Chapter 3
Home
And then we were home, my wife was in my arms and my kids were all over me. God it was so good to see them, to be with them again. I really had wondered in the last several days whether that might ever be able to be true again. No one really asked me any questions right away about why I had a rifle, a shotgun, three pistols, a whole backpack partially filled with canned goods as well as a sack with some empty and some full cans. I filled up the hall closet with all that stuff except for the canned goods which I gave to my mother.
Mom is a very sweet and very patient woman, but she is also the wife of a Recon Marine. And she has weathered two men in her family going to war and surviving in the most brutal and dangerous jobs imaginable. After she kissed me on the cheek and hugged me in turn she waited for me to have time for the wife and kids for a moment, watched me unload, and then said to me,
“It's so wonderful to have you home, son. Come into the living room and sit down so we can all talk together in a few, okay?”
Marching orders is what that meant. She wanted to know what the hell was going on that I was armed to the teeth, that I had what could only be blood stains on my clothing (which she took off me to the laundry room right away) and a bunch of canned goods. She took the canned goods to the kitchen and put them away. She noted that one particular brand of Kipper Snacks was that which Charley and Berneice loved. She went back to the closet where I had hung the Sam Browne I was wearing and looked at it for a moment. Written on the inside of the belt, something I had not noticed, in a kind of leather embroidery, was the word Chas.
She stood at the closet door and cried silently for a moment, wiped her tears and then came into the living room and waited for everyone to calm down a little in the living room. When everyone was seated and dad had his pipe lit up I said to Ruthie, “Honey, would you please turn on the television and see if you can find any stations broadcasting.” There were none. “Dad, do you have a radio that we could try.” He tuned his stereo to AM/FM, selected FM and went across the band, nothing. Then he tuned it to AM and went across the band. He found one channel open but just static. He left it on and sat back down. He just nodded to me.
“I am so sorry to have to tell you this. The U.S. is at war with Russia.” There were gasps, Ruthie started to cry, my boys gathered at her side and hugged her, my mother leaked a few tears and sat down next to dad, taking his hand in hers. I waited for a couple of minutes until everyone had calmed down a little and said “There have been some nuclear exchanges.” Again the gasps and the crying. “I don't really know how many. I took off from D.C. more than a week ago to get here. On my third day of travel I was between Omaha and Cheyenne when I saw what appeared to be at least three nuclear explosions near Omaha. Later I heard that Omaha was gone. Still later on outside Idaho Falls I heard that eastern Montana and the Dakotas had also been hit. I assumed that meant that Colorado had been hit and that D.C. probably had been hit as well. That is about as much as I can tell you about the current situation as far as the war with Russia is concerned. It all started with North Korea trying to hit us and then a whole series of world wide blunders kept coming up. I just saw the handwriting on the wall when I got you guys over here and took off myself.”
My youngest son, Will, who is now nine years old, asked me, “Does this mean you will have to go to war, dad? Or you, grandpa?” He looked at my dad who just shook his head.
“No, son,” I said. “No, I don't think so. But there are some things we may have to do that will be a little bit like war, your grandpa and I.”
My mom chimed in at that point and said, “Is that why you have Charlie's Sam Browne?”
“Yes, mom. Charley and Berneice will not be visiting again any time soon.” I nodded to her as tears began to run down her face. She got up and went into the kitchen and came back out with a plate of cookies and a large jar of milk. We all took some and sat and wondered quietly what life would bring us in the next few what, days, weeks, months, years? Would there be years left for any of us? God what a thought. I put it away about the time the radio blared.
“This is Radio United States. Please stay in your homes. Please do not panic. The United States has been attacked. We have responded. The nuclear war is over. We need your help. The best way you can help now is to stay in your homes. We will broadcast every hour with this message. God Bless you all and God Bless these United States of America.”
Dad decided it was time for him to contribute something to the discussion at that point. Everyone was kind of babbling at each other, wondering what the hell was going on. He and I were the only ones with a grasp on reality and even he only knew what I told him. He said, “We have taken a blow before and prevailed. We will do so again. We have work to do. Come on Gene, Billy, and you too son, we have some work to do on the outside of the place. You ladies get some grub up for us if you will please. This will be hungry work. Okay boys, son, let's get with it.”
We went outside and he opened a door that I would not have known was there had he not opened it. Inside was a generator running fairly quietly. I saw an exhaust running out of the generator and asked, “Where does the heat come out, dad?” He knew why I was asking. If the militia boys were smart enough or capable enough to do what they had done already there was probably a helicopter pilot among them. And if that were true it would be simple for a helicopter to investigate, discover and fire missiles at a heat plume from the exhaust from a generator. We, he and I both, had seen a lot of dead men whose only mistake in hiding themselves had been to make a fire or to dig a hole and put a fire in it that vented straight out into the air.
“Don't worry, son. I vented it into the rock of the mountainside below us on the other side of the house a long time ago.” He walked me over to the edge of what was a deep chasm behind the house. It had what appeared to be a very faint animal trail that led down its steep sides. About fifty feet down there is a large open cave. I have it camouflaged now and it is where the exhaust comes out. I am sure there is a little that leaks out the front of the cave but it is all bedrock and would give the appearance of radiating the heat of the day off rock. But here is what we have to deal with." He had put a railing up around the back of the house to make sure the kids and anyone else going back there was safe.
He began to pull it out of the ground. We had most of it out and laid down on the ground within minutes. It was a good thing. As we were finishing covering the lines of the railings we began to hear a helicopter. We covered ourselves and sent the boys back inside. Dad had created a small natural looking shooting spot. We watched the helicopter fly directly over us without seeing us. We watched it do a grid search of the area without seeing dad's home. Amazing. Dad said, “I flew over this place a lot of years ago now, Will, and it was nothing but rocky ground. It took me a long time to begin to develop it. I used the rock in the walls and ceilings, covered it with the local soil from areas away from here, places where the soil would not be missed particularly. I covered the entire place with the soil to a depth of nearly six inches. The doors I put in and painted or covered as well. The windows open electrically. Everything is electrically operated so you know. Some of them open only into firing slits behind rock and dirt as well as a four inch steel plate that protects the shooter. Later I will show you the entries into the cave below. That is our refrigerator and our storage area. It is where our fuel is located. Anyone that wants to get there has to go through the house. To go down the pathway would take a technical climber.”
“Jesus, dad, this place is a fortress.”
“You are right, son, but any fortress can be breached. That is one of the first lessons of warfare. You already know that. But it would be hard to take this place. It could withstand a five hundred pound bomb I think. Anyway, here.” He handed me a plan. It was a plan of firing areas outside the house. They were all connected by tunnels. He opened the entry into the tunnel and went down into it. Next to the opening was a flashlight.
The tunnel was
not tall enough to stand upright but it was not uncomfortable to move in there either. There was rock over our head. As we walked along he said “This was a bitch of a project. I am only going to take you to one of the other firing points. They are like spider holes but the top does not have to be removed in order to fire out of them.” We came to that spot in a few more steps and came up out of the ground there.
On the plan there were other indications. I saw a rope sign and asked, “Is this the rope catchment that I ran onto?”
“Yes. And the pit you found is a way behind that, you see the P.”
“Yes and the tree trap is back there as well, and I see the T.”
“What you never did see but I am sure you would have if you had stayed closer to the trail, is the punji stake traps. There are five of them and you narrowly avoided the first one. Each is fitted with a sound device that registers footfalls kind of like those that the Border Patrol uses along the border. They don't always work well but the punji stakes would if someone was stupid enough to walk on that trail. There are also several mines placed along the trail at intervals. You spotted one of the trip wires that would set one of them off. As you progressed down the area of the pathway, I watched you on the cameras which are night vision capable that are mounted in some of the trees. I was proud of how you were able to negotiate your way through all the traps I set for anyone. Of course I would have disabled them if I thought you couldn't do that but I saw no reason to doubt you.”
I laughed my butt off at that point and then finally said, as he grinned at me, “Damn, dad, I am sure glad you had confidence in me.” He got it and smiled and we went back to the house. He told the kids they would have to stay inside now unless they were escorted outside. He told them he had some things set up that could be dangerous to them and wanted them to be with him or me if they wanted to go out.
He turned to mom after talking to the kids and said “We are going to have to become a little more energy conscious now, honey. And our cooking will have to be limited to the convection oven for a while I'm afraid.”
She smiled knowingly at him and said, “Is there a danger to us like there was for Charley and Berneice?”
My dad turned to me. I answered. “I'm afraid there is, mom. And it's going to last a while, unless dad and I can eliminate its source.”
Ruthie, my lovely wife of twelve years, came in at that point in the conversation. She looked directly at me and said “I think it's time you told us what happened to Charley and Berneice, Will.”
“Are the kids somewhere that they cannot hear?” She nodded. “When I found Charley and Berneice they had been gone for at least twenty-four hours. They were tortured before they were killed. My guess is that Berneice was repeatedly raped before she was killed. She and Charley were both badly cut up and then they were shot.”
My dad said “That could be those kids from Frenchtown that we have heard are so problematical, honey. Remember they used to come and harass Charley a lot while he was working around the place.”
“Well, dad, whoever they are, whatever kind of people they are, they are apparently in control of the roads and the town now. There are dozens of them running around in pick-up trucks shooting at anything that moves. And Charley and Berneice are not the only ones they have killed. I watched them for a very short time with a couple on the highway that just happened to be driving this way. It was sad but I had to get here. The only thing I could have done is kill her. But here I am now, and I think dad and I can do something about this mess if we can get close enough to them.”
“Can you still run, son?” my dad asked me.
“Yes I think so. Not sure how far. But certainly several miles at a jog at least.”
“That is plenty. From the way you described the roadblock it actually is only about two miles from here as the crow flies. The terrain is difficult to walk or run but it's not far. Tomorrow we will do a little recon. But tonight we all need to get some rest and talk amongst ourselves about this whole thing.”
We all had a good dinner, listened to another broadcast of the Radio United States station which gave no new information, sat around and either moped or chatted quietly the rest of the evening until around nine o' clock in the evening when we all went to bed. The house was solid, insulated from room to room; each room had its own vents for the systems of cooling and heating.
The cooling was low, creating a lulling kind of air flow. My wife and I made love with each other quietly and peacefully for the first time in several weeks. We didn't talk much. We kissed a lot, said I love you a lot and held each other before, during and after. For her I'm sure it was a frightening evening despite my “coming home.” And we slept hard; at first we were entwined in each other's arms, then spooned through most of the night.
The next morning dad knocked on the door early. I got up, told Ruthie to go back to sleep for a while. I went out into the hallway in underwear. He handed me forest camos. We dressed, covered our skin with forest camo dressings, gloves and covers over our shoes. We covered our weapons. He had camo web gear and vests which we donned. He handed me a holster for the nine millimeter silenced pistol I had taken from one of the two idiots I had killed earlier. He already was wearing the other. He handed me night vision goggles and a marine cap.
He handed me an MP-5 automatic rifle that had a long silencer on the end of its barrel as well. We took knives in case we needed them or the contents of their handles. We took extra ammunition and clips. We were both carrying more than two hundred fifty rounds each. That sounds like a lot but it can be expended in a firefight in a very short time. We left the house with no conversation necessary, no signals, no need for anything except reliance on each other. We jogged away from the house with him leading.
An hour or so later, still full dark, we stopped. I had been hearing the idiots for a long time. They had a huge fire going next to the road. There were four of them. There were five cars along side the road. All of the cars had at least two bodies in them. One had two adults and three children, all dead. We crept along the length of the line of cars they had created for us to use as cover. We went slowly.
One of them wandered off into the woods toward us to take a leak. I peeled off and went with him for a moment. As he pulled his pants down, I killed him. It was simple and fast. I slung his M-16 over my back, took all his ammo along with his pistol which was similar to that I was carrying. I took his knife as well. I went back to dad. He made the sign for three. We crept forward to the edge of the car. I took the one on the right. Dad took the one in the center. Both of them took a nine millimeter bullet in the center of the forehead. The other guy jumped up, looked around and fell dead as dad shot him.
If this all seems a little cold-blooded, it was. But remember there were thirteen bodies in cars along the road at that point. We thought these criminals deserved nothing better and it was clear the “law” that had existed no longer did, or at best was ineffective. There were no cops, there was no army in the area except for the two marines who had just blooded these militia murderers.
We went to them, stripped them of their weapons and knives, took what little food they were carrying in their trucks, booby trapped the trucks to blow with Semtex covered in an arc with ball bearings. We hoped the militiamen would come, see the dead, decide to take their trucks without looking closely at them and start them up with at least two on board. Each of those two would die as well. We melted back into the forest and waited. Just as dawn started to break in the forest behind us two more trucks came along with four more guys.
We watched. They got out, looked at their partners, decided what they needed to do and two of them got into the trucks their partners had brought out to the roadblock. They died as they turned the ignition switches. The other two dropped where they stood. We ran down and took their weapons and then made a hasty exit into the forest at a dead run.
We were within a half a mile of the house when we heard the helicopter. We buried up and waited. It flew over us and went on
its way. So did we. Before it came back we made it back to the house. It was a grim start but a successful one at the least. We now had six more rifles and pistols, several more knives and some additional food. Not a bad night's work. Neither Ruthie nor my mom asked us anything about what we had done in those early morning hours. And we never volunteered anything about it either. Dad and I cleaned up, ate breakfast and played with the kids for most of the day. We all went to bed early.
After we were in bed Ruthie said “What happened this morning?”
“Ruthie this area is a war zone involving militiamen who are killing civilians. We are now at war with them. Let it be with that, okay?” She let it pass.
Attack when the enemy is unprepared.
Appear where you are not expected.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Chapter 4
War at home, how long will it last?
We could hear them out there, the helicopter, the blaring horns of the truck, the rounds being loosed into the shadows of trees and the trees themselves. Dad and I went from one spider hole to another looking for anyone coming close to the property. Luckily none of them figured that the “animal trail” which ended at the house was really a road. None of them but one.
This guy was apparently smarter than the rest of them, and he went for a walk up the road by himself. Dad's traps didn't get him. The guy just kept on coming. We saw him for a long time. Dad's cameras were working very well indeed. He had a hand held radio attached to his belt, and he had one of those shoulder epaulet mounted microphones that he could reach up and key while doing something else as well. I could hear chatter on the radio from the station that I finally took up that was within feet of the area through which he would pass before seeing the house itself, if he could figure out what it was. He kept coming.
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