299 Days: The 43 Colonels

by Glen Tate

  “Finally, people need to know they can win. Not many people will risk everything for a side that has no chance. Remember that many supporters of a cause are heavily influenced by seeing which side will win.” Ben decided to tread lightly on this topic because he was talking about many people in New Washington and he needed their support to rebuild the state. So he said, “Everyone listening to me knew the Patriots would win,” which was not true, “but the rest of the population needed the facts to come to this conclusion on their own.”

  “Facts,” Ben said. “Facts; not propaganda. The general population, and even some Patriot fighters, assumed that we would make things up to look good. It’s been known to happen in politics,” he said with a smile, but got serious and said, “the Limas perfected this. They lied and lied until no one—not even most of their own supporters—believed a word they said. Losing credibility with the general population, let alone your own supporters, is deadly to a cause. And it only takes a couple of fibs that get exposed for people to realize your side is a bunch of lying scumbags, just like the other side is. People, especially after years of listening to the Limas before and after the Collapse, quit believing anything they heard on the news. And with good reason.”

  “John realized this and accepted the challenge. Although he had no journalism training, he treated Radio Free Redoubt as a ‘real’ news station. He would gather facts and verify them. He would give disclaimers if he didn’t personally know the truth of a report he was giving out. He would candidly say that he was skeptical of some reports, even if they were pro-Patriot when it was objectively true that the reports were a little unbelievable.”

  “This isn’t to say that he tried to be ‘neutral,’” Ben said. “He announced at the beginning of every show that he was a Patriot and actively supported the Patriot side, and then he went on to describe why. He described how broad and popular the Patriot cause was. He described Lima atrocities, and he told listeners about Patriot victories. But he did all this with facts; not lies, exaggerations, or wishful thinking.”

  “John told me that he viewed every listener as someone he had a relationship with. He never knew who all his listeners were, of course, but in his mind he thought of a listener as someone who needed to get to know him, trust him, and rely on him. And, like any relationship, it went both ways, he told me. He said he would ask listeners to do things for him after he had done things for them. He would ask them to support the Patriots—join guerilla units, report intelligence, provide supplies to Patriots, or just persuade their friends of the Patriots' cause—and he would do things for them, like give them information they needed.”

  “John didn’t just broadcast the news, he unearthed it. Listeners would send in tips, observations, and intelligence. They did so via delivering paper notes to a series of drop boxes, but most sent information in by ham radio via the AmRRON network, which stood for the American Redoubt Radio Operators Network. AmRRON was the other half of Radio Free Redoubt. John created and maintained a huge network of ham operators who served as one of the Patriots' main communications networks. AmRRON served three purposes. First, it got information to John. Second, it got information out via ham radios, in case his main broadcasts were disrupted. Third, the local AmRRON operators became the hubs for many Patriot activities in their areas.”

  “John broadcast sometimes on the internet,” Ben said, pointing to Nick Norton, “well, actually on Ponytailnet.” The audience applauded, seeing how many of the colonels were interconnected.

  “But John’s main broadcasting mode was ham radio and shortwave,” Ben explained. “Most people, especially after the war, are aware of how important ham radio is, but many haven’t heard much about shortwave. Shortwave is transmitted via ham radio transmitters, but the listener has just a receiver. That is, shortwave is a way to listen, but not respond, to ham radio. Shortwave can also be used to send electronic sounds over ham radio frequencies that can easily be converted to words by a simple computer program. That is, AmRRON was a Patriot email service using only radio waves.”

  “As you can imagine,” Ben said, “the Limas wanted to put Radio Free Redoubt out of business. They devoted significant resources to hunting John down but they couldn’t find him. He was in friendly territory, the Redoubt, and he was sheltered by trusted Patriots. They also tried to jam his broadcasts. But he and the AmRRON operators built so much redundancy into the system that the Limas couldn’t jam it all the time. Sure, they got lucky a few times, but more often than not, Radio Free Redoubt was on the air when it was scheduled to be. That fact alone—that the Limas couldn’t take out Radio Free Redoubt—was a big morale boost to our side. I know it was for me out at the Prosser Farm.”

  “Broadcasting put John in extreme danger. The Limas had sophisticated tools, when their technology was working and their technicians weren’t AWOL, to find the radio signals. They even flew planes over the Redoubt to try to find the signals. This meant John had to move around constantly. He would spend a day or more setting up a remote broadcast station, broadcast as quickly as he could, and then break it down and speed away. He did this for months on end, never knowing if a plane, helicopter, or drone would blow him up a few minutes into a broadcast.”

  “It was also hard on his family, who was safely in hiding in the Redoubt, but it meant he didn’t see them for months on end. They, too, deserve some of the recognition for Radio Free Redoubt’s successes.” The audience stood and applauded.

  Ben took a chance and asked the audience, “How many of you here today listened to Radio Free Redoubt?” Most of the audience raised their hands. “Outstanding,” Ben said. “How many of you listened to the Rebel Radio broadcasts we did?” A lesser number of people raised their hands, but still about half the audience had their hands up.

  “John, you have better ratings than Rebel Radio, but I am happy you reached more people. Keep on broadcasting. The general population still in occupied territory needs to hear you. The people in Seattle, Portland, California and big cities in the West. They need the news. They need the truth.”

  Chapter 348

  Col. Dauen Hauer

  (Special Air Service)

  “While the Limas were up in the air trying to find Radio Free Redoubt’s ever-changing broadcast stations, our next colonel was up in the air, too,” Ben said.

  “Col. Dauen Hauer,” Ben said, “who goes by ‘Dawn,’ was a private pilot, who delivered precious cargo all over the former State of Washington. How she did it, and the dangers she faced, are amazing.” Ben pointed to a beautiful Nordic-looking woman in her late thirties sitting in the front row. She looked like the Swiss Miss girl on the hot chocolate boxes. She stood up, waved at the audience, and went up to the rostrum.

  “Hello,” she said, “I’m Dawn and I am the one and only member of the Patriot Special Air Service,” she said with a broad smile. “I got that title because we didn’t really have an air force and I did special air deliveries. Besides, it sounds cool, like the British commandos in their Special Air Service.”

  Dawn put her hands up to gesture humility and said, “But I didn’t do any cool commando stuff, I just flew people around.” That was quite an understatement.

  “I was fortunate enough to be a telecommunications engineer,” she said. “I fix cell towers, which made me very valuable to the authorities.” She smiled again. “This turned out to be very valuable to the Patriots.”

  “Like other colonels honored here today,” she said, “I’m not a political person. I don’t even like politics because it is so irrational. I’m an engineer. I can understand logical things, but politics isn’t one of them.”

  She paused, “I could see why politics mattered, though. Before the Collapse, I watched our country disintegrate. I saw crime go up, I saw businesses going under, I saw people miserable. So while politics was irrational, I was rational enough to see it had real effects on people.”

  “My faith,” Dawn said, “teaches me that America is special and was given liberty for a re
ason: to protect liberty down here on earth, at least a little bit of liberty. America was the only thing standing in the way of worldwide evil. But America was becoming evil itself. I didn’t recognize the America I grew up in. This was not just a shame for America; our decline was a big problem for liberty around the world. I had to do something.”

  “But,” she said, again gesturing with her hands that she was humble, “I’m just a telecom engineer and pilot. What could I do to restore America, or at least a little piece of it here in our state, back to what it was?”

  “The Collapse hit and, needless to say, there was no aviation fuel for recreational flying. I couldn’t get into my office, either, because the freeways were jammed and then were controlled by the military. A few days into the Collapse, I got a call at home from my office. The government desperately needed my company to send someone to fix a cell tower in rural Snohomish County. Some government agencies used this cell tower, so it was crucial that the tower was back up and operating. The roads were jammed so I said to my boss, ‘I could fly to the tower, but I don’t have any fuel and the private airports are closed.’ My boss said, ‘That’s brilliant!’ and hung up. About two hours later, he called and said I had been given special clearance to fly and that my plane would have all the fuel it needed.”

  “I flew out to a nearby airfield and some people from the local office of my company drove me to the cell tower. I fixed it and went back to my plane. The airport topped off my tanks and cleared me to fly home.”

  “I got to thinking: I was probably one of the only private pilots in the whole state who was allowed to fly and who had access to aviation fuel. It was obvious what I should do.”

  “I contacted one of my friends from my gym, who was a police lieutenant. He was a Patriot; I knew this from all of our conversations before the Collapse about how America was slipping away. He got me in touch with a man, who went by ‘Mr. Smith.’ I met with Mr. Smith and told him I was volunteering to fly anywhere in the state for the Patriots. I could carry people or cargo, or both. Mr. Smith was intrigued but, I could tell, didn’t think I could really pull it off.”

  “He asked me how we could get me to fly to a particular place at a particular time if the cell tower wasn’t broken.”

  “‘Break it,’ I said. Have your people shoot up a cell tower near where you need to me fly. I’ll go in to fix it, but I’ll have people or cargo with me. It’s not as easy as calling a taxi, but it’s better than no air service.”

  “‘What if we need you to go somewhere to pick something up at a location far from your home airfield and then take it to a second location?’ Mr. Smith asked me.

  “‘Break two cell towers,’ I answered, and of course, Mr. Smith smiled.”

  “So that’s what we did. When I got the word that a cell tower was broken, I called Mr. Smith on one of his burner phones. Sometimes it was a legitimate repair call and not a ruse to get me in the air. But when the Patriots broke a cell tower, Mr. Smith would tell me who to pick up or would arrange for cargo to be delivered to my house. If it wasn’t too heavy, I’d put it in the plane myself. If it was really heavy, he would send some guys to help me load it.”

  “The amazing thing about all this was that no one suspected me. I would show up at my home airport with a passenger or cargo, or sometimes both. I wouldn’t say a word; I think everyone just assumed the passenger was a technician or the cargo was some equipment I needed.”

  “At first, it was terrifying making these flights. I was sure I’d get caught. But I knew that by helping the Patriots with whatever it was they needed me for—I never asked what the mission was about—I was helping restore at least a part of America. That may sound hokey at first, but it was true when you think about it.”

  Dawn looked into the audience and said, “I recognize a few of you here today as my former passengers. I guess you had meetings to go to and documents to deliver. I also know that I would sometimes fly a box of external hard drives, CD-ROMs, and thumb drives. I can only imagine what was on them.”

  “My favorite flights were the ones where I would pick up what I assumed were escaped prisoners. They were often bruised and half-starved. They were so thankful to be getting a ride out of wherever and back to a safe part of the state controlled by our side.”

  “It wasn’t a cakewalk, though,” Dawn said. “After the Collapse, the FAA air traffic system essentially ceased to exist for non-military aviation. The military was supposedly shooting down unauthorized aircraft, although I also heard the FUSA military didn’t have the spare parts and technicians to operate a sophisticated air defense system, but there are lots of old-fashioned guns that can shoot down a little Cessna like the one I was flying. I would check in with the FAA, if anyone was listening in the control towers, to let them know I was authorized to be flying. Some of the civilian aircraft radio frequencies were taken off the air, and that complicated matters. Most of the airfields I landed at and took off from were remote and had no navigational aids. The ones that did have aides often had them shut down because of all the budget cuts. It was more like flying in the 1930s than the modern era.”

  “The scariest incident I ever had was when I was taking a passenger from a remote airfield in northeastern Washington, up by the Canadian border, into Olympia. When we landed in Olympia, a TSA agent started yelling at us. He said we weren’t authorized to proceed out of the tiny airport. A couple more TSA agents ran up to us and blocked us from leaving. They demanded to see our identification. I showed them mine and the special pass I had from the state Emergency Management Department that got me anywhere I wanted to go. My passenger was digging for his ID. Finally, he found it and gave it to the agents and then they separated me and my passenger and started asking us questions in separate rooms. They wanted to know what my passenger’s name was and what he was doing flying when civilian flights were restricted. I told them the name Mr. Smith gave me for the passenger and that he was an engineer working for my company to fix a cell tower in Stevens County. I had only heard the fake name of my passenger once from Mr. Smith; I prayed I remembered it correctly. After a few minutes, my passenger came out of his room and we quickly left the airport. As my passenger was getting into a car with Mr. Smith, his fake mustache fell off. That’s how I met Justice Reid Henrichs.” The audience knew who Justice Henrichs was.

  Dawn shrugged with humility. “That’s about it,” she said. “I just flew people around. I just did what I could.” She wasn’t accustomed to public speaking so when she was done, she waved to the crowd, smiled her big smile, and walked away from the rostrum. The audience gave her a standing ovation.

  Chapter 349

  Col. Reid Henrichs

  (The Justice Justice)

  Upon hearing his name, the next colonel, Justice Reid Henrichs, sprang up out of his chair. He was a former justice of the Washington State Supreme Court and now was the Chief Justice of the New Washington Supreme Court. He was gray-haired, tall and trim, and looked like he was a Supreme Court Justice.

  Justice Henrichs was no stranger to public speaking. He half walked, half ran up to the rostrum. He couldn’t wait to say some words.

  “You all know him, Justice Henrichs,” Ben said, “The justice Justice.” This was Reid’s campaign theme in the pre-Collapse election that, miraculously, got him elected. He was the state Supreme Court justice who would stand for justice—the justice Justice.

  Reid was prepared to deliver what was essentially a victory speech. Not his victory in the pre-Collapse election—the government he formerly served, the State of Washington, no longer existed—but rather a victory speech for the Patriots he worked so hard for. It was a homecoming of sorts for this former justice to be returning to Olympia to resume his duties, but for a different state, New Washington.

  “It’s great to be back!” Reid boomed into the microphones, like he was giving a rally speech to political supporters. “But now I’m in a state that’s actually free—and we’re going to keep it that way!” he yelled, which
triggered a standing ovation. He was beaming. He loved this. And he meant every word he was saying.

  Reid let the cheering die down as he gathered his thoughts. He never used notes. His would just talk and it always seemed to come out well. Today would be no exception.

  He pointed to the crowd and said, “I like my new bosses —that’s you—better than my old ones,” referring to the previous state. “How I got back here in Olympia to work for you is a heck of a story and I want to tell it.”

  “First,” Reid said, “I want to thank Governor Trenton for appointing me as Chief Justice of our new state’s Supreme Court.” The crowd applauded. “It’s only an interim appointment until the elections next year. I’m renting a house here in Olympia,” he said with a smile, “I don’t presume anything.”

  “Here’s the short version of my life story,” he said. “I grew up poor in Tacoma, somehow got into the Air Force Academy and became a fighter pilot. I went into the reserves and became a civilian lawyer. My squadron was activated and I got shot down in Iraq during the first war there. I spent some time as a guest of Saddam Hussein.” Reid was too modest to say it, but he received the Congressional Medal of Honor for leading an escape from his POW camp that brought three of his fellow prisoners out to safety. He never talked publicly about his Medal of Honor; he didn’t need to because everyone knew about it. Besides, he truly believed any one of those three others deserved the Medal more than him.