he had chosen was simple. Two squads up front, one on each side of State Street. They would scout for the main body of about thirty men following about fifty yards back.
Jankowski took his place with the largest group and raised his voice.
“Bravo Company! Fix bayonets!”
A succession of metallic scrapes answered him as the fifty guardsmen snapped bayonets into place on their M16s. The captain did not seriously expect his men to use cold steel in combat, but he earnestly hoped the sight of the long blades moving closer might prove intimidating to at least some of the rioters.
He stepped forward and shouted again. “At my order, Bravo Company will advance!” He paused, looking right and left one last time to make sure his outfit was ready. Pinney and the sergeants nodded back. They were set.
Jankowski faced forward again and squared his shoulders. “Advance!”
Moving with a measured tread, the small force of National Guardsmen went forward into the smoke.
They stumbled into a scene out of hell within minutes.
Waves of heat radiating from fires burning out of control in every building of the 200 block of South State Street washed over the advancing soldiers. Sheets of flame roared out the ground-floor windows of the Berghoff restaurant, a Chicago institution since 1893. The dense smoke billowing over the area was already making it hard to breathe, and now the soaring temperatures made it even more difficult. Corpses were strewn in every direction. Some of the dead were probably rioters gunned down by the police. Others were probably unlucky bystanders caught by the mob or in the cross fire. Several bodies were clad in the tattered remnants of police uniforms.
Dead and dying horses lay among the murdered humans. A patrol of mounted policemen had been ambushed near the intersection of State and Adams. Now wounded horses screamed and writhed in anguish on the torn pavement, trying desperately to rise on bullet-shattered legs.
Jankowski gagged and turned away, unable to look any further. Why hadn’t someone, anyone, put the poor beasts out of their misery? He glanced back, trying to find Pinney to order him to have a detail take care of the job.
Suddenly, the wall of the building next to him exploded in a spray of concrete chips, torn up by a tearing fusillade of automatic-weapons fire. Guardsmen scattered in all directions or fell prone. Two were hit and thrown backward off their feet.
Someone slammed into Jankowski from behind and knocked him flat. It was Pinney. More bullets whipcracked past their heads.
A sergeant wriggled closer to them, moving faster than anyone had thought possible in their weekend training sessions. “Jesus Christ, Captain! We’re taking heavy fire from a barricade up ahead!” the noncom shouted, gesturing southward. “The scouts say some of the sons of bitches have blocked the street with abandoned buses.”
Against his orders, the troops ahead of him began firing back into the smoke, pumping bursts from their M16s down the street toward the unseen gunmen. No matter, Jankowski thought in a daze. They were committed now. Bravo Company had been sucked into the maelstrom sweeping northward through Chicago.
Emergency Broadcast System bulletin, aired over WMAQ radio, Chicago “… the martial-law zone has now been expanded to include the area north of East Sixty-third Street, south of Wacker Drive and the river, and east of the Dan Ryan Expressway. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to enter or leave this area. The police and National Guard units now manning this perimeter have orders to shoot curfew violators and looters on sight. All citizens in the Chicagoland area are urged to stay at home and off the expressways.
“Reports from inside the area show widespread looting, arson, and rioting. Casualties and damage are both heavy, but there are no accurate counts yet. Field hospitals are being set up at the Navy Pier and Grant Park to accommodate the overflow of wounded from area hospitals. The Red Cross has put out an urgent appeal for all types of blood, especially O positive. If you live outside the martial-law zone and wish to donate blood, go to the nearest hospital, and they will accept your donation there.
“To quell the rioting, Governor Anderson has expanded his call-up of the National Guard to all Illinois units. Officials in the governor’s office also report he has been in communication with the governor of Wisconsin to arrange a selective mobilisation of that state’s National Guard units as well.
“Governor Anderson is currently enroute from Springfield for consultations with the mayor. Informed sources have indicated they are considering asking for federal troops to help restore law and order.”
CHAPTER 14
RABBIT PUNCH
An emergency conference on domestic terrorism had replaced the President’s standard morning briefing on foreign military and political developments. The rapidly developing internal crisis took precedence over slower- moving global concerns.
The first minutes of the White House meeting were played out before an array of television cameras and print journalists. With opinion polls showing a public that was increasingly fearful, the President’s political and policy advisors all agreed on the need to convey the impression of an administration on top of events and working hard to put things right. Pictures of the nation’s chief executive conferring with the Attorney General, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the heads of the F131 and CIA were an integral part of that confidence-building process.
But the real work of the gathering began only after the last members of the media were ushered out of the Cabinet Room. Jefferson T. Corbell, the President’s top electoral tactician, slipped in a side door and dropped into one of the empty chairs.
The President waited for Corbell to settle himself before dropping his tight, confident smile. He stared across the elegant, polished table at his assembled advisors. “Well?” he asked sourly. “Are we any closer to putting a cap on this god damned situation?”
Nobody spoke up immediately.
“Well?”
David Leiter, the Director of the FBI, cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not, Mr. President.” “And why the hell not?” the President demanded angrily. He jerked a thumb toward the television set parked in the corner of the Cabinet Room. The sound was off, but the picture was on. Right now it showed aerial shots of Chicago’s South Side. Whole city blocks were burning.
“This country’s third largest city is under martial law and tearing itself to pieces. One of the country’s biggest civil rights leaders has been blown to hell along with a couple of hundred other important people, congressmen included. Jesus Christ, Nightline’s running broadcasts asking whether or not this is the first battle of a full-scale American race war! What am I supposed to tell the American people? That we’re still twiddling our damned thumbs while this army of white-power maniacs is out there killing at will?”
Leiter and the others sat stiffly, waiting for the fiery burst of executive temperament to fade slightly. Years of service to this President had taught them how to ride each storm out.
“There’s no solid evidence to suggest that we’re facing an army of terrorists, Mr. President,” the FBI Director said quietly. “Even assuming the press club bombing and the schoolyard massacre were conducted by different people, we’re still talking about less than ten individuals, possibly no more than five. Taking the time between the two attacks into account, I suspect both were carried out by the same group.”
“Well, then, these five or ten fanatics of yours are making quite a mess, David,” Sarah Carpenter said sharply. There was little love lost between the Attorney General and the head of the FBI. In the past, they’d repeatedly locked horns over Justice Department policy and spending priorities. Now she saw an opportunity to score a few points at his expense. “If you hadn’t dragged your heels when I ordered you to increase surveillance of the neo-Nazi extremists, we might not be facing this crisis today!”
Leiter glared back at her. “With all due respect, Madam Attorney General, I doubt all the electronic eavesdropping in the world would have picked up the slightest hint of either the bombing or the school massacre
