Read Online Zombie War: An account of the zombie apocalypse that swept across America by Nicholas Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicholas Ryan
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everything out of Pope Air Force Base, dispersing the 504 th Parachute Infantry Regiment and the 505 th along the Tennessee perimeter line, and the 325 th into North Carolina. The 307 th Engineer Battalion was sent to Memphis – the western tip of the line – to begin bridge demolition work. Their efforts were supported by the Air Force.”
“Were the engineers the only troops sent to Memphis?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We used the old Millington Naval Air Station as a staging ground when the Defensive Line began to take shape and we were funneling more troops into the trenches,” Horsham explained. “Twenty odd years ago Millington was a major military installation but it was downsized. When we moved in it was housing a smaller Personnel Center for the Navy, but it still retained most of its original facilities, and the old runway was still there. The runway had been transferred to civilian use. We took it back.”
“Did you feel prepared for the approaching conflict?”
The General paused and rubbed his chin. “We had a lot of men, but it wasn’t nearly enough,” he confessed. “And abandoning equipment, and aircraft goes against the grain,” he grumbled. “But we needed to deploy with great speed. Leaving Bragg and Pope in the dead zone was militarily stupid, in my opinion. If the Danvers Defense Line had been given into the hands of someone with a true appreciation of the military considerations, my guess is that it would have been drawn up differently.”
I sensed some friction, and like any good journalist, I tried to pick the scab off the General’s wound. “So you weren’t a fan of Richard Danvers? That must have caused difficulties, considering you were appointed SAFCUR.”
Horsham’s expression became frosty. His posture stiffened. He stared at me for long silent seconds and I could sense him bristling with a barely concealed flash of temper.
“Danvers did the job the President appointed him to do,” Horsham said carefully, like he was reciting these lines from some kind of a prepared, censored media statement. “As SAFCUR, I operated with the restrictions I was handed. They weren’t of my making – they were mine to make what I could with.”
I smiled wryly. “Spoken like a politician,” I said.
The General didn’t share my smile. He tensed. “No,” he said, and thrust one of his fingers at me. “Spoken like a career soldier who is accustomed to dealing with the idiotic decisions of politicians and bureaucrats.”
More silence. The interview had taken a confrontational turn and I tried to steer it back on course, back to aspects that were more comfortable for the General in the hope that he would once again be forthcoming.
“Sir, you’ve had an extremely distinguished career. You’ve seen action and led men in every major theater of operations for many years. How was the zombie war different to other military conflicts, in terms of attitude?”
“Attitude?”
“Yes. In terms of morale?”
Horsham hesitated and his broad face creased into a series of frowns. He stared towards the ceiling for a moment.
“I guess the closest I can figure would be to compare it to ‘Desert Shield’ and the defense of Saudi Arabia back in ’90-’91,” he said after a long moment. “From a purely operational point of view, both conflicts were the same – that period where we hastily assembled the men and equipment necessary to construct a cohesive defensive line. In every other aspect,” Horsham assured me with a steely gaze, “the zombie war was unlike anything I have ever encountered before.”
It was the kind of comment that deserved a significant moment of silence, so I kept my mouth shut and made notes. I flipped over to a new page.
“You were SAFCUR I,” I began, suddenly finding myself looking for a delicate way to pose the question I wanted to ask. “And yet, despite the success of ‘Operation Containment’ under your leadership, later in the war, another
“Were the engineers the only troops sent to Memphis?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We used the old Millington Naval Air Station as a staging ground when the Defensive Line began to take shape and we were funneling more troops into the trenches,” Horsham explained. “Twenty odd years ago Millington was a major military installation but it was downsized. When we moved in it was housing a smaller Personnel Center for the Navy, but it still retained most of its original facilities, and the old runway was still there. The runway had been transferred to civilian use. We took it back.”
“Did you feel prepared for the approaching conflict?”
The General paused and rubbed his chin. “We had a lot of men, but it wasn’t nearly enough,” he confessed. “And abandoning equipment, and aircraft goes against the grain,” he grumbled. “But we needed to deploy with great speed. Leaving Bragg and Pope in the dead zone was militarily stupid, in my opinion. If the Danvers Defense Line had been given into the hands of someone with a true appreciation of the military considerations, my guess is that it would have been drawn up differently.”
I sensed some friction, and like any good journalist, I tried to pick the scab off the General’s wound. “So you weren’t a fan of Richard Danvers? That must have caused difficulties, considering you were appointed SAFCUR.”
Horsham’s expression became frosty. His posture stiffened. He stared at me for long silent seconds and I could sense him bristling with a barely concealed flash of temper.
“Danvers did the job the President appointed him to do,” Horsham said carefully, like he was reciting these lines from some kind of a prepared, censored media statement. “As SAFCUR, I operated with the restrictions I was handed. They weren’t of my making – they were mine to make what I could with.”
I smiled wryly. “Spoken like a politician,” I said.
The General didn’t share my smile. He tensed. “No,” he said, and thrust one of his fingers at me. “Spoken like a career soldier who is accustomed to dealing with the idiotic decisions of politicians and bureaucrats.”
More silence. The interview had taken a confrontational turn and I tried to steer it back on course, back to aspects that were more comfortable for the General in the hope that he would once again be forthcoming.
“Sir, you’ve had an extremely distinguished career. You’ve seen action and led men in every major theater of operations for many years. How was the zombie war different to other military conflicts, in terms of attitude?”
“Attitude?”
“Yes. In terms of morale?”
Horsham hesitated and his broad face creased into a series of frowns. He stared towards the ceiling for a moment.
“I guess the closest I can figure would be to compare it to ‘Desert Shield’ and the defense of Saudi Arabia back in ’90-’91,” he said after a long moment. “From a purely operational point of view, both conflicts were the same – that period where we hastily assembled the men and equipment necessary to construct a cohesive defensive line. In every other aspect,” Horsham assured me with a steely gaze, “the zombie war was unlike anything I have ever encountered before.”
It was the kind of comment that deserved a significant moment of silence, so I kept my mouth shut and made notes. I flipped over to a new page.
“You were SAFCUR I,” I began, suddenly finding myself looking for a delicate way to pose the question I wanted to ask. “And yet, despite the success of ‘Operation Containment’ under your leadership, later in the war, another
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