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I’ll explain all that to God on judgment day. I know he’s just waiting for me to clarify the matter.
If he sends these good soldiers to hell for killing the enemies of their country, then I’ll go with them.
FOURTEEN
GETTYSBURG
You don’t know who a person is until you see how he acts when given unexpected power. He hasn’t rehearsed for the part. So what you see is what he is.
Cole was sure that not since July of 1863 had there been so many soldiers in and around Gettysburg. And they were in combat gear—this was an armed camp. They started running into military checkpoints at the crossroads at York Springs, and then four more times before they got into the town itself. The first time it took some argument before they were allowed to keep their weapons.
Standing outside the car, Cole tried to keep his temper with the young MP who insisted on disarming him. “This morning I fired these weapons at the enemies of the United States who were attacking us on our native soil. I killed at least one enemy soldier with it. What has your weapon done today, soldier?”
&
nbsp; But it was Cecily Malich’s call to her former boss, Sandy Woodruff, that led to their getting passed through the other checkpoints without delay and fully armed.
The President was installed at Gettysburg College, which for the moment was the seat of the executive branch of the government of the United States. Cole and the Malichs were sent to a motel that would have been a lovely surprise in a village in the mountains of Iran, but which Cole’s family would have disdained on any of their cross-country trips.
Rooms were at such a premium that Cole finally had to get in the face of the officious young clerk making the assignments and explain, “I’m not their son,” before he gave way and assigned them separate accommodations.
“Good job of making yourself memorable,” Rube said to him before they disappeared into their room.
Cole only had a few minutes to unpack and use the bathroom before there was a knock at his door. MPs had been sent to escort them—this time definitely unarmed—to the President’s office.
It made Cole vaguely disappointed that when he actually got to meet a President of the United States, it was only the stand-in, not the real one. LaMonte Nielson was a little shorter than Cole, and seemed nice enough and intelligent enough as he came forward to greet them. But he also looked just a little surprised to see them. A little too grateful that they had answered his summons. You’re the President, man! Of course we came! But Cole kept his reaction to himself. He’d done enough exasperated talking today. Especially considering that he was only in this room out of courtesy. It was Rube and Cecily that the President wanted to talk with. Cole was there just to have his hand shaken and get the official thanks of the President for his heroic actions in the face of yadda yadda yadda.
Only there wasn’t any yadda. Nielson asked them to sit and then half-sat on the edge of the college president’s desk and said, “The city council of New York met today in emergency session and voted by an overwhelming margin to recognize the Progressive Restoration as the legitimate government of the United States of America.”
“Under duress?” asked Cecily.
“U.N. witnesses say there was no threat from the Progressive Restoration.”
“Except their troops all over Manhattan,” muttered Reuben.
“That’s only the beginning. San Francisco, Santa Monica, San Rafael—I can’t remember all the Sans in California that have passed resolutions recognizing the Progressive Restoration.”
“But those have no legal force,” said Cecily.
“I’m sure the Supreme Court would agree with you. The Attorney General certainly does. But so what? Progressive state legislators in California, Oregon, Washington, Vermont, Massachusetts, Hawaii, and Rhode Island have all declared their intention to demand a quick vote in those legislatures. There are others calling for plebiscites in Minnesota, Wisconsin, New Hampshire, Connecticut, New York state, Maryland, and Delaware. Let the people decide, they say.”
“They’ll fail,” said Cecily.
“Probably,” said President Nielson. “Probably the first motion will fail. Oh, and needless to say, all over the South and Midwest and Rocky Mountains there are political leaders demanding the immediate suppression by force of any political unit that goes over to the Progressives. Rural and suburban legislators in many of the states in question have been . . . fervent, let’s say . . . in their opposition to any movement to switch allegiance. But you see my predicament.”
“Is the Army loyal?” asked Cecily.
“Think about what you’re asking,” said Nielson. “Loyal? Of course. Willing to fire on Americans who do not fire on them first? What an interesting question. Wouldn’t it be better if we could avoid fighting?”
“There’s already been bloodshed,” said Reuben. “And they killed first.”
“Fort Sumter,” said Nielson. “And if I were Lincoln, I’d issue a call for 75,000 volunteers. But we don’t have such a clear Mason-Dixon line. The red-state/blue-state thing is actually deceptive. If you look at recent elections on maps of the counties, you’ll find that it’s an urban versus suburban and rural split. Even southern states show metropolitan areas as blue more than red.”
“But that’s the black vote,” said Reuben.
“Oh good,” said President Nielson. “Let’s make it a racial war as well as a philosophical one. But here’s the point. The New York City Council has legalized this invasion after the fact and now declares the armed forces of the Progressive Restoration to be the police and defense forces of the entire city, not just Manhattan. Under those circumstances, if we attack or occupy any part of New York City, are we liberating or invading? When we fire on their armed forces, are we killing traitors or shooting down New York cops?”
“I know who the New York cops are,” said Reuben. “They killed as many of them as they could find.”
