Fifth American Revolution

By Friedrich O. Georg

The Constitution, regular Elections,
two Parties, Checks and Balances, our
brilliant Founding Fathers created this
Nation through a Revolution to end all
Revolutions. But did they?

What about Americas westward expansion
at the early nineteenth century? Was
its excess within what the Constitution
envisioned? The Civil War it was as near
a Revolution as it could get, but it failed to
split or change the governance of America.
What about exceeding Constitutional
limits through the New Deal and the
Great Society (from Wilson, Roosevelt
to Johnson)? What about the Republicans
claim Kennedy stole his Election, just as
the Democrats claim W (G.W. Bush)
stole his as well.

So we never ever had a Coup dtat or
another Revolution in America?

This time it was different! A President
was shot and seriously wounded.
Opportunistically a cabal took over his
Administration. Ignoring Constitutional
provisions of succession, they kept him
sequestered at a secret, CIA operated
location; then with Unions help stole an
Election a Coup dtat! This held until
a group of Patriots located and freed the
President; he returned and battled to regain
his elected position. Yes, they even fought a
battle on the White House Grounds roiling
the massed population. It was Americas
Fifth Revolution!

A Novel

Could it happen, or was it Orson Wells
War of the Worlds all over again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468532197

Friedrich O. Georg

Author was born in Germany; educated in Germany, Canada and the USA. He received an education in Science and holds an MBA from Rutgers University. After practical experience spanning Heavy industry, Petroleum and Chemical industries he reached Executive level in Insurance and Finance. During this period he also developed strong interests in politics. In these endeavors he recognized reality often topped fiction and transitioned to writing novels incorporating elements of his practical experiences. Yes, facts are often more funny or more disturbing than fiction - what a wonderful concept: Freedom of Speech.

Book preview

© 2012 by Friedrich O. Georg. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/31/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3218-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-0620-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-3219-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011963070

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Prologue

Named Persons appearing in the Novel:

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Prologue

40644.png evolution!

How this term electrifies and conjures events in one’s imagination. One could imagine the Russian Revolution when masses rise up to violently destroy its ruling class in a definable starting event; or the French Revolution could come to mind as it slowly gains momentum escalading with ever increasing violence and cruelty; yet in most cases such Revolutions ultimately end in Dictatorships often more repressive than the regimes they replaced.

Then there are the ‘romantic’ Revolutions like the Prague Spring or the German Revolution of 1848 borne on the human ideals of Freedom and Equality, only to be quickly crushed by autocratic forces.

Yet no Revolution had a greater impact on modern civilization than the American Revolution (the First) when a number of small Colonies combined to forcefully win Independence from the then strongest Empire on Earth. America, the depository of adventurers, misfits, refugees, third or lesser sons of dynastic aristocracies, idealists dreaming to live free, opportunists, fortune seekers or simple people following in hope of a better life, they coalesced into one Nation and expanded West in search of becoming this ‘Shining City on a Hill’. Maybe it was provident that this emerging Nation was blessed with a group of Founding Fathers who defined this endeavor through its Declaration of Independence, gave it a Constitution and defined its authorities and responsibilities in the Bill of Rights. Whatever it was, it gave birth to the longest living Democracy, a beacon of freedom to other peoples and spawned many similar democratic formations.

The United States of America formed by these thirteen Colonies grew into fifty States and a number of Territories ranging from the Caribbean Seas to the western Pacific Ocean, a growth not always by the ballot box, but often by the use or threat of force. Spain sold Florida, the French yielded the Louisiana Purchase, the Russians sold Alaska and Gadsden purchased a southwestern corner of land from Mexico. Rational analysis suggest these sellers entered these transactions to salvage some value before loss through force became inevitable; similarly questions could be raised whether these methods of acquisition were compatible with the Constitutional Ideals envisioned by the Founding Fathers? This rapid expansion, often by dictate, could be called America’s Second Revolution.

The American War of the States or Civil War could be considered the Third Revolution; fortunately it failed as it would have splintered North America politically.

In the later part of the twentieth Century the onset of the ‘Great Society Programs’ and Social Engineering and its derivative encroachment on Personal Liberties many felt was a silent Revolution. It could be labeled America’s fourth Revolution.

Taking each of these four revolutionary phases one at a time, they clearly defined the Nation geographically, but had only peripheral impacts politically, because there was always an adherence to the provisions defined in the Constitution. Historians generally only look back in time and marvel that the American Democracy has survived longer than any democratic governed Nation in the past, only to wonder if and how it would decline at some time in the future. While this Nation experienced significant economic boom and bust cycles and economic survival often was in doubt, the adherence to its Constitutional Principles always carried the Nation to revivals and new economic highs.

Like the nutty, old Spinster in the attic, an open question never really explored in political discourse is what could happen if the abandonment of Constitutional Principles emerged as the easier alternative toward ‘economic salvation’?

In this novel we come to see a constitutionally elected President be removed from Office outside of Constitutional Provisions, a Coup d’état. Have we entered the ‘bloodless’ Fifth American Revolution?

Yet the people rose once more.

Was it to give ‘Power to the People’ or did it re-awaken the unique and indefinable concept of Americanism that motivated every Generation since the days of the Founding Fathers?

Named Persons

appearing in the Novel:

Chapter one

40650.png 41769.png ello; Aunt Bertha?"

Bertha immediately recognized the voice at the other end of the phone as the daughter in law of her long deceased best friend Virginia Blanchard. Quickly her mind ran back to those years when Virginia and her husband, then the Senior Senator of the State of Virginia and she with her husband, the newly appointed Chief Justice of the Supreme Court for the United States of America, they were the power couples of Washington’s political elite. Virginia was named in honor of their State and in her family this woman’s name was represented in every generation during the past three hundred years.

Both Virginia and she came from the wealthiest and oldest families of the State and in some distant past they shared a common ancestor. This alone was not the reason of their friendship, but they both shared the same education and moved in the same social circles. Virginia was a number of years older than Bertha, but Bertha was the more studious and when the time came, both entered the University of Virginia together. Maybe Virginia’s parents harbored the small hope that the serious Bertha would moderate Virginia precocious drive to dominate the collegial social scene, but a sense of social liberation was imported on the shoulders of returning heroes from the Great War. Virginia fell hard for a highly decorated young Captain, whose family for generations were Blacksmiths, but in armament manufacture created a multi-million Dollar enterprise in just the past war years.

Family pressure on Virginia had no impact as she quickly realized lots of ‘new’ money of the Blanchard Iron Works trumped ‘little’ old money of the ‘Landed Gentry’ any time, besides, she was an only child raised to reign. Her wedding to the war hero was the State’s social event of the year and Bertha’s subsequent nuptials was a solid echo announcing that the Roaring Twenties were here to stay.

Although neither of their husbands shared their ‘blue blood’ ancestry, both husbands and wives knew to have married well to further their respective aspirations, as attested by the high positions in Government both husbands reached.

Unfortunately Bertha and her Husband remained childless, while Virginia had a son who would bring Hanna into their lives. Virginia doted on her daughter in law and after her son’s untimely death, these two women bonded into a close mother and daughter relationship. Bertha and her husband shared in the same affection and when Virginia passed away, Hanna gravitated toward them and filled an important place in their hearts.

Hanna-child; this is an unexpected surprise to hear from you, even if it’s only on the phone. It has been weeks and I’ve been concerned about you. Just think, my dear Justice is gone now for about four years and I’ve seen you maybe two or three times since then. The last time, I remember, was shortly before that Arab attempted to assassinate our Jewish President and then the next I heard you’ve bought a major Television Network. Events come so quickly with you. Now the latest is you’ve taken up the cause for this conservative President, when we always were liberal Democrats. Bertha drawled on in her sweet southern accent.

Hanna would let her just ramble on, for interrupting her would not stop what she wanted to say. Finally she got a chance to interject: Yes Auntie; you are so right and I feel so guilty that the past two years or so passed with no contact between us. This is exactly why I need to talk with you and that should also clear up some of your questions. Please could I see you as quickly as possible? Hanna whispered.

Why of course, come right now. You know how I love to share a glass of Sherry right about now.

Bertha still lived in the exquisite mansion she and the Chief Justice shared for so many years. When Hanna reached the main entrance and before she could ring the bell, the door opened and she found herself in Bertha’s warm embrace.

Hanna-child; how I missed you to come and lighten up this empty house for me. Come, we’ll move into the parlor, have some Sherry and petite fours and we can talk.

Hanna was aware that Bertha, once widowed, had withdrawn from an active social live and lived like a recluse in this big house. Yet the house still looked as immaculate as ever, fresh flowers everywhere and as if a major social event was about to commence. Bertha was dressed in a comfortable, dark suit, no longer wore any make-up and her hair had a natural grey coloring and was simply cut. Bertha must have felt Hanna’s perusing her and when they sat down she smiled, then spoke first, addressing Hanna as Virginia used to do.

Hanna-child; are you surprised to see me so non-assuming and plain? Finally I feel so at ease at home and I am so busy still sorting through the Justice’s papers. I am writing a book on my life with him. Twice weekly I have two students from Georgetown come and help me in this work. This is a different life now and I have adjusted; except for missing you these past years. Tell me what Happened with you?

Oh dear Auntie Bertha, I don’t know where to start.

Let’s have a sib of Sherry and start with it.

For some moments there was silence between them. Then Hanna began to speak slowly, careful in weighing her words because there was much she was not prepared to reveal just yet.

Aunt Bertha, it all started with the assassination attempt and I quickly became drawn into this event to the extend it consumed all my time since then.

Look child, I would never admit that I voted for this man, because as our circle of friends would have said, he was not a democrat and he was Jewish, but how did you fit in this story?

Shortly before the shooting I found out I knew the Chief of Staff as a boy and I knew no other living person from the time of my youth. When he was shot I was drawn to him and wanted to help. I went to Bethesda Naval Hospital, found him there and met his wife. The President, his Chief of staff and wife have been close friends since their youth; they both were actually the President’s only friends, she shared with me. Now both men were seriously wounded and both needed her, but were hospitalized at two different facilities. The wife’s name is Rhonda and she stayed with the President. Although she could visit her comatose husband, she was never told the President’s exact location, but was transported back and forth in a blackened-out limousine. As I said, her husband was comatose and beyond help, but the President desperately needed someone he could trust. After explaining my connection to her husband, I offered to help by staying at his bedside so she could concentrate on the President. She accepted my offer and came by as often as she could, yet always unable to reveal her and the President’s location. For months I remained at his bedside. I was there when he woke up and recovered.

How did the President come along? Bertha wanted to know.

According to Rhonda, all news was kept from the President while he was recovering, but for months now he was better and wanted to resume his responsibility. The doctors around him insisted his life was still in danger and they could not release him out of their care. The story was somewhat similar with the Chief of Staff. He had suffered severe permanent infirmaries, but nothing more could be done for him at this hospital, yet they would not allow a discharge or transfer to another facility either. In discussion with Rhonda, we concluded that both the President and the Chief of Staff were held as prisoners. The question was by whom, our own Government?

This sounds bizarre. Bertha interrupted.

It gets worse. Hanna replied. You’ve seen what happened with this so called ‘Caretaker Government’. Between the Vice-President, the House and Senate leaders they abrogated every program the President had started to implement, they started a war with Saddam and all but destroyed the National Economy, not to speak about the Nation’s reputation across the world. Recently we suffered through a terrorist attack on a Sports Stadium packed with spectators that caused thousands of casualties, while the Russians lost a whole city and a key part of its Energy Industry. Yet there were no meaningful responses from our sides. Finally my friends and I secured the Chief of Staff’s release from the Hospital. He personally considered himself useless to his wife, family and his friend the President and insisted to move back to Germany where he could find a secret location to live out the rest of his life. He wanted Rhonda to look after the President. Eventually Rhonda gave him her blessing and I provided the logistics and financing for him. Actually I suspect he lives in Switzerland.

Now Bertha wanted to interject. It is hard for me to grasp all this. As I understand it you had a chance to buy this TV Network and you did it. Next you put your newly acquired power to work on behalf of the President; do I have this right? Is there more of a connection? Bertha had forgotten about her Sherry and was now leaning almost into Hanna’s face.

With a soft sigh Hanna responded: Yes. Through friends I found out where the President was held and I set my news-hounds on this scent while I tried to get him released as well, but hit a brick wall dealing with our Government.

From your nightly news reports I surmised the President was held at a secret CIA facility, but a fire broke out and in the confusion the President and Rhonda were ‘lost’ and so far have not been located?

That is correct, technically.

What do you mean technically?

Actually, friends of mine started the fire on purpose. They had firemen and a fire engine. They arrived there with the first responders, picked up the President and Rhonda and whisked them away during that initial confusion. It is hard to believe, but in our country we just experienced a coup d’état and our President had been disposed by a clique. Even now, if the President walked up to the White House claiming ‘I am back and want to resume my job’, he probably would get killed. We have to use a different approach to get him re-instated and Aunt Bertha, This is where I have high hopes you would come in.

Hanna, you are moving too fast. Who are your friends, I need to know first.

Aunt Bertha, please trust me, I can’t tell you.

Hold on child, Trust goes two ways. You want me to trust you, you better trust me. I need to know your answer.

There was a minute of silence while Hanna contemplated her next move. Bertha was patiently waiting.

Russia is currently going through political turmoil as well and within it, it has a secret group of patriots who want a democratic Nation compatible with western ideals and fully allied with the western Nations. They want to get rid of their kleptograd dictatorship and protect their country from an anticipated Chinese onslaught. Some of these Russian Patriots are throughout their Government and some are even planted at the Russian Embassy here in D.C. I know some of them and they are helping me.

Stop right there! You are working with the Russians and our President is involved with this? Are you a spy? Bertha was visibly shocked.

No, I am not a spy, nor did the President know how or who sprung him from his confinement. He may have learned some of it since, but no one outside of our circle must find out the real detail. This is why I wanted you to trust me. You see I knew the Russian Marshal who years ago set up this Russian Patriot Group. I had become a secret information conduit between him and our Government. Information passed from my father in law, the Senator, to me and on to the Russian and back. Just for you to know, this is how the Cuban Missile Crisis was resolved. During the first Iraq war situation we wanted to use the same channels to work with the Russians, but suddenly the Russian Marshal died and then the Senator passed away and with both their passing on, this link went still.

I gather the link remained quiet until you went and asked for their help?

Yes; they traced an open cell phone connection between Rhonda and I to that secret location and we reacted when the CIA tried to squirrel the President away.

Tracing phone calls is illegal! Bertha blurred.

So is confining the President and a private citizen.

Good point; this is unbelievable! Yet you sprang the President and you have him.

No. They have him in a save place and we need to bring him to Washington. I want to bring him here, to your house.

What for, are there no other alternatives?

I want the President to address the Nation from your house and then immediately get him to the White House! We will set up the speech through a broadband connection.

When do you want to do this? Bertha’s practical mind was racing against her plodding legal instincts.

Hanna’s answer was short: Now!

Hanna, I never made such a quick decision before, but count me in. How do we get the President here?

Hanna gave Bertha a quick hug, picked up her cell phone and pressed a pre-set quick dial number and when it answered, she only responded with O.K. and hung up again.

Less than five minutes later, a non-descript car pulled up and an elderly couple stepped out and approached Bertha’s front door. Hanna was watching from a window and was there to let them in.

Aunt Bertha, please meet the President and Mrs. Weide.

Welcome to my house Mr. President and Mrs. Weide. Bertha blurted embarrassingly; Do you have luggage?

Her embarrassment seemed to break the ice as the President gave a hearty laugh: Dear Lady; we have no luggage, no papers, wallets or keys to identify us, only the clothes on our backs. We hope this does not mark us as from south of the border; please figure it out, but we are so pleased to accept your hospitality!

Please; my house is your home for as long as you need it. Hanna has the situation under control and I fully support her on this.

Actually, Mrs. Weide shared her involvement in this effort and alluded to what was to be expected, except for the surprise that on my first moment back to Washington I would be welcomed by as distinguished an American as you.

Chapter two

40648.png vents had moved much too fast for them at that secured facility. For over two years in this ‘Sanatorium’ every one of their steps was closely controlled by the doctors and the security personnel who were charged with the duty to protect him, the President of the United States of America. Somehow they allowed Rhonda Weide to remain at his side as his only companion. She and her husband were his best and only friends from the days of their youth, but her husband, his Chief of Staff, was seriously wounded in the same attack on him and left in a comatose stage. He was so relieved when Rhonda concluded little could be done for her husband, but he needed her much more and she decided to remain with him to share his fate.

Periodically, their wardens allowed her to visit her husband who was treated at a different hospital, but each time she went there, he was terrified she would not be allowed to return. Then her husband was released, but he decided to continue his recovery away from his wife and at a private location in Germany. Rhonda objected strenuously, but after a heated exchange granted him that freedom. Jonathan felt responsible for breaking up his friend’s marriage, but Rhonda would not accept this argument. Both now had to settle into the confined routine from which there seemed to be no escape.

Days ago they could hear the din of crowds at the perimeter of the Sanatorium grounds, and next there were attempts to relocate them. These attempts were thwarted by mobs of people blocking the exit. He was puzzled as to what was going on. Was there a revolution overtaking the USA?

The last attempt resembled physical combat and they were rushed back into the main building, only to see a fire breaking out. An Orderly rescued them, passing them on to Firemen at the scene and into their fire engine as if they had been waiting for them.

It all happened in such a rush, feeling like being kidnapped, he tried to push back, but a fireman pulled him into the cab of the engine while Rhonda pushed from behind. Before they were seated and had seatbelts secured, the vehicle rushed from the scene as other engines still roared into the complex.

Yet less than two minutes later, the fire engine pulled over at a side of the road and stopped behind a Mercury Marquis limousine, to which they were quickly transferred. Although the fire engine had stopped just feet behind the limo, yet Jonathan thought he’d seen a Diplomat License Plate on the limo. It all happened so fast and he found himself with Rhonda in the back seat of the limo and as soon as the doors closed, they drove off. In the rear window he seen the fire engine turn off into a side road and quickly disappeared from his sight. A voice brought him back to the presence:

Hello Mr. President and Mrs. Weide; my name is . . . .

Jonathan interrupted him: You sound Russian and I’ve seen your diplomat license plate. What is going on? At the same time he felt Rhonda’s hand take hold of his, but he sensed her grasp to be more re-assuring than frightened.

Yes; Mr. President, I am Russian and my name is Kozlov. I am a friend of Mrs. Blanchard.

Russian? I can’t be seen driving around with Russians in one of their limos. Jonathan responded somewhat confused.

We, no I do not want you to be seen with us either. Right now we are doing it for secrecy until Mrs. Blanchard will have had the time to prepare the next step. Besides Sir, do you have someone in your government whom you trust right now?

God help us, I don’t. What has happed to our country? With a resigning sigh he allowed himself to sink into the softly padded car seat. Neither he nor Kozlov said another word. About thirty minutes later they arrived at a quiet estate, parked in the garage and through a covered walkway entered the villa.

Now Kozlov relaxed, turned toward them and smiled:

Mr. President, welcome to the weekend retreat of the Russian Ambassador. Let us get comfortable. In the mean time the limo driver had followed them and moved on to what sounded like the kitchen and soon there was the smell of coffee.

We are less than fifty miles from Washington and in the Shenandoah Valley. Of course the Ambassador is not aware you are here, so he cannot welcome you. There is no one here except for a care-taker family in a nearby cottage, but they will not appear while we are here. So, we have to fend for ourselves, but will have to vacate before anyone from the Embassy arrives. We will get warnings.

Kozlov smiled when he seen the sudden concern on Jonathan’s face. Also, since currently there is an unbelievable intense search for you, I hope no one will look for you here at this location. Mrs. Blanchard’s concern was foremost on our minds for she wanted you not to be found by those people who held you for these past two years. I hope you can understand her reasoning."

If this drama is all her doing, how do you fit in?

Mrs. Blanchard can explain it all better; I must leave it to her. Except I can share with you she and I are friends who known each other since the last days of World War Two.

You said this is the Ambassador’s weekend retreat. Is he a friend of Mrs. Blanchard as well? Jonathan now wanted to know.

No; they don’t even know each other; he paused; at least I think they do not. This seemed to end their formal inquisition and they quickly settled into a simple routine.

For two days they stayed there at this retreat, while Kozlov provided stacks of United States News Magazines that had pages marked with different color markers.

This is the Ambassador’s stash. He likes his American news pre-sorted by topic when he comes here. Maybe some of this may be news to you as well.

Mr. Kozlov, I glanced at it already and must admit, ALL of it is news to me. As much as I asked, nothing was provided to me by . . . . ; who the hell were they that kept me confined? Jonathan neither expected nor received an answer, slumped back into his seat and continued to work his way through the stack of magazines.

Two days later, early in the morning, Kozlov seemed in a rush and wanted them to be ready to move on. Was he warned to expect uninvited visitors at this lodge? Whatever the reason, Jonathan was simply relieved to realize their next move in this adventure was at hand. For Jonathan and Rhonda this was easy preparation. They had no luggage and only the casual clothes on their backs they wore now for almost a week. It took the limo driver a few minutes to straighten-out the place and they drove off toward Washington.

Kozlov would not say where the next stop would be, but when they got to Georgetown, they continued circling blocks of streets. A number of times Jonathan would spot the National Cathedral, but no rational pattern of their travel emerged. Then a phone rang; Kozlov gave a short answer and now the driver drove with a purpose and soon stopped in the driveway of an impressive mansion.

When the door opened, he immediately recognized the widow of the late Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, but the other lady was a stranger. Yet Jonathan was not surprised when Rhonda rushed to embrace her and burst into tears. Jonathan knew she must be Hannah Blanchard.

Rhonda took Hannah’s hand and turned toward the President to make the introduction: Jonathan, this is . . .

He interrupted with a big grin on this face: I guessed it already, you must be Hannah!

Yes; Mr. President; that I am.

Well, in that case I am Jonathan.

Accepted! Hannah responded with a smile, but then wrinkled her nose: Since we turned to this informality, let me be so brash and tell you both to go to your respective rooms and freshen up—you smell. We collected some clothing for you and hope these will do until we can do better. Let me show you to your respective rooms.

About an hour later, Jonathan came down the stairs first and joined Bertha and Hannah in the pallor. He had found shaving gear in his bath room, now he was cleanly shaven and wore casual slacks and lose fitting sweater.

Greetings again, Mr. President! Bertha welcomed her guest and pointed to refreshments laid out on a small side table.

First and foremost a rule, from here forward can we all agree on a first name basis? I so much want to call you Bertha and Hannah and like to be called Jonathan by my friends. Can I greet both of you with a hug? and he did.

Tough, strait-laced and unemotional Bertha had tears rolling down her cheek: Mr . . . . Jonathan, it is so great to have you back and let me say this, most Americans will agree with me.

While all of Jonathan’s attention was on Bertha, Hanna had a chance to see him up close. He wore no eye patch and she could see one eye was totally destroyed while the other appeared hazy. Clearly his full sight was impaired, but in bright light he was able to recognize them both. Most of the skin of his face was badly marked with scars. He must have felt her inspecting him and he turned toward her: "My one eye is totally