by Glen Tate
“The diplomats always seemed to get in the way of the military heroes in those movies, but that’s not how real life operates. Diplomats can do three military things, and do them well. First, we can get our military vital backup in the form of the armies and navies of allies. Ask George Washington how much the French army and navy helped militarily in the Revolutionary War. We are a ‘force multiplier’ as the military would say. Little ole’ diplomats in their suits and with their polite manners can put armies and navies on the battlefield to support our forces.” Col. Aylesworth smiled. He had decided not to downplay what his office did. He wouldn’t brag about himself. Instead, he would give his staff the credit.
“Second, we get supplies to our military and civilians. We do this by making trade agreements with other states and free areas and other countries, like our great neighbor to the north, Canada.” Canada had become a huge trading partner with New Washington and other free states. They traded with the FUSA, too. They were like the Switzerland of North America: they traded with anyone and no one tried to invade them. “While Col. Volz is attacking DHS troopers on I-5, Col. Blaylock is sneaking into office buildings to liberate prisoners, and Col. Hammond is commanding special operations soldiers. Also, in the middle of all this, my office is arranging for foreign currency to pay for supplies from other states and Canada. Not nearly as exciting, but the supplies we get sure are appreciated by Col. Volz, Col. Blaylock, and Col. Hammond. Arranging for the payment of supplies takes hard work, knowledge of foreign trade, and, above all, relationships with those in other states and Canada. That’s what my office does.”
“Third, we get friendly territory for our military and refugees to use. Ask any military commander if it’s important to have a safe base. During the war, we had them in Idaho and eastern Oregon. We could house and train our troops there until they moved out to Olympia and the Seattle area. This was possible because my office worked on mutual defense pacts with Idaho and New Oregon.”
“These agreements with surrounding states didn’t just benefit the military. Civilian refugees from New Washington were allowed to settle, temporarily, in Idaho and New Oregon. This saved lives. That’s what we nerdy diplomats in our suits do, and I’m very proud we did it,” he said with a smile, looking directly at Ben as if to say, “See, I’m not going to downplay what we did.” Ben smiled back.
“How did we do this?” Col. Aylesworth asked rhetorically. “Well, this is where I have to talk about myself, so here goes.” He looked again at Ben and smiled. “Before the Collapse, I worked for a forest products company.” He had actually owned one of the largest lumber and paper product companies in the Northwest and was worth tens of millions of dollars before the Collapse. “This gave me the opportunity to travel all over Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. Oh, and Canada, too. Never forget Canada,” he said with a smile and pointed to the Canadian ambassador to New Washington who was sitting in the gallery.
“In my business dealings, I got to know the political leadership of these areas.” He didn’t say it, but he did more than “get to know” some of these leaders. For example, he spent summer vacations before the war with the man who was now the Patriot Governor of Idaho. He went to the Idaho Governor’s kids’ weddings. Before the war, he spent a week each year on the ranch of the man who became the Governor of New Oregon, which encompassed all of Oregon except the Portland metropolitan area.
“This was important because when New Washington needed help from the surrounding areas, the leaders of these areas could work with someone they knew and trusted. They weren’t just considering a request for a military base or a refugee area from ‘New Washington,’ they were considering the request from their friend of twenty years, which definitely changes the way the conversation goes.”
“And, by the way, the same thing applies to their requests to New Washington. It’s not just Idaho asking New Washington’s treasury to buy some of Col. Heintz’s gold; it’s a request from their governor, who is the godfather to my oldest son. That makes a difference.”
“All these agreements with surrounding states and areas work smoothly now, after the war is over. But it wasn’t so easy during the Collapse and war,” Col. Aylesworth said. He looked over at Ben and smiled again. “Before Governor Trenton interrupts me and tells you I did some brave things, let me say that… I guess I did.”
“It was much harder to travel and meet with Patriots from the surrounding states during the Collapse and war,” Col. Aylesworth said. “I was a frequent passenger on Col. Dauer’s Special Air Service. I flew with false IDs from Col. Cross. And, while I can neither confirm nor deny it, I am pretty sure I’ve seen Col. Blaylock before. It’s a small world, all right. I even had a three-day summit meeting in November with ambassadors from Idaho and New Oregon right at Col. Wilkins’ Forward Operating Base Liberty right after it was attacked by helicopter. I guess being a diplomat isn’t all about wearing suits and sitting in an office all day,” he said with a shrug.
“That was exciting stuff for a boring businessman like me,” he said. “But what really gets me excited is helping with the Restoration.” He paused, looked over at Ben with another smile and said, “I must admit I’m somewhat qualified to help in this regard.” Ben jokingly rolled his eyes.
“We can’t rebuild without Idaho, New Oregon, Canada, and free areas elsewhere, like Texas. We need the New Dollar currency from Texas and we buy their oil. They buy our gold. We grow food in eastern Washington—don’t get me started about why Washington potatoes are actually better than Idaho potatoes,” he said with a wave to the Idaho ambassador in the gallery, “and we sell to surrounding states and especially Canada. We have our own gold-backed currency and we are working with neighboring areas to encourage them to use it. Finally, a major project for my office is the possibility of joining a Patriot union of states, as Governor Trenton mentioned. This is a complicated undertaking. We want to make sure New Washington can maintain its independence and prosperity, and we really want to ensure that Patriot federal government doesn’t turn out like the last one.”
“In conclusion,” Col. Aylesworth said, “New Washington will be fine on its own. It will be much better with the help of its neighbors, and by giving help to its neighbors. When the history of the New Washington is written, I only have one request: don’t forget that diplomats are important in winning wars and rebuilding.”
Chapter 368
Col. Ray Ramirez
(The Ag Director)
“Who here likes to eat?” Ben asked when the applause for Col. Aylesworth died down. “A unanimous vote!” Ben said with a smile. “I love it when we get one of those here in the Legislature. It’s pretty rare, though.”
“We all like to eat, of course,” Ben said, more seriously this time. “And it’s impossible to win a war or rebuild without food. This is where the ‘Ag Director’ comes in. He is Colonel Ray Ramirez. My friend, Col. Grant Matson, suggested we honor Ray. Col. Matson told me about what Col. Ramirez did out at Pierce Point, how successful it was, and how we should try to replicate it at the state level. The Ag Director has proven to be a critical part of the Restoration, and is also a great example of the approach we’re taking in New Washington, which is getting practical things done without government dictating it. Please welcome Col. Ramirez.” The crowd applauded. Some stood up.
A man in his sixties with a black ponytail stood up. He was in a suit that was a little too large, which was not uncommon in post-Collapse life. He looked like he was more comfortable in a garden or classroom than addressing a joint session of the Legislature, but he walked confidently up to the rostrum. Like so many other colonels, he had a story to tell and it was important to tell it. He was more interested in getting the story out and into the history books, so what he was doing would become a part of the state and would continue to get done. He wanted to establish a legacy, not of himself but of the work he was spearheading.
“Thank you,” he said, being new to applause from such a large audience. He didn�
�t know what else to say and thought that offering his thanks seemed to work.
“I am Ray Ramirez,” he began, “but everyone calls me the Ag Director. As the title implies, I have been appointed by the Legislature as the first Director of Agriculture for New Washington. Here’s the really neat part,” he said, “I don’t have any power. When was the last time you heard someone in government say that?”
“I have no power to adopt regulations,” he said with a smile. “I can’t seize anyone’s property and I don’t oversee farm subsidies or make agricultural loans, like the agriculture director for the old state of Washington.” He grinned, “Heck, I don’t even have any employees. This allows me to concentrate on what I love: helping people grow their own food.”
He described how he had been an extension agent for the old U.S. Department of Agriculture. An extension agent coordinated programs in an agricultural area to improve yields by, for example, introducing new farming and ranching methods to nearby farmers and ranchers. “It sounded great in theory, and it was a nice idea—if that’s what we actually did,” he said. “But it wasn’t. I couldn’t teach agriculture. I had to administer subsidies, loans, and regulations. Tons and tons of environmental regulations. I was the agricultural commissar instead of a resource to farmers.”
“So, much like other things we’re doing in New Washington,” Ray said, “we took the good from the past and removed its bad parts to come up with a new way that is better.” For a guy who hated politics, Ray was a natural at the game, whether he consciously was trying or not.
“That means that we’re keeping the part about being a resource, but we’re not doing the commissar parts.” Ray didn’t mention that the only reason why he agreed to hold a government office was so that he could speak with some authority to the Legislature when recommending new laws. He also needed to technically be a government official to get a personal security detail from the SPU, which was necessary because the success of New Washington’s self-reliant agricultural sector was a threat to the Limas.
“I travel all over New Washington and meet with local farmers and local government officials. I offer any help I can provide. Many communities, like Pierce Point where I came from and some of you have heard about, had agricultural people spring up during the Collapse and help their neighbors grow more. When I come to an area, I get to meet with these local agricultural people and we share ideas. I take the good ones, and there are many of them, and share them with the people in the next town.”
“I do a lot of my work in eastern Washington, which is the bread basket of New Washington and feeds quite a few people in the surrounding states. We are blessed with wheat fields and the best potatoes in the FUSA,” he said with a smile toward the Idaho ambassador in the gallery, “even though one of our neighbors prides itself on their potatoes.”
“When you consider the moister climate in western Washington and couple it with the drier one in eastern Washington, there is almost nothing we can’t grow here. Well, maybe coconuts, but who really needs coconuts?”
“I can’t speak about food production in other places during the Collapse and war, but I can in my little community of Pierce Point. We—I was by no means the only one doing all this—pooled our knowledge and resources like tractors and seeds. We grew an amazing amount of food. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t enough. But it put a big dent in the food we needed from the outside,” he said referring to FCard food, “and the food we got from hunting and fishing.”
“Here’s a very cool aspect of the food we grew: it provided nutrients people couldn’t get elsewhere. Deer meat and rice in vacuum-sealed bags will fill your stomach, but you can’t eat a limited diet like that for long. People need vitamins and minerals from fruits and vegetables. Remember: we don’t have vitamin pills any more, not many at least. We need to do what people have done for centuries before we got our fancy foods: they ate fruits and vegetables that were in season and preserved those foods for the winter. It’s not complicated, but all of this was news to most New Washingtonians. Someone needed to make sure the knowledge from the past got out to people. That’s where all these local ag people came in, and I just help them do an even better job.”
“But feeding our population is not some purely benevolent volunteer operation,” Ray said. “Those rarely work long term.”
“We are doing something different: letting the free market work,” Ray continued. “Some of the wealthiest people in many communities are farmers and ranchers and that’s great. You know why? They have the experience and equipment to produce things desperately needed by people. And we know that if we interfere with that—if we try to get easy votes by ‘sticking it’ to the rich farmers—we’ll end up like the Soviets in the 1930s. They had a skyrocketing production of… prison camps for ‘rich’ farmers, and, not surprisingly, they had famine. Our approach is to not have prison camps or famines,” he said with a shrug. “People seem to appreciate that.”
“Rebuilding an agricultural system after decades of regulations and outright socialism is hard, as Col. Stachyra described when he told of rebuilding Poland after the communists wrecked everything there. The old agricultural system here was dominated by huge corporations and gigantic government. We got rid of both of those things. Actually, we didn’t do anything to ‘get rid’ of them; they just evaporated when we kicked out the Limas out of our new state.”
“Now we’re back to a far more sustainable and fair system: small farms and ranches. We’re not opposed to large farms, if that’s what makes sense to the people who invest their money in them. It’s just that we aren’t creating a system that squeezes out little farmers and rewards giant ones. We’re staying out of ‘guiding’ food production to one particular ‘vision.’”
“You know what we’re finding out now that food is fetching fairly high prices and farmers are making money? More people want to be farmers, and more people are investing in land and equipment to grow food. Food production is way up. How is that a bad thing?”
“With all the production we’re getting from our farms and ranches, we’re able to sell quite a bit of product to neighboring states. That brings in foreign currencies and allows our farmers to upgrade their equipment and hire more people. Pardon the repetition, but how is that a bad thing?”
“There is one minor downside to how we’ve approached agriculture with our hands-off approach. Food prices are higher than in the past. First of all, food prices are falling as more and more production comes along. Second, food might cost more, but people don’t have other stupid things to spend their money on. They don’t have fancy cars, video games, the latest clothes, or any of that. They don’t really have any taxes to pay, which used to be the single largest expense for most families. They just spend money on the basics, and food is certainly one of those. Third, food prices in the past might have seemed lower, but things were subsidized, and a good portion of the population got free food from EBT cards, so they just thought food was cheap, but it wasn’t. The crushing taxes other people paid made up the difference, and that couldn’t last.”
“Oh,” Ray said with a smile, “Fourth, if you really like subsidized food, then go stand in the lines in Seattle with your FCard and see what that system provides for you. It makes our system—and our food—look much better.”
Chapter 369
Col. Dirk Franklin
(The Spud King)
“Speaking of food,” Ben said, “it takes two things to make food people can eat. First, you need to grow the food, of course, and that’s where Col. Ramirez came in.”
“Second,” Ben continued, “you need to process that food. In a perfect world, we would all just walk into a garden, grab some food out of the dirt, and go eat it. Most people can’t do that because they don’t live on a farm. We need foods processed and brought to us. We need a semi-load of mashed potato mix, for example.”
“That’s where our next honoree, Dirk Franklin, comes in,” Ben said. “He is the Spud King of eastern Washington. No one can
tell this story better than the Spud King himself, so I introduce to you, Col. Dirk Franklin.” The audience applauded.
A man in his forties stood up, donned in a suit though he did not seem that comfortable in such formal wear. He slowly made his way to the rostrum, visibly nervous.
After the applause died down, he said, “Well, thank you, I guess.” He paused. “I’m not sure what to say when you’re being honored as a colonel, but I’m very glad to be here. I guess I’ll just tell everyone what happened.”
“I was the manager of the Spud King, the largest potato processing plant in eastern Washington,” he began. “The company I worked for owned several processing plants in the area, making flour, pancake mix, biscuit mix, tortillas, and about a dozen other foods. We took the wheat, potatoes, corn, and other crops from local fields and turned them into food people could eat.”
“My company employed thousands of people,” Dirk continued. “Politically, we were kind of a big deal. The giant corporate farms, coupled with our giant processing company, kind of ruled the roost in eastern Washington. My company was very cozy with the local, state, and federal politicians and agricultural officials.”
“I was just a normal guy, trying to do my job and hoping to climb the corporate ladder when the Collapse hit. I was surprised, like everyone else, that my country had disintegrated, but I didn’t think we would be too affected out in the farm areas. I assumed we’d continue to process potatoes and ship out food. People always need food, so I didn’t expect many changes.”
“I was wrong,” Dirk said. “A few days into the Collapse, the military showed up. I wondered why. They said that they had plans in place from long ago to ‘secure’ food production facilities in a time of crisis. That made sense to me so I asked how I could help. They had no idea; they had no plan, they just wanted to have a military presence at the plant.”