Crossing the Threshold [Thunder Empire]

[Webstral]

“The atmosphere on post has completely changed. The soldiers and civilians seem to have a new sense of purpose. Suicides and desertions have dropped off to nearly nothing. The convalescents can talk about nothing but getting back to their units and back into the fight. The invalids all speak of their regrets that they cannot return to the field. Their spirits have been brightened, though, by the CG’s promise that each and every one of them will be found a position where they can make a meaningful contribution to the war effort. Already, a handful has been placed in administration, the training battalion, or the machine shops. Incredible as it seems, there are smiles everywhere. It’s hard to believe. Two months ago, we were losing almost two hundred a month to suicide and desertion. The invalids were looked upon with envy. Today, a group of hard-faced veterans—none of them looking older than twenty—visited a fellow soldier who had lost his leg below the knee fighting at Casa Abodes. They assured him that they would never forget him and admonished him to ‘ride those goddamned newbies’ over at the training battalion. To say that this is a welcome turnaround would be to completely understate the case. How has this happened? It’s the war with Mexico, I think. The Mexicans are an enemy the troops can understand and fight. The people and the land here take on a new meaning when they have to be defended from a foreign invader, not just protected from each other’s post-nuke savagery. It doesn’t hurt that we won the first round, either.”
[Senior medical officer, Fort Huachuca, 22 JUN 98]

Documentation and personal accounts from sources at every level and every location across the Southeastern Arizona Military Administrative District (SAMAD) indicate that in the wake of the start of the Second Mexican-American War, morale jumped. The spike in morale has been attributed to many factors. Regardless of the cause, the change was perceptible and positive.

Among the soldiers there was a newfound esprit de corps which had not developed during the disaster relief missions. The officers noted that their non-commissioned officers were conducting more spot inspections and generally driving their troops harder. The non-commissioned officers frequently reported that they were finding a distinctly improved level of care given to the weapons and equipment. There was still plenty of grumbling among the junior enlisted troops, but the tone had changed significantly. The veterans of the overseas fighting in 1996 and 1997 observed that the 111th Brigade suddenly was feeling an awful lot like the fighting formations they had known. Even the foreign liaison officers noticed the difference. The senior Chinese officer wrote in his journal:

“The American privates are new men and women. They carry themselves like warriors. I had begun to think that this would never happen for them. They fought for many months without becoming tigers. I should have seen that a few days in combat against a foreign enemy would mean more than any amount of violence done against their own countrymen.”

The commander of 111th Brigade, COL Williams, conducted a ruthless (if bloodless) purge of substandard leaders among the officers and senior NCOs. In turn, the battalion and company commanders axed the platoon sergeants, squad leaders, and even team leaders who had failed to demonstrate real leadership qualities. A large number of promising soldiers at every level were promoted and moved to new platoons, companies, or battalions as appropriate.

Of particular note were improvements in the leadership at two levels: the platoons and the squads. Since the Thanksgiving Day Massacre (TDM), 111th Brigade had lost three-fourths of its second lieutenants. Large numbers of Officer Candidate School graduates, most of whom had prior enlisted service, fleshed out a large body of West Point graduates who had been pushed through a year early to make up for heavy junior officer losses in Europe and Korea. Both groups of lieutenants had led their troops with praiseworthy élan; both groups had suffered enormously high casualties, though a fair number would return to service as their wounds healed. The surviving serviceable body of blooded second lieutenants was half what it had been in December, 1997; but this half generally commanded the respect and confidence of their soldiers. In order to make good on platoon leader losses, MG Thomason bestowed battlefield commissions on eighteen enlisted soldiers and one warrant officer. These new lieutenants also inspired confidence in the troops they led.

At the squad level, seniority was ignored as new leaders were moved into position. Ability, not seniority, would determine who led in the new 111th Brigade. This policy came down from the top and was enthusiastically embraced. As a result, a number of sergeants first class and staff sergeants whose leadership had proven unsatisfactory were moved to staff positions. More than a few were demoted and told that they could earn their previous rank by demonstrating the leadership qualities implied thereby.

As a consequence of the reordering of the house of 111th Brigade, the new troops joining their units found themselves thrust into the midst of a cohesive combat formation with a solid belief in its ability to fight. Although the reorganization resulted in many strangers working together, everyone knew that the new lieutenant or the new squad leader had proven himself (or herself). The new soldiers were taken firmly in hand throughout the brigade.

In a sense, the events of early June, 1998 had their most pronounced effect on the senior leadership of Fort Huachuca. Thomason told a gathering of his staff and other VIP that they had spent too long trying to preserve what they could of the old world. He took personal responsibility for failing to lead his command in the right direction with sufficient conviction. Thomason admitted that he had tried to respect the pre-war traditions, commissions, ranks, and units for too long. Reinvigorated by the fighting with the Mexicans, (and his own part in the defense of his post, which had resulted in a serious burn and a Purple Heart) Thomason attacked every vestige of pre-war mentality and traditions with a hatchet. Everything that was not firm gave way.

The change in mentality went beyond the soldiers, though. The civilians of SAMAD saw themselves once again as Americans united against a common foe. The mayor of Tucson wrote:

“Everyone in the city heard the fighting. I knew the Mexicans had come through and set up a roadblock to stop the 111th from coming back to us. I never felt so alone and unprotected in my life. Somehow, everybody knew, even though the phones had been out for months. And when they attacked Davis-Monthan, I prayed. I thought we were done for.

“And then, in the distance, you could hear the gunfire. We heard the big guns first, and then the machine guns, and then the rifles. You knew our soldiers had come back for us. Before, the machine guns and the rifles meant that something terrible was happening—necessary, but terrible. That night, though, we knew that our troops were attacking the invaders. I’m not a soldier, but I know that you have to get pretty close to use a rifle in combat. The rifles roared that night, and I knew that our boys (and girls—bless those brave girls!) were giving the enemy everything they had. When the rifles died down, I think the whole city held its breath. Who had won?

“I knew our soldiers would have to come down I-10 if they won, so I got my driver to take me to the highway. A long, long line of traffic came down the road in the moonlight. I knew those tanks in the lead. I couldn’t for the life of me remember what they were called, but I knew they were ours. I fell down on the ground and cried. I know it’s not the sort of thing a mayor is supposed to do, but I couldn’t help myself. Even after all this, I’m still a person.

“The next day, everything felt different. I went out to see what had happened. I met a lot of Tucsonans. Up until this time, you could always find people complaining about the soldiers. The day after our soldiers came for us and threw the enemy back across the border, everyone had praise for them. I had praise for them. I prayed for the ones who had died. I thanked God for the ones who had lived to keep us safe tomorrow.”

A pre-teen girl whose family had been refugees placed as farm workers wrote:

"Before the war with Mexico, everyone said just awful things about the soldiers. There was a man who had seen them shoot everyone on the road one day. He said terrible things about them. I asked why he thought they had shot all those people. He said because soldiers are like that. He said they love to kill people.

"There was a woman who used to have a house in Winkelman, which she says is northeast of Tucson on Highway 77. She lives in our Quonset now because her house is gone. She said that people from Phoenix took over the town during the winter. The soldiers came. She thought they were going to save everyone. Instead, they blew up her house and made her come live in godforsaken Pearce.

"There were a lot of people like that, like us.

"The day the war started, everyone had already gotten up to go to the field. You just couldn’t work from ten in the morning until two in the afternoon from May until September, so we got up early to get to the fields. At first, no one knew what the noise was. It was like firecrackers and drums way off in the distance. Then one of the bosses came and said the Mexicans were attacking at Bisbee. Someone screamed. We all went back to our Quonset and waited for more news. Later, the boss came back and said our boys had won.

"I hadn’t heard people say such good things about soldiers since before the bombs. Later, there was more fighting in Tucson. Our soldiers won there, too.

"Everything just seemed different after that. Nothing had changed, but it was like everything had changed. I asked my mother why that was. She said it was because we were at war. I said I thought we were at war before. She said we were at war, and everyone had lost. Now we were at war again, and the Mexicans were trying to kill all the Americans who had survived. I asked why they would do that. The man who had seen our soldiers kill everyone on the road said,

"'They’re just like that, sweetheart. They’re just like that. Thank God our boys are here for us.'”

A supervisor at one of the machine shops at Fort Huachuca wrote:

“The whole place has been humming lately. There used to be a lot of squabbling. Now it’s all business.

I read the news to the whole plant this morning. It’s bad: Phoenix is gone. It seems that while we were fighting Mexico, Phoenix just broke down completely. The gangs took over. The governor and some folks got away to Flagstaff, but otherwise it’s pretty bad. This means we’re alone. Mexico is to the south, and the Mexicans have taken over everything east and west of us. Now the only thing to the north is gangs and more gangs.

After I got done reading, everyone was real quiet. I didn’t hear who said, ‘Sucks to be them.’

Sounding real scared, someone said, ‘Do you think they’ll come here?’ I’m sure she meant the gangs.

Old Johnny (who smells like he hasn’t washed himself since the bombs dropped) laughed and said, ‘Not if they don’t want our guys to f*** them up three ways till Tuesday.’

Everybody laughed and went back to work. Now it’s all business.”

In a very real sense, Fort Huachuca was on its own after July. Phoenix had descended into complete anarchy. Much as they had during the previous winter, Phoenicians fled the dying city for the Arizonan countryside. North, south, east and west of the Valley of the Sun desperate urbanites descended on the small towns and cities within a hundred miles of Metro Phoenix. Unlike the previous winter, the forces of law and order were not on-hand to control the frantic mobs. The 111th was anchored along the border, along with 3rd AZSTAG Brigade. The combined armed forces of Metro Phoenix, including 2nd AZSTAG brigade, the police departments of Phoenix, Scottsdale, Mesa, Glendale, and the other municipalities, the Maricopa Sheriff’s Department, and the USAF squadrons based at Luke AFB, had been swept away by the tide of violence. The survivors had been forced to flee Luke AFB with whatever they could carry. Chaos and violence had descended like a curtain across Arizona almost everywhere north of Tucson. With the Mexican Army controlling much of southern California and southern New Mexico, SAMAD was effectively isolated.

Heavily-armed convoys originating in Colorado might have forced their way through to Fort Huachuca, but by the end of July they seemed unlikely to do so. A Fort Huachuca radio log records the following excerpted conversation:

MCCoS (Marine Corps Chief of Staff): General Thomason, am I to understand that you are refusing orders to transfer control of the 111th Military Intelligence Brigade to 6th Army and dispatch said force with the requisite supplies to California?

Thomason: That is correct, sir. It’s just not possible at this time.

MCCoS: Then I have no choice. General, acting on behalf of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I hereby relieve you of command of Fort Huachuca. Put your deputy on the horn.

Thomason: That won’t be possible, sir.

MCCoS: General, you are relieved. Your deputy will take command until such time as a suitable commander can be transported to Fort Huachuca.

Thomason: If the 111th leaves, sir, you won’t have to bother. The Mexicans will be in here within a week. The next conversation you’ll be having on this radio will be with the commander of Brigada Nogales.

MCCoS: This is not up for discussion, General. Get your deputy.

Thomason: I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not possible at this time.

MCCoS: General, I have given you a direct order. Move out.

Thomason: No, sir. I’m not giving up command, and I’m not giving up the 111th.

MCCoS: You [expletive deleted]! This is mutiny! I’ll have you stood up against a [expletive deleted] wall and [expletive deleted] shot!

Thomason: If that actually happens, it means things worked out for all of us. In that case, I’ll take that bullet proudly.

MCCoS: [Expletive deleted]! You do not have the authority to make these decisions on your own!

Thomason: History will make up its own mind, General.

CJS (Chairman of the Joint Chiefs): General Thomason, I want you to think carefully about this. There’s no coming back from the road you’re about to go down. You’ll lose your life, your honor, and the lives of hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of Americans who are depending on you to make the right choices.

Thomason: Sir, there’s nothing I can say that I haven’t said already in my official report. As for my life, it’s only worth what I can give to the people under my protection right here in Arizona. My honor will be best served by committing myself to their defense. You are right, though, about the hundreds of thousands of lives depending on my decision. I have more than four hundred thousand Americans here who will fall into the clutches of the enemy if I allow 111th Brigade to move to California. I have a whole state of survivors who will belong to Mexico if the 111th goes. I cannot honorably deny them the protection they deserve from us. If we fall, sir, we fall fighting here.

[Twenty seconds of dead air time]

CJS: Good luck to you, General. And Godspeed.

Thomason chose to reveal to his command his official relief. He asked his soldiers to continue to follow him in the defense of SAMAD. He offered transport to California or northern New Mexico to all soldiers who felt that their duty lay in reporting to 6th Army for duty, although he acknowledged that he could not say when that transport would occur. In the event, a handful of troops opted to relocate. Almost all chose to stay and fight.


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