Creature comforts helped the morale and since no combat operations were ongoing at this time other than standard patrols, the benefits were welcomed by the whole community. A strong steel gate was built around the cave opening on that side for security, since Ben had told more people about the brown bear that had tried to make it a home. This became a kind of a vacation spot, and the reservation list filled up fast. More electricity had to be brought to the other side, but it was worth the effort.
“It’s been weeks again since we’ve encountered any enemy troops,” Bill said in a meeting of team leaders.
“We’ve been as far south as Homer, and all’s quiet,” Collins added.
“How far north have the patrols gone?” Jim asked.
“With the limited amount of fuel we have left, Kasilof’s the furthest,” Rick said.
“The snow’s melting and the highway’s opening up more with each trip we make. We should go as far north as possible and see how it looks,” Bill suggested.
“We still haven’t been able to make contact with Cpt. McGee, we haven’t been able to raise anyone on the radio,” Rick said.
“How’s the food supply?” Jim inquired.
“The shortcut through the mountain has proven to be adequate for our needs,” Bill answered. “Trap lines in that area have yielded an enormous amount of small game. Moose are also more abundant over there.”
“The cooler that was constructed is sustaining the meat for longer periods, as well,” Matt chimed in.
Jim appeared impressed. “It sounds great. I guess I can retire. You boys have it under control without me.”
“You keep getting better so you can take your place back as our leader,” Rick told him.
“I was never your leader,” Jim said, looking around at shaking heads.
“We wouldn’t have made it this far without you,” Bill insisted, while the others nodded in agreement.
“Let’s agree to disagree. We’ve all made it this far by trusting one another and being here for each other. I’ll be back to 100 percent soon enough and we can all move forward together.”
More and more young people wanted to join the militia and help fight for the cause. Jim made a rule. Militia candidates had to be at least 18 to join and be properly trained before going on patrols and combat missions. A larger percentage of young women wanted to join than had been expected, but if they passed the rigorous boot camp designed by the veterans of the group, and could prove themselves as marksmen and could handle the endurance, they were gladly accepted. As expected, some opposition had been voiced to women being in combat roles, but as Jim and others pointed out, the survival of the nation is the responsibility of each citizen and if they were going to endure, then they all must do their part.
March 11th
Without proper medical care, I know I haven’t healed as fast as I should have. Doc has done the best with what he has, but the technology we lack is hindering his efforts. Luckily for us, the enemy decided to take most of the winter off. During this reprieve, we have trained more personnel and tightened up security in the compound and the perimeter. We should be able to survive as long as we need to with everything we have in place. The population of our community is hanging at 111 people. We, of course, had more, but accidents have happened, and the reality of war is not everyone makes it back. We continue to have faith and we will not give up.
Jim had healed from his injuries and was back to his normal self, for the most part. The wounds he’d sustained had not only hurt him physically, but had penetrated into the far reaches of his psyche. He was now more gruff than usual, his emotional state kept him on edge. Other times he was numb. But he was glad to be back among the living and even managed to smile from time to time. He was still dealing with a certain amount of pain, but hid it well.
One spring morning Jim called a large meeting for the community to attend and everyone quickly gathered in the main cave area.
“We’re putting a convoy together to drive to the towns north of here,” Jim said. “With little or no enemy activity in the last few weeks, we need to know what’s happening beyond the boundaries of where our foot patrols have ventured. We still have no contact with the Marines. Any volunteers for the convoy please see Matt after this meeting.”
A few grievances were brought up, some having little merit, but would be addressed, nonetheless. They’d put together a nice little community amid the violence, but some of the people could be more difficult than others.
The convoy of four trucks left early the next morning from right outside the FOB. Snow drifts were some of the obstacles they had to negotiate on the way down the mountain. But they didn’t slow them as much as the windblown trees downed across the gravel road. The people in the convoy dismounted and provided flank security each time they stopped to clear the way. Some thought it unnecessary, but it was good practice.
“It doesn’t look like much traffic has passed through here lately,” Jim said over the radio as they entered the highway. “All of you stay alert anyway, especially when passing abandoned vehicles.”
“We see a few people up ahead on the right by the next building,” Rick cautioned.
Bill looked through binoculars and said, “It appears to be a couple of women and children, nothing to be concerned with.”
More trees and then some abandoned and burned-out vehicles littered the highway and slowed the trip down considerably, but they pushed their way north.
Once they made it within 10 miles of the Kenai River community of Soldotna, the lead vehicle stopped.
“Checkpoint,” came across the radio.
“Everyone stop. I want to turn around,” Jim said, as he turned his vehicle. The rest of the vehicles followed suit and pulled off where the people at the checkpoint couldn’t see them. “I want a four-man recon team to give me all the intel you can on our friends down the road.”
“I’ll take my team,” Rick said. The team checked each other’s gear and moved with purpose through the woods. They would maintain radio silence unless they needed help. They took their time as they would on a standard patrol, all the while paying close attention to detail as they had been trained to do.
“I want two snipers giving these boys cover,” Jim said. “Crawl up to get into position and don’t fire unless I tell you to. Take the Barrett .50 cals and spotters.”
The recon team, lead by Rick, slowly made its way through the woods to a position above the road in order to get a good look at the road block. An hour after the team had entered the woods they made their way back to the convoy.
“What can you tell us?” Jim asked.
“The road block has been set up by the NWA in order to keep track of civilian movements north and south. They aren’t soldiers, they’re kids. I walked right up to them,” Rick said.
“You did what?” asked Jim.
“They aren’t even armed,” Rick said. “We scanned the whole area before moving in.
“So,” asked Danny, “is it over? Can we go home?”
“Not if they’re still here. I don’t care if they are unarmed kids,” said Jim. “Something isn’t right.” He looked around at his surroundings and then back to his team. “I want a six man team with one vehicle to stay here with a secure radio. Do you see those houses over there? Find an abandoned one and make it a secure FOB. I want regular reports on the hour. Maintain 50 percent watch at all times. We need to get in touch with the Marines. We will send supplies and relief in three days. Keep a low profile and watch your perimeter day and night.”
“You OK, Jim?” Bill asked as he and the others looked at him with concern.
“We need to be careful and not take any chances. Now let’s get it done, people.”
“To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.”
—George Washington
Chapter Thirty
The convoy made its way back to the stronghold after nightfall. Everyone had been eager to hear the news —any news.
The whole community appeared to descend on them as they entered the cave.
“OK, people, calm down,’” Jim said. “We encountered a roadblock about 10 miles south of Soldotna. Young boys were manning it and had on NWA uniforms with no weapons.” The whole group started talking and asking questions at the same time. “If you want to find out, you have to let me talk, people.” They quieted down so Jim could tell them the rest. “Rick walked over to talk to them after seeing they posed no threat. The boys were from Canada, and they were recently flown in to help the NWA with civilian reconstruction, or so they said.”
Everyone looked around in confusion.
“I don’t know what it means, either,” Jim started again. “We’re going to keep trying to get a hold of the Marines to get more info. In the meantime, we will be keeping an eye on the road block with a rotating team of six. The first team is in place and will be sending us regular reports. We will let you all know what we find out.”
The crowd dispersed as Jim walked away and started looking intently for someone.
“Sgt Collins, you’re just the man I was looking for,” Jim said.
“Yes, sir,” said the Marine.
“I need you to follow me, son.”
The two men walked through the commons area, down an old tunnel and through the door marked, “No Entry, Collapsed Tunnel.”
“Sir?” asked Collins. “Where’re we going?”
“Follow me and keep quiet.”
They turned their weapon lights on and skirted the wall around a huge hole in the tunnel floor. Collins looked down from the narrow path, but his light didn’t reach the bottom. They turned a corner and could see lights further down the tunnel. Collins could see kids playing in the passage and several rooms alongside as they walked through to another door.
Jim opened the door and Collins could see it had a bookshelf on the cabin side. They walked into the cabin where several people were sitting around the main room.
“You know Bill,” Jim said. “He owns this cabin and this is our home away from home. This is Jessie.”
“I’ve heard so much about you, Sgt. Collins, as have the rest of us.”
“I asked you here to help our computer tech, Jessie. I trust you will not say a word about this side to anyone?” Jim asked.
“No, sir, you have my word,” Collins said.
“Not even Millie can know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Follow me, please,” Jessie said.
They walked into a room full of computers and communication equipment.
“This is our command center. I need your help to get in touch with Cpt. McGee. I’ve been trying throughout the winter with no luck. Can you help us?”
“Before he left, the Captain gave me a frequency and a code, but only for emergencies. He said to use it only if my life depended on it.”
“Who is on the other end?” asked Bill.
“He didn’t say.”
“Jessie, put the frequency in and let’s see who we get,” Jim told her.
“We will have audio and video in 10 seconds,” she said.
“This is mobile command,” said a voice as a figure moved in front of the screen behind a desk. “Who is this?”
“This is Jim Stanton of the Alaska Militia in free America. Who are you?”
“I’m General David Hummel, United States Marine Corps, son. How did you get this frequency on my secure net?”
“Cpt. Daniel McGee of First Force Recon gave it to us. Can you give us a sitrep sir? We’ve been out of contact for far too long and need to know what’s going on out there.”
“What’s the password?”
Jim looked at Collins.
“Chesty,” said Collins.
Jessie looked confused.
Jim whispered, “I’ll explain it to you later.”
“Good, now to business,” said the general. “Most of the West Coast has been secured and we’re slowly heading east to link up with other units who have taken cities back. We still have the most resistance in the south, but have air superiority in the region and have made headway in the Midwest. We’re gaining ground, but it’s slow going in most areas of operation with winter storms wreaking havoc on missions. How is it up there in Alaska?”
“We haven’t had much resistance from the NWA lately,” Jim said. “We encountered a road block this morning with kids manning it, and no weapons. Do you have any intel for us about the rest of Alaska?”
“The last we heard is the NWA had taken control of the oil pipeline again and reinforced with a whole division to maintain control. We’re unfortunately stretched too thin with our forces to go back up there anytime soon. We have more civilians down here in other states to worry about. I’m sorry, but it’s become a numbers game and you’ll have to hold out as long as you can. We’ll be back up there as quickly as possible.”
The image and sound were blinking out, progressed to static and then black.
“What happened?” Jim asked.
“The satellite has left the horizon. We can try again tomorrow,” Jessie said.
“No need. We heard everything we needed to hear,” Bill said. “We’re on our own and don’t know when we can expect any help.”
Jim and Sgt. Collins left to go back to the other side of the mountain.
“What’s your take on this, Jim?” Collins asked as they walked through the tunnels.
“Well, what the general said makes sense. The main population of the U.S. is a priority, but the oil and other minerals up here should fall close behind.”
“I can’t imagine it’ll be too long before our troops arrive back up here to regain control of Alaska.”
“I sure hope you’re right, son. We need to stay alert and not give the NWA a chance at winning this part of the country back for good.”
The two men continued to talk as they entered the main room on the other side. A few young children playing tag ran by smiling and laughing.
The six-man team left at the crossroads by the road block changed out with fresh militia members from time to time. They’d been there watching and listening for the better part of a month. Not much had changed. The area was still guarded by nothing but kids, and still no weapons. The militia kept track of all that went on at the checkpoint. The young troops stayed on a 12-hour rotation and kept the same number of them manning it.
After checking in with the main element on the mountain one morning, the team watching the checkpoint decided to go through the blockade and continue north to get more intel.
A four-man team assembled to go through and see what information they could gather from the other side. It had been the better part of two years since anyone had ventured so far north and, several people wanted to know how the community had fared.
Two days passed with no word from the team who set off to go north. Early the next morning a 12 man LRRP assembled to skirt the road north, bypassing the checkpoint. They were out of reach for hours. Later in the morning, they contacted the mountain by radio on the secure encrypted net.
“Mongoose, this is Diamondback, over.”
“This is Mongoose, go ahead.”
“We’ve located the missing team. They’re being detained in a building right inside the city center and it’s only lightly guarded by NWA regulars. We can get them with minimal force, over.”
“Diamondback, you have a go. We’re on our way to assist, over.”
“Diamondback copies all, out.”
The 12-man team planned to get the detained militia out while a larger force mobilized from the cave and would meet them on the road, in case they needed reinforcements.
An hour later as Jim and the larger force from the mountain drove up the road north to meet the two teams, the radio lit up with traffic. They could hear gunfire and screams.
“Mongoose, this is Diamondback, we’re under heavy fire and heading south in a stolen APC. We require assistance, over!”
“Diamondback, this is Mongoose we’re passing checkpoint
Lima and heading north as fast as we can.”
Minutes later, the two convoys could see each other.
“Jim, we’re about there, stop and get ready to unleash hell on our pursuers once you see them,” Rick said.
“Roger that,” Jim replied.
The main force stopped on the road in a spot with good cover on both sides. Two trucks were parked across the road, creating a blockade and providing more cover for the militia after the Canadian APC was visible. Snipers on both sides of the highway started shooting at the pursuing vehicles.
The stolen Bison, an 8X8 turbo charged diesel, closed in. One enemy Hummer had been hit by a snipers bullet and ran off the road into a pasture, flipping over multiple times. The main force waited to open fire until Rick’s APC moved passed the militia’s vehicles. Once the APC maneuvered through, they turned around to face north. The men jumped out and joined the ranks.
“How did you do?” Jim asked.
“We lost one man, Jerry Spencer, and one woman, Marjorie Saxton,” Rick said.
“Who were they?”
“They joined up while you were recovering.”
“Better than four,” Jim said, trying to stay positive. “Does the ‘PIG’ have any ammo in it?” Jim pointed at the main gun on the APC, an old M-60 7.62x51 machine-gun.
“It sure does,” Rick said. “And I want you up there, Danny!”
“It’s locked and loaded,” Danny replied once he climbed up and checked it out.
“Get ready, boys, here we go,” said Rick.
The road in front of them became full of trucks and more APCs were cresting the hill. They took up both lanes of the highway and were coming at them with great speed.
Uncertain Times Page 16