Read Online Zombie War: An account of the zombie apocalypse that swept across America by Nicholas Ryan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicholas Ryan
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“General Horsham, the common misconception from commentators when the war first began was that the American Army had an enormous technological advantage.”
Horsham shook his head emphatically. “We did have a huge technological advantage,” he said. “But it was fundamentally useless.” He leaned way back in his chair and then reached into a drawer or a shelf beneath his desk. He tossed a stack of folders onto the polished timber tabletop. They skidded across the surface.
“We have the most advanced weaponry in the world,” the General grumbled. “We have the kind of technology that out thinks, and can out smart every other major military force on the planet. But it’s useless when your enemy has no technology at all. You’re not countering their capabilities.”
I shook my head. I didn’t understand. I went to flip open the cover of the top folder, but the General slapped it closed with a thump of his fist like it was full of state secrets. The sound of his hand was like a hammer. I flinched.
“Those reports are not for you to read,” he barked. “They were merely to indicate the huge amounts of intelligence we were able to generate in the first weeks of the conflict – satellite images and the like. All of it useless.”
I was still shaking my head. “I don’t follow.”
The General sighed. “Smart bombs, missiles… even artillery was no direct match for the undead, because the only way to kill them was to destroy the brain,” he grunted. “Sure, you might get a few kills from missiles or shrapnel, but you’re laying the entire southern part of America to ruin for no real advantage – turning it into the kind of wastelands we saw in World War I between the trenches.” General Horsham made a tight fist with his hand and his words suddenly shook with passion. “This was a dirty war – a close range conflict that we hadn’t fought for a hundred years. There was no remote control killing, no combat fought beyond the horizons… it all came down to our men on the ground with rifles and automatic weapons face-to-face with a relentless, mindless enemy.”
I had filled the rest of my notebook, but I sensed there was more here to be discovered if I could only ask the right questions.
“You mentioned tactics just a few minutes ago,” I said thoughtfully. “Do you mean the tactics you employed leading up to the Battle of Four Seasons?”
The General nodded. “Hendersonville was the location of one of our forts, straddling the I26 south,” he explained. “But further south of that fortification, I also had armored convoys – light mobile units of Humvee’s that were scouting the terrain, and Black Hawks flying constant reconnaissance patrols. They were our whiskers.”
“Whispers?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Whiskers – like a cat. We used them to ‘feel’ for the enemy. At the time we were frantically pulling troops into the defensive line, but I wanted eyes in the dead ground, sensitive to the spread of the infected, and also capable of rescuing any refugees that were fleeing the carnage. The Humvee patrols had strict orders not to engage – they were merely scouts, tasked with rescue. When the zombies began coming into contact with these units, we knew we had run out of time.”
I was puzzled. “Couldn’t you get that intelligence information from satellites?”
The general tried to smile, and then decided it just wasn’t worth the effort. “Sure,” he conceded, “but apart from the real-time delays between when the information is gathered, and when it was passed through to SAFCUR Command, have you ever seen a satellite rescue a refugee?”
I got the point.
The general shook his head. “Satellite imagery was helpful, but not telling,” he said. “Sure, we’ve got a sky full of birds and I could have tasked every one of their cameras to scour Alabama and Georgia as the plague swept north. But satellites are just photos. They can tell you the ‘what’ but they
Horsham shook his head emphatically. “We did have a huge technological advantage,” he said. “But it was fundamentally useless.” He leaned way back in his chair and then reached into a drawer or a shelf beneath his desk. He tossed a stack of folders onto the polished timber tabletop. They skidded across the surface.
“We have the most advanced weaponry in the world,” the General grumbled. “We have the kind of technology that out thinks, and can out smart every other major military force on the planet. But it’s useless when your enemy has no technology at all. You’re not countering their capabilities.”
I shook my head. I didn’t understand. I went to flip open the cover of the top folder, but the General slapped it closed with a thump of his fist like it was full of state secrets. The sound of his hand was like a hammer. I flinched.
“Those reports are not for you to read,” he barked. “They were merely to indicate the huge amounts of intelligence we were able to generate in the first weeks of the conflict – satellite images and the like. All of it useless.”
I was still shaking my head. “I don’t follow.”
The General sighed. “Smart bombs, missiles… even artillery was no direct match for the undead, because the only way to kill them was to destroy the brain,” he grunted. “Sure, you might get a few kills from missiles or shrapnel, but you’re laying the entire southern part of America to ruin for no real advantage – turning it into the kind of wastelands we saw in World War I between the trenches.” General Horsham made a tight fist with his hand and his words suddenly shook with passion. “This was a dirty war – a close range conflict that we hadn’t fought for a hundred years. There was no remote control killing, no combat fought beyond the horizons… it all came down to our men on the ground with rifles and automatic weapons face-to-face with a relentless, mindless enemy.”
I had filled the rest of my notebook, but I sensed there was more here to be discovered if I could only ask the right questions.
“You mentioned tactics just a few minutes ago,” I said thoughtfully. “Do you mean the tactics you employed leading up to the Battle of Four Seasons?”
The General nodded. “Hendersonville was the location of one of our forts, straddling the I26 south,” he explained. “But further south of that fortification, I also had armored convoys – light mobile units of Humvee’s that were scouting the terrain, and Black Hawks flying constant reconnaissance patrols. They were our whiskers.”
“Whispers?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Whiskers – like a cat. We used them to ‘feel’ for the enemy. At the time we were frantically pulling troops into the defensive line, but I wanted eyes in the dead ground, sensitive to the spread of the infected, and also capable of rescuing any refugees that were fleeing the carnage. The Humvee patrols had strict orders not to engage – they were merely scouts, tasked with rescue. When the zombies began coming into contact with these units, we knew we had run out of time.”
I was puzzled. “Couldn’t you get that intelligence information from satellites?”
The general tried to smile, and then decided it just wasn’t worth the effort. “Sure,” he conceded, “but apart from the real-time delays between when the information is gathered, and when it was passed through to SAFCUR Command, have you ever seen a satellite rescue a refugee?”
I got the point.
The general shook his head. “Satellite imagery was helpful, but not telling,” he said. “Sure, we’ve got a sky full of birds and I could have tasked every one of their cameras to scour Alabama and Georgia as the plague swept north. But satellites are just photos. They can tell you the ‘what’ but they
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