A story of Freedom in the Bay Area
Prologue
Already the city had been torn apart by bloodshed and terror, but with the mayor putting Marshal Law into effect, and the arrival of National Guard Reservists into the city; San Francisco was becoming a playground for people fighting of various reasons and personal motives. No artillery had been moved to the city, or any kind of fired shells. The lack of gasoline for the trucks that hauled the large guns, had hindered that idea and so only ammunition that was readily available was handed out to the National Guardsmen who were put on patrol duties. Riots, Arson, Vandalism, and plenty of other civil unrest occurred across the different districts and cities that lay on the bay, that the National Guardsmen were forced to deal with since the local police forces in Oakland and San Francisco had deteriorated and become a force of their own to protect their families in whatever district it was they lived. Chinatown, Sunny Side, and Little Italy became their own wardened off areas, and National Guardsmen didn’t dare enter too deep into. Japan Town too, like the rest of the little districts across San Francisco, it became it’s own places of reinforcements and solitude from the heated fighting outside.
Russian Hill, had become a major place for National Guardsmen. They controlled and cordoned off the hill, so nobody could enter that wasn’t military already. They used the hill for observation, and being able to spy on the different districts. Most of the time, it was worthless, since the different areas knew they were being watch by the National Guard and continued doing their daily life, as if nothing was going on outside their walled up and guarded borders.
“Li,” A man shouted from across the street. “Li, it’s me!” The woman turned to the man, but didn’t notice him off hand. They both spoke in Chinese, like most who lived in Chinatown already did at birth.
“Ah, Mihn!” The woman spoke, realizing who he was. She put down her groceries, and they had a quick embrace. “How are you Mihn? Last time I saw you, we were both in high school. I didn’t know you lived here in Chinatown anymore?”
“I don’t, I actually live outside of town. But with the National Guard, it kinda makes things difficult for me to get back to Oakland. How about you, how are things on your end?”
“Same boat as you probably? Hard work, fighting outside, and not easily trusted with being Chinese and all.” The two nodded in sad agreement. The streets of Chinatown, like always were bustling with people, and the crowd of people forced Mihn and Li off the street and into the empty road.
Elsewhere in the city, there was heavy fighting. Even in Chinatown, the crackling and bursting of gun barrels could be heard. It didn’t seem to phase anyone on the street, as they continued on with their lives.
In Golden Gate Park, where the fighting was some of the roughest, I was fighting off with my squad of ragtag militia, a group of National Guardsmen who had been sent to flush us out and take Golden Gate Park. Whatever the reason was, for them wanting the park, I wasn’t sure at the time, but whatever it was, I wasn’t going to let them take it so easily.
“RIMBAUD!” Someone shouted to me, as I kept my head ducked behind the trench line that was dug in front of the Conservatory of Flowers. Surprisingly, the only damage to the building was a few stray bullets, but besides that, the building still looked quite nice and like it did before all hell had broken loose. But like I was saying, someone was shouting my name at the top of their lungs. “RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD! WHERE THE HELL IS RIMBAUD!”
“OVER HERE!” I shouted back, bullets whizzing overhead. There was no words spoken after, and my name wasn’t said again. I looked up and down the line, and looked at the three men who were with me. “Who the [censored] was calling me?”
“I dunno, but he’s probably dead.” Jack, my number two man said to me before looking over the top of the trench to fire a few return rounds at the National Guard. I looked around to see if anyone else knew who was shouting, but all of them shrugged or gave me a dumb look before firing back. I grabbed my pair of periscope binoculars, like the one’s used during World War Two. They were beside me, resting on a small ledge inside the trench. I perched them slowly above the trench, and could see the battle and a bit more through them. Fires burned, and heated the air as smoke rose and dirtied the air as well, making it hard to breath at times. The night sky made it no easier to see the enemy, but thanks to the moon I could see the enemy better than they could see us.
“Jack, can you send a message back to Stan?” I pulled away from the binoculars, and looked at the skinny young man, who was no older than sixteen. Most back at the base didn’t approve of him being my right hand, but he was the most dependable and less likely to be shot person I knew.
“Sure,” he replied as bullets flew and grenades exploded above us. Inside the Conservatory of Flowers, unknowing to the National Guard, we had plenty of people with stolen ammunition and grenades inside. Just waiting to resupply us. We also had a bunker built below it, and used it for a forward operations outpost, and that’s why I learned the National Guard wanted it so bad. Was for their own use against us. We ducked and cringed as bullets and grenades exploded around us, and I inched closer to him to give him my message to Stan; our higher up man.
“Tell Stan, that if he’s got any better ideas for us, he better start them now. And tell him, that if I get my ass shot off for this [censored] bunker, it’s his ass I’m going to kick!”
“Got it,” Jack said stepping away from the trench side and rushing down it to safety, and to the Cliff House on the coast. To most, the Cliff House was just a primary place for refugee’s that didn’t want to be involved in the fighting. When really, it was a place for us to operate out of, and those outside the Cliff House were used to make it seem like they were refugees. Most of the real refugee’s had been taken down the coast at night by fishing trawlers, to safer places down south or up north.
I watched as Jack ran down the trench, and hurried around the corner to the Conservatory of Flowers. The fighting in Golden Gate Park was like parts of World War Two and World War One brought together. I turned to my other man, David, who was busy firing small burst from his captured M-16 at the National Guard soldiers who were using the trees and shrubs for cover.
“What’s the status of those pricks?”
He looked down at me and smiled a sinister smile.
“Those pricks don’t look like they’re in that good of shape. Maybe they’ll run and turn tail once we get some more grenades up here?” I nodded and turned to my binoculars, looking through them once again. Across the broken road, behind the trees, and through the fires and smoke, National Guardsmen were busy calling up new reinforcements. Or maybe ammunition for their quickly emptying guns. I brought my periscope binoculars down again, and reached for my M-14 Rifle. It fired and held more rounds than a M1 Rifle, and the accuracy rate seemed to be better too. More bullets whizzed over head as I slowly and carefully stuck my head from behind the trench and brought my M-14 barred down on a shouting National Guardsmen. We were so close together, I could hear his voice through the explosions and gunfire.
“Get Sergeant Fifer to the medical center, make sure he makes it back!” As he shouted more orders, I brought my finger firmly on the trigger as my sights aimed below his jaw line. I inhaled quickly, and pulled the trigger all the way back. The kick of the rifle jolted me a bit, but I kept composure and watched as my well aimed round flew and hit the man in the cheek and thus through the back of his neck, probably hitting his spinal cord. His helmet flew off his head, and I could just barely see his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He fell forward, and his fingers twitched a bit before going still and no movement or sound came from the man.
I aimed again, no time to assess the damage any further, I had to help my squad of seven men. This time my sights were on a soldier, who was busy firing at some of my men down the trench line. I took quick aim, and pulled the trigger all the way back. I fired another quick shot at his chest, as I saw the first shot only hit his shoulder. I ducked down as incoming fire whizzed over head, and I waited for my next chance. The hot air and smoke made it hard to breath, causing me to cough more and more as my eyes burned with the heavy smoke. Down in the trench, my eyes and breathing weren’t so obstructed, since the smoke glided over the trench and not in it.
“RIMBAUD!” That voice from before shouted. This time, I tried to ignore it, not sure who it was. But again, my name emanated from the mystery man. “RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”
“OVER HERE [censored] IT! WHO THE HELL KEEPS CALING MY NAME!” My voice was horse with tenderness, caused by the smoke. I grabbed my canteen of water and took a swig to help. It did little to help, but at least made it somewhat easier.
“RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD!” The voice shouted again. This time I tried to locate the general direction of the voice. “RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD!” The voice was coming from up the line, opposite of where Jack had run off to. I grabbed my M-14 and hurried down the trench, waiting for my voice to be shouted again. “RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD!” Came the voice. I hurried quicker down the line, and soon found the source. It was a man clothed in a Fisherman-like apparel. He looked at me, and I looked at him.
“Who the hell are you I asked?” Rubbing my eyes with irritation.
“You Rimbaud?” He took a swig of Vodka and gasped as he finished.
“Yeah I am, why the hell do you want to know? Don’t you know we’re fighting here, this isn’t the best time.”
The man nodded and waved his hand for me to settle down. I hadn’t realized it, but I was shouting as if I was still at the main front of the line. But now I wasn’t, I was behind it and in an entire trench itself.
“Come with me Mr. Rimbaud, join me in my little hut.”
“I can’t now, I’ve got men fighting and need me.”
“Please Mr. Rimbaud, this will only take a second.”
I didn’t know what to think, this man seemed crazy to me. He wasn’t dressed or armed to fight, he wasn’t armed at all. I gave in though, and followed him into his little hut that led off the trench, underground. Inside his small hut, there was a wooden table with three other men. Two of which were Chinese, and in Chinese Uniforms. The only reason I knew that, was because I’d seen it on television and because on the left shoulder of their uniforms, there was a Chinese Flag. The other man, the third man was American. Or at least, looked American.
“Mr. Rimbaud, this is Mr. Hue and Mr. Zu! Their interpreter is Mr. Goeth. He’s of German origin, so excuse his last name.” I shrugged at the man’s comment. I didn’t care about these men. Obviously the two Chinamen were Chinese military, and how they got to San Francisco, I never knew, except when Mr. Hue told me three weeks later as he lay on the streets of San Francisco dying and coughing up blood. “I am Sir John Hampton! Sorry, I am American but have spent a couple years in England. Things there, are no good, no good at all. And as a result, I’ve taken a bit of their custom in how I announce.”
“It’s fine,” I said taking a seat with Hampton at the table. The two Chinamen smiled and bowed their heads to me, as Mr. Goeth told me to bow my own. I did so, and took a look at them all once again. “What the hell do you want with me. You hear those bullets and guns! Those are from my men, and my men being shot at. I have to go out there and help them. We have to hold the Conservatory!”
“Yes, yes,” Hampton said waving his hand again, for me to settle. But I couldn’t, I wanted to be out there with my men, fighting to get rid of the National Guard in Golden Gate Park. I also wanted to get it over with so I could catch some sleep, but these men were holding me back in all of that. Hampton continued what he had called me for. “Now Mr. Rimbaud, these two Chinamen here, are here to help you and your group of ragtags fight off these National Guard Reservists.”
“How do you know they’re Reservists?” I asked curiously.
“Because I’ve been on Russian Hill. I’ve spoken with the man in charge, Colonel Andrew Yates! They’re surprisingly well armed and stocked, and being supplied quite well.”
“No [censored]? Then that’s why we’re still able to fight them and take their guns and have them still have more guns to shoot back.” I spoke to the men with a voice sarcasm. I knew they were being supplied, but we couldn’t do anything about it. Fisherman’s Wharf had become too hot for us to really take advantage of, or at least Fisherman’s Wharf that ran along the North Waterfront. Down along Chinatown and the Financial District, we had no problem with keeping the National Guard out. Telegraph Hill in North Beach helped with that. It was like our own Russian Hill, but to keep the National Guard away from our own maritime transactions.
“Mr. Rimbaud, please, no need for sarcasm here. These two Chinamen will help you take Fisherman’s Wharf from the National Guard, and then they’ll set you up with a nice supply of your own weapons! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Sure it would, but I’m not the man to talk about this with. You want to talk with the head of my unit, and probably the guys all the way up in Fort Point.”
“We’ve been to Fort Point already, there’s nobody there. It’s empty and devoid of life.”
“Sure it is pal, but you’d be wrong if I or someone else from my group took you all. Our commanders at the top have a tendency to be very discreet and unseen when they want to be. They’re ex-Special Forces you see, deserters from Anchorage I believe. Never spoken with them myself, but anyone with the right entrance sign can get in. Including his or her guests.”
The air shook as the sound of grenades exploding entered the hut. The sound of bullets whizzing and hitting, could also be heard as strays flew over head. The two Chinese Soldiers just stared at me, their faces emotionless and devoid of any life it seemed. Like they were just statues. Mr. Goeth spoke for them, when they whispered something to each other, and then to Goeth.
“Mr. Rimbaud, Mr. Hue and Mr. Zu here feel incline to tell you that your men would have this fight over, if you allowed them acceptance, and the rest of their forces to join yours and the rest of your forces.”
“Like I said Mr. Goeth, I’m not the one to be telling this to. Talk with my people when they get here. I’ve got a battle to win, now if you’ll excuse me?” I went to get up, but before I could, Hampton grabbed me by the wrist. I was ready to punch him, but didn’t as he flashed a switch blade under the table. Mr. Hue, Mr. Zu, and Mr. Goeth all exposed their own weapon of choice, which were varied pistols.
“Please Mr. Rimbaud, sit and listen. They have a good offer to make, and maybe a true peace treaty with the Chinatown Union?” I raised a brow to the idea. Having a true treaty with the Chinatown Union, and not just some business treaty that gave them twenty-five percent of our maritime income and profit, might be a good idea, but I really wasn’t the man to speak on this with. I sat down anyway and listened at the two Chinamen spoke and Mr. Goeth translated.
“Mr. Rimbaud, these two gentlemen here wish that if you allow them to work with your people, fight along side your people, and just generally help your people out. They’re willing to also go and speak with the Chinatown Union heads, and tell them that they’re now going to give you free rein on your maritime exploits. Which, those Maritime exploits you have, now just involve the Chinese Military. Not the groups you do business with here or outside the city, anymore. Understood?”
“Why? What’s with this generosity?” I asked, uncertain of what kinda back room ideas Mr. Zu and Mr. Hue had in mind. “The people we work with now to get our weapons from outside the city, would be very angry with us and would probably die without our business.”
“Because Mr. Rimbaud, your lives depend on it. And so does your cause.”
“What do you know of our cause? Every where you go, the cause for wanting the National Guard out of San Francisco is different. We’re nothing different ourselves!”
Hampton just shook his head and waved his index finger in disagreement.
“No Mr. Rimbaud, you’re very different. You and your cause. Because the radical left, shall continue the fight! Am I right on that?”
“We maybe Anarchists, but we don’t have anything more different from the other factions than that.” The two men, Mr. Goeth and Mr. Hampton both shook their heads, but didn’t push it any further than that.
“Mr. Rimbaud, tell your men here at the Conservatory and the rest, that they’ll be issued new, more efficient, and easily capable Chinese guns. Much better than the American guns you’re issued nowadays.”
I just shrugged, and didn’t think twice about it. Mr. Goeth spoke to Mr. Hue and Mr. Zu in Chinese, with me out of the loop on that conversation. They replied and smiled at me, bowing their heads and thanking me in Chinese. What little Chinese I knew, I knew they were thanking me. I bowed my head in respect and got up, without restraint this time.
“Oh, and one last thing before you go, Mr. Rimbaud. We’ll be seeing you at Cliff House, when you’ve finished up here. Don’t worry, this deal we’re making is good for us both. We’ll both prosper as a result.”
I just nodded and rolled my eyes, before exiting the hut and hurrying down back to my men. I didn’t think of it at first, but as I ran back to my men on the front trench, I realized how odd that whole scenario was. Being pulled from the front just to be told of things, I didn’t need to be bothered with, with a guy in Fishermen-like clothes who spoke with an English Accent, and two Chines men and a German.
When I returned to the front, Jack was there with Stan’s answer. His answer to my message: “Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t know what to think, the whole scenario back in Hampton’s hut was really getting to me. It was the oddest thing that ever happened to me, and the strangest people I’d ever met. But I returned my attention back to the fighting, and fought along side Jack, David, Tom, Alison, Greg, and the rest who helped repel the National Guards weak advance onto the Conservatory of Flowers.
After the fighting ended, and we could all take a breath of relief, a courier came rushing through the trenches calling my name. “RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD! RIMBAUD!”
“WHAT!” I shouted as I stepped in front of the courier, stopping him with my hand. He slammed a bit into my hand, as he tried coming to a quick stop. He fell flat on his ass, and then quickly got up.
“Your name Rimbaud?”
“No, it’s not.” He looked at me, and then looked like he was going to go ask someone else. “Yes I am you little idiot, now what do you want?” He handed me a letter from inside his coat and then dusted himself off. “You really need to learn when someone’s talking to you in sarcasm, kid.”
“Sure, whatever, I don’t have time for this. Just make it snappy.” I smirked, looking at the kid, and then glanced down at the letter.
“Rimbaud,
Rimbaud, once you’ve cleaned up at the Conservatory, get your ass back to the Cliff House. I’ve got a new mission for you and your men. Rest after I’ve given you your new mission. You’ll have enough time for it.
-Stan”
I folded up the letter and put it away in my belt. Jack and David stepped over to me, curious of what the letter said.
“What is it?” They both asked.
“Ah nothing, just Stan telling me official-like to get us all back to Cliff House. He’s got a new mission for us, but says we’ll get some sleep after being debriefed on it. So lets hurry, because I’m beat!” I looked at the courier who was already walking away to the Conservatory, I didn’t bother with his lowly ass.
They both nodded and hurried to tell the rest. I grabbed my periscope binoculars and slung my M-14 over my shoulder. Inside the Conservatory, I went to my quarters to grab the rest of my gear. I wasn’t sure if I’d need it all where I was going, but the Cliff House had lockers where I could store my extra stuff incase I didn’t need it. When I walked out, the whole squad was ready to move out. We were all just a ragtag group of fighters, fighting for the same cause, but for different reasons. None of us let those reasons divide us though, and we were like a tight nit family. We moved down the trenches, and finally to the streets, spreading out into a cluster-like formation. It wasn’t any particular formation for moving, or anything. It was just us kinda clustered together, bust still spread out well enough incase someone tried taking a shot.
“So Alex, where did you go during the fighting? Did you find whoever was calling your name?” I turned to David who walked along with me, the others kept on going but I knew they were all listening too.
“Yeah, I found the guy. Kinda odd stuff, and something I didn’t need to be involved in. But I have a feeling, that this next mission will have something to do with the guy and others I met.” David looked at me odd, and I could see the others had an odd face as well. I ignored it, not knowing how to really properly tell them about the Chinamen. But this next mission, I had a feeling they’d find out soon enough. We marched along down the road, the sound of fires burning south of us, and the smoke from the fires slowly moving up behind us. Cliff House would not be that long of a trip.