Book 2, Chapter 1
Chapter I
North of the Main Channel of the Savannah River near Hilton Head Island:
Captain Brian Harris was a third generation Shrimper. A hard drinking old man of 59 years of age, Brian was rather squat in frame, and even shorter in temperament. He and his boat, the Anna Marvel, were still plying the same waters as his Father and Grandfather before him. Despite the Gomer invasion almost three years ago, he refused to find somewhere else to go, even though there was now only marginal fishing. Up early in the morning and fishing until very late in the evening, the numbers for his daily catch were now much harder to maintain. To add insult to his injury, the wreckage from the earlier “Gomer” battles around the mouth of the Savannah River made navigation even more treacherous than ever. His nets were almost constantly being caught on something and occasionally something nasty would get caught up in the nets that would scare the hell out of both him and his crewmen as they drug it to the surface. Still, his frustration was tempered by the thought that at least he had survived, which is more than he could say from many of the people he knew from before the war. It was his connection with these waters that drew him back and held him now as he tried to earn a modest living. These days, he was just lucky to make enough money to keep the crew paid and the old boat running.
The thought of the “before” would always haunt him. He still had a hard time shaking the fact that he had been out fishing when the Gomers first hit and was so drunk the first few nights that he missed the initial invasion, even as it had passed over his head. When he finally sailed back into his home port at Lazaretto Creek, it was only to find a deserted marina completely devoid of all humanity. His family and almost everyone he ever knew were simply gone. He and his crew of two other men were all that was left, and they hid and stayed drunk until a bunch of Marines showed up to move into Fort Pulaski. It was from them that he finally learned what was going on, and it was from them that he learned to stay hidden during the night and to keep his power and radio off. It was after the first night of the battle near the River that he decided that they should probably go back to sea and head somewhere to just hide out. After making that monumental decision, both he and his crew remained gone until they finally got word that the war had ended. Even that was pure luck, since he heard about it from a Coast Guard Cutter that had intercepted them while they were trying to find fuel near St. Simon Island.
Now here he was, almost three years later, still trying to make a living by catching shrimp. It wasn’t easy, because now he was going further out from the shore, burning more fuel, and hoping not to get his nets ruined from dragging over the Gomers’ wreckage stuck in the muddy bottom. They had left the dock around 2:30 a.m. and were making their way out to sea, when he noticed something that just didn’t look right with the horizon. Usually at this hour, as they were clearing the river’s entrance and turning north to run up the coast of Hilton Head Island, the view of the stars was magnificent. As he peered into the darkness, he could see nothing. There were stars overhead, but absolutely nothing out to the southeast of his position except total blackness. He was puzzled, since the weather report had been for “severe clear.” No clouds, no bad weather, yet here he was looking to the east and southeast into an abyss of nothingness.
Confused by it all, he called down to the Mate, and asked him to look out ahead to see if there was something that might be ahead of the boat. “Hey, Crank, do you see anything at all?”
“Nope, nothing, skipper.”
“Something just don’t seem right. Does it seem like fog or something blocking the stars?”
“No. It looks clear, but like a line of dark down lower.”
“Wonder what the hell......”
As he and the Mate looked south and north, there were no obstructions to vision and up higher, the stars shimmered against the night sky. Then the Captain noticed that he was seeing more beach than usual, and he again turned back to the Mate to get him to confirm that the water line was receding. It was then they noticed that the total blackness was now extending much further upwards into the night sky. To the southeast and off towards the east, there were more missing stars, and when they looked back towards the beach, the water level was dropping dramatically against the shoreline. Then suddenly the Anna Marvel was scraping the bottom near the main channel along the coast and, as it dawned on the Captain what was happening, there was nothing he could do but watch. He asked himself, “what in the hell could cause a wave like this here?” Within seconds of his asking the question, the giant wave that extended at least 350 feet into the air came crashing down on him, destroying the Anna Marvel and her crew.
After crushing the Anna Marvel, the huge wave continued into the Lowcountry of South Carolina until it finally dissipated almost 20 miles inland from the coastline. In the wake of the mammoth wave, the destruction was complete and total. The apex of the tidal wave was centered along Hilton Head Island and into the Port Royal Sound, with the flooding and destruction extending inland over Parris Island and Beaufort, South Carolina. In some places, the flood waters extended almost to Interstate 95, along the Coosawatchie River. How Savannah and the coast of Georgia were spared was a mystery to those who witnessed the event and survived to talk about it later. What was clear was that the death toll was only mitigated by the fact that the area had not been heavily resettled after the Gomer invasion. The other good news was that the Marine Bases at Parris Island and the Beaufort Marine Corps Air Station were not being occupied. Thanks to the war, those units, missions, and personnel were now all relocated to other parts of the world.
South of the Puerto Rico Trench:
Just 6 hours earlier, the USS Thadaeus Morton, DDG 1001, was engaging in her first patrol after her initial shakedown cruise. A brand new, highly modified, Zumwalt class Destroyer completed after the Gomer war, she was named for Admiral Thadaeus Morton, who was the Former Chief of Naval Operations and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The Admiral had died fighting as the Chief of Allied Naval Operations onboard the USS Iowa, during the Gomer war. Now this brand new ship was his legacy. The USS Morton, aside from being almost brand new, displaced roughly 15,000 tons full loaded, with a hull of 610 feet. Her 2 Rolls Royce gas turbines, plus 2 Rolls Royce gas turbine generator sets, could turn about 30+ knots, and her sonar and radar equipment, and the Kingfisher mine detection system were as advanced as possible. What separated her from the earlier ships of the class, and was even argued by some to justify calling this the new “Morton” class destroyer, was that she was fitted out with a greatly different armament system. She was sporting three 6” or 155mm main guns with a range of over 100 miles, along with two 20mm Phalanx mounts, and a number of other “Gomer” killing weapon systems, to include a highly classified and somewhat experimental weapon that was forged from the lessons learned from the Gomers themselves. Each of these systems was designed to kill as many Gomer-type smaller objects as possible and maybe even make a dent in the big ones, should they show up again.
The military always learns from the last war and, more often than not, it is doomed to fight the last one instead of the next one. Still, in this instance, it seemed quite prudent to create a new class of “Gomer”-ready combat ships, in the hope that it just might be a counter to any threat, even the extra-terrestrial ones. This philosophy even carried over into the latest in Battleship design, and the modified Montana Class was well underway, with the first such ship of the class expected to be operational within the next few months. Scrapped at the end of World War II, this particular class of Battleship would carry an extra main battery aft, and was about a third larger than the Iowa Class Battleships used to fight the Gomers. These huge battleships were going to be eventual replacements for the sunken USS Iowa, as well as for the USS North Carolina, USS Massachusetts, and USS Alabama, that had all been pulled out of their museum status to be returned to active service. The second of the class, the new USS Iowa, was to be commissioned in about 6 months, with the follow-on ships to be commissioned one a year for the next four years thereafter. As with the USS Morton, they were incorporating the lessons learned from the Gomer Wars and were the brain child of Admirals Steadman and Lynch, with tweaks from the great Drs. Abramson and Clarkson, all heroes in their respective fields from that earlier war.
The USS Morton was just making a high speed turn back towards Puerto Rico as part of her patrol pattern, when her Captain, Commander Joshua Bennett, received an URGENT FLASH message via ELF.
FLASH IMMEDIATE
TO: Commander, USS Morton
FROM: Commander, Supreme Allied Headquarters
1. Large object from direction of the Moon, with anticipated track taking it to position at or near the Puerto Rico Trench;
2. Object appears to be Gomer Mountain Ship; however, travel signature appears different, behavior pattern is altered, and general tracking information is also confusing;
3. Object struck mine, but is still slowing as it approaches Earth, and may enter low Earth orbit, or may continue descent to impact at or near your position;
4. All allied forces on alert for defense as required;
5. Suggested you utilize passive surveillance systems only, but you are authorized to take whatever action you deem necessary to maintain contact and to protect your ship from attack;
6. Report via ELF all movements of the object directly to this headquarters;
7. Priority is for you to maintain contact with the object until relieved, and NOT, say again NOT, take any offensive action;
8. USS Virginia en route to your position and will relieve you of surveillance mission, anticipate arrival within 23 hours of this message.
Signed: s// Patrick,
General of the Army,
Supreme Allied Commander
Captain Bennett finished reading the message, and immediately remembered his experience as the gunnery officer onboard the USS New Jersey during the Gomer battles near South America. He was forced to sit in an ancient Gun Director position as the big Gomer passed overhead and reading this message, just like that night three years earlier, made him feel as though his blood was running about 10 degrees cooler. Nodding to his Executive Officer, or XO, he waved him over next to his chair on the bridge. “Okay, Doug, we’ve got a little problem.” Passing the message to the senior Lieutenant Commander, the XO read it and immediately looked up and aft of the bridge. “Sir, how can they be sure that it is coming this way?”
“Commander, I have no idea, but if memory serves me, they did a pretty righteous job of tracking them the last time. Sound General Quarters, and make it ‘no drill.’ If we have the Gomers coming back, then we had damn well better be on our highest alert!”
“Aye, Aye, Sir!”
“Oh, and Commander, you might want to make sure we’re completely in the passive mode. I think the expression is to make us into a hole in the water! I have seen what happens when they know we are here, and I have no intentions of letting them know shit! Got it?”
“Aye, Aye, Sir!” The XO stepped away and told the officer of the deck to sound General Quarters, and to advise the CIC or Combat Control Center to go to passive systems only. With that command, the USS Morton entered a state of quiet readiness.
Supreme Allied Headquarters, (SAHQ):
I was within a few days of telling the whole bunch to kiss my ever-expanding ass! The folks in Congress were convinced that there were no more threats around the world except the Gomers and, thanks to me, there were no more Gomers. A winning scenario if ever there was one, at least to most of the members of Congress that weren’t from States that had been heavily impacted by the invasion. The States devastated by the invasion, on the other hand, were a little friendlier and far more supportive of the concept that the bad guys could return. They knew that the situation could be repeated, that they were vulnerable, and that the military re-building could be vital in rebuilding their States. After all, a Montana Class Battleship would put people back to work in the ship yards, which was a boon to the economy, and would get people back to work near the coast, which would repopulate the most devastated areas.
President Blanchard was having to fight for even the simple things, and I was doing my best to make things work on a ludicrous budget. The Army was still in Khaki, not as a fashion statement, but because the government was refusing to expend any additional funding for silly things like uniforms. (We were keeping places like Wrangler and Dickies in business by buying in bulk from existing stocks). I knew it was a matter of priorities, and the expansion of various key weapon systems and the recruitment of talented personnel to operate them were far more important to the overall mission than the appearance of the average trooper. Still, keeping people convinced that a larger, better trained military was important was tough since it was clear that the Russians and the Chinese were no longer really global threats. Even the classic terrorist had bigger things to be concerned about these days, so the threat was more about starvation and keeping people employed, than it was to project a force with any sort of global capability. I understood it and was learning to live with it, at least to a point. Still, I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.
President Blanchard knew all of this, and so did I, but the President was better at doing the balancing act. From my perspective, the Gomers weren’t really gone, they were probably just on break, and the longer it took to get ready for their return, the harder it was going to be to get rid of them the next time. I still remembered how lucky we were the first time, and I was very concerned about whatever it was on the back side of the moon. Did they still have a base and personnel that close to us? Was it a refueling point? Was it a staging point for later operations? I was having daily battles with Congressmen, trying to justify why we needed to keep the passages around the Moon mined, and why we needed to maintain stockpiles of various munitions. My frustration was carrying over even to my eggheads. Dr. Clarkson was highly upset, often for the same reasons, because he watched the last Gomer Mountain ship pull out. Like me, there was no doubt in his mind that they would return and that, when they did, they would probably be a whole lot smarter about it.
I was just discussing my decision to retire, for the second time in my career, with my bride, Leah, when the red alert phone went off in my quarters. I have to admit that it caused me to jump about halfway out of my skin, since the damn thing hadn’t rung since the last test of the system almost three weeks before. I caught it on the third ring, and it was the Operations Duty Officer of the Day, Colonel Feldman. “Sir, we have three extremely large bogies headed towards Earth, passing Jupiter on a course that we believe is inbound.”
“Colonel, what do they have for a possible ETA?”
“Sir, in about 36 hours, they should be in orbit. It appears that they are slowing down, and are coming from a course direction that is not entirely consistent with the prior tracks of the Gomers.”
“Okay, Colonel, assemble the staff, and you can update us in about 25 minutes in the War Room. In the meantime, get the information to the White House, and set up a conference call with the President. I should be at your location in 10 minutes.”
“Yessir.”
“Oh, and Colonel, activate the initial alert system, and get messages out to the major commands and all senior commanders that we might be getting company, and to act in accordance with the Alert Plan Yellow.”
“Yessir.” With that, I hung up the line and immediately started out the door towards the War Room which, given our Allied Headquarters set up, was only about 8 minutes walking distance from the front door of my quarters. As I was leaving, my wife stopped me, “Mike, is that what I think?”
“I’m afraid so....”
“Crap, should I call your mother, Christine, and Holly to get them over here?”
“It shouldn’t be anything that eminent, but yeah, you might want to circle the wagons and we’ll see what we need to do over the next few hours. If nothing else, you can get them in the mind set to move in a hurry, just in case it becomes necessary.”
“Okay. . . . . . Honey?”
“Yeah?”
“Please be careful, remember the last time you wandered off to Hawaii? It took you months to get all the chunks of metal and concrete out of your hide.”
“Very, very, funny! Now can I go and see what the hell is going on?”
“Yeah, sorry. I love you!”
“I love you, too, sweetie!” I planted a kiss on her cheek and then turned on my heel. “Honey, you know I’ll be home later, don’t you?” She responded by smiling, and I headed on out the door to the unknown of what could be another huge problem for all of us. This time we were at least semi-prepared, but that was little comfort, since facing the unknown is seldom something you can plan with any effectiveness.
Supreme Allied Headquarters - War Room:
I stepped into the heart and soul of our Allied Operations, an extremely high-tech command center that had a lot of low-tech touches. We’d seen our “gee whiz” fail before, so for every high-tech ‘gizmo,’ there was a low-tech back-up system. We no longer used the HF, UHF, VHF, or FM radios for communications. Now it was all LF, VLF, and ELF systems. Even the Commercial Radio stations were transmitting on AM again, with FM radio almost a complete thing of the past. Even those who weren’t “worried” about the Gomer threat anymore were still very reluctant to send a signal on an FM or higher frequency radio. Internet radios and television were the thing now, assuming the internet was working properly, and so there was a resurgence of entertainment in the post war world. My being old school, I personally preferred the telephone for the more serious conversations, and so did our President.
“General?”
“Yessir, Mr. President?”
“What is your recommendation as to the threat level?”
“Sir, I would have to assess it as high, and I’ve alerted all major commands and senior commanders to be on alert accordingly at alert level yellow.”
“Do you have a recommendation about evacuation of the cities?”
“I don’t have enough information to answer that yet, sir, but given our history, I would seriously consider maybe moving key personnel to more hardened facilities, while putting the public on some sort of alert.”
“I just hate to cause a panic for no reason.”
“I agree, Mr. President. Just as an idea, maybe you could treat it like a weather type event. Maybe make evacuation non-mandatory, like with an oncoming hurricane, at least for the next 12 to 24 hours. Then as the objects move closer, make it mandatory for the final 12 hours. It might move the bulk of the population out to safer ground, while the infrastructure can manage it. If you wait until the last minute, then the roads will be jammed, and panic will really set in.”
“Okay, it is an idea. I’ll talk it over with the cabinet. Can I quote you as making that recommendation?”
“Sure! Marty, you can quote me whenever you want, but if you do, make sure it starts with ‘hey you assholes, listen up.’”
“Funny! I knew giving you the 5th Star would make you the consummate smartass!”
“Sorry, Mr. President, but you know most of those guys don’t want to hear from me. I’ve been accused of being ‘Chicken Little’ one too many times.”
“Yeah, I know, but if you will recall, I was the ‘Chicken Little’ last time around.”
“Yessir, and you saved more than a few lives, to include mine, for those of us who listened.”
“Bingo! My point exactly. Now get to work, get the latest intelligence, and then be prepared to brief when I get there.”
“Yessir, and I can assume you’ll be bringing the key players with you, so we will open up your new facilities and have security teams prepared to receive you.”
“Roger that, and we should have everyone out and on the way to you within the next 6 hours.”
“Can do, sir! Your new home will be ready, and don’t forget to bring the grandkids.” With that, the President chuckled and broke the connection. I turned to get the staff fired up, briefed, and moving in the right direction. Within minutes, our first war briefing in three years began in earnest. As Colonel Feldman briefed the course, speed, and anticipated progress of the new ships, Dr. Abramson and Dr. Clarkson entered the room. Dr. Clarkson sat in rapt attention studying the track of the objects, their movement patterns, and course projections. As one of the few people on Earth who had experienced first-hand the Gomer ship and technology, his opinions would be vital to our understanding and to identifying the proper tasks we would need to accomplish over the next few hours.
Dr. Abramson and Dr. Clarkson were in the middle of their equations when General Whitney arrived with more news. The three large objects were now turning more towards the Moon, almost like that was their initial target, and were now on a course to enter the Moon’s orbit. Once he said this, both Dr. Abramson and Dr. Clarkson said, almost in perfect unison, “Orbit?” Again conferring and checking the numbers, they confirmed General Whitney’s information. Sure enough, these objects were moving on a course to enter an orbit of the Moon, as opposed to holding a course to remain behind the Moon. This was something new and for many of us in the room, something far more sinister. Did this mean that these Gomers don’t have a problem with sunlight? If not, then are they even Gomers?
Several more minutes passed, and finally our resident “eggheads” stepped up to the plate. Dr. Abramson began by saying, “General, it would appear that these objects did not originate on a track that would be the normal heading we would associate with the Gomer home world. It is close, in fact painfully close, but not quite an exact track. They also do not appear to be tracking a course using quite the same pattern as the Gomer craft we have encountered, and by that we’re referring to flight patterns. Finally, we are not seeing a ‘signature’ that is completely consistent with the Gomer technology we have previously encountered. In short, General, we cannot confirm that these are the same ‘Gomers’ that were here three years ago.”
“Doctor, you are telling me that these might not be Gomers at all, is that right?”
“General, I am telling you that I can’t confirm they are Gomers, but I can’t rule it out either.”
“Can’t rule it out?”
“Sure, they may be Gomers with later technology available to them. Similar to our having made advancements of our own over the last three years. OR, it could be that they have modified their patterns, based on the prior experiences with us.”
“Okay, fair enough. It could be Gomers with advances in their technology, but either way, it might mean that our normal defenses have been compromised. If they are Gomers, then perhaps they have ways to counter what we have developed to fight them. Similarly, if they aren’t Gomers, then whoever they are might not be impacted by any of our anti-Gomer weapon systems. Hell, they might not even have the same weaknesses.”
“I think that is a fair assessment, General.”
“Okay, anybody, can we read intent from their movements? Is there anything here that would indicate that they are friendly?”
After several moments of silence, Dr. Clarkson finally weighed in, “General, they are going to the Moon first, and this may be something that isn’t a threat as we know it, especially since it might give us a chance to get a visual image or two. I don’t think we can assume that their intentions are hostile, but at the same time, I would NOT want to be the one who just assumed they weren’t hostile and then have something bad happen. That is what got us in trouble the last time.”
“Thanks, Doctor. That is precisely what I was thinking.” With that I turned to General Whitney and asked, “Well? What are your thoughts about what we tell the President, evacuate the population or not?
“Sir, I know this is probably not a basis for making sound policy judgments, but my gut says evacuate. At least until we know more about these...... Okay, if they’re not Gomers, then what DO we call them?”
“I’m sticking to Gomers for the moment, but you’re right, if they’re not what we know as Gomers, we’ll have to come up with something else to call them, since I don’t want to get the tactics confused later on down the road.”
“Sir, if I may?”
“Sure, Doctor Clarkson.”
“Sir, I would stick to Bogies right now. Once we get more visual intelligence based on our photographic information, we can find something to call them. Assuming they actually orbit the Moon, we should have some great panoramic views of them within the next several hours.”
“Okay, General Whitney, advise the President, and tell him our recommendation is to move forward and order the evacuation of the cities. We can’t afford to repeat our mistakes, and this could be just such an instance. In the meantime, move our forces to Threat Level Red, and keep them in the passive mode on all radars and radios.”
“General, if they decide to evacuate based on your recommendation, you do know that if this turns out to be nothing, it will be your ass on the block.”
“Whit, right now I don’t give a flea turd on a rat’s ass. I can promise you that if we don’t tell them to evacuate, and this IS something to worry about, then not only would they have my ass, but I would want them to have it. I’d rather be wrong and unemployed, than wrong and not be able to live with myself.”
“I know, sir, but I wouldn’t be a good staff member if I didn’t at least point out the down side.”
“Geez, Whit, in all the time I’ve known you, you have excelled at being my conscience, which is Latin for one huge defacto pain in the butt. Now, tell the boss to get everyone away from the cities and the coast, and I’ll be happy to take the heat if it becomes necessary.”
“Yessir!” With his response, the entire War Room took on a whole new purpose. We activated all recall procedures, initiated the evacuation plans, and took every step we could think of taking, to get the ball rolling.
Copyright © 2013 Michael S. Pauley
North of the Main Channel of the Savannah River near Hilton Head Island:
Captain Brian Harris was a third generation Shrimper. A hard drinking old man of 59 years of age, Brian was rather squat in frame, and even shorter in temperament. He and his boat, the Anna Marvel, were still plying the same waters as his Father and Grandfather before him. Despite the Gomer invasion almost three years ago, he refused to find somewhere else to go, even though there was now only marginal fishing. Up early in the morning and fishing until very late in the evening, the numbers for his daily catch were now much harder to maintain. To add insult to his injury, the wreckage from the earlier “Gomer” battles around the mouth of the Savannah River made navigation even more treacherous than ever. His nets were almost constantly being caught on something and occasionally something nasty would get caught up in the nets that would scare the hell out of both him and his crewmen as they drug it to the surface. Still, his frustration was tempered by the thought that at least he had survived, which is more than he could say from many of the people he knew from before the war. It was his connection with these waters that drew him back and held him now as he tried to earn a modest living. These days, he was just lucky to make enough money to keep the crew paid and the old boat running.
The thought of the “before” would always haunt him. He still had a hard time shaking the fact that he had been out fishing when the Gomers first hit and was so drunk the first few nights that he missed the initial invasion, even as it had passed over his head. When he finally sailed back into his home port at Lazaretto Creek, it was only to find a deserted marina completely devoid of all humanity. His family and almost everyone he ever knew were simply gone. He and his crew of two other men were all that was left, and they hid and stayed drunk until a bunch of Marines showed up to move into Fort Pulaski. It was from them that he finally learned what was going on, and it was from them that he learned to stay hidden during the night and to keep his power and radio off. It was after the first night of the battle near the River that he decided that they should probably go back to sea and head somewhere to just hide out. After making that monumental decision, both he and his crew remained gone until they finally got word that the war had ended. Even that was pure luck, since he heard about it from a Coast Guard Cutter that had intercepted them while they were trying to find fuel near St. Simon Island.
Now here he was, almost three years later, still trying to make a living by catching shrimp. It wasn’t easy, because now he was going further out from the shore, burning more fuel, and hoping not to get his nets ruined from dragging over the Gomers’ wreckage stuck in the muddy bottom. They had left the dock around 2:30 a.m. and were making their way out to sea, when he noticed something that just didn’t look right with the horizon. Usually at this hour, as they were clearing the river’s entrance and turning north to run up the coast of Hilton Head Island, the view of the stars was magnificent. As he peered into the darkness, he could see nothing. There were stars overhead, but absolutely nothing out to the southeast of his position except total blackness. He was puzzled, since the weather report had been for “severe clear.” No clouds, no bad weather, yet here he was looking to the east and southeast into an abyss of nothingness.
Confused by it all, he called down to the Mate, and asked him to look out ahead to see if there was something that might be ahead of the boat. “Hey, Crank, do you see anything at all?”
“Nope, nothing, skipper.”
“Something just don’t seem right. Does it seem like fog or something blocking the stars?”
“No. It looks clear, but like a line of dark down lower.”
“Wonder what the hell......”
As he and the Mate looked south and north, there were no obstructions to vision and up higher, the stars shimmered against the night sky. Then the Captain noticed that he was seeing more beach than usual, and he again turned back to the Mate to get him to confirm that the water line was receding. It was then they noticed that the total blackness was now extending much further upwards into the night sky. To the southeast and off towards the east, there were more missing stars, and when they looked back towards the beach, the water level was dropping dramatically against the shoreline. Then suddenly the Anna Marvel was scraping the bottom near the main channel along the coast and, as it dawned on the Captain what was happening, there was nothing he could do but watch. He asked himself, “what in the hell could cause a wave like this here?” Within seconds of his asking the question, the giant wave that extended at least 350 feet into the air came crashing down on him, destroying the Anna Marvel and her crew.
After crushing the Anna Marvel, the huge wave continued into the Lowcountry of South Carolina until it finally dissipated almost 20 miles inland from the coastline. In the wake of the mammoth wave, the destruction was complete and total. The apex of the tidal wave was centered along Hilton Head Island and into the Port Royal Sound, with the flooding and destruction extending inland over Parris Island and Beaufort, South Carolina. In some places, the flood waters extended almost to Interstate 95, along the Coosawatchie River. How Savannah and the coast of Georgia were spared was a mystery to those who witnessed the event and survived to talk about it later. What was clear was that the death toll was only mitigated by the fact that the area had not been heavily resettled after the Gomer invasion. The other good news was that the Marine Bases at Parris Island and the Beaufort Marine Corps Air Station were not being occupied. Thanks to the war, those units, missions, and personnel were now all relocated to other parts of the world.
South of the Puerto Rico Trench:
Just 6 hours earlier, the USS Thadaeus Morton, DDG 1001, was engaging in her first patrol after her initial shakedown cruise. A brand new, highly modified, Zumwalt class Destroyer completed after the Gomer war, she was named for Admiral Thadaeus Morton, who was the Former Chief of Naval Operations and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The Admiral had died fighting as the Chief of Allied Naval Operations onboard the USS Iowa, during the Gomer war. Now this brand new ship was his legacy. The USS Morton, aside from being almost brand new, displaced roughly 15,000 tons full loaded, with a hull of 610 feet. Her 2 Rolls Royce gas turbines, plus 2 Rolls Royce gas turbine generator sets, could turn about 30+ knots, and her sonar and radar equipment, and the Kingfisher mine detection system were as advanced as possible. What separated her from the earlier ships of the class, and was even argued by some to justify calling this the new “Morton” class destroyer, was that she was fitted out with a greatly different armament system. She was sporting three 6” or 155mm main guns with a range of over 100 miles, along with two 20mm Phalanx mounts, and a number of other “Gomer” killing weapon systems, to include a highly classified and somewhat experimental weapon that was forged from the lessons learned from the Gomers themselves. Each of these systems was designed to kill as many Gomer-type smaller objects as possible and maybe even make a dent in the big ones, should they show up again.
The military always learns from the last war and, more often than not, it is doomed to fight the last one instead of the next one. Still, in this instance, it seemed quite prudent to create a new class of “Gomer”-ready combat ships, in the hope that it just might be a counter to any threat, even the extra-terrestrial ones. This philosophy even carried over into the latest in Battleship design, and the modified Montana Class was well underway, with the first such ship of the class expected to be operational within the next few months. Scrapped at the end of World War II, this particular class of Battleship would carry an extra main battery aft, and was about a third larger than the Iowa Class Battleships used to fight the Gomers. These huge battleships were going to be eventual replacements for the sunken USS Iowa, as well as for the USS North Carolina, USS Massachusetts, and USS Alabama, that had all been pulled out of their museum status to be returned to active service. The second of the class, the new USS Iowa, was to be commissioned in about 6 months, with the follow-on ships to be commissioned one a year for the next four years thereafter. As with the USS Morton, they were incorporating the lessons learned from the Gomer Wars and were the brain child of Admirals Steadman and Lynch, with tweaks from the great Drs. Abramson and Clarkson, all heroes in their respective fields from that earlier war.
The USS Morton was just making a high speed turn back towards Puerto Rico as part of her patrol pattern, when her Captain, Commander Joshua Bennett, received an URGENT FLASH message via ELF.
FLASH IMMEDIATE
TO: Commander, USS Morton
FROM: Commander, Supreme Allied Headquarters
1. Large object from direction of the Moon, with anticipated track taking it to position at or near the Puerto Rico Trench;
2. Object appears to be Gomer Mountain Ship; however, travel signature appears different, behavior pattern is altered, and general tracking information is also confusing;
3. Object struck mine, but is still slowing as it approaches Earth, and may enter low Earth orbit, or may continue descent to impact at or near your position;
4. All allied forces on alert for defense as required;
5. Suggested you utilize passive surveillance systems only, but you are authorized to take whatever action you deem necessary to maintain contact and to protect your ship from attack;
6. Report via ELF all movements of the object directly to this headquarters;
7. Priority is for you to maintain contact with the object until relieved, and NOT, say again NOT, take any offensive action;
8. USS Virginia en route to your position and will relieve you of surveillance mission, anticipate arrival within 23 hours of this message.
Signed: s// Patrick,
General of the Army,
Supreme Allied Commander
Captain Bennett finished reading the message, and immediately remembered his experience as the gunnery officer onboard the USS New Jersey during the Gomer battles near South America. He was forced to sit in an ancient Gun Director position as the big Gomer passed overhead and reading this message, just like that night three years earlier, made him feel as though his blood was running about 10 degrees cooler. Nodding to his Executive Officer, or XO, he waved him over next to his chair on the bridge. “Okay, Doug, we’ve got a little problem.” Passing the message to the senior Lieutenant Commander, the XO read it and immediately looked up and aft of the bridge. “Sir, how can they be sure that it is coming this way?”
“Commander, I have no idea, but if memory serves me, they did a pretty righteous job of tracking them the last time. Sound General Quarters, and make it ‘no drill.’ If we have the Gomers coming back, then we had damn well better be on our highest alert!”
“Aye, Aye, Sir!”
“Oh, and Commander, you might want to make sure we’re completely in the passive mode. I think the expression is to make us into a hole in the water! I have seen what happens when they know we are here, and I have no intentions of letting them know shit! Got it?”
“Aye, Aye, Sir!” The XO stepped away and told the officer of the deck to sound General Quarters, and to advise the CIC or Combat Control Center to go to passive systems only. With that command, the USS Morton entered a state of quiet readiness.
Supreme Allied Headquarters, (SAHQ):
I was within a few days of telling the whole bunch to kiss my ever-expanding ass! The folks in Congress were convinced that there were no more threats around the world except the Gomers and, thanks to me, there were no more Gomers. A winning scenario if ever there was one, at least to most of the members of Congress that weren’t from States that had been heavily impacted by the invasion. The States devastated by the invasion, on the other hand, were a little friendlier and far more supportive of the concept that the bad guys could return. They knew that the situation could be repeated, that they were vulnerable, and that the military re-building could be vital in rebuilding their States. After all, a Montana Class Battleship would put people back to work in the ship yards, which was a boon to the economy, and would get people back to work near the coast, which would repopulate the most devastated areas.
President Blanchard was having to fight for even the simple things, and I was doing my best to make things work on a ludicrous budget. The Army was still in Khaki, not as a fashion statement, but because the government was refusing to expend any additional funding for silly things like uniforms. (We were keeping places like Wrangler and Dickies in business by buying in bulk from existing stocks). I knew it was a matter of priorities, and the expansion of various key weapon systems and the recruitment of talented personnel to operate them were far more important to the overall mission than the appearance of the average trooper. Still, keeping people convinced that a larger, better trained military was important was tough since it was clear that the Russians and the Chinese were no longer really global threats. Even the classic terrorist had bigger things to be concerned about these days, so the threat was more about starvation and keeping people employed, than it was to project a force with any sort of global capability. I understood it and was learning to live with it, at least to a point. Still, I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.
President Blanchard knew all of this, and so did I, but the President was better at doing the balancing act. From my perspective, the Gomers weren’t really gone, they were probably just on break, and the longer it took to get ready for their return, the harder it was going to be to get rid of them the next time. I still remembered how lucky we were the first time, and I was very concerned about whatever it was on the back side of the moon. Did they still have a base and personnel that close to us? Was it a refueling point? Was it a staging point for later operations? I was having daily battles with Congressmen, trying to justify why we needed to keep the passages around the Moon mined, and why we needed to maintain stockpiles of various munitions. My frustration was carrying over even to my eggheads. Dr. Clarkson was highly upset, often for the same reasons, because he watched the last Gomer Mountain ship pull out. Like me, there was no doubt in his mind that they would return and that, when they did, they would probably be a whole lot smarter about it.
I was just discussing my decision to retire, for the second time in my career, with my bride, Leah, when the red alert phone went off in my quarters. I have to admit that it caused me to jump about halfway out of my skin, since the damn thing hadn’t rung since the last test of the system almost three weeks before. I caught it on the third ring, and it was the Operations Duty Officer of the Day, Colonel Feldman. “Sir, we have three extremely large bogies headed towards Earth, passing Jupiter on a course that we believe is inbound.”
“Colonel, what do they have for a possible ETA?”
“Sir, in about 36 hours, they should be in orbit. It appears that they are slowing down, and are coming from a course direction that is not entirely consistent with the prior tracks of the Gomers.”
“Okay, Colonel, assemble the staff, and you can update us in about 25 minutes in the War Room. In the meantime, get the information to the White House, and set up a conference call with the President. I should be at your location in 10 minutes.”
“Yessir.”
“Oh, and Colonel, activate the initial alert system, and get messages out to the major commands and all senior commanders that we might be getting company, and to act in accordance with the Alert Plan Yellow.”
“Yessir.” With that, I hung up the line and immediately started out the door towards the War Room which, given our Allied Headquarters set up, was only about 8 minutes walking distance from the front door of my quarters. As I was leaving, my wife stopped me, “Mike, is that what I think?”
“I’m afraid so....”
“Crap, should I call your mother, Christine, and Holly to get them over here?”
“It shouldn’t be anything that eminent, but yeah, you might want to circle the wagons and we’ll see what we need to do over the next few hours. If nothing else, you can get them in the mind set to move in a hurry, just in case it becomes necessary.”
“Okay. . . . . . Honey?”
“Yeah?”
“Please be careful, remember the last time you wandered off to Hawaii? It took you months to get all the chunks of metal and concrete out of your hide.”
“Very, very, funny! Now can I go and see what the hell is going on?”
“Yeah, sorry. I love you!”
“I love you, too, sweetie!” I planted a kiss on her cheek and then turned on my heel. “Honey, you know I’ll be home later, don’t you?” She responded by smiling, and I headed on out the door to the unknown of what could be another huge problem for all of us. This time we were at least semi-prepared, but that was little comfort, since facing the unknown is seldom something you can plan with any effectiveness.
Supreme Allied Headquarters - War Room:
I stepped into the heart and soul of our Allied Operations, an extremely high-tech command center that had a lot of low-tech touches. We’d seen our “gee whiz” fail before, so for every high-tech ‘gizmo,’ there was a low-tech back-up system. We no longer used the HF, UHF, VHF, or FM radios for communications. Now it was all LF, VLF, and ELF systems. Even the Commercial Radio stations were transmitting on AM again, with FM radio almost a complete thing of the past. Even those who weren’t “worried” about the Gomer threat anymore were still very reluctant to send a signal on an FM or higher frequency radio. Internet radios and television were the thing now, assuming the internet was working properly, and so there was a resurgence of entertainment in the post war world. My being old school, I personally preferred the telephone for the more serious conversations, and so did our President.
“General?”
“Yessir, Mr. President?”
“What is your recommendation as to the threat level?”
“Sir, I would have to assess it as high, and I’ve alerted all major commands and senior commanders to be on alert accordingly at alert level yellow.”
“Do you have a recommendation about evacuation of the cities?”
“I don’t have enough information to answer that yet, sir, but given our history, I would seriously consider maybe moving key personnel to more hardened facilities, while putting the public on some sort of alert.”
“I just hate to cause a panic for no reason.”
“I agree, Mr. President. Just as an idea, maybe you could treat it like a weather type event. Maybe make evacuation non-mandatory, like with an oncoming hurricane, at least for the next 12 to 24 hours. Then as the objects move closer, make it mandatory for the final 12 hours. It might move the bulk of the population out to safer ground, while the infrastructure can manage it. If you wait until the last minute, then the roads will be jammed, and panic will really set in.”
“Okay, it is an idea. I’ll talk it over with the cabinet. Can I quote you as making that recommendation?”
“Sure! Marty, you can quote me whenever you want, but if you do, make sure it starts with ‘hey you assholes, listen up.’”
“Funny! I knew giving you the 5th Star would make you the consummate smartass!”
“Sorry, Mr. President, but you know most of those guys don’t want to hear from me. I’ve been accused of being ‘Chicken Little’ one too many times.”
“Yeah, I know, but if you will recall, I was the ‘Chicken Little’ last time around.”
“Yessir, and you saved more than a few lives, to include mine, for those of us who listened.”
“Bingo! My point exactly. Now get to work, get the latest intelligence, and then be prepared to brief when I get there.”
“Yessir, and I can assume you’ll be bringing the key players with you, so we will open up your new facilities and have security teams prepared to receive you.”
“Roger that, and we should have everyone out and on the way to you within the next 6 hours.”
“Can do, sir! Your new home will be ready, and don’t forget to bring the grandkids.” With that, the President chuckled and broke the connection. I turned to get the staff fired up, briefed, and moving in the right direction. Within minutes, our first war briefing in three years began in earnest. As Colonel Feldman briefed the course, speed, and anticipated progress of the new ships, Dr. Abramson and Dr. Clarkson entered the room. Dr. Clarkson sat in rapt attention studying the track of the objects, their movement patterns, and course projections. As one of the few people on Earth who had experienced first-hand the Gomer ship and technology, his opinions would be vital to our understanding and to identifying the proper tasks we would need to accomplish over the next few hours.
Dr. Abramson and Dr. Clarkson were in the middle of their equations when General Whitney arrived with more news. The three large objects were now turning more towards the Moon, almost like that was their initial target, and were now on a course to enter the Moon’s orbit. Once he said this, both Dr. Abramson and Dr. Clarkson said, almost in perfect unison, “Orbit?” Again conferring and checking the numbers, they confirmed General Whitney’s information. Sure enough, these objects were moving on a course to enter an orbit of the Moon, as opposed to holding a course to remain behind the Moon. This was something new and for many of us in the room, something far more sinister. Did this mean that these Gomers don’t have a problem with sunlight? If not, then are they even Gomers?
Several more minutes passed, and finally our resident “eggheads” stepped up to the plate. Dr. Abramson began by saying, “General, it would appear that these objects did not originate on a track that would be the normal heading we would associate with the Gomer home world. It is close, in fact painfully close, but not quite an exact track. They also do not appear to be tracking a course using quite the same pattern as the Gomer craft we have encountered, and by that we’re referring to flight patterns. Finally, we are not seeing a ‘signature’ that is completely consistent with the Gomer technology we have previously encountered. In short, General, we cannot confirm that these are the same ‘Gomers’ that were here three years ago.”
“Doctor, you are telling me that these might not be Gomers at all, is that right?”
“General, I am telling you that I can’t confirm they are Gomers, but I can’t rule it out either.”
“Can’t rule it out?”
“Sure, they may be Gomers with later technology available to them. Similar to our having made advancements of our own over the last three years. OR, it could be that they have modified their patterns, based on the prior experiences with us.”
“Okay, fair enough. It could be Gomers with advances in their technology, but either way, it might mean that our normal defenses have been compromised. If they are Gomers, then perhaps they have ways to counter what we have developed to fight them. Similarly, if they aren’t Gomers, then whoever they are might not be impacted by any of our anti-Gomer weapon systems. Hell, they might not even have the same weaknesses.”
“I think that is a fair assessment, General.”
“Okay, anybody, can we read intent from their movements? Is there anything here that would indicate that they are friendly?”
After several moments of silence, Dr. Clarkson finally weighed in, “General, they are going to the Moon first, and this may be something that isn’t a threat as we know it, especially since it might give us a chance to get a visual image or two. I don’t think we can assume that their intentions are hostile, but at the same time, I would NOT want to be the one who just assumed they weren’t hostile and then have something bad happen. That is what got us in trouble the last time.”
“Thanks, Doctor. That is precisely what I was thinking.” With that I turned to General Whitney and asked, “Well? What are your thoughts about what we tell the President, evacuate the population or not?
“Sir, I know this is probably not a basis for making sound policy judgments, but my gut says evacuate. At least until we know more about these...... Okay, if they’re not Gomers, then what DO we call them?”
“I’m sticking to Gomers for the moment, but you’re right, if they’re not what we know as Gomers, we’ll have to come up with something else to call them, since I don’t want to get the tactics confused later on down the road.”
“Sir, if I may?”
“Sure, Doctor Clarkson.”
“Sir, I would stick to Bogies right now. Once we get more visual intelligence based on our photographic information, we can find something to call them. Assuming they actually orbit the Moon, we should have some great panoramic views of them within the next several hours.”
“Okay, General Whitney, advise the President, and tell him our recommendation is to move forward and order the evacuation of the cities. We can’t afford to repeat our mistakes, and this could be just such an instance. In the meantime, move our forces to Threat Level Red, and keep them in the passive mode on all radars and radios.”
“General, if they decide to evacuate based on your recommendation, you do know that if this turns out to be nothing, it will be your ass on the block.”
“Whit, right now I don’t give a flea turd on a rat’s ass. I can promise you that if we don’t tell them to evacuate, and this IS something to worry about, then not only would they have my ass, but I would want them to have it. I’d rather be wrong and unemployed, than wrong and not be able to live with myself.”
“I know, sir, but I wouldn’t be a good staff member if I didn’t at least point out the down side.”
“Geez, Whit, in all the time I’ve known you, you have excelled at being my conscience, which is Latin for one huge defacto pain in the butt. Now, tell the boss to get everyone away from the cities and the coast, and I’ll be happy to take the heat if it becomes necessary.”
“Yessir!” With his response, the entire War Room took on a whole new purpose. We activated all recall procedures, initiated the evacuation plans, and took every step we could think of taking, to get the ball rolling.
Copyright © 2013 Michael S. Pauley