“As you know, I have said repeatedly through the years that the two greatest threats to our nation are right-wing constitutionalists and climate change. I have been ridiculed in the conservative press for those statements, but as I foretold, the threat from the Right has become a deadly peril to our national life.
“Tonight I ask all loyal Americans for their support, patience, and understanding as we fight to preserve the Union. One hundred fifty years ago, one of my predecessors had to fight the same battle against an enemy that would have kept half our nation as a haven for slavery. Today we battle a similar enemy, an embittered minority who cannot break with the past, whose political beliefs are grounded in ignorance, hate, and bigotry, and who are now in open rebellion against the United States. We face trying days ahead. But I pledge, as President Abraham Lincoln did before me, to preserve our Union and ensure that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth. Have faith, and I will lead us through the fire to the promised land. Thank you.”
Where electricity still flowed through the wires, people nationwide sat staring at their television screens as picked liberal commentators talked about the president’s resolve, his vision. His forceful delivery struck just the right note, one woman said. Another commentator, a tenured university professor infamous for urging all white people to commit suicide so the nonwhites of the earth could flourish, pounded the racial drum. Only through Barry Soetoro could the promise of racial justice and equal rights be realized, and white privilege once and for all be defeated and banished from the land.
Where it was seen, the presidential speech had the opposite effect from the one he presumably intended. Panicked people quite beyond rational thought got in their cars and joined mobs looting stores.
General Martin L. Wynette watched the speech on television in his Pentagon E-Ring office and shrugged sadly. Climate change!
He asked himself, Were chaos and anarchy the president’s real goals, so he could build his socialist dictatorship upon the rubble? Or had the damned fool miscalculated once again? Was he a sublime evil genius, or simply a bumbling, incompetent believer in his own bullshit that fate and poisonous racial politics had raised to a very high place? Not that it mattered — the result was the same in either case. The apocalypse had finally arrived.
A few offices down the E-Ring of the Pentagon from the office of the chairman of the JCS, the chief of naval operations, Admiral Cart McKiernan, was staring at a hard copy of the president’s order for the destruction of the power plants in Texas. The best way to do that was with Tomahawk Land Attack Missiles, the admiral thought, but he had no idea how many power plants there were in Texas.
He had a much better grasp on how many Tomahawks the navy had, which was a little less than 3,400. The Soetoro administration had ended production in Fiscal Year 2015. The missiles cost $1.4 million each and the manufacturer, Raytheon, had stated that restarting the factory and suppliers’ production would take two years and increase costs. The next-generation missile was not scheduled into the fleet for ten more years.
A Tomahawk was a subsonic cruise missile that carried a one-thousand-pound conventional warhead. To put a power plant out of action, the missile would need to score a direct hit. To do that, one needed to program the precise GPS coordinates, the latitude and longitude, of each target into the missiles. On a big power plant with large generators — as many as twenty, mounted on thick, reinforced concrete — direct hits by multiple missiles would be required to do significant damage. Perhaps five missiles for each target, because inevitably, as with all complex state-of-the art weapons, Tomahawk reliability was not one hundred percent. More like ninety percent, assuming they were properly and meticulously programmed before firing.
The missile depended on an accurate satellite survey of the terrain it would fly over to ensure it didn’t hit an obstacle, a system called Terrain Contour Matching. This feature allowed the missile to fly as close to the earth as possible, thereby making it difficult for defenders to acquire on radar and shoot down. GPS was used to guide it over the water to its preprogrammed coast-in point and in its terminal guidance phase. So precisely where were the power plants that Soetoro wanted destroyed? It would require several days of staff work to come up with that information from existing satellite databases and then pass it on in a targeting order to the ships selected to launch the missiles.
Cart McKiernan wasn’t thrilled about using Tomahawks in this manner. Blasting the hell out of Texas could deplete the navy’s inventory of Tomahawks, which might hurt America down the road, assuming that down the road there still was an America and a United States Navy that needed the weapon. The Sunnis and Shiites were fighting each other in the Middle East, North Korea’s dictator was strutting as usual, China was bullying its neighbors, and Iran was once again giving the world the finger over its nuclear ambitions. Israel was worried about ISIS and Iranian attacks. And what if next week Soetoro decided to punish Oklahoma, Louisiana, or Florida?
The alternative to Tomahawks was strikes against the power plants using carrier aircraft. USS Texas had just escaped from Galveston, so she was at sea somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. Giving her an aircraft carrier for a torpedo target didn’t appeal to the CNO’s military mind. Losing an aircraft carrier or two off the Texas coast would be a poor trade for some power plants, many of which were probably scheduled to be retired in a few years anyway and replaced with more efficient ones.
Of course, McKiernan could pass the request on to the air force and ask if they wanted a piece of this action, but that didn’t strike him as a good idea, either. Funding for the next generation of Tomahawk was the stake on the table, and if the navy couldn’t complete assigned missions with the missiles it had, perhaps it didn’t really need those new, more expensive missiles after all. And no doubt the air force already had a full plate.
McKiernan attached a memo to the order authorizing the use of one hundred Tomahawks against Texas power plants, and he directed that the plants with the largest generating capacity be attacked first using five missiles per plant. Losing the generating capacity from twenty big power plants would play hob with the Texas grid and leave millions of treasonous Texans sweltering in the dark, which should satisfy even Barry Soetoro, Cart McKiernan thought.
With CNO’s proviso, the presidential order went off to the strike planners.
Colonel Nathaniel Danaher spent the morning and afternoon in the B-52 hangar spaces talking to the pilots, crewmen, and ground personnel attached to the squadrons. He wanted to know if any of them would fight for Texas and Oklahoma. A few people from those two states volunteered, but the vast majority didn’t want to fight for anybody. He was about to give it up as a bad job when his handheld squawked. “Major General Hays is here, sir. He came on the last C-130.”
The officer on the other end was a major whom Danaher liked because he was competent and could think on his feet. “You know where to put the troops?”
“Yes, sir. Augment our people at the ammo depot and fuel farm.”
“Tell General Hays I’ll meet him at base operations.”