Authors: Phoenix Rising

William W. Johnstone (2 page)

BOOK: William W. Johnstone

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Jake's preference for root beer was well known by everyone who had ever worked with him. What the general was referring to was the time Jake had made a run to Joint Base Balad for beer and soft drinks. Beer wasn't actually authorized due to cultural concerns and was officially banned by the military; however the civilian contractors were not constrained by such rules and they were a ready source of supply for the Army. But Jake had come back with only one case of beer and nineteen cases of root beer in the helicopter. He was never asked to make a beer run again.

“How many students do you have in your cycle right now?” the general asked.

“I have twelve.”

“Can you expedite them through? Double up on the flight hours?”

“Yes, sir, I suppose I could. It would mean rescheduling some of the ground schooling.”

“I want you to do that,” von Cairns said. He took a swallow of his coffee before he spoke again.

“Jake, I'm not much for politicsâI've always thought that as a professional soldier I should leave the politics to others. But I don't mind telling you, this new man we're about to swear in scares the hell out of me. I've heard some disturbing talk from some of my friends at DA. They are afraid he is going to start cutting our budget with a hatchet. If we don't get this cycle through quickly, we may not get them through at all.”

“Surely he wouldn't halt flight training, would he?” Jake asked. “So much of the Army is now oriented around aviation.”

“Did you watch George Gregoire last night?” von Cairns asked.

“I rarely miss it.”

“You might remember when Gregoire showed Ohmshidi speaking to the OWG group, he said, and I quote, âthe evil of so-called honorable military service
.
' This man doesn't just distrust the military, he hates the military. And he is about to become our commander in chief.”

“I understand, General,” Jake said. “I'll get the schedules revamped as quickly as I can.”

“You are a good officer, Jake. Would that I had a hundred just like you. It is a pleasure to have you in my command.”

“And I am honored to serve under you, General.”

General von Cairns stood up then, a signal that the meeting was over. Jake stood as well, and started to leave.

“Jake, are you still seeing that nurse? What is her name?”

“Karin Dawes, sir. Captain Karin Dawes.”

“Yes, she is the one I pinned the Bronze Star on last month, isn't she? She's a good woman. You could do worse.”

C
HAPTER
T
WO

Wednesday, January 18

Hello, America.

With just two days before we swear in our new president, I would like for us to take inventory of just where we are in this country.

Four decades of social engineering have begun to accrue in such a way as to presage disaster for the U.S.

Gregoire held his hands over his head and waved them as he rolled his eyes.

This is not just the ravings ofâmadâGeorge Gregoire. No, sir, and no, ma'am. Events over the last several years have borne me out.

Consider this. Stringent environmental laws have inhibited drilling in new fields for domestic oil. Those same laws have also limited refining capacity and dictated exotic cocktail blends of fuel for certain parts of the country. Even during times of critical fuel shortages, these blends cannot be transshipped from region to region.

Automobile companies are mandated CAFE standards and unnecessary safety features that add thousands of dollars to the base prices of cars.

Do you remember when we were young, how eagerly we looked for the new cars each year?

Gregoire changed the tone of his voice, mimicking the excitement.

Have you seen the new Ford? Yes, but wait until you see the new Chevy!

He was silent for a moment, masterfully playing his audience.

Tell me, America, when is the last time you greeted the new models with anything more than a yawn?

And have you noticed that fewer and fewer models are being introduced now? Proud names such as Plymouth, Oldsmobile, and Pontiac Trans Amâcars which we once lusted after, cars with style and performanceâare no more.

He began to sing,

What a thrill to take the wheel, of my brand-new Oldsmobile.

America, we have had a century-old deep and abiding love affair with cars, but now we find them boring. We look back on the cars of the fifties and sixties with a reverent nostalgia, and like most nostalgia, this is an unrequited loveâwe will never return to those days. Do you remember those yesterdays when we were young? Do you remember the sweetness of life then, as rain upon my tongue?

He began singing Roy Clark's “Yesterday When I Was Young.”

Oh, and how is this for intelligence? In California, federal courts, in order to preserve a two-inch inedible fish, have restricted the flow of water into some of the most productive agricultural areas in the country. And since California produces nearly fifty percent of the nation's fruits, nuts, and vegetables, this water restriction is already having a drastic impact on the market price.

Government interference with bank lending has caused the housing market to go bust, resulting in the loss of billions of dollars in personal equities across the country.

Gregoire, who was standing now, stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor, silent for a long moment before he spoke again. The camera came in tight on his face so he could give the audience his most sincere look.

My friends, this is the country that elected Mehdi Ohmshidi, a naturalized American born forty-seven years ago in Islamabad, Pakistan. I can only pray that we survive this monumental mistake.

Thursday, January 19

“All right, Candidate Lewis,” Jake told his flight student. “We've just received word from previous flights that the LZ is bracketed by small-arms fire from your nine o'clock, and shoulder-launched ground-to-air missiles from your three o'clock. How are you going to avoid the ground fire?”

“Make the approach below their angle of fire, sir,” the warrant officer candidate replied.

“Make it so,” Jake said, mimicking Captain Picard of
Star Trek.

As WOC Lewis started his descent, Jake saw a flock of geese approaching from the right.

“Watch the geese on your three o'clock,” Jake said.

“I see them,” Lewis answered. Lewis pulled the collective to try and go over them, but the geese were making the same maneuver.

“Damn!” Lewis shouted as several of the geese collided with the helicopter. Blood and feathers from those that hit the main rotor suddenly appeared on the windshield. There was also a sudden and severe vibration at the same time they could hear the high-pitched whine of the tail rotor drive shaft spinning without any resistance.

“I've got it!” Jake shouted, taking the controls.

There was a loud bang as the tail rotor and a part of the tail fin separated from the aircraft. The center of gravity pitched forward and, without the anti-torque action of the tail rotor, the helicopter began to spin to the right. Instinctively, Jake depressed the left anti-torque pedal to halt the spin, even as he knew that without the tail rotor, it would be ineffective.

The spin was much faster than anything Jake had ever experienced, and earth and sky blended into a whirling pattern that made it impossible to separate one from the other.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Candidate Lewis start to grab the cyclic.

“Hands off !” Jake screamed.

They were about seventy-five feet above ground and had already spun around at least fifteen times. Jake knew he needed to kill the engines in order to lessen the torque, but the engine controls were on the cockpit roof and he had to fight the centrifugal force in order to get his arm up. Finally he managed to kill both engines. The whirling main rotor blades continued to generate torque but, mercifully, without the engines, the spinning slowed.

Then, just before impact, Jake jerked back on the cyclic and the nose of the helicopter came up. Now, with the spin rate down to half what it had been, and with the helicopter level, the Blackhawk made a hard but somewhat controlled landing.

Jake sat in his seat with dust streaming up around the helicopter and the rotor blades still spinning. He waited until the spinning was slow enough that he knew they would not generate lift, then pulled the collective up, putting enough pitch in the blades to slow them until they finally stopped.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked.

“What the hell happened?” Candidate Lewis asked.

“You got hit by an RPG,” Jake said.

“What?”

“A goose, or some geese, took out the tail rotor,” Jake said. “It was the same effect as being hit by an RPG.”

“Damn. I'm glad I wasn't flying solo,” Lewis said.

“Funny you would say that,” Jake said. “I was just thinking I wish the hell you had been flying solo.”

Although neither pilot was hurt, they were required by SOP to report to the hospital for a physical evaluation. Jake was in the examining room, just zipping his flight suit closed when Karin came in with a worried look on her face.

“I heard you were in a crash!” she said, the tone of her voice reflecting her worry.

“I resent that. I made a controlled landing,” Jake replied. “A hard landing, yes, but it was controlled.”

Karin threw her arms around him. “Oh,” she said. “When I heard you had been brought in I was scared to death.”

“It's nice to be worried about,” Jake said. “But really, it was no big thing.”

“Hah, no big thing, my foot. I heard some of the other aviators talking about it. You lost your tail rotor but were able to land. Everyone is calling you a hero.”

“A hero?” Jake said. He smiled. “Yeah, I'll accept that.”

“Well, now, don't let it go to your head,” Karin teased. “You are hard enough to be around as it is.”

“Really? How do you manage to be around me so much?”

“Because I'm a saint. Didn't you know that?” Karin asked. She kissed him.

“Careful. What if one of the other nurses came in now and caught you cavorting with a patient?”

“I'd tell them to get their own patient,” Karin replied with a broad smile.

“I'm off tomorrow,” Jake said. “Because of the aircraft incident, I'm supposed to take a forty-eight-hour stand-down. What about you?”

“I'm not off until next Tuesday, but I can trade with one of the other nurses.”

“Come over to the house, we'll watch our new president be sworn in.”

Friday, January 20

The pictures on the TV screen, taken from cameras stationed all through the nation's capitol, showed throngs of people ecstatically cheering as the car bearing President-elect Mehdi Ohmshidi drove by, headed for the capitol steps.

It is estimated that the crowd gathered in Washington for the inauguration of our nation's first ever foreign-born president numbers well over two million people.

The television reporter was speaking in breathless excitement.

The excitement is contagious and the atmosphere electricâenough to send a tingle running up this reporter's leg. History is being made here today. President-elect Ohmshidi is the first person ever to take advantage of the twenty-eighth amendment to the Constitution repealing Article Two, Section One and making any naturalized citizen eligible to be president of the United States. Think of it. America is now the world and the world is now America.

Jake was in his living room, eating popcorn and drinking a root beer as he watched the inaugural proceedings.

Jake had not voted for Ohmshidi, but then he had not really been enthusiastic about the other candidate either. His vote, as he had explained it to Karin, had been more
against
Ohmshidi, than it had been
for
Admiral Benjamin Boutwell, the former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Jake had often declared that if he had omnipotent power he would replace everyone in government, regardless of their party, with someone new.

Ohmshidi had risen to national prominence as the federal prosecutor who tried the case against Masud Izz Udeen. Izz Udeen was an Islamic terrorist who released sarin gas into the ventilation system of Madison Square Garden, killing over seven hundred Americans.

As Izz Udeen received his sentence of death, he pronounced a fatwa against Ohmshidi and implored Muslims of the world to martyr themselves if need be in order to kill Ohmshidi. The fatwa against him, along with his successful prosecution of Izz Udeen, propelled Ohmshidi to national prominence, resulting in his election to President of the United States.

Jake watched as Ohmshidi stood on the steps of the nation's capitol building with his right hand raised, and his left hand very pointedly not on the Bible, but hanging by his side. The chief justice of the United States administered the oath of office, then concluded with,
So help me, God.

Ohmshidi responded with,
And this I, Mehdi Ohmshidi, affirm.

“Damn,” Jake said aloud, speaking to himself. “What was that about?”

Ohmshidi moved to the microphone to present his inaugural address.

My fellow Americans. As your new president I make you this promise. It is not a campaign promise; it is not a mere statement of ambition. It is a promise that will be fulfilled. On this day we are embarking upon a world-altering journey that will bring about a new paradigm in American culture. This fundamental change will enable the poorest among us to share in the bounty of this, the wealthiest nation in the world. I will accomplish this goal by requiring more from those who have greatly profited by the opportunities offered them.

That means that the wealthiest among us will have to do their fair share in order to make all our citizens truly equal. But from their sacrifice will emerge a new order. Think of it. No more will there be people with no place to lay their heads, with no food upon their tables, without adequate health care, and with none of the finer things that make life worthwhile.

Such a thing has long been the goal of compassionate people, and in the past we have introduced welfare programs, food stamps, aid to dependent children, Medicaid, Medicare, and yes, even Social Security, to move in that direction. But any economist will tell you that all those programs have failed. I will not fail. We will have, before I complete my first four years, a universal program of shared wealth.

There was a light tap on the door, and when it was pushed open Captain Karin Dawes stuck her head in.

“It's me,” she called.

“Come on in, Karin,” Jake invited. “You're late. I've eaten almost all the popcorn already.”

Karin walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Don't you ever buy any kind of soft drink except root beer?”

“There is no soft drink except root beer.”

“What a deprived life you have lived,” Karin said as she grabbed one. “What have I missed?” She settled on the sofa beside him, pulling her legs up and leaning against him.

“Not much. Ohmshidi just admitted that he was a communist.”

Karin popped the tab, and the root beer can spewed a fine mist. “You're kidding me!”

“Well, he as much as did. He's talking about sharing the wealth.”

“Oh, that's all. Now, tell me the truth, Jake. Wouldn't you like to have some of Bill Gates's money?” Karin asked as she took a swallow of her drink.

“Not unless I did something to earn it. I believe in a fair wage for honest work, but I certainly don't believe in taking money from the successful to give to the losers who voted for this bozo.”

“Come on, give him a chance. He hasn't been president for more than an hour, and you are already picking on him.”

“It took him less than fifteen minutes to show his true colors,” Jake said. “And forget the people who were calling him a pinko during the election. He isn't pink; he is red through and through.”

Karin laughed. “Jake, I can't believe you are such a troglodyte. Just calling you a right-wing wacko doesn't quite get it. You are to the right of Attila the Hun. Are all Amish that way?”

“If you mean do they want to do for themselves, the answer is yes. And I agree with them. I didn't abandon everything the Amish believe in when I left the Life,” Jake said. “I'm still a strong believer in the idea of individual self-reliance, rather than depending on the government for everything.”

“He can't be all that bad,” Karin said as she turned her attention to the TV screen. Ohmshidi was still talking.

“I thought you told me you didn't vote for him.”

“I didn't vote for him, but millions of Americans did.”

“I know. That's what frightens me.”

“You will share the wealth tonight though, won't you?”

“What do you mean?”

Karin laughed. “Pass the popcorn. Unless part of your self-reliance means I have to pop my own.”

Jake passed the popcorn bowl over to her. “Just listen to him,” he said. “Every time he opens his mouth, he sticks his foot in it.”

During my campaign, I promised you a transparent presidency, and, in adhering to that promise, I will keep you informed of my every action. So I am issuing now, in this inaugural address, my first executive order.

“Damn,” Jake said. “An executive order in the inaugural address? I don't think that's ever been done before.”

“You can't say he isn't up and running,” Karin replied.

For too long the United States has been perceived by the rest of the world as a nation with an intrusive military presence. Since World War Two we have maintained a significant and, for much of the world, intimidating force in other countries. Therefore on this day, as my first official action as president, I am ordering all American troops, wherever they may be, to return to the United States. From this date forward, we will have no deployed forces anywhere in the world.

“Whoa!” Jake said, leaning forward. “What did he just say?”

“He said he is bringing all the troops back home.”

“And do what with them? Where are they going to go?” Jake asked.

“I guess that means I won't ever make it to Germany,” Karin said.

“That is pure insanity,” Jake said. “If this is the first thing he does, where do we go from here?”

Karin picked up the remote and turned off the TV. “I am getting concerned about you. I'm afraid that you are going to get so mad watching this guy that you may well have an intracerebral hemorrhage.”

“A what?”

“A stroke. It is my medical recommendation that we forget about him and go out for dinner.”

“You're right. Even if I don't have a stroke, watching this commie bastard is going to make my head explode,” Jake said. “We'll go out, but I choose.”

“What do you mean, you choose? I'm the one who suggested we go out.”

“That's just it. You suggested it,” Jake replied. “That's like being challenged to a duel; the one challenged gets to choose the weapons. In this case the one invited to go out gets to choose the restaurant.”

“I've never heard that. Is that some Amish rule?”

“Don't be silly, I never ate in a restaurant in my life until I was an adult. It's just the rule of common sense. You made the suggestion we go out, I get to choose where we go.”

“Don't tell me,” Karin said. “You are going to choose Bubba's All-You-Can-Eat Catfish Heaven, aren't you?”

“It is a great place, isn't it?”

“Oh, yes, it's just wonderful,” Karin said, rolling her eyes.

“I'm glad you like it too,” Jake said, purposely disregarding her sarcasm as he reached for his car keys.

“Jake, have you ever thought of maybe going to a quieter, more traditional restaurant where they have real silverware, elegant crystal, fine china, good wine, and maybe a strolling musician? You know. Something romantic?”

“You know what is romantic?” Jake asked.

“What?”

“Catfish fried golden brown, steaming-hot hush-puppies, a plate full of French fries liberally doused with hot sauce, a side of sliced onion, a dill pickle spear, and an ice-cold root beer.”

“How can you possibly say something like that is romantic?”

“Because it is beautiful,” Jake said. “And isn't romance supposed to be beautiful?”

“You are incorrigible.”

“Not really. I'm just hungry,” Jake replied as held the door open for her.

She laughed. “All right, Bubba's All-You-Can-Eat Catfish Heaven it is, then.”

The restaurant was noisy and filled with customers, many of whom were soldiers from Fort Rucker. Half a dozen waiters scurried among the tables carrying trays upon which there were platters piled high with fried fish. Over in one corner a group of soldiers were doing their rendition of “All Out of Love,” the singing discordant and loud.

“You wanted music,” Jake said, nodding toward the table of singing soldiers. “You've got music.”

“Oh, that's lovely. You think of everything,” Karin said.

“I try.”

“Any aftereffects from your incident yesterday?” Karin asked.

Jake took a swallow of root beer before he answered. “He tried to kill me, you know.”

“What? Who tried to kill you?”

“The flight student I had yesterday. Oh, he might pretend that those geese hit us, but I know better. He went out looking for them. Every student I have ever had has tried to kill me. Oh, yeah, they all say they are just making honest errors, but I know better. I sincerely believe that it is a conspiracy.”

“I'm sure it is. A left-wing conspiracy, no doubt,” Karin said. “Every flight student you have ever had has been a part of the left-wing conspiracy.”

“That's true. But it isn't just the flight students. I mean, think about this. Ever since I got my wings, people have been trying to kill me. Did you know that in Iraq and Afghanistan, they were actually shooting at my helicopter?”

Karin laughed. “As I recall, you were flying an Apache while you were in Afghanistan, and doing quite a bit of shooting of your own. You didn't get your Distinguished Flying Cross for making sightseeing trips.”

“Still, you would think they would have more respect for a disparate collection of oscillating parts that, somehow, manage to levitate.” Jake held up his right hand to call one of the harried waiters over, even as he was using his left to push another piece of fried catfish into his mouth.

“We'll need another platterful,” he said when the waiter came over.

“We don't need another whole platter unless you are going to eat them all yourself. I'm absolutely stuffed,” Karin said.

“No sweat, I'll eat them.”

“Do you ever fill up?”

“Eventually,” Jake answered.

BOOK: William W. Johnstone

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