HELL CAME on a pretty day

As the captains walked away, I thought about the activity we were about to undertake. We were Americans planning to attack fellow Americans and kill them in an ambush that prevailed above all others. They would be attacked from the front, the rear, and both sides. They would surely perish in swift order. They would perish because politicians had mismanaged the country, stole all they could, bankrupted the Treasury, and divided the citizens. So I would kill those that continued to protect the status quo and follow General Jefferson to D.C., execute the inner circle of politicians, and help install General Jefferson as president. I remembered what the general said about eradicating fifty million people, and for the first time, I understood the reasoning—the country did not have the resources to provide a jump start for a new administration. The politicians had created a dependency country. Captain Everett reported to me forty minutes after our meeting. He reported that the ground was so soft in some areas that it was like quicksand. There was, however, sufficient ground for the heavy equipment, vehicles, and gunnery crews. I thanked him, reminded him there was only one hour before dawn, and then directed a driver of a two-wheeled vehicle with a side car to drive me to the different strategic positions. As we moved around marshes and suspect areas in our assigned ground, I was pleased with our preparedness, and I held out an open hand in a forward position to show my approval. The troops responded with a like signal, and I could see their eagerness. My adrenalin began to pump. I decided to prepare myself for front-line action, so I returned to my vehicle, got the two-wing assault rifle, and took a position on a slight slope that overlooked my troops and Elko Road. An hour passed, and the darkness melted away surrendering its dominance to a gray light that from my position revealed the positioning of my troops and the stretch of pavement that was Elko Road. My level of apprehension increased even more. I thought about the troopers as they lay in wait and the anxieties that each of them had to be experiencing. Each one had to experience his own exuberance; each one had to feel his own fear; each one had to face death alone if that was his fate. Rumbling sounds came from the east, and my heart beat faster. The gray light had cleared so much that my visibility was as good as in the middle of a sunny day. Then they came into view—stake body trucks that were twenty years old and loaded with United States soldiers. All logos had been removed from the trucks because of the assertion they resembled the flag, which had been out of vogue for several years. They continued on Elko Road slowly and deliberately, as if they were in slow motion. I prayed that none of my troops would jump the gun and begin firing before they heard gunfire from General Jefferson’s troops. A truck stopped directly in front of our position. I watched in disbelief as fingernails of my right hand dug into my left arm. The driver opened the truck door in a motion that I believed the hinges to be stuck. He finally pushed it open and lumbered out of the cab. My chest felt tight at the thought that my troops would open fire prematurely, while at the same time I wanted to yell out to the driver and ask him what the hell was he doing. I watched intently waiting for the soldiers to get out of the truck and start shooting at my troops. I watched and waited as the driver walked slowly to the rear of the truck, kicked a rubber tire that was twenty years old, and then shuffle back to the cab, get in, and drive forward. I breathed. My heart regained its rhythm. The trucks continued to drive into view, crawl past our area, and grow smaller as they headed west along the road. All hell suddenly erupted from the west. Booming explosions sounded over and over. Black smoke shot into the morning air poisoning the atmosphere and adding an ominous backdrop to the landscape. I smelled death even though I was miles away. Booming, deafening explosions sounded from my left, and rapid assault rifle fire tore at my eardrums. The sounds were so intense that it was difficult to focus. Then rapid rifle fire sounded from my area. A truck exploded in a fireball and shook the ground beneath me. I fell backwards and lost consciousness for a moment, but I drew myself up and looked at the road. Trucks were stopped and some were burning. Soldiers sitting in trucks on our side of the road were cut down like strands of wheat by our gunnery crews. Soldiers on the opposite side of the truck attempted to escape by propelling themselves over the railing of the truck bed and running toward the countryside. My mortar crews cut them to shreds. The road was suddenly clogged with burning trucks, disabled trucks, and dead bodies. Many of the soldiers were only wounded, and they moaned and screamed. Their cries were chilling.