PROJECT BlueBolt - BOOK II - THE GULAG JOURNAL: BOOK II - The Gulag Journal

by Marshall Huffman

  Apparently they staged a strike and as a result they were taken out and shot. He was so matter-of-fact about it, like he was discussing a deer hunt or something. The lives didn’t mean a single thing to him. I remember thinking how could you just kill a hundred plus people and not have it bother you? How could you sleep at night knowing that at some point you were going to have to answer to a higher authority for it? No one gets away with this kind of behavior forever. At some point this is going to come back on him.

  Apparently the future didn’t matter, just the present. A group was singled out to carry the bodies to the grave site. I wondered if tomorrow that would be our job, digging graves.

  I guess this would be a good time to tell you a little about the camp commander. His last name in Riker. He had been a prison warden before becoming part of the ISS. He is average height, maybe five foot ten with an athletic build as far as I can tell. It’s difficult to know for sure because he has a great coat on every time I’ve seen him. I don’t know how much truth is in the story but supposedly he was taken by a bunch of inmates trying to break out of a maximum security prison. He was beaten pretty badly according to the story. He was held hostage for two days while they ransacked the place setting fire to mattresses and anything else that would burn. At one point he was stabbed in the shoulder and almost bled to death before the FBI and State Police were able to free him.

  I don’t know how much truth there is in that, but I guess it could be some of the reason why he doesn’t care about what happens to his current group of prisoners. It doesn’t make it right but, well, there’s the current story about him.

  ***

  Day 46 Journal Entry

  Back to building the barracks was our task today. I was thankful that we didn’t have to dig the graves. I certainly found out how the roof joists were put in place. They were manhandled, one at a time. Six men fell and were seriously injured when one of the joists toppled and pulled them down with it.

  I have to be thankful that I was not involved in that part of the construction. It took all day to get just twelve of the thirty-eight in place. The load bearing walls were being put up as soon as four of the joists were in place. It was like I image a barn raising would happen.

  One thing is clearly evident, depression is reaching epidemic proportions. Half of the men seemed to have given up and are just going through the motions. We heard that one man just walked into the electric fence and fried himself. Another walked up to a guard and spit on him. He was immediately shot. I think my salvation is this journal. It helps me to express my feelings. I am not the same person I was when I was sent here but the journal does help. It is my therapy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A large gathering of Militia leaders from five states was taking place at a lodge near Yellowstone National Park. Those who had traveled the farthest had flown into the Yellowstone Airport.

  The leaders were from Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Utah, and South Dakota. Two other groups would be taking part by Skype. It was a risk with the ISS monitoring almost everything in the US. The various State Militia leaders were all there along with some new key members. The agenda began with a get acquainted meeting as some of them had never met before. There were fifteen people at the meeting and four others taking part by Skype.

  The Idaho Militia leader was the one responsible for putting the plan together so he would lead the group. He introduced the members at the cabin first and then the four on Skype. It was the first time such a meeting had taken place.

  Each leader reported on the number of members and the general overall readiness of the men serving under than. They did not talk about the specific amount of fire power they had at their disposal. That was for obvious security reasons.

  “I guess the real question facing us,” AJ Watson, leader of the Idaho Militia said, “Is, are your people really ready to fight if it becomes necessary. Our people have already had a skirmish with the ISS. Once the bullets start to fly it will be too late to have a change of heart.”

  “Tell us more about the firefight. The President said you got your noses pretty bloodied,” Bill Fleming of the Wyoming Militia said.”

  “That was the usual Washington spin. We killed sixty ISS troops, wounded another twenty or so and took three prisoners. We are still holding them. The President did what she always does best. She lied. She has been doing that since the day she took office. I’m sure that will continue. If they had really cleaned our clock do you think she would have offered a five million dollar reward? She is desperate and they looked like amateurs. You can’t believe a single thing coming from the media. They own the stations and the print media. We will always be the bad guys and they will always wear the white hats. You are going to have to get used to that,” AJ told him.

  “I can attest to that, General Ashcroft said. Colonel Pearson and I were the targets. We were the bait. The Idaho Militia was waiting for them to make their move and then they sprang the trap. It was a rout.”

  “Okay, just checking. We need to know who we are fighting with,” Fleming said.

  “One thing we need to discuss is the strength of the leaders. Yes, I know you all represent your particular State Militia but what about those downstream? How many of you have real experienced soldiers leading your troops. I brought General Thomas Waggoner, Admiral Bix, General Lance Uber, Captain Ben Worth, and Colonel Kim Dare. They are some of the officers who refused to sign the allegiance that the President insisted ever officer pledge to her personally, not to the country, but to her. They resigned and have been on the run. The ISS wants to grab these officers and…well who knows. Possibly try them for treason. No matter what, they bring a wealth of military experience and they are going to join us in our fight. All of them are willing to go where they are needed most. What you will need to do is assess your strengths and weaknesses. Not pie in the sky, but how you really stand. If you want to strengthen your military leadership, these are the people that can help,” AJ told them.

  “I know we could use some help. In fact, I would like to talk to them about how they can help us in South Dakota, the leader said through the Skype connection.”

  “Excellent. When this meeting is over we can set up another connection at a different location. Then we can discuss this further.”

  “Good, the sooner the better,” he told them.

  “Anyone else?.”

  “I know we can always use help. I would like to talk to them as well,” Ben Fleming of the Wyoming Militia said.”

  “Okay. The rest of you can think about it but I wouldn’t wait too long. I think they are going to be snapped up pretty quickly. I know we can still use plenty of help. I am not deluding myself one bit. We will need all the help we can get if we actually get into a shooting war.”

  ***

  The meeting only lasted for one hour. They didn’t want to press their luck by having that many Militia and ex-military leaders all in one spot for very long. Thomas, Lance, and Lincoln rode back with AJ.

  “So what do you think?” he asked

  “I think some of them will be smart enough to ask for help. Others have an ego that will not allow them to seek help when it is offered,” Thomas replied.

  “I agree,” Lincoln replied.

  “I hope we can sort out the ones we can really count on. A leader that doesn’t recognize his own weaknesses gets good people killed,” AJ commented.

  “One thing for certain, in war, egos get people killed,” Thomas said.

  ***

  Day 47 Journal Entry

  We all look like hell. Few, if any, are taking showers because of the water temperature and then getting out you have to use your clothes as a towel or just put them on wet. No one has had a haircut. Only one or two men actually try to shave.

  When I got here I was told we would get clean clothes once a week but so far that has not happened. We are still wearing the same uniforms we were originally issued.

  In our barracks alone, probably 75 percent of the men are s
ick and running a fever. At night snoring has given way to coughing, sneezing, and moaning. Each day the weather, work, and lack of food is taking its toll. While we are working, we can kind of forget about it but at night all you can do is think about food. We are constantly hungry.

  I have been keeping a journal every day since I got here but honestly it is becoming too much effort to even write at night. I know that keeping a record is important. Even if I don’t live, someone may find this one day and let people know what went on right here in America.

  I know people will not want to believe it because it goes against everything we think is true in this country but I can attest to the fact that it is happening. Even our gentle giant is starting to show signs of the toll it is taking. A man his size must require a great deal of food to keep him going. I noticed that his skin color is changing. He is taking on a gray hue and his hands tremble all the time now. In many ways he is our rock. If something happens to him I am sure many will simply give up.

  ***

  Day 48 Journal Entry

  All in all it was a normal day. We continued working on the barracks. Two others were being built by different work groups at the same time. Obviously they are expecting additional detainees. I love that word, detainees. That is so typical in today’s world. No one really calls anything by its real name. It’s like changing what we are called somehow changes the facts.

  The sad part of the day is we lost six more men today. Two were shot by guards when they just couldn’t go on any longer, the other four appeared to die of natural causes, if you consider working in zero degree temperatures, little sleep, and hardly any food being natural causes.

  I can’t remember the last time I was full or warm. To a man, we sleep with our clothes on and our one blanket wrapped around us and we are still cold. Obviously these internment camps are slow death camps. Maybe not like the German’s but nevertheless, we are losing six to ten men a day and there are 30 barracks on the men’s side. I don’t know how many there are on the women’s side, but you are probably looking at two to three hundred people dying every day. Two hundred a day. They can call them what they want, but they are nothing more than death camps.

  ***

  Day 49 Journal Entry

  I am very concerned for 642. He is just going through the motions of living. His walk is unsteady and he has started mumbling to himself constantly. I honestly don’t know how much longer he will be able to go on.

  One thing that helps a little is the weather. The sun was out all day and the temperature was in the twenties. Add to that, hardly any wind, and it was one of the more pleasant work days we have had in a while.

  Tonight at supper I sat next to 642. His hand was shaking so badly that I had to help him eat. When we was finished with his, I fed him half of mine and gave him my bread. I can go longer than he can at this point. When we were finished I helped him get back to the barracks.

  If it hadn’t have been so pathetic it would have probably have been funny to see my puny five foot nine frame helping a seven foot person to get from point A to point B. When we got to the barracks I helped him get into the bunk and as I was starting to walk off he grabbed my arm. He said thank you and a tear ran down his face. It was all I could do to choke out that he was more than welcome and that he is my hero.

  ***

  I cried for the first time in I don’t know how many years. My friend 642 died in the night. I wanted to be one of the ones who helped carry him out. It took eight of us to get him laid out in the snow.

  I am not a brave person; I’ll be the first to admit it, but instead of going to the work detail I walked to the commander’s house and knocked on the door.

  When the guard opened it he immediately grabbed me and tossed me in the snow and started kicking me. I remember thinking that it wouldn’t be long before I joined 642. Suddenly he stopped and the commander was standing there looking down at me.

  He wanted to know why I was at his quarters. I explained that my friend 642, the giant he had talked to one time, had died and I wanted to help with his burial. He asked me why. I told him that he was a good man and deserved to have someone who cared about him burry him. Much to my surprise he agreed. I could select the men to carry him to the grave site and we could bury him. He also said if I ever came to his door again I would be hanged. All I could do was thank him. It didn’t seem like a good idea to mention how ridicules a threat like that was.

  We buried 642 in the afternoon under sunny skies. I mumbled a few words and hoped he was in a much better place. I told him I would miss his kindness.

  ***

  Day 53 Journal Entry

  I haven’t made an entry for the past three days. I know I should write something every day but honestly what else can I say? We get up, we work, we eat, we die, and then do the same thing over again the following day. It is obvious to all of us that our chances for survival diminish every day.

  I doubt there is a man in the barracks that isn’t sick. It is just a matter of degree. Each day is agony for us to be out in the cold for hours on end.

  I spent a wasted half-hour before falling asleep trying to figure out just what day it was. Finally I gave up. What difference did it make anyway?

  ***

  Day 55 Journal Entry

  I know, just as I said I need to write every day I skipped a day. That is because of a new and unusual development. We were informed that twenty-five men out of our barracks would be relocated. Where to, was not mentioned. My number was drawn so I spent yesterday getting ready to move. They allowed us to take warm showers and issued us new uniforms. The bad news is that the uniforms are much heavier. We were also given a parka, lined boots, and gloves. I can only surmise that we will not be going to Florida. We have all been speculating as to where we are being sent but no one really knows.

  The person whom I think has the best handle on it is 1198 who said we were probably being transferred to Alaska. Alaska. As if it wasn’t bad enough here.

  I am writing this in the truck as they take us to the airport. Too many guards will be there for me to do any writing. I guess we will see what tomorrow brings.

  Must go now. We are at the airport.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Day 56 Journal Entry

  They loaded us on these big military planes, kind of like cargo planes. One guy said it was a C-130 or something like that. I wasn’t in the Air Force so I have no way of knowing if he knew what he was talking about or not. All I know is that they were spartan to say the least. Seats were nothing more than a kind of sling. Our plane had almost two hundred people packed into it.

  Some of the guys said we were headed to Alaska. How they would know this is beyond me. I was hoping it wasn’t so. The last thing I wanted was to be some place colder.

  The trip seemed to take forever. We stopped three times and each time fifty or so got off the plane. By the time we got to the last stop there were just twenty-five of us left on the plane. When we got off the first thing I noticed was that it was warmer than New Mexico by a ton. If I had to guess I would say around thirty or so. Maybe Alaska isn’t where we ended up.

  We were transported by truck to a really out of the way base camp. The first thing I noticed was that there were no razor wire fences. There were no guard towers. I had no idea what this meant. Were we so far from civilization that it didn’t matter if we tried to escape or did they have some other way of tracking us?

  When we got out of the truck, a rugged looking man, probably around fifty, with a big beard and lots of muscle, met us.

  He told us we were at an oil exploration camp. Our job would be to help with the drilling. We would either be assigned as roustabouts or roughnecks. I had a vague idea what they were but I had no real concept of what was actually involved with the work. Neither sounded enticing.

  We were taken to our barracks. It was considerably smaller and the beds were just normal bunk beds, not the three high ones like in New Mexico. They issued us extra underwear, socks an
d heavy coveralls to go over our clothes. While I’m glad for the extra clothing, I am somewhat concerned about what it could mean. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it.

  Even more surprising, we were taken to the mess hall and fed. It was just a sandwich and a bowl of soup but it was a heck of a lot better than anything he had had in some time. I’m sure we were all thinking we were a lot better off.

  After lunch we went to the oil exploration field and he went through some of the equipment. I understood about half of what he was saying. He was talking about things I had never heard of. Mud pits, chainhands, worms, and such. I decided not to worry too much about it. They would teach us what we needed to know when we started work.

  The last thing they did was issue us hardhats. It was still light out when we were taken to the barracks and told we could hit the rack until morning. It seemed too good to be true.

  I guess I will have to wait and see what tomorrow brings before I make any kind of judgment about the place.

  ***

  Day 57 Journal Entry

  Brent Blend. Now that is something I had never heard of before today. Apparently that is the type of oil we are going to be trying to get out of the ground. From what I gathered, it is great for making gasoline because of the low sulpher content. That is the sum of my knowledge about oil at this point. The drilling rig is already in place.

  There are about ten other guys here that don’t seem to be ‘detainees’ but work for a company called Ashland Oil and Exploration. They seem like pretty good guys but look like they are really physically fit. I was told I was going to be an oil rig floor hand. At that point it meant little to me so I wasn’t too concerned.