Introduction: I am posting a short story, starting today. The story is four chapters in length, 7500 words in length. I will post a chapter each day. As often requested by my readers, on Thursday, the posting of the final chapter, I will also include a link to download the PDF of the entire story for those who wish to do so.
Why a story now? I don’t know. All I know is over a week ago I woke up to a small snippet of a story, a scene from a movie playing in my mind. I felt I should write about it. However, I thought that maybe not. To test myself I decided that if I had the same scene and prompting the next morning then I knew I should write that story. The next morning it was there once more. But, 
my day was full of a task that was fairly critical to the glamstead so I put off the story writing.
For those of you that have never read any of my stories let me share this…when I write it starts with nothing more than a snippet of something that comes into my mind. Once I sit down at the keyboard a virtual movie begins to play in my mind’s eye…literally as if I was watching a movie. All I do is type it out on the computer screen. That is the same with this story.
I hope and pray that you will read the story and feel the message that is meant for you. Then share the story with others as you feel prompted to do so.
Chapter 1
My story doesn’t end with my death. My message and warning is the story. My message isn’t really mine. I am just the messenger. And the warning…well, I am the messenger for that as well.
When does the story start? It started almost two years into the Civil War. Some called it a revolution, others called it a rebellion, most politicians called it an insurrection. Those in power, and wanting to keep that power, called it a rebellion. Whatever it was, it started very gradually before anyone knew it by those who hardly anyone knew. I just called it war. It started with so-called riots in major cities. They weren’t really riots, just demonstrations, most with some violence, hardly anything of note. Some of the violence went beyond the pale, but that was rare. It was all, on both sides, just a pretext for what was to come. Oddly, those behind the curtain never anticipated the actual outcome.
As I said it was almost two years into the war but our area had mostly been spared. We lived in what most called a bubble. The area of this bubble was large, covering the region of Arizona referred to as the White Mountains. While we didn’t live in a town, we were close to Tyler, Arizona. Tyler was predominately, almost entirely, Christian; although not all active in their faith. Whether God protected our area or not is one of the topics of debate among the locals. Well, it was a topic, it no longer is, the matter was settled that day, late in the day, in Gaume’s Field.
What happened that day? Ah, yes…that is part of the story. I will get to the message and warning afterwards. That day was bittersweet to say the least, but one that many are thankful for no matter the horror of it. That day was just an extension of the previous year and a half. The proclamation of martial law sealed everyone’s fate, it just took a year and a half to get here, to shatter that bubble. What a glorious event, just I doubt many saw it as such at the time. But that’s okay…it was still glorious…looking back.
Fortunately for us we had a couple of men that still had a conscious and faith in God, and were willing to act on both. Those faithful men, the military men of the local occupying force, supplied us a constant stream of information on their unit’s activities and plans. Without them, I am not sure what would have happened. We were, and are, very grateful for all they did…and we honor the martyrdom they suffered helping us. They share our joy and happiness with us now.
Two weeks prior to the execution of their unit’s plans we were sent word of all the particulars and details; the typical who, what, where, and when was ours to act on. We already knew the “why”. The unit was responsible for the governing of our region of Arizona; the unit consisted mostly of light infantry and mobile, ground-based cavalry companies. The old army unit designations were mostly gone ever since the declaration of martial law, a declaration based on an unfounded claim of insurrection. This unit suppressing our region was “SS-SWAZ”; State Security – Southwest, Arizona. The units were designated by the region of the country and then the state. The particular company within that unit for our area was Delta Company. I doubt many in that unit caught the irony of the “SS”, they were young and ignorant of history, many of us older folks understood it very clearly.
We had two weeks to prepare to defend our homes, our families, our freedom, and our faith. It was enough. I should explain who I refer to when I say “we”. We are the residents of Tyler; or I should say the great Tyler area that includes all the homesteads, ranches, farms, and scattered residents…along with the town’s folks. We are about 6,000 folks total all counted. We have a single leader who has a leadership council of twelve people to support him. Under his leadership are four smaller, almost equally sized units who also have a leader and twelve who work with him in a council setting as support. Then there are smaller units made up of smaller units until it gets down to about ten families in the smallest of the units. I lead, or rather led, a group of ten families; they are all dead now.
This was a very effective way to organize Tyler. The families in each unit helped each other. Then, each unit could help those units around it, and then expand as the need grew, the larger units would help other large units, etc. until all could be helped. Basically no family went hungry unless they chose not to participate, and even then food packages would be delivered to those in need regardless of anything else. It was a good system and most believed it was divinely inspired and led to God protecting our little bubble in a very troubled country. For us, it was all about service to others.
But that day the organization was different; there was 2815 of us in all. We were organized by operational specialty, but not all 2815 were operators, only about one-quarter, the rest were family. We were led by Irwin Michael Bishop. I don’t know anyone who called him other than by his last name. Well, untrue. I did call him Irwin once at the very beginning just trying to get a smile…or reaction…it was my odd sense of humor. From then on is was strictly Bishop, I learned my lesson.
For two weeks virtually everyone in the area participated in the preparation to defend ourselves. Since we knew where they were going to strike first and how they were going to get there, thanks to our spies, it wasn’t difficult. IED’s made out of frying pans with a home-brew of chemicals, more IED’s made from propane tanks, and even more made from Tannerite. Molotov cocktails were made, crude hand grenades had already been manufactured and now brought to a central location. What astounded me most were the two RPGs. It was never talked about, at least to my knowledge, where those came from or who dropped them off. A couple of ex-Army vets stepped forward with knowledge on how they were to be used. They were to be one of the great equalizers that day…or so I thought.
The most fascinating “tools” to be used in our defense were the drones. Lessons learned from the Ukraine-Russian War was the military value of drones…now considered another of the great equalizers. We had almost 50 in the shed, most with some kind of contact explosive to be attached when the time came; the others were simply to provide reconnaissance.
There were two other units that remained a bit cloudy. One was the Sniper Company made up of twenty-two of the best hunters that the area had to offer. These folks, eighteen men and four women, could hit man-sized targets at 600 yards 95% of the time, and the same targets at 1000 yards 80% of the time. Their job was to take out leadership personnel. Starting at the top of the chain of command and working the way down eliminating as much leadership as possible; hopefully creating chaos among their ranks.
The last unit was a dark and truly scary bunch. There were only eight of them I think, all former special forces from one branch or another. Rumor has it that there was two Delta operators, one SEAL, and three Green Berets among them. They kept to themselves and most were glad they did. All of these men were troubled, deeply troubled, as hard-core warriors usually are when their wars and fighting are over. Their dreams haunted them both day and night. Their steel determination to not allow our homes to be conquered was a force of nature…one not to be trifled with. Their mission? I have no idea, no one did. They volunteered to “disrupt” the attack as much as possible. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that mission and unbreakable commitment.
All that being said about the organized defense of our homes, families and freedoms was for nothing. None of it was ever implemented, not a single operation carried out…not a single shot fired by any of us. We all died that day, including me.
Intel had Delta Company of the SS-SWAZ entering the area about 2pm, and our first engagement to start shortly thereafter unless SpecOps would engage them sooner. Next would be the Sniper Unit selectively taking out the leadership the best they could along the route of travel. At that point, or close to it, we figured that they then would rush the column into the fight and then it would be a full-scale battle of regular military vs homegrown resistance. Again, that never happened…it was a slaughter, nothing less.
That morning Bishop called the leadership together all the way down to the Captains of ten families, I was one of them. Whoa! I never, in my wildest dreams, expected what I heard. Bishop spoke for about 10 minutes about faith, God, the Sermon on the Mount, and to love our enemies. Many were uncomfortable, including me. A few looked serene and very much at peace. Those of us that were uneasy…it made sense. Most of us were veterans and we had been preparing for war, we had been preparing to kill our fellow countrymen, and truth be told, we had been preparing ourselves to sacrifice our lives for others if need be. And here we were at the feet of Bishop hearing just the opposite. All were stunned or peaceful one way or another.
After a heartfelt prayer by a local Baptist minister I didn’t know, Bishop asked us to go back to our families and discuss what he had said and ponder his proposal. Then, we were to gather in our units and council one another with our leaders. Finally, we were to gather back together to vote on accepting Bishop’s course of action. By noon the leadership was to meet and council with Bishop and make the final decision. A tough decision considering its potential and probable outcome for all.
At that noon meeting it was very short, extremely emotional, and I dare say one of the most spiritual experiences I’ve ever had in my 70 years. Yes, I am 70 years old and still operational, although not front line.
The decision was unanimous. And oddly enough it was the SpecOps unit that started the vote. Before they voiced their vote, their leader spoke. Their message was clear, from their heart and soul, and it brought tears to everyone, including themselves. You could tell they were worn out spiritually and mentally. They were tired of death and destruction. They wanted rest from the world and their nightmares. The remainder of the vote was take right after, it went quickly. We had about an hour or so to complete the change of plans and form up in Gaume’s Field.
Gaume’s Field was a large field on the edge of town. It was usually a hay field of some of the best alfalfa and Bermuda grass in the state. When it was short in the fall many a tag football games were held there. And sometimes the “tag” part was left out when it came to an LDS church league. The Gaume family never objected to folks using it, it was a pleasant place of refuge with its border of large trees and small stream on the north end. Gaume’s Field also bordered Highway 360, the road that the approaching SS column would use to enter the area.
By half-past one, maybe a bit later, everyone was there; all the defenders…and their families, 2815 men, women, teenagers, children, toddlers, and infants. Bishop called for silence, although mostly not needed. There was already a very muted atmosphere and only whispers other than the occasional toddler or infant. Bishop shared a short testimony of his faith and God. A prayer was said by his wife. Then almost immediately word came from a drone operator that the column was just minutes away.
Everyone formed up by family, some into units, and all moved into the field starting right at the edge of the road. Bishop, his wife, and children were as close to the road as possible without actually standing on the pavement. Not surprisingly the SpecOps flanked them on either side. The rest of us fanned out in a large group behind them in an expanding semi-circle that was hundreds of people deep. I was towards the back left flank with my wife and our unit members with their families. There was not a single weapon of any kind among us, not even a pocket knife; 2815 people completely defenseless…or so it seemed.
It wasn’t long until we heard the first rumble of the Humvee’s. There was supposed to be 15 or so, plus two Strikers, and most likely 1 or 2 Abrams tanks. Although that was just the last information we had received two days prior. Each Humvee would be equipped with a 50cal. M2 machine gun or an M240 machine gun. The Strikers would have the standard 50cal. M2 machine gun. We didn’t know for sure how many troops would be in the attacking force but we knew they would be individually heavily armed.
As the first of the Humvee’s rolled into sight someone began to sing Amazing Grace, it wasn’t long till virtually everyone was singing. It sounded like a heavenly choir. There were some who were praying vs singing…and that was okay, we needed all the help we could get. There were some that began a very quiet sobbing, some teenagers were stunned, others unsure, many held younger brothers or sisters. Mothers clutched their babies close to their breast. A few toddlers had broken free of their family and were running around as toddlers do.
A new song began from the far end of the crowd. I couldn’t pick up all the words but the melody was absolutely beautiful and calming. As more began to sing it, I picked up the words “And should we die before our journey’s through, Happy day! All is well! We then are free from toil and sorrow, too; With the just we shall dwell!” My soul was full, my spirit calmed, and a peace settled over me…and so with the entire crowd.
But it was next words of that song that struck deep in me and became very personal…as if they were being sung just for me; “But if our lives are spared again to see the Saints their rest obtain, oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell—All is well! All is well!” I knew that this was meant for me for some unknown odd reason…but those words were mine to hold, to cherish, to honor…it was very personal.
While we were singing the vehicles had spread out along the road covering our group from one end to the other. None of the soldiers said anything to any of us, they just pointed those mounted weapons at us sweeping back and forth over the crowd but not firing a shot. Now, there were many in our group that began to openly cry, an even larger number knelt to pray, and families huddled together.
Bishop approached one of the vehicles and a man stepped out of the Humvee; a man dressed in a suit and tie, the only person dressed that way. Words were briefly exchanged, then the man pointing back at Bishop’s family. Bishop lowered his head, returned to his family, hugged them, and knelt…his family also did so. Those in the crowd who had not yet knelt followed suit. A murmur rippled through the mass as families uttered prayers…their last prayers.
I smiled at my wife, told her how much I loved her, and we began to pray together. A teenage girl from my Sunday School class came over and knelt with us. She had already lost her entire family almost a year earlier. She joined us in our tears and prayer. When we were done with our prayer, still on our knees, we hugged as a family group. Then the first sounds of shots rang out.
It started with the nod of his head from the man in the suit, then an officer gave the command in this radio. Within seconds every machine gun erupted…sending death into our friends and families. It is as if there was a great scything of wheat was taking place. Men, women, and children being cut down in bloody efficiency starting at the front and moving it deadly way through the crowd. I turned to shield my wife and our friend but knowing it would meaning nothing in the end. The bullets from those powerful machine guns would do their devil’s work ripping through flesh as if we were nothing more than butter.
At first I had my eyes closed, but felt a desperate need, a driven force, to observe the carnage around me. It was almost unimaginable what was taking place…and the screams of horror made it far more real and intense. I felt the first sting in my shoulder, then my leg, then on the side of my head. I could tell I was falling on my side, my arm wouldn’t move to catch me. That is when my wife’s chest exploded in three places, her eyes locked on mine as she died. Poor Ann wasn’t as lucky, she had been hit maybe four or five times and this precious 14 year old orphaned girl was still alive and suffering greatly in pain.
I don’t know how much longer the shooting lasted, but mercifully it did end. Well, only briefly. I was laying on my side unable to move, my head resting on my wife’s arm, I was staring at Ann who was mercifully in shock. She would twitch once in a while that I am sure was nothing more that involuntary reflex actions of a dying young lady.
Then the shooting started again, but the sound was much different. I was able to lift my head slightly and there I saw the dismounted soldiers walking among the fallen, sometimes stepping on the bodies since there was so little room they could walk. They were systematically moving among the dead and dying shooting anyone at point blank range if they showed any sign of life. Some of them were laughing and calling out that they had a “live one” before shooting them. Several were taking great pleasure in seeing how many times they could shoot someone before their targeted victim succumbed to death. I knew I would be one of those; while not fearful, I just wanted it to be over. There was a pain in my soul from this atrocity. Oddly, I felt deep remorse and pity for those behind the guns; what cankerous and darkened souls it would take to do such a thing. Who had corrupted them so?
About that time I saw the last of the life go out of Ann, a young woman who would never see a family or children of her own. A life wasted…and for what? But that wasn’t good enough for these demons…they shot into her lifeless body at least five or six times just because they could. She never had to endure their cruelty, she had already passed.
Finally they got to me. I wanted to look into the eyes of the soldier who would finally kill me but I must have passed out or gone into shock. I heard a shot, and thought I felt another sting but there was only blackness. I was dead.
Chapters –
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