Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, Tuesday, July 6, 2010, 11:30 a.m.

Colonel Barton Stauffer, his wife, Gwen, and the five Stauffer children walked up the hill from the youth soccer field adjacent to the Carlisle Barracks bowling alley. Their youngest daughter, Corbie, was breathing hard, drenched in sweat. Corbie played on one of the three girls' peewee soccer teams from post and her team had just finished playing one of the Carlisle YMCA teams in a summer practice match. Gwen, Cameron, Crystal, Colin and Carlee had stood on the sidelines and yelled and cheered the team on. Stauffer had managed to break away early from his War College seminar class in Root Hall to hurry over to the field and catch the second half of the game. He arrived just in time to see Corbie kick in one of her team's two goals but it hadn't been enough. After Corbie's goal, the game had not gone well and towards the closing moments of the game, the YMCA team had put in four goals in rapid succession, handing Corbie's team a loss of 2 to 6.

As they walked back to the parking lot, Corbie was in a bad mood and her brothers and sisters were laughing and joking and otherwise trying to cheer her up. They reached the stone foot bridge over the Letort Stream in a gaggle and crossed over to the roadway. Gwen belatedly remembered that she had left her water bottle down by the field and started to turn around to go back and retrieve it. Stauffer stopped her and said, "Nah, you go ahead with the kids and I'll go get the bottle. Get the kids loaded up in the van and let's go get a taco or a burger or something. Maybe it will help Corbie to cheer up. I'll be right back."

Stauffer turned and ran back to the field in a half trot to get the water bottle. He found it beside the team bench, policed it up, and headed back to the foot bridge. As he hurried along the grass, he glanced to the right and saw a large yellow rental truck barreling down the lane toward him at high speed. He looked back to his left and saw that Gwen and the children were just getting to the parking lot next to the bowling alley and were in the direct path of the truck. He broke into a dead run to try to warn the driver to slow down. He raced across the foot bridge and out onto the roadway, waving his hands and trying to alert the driver to the danger ahead.

But the truck didn't slow down and instead seemed to pick up additional speed as it approached. At the last second, Stauffer jumped to the side to avoid being hit. The truck's side mirror clipped him on the shoulder as it went by, knocking Stauffer to the ground and sending his body tumbling off to the side of the roadway. Dazed, Stauffer struggled to his knees and yelled to Gwen and the children to get out of the way, but to no avail. As Gwen turned to see what Stauffer was shouting about, the truck hit her and the girls, knocking them into a row of parked cars. Gwen's body slammed against the family's minivan. The girls were scattered across the tarmac in bloody disarray. Cameron and Colin who raced ahead of the group, managed to jump clear of the truck.

Cameron and Colin ran to their mother and sisters who lay prostrate on the parking lot. Gwen was bleeding from the cuts and abrasions on her head, arms and legs, and was barely breathing. Crystal was lying on her side moaning softly.

Carlee and Corbie weren't breathing at all. They apparently had been killed instantly by the impact. The boys moved anxiously from their mother to their sisters to see if they could help as Stauffer arrived, limping painfully from his injuries from being sideswiped by the passing truck. He knelt at Gwen's side and spilled some of the water from the water bottle onto her face to see if he could revive her. She didn't respond. She lay there unconscious, her face contorted in pain.

Stauffer looked around him in desperation for someone to help. He needed to see to the injuries of his children as well. Time seemed to stand still, frozen by pain and death.

Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, Tuesday, July 6, 2010, 11:35 a.m.

The truck hadn't slowed after it struck the Stauffer family but kept on going. It careened around the corner in front of the post bowling alley and then began to slow down as it came up adjacent to the back of Collins Hall. Abruptly, with tires screeching, it made a hard right turn into the loading dock area and crashed into the dock barrier. After a brief pause, it exploded with a thunderous roar and burst into a wall of flames tearing through the Collins Hall façade and into the sky. Pieces of brick, masonry, steel, computers and office furniture came raining down over the entire area.

Stauffer crouched over Gwen, trying to shield her from the falling debris with his own body. Colin and Cameron tried to protect Crystal but a shower of rubble cascaded down on them from above. Colin and Crystal were struck by large pieces of masonry, and a metal filing cabinet drawer hit Cameron squarely in the back. Masonry and bricks came crashing down where Stauffer and Gwen lay, and Stauffer was hit in the back by several small pieces of brick and mortar. Gwen suffered much greater damage when a large block of bricks fell on her exposed legs, crushing her bones into the pavement.

A deafening roar filled the air as successive floors of Collins Hall gave way and collapsed down on each other. After a few moments, the movement of the building ceased and an eerie silence hung over the scene, punctuated only by an occasional scream of pain from victims who had been standing in the parking lot at the time of the explosion or from people tossed from their offices in Collins Hall onto the tarmac below. In the stillness of the aftermath of the explosions, paper fluttered in the breeze like snow on a wintry day.

Stauffer rose painfully up to his knees to attend to Gwen's injuries. He could see that her legs were crushed. Still unconscious, she moaned and breathed with great difficulty. Stauffer tried to clear the heavy bricks and pieces of mortar from Gwen's body, but the movement only seemed to cause her greater distress. With his injured shoulder, he was clumsy at best in lifting the heavy material. Stauffer looked around for someone who could help. As his eyes scanned the parking lot, he saw Colonel Garner Stuart Wilson IV emerge from the entrance to the bowling alley. The entrance was partially caved in and Wilson had to push the twisted door frame to the side to get out. Wilson didn't see Stauffer hunched over Gwen and continued to his right, high-stepping over the rubble-strewn roadway up the hill toward Collins Hall. A few minutes later, his old War College teaching partner, Bob Zazworsky, emerged from the bowling alley as well and followed Wilson up the hill on the run.

Stauffer turned his attention back to Gwen. Sweat poured down his face. He wiped his brow with his uninjured hand and managed to get blood in his eyes, blurring his vision. Stauffer looked around for something to wipe his eyes and grabbed a piece of paper that floated by him on the breeze. He glanced quickly at what was printed on the page. It was a training exercise scenario document marked SECRET for Training. He shrugged.... anything will do in a storm.... and wiped his eyes clear with the document. After a few minutes, a young woman came running up carrying a bag. It was one of the EMTs from the post fire station. She knelt down beside Gwen and Stauffer and asked in an urgent voice, "What have we got here, sir?"

"It's my wife. She was hit by the truck and then hit again by the falling debris. She's unconscious.... I don't know...." Stauffer's voice trailed off in quiet despair.

"Understand, sir," the young EMT responded reassuringly. "Let me take a look." She quickly examined Gwen's extremities for bleeding and then checked her pulse and breathing. She wasn't doing well on either count. Nodding to the Stauffer children nearby, she asked, "Are these kids yours too, sir?"

Stauffer nodded, looking around in confusion. He was in shock and it had muddled his thinking. In his concern for Gwen, he had temporarily forgotten the children. He looked back at the young woman. "I.... uh.... need to.... check on them."

"You go right ahead, sir. I'll stay here with your wife."

Stauffer painfully stood up and limped over to Carlee and Corbie. Their bloodied clothes didn't portend well. Stauffer checked them both for a pulse. They were already gone. From the looks of their crumpled bodies, he judged that they hadn't survived the impact of the truck. Stauffer moved over to Colin and Cameron, who lay over Crystal forming a human shield to protect her. But their efforts had been in vain. Neither Crystal nor Cameron was still breathing.

But Colin moved in slight, jerky movements.

Stauffer kneeled at the side of his son and whispered softly, "Colin.... Colin.... Can you hear me?"

Colin raised his head when he heard his father's voice. "Dad, we tried to help Crystal.... protect her from the falling bricks.... it was too much...."

Colin stopped talking mid-sentence, his eyes fixed in a death stare, his head dropping down to his side. Stauffer gently lowered his head back to the pavement. "You did well, son.... You did well. I'm so proud of you.... all...." His voice trailed off as he looked down at them, tears filling his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.

He slowly stood up, turned and hobbled back to where the EMT was attending to Gwen. The young woman looked up and frowned, "I'm sorry, sir. She's gone. Her injuries were too much. She was in a great deal of pain. How about the children?"

Stauffer shook his head and the medic turned her head looking around, "Sir, I'm sorry, but there are others I need to attend to. I'm sorry for your loss, sir." She stood to her feet, picked up her bag, and hurried off in the direction of Collins Hall.

Stauffer knelt back down at Gwen's side and held her in his arms, sobbing. His body ached from his own injuries but his heart ached far more for the loss of his family. He twisted to his side and sat down on the pavement, a shattered man, next to Gwen's inert body, recounting in his mind the wonderful times they had had together and their plans for the future. The sound of footsteps off in the distance caused him to turn his head in the direction of the bowling alley. He was puzzled to see Bob Zazworsky making his way through the rubble and back through the destroyed entrance to the bowling alley. He started to call to him but the words caught in his throat and wouldn't come. Stauffer stared after him for a few minutes only to be more puzzled by Colonel Garner Stuart Wilson, IV, following the same path back into the bowling alley where he disappeared among the twisted beams and fallen ceiling. Stauffer looked back down at Gwen's bloodied face, a grim reminder of the death all around him. He clutched her tightly to his own aching body and leaned his head back against the van, closing his tear-filled, blood-caked eyes.

* * *

Colonel Wilson hurried down the metal stairs from the secret entrance to the Hole in the men's bathroom of the post bowling alley. He fairly flew, taking the steps two at a time, whirling in the air on each of the landings, grasping tightly onto the railing as his pivot point, as he descended deeper into the bowels of the building. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he walked hurriedly down a long corridor until he reached his office door. He placed his hand on the security hand plate and it slowly swung open. He strode across the room and dropped into his chair. He picked up the red telephone on his desk and punched numbers quickly on the phone's keypad. He paused briefly and then spoke rapidly as Zazworsky picked up on the other end. "Ski, I'm back in my office. What have you been able to find out? Where are we at?"

"Hello, Boss," Zazworsky responded in a subdued, almost mechanical voice. "I think I better come up there to brief you. I'll be right there."

"Roger that.... Make it fast, Ski."

Wilson hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair as he awaited the arrival of Zazworsky. He knew that it must be bad or Zazworsky would have given it to him straight over the telephone. As he waited, his eyes wandered over to his I-Love-Me wall with all of his memorabilia of 25 years with the Special Forces. His eyes continued along the wall to a special set of pictures—old photos and daguerreotypes—of his forefathers who had also served in uniform. He subconsciously started reciting his genealogy, subvocalizing to himself, like some people recite the Lord's Prayer in times of stress.

Wilson finished his genealogical dissertation with a tone of sadness. He was a highly decorated officer and had a chest full of ribbons that bespoke of his participation in numerous fields of combat around the world. Not represented in all the fruit salad were a number of clandestine operations that could never be publicly acknowledged. He had indeed been in many serious scrapes during his distinguished military career but he had always managed to cheat death. He had paid his dues well as evidenced by his purple heart with a silver and two bronze oak leaf clusters, but he had not, as Lincoln had so eloquently expressed it, given the last full measure of devotion as his father, grandfather, great-grand father and great-great-grandfather before him had done. And it was that realization that always made Wilson feel uncomfortable and disconnected from his noble forebearers.

Wilson was brought back to the present by the pounding on the door signaling Zazworsky's arrival. He pressed the lock release button on the corner of his desk and Zazworsky burst into the office, breathing hard. "I got here as quick as I could, Boss."

Wilson responded in a quiet, measured voice, "Give it to me straight, Ski. What's the situation here in the Hole?"

"Well, Boss, the good news is that none of the staff were killed or even injured and as near as we can tell, no portion of the Hole was breached. Security is still intact."

"Yes, that is good news, Ski, but what's the bad news?

Zazworsky's face immediately clouded over. "Yes, Boss, there is some bad news.... very bad news.... General Goldwyn was coming down from topside in the elevator when the explosion went off. The elevator must have dropped several stories and then the elevator shaft filled up with a bunch of heavy debris which broke through the roof of the elevator and crashed down on the old man. Sir,.... he.... uh.... didn't make it. General Goldwyn is dead. I guess that leaves you in charge. What do you want me to do?"

"Stand by for a minute, Ski." This new information on General Goldwyn's death put a whole new complexion on the situation for Wilson. Ski was right, he thought. With General Goldwyn out of the picture, he was now in charge, at least until someone else might be assigned to take over. Wilson thought back on the events of the morning. When the bomb had exploded topside, Wilson had just come down into the Hole from the sub-basement in Collins Hall. The Hole was a top secret, black project, research facility buried deep beneath Collins Hall, which spread out under the rest of Carlisle Barracks. Just prior to the blast, Wilson had been conversing with General Goldwyn topside about an upcoming Congressional staff visit. He had left in a hurry to get to a staff meeting down in the Hole. General Goldwyn had told him that he would be right behind him but he needed to stop first and discuss a matter with his secretary, Mabel Hauser. Wilson had just arrived at his door and entered his office deep beneath Collins Hall when he felt the shock vibrations from the explosion above. Several of the heavier plaques on his I-Love-Me wall shook loose and fell to the floor as he steadied himself grasping tightly to the doorframe. When the vibrations stopped, he tried to go back up topside the way he had just come down but found the normal route blocked and he quickly changed directions, taking the passageway and metal circular staircase up to the concealed emergency entrance in the men's bathroom of the post bowling alley.

As Zazworsky's words sunk in that General Goldwyn hadn't survived the blast, he realized that once again he had cheated death, or rather that death had cheated him of following in his fathers' footsteps. "What do we know so far, Ski?"

"I had Smed run a quick temporal scan to back track and see just what happened topside," Zazworsky quickly responded. "His initial evaluation is that it was large rental truck filled with explosives that was detonated as it was driven into the back loading dock of Collins Hall. It looks like some kind of a terrorist attack."