#Perspectives : Part 2, Chapter 6

The local police departments had quickly given up trying to stop God’s Army. The state police had also let God’s Army do what needed to be done. All the private militias had joined in God’s Army’s efforts to cleanse the spawn of Satan from the country.

But, as the holy war continued, and more of Lucifer’s demons died, the United States military was finally forced to act by the corrupt politicians in Washington DC. The Navy started the military’s response by launching cruise missiles from its ships, to attack God’s Army up to 1200 miles inland. Those missiles were evil, they flew low to the ground, and nearly silently. No one ever saw them coming. They followed the terrain, followed street maps, and made 90 degree turns. They targeted the bases of God’s Army.

John Paul was in his bunk one night when the night was transformed into day in a blinding flash of light, followed by a shockwave that hurled him, and his fellow soldiers across the room, into the wall. The noise had been awful, deafening, terrifying. As if heaven was being ripped in half, and poured into the ocean. Scorching heat tried to burn his skin from his body, the smoke and fire tried to rip his lungs from his chest.

It took hours for the dust to settle, for the fires to burn out, for the screams for help to fall silent. For the cries of agony to die.

John Paul survived. God had protected him. God had stood beside him, and defended him from the destruction the missile had caused. 37 of his brothers, God’s soldiers, died in that blast. Another 217 were injured. Some would not survive. Others would never walk, or hug their wives, sons, or daughters again. Some were blinded, the retinas in their eyes burned out, or detached by the force of the explosion. Others were deaf forever.

Matthew, his best friend, a true man of God, would never hear another sound. It would be days before Matthew woke up. They feared he’d die for most of those days. The blood from his ears showed the damage to his hearing.

John Paul watched as reports came in by radio from other bases that had also been struck. 100 missiles. 100 bases struck. They’d aimed for the armories. They’d never missed. The missiles were like that. They knew exactly where to go. They knew the latitude, longitude, and elevation of their targets. They knew where the doors and windows were on their targets. They knew where the weak points were. They flew into the buildings before they exploded. Once inside, they’d exploded, and those explosions triggered massive explosions of the mortars, bullets, shotgun shells, black powder, and everything else in the armories.

Hundreds, maybe thousands had died. And thousands were wounded.

The war had truly started.

They’d all known it was coming. They’d all known, sooner or later, Lucifer would order his minions to strike back. That he’d played the entire process out in the media, before the eyes of the world, and show how it was the last thing anyone wanted to do. How they’d tried to negotiate with God’s Army. Tried to reach a peace agreement. Tried to stop the slaughter of innocent human beings.

And, when the time was ripe, when the world believed he had no other choice, he’d send in the missiles.

It had all happened. Just as the church leaders had said it would.

John Paul went home for a couple of weeks. He needed to spend time with his wife, and daughter. He needed to pray to God the Father in his home church on Sundays and Wednesdays. He needed God, his family, and his Christian brothers and sisters to guide him through the nightmares he had every night as he slept. To help him live with Matthew’s bleeding ears, and the missing arms, and legs of so many others. To help him recover his strength, so he could return to God’s work, and once more help rid the country of Satan’s minions. Once more free it from Satan’s grasp.

God’s Army didn’t stop its work. They continued to burn mosques to the ground, shoot, hang, burn at the stake, the transgender witches, and the faggot scum. Those who broke the word and the law of God. And then laughed as the government protected them, and forced good Christian people to treat them like people, and not like the demons they truly were.

God’s Army continued to burn black neighborhoods, black houses, black churches, to the ground. It was time to free the good people of the country from the tyranny disguised as equal rights.

Of course, the US military continued to respond. They launched more missiles. They flew their drone aircraft over the states, and launched more missiles at John Paul’s brothers while his brothers attacked Satan’s strongholds.

The good, God fearing Christian people who believed in the work of God’s Army started to hide his soldiers. God’s soldiers were welcomed into people’s homes. The factories started making more guns, more ammunition, to support God’s works.

It was all for the glory of God.

And John Paul cried each night as the number of dead soldiers inched upward endlessly.

Everyone knew something had to be done. It was useless to close state borders. It was useless to use fishing boats against littoral combat ships, destroyers, aircraft carriers, and cruisers. It was useless to launch Cessna planes against fighter jets.

Something had to be done.

That’s when God’s words rang true. “There’s a time for peace. And a time for war.” And in war, God had to win. There was no other option. God had to be on the winning side.

John Paul was the first of his brothers to volunteer to move into Virginia, Ohio, and other states. The first to walk across the state border in the dead of night. He carried his backpack, his guns, and plenty of ammunition. He carried his cell phone.

It took a few days for him to get close to his first objective. But he finally arrived in Norfolk. He finally saw the US Naval Base. He used his phone to signal his brothers. Then he waited.

The radio controlled drone aircraft weren’t much. They were small, slow, battery powered, and only flew for short distances. They didn’t carry much, but they carried enough. It took an entire network of soldiers to move the drones from North Carolina to Norfolk. They flew them up in steps, and recharged them as needed. A few miles here, a few miles there. But it worked.

That night, John Paul used his binoculars, and his phone. He guided one drone, then another, and another. Seven drones in all. The first drone struck the McDonald’s on the base, where the usual crowd of sailors was, some with their families. It exploded with a quiet “foom”, and spread its chemical payload in a glorious purple cloud.

The second struck the base security office, and filled the air outside that office with a cloud of iridescent purple. The third struck outside the base gymnasium. The fourth outside the urgent care medical center. The fifth outside the base mosque. The sixth outside the base commander’s office. The seventh struck outside the movie theater, as a movie was letting out.

All the drones had delivered their payload of chemicals. People had breathed those chemicals, gotten them on their skin, in their hair, in their eyes, on their clothes.

Chemical warfare. It’s all God’s Army had left against the might of Satan’s minions.

John Paul signaled his home base the drones had been delivered. Then he headed toward his next target, Oceana Naval Air Station.

Lucifer’s minions had launched missiles at his brothers, and murdered thousands of them. It was time they answered for their crimes, and paid for their sins.

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