Founders: A Novel of the Coming Collapse

27. Anthem

At just before noon on July Fourth, everyone congregated at the Brooks Field parade ground. They quietly lowered the UN flag and raised Old Glory without much fanfare. Resistance soldiers cut up the UN banner into small swatches for souvenirs.

A mobile PA system was set up, with a pair of speakers and a microphone stand. There was no time to arrange for a band to play or for an artillery salute, but a bespectacled former Marine with a double chin and an amazing singing voice gave an a cappella rendition of all four verses of “The Star-Spangled Banner”:

This was the first time the Ben had ever heard the usually omitted later verses. Like many others who were gathered, the lyrics moved him to tears.

Then Andy Laine stepped up to the microphone and pulled a sheet of handwritten notes from his ACU shirt pocket. “My only regret,” he began, “is that I didn’t join the Resistance sooner. I’m from New Mexico, and it took a long time for the ProvGov to become a threat to our liberty there. If I had only known the full depth of the ProvGov’s crimes, I would have joined the fight sooner.”

Andy cleared his throat, and went on:

Andy bowed his head and prayed aloud solemnly, “Almighty God, we beseech thee, oh Lord, to again extend thy covenantal blessings on America. We realize that we deserve only your righteous wrath. But we have repented and we beg ye, oh Lord, for thy mercies upon us. We pray for thy providence and protection, as well as that by thy Holy Spirit that thou would grant wisdom and restraint for the new Congress that we elect. We pray this in the name of Christ Jesus, Amen.”

Then Ed Olds stepped up onto the base of the flagpole. With many people recognizing him, the crowd began cheering. Like Andy, Ed’s MultiCam uniform now had a full-color American flag patch on the right shoulder, and a “U.S. ARMY” tape where the “UNPROFOR” tape had been a day earlier. He raised his hand in a slow wave, and waited for the crowd to quiet down.

With the mobile PA system, Olds announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, here we stand, on Independence Day, once again independent.”

This inspired a huge wave of applause and cheering that went on for nearly two minutes. Finally, Olds continued. “The war of resistance was leaderless, so this puts us in an interesting position. Rather than have some individual declare, ‘I’m in charge,’ we are recognizing that we, the People, are in charge. As an active duty soldier, I recognize that you are our employers. I’m certainly not in charge, and I’m the officer who relieved the post commander. He was a quisling and a crony of Maynard Hutchings. The officer corps certainly isn’t calling the shots. That’s your job, ladies and gentlemen. I urge you to re-form a limited, and in fact minimalist Constitutional government, from the grass roots up. The county governments are key to this.”

A woman in the crowd shouted loudly, “That’s right!”

Olds continued, “We don’t need a new Constitution. The existing one—the one that was briefly discarded—can still work fine, if the separate powers can be kept in check, and the original intent of the Framers is heeded. So once again, as Ben Franklin said more than two centuries ago, I’m here to announce: ‘It’s a Republic, if you can keep it.’”

There was a huge round of applause.

The applause finally died down and Olds added, “And beware. I’m glad Andy Laine quoted George Washington—because he was very prescient. Washington wisely advised us to beware. He once wrote: ‘Government is not reason; it is not eloquence; it is force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.’”

There was a cascade of applause, and a man in the crowd shouted, “Veritas!”

Immediately after the anthem and speeches, Ed Olds and Andy Laine were introduced to some of the militia members, including Ben Fielding, Brent Danley, and the Old Man. It was not until they discussed where they had been operating that Andy recognized the men from the intelligence dispatches. He had an “aha” moment when he realized that Ben was the resistance fighter known variously as “Mister Green Jeans” and “Bloody Ben,” in reports.

Ben, Brent, and the Old Man had infiltrated into Fort Knox five days before on foot. But they departed in a liberated Ceradyne Bull mine protected vehicle, with Brent behind the wheel. There was heavy traffic in both directions on Bullion Boulevard—traffic like none of them had seen since before the Crunch. The traffic was slow, as revelers honked their horns and slowed to watch spontaneous celebrations and fireworks.

As they passed the Chaffee Gate, Ben leaned forward from the rear seat and asked the Old Man, “So now that we’ve won, how about you finally let us know your family name? I’d like to keep in touch.”

The Old Man made no reply. He dipped his head and looked deep in thought.

Brent turned the vehicle south onto the Dixie Highway, and glanced over at him. He continued to look contemplative. Finally, the Old Man shook his head and said with a laugh, “I’ve told you before, Ben, you don’t have a need to know. I think it’s best that now we all just humbly fade back into the woodwork. Especially our recon team. After what we’ve done—I don’t know about you—but I’ve got some mixed feelings. We killed almost as many men from Shreveport and San Antonio as we did from Stuttgart. So I’d rather just put it all behind me and make a fresh start.”

They drove on in silence for another minute, and then the Old Man asked, “Say, can you drop me off down at the Cav Store?”

Brent answered, “Sure, my pleasure.”

A few minutes later, they pulled into the U.S. Cavalry Store parking lot. A group of teenage boys and girls were there, setting off smoke grenades and launching military pop flares, with many hoots and hollers. The group was boisterous, with one of the boys shouting, “A Fourth of July to remember!” In the distance, they could hear the sporadic detonations of artillery simulators and what they presumed were grenade simulators.

The three men stepped out of the vehicle and reached into the rear cargo compartment to pull out the Old Man’s MOLLE vest, rucksack, and well-worn suppressed MP5-SD submachinegun. To do so, they had to move a couple of cases of hand grenades and untangle the slings of eight captured guns, including a German MG4 light machinegun. Without any flourishes, the Old Man shouldered his gear. They shook hands and he said quietly, “See you on the other side, gents. God bless you.” He turned and strode away.

Brent and Ben sat lost in their thoughts for a while before Brent restarted the engine. They were both blinking, fighting back tears. Then Ben asked, “Can you give me a ride home?”

“You betcha. Where would that be?”

“Muddy Pond, Tennessee. It’s about a four-hour drive from here. I’d love to make it back there this evening.”

“My pleasure.”

Ben grinned and said, “I’ll introduce you to my wife and kids. I got word that they’re doing just fine.”

As Brent pulled out of the lot and back onto the Dixie Highway, again heading south, he said, “Okay, but I can’t stay long at your place. I’ve got a long drive home to Vermont.”

They pressed on through Radcliff amid the revelry, including several UN flags being burned. Boom boxes and car stereos were playing mostly patriotic music. Appropriately, on one street corner a boom box was playing the old Roger McGuinn song “Dixie Highway.” At various places they drove through clouds of smoke in white, red, yellow, and violet. “How’d they get hold of so many smoke grenades so quickly?” Ben asked.

“Oh, I suppose the same way that you accumulated your little gun collection back there.” Ben thrust his thumb over his shoulder toward the vehicle’s cargo compartment for emphasis, and said laconically, “They weren’t nailed down, so they just mysteriously ended up in private hands.”

“I noticed that you snagged a couple of extra M4s complete with PVS-14s, that TAM-14 thermal sight, and a few Claymore satchels, too,” Brent countered.

Ben nodded. “As they say, ‘To the victor go the spoils.’ They’re just a few war trophies that double as insurance.”

“Insurance?”

“Yeah, an insurance policy for my family to keep at home. Just in case another joker like Maynard Hutchings ever pops up.”

Brent let out a breath. “God forbid that should happen in our lifetimes, or in our children’s.”