Invasion Day: An Oral History of the Veech War by Micah Gurley (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

questions from a redneck, but it was just for appearance. They probably could have slapped us in chains and led us away, if they wanted to. We told him our story and what had happened. The guy nodded his head, then stepped out and started giving directions to his posse of highwaymen. They listened and took off.

Our guys kept looking at each other, wondering what was going on, but then the young guy came back up and told us they were headed south to get instructions from Jackson Thompson. They had been a forward observation group placed there by Thompson, to report on the battle. Like the guy knew we were going to run. I didn't know Jackson Thompson and asked who he was. The guy laughed and told us the guy was an officer in the Army before, which made us feel better, but then went on to tell us that his family was legendary up and down the Appalachian Mountains, and when he put out word, people answered. I didn't understand it and still don't today, but that's how I ended up with the Ancor.

Did you have problems joining him?

Nah man, I mean, at first I did. We all did. We didn't want our bacon to be saved by some country boy savior who had dreams of grandeur but, to be honest, he wasn't like that at all. I only met him once, since I served in the north of the line, but the guy has a presence. I was there when our sergeant told him our story, and he... well, you know how some guys glance at you and move on. Well, when this dude looked at me, I felt it in my bones. He had a... presence.

Did you get in contact with your superiors?

Yeah, after a day or so, we were able to report in and asked for instructions. We were told that the eastern seaboard had fallen, including Fort Bragg and Camp Lejeune, and we should stay with General Thompson. The Army recommissioned him, though the way I hear it, he was going to do what he wanted anyway.

So, I spent the rest of the war with him, moving east little by little, taking part in some small battles and the second battle of D.C. (Scratches his cheek, then smiles.) That one went a lot better than the first did, thankfully.

Zoltan Albo

Paks, Hungary

The picturesque town of Paks, Hungary sits a hundred miles south of Budapest. Almost untouched during the war, the town's 20,000 inhabitants go about their business in a casual, almost indifferent manner, as if the battle site near them is just another in a long series of bloody affairs they've lived through.

Zoltan is middle-aged, tall, and physically imposing. His strong facial bones and buzz-cut hair easily intimidate, but are at odds with the genial man. Always smiling, Zoltan treats me to a cup of local coffee and insists I'll never forget it.

We were fortunate during the war. I knew this and was grateful. Budapest should have been a victim of their noise attack, but it was spared, I do not know why this was? Maybe it was like your San Antonio, or perhaps they didn't think we were a threat, but whatever the case, we were fortunate.

But we were also attacked, don't forget this. I understand why all the attention goes to the big battles that happened with the Veech, but do not forget that the Veech also launched their shuttles to many spots worldwide. I believe, and this is my opinion, that if they Veech would have been faster or the Jhi hadn't interfered, the Veech would have dropped their troops all over and dispersed their larger armies. I think this is true, but who can know?

I was one of the unlucky ones to have one of these shuttles land near me. I think it was the third day after the sonic attacks. I had stayed home for the last few days. My whole family did. Everyone did. We didn't know what was going on, and we were scared. We watched the news and tried to make plans, but who can make plans for this, right? What do you do? Who do you call? I knew the local police, went to school with some of them, and forgive me for saying this, but they are not sharpest sticks. So, we waited.

Then, it happened. My house was near the edge of town, near a motocross park. Well, we heard them. Not the shuttle; those things were very quiet, you must know. No, the shuttle landed near the nuclear plant, but outside the fence, and when they landed, they destroyed a car. I think most of the Paks heard this.

A few minutes later, a local guy – more a kid actually – came screaming down the road in an old truck and told us there is an alien shuttle near the plant. He yelled it out the window and moved down the road. I grabbed a rifle, which I wasn’t supposed to have, and headed out the door. You know Hungary had very strict gun laws, but most people had an AK-47 stashed away. When the Communist regime fell, hundreds of thousands of guns disappeared. Nobody cared at the time – everything was crazy back then – but many soldiers sold their weapons to the locals. Everyone knows this, but we did not wave them around like an American cowboy, no offense, you understand. We buried them in our basements in case we needed them.

I ran outside, looked toward the plant, but I was not close enough to see anything. I waited for a few minutes to decide what I should do, when our local police truck pulled up with a truck bed full of townspeople, all armed. I gave the cop a nod, then jumped in the back of the truck.

We stopped short of the shuttle. We were no G.I. Joes, you know? We tried to be smart, to be