ line. Every time I went overseas, people would ask me, ‘What are Americans really like?’ Captain, there are three hundred and thirty million of us. You believe we all think and act alike? If only five percent are wackos, that means fifteen million people are willing to beat your brains out in a New York minute, commit the most heinous crimes against your wife-or you -or kidnap and torture your kids. Then-and this is the really sad part-when the police catch the sorry animals and they’re hauled into court, they want you to believe that they had the right to do it, because society treated them wrong or their mommy didn’t love them enough. It’s as scary as a scene out of Dante’s Inferno . And if this secession goes through and California becomes a republic, after thirty-two years in this uniform, I’ll be in command of a foreign army. You think I want that?”

“No, sir. None of us want that.”

“Rephrase that, son,” Del Valle said, his voice calmer. “If we’re to believe the election results, most Californians do want that.”

“It’s just. . well, sir, it is hard to swallow. I can’t fathom the reason for it, or for the senseless killing of Lieutenant McFarland this morning.”

“Well, you’d better wake up and smell the coffee. And as despicable as it is, it’s not a senseless killing. If you had a spy in your unit, and you considered yourself at war, you’d kill him, too. Unless we can get a grip, war’s coming in one of its ugliest forms-internecine-family-to-family, and Mama ain’t gonna be able to make the boys play nice-nice. If we can control it politically, without violence-and believe me, that’s what Governor Dewhirst is trying his darnedest to do-we will. Otherwise, we-those of us in uniform-are in for a guerrilla war the likes of which will make my jungle cruise in Vietnam seem like a vacation. Can you imagine fighting in our own cities? Door-to-door? Against our own people?”

“What can we do about it, General-the guard, I mean?” Rawlings asked.

“I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do. . hold on a moment.”

As the Jet Ranger crossed the northern edge of Roseville, Del Valle leaned forward and changed the channel on the radio, listening for several moments to the Mather ATIS system for weather and wind conditions. Then he keyed the transmit button on his cyclic control.

“Mather tower, this is Army two-six-Bravo, Bell helicopter on final, just over Roseville, info Whiskey and squawking VFR, approaching from the northeast.”

“Roger, Army two-six-Bravo,” the tower responded. “You are cleared for an approach on the east side to the guard area. Wind from the west at six knots, gusting to fifteen. Remain clear of the approach to runway two-two-left.”

“Roger that, Mather. Stay clear of two-two-left. Army two-six-Bravo, out.”

With the National Guard hangar in sight, Del Valle banked the helicopter and began his descent, scanning the horizon for opposing traffic.

“What we’re gonna do, son, is smoke the grizzlies out. And you’re going to run the show, reporting directly to me. I’m going to pull you from the JAG office, covertly, of course, and assign you to the CID. I want you to select a junior officer and two good non-coms. Be sure you can trust them, and I don’t say that lightly. Some of our boys might already be in the brigade. . of their own choosing. I want to know where that elusive militia is training and what they’re up to.”

“We’re going to put another man inside?” Rawlings asked.

“No. They’ll be watching for that. Besides, I have a feeling the FBI already has a man inside.”

“The FBI?”

“How else do you figure they got the news so fast this morning?”

“Of course,” Rawlings replied, shifting his body for a better look at the approaching runway.

“Watch the stick!” Del Valle said, as Rawlings’ knee jostled the duplicate control.

“Sorry, General.”

“Needless to say, keep this information confidential, and make sure you get volunteers for your team. It’s not going to be easy. The ‘Movement’ has already admitted to killing those who oppose their dreams of glory and freedom.”

Del Valle flared the helicopter, setting it down gently on the crosshatch markings.

“By thunder, I missed the mark by nearly a foot,” Del Valle grinned as the Bell settled onto the ground. “Guess I need another ten hours of flight time.”