by Zack Finley
We on the gym roof shot at any Militiaman we spotted. We couldn’t see many because the woods were very thick. If they left the cover of the trees, we could mow them down.
All this time Buzzer was redeploying the rest of our team to empty buildings south of the highway. The Humvee with the SAW remained hidden between buildings next to the middle school.
The Humvee with the Ma Deuce was parked in a firing position that allowed it to pull forward quickly behind the brick wall of a small home if a LAW was spotted.
Buzzer moved his sniper from the middle school roof to cover the second roadblock. The rest of us remained in position on the gym roof to keep any intruders from approaching the middle school. Our main threat came from the group to our east approaching on foot.
The more mobile threat was approaching from the south, at least that was our guess. A refugee was monitoring the CB radio for us. He’d heard nothing to suggest the larger group was going somewhere else.
Again, it was the sound that got our attention. Not mine, my hearing was toast, recovering from gunfire despite my earplugs. It was one of the reasons I preferred using suppressed weapons.
The convoy predictably came up River Road. It was the shortest route, and I suspected it was the only option available to avoid night action. We were prepared for night action, but we knew from questioning the prisoners that they were not. This time of year, it got dark early.
There was another way to spot the Militia leadership. I sent out a message telling my team to prioritize targets wearing helmets. Not many wore helmets, but I suspected those who did were prime targets. That might not be the case after this firefight.
Buzzer left a gap in the River Road roadblock sufficient to let one vehicle through at a time. The attackers should have sent scouts forward to check the road as they got close, but they didn’t. Again, I don’t know whether it was lack of smarts or the realization that night was so close. The Ma Deuce was ready to stop the first vehicle through the opening and then duck out of sight. Buzzer deployed men on the hilltop above the road and on roofs of abandoned buildings.
I knew Buzzer cut trees earlier which were now poised to fall on the road below. The trees were being held up by ropes. Once released they should prevent the vehicles from escaping the kill zone
The main issue with this battlefield choice was the thick trees surrounding it. Unlike the earlier roadblock with plenty of open area for punishing targets, this road was narrow, and the terrain was steep and heavily wooded.
The Browning blasting the engine of the lead pickup on River Road was like a starter’s pistol for this afternoon’s match.
The group hiding in the woods near the middle school erupted from the tree line to our east. They were doomed. We mowed down the brave but very stupid runners. Shooting them from our perch on the gym was like a training exercise. I couldn’t believe they kept coming until the last one fell down. We never needed the SAW.
Once the last went down, I put in a fresh clip and repositioned facing River Road.
Matt and Eric announced they were remaining where they were to monitor and mop up any Militia still viable from the first incursion.
That left everyone on the gym roof free to focus on the River Road side.
A lot of the attackers died for no reason I could discern. They didn’t even try to retreat until it was too late. I watched the southern battle through my scope, but no invader escaped the kill zone to come this way. I understood a few left their weapons in their vehicles and slipped away on foot.
A pickup at the end of the convoy dodged being blocked by falling trees. It was the only vehicle to escape the trap. We warned FOB George to expect them.
Light was fading, and we needed to shift to nighttime operations. Matt and Eric switched to thermal scopes for their M4s. I told them to make sure the woods around the middle school was clear. We needed to pick up all the weapons, to prevent them from getting in the wrong hands. In this new environment, we couldn’t afford to shy away from boots, coats, even belts, just because we were squeamish.
I took one of the pickups Buzzer acquired and drove it to the killing field. We stripped the dead and tossed the bodies in the back of the pickup.
I asked for the valley to send one of the box trucks and a few pickups to meet up with one of our Humvees at Alpha. I told them to wear gloves.
We burned 52 bodies spread around three locations near where they died. We acquired 55 assault rifles plus ammo and clips. We also collected an assortment of pistols and knives, a few sets of armor, some NVGs, boots, hats, helmets, jackets and different clothing.
Our new security recruits would get a lot of practice cleaning weapons before we agreed to distribute the weapons we collected. When we checked our ammo, we probably fired just over 150 rounds between all of us.
We left the Humvee with the SAW mounted on it for our guys to return in tomorrow, after making sure none of those who ran off made any trouble. In their efforts to build a defensible space for the middle school Buzzer and Eric met nearly everyone remaining in the area. Buzzer warned them to keep out of sight until this thing got settled. Tomorrow he would encourage the people left to band together and help each other.
My mom was done running the numbers, she couldn’t recommend bringing in the refugees from the middle school into the valley. She felt it was a Huntsville problem which could put us at risk if we got to deeply involved. The middle school was in a lousy location for us to guard and it was dangerous for us to visit it to deliver food on a regular basis.
Buzzer wasn’t happy we couldn’t help these folks more. I told him we could revisit the issue once we started bringing in next year’s harvest. I was actually surprised he agreed to return to the valley with us. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he stayed. I supported leaving eight AR15s and ammo for the neighborhood watch and a CB radio.
I didn’t promise we’d come to their aid, but I said we would try. I hoped that would be enough.
We got word from FOB George they’d intercepted the returning vehicle.
I wondered whether Lloyd Mountain Militia would ever find out what happened to their raiders. And what their reaction would be.
I was sickened by the slaughter. The invaders outnumbered our team by a lot. The weapons we used were comparable to theirs. And yet, they died in droves. It made no sense. The Militia leadership were complete morons with the tactical intelligence of a grape.
I felt that with Buzzer’s preparations, the two Humvees, and our M240 B on the roof of the middle school our position was strong even against a smart assault. What happened was an execution. The Militia clearly lacked veterans in their ranks. Anyone with combat experience knew better than to use 18th-century strategy against automatic weapons. Even the original American Minutemen would have made mincemeat of them.
We never knew what insanity lead them to attack so stupidly. They brought way too many people to steal food from a group of unarmed seniors. Once we began killing them at the barricades, they should have realized their error and backed off. It would have hurt, but they could have recouped. The Militia had enough weapons and manpower to hurt us, but instead, they walked into the teeth of our defenses. All the windows on two sides of the middle school were now shot up, but that was all they accomplished. It made me
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Chapter 13
We were crowded in the valley. Even my mom’s best organizational efforts lagged behind the need. Getting more than 300 people working productively to support the whole was a daunting task, and we were falling behind.
While some of the new people in the valley weren’t being fully utilized, Force Beta was overbooked.
FOB George continued to be busy. The Militia kept sending out one or two vehicles, and we kept ambushing them. Disposing of the corpses was becoming a problem. We kept swapping out assignments at FOB George to keep people sharp.
My guys were clamoring to send a patrol to scout the Lloyd Mountain camp. I wanted to raid the lumber yard first.
I planned two missions to the lumberyard. It was going to be time-consuming to locate and load the material. I’d judge whether we needed a third trip after our first mission.
I was a little worried about squatters, but I didn’t expect any strong objections to our taking the lumber. If the neighbors objected to us taking their firewood, I was willing to trade them for split oak. I wasn’t worried about the owner, he lived in Florida. The man who started the business was a mainstay of the community. He died, and his son inherited. My dad maintained a friendly agreement with the old man, the son, not so much.
My dad said if the world miraculously returned to normal and the kid sent him a bill, he would pay. Until then, no need to let the resources go to waste.
I sent a recon team to the lumber yard last night with orders to secure the site. The rules of engagement were to shoot if fired upon but to try to resolve the situation without bloodshed. They were within radio range of FOB Echo.
After getting word the recon team was in place, and the site was secured, the rest of us mounted up. We took a variety of vehicles, most hauling flatbed trailers. Everyone was security qualified, but most had only fired their weapons on our range.
We left two members of Force Beta, in the valley and one at FOB Echo. The rest of us were in full battle rattle. The Humvee with the Ma Deuce went first. The Humvee with the SAW was the tail end Charlie. It seemed like overkill, but I wasn’t taking chances with the safety of our people.
We took the route scouted by our advance team and arrived at the target without incident. I was met by one of the scouts who had detained a man.
I went to find out what that was about. The man was a local and very vague about where he was living. I couldn’t blame him and didn’t insist. He was royally pissed off. My guys disarmed and zip-tied him while waiting for the rest of us to show up.
He demanded to know why we deserved all that firewood. When I offered to drop off a pickup load of real firewood, he got interested. We settled on two pickup loads.
“Where do you want them delivered?” I asked, satisfied with the price.
His face hardened, saying “Just drop it off in the parking lot.”
“No problem,” I said. “We can save you some hard work, though if you want it closer to your place.”
He wasn’t buying it, “No need to worry about me, I need the exercise.”
I didn’t push, mostly because it didn’t matter. I explained that we’d be back in two days and drop off his firewood then. I also planned to return tomorrow, but he didn’t need to know that.
I told him if he left now, we’d follow him to make sure he didn’t double back to shoot us, or he could wait until we left. He announced he’d wait.
I didn’t mention that I was leaving four scouts behind when we went tonight. One would follow this guy anyway.
Most of the lumber was in the warehouse. After breaking the locks on the large delivery doors, we just drove into the warehouse. We set up an assembly line, loading the pickups and trailers, then parking them in front ready for departure. We were lucky the forklift was fueled.
I deployed the Humvees to provide cover but only left people on the turrets. Three Rangers provided overwatch and one guarded the prisoner. Everyone else helped load.
I wanted us gone before any of the other neighbors noticed we were here. I intended to get all the plywood on this trip. While we could cut trees for boards, plywood was an irreplaceable resource.
In the garage, we located the two delivery trucks. All were full of fuel. I hoped they’d be here, but there’d been enough chaos since the crash I wouldn’t have bet on it.
One foraging group was retrieving all the nails, nuts and bolts, hinges, joist hangers, strong ties, and similar hardware.
Another crew was emptying the place of hand tools.
It was going to take a lot of trips to get everything. I didn’t want to leave anything of possible use in this new reality.
We needed to take a small risk to limit our exposure. I split up my team to dig in and cover critical locations along the route. I put two-man crews in each Humvee and sent them to patrol the road between FOB Echo and the lumberyard.
I relayed a message to my dad to get every pickup truck headed our way and to quickly empty and return them until further notice. The vehicles we already loaded were sent out with the Rangers designated to cover the route. They dropped off at their assigned location.
I told the drivers to drive as fast as they dared with their loads and not to baby their shocks.
My guys suggested grouping the foragers in two or three vehicle convoys in both directions between the lumberyard and FOB Echo. A Ranger would then ride with every convoy, dropping off at either Echo or the lumberyard to catch a ride in the other direction. That would improve the radio coverage and response time, I very much approved.
As the day went on, we pulled back all of the rangers planted along the route and relied on the convoy teams and the Humvees to keep the convoys safe. We needed the manpower at the lumberyard to keep up with the gathering and loading.
We stopped prioritizing loads, since keeping the trucks moving was more critical. Besides, who knew what might come in handy one day. I made a mental note to remember to load up the lumberyard carts in our last load. They would be helpful in our storage areas.
As the warehouse emptied, I was mildly tempted to begin dismantling the lumber racks. I decided we didn’t have time today, but I knew where to find them.
I was surprised to find the store generator was fully fueled. The lumberyard was closed on Sunday when the president spoke, so I suspected its employees never returned to the store after the crash.
The generator was a large one, with a built-in diesel tank. I didn’t want to leave it but wasn’t sure how useful it would be.
When the sun set, I estimated we removed about half of the salvageable content of the lumberyard. People would be working into the night to empty all the trucks so they’d be ready to make tomorrow’s run. We released our detainee when the last truck pulled out. I asked Uncle Bob to fill the dump trailer with firewood for the morning run. I figured it held about two pickups worth. I also thought the dump trailer would be useful to haul loads back from the lumberyard.
My dad reminded me the lumberyard fuel tanks could top off our fleet tomorrow. My dad also wanted us to repossess their large solar unit. I told him we’d take the batteries and electronics, but the panels might have to wait for another day.
My butt was dragging when I got home, and I wasn’t surprised to see the lights out in the dining room. In the family room, everyone was barely awake. I learned it was an all-hands effort to unload the trucks as quickly as possible.
Melissa told me her arms hurt. Jennifer announced that she liked it. “It’s better than lifting weights to build muscles,” Jennifer said. Melissa then demanded to know whether her muscles looked any bigger.
I gently tried to convey that muscles needed to be exercised repeatedly to build muscle mass, but they weren’t having it. Both declared their muscles grew today. I suggested we all get to bed and unusually no one even filed a pro forma complaint. They were tired.
I hoped the next day would prove just as fruitful.
We sent the advance patrol out on foot to check the route. Once they sent the all clear, the festivities began, again.
It was easier and harder the second day. Easier because we worked out most of the kinks yesterday and everyone knew what needed to be done. It was harder because nearly all the easy stuff was gone. The forklift was worth its weight in gold.
So were the pallets. I originally planned to leave the extra pallets behind to provide the neighbors with firewood, but I soon realized they were too valuable. We needed them for our own warehousing. The large lumber truck had a forklift caddy, and I intended to bring the forklift home with us, too.
Security was becoming a more significant concern. Our scouts spotted a few people along the route. None brandished weapons, so we left them a
lone. It just made everyone a little more anxious.
Yesterday’s visitor dropped by. This time he wasn’t carrying a long gun, and we didn’t detain him. He checked out his pile of firewood and seemed satisfied.
He was a lot more talkative today.
“You guys from around here?” he asked.
“I was born and raised here,” I said. “At least three generations.”
“I thought you might be Aaron’s boy,” he said. “Thought you were in the Army?”
“I was,” I said, hoping he’d leave the topic alone.
He seemed to read my mind, dropping the inquiry. “You guys got anything else you want to barter?”
“Depends, what do you have in mind?”
“We need seeds to grow food this spring. I got some tools I could trade,” he said.