The War of 2025
JOE GLANCED OUT OF HIS FOXHOLE OVER THE TORN LANDSCAPE. The sun was rapidly becoming just a memory and he was not 25 miles from the St. Louis suburb where he had grown up, which now lay in ruins. The shells had been falling all night, and all he could say to himself was, "If only I could get my hands on the ones who did this."
He knew who they were too...
A flash of light streaked upward to the south, followed a short time later by a burst of sound. It was miles away.
... The ones who put his land into this situation. Those bastards who had said diversity was great, and one of our strengths, they were the ones that Joe hated this very minute.
The shadows had lengthened into an all encompassing blanket. Something was moving out there and Joe sent a couple of rounds, forcing that dark shape to keep his head down. It might have been one of his ex-neighbors he was shooting at. No way to tell.
The command headquarters had ordered Joe's unit to hold this line and that is just what they did. That was over a month ago, and still the war raged on. Fewer were dying lately, but the lines were hardened into something looking very permanent. There was a barn lying in ruins, just visible through the few trees still standing to the southwest. It looked a lot like the barn Uncle George had, where Joe used to love to play as a kid.
"What will you give me if I jump from the loft?" asked cousin Ben.
"Nothin'," replied Joe. "There is a pile of hay down there to land on."
"Okay, wise guy. Then you jump!" challenged Ben.
Joe did not reply at first. He just looked up at the loft and then over at the hay. He was not sure that it would be safe, and Dad had specifically told him not to jump.
"'Fraidy cat!" taunted Ben.
A few minutes later, his father was hurrying Joe to the hospital; the boy was moaning and gently holding his broken arm.
Ben always was getting Joe into trouble: poor Ben, who last year was killed by a bullet from a Black Guard gun. Joe just couldn't understand how anyone would have let this all happen.
Digging into his pocket, Joe found it was empty, just as it had been for the last couple of days, since he smoked his last cigarette. "Just as well," he muttered. "Those things will kill you." A raspy, humorless laugh escaped his lips, before he spat in anger.
The doctor had set Joe's arm, and Dad had not said a word about how Joe had disobeyed. He had jumped, bounced off the hay, and landed on an overturned bucket, creating a snapping sound in his arm, and a stabbing pain like Joe had never felt before. Dad just picked him up and carted him to the doctor, speaking words of comfort all the way. Joe really missed his father, but he was glad Dad did not live to see this horrible war.
"Son," Dad used to say, "America is making a terrible mistake. She was a country that was all one people up until 1965. One people, who were working together to build a strong and safe nation. And how they succeeded! There had never been anything like it before."
"My teacher told me that we were always a nation of immigrants, Daddy," replied Joe. "And she said that we never were just one people."
Dad's face suddenly lost that wistful and nostalgic look, and turned deadly serious. "Joe, you mark my words," Dad said. " A nation that lives on a lie will one day be crushed. America was always made up of White Europeans. These people merged together to form the White American people who built the cities and the factories that created wealth and power for this land. While over the centuries more Europeans came to America, they blended in and became White Americans. That is not a nation of immigrants, but a nation of White people. At any given time, over 80% of Americans were native born, and in 1960, 90% of them were White. "
Joe shook his head. He caught a faint glimmer of a match as one of the enemy lit a cigarette. Joe sent a round towards the spark; he wasn't going to let the enemy enjoy his smoke in peace, when he was out of smokes himself. "Dad you were right," he mumbled. Dad had warned him that unprecedented increase in racial diversity, created in America by unlimited non-White immigration, coupled with the promotion of multiculturalism, would lead to war and bloodshed. Now Joe was living through it.
Charley, Joe's best friend was standing next to Ted the cook, when the mortar hit last week. He shook his head trying to get the bloody image out of his mind. The Leftist jerks had killed his friends, just as surely as if they had sent the mortar with their own hands. In the years before diversity destroyed them, the neighborhoods of Dad's childhood were White, safe and wonderful places to live. First came the invasion of non-Whites, and along with it crime and decay. But now they were bombed out ruins. This was the price of diversity that Dad had always said was inevitable.
After 50 years of being told that diversity was wonderful, the brainwashed masses finally found out that propaganda is not as strong as nature. In nature like-kind can only live peaceably with like-kind. In human civilizations the same has always been true. Joe thought long and hard. Why could his father see the obvious truth but no one else could?
Corporal Jones came running up from behind, and jumped quickly into the foxhole beside Joe, with bullets kicking up dust plumes along his vacated path.
"Headquarters says it is official!" blurted out the Corporal. "The White States of America, and the Black Guards have declared a truce."
What?" demanded Joe. "We have not beaten them yet! They still hold my old neighborhood. We can't quit now."
"I heard that we are going to give them the territory they now hold, in exchange for an end of the war," Jones replied. His young face showed the confidence that is natural before life experience brings wisdom.
The United States had given up the Southwest to Mexico five years before the war started with the Black Guards. Joe had hoped that the remaining 43 states were going to limp along okay. But Dad was right. Hawaii declared for independence and got it. Now, with the war apparently over, the United States was going to be down to about 30 states, as near as he could estimate.
Across the no man's land Joe suddenly heard a cheer go up from the enemy troops. It made him sick to think that his country had been robbed from him and his people this way. Why? Why had the Leftists done it?
"The Lieutenant says that we are not to fire any more rounds at the enemy unless they fire at us first," said the corporal in a matter of fact tone.
"Sure, just lay down your arms and quit. Just give up the cities, roads, power stations, dams, and civilization that you built," said Joe, his words dripping with anger. "Where the hell were the White Americans when this was being set in motion in the 20th century?"
"Huh?" replied the corporal. He continued, "The people in the last century had no idea that this war was coming." Sadly, he had no clue what Joe was talking about.
"Some of them did corporal," said Joe. "Only nobody would listen to them. I doubt that they would get much satisfaction in knowing that they were right."
Another mortar flashed off in the distance, and Joe hoped that it landed on his old house. If he couldn't live there he didn't want anyone else to either. He sure could use a smoke right now.