Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I (33 page)

22 March: 1500

“Damnit David, we’ve been on opposite sides for years, but this isn’t some budget showdown. You people can’t keep playing these games. You offer blanket amnesty one day, total war the next. We need a concentric and consistent plan to put this country together again. It’s time to quit screwing around. We’re talking about the future of the Union. The future of democracy!” The president subconsciously avoided the windows in the refurbished Oval Office.

The new Speaker of the House, the hastily appointed replacement to that unlucky post, held up his hand. “For once, you’re correct. That’s why we can’t afford new elections right now. Probably not for a long time to come. You’re the best man to handle this crisis. Mr. President, your resignation will not be accepted.” They both pretended like that mattered.

“Meaning I’m the sacrificial lamb? What did I ever do to you? Seriously, you’re taking this in the wrong direction. We’ve lost control. One side has to give in or this division will be permanent. Elections allow everyone to save a little face, as well.”

“Damnit, Mr. President! You were right; we were wrong. There, are you happy? When’s the last time some Representative sat in your office and told you that? Your term has already been extended for one year by a near unanimous vote, something unprecedented in US history, and now you want to back down?”

After fighting uphill for so long, the president struggled to grasp that other politicians could believe in him. As much as he tried to rationalize it, he knew that things had moved way beyond who was sitting in the Oval Office. Too much had changed, and too many people liked the changes. Whether the East or the West or whatever side won didn’t matter much. Either way, peace would only be found on the other side of war. Maybe he could speed up that process and make it as painless as possible.

“Ok, but if you’re going to stick me with all this responsibility, you’re going to give me the necessary authority. No standing around acting innocent and self-righteous when I send American soldiers to fight against other American soldiers. No pretending you had nothing to do with it.”

The Speaker didn’t even try to act as if he had no idea what the president meant. “I understand. That’s the main issue I wanted to discuss today.” He delved into his bag and tossed the president a binder. There were no aides or advisors in this meeting.

“Here’s what we’ve been working on since California went off the deep end. The vote’s in the morning.”

It didn’t take him long to read it all. The resolution was short and vague for a reason.

“My God. I’m surprised this even got out of committee. Maybe you can swing the votes, but the Senate will never accept this. It’ll take so much watering down to pass as to be meaningless.”

“Give us some credit, Mr. President. This draft was written by a bicameral and bipartisan committee. No political games this time. Its passage is a mere formality.” The congressman grinned wide, crossed his legs and threw a flabby arm over the sofa’s back.

“Sir, I don’t think you really appreciate the new political landscape we’re working in. Just like in the Civil War,” the president grimaced at the comparison, “our colleagues from belligerent states in both houses have been expelled. Well, they’re still physically here in Washington and some of these sad souls wander into session. They aren’t recognized to speak and their votes don’t count, but they try anyway. You should see how irate they get. The Capitol Police have to kick someone out almost every day! Which is a hell of a funny sight to see.” He laughed a little at this one bright spot in the whole disaster.

“Anyway, the net effect of all the chaos is that 142 representatives and 36 senators have been banned, killed or in the hospital. Since the rest are terrified, it’s breathtaking what we can accomplish. A painful weeding process, to be sure, but incredibly effective.”

The president wasn’t so excited. “This thing is essentially a domestic War Powers Act. You are authorizing me in advance to do anything I want. As you so loosely state it: ‘
To approve and confirm any necessary acts of the President of the United States, for suppressing insurrection, rebellion and domestic terrorism
.’ What’s the catch?”

“None whatsoever…as long as you win this war.”

“So, you all would make me a dictator just to avoid the responsibility of making decisions on your own?” The president shook his head in resignation, not in refusal.

The congressman didn’t look half as embarrassed as he should have. “Come on, you know wars can’t be led by a committee. We are in dire need of true leadership. Someone to do the dirty, grey area of the Constitution work. Just the type of terrible decisions that no politician worrying about reelection can make. Plus, let’s face it, you are either the most beloved or hated man in this country. No one alive today, for better or worse, can shrug you off as a weakling.”

The president said nothing as he wandered away from the sofa and towards his desk. He produced a pack of Newport Menthols from a bottom drawer, took one out and tapped the tobacco far longer than necessary. There was a lighter in there too, but he didn’t touch it. He hadn’t had a cigarette since the reelection over four years ago. Sure, he made a promise to his wife, his kids and to himself, but come the hell on! That was all before this shit popped up. Twirling the cancer stick, he bought some time.

“Let’s make it clear from the start, Mr. Speaker, so there are no false perceptions. You realize that I’ll have to slap Florida under martial law, right? It may even be necessary to suspend Habeas Corpus temporarily and the right to bear arms in much of the country. Hell, for rebel-held and occupied lands, the Constitution will be an extremely flexible document. I don’t want to do it, God help me I’ve tried everything to avoid getting this far, but I won’t hesitate to use every ounce of power that you give me.”

The congressman didn’t hesitate before answering. “We all know that. It’s not something we relish either, but someone has to assume the role. You’re now that someone.”

The president wrestled with his disgust. “So that’s it? With the stroke of a pen, you’ll hand the delicate virtue of a 240-year-old republic into the hands of a dictator? All to avoid assuming a little responsibility.”

“Beat your chest all you please, but ending this war quickly and with minimum destruction for both sides is going to be an epic challenge. You stand the best chance of pulling it off.”

The president leaned back, digging his head into his chair. “Yeah, I bet they told Caesar the same thing.”

He didn’t mention his primary fear. The real challenge of giving up that absolute power when the job was done. The president snatched the lighter from his drawer. He sucked deeply on the delicious, minty tar air. He prayed he was strong enough to give up at least one of these vices eventually.

25 March: 1000

Donaldson basked in herodom and sunshine on a Cuban beach with thousands of other runaway Florida fighters. They all tried to avoid watching television. They also tried to ignore their leaders always walking around in deep conversation with their Cuban counterparts and some wild-eyed man in a Hawaiian shirt.

Out West, the population and their leaders slowly woke up to the novel idea that the Federal Government wasn’t even close to falling, no matter how much hopeful rhetoric they told themselves. All those fence sitters were finally forced to pick a side. That helped the fledging new government more than the old. Every day brought new regular military desertions to their cause. Often in whole bases with much of their equipment and most of their personnel. Most of the staff, but never all.

More civilians were also migrating west than east. That was far more important than the raw numbers suggested. Someone willing to leave their home and strike out for something new is the most loyal and motivated type of citizen you could find. At least most fanatical, as some critics pointed out.

So many people, both in America and America 2.0, wondered when the other shoe would drop. The weakness of the central government was a driving force behind the referendums in the first place, but when they didn’t fold people got worried. Why weren’t they stomping on the West? Crushing these people they so vehemently called rebels?

The baby new government consisted of just 14 states: Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska. Barely a third of the population of the United States, and that was only paper strength. Here in the early stages of the separation, the reality was less impressive. In every state loyal to the new nation there existed vocal and sometimes militant minorities threatening the new system. Some towns and whole counties, especially along the nebulously defined border, were more hostile than the real USA.

Not that the Feds were in much better shape. Their sweeping military advantage existed only in the media’s imagination. A large chunk of the Armed Forces, especially air and naval assets, were still deployed overseas. To redeploy them stateside would take weeks. Large losses, particularly in equipment, during the “low intensity domestic operations” in Florida took yet another big bite out of immediately available resources. Garrisoning a tropical land of 19 million hostiles drained even more.

Concerns, well, panic over the loyalty of the various state reserves and National Guard forces ensured they would not be committed to battle any time soon. This paranoia, arguably justified, nevertheless resulted in the United States voluntarily removing half their army from the equation. When you consider the gargantuan defections to the west, from individual soldiers going AWOL to whole brigades assimilating into the new rebel command structure, the military balance between the two sides approached equality.

Besides the lack of military options, the single biggest concern holding back both US governments was political. More accurately, no one had a clue what the hell to do. This stuff was all so damn new. Breaking away from the crumbling old government was one thing; figuring out what to do next was something else. Not to mention that, so far, military action hadn’t paid off so well. Something the Feds could attest to.

The two sides continually cast about for quick solutions to this incredibly difficult strategic situation, but kept coming up short. Neither leadership camp could accept that the only way to win this fight was to launch a long, protracted land war to subdue and occupy the enemy. A massive, continent spanning war appeared necessary, but also impossible. The politicians couldn’t imagine the population of either side stomaching such a war. Of course, a negotiated peace settlement was even more unimaginable.

Unlike the Florida fiasco, the two sides would not stumble into this fight. They’d have to approach the slaughter with their eyes wide open. Every day of political inaction strengthened the cohesiveness of the new nation’s military and government while sapping the power of the old. Well, draining power, but not resolve.

The West represented 40% of the American land mass, not something that could be blitzed even if the US military was at full strength. They were no banana republic to be steamrolled in a day’s campaigning. A gargantuan buildup would be needed. A generation defining type of expansion to the Armed Forces not seen since the Second World War.

So, with surprisingly little reluctance, that’s what the leadership on both sides set out to do. What needs to be done must be done. If it just so happens that billions could be made in the process, well, there’s no reason that patriotism can’t be profitable.

Oh, and profitable it was. Shortly after the new nation’s foundation, thousands of Preppers “bugged out.” They were ready for the widespread disruption to the financial institutions and trade infrastructure. Civilization did not implode; that would have been easier. No, it was more a sizzle. Sure, for a time, luxury goods were in terribly short supply. New smartphones, fancy cars and overpriced sports jerseys were hard to find at any price. To quite a few Americans, that alone was a sign of the Apocalypse.

However, production of the necessary things in life actually increased. When supply is crimped, prices soar. When prices jump, everyone becomes an entrepreneur and tries to make a quick buck from the disruption. Before you know it, supply will flood demand. Just like after a devastating hurricane, for example. Bottled water, canned food and fuel for generators are in short supply for a while, but not too long.

When someone in trouble is willing to pay a 300% premium for a gallon of gas, well, then you can’t argue the efficiency of a free market. Out of the goodness of their hearts, everyone and their mother fills up a car with whatever aid supplies have the highest profit potential and rushes in from out of state. Those first to market reap the rewards. Those coming later find an oversaturated market.

The Preppers were right about inflation though, but it was distributed fairly evenly. Everything went up in price, especially when, in a boldly populist move, both governments indexed minimum wage to inflation. Despite the government’s rampant money printing, wage increases nearly matched the price spikes. The Federal Reserve pumped an unprecedented, some would say unholy, stream of new dollars into the economy to calm the commodity markets. All they succeeded in accomplishing was fueling the fear more. At least they created bubbles across the board, rather than in any one asset class. They could get away with this without crashing the dollar mainly because of the economic wildfires consuming the rest of the world.

With heavy manufacturing slowly, but steadily returning stateside to take advantage of revitalized military spending, the Chinese Yuan became practically junk. You could forget the Euro. Those Europeans responded to the crisis with their typical wishful thinking. Cut government spending even further, except for welfare of course, while drastically hiking the already oppressive taxes.

It didn’t take long for the core Eurozone economies, France and Germany, to consume 60% of their gross domestic product with taxes. De facto communism, without at least partially effective central planning. It was impossible for the private sector to expand faster than the tax burden. They’d chewed their legs off to get out of a trap, only to bleed to death later.

By the time populist anti-austerity, anti-globalization politicians took over power, things were beyond repair. In Germany, a distant grand cousin of a once frightening Austrian celebrity would soon be addressing
dem deutschen Volke
as their latest chancellor. He had some interesting ideas about who was to blame for the disaster and what to do about it. The European Union experiment wouldn’t survive the year. That left the US the only safe harbor for vulnerable cash in this worldwide Tsunami, war or no war. The foreign money poured in. Stocks, bonds, real estate, all prospered, but the hottest investments were new arms manufacturer startups.

Making economic recovery even easier, the militarized border existed only on maps. It was just too long and far too new for any side to “secure the border.” With all the money to be made, cross-border trade continued the same as always. Sometimes overzealous customs agents made it necessary for trucks to take county roads and avoid the major interstate crossing points, but not always. Most of these “smugglers” operated in plain sight since they had no problem spreading a little of the wealth around to local custom officials and soldiers.

Regardless of the particular arrangements, the sealed border might be the most lucrative in the world. Wheat, corn, soybeans, potatoes… you name it, all these foodstuffs continued to find their way from the wide-open fields of the URA to the grocers of New York. There were also no shortages of coal or manufactured goods coming west in exchange. By the truck or trainload, you couldn’t stop people from making money. That’s the thing in America: Political passion runs deep…but capitalism runs deeper.