Reactive armor is a type of material that reacts in some way to the impact of a high kinetic projectile to reduce the damage done. The most common type is explosive reactive armor (ERA), but different types include self-limiting explosive reactive armor (SLERA), non-energetic reactive armor (NERA), and non-explosive reactive armor (NxRA). The new foam plastic paint is a combination of all of these types. If damaged in battle a new coat can be painted on top and it is combat ready in minutes.
The TALOS unit is powered by a small atomic battery pack using a new technology no one has heard of. This power system just popped out of nowhere. These little batteries have over a one year operating life and never need charging. The atomic batteries provide the energy to power the electrical - hydraulic servo systems that make movement possible and super feats of strength. Sounds pretty cool right but newer and better machines have been reported but no one has actually seen them.
I have pretty much healed from the gunshot wound to my shoulder. We posted my death on the internet to try and stop the attacks of radicals coming to collect the reward money for my head. The drones have been watching Tocabaga day and night for any intruders and everything seems to be secure now.
The Rangers have pretty much cleaned up the county of gangs, drug lords, terrorists, and other undesirable people. There are however clans of evil people roving around who will kill you for your food, guns or money. It is still a dangerous evil world.
The city of St. Petersburg, the so called Green or Safe zone, is still under Federal control. People are slowly returning to their homes only to find it burned down or destroyed. Most people have two major problems which are security and obtaining food.
I was concerned that most of the Rangers were being re-deployed. They had become our good friends and part of our Tocabaga family. I said a prayer asking God to protect them from evil.
JUNE 21, 2025
It was early in the morning. I was sitting on the patio having a cup of java when old Farmer John came over to my house and asked, “Good morning Jack. I was wondering if you can take me back to the farm to pick up some things I need.”
“Sure Mr. Johnson, what do you need to pick up?”
“Well I have a bunch of seeds; corn, soy bean, green beans, and so forth that I hid over a year ago. We sure could use them here. There are some other tools we can also bring back from my farm.”
“Do you think we need one or two trucks to carry everything?”
“I have ten 5 gallon pails of seeds so maybe two trucks are needed to carry the seeds and tools.”
“Ok, get ready and be back here by 10 am. We need to go back any way to see if that gang left your farm like we told them too. By the way how do you like it here and how is the farming going?”
“I am happy to be here and in a few months the farm will be doing great. Maggie is a hard worker and she has a green thumb which is important. I’ll see you here at 10:00.”
On June 12, 2025 we went, for the first time in years, over the Skyway Bridge to Ellenton to buy a tractor. While there we had a battle at a pig farm with Mr. Horn and his boys, killing most of them. They wanted to kidnap Maggie and use her for breeding. They were a bunch of inbred bastards. On the way back we ran into eight Federal Agents who were killed by the mob at the Ellenton mall. The Agents wanted to take away the peoples’ guns. We weren’t going to let that happen so we helped them out a little bit and took away the Agents guns. The people revolted and wiped out the Agents.
It was an exciting day as we found old Farmer John and saved him from a terrible life by bringing him to Tocabaga. We provide him free housing and food in exchange for his tractor and knowledge of farming.
Oh, we also ran into two men who beat up Farmer John and took his house from him. After a brief encounter in I told them to leave the house by the next day. To help them understand I was serious I cut an ear off the leader, a person named Don. I have to check if they are still there. I hope not for their sake because I hate bullies and gangs.
I contacted the drone master to see if anything was going on in Ellenton area. He advised me a drone went down there and other drones flying over that area have run into some kind of electrical interference blocking the drone camera signal and pictures. Someone or something is jamming the signal. He is not sure what is causing the problems. Similar problems have happen in the recent weeks in different areas of the county.
I advised Tommy and Ron to make two Ford pickup trucks ready. Then I called Sergeant Major Willis advising him of our trip to Ellenton and asked him to bring two Hummers for security. The trip would include SGM Willis, SFC Smith, Ron, Tommy, Jim Bo, Chris, Tony, Farmer John, and me.
I hoped this would be a fast trip in and out of the area. I guessed it would take about one hour to get there, one hour loading the trucks, and one hour to drive home. Total travel time should be about three hours.
It was 10 am and we were all waiting for Farmer John at the bridge. It’s June so it is already hot, 95 degrees and muggy. John slowly walked down the road toward us, he looked beat and out of breath so I told him, “John just tell us were to go or make us a map and you can stay here.”
“No I want to go … I got my own reasons. I want to put some flowers on my family graves.”
Tommy handed him a bullet proof vest and said, “Put this on for your protection.”
We mounted up and drove off Tocabaga to the first check point on the north side of the Skyway Bridge on Route 275. This check point had six Ranges there and we informed them of our trip plans. Driving over the bridge we arrived at the southern check point and told these Rangers that we should be back in a few hours.
At the south check point on the Skyway Bridge I asked SFC Jones, “Have you seen anything unusual in the area?”
“Nope nothing not even a car has been here in days.”
A few miles after this check point Route 275 turns into Interstate 75. Going down route 75 there were no cars or trucks on the highway. Since there was no traffic we put the pedal to the metal and sped along at 55 mph.
Interstate 75 was a busy highway in the old days. The old days were just 3 years ago. This was the main route for north – south traffic on the west coast of Florida. Since the government collapsed traffic on this highway has all but stopped.
Driving on the interstate you are an easy prey for any bad guys. Some however do take the risk as evidenced by burned up rusted wrecks sitting on the side of the road. Most of them are riddled with bullet holes. It was kind of spooky looking and made you wonder what happened to the people who owned those cars.
We arrived at the Ellenton exit Route 301 and noted that there was no Deputy at the check point like last time but a Sheriff’s car was there. We all wondered why no officer was present but didn’t think too much about it. Turning left onto Route 301 we came to Ellenton mall area and to our surprise there were no people hanging around the road like last time. Everyone was gone; it was like a ghost town.
Last time we came here there were a few hundred people lined up along the road trying to sell whatever they could. It was like a flea market. All they wanted was some food to eat.
I commented on the radio which made a static sound, “I wonder what happen to all the people that were here last time?” No one replied.
We pulled over and I asked, “Is everyone’s radio working or do you have static like I do.?” Everyone had static; the radios where not working for some reason and neither were the cell phones.
We were shocked that not a single soul was here. I thought what the hell happen to the hundred plus people that lived here? We decided to complete our mission and then come back to search the area on our return.
We were turning down the road to Farmer John’s house and saw an old man walking in the middle of the road. The old person was dressed in tattered dirty clothes; he saw us and waved so we stopped next to him. Farmer John said to him, “Victor … Victor Elway is that you?”
“Yes it’s me John, boy you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
/> “Victor what the heck are you doing walking around here by yourself?”
Victor looked in shock and in need of water and food. He sat down on the side of the road and put his head down between his knees. Tommy went up to him and handed him a bottle of water, “Here take a drink and relax.”
Old man Victor drank the water down quickly and replied, “Thanks son. Do you have anything to eat? I haven’t had anything to eat in two days.”
Tommy went to the truck and pulled out a couple of oranges, peeled them, and gave them to the old man along with a piece of flat bread. Victor said, “These are good, you know I use to grow oranges in the old days.”
I asked, “Victor what happen here? Where did all the people go?” Victor just sat there and didn’t reply; like he was thinking what to say.
After a few minutes he answered, “The Feds came here two or three days ago with monsters and rounded everyone up taking them inside the mall somewhere. I managed to sneak away. I was going to my house to hide out until they leave.”
“What do you mean monsters?”
“The Feds got monsters with them. They are big and look like monsters from the future. If you shoot them the bullets bounce off. If you fight them they shoot you or burn you up. They can shoot a spark out of their arm like a bolt of lightning. It was terrible what they did; I never seen anything like it in my whole life. I think they killed everyone, men, women, and kids.
“I saw the monsters put some bodies into empty stores at the mall and stack everyone up like cord wood.”
“Where are these monsters now Victor?”
“They are somewhere around the mall. I don’t know where exactly.”
“How did these monsters get here?”
“I think they came by truck. For a few days I heard trucks coming in and out of the Ellenton area. I thought it was you Army guys.”
“Ok, let’s finish getting the seeds and tools then we can check out the monsters later. Victor get in the pickup with John.” I wanted to get out of there fast!”
Pulling up to Famer Johns’ house we noticed that the gang’s car was still there so I said to Willis, “Shit I told these guys to leave; now they’re in big trouble. Let’s surround the house and flush them out.”
Everyone got out of the trucks and racked a round into their weapons. Half of us went to the back of the house and half stayed in front. Willis yelled, “US Army Rangers anyone inside come out with your hands in the air!”
No one came out, no one replied, so Willis and Smith went in the front door while we watched the back door. In a few minutes Willis shouted, “All clear in the house!”
I looked over to my left where the barn was and said, “Guys let’s check out the barn.” We slowly walked toward the barn pointing our weapons. Half of us went to the back and Tommy, Ron, Jim Bo and I went to the front door.
Slowly I opened the squeaking big wooden barn door with guns at the ready as I yelled, “Come out with your hands up now!” There was no reply so we pushed the door wide open and slowly stepped inside the dark dusty barn.
While searching the old barn Ron yelled out, “Here’s four dead guys.”
I walked over to the corner of the barn and there were four dead bodies stacked up like fire wood. One of them had an ear missing. It was Don, the guy whose ear I cut off. The bodies were full of bullet holes, a lot of bullet holes and only a machine gun could do that kind of damage. My guess was a SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) light machine gun that did all the damage.
SGM Willis said, “I don’t like this at all. Let’s get the seeds and leave.”
Farmer John came into the barn and lifted a trap door in the barn floor exposing the 50 pails of seeds. We proceeded to load them in the truck while John went out back behind the barn. I watched him walk up to three white crosses and place some wild flowers on the ground. I made the sign of the Cross out of respect.
We took all the tools John had in the barn, shovels, picks, a few axes, and a wood splitter. Everything was loaded up into the pickup trucks and we headed back to Ellenton area.
Someone killed the dopers for some reason, but who? I thought, good the bullies are dead and I hate bullies.
DECADES EARLIER
I have never told anyone why I hate bullies, crack heads, and gangs but it all started when I was a kid. If you have been reading my chronicles then you know how much I hate those that do not have any respect for the law. People who have no concern about how much they hurt others, they have no feelings, they just care about themselves. These people would steal from their Mother or friends without a second thought, just to satisfy their own desires.
I am the oldest of three Brothers. We grew up fighting bullies and gang members in a tough neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. My Dad one of the most honest men I have known always stressed, tell the truth, and help each other. Never ever be a bully, never steal, and try to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I have always stood up for the people who could not defend themselves. I hate liars and bullies.
When I was in sixth grade or about 12 years old I use to run home every day from school which was about a half mile from my house. I ran as fast as I could to escape the threats of a bully named Jimmy Smith. Jimmy had moved to my school about six months before and for some reason he was always picking a fight with the other kids. He was a scary looking kid with jet black hair, beady eyes, and big teeth. He had no fear of fighting but worst of all he always won the fight.
I admit that I was afraid of Jimmy as he seemed crazy. So every day I ran home because he told me he was going to beat me up to prove he is the toughest kid in the school. I told my Dad and Grandpa about the problem. My Dad told me you are going to have to fight him someday so make sure you get in some good licks by hitting him in the face a few times.
Grandpa did better than that he spent time showing me how to box as he used to be a boxer to earn extra money when he worked in the coal mines. He was a bare knuckle boxer at the age of sixteen. Grandpa started to work in the coal mines when he was 10 years old in southern Illinois. At the age of eighteen a coal car fell off the track and hit him causing him to have back injuries so he became a bull dozer driver. Grandpa never finished third grade and could hardly read a news paper.
He had a hard life growing up and was always poor. He could never afford a house and lived in a trailer for years until my Dad purchased him a house nearby after Grandpa retired. He was a tuff old guy and was not afraid of anything. Grandpa always carried a Colt 45 in his waist band. I asked him why he carried a gun and he told me just in case he needs it.
I remember looking at his huge rough hands and large forearms from working in the mines during his teenage developmental years thinking he looked like Popeye. After a few weeks of boxing lessons and coaching from Grandpa I was ready to take on Jimmy.
Of course I had other fights with kids around the neighbor and even with my brothers, but all the kids were afraid of Jimmy. Finally I got tired of running and one day I was walking home with my brothers when Jimmy came running up hitting my brother Ron smack in the face knocking him down. That was the final straw for me so I stepped up to him and we started swinging. In two blows he was on the ground with blood gushing out of his nose and he started to cry. I told him to leave us alone and all the other kids or I would beat him up again.
This was a very important victory that molded my thinking thanks to Grandpa. Grandpa taught me don’t be afraid, stand your ground, and stay calm. You need to concentrate on hitting his face and don’t worry about getting hit yourself. No pain, no gain, if you worry about getting hit then you will lose the fight. Needless to say all the kids looked up to me at school and Jimmy lost is power to bully others. Maybe this is why I don’t like bullies but my bully stories don’t end here.
The next year I was in Jr. High School. In my seventh grade Home Room sitting next to me was the biggest fat kid in the school. His name was George Taylor and he was a meek nice kid who minded his own business. Many kids however called
George names like fat ass and he was picked on every day.
We use to have gym class and poor George couldn’t do anything. He could not climb the ropes, he couldn’t do one push up, he couldn’t do one sit up, and he could hardly run ten feet, so basically he just sat on the side lines watching everyone else. I found out that he had some medical condition that made him over weight. He was a smart kid and I liked him because he was kind to others. If someone needed a pencil, paper, or ruler he was always the first to provide one.
One day we were in gym class and the coach told us to play flag football. Teams were selected and George was picked to be the center on my team. He would hike the ball and just stand there blocking anyone who came down the middle. One kid named Nick didn’t like George blocking him. I saw Nick punching George in the arm and calling him a big fat slob. Nick was a big kid standing a head taller than me and he was a big jock that hated to lose at any game.
I went up to Nick and said, “Nick take it easy George is just doing his job blocking and if he knocked you on your ass that should teach you a lesson.”
Nick commented, “Mind your own business,” and punched me hard in the arm. I quickly turned throwing a right hook punching him in the gut and as he bent over in pain I hit him with an upper cut to the jaw knocking him to the ground. He was dazed and just sat there not moving. Nick never said another word to George or me.
Bok Lam was the only Chinese kid in our school. Bok and I became friends but he didn’t have much time for playing since he worked at the family Chinese restaurant every day after school. Now you can imagine Bok took a lot of crap at school. Kids were always picking on him calling him nasty names like gook and chink. I had a number of fights sticking up for Bok as he would not protect himself.
Then after summer vacation going into ninth grade I saw Bok in gym class and he looked like Bruce Lee. All summer he studied Kung Fu gaining muscle and weight. Bok walked up to me in gym class, we shook hands, and all the other kids were looking at him because he had muscles everywhere.
THE TOCABAGA CHRONICLES: (BOX SET - PART I - BOOKS #1-5) Page 25