Cyber Warfare and the New World Order

Don’t Shoot the Messenger

The base at L.A. Barracks was quite small; over the last few decades it had been cut down until it became a research station that held only about 350 men and women. Despite its small capacity, this little gated community unknowingly shined as the only real beacon of hope in rallying a military response to the invasion.

The guard at the gate spotted a police squad car driving a little too fast towards their entrance, and became alarmed that someone might have stolen the car to try to ram the front access point. He flashed a light at the car, and it slowed down mere milliseconds before he pushed the button to release the cement anti-ramming barriers. The cop car screeched to a halt, and the police officer inside started yelling frantically at the guard.

“I need to get to a UHF radio NOW! There is a foreign army invading Los Angeles!”

The guard was too stunned to respond for a moment. He started to mumble something about needing to see the officer’s ID, and the cop got a little agitated.

“—Look, I know you need to do your job. Here’s my badge, but you need to let me in!” He threw his badge at the guard.

The guard was practically in a trance, but hit the button to lift the divider so that the squad car could go through.

“Thank you. Now where can I find a UHF radio in here?” the officer bellowed.

“Umm, if you go to this first building on the right, someone there on the first floor should have one,” the guard stammered.

“Great,” said the officer, calming down. “You might want to call your boss. Pretty sure you guys are going to need back-up really soon.”

He sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. When he arrived at the outdated building in front of him, covered in peeling paint, the officer didn’t waste any time. He ran up to the first soldier he found. “Ma’am! Ma’am!” he yelled, waving his arms. “I need a UHF, as fast as you can get me to one! L.A. is under attack!”

She was startled, but ushered him to a room nearby where all the coms were. “What in the world is going on?” she asked as she messed with the buttons to get the UHF radio ready to go.

“I’m sorry, but there’s really just no time,” the cop shot back.

A loud explosion ripped through the air, coming from the direction of the gate. “Oh, for the love — are they really here already?” the officer quipped. “We don’t have much time. You might want to grab a weapon,” he directed, pulling his own gun from his holster.

“About that…most of us here on base aren’t armed,” the soldier responded. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra, would you?” she asked.

The police officer grabbed the piece from his ankle holster and handed it to his newfound comrade-in-arms. The sound of gunfire increased in volume, filling the air like a bad garage drummer.

The conflict did not last long. The Japanese and Chinese forces overwhelmed the small base with several tanks and infantry fighting vehicles. They barely met any resistance. The police officer did manage to get out a short message to Camp Pendleton and Twenty-Nine Palms to let them know that the city and the ports were under attack by a foreign army, but he did not make it through the ensuing shootout.