“Nice. They are usually sorta heavy though, I’ll probably need someone to drive one of these monstrosities,” Joel inclined his head towards their impromptu parking lot.
“Yup. You’ll be going with KB--that’d be Sergeant Kevin Bowersock. As soon as the 5-ton is empty, the two of you will head up to Madison. Your point about the portable sawmill was well taken. Top said to get as many as you could, literally. She figured they would have at least one of the big band saw varieties and hoped for several of the chainsaw clamp-on type. Top likes New Yankee Workshop, too.”
They were walking away from the main group, where Kyle had found Joel and Eric. “He’ll be authorized to sign the requisition forms which I’ll have ready by the time you take off. There’s actually a list of things to get since you’re going. No reason to waste a trip; and it’s a big truck.” At this point Ramirez--because Joel couldn’t think of him as Kyle for some reason--looked almost uncomfortable.
“Mr. Taylor, how comfortable are you with handguns?” Ah, that’s why, Joel thought to himself.
“Very. You apparently haven’t looked in the Suburban. I’ve been around all kinds of firearms all my life. I’m as comfortable as can be, I would suspect. What handgun specifically are you asking about? Semi-automatic or revolver? Model 1911, like what you’re wearing?”
“Yes sir, exactly like what I’m wearing as a matter of fact. How familiar are you with that?”
“Come with me if you would, and I can show you.” Joel motioned to Kyle--as he felt like Kyle once again--to follow him to the Suburban.
He opened up the back and pulled out a locked case. From inside he pulled out another, smaller, locked case. From inside of that he pulled out his grandfather’s Colt .45 Model 1911-A1 Semi-Automatic Government Issue sidearm. This one had been issued to his grandfather upon entering the European theatre during WWII and was documented as having been destroyed upon his exit of same.
As a matter of fact, his grandfather had been instructed to throw it onto the ground in front of a steamroller to become part of the base of a road on his way out of Germany. Like all good soldiers, he had responded with something along the lines of “Sir, yes sir!” or “Roger, out!” or some such, and proceeded to not only ignore the patently absurd order, but to bend down and pick up another one of the perfectly good side arms that had already been discarded.
This particular .45 was all original, including the barrel and recoil spring. It was Joel’s pride and joy. It was the first firearm he’d ever owned or fired, having literally knocked him on his butt at the age of eight, and he loved to tell the story behind it. He was sure he would get the chance to tell Kyle at some point but instead he proved how comfortable he was by ejecting the magazine, clearing the chamber, locking the slide back, ensuring it was safe, and handing it to Kyle.
For his part, Kyle was impressed with how well Joel handled the weapon. That alone didn’t necessarily mean anything but it certainly meant that it wasn’t the first time Joel had picked it up. Then when Joel handed it to Kyle, he was forced to take note of the GI stamp on it. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the serial number. He set Joel’s .45 down on the tailgate, removed his own--which also happened to be a Colt, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered--and proceeded to clear his own weapon and check his own serial number.
“Joel, how old is this?”
“Circa WWII. Actually, it was manufactured in 1936. It’s an actual Colt too, not a Springfield or a Singer.”
“How many rounds have you put through it?” Kyle asked as he put his own sidearm away.
“Me, personally? I’ve put probably 5,000 through it, myself. I should probably replace the barrel but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s original.”
“Oooookaaaay. I guess I was worried about nothing then. I’ll just be getting you a holster.” Kyle shook his head. “Here I was all concerned about sending you out there, yes it’s just day three, blah blah blah, but I was still concerned. If you’ve put that many rounds through it I assume you have a decent fifteen-meter score?”
“Yeah, seven rounds only leaves four holes in the paper and you can’t see the X anymore.”
“I swear I worry about the dumbest things. There’s really no good reason other than continuity but you’re wearing BDUs so let’s keep the uniform complete. Let me get you that holster.” Kyle returned his own weapon to his holster and trotted off to where some of the supplies were being sorted.
“Joel, that is probably the closest I have ever seen Kyle come to picking his jaw up off the floor. The whole silent treatment, no story behind it like you did with me, the whole thing. Very nicely done, man--way cool. He will want to know the story now too, by the way. He’ll appreciate it. His grandfather was over there as well, so it means a lot to hear about it from other guys.”
…
It was almost another hour before the 5-ton truck was done being unloaded, but true to his word, as soon as it was finished Joel and KB were on their way. Thirty seconds into the ride Joel had determined that the 5-ton was not designed to be driven empty for long periods of time over rough terrain.
“I can’t imagine being in the back right now,” Joel commented.
“I don’t have to imagine and I am very glad to have this incredibly uncomfortable canvas seat. Those teak slats suck. So, how’d you get drafted for this? Top rig the straw draw?” KB asked.
“Sounds like she has a reputation for doing that. Yeah, I think that’s what happened. I mentioned that I was pretty sure I knew where we could find a portable sawmill and I was a fan of the New Yankee Workshop. I think that sealed my fate.”
“Oh yeah, you were doomed as soon as you opened your mouth. I don’t mean that in a bad way, don’t get me wrong. I think the world of Top. Lucky to have her. Any Platoon Sergeant or higher that doesn’t rig the outcome their way isn’t worth their salt either.”
“Nope, Top, she’s #1. What she says goes. Sure we’ve got the LT and the Cap’n, usually, but everything gets filtered through the First Sergeant and from there to the Platoon Sergeants and on down. If it got to us, it came through her and if it came through her it was worth making its way down. She won’t let it through unless it needs to get through, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I think I do. It actually makes a lot of sense. What I wouldn’t have given to have a boss like that most of my career,” Joel mused.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of active stupid that works its way around Top. I just meant the important stuff. And in my day job…don’t get me started.”
They were just turning onto the highway, and Joel was looking forward to a flat surface to drive on. “So, what else do they want us to pick up besides the portable sawmills?”
“Tools mostly, and concrete if they’ve got it, which I sure hope they will. I’m authorized to requisition whatever I feel is in the best interest of the U.S. Army and the U.S. Government and I’ve got a whole passel of forms I can leave with anyone who might be there. Assuming the lights eventually come back on--and I think they will--they’ll even get paid for whatever we take, with interest.
…
When Joel and Kevin pulled into the parking lot they realized that they might actually have to wait in line. The parking lot was by no means crowded, but it wasn’t deserted either. It was amazing how many stores were--if not exactly open as usual--at least populated and doing business of a sort.
It took Kevin almost five minutes to find an employee, although nobody in any form of management had shown up that day, apparently, and it was already nearing closing time. He explained three times, using smaller and smaller words each time, what he needed and would be doing. Finally, after it was made clear that whatever Sergeant Bowersock needed, Sergeant Bowersock was taking, in the name of the U.S. Army--and not just because some dude in fatigues wanted to take some stuff--things started to roll.
“I didn’t want to have to kill him and put his dead body out front as a warning to others, I swear I didn’t, but man it was
a close thing there near the end!” Kevin shook his head as he neared the truck so they could move it around back and load their newly acquired items with the forklift.
Joel had stayed with the truck since the 60 was still mounted. Even though the ammunition was under lock and key, KB was still responsible for the rather expensive piece of hardware and had no intention of leaving it alone. He and Joel had swapped enough hunting stories on the way that he figured Joel could at least strike a menacing enough pose to keep people at bay; and if he heard a shot, he’d be back out before all eight rounds were fired…Joel had one in the pipe after all.
As luck would have it, there were five of the portable band-type sawmills in stock. They requisitioned a total of three, and all of replacement blades for the brand they were taking. They also got six more chainsaws, four dozen replacement chainsaw blades, ten clamp-on sawmills for the chainsaws, three dozen shovels, a dozen picks and a variety of saws, hammers, bolts, nails, screws and hinges. They had most of the hand tools already, but they also had more hands than they were used to. Having more tools meant getting some of the work done quicker.
“I really wish you guys had cement and cinder blocks.” Joel told the clerk who was helping them get everything sorted out.
“I can’t help you there, but I can help you with mixers. We just got a shipment of them in on Tuesday. If you get the premix, you’ll at least be able to mix it.”
“Outstanding. KB! Make sure we have room for a couple of cement mixers up there!” Joel shouted up to Kevin over the sound of some jerkoff squealing his tires in the road behind the store.
“Great! Super! Fabulous! I bet those will come in real handy once we get some CEMENT!” Kevin had really expected to find cement, but couldn’t hold it against them. After all, they were a Tool and Supply store, not a hardware store.
Joel chuckled, “I’m fairly sure he doesn’t hold you personally responsible. Then again, I’ve only known him for about two hours, so I’m not absolutely positive,” he told the clerk.
“Wonderful. I survived almost being run over by a band of looters when I showed up first thing this morning, and being threatened at gunpoint by ‘Peter the Great’, or whatever he was calling himself, earlier this afternoon. As long as he only yells at me, I think I’ll be ok.”
“Wait, what happened this morning?” Kevin was all business now.
“Well, I showed up for work--actually I showed up to grab some stuff, but I’m not going to go into that, ok? Anyway, I see this huge caravan in the parking lot and they’re trying to jimmy the gates open in back. They didn’t break any of the windows out front; I guess they didn’t want to attract any attention with broken glass.
“Everybody was still in their cars except for two guys from the first truck and when I yelled at them they jumped back into the truck and tried to run me down. The whole lot of them took off at that point, which I didn’t understand since I was just one guy. I went back to my car for about a half-an-hour to make sure they didn’t come back while I was inside by myself and then other folks--people I knew--started showing up and, well, it’s kinda been business as usual, sorta.”
“With maybe one possible exception, early this afternoon?” Kevin prompted.
“Actually, you guys make two exceptions, but yeah--I don’t usually have a gun pointed at me around lunchtime. Some dude comes screeching in here in a sweet ride, fully restored Mustang. I don’t know what year but it was smokin’. I don’t usually go in for the Ford Yellow but this one looked nice. He hops out and he’s got a pistol hanging halfway between his hip and his knee.
“This guy is so lit it’s not funny. There’s beer cans rolling around inside the car, and you can smell the hard liquor rolling off him in waves, and I sincerely doubt he’d been burning incense if you know what I mean. I honestly don’t know how he hadn’t wrapped himself around a telephone pole hours before, truly.
“But before I could smell the booze or see his bloodshot eyes, I made a smart remark about not shooting himself in the foot trying to draw that gun. Next thing I know I’m staring down the business end of whatever he was carrying--and it looked like Dirty Harry’s .44 Mag--trying to just keep my mouth shut. I figured I’d said about all I’d needed to say and by then I could see he was so lit that nothing I could do or say at that point would do any good anyway.” Steve, the clerk (based on his name badge), stopped for a few seconds and closed his eyes. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and he was visibly trying to calm himself down as he recalled the chain of events of a few hours ago. When he opened his eyes he was looking towards the parking lot…but seeing something that wasn’t there.
“So this guy, Peter the Great is what he called himself later, says ‘Dumb kid for having such a smart mouth,’ then he put the barrel of the gun to my forehead,” Steve closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.
“Steve, it’s ok, I think we got it,” Kevin said.
Steve went on like he hadn’t heard KB say anything, but kept his eyes closed, “I closed my eyes, and he said ‘Ask, no, beg Peter the Great to spare your life,’ and then he pulled back the hammer. Does a .44 Magnum click three times when you pull back the hammer, Mr. KB?”
“You can call me Kevin; and it depends on the make, son, but yes, it can.”
“Ok. Then I did the only thing I thought I could do. I begged for my life.” Steve said. “I didn’t move, but I begged that human shaped sack of crap for my life. I didn’t grovel, but I begged, and after what felt like a month the barrel wasn’t against my forehead anymore and I opened my eyes. Dick, I mean Peter, was standing there trying to get the gun back into his holster and once he’d succeeded he looked back up at me and said ‘Yup, smart kid, just needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.’ Then he walked into the store, grabbed who knows what and left.”
“I stood there the entire time trying not to piss all over myself and hoping he would just leave. He took off about ten minutes later. I figured I could either go home and have a complete breakdown or try to hold it together for a couple more hours and be around to be of help to some people…and then go get very drunk.”
Chapter Eighteen
KB shook his head. “Even New Orleans took three full days to begin to falling apart after Katrina. Ok, can you remember anything else about either the caravan this morning or this ‘Peter the Great’? I need to let higher know about what’s going on, and if there’s already folks running around like they own the place, well…”
“I didn’t get a real good look at the caravan folks but I remember that one of them had a birthmark on his face, um,the right side. He was a passenger in the truck. It looked like a footprint on his face.”
“It just gets better and better. I guess we weren’t the only ones to lie about where we were going,” Joel said.
“Ok, I’m lost. What have I missed?” Kevin asked.
“It’s a group we ran into yesterday morning,” Joel said. “The guy with the birthmark’s name is Earl, or at least that’s what one of the other guys called him. They said they were headed south and instead they came due north. Of course, we lied about heading east because we didn’t want to be anywhere near them. It’s a little bit of a story but the long and short of it is that the two we met gave everyone, especially the women, the creeps.”
“Ok, Steve, go on. Anything else about Pete?” KB asked.
“Not really, about 6 foot, sandy brown hair, stud earring in the left ear that looked like a lightning bolt. Pretty average really. Nothing really remarkable, sorry.” Steve said.
“Nothing to apologize for. Remembering anything about him at all is more than most people would have done, especially under the circumstances. Let’s finish up here, and head back. You going to be OK Steve, you have someone to go home to? You really need to not be alone for a couple days. Even roommates to get drunk with is better than being completely alone at this point.” Kevin didn’t want Steve to just freak out all by himself if he could help it.
“Yeah, I do. My girlfrien
d and I live together.” Steve said. “I think I’ll be OK.”
“Well, I’m not your dad. I can’t force you to do anything, but please trust me--today is going to stick with you for a while, a long while, so don’t try to downplay it.” KB said. “Don’t let it rule your life, but don’t underestimate the effect it’s had on you either.”
“I appreciate that, I really do. I’m sure I won’t know how much for a while.” Steve shook himself and looked at Kevin, “Ok, let’s get the portable cement mixers loaded.”
…
Once they got back on the road, Kevin called in to the Advance Area and reported to Sergeant Ramirez. “We don’t really have much on this Peter the Great and we don’t know anything about the folks Eric’s group met yesterday other than that they weirded everyone out. We do know it’s already hitting the fan, though. Over.”
“Roger that. I’m going to pull in Chuck, Eric, Sheri, Karen, and Rachael. I want to talk to all of them again about that group from yesterday. Report in to Top and I’ll debrief you and Joel when you get back, Ramirez out.”
It took five minutes to get the First Sergeant on the radio back at the Armory, as apparently she felt the need to get some sleep at some point in each forty-eight hour period. “I’ll have 1st Eng. bring a couple of 7-tons and pull-trailers when they pull out and have them make pit stops at the local big box stores. They usually have pallets of ready-mix cement and cinder blocks. I won’t have them waste weight on actual bricks. What I wouldn’t have given for an actual defensible position to begin with. How much of what we’re doing is going to look like empire building and our own little land grab--which technically it is?”
There was a pause while Mallory looked over something on her end.
“1st Engineering won’t be leaving until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. You’ll need time to finish at least minimally settling in and it doesn’t make sense to have them plan on the fly when we still have facilities we can use here. You’re going to have company tomorrow night, though. A little less than doubling what you’ve got now since almost everybody coming next is single or newly married. Far fewer dependents coming along this time.
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