299 Days VIII: The War

by Glen Tate

  As they piled in the back of Mark’s truck, it was one of the only times Grant didn’t say, “This never gets old.” And Pow didn’t say, “Beats the shit out of selling insurance.” They were silent on the way to Marion Farm. Not depressed, just thoughtful. It reminded Grant of scenes in WWII movies where troops were heading out on landing craft to D Day.

  It was cold and pouring rain. It was an unpleasant ride, but the Team didn’t notice that. They were thinking about what lay ahead in the next few days.

  They pulled into Marion Farm and headed to the equipment shed for yet another Christmas dinner followed by one of Pastor Pete’s services. They had planned the unit dinner and service for the evening on Christmas Day because Pastor Pete was giving the Christmas Eve and Christmas morning services in Pierce Point. The evening of Christmas day was the only time he had to come out to Marion Farm.

  The equipment shed was a happy place. It was decorated, brightly lit, and warm. Everything was genuine there. The decorations were homemade: tin foil stars, strings of popcorn, and a deer archery target with a red nose and a Rudolph sign. There were a few Christmas lights that someone had found in the attic of the farmhouse. They had a Christmas tree that was sparsely, but very tastefully, decorated.

  The troops were energized. They had been taking it easy on Christmas Eve and Christmas day. They were relaxed and had been exchanging gifts and hanging out with their new family. The joyous atmosphere of Christmas dinner perked up the Team. They realized how lucky they were to have a second Christmas out there with their comrades.

  Pastor Pete arrived and started the service. Nearly everyone attended. Only about a quarter of the troops attended his first service a few months ago.

  Everyone could sense that something serious would be happening in the next few days. Many people who weren’t religious were thinking that it couldn’t hurt to try it out. Just in case.

  Pastor Pete, as usual, kept the theology generic. He had Evangelicals, mainstream Protestants, Catholics, Mormons, and a bunch of Agnostics. And he had lots of “sprinklers,” which was his term for people who rarely attended church. Their only time in church was when they got water sprinkled on them when they were born, rice sprinkled on them when they got married, and dirt sprinkled on them when they died. “Sprinklers” were warmly welcomed at this service, the last one for some of them.

  Pastor Pete tried to make each person feel welcome. He even arranged with Rich on one of Rich’s runs into town to get some of the candles with the Virgin Mary for the Hispanic Catholics in the unit, which was a huge spiritual boost for them. They felt like folks were trying to help them have their own “normal” Christmas Mass with that special effort. Pastor Pete even learned a few lines of Spanish and read a small portion of the Christmas Mass prayers in Spanish. While it wasn’t the same, they appreciated the effort.

  Soldiers took turns reading the familiar Christmas story from the Bible. It was amazing to see a soldier who normally carried a rifle now unarmed and reading from the Bible. It showed two sides of human beings.

  It was Pastor Pete’s turn to deliver a message. He needed to boil the Christmas message down to its most common denominator and he did. He made the point that the Savior came here for each of them and that it wasn’t too late to accept Him. After the service, a dozen or so soldiers were huddled around him, which was extremely gratifying to Grant.

  And me. The outside thought seemed to be smiling. It was more of a warmth than a smiling. It was satisfaction and joy for people who had found their way home.

  Now it was dinner time. The Team was already stuffed from eating the past two days. They volunteered to serve dinner so everyone, including the KP detail, could all eat at once together. Grant thought that it was particularly important that he, the commanding officer, show his appreciation for his troops by serving them dinner.

  Grant was walking over to start serving when Ted came up to him. Ted motioned for Grant to come over and talk out of earshot of everyone else. Grant knew what this was all about.

  “Hey, we’re moving out at midnight on New Year’s Eve. That is, the first minutes of New Year’s Day,” Ted said.

  Grant just nodded. He’d been expecting this. “Figured it would be around New Year’s if it was named ‘Tet,’” Grant said. Ted was impressed that a civilian knew that Tet happened on the Vietnamese New Year.

  It was anti-climactic. Grant had been worrying for weeks about the day he’d have to tell his wife about all the lying and that he was leaving. That day would be very soon.

  “I wanted to give you Christmas with your family without knowing this,” Ted said. “We got word from HQ two days ago.”

  “Thanks, man,” Grant said. “I needed those two days.”

  Grant and Ted immediately started thinking about all the planning they’d need to do in the next few days.

  “Let’s have a nice Christmas dinner with the unit and then we’ll deal with this,” Ted said.

  Grant nodded. There was nothing else to say so he just went back to serving dinner. It cheered him up to see each of the soldiers, knowing they were all risking their lives to make things right again. They all were sacrificing as much as he was and they were in this together. Grant wished each of them a Merry Christmas as he served them mashed potatoes. Someone gave Grant a Santa hat that he wore as he plopped mashed potatoes on everyone’s plates. He felt at home with these men and women.

  Well, this is my new home, Grant thought to himself. He’d tell Lisa in a day or two and he’d be thrown out of his cabin. He’d come here, to his extended family. Oh well. At least he had a place to go, and a really good reason to be kicked out of his family. Fighting to restore a decent life for his family and people in his state was better than the usual reasons for getting kicked out of your house, like booze or cheating.

  “Lives, fortunes, and sacred honor,” Grant thought to himself once again as he was serving up mashed potatoes. He frequently came back to this phrase. Grant had always revered the Founding Fathers for the sacrifices they had made. And Grant had always said—words he now regretted—that he wished he could make a similar sacrifice.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  Chapter 261

  Christmas Dinner at Marion Farm

  (December 25)

  The 17th Irregulars had a magnificent Christmas dinner. Morale had never been so high. They were one cohesive group of 104 people, and together, they sang Christmas carols. Someone handed out candles and they turned off the lights. They sang by candlelight. It was amazing. Grant had goose bumps, actual goose bumps. Everyone knew they were about to do something very, very big. This would be the most important thing they would do in their lives. They would do it together, and would do it well. They would never be closer to a group of people than they were to each other right then.

  “Aren’t you guys heading back?” a soldier asked Grant and Bobby. The soldier knew that Grant tried to stay at his cabin as much as possible, even though driving him there and back was a big use of precious gas.

  “Nah, I’m staying here tonight,” Grant said. He wasn’t being a devoted commanding officer;, he was scared to go home. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Lisa. He was afraid he would blurt out the New Year’s Day plan and blow operational security. He wanted to put off his announcement of leaving for as long as possible.

  As the Team was cleaning up the dishes, Ted came over to Grant.

  “We need to go over all the planning that we need to do,” he said.

  Grant nodded. It was 11:00 p.m. and he was tired. He was hoarse from talking to so many people. “Tomorrow morning, okay?” he asked.

  Ted would have preferred to talk at that moment with all of the operational details that were racing through his mind. He could tell Grant was worthless right then, so he didn’t push it.

  “0500,” Ted said, meaning 5:00 a.m. “The den.” That was the little office in the farmhouse they used when they had to close the door.

  “Roger that,” Grant said as he finis
hed scrubbing a pot. He showed it to Franny, who looked at it carefully and gave the thumbs up for a sufficiently clean pot. Grant’s hands were red from being in hot water all night. KP duty was hard, hard work.

  The Team was dragging, too. They finished at half speed and headed to their cots in the barn. Grant, as CO, had a few special privileges. One was that he got to sleep on a couch in the farmhouse instead of the noisy barn. The reason was that the CO needed to be as rested as possible. The others who got to sleep in the farmhouse were Ted and Sap and the females, who were in the two bedrooms. Grant fell asleep in thirty seconds on his “home away from home” couch.

  Grant was on patrol outside Marion Farm. It was perfectly silent, except for some faint, but terrifying, rustling in the bushes. He sensed there were several Limas nearby. Suddenly, a Lima with a snarling and demonic face jumped out of the bushes and lunged at him with a bright, almost glowing knife. Grant drew his pistol but the demon Lima was blocking his arm. Grant fought him but the Lima was strong.

  “Wake up!” Ted was yelling. “It’s me, Ted!”

  Grant realized he was fighting Ted in his sleep. He was a little embarrassed.

  “Did I draw on you?” Grant asked.

  “Almost!” Ted said. “This job is dangerous enough without getting shot by my CO. Shot by a lawyer. I’d be laughed at forever.”

  “Sorry, man,” Grant said. He realized others might be around hearing him so he shouldn’t call Ted “man.” He was a CO, not a drinking buddy.

  “0510,” Ted said. “Time to get to work.”

  “Okay,” Grant said. He looked for his boots, which were already on his feet. He had fallen asleep with his boots on. He found his kit and AR on the rack where the Team stowed their gear the night before. He always had to know where his kit and AR were. It was crucial to be ready to run out of the house with them at a moment’s notice.

  Grant wiped the sleep from his eyes and headed to the kitchen. He wanted a cup of coffee, but they only got coffee on Sunday mornings. A cup of water would do. He had a caffeine pill on him, and he knew he’d need it. He needed to be fully alert at this meeting. He took the pill and headed to the den where he found Ted and Sap with a highway map on the desk. In the movies, military personnel planning a mission always had a detailed topographical map or a huge computer screen. Not this time. All that the rag-tag 17th Irregulars had was a standard highway map, the kind most people have in their car. That would have to do.

  Ted was telling Sap about Grant fighting him in his dream when Grant walked in. “Glad no one got shot this morning,” Sap said. “We need every man for what’s ahead.”

  Ted and Sap went over the plan with Grant, and it was obvious that they knew what they were doing. Over the next few days, they would make sure every single person in the unit was ready to go. This meant, ready physically, mentally, and emotionally.

  They discussed the vehicles they’d need, what to pack in them, and how they’d carry fuel. They went over comms for each squad. They didn’t have enough radios for each squad, so they’d double up.

  “Not ideal, but …” Ted and Sap kept saying. Grant was getting a little concerned about how many times they said that.

  They went over organizational structure. Who each squad leader was, which they all knew by now. Who the medic was for each squad; not a fully trained medic, of course, but the best trained and equipped one for that squad. They went over the three specialty squads.

  The first specialty squad was the 11B squad of infantrymen. In addition to the full squad of ten 11Bs, there were six others with infantry experience. They went to the other squads to beef them up. Most of the six were squad leaders of the regular squads.

  The second specialty squad was called the HQ/Team. They were the HQ people: Grant, Ted, Sap, and Jim Q., and then the Team, and Nick, the medic. Nick roamed around among all squads, but was technically assigned to the HQ/Team squad. If this were a real unit, the commanding officer and the NCOs would not technically be in a squad, but this was an irregular unit, so they broke many standards.

  Just as Ted and Lt. Col. Hammond had originally thought, the Team would serve as an MP SWAT team and help with the civil affair things Grant would be doing. The Team would also serve as the PSD(Personal Security Detail) for the unit’s leadership. If things were calmed down enough in Olympia, the Team could be loaned out to be the PSD for other vital personnel.

  The third specialty squad was the “chairborne” squad, a play on the term “airborne,” which referred to paratroopers. The chairborne squad were the administrative soldiers who sat in chairs (not really, but that’s where the joke came from). They performed supply and food service tasks. They were the least combat capable. This didn’t mean that they were combat incapable; they could still kick ass on the average gang banger, but compared to the other squads in the 17th, the chairborne unit was less capable.

  This did not mean the chairborne squad was not valuable. An army travels on its stomach, as Napoleon once said. The 11B squad, or the Team, could not perform well things when they hadn’t eaten for two days. Similarly, they could not accomplish their mission when there was plenty of food but no one to get it out to the hungry troops, or when they need ammo but no one knows where it is and how to get it to them.

  “The night of New Year’s Eve,” Ted said, “We’ll be ready to move out. We’ll need Rich to activate Bennington and have Bennington take down the Frederickson Limas.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Grant said.

  “I’d rather have Rich come out here and get the whole plan,” Ted said. “I also want him to see all of us so we can impress upon him that activating Bennington is more than just an errand. It’s a vital part of this mission, and all these guys,” Ted said pointing toward the troops, “are dead if Bennington doesn’t do his job.”

  “If Frederickson isn’t cleared out,” Sap said, “we’re done for. We won’t get past Frederickson,” he said pointing to the map, “which means we won’t get to Olympia to help, or we’ll get there too late or too shot up to be any good.”

  “We didn’t train this hard and suck up this many vital supplies,” Ted said, “just to liberate some little hick town from a corrupt political boss. Nope, the Frederickson part of this is too important to be handled by just telling Rich to talk to Bennington.”

  They had a point, Grant thought.

  “I’ll get Rich out here whenever you need him,” Grant said.

  “We’ll let you know when we need to talk to him,” Sap said.

  Next, they went over, in great detail, the path they would take to Olympia. It was pretty much straight down Highway 101.

  The plan, which they had come up with weeks ago, was to take a semi-truck full of soldiers and a few pickup trucks.

  The idea to use semis came from one of the guys in Ted and Sap’s former Special Forces unit at Ft. Lewis. Semis blend in and hold an enormous amount of cargo, almost 100 soldiers, in fact. The Limas would be reluctant to fire on a semi because it could contain a huge quantity of food that their civilians needed. This was not because the Limas were humanitarians, they just didn’t want to deal with the rioting that would come from blowing up a load of food that hungry people had been waiting for. And the Limas would want to take a cut of the food, so they didn’t want to shoot up their loot.

  A few weeks earlier, Grant had told Ted and Sap that he knew just where to get a semi. Grant would get one from Doug Smithson, the Pierce Point “postman” who ran the parcel delivery system and owned a couple of semis. He was the one who donated the semi-trailer to show the cops when Gideon brought the load of food in. Smithson was a solid Patriot and could be trusted. He even had a few hundred gallons of diesel in his underground tank.

  Ted devised a back-up plan in case Smithson didn’t loan them a semi. He didn’t tell Grant about the plan because it involved “persuading” Smithson to give up the keys or just outright stealing the semi. He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but as Ted often said, “This ain’t tiddlie winks.” T
ed would kill to get that semi.

  Ted also had a back-up plan in case no semis were available. It wasn’t ideal, but they could use Rich’s short school bus. It didn’t hold nearly as many troops, so they would supplement the bus with as many civilian cars and trucks as they could get.

  During the planning a few weeks back, Ted, Sap, and Grant discussed the details of moving the unit by semi. A semi-trailer has about four hundred square feet of floor space, which is four square feet for one soldier. That would be enough standing room for the unit, and a little room for gear. They would rig up some ropes for the troops to hold onto during turns, accelerations, and braking. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it sure beat walking and getting shot at.

  Each of the soldiers would be traveling very, very lightly. A rifle and, for most, a small civilian backpack. Only a few had kit or military pouches. Most used student backpacks that Grant scrounged up at the Grange and that some of them brought with them from Boston Harbor. Grant drew the line at kids’ backpacks with cartoon characters. He wouldn’t use those because they looked so stupid.

  Civilian backpacks were okay with Grant even though they didn’t look “badass.” The civilian backpacks, coupled with the civilian hunting clothes some had, reinforced the reality that this was an irregular unit partly made up of civilians. But the civilian backpacks did what they needed to do: they held a few magazines of ammo, a water bottle, and a jacket. Not “tacticool,” but they worked. Besides, the soldiers wouldn’t be marching for miles. Hopefully.

  The unit would have a few pickup trucks. There would be one in the lead and one in the rear, at least. They would split up the supplies among the trucks and the semi. That way, if one were lost, not all their eggs would have been in one basket. Each vehicle would have cases of ammo, plenty of diesel in various containers, some water containers, and some MREs.