The Battles of Rock Harbor

by J. B. Craig

  Greg pointed out that everyone’s primary responsibility was to stay alive, and that they should NOT pool their own personal items, and supplies. There would be no seizure of personal property for those who were present on the island. Those who had prepared better should not have their goods taken by those that didn’t, “like that puke Tripp”, he added gratuitously. That got a few laughs, and the group also agreed that goods in empty houses were best handled as community property going forward.

  Greg and Jennifer had a decision to make about the goods that he had already scavenged, as did the Hondurans. Was that “early bird gets the worm” prepping, and thus not community property? He was not going to decide for anyone else but decided to talk with Jennifer after the meeting. After all, she had her own baby to feed.

  Greg also saw, in the eyes of some residents, the lack of hope they had. They put on brave faces, but he noticed that those who went to Doc for the insulin and heart medicine knew that they didn’t have a lot of happy hours to attend, without more medicine. With the nearest pharmacy over 30 miles away, and probably already looted, Greg tried to give comfort as he could. He couldn’t make new medicine, but he could keep them as comfortable, social, and happy as possible while they had medicine. He felt like he would be giving more than his fair share of last rites in the next few months.

  Speaking of last rites. At least 2 members from the community were not present, but accounted for. One man died when the lights went out. Greg suspected that he had a pacemaker that went dead with all other electronics. Another woman died, and her husband had buried her, and was mourning. Dead was dead, and debating the reasons didn’t add any value. Greg was going to make a point to visit both the widow and widower tomorrow, to send his condolences, and get them caught up with the community teams. Maybe they’d want to help. Sometimes grief needed an outlet in the form of work, and sometimes it needed someone to talk to about the big picture, spiritually speaking.

  Greg was, technically, clergy. He had some friends who wanted to be married by him, and so he sent off for his certificate. While not specifically a religious man, he was very spiritual. After his time in the Desert, he had studied several religions looking for peace, and decided that there were good things to say about many of them. He understood that each religion did good and bad things in its name and understood that they all had similar roots. He was comfortable in the cardinal rule – do unto others – regardless of the religion that it came from. An “eye for an eye” was, to him, just an interpretation of the same principle. Some of his friends back in Georgia called him “Reverend Greg”, and most knew that he tried his best to be a good man, although every man is a sinner. If asked, he would say that he was agnostic, leaning towards Taoism. Something powerful started the universes, but he had the humility to not ever be able to understand what IT was. He just tried to do the right thing, when possible.

  Greg also knew that he had just under 3 months to get his blood pressure under control. He hoped that a mostly seafood and Kudzu diet would force him to lose weight and get that blood pressure down naturally. He tried it about a year ago as part of his survival and prepper studies. The Kudzu wasn’t tasty, and the texture was like cardboard on the larger leaves. That said, it was roughage, and had some vitamin content making it worth the chewing – in a pinch. He wondered if they could make “greens” out of kudzu, like mustard or turnip greens were made more edible. The roots were supposed to be starchy, and could be dried and pounded out flat, creating a semi-flour type substance that could be used to coat and fry fish, for example.

  He also knew that a very limited amount of alcohol on the island meant he wouldn’t be working on his “beer belly”, which would help, although he had worries about what a lack of alcohol might do to a man who drank steadily since leaving the Army. His PTSD was going to come back and bite him at bedtime when he ran out of alcohol. Getting to sleep at night would be a problem for another day. Today was about surviving tomorrow.

  Finally, Jennifer was nominated to be the Chief of education, as there were a handful of children on the Peninsula. She was thrilled to have more playmates for her daughter. Kim offered to help her when first aid wasn’t needed. Jennifer offered up her home to be day care for the children, and various citizens offered to teach whatever knowledge they had, from gardening to knot-tying to Math, from Kim, who had a knack for it.

  The only awkward part of the evening was when Jennifer mentioned that she would be moving into the guest room in Greg’s house. Carlos tried to high-five Greg, but he was waved off. There was some talk among those that knew that she was married to Mike, the police officer, but Greg and Jennifer assured them that it was not like that. They were both expecting their spouses to show up any day now. They explained that until a security rotation was set up, and defenses could be built, every house, or group of houses should consider defensive watches. Bill and Chet noted that neither of them really slept for more than a few hours any longer and would alternate guard duty at the community entry. Bill said, “if you hear gunshots, come running with more guns.” He really didn’t seem very stressed about the duty.

  Regarding people showing up, Chief Willy and his band of firefighters showed up that evening and were encouraged to move into a few houses by the community center. They brought their own stash of food and equipment, including a wagon with an old hand-powered water pump. This could be used for pulling water from the harbor to wherever they needed to put out fires. They also were offered some of the BBQ feast, which they enjoyed very much. The Harbor now had its own fire department.

  Teaching the Hondurans, and the defense team Sign Language.

  The next day brought more scavenging of the local houses, and dropping off the goods to Ethyl, who had taken over the community center as the community food bank. Greg intended to talk about that scavenging and food storage situation, because the center was located at the front of the community, closest to any threats coming from the mainland. On the other side, it had a huge propane tank and working industrial ovens, since they were installed when the center was built. Greg thought the supplies should be cached in a more non-descript house, hopefully located farthest from potential threats, but considered that threats could come by sea, so decided not to create debate in the group without a strong solution in his pocket. In his years as a non-profit executive, his one rule around problem solving was that if his team brought him a problem, they had to bring at least 2 solutions, and one recommendation. He might not take the recommendation, but he would talk about theirs, and then tell them what he thought the solution might be, for consideration.

  The community members who came to the center for meals, planned for 6am and 6pm every day seemed to gradually embrace the scavenging of food a bit more than at the first meeting. Greg had a clear majority of people on his side on that topic. Closed freezers in vacant houses, especially those with lots of ice, or larger cuts of meat yielded another day’s worth of bounty for a community BBQ, planned for the evening. True to her word, Ethyl had a smokehouse sent up to preserve the rest of the cuts of meat. She salted others that she thought would be better preserved that way, based on the knowledge gained from her own grandmother, who raised her in the ways of the old world.

  At the meeting that night, each Chief briefed on progress, and most of the community joined at least one team. Some, because of their skill set, joined a few. Greg focused on security, and arranged that the veterans, and most of the Hondurans, Nellie, the firefighters and some of the residents would be on his team, even if some were on other teams. They decided that training would start tomorrow morning, but tonight’s watch list was set up, with two guards at the entrance to the community, one across the harbor overlooking the Potomac, and one on the peninsula’s tip, in the Osprey’s nest. The second guard needed to be young and fit, as they would act as a runner. They didn’t have a good communication solution at this time, other than running and banging on doors, but Greg was thinking through a better way to get the word of danger out to the
Rock Army. There was a ships bell, a souvenir from Pop’s time in Pearl Harbor, hanging on the back deck, and another one across the harbor attached to a piling on a dock going into the Potomac. He suspected there were more around this mostly-retired naval community. He could send an alarm if there was an attack by sea, but needed to come up with something for the front guards.

  Tripp was conspicuously absent that evening, but Greg noticed that many from the community who were hesitant last night were more involved, helping and joining teams. It seemed that another day with no electricity drove the point home. Several weapons, presumably scavenged by some, were brought to the center and distributed to the security team. Greg made sure that people were not giving up their own home defense weapons, as he suggested that each house should have one weapon per person. The few houses that didn’t have one were “issued” one of the lower rate of fire, short-range weapons, like revolvers or pump shot guns. Giving unarmed citizens weapons shifted a few more to Greg’s team. He just asked that if they heard one of the bells ringing repeatedly, that they would show up at the community center for instructions, if able.

  Samuel reported that he got his boat running, and crossed the Potomac, only to find that friends of his over there reported the same situation. No lights, no power, no military or police presence to speak of, and scattered gunshots, which mostly ended up being suicides among the elderly or sick.

  The night was uneventful, and the “Army”, along with those issued new weapons, met at Greg’s house to receive some initial training at dawn. The morning was spent ensuring that the army of 16, plus a handful of non-gun owners understood the functionality of the weapons available to the team. Because half of his Army were Hondurans, Greg decided that sign language would be easier to communicate than teaching Spanish to the English-speakers, or vice versa. Greg’s dad was deaf, and he saw many advantages to the Army language being sign language, but he joked that it didn’t work so well over the radio.

  He started with teaching numbers. In American Sign Language, or ASL, all numbers up to 100 could be communicated with one hand, and 2 motions. Numbers from 1 to 19 could be communicated with one hand and one motion. The first number that was not normal to hearing people was 3. To most Americans, communicating the number 3 consisted of putting your pinkie to thumb with the 3 middle fingers up, creating 3 digits. The problem is that configuration is the number 6. To sign the number 3, the pinky and ring finger go down, with the thumb sticking out, along with the next 2 fingers.

  4 and 5 are normal, but 6 is putting the pinky to thumb (a traditional American “3”). 7 is putting the ring finger to thumb. 8 and 9 are the next 2 fingers on the hand. So pinky to thumb equals 6, ring finger is 7, middle finger to thumb is 8, index is nine, and a thumb straight up over a closed fist, and wiggling is 10.

  The teens are similar, with 11 being the 1 (index finger) extending and retracting, like the universal “come here” sign, but with the back of the hand to the person you needed to communicate the number to. 12 is 2 fingers, pointing up and down, with the back of the hand out. 13 is the thumb, index and middle finger (the number 3 in ASL), but with the non-thumb fingers pointing up and down. 14 through 19 are the same. Sign the number, then wiggle the fingers up and down.

  Greg continued to explain how to count to 100, which was mostly lather, rinse, repeat, but doing 2 numbers. 23 would be the 2, then the 3, 99 would be the 9 (it looks like “OK”), and then doing it again. Greg knew that if over 99 enemies came at the Rock Army, they would be overwhelmed, as traditional military calculations for a successful defense were based on 3 to 1. For every 3 attackers, 1 defender, on average, could hold a well-defended position.

  Greg spent the rest of the day teaching the signs for enemy infantry (guys walking with guns), flanking (either you are being hit from the side, or you are doing the flanking), heavy weapons like machine guns and “technicals” (heavy weapons on a pick-up truck) and armor, which he hoped he would not have his army face.

  He then taught structural sign language, like houses, roads, trees, water, boats and other things that he could see in the community. By the end of the day, with quizzes throughout, Greg felt like the Army could effectively communicate what they saw silently. One of the advantages of ASL is that you could talk across a crowded and large room and talk to your partner without noise or distance (to at least 30 feet or more, depending on eyesight and the sign) interfering with the communication. The down-side is that it doesn’t work so well in the dark.

  Greg’s wife Leigh had a favorite sign: “home”, all fingertip closed together, and touched to the cheek, like “the place where you get kissed on the cheek.” Leigh would sign “home” to Greg when they were at a party, and she wanted to go home without being the one to decide that “it’s time to go”. Greg was usually pretty good at giving excuses for going home, and usually ended it with an allusion to something subtly veiled in sex-talk, which Leigh would never do.

  Greg asked about bells, and the guys said that they knew of at least 5 around the peninsula. They had clearly been scavenging and knew the area. The team agreed to move one to the entrance of the community, and one on the deck of the Honduran’s home, as it had a good view of the water on the other side of the tennis-racquet shape peninsula. They agreed to use them sparingly, as their presence would be communicated across several bodies of water. One ring would indicate approaching people of unknown danger. 2 would be a group approaching. 3 would mean several armed individuals approaching, and a continuous ring would mean an attack. With the placement of these bells, they could guard against approach from both the Nomini and Potomac, within Rock harbor, as well as a frontal assault from the mainland, or up the handle of the tennis racquet.

  As the training went on, Angel clearly established himself as Greg’s second-in-command. His English was good enough, and he reminded Greg of every First Sergeant Greg ever served under. His 5’2” frame would puff up when he needed someone to pay attention. He got loud and intimidating when one of their “Privates” needed to listen better, or behaved in a way that deserved a little discipline. One trick he had was cussing them out in Spanish, then saying something like “Do you understand me, Private?!” The Army didn’t have enough bullets to do target practice, but they did do some dry-firing, with coins on the round-barrel weapons. Those soldiers who jerked the trigger, instead of squeezing, would have the coin fall off. The first time any of these soldiers fired any of the rifles might be while in combat, under stress. The muscle memory of drilling with a slow, deliberate stroke of the trigger would come in handy. This exercise would happen every day until all of the Rock Army Soldiers could easily load, aim and dry-fire their long guns.

  Pistol training, especially with square-framed guns was not effective with the coin. Greg and a few other experienced shooters would stand behind the shooter, to see if they were nearly on target. Then they would, after being sure the weapon wasn’t loaded, would stand on the pointy-end of the gun, and see if the view down the barrel was about right. Until one stands on the other end of a barrel, and sees how big a 9mm, or a .45 beast’s aperture was they couldn’t really understand what might be thrown at them.

  While it broke the first rule of firearm safety – namely, don’t point your pistol at anything you don’t intend to shoot and/or kill, it was a learning experience for the leaders of the Rock Army. Angel pointed out that after the first time he looked at someone pointing a pistol at him, and after his butt un-clenched, he thought the privates in the Army should experience it.

  Angel pointed out that if the instructors could tell if a pistol was aimed at them correctly, it might help the privates understand whether they needed to duck, or not. If someone was randomly pointing a gun over a stump, the soldier on the other side would know if they were about to get shot, or if they could take careful aim when the aggressor was brave enough to lift their head. There were several flaws in this theory, but Greg and Angel agreed that knowing what a weapon pointing at their soldiers felt like, so that the
first time it was pointed at them, they didn’t clench up, like Angel did the first time.

  The last part of the day was spent on when a pistol was OK to use, and when it was a waste of time. It was explained that most of these soldiers wouldn’t need to fire a pistol, unless needing to give cover-fire, as it would only be effective at 15-20 yards maximum, for good shots. In most sudden combat situations, a sidearm was just a tool to use to get to your rifle, if the rifle is not being carried. Rifles are often piled up or stashed by a door, and pistols could throw enough lead to keep the attacker’s head down and assist the shooter to get to the rifle.

  Pistols also are decent in structure clearing situations, where the rapid fire of the pistol, combined with the short barrel for slicing off angles of a corner, would help keep the pistol-wielder safe. Approaching a corner was trained into the Army. You would keep your pistol back from the corner, and have the pistol, and your one shooting eye slice, or “pie” around the corner. It was much safer than just jumping out from the corner and opening your whole body to incoming fire aimed at your center of mass. It was also a much better tactic to help one surprise a guard in a hallway, for example.