“The Templars,” Mike answered.
“You’ve seen Princeton recently, haven’t you, Mike? Most of the houses are strung out for about three or four hundred yards. The Templars would have to be spread out at pretty wide intervals. If all the bikers poured out of town at one spot, they could just overrun the one or two guys who had line-of-sight to them. You know the old hammer and anvil technique that Jeff always talks about. If we are going to be the hammer, we’re going to have to have a big anvil. Do you see what I mean?”
After a few moments’ consideration, Mike replied, “Yes, I see exactly what you mean. What you are telling me is that it would take fifty or sixty men to properly secure the possible escape routes out of town. Orrrrrrr, how about making ten people fight like sixty—give them the same combat power.”
Todd tilted his head to the side and asked, “How, pray tell, does one do that?”
Mike joked, “The same way that one guy can catch more fish than ten guys combined, if he carries the right fishing tackle.”
“I… I still don’t get your drift,” Todd breathed, sounding bewildered.
“I’m talking about my favorite kind of fishing, and my favorite fishing lure—‘The Dupont Spinner.’”
“Oh ho! Now I get it. Dynamite fishing, right?”
Mike laughed and said in a descending pitch, “Riiiiight. I think we can fab-up some improvised Claymore mines that should do the trick.”
Todd slapped Mike on the shoulder and commanded, “‘Make it so,’ Mike.
You’re welcome to every stray body you can scarf up to help you out. Even if these bikers get away before we can pull this off, some homemade Claymores could always come in handy.”
The next day was spent anxiously waiting. Other than two very brief radio checks, there was no contact with the recon patrol. Most of the militia members spent the day cleaning their guns, sharpening their knives and bayonets, and reloading each of their gun’s magazines, carefully examining each cartridge. Most seemed deep in thought and prayer, and there was not much talking or the usual banter and joking.
For much of the day Mike used the services of Doug, Rose, Dan, Lon, and Marguerite in making the Claymore mines. Mike shanghaied Lon and Margie away from their plans to make a large pot of stew. He tapped Lon on the shoulder and ordered, “You two come with me. I’ve got a high-priority project for you to help me with. Todd said I could commandeer anybody I thought that I might need.”
Margie asked, “But what about the stew?”
“We’ve got some bread to bake instead. Come with me out to the garage.”
First, in consultation with Doug, Mike built a prototype. The others watched this process with curiosity. Next, Mike directed his crew as they set up the Claymore and an array of paper targets near the east property line. Mike yelled “Test Fire!” three times. They wore both earplugs and muffs. Taking cover behind a large deadfall log forty feet behind the prototype, they detonated it using a nine-volt transistor radio battery. It worked wonderfully. Each man-sized target set up at distances between five and twenty yards was pierced by at least five pellets. Mike decided it was time to set up their assembly line.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Mike told his crew. “The shell for each Claymore will be a standard bread baking pan. We’ve got stacks of them on hand because Mary thought that they’d make a great barter item. They’ll be even handier for our purposes.” He then turned to look at Lon Porter. “Lon, you’re in charge of the first step of the process. Your job is to tack weld four eight-inch timber spikes onto the corners of one side of each pan. The pan, of course, will be lying on its side once it is set up, with its mouth facing toward the bad guys. The spikes will act as legs to hold up the mine. To use them, all we’ll have to do is point the mine in the proper direction, and press the legs into the ground. Then we press down on the front or rear legs to adjust the angle of the pan. Simple.”
“The next step in the process will be handled by me. I’ll drill two holes for blasting caps in each pan. Next, Rose will measure out and mold three quarters of a pound of C4 plastique into the back of each pan. She hands them to Doug, who measures out and pours one pound of number-four buckshot over the top, and scrunches it into place. Next, Margie, since your arm is not yet fully back in shape, I’m giving you an easy task. Your job is to cut the cardboard filler pieces and lids for each pan, and tape them on with duct tape.”
“Once we get all twenty mines done to this stage, we’ll finish them piece-by-piece. All that will remain to be done is covering them with a piece of this black ten-mil sheet plastic and taping it in place with this brown pressure-sensitive packing tape. That will semi-waterproof them. Next, they get a blast of olive drab spray paint to camouflage them.Voila, instant Claymores! To use them, all we’ll have to do is poke holes in the C4 through the holes that I drilled in the pans and insert a blasting cap or a loop of det cord, as needed. For safety’s sake, however, priming will wait until they’re set up wherever we plan to use them. Okay, let’s get to work.”
Just before three a.m. the next morning, the patrol was spotted coming back into the perimeter by Dan, who was at the LP/OP. By SOP, the patrol crossed into the perimeter just to the south of and below the LP/OP. When they were fifty feet away, Dan challenged, “Halt, who is there?”
Jeff responded, “Jeff Trasel and two other militia members.”
Dan whispered, “Advance to be recognized.” Jeff walked up to within ten feet of the LP/OP bunker. Now in a whisper, Dan queried, “Fence post.”
Also in a whisper, Jeff replied, “Chevrolet.”
“Password for the day is correct. You may proceed. Positively identify the faces of the two other members of your patrol as they pass my post.” The patrol was again identified by challenge and password at the front door by Della, who was serving C.Q. duty. She unbolted the door and let them in. After rebolting the door, she went to wake everyone up for the debriefing.
Everyone except Dan, who was still manning the LP/OP, quickly gathered for the debriefing. The three members of the patrol looked dirty and fatigued.
All three still wore heavy coats of loam and green camouflage paint on their faces and the backs of their hands. “Start with the beginning,” Mike said.
Jeff pulled his notepad out of one of the cargo pockets on his DPMs, and set it on the table. “As soon as Doug split the patrol, I issued my op. order to Lisa and Kevin, and established the new chain of command. After freshening our camouflage paint and checking to ensure that our loads were still quiet by jumping up and down, we moved out. Our first stop was back at the farm we had just been at, to refill our canteens. I wanted us to have plenty of water. Also, like I’ve always said, full canteens are quieter than half-empty ones.
“We made it to within binocular range of the south side of Princeton by four that afternoon. We went prone there and traded off positions once an hour—one observing and taking notes, one on security, and one resting. We stayed in that position until it was fully dark, then backed off, circled around to the east, and approached the town again from the north side. This time, because it was pitch dark, we were able to get within about fifty yards of one of the houses.
“We could hear voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying, except for the occasional obscenities and profanities that they shouted. We stayed in this spot until just before dawn, and then backed off about two hundred yards into the trees to observe for the day. I don’t think any of us slept at all during that first night, but we certainly did the next day. We were really starting to get wiped out. As soon as it was my turn to rest, I was out like a light. After the sun went down yesterday evening, we backed off another couple of hundred meters and followed an azimuth back to the base of Mica Mountain; from there, dead reckoning it back to the retreat. There was no sign we had been detected at any time during the patrol.”
Picking up the notebook, he read, “Strength: Total number of people observed was twenty-four. All, but two of this number, were positively
identified as part of the biker gang. Of these twenty-two individuals, eighteen were men and four were women. We also saw two children running from house to house on one occasion, but could not be sure if they were local residents, or if they came with the gang. Four bodies were seen lying in the street throughout the period that we observed.
“Vehicles: We counted eighteen motorcycles parked in various places. Most of them were chopped Harleys. Five of them were equipped with scabbards for long guns. We also spotted a Ford van, which was accessed three or more times during the day by the bikers. This appeared to be their support vehicle. They may have other support vehicles, but it was hard to tell, as there were several other vehicles in the area. Some of these vehicles were obviously out of commission, but others looked operational, and might belong to the bikers.
“Weapons: Set up on top of a wooden crate in front of what used to be a gas station was a tripod mounted M60 machinegun, with one belt of ammunition loaded. We could not get close enough to see if there was additional ammo on hand. The bikers carried a wide assortment of weapons. At least six men carried handguns in hip holsters. One of the females once took off her jacket, revealing a revolver in a shoulder holster. Two of the men carried machetes in scabbards. Seven men seemed to carry long guns wherever they went. These consisted of: three M1 or M2 carbines, a pump action riotgun, a Ruger Mini-14, a scoped bolt action of some sort, and a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun. All of the men had beards. Most of the gang members wore black leather jackets or denim jackets. One wore an olive drab field jacket. No identifying gang markings could be seen on any of their jackets. Just like the old time pirates—only the amateurs flew flags.
“Guard shifts: One roving guard and one man on the machinegun at all times. Guards were observed trading off at 6 p.m., midnight, 6 a.m., noon, and again at 6 p.m. the next day. Relief guards arrived promptly at these hours. The roving guards’ route started at the gas station and then went two blocks west, across the street, four blocks east, back across the street, and then back to the machinegun. The guards appeared to be relatively alert. For example, at just before 1 a.m., the roving guard reacted to the sound of a barking dog. He changed the direction that he was walking 180 degrees and went fifty yards off of his normal route to check out the noise. Once he was satisfied that there was no danger, he resumed his rounds. Although we did not observe additional guards, it is possible that another guard was on duty, most likely at some good vantage point.
“Significant activity:At 11:20 p.m. the first night, two shots in rapid succession were heard inside one of the houses. The reason for the shooting was never identified by the patrol.
“At 10:17 a.m. on the second day, two bikers began using one of the dead bodies lying in the street as a target for pistol practice. They fired about twenty to twenty-five rounds. Both were armed with what appeared to be .45 automatics. They turned the corpse into a rag doll.
“At just after 2 p.m., a naked woman of about fifty years of age was seen running out of one of the houses. She was followed closely behind by a half-clothed man, carrying an M1 Carbine. As soon as he got out the front door, he fired four times, hitting the woman in the back at least twice. He then walked up and shot the woman three times in the head. He was heard yelling, ‘The bitch bit me! The bitch bit me!’ At that point we had to restrain ourselves from opening fire at him.” The heretofore professional tone of Jeff’s voice changed noticeably as he muttered, “I never thought that I’d ever have the gut-level urge to kill anyone, but let me tell you, this guy was an inspiration.”
After clearing his throat, Trasel continued with his report. “At 3:42 p.m., two of the bikers began working on one of the motorcycles, apparently adjusting its carburetor. They returned to the house that they had come from, just after 4 p.m.” Jeff then laid the notebook down, and pulled three sketches out of another pocket. He walked over to the chalkboard and spent the next five minutes comparing the three sketches and combining them into a top-down view of the buildings in Princeton. Next, he traced in the route of the bikers’ roving guard, and marked the position of the vehicles and the machinegun.
After making a few more brief comments about the relative distances between buildings and approximate fields of fire, he asked for questions.
There was silence in the room for a few moments. Mike exclaimed, “That was a well-written patrol report. Everyone should take note of this. That’s how a recon report should be prepared and given.Very professional, Jeff. It covered all of the key elements. It leaves me with a few questions, however.”
“Shoot,” Jeff said.
“First, what was your overall impression of the security that they had posted?”
“Their guards seemed pretty alert. They seemed to have blinders on, though.”
Mike gave Trasel a quizzical look, and asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean the center of their interest seemed to be the road that leads through town. It was as if they only expected an attack to come from either direction down the road, or possibly from one of the houses that face the street. They paid very little attention to the rest of their perimeter. Granted, there’s a huge perimeter, but they didn’t seem to make any effort at actively observing it or patrolling it. That’s why I mentioned that they might have a guard posted in the second story of one of the houses, scanning their perimeter.”
Mike asked, “Did you see any evidence of guards changing at any of the houses?”
“No, we didn’t. But if I was trying to secure that little town, I wouldn’t be focusing my security inward.”
“That’s because you have a Marine Corps mentality rather than a biker mentality. With their mind-set, the threats are from law enforcement, or possibly other gangs. In either case they’d come in by road. Under the current circumstances that security mentality is outdated. The threats now are from people like us, on foot, playing ‘Batman in the Boondocks.’ They just haven’t realized it yet.” Mike continued with his questioning. “What was your impression about their skill at arms?”
“From what I could observe, and I think Lisa and Kevin would agree, they don’t seem to be particularly well-trained or disciplined. They do have enough discipline, however, to mount a regular guard shift. I guess if I had to sum it up, I’d say that what they lacked in skills and organization, they make up for by being vicious. These guys, and their women for that matter, are some of the most ruthless thugs I’ve ever heard of. I saw a lot, and heard a lot, when I was in the Corps, but I have never heard of anybody taking target practice at dead bodies. These guys are utterly Godless and obviously don’t have a single moral or scruple left to guide them. I think they’d use force in a heartbeat.”
After a considerable pause, Mike asked, “Okay, my key question is, do you think that with the help of the Templars, that we can take these hombres on—with a reasonable chance of success?”
“Dang straight we can, but we got to hit ’em hard and make them play by our ground rules.”
Mike asked, “What do you suggest we do if we lose the element of surprise?”
“There would be only one good option, and that would be for everyone to beat feet out of there and link up later at a good defendable rally point a couple of clicks out of town. If we were to make a frontal assault with them prepared and expecting us, we wouldn’t have a chance in hell. If, however, we catch them with their pants down, we’ll wax most of them before they even realize what’s happening.”
Mike nodded his head. “Okay. Those were the only questions that I had. Anyone else?” Not one raised their hands.
Todd, who had been listening quietly to the debriefing, clucked his tongue and said, “Jeff, I’d like to congratulate you on leading such a professional and lucrative recon. I’d like you and Mike to come with me when I have my meeting with Roger Dunlap later this morning. At this point, I’d like to open the floor to suggestions on how we might go about cleaning house in Princeton.”
Immediately, Dan Fong suggested that an ambush be set u
p outside of town. That idea was shot down for two reasons: First, the gang didn’t show any signs of leaving anytime soon. Second, they could leave in two different directions.
Mary suggested that two teams be used to conduct an assault. The first team, or “support” team, would set up ambushes on the road in each direction out of town, as well as any other likely avenues of escape. The second team would sweep through the town, cleaning the looters out house to house. If any of the gang managed to escape, they could be shot or captured at the ambush sites. If the assault team had to withdraw from the town, the support team would provide covering fire.
It was Mary’s plan that got the most votes. This set of tactics was later generically called a “stealth blitz with support.”
Dan suggested that they bring along the six hand grenades captured from the pair of looters that were killed by T.K. Kennedy liked this suggestion, saying, “I think that it’s only fitting that we utilize weapons that we captured from one bunch of looters in eradicating another. Sort of ‘Dulce et decorum est,’ don’t you think?”
“Pardon?” Lon asked.
T.K. replied, “That’s Latin for ‘It is sweet and fitting.’”
A unanimous vote approved Dan’s suggestion on the grenades.
Next, Todd had Mike brief Jeff, Lisa, and Kevin on the recent construction of the “bread pan Claymores.” Jeff broke into a devilish grin as he heard Mike describe his new toys. He chuckled, “Those sound ideal for ambushes by a support team.”
Later that morning Todd, Mike, and Jeff drove to their meeting with Roger Dunlap. Jeff slept most of the way there. With them they took an example of each of their grenades and homemade Claymore mines. Dunlap, along with his “Com 2,” was waiting in a camouflage painted Jeep CJ-5 at the cemetery when they arrived.
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