At the Twilight’s Last Gleaming

I lead a lot of men and women in a desperate battle.

I did not ask for the post, it is just the way it is in times of what appears to be civil war; talents emerge that otherwise would have never been known.

We set our defense as many hastily collected elements of like minded people have done throughout history; used whatever we could find to create a redoubt; an old school bus, several cars, and an abandoned couch here and there.

I toured the line and found that not everyone who thought like me also had exercised their 2nd Amendment rights. Our little army had a remarkable collection of historical pieces, handed down it appears from farmer to son, from veteran to family. This meant a few long guns and a lot of pistols.

Others just had baseball bats and rocks.

I could see through the binoculars I had purchased for bird watching the White National Front marched towards us in an uneven phalanx similarly armed in places, but in others completely decked out for combat. Now I know what their money was spent on. It wasn’t to admire nature.

The WNF was led by a central figure but appeared to be more of a mob. When the shooting began it was not because the central authority gave a command. Anger is like this; irrational acts occur regularly, emotions are in charge. No one stops to reflect on why they are angry, or if they do, it is because they need only think long enough to identify a person, group or cause to focus the anger upon.

And that focus was us. We were cosmopolitan, educated generally and of every race and creed. I had thought this is what my country was about, but my angry countrymen were on the other side of our barricade and it did not appear they had come for a debate on the value of diversity. It was us they wanted rid of.

Right away it was clear the barricade would not hold. The left flank collapsed first. Having no further redoubt I sent word down the line we were to retreat across the Potomac and make for the White House where we would organize a defense.

Upon arriving I held the door for a short, disabled African American woman who worked there and recognized she would be among the first to go when the WNF arrived.

Otherwise I was shocked at what I found. People in discussion groups as if ordinary politics still mattered. Some had organized singing groups for old negro spirituals.

Then I woke up. I recognized this was all a nightmare, both the dream, and the country I live in now. The White House had already fallen to the angry White Nationalist Front.

I lead a lot of men and women in a desperate battle.

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