Chapter 20
At the regiment headquarters, located in an abandoned car dealer at the intersection between South Ashland Avenue and West 72nd street, Carl was welcomed by a cheering Kaser. He was with two other officers Carl had never seen.
"Carl," Taylor shouted at him, "you are now in charge of the E Company. You have to setup three mortar positions by tomorrow, right at edge of Marquette Road, and prepare for the bombing."
"Yes, Sir," Carl responded, hesitating a bit. Taylor noticed it and immediately shouted.
"Any problem, Captain? Was I not clear enough?"
"No, Sir, I just thought the last orders called for no shell usage to minimize civilian casualties?"
"You don't have to think, you just have to obey. There's been a change in plans, we are going to shell those black assholes with some kind of surprise."
He then looked at the two officers on his right, and then back to Carl.
"These two gentlemen will come with you, they are in charge of the ammunitions and will supervise the whole operation. Just make sure the mortars are in place by 6 AM. You will do whatever they tell you and protect the whole operation. We plan to shell the area for about two hours."
Taylor did not bother to introduce to Carl the two servicemen, because their uniform bore their two names and grade. It was just missing the unit badge. Carl reluctantly shook hands with them, then said.
"Captain Smith, Captain Johnson, welcome to the Illinois 33rd Infantry Brigade. I suggest we spend the night here, there are still some snipers outside. Where is the ammunition?"
The two officers hinted to three Bradleys parked on the other side of the road.
"Good," Carl said with some relief, "at least we won't have to move the shells by hand. And we can give the troops a good six-hour sleep before we move into position." The two officers saluted and went back to the vehicles.
At five o'clock in the morning, Carl started moving the company into position. It was late April, so the sun would not appear till 5.43 AM. At five-thirty, the mortars were in place and the vehicles arrived. A small group of six privates started unloading the shell cases, under the supervision of Captains Johnson and Smith.
Carl noticed that the servicemen also had no shoulder sleeve insignia and asked if they belonged to some special corps of the Second Infantry Division, which was leading the operations with the National Guard but all he got was a brisk order from Captain Johnson not to disturb operations and secure the perimeter. Carl was about to protest, but then he thought about Taylor Kaser's reaction and just replied, "Yes, Sir".
At precisely 6 AM, in the early morning light, the team started shelling the area held by the rebels. The shells just looked like conventional high explosive ammunition, except for the color...and also how he did not hear any loud explosions.
"Is this stuff working, Sir?" he asked Captain Smith, again without getting an answer, "We already fired more than fifty rounds and I haven’t heard any explosions." Captain Smith kept ignoring him, so Carl slowly approached one of the shell boxes to take a closer look. That’s when he saw, stamped in white color on each warhead, the biohazard warning sign.
He rushed back to Captain Smith,
"What the fuck are you firing? There is also my brother trapped in that neighborhood!"
Captain Smith lost patience, extracted his gun and pointed it at Carl.
"Listen, you bloody negro. We have to regain control of this city, one way or another. This is going to do the job, without much collateral damage. Now you make your choice, either you shut up and follow orders, or I send you to jail, where all the bastards like you belong. Had it depended on me, I would have used napalm right away, but the big brass down in Washington have way too much compassion for you black shit. Is that clear?"
Carl controlled his rage and spoke calmly.
"Clear, Sir."
"Crystal clear, negro?"
"Crystal clear, Sir."
Captain Smith put his gun back into the holster.
"Alright, let's fire the last shells and call the air cavalry for the finishing touch."
As soon as the firing stopped, the unmarked team boarded the Bradleys and left. Carl was still reorganizing his company when he heard the helicopters arriving. They flew over the neighborhood, spraying some gas. Carl and his team scrambled to wear the masks, then he realized that the gas smelled just like common pesticide. What the hell was going on? Then, on his tactical goggles, he saw an incoming call from Taylor and answered.
"Carl, has the special artillery company left?"
"Yes, Sir, about fifteen minutes ago."
"Alright, then proceed into the enemy area as soon as the spray has settled. We should no longer have problems from the bad guys, and we need to help the survivors."
"The survivors, Sir?"
"It should be mostly children. Hurry up, they will be scared."
Carl looked at the insecticide cloud, it would take at least another five minutes to disperse. His company was prepared to move in. There was enough time to upload the recording of the conversation with Captain Smith on his personal webserver.
Carl eventually ordered his company to go north along South Ashland Road towards Garfield Boulevard. It was usually under sniper fire, so his men proceeded carefully, ducking behind cars. Nobody started shooting at them like before, though. They were still in no man's land when they spotted the first bodies laying on the street walk. No apparent wounds could be seen. Just before the crossing with West 57th Street, one of his men remarked the eerie silence that was surrounding them.
"It's as if they all disappeared, Captain."
All of a sudden, one door broke open, just behind them. The two men at the back of the patrol turned instantly, pointing their attack rifles. There were two boys, no more than ten years old, who froze at the sight of the weapons. Luckily, the soldiers did not fire automatically, and one of them approached the kids.
"What are you doing here? Stay home, it's dangerous outside, you know."
"They are all dead inside," the smaller boy replied, trying to hold tears, "mom and her man, they are all dead."
Carl thought about what to do, and asked the boys.
"All dead? Are you sure, boy? We are not following you into a trap. What is your name? I am Carl."
The boy broke into tears.
"I am Dee Dee Robinson. The boyfriend of mom was at the window with the rifle. Then something happened, they all fell. Also mom fell. Please help us!"
Carl exchanged glances with his second in command. He left him on guard with two other men on the doorstep, and followed the boys into the house. Nobody was on the stairs. The boys took them to the upper floor, cutting through the dirt that had accumulated during the siege. They eventually entered the apartment, where the two bodies laid exactly as the boy had described, again without any wounds. Carl examined the scene, then asked the boy.
"Dee Dee, were there other people in the house? Or they all left before the siege began?"
"There were other people on the ground floor, some armed. I can take you there, Carl."
There was no need. From the ground floor, the patrol was beaming to Carl the video showing six dead bodies laying on the ground. Carl was still figuring out what type of weapon could have caused this mess, when he saw the call from Corporal Ibanez, who had stayed on guard at the entrance.
"Captain, please come down. There is something you should see."
Carl rushed down the stairs and outside. Groups of children were slowly starting to come out of the buildings and fill the street. The older siblings held their younger siblings’ hand, while some others struggled to move toddlers along with them. Some were crying, all of them just looked displaced. For some reason, they kept a distance from Carl's company.
Then, on the corner of West 56th street, barking dogs caught the Captain's attention. Carl immediately braced his rifle and aimed in that direction. There were two pitbulls, probably the dogs of a pusher, who were cornering a group of four children. H
e shot the dogs.
Silence followed, then the kids started crowding around Carl. He turned the emergency channel on and called Taylor at the regiment headquarters.
"This is E Company here, Sir. Please send all the relief vehicles, there are no apparent threats any more. It just looks like we have one huge orphanage on our hands."
"All right, Carl," Taylor replied on the other end, "it looks the area is now secure. We are sending relief troops right away."
Taylor had just hung up, when an unmarked helicopter flew in. Carl thought it was part of the relief column, but it kept hovering above them and let a few plastic spheres drop over them, which bursted open in midair, releasing a small cloud of flies.
The children still their noses up towards the helicopter, when they realized all the men of the E company start to fall to the ground, just like had happened to their parents and elder brothers before. They instinctively pressed against each other, fearing dogs would pop up again, when they saw a line of Humvees rush towards them along South Ashland Avenue. The first vehicle screeched to a halt before the body of Captain Carl Levine, of the 33rd Infantry Brigade, Illinois National Guard. A man got out and went to try to revive him, in vain. Then, the driver from inside the Humvee shouted at him.
"Lieutenant Dunn, it's the regiment command. We do not have to touch the bodies. They are sending Medevac right away to clean the area."
"Yes, Sergeant," Wade Dunn replied, controlling his tears, "they should have told us before. I just wanted to say goodbye to my old commander and friend."