Author's Note: I hope y'all like my interpretation of Charming in 1969 and 1970 and through a far less jaded lens compared to how Jax and Tara eventually come to view their hometown. I know Charming has always a place apart from its surroundings. While I did some research on California's Central Valley, part of my inspiration for Charming comes from the Appalachian South and the rural Midwest.

I feel this story is especially timely today as we are facing similar issues with our military having their hands tied behind their backs and not able to unleash their full power against ISIS due to Obama and the liberals' obsession about minimizing civilian casualties. Today, just like back then, there are those in the media and government who refuse to put American lives and American interests first, which is a duty for our elected officials.

CHAPTER 8: 21 GUNS

"I did what I had to do to win! But somebody wouldn't let us win! And I come back to the world and I see all those maggots at the airport, protesting me, spitting. Calling me baby killer and all kinds of vile crap. Who are they to protest me, huh? Who are they? Unless they've been me and been there and know what the hell they're yelling about!" – John Rambo in "Rambo: First Blood" starring Sylvester Stallone

APRIL 1970

FBI COMMAND POST, LODI

This time, Wayne Unser and his partner Tincher accompanied Chief Hancock to the FBI's mobile command unit that Special Agent Tasker worked out of. Several days had now passed, and crews had already taken a significant chunk of the building's mangled remains to scrapyards. A street sweeping company had already been called in and did their best to make the surrounding pavement look as if the bombing had never occurred. It immediately struck Unser as odd how quickly this kind of work was being done. After all, shouldn't they be combing through the ruins more carefully to find more explosive residues that they might have missed? Like all law enforcement, Unser wanted investigations to move quickly, especially a high profile one like this where the public demanded answers, but this was going way too fast. He also noticed that the crowds of media folks had thinned considerably.

Agent Tasker quickly opened the door to his command post after Hancock knocked.

"Yes, Chief?" The same dismissive, smug attitude was there in his voice as well as on his face. Today, he wore a different Italian suit and was drinking coffee from Lodi's most expensive coffee shop, courtesy of the American taxpayer of course. Tasker took a sip of his coffee and winced, putting it down as they motioned for the Charming cops to enter the large vehicle. "This coffee is a horrible concoction, and this is the best there is in town? How do you people live out here? I can't wait to get back to civilization and drink some real European latte. Anyway, what have you boys got for me?"

"First, I'm just wondering if you've managed to get any leads from the sketches I had given you of the protesters who were mysteriously missing the day of the bombing?"

"Our people in San Francisco are attempting to cross reference it, but nothing's come up yet. It may just be, um, coincidence after all. But we're still looking at it. Is there anything else that brings you here?"

"Also, these are Officers Unser and Tincher from my department, and we're here to share with you some additional happenings in Charming that are relevant. We should be expanding this operation and we stand ready to assist to the best of our abilities."

Tasker coughed purposely and looked up at him arrogantly, squeezing a large amount of cream into his coffee. "Um….excuse me? We should expand the investigation? I know you boys are trying to help but be careful which boundaries you tread on. You've been quite zealous in your actions thus far, but keep in mind this is my investigation and that's how Washington wants it."

"Sir, with all due respect, we're just here to present further evidence we've uncovered…"

"Then just present it. As you can see, I'm a busy man, and my clock runs faster than Charming time, if you fellows shall be respectful enough to recognize that."

"We… sir, the Weather Underground, the group that claimed responsibility for this attack, purchased their vehicle in Charming, and killed the two men who were selling it to them." Unser dropped several pictures from the Jefferson Ranch crime scene onto the table next to Tasker's coffee cup.

"And you're absolutely sure about this? This isn't just some redneck families feuding over, what is it in these parts, I guess it would be over a steer, right? Or is it a moonshine still?"

Unser did his best to maintain his composure and speak in a respectful tone. "I'm not sure if we'd call it a professional hit, but it looks like the suspects knew what they were doing and had a level of military-style training beyond what even the typical gun-toting Central Valley redneck possesses."

Officer Tincher came forward with some sealed plastic evidence bags. "We have more at our station that we need for our own local investigation, but these are the shell casings we found at the Jefferson Ranch where these two men were killed. As you may be aware, they're from the same batch of Czechoslovakian weapons that are being smuggled here over from the Communist Bloc. This same batch and a similar one from East Germany has been used in several other Weathermen attacks throughout Northern California. Most recently the one last night at the VFW post in Charming."

"Again I'm not sure why you people are rushing into all these conclusions without definitive evidence," Tasker replied impatiently, "What do you mean Weathermen attacks?" There had been several small scale attacks on military targets and military families throughout the area in the past several months. "Maybe you need to rule out other possibilities. I know there are some in this country who like to believe there's a large scale conspiracy against our veterans, but I assure you there's not. I think you're biased…"

"What do you call this?" Hancock shot back, putting more pictures on the table. "You think someone else would firebomb a VFW post with a Molotov cocktail with the Weathermen symbol on it, or shout 'This is for Vietnam' as they drove by opening fire? By the way, guess what weapons were used? AK-47's made in the USSR! And by the way, the dead terrorist whose body was left on Highway 99 was identified as a Stanford University student. I made some calls to university police and they said this gentleman in question was heavily involved in radical campus politics. So far we concluded his death was obviously an act of self defense by the vets. We're keeping it quiet with the media beyond our local newspapers. It might offend their sensibilities, I've learned."

Tasker shook his head. "And they can't tell you that he was a Weatherman. Once again, nothing concrete, and that's why I'm a Federal agent, and none of you are, cause you see, you fail to consider all the possibilities. How do you know what happened at the VFW wasn't some guys who got thrown out of there or banned because of some drama that took place there? Maybe they pretended it was a Weathermen attack to keep things in-house. As for those guns, yes those were Czechoslovakian and East German weapons, but those same batches have been showing up in gang shootings and mob hits all over the state. And maybe that dead Stanford guy had connections to the Charming VFW that you might not know about, given that you're so jumping to the conclusion about which direction you're taking your investigation."

"With all due respect, Agent Tasker, I think the things we've presented to you at least deserve another look," Unser said.

"I'll dispatch some agents to the Jefferson Ranch, alright, given the vehicle was purchased there, even though I'm not sure what good that will really do. As for the VFW attack, I'm not going to expand the scope of this investigation to there at the moment. We simply don't have the resources to devote to that based on what in my opinion is very circumstantial evidence. If you'll excuse me now, I must get back to work."

HIGHWAY 99, IN BETWEEN LODI AND CHARMING

"That was some serious bullshit right there," Tincher said as they watched the cornfields and cattle ranches pass by on their way back to Charming. "But why would they take us seriously, right? They probably think we're just a bunch of small town cops with overambitious career aspirations thinking this case can help us. So much cynical thinking going around with those Feds."

"Maybe so, but I think there are much darker forces at work here. Anyway, I've never trusted the federal government," Hancock told his two officers, "Never have, never will. That's why I made some extra copies of the protester sketches before I gave them to Tasker. Wayne, you mentioned you have a contact at San Francisco PD?"

"Yeah, Chief," Unser replied, "Was in the police academy with him, he's now a detective over there."

"Good, they're also part of the task force. Set up a meet with him and run these by him."

MT. ZION BAPTIST CHURCH, LODI

The day of Otis Cross's funeral was almost like a scene out of a Hollywood movie. No, this being California, there were no April showers or mourners in umbrellas greeting the hearse as it made its way to Otis's church from the funeral home, but today the thick fog from the Pacific coast reached farther inland than it typically did, shrouding the entire scene in a shroud of gray. Tameesha and the rest of Otis's family had decided that instead of Arlington National Cemetery, they wanted Otis buried next to his family on the property of the black church he had been a lifelong member of. JT thought of how the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had lamented that Sunday was the most segregated day in America. He had never seen a black or Mexican person in the Catholic church he grew up in, and this was his first time entering a black church. JT looked around at the faces of the soldiers who had gathered here for the service. It was a shame that it took a tragedy of this magnitude to bring all of these people here.

The service was definitely an interesting and novel experience for JT and the other veterans. There was some surprisingly upbeat singing and dancing by the choir and other members of Mt. Zion Baptist Church's regular congregation. Instead of just mourning his passing, this event was also about celebrating Otis's life. JT, Piney, and Clay sat in the pew right behind Tameesha and her children and Piney leaned forward.

He held her hand for several seconds. "Trust me, Tameesha. We're going through the very same thing."

"The Korean War vet whom Piney and Clay saved at the VFW, how's he doing?"

"He's still in critical condition at the St. Thomas ICU but is expected is survive. He suffered third degree burns on more than 40% of his body. It's going to be a long road to recovery, I can tell you that," JT answered with a frown, shaking his head in anger.

"Why do they do this, JT?" Tameesha said, sobbing. "It's not enough for them to spit in your faces the moment y'all come home. It's not enough to literally piss on you and throw shit on y'all. They have to come here, all the way here to our communities and murder us in cold blood. Why?"

JT felt the tears well up in his own eyes, then he let them fall as he held her hands to comfort her. "I wish I had a answer for that, Tameesha, but I really don't, and I'm so sorry. All we ever did was love this country."

The pastor of the church, The Reverend James Martin, started out with a long eulogy of Otis Cross, reminiscing on the memories they had shared together, starting when Otis was in his first Sunday School class to when he became a Christian summer camp counselor, and how he ministered to his teammates on the high school football team.

"Otis Cross lived a tragically short life, but in the time he had on this Earth, he did more for America, and more for the Lord than most people who are given three or four times the years." He looked around the room. "I know many of y'all are angry, and so am I. I share your anger against the government for sending young men like Otis Cross into war without the tools and authority to win in. And I share your anger in the society today that accuses heroes like Otis Cross of being baby killers, while celebrating the actions of the abortionists who murder thousands of God's children every year. We live in dark times, but whatever lies ahead, I am hopeful, because just as God has protected the Children of Israel, He will protect his flock today no matter what trials….."

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA – BERKELEY

Professor Rogers shut the door to the study room on the 6th floor of Doe Memorial Library and closed the shades on the interior window separating it from the bookshelves and open study areas. Officially, this was a private tutoring session for some students from his Ethnic Studies class just before final exams, but in reality, it was another meeting of the Weather Underground. Jimmy, Deanna, and Antonio took out their textbooks and class notes just in case someone barged in, in order to maintain the act. He never met with his faction leaders at the same location twice. He didn't think anyone was on to him, but you could never be too careful. Even with the police investigation seeming to go nowhere, Rogers maintained what he considered a healthy level of paranoia.

"I only hope that the foolish attack in Charming doesn't bring any additional heat on us," Deanna said. "I've asked around and I don't believe any of our own people were involved. Besides I highly doubt any of us would act without direct approval."

Comrade Jimmy nodded his agreement as he held her hand and she began to sensually massage him under the table.

"Those cocksucking idiotas chinganas!" Antonio cursed in profane Spanglish, "They could not even kill a single one of those soldiers!"

"We think the Stanford cell might be the ones responsible," Professor Rogers said, "Unless it's a bunch of motivated but incompetent homegrown revolutionaries simply inspired by our actions." His own terror cell maintained the utmost level of discipline with a clear command structure with him at the very top. No operations big or small were performed without his direct, personal sanction. To his knowledge, the Stanford Weathermen were more loosely organized into smaller mini-cells. Rogers believed in a strong hierarchy. As much as Comrade Lenin spoke about the revolutionary roles of the socialist proletariat, he still personally led the original Bolshevik revolution that established the Soviet Union. Stalin, Mao Zedong, Fidel Castro, and their new favorite Ho Chi Minh all ruled with an iron fist. "I share your concerns about them bringing down heat on the Weather Underground as a whole. However, nothing's more terrifying to our enemies than knowing they're hunted, but not having any idea who or where their hunters are."

All three of his students nodded in agreement.

"So you have a different kind of concern, Professor?"

"I do indeed," Rogers replied, looking through the window blinds on the glass overlooking the library stacks to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on their supposed exam review session. "While any attack on this country's military-industrial complex is to be commended, sloppy acts like these performed in the name of the Weather Underground, whether they're legitimate members or not, hurts our organization's prestige. When its done here in our region, it specifically hurts the prestige of our cell."

Comrade Jimmy knew what Rogers was getting at. "So we have to up the scale of our attacks even beyond what we did in Lodi, to ensure that our prominence in the workers struggle is maintained."

Rogers nodded. "Yes exactly. Antonio, the Mayans have always been good business partners and we are indebted to you for your connections with them. They've always delivered on time and the weapons have always worked as advertised. But I need to know if they'll be able to satisfy a dramatic increase in demand."

"It depends on many factors, jefe. How much of an increased demand are we talking about? Doubling the firepower we receive every months? Tripling it?"

"Well, what's the most you think they can deliver on?" Rogers inquired ambitiously. So far their operational security was intact as far as he knew. It was time to think much bigger, especially since Nixon had been silent about the Lodi bombing and the air campaign now continued unabated in not only North Vietnam but Cambodia and Laos as well.

"They should be able to triple it. More than that would depend on their Irish connections." The Weathermen ultimately received many of their arms from the Soviet Union, but it went through a convoluted web of multiple intermediaries so that the Kremlin could maintain some level of official deniability. "The larger concern, patron, is that the Mayans will need us to sell a lot more product as part of the current business relationship."

Jimmy laughed. "Without drugs, sex might not happen and rock and roll isn't that fun when you're not high. C'mon amigo, this is Berkeley. Everybody here knows that. Whatever product the Mayans need us to distribute, we'll have it all sold in a week."

"Besides, I don't think we have to worry too much about the cops at the moment. Those pigs have far too many things to worry about to care about this kind of mundane shit in the residence halls," Deanna added.

"Okay," Rogers decided, then turned to Antonio. "But if we're taking this relationship to a new level I need the three of you to meet with the Mayans charter president or at least their VP in person to renegotiate these percentages. We also need to confirm the quality of the product we'll be selling for them on campus, and see proof of the new weapons they can offer."

"Por supuesto, patron," Antonio replied, "I'll call the Mayans and set things up."

MT. ZION CEMETERY

"You're Corporal Teller, correct?"

JT turned and saw Reverend Martin approaching him.

"Yes, sir, pastor."

"Otis mentioned a lot about you in the letters he sent back from Nam. He truly looked up to you."

"He was a far better leader and soldier than I was. He's the only reason I and many of us are standing here right now. Otis believed in loyalty and honor even when those in charge of the war didn't."

"Yes, Otis has always done the right thing," Reverend Martin said, "Which brings me to this, Corporal. I've been observant throughout the service, and the Lord has placed it upon my heart to speak to you, about doing the right thing. I sense that despite the message I preached today, you still have this desire for retribution. That…that is understandable given the unjust circumstances we live in today, but as you know, someone like me has faced injustice my entire life. But in the end, it's important to put everything in God's hands."

Was it that obvious that JT's ears had been deaf to that part of the message during the funeral service?

"Pastor, I'm not familiar with this denomination. I was raised Catholic. However, I remember that it says in Deuteronomy 32:35 'To me belongeth vengeance, and recompence; their foot shall slide in due time; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste.' It also says 'For he will avenge the blood of his servants, and will render vengeance to his adversaries and will be merciful unto his land, and to his people. If we are to seek vengeance, would we not be doing God's work in this case.?If He allows us to succeed, would it not be part of the plan?"

"Corporal Teller, that verse is in relation to specific events in the Old Testament, to how He will punish the enemies of Israel. Even then, keep in mind it is the Lord Himself who will take vengeance on Israel's behalf. I would like to point you to the book of Romans verses 17 to 21. 'Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.' In the end it is only God's judgment that matters. Think about eternity, son. The time we have on this Earth, it is like the last five seconds relative to the entire time you've been alive, and then some. Divine vengeance will surpass any kind of sentence a court here in the world can hand down, just remember that."

"I'm not sure I have the strength to do that, Pastor." JT said. All of a sudden, he wanted out of this conversation. He wasn't even a Baptist. Maybe he can just go to his Catholic church and confess in the end, he thought darkly. All he could feel right now was his anger and hatred toward the animals who had killed his friend and who continued to attack his fellow veterans in his own town.

"Then you must pray and ask the Lord to give you that strength, my son," Reverend Martin said. "Because the road you want to take will only lead to more darkness. That I am certain of."

CHURCH PARKING LOT

"Wayne, I didn't expect to see you here," JT said, walking over to him in the church parking lot as many of the mourners began leaving the cemetery. It was a touching traditional military funeral, complete with a military band playing Taps and an honor guard firing off a 21 gun salute.

Unser lit up his Marlboro cigarette and took a puff on it. "This is probably after you left for the Army, but Tameesha and I became pretty good friends after she started working at Harvey's. She'd, um, tell me stories about the war that he got from Otis, may he rest in peace. And about you too."

"Me?"

"You've always been the legend around here, whether you admitted it or not. You, your father, your family, you're a big deal. Maybe not like the Oswalds, but you were a big deal, especially with football and all. Me, I'm nobody, couldn't even pass the physical to join the Army."

"You wanted to join the Army, Wayne?" JT asked curiously. He and Wayne Unser graduated from Charming High School together, but rarely spoke to one another in school beyond rubbing shoulders in the hallways. It wouldn't be accurate to say that JT ever looked down on Unser before, just that he never really gave much thought about him one way or another.

"I did, just like you, Piney, Otis and all the other boys. I wanted to serve my country. I was sick and tired of watching the news and seeing the commies grow more powerful every day, because if we didn't do something about it over there, we would be fighting them over here. So now here I am," Unser said, glancing at his badge. "Making a difference in much smaller ways, I guess."

"Except the fight is here now, Wayne, right here in Charming," JT said darkly. "Maybe the Good Lord does have a plan for you right now. How's the investigation going, by the way? I know Charming PD's working under the Feds, and now we got this attack on our very own VFW."

"It's terrible, to be honest with you. I'm not really at liberty to tell you any of this, but goddamn it. I honestly don't think the Feds are interested in solving this case at all, and the Chief has the same gut feeling."

"What makes you say that?" asked JT. "I've had that feeling from the beginning. I never expected justice, and now you've simply confirmed my suspicions."

Unser told him about his experiences with Tasker and how the FBI had brushed off all of their theories, and the quick cleanup taking place at the scene of the bombing.

"Jesus Christ, man. I can't believe this."

"Look, I don't know what the hell is going on exactly, but this is coming straight down from Washington. Not Nixon, I don't think, but there are elements up in the government bureaucracy who don't want our investigation to go anywhere and aren't the least bit interested in bringing these animals to justice. Maybe with the current political climate, they don't want a direct, serious confrontation with the Weather Underground, especially with all the sympathy the mainstream media's been depicting them with. Just a bunch of idealistic college students standing up to these grave global injustices. Maybe they're afraid of provoking more violence and chaos, or how all this is gonna play out in other parts of the country. If I had to be truly paranoid, I'd say it's possible the commie sympathizers have infiltrated the government at the higher levels. Or maybe they expect Nixon will be able to bomb the commies to the negotiating table and end the war and the Weathermen will just disband. In any case, I don't think they give a rat's ass about getting justice for Otis Cross and everyone else who died in Lodi, or the vets who were wounded at the VFW the other day or anyone victimized by the latest string of Weathermen attacks."

"Wayne, I need you to look me in the eye and listen to what I'm about to tell you right now. You know how we Charming boys are. That part of our reputation I'm damn proud of. If they're not going to give us justice, we're going to find our own justice."

The words of Reverend Martin echoed in the back of JT's mind. If you embark on this path, there will only be darkness ahead of you. But he was in darkness right here right now, JT told himself. And while he was driven by revenge, he also told himself that the Weathermen would never stop their attacks and that he and his family would never be safe. Things became more and more clear as he listened to Unser tell him about the investigation, and as his mind drifted back to Tameesha holding Taddarius as she sobbed in the pew, as he listened to Piney and Clay tell him about the attack on the VFW, and being at the scene at the bomb itself. It was also about his brothers in arms in the military, who couldn't find the peace they deserved even here at home.

"This conversation will remain just between you and me, but I need you to keep me updated on whatever you find on the Weathermen and anyone else involved in these attacks, because one way or another, justice will be served. Can you do this for me, Wayne?"

Unser hesitated only slightly at the kind of request JT was making. "Yes, JT. I'll do that for you."

JT nodded and motioned for Piney and Clay to follow him as they walked back across the foggy graveyard to Otis's new, sparkling marble tombstone. JT quickly filled his friends in on his conversation with Unser, but he already knew they would agree, because that was how well they all knew each other, and it was a bond that had only been strengthened by the horrors of Vietnam.

JT knelt down in front of Otis's grave. "Brother, I'm here because of you. We're here because of you. I….I know what kind of courage it took not just to get us back from our enemies, but the courage it took when you stood up to our commanders just to approve the operation. You put everything on the line for us. You've done right by us in every way you can possibly imagine, and right now, we promise that we're going to do right by you."