The Last Centurion

by John Ringo

  It couldn't because of the security conditions. Farmers were being killed and driven off their lands because of the militias. That was what caused the famine. And in many areas it was intentional. See also Darfur, the Kulak famine and the Great Leap Forward. Starvation is a good way to enact "ethnic cleansing." Starving people is easier and cheaper than shooting them.

  It got started as a think-tank to figure out how to do the best job you could in a fucked up situation. Most food distribution was done by Non-Governmental Organizations. (By the way, "random associators" are NGOs. Just very small ones.) One thing that was noted was that some NGOs were "better" at distribution than others. There were a huge number of apparent factors but it really came down to which were the most functionally pragmatic. That is, if the mission was to feed a population that was enemies with the local strongman, turning the food over to the strongman was non-functional for the mission. It would feed him and his henchmen and the people they liked. It would not feed the populace he was starving on purpose.

  The way to avoid this was to use some of your precious NGO funds to hire enough "security" that the local strongman left you alone. And you could feed whoever you wanted. If you could also get some of the farmers farming again, that was a benefit.

  If your personal opinion of violence was "nothing is ever settled by violence" then you lost your food to the strongman and therefore failed in your mission. It didn't matter how "actualized" you felt as you flew back to your hippie commune in California. You'd failed in your mission.

  It was an unfortunate fact that the most "functionally pragmatic" groups tended to be Christian missionaries. Tended. Some of them were not "functionally pragmatic" and some of the secular NGOs were. But it was a general trend. It was a conclusion that was very quietly distributed, though. The Army had too often been accused of being friendly with Christian Fundamentalist groups.

  They also looked at factors like "throughput." That is, if a group was given ten tons of relief supplies, how much of that actually got to the refugees or whatever. Again, Christian groups tended to have the highest throughput.

  Here's an example of throughput in money. It involves charities pre-Plague. One of the richest charities in the U.S. pre-Plague was the March of Dimes. Every March people all over the country would walk around raising money for "childhood diseases." The March of Dimes would collect the money and then send it on to "worthy researchers."

  MoD would never release its records to anyone but the IRS, but outside analysis indicated that only about 30% of the money collected actually went to "researchers." The other 70% went to "support" of . . . The March of Dimes. For every ten bucks some poor "marcher" collected, seven went to the MoD and only three went to researchers. The leadership was not volunteers. Indeed, above the "street" level there were no volunteers. Salaries for the upper management were astronomical. The president of the MoD had a private 737!

  By the same token, one of the largest Christian charities in the world, Christian Children's Fund, would release its records. (As did many others, secular and religious.) They had an average throughput, every year, of over 90%. Nine bucks out of every ten reached the children it served.

  Ninety percent throughput vs. thirty percent throughput. If you're going to contribute to a charity, do the math.

  The U.S. Army did the math. They couldn't always pick and choose what NGOs they supported, but when they could they looked at the functionality of the NGOs and chose them on that basis. Yes, that tended to be Christian groups but the reality was they didn't care. They just wanted the stuff they were distributing to get to the people who needed it.

  ESM was the first department to look at that methodically and come up with "key factors" for commanders to consider when choosing which NGO to support in their areas. They also expanded into producing pamphlets for commanders and staff on "key secondary response methods" in emergency and humanitarian relief missions. That is, how to get a country back on its feet. Especially agriculture in a famine.

  But with first the Plague then the Chill, ESM became big doings. That had caused some problems as the minor little department suddenly became a focus and every fucking Fobbit wanted to jump on the bandwagon. For a while in the summer, I was told, "ESM" bumped out "transformational" as the big buzzword. Somebody pitching a new weapons system had to throw "ESM" in on the PowerPoint presentation to get it even looked at.

  "This new super-duper artillery system is the killer app for ESM. ESM cluster systems can provide wide-spread terminal coverage of ESM priority materials . . ."

  In other words, we can shoot the food out of the cannon at a high rate of fire and hope it doesn't knock anyone out when it gets there.

  And, yes, that's from an actual presentation.

  When I got to the department some of the hoo-hroo had settled down. Yes, it was a bigger department with a general in charge instead of a colonel. But some of the vampiric Fobbits that had grafted to it over the summer had been sent back to wherever they came from (PIO, Morale and Welfare, Systems Procurement) and the core guys were back in charge.

  Its mission had changed, though. Use actual ESM to look at what was happening in the U.S. and "react, adapt and overcome" wherever the Army could be a benefit.

  Bunch of smaller departments in the department, now. I was in the "Agricultural Emergency Response" department. I was a farmer. I had a degree in agronomy. I don't know what fairy godmother thought I could do anything there, but there I was.

  And at first I couldn't do anything. I was a major. I carried the piss bucket. Meetings on "agricultural emergency response" involved colonels and generals. (None of whom, as far as I know, had agronomy degrees. But they were doing their best.)

  My particular piss bucket was to be put in charge of the "Midwatch Phone Response Center."

  That was not some sort of switchboard. It was a call center. It was a call center that commanders in the field could call for help when they were dealing with "agriculture emergency issues."

  Okay, here's the thing about an agricultural emergency. Most of the time, by the time you realize you have an emergency, you're already fucked. Farmers have huge lead times. Go back to my dad telling me he was investing in triticale because the forecast for six months later was for "cooling regimes."

  The decisions that were being made in 2019 were going to affect 2020 and 2021.

  2020's a no brainer. By November of 2019 farmers would have been planning what they were going to do in 2020. No brainer.

  But 2021? Why 2021?

  Hello! Seeds!

  The seeds for 2021 crop cycle were produced in 2020. And they were based on really long-range forecasts by the major seed companies. They'd have to guess what the major crops were going to be two years in advance and lay on the right seed stockpiles.

  But most of those companies had been "nationalized." The seeds they were considering were not being based on the long, long-range forecasts. Not the right forecasts, anyway. And genetic modification? I don't think so. Genmod was bad. Evil. Wicked.

  But the emergency that was going on right then was cattle. There were too many. And no way to feed them through the winter. Most of the tofu-eaters who had taken over as ranchers didn't even realize that. And you couldn't tell them.

  Some of the people moved out to ranches, though, weren't idiots. They asked the locals what the hell they were supposed to be doing. Mostly the locals told them to push off. But occasionally they'd get a bit of "you're going to lose them all come winter."

  Everybody "culled" in the fall. It was the whole point of Thanksgiving and all the other harvest festivals in history. You fed up certain animals during the summer and culled them in the fall. That way you didn't have to feed them over winter. Pigs especially but also cattle. See Charlotte's Web.

  Oh, yeah, pigs. Most pigs were raised on factory-farms. Ever seen the movie Babe? That big warehouse looking thing where all the piglets are? That's where most pork comes from. You don't turn out pigs to feed. (Not since the Middle Ages whe
n they used to be herded through oak forests for acorns.) They have to be fed continuously. And there wasn't any feed.

  So we'd get calls from local commanders. They were out there doing whatever mission and as one of their "corollary missions" they were supposed to provide "support" for "emergency agricultural situations."

  So, you're a sergeant in charge of delivering a "packet" of emergency supplies. Let's say that it's to Lamoille County since we've talked about that before.

  You go to the "random associator" which is the NGO you're favoring at the time. Say the Lutheran Church. And you drop your packet. But there's this guy trying to get your attention.

  He's in a quandary.

  "I'm an accountant. I worked for Smith Barney. They went under in the Plague. I signed up for this 'agricultural nationalization' program cause it had to be better than eating soup on the lines. I thought I'd be sent out to work on a farm not run it. My wife and I got put in charge of a dairy farm. I figured out how to hook the cows up to the milking machine and even found a guy who's still collecting the milk. But he tells me that I don't have enough feed for the cows for the winter and the feed I do have is running out and I can't find any more for love or money. The county agent's never answered my calls. I know you're Army but do you have a clue what I'm supposed to do?"

  You had to be, at first, pretty desperate to ask an Army sergeant a question like that. After a while, though, people started doing it all the time.

  So the sergeant says he has no clue but he'll ask around. And he asks his platoon sergeant. And the platoon sergeant remembers something about a department that is supposed to be handling shit like that. And because he's devoted to his job he dips into institutional memory and finds a number to call.

  And, late, he calls the Emergency Supply Methodology, Agricultural Emergency Supply Methodology help-line.

  And he gets a private.

  "ESMAESM help-desk, Private Smedlap speaking. How can I help you sir or ma'am?"

  Milk cows. Feed.

  "Where is this? Vermont? Hang on . . . I'm waiting for my system . . . Oh, right. Okay. Vermont is anticipated to experience extreme climatic conditions in the upcoming winter . . . Waiting . . . Cattle will require long-term shelter for survival. Will require feed equalling x pounds of feed per head per day. Grazing will be a minimal option of no significant note to survival. Feed stores are at an all-time low. Current feed prices indicate minimal availability and are anticipated to increase over-winter. Absent large stores of on-site feed, recommendation is culling to breeding stock. Does that cover it? Yeah, that means they have to kill them all, and hopefully keep the meat and stuff, because ain't no food for them and they're not going to be able to graze. Hell, if they're outdoors most of the time they're going to freeze. I dunno if you've seen the internal forecasts but I hope you've packed your EWCS. I can e-mail you this shit if you've . . . okay . . . Platoon.Sergeant@us.army.mil. Right. On its way. Thanks for calling the . . . Okay he hung up."

  As time went on, the number got passed out to civilians. At first the help desk wasn't supposed to answer questions outside the military but by the time I got there that was old history. AESM had been up and handling for nine months or so. So we often had to deal with tofu-eaters. Which was always frustrating but occasionally really funny.

  I ran the help-desk. It wasn't exactly rocket science most of the time. I had about sixty guys on my shift. "Guys." Okay, I had about forty guys on my shift and twenty females. Two female lieutenants, even. It was strange. I was infantry. Having women working for me was an adjustment.

  Generally, the response stuff was set up. Sometimes, though, there'd be a call that needed actual, you know, farming expertise. There was a progression for that. But we didn't get many calls on my shift and I was bored so I generally got on at Phase Two calls.

  "Major Bandit Six. Hang on, waiting for the data to transfer."

  (Note, my actual last name was fairly common. I don't think any of the people calling knew they were talking to "The Centurion" and I never let on.)

  "Okay, I see that first line said you need to cull all but breeding stock. Frankly, I don't know if you can even keep the breeding stock. Pigs eat a lot and there's not much sw . . . Ma'am, they're there to be turned into food. You gotta kill 'em to do that. I know they're cute, but that's the answer . . . Yes, that's a lot of pigs to kill. I suggest a .22 in the back of the head . . . Hello?"

  Yeah, I got some complaints. Screw 'em.

  And then I'd occasionally get some guy who was really fucking trying and needed an expert to tell him what to really do. When I got those I treated them like fucking gold.

  "The good news is you're in a zone where the climate's actually better for most farming under current conditions than before. This shit that's going on actually helps some regions. Okay, give me your e-mail address . . . Damn. Okay, gimme an address. I'll send you everything I can get on what should work there. I can't give you a degree in agronomy but as long as I'm sitting in this chair I'll hold your hand as much as possible. There are stores of seeds, pesticides and herbicides that you can use. We can release them . . . Don't go organic on me . . . Oh, okay. Right, here's the deal. You can still get winter wheat in the ground if you're quick. You're going to need hands to pick rocks . . . I'll explain . . ."

  The problem being with livestock that had to be culled, well, we're back to everything getting backed up.

  "Yes, I know the slaughterhouses are overloaded. Look, you're in Wisconsin. You're not going to warm up for months. Just slaughter them on site. Should have been done months ago. Store the carcasses anywhere you can keep them away from scavengers . . . Yes, I know it's a gruesome business. I grew up on a farm. Yes, I'm a real farmer, thank you. I've got a degree in this stuff . . . Actually, I can send you a pamphlet on the proper method of slaughtering cattle. But just remember, if you've got anything like feed for them, keep some breeding stock. That's the bull, he's the one with balls, and a few cows. You'll need x pounds of stock feed or x rolls of hay per animal per week. And with the temps they're predicting for your area, you're going to have to barn them every night . . . Yes, it is a lot of work. No, I don't know where you can get more help. There's a lot of people standing in soup lines. Go to one of those and ask . . . Sorry if you found that offensive, sir. Perhaps you could find some Mexicans. But the last time a soldier saw enough Mexicans to help was at the Alamo and we all know how that turned out . . . Hello?"

  Okay, a lot of complaints.

  California started getting "unseasonable" rains. That would have helped, a lot, in Imperial Valley if most of the people there had any clue what they were doing. But the real farmers were on soup lines (okay, most of them weren't) and the idiots from soup lines were trying to farm.

  And the farms didn't have a lot of food on them. The ones that had actual houses (many didn't) had been stripped by the departing owners or managers. They weren't going to leave their food for the grasshoppers.

  So some of the "experts" sent out to "rebuild the farming industry" decided that they were better off in soup lines.

  ADM, when it got "nationalized," sent out along with its pink-slips a way for their various managers and "associated farmers" to keep in touch. Basically, it was a "forwarding address" database. Some of them didn't do it. But farmers are planners. And if they had any chance of getting back onto the farms, they were going to take it. It took a while and Con-Agra just basically went tits up. But in 2021 when the new administration went into reverse on all this, ADM was waiting. Which is why it really dominates the industry now.

  But that's then.

  A disaster? It was more of a nightmare. And at the call center we were the acoustic engineers getting every last nuance of the sound of the train wreck.

  I was still there as spring came around. And the nightmare really got in motion.

  But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

  I think I only contributed one useful item the whole damned time I was stuck in the call center and that was by a
ccident.

  I was just coming off shift. I looked and felt like shit. I knew I was going to get a few more complaints added to the stack. It had been one of those nights.

  I have no clue why the general in charge of ESM decided to stop by the field grade officer's can. But there he was, taking a whiz, when I flipped out my pecker in the next urinal and had to, as usual, back waaay up.

  (Wife Edit: Be nice!)

  I knew who he was. I didn't say anything. He did.

  "You're Bandit Six."

  "Yes, sir."

  "What the hell are you doing in here? Get lost in the Puzzle Palace?"

  "I work for you, sir."

  "You do?"

  "ESMAESM call center night shift supervisor."

  "How in the hell . . . ? Lieutenant" To his aide. "You know who Bandit Six is, right?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Sorry, Bandit. I had no clue you worked in my shop. But you were a farmer, right?"

  "Yes, sir." (Zipping up.)

  "Any suggestions?"

  "Gotta get the livestock slaughtered, sir. That's all you can do this time of year. Should have been done months ago. And plan for next but we can't do that. All we can do is react."

  "Slaughterhouses are full, so is cold storage. I had a brief on that yesterday . . ."

  "Sir, we're looking at the coldest winter on record. Zones one through three, maybe four, you can slaughter them and hang them from trees and they'll keep all winter. Hell, we'll have eaten it all out by spring."

  "Most of the farmers that are part of the . . ."

  "Are idiots. Yes, sir. I run the call center, sir. And even then, the ranchers don't have the hands and the ones that are . . . transportees don't have the experience. Or in most cases the guts or will or willingness to do the work. But we, the Army, are going to need that food, sir. And we, the Army, do have hands. Sir. And guts. And willingness to work hard for survival. Sir."

  "Interesting point. Lieutenant, block out some time for Bandit Six to stop by. I used to be a tanker before I got stuck on this crap detail. I'd like to talk to you about Khuwaitla."