by Glen Tate
Drew and Eileen were getting used to their new lives. Drew was a huge help at the Grange. He was keeping everything running fairly by giving people credit for the donations they were making.
Eileen, who had grown up on a hard-scrabble farm in rural Eastern Washington, was right at home in the rather primitive conditions of post-Collapse America. She had gotten over her initial normalcy bias and was embracing life as it now was. She got to see her grandkids more than ever and loved it.
The Colsons, Morrells, Chip, Gideon, and the Team were doing fine. Everyone was easing into a “new normal” of their lives out there. Grant looked back at just the past almost three months and couldn’t believe how far they’d come.
The rest of the people out at Pierce Point seemed to be adjusting to the new normal. It was amazing how quickly people had forgotten about many parts of their pre-Collapse lives of just a few months ago. Post-Collapse life was now how life was.
But not everyone was adjusting to the “new normal” as people called it. Some people dealt with the changes by complaining. They would whine that the mail didn’t come that day; it hadn’t come in three months. They would complain that nothing was on TV, or that the internet was down again that day. For these people, every little thing about their old lives that was no longer present was a topic to complain about. Most people were initially patient with the whines, but soon they started telling people to shut up.
For a few others, they were coping with the changes with some very odd behavior. One man brought old, pre-Collapse newspapers into the Grange and read them all day. Over and over again. He couldn’t get enough of stories about how life used to be. A woman went from house to house asking people if they had old calendars from the year before. She would look at the old calendars all day and mark the past dates with little notes about what she had been doing back then, when things were normal.
Grant noticed that now, almost three months into the Collapse, something great was happening: boredom. After the initial shock of the Collapse started wearing off, people were getting a little bored. Good boredom, as in no one was trying to kill them today and they had the same meal again, but at least they’d had a meal.
Grant was amazed by the human spirit and resilience so many of them demonstrated after being faced with disorder and an unknown future. Human beings are amazing. In just a few short months most Pierce Point residents had gone from the chaos of the end of the world to a new same ole’, same ole’.
Chapter 195
Marion Farm Kicks Ass
(July 18)
Ted and Sap hadn’t been out to Pierce Point for a week or two. They were getting things together at HQ and would check in periodically on the special radio they left with Scotty. One day, Scotty got the radio message that Ted and Sap would be coming out that night for a meeting and update. The Team kicked out their girlfriends and got down to business. Rich and Dan came out to the yellow cabin for the meeting.
The first thing Grant noticed about Ted and Sap was that their beards were even longer than before. That was true of most men, including Grant. Beards were the “new normal.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Ted said, “we’ll be locating out at the Marion Farm soon.”
“When do we go out there?” Ryan asked. Grant was dreading this. The day they went out to Marion Farm would be when he would have to tell Lisa what was going on.
“Oh, permanently?” Ted asked. “Not until right before we need to deploy. No, we’ll have you guys coming out on day trips and occasional night training exercises in the meantime. We’ll keep you at your day jobs here as much as possible. That’s part of the deal with Rich and Dan: as low impact on the internal security of Pierce Point as possible.”
“Besides,” Sap said, “you guys are well trained. We don’t need to show you how to shoot. We’ll have you come in during the days and provide instruction. We’ll teach you guys some basic military things, like how to move as a larger unit. That kind of thing. But it’s all finishing-touch stuff for you guys.”
“That’s not because we’re military bad asses,” Grant said, “but because the level of training for an irregular unit is relatively low?” Grant didn’t want the Team thinking they already knew everything so they wouldn’t pay attention to the further training.
Ted shrugged and said, “Yeah. Kinda. You guys are very good, but there are still some things you need to know.” Ted, too, wanted to keep up the Team’s confidence, but gently let them know that there were still things they needed to learn.
“Before we get into the details of the training program,” Ted said, “we have some intel to give you.” Ted went on to describe how the Loyalists were crumbling. He gave updated examples of military units “sitting out” the war or joining the Patriots. Many cops were joining up with Patriot units or running pro-Patriot para operations. Montana had kicked out every federal official and sympathizer, and captured a huge military ammunition depot in the process. New Hampshire, surrounded by Lima Northeastern states like it was, was largely in Patriot hands. The Patriots had even managed to shoot up several key buildings in Chicago. A small team of former SEALs came in from Lake Michigan and swam up the Chicago River. The raid had no military significance, except that it caused the Limas to pour even more resources into defending Chicago, but it sure had a psychological effect.
Seattle was a functioning city, but it was teetering on the edge of lawlessness. There was so much money and so many people with government connections in the city that important people lived a luxurious life. What was left of the authorities—and the gangs cooperating with them—were maintaining order. But resentment was running high. Even the most strident Loyalists in Seattle were figuring out that this wasn’t working well.
Olympia was the other Lima stronghold in the state. It was Seattle on a smaller scale: important people living pretty well, but resentment among the regular people was growing. They were maintaining order but only with increasingly extreme measures.
“Are people starving?” Chip asked. He had lots of friends still stuck in Olympia and wanted to know how they were doing.
“Surprisingly, no,” Ted said. “People are hungry, and some are really hungry, but those semis keep rolling in with basic foods. They come in under heavy escort, but they’re rolling. The giant corporate farms are churning out lots of food. Well, with slave labor pretty much. The Mexicans who were trapped up here or fled up here are working the farms. Pretty brutal conditions, but they’re better off than going back home. Mexico is a giant killing field right now.” It was silent.
Finally Ted said, “The Limas are sending prisoners to the farms to work. The conditions are bad, but it’s not like a concentration camp or anything. Hell, some people are volunteering to work on the farms because they get fed and there are fewer security issues out there. It sounds kinda like how my Okie grandpa lived,” Ted said, using the term referring to people from Oklahoma. “My grandpa and his parents lived as migrant farmers during the Depression. You know, Grapes of Wrath,” he said referring to the John Steinbeck novel about people from Oklahoma who went to southern California during the 1930s to find work.
“The forces still loyal to the government are pathetic,” Ted continued. “There are some loyal ground units—mostly Army and National Guard—run by ladder-climbing young officers who want to get promoted. There are tons of career opportunities for a young lieutenant when there are so many openings, like when the battalion commander is gone.” He described how some military units were operating like gangs. “Not full-time,” he added, “some of these units are soldiers for a few weeks and then, if an opportunity presents itself, they are a gang for a while, then they might go back to being soldiers. They’re gangs of opportunity.”
“Anyway,” Ted continued with a smile, “it’s pretty obvious the Limas are going to fully collapse. Soon. Very soon. It’s our job to speed that process along, which brings me to my next bit of news.” The room was spellbound.
“Marion Farm kicks ass,” Ted said
. Sap nodded. “We’ve been out there and fully assessed the place. It’s perfect. Secluded. Beach access for supplies. Plenty of room. A farmhouse HQ, a couple of outbuildings and a big barn for sleeping a lot of men.”
“How many?” Bobby asked.
“A hundred,” Ted said. “That’s with some pretty cozy bunking arrangements, but nothing a soldier can’t handle.” They let that sink in with the Team: a hundred-man unit. Wow. Much bigger than anything they’d thought of out there. A real military unit instead of what the Team had been: some civilians acting as semi-sophisticated law enforcement.
“We have orders from HQ to train up a hundred-man unit out here,” Sap said. “They approved the plan and authorized us to have the supplies for it. This is going to happen. For real.”
Sap let that set in.
“We’ll slowly build up out there,” Ted said. “A couple guys at a time. We’ll bring them and supplies out here by boat. A couple guys, a couple sets of weapons, a couple weeks of food at a time. The new arrivals can settle in. We’ll be making improvements to the farm at first. Mostly getting the sleeping quarters up and running. And the dining facility. And sanitation. That’s a biggie.”
“Who are the guys you’re bringing out?” Rich asked. He wanted to make sure—even though he trusted Ted and Sap—that they weren’t importing a gang.
“The first few boatloads are Patriot regulars,” Ted said. “Guys from other units. Mostly Army. We’ve been assigned about a dozen 11 Bravos.” That was the Army term for infantrymen.
“We have a couple Navy guys who know how to build up a facility,” Ted said. “They’re Seabee reservists actually,” Ted said referring to the Navy’s construction battalions or “Seabees.” They were combat engineers and construction experts. Plus they knew how to pick up a rifle and use it.
“We have an Air Force electrician coming out. He was a RED HORSE,” Sap said, referring to the Air Force acronym for a special team of airmen who went into a makeshift forward air base and got it up and running. And knew how to fight if the base was attacked.
Dan, the Air Force security forces veteran, gave a thumbs up. “Those RED HORSE dudes know their shit.”
“What about comms?” Scotty asked, referring to communication.
“We got a Navy comms guy,” Ted said. “Very squared away. We have some equipment coming for him, plus a surprise comms asset that will blow your mind.” Ted and Sap smiled at each other.
“So a dozen infantrymen, maybe a half dozen Navy and Air Force guys,” Grant said. “Who else?”
“We’re not exactly sure,” Ted admitted. “Most irregular units have the majority of their unit as volunteers. Raw civilians. Up to 90% of the unit is civilians. In a typical unit.”
“Is this a typical unit?” Rich asked.
“Probably not,” Ted said. “We are so close to all the large former military bases here. That means there are lots of guys like me and Sap near here. Our unit will probably get lots of former regular military. At least that’s what I’m anglin’ for.”
This was very comforting to everyone. They were fine joining up with a unit of civilians, but if they were in a unit with lots of regular military, that would be much better. Way more effective and way safer.
“We’ll take all the good civilians we can, though,” Sap said.
“We’re screening them at HQ,” Ted said, referring to Boston Harbor. “We’re finding out what skills they have, what military experience, if any, they have. We’re checking out their fidelity to our cause, too.”
“How?” Rich asked. He was a curious by nature and being a cop for several years taught him to ask questions in order to fully understand things.
“We try to see if they have anything obvious in their background, like former government employment,” Ted said. “Non-military government employment, that is. But so many people worked for the government right before the Collapse that this is not a very selective criterion. We mostly rely on referrals from people we know are Patriots. We have a little test we do in some cases.”
“What’s the test?” Scotty asked.
“Well, it’s classified but you guys are part of the club,” Ted said with a smile.
Ted explained, “We give a revolver to someone we’re not sure about. They don’t know it, but they’re dummy rounds in the cylinder. We tell them to shoot a captured Lima in the head. The ‘Lima’ is one of our guys pretending to plead for his life. If the recruit pulls the trigger, which makes a ‘click’ sound, then we know he or she is OK.”
“This trick will get out soon and we’ll have to move on to another one,” Sap said. “But it’s useful now. Besides, while we fully expect the Limas to try to infiltrate us, they have better things to do. I mean, they have a full-on war to fight with us—regular units versus regular units. They don’t need to spend their time sending in guys to spend a year trying to infiltrate little guerilla bands like us. We have total control on all communication devices our people have, so it’s not like an infiltrator could send out reports. Well, not without James Bond kind of equipment. And if the Limas have that stuff working properly, they won’t be wasting it on going after 100 irregulars.”
“These kinds of wars are messy,” Ted said, who had spent over twenty years fighting guerilla wars like this one. “You just have to do what you can to screen for infiltrators. We spend a lot of time and energy watching them and making sure they aren’t sending back reports.” What Ted didn’t tell them is that several regular military people, including him and Sap, would constantly be asking recruits the same questions to see if their stories were consistent. If an odd answer was given, the person who gave it would receive further scrutiny, maybe a formal interrogation. Maybe worse, if it turned out they were an infiltrator.
The guys on the Team were a little concerned that an infiltrator might make it into the unit and call in an airstrike on the Marion Farm. In peacetime, this would have been a horrifying thought and scared them away from doing whatever it was that would put them in that danger. But now, in wartime, this was just another risk they encountered in their new-normal daily life. They didn’t exactly shrug off the risk, but it didn’t stop them from doing what they had to do. They just dealt with it. Besides, the Limas were having a hard enough time just keeping the semis rolling.
“I bet one of the reasons to isolate the trainees at the Marion Farm is to keep an eye on them,” Pow said.
“Yep. Very much so,” Sap said.
Grant was thinking about Al, the guy who oversaw the people coming into Pierce Point from the outside…so he asked a question.
Chapter 196
Shanghai
(July 18)
“What about walk-ons?” Grant asked. “You know, people coming to the gate? Could you use any of them?”
“Sure,” Ted said. “If they meet our criteria. Who would screen them?”
“There’s a guy at the gate who does that,” Grant said and explained who Al was. “I have established a relationship with him. I can talk to him about sending us potential military recruits.”
“Whoa,” Ted said. “Who is he and can we trust him? I mean, I don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing out here.”
Grant was a little mad that Ted seemed to be assuming Grant would just blab to Al about what was going on at Marion Farm. “He won’t truly know what’s going on out here,” Grant said. “He’ll be told the ‘rental team’ cover story.”
“Oh, OK,” Ted said, “I guess that’s OK.”
Grant had another question. “What are you looking for in walk-on recruits? So I can tell Al what to be looking out for.”
“Guys with nothing left to lose,” Ted said. “Homeless, hungry, mean. Not psycho mean, but revenge mean. Preferably people who lost everything because of jackass politicians. Maybe they’re looking for a way to get even.” This kind of person had been the backbone of guerilla movements and revolutions for thousands of years.
Ted thought some more. “Single guys. We can’t really take in
their families. I mean, we can’t have a daycare at a guerilla camp.” Ted had actually seen that in some of the camps he’d operated throughout the world. “Well, maybe we could take in families, but they’d have to have the right skills. Some really good skills, like a guy whose wife is a nurse. I’d take that family.”
“Do walk-ons need military experience?” Grant asked.
“Not really,” Ted said. “However, it’s a huge plus. If you get some AWOL FUSA guys, I’m interested. AWOL cops would be another good find. But I’m interested in people with engineering, construction, machining, and agricultural backgrounds. Of course medical is always welcomed. We need to have a mini town out at the Marion farm for months before we deploy. We need people with…” Ted searched for the right term.
“Town-running skills,” Grant said. It wasn’t exactly a military term, but Grant wasn’t exactly a military person.
“Yeah,” Ted said, “‘Town-running skills.’ We’re like Pierce Point: we need people who know how to keep a town running. We’ll hand them a rifle before we deploy. We’re an irregular unit, not Delta Force. But we need people with important camp skills or skills we’ll need in the city we’re occupying.”
“People with town-running skills will be assigned to your civil affairs team, Grant, and they can go solve those problems in the city we take,” Ted stated.
It sounded weird to Grant to hear Ted say “your civil affairs team,” but totally normal at the same time. It was weird because now they were the civil affairs team, with no formal training whatsoever. But not weird because it just made sense and serving in the civil affairs role had basically been assumed ever since Ted and Sap arrived that first night on the beach.
“What about fidelity to the cause?” Grant asked. “‘Cause that will be hard to assess with certainty as we’re interviewing them at the gate.”
“That’s a tough one,” Ted said. “You can’t polygraph them at the gate.” Ted paused. “Do the best you can on the fidelity issue. I suspect most people coming to the gate, wondering around with nothing, aren’t exactly thinking about politics. They’re like the homeless dudes the government paid to go out and protest and intimidate people at the beginning of the Collapse. Well, we can do the same. We can say to people ‘Want to be fed and have a mission in life? Come with me.’” Ted felt bad using people who were in a bad situation, but war was a bad situation. Winning it was what counted.