The Enemy Within

A harassed-looking Chicago police sergeant standing nearby saved Captain Philip Jankowski from answering. “That’s it exactly, pal.” He wiped a hand across his weary, red-rimmed eyes and nodded south down the broad expanse of State Street. “Things are totally out of control down there. What was a protest march up Martin Luther King Drive turned into a pushing and shoving match with our crowd control guys. And then that turned into a riot with looting. And now, shit, now it’s a god damned civil war.”

Jankowski’s jaw tightened. It was clear that the hurried phone briefing he’d been given by city officials before leaving the armory was already way out-of-date. He stared down State Street, peering intently through the pall of smoke and soot cloaking the area. Flickering orange-red glows several blocks away marked fires that were steadily consuming the rows of retail stores lining Chicago’s north-south commercial axis.

He turned back to Pinney. “Get the men formed up, Dick. You know the drill. Make sure everyone’s in full gear. Flak jackets, helmets… the works.” He swore softly. “Damn it. I wish we had more troops.”

The sudden activation order from the governor’s office had caught everyone by surprise. By the time Bravo Company moved out of its North Side armory, barely half its one hundred men had reported for duty. Jankowski had left another lieutenant and sergeant behind with orders to bring the rest down south as soon as they showed up. He only hoped they wouldn’t be much longer. He also earnestly hoped Bravo wasn’t the only outfit being summoned to emergency duty.

The lieutenant nodded hesitantly. “What about our weapons, sir?”

More gunfire rattled through the darkness.

“Make sure they’re loaded, Dick. I don’t want anybody opening fire without my orders, but I don’t want anyone going down that street without a full magazine and several spares. Clear?”

Pinney nodded, eyes wide under his helmet.

“Okay. You and Crawford get ‘em organised.” Jankowski pointed toward the exhausted police sergeant. “The sergeant and I are gonna pay a visit to the local CP to find out where they want us.”

Five minutes later, Jankowski emerged from the police radio van being used as a temporary headquarters even more worried than he went in. The earlier reports calling the situation in the Loop area “volatile” had been about as accurate as calling a tornado an “atmospheric disturbance.” Police commanders weren’t sure where the largest pockets of looters and rioters really were.-They weren’t even sure where very many of their own men were. Sporadic reports came in from small bands of regular police and riot squad officers cut off by the mob and forced to hole up for safety. There were unconfirmed reports that several of those tiny groups had been overrun. All communications circuits were jammed by a flood of frantic calls for fire and ambulance service.

Jankowski shook his head in dismay. One thing was clear: Many among the rioters were well armed and fully prepared to use their weapons against anyone who got in their way. Apparently, Chicago’s notoriously violent street gangs were out in force to settle old scores with each other, with the police, and with the “white establishment” especially with those who owned stores selling jewelry and consumer electronics goods.

He was pleased to see that Pinney and his noncoms had the men deployed and ready to move. The formation he had chosen was simple. Two squads up front, one on each side of State Street. They would scout for the main body of about thirty men following about fifty yards back.

Jankowski took his place with the largest group and raised his voice.

“Bravo Company! Fix bayonets!”

A succession of metallic scrapes answered him as the fifty guardsmen snapped bayonets into place on their M16s. The captain did not seriously expect his men to use cold steel in combat, but he earnestly hoped the sight of the long blades moving closer might prove intimidating to at least some of the rioters.

He stepped forward and shouted again. “At my order, Bravo Company will advance!” He paused, looking right and left one last time to make sure his outfit was ready. Pinney and the sergeants nodded back. They were set.

Jankowski faced forward again and squared his shoulders. “Advance!”

Moving with a measured tread, the small force of National Guardsmen went forward into the smoke.

They stumbled into a scene out of hell within minutes.