Called to Arms Again: A Tribute to the Greatest Generation

by J. L. Salter

  Pete would anchor the middle with his deer rifle and twenty rounds of .308 ammo. He stationed himself behind Chet’s truck, though he figured to be on the move a lot. Next to him was Kelly with the paintball pistol, a rake, and Wade’s air horn. She would likely slide between the back of Chet’s truck and the front of Wade’s, depending on what the enemy was doing. She had extra protection from Leo’s Crown Victoria which was positioned on the forward side of that same junction, closest to the enemy.

  To Kelly’s right was Ashley with a shovel and then Diane with a stout hoe. Next was Chet with two partial boxes of blanks and his Garand, fixed with the sixteen-inch blade of a century-old bayonet. Because of the overlap of Leo’s Ford, Kelly, Ashley, Diane, and Chet were the only barricade defenders protected by the width of two vehicles.

  To Chet’s right was Isaiah with his .22 revolver and then Deaf Lyin’ Leo with a Garand and six live rounds. Behind the back of Wade’s truck, Leo represented the inside right end of the main vehicle barricade.

  Continuing south, Herb was posted about twenty-five feet away, just inside the east wall of Pete’s garage. This position gave the goat man great protection and a good view over the end of Wade’s trailer into the street. Herb had a working M-1 with ten rounds of live ammo.

  Stanley was posted to the far south, guarding the thick hedge and retaining wall at the southeast corner of Pete’s unit. Like Norm at the far north, Stanley had a Garand and seven rounds. Situated behind the deck at the side of Alice’s unit, Stanley couldn’t see anything or anyone associated with the street barricade. Interestingly, however, Stanley’s far south perch also afforded him a clear line view of the distant north end of Norm’s erosion rock bed.

  Like a good squad sergeant in the field, Pete moved up and down the line, checking on his troops and being certain each heard the final briefing: “If those trucks get real close and the dozer hasn’t moved up, everybody head to the ends and get behind these brick walls.” He pointed to condos which anchored each end of their line.

  Diane stopped him with a logical question. “How’s this barrier going to keep those guys from getting through?”

  “The barricade’s just to keep their trucks trapped. I figure the crooks will stay close to their transportation.” Pete stroked his chin briefly. “Plus, it gives us a little cover.”

  “But what keeps the gangsters themselves on the other side?”

  “Our guns and other weapons.” Pete nodded toward Diane’s garden implement.

  Kelly weighed in. “Why wouldn’t they just sprint up here and overrun our position?”

  “They don’t know our firepower — not yet anyway. Once they do, they’ll figure out they’ve got us trumped in almost every category.” Pete raised fingers as he listed. “They got more semiautomatic weapons and probably lots of ammo. Plus, they’ve got more mobility, better eyesight, et cetera.”

  “You said almost every category.” Kelly gulped slightly.

  “Yeah, I figure we’ve got them beat on experience.” Pete looked left and right along his line. “Some of these guys fought Nazis and some lived through Banzai charges. Art fought against North Koreans and Chinese. If you live through battles against those soldiers, a bunch of gang kids with purple bandanas aren’t quite so scary.”

  “Pete,” Kelly cleared her throat softly, “that was over six decades ago.”

  “I know. But none of these old coots has forgotten a single minute.”

  Irene was in the vicinity of this, and other, conversations. But at that moment she was preoccupied — she’d just remembered a tray of deviled eggs had been left out and fretted she would not get them refrigerated in time to save them.

  With Ashley between them, Diane positioned herself at the very front of Wade’s truck; Kelly was behind the very back of Chet’s.

  Kelly squirmed a bit. “I’m glad I didn’t wear my black skirt, but I sure wish these slacks weren’t so tight. I’d give twenty bucks for a pair of loose jeans and a tee shirt.”

  “Good thing you brought those flats to change into.” Diane pointed. “A barricade’s no place for sexy heels.”

  Both were looking out over the top of Leo’s powder blue sedan when Diane’s cell phone beeped in her pocket and she nearly jumped over the hood of Wade’s truck. “Holy Moly! Who’d be calling at a time like this?”

  Kelly grabbed her arm. “Answer it!”

  “It’s a voicemail.” She peered closely. “From about ten minutes ago, apparently. Don’t know why I didn’t hear it ring the first time.” Diane pressed the appropriate buttons and listened. “It’s from Joe.” Diane turned away slightly.

  “He remember something for the shopping list?”

  “Joe said he was giving his phone to Roger and for me not to worry.” Diane’s eyes filled.

  ****

  Opposing Force

  After hearing the earlier three shots, there was a brief pause in the enemy camp; then the break-ins had continued near the second big van and the stake-bed truck farther back. But as Dante’s haulers dropped off their loads and got word from Herve’s loaders about the barricade up the street, all their looting stopped.

  Hauler D15 brought Dante up to speed about the road being blocked. Slowly, cautiously, Dante approached, staying behind the nearer truck briefly, and then made his way up where the advance group was huddled on the side of the lane behind the front van.

  “What’s the hold up? We got a schedule, bro.” When he was agitated and stressed, Dante’s pock-marked complexion made his broad face look even more like a toad’s. “This section should’ve been cleaned out by now.”

  “We got us some vigi-tantes up there, man.” Herve pointed. “Unless you want to kill everybody, we got to clear them out the way.”

  Dante’s solution was straightforward. “Them is just old folks! All we got to do is break one of their canes and they cry like babies.”

  “Or if that don’t get it, I’ll break their legs.” Foss made that motion with his hand and pistol.

  Herve looked truly concerned, though not for the residents. “Don’t make this bloody, man. Just chase them off with a few bullets and let’s drive through that sideways parking lot they just started.”

  “My way’s quicker and I don’t like them old folks already. It don’t bother me to dust ‘em off.” Foss was pragmatic. “After you kill the first one, the rest’ll take off like skeered rabbits.”

  “Look, man, we get caught with them trucks and loads of stolen junk, and maybe we get a few months in jail, with probation, man.” Herve tried to keep things under control. “But you go beating up old dudes and maybe killing some, and we gonna be on death row, man. That ain’t part of my plan.”

  Foss’s face turned blotchy red. He waved his 9 mm on both sides of Herve’s head. “Don’t tell me what to do, Herve. If I wanna break a leg or bounce a few crusty skulls, that’s my business.”

  “You wave that gun in my face again and your business gonna be splattered on that street, man. We got a sweet job here,” Herve looked at his watch, “and another half hour to be done and gone, man. You screw around with this nursing home crowd and you’re gonna get us caught.” Herve turned.

  Foss made a menacing move but didn’t follow through.

  Herve’s body was as tense as the leaf spring on a half ton pickup carrying a two ton load. He turned back to Dante. “You need to think about loading all that stuff back there and us being out on the highway, man.”

  Dante looked like he agreed with Herve, but was afraid to cross Foss. The toad-faced lieutenant would rather not have to think about the barricade, but his six haulers were so transfixed by the blockage, they weren’t even looting the condos still completely accessible.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Wednesday at 1:50 p.m.

  As events were unfolding in the formerly quiet retirement area called the Community, the array of individuals represented anything but community… and things began happening all at once in four distant areas of that neighborhood.
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  ****

  Task Force Wade

  Roger checked his watch again. “So, Wade, when can we expect that first explosion?”

  “Well, five minutes from three minutes ago would be about two minutes. Unless…”

  Boom! The first homemade bomb sounded like the final blast of a public display for July Fourth, yet without any appreciable flash. Considerable smoke, however, from the area around the hay bales on the high part of the large, inclined, open expanse.

  Even though Wade’s Warriors had set the bombs and lit their fuses, the first blast still jarred them all. Joe flattened out and Roger went to his knees.

  Wade whistled. “Whoee! That was loud! Guess my fuse measuring went haywire somewheres. No telling when them puppies gonna bark.” He looked with pride at the column of smoke rising some fifty feet from the site.

  Joe spit out some grass and Roger dusted himself off a bit; both made their way quickly to the unfinished duplex at the west end of Cordial. Roger helped Joe move several boards into position so he could climb to the upper level.

  Wade’s new position, behind a small knoll, gave him and Roger excellent protection from the enemy but all they could see from that elevation were the tops of the Placid Lane duplexes to their north and east.

  Though it didn’t take long for Wade to finish setting up Vegge-zilla, much of that time was lining up the end of his pipe with the Henleys’ deck. Wade figured that trajectory would send his missiles right into the enemy’s lap.

  Setup and sighting-in was basically complete when Roger returned from helping Joe get situated in the observation post. “Got any plans for this thing?”

  “What you mean, plans? You already saw it farring at Henley’s.”

  “I meant like how it goes together.”

  “Oh, simple. This hose on that fitting. Crank up the generator, fill the air tank.” Wade’s fingers indicated everything named. “Aim it somewheres, load the sucker. Grip and rip.”

  “That’s about what I figured.”

  Wade gave him a look. “Just because it wasn’t in no book, you don’t like it?”

  “No, I’m not complaining.” Roger shook his head. “Just wondering if anybody else could operate it besides its inventor.”

  “Inventor. I like that. A minute ago, I was just the maker.” Wade cranked the gas generator on the first try, turned on his compressor, and air began hissing into the ten-gallon tank.

  Roger looked in the direction of the bombs near the hay bales. “What do you need from me?”

  “We’ll start with the taters. Just keep my ammo coming and tell me what Joe signals in.”

  ****

  Task Force Mitchell

  Down at the church parking lot along Winston Court, Mitch’s Marauders had dropped to a crouch when Wade’s first bomb exploded.

  “What the gee-gaw is that?” Steve had tensed.

  “Just a big charge of powder.” Mitch liked possessing useful information in this awkward situation. Even though he’d never actually heard one of the blasts before, he figured an acting task force leader would pretend not to be surprised. “It’s a diversion to keep the gangsters pinned down and make them think we have more strength.”

  “That sounded pretty strong.” Gary faced the direction it seemed to come from, but couldn’t see anything because of no-name-knob.

  “Any more of them?” Steve looked in all directions and pointed when he saw a plume of smoke vaguely northeast.

  “Tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Mitch wished he did, however. “With Wade, it’s more likely he’d have a dozen than just one.”

  Nobody responded but Steve nodded.

  Feeling rather isolated at the church parking lot with seven Legionnaires he’d never seen before, Mitch tried to buzz Pete on the walkie-talkie. No connection, just static.

  “Let me see.” Gary grabbed it. “Man, this is an old one. Bet it wouldn’t reach a full mile even on a flat meadow. Plus, that hill’s in the way.” Gary pointed. “These cheap little toys won’t transmit through earth, especially not with all the rocks we got around here. Maybe when you get on top of that knob.”

  “Well, I’m supposed to leave it with somebody here.” Mitch indicated the parking lot. “That’s part of Pete’s plan for Task Force Mitchell.”

  Steve rolled his eyes with more exaggeration than was necessary.

  “That’s what Pete named us. Wade suggested Mitch’s Marauders. Myself, I’d rather be at the barricade. Any questions?” He paused to scowl. “I’m supposed to leave a few here as a rear guard.” Mitch scrutinized the elderly men from the minivan. “Those three stay here, with this walkie-talkie. Not that it’s going to do much good. But you four and me — we head up there and get behind those gangsters.” Mitch wondered if he should frown a bit more.

  “Simple enough. Pile in.” Gary started toward his SUV.

  “Wait. I think we’re supposed to walk.” Mitch tried to scowl, but it probably just looked like minor panic. “Pete didn’t say anything about driving.”

  Steve got right in his face. “Look, dude. I don’t know what on earth you’re doing here, but we ain’t going to walk ‘til we get within range of where they could see the vehicle. Got it?”

  Gary’s version was slightly less tense. “My knee’s carrying shrapnel from ‘Nam. I don’t need any extra hikes. With these hills out here, we can drive a good ways before anybody at lower elevations can see us. You ride shotgun. When you spot the place they might could see us, we’ll walk from there. Okay?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “Give me the walkie-talkie.” Gary held out his hand. “I’ll go brief the old guys we’re leaving here.”

  “Okay. Sure.” Mitch was distracted. Partly because the plan was already falling apart and partly because he didn’t know what on earth he’d stumbled into. He began frowning again, but was unaware of it.

  All three designated guards got inside the minivan again and the driver backed up until he faced Whiskey Road, then left the engine running. Mitch could see one passenger was already trying to raise somebody on the walkie-talkie.

  The SUV’s back seat had Steve sandwiched between Elmer and Ralph. Or Ralph and Elmer. Not sure. After Gary got in the driver’s door, he looked at his four passengers. “Okay, let’s roll.”

  Mitch had wanted to say that.

  ****

  Barricade

  After the first bomb blast, everybody on the barricade had ducked except Deaf Lyin’ Leo, who just looked around. Once he saw everyone else crouching, he very stiffly assumed a similar position.

  “What was that?” Diane’s voice was a minor screech.

  Ashley looked like she wished she’d stayed in Richmond and gone to the mall.

  Kelly smiled. “That’s one of Wade’s experimental homemade bombs. Got more powder than a hand grenade, he said. Out here in the open it’s a lot louder than the ones that were buffered through Pop’s woods.”

  “Yikes.” Diane looked toward the direction of the sound. “Hope nobody gets too close.”

  “No worry. Doesn’t fragment. Just a real loud boom and a bunch of smoke.” Kelly also enjoyed possessing useful information.

  Pete spoke in the direction of Diane and Kelly, to his right. “After the mortar starts up and you get Lawrence on the horn, find out how many more explosions he’s got rigged.” He was pleased to note that Wade’s first bomb had flattened all the visible enemies like greasy pancakes. He thought he heard Baldy cursing loudly in threes, but Pete couldn’t make out the exact word. The robber nicknamed Chico crouched carefully. The thug who looked like a toad also squatted like a toad. Toady.

  Just when the barricade defenders had almost relaxed again — Whump! The start of the first Vegge-zilla barrage.

  Kelly called out, “Incoming! Everybody duck!”

  The first potato hit right in front of barricade and disintegrated with a surprisingly loud splat.

  Diane’s reaction was immediate: “Wow! I think even the skin exploded.”

/>   Pete shouted the obvious, “Short round!” Then he grabbed Kelly’s shoulder. “Get word back to Lawrence to lower that tube!”

  Reaching over Ashley, Kelly clutched Diane’s arm. “Call Joe’s cell. You two have the only working phones.”

  Diane dialed and waited a moment. She looked impatient, then distressed. Then, over Ashley’s head, she abruptly held out the phone to Kelly. “Not Joe. It’s somebody else.”

  Ashley looked like she’d rather be between any two other people on that barricade.

  Kelly held one hand over her other ear and spoke into the phone briefly, then addressed Diane. “Joe left his phone with Roger. Remember?” Then Kelly returned her attention to the phone. “First round was short. Repeat, short. Very short, we almost got splattered. Forward about a hundred-fifty feet. One-five-oh feet.” She flipped the phone shut and handed it back.

  Diane’s mouth hung open briefly. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

  Kelly tried not to smile. “Mitch sometimes rents war movies.”

  “You like war movies?”

  “Not really. But I like watching stuff with Mitch.” Kelly looked toward the trucks and gangsters. “However, this afternoon, I’m quickly growing to appreciate his war flicks.”

  “Here, you keep this for now.” Diane handed the phone back. “I don’t think I can talk that way.”

  Ashley rolled her eyes and clutched her shovel handle even tighter.

  After a few seconds, the second potato went slightly farther, but crashed through Helen’s garage window, shattering the visible glass and also obviously smashing something breakable inside her garage.

  Pete motioned to Kelly, who made the call to Roger. “Second round was still too short. Repeat, still too short. Caused friendly collateral damage. Forward about a hundred feet. One-oh-oh feet.” Kelly wondered what the conversation was like between Roger and Wade.