Grid Down Perceptions of Reality

by Bruce Buckshot Hemming

  Joe was trying to run with the heavy rifle and called out to Scott to stand and fight. They took cover behind some trees, Joe propped up the .50 Cal on a strong limb and waited for a target.

  He waited until they were 50 yards away and then cut the lead guy down. Scott dropped one too, but the third man dropped, rolled to the ground and started firing at them. The AK-47 was tearing up the brush all around them. He heard more men rushing up, so Joe had no choice but to abandon the .50 cal. He pushed the release button and yanked the bolt out, shoving it into his pocket. He called out to Scott, “Leap frog.”

  They might lose the sniper rifle, but without the bolt, it would be useless to the enemy.

  He unslung his AR-15, his old friend, fired a couple rounds at the charging men and then ran back yelling out, “Go.” He fired a few more rounds and Scott ran pass him. They did that two more times and were out of sight of any enemy or their gunfire.

  They took off at a dead run, thru the oak forest and to a little opening, too open for their liking, but they had to cross over it to hit the swamp land. Two miles to go and Joe caught up to Scott. “Act like a deer.”

  Scott looked at him with a puzzled look, saying, “What?”

  Joe was almost out of breathe, but managed to say; “Men travel in straight lines, while deer head off at 45 degree angles. Once you are far enough ahead, the pursuers never see you. Trust me I have tracked a lot of deer, plus it puts more trees between us and them, which is always a good idea.”

  “Lead the way.” Scott said.

  They ran for two more miles, finally coming to a hill going down into the swamp.

  Joe said, “We’ll stay here for a minute. Let’s see if they are still chasing us.”

  They sat down to rest and watch with binoculars. After ten minutes they saw what they were dreading, fifty men trotting up about 800 yards away. Scott said, “I guess they have no sense of humor.”

  Joe replied, “We are on foot, so they think they have a chance of catching us. Let’s go into the swamp and lose them.” They got up and moved quickly, and unseen, into the swamp.

  Back at the Northern Alliance, Clint was ready with the trap, just waiting for their arrival. His Army had swelled in numbers to over 400 men and women, and they were all ready to fight.

  They were fresh, well feed, rested and ready to go. He picked a steep hill that had high hills on each side of the road, so they controlled the high ground. They had made homemade mortar rounds and had ten teams, five on each side of the road, on the high ground. They also had round hay bales, those 1100 pounders, soaked in used motor oil, on top of the hill and ready to light and roll down on the enemy. Two machine gun posts lined up with the ditches, which were to wait until the mortar round scatter the troops into the ditches then cut them down. One was an old Gatling gun and the other a WW II .30 Cal machine gun that fired .30-06 ammunition.

  The rest of the men were scattered along the top of each end, to snipe them all. He had 20 men on horseback that he held in reserve to take out any that tried to flee.

  Chapter 30

  The Trap

  “Wars are won in the planning room, not on the battlefield.”

  — Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower

  Looking at all of the dead horses, the lieutenant in charge was beyond words. He could not believe the evil the other side was using against them. To poison the water supply and kill innocent horses was evil, sadistic, and cruel. Should he waste time burning the dead horses, honoring them, or just push on? He decided that they should push on. In fact his only thought was to not stop until they reached Green Bay. They were close and if they went at a Quick March, increasing their speed to four miles an hours, they could make it in two days.

  His top sergeant told him about the 50 men and the chase for the two snipers. He ordered two men to find them and tell them to return. Quick March was their only hope to get home before their food ran out. Their morale was in the dirt. They had no choice but to get back to Green Bay and resupply.

  These stupid inbred rednecks thought they could beat us, but how can such low life meat eaters be winning. Then he smiled because he realized that they had not brought their army against his superior forces. They just made small runs on them, hit and run actions.

  They marched on, leaving the dead horses behind as a warning the pond was poisoned. He told his troops the plan; two days of Quick March and we will be home safe. This spurred them on with less bickering and faster movement. They were beginning to make good time and he felt they were in better spirits. They were going to make it home.

  The highway was cleared 50 feet up the hill to the tree line on both sides, and the Lieutenant saw the first hint of fall as the trees were changing colors. He began to think that maybe all they were facing was a small group of snipers. Maybe there really wasn’t any army to face after all. They could wait for winter and once the snow hit, they could track these sniper teams down and wipe them out.

  They were traveling up a hill and he was in the middle of the troops as he watched the large cans come floating down from atop the hill. At first he thought it was a bird. He watched it hit and then explode. He looked up and saw eight more falling all around his troops.

  These were number 10 size cans filled with shattered car glass or rocks and others had rusty nails. They had timed fuses on them and were taking out his men twenty at a time. One landed right behind him and he turned his horse to flee. Getting away from it was his last thought. The blast ripped him and his horse to shreds.

  The troops had some training; Clint gave them credit for that, the ones that had survived on his side of the road, charged up the hill. The machine gun opened up, easily cutting them down. He ordered the hay bales lit and pushed off. They rolled down the hill, increasing in speed, and veering off to one side or the other, running men over. Everyone was under strict orders not to hit the supply wagon with any bombs or fire. He wanted that 105 ammo badly.

  The remaining troops, that weren’t injured, called a retreat and started running. Clint looked to a man on the hill and signaled him. The man started waving a red flag. From over the hill, 50 mounted cavalry charged down on the survivors. In the lead was the black flag.

  One survivor would later tell the tale of the death riders. “It was like Death himself sat upon 50 horses. All dressed in black with a pistol in each hand and the reins in their mouth, they charged forth. No army could face these fearless men. They feared not death itself and would charge the gates of hell.” He would go on to say, “I swear their eyes were blazing red with fury. I prayed to God I would never have to see them in my life again, but they haunt me day and night. The sound of thundering hoof beats charging through our people as they cut them all down, shooting at point blank range. Fleeing men had even tossed their rifles aside, but were still shot in the back. They cleared the end of the line and using their knees to stop and turn the horses, reloading and charging again to clean up the last of our men. There wasn’t a man left alive after Death’s second pass. The battle was over before it even began.”

  There were ten men wounded that were kept alive, just to get the layout of the operation in Green Bay, no others, and any badly wound were put down like a rabid dogs, with a quick shot to the head.

  They brought down wagons and stripped the troops of weapons and ammo; they saved anything useful. They cut down huge amounts of firewood, with logs 10 feet long, and started fires to burn all the bodies. One of the men came up to Clint and said, “Did you see that big blue dun that man was riding? That was Scott’s horse. I checked the brand and it was his. Scott and Joe must be dead.”

  Clint signaled for John to come over and he told him the news.

  John said, “I’ll send a ten man team to go look for them. They might still be alive, you never know, but if they aren’t, we’ll bring their bodies back to their wives.”

  Clint replied, “I hope they are still alive. We need good men.”

  John said, “I’ll go myself.”

  Clint said, �
��Let me know what you find in two days, and then we are taking Green Bay and ending this nonsense once and for all. Now that we have the ammo for the 105, there is nothing stopping us. From what these prisoners are telling us, the “Governor” only has one 105 left, and about 200 men. I want to end this now while we have the men and supplies.”

  “What are you going to do with the prisoners, once we have their base surrounded?”

  “I will send them back so they can give them our terms of surrender. If they refuse, the black flag will be flown.”

  Clint was happy they had lost only 12 men, and 34 were wounded. He set up a field hospital and had the wounded treated.

  Having missed the big surprise trap, Joe and Scott were trying to survive by going into the swamp. The men following them had a good tracker leading the way, and they follow them in. The two men that were sent with orders for them to return had deserted and headed south. The last order these men were given was to capture these two snipers, dead or alive.

  John knew where Joe and Scott had stashed their horses, so he checked the spot and followed the trail, finding the two dead Rainbow Warriors. He smiled, “They were still alive.”

  One of his men called out that he found the .50 Cal and the bolt was missing. That could only mean they must be on the run.

  John said, “By the looks of all this, quite a few men are chasing them.”

  Chapter 31

  The Battle of Green Bay

  Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today

  is a gift. That's why we call it the present.

  —Barbara DeAngelis

  Joe and Scott had headed into the thick cedar swamp with the enemy still following them. They had 7 miles of hard traveling in front of them. Scott whispered, “You know what the nickname of this swamp is, don’t you?”

  Joe shrugged.

  Scott grinned and said, “Dead Man Swamp.”

  Joe smiled. “You know all the cool places to hang out, don’t you?”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my plan to head in here. We were kind of forced into it, if you remember. But there are people that have come up missing in here, about every other year. They say there is quicksand, an old cougar that hunts men, and of course, if you believe the Native America legends, an evil spirit that keeps all men from ever leaving here.”

  “Okay. Enough of the superstition nonsense, how many people have really come up missing?”

  “I think it’s been right around 15, over the past 30 years. Two deer hunters, along with their truck and everything, came up missing back in ‘93. Searchers found their tent and a deer hanging at their camp, but no men or vehicle was ever was found.”

  Joe laughed. “They didn’t show up in Las Vegas two year later, did they?”

  “I am not joking around, just letting you know we have to be careful.”

  “Okay, I understand. What’s the plan now?”

  “We head directly north for seven miles and we should be out on the road. Check your compass.”

  Joe pulled out his compass and watch the needle bounce all over the place. “What the heck is that all about?”

  Scott smiled. “Well, part of the legend is that they think there is a large ore deposit under the swamp, so your compass is never going to work right. If you follow it, you will just end up going in a circle all day.”

  “Great. Okay, I’m following you?”

  They headed out and after two hours the swamp looked just like where they had started. The brush was thick and the deadfalls they had to climb over never seemed to end. It was like a bad nightmare, the marshy ground was spongy under their feet, but the good news was they could hear their pursuers having just as bad a time.

  Another hour went by and they came out into a clearing with a tiny stream and black mud all around it. Scott headed out towards it, thinking of making a trap were they could hide on the other side, and then they could shoot a few down as they stepped out into the opening. He was about halfway across when the mud stopped supporting his weight, gave way and he sunk clear to his chest.

  Turning around, he tossed his rifle back to Joe, he tried to use his elbows to pull himself out. This was a very bad idea because his elbows broke through and he sank up to his chin. Joe ran back, put the rifles against the brush, and found a long dead sapling. He raced back, and carefully walked out, trying to stay on firm ground, and extended it to Scott. Scott, now up to his nose, grabbed a hold of it for dear life. He pulled himself about two feet up when the stick broke. At least he was up to his shoulders now. When the stick broke, Joe fell back on his butt, quickly getting back up. Scott was sinking again, right before his eyes. He stepped closer, afraid to rush in and have both of them stuck. Reaching out as far as he could, he said, “Listen to me. Slow down and try not to move so hard and fast.”

  In a panicked voice, Scott said, “Sure, that’s easy for you to say, as I’m the one in here sinking. Find some way to help me get out.”

  Joe handed him the stick again and they began the process over. Joe was coaching him. “Easy and slowly pull on that, hand over hand. Slow down. You are almost there. You’ve got it.”

  He reached out his hand and pulled Scott up on semi hard ground. Scott smiled. “Thanks. I would have been a dead man without your help.”

  Joe smiled and said; “Now we’re even. You saved me from the wolves and I just returned the favor.”

  He continued, “Yes, this is a dangerous swamp. Now I can see how people come up missing, never to be found.”

  Retrieving the rifles, Joe said, “Wipe your hands off first. Scott was trying to fling the mud off his body, he even try shaking like a dog to get it off. He finally wiped his hands on some ferns. They could hear the pursuers about 100 yards behind them. They took off at a steady trot, going around the clearing to avoid the quicksand. Scott wished they had the time to circle around the quicksand and lure the men into the trap, but there wasn’t. They were easy to track now, because for the next half mile Scott was leaving pieces of mud all along the trail.

  Even though it was Indian Summer and a warm day for September, being in the 60s, Scott was cold and started shivering. They could see the land starting to rise up as the terrain was changing in elevation. They must be close to the road.

  Finally they found the road and ran to it. Ten men on horses were waiting there, with guns drawn. “Damn.” Joe thought, “After all of that, only to be caught because of an amateur mistake.”

  They both put their hands up and then heard a familiar voice. “Scott, Joe, is that you?”

  He looked into John’s eyes and burst out laughing.

  John said. “What in the hell happen to you two?”

  Scott said, “Let’s talk about it later. We still have a ton of men chasing us. We better get out of here.”

  Two of the men came up and offered a hand, lifting them onto the back of their horses, and they took off down the road. They were about ½ mile away when they stopped, and looking back, they saw the men coming out of the swamp and onto the road.

  John said, “You two must have really pissed them off to have so many chase so few for so long.”

  Joe said, “Yes, they have no sense of humor. What is going on with the trap?”

  John smiled and said, “We won. It’s all over. We can go collect more men and then clean up these last 50.”

  He assigned two men to recon and watch where these remaining troops went. They would be on foot, so Joe and Scott used their horses and rode back to the join the others.

  They were going to spend the night and then head off to Green Bay in the morning. Clint had already sent a team of men to grab the 105 and bring it to a meeting location on the way.

  Clint Said, “I want to thank you and your partner for the suggestion of taking the 105 away from the enemy. It has evened up the odds and put us in a much better position to fight them.”

  Joe said. “It just seemed like the logical thing to do. That 105 would have cut us all to ribbons so the only move we really had was to eith
er disable it or take it away from them. I just didn’t really think they would attempt something like that without us. We missed all the action and a lot of good men died getting it.”

  Clint said. “Yes, good men did die. That is the problem with war. Good men die right along with the bad men.”

  Joe nodded his head in agreement. They looked searchingly at each other, each one taking the measure of the man standing in front of them.

  Clint turned to Joe and said, “I don’t’ want to lose any more men fighting those last 50 guys, do you have any suggestions?”

  Joe jumped in, “Sure. Tell them it’s over. They lost and all of their army is dead. Tell them to drop their weapons and leave. Make them head south and tell them to never return.”

  Clint looked at him. “What if they think you are lying?”

  “Simple. We take the Lieutenant’s body and leave it in the road.”

  Looking at Scott and Joe, Clint nodded and said, “John will take care of it. You two go get clean up and get some rest because tomorrow we head to Green Bay and end this.”

  John took 100 men on horseback and caught up to the two men doing recon. They positioned themselves in front of the 50 men and would let them walk right into them. They broke up into small groups, setting up a quick ambush spots. They dragged a log on to the road and propped the dead Lieutenant up on it. The 50 men marched right in, and upon seeing their dead officer, stopped cold. John called out, “You are surrounded. Just give up. Your entire Army is dead. There has been enough killing so surrender now.”

  They answered with hot lead and the fight started. They thought they were only facing a small band of snipers. Then, without warning, 50 men on horses, with a man waving a black flag, charged down through the middle of them, killing every one of them to the last man. They lost five more men in the battle and had 13 wounded, but all of their enemies were dead.

  Later the next day, that crazy junkyard guy, Bob, showed up driving a semi-truck. He had Doc, Amy, Jane, and Joan, with him. Everyone stopped what they had been doing and stared. It was the first running vehicle they had seen since the EMP.