Gary Beck, Call to Valor
excerpt
Call to Valor Publisher: Paper Angel Press Date: Sept. 18, 2024 Length: 502 pages ISBN: 1962538877; 978-1962538879 |
Jed and Sergeant Alexandra Kent walked to the mess hall with Hanson. “How did he ever become a marine, let alone an officer?” Al wondered. “Knock it off, Al,” Hanson insisted, without anger. “He’s our Commanding Officer and we’re managing. We have bigger problems to be concerned about today. I’ve got a strange feeling that we’re overlooking something.” “Is that a hunch, or just a general worry?” Jed asked. “I wish I knew. We’ve prepared as thoroughly as possible and I can’t put my finger on anything, but it’s been going too smoothly. There are too many potential trouble spots with the Arabs, French and the bluefish,” Hanson said, using the derogatory nickname of the U.N. Peacekeepers. “Our men and women are ready, Sam,” Al reassured him. “They’re not kids anymore. Not after the snafu’d Nafud.” Hanson nodded sadly, as a wisp of memory of the agonizing desert retreat in Saudi Arabia flitted through his mind. “Alright. Let’s eat, then go to work.”
The first official event of U.N. Day was at Madison Square Park, at the World War I Memorial, an obvious act of triumphalism over weakened America. Fifth Avenue was closed and loudspeakers were set up for the crowd. The ceremony for Euro-Arab freedom fighter volunteers who died fighting Americans in Saudi Arabia featured the expected. Speaker after speaker mounted the platform, starting with the president of France, Alain Juppé, followed by the French president-elect, Nicolas Sarkozy, who praised the fallen heroes. The French sneers at the defeated American aggressors were followed by representatives of the Arab nations, who heaped invectives and threats on the American infidels, while the French infidels applauded enthusiastically. The crowd stirred and the Arabs cheered frantically, firing their Kalashnikovs in the air when Seif el-Islam el-Qaddafi appeared, accompanied by his pet tiger. The son of the recently assassinated former dictator of Libya, Muammar el-Qaddafi, was now the absolute ruler of his country, accepted worldwide, despite the rumors that he was behind the murder. He joined his fellow Arabs in cursing America.
When the bullets inevitably plummeted back to earth, four people were killed and twenty-three were wounded. Despite the chaos when ambulances rushed in to remove the casualties, the procession of Arab ranters continued, each one more rabid than his predecessor. A great hush fell on the crowd when Khaled Meshal stood up to speak. He was once the most hated leader of Hamas, responsible for the deaths of many Israelis and Westerners, with a ten million dollar bounty on his head, dead or alive, that was never collected. Now he was the Ayatollah of Jordan, appointed by the Grand Ayatollah of Saudi Arabia, Osama bin Laden, after the slaughter of King Abdullah and all his relatives of the Hashemite dynasty. Some of the Marine honor guard who had endured the Arab stream of abuse without reaction, now rumbled angrily and muttered curses when they saw him. They knew he sent Palestinian volunteers to Saudi Arabia to kill Americans. Jed instantly commanded: “Steady. Not another sound.”
Some of the Arabs were watching the Marines, hoping for a pretext to attack them, but loud yelling from another direction distracted them. A group of vets in wheelchairs, carrying anti-Arab and anti-U.N. banners, chanting: “No, No. Arabs go,” tried to enter the park from Madison Avenue. The Marines were able to turn them away before the Arabs could respond, but not without the vets spitting on them and calling them traitors. The police escorted the vets back to the hospital and left them simmering in frustration. The rest of the ceremony took place without disruption and the final activity set the crowd into a frenzy. President Juppé awarded the Légion d’honneur, posthumously, to all the French volunteers who died fighting the Americans in Saudi Arabia. This sparked another round of shooting in the air by the Arabs and the notables rapidly departed. The crowd quickly dispersed and this time left only one dead and nine wounded. As the Marines marched back to the barracks, Wilkins announced loudly: “I sure wish I could have shot that Meshal raghead.” “Thinking about the ten mil, snail?” a voice in the back of the column yelled. “I wouldn’t turn it down, but if I had to pick the money or the shot, I’d take the shot.” “Right on, snail.”
Hanson watched the disorderly end of the ceremony through his binoculars, as the heavily guarded motorcade of the notables sped off to their next destination, the Veterans Hospital. He focused for a minute on the video crews from Al Jazeera, Al Manar and C.N.N. International, which was broadcasting on all other stations. He knew without a doubt that they wouldn’t air footage of the dead and wounded, unless they blamed it on the Marines. They would show the President of France, the most faithful Arab ally, albeit a temporary infidel one, awarding honors to fallen Arab heroes, and the Arab leaders flaunting their triumphs over the great satan. He made a mental note not to watch tv this weekend. Then, after a final scan of the park, he signaled Tico, the driver of his hummer, and they headed for a vantage point on east 25th street, where he could observe the Veterans Hospital.
The Bellevue Enclave doctors and bigwigs were lined up on First Avenue to greet the prominent visitors, who poured out of their armored limos and brushed past the welcoming committee, who forlornly trailed after them. Hanson didn’t know what transpired inside, but the rapid reappearance of the visitors indicated that they didn’t pause to speak to the maimed, blind or paralyzed wrecks of the mujadaheen, who had sacrificed their bodies when they answered the call to Jihad. The visitors quickly reentered their vehicles and the motorcade sped up First Avenue, turned on 35th street and pulled up in front of the former Armenian Cathedral of Saint Vartan, now the Mosque of bin Laden. Turkish pressure in the U.N. had influenced the Secretariat to expropriate the church for the use of Islam. Captain Beasley and the local officials were waiting in front of the entrance and wagged eagerly, but the visitors ignored them and rushed inside, leaving Beasley and the officials to follow them.
Hanson had Tico park across the street from the mosque and he settled down to await the emergence of the visitors, who would then join the parade, already forming a few blocks away on First Avenue. A group of Armenian-American demonstrators tried to storm their defiled church in the vain hope of reclaiming it. The police, although not unsympathetic because of the violation of the church, hustled them away with unusual forbearance and no injuries. The bluefish were eager to crack American heads, Armenian or other, but the prompt response of the police forestalled them. Hanson made a mental note to praise the efficiency of the police to Captain Lonigan, the precinct commander, whose men had prevented an incident that could have caused casualties, without changing anything. He watched the police escort the demonstrators up 34th street, until they were out of sight. He shook his head with discouragement at another profound insult inflicted on the American people, whose generosity to the needy of the world was always conveniently forgotten.
Hanson waited patiently and snacked on a packet of meals-ready-to-eat, while inside the former church, his former enemies feasted. The Arabs and their guests took their time dining, certain that the parade wouldn’t begin without them. It started to rain, which would add a further element of discomfort for the marchers. More than two hours went by, which meant that some groups had been waiting in place for two to three hours. The Arabs finally finished their leisurely lunch, sauntered out and chatted on the sidewalk, before slowly getting into their limos and driving to the starting point of the parade. Captain Beasley and the officials emerged, and Beasley peremptorily signaled Hanson to join him.
Hanson told Tico to pull up in front of the former church. He felt a sense of apprehension at Beasley’s summons, without any idea what he wanted. “Good afternoon, Captain.” “Sergeant. Now that my lunch duties are over, I’ll take charge of security for the rest of the day.” “Sir?” “You heard me. The Arabs are very unhappy about the presence of police, National Guard and Marines. They requested that they be removed and replaced with U.N. Peacekeepers.” “That’s not a good idea, sir. The bluefish aren’t trained for security.” “I don’t like that name for them, Sergeant, and I expect you to change personnel before the parade starts.” “It’s a mistake to change the arrangements. There isn’t time to do it properly.” “This is not open for discussion, Sergeant. Make the change. That’s an order.” Hanson turned to the Mayor’s representative in desperation. “We shouldn’t do this, sir.” The man shrugged. “It’s not my call, Sergeant.” “I’ll do it under protest, sir, and only with a written order.” Beasley frowned, but took out his notebook, wrote an order and handed it to Hanson. “Will that do?” Hanson read it quickly. “Yes, sir. But I still insist this is a mistake.” Beasley glared at him. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow. Now carry out your orders.”
Captain Beasley walked off with the officials without another word. Hanson tried to think of some way to get the order cancelled, but couldn’t come up with anything. Reluctantly, he celled Captain Lonigan and told him to withdraw his police officers. Lonigan’s irate cursing could have been heard at the U.N., then he calmed down. “Are you out of your mind?” he demanded. “Who the hell will provide security, the leprechauns?” “The U.N. Peacekeepers.” “The bluefish? That’s crazy.” “Captain Beasley has taken charge of security at the request of the Arabs and ordered the police, National Guard and Marines replaced by Peacekeepers.” “Do you want us in reserve somewhere?” Lonigan asked. Hanson was tempted, but didn’t want to risk exposing the police to bluefish aggression. “No, Captain. You better resume normal routine and avoid the parade route.” Lonigan cursed a bit more, then signed off.
The call to Colonel Warrington of the National Guard was just as frustrating, but not as profane as the one to Lonigan. “What idiot decided that?” Warrington asked. “It was at the request of the Arabs, sir. I recommend you recall your troops to the Armory and avoid any confrontation with the Peacekeepers.” Warrington muttered something about the imbecile who issued the order, then said: “Let’s get together when this is over. I’ll cell you.” “I’ll look forward to it,” Hanson replied. The calls to his marine platoons weren’t any easier. He talked to Jed at length, because he knew he would be particularly agitated and require soothing. “Take it easy, Jed. Those are our orders.” “It was Beasley, wasn’t it? It sounds like that asshole.” “Knock it off, Jed. Take our people back to the barracks. I’ll see you there.” Hanson knew that Jed stomped off angrily and had to admit to himself that he felt the same way.
A few minutes later the squalling, grating music of an Arab band signaled the parade was finally underway. Various Arab military units marched by at quickpace, arms swinging more in nazi style than British. Elderly Russian armored vehicles trundled by, flaunting their non-battle victory over the Americans. Some of the American veterans in wheelchairs rolled through the park, heading for Fifth Avenue. Unlike their raucous demonstrations in the morning, this time they were silent, grim and determined.
A company of French Foreign Legionnaires marched by at the slow, controlled pace that hinted of their ferocity. They were followed by the French President and President-elect, and the crowd cheered wildly for them. The crowd fell silent and there was an expectant hush. Then a murmur started. ‘Meshal’. ‘Meshal’. A company of mujahadeen, wrapped in white from head to toe, carrying Kalashnikovs, preceded a limousine with Mehsal and Moktada al-Sadr, the Grand Ayatollah of Iraq. Suddenly a vet in a wheelchair rolled into the mujadaheen formation and doused himself in gasoline. All eyes turned ot him as he lit a flare, yelled: “Gung ho,” and ignited himself.
There was a shocked silence and while everyone stared at the incendiary man, another vet rolled up to Meshal and al-Sadr’s limo. He tore off his fatigue jacket, which revealed a harness of C-4 plastic explosives, yelled: “Semper Fi,” and detonated himself. The tremendous explosion ripped the limousine apart and practically vaporized the occupants. The crowd was stunned for a minute, then the mujadaheen began to wail and fire their weapons wildly, which sent everyone ducking for cover, except the television crews who kept their cameras recording the spectacle as the parade broke up in a swirl of chaos. The notables and their bodyguards zoomed off in their limousines up Fifth Avenue, running down anyone luckless enough to be in the way.
Everyone with any sense had vacated the streets after the explosion, so the Arabs didn’t have any ready targets for their anger. They proceeded up the parade route on Fifth Avenue in a disorganized mass, and some of them fired their Kalashnikovs at the Empire State Building as they went by. They didn’t do any real damage, but they all felt better shooting at a symbol of Yankee imperialism. The nearby police officers were smart enough not to intervene, thereby avoiding a shoot-out with a better armed, fanatic opposition. The Arabs turned east on 42nd street and gathered in front of the U.N., where they called for vengeance. This situation was more volatile then the previously scheduled hate America rally, and U.N. officials and notables could barely control the angry Arabs.
French President Juppé finally pacified the crowd by promising an immediate investigation of the incident and pledging to bring to justice anyone else involved in the attack besides the suiciders. The official ceremony was canceled and the Arabs dispersed, pausing to loot several stores on 42nd street, then most of them headed for Arab town around Atlantic Avenue, in Brooklyn. Most of the stores had wisely closed for the day, so damages were confined to the Arab-owned fast food stores and delis that had remained open for parade business. There were no fatalities and calm finally prevailed in the recently chaotic streets. President Juppé officially requested Secretary-General Mohamed ElBaradei to appoint a committee to formally investigate the attack by American veterans. The Secretary-General assured him that it would be done without delay. The two men smiled at each other as they considered the implications of the attack. Americans practicing terror. They both understood what an opportunity this was to punish the wounded giant. They kept tight control of the masks they wore for the public, but inwardly they gloated and savored a moment that might never come again: the further humiliation of America.
Copyright © 2025 by Gary Beck
