One Man's War

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  Tim walked over to the tarp and grabbed one edge of it, pulling it off with a flourish. Seeing what Tim had exposed, Ian laughed a little.

  “I’m not going to ask where you got it. I guess a lot of this stuff is just lying around now, eh?”

  “That’s right. Ian, I give you the M252 81mm mortar,” Tim said, gesturing like a showgirl, on a game show showing off one of the fabulous prizes Ian had just won.

  “It’s been a while, but I still remember the basics.”

  “That’s all I need you to remember. I’ve got about a hundred rounds of HE, and about twenty-five of smoke right here. From what Taco said, we can get shitloads more. If we set it up and I give you a fire mission, do you think you can drop the rounds where I want them?” Tim asked, serious now.

  Ian nodded. “Yeah, mate, I can do that. It’d be a piece of piss.”

  “That’s all I’ll ask of you.”

  “I just wish that Colin bastard would be on the receiving end,” Ian spat.

  “This is not the time for that, Ian.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll drop those rounds right where you want them, Tim.”

  “Let’s get out of here and get some sleep. We’ve got a busy few days ahead of us,” Tim said, leading Ian back out of the barn. Tim turned the lights off, locked the door and the two men parted.

  Ian back to his house and Tim into his. Only one of the pair was sure of themselves that night…

  Chapter 12: Where the Buffalo Roam

  Sam Didinato roused groggily in his sleeping bag in the early morning hours. The cooking fire he and John Meadows lit last night had burned out hours ago, but in this early July morning on the plains of Kansas, it wasn’t needed for warmth.

  The sun was only a few degrees up from the northern horizon, and already he could tell it would be another hot day today. He sat up, seeing his travelling companion still asleep in his own bedroll, worn leather saddle at his head being used as a pillow.

  The four horses they’d acquired, along with the ten buffalo calves, were still tethered to two cottonwood trees only a few yards behind their camp. All of the animals were undisturbed, munching happily away at the high grass by the trees.

  After following Tim Flannery’s directions, and with a great deal of luck, they actually had found the old Native American, Dawn Redeagle, several miles northwest of Lincoln, Nebraska. With a great deal of bartering, the two men were able to secure three mares and a stud horse, all broken and trained by Redeagle, along with ten yearling bison calves, and it only cost them their propane powered Chevy 4X4, several cases of MREs and the M16A1 rifle that Flannery had given them as a gift to the wise man.

  Now, two weeks into their return trip back to Williams, Arizona, they were camped just north of an overgrown four-lane concrete paved highway once was known as Interstate 70, about ten miles west of Salina, Kansas.

  Didinato unzipped his bag. He put on a fresh pair of socks, then his boots, knocking the heels of each in turn to dislodge any wayward critters who may have found their way inside overnight. He scratched at his face, feeling a five day growth of stubble, and decided to shave this morning.

  He nudged Meadows, and the man stirred from his slumber with a groan.

  “Tonight let’s find a place where there might be a bed or two, eh, mate?” John said.

  “I thought you Aussies were supposed to be tough. Convict stock and all that?” Sam kidded.

  “You can get fucked, mate. Give me a nice, comfortable bed any day!” John said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I need a cuppa’.”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll get the fire going. I just want to brush my teeth,” Sam said. He rummaged through his saddlebags for his toothbrush and a crumpled tube of toothpaste.

  “I’ll get the fire going,” John offered.

  Sam put a good dollop of paste on his brush and began scrubbing his choppers. As he brushed away, he mindlessly strolled around, making his way to the top of a small rise a few yards away from camp. From the top, he could look down onto the highway, only a few hundred yards south of their camp. What he saw there, making its way west on the road, made him stop and drop to the ground instinctively.

  “John, whatever you do, don’t light that fucking fire right now!” he called back.

  “What is it?”

  “Come up here and take a look, and bring my binoculars,” he said in a muffled voice, toothbrush still sticking out of his mouth. “Keep low!”

  A few moments later, John was lying on the ground next to him, holding out his binoculars, which Sam brought up to his eyes, scanning the scene before him.

  “Who are they?” John asked.

  “I don’t know, but I doubt they’re the local Kiwanis club on an outing,” Sam said.

  Parked along the shoulder of the highway before them were several Hum-Vees and military trucks, and several men, all armed, milling around by the vehicles and road.

  He reached into a cargo pocket of his pants and retrieved a notepad and pencil, writing down everything he could see, remembering his lessons in scouting he learned in the Army.

  “What do you think they’re doing?” John asked.

  “I think they just stopped for a piss break.”

  “They don’t know we’re here?”

  “I doubt it. If they did they’d already be up here,” Sam said.

  “Maybe we should go down and talk to them,” John suggested. “Maybe they’re friendly.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Just look at them.” Sam dropped his binoculars on the ground in front of him. “If they were friendly, why go that well-armed?”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “If they were just traveling, they’d have a few people armed for protection, not everyone. This is a military convoy of some sort,” Sam said.

  “Where do you think they’re heading?”

  “West, judging by the direction their vehicles are facing. Beyond that, I don’t know,” Sam said.

  A man by the lead Hum-Vee shouted something they couldn’t hear, and waved his arm in a circle over his head. The men milling around started to move, climbing back into the trucks and Hum-Vees, and all the engines fired up. When all the men were in the vehicles, the lead Hum-Vee started off, followed by the rest.

  The two men on the hill watched the convoy head out of sight westward, and when there was no doubt that they could no longer be seen by anyone looking out of the rear vehicle, Sam sat up, making another notation in his notepad. “I think we ought to let the Sar’ Major know about this.”

  “Fucking oath, mate,” John agreed.

  “After all that’s happened, there’s only one reason to go around the country like that, and it’s not good,” Sam said, standing up. “I mean, shit. Anyone who’s left is just trying to survive at this point. This tells me there’s a big group of people somewhere, enough to mount up a military operation like that.”

  “We’ve been all over half the country out here, and the only other person we’ve seen was that Redeagle bloke,” John said.

  “They’re going somewhere, for a purpose. No reason to waste fuel like that either. Whatever reason that is, it can’t be good,” Sam told John.

  He retrieved the Satcom radio from his saddlebag and turned it on.

  When it didn’t fire up, he swore to himself. “Shit. The battery is dead. I probably left it on by mistake the last time we checked in.”

  “Is there a way to charge it?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a little solar panel set up that Robyn made for me but it’ll take a few hours. You might as well get that fire going so we can make some coffee,” Sam said, pulling out the charging unit and setting it up in the sun away from the trees.

  They busied themselves with the morning chores, checking on the horses and their livestock, and when the coffee on the fire was boiling, they enjoyed the drink with some canned pork and beans.

  After their morning meal, Sam loaded his carbine and took a walk down to where the odd convoy had been parked. H
e walked up and down the track looking at odd bits and pieces lying on the ground. Satisfied that they hadn’t left anything useful, he made his way back to the camp.

  “Did you find anything?” John asked.

  “No, but I did learn a little bit.”

  “What?”

  “For one, they’re not all that well disciplined for a military operation. They left all kinds of garbage lying around,” he said. “When you’re in a military operation, you never leave any trace that you’ve been in a place. There were empty MRE packets, toilet paper, cigarette butts, soda cans and shit lying around down there. Just by me taking a five-minute walk around, I could tell that there was a company-strength unit there, and which way they went. Total shit OPSEC.”

  “OPSEC?”

  “Operational Security, simple shit every soldier learns in basic training. They even pulled off to the side of the road, leaving tire marks. If they were smart, they’d have just stopped in the middle of the road, as not to leave any marks. It’s not like they had to worry about traffic.”

  “I always wondered why you even buried the traces of our campfires. It makes sense now that you say it.”

  “And just a bit more intelligence I can relay back to the Sar’ Major.”

  “Any ideas on who they were?”

  “None at all, but I know they’re not real soldiers. Some of them might have been, but they’re not well trained or led. Hell, even the group me and Sergeant Williams put together on Oahu had their shit together better than this bunch,” Sam said, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the battered and blackened old pot.

  “You’ve got to have some idea what they’re doing, Sam. They’re certainly not out on a holiday trip.”

  “I couldn’t say for certain what they’re up to. Worse-case scenario is they are some land-based version of that crazy ship captain we dealt with on Volivoli.”

  “This wouldn’t be good.”

  “No, that would definitely be un-good.”

  “Do you think they’ll find our place back in Arizona?” John asked with a worried look.

  Sam shook his head. “Not unless they are specifically looking for it. Just like Australia, out here in the west it’s big, and there’s a lot of places to hide. Our place is off the beaten path. Even if they stumbled into the town of Williams, they’d have to look through several thousand acres of forest just to find the compound. Besides, they’re on I-70, three states away. Williams is on I-40, well to the south of here. This road will take them into Utah, where it ends, and then they can go south into Nevada or north into Idaho.”

  “What if they did find us?”

  “Then they’re fucked,” Sam said. “There are only a handful of our people left out there, and they’d be sitting ducks. I don’t think they’ll ever find them, but to be on the safe side, I have to let them know.”

  He headed over the where he’d set up the solar charger. He turned on the radio and was rewarded by a beep. It synced with the geosynchronous military communications satellite. The battery level was only at 50%, but it was sufficient for the call he needed to make. He unplugged it from the charger, and walked back over to his seat on a log by the campfire.

  After first ensuring he was on the right frequency, Sam depressed the push-to-talk button. “Diamondback Six, this is Prairie Dog One, over.”

  He had to repeat the action three more times before he got a reply.

  “Prairie Dog One, this is Diamondback Six, over,” Robyn’s cheery voice came back, deceptively clear over the Satcom radio, as if she was standing a few feet from him.

  “Diamondback Six, I need to speak with the Sar’ Major ASAP, over.”

  “Sure thing, Sam. Hey, Holly had the baby, and it’s a boy! Dad named him Walter.”

  “That’s fantastic, Robyn. I really need to talk with Tim though.”

  “Okay, I’ll get him. Were you able to find Mr. Redeagle?”

  Sam pressed the button again, and with more than a little frustration, replied, “Yes, Robyn. That’s not what I’m calling to report. If you could go and get the Sar’ Major, I’d really appreciate it!” he said into the radio, scratching the back of his head.

  After what seemed like hours to Sam, Tim’s voice finally crackled through the radio. “Prairie Dog One, this is Diamondback Six actual, over.”

  “Diamondback Six Actual, standby to copy SITREP, over.”

  “Roger, wait one, over,” came the reply. After a minute, the radio came to life again, “Go ahead with SITREP, over.”

  Sam pulled out his notepad, flipped it open to the page where he’d made his notes earlier, depressed the button and began to speak. “About two hours ago, I witnessed a company-strength unit, seven vehicles. Three Hum-Vees and four mike niner three niner, travelling west on Interstate seven zero, approximately one zero miles west of Salina, Kansas, over,” he reported, indicating four M939 five-ton 6X6 military tucks, a larger version of the 2 ½ ton M35 ‘deuce and a half’.

  There was a short pause, then Tim came back, “How were they armed?”

  “Small arms, rifles and a few SAW’s, far as I could see. They did have two Ma’ Deuces on two of the Hum-Vees, but nothing I could see that was any heavier,” he said, meaning the M2 Browning .50 caliber machine guns. “They stopped right on our front door for a fifteen minute piss break, then left, heading west.”

  “Anything else you can report?”

  “They were sloppy, they left all kinds of garbage when they stopped. It doesn’t look like they’re all that well disciplined. Other than that, nothing else to report.”

  “Uniforms?”

  “A mix and match hodgepodge, Sar’ Major. ACUs with some civilian clothing thrown in.”

  “Are you in a position to shadow them?”

  “We could try, Sar’ Major, but we’re on horseback at the moment, and have some livestock with us too,” Sam reported.

  “Horseback? I take it you found Redeagle?” Tim said, slight amazement showing in his voice.

  “That’s affirmative. We’ve got a few horses and some young buffalo. It cost us our vehicle. Redeagle was a hard bargainer.”

  “I’ll bet. Are you on your way back?”

  “Affirmative. We can try to bird-dog them, but it’ll be slow going.”

  “Do what you can, Sam. Everyone here will appreciate it. I was hoping for information like this.”

  “You were expecting them?”

  “Yes, Sam. I was,” Tim replied. “I’ll give you a rundown later. I’ve been expecting them, and it’s important that you do all you can to follow them, and report back what you can.”

  “You’ve got it, Sar’ Major. We’ll do what we can.”

  “Check back again, this time tomorrow.”

  “WILCO, Diamondback Six. Prairie Dog One, out,” Sam said into the radio with a slight sigh, and then let out a long whistle, looking over at John, who had gone pale.

  “Diamondback Six Actual, out,” Tim’s disembodied voice came back over the radio. Sam turned off the radio and plugged it back into the solar charger to give it time to fully charge.

  “We’re to birddog them,” Sam said, walking back over to the cooking fire and pouring himself another coffee.

  “How will we do that on horses? We’ll never keep up with them, and we’ve got the bison with us too.”

  “I think it’s going to be a lot easier than you think,” Sam said.

  “How the fuck is it going to be easier?”

  “As sloppy as they were a few hours ago, it’ll be easy enough. They’ll be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow.”

  “I see. We won’t even have to get close to them, let alone catch up to them!”

  “Exactly. I love it when the enemy has shitty OPSEC.”

  “Is that what they are?” John asked, taking another sip of coffee. “The enemy?”

  “The Sar’ Major gave that impression, so we’ll treat them as such from now on.”

  “I thought all that shit was over and done with,”
John sighed.

  “So did I,” Sam concurred.

  The two men finished their coffee in silence, then made preparations to head out for another day of riding, this time with more due care and diligence.

  They broke camp silently, and as they headed over the rise that had concealed them so well earlier, the only thing that they left was some buffalo droppings and horse manure.

  They led their herd down the hill to the shoulder of the highway, and once on the tall grass of the median between the east and westbound lanes, turned west, following far behind the military convoy.

  The pair made good time, and at the end of the day they decided to stop for the night at a truck stop a few hundred yards off the interstate in a place called Russell, Kansas.

  There was a weed strewn parking lot with several rusting semis parked in rows, a covered area with several fuel and gasoline pumps, and a convenience store and diner attached.

  To the rear of the diner was a fenced in area that looked like it had once been a dog park for travelers to use, so Sam and John herded their livestock into the enclosure. After placing all of the animals inside and making sure all had plenty of water, they shut the rusted gate securely behind them.

  They took their saddles, rucksacks, and saddlebags with them over to the diner, where they figured that even if there were no beds, they’d at least be able to sleep inside for the night. The day had been clear, but in the gathering twilight of the day, clouds built up to the north and the sky was threatening to storm.

  There was the sickly-sweet smell of decay throughout the room, and in the dim light, they could see several forms that had once been live people here and there, now almost completely decayed to the point of just being skeletons, time, rats and mice having done their very best to eradicate what was left.

  “All this time, I should be used to seeing those,” John said, pointing to a body along the far wall.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. We can sleep outside by the pumps if you want,” Sam suggested.

  “Nah, mate. She’ll be alright. We can’t escape it, we just have to live with it now.”