Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I Read Online Free PDF

federalization order of the State Guard. Whatever. The soldier boys already served their purpose. They helped make him a player in the big game. Nothing that lame duck president could do about that now. As a matter of fact, why waste his time talking to that nobody anyway?
    Rhett spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring the repeated calls from the Administration; he invested that time in more lucrative pursuits. While carving out a thick slice of power from the baking political pie, he only half-paid attention to the news on the streets. He sideways watched, on mute, the crowds supporting their “brave governor.” He never noticed they were willing to offer more than just moral support.



Downtown Gainesville, Florida
    22 January: 2000
    “If you ask me, we’re pointing our weapons the wrong way. ‘Ought a level this place to the ground. You know, what we…”
    A calm, but venomous voice came from below in the Humvee and cut the gunner short. “Ain’t nobody asked you shit, Private. Now, shut your trap and scan your AO! If I catch you fucking off again I’ll ram that machine gun so far up your ass you’ll need to release the safety to take a piss!”
    The young soldier managed to eek out a “Hooah, Sergeant!” before the Non-Commissioned Officer disappeared back to whatever pit of a hell he came from.
    The private didn’t have long to seethe over the dressing-down. With half the platoon trying to ride herd on that mosh pit in the parking lot, that left only two National Guard soldiers covering the entire north side of the building. He hurled his water bottle at the giggling driver below just as a bright light exploded further down the block.
    The driver stopped laughing. “Ah, hell! The news people are here. Wherever they set up shop, trouble always follows.”
    Sure enough, moments later a large group of howling and shoving youths came jogging around the corner. Chased out of the parking lot moments earlier by bayonet-wielding guardsmen, they weren’t exactly in the best of moods. Rather than impressed by the soldiers’ restraint and thankful that no blood had been shed so far, they were only emboldened by their luck. With the exotic thrill of cameras on them, the mostly drunk crowd whipped out their wittiest quips. Some shouted for the two nervous guardsmen to shoot up the building, some screamed “go home.” Still others had the far less practical advice to, “Go fuck yourself, GI Joe!”
    Someone flung an empty beer bottle in the general direction of the IRS sign. The shattered glass sparked some type of collective decision in the crowd. They began launching a barrage of rocks and bottles at the IRS building as the driver called for backup on the vehicle radio. The chastised gunner weighed the risks of firing off a warning shot when a couple of older, homeless-looking guys broke off from the crowd and dashed straight for the building’s entrance.
    A flick from the amateur anarchist’s Zippo lighter crystallized the gunner’s thoughts. He let go of the machine gun and aimed his rifle for a point a few feet ahead of the outstretched arm.
    Thankfully, the target stood on soft grass and only a few yards away. Little chance of having some bystander endangered by a ricochet. The sharp craaack of his warning shot shocked the would-be bomber as if he’d been hit. The idiot let the Molotov cocktail fly in what should have been a hilarious, slapstick-comedy way. The comedic value dropped considerably as he accidentally sent the flaming bottle sailing through the Humvee’s rear passenger window and showered homemade napalm on the gunner’s boots.
    Seeing his buddy shriek and bolt out of the hatch, literally with heels of fire, pissed the 19-year-old driver off to no end. In a couple of quick strides, he slammed the butt of his M16 into the gaping jaw of the stoned arsonist. Whipping his rifle around, he covered the homeless dude’s other pals, still with unlit bottles in hand. He snarled, “Drop it,