he road was wide open to the White House. As a result of the president wanna-be, the economy was a shambles, the government shut down for lack of a budget, martial law declared, and there was only a small fraction of places with electricity, most of which were small self maintained generators.
Lawlessness waged worse and worse. The UN had boots on American soil killing Americans but, dying like the rats they were in the failed attempt to confiscate the arms of the citizens. The Muslim faction was going around, many groups of small numbers of them running around like ISIS and striking any target of opportunity. Theirs was always the most cowarly strikes possible; little on results but big in media.
Drug cartels and Mexican gangs consisting of felons fresh out of Mexican prisons roamed everywhere. They were made up of the vilest, meanest and most determined pestilence with one mission: to eradicate any American: white, black, Asian, or Mexican in their lust to take back "their land." The Mexican mafia ran rampant over anything they could demolish and were constantly in turf wars.
Black Panther groups thugs "who reserved and "deserved" . . . the right to burn and loot," roved the streets. What the Blacks couldn't steal, they destroyed, usually by burning since it was the least amount of effort involved.
Turf wars continually broke out among the many groups who were intent on carving the United States up in the making of their own little country proclaiming themselves as the rulers. They died like rats killing each other as they fought for the right of being king if their own little bit of real estate. Anything and everything was used as money; slaves, women, vehicles, firearms, ammunition, water, gold, food, containers, medicines, drugs, fuel, wood, pumps, filtration systems . . . American silver coin pre 1965.
A female of six to eighty years of age was not safe on the street. It was as if the scene of Germany when it fell in '45 was happening all over again. In that scene any female not able to defend herself was systematically raped, or, was killed by the Russians spouting "because the Germans did it to our women." Most of the time the women were bayonetted once the Russians had had their way with them and left for dead.
Most died after being bayonetted - but a surprising number lived. But now they took on the role of fighting aggressively instead of relenting and being sexually abused and in jeopardy of getting the bayonet a second time.
There were even well armed groups of women, sometimes nothing but thugs themselves, who attacked, captured and sold slaves to anyone who could muster their worth. These various groups warred against each other, killing and being killed. God help the man who was ever recognized as being the aggressor in a rape and attempted murder of the victim. Then, there's no accounting for the numbers killed in attrition of "war" alone.
The filth of sewer in the streets was a constant stench. There was no electricity, so cooking was done over a wood fire, which in itself was dangerous as one could easily be pinpointed as to the source of the smoke. Once located, if the group was too large to overcome by the finder, groups of thugs would unite then fight over the spoils.
Martial Law was in effect, but very little law enforcement was available. The National Guard as well as the military itself were of little use in that the officers sympathetic to the Constitution had been purged prior to Martial Law being declared. This resulted in the leaving of untrained and undisciplined young kids who were little more than young punks without a country. Men of Islam faith or new converts were promoted extremely fast through the ranks. They would without hesitation or remorse fire on their own countrymen.
Those who were released from America's prisons, after burning and looting those institutions, were in some sort of gang. Many had converted to Islam during huge conversion sweeps prior to the fall, and were part of Muslim gangs, already dhimmi slaves. Many had already learned what happened to dhimmis and revolted against the Muslims. Hilarious in a twisted sort of way.
Yes, the "president" had kept his word and done it well. He had changed America. He had burned America like Nero burned Rome, and had even been depicted as Nero fiddling while Rome burned. But it was the only thing the idiot ever kept his word on. Other than that, you could never depend on him for his word. He was the lyingingest liar ever to walk the hallowed halls of the American government.
Revolt against the confiscation of arms, and the groups brought in to "assist" in the forceful confiscation of arms, thereby "protecting us" from ourselves, was in full swing. One could hear the fighting all the day through. Many times men would fight on the battlefields for days on end straight through.
The struggle was exacerbated by the simple fact of disorganization and lack of leadership. Most of those who were fighting against the UN forces imported to confiscate the arms had no logistics filling their canteens, or feeding them, or supplying them of the thousands of different things needed for an army to succeed. Battles were short and soon disengaged. Although there were no trenches, real estate was won, lost and won time and again.
Men fell and bled fighting to maintain Freedom where their forefathers bled centuries before in giving to us Freedom. The UN forces, being a mixed lot of mercenaries from all over the world were not as Patriotically connected to their peer as were those of the local Freedom Militias. If a man of the UN fell in battle, that's where he laid until consumed by whatever animal was the hungriest, whether it be four or two legged.
In contrast, the Freedom Militias would recover every peer and would lay them to rest at great risk to their own lives. More than one man died when he was set upon by a hidden marksman who was simply waiting for deads' comrade to return for him. Usually it meant certain death for the sniper in that he would be overrun and riddled by the Freedom Militia crazed with fury at such cowardice.
A phrase comes to the authors' mind of people pouring out French wine in the early post years of 911 when the French outraged America. Anything French was booed and even the company called French's mustard was accused of being owned by the French. A spokesman of the French's Corporation responded with "the only connection this company has with the French is its color . . ." Quite fitting.
Bravery and valor was seen in thousands of instances on a daily basis. Whole platoons of French UN mercenaries were set to running when they began to fall like flies as a result of the firepower and sheer determination of the Freedom Militias. Bodies of those and other thugs were left to rot in the sun or be eaten by feral pigs.
A running vehicle was seldom found. A plane in the air was a suitable target and more often than not, suffered some kind of a hit on each flight. Because of that, many missions were flown at night. They flew high and never left the area in the same direction twice. Before the door of the hangar was even opened, an armed guard would peruse the area with night vision to see if people were around.
The care taken to camouflage the doors was extreme, and the initial costs were extremely high as well, but, more than well worth it to be safe from discovery.
Fear of discovery was on the minds of each and every person. If a hangar was found, word of mouth of something like this would bring a tsunami of hungry mouths ready to kill for a small can of pork and beans. And to top all this off, the wannabe prez was still seated on his throne in the White House eating sumptuous meals, wasting car loads of extravagant foods while the people starved to death in the streets.
That would not be for long. The plans to change that very fact was set to be carried out the next A.M. by the Patriot Gentleman's Club. Four planes carrying men would lift off in thirty minutes. William was in the lead plane. He planned on taking the president personally or dying in the process. He considered this his Last Mission Accepted. The words of Patrick Henry, "Give me Liberty or give me death" rang in his heart, fired his soul, and drove him to the point of over extending himself, even to the point of death.
In one sense it was suicide, because it was do or die; maybe even die without doing. But in the sense of dying for one's country, it was an honorable death. William would no more "fall on his own sword" than any sane person. He just did not believe in suicide. Period. Dying to preserve Freedom was far from suicide, no matter how risky the mission.
He would gladly die if the bottom line of this mission were his life. He had already lived his life, and he felt ready to pass the torch. The instructions kept for him by Sharon were how the hierarchy of the Old Patriots would be arranged should he die. She cried when he kissed her softly and said "I'll see you soon if I can."
She stood close to the door of the hanger and listened to the sounds of the planes as they faded in the distance. She proved up strong in front of her battalion of female fighters. They too wanted as much of the action as possible and within another hour, would be lifting off for their own separate mission.
But William frowned on putting his lady battalion in harms way, so he used them very little. They found it insulting, but their respect for him and Sharon held them in check as they waited for the missions he had agreed to allow them accompany. And they each, under the guidance of Sung Wu, had become proficient in the Martial Arts and firearms as well. They trained daily, and became the premier female fighting force of that time. He had every confidence the mission of tonight would be a total success.
Sung Wu had honed them to a razors edge, and many times had went out on local forays to assist those under attack. They would come in unannounced from the rear like ghosts. God help the man they came on that was attacking a village, castle or strong hold.
And now along with this group headed toward the Capital, were several hand picked females who were to fight beside William and the toughest of his men. The group in this plane was but a third of the group going. There were six planes in the air, all twins, but varying in size. The lead was Ginger and Amy, piloting the monster C130 military transport. It had come from Royce Harrington's own fleet. With his close connections to the Clintons and their sizable fleet of drug running planes, and, their use of military for same, one doesn't have to stretch ones' imagination too far to figure out where and how they acquired it.
The DC bunker complex was open and expecting its load of visitors to come in well before dawn. The planes were taxied in, shut down as soon as possible and placed under camouflage netting. The hangar at DC was no where near the size of the Texas hangar, so they secured the planes in the forests under camo netting. That was a job in itself with a plane the size of a C130.
They came in low from the west, and could smell smoke long before they saw the fires. Ginger pointed out what was left of the White House. It had been burned to the ground. No telling where the sleaze ball was. If he was in Air force One, he could be anywhere in the world. And, that would fit his character. What he couldn't steal, he would burn. Then he would run like the low down cowards and counterparts who'd burned, looted and ran off during the Ferguson fiasco.
The lowest of dogs, stupid beyond belief that they would follow the advice of stupid dogs like Al Sharpton, Eric Holder, Jessi Jackson; all miscreants, thugs, tax evaders, race baiters, treasonous liars. . . None good enough for the great spokesman and Patriot, Martin Luther King, to wipe his feet and defecate on.
As soon as possible, the men deplaned and entered the hangar where they could gather into their respective teams. They paused for a moment take a knee for a word of prayer, then proceeded through the tunnels into the house ordering the men on guard duty to "drop or we'll drop you, but you'll die in the process."
The support men had parasailed out of the planes in the dark with the mission to attack the White House from street level. The streets were lighted by the fires of buildings that burned. Some had been deliberately set by the local thug goons or UN forces to burn out those who stood strong on their convictions refusing to give up their guns.
Most, raised with firearms from their youth, freely watered the ground with the blood of those who had come to steal not just their guns, but their goods, their families, their lives and their lands. Whatever else they could find of value were counted as spoils of war. But the thieves had to get past the American Truebloods. No one ever had a clue as to how many there were, but, when the trouble started, they came out of the woodwork by the thousands ready to fight, protect, and die protecting their motherland.
As of yet they had not been de-fanged like those in England. Unable to fight or defend themselves, they would be trampled underfoot when the Muslims decided to take over. The Englanders would die by the thousands. But they sure looked down their noses at American individuals who were determined to hold on to their firearms. Had it not been for the Americans, they and the French (as well as most of Europe), would all have been speaking German since WWII.
Back to the White House . . .
While the group who had parasailed from the planes searched any place on the White House property not burning, William led his men through the tunnels. He directed one group to go to the bunker owned by the government to secure it, and then he turned the other way toward the White House. When the heat in the tunnel became unbearable, they turned and made a hasty retreat toward the government owned bunker. Willie and Gaylon had already searched the government bunker, and Reina was following up on some information she had. Nothing.
There were just a few of the house servants, cooks etc. who had taken refuge in the government bunker. Few knew where the tunnels were - as secrecy was at an all time high, and Obama suspected everyone, his paranoia reaching unthinkable highs.
With the dawn just breaking, William called the planes to ready for loading, each in succession taxied to the takeoff point as soon as they loaded, turned into the wind and throttled up. As they lifted off, the sights that held their attention in the early morning sun were astonishing. It was if the area had been bombed. They would not fly home in the light of day, but would make the short jaunt over to the Virginia bunker and wait till the night.
This was America's capital city. National Monuments made of stone were still standing, but the beauty of the parks around them was gone. America was looking like a third world country. Battles rocked her valleys and mountains, while her life, the people who carried her blood through their veins, of all ethnic origins, rallied together to unite and fight against the Muslims, against the Mexicans and against the Black Panthers, Russians and the UN.
America was in her death throes. Obama should have been taken out years ago and hung long before it ever got this far and the government should have been purged then. All his cabinet and his cronies and czars as well. William pledged on his life to see him and many others who were sympathetic to him and the overthrow of America, hang by the neck. Yes, the Hanging Judge was back.
William felt robbed. He badgered himself, and blamed himself for taking so long. So, if there was no Obama to hang, what was the reason for living? Could America get up and stand strong once again? Would she ever regain the strength to pull herself up by her own boot straps? William was almost sick to his stomach. He knew there was absolutely no way she could ever recover as long as Obama or any trace of his cabinet and ideals, as well as Islam, was alive.
Later, as the planes lifted off from Virginia and flew home that night, he had a heart much heavier than the night Curt and Hazard died. It seemed their efforts, the giving of their lives, their work . . . was all in vain. He swore he would redouble his efforts to right this wrong. Even though the Muslim thug of the White House was gone, or perhaps dead, there were still a great many traitorous men in high places which needed to be - and would be hung, or in some manner, meet with justice. William hoped America would survive to write history for future traitors in her government to look back on, and tremble.
He reminisced with pride of his men. Old Joe Armstrong, George Gacy, Curt Stallings, Randal Williams, Leonard 'Hazard' Diamond, Dale Hamlin . . . who had made the ultimate sacrifice.
Then his mind turned to men who now stood in their stead: Beau Adams, Doc Wilson, Willie Bates, Juan, Jesse, & Joe Orozco, Amy & Ginger Rodgers, Gaylon Hamlin, General Sherman Randolph, Sung Wu, and some others, whose names failed him at the moment. But it sure made a man proud to stand with the likes of them. Now those guys were American tuff, strong and proud, Patriots of highest order; Sheepdogs.
The men were America proud and although unknown at the time, America's Proud! They stood strong. They fought with valor each battle and each mission, no matter the odds. They were American through and through. They each carried the same zeal for freedom handed down by our Founding Fathers. They had that same blood which coursed through their veins like fire, that fire of Freedom. He slumbered finally with the thoughts of these men standing in silhouette over America. She will be fine as long as her spirit is kept alive by these types of men.
He was up early the next morning, sitting at a table in the mess hall sipping a fresh hot cup of strong black starter fluid. The General joined him, and a couple of others moseyed in, poured a cup and sat down with him. They wee a rough looking lot this morning, not even have the gumption to shave. The discussion was low-key and almost only about the mission and its failure, and whether or not the 'prez' had cooked in the fire.
Willie Bates and Gaylon Hamlin were the last to come in grabbing a seat at the long table of long faces. Talk was little and subdued. Suddenly, the door exploded open and Amy busted in at a dead run, squeeling like a stuck pig and sliding to a stop at the table in front of the General and William. She was out of breath and by this time all eyes were upon her. "The pig is dead," she stated emphatically. "I just got a message from a flier over in Arkansas, and he was one of the pilots who flew the men evening before last into DC. They are the ones who had raided and burned the White House," she gasped out of breath. We barely missed them!"
A gigantic roar rumbled in the mess hall as the men cheered. "Wait, let me finish!" yelled Amy.
"They had surrounded and stormed the Presidential Mansion. The men on guard duty there quickly realized what was going down, and they were for it. In unison they dropped their weapons. One of the raiders walked them outside with their hands in the air. And the Presidential guards, not knowing in the least what to expect, were apprehensive as to their own very immediate future. The raider behind them yelled "Scram!" and they scrambled from the scene like a bunch of startled rabbits."
"Not finding super liar anywhere, they figured he had escaped down one of the tunnels. The tunnels were common knowledge, but their locations were not. The order was to unseat the prez and bind him over for hanging. If he were not found, burn the White House. In several rooms were set plastic gasoline cans on standard road flares that were burning. The flames arose with a roar as the flare melted the bottom of the gasoline cans and the gasoline rushed out."
Amy continued while the men crowded around her. "Speak louder" someone called.
She paused a second to get her breath then continued a little slower. A search was made of other buildings attached to the White House, looking into every room and closet . . . everywhere; kicking in locked doors and finally the couple for whom they were searching were found. They were lying on a bed looking up at the ceiling with fixed, glazed eyes. Beside them were the remnants of drugs which they had obviously taken in order to gain enough courage to off themselves."
She paused again to great effect. "There lay the worst disgrace this nation has ever seen. But, they were true to form even in death. They took the cowards way out, and even more cowardly, they had to have drugs in their veins to even do that. Shows the courage of a Muslim. They are all cowards, hiding behind women and children. They are lower than dogs."
Then she continued. "Each had a bullet wound in the side of their head but there was only one gun. it was in the hand of Michele who had a shot to her right temple. Obama had one in his left temple so Michele had to do the dirt work.
The order was given to clear out, and multiple flares were set in the rooms. The plastic cans were set on flares, and would ignite when the flare burned through the plastic releasing the gasoline."
She continued on her narration. "The last man out of the room where the two pigs lay, tarried long enough to deliver the contents of a special satchel created just for them. He piled several slabs of bacon all over their bodies. He took several pictures to show the head shots which killed them, the now dried blood, and them lying there with the pork on them. The last picture he took was a video which showed the gasoline as it flowed from the can and engulfed them in flame."
Again she paused as each of the men visualized the scene in their own minds. "He walked away after putting several rounds from his AR 15 into them, shut the door and walked out to the front lawn. Within minutes, the White House, turned Outhouse was disappearing into flames. The White House turned "Out House of America" was no more.
A huge cheer went up which was even louder and more boisterous than the one where William announced they'd be going after the president. Men slapping each other on the back, clinking their coffee cups together, laughing, cheering, hollering at one another across the room high fives, thumbs up gestures . . . yes. It was a happy occasion indeed.
The girls mission was just coming into the mess hall after deplaning and wanting chow and coffee. They brightened up as they heard the news. Even though their mission had been a success, one of their own was caught by a bullet as she straightened up to vacate the hole where she had placed the last of the charges on a huge cache of .40 ammo. She died doing what she wanted to do, and that was to help take back our grand America.
America was now able to enjoin the job of becoming free again. The head of the snake that was squeezing the life out of America was cut off. Now, she could start her climb up the rocky slopes of reparation. It would be twenty-two months of civilian struggle against the outside intruders before the fighting stopped.
Mexico of course attacked without mercy as it always had before, creating within the Americans that solid resolve of zeal with which to to fight to the death for their country. The same resolve of those that had retaliated in 1836 in response to the killing of all in the Alamo settled all over this country, and if you were American - you fought on the side of the Freedom Militia. If not, you died or left the country.
The Mexicans had nothing to lose either way, and those not killed in the battles were pushed back to their own desert lands. All those Mexican thugs released from the prisons to go out and wreak havoc on the country were shot by firing squad wherever they were found. Seems like they all lost their cockiness when they were staring down the muzzles of of an AR15.
The reason the Mexicans could not win is because they never knew or experienced the fires of Patriotism, Freedom and life that America enjoyed. Even after living here in America, most of them never gained that fire.
They were pushed back into a forlorn country which by now was even more a poor third world country. No wonder so many of Mexico's citizens fled to the US in hopes of a better life. The citizens of the US didn't mind people coming in, as long as they did it legally. When you come to America, come all the way. Become American. Work, pay your taxes, but leave your culture, your flags and your country behind.
When you become an American, you are not an African American, or a Mexican American . . . you were an American!
Because they were attacked so viciously by the Mexicans while they were down, the unite militia of America pushed into Mexico. Soon, the Mexican president was deposed, and law and order was established there.
It would be forty five months before electricity was restored to American lands. Williams group worked hand in hand with what little law there was, and helped restore order to America. Finally, the last bullet had been fired, the last Patriots' lifeblood watered the Tree of Liberty, the last echoes of the thundering rifles, cannon and mortar silenced, the last bullet fell to earth, and America rested from her travail.
Now, it was time to pick up the pieces, prosecute the war crimes, hang all of the previous governmental scandalous persons including all the living ex-presidents, their cabinets and their wives. Sound harsh? Traitors are always hung . . .
Organizations like FEMA, the abortion clinics, laws that struck down anything pertaining to the Constitution were shut down.
Ginger was present at the hangings of the Clintons. They were hanged with most of the Congress, and three other living presidents. She stood in the front line of the gallows, and cried as she watched the last breath of air expel from their bodies, as they kicked their last kick. And she stayed there until the bodies were cut down and placed in plain cheap cardboard coffins and carted away.
It was there she did her final mourning for her family members. It was because of the Clintons that so many of her family had died. Upon seeing this evil now righted, she could thus commence the healing.
Her and Amy walked back to the planes they had flown in carrying most of the remaining men of the Last Mission Accepted. Amy had her eyes fixed on this Marine she had met while flying them to the Royce Harrington raid. Ginger had a sparkle in her eye, and she was ready to experience what it was like to be a grandmother.
The last chapter of the exploits of the Old Patriots describes the manner in which most of the remaining Old Patriots of 'Last Mission Accepted' died. The name of that extra exploits chapter is Final Salude. It deals with the problems of the muslims and the Barbary Coast. But they would have victory!
A new chapter was beginning for America. She was given the chance to start over with the original Constitution. She would once again rise from the valley of war and death to become the most powerful Republic the world has ever known. The Founding Fathers were resting in peace once again.
And the last of the Old Patriots Club, many of which never knew about "The Four" and their exploits . . . were dying off one by one. Most of the Old Patriots had succeeded in their Last Mission Accepted in coming back alive. Few had failed to complete their missions even after dying in the process.
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