He was tired. For the first time, Nathan realized what being tired and alone really felt like. Lifting his head he looked up at the clear fall sky. A slight breeze was stirring, just enough to send a chill through him. His father had been in situations like this, he told himself. His father had dealt with many hard decisions. Some of them were probably just as unpleasant and seemingly hopeless as this one. But his father wasn’t here. He was. Second Lieutenant Nathan Dixon was going to have to face down this situation on his own. The thought that his ancestors, Ian McPherson during the Revolution, and later James McPherson in the Civil War probably faced far worse didn’t do anything to brighten Nathan’s outlook or lighten his load. Whatever decision he made would have to be based on the here and now, on what he saw and what he believed to be proper given the circumstances his platoon faced. Though the stories of the trials and tribulations of past McPhersons and Dixons might provide him with a modicum of encouragement, none of the family’s past glories would do him a whit of good. He was the one who would have to decide, to order, and to lead.

When he had collected himself, Nathan scanned the horizon. Everything, from the activities of the Guard to the limited mobility of his foot-propelled airborne infantry, was taken into account as he considered his next move. In the end Nathan found he had but a limited number of options available to him that made sense or were practical.

As these thoughts rolled about his exhausted mind, Nathan found himself looking over his shoulder, away from the dangers that lurked off to the west. Instead, his gaze kept being drawn to the distant, dark mountains that lay northeast of Boise.

The air attack had struck like a Biblical bolt out of the blue. It had given the triumphant Guardsmen an unexpected slap in the face. For the people of Boise it had come as a shock. There was no need to turn on one’s television to view the carnage that a crippled F-16 and two bombs had caused in downtown Boise. They only had to walk their streets or listen to stories of neighbors who had been in harm’s way to realize that this had become something more than a disagreement between opposing political views. True war, a civil war, between themselves and their fellow countrymen had come to Idaho.

In the waning hours of the day, when even the sun abandoned the sky, the shock of the day wore off. In its stead many of the citizens of Boise, both Guardsmen and civilians, discovered that their bewilderment was transforming itself into anger. Within hours rage became the order of the day.