“Is everyone ready?” Hays asked the police chief, Colonel Tenney, and General Conrad.
Receiving affirmatives all around, Hays said, “Start ’em moving.” Conrad spoke into his handheld radio. Hays turned back to the politicians. “Ms. Harris, Mr. Swim, will you accompany me?”
“You got a grandstand seat picked out?” Luwanda Harris asked sourly.
“Indeed I do. I am going to walk ahead of the troops and talk to anyone I meet. I would like you both to accompany me.”
“They may shoot us,” Charlie Swim pointed out. Even as he said this, several random gunshots could be heard.
“They might,” Jack Hays agreed, grabbed two elbows, and started off with Swim on the left and Harris on the right. The troops in riot gear followed, then the state police carrying shotguns and wearing helmets.
Down the street, right into the middle of the riot zone.
When they were seen, young men threw some rocks, then turned and ran. Hays kept advancing. The three of them passed burning cars, looted stores, and melting asphalt. On they went.
Someone fired a shot at them from an upstairs window. Guardsmen fired back, and two soldiers charged into the building to find the shooter and arrest him, or kill him if need be.
Jack Hays pretended he didn’t notice the shooting.
It took thirty minutes, but an ever-tightening cordon of law enforcement and guardsmen had brought the rioters, mostly young men, into the middle of a large intersection. Surrounded, and scared, they threw down guns, chains, tire irons, and knives.
Jack Hays was handed a loudspeaker. He climbed up on the hood of a fire truck that had followed the skirmish line and turned on the speaker.
“Folks, the party is over. Texas in an independent nation, and as governor I am going to enforce the law. You and the folks who live around here will be questioned. If anyone here is guilty of murder, he will stand trial. For the rest of you, I am here to tell you nothing will happen to you if you obey the law from this minute on. No more looting, no more stealing, no more fires, none of that.”
Hays paused and silence reigned except for the moan of a siren a long way off.
“I know, Charlie Swim knows, and Luwanda Harris knows that you and your families have many grievances, from failing schools to horrific unemployment rates, to police harassment for the crime of being black.
“But the time has come for a new beginning for Texas and for its citizens. I swear to you that the Texas legislature and I are going to take action.
“We are going to have every complaint about police brutality investigated by the staff of a legislative committee, and both these folks standing beside me, Charlie Swim and Luwanda Harris, are going to be on that committee. If you think they will sweep harassment and brutality under the rug, you don’t know them.
“We’re going to set up a private-public partnership so that people in your community, people who study, can qualify for the thirty thousand new high-tech, high-paying jobs that are projected to grow in Houston in the next few years… and you are the people who are going to fill them. Industry will pay part of the cost of your training and the Republic of Texas will pay part. All you have to do to qualify is put your butt in a chair and study hard.
“Texas needs you right now. We are going to be invaded by United States forces in the near future. The Texas Guard needs recruits. You can do yourself and Texas a favor by enlisting. I am not going to pretend it will be easy or without danger. You may get wounded, maimed, or killed. But Texas needs your help. Make your life mean something. Fight for Texas.
“Folks, the riot is really over. Stay and talk to the guardsmen or go home. No more rioting. This is your city and your nation.”
Jack Hays got down off the fire truck. “Charlie, get on in there and talk to them. We need all the soldiers you can get. These guys like to fight — let’s point them in the right direction and give them some discipline and leadership. Hell, let’s give them a country to fight for.”
Hays looked at Luwanda Harris and added, “You tell them I’m sincere — because I am.” Then he turned and walked alone the mile and a half back to the helicopter.
In Abilene, Colonel Wriston had his column of tanks and construction vehicles ready to go by ten that morning. It had been hectic. He had received an unexpected assist from the president, who had announced via television that he was nationalizing the National Guard, so many of the soldiers had reported to the armory without waiting to be summoned.
Wriston and his officers explained that since Texas had declared its independence the Texas Guard was going to defend Texas and take its orders from the governor. All but four of the guardsmen — who were sent home — agreed to defend an independent Texas, and Colonel Wriston quickly had them organized into units and loaded them aboard trucks and buses pressed into service. With tanks in the lead, the column got rolling at ten o’clock.
One of the soldiers who was sent home instead drove straight to the main gate at Dyess and told the sergeant of the guard he wanted to see the commanding general. A call was made, and the sergeant climbed into his air force SUV and led the way to the headquarters building.
Within a minute the guardsman was standing in front of the commanding general, Brigadier General Lou l’Angistino, explaining what the Texas Guard was up to. “They’re going to block your runway, General.”
“When?”
“About as fast as they can get there, sir, I reckon.”
“Do you know where they intend to breach our perimeter?”
“No, sir. I didn’t hear anyone say.”
The general thanked the man and watched him leave the office. He nodded to his chief of staff, who closed the door. They had been poring over a stream of classified messages that flowed into the office just as fast as the message center could get them decoded and printed.
Global Strike Command, GSC, headquarters had ordered him to get his airplanes ready to fly. They might be sent on bombing missions… or they might be sent to Offutt Air Force Base in Nebraska… or… In the next message, GSC headquarters hedged. Belay the first message: Stand by for further orders. Let no civilians onto the base. Consult with local authorities and advise of the political situation in Abilene ASAP. Were the people loyal to the federal government or to the Texas rebels?
On it went. Action messages were interspersed with messages from Washington, from the Joint Chiefs, and every command all over. The army needed his C-130s in Colorado and Alabama. Send them immediately. No, wait. Get them ready to fly and when higher authority had sorted out the priorities, mission orders would be issued.
General l’Angistino shoved the whole pile to a corner of his desk. “Get the base security officer in here. Roust every air policeman on the base and get them suited up.”
“Yes, sir.”
L’Angistino had seen the morning news footage of the declaration. He had been horrified; his comfortable peacetime command had just been transformed.
He looked out his office window at the runway. Rows and rows of B-1 Lancer bombers and C-130 Hercules aircraft were parked on the ramps. He had thirty-six B-1s assigned, the only B-1 wing on active duty in the air force. Twenty-eight C-130s were assigned here, but five were flying, doing overnight training missions or hauling troops and supplies from one military installation to another, the usual peacetime flight schedule. Now this.
He had already issued orders to get all the airplanes serviced, fueled, and ready to fly. He didn’t tell anyone to bring the bombs for the B-1s from the magazines, and wouldn’t until they had missions assigned. Parking weapons on the ramp when they weren’t needed violated air force safety regulations.