Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 5

Corpus Christi

"… But I ask: When did America become a country of sacrifice? Never has it been defined by forced servitude to others. Rather, this great country has been strong throughout the decades because of voluntary service; we have persevered through many struggles thanks to the courage and bravado of the common man –"

"Ah, well, we hate to interrupt the Senator, but in case you haven't heard it folks, you'll hear it here first. The resolution to reinstate the draft has been passed during this late night session; along with it, the lowering of the enlisted age and the rising of the cutoff age. It goes to the House for vote tomorrow. This is just, well, I won't offer commentary on it…"

Percy heard someone sigh loudly at the news. Why in God's name they kept radio on the news, he would never know. Such a depressing state his country was in. He didn't want to be reminded of it every time he turned around.

"That was Senator Hughes," a soldier commented. "Isn't he the Lieutenant's fiancé?"

"Might explain why he's so against the draft. I mean, he knows what it's like to be waiting for that news… you know, it's probably tough. What a stressful position he must be in," someone said.

The Major went to look out the window but realized he couldn't see anything. It was almost midnight and they were rushing towards Corpus Christi as fast as their transportation would allow. He had taken only two squads, Fleetwood's and Barton's, along with the three uninjured pilots. Wallace had accompanied them; he knew that a successful rescue mission would rid his Sergeant friend of any negative thoughts he still harbored over the botched operation in Laredo.

Wallace was huddled over a map with the three pilots, trying to figure out the best plan of action. "There are three artillery canons surrounding the base," Rawlings pointed out. "They can reach the sea if needed. Since they were just installed there's nothing protecting them if we attack from behind. About fifty meters ahead there are four machine gun nests. Both the canons and the fifty-cals are protected by an electronic lock. So unless they received help from a sailor or marine, there's a very small chance they have access to these."

"How did the Mexicans get there?"

"There's a natural gas line," Rawlings explained. His finger ran down the map in order to illustrate its location. "At about 0400hrs that pipeline exploded. The seamen were sent out to extinguish the fires and everyone was fairly well distracted. About forty minutes later two interceptor boats strolled up and slipped right by."

"Makes us Jacks look pretty careless," Conroy added. The way the Commander only seemed to have add-on sentences to the conversation had Percy figuring Rawlings was the actual brain of the squadron.

"You mean to tell me Corpus Christi fell because of a handful of cartel pirates?" Wallace snorted.

"The damage caused by the first pipeline explosion was pretty significant. It blew the base right in half – left a gaping hole big enough to swallow up cars. After that, well… after that it was only a matter of time before the fuel was caught up, too," Rawlings said.

None of Percy's men had seen what had happened at Corpus Christi, so it was only natural they had no idea the extent of the damage. It was clear, however, that it was in much worse shape than Laredo. Wallace felt compelled to ask, "You… you guys lost a lot of friends, didn't you?"

They didn't respond; there was no need for them to. The silence that followed the question was somehow relaxing. To Percy it showed that the pilots were not content with the deaths of their friends. Rage was at the tip of the tongue but they held it back. That was exactly what he wanted from a soldier. To be emotionless would give them no drive, but to allow their emotions to control them would create chaos in life or death situations.

"Coming up! Corpus Christi!" a voice over the radio cracked.

"Get ready!" Percy ordered.

Everyone shifted and began to strap on their helmets, secure their gear and check their guns. This time, when Percy looked out the window, he could see the fire that raged mercilessly. It cut through the city and provided an ominous glow that no artificial light could muster. An occasional flash showed that it was still a threat to anyone left on or around the base.

Percy ordered, "Stop at the first canon! We'll blow their ships to hell so they can't escape. Barton, secure the fifties and provide cover fire. The rest of us will continue forward. We're going to kill every damn illegal on the base! Let's show them they can't get away with killing Americans! Even if they surrender, I want them dead!"

"Yes, sir!"

They had seen combat a hundred times before, but they still felt their hearts pounding. The pilots, despite having limited ground combat experience, were eerily calm as the Humvee slammed to a halt. The over-packed jeep which held Barton's men – most barely hanging on for dear life – sped past them and rolled towards the machine guns.

Percy was the first out of the Humvee. Conroy followed and said, "Shouldn't you get some gear, Major? A helmet, at least." He was ignored.

The artillery cannons were not protected in any way. Wilson made his way past Percy and Conroy in order to active it. After pulling his badge out from under his shirt, he slid it through the cannon's terminal. As he played around the computer, Wallace scouted the base from their position.

All he could see was the raging fire. An occasional figure would cross his line of sight, but then would disappear again amongst the rubble. It was impossible to tell if they were allies or enemies from his distance. Once Barton and his men had commandeered the untouched machine guns, the flash of gunfire caught his attention. The fight lasted not even ten seconds, as Barton's men needed only one round fired at them before they responded. Still, for a brief moment, Wallace felt his heart stop.

"Major!" Barton's voice caught everyone's attention. "We need a pass code or something for these damn guns!"

"There's a master code for emergencies," Rawlings coolly replied over the radio. "On the panel, there should be a button used to switch it from automatic to manual. Hold the manual button and use the number pad to type in one-nine-four-one. Afterwards, the panel should rise."

"Ah, it did it!" Barton said, sounding surprised. "Now what?"

"Lift the panel up. There should be seven wires. Find the black one. Once you have it, cut it," Rawlings instructed.

As soon as Rawlings made that order, the machine gun let out a burst of fire towards the right of the field. The surprised shouts of Barton's men had everyone else laughing, but in reality they were lucky none of them were standing in the way. Once they regained their footing and wits, Barton said, "Al-alright… Now what?"

Rawlings continued, "Secure the panel. Once it snaps back into place, use the number pad to type in one, one, three –"

A loud BOOM almost knocked Rawlings off his feet and sent him tumbling. Wilson had fired off the artillery without any warning. The shot landed about ten meters off from either of the boats. Its force created a nice sized crater and sent at least a few enemies scrambling. Before anyone had fully recovered, Wilson had realigned his sights and fired again. This time, everyone had quickly covered their ears.

His shot was right on target and ripped into the metal of one of the docked boats. The shattered boat rocked in the waters at the impact and shards of its hull rained down. Wilson was quick to try and realign once more for the other boat, but the Mexicans were already sending men up to take out the cannons. They needed the machine guns – now.

Percy shouted, "Keeping firing!" He then grabbed Rawlings and the two of them went sprinting towards Barton. Through his radio, Percy said, "Barton! We're headed that way! Stay focused, there's pickers and produces on their way!"

"s**t! From where?"

Before Percy could respond, a handful of enemy combatants popped out from the brush. Gunfire surrounded them. They did their best to respond immediately, but they had been too distracted by the machine gun's computer. The noise over the radio meant someone had been hit. Percy left Rawlings in the dust as he kicked it up a notch.

He arrived at the gunfight with his own rifle's trigger pulled. In the dark he could make out just the faint silhouettes of the enemy. Shooting blindly into the dark, his only thought was getting to Barton and his men. When the artillery fired again, it scared the Mexicans just enough that Barton's squad could recover. A grenade was casually rolled over to the attackers; a few more shots were fired before it exploded. The calm that followed allowed everyone to catch their breaths.

Percy had so much momentum built up that he literally skidded to a halt in the middle of Barton's squad. Behind him, Rawlings strolled in a bit more casually. A few men were working diligently on an injured comrade. The other was already dead.

"Jack! Get down here!" Percy shouted through his radio. The medic responded and began his long sprint toward Barton's men. It was a risky move, but Percy had only brought one medic with him. He wasn't expecting any casualties. It was arrogant of him, but he never expected any of his soldiers to get hit. That is why they had survived so many years with such a high success rate.

Rawlings moved past the infantry soldiers and inserted the override code. Within seconds, Barton and his men were ready to provide that heavily needed cover fire. The pilot asked Percy, "Major, please let me stay with these men and assist them with the fifties."

"Do it," Percy nodded. Another artillery round was fired. Everyone watched as it crashed into the other boat. Over the radio, Percy ordered, "Everyone else, you better get down here, we have to move out!"

They wasted no time. The two Humvees made it to the machine guns in record time. Jack was dropped off to assist the injured and Percy took his place. Before the Major had even closed the door they were on their way towards the base.

A round of bullets ricocheted off the door just as Percy slammed it shut. "Pickers and produce, three thirty!" the navigator shouted. Percy took it upon himself to grab the Humvee's machine gun. He sprayed the entire area with fire. He let up only to see if anyone dared to fire back. A few rounds tinged off the reinforced guard that protected him. Instinctively he fired back at the source. Even though they were traveling incredibly fast, he still heard the surprised cry of the man he hit.

He somehow managed to relax. The interceptor boats would only hold a maximum of twenty each, and he estimated they had killed at least five. If the sailors had any chance of defending themselves, there was a good chance that only twenty enemy remained. He had to stay optimistic.

"I've got… looks like an American. About a hundred yards ahead. Two o'clock. It's definitely an American!" the navigator reported. Indeed, on the asphalt just outside the hangar was someone clad in a United States Navy uniform.

They pulled up to the body hopeful, but that hope faded. Percy was the first one out, having jumped straight out the top. He scrambled to the body, leaving himself completely exposed. The young man was lifeless, his body badly burned and bloody. Percy noticed a blood trail had been formed; with his eyes he followed it out quite a ways. There, he caught the sight of a few more dead sailors and marines. Their bodies had been lined up by the Mexican invaders, waiting for the chance to be cremated, buried, or put to sea.

The others piled out, mostly in a desperate haste to provide cover for their commander if the enemy appeared. Fortunately, Barton's men were ready with the machine guns, so anything that looked threatening was eliminated long before they reached Percy.

"Oh my God," Conroy breathed aloud. He and the others had been pushed out before ever seeing the severity of their losses. Now that he was back at Corpus Christi, he wished he never left. The weight of the guilt he felt almost made him still.

Somehow, over the roar of the fire and the constant rattling of Barton's guns, a sound caught Percy's attention. It was three consecutive pops that sounded out of place.

"Did you hear that?" he asked. "An officer's pistol."

Without waiting for his men, he stood and trotted haphazardly out into the open. Fleetwood, worried for his superior's safety, hurried to get in front of him. The Sergeant took not even a second step directly in front of Percy before a shot flew through the air and pierced him.

Percy was shocked when Fleetwood suddenly collapsed in front of him. He grabbed his comrade as he fell and tried to ease him down. Another gunshot went off and Percy looked up. He saw a scared Mexican soldier with a high powered sniper rifle trying to pull shots off from the hip. He scowled; he placed Fleetwood's body on the ground and stood. The young Mexican took a step back – an American officer! He wanted to put the rifle on the ground and surrender. Yet he had a job to do, and he wouldn't allow the fear he felt to prevent him from accomplishing it.

Another round was fired but it missed completely. Percy almost felt sorry for him. He knew what it felt like to face war for the first time. Never had he seen someone so ill trained and frightened that they couldn't handle a motionless target from a mere thirty yards. Unfortunately for the Mexican, he had killed one of Percy's men. No matter what, Percy was going to see to it that he paid for it.

Conroy had just reached Percy when the Major pulled out his pistol and fired a single shot at the wannabe gunman. He dropped as the bullet pierced his neck.

"Don't be so dramatic about it next time!" Conroy demanded. "He got two shoots off! You could have been killed!"

Percy, expressionless, said, "I'm not fated to die yet."

His men caught up with him, but they were on the move again as Percy headed toward the nearby service building. As soon as he turned the corner he bumped into another body. Halfway out the entrance to the service building was a man still alive but badly injured.

Percy recognized him right away. It was General Trotter, dressed in fatigues and bleeding badly from a torso and leg wound. Calmly, Percy went to provide first aid. Tristan said nothing upon seeing Percy. It wasn't until another man appeared at his side did he utter any words.

"Who the hell are you?"

Percy looked up and to his own surprise saw Jordan knelt down. "I told you to stay in the vehicle," Percy said.

"You need all the help you can get," Jordan answered. Carefully he eased the General into a sitting position. The pain was evident, as Tristan inhaled deeply at the movement. Soon, he was taken out of their hands when the others picked him up.

"Put him in a Humvee and prepare for more," Percy ordered.

"I've got a man still in there. Get him for me, Major," Tristan said.

For once Percy wasn't the first to move forward – it was Jordan. The journalist was on a mission, and he stampeded into the maintenance building, never once wondering about the danger. Half of the building had collapsed thanks to the extreme heat caused by the fires. Most of the fire in the building had burned itself out, but the damage was obvious.

"Hey!" a voice shouted. It was near the fallen half of the building and sounded much too clear to have been from an injured person. "Hey!" it shouted again. "You American?"

"Yeah!" Jordan responded.

"Thank God!"

A short mechanic dashed towards them. Percy's men jumped and pointed their guns at him; the young man yipped and dropped to the ground. Conroy was the first to lower his gun. He questioned, "St. Vincent?"

The Mechanic peeked out from under his cap. Wilson was at his side and helped him to his feet. At first he seemed dazed, but once he recognized Conroy and Wilson he was full of life again. "Commander!" he squealed. Like a young child seeing their father for the first time in months he latched onto Conroy. The gesture was returned; for Conroy, to see a friend alive made him feel greatly relieved.

One of Percy's men noticed blood all over the mechanic's jumpsuit. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," was the answer. "There's an infantry officer under the beams. You guys gotta help him."

They traveled swiftly through the rest of the building. No one bothered to count all the bodies they saw. A handful of mechanics had been lined up against the wall and shot execution style. The visual made Wilson and Conroy visibly angry. They were, after all, their most trusted allies.

Jordan was the first to reach the fallen debris. He began to pick through the heavy remains but made little progress until the others arrived. Constantly Conroy would remind them to "be careful;" the slightest shifting could cause more harm if someone really was trapped. Eventually Jordan noticed a hand peeking out from the steel. He grabbed it, felt that it was still warm, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was returned fiercely.

"He's still alive," Jordan told them. To the nameless person, he said, "Hang in there!"

Once his head was in view they noticed a combination cap with its strap tight on his chin. The shape and color no doubt pegged him as a West Point cadet. The more and more of him they uncovered, the more of his uniform they saw. It also revealed more and more of his injuries; broken bones and a busted head. How he was still alive with all that weight bearing down on him and what he was doing all the way down in Corpus Christi was a mystery.

They got him free relatively quickly and pulled it him free. Blood eased its way down his forehead; his eyes were shut tight. He knew the weight was off of his chest yet was still careful not to move too much.

He saw the rank on Percy's uniform and went to salute. Percy stopped him and said, "At ease."

"Major," he said through clenched teeth. "First Captain James Goldwin, West Point Class of –"

"Introductions and rank will matter later," Percy told him. "For now, let's get you to safety."

"Major… listen… the strats – "

Percy went to take a step forward but the deafening sound of an explosion and the tremor that followed sent him to his knees. Everyone else crouched as well, not wanting to fall. The ground continued to tremble, and in succession four more explosions rocked the earth, each one closer than the other.

"Major!" Barton screamed over the walkie. "Major! Are you alright?!"

"Yes," Percy said. "What happened?"

"Oh, thank God," Barton breathed. "A jet just bombed the port!"

Percy didn't bother to ask any questions. He merely ordered, "Patch me through!" and swiftly exited the building. He was passed only by two of his men carrying the beat up cadet; the others were a bit slower in their exit. Outside, the damage of the bombs was evident. What little remaining buildings there was previously were almost all completely leveled. The new fires melted with the old and soon it felt as though the entire world was ablaze. Everyone was just happy that they were far enough way they didn't get hit.

Percy heard his radio click over and immediately shouted, "Identify yourself!"

The pilot seemed shocked to hear perfect English and asked, "Who is this?"

"Major Percival Tad Raymond, who the hell are you?"

"Oh s**t!" the man cursed. "Holy f**k. How many of you are down there?"

"I have a few squads and there are a lot of injured sailors," Percy answered. He had calmed down once he realized the pilot clearly did not understand the situation. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here under orders from General Scott," the man said. "Flight Commander Bradley, United States Marine Corps, sir. You… you're all alright?"

"I don't know. I have no idea how many sailors were where you just bombed."

"Oh, God. The General had said Corpus Christi was clear of allies. I'll call off my team. Do you need any assistance?"

"No," Percy said. "I want you to return to base and tell that son of a b***h Scott that Major Raymond is on his way to kick his ass!"