Crossing The Rio Grande

(Note: these posts are NOT going in the same time frame as the movie, just so we don't have a week or two between each entry.)

The air was still, calm, and quiet. Visible was the Rio Grande, shining in the bright sunlight, visible almost two miles off from a hillside. Major Groggy Dundee sat nervously on his horse, waiting for his scouts to return, with reports of border patrol or Minutemen about somewhere. Behind him was his troop, lined up in a straight, orderly column - or most of them.

Underneath a shady tree, several of the Misc - people whom Dundee felt rather poorly towards - had set up a Playstation 2 and were playing Dance Dance Revolution. The annoying, mindless tunes that poured out of that machine were matched in their level of annoyance only by the loud screaming of the players as they partook in what they saw as great fun - Dundee, in his slightly obnoxious way, as a waste of time. Right now, Plasmotic Snake - the last person you'd expect to find interest in this - was taking his turn, and the various scoundrels and ragamuffins watched contentedly as this otherwise silent and collected man danced to a remix of an old song by "Kool And The Gang".

Underneath another tree, Tim nervously picked at a piece of bark. He was unsure of what to do. Dave Jenkins had layed bare his overall intentions through his rash and impetuous action. Jenkins claimed that he was simply trying to get the Major to inspect his blade - like he bought that. Tim could only hope that Jenkins' action did not reveal to Dundee his overall plan. Hopefully, it wouldn't.

At this point, Dundee surveyed three dots on the horizon. Within a minute, Potts, followed by Michelle and Ben, rode up to him.

"Well, we've got some bad news," Potts drew.

"What is it?"

"We're - nowhere near Tijuana."

A brief pause as Dundee took this in.

"Oh?" he said finally.

"Yeah - Tijuana's on the California border, and we're in Texas."

A long, tense pause, as Dundee marvelled at the stupidity of his supposedly adroit trailmaster.

"Well, you're not too far off," he said sarcastically.

"Well, this is probably the safest place to cross," Potts said defensively. "We can cross here, and then move to the west, be in town in two or three days."

Dundee pondered this for a moment before answering.

"Suppose our weapons and supplies arrive in that town before we do," he said thoughtfully. "What do you think will happen if we were to drop fifty assault weapons, machine guns, and dozens of armored vehicles, tanks, artillery, and helicopters - with full ammo loads! - into that shithole, with them being unguarded for two whole fucking days?"

Potts shrugged. "Some drunks will have a great time," he said, smiling.

"I'd rather use those shells and ammunition for practical purposes than watching dead-brained college kids blow each other up."

"I understand, sir," Potts said.

"Mr. Potts," Dundee said, rolling his eyes, "there is not much use in having you on as trailmaster if you can't fucking tell the difference between California and Texas." Dundee then turned to Michelle. "Michelle, you probably know this region well enough to tell that the difference between California and Texas. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, maybe we should relieve our current trailmaster of our position."

There was an awkward moment of silence, as Potts took this in.

"We'll get you where you're going, Groggy," Potts said with a hint of anger in his voice, "and that's all that'll matter."

"Anyone guarding the border?"

"A couple of drunken idiots," Potts said. "I think they're Minutemen."

"Well, then we'll blast 'em to hell and back!" Dundee shouted enthusiastically. "MARK!" he shouted to his bugler, Tim's cousin.

"Sir?" Mark rapidly rode over, away from the DDR matt.

"Let's let those vigilante sonsofbitches know that there's an army come a-callin'!" Dundee exclaimed.

"Yes, sir!" Mark played a brief march, and quickly - though not quick enough for their leader - the command was assembled.

"Mr. Starbuck?"

Joe Starbuck rode up to the Major. "Sir?"

"Get all of our men, along with some of the others, and go across. Get Lieutenant Tim to assemble his force next, and Garfer and the Canadians will bring up the rear," Dundee told his subordinates. "You lead 'em across."

"Yes sir!" Joe saluted and began assembling the troops.

"Sergeant Harriman!" Groggy shouted.

"Here, sir!" Harriman rode up beside her commanding officer.

"Go and get the following people: I want Sergeants Cullen and Kimmel, along with Ms. Lorelei Jones and Aimee up front with me. Everyone else can fall into line."

"Yes, sir!"

Dundee turned to Mark. "Of course you're staying up front, too, Trooper."

"Yes, sir."

After a long minute, Dundee's force was assembled in the appropriate columns. Aimee rode up beside Dundee. "Hello, Major!"

"Aimee," Dundee said with a smile flowing over his face. "It's been awhile since we've formally spoken."

"Yes, sir."

"How's Florida treating you?"

"I hate the weather," Aimee replied, returning the smile.

As she said this, Sergeans Harriman, Cullen, and Kimmel rode up, with Ms. Jones right behind them.

"Sir!" Sergeant Cullen saluted.

"Sergeant Cullen, you are going to oversee the crossing. Stay on this side of the river, until everyone is across. You come running for me if anyone straggles."

"Yes, sir." Cullen galloped ahead.

"Mr. Potts?"

"Major?" Potts said, somewhat apprehensively.

"I'll see you in camp tonight," Dundee said simply, saluting.

Potts and his two scouts then rode towards the river.

"Miss Jones," Dundee said to his distinguished colleague.

"Sir?"

"Think you're able to fight for an indiscernable cause once again?"

"My cause is for the fighting, sir," Jones said, saluting.

"Good girl."

At this, Joe Starbuck again rode up. "All present and accounted for, sir."

"All right, Joe. You take your men in right after us. Sergeant Harriman?"

"Sir?"

"I want you to stay behind and direct the advance."

"Yes, sir."

"Anyone straggles, you start shoooting."

"Yes, sir."

Dundee looked at his command, then turned to his young bugler. "Play us a tune, son," he said.

"YES, SIR!"

A martial tune played as Dundee and his escort moved out. Potts and his men were already across the river, and Dundeeand his entourage quickly covered the open ground behind the hill and the river. Behind them, Starbuck, followed by Tim, and finally Garfer and his Canadians went into motion. Things were going very well so far, Dundee thought to himself.

After a few minutes, all of the command was across, except Tim and a few of his officers - the Gorch Brothers, Peacemaker, and Marco Leone - hanging back on the far side. Sergeant Harriman remained on the hill, her rifle aimed tentatively on Tim and his men. Dundee recrossed the river, then told Sergeant Cullen to cross and join with the rest of the command. He rode up to Tim and his band of men, keeping an eye on Sergeant Harriman.

"Having trouble, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"No, sir," Tim said. "Just waiting for the water to clear up a bit."

"45 men of this command got across without any problems," Dundee replied. "Surely you can. . ."

Dundee began to ride off. "Your word's about as good as your website," he sneered.

"Then why don't you release him from it?" Lyle Gorch asked.

"What do you want from us, anyway?" Tector demanded.

"I have what I want from him, Tector," Dundee said. "I have his word."

At this, Dundee signalled for Harriman to lower their gun; the Sergeant complied, and began descending the cliff. Dundee was recrossing the river. Tim saw Dundee's back turned to him, and his hand instinctively began moving towards his sidearm, but he fought off this impulse. He looked behind him, seeing nothing but Sergeant Harriman - clumsily descending the hill on horseback - standing between his men and freedom. Tim paused for a long moment, unsure of what to do. It was painful to let such a golden opportunity slip away, but it was a matter of honor - and in his mind, Tim had no choice.

"Which way, Cap'n?" Peacemaker asked.

After a brief pause, Tim said, with self-disgust dripping from his voice: "To Mexico, you bloody idiot!"

Within five minutes, Sergeant Harriman crossed the river, and the whole company was across without incident. Tim's men looked longingly at the empty, abandoned far shore - but he comforted himself by thinking, It's only a matter of time.

As for the Minutemen? Well, they had to take a pee, and the nearest portipotti was a half hour away, so. . .

(Note for foreign readers: the Minutemen are a group of individuals that are trying to enforce border control by themselves, without government jurisdiction. Basically, they're vigilantes. I don't have a problem with them in particular, some do, but we're not here for a political discussion.)