Chapter 6 Lack of Preparedness Has Consequences

Valle del Zaragoza, 125km south of the city of Chihuahua, Chihuahua state (125km east of the Barranca del Cobre)

Near Solar Zenith Wednesday March 21^st 2018 (dialogue is spoken in the “Common Tongue” or military Lingo; words in Italics are in the Imperial Language aka ‘Polite Speech’)

Drax Gormoth cantered down the dirt road at the head of his Bodyguard Troop, Staff, and sycophants; seeing the target of his ire, he shouted, “Incompetent Whelp! You should be commanding your troops in Battle! Not coming back for me to hold your hand!”

Tacticus Zaitzev reported, “there was no battle, my Drax, merely a Coup de Main! Scouts reported a town, I sent three Cavalry Tagmata to encircle the settlement, while my Infantry vanguard overran the objective. A classic Cauldron Battle! Well, skirmish. It went smoother than many training exercises. We seized more than two thousand, two hundred and fifty slaves, several thousand head of livestock, and nearly three hundred of their magical horseless wagons, along with much other booty!”

“If this report is accurate, then you have done well for your first battle.” Drax Gormoth said, his scowl saying more than his words.

Tacticus Zaitzev said, “I did not have a chance to blood my sword. However, I did conduct a personal inspection. I used my abacus to verify the tallies of my subordinates. I have been trained, and you expect Reports to be both Prompt and Accurate. Sir!”

Drax Gormoth guffawed, then said, “Your Father will be proud of you! The Logisticians shall take over. Until they arrive, set a minimum guard, use walking wounded. You must push on as rapidly as possible in the direction the Sun Comes Up! Push on with as much of your force as possible, speed is essential. Go Now!”

Tacticus Zaitzev said, “My Drax, I am not sure that is wise-

“How Dare you speak back to Me!” Drax Gormoth roared.

Tacticus Zaitzev said, “It is my Duty. My Drax. My scouts report a large lake, filling the valley in the direction the Sun comes up. My second in command just reported that he could see what looks like some of their magical lights beyond the lake, however, there is no good path for an army that direction. What I thought you should know is the fantastical highway we have discovered. It is wider, and straighter than anything I have ever seen. It is made of some magical material too. Unfortunately, the road runs North to South, not in the direction you have commanded. Yet, such a highway must lead somewhere important. I Serve the Basilieus, and you, My Drax!”

“Hmph. I shall see. For your sake, you had best not be wasting my time. Drax Ulrich has enjoyed many days of victories and prestige! I doubt he has been confined to these accursed mountains! No matter how rich the veins of minerals, it will take years to exploit them. Desportes Lazula must have his reasons for marching a steady stream of Imperial Soldiers, and even more Axillaries into this land; like water poured into desert sand ... The Magi have said there are fertile farm lands, and rich cities, bursting with loot. Yet, we are commanded to lurk in the wilderness.” Drax Gormoth groused, his staff and sycophants nodding their heads vigorously.

Tacticus Zaitzev merely said, “Yes My Drax.”

“You failed to report how severe your casualties are. Are they so prohibitive you doubt the ability of your soldiers to continue the advance? You should know that you should Advance! Advance! Advance! Even unto the last hundred warriors!” Drax Gormoth said.

As they rode, Tacticus Zaitzev said, “losses among my forces were negligible. While waiting to pass through the Portal, I spoke with several of the wounded junior officers, a couple of Magisters, and a Quaestor about what they had learned from earlier fights against this enemy. Despite their plentiful magic, they are Afraid of the Dark. Their weapons shoot straight, but they often shoot over the heads of our troops, especially our smaller Axillaries. So, I ordered my Cavalry to swing wide, then dismount half of them, in low ground; those on foot were to advance in a loose cordon to fix the enemy. I ordered a quarter of them to remain mounted as a reserve. Five hundred paces out I had my infantry deploy into a thin line, with ten paces between the ranks. We walked quickly until a hundred paces out, then charged. I also requested a Magister to use a Booming Voice to demand them to surrender, in their language.”

“Such skirmish tactics worked, eh.” Drax Gormoth said.

Tacticus Zaitzev said, “Yes My Drax. Some months before this conquest, I had contemplated how to counter an enemy with a large number of Shamans, similar to Elves. Warlocks are neither numerous, nor reliable. Wizards are more reliable, but fewer. Magisters have certain abilities ... Numerous, but not individually powerful magic users would pose a severe challenge to our Imperial soldiers, as well as our Axillaries. A cousin of mine, an Apprentice Magister, and I have discussed it several times. We did so again when we heard about what the first wave was encountering. So, I took a few calculated risks.”

While the wily Drax prompted the eager young Tacticus to reveal his schemes, the road they were riding upon turned from packed gravel, to paved. When the Drax had stopped to examine it, the young Tacticus suggested that the highway was significantly superior, and also much better lighted. Drax Gormoth noticed that sentry posts of four, as well as squad sized roving patrols secured a prosperous appearing town. There was little damage, and no signs of looting or arson. Surprising.

When asked, Tacticus Zaitzev replied nonchalantly that he had made a deal with some Magisters, his troops would disturb as little as possible, in return they would catalogue everything in the name of Drax Gormoth; half of the Basilieus’ share would revert to the Drax, for aiding their research. Apparently, the Basilieus is demanding quick answers, and willing to compensate for those who could provide them.

“You are most unconventional Tacticus Zaitzev. Why have you chosen to use your skirmishers for security duties? What advantage do you anticipate achieving by using heavy infantry for pursuit?” Drax Gormoth said.

Tacticus Zaitzev said, “I had all of my troops stack their shields before we crossed through the portal. I also ordered my heavy, and medium infantry to shed most of their armor. According to reports neither shields nor armor provide much protection from the magical weapons of our new foes. It has also resulted in my troops being a bit nimbler. Unarmored, or in just leather or cuirbouilli, the troops seem more willing to employ skirmisher tactics. I’m not certain they march further, however, they seem less fatigued when they enter into battle directly from a march.”

“Fascinating. I was merely rewarding your father for faithful service to me when I was a Tacticus. I was concerned your father had invested too much buying you this promotion too soon. If you continue to perform as well as you have done so far, your father, you, and your troops, as well as I shall prosper. Don’t get too cocky.” Drax Gormoth said; some of his sycophants murmuring platitudes.

Before the younger officer could reply, they arrived at the highway, causing the Drax to exclaim, “Inconceivable! Extravagance, such a highway through such a small town, there are no fortifications to defend it. No obvious reason for such a feat of engineering?”

Tacticus Zaitzev said, “There is no obvious reason My Drax. I have sent small cavalry patrols each direction. Other than the minimum forces securing the prisoners, and the town, and some small outposts, I am keeping most of my units in reserve. We await your command as to which direction to proceed.”

“Send at least ten percent of your force back, to prevent the columns of Tacticus Strok and Tacticus Amon from entering town, otherwise they might begin looting. I will order Tacticus Strok to bypass to the left, and follow the highway to the Arta (north). While Tacticus Amon swings right, and to the Antarta (south). The troops under my command, and those of Tacticus Netzigon shall form a reserve, just outside of town in the direction the Sun goes Down. You, and your troops shall assist the Magisters. Inform your troops that this is not a punishment, rather that I trust their discipline, and they shall receive extra shares of loot for doing their duties well.” Drax Gormoth said.

At the shouted orders of the Drax, messengers galloped off to convey his commands. While awaiting the rest of his troops, Drax Gormoth inspected the slaves as they were being segregated and catalogued. He was taken aback to see some individual slaves, in only light shackles, being spoken to by a couple of Magisters, and their apprentices, while scribes diligently wrote down what seemed gibberish to him. Noting his apparent interest, an Apprentice Magister led him into a well-lit nearby structure, members of his staff and hangers on following in his wake. The Apprentice Magister spoke to a slave, and suddenly a shiny black section of wall was filled by two larger than life talking heads; speaking gibberish.

The view changed multiple times, most even more incomprehensible than the previous set of moving images. Powerful magic, if it could be controlled. Drax Gormoth began pacing, muttering, his staff and the sycophants shrinking back, until a veteran Sergeant brought him a stein of ice-cold soft beer, and then a plate of cold, but spicy food. There was plenty for all, especially the bland, yet pleasingly cold beer. Relaxing on the comfortable furniture, many of the invaders were overwhelmed by the many wonders of this new world. Odd that they had seen no nobles ... perhaps Tacticus Zaitzev had failed to bag them?

Suddenly, Drax Gormoth cursed, walked briskly out to his horse, as he mounted, he muttered loudly, “Damn them! Laggards! I’ll have their hides flayed off if their bumbling incompetence costs me the opportunity laying naked before me!”

His Bodyguards, staff, and sycophants hastened after the galloping noble.

Centro de Justica in the city of Chihuahua, Chihuahua state

4:30 PM ZPT (Zona Pacifico) Wednesday March 21^st 2018 (dialogue is spoken in Spanish, but written in English; some Spanish in italics)

Oficial Zamora of the Gendarmeria division of the Policia Federal said. “Other than a few traffic check points on Federal Route 16, no units of local law enforcement, or even Federales are responding to requests for information. Some have been wounded and are in the hospital, others are unfit for duty, more are dead, or reported to be dead. Quite a few more are missing, probably they are trying to evacuate their loved ones. Perhaps some will return to duty. Probably we should not punish them, we will need their numbers and experience.”

Inspector Gutierrez of the Division de Fuerzas Federales said, “That would be setting a bad precedent. Discipline will be further weakened. What would we do to future deserters?”

Inspector Jefe de Ribera of the de Seguridad Regional said, “What do you propose? Should we line them up against a wall and shoot them? Put them in prison with Narcos? Whatever is going on, it is beyond the capabilities of any police force. Nor have we provided the necessary leadership and coordination. No reasonable person should have expected more than what many of our men have done. Just as in the conflict with the Narcos, some of our men will have been weak. But, how can we know?”

Oficial Zamora said, “We have evacuated many of the Turistas, perhaps most. Losses amongst First Responders, and civilians assisting them have been prohibitive. Most of the hotels and other tourist sites in the vicinity of the Barranca del Cobre have been overrun by the invaders. If those above us want to send more forces, it Must be the Army, and in Battalion strength, I think. In less than a week our police forces have been shattered!”

Inspector Gutierrez said, “I hope that many of our missing men have merely fled. Otherwise, that means the enemy has captured a significant amount of firepower. If reports are to be believed, they started out low on firepower. Don’t forget that they have anti-aircraft weapons. At least weapons capable of shooting down helicopters. Unlike the Yankees, we don’t have many helicopters.”

Inspector Jefe de Ribera said, “Perhaps we could request helicopters ... and other assets from the Gringos. At least enough to conduct better reconnaissance? There are Yankee Turistas among the missing...”

There was uncomfortable silence for more than a minute.

Oficial Zamora said, “Inspector Jefe Vega said that we would not even consider requesting assistance from the Army, until Friday at the earliest. Perhaps, we could suggest expediting that request?”

Inspector Gutierrez said, “Already the armed forces are too involved in the struggle against the Narcos. We are calling the threat ‘Invaders’ but we know almost nothing about them. The Army we know. Their power is limited, because every time they have significant power, since 1824, they abuse that power.”

Sub Inspector Garcia of the Division de Inteligencia spoke for the first time during this meeting, saying, “The Sinaloa Cartel, and the Zetas, as well as smaller, local gangs, have been sending significant numbers of their members into western Chihuahua. Especially into the vicinity of Cuauhtémoc, which has been one of the most lawless places since 2008. Reports indicate that they have deliberately collapsed the teetering law enforcement and civil administrative organizations in the city. The death toll is perhaps over one thousand ... yet, the invaders have not yet reached the suburbs of the city. These atrocities are being committed by Mexicans.”

Inspector Jefe de Ribera suggested, “Perhaps we should concentrate our forces on securing the city of Chihuahua, and containing, or diverting the refugees. Expending our forces to little effect, or allowing a swarm of desperate people into the city is likely to destabilize what is the only feasible base of operations against whomever, or whatever is attacking us. We cannot allow Chihuahua to become like Cuauhtémoc.”

The meeting petered out. The Federales had too little information, and too few resources to deal with the cascading crisis. None of the administrators present at the meeting were willing to state out loud that they didn’t know how to deal with the problem. Bureaucrats in Mexico City, their superiors in the various branches of the Federales would not only make the ultimate decisions, they would also be seeking scapegoats! More influential bureaucrats in many other government agencies would be angry, and worse panicked.

Toll Plaza, Federal Route 16, west of Federal Route 24, 50km west of the city of Chihuahua, Chihuahua state

5:30 AM ZPT (Zona Pacifico) Thursday March 22^nd 2018 (dialogue is spoken in Spanish, but written in English; some Spanish in italics)

The sweet oblivion of sleep died for Suboficial Fernandez of the Policia Federal de Fuerzas (Federal Forces), when a hand shook his ankle, dragging him from the land of Nye, to the miserable existence of those who had not yet died. Well, it certainly tasted like something had died in his mouth while he slept. His back ached, and a headache made the murmured words an annoying buzz, like flies on carrion. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. Blinking his eyes, he could now notice the faint shades of grey heralding the pre-dawn. He sat up, sloughing off a wool serape, exposing himself to the early morning chill.

“Jefe, there are more people sneaking through the creek bed to the north, what should we do?” Cabo Morales whispered.

Suboficial Fernandez yawned, then said quietly, “You have permission to shoot them.”

“I-I can’t do That!” Cabo Morales exclaimed.

As he crawled out of the back of the Ford F250 Policia truck, Suboficial Fernandez said, “I won’t do it either. Let them go.”

“But our orders are to thoroughly inspect anyone trying to travel to Chihuahua, to prevent the spread of disease, to confiscate any weapons, drugs, or other contraband. No more than one hundred persons per daylight hour.” Cabo Morales said.

Suboficial Fernandez said, “If they want those orders strictly obeyed, then we need far more men and resources.”

Shivering, Suboficial Fernandez reached in and pulled out the jacket he had been using as a pillow. He shook it out, then put it on, jamming his hands into his pockets. Dubiously, he eyed the barely visible clouds in the perceptibly lightening sky. The leader of this ad-hoc Peloton of Federales glanced around, and did not see anything dreadfully amiss. He knelt down to tie his boots. Now that blood was flowing to his brain, he grabbed his H&K G3A3 rifle, and slung it on his shoulder. Lastly, he set a Stetson Boss of the Plains gaucho hat upon his head.

Inclining his head towards the back of the truck, covered with a tarp, where several other of their men slept, Suboficial Fernandez said, “You better climb in and get some sleep. No telling how long this quiet will last. Before you do, please tell me there is a hot pot of coffee somewhere.”

“Si Jefe. Benito just made a pot; he is on radio watch until six.” Cabo Morales said as he climbed into the truck, snuggling into the warm spot where Fernandez had been sleeping, pulling the serape over himself.

Shambling towards the pop-up shelter a hundred meters away, Suboficial Fernandez searched his pockets. Thankfully he found his bottle of pills. He took out a Motrin, and two aspirin, and popped them in his mouth. He grunted at the whispered “Good Morning Jefe” from Benito. He poured a cup full of steaming coffee, took a quick sip to swallow the pain medication, burning his lips and tongue. He blew on the scalding liquid, holding it to warm both of his hands. Blissfully, Benito left him in peace.

A few minutes later he took a cautious slip, feeling the gears in his brain starting to turn, he said, “Gracias Benito.”

“De nada Jefe.”

Looking over his shoulder, Suboficial Fernandez asked, “Anything urgent?”

“Nada Jefe.” Policia Primero Benito Dominguez said.

Suboficial Fernandez said, “Thank you for making strong coffee Benito. I am almost human, maybe soon. I am going to inspect the perimeter.”

“Si Jefe.” Benito was not a great conversationalist; however, he was one of the most reliable men Fernandez knew.

In the pre-dawn twilight, Suboficial Fernandez walked towards the Toll Plaza. With so few men, this was the only practical location for kilometers where they could effectively control the flow of vehicles, and deter refugees on foot from using the easiest route to the city of Chihuahua. He paused to take a sip of coffee, and glance about the perimeter. He then continued on to check the roadblock; two fire engines from Cuauhtémoc, one parked across the eastbound lanes, the other blocking the westbound lanes; not that there was much traffic that direction, but it prevented refugees fleeing east against the traffic regulations. Occasionally they used their water cannons to break up mobs. Two Policia were on watch, others slumbered under tarps rigged on the east side of the fire apparatus.

It had rained during the night, making the situation even more miserable for the refugees, and the Policia too. Next, Suboficial Fernandez verified that both pairs of Policia manning outposts to the left and right were alert. Their duty was more to protect the Policia encampment, than to back up their comrades at the roadblock. Two more Policia secured the east side of the encampment, two hundred meters away; one of whom kept the Radio Watch. A supervisor would conduct a roving patrol inside the perimeter.

The ad-hoc Peloton of twenty-seven Policia commanded by Suboficial Fernandez included local law enforcement officers from Cuauhtémoc, a few from the State of Chihuahua, as well as a Federales from a variety of divisions. There were also five firemen, one of them a paramedic. In addition to their rifles, shotguns, and sidearms, they had six machineguns, and a dozen cases of tear gas grenades, and flash-bang grenades remaining. They had killed more than a dozen people, and wounded scores more. They now used ten “boxes” defined by police-tape, each containing one hundred people, each set fifty meters apart, in a staggered line to the west.

The threat of deadly force was a necessary deterrent for so few to hold back the hundreds, even thousands of refugees. There were perhaps three thousand refugees strung out west along the highway, and several dozen vehicles. The more determined individuals travelled cross country, bypassing the roadblock. It was no longer practicable to use Policia to form a cordon; attrition reduced the local cops and Federales to the remaining token detachment. Suboficial Fernandez hoped non-lethal means would suffice today.

He had established a policy of allowing one hundred refugees per hour, during daylight, to be inspected, and allowed to continue on to the city of Chihuahua. They used force, including deadly force to deter line cutting or bullying. At least within the last five hundred meters. Several times they had had to use water cannon, flash-bangs, and tear gas, and even bursts of machinegun fire to breakup mobs. Suboficial Fernandez had desperately radioed superiors at the Centro de Justica for reinforcements. Headquarters did not comprehend what was occurring west of the city.

Suboficial Fernandez had lost his home, but at least he had been able to evacuate his family. Many of his most dependable officers had been killed, or had deserted to safeguard their families. About two thirds of his remaining men had also lost their homes, and had evacuated their families too; the others had no family, at least anywhere nearby. His men were tired, filthy, unshaven. All water was saved for drinking. At least they had plenty of coffee and food. Most of his men stayed because another close friend or two was also standing fast; that was their loyalty.

Volunteers, most from churches in Chihuahua, brought water, and a few medical supplies, blankets and coats for the refugees. They shared some of the bottled water with the Policia. Suboficial Fernandez tried to deter any of the volunteers from going more than two hundred meters west of the roadblock. They just couldn’t protect them any further than that. Even then it was risky. Several volunteers had been wounded, and two killed; several more had been temporarily taken hostage. Others, who had insisted on heading further west to minister to the thirsty, hungry, and sick, had not returned.

Felix Carlito, one of his youngest Policia interrupted his wool gathering, saying, “This is just like the Gringo’s Walking Dead TV show, isn’t it, Jefe?”

“What?”

Felix said, “You must have seen it, or at least heard about it. In the show, monsters, zombies, destroy the world, starting with the Gringos. Well, they may not be zombies, but these monsters are causing modern society to collapse! Just like on TV.”

Suboficial Fernandez just stared at him.

Felix continued, oblivious of the horrors racing through his leader’s mind, saying, “In just a few days Cuauhtémoc has turned into a Mad Max movie. It wasn’t even the monsters, it was Sicarios, ordinary thugs, even some of our brother Policia. Inspector Riviera and some of our best men raced off to evacuate the Gringo Turistas; they saved most of the Gringos, but I am not aware if any of them made it back home. Hundreds of Federales and other Policia have been killed, or perhaps captured by these monsters, and the invading men accompanying them. Now they have guns, radios, vehicles. They have been beating us with bows, swords, and spears ... What happens when they are really dangerous? Will the Narcos make an alliance with them?”

Rallying, Suboficial Fernandez assured them both, saying, “We just have to hold a little longer. We will get reinforcements; maybe even units of the Army. Then we will take back our homes, and make these monsters pay!”

Cannon Air Force Base, near Clovis, New Mexico

0630 Hours (6:30 AM) MDT Thursday March 22^nd 2018

After warming up in the gym, then a jog from the Fitness Center heading northeast along Air Commando Way, turning east along North Perimeter Road, then turning south along East Perimeter Road, Colonel Wojciechowski, Lieutenant Washington, Staff Sergeant Brussels, and Corporal Thomas then diverted onto a defunct runway. They paused to walk about an area near the recreational skeet range to inspect one prospective area where they would be allowed to establish the temporary facilities for the Hidalgo Task Force. The only thing in favor of the site was a large paved parking lot, just off of Gunship Road, adjacent to the foundations of some old buildings that had been torn down.

They continued south along Gunship Road to a tertiary site, but due to active runways they should not jog across, the second place they inspected. There was a lot of new construction here, even some unoccupied new buildings. However, Colonel Wojciechowski doubted he had the clout to expropriate these facilities. So, they would be occupying some CHUs (Containerized Housing Units), modular tents, and other temporary facilities, amongst an area where significant construction was ongoing. On the plus side there would be some apron space adjacent to the AC-130 Specter IIs that gave the road its name; also, there was a nearby AAFES Shoppette and a laundromat.

They jogged back to the west side of the base, ultimately heading southwest down Chindit Boulevard, turning right on Levitow Avenue, and then left onto Air Commando Way. There was open ground to the southwest of the Commissary and the main AAFES Exchange, a bit further away, shared the same parking lot complex. The area was barren, they would need several tons of gravel, or a hasty paving job; possibly steel matting, or it would be a dusty, and occasionally muddy mess. Yet, there was just enough room for the CHUs, tents, other temporary facilities, a SCIF, there was even an area for a temporary hanger adjacent to a small apron along the taxiway to the end of Runway 13 West.

As they jogged back north on Air Commando Way, Colonel Wojciechowski asked, “What do you think Corporal?”

Quirking an eyebrow, the young enlisted man replied, “The last site is a lot closer to the Exchange, and other facilities. It is a small base, so, it’s not like we are going to be hidden. All three locations are visible from outside the wire. You have not mentioned how covert we are supposed to be. We could put up some HESCOs; claim we are simulating deployed conditions; it might cut down a bit on winds that are likely to blow through. I don’t really know much about UAV operations, however, this location is also closer to the maintenance facilities. Sir.”

(Wire = perimeter fence)

Colonel Wojciechowski did not appear to be winded by the 10k jog, and said, “Good idea about the HESCOs. I concur with your other thoughts too. Just because we are Marines, doesn’t mean we have to choose the most miserable location. Besides, this is going to be a joint services unit. What are your thoughts Staff Sergeant Brussels?”

“Sir, this is outside my area of expertise. I served on an aircrew, I defer to Corporal Thomas and his field experience. Being close to maintenance facilities seems common sense, Lieutenant Washington is the expert on RPAs. This location does seem preferable to the locations on the east side of the base.” Staff Sergeant Brussels said, her breathing a bit labored.

Colonel Wojciechowski asked, “You are our only UAV expert, for now, what are your thoughts Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know what level of Op-Sec is intended for our RPA operations. Usually, the powers that be prefer we keep our assets out of sight from hostile satellites. I don’t know how the base commander would feel about it, but perhaps we could set up some HESCOs on the apron, and then erect some LSS netting over the entire apron, or at least where we park the RPAs. Make it at least a bit of a challenge to the Russians, Chinese, and French, how many, and what types of aircraft we are operating. I think we should also have at least two hangers, they could even be tents, to conduct routine maintenance. They should have solid floors, to prevent the loss of small parts and tools.” Lieutenant Washington said.

(LSS = Light Screening System = Camouflage Nets)

Colonel Wojciechowski said, “Good points. Lieutenant Washington, Sergeant Brussels, head back to your quarters at your own pace. You two will be remaining here, while Corporal Thomas and myself head back to Buckley. Do some brainstorming about RPV operations. Don’t conduct any unauthorized computer research. Enjoy your time off until Monday, there won’t likely be a lot of free time in the months to come.”