No, no, I never blamed the doc. I mean, you should have seen him there, wall to wall screaming kids and none of their parents trying to control 'em. h.e.l.l, half of 'em were there with nothing more than runny noses but under the new system the doc had to see them, too. All of 'em, or risk losing his license, his job, maybe even going to jail. I heard a rumor once that the government, the feds I mean, was deliberately sending doctors to jail so that they could be put to treating the prisoners. A cost-saving measure, I heard it was. Might have even been true, I don't rightly know.

The wife, she went downhill fast, too. Wasn't but maybe two weeks before she was in the hospital, full time, and...well, it was awful to see, her just wasting away right in front of me. She held my hand pretty near constantly towards the end, though she never cried....Well, I mean sometimes she did cry. But it was for her babies who was going to be left alone in the world.

That wasn't a problem, as it turned out. My folks took the kids in and told me not to worry about 'em.

I was right glad about that, glad and grateful. 'Cause, you see, the very afternoon of my wife's funeral I set me to thinking about what it was that killed my wife. Once I figured it out...well, naturally, I went and dug me up that old rifle I'd buried... .

MR. STENNINGS: Stop right there, Alvin.

A. No, sir. I don't care who knows. Weren't no one going to kill my woman and get away with it....

Greenville, Texas

"Put your G.o.dd.a.m.ned backs into it, boys. Dig and fill. Dig and fill. The general and the governor are coming and I want you all to make me proud. proud."

The speaker, First Sergeant Michael S. ("Iron Mike") Pendergast, of Company A, 144th Infantry, Texas National Guard, smiled blithely to see his men redouble their efforts. Satisfied with that, Pendergast bent again over his own shovel, digging, lifting and sifting sand into bags taken from flood emergency stocks. An irregular stream of dump trucks had been delivering sand to the armory all morning. An even less steady stream had come to disgorge sandbags in their thousands. As piles of filled bags grew, more trucks-these ones army-issue five-tons-were filled to overflowing by other work parties. The men of Company A were moving small mountains of sand. Infantry, Texas National Guard, smiled blithely to see his men redouble their efforts. Satisfied with that, Pendergast bent again over his own shovel, digging, lifting and sifting sand into bags taken from flood emergency stocks. An irregular stream of dump trucks had been delivering sand to the armory all morning. An even less steady stream had come to disgorge sandbags in their thousands. As piles of filled bags grew, more trucks-these ones army-issue five-tons-were filled to overflowing by other work parties. The men of Company A were moving small mountains of sand.

"Wish to h.e.l.l we could have some civilians to help us, Top," said one of the men as sand silted around his hands and into the sandbag he held open for the First Sergeant.

The first sergeant glared. "The general said 'no,' Fontaine. So we dig alone. Leastwise, we do until the engineers get here."

"Didn't say we could do anything about it, Top. Just wishin' out loud."

"Just hold the sandbag, Fontaine."

"Yes, first sergeant," agreed Fontaine meekly as he stretched the mouth of the sandbag in his hand to a fillable size.

From off in the distance, Pendergast heard again the rumble of heavy trucks, heavily laden. "That's my cue," he announced, sticking the shovel blade down into the sand pile. "Take a break, Fontaine."

"Yes, Top."

Buckling on his equipment, Pendergast tucked his helmet under his left arm, sauntered over toward the approaching line of engineer vehicles and waited.

He didn't have long to wait. As the first truck slowed to a halt, a rather splendid looking captain of engineers emerged.

"First Sergeant Pendergast, sir. A Company, 144th Infantry." Infantry."

The engineer returned Pendergast's salute, answering, "Captain Davis, 176th Engineers. Where can I find your CO, Top?" Engineers. Where can I find your CO, Top?"

"Captain James is in his CP with our battalion S-3, sir. The S-3 is Captain Williams."

"Thanks, Top. My first shirt should be here in a minute or two. You can show him where and how we can help you best."

Washington, DC

Although not ostensibly designed to look down upon the United States, a spy satellite, given the right orbit, was as useful for that in the United States as for anywhere else. Or as useless, some would say. Thus, the head of the National Security Agency could pa.s.s on to the Director of Homeland Security satellite photographs and the a.n.a.lyses that accompanied them. Thus could the DHS bring the same to the President.

"There's no doubt, Madam President. None at all. Texas is mobilizing her own military forces. Even expanding them, it seems."

Rottemeyer looked toward McCreavy. "What does that mean to us, Caroline?"

McCreavy consulted her notes before replying. "They have one more or less old-fashioned armored division. Five tank battalions. Four infantry. Four artillery. Three Engineer. The usual support."

Rottemeyer caught on the phrase, "Old-fashioned? That's good for us isn't it?"

Shaking her head ruefully, McCreavy answered, "In this case, no, Willi, it isn't."

"I do not understand."

McCreavy sighed, then went on. "Well...let me put it this way. In our entire regular force here in the States, excluding the Marines, we have not a single tank. Nor do we have a single vehicle capable of taking on a tank in a heads-up fight. Not one. Those five tank battalions have more combat power than any one of our divisions. And they could chew even the Marines, who do have tanks, if not that many of them, to bits."

"What about our other states' National Guards?"

"Willi...do you trust them? I mean, do you really? You call up the Guard-which does have some other heavy forces-and you might find you're just reinforcing Texas."

Again McCreavy let out a deep sigh. "Willi...I am sorry but some of those states, especially those around Texas, hate hate you and everything you stand for. If you push, Louisiana, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Arizona...maybe the whole deep south and quite a bit of the Midwest might 'just say no'." Remember that red and blue map from the elections in 2000? Well, imagine the red portion in outright rebellion. It could be that bad. If you push them into it we could face a real war, and we could lose it. I can't answer for that. I won't. you and everything you stand for. If you push, Louisiana, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Arizona...maybe the whole deep south and quite a bit of the Midwest might 'just say no'." Remember that red and blue map from the elections in 2000? Well, imagine the red portion in outright rebellion. It could be that bad. If you push them into it we could face a real war, and we could lose it. I can't answer for that. I won't.

"What I have done, with the Third Corps based at Fort Hood in Texas, is to put them on alert. I have also told them to prepare to withdraw, in case you agree with me that they ought to be withdrawn."

"Withdrawn? Why?"

"Willi, I have spoken with Bennigsen, the commander of Third Corps. He says the propaganda coming out of Texas' governor's office is beginning to have an effect on his entire command. He says his men are 'p.i.s.sed' at what happened at the mission."

Fort Hood, Texas

Colonel (P) (for the army designated colonels who were selected to become brigadier generals as such; "P" for "promotable") Joseph E. Hanstadt took one final look at his computer monitor, sighed, punched his intercom, and called for his secretary.

"Emily, set me up an appointment with the boss for sometime today, would you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Hanstadt clicked off the intercom then turned back to his computer monitor. He stared blankly at the screen for several minutes, looking at-but no longer quite seeing-scenes of atrocity.

Forcing his eyes away, arising from his desk, Hanstadt clutched his beret in one hand. A grimace of distaste at what he called "this headgear with too many moving parts" briefly clouded his features. Walking around the oversized desk-there were a few few benefits to being the Third Corps G-4, or quartermaster-Hanstadt took several steps to reach his office door. benefits to being the Third Corps G-4, or quartermaster-Hanstadt took several steps to reach his office door.

He looked directly at his secretary, whose finger even now pressed the redial b.u.t.ton on her own phone, and said, "Emily, if the boss will see me this afternoon that will be fine. If he needs me sooner, or will see me sooner, or you need me, I'll be at the chapel. And I'll leave my cell phone on." Again, Hanstadt grimaced with distaste, this time at the phone attached to his belt under his mottled uniform jacket. I hate those f.u.c.king things, I hate those f.u.c.king things, he thought. he thought.

Hanstadt made a gimme gimme motion at his driver, who obediently reached into his pocket and turned over the keys to the G-4 vehicle. Then, wordlessly, the colonel left the headquarters by the staff door. motion at his driver, who obediently reached into his pocket and turned over the keys to the G-4 vehicle. Then, wordlessly, the colonel left the headquarters by the staff door.

The drive to the post chapel was short. Formations of troops pa.s.sed here and there, marching to their duties. Preoccupied, Hanstadt barely acknowledged their presence.

At the post chapel he parked his Army issue car, a not-too-ancient GM sedan. He could have had a new one-being G-4 had other perks too-but had settled for something a bit more worn in the interests of economy. Others sometimes laughed. That was Hanstadt; skinflint cheap wherever he could save the Army and country he loved a few dollars.

There was neither priest nor minister nor rabbi nor imam at the chapel. Hanstadt entered to a lonely s.p.a.ce packed with benches. If not so dreary-being multi-denominational-as a Catholic church might have been, neither was it so bright and airy as a typical Protestant one.

But it was multidenominational. Therefore Hanstadt found padded knee rests-just as if it were Catholic or Anglican-before the altar. He took off his "headgear with too many moving parts," walked forward, knelt before his G.o.d, cupped his hands around his face, and began to pray for guidance.

Greenville, Texas

"The guidance is that we have to do it, if it can be done at all, without hurting anybody. Not so much as a scratch."

"s.h.i.t, Jimbo," drawled Davis to James. "No way. I mean there's going to be some some risk anyway." Davis shook his head repeatedly while staring at the map on the table between them. risk anyway." Davis shook his head repeatedly while staring at the map on the table between them.

"Then I'll have to report to higher that it can't be done. s.h.i.t. The general said this was 'important. The most critical mission of all.' " A knock came from the door frame. The most critical mission of all.' " A knock came from the door frame.

"Excuse me, sirs," interjected an eavesdropping Pendergast. "But there's maybe a solution to that problem."

"Go ahead, Top."

Pendergast tucked his thumbs up under his shoulder harness, leaned over, and spit some tobacco juice into a trashcan. "Well...you see...this here company is made up of about a third cops. Third platoon is nearer to half. Now sure, those guards at the mint in Fort Worth are likely to panic if they see a couple of hundred armed men rolling up on them. If they see heavy armor they will for sure. But cops? Nice friendly cops? In patrol cars? Come to help them out of a bad situation; maybe a bomb threat or something? No way. They'll let us in right quick. And then we have them. And then we bring up the rest of the boys." Pendergast's broad, triumphant smile lit the room, igniting equal smiles in Davis, James and Williams.

Said Williams, "Did I ever mention, First Sergeant, that you have a nasty wicked mind? I admire that. For a truth I do. Why don't you send the boys to pick up their uniforms and squad cars?"

Main Chapel, Fort Hood, Texas

I have worn this uniform so long, Lord, that I do not see how I could ever fit in without it. But I have seen my country change, Lord, in ways that make me not want to wear its uniform any more. Please help me decide. Please.

Deep in prayer, Hanstadt barely startled when he felt the press of a hand on his shoulder. He recognized the press immediately. Funny how the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d can still sneak up on me. Funny how the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d can still sneak up on me.

"h.e.l.lo, Bob," said Hanstadt, without arising. G.o.d outranked even a three-star.

"Emily said I might find you here, Joe."

Hanstadt shrugged. "And so you have. What can I do for you?"

"Joe, you have never been much of a churchgoer. What brings you here now?"

Hanstadt shook his head with a sigh. He had reached a decision but that decision had not come easily, or without regrets. "I'm punching out, Bob. Putting in my papers."

"Retiring? In Heaven's name, why why? You have a bright future ahead of you still."

"Retiring or resigning, whatever it takes. I'd prefer to retire."

"Is it this thing that happened at the mission?"

Closing his eyes, Hanstadt rocked his head in affirmation. "It's got to stop somewhere, Bob."

It was now Bennigsen's turn to nod. "Well...yes...it has. But what can you or I do? We're just old horse soldiers. We do our jobs."

"Not with me, Bob. Never again with me. I have had it."

"But I need you, Joe. We have an order from the chief-"

"That t.w.a.t!" interjected Hanstadt. "She sucked her way into three stars then ate Rottemeyer to get a fourth."

"Well...yes...that one," conceded Bennigsen. "But my orders are to prepare to pull the Corps out of Texas. How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do that without my G-4?"

"My shop's got some good people, Bob. Most of 'em will stay."

"And what are you going to do with yourself, Joe?"

Hanstadt grinned broadly. "It does occur that General Schmidt might have a use for my...um...talents. And, who knows? Maybe someone with a foot in both camps might turn out to be useful to the country."