299 Days VIII: The War

by Glen Tate

  299 Days VIII: The War

  by

  Glen Tate

  Book Eight in the ten book 299 Days series.

  Your Survival Library

  www.PrepperPress.com

  299 Days VIII: The War

  Copyright © 2014 by Glen Tate

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Prepper Press Trade Paperback Edition: March 2014

  Prepper Press is a division of Kennebec Publishing, LLC

  - To the real Team. Few men, especially civilians, ever get to know what it is like to be in a band of brothers. Very few ever get to experience knowing that you will die for a brother and that he will die for you. I have been given this extremely rare honor and will treasure it my entire life. I thank God for putting these men in my life.

  This ten-book series follows Grant Matson and others as they navigate through a partial collapse of society. Set in Washington State, this series depicts the conflicting worlds of preppers, those who don't understand them, and those who fear and resent them.

  The War is the eighth book in the 299 Days series

  For many people at Pierce Point and the rest of Washington State, the upcoming New Year is a time for hope, and belief that life is going to improve and the Collapse will end. For Grant Matson and the 17th Irregulars, the New Year means only one thing – war. The time has come, and they have received their orders from HQ. Grant must come clean with Lisa and tell her the truth about his work as he plans to abandon his family once again.

  While the Loyalists drunkenly and selfishly celebrate New Year’s Eve, the Patriots mount a surprise attack on Frederickson, making way for the 17th Irregulars to move toward Olympia. As the battle moves on, the men quickly realize the importance of everything they have been training for when they find themselves ambushed. Doing everything he can to suppress his own fear and lead the 17th Irregulars, Grant motivates them to persevere as they fight for liberty and restoring the country to the greatness it once was.

  Books from the 299 Days series published to date:

  Book One – 299 Days: The Preparation

  Book Two – 299 Days: The Collapse

  Book Three – 299 Days: The Community

  Book Four – 299 Days: The Stronghold

  Book Five – 299 Days: The Visitors

  Book Six – 299 Days: The 17th Irregulars

  Book Seven – 299 Days: The Change of Seasons

  Book Eight – 299 Days: The War

  For more about this series, free bonus chapters, and to be notified about

  future releases, please visit www.299days.com.

  About the Author:

  Glen Tate has a front row seat to the corruption in government and writes the 299 Days series from his first-hand observations of why a collapse is coming and predictions on how it will unfold. Much like the main character in the series, Grant Matson, the author grew up in a rural and remote part of Washington State. He is now a forty-something resident of Olympia, Washington, and is a very active prepper. “Glen” keeps his real identity a secret so he won’t lose his job because, in his line of work, being a prepper and questioning the motives of the government is not appreciated.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 251

  HVT

  Chapter 252

  Tet

  Chapter 253

  A Predictable Mission

  Chapter 254

  Collapse Christmas at Camp Murray

  Chapter 255

  Todd & Chloe Part II

  Chapter 256

  Winter Solstice in Seattle

  Chapter 257

  Christmas Moonshine in Forks

  Chapter 258

  Christmas at Prosser Farm

  Chapter 259

  Collapse Christmas in Olympia

  Chapter 260

  Be Careful What You Wish For

  Chapter 261

  Christmas Dinner at Marion Farm

  Chapter 262

  Rules of Engagement

  Chapter 263

  Padre Pete

  Chapter 264

  Telling Lisa

  Chapter 265

  “Are You Going to Put Bad Guys in Jail?”

  Chapter 266

  A Soldier Now

  Chapter 267

  A New Year Under New Management

  Chapter 268

  Redemption Time

  Chapter 269

  Strap It On

  Chapter 270

  Blowout New Year’s Eve Party

  Chapter 271

  New Year’s Fireworks

  Chapter 272

  Everything Can Change on a New Year’s Day

  Chapter 273

  The Clear Out Crew

  Chapter 274

  “There’s a New Sheriff in Town”

  Chapter 275

  “Good Evening, Officer”

  Chapter 276

  “Let’s Go to Work”

  Chapter 277

  “We Got It From Here”

  Chapter 278

  The Lake Isabella Boys

  Chapter 279

  Casualties

  Chapter 280

  Combat Cheeseburger

  Chapter 281

  The New Scouts

  Chapter 282

  Road Trip

  Chapter 283

  Pumpkin Pie … with Whipped Cream

  Chapter 284

  “Reconciliation Starts Today”

  Chapter 285

  Meanwhile, In Olympia

  Chapter 286

  Mr. Shipley

  Chapter 287

  “We’re Winning!”

  Chapter 288

  HVT on Film

  Chapter 289

  Survival of the Scaredest

  Chapter 290

  Thirty Pieces of Silver

  Chapter 251

  HVT

  (December 17)

  “We’re hit!” screamed helicopter co-pilot, Lt. Francisco “Paco” Mendez, into the radio. “AC shot!” he said, referring to the aircraft commander, Nedderman, who was slumped over in the pilot’s seat to the right of Mendez.

  “Small arms fire!” Mendez screamed some more. By now, eight military, contractor-looking soldiers had swarmed the helicopter. Mendez looked at one of them through the helicopter’s windshield and gripped his pistol. He was terrified.

  The soldier came up to the windshield and flashed Mendez seven fingers, followed by a fist, and then two fingers. This was the code they used to identify themselves as friendlies and proceed with the mission as planned. Mendez sighed in relief. He was 99% sure he knew who these soldiers were, and that shooting Nedderman had been necessary, but he was glad to know for certain.

  Mendez motioned for the soldiers, or contractors, or whoever they were, to get into the helicopter. As they poured into the helicopter, Mendez got back on the radio. He called in his location, standard operating procedure for when an aircraft was hit.

  “I’m getting the hell out of here,” he screamed into the radio.

  “Go! Go! Go!” someone screamed on the radio in a panic.

  The apparent team leader, who was the first in the helicopter, got on the helicopter’s intercom and said, “You’re going to St. Pete’s Hospital.”

  “Really?” asked Mendez. He wondered if this was to get Nedderman medical care, although Nedderman was supposed to be shot in this mission.

  “Yes. Trust me,” the team leader said. “Seven, zero, two, bro, 7-0-2.” That meant that this was the ultimate destination for the pick-up, as called for by mission number 702. Mendez had been told that the pick-up location would not be disclosed until they were in-flight.

  Mendez wondered why they would steal a Blac
khawk helicopter and shoot the lead pilot, just to go to a hospital. He wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

  “Bearing is 230,” the team leader said into the intercom, telling Mendez which direction to go to get to the hospital.

  “They have a helo pad?” Mendez asked, suspecting that the hospital probably did.

  “Affirmative,” the team leader said. They flew in silence for about thirty seconds.

  “Tell the TOC,” the team leader said, referring the Tactical Operations Center back at Camp Murray, “that you’re getting the pilot to the hospital. Leave it vague.”

  Mendez got on the radio to the TOC and said, “I’m taking Kevin to the hospital,” he said, using Nedderman’s first name to make it seem like they were close friends and on the same side.

  “Do it,” the scared voice from the TOC said.

  “Tell them it’s St. Pete’s and that you’ll land on the roof,” the team leader said into the intercom. Mendez followed orders.

  “What’s going to happen at the hospital?” Mendez asked into the intercom, double checking that he was talking on the intercom and not the open channels that could be heard by the TOC.

  “We’re going to drop off your pilot,” the team leader said, “And pick someone up.”

  “Why?” Mendez asked, realizing he didn’t need to know that now.

  “HVT,” the soldier said, meaning a “high-value target.”

  “Just our luck,” he continued, “an HVT is at the hospital and we have a great reason to land a helicopter on the roof. Pretty cool, huh?”

  Then Mendez remembered what the team leader said when he first got into the helicopter: they were going to “see the Attorney General.” That must be the HVT.

  “Okay,” replied the team leader as they approached the hospital’s roof and prepared to land. “Don’t leave without ten guys: the eight of us, the HVT, and another guy.”

  “Copy,” Mendez said.

  “We’ll take the pilot out and into the hospital, and then, once we’re in there, we’ll go get the HVT,” the team leader said. “If anyone asks why you have eight guys on board that you didn’t report, tell them that you were freaked out by the pilot getting shot.”

  “Roger that,” Mendez said.

  “TOC,” Mendez said into the open channels, “ETA to hospital is one minute. Tell them we’re coming.”

  “Copy,” said the TOC radio operator, who then realized Mendez had said “we” were coming. “How many you got on board?” she asked.

  “Kevin and some operators who were at the landing site and taking fire,” Mendez answered.

  “Proceed,” she said.

  “Now the hospital won’t be surprised to see us,” the team leader said on the intercom. “Nice.” That would mean a lower chance of having to shoot innocent hospital staff when they were in there.

  Mendez had never landed on this particular helo pad. He was a good pilot, but every landing on an unfamiliar surface required total concentration.

  As soon as they touched down, the soldiers got out and were met by hospital medics with a gurney. The soldiers removed Nedderman out of the pilot’s chair and made it look like they were rendering first aid.

  The hospital staff did not have any security. Why would they need it? This was a Loyalist helicopter making an emergency landing at a Loyalist hospital. Camp Murray had radioed in and told the hospital to expect several soldiers in the helicopter, so no one was alarmed that eight extremely well-armed operators were now entering the hospital.

  As soon as the operators were inside, the team leader found the stairs and went down to the sixth floor, with his seven teammates right behind him. They quickly found Room 612.

  They walked down the hall and past the nurse’s station. No one even looked up. The operators looked right at home there. St. Pete’s often had soldiers and contractors milling around.

  The team leader knocked on the door to Room 612 and said, “Trigger?”

  “Seven, zero, two,” a male voice said from behind the door.

  The team leader pointed to two operators and motioned that they stand guard at the door. Another two took up a nonchalant position facing the elevator. The four remaining operators went into the room.

  When they walked in, they found Roy “Trigger” Chopping holding a pistol on a small, well-dressed man with duct tape over his mouth.

  “Mr. Attorney General,” Roy said to the well-dressed man, “your ride is here.”

  The team leader motioned for the medic on his team to approach the Washington State Attorney General. The little man in the suit was terrified, but couldn’t scream because of the duct tape.

  “Sir,” the team leader said to the Attorney. “Don’t make me do this,” as he made a fist. The Attorney General tried to run away. The team leader grabbed him and punched him in the face. The Attorney General dropped to the ground.

  One of the operators took a big, body-length bag out of his backpack and another operator helped him unfurl it. They gently put the Attorney General inside and hoisted him up on their shoulders.

  “Let’s boogie,” the team leader said and motioned for Roy to join them, which he did and then they all left the room.

  Before they left, an operator in the room knocked three times on the door to let the two standing guard outside know that they were coming out.

  The operators walked calmly out of the room with a heavy bag on the shoulders of two of them. It didn’t look out of the ordinary. Soldiers carried heavy things all the time, especially during wartime and in the state capitol hospital that catered to the VIPs in state government.

  Roy, a former NYPD detective who moved to Washington State for a job in the Attorney General’s office as an investigator, felt a surprising calm wash over him. Not only was he calm – he had done years of undercover work and been in some extremely dangerous situations – but he was actually enjoying himself. He was so at ease that he even winked at the pretty nurse at the nurse station as he walked by. Roy’s sense of calm was contagious; the team leader started whistling a song like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  They took the stairs up to the roof, which was locked. That was the one thing they hadn’t planned for. Someone should have noticed that when they came down the stairs from the helo pad, but that detail had been missed.

  “Shit,” the team leader said.

  “I got it,” Roy said as he went back down the stairs and to the nurse’s station.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said in a New York accent, “My security detail needs to get back in a helicopter that’s on the roof, burning a gallon of very expensive fuel every few seconds it’s sitting there. The roof door is locked. Could you call someone? Quickly?”

  The nurse, who got hit on all day long, but was charmed by this New Yorker with silver hair, said halfway flirtatiously, “It depends. Who are you?”

  Roy got out his Attorney General’s investigator badge and flashed it. The nurse smiled and picked up the phone and gave him the thumbs up after thirty seconds.

  “Thanks, beautiful,” he said as he ran toward the stairwell. He caught up with the operators and they got into the helicopter. No one tried to stop them.

  As they lifted off and got out of small-arms range from the hospital, the team leader started to relax slightly. He handed Roy a headset and said on the intercom, “How the hell did you do that?”

  “The door?” Roy asked. “Cute nurse.”

  “No,” the team leader said, “Get the Attorney General into a hospital room so we could get him.”

  Roy smiled and said, “Ah, well, that’s a story I can tell you over a beer sometime.”

  Chapter 252

  Tet

  (December 21)

  It was late afternoon and Jim Q. was getting hungry. He was thinking about what was for dinner that night when his radio crackled. “My shoe is green,” he heard his cousin say in their language. It sounded so sweet to hear his language from a familiar voice.

  Jim Q. had been instructed t
o test messages from HQ to ensure they were valid, even though they were in a language only about three dozen people in the state understood. He opened his code book and looked at the letters written in his native language, which was in an obscure alphabet only those three dozen people in the state, and maybe a Near Eastern linguist professor, would even recognize.

  Jim Q. found the appropriate test phrase for an instruction coming from HQ “When do the birds fly south?” he asked in his language, one he only spoke on this radio.

  “My birthday is fourteen days after the Festival of the Harvest,” his cousin answered. This was the proper response, meaning the person on the other end had the same code book. Of course he did: no one else spoke this language and Jim Q. recognized his cousin’s voice. But it was easy to take the extra precaution of code phrases. The 104 soldiers in the 17th Irregulars counted on secure communications.

  “Go ahead,” Jim Q. said, meaning it was safe to start the message, now that the sender had been authenticated.

  “The ocean is purple,” his cousin said.

  Jim Q. looked at his code book again. This meant “an all unit-commander meeting tonight at midnight at Boston Harbor.”

  “My kitten is green,” Jim Q. said, which meant, “Message received: there will be an all unit-commander meeting tonight at Boston Harbor.”

  Jim Q. wrote down the message about the meeting at midnight just to make sure he got it right. Naturally, he wrote it in his language. Even if that message, the code book, or the radio transmissions were intercepted, no one would have any idea what language was involved, let alone what was being said.

  Jim Q. and his fellow code talkers were essential. The Limas

  were monitoring the radio frequencies and would love to know that all the Patriot guerilla commanders would be in the same place at the same time.

  “Horse seven out,” his cousin said, which was his call sign. They used English for “out” because there wasn’t a word in their language for “end of radio transmission.” Besides, let the Limas know that the speakers of this strange language used one English word. It would just confuse them more.