Grid Down Perceptions of Reality

by Bruce Buckshot Hemming

  They made it across the open area and kept on going. They didn’t slow down for 5 miles. Finally, letting up on the horses, they slowed to a trot. Going another 4 miles, they turned off onto a 4-wheeler trail, which took them to their next hide.

  They had pre-positioned 5-gallon buckets full of water for the horses and cut hay for them. They had walked the horses the last mile, letting them cool down. Tying the horses up with food and water, they grabbed the gun and climbed into the new hide.

  Only then did they whisper back and forth. Scott said, “You nailed both of those Officers. The first one is dead for sure and the second one, well I saw his left arm go flying off in the air. The last shot I saw four men go down for sure. That was some great shooting. I would say maybe 12 men total were killed or hit, maybe more.”

  “Let’s play it low ball, so I’m saying six hit for sure.” Joe said. “That was the easy one. We might be able to do this one more time, that is why I insisted on the last hide off this highway be right on the road, using that old truck.”

  Scott asked, “What do you think they will do, now that their leader is dead?”

  “I don’t know. If we got all of the officers, then maybe the sergeant will be able to lead them, but they could all just fall apart and run for home.”

  Their adrenaline was still pumping and it took some time for them to both calm down.

  They waited until dark but nothing came by them.

  Scott said, “We need to get them saddles off the horses and let them rest. I’ll take care of that, and then we should eat.” Their meals-ready-to-eat were parched corn and beef jerky with some cookies.

  When Scott returned, he said, “I’ll take first watch and you get some sleep.” Scott let him sleep until midnight and then woke him and they switched. About 5 the next morning, Joe woke him up to get the horses saddled.

  They ate breakfast and then Joe napped, wanting to be fresh for their next encounter.

  At 7 AM, Scott woke him up. “We have a patrol coming, they are spread out and moving slowly.”

  Joe got on the scope. “Damn, the easy stuff is over. I am thinking we should hit these guys. It’s time to make all of them really nervous.”

  “Okay. I agree.” Scott whispered. Just then, they heard a stick snap in the woods. From their hide, Scott looked out and about 100 yards away in the woods, was a foot patrol.

  “Joe, we got trouble. Come on let’s move,” he whispered.

  Hearing the urgency in his voice, Joe pulled the gun in. They did a low crawl out of sight, and then raced to the horses. They were 100 yards back father off the highway, strapping the gun on when they heard a voice call out. “Hey, I found something.”

  Climbing on their horses they took off down the trail and away from danger. They hadn’t gone 200 yards when a pack of wolves charged, attacking the horses. A pack of six raced out of the brush, trying to flank the horses.

  Horses, at the smell of seeing wolves, go into a complete wild panic. Deep inside the horse’s primitive mind, they instinctually know that wolves are the ultimate predator to fear.

  Scott was in the lead, on the big blue dun, who was not having any of this nonsense and charged the lead wolf standing on the trail. The others were racing in between the packhorse and Joe’s horse, trying to break off one or all of them. The growling and snapping was fierce. My God, they were as fast as greased lighting. Joe thought he couldn’t draw a weapon, but he was doing all he could just to stay on the horse.

  The big dun raced right over top of the lead wolf, knocking him clear of the path. The rest of the horses followed and they raced off. Joe was able to pull his pistol and fired off a few rounds at one that was closest to his right side, but missed. The noise of the gun made the pack back off. They had gotten away, but not unscathed. The packhorse had suffered a gash along it rear flank, about 12 inches long. The wolf was trying to pull him down but was kicked off.

  When they reached the dirt road, they turned east. They had only gone about 400 yards and as the horses where calming down, Joe glance over his shoulder to see that the damn wolves were on the road, trailing behind them. The smell of fresh blood was a beacon and they must be starving. Damn, this is bad. They have to shake these wolves or kill them. They didn’t want to have a running battle with the wolf pack, as the patrol was for sure tracking them.

  They stayed at a gallop for another 5 miles, and then stopped to inspect the horses. The horses were still a little spooked, but they got off and inspect each one. The gash on the packhorse wasn’t real bad, but it was a beacon for the wolves. Looking back down the trail, there were three wolves at about 300 yards back. The other ones were most likely trying to flank them. Joe pulled his rifle and they scattered into the brush. “Rifle shy and smart, just great.” Joe thought.

  Scott whispered, “What’s the plan?”

  “Let’s mount up and then we’ll take the next road north.” They travelled a few more miles and turned north, but the damn wolves were still trailing behind them. He rode up next to Scott, saying, “We need to travel at least 10 miles and then find a barn to keep the horses safe. Then we can focus on killing these bastards.”

  Scott said, “I agree, hell even a two-car garage with good doors would work.”

  Traveling north, they turned off again onto a paved road and head east. They came to a dirt road that might go to a farm and headed north again. Finding an abandoned house with an attached two-car garage at about 6 that night, they put the horse in and secured the doors. They had let them drink earlier at a pond. They feed them oats, thanks to the saddlebag full that Philip had given them, and from inside, they couldn’t see the wolves, but knew they were there.

  Chapter 29

  Harassing the Troops

  Never fight fair with a stranger, boy. You'll

  never get out of the jungle that way.

  Arthur Miller

  Clint and the men had moved down to the location and were busy constructing the trap. They were setting up all kinds of nasty surprises for the coming Army. Clint was worried he still had no intel on whether the troops were coming back this way for sure.

  Jane was at the hospital working. One man was injured during training and they had to set his broken leg. Because power was so important for the hospital, they received the second gasifier Bob had built, and he gave them a battery bank and lights. One of Amy’s jobs was to fill up the generator and run it every morning. She almost enjoyed coming to work, due to Preston being moody as all heck, like a caged lion. “Poor Michael.” she thought, but Preston did really like him and tried to make him feel good about all the work he was doing.

  When she got home at night, she felt like she was being interrogated by Preston. “What’s the news? Where is the Army? Any word on Joe yet? Where are the troops?”

  Jane was worried about Joe and the strain was starting to show on her. She snapped at Preston, “Would you shut up already. He is fine. Stop worrying like an old woman.”

  Amy stopped what she was doing and her mouth hung open. She had never seen Jane lose it before. She was always the calm, rational one of the group. She asked, “Are you ok?”

  Jane took a deep breath and finally said, “Yes. I’m fine. I’m just sick of hearing this every single night.” She turned to Preston and said, “He’s fine Preston. There’s nothing you can do about it either way. When we hear something we are going to tell you.” She walked over and picked up her coat. “I am going for a walk. Just leave me alone for a while.”

  There was an uneasy tension in the cabin. “Damn it Preston. Get a hold of yourself. You’re making her crazy.” Amy said. “And you are driving me crazy too.”

  He limped over to her. “I’m sorry, but I am just sitting here in the dark, not knowing anything. I am used to be on the front lines.”

  “Good, Now you know how we feel when you’re gone.”

  Meanwhile, Joe and Scott were having their fair share of problems. While they held up with the horses, the wolves waited outside. They waited un
til midnight and then attacked the door. Joe heard them howling. The wolves were scratching at the door and growling. The smell of fresh blood was driving the ravenous beast to try and dig through the door. The horses, smelling them, were in a panic. They were neighing and kicking the door. Joe and Scott ran outside in the dark. It was an eerie feeling seeing the shadow of the wolves, and you could feel the death in the air. They wanted those horses and were willing to risk it all to get to them.

  Both men fired off a couple of rounds and the wolves disappeared like ghosts in the night. Scott walked into the garage and calmed the horses down. Joe said, “We need to sit on the front porch and guard the garage doors. We should sit and wait, like a hunter, just not moving and wait for the shot.”

  Joe grabbed a lawn chair, positioned it on the porch, which had a wooden rail around it, he put his back against one end and sat down. He turned on the small LED light and scanned the area and holding his rifle up, he could easily hit a wolf from this position.

  Scott returned and it was decided that Joe would take the first watch. Part of his mind was hoping that just being out here would keep the wolves away. He heard them howling all around him. Ah-woo-ooo-ooo. He listened to the others answer and counted 5 for sure. That eerie, lonely and long wail was such a piercing and gut wrenching cry it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  It was a dark night with no moon and he heard nothing for hours. A light breeze was hitting him in the face. It was cold enough to keep him awake, but not bone chilling. He leaned back and looked up at the stars. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough that he could see the driveway in shadows.

  Around 2:45 AM, they came in. A lone wolf came trotting up the driveway. Joe started to slowly lift his rifle, when suddenly he heard a growl off to his right. It was close, way too close. He slowly turned his head and the growling intensified. What a horrible feeling knowing that a man-killing eating machine was only a few feet away. It could clearly see him, but he was unable to see the vicious beast.

  He saw nothing in the blackness when suddenly he heard another growl in front of him. He whip his head around and in the starlight, he could just make out the first wolf standing at the bottom of the steps. And then another growl, this time it came from behind him.

  He felt panic and was sweating. He was unnerved and his hands began shaking. He felt like he was trapped in a junkyard with three big Rottweiler’s surrounding him. The growling intensified his anxiety. They were working themselves up to the attack. His mind was racing. If the one behind him grabs his neck, he would be ripped to shreds in seconds. It’s hard to describe the feeling of your whole life being decided in the next few seconds.

  He was frozen in panic and his mind was screaming to run into the house. Move, run, my God, but with three of them so close, it wasn’t a good idea to run. His breathing was coming in short gasps, like he was swimming for his life. His mind screamed, “My God, shoot. For God sakes shoot.”

  The one in front of him charged with a growl and snap of the jaws. He flipped on his light, shooting at almost point blank range. The wolf was a mere seven feet away and the shot caught it full in the chest. It spun around howling and yipping, biting at the wound. Joe stood up quickly, which most likely saved his life, as the wolf behind him leaped over the railing. The 120 pounds of muscle and teeth knock him flat to the porch. The wolf sunk its teeth into his coat and started shaking him like a rag doll.

  “This is it,” he thought, “killed and torn to shreds by wolves, never to see my loving wife again. The wolf beside him would be tearing at his arm next, he thought they were just like gangs of bullies, they work in a team to kill. The strength and power of the wolf’s jaws is what shocked and terrified him. He would have to roll over to shoot as his rifle was pinned under his body. He forced himself to think, “Don’t give up or you’re a dead man.”

  Just then, he heard shots ring out and felt the wolf on him flinch in pain and then leap off. More shots fired and another wolf yelped in surprise and pain. Scott shined the light around, looking for more targets. Joe was in shock and laid there, afraid to move until he was sure the shooting had stopped.

  “Clear.” Scott called out. “How bad are you hurt?”

  Joe sat up shaking like a leaf. “Are they dead?”

  “I see two dead in the yard and I wounded another one in the back leg.” Holding his rifle in one hand he helped Joe up. “Come on, get inside and you can tell me what happen.” Closing and locking the door behind them, Joe felt much safer.

  “My God those things are powerful. He knocked me over like I was nothing. It was like being hit by a freight train with all muscle and teeth.”

  “Are you hurt? Did any of them bite you? Are you bleeding?”

  Joe shook his head, saying, “No. I don’t think so. One of them had me by the coat but his teeth didn’t go through. Thank God you woke up in time. The third wolf would have joined in and I would be dead right now.”

  Scott told him, “Take off your coat and let me check your neck for wounds.”

  Joe took his coat off and Scott pushed the shirt down, examining his neck. “Wow, did you get lucky. Those razor sharp teeth just missed you. You’ll have one hell of a story to tell, with the coat for proof.”

  Joe’s hand was still shaking. “Screw the story, we need to find a way to wipe the rest of these bastards out. Damn, I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t been here.”

  They spent the rest of the night uneasily inside. In the daylight, they saw that the other wolves had eaten the two dead wolves in the front yard. “Damn. “That’s sick. I didn’t know they were cannibals.” Scott said.

  Joe said, “That explains a lot, they must be starving. All the game in the area must be wiped out. What’s our plan for today?”

  “We are supposed to meet the recon team today and pass off our intel. I think we can circle around, hopefully without running into a patrol or any more wolves.”

  It took them all day to work their way around to the meeting spot. They passed their intel on and were told to set up a new sniper hide, hit them again and then meet in a new spot in three days. Other teams had been hitting the Army at night, using crossbows and taking out one or two sentries, and then leaving. The teams had done a few more sniper attacks, but none had matched what Joe and Scott had done, in terms of damage.

  John gave them new orders to hit them at the pond. They knew where they were going to stop and water their horses, so they poisoned the whole pond. When the horses started falling over dead, they were supposed to start shooting.

  The whole idea was to demoralize the troops, taking away their mobility and making sure they never felt safe. They wanted to wear on them, physically and mentally. It was working great and their speed had been cut in half. They were traveling 25 miles a day before the attacks started, and now they were doing good to make 10 miles a day.

  How does an Army fight ghosts when they hit and run? There is no battle plan or strategy to stop it. They also started using silencers on .22s and the enemy had no idea what was going on. They would let the troops pass, and then shoot the last guy in the head. The SRT "Comanche” is a user-serviceable silencer, about 1" in diameter and 6" long. It has slightly funneled baffles that fit loose enough that they can be disassembled for cleaning. Mounted on an old Martini target rifle . . . the combination is VERY accurate with a wide variety of ammo.

  It is quietest with the sub-sonic ammo below 1,080 fps. The enemy only hears the phap. With all the troops moving, most of the time they never heard anything accept the body hitting the ground. Sometimes they didn’t even hear that. The two-man sniper team would then disappear into the brush. Sometime the other troops didn’t notice for 2 or 300 yards. They would hit at all hours of the day and night, surprising them at every turn.

  The troops were exhausted and the lieutenant in charge, after the Major and his top Sergeant were killed, was pulling his hair out. They had roving patrols, switching people around. He also had a constant Fast Response Team,
or FRT, consisting of ten of his top men, ready to charge off and capture these snipers, but nothing he tried had worked.

  The brush was too thick they had better, faster horses. His men were on edge, weary and tired, dreading each day.

  At the rate they were going it would take them eight more days to reach Green Bay. “Thank God,” he thought, “sanctuary and a place to relax and rest up.”

  Noon the next day, they stopped to water their horses at a small pond. It was the only water in the area that was easy to access. The patrol had swept all around the pond and gave the all clear. About half the horses had drank when they were switching them out and one of the horses stumbled, got a crazy look on its face, bucked once and fell over dead. Everyone just stared at the horse, thinking it must have been heart attack. Then another horse went down, and another, and soon 45 horses laid dead. In the panic someone yelled out, “They’ve poisoned the water. Stop the horses from drinking.”

  Joe, with the .50 Cal sniper rifle, had been watching the troops and took out three men sitting together in a row. The second shot nailed two that were running in line to the rear, and the third shot took out a man barking orders. The patrol could not go after them because their horses were dead. Not taking any chances, they retreated as before. The trap was set before the next watering hole, which was ten miles away.

  What Joe and Scott hadn’t seen was the foot patrol that had stolen their horses. Unlike before, their new hide was the back of a broken down RV on the side of the road. The foot patrol had been searching for a sniper spot that was dug in, as they were working their way back to the troops, and they were a good 800 yards away when the shooting started. Joe and Scott panicked and ran into the woods. Their best bet was to head off into the thick brush; the only problem was that the foot patrol was now on their horses, and charging after them.