From Texas to New York

by Stephen Brandon

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  Two weeks later it was raining cats and dogs and the forecast was rain the rest of the week. Walking through the main door Jim thumped his umbrella on the floor leaving a nice puddle in front of the sign-in desk. He asked if the Colonel was in and if he had time to see him.

  The specialist at the desk looked up and said, “Civilians aren't allowed in this building without an appointment. What's your name and I'll call up.”

  As Jim was saying his name the specialist reached under the edge of his desk. Jim straighten up and clasp his hands behind his back and waited. Then he said, “Security isn't as fast as it was in my day on active duty. How long a I going to have to wait for them?”

  A voice behind him said, “I'm here, are you armed or just your irreverent self today? You pissed the Colonel off big time, and it took a talking to by the post commander to calm him down. You won't see him today, we're headed to Post HQ. Just between you and me, that bullet proof glass on the 7th floor stopped all but one of your bricks. It landed in a conference room and interrupted a few big wigs over from the Capitol. You really know how to get someone's attention.”

  A sedan picked us up out front and delivered us right to the front walk into Post Headquarters. Ten minutes I was sitting in front of the Post Commander answering questions. He then informed me that my next stop was Camp Lejeune and then the Washington area. His next comment surprised me, “A marine general wants to get his hands on you.”

  “Does Camp L have a wood shop?”

  This brought a laugh from the General and he said, “Get him on a plane.”

  Landing in Wilmington we were picked up be a government sedan and headed north up the coast. An hour later we were still sitting in an office in a dingy wood building waiting for the general to arrive. When he did walk in he simply looked at me and said, “So you claim to be the one that can launch bricks three hundred yards and hit the top floor of the pentagon.”

  Crossing my legs I replied, “No, that takes a fixed launcher and lots of accuracy, I claim that a simple to build launcher I designed can return the rocks that a mob throws at anyone with lethal accuracy. By returning the same rocks thrown the liberal press can't accuse the defending forces of using military weapons on civilians.”

  “Well show me one!” the general snarled.

  My escort suppressed a chuckle as I said, “Take me to a wood shop and I can build you one in about an hour and then we pick up some nylon rope and go to your rifle range for a demonstration.

  At the range we watched a platoon finish up firing. I asked the general if he could get them to go downrange to the 25 and 50 meter targets and replace them with full silhouettes and then throw me some rocks of any size. After talking to the range OIC and NCOIC they called the platoon sergeant over and explained the task. He was still laughing as he led his platoon downrange. At the 50 meter line they put up ten silhouettes and then started chucking rocks at us. The general was grinning until one landed beside him and then we scrambled around behind the range shack. The range NCO commented one of them maggots got a good arm on him to throw a rock over 150 feet. A few minutes later some heavier rocks started bouncing off the range shack hard enough to make it shake. That's enough yelled the range NCO as he stomped around the end of the shack.

  As I rounded the shack I picked up a few rocks of various sizes and walked up to the firing line. In my best voice I asked, “Range OIC, permission to engage the targets.”

  He looked at me an hollered, “The range is now hot, fire when ready.”

  I picked up my wood, assembled it, wound it up, picked up a rock slightly smaller than my fist and launched it at the 25 meter targets. It bounced short and still took a chunk out of the silhouette. By then I was rewinding my launcher and launched another and took the left side off another silhouette. Reaching back I grabbed a larger rock and it broke the middle support of another silhouette. While rewinding my launcher I yelled over my shoulder, “Platoon sergeant, send me over one of your marines, we'll see if he can hit the broad side of a barn.” I lofted my aim and launched a rock at the 50 meter cluster of silhouettes. I hit one but it didn't fall.

  I heard two voices say, “Prepared for instruction, Sir.”

  I commented while rewinding my launcher, “Stand to my left side and observe how I wind up the launcher and aim at a target. Then I'll let you try after another shot.”

  One target at the 50 meter line lost its head and the second broke on its right side. “Do you need further instruction or just hands on?

  One said, “How do you aim it?

  I shoved the launcher into his hands and asked, “You left or right handed?

  “Left,” he said.

  “Good. Turn 45 degrees to your target, hold the frame with your left hand and wind with your right.” Then I reached down and grabbed a rock and placed it on the launcher. “To aim you aim one silhouette height above the shoulders for every twenty meters as a general rule. Tuck the stock of the launcher under your armpit. Clamp down with your right arm and reach forward to the trigger. Elevate the launcher with your left hand making sure you're clear of the winding rope. Sight along the left side of the launcher and when you think you have the elevation correct pull the trigger. Did you see why you missed? Reload and fire again.”

  His third shot took a chunk out of a 25 meter silhouette. His forth was dead center on another.

  I said, “Time to teach your partner. Give it up.”

  As his partner took the launcher I said, “Left or right handed.” When he said right handed I commented, “Mirror image of your partners firing stance.”

  His second shot hit a silhouette.

  After another hit, I said, “Now it's is time for rapid fire. One of you gather and load rocks, the other winds and fires. If you arm gets tired switch jobs. Since I know you don't have any questions I want the 25 meter targets all down and then the 50 meter targets. Go, Go, Go.” Six more shots and the 25 meter targets all showed damage so I told them, “50 meter targets now.”

  His first shot was over and his second was short. The third bounced and hit a 50 meter silhouette. I said, “You've got the range, fire for effect.”

  As the last target was hit I could feel hot breath on my neck and heard, “Shit, that ain't possible. If I didn't see it with my own eyes I wouldn't believe it.” Turning around I watched the general's lips move and heard, “I want a thousand of those things and a hundred of those brick launchers.”

  Smiling I said, “Get your marines to make them, but warn them that if they loose one, they'll be facing copies. You now have another weapon in your arsenal. Is it lunch time yet?”

  The general growled, “Sergeant confiscate that weapon and get my hummer. We've got to get back to main post.” Turning to me he said, “Young man, you aren't leaving my camp until I have working copies of everything including that brick launcher.”

  I replied, “Scaling is everything, the brick launcher is a specialized launcher for bricks only. I needed accuracy to get my point across and start the ball rolling. When they throw you the ammunition, your men can return it with lethal accuracy.”

  My escort said, “General, he's due at the Armory near DC in the morning. Also on the way up from Wilmington I received a text that they want to see him at The Shop.”

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