Righteous Sacrifice

by Timothy Van Sickel

  “Same thing we have always done, welcome those willing to join us, reject the hoodlums and marauders,” I state calmly. I get a few wide eyed responses. Major Jeffers watches in silence.

  “No large group is coming over that mountain till next spring. As cruel as this sounds, the hordes that survived and came out of Pittsburgh will find all the food they need in Westmoreland County. If they get over Chestnut Ridge, they will still need to get over Laurel Mountain. The masses won’t get that far. Those who do are the survivors, like Reverend Julia and her crew, and the major and his unit.

  “We need a strong watch on the Laurel Mountain crest, but our eyes need to be to the east. That is were real trouble will come from.”

  I decide the meeting needs to be wound down. My staff knows what needs to be done. I know their concerns, but I have faith in my predictions. Food will drive the masses for the most part. The masses will have plenty of food without trying to cross two ridges of almost three thousand feet. We are mainly safe to the west for now. But there are major military bases to the east, and millions of starving people, and the Letterkenny depot.

  “We’ll meet again in two days, major,” I state as I prepare to head back to Central City and my farmstead. Get settled in, make sure the team headed south is properly rested and equipped. And check our defenses on the ridge. Probe into Donegal and the west if you can. If you hear rumors that people are heading our way; that they know we have food, quash the rumors. Tell people it is anarchy and mayhem if needed.”

  He nods. We shake hands and depart as friends.

  Chapter 43, First Contact

  McConnellsburg

  10/19

  The warm and quiet fall afternoon has many of Zach’s soldiers dozing and relaxing after a good lunch of pulled pork and mashed potatoes served up by the grateful local community. Their ranks have been tripled by local vets, woodsmen, Guard and Reserve members who realize that the raiding of their local farms has to stop. Over the past two days they have established strong roadblocks at choke points leading into the lush valley.

  Fighting positions in defilade, along with fertilizer and diesel explosives have been strategically placed to stop the raiders. The teams have worked hard and are taking a needed break. Zach and Colonel Adkins are out of range of CB communications with Central City, which leaves them with only HAM radio capabilities, which they use sparingly due to security concerns.

  They are now within twenty miles of Letterkenny. Making a stand here is a risky proposition. It may alert their foes of their intentions. But it will also bring the local community to their side. Zach and Colonel Adkins agree that a stand must be made. They cannot move forward without the locals’ support.

  Captain Warfield, an Oath Keeper and local militia commander, has a four man scout team four miles north of town on Route 522, a major two lane highway leading into McConnellsburg from the northeast. It is the road that the National Guard raiders came down the last time they raided this remote community. Small convoys of refugees pass everyday as well as farmers and merchants looking to sell their food and other trade goods.

  But today they see a long convoy heading their way. A hummer with an M60 machinegun mounted on the turret leads the convoy. An old deuce with a 50 Cal machine gun follows. The first weapon can mow down troops by the dozens. The second weapon can rip up defensive positions and small buildings. The third vehicle is an old army van, now being used as a troop transport. Behind that are a dozen farm tractors hauling empty trailers. The valley is to be raped of its crops and meat once again.

  Two miles away, at one of the roadblocks they have established, a call comes over the CB radio, but the lounging guardsmen don’t hear it. The scout crew repeats its message, but the man assigned to monitor the CB is dozing in the warm fall sun with a full belly. The lead elements of the raiding convoy has already passed the scout crew as they yell into the CB, “Time is now. Implement Fury! Acknowledge!” the scout screams in frustration. What is going on! He thinks.

  One more time he screams into the radio, ignoring any safety to himself and his team, “Wake up, Wake up you bastards, Wake up!”

  Finally he gets a response, the communications monitor being awakened by his loud broadcasts. “They will be on your positions in minutes,” the scout implores. “Get your asses in gear!” Gathering his wits, the CB monitor relates the information he has been given on the approaching column. A runner is sent to spread the word of the convoy, but it is too late. The lead trucks are already past the diesel and nitrate explosives.

  In a panic, the trigger man pulls the trigger immediately, exploding the large improvised mine under the tail of the troop van, ripping it to shreds and killing all within. But the hummer with the M60 and the deuce with the fifty cal have made it past the gauntlet. The M60 opens up first, spreading thirty caliber rounds through the surrounding forest. No one is dozing now, as the countryside erupts in a massive firefight.

  Zach’s team of militia begins to return fire. Many of his men have never experienced a fire fight before and some begin to flee as the enemy has penetrated their position with superior fire power. The fifty caliber machinegun starts firing as the gun crew locates firing positions. Downed logs and piled up rocks are splintered and blown away by the large caliber rounds. More people begin to run from their positions, which allows the M60 gunner to zero in on the fleeing soldiers, creating more carnage.

  In sixty seconds, a well-planned ambush has turned into total mayhem. Some brave soldiers try to fight back, try to pick off the gunners behind their armor plated turrets. Every time someone fires, it brings the fifty caliber gun bearing on their position. Someone wisely shoots the driver of the Hummer with the M60, which temporarily blocks the deuce from escaping.

  Of the original thirty militia in the ambush site, only twelve remain to keep the deuce with its havoc wreaking weapon from escaping. Zach has had to move over one hundred yards from his position to get to a point where he can see the enemy. He has two experienced soldiers with him as they approach the firefight.

  From thirty yards away, he watches as an older man takes aim and fires a shot at the fifty cal gunner. The gunner winces as the bullet tears through his shoulder. But he turns the gun to where the shot came from. Zach and his men hit the dirt as the air around them explodes with the heavy rounds ripping up the ground and tearing through the trees. The fifty cal gunner lets loose three sustained bursts into the snipers position before he looks for more targets.

  Meanwhile, as the gunner shoots up the ambush site, the deuce driver begins to ram the hummer off the road. This actually helps out Zach and his remaining soldiers as the M60 gunner and two more combatants leap from the Hummer as it is being rammed by the deuce. It also causes the fifty cal gunner to be erratic in his aim.

  Zach’s mind processes the scene instantly, but time seems to slow to a crawl. This heavily armed truck cannot be allowed to escape, it will decimate anyone in its path. He shouts for his sergeant to fire the LAW rocket as he brings his M16 to bear on the deuce driver. He lights up the driver’s seat as he hears his security man begin firing. In slow motion he sees the big barrel of the fifty cal turn his way. He changes his aim to the gunner’s turret, and fires in automatic until his clip runs dry. He hears the loud and slow boom, boom, boom as the fifty cal begins to zero in on their position.

  As he reloads he rolls to his left five yards and begins to fire again. The fifty cal rounds strafe through the position he just abandoned and begin to track his way. He pulls himself down into the ground, willing himself as flat as he can be, literally clawing the earth to flatten his body.

  The rounds dig up the ground around him. Then, over the sounds barraging his ears, he hears the boom and swoosh of the LAW rocket leaving its tube. Rounds continue to boom from the fifty caliber for what seems like minutes, but less than two second later the rocket impacts the large truck, just as it is pushing the hummer out of the way.

  The rocket hits the tail end of the truck, but that is enough. The b
last is massive. The rear wheels and axle are destroyed, and the explosion throws the gunner half out of the turret. Zach pokes his head up in time to put a burst into the gunner, killing him. Two men flee the truck, but are cut down before they get fifty feet from the deuce.

  The gunfire goes silent, but the cries of injured men and women echo across the battlefield. Some cries are weak sobs for help. Other cries are shrieks of pain. What does he do now? He was a convoy leader in Iraq, not the ambusher. Secure the area and get the wounded help. His platoon sergeant was infantry, he’ll know what to do. He knows he needs to issue the orders, take charge, be the leader, the NCO’s and soldiers will know what to do; they just need leadership.

  He rolls to his right, where his platoon sergeant was when he fired the LAW rocket. He is smiling at him.” I got his ass, Zach,” he says. “But the bastard got me.”

  Zach looks and sees that his sergeant has most of his left leg blown off. Training kicks in. He strips his belt and straps down hard, which stops the spurting blood loss. He rolls his pack off his back and digs for his medical pack, finding his blot clot pack, he rips it open and applies it liberally. The blood flow slows to a trickle.

  Zach breathes a small sigh of relief, and says a quick prayer for his friend, then he gets moving. He tells his security man to carry his sergeant back to the rally point, where they have several good vehicles and an EMT. Then he heads out to secure the battle zone and help take care of the wounded.

  Thirty minutes later Colonel Adkins shows up. She was at another ambush site that did not get hit. Captain Zach White gives her a full report as best he knows, including the lazy afternoon doze that allowed it to get out of hand.

  “Thirty-four men were positioned here, ten are dead, eight are severely wounded, eight have minor wounds. I totally screwed up this operation, colonel. I got lax and many people died.” Zach buries his head in his hands and begins to sob. “I let my men down. I don’t know if I am cut out for this colonel. I let my guard down for just a bit and it cost us dearly. How do I face the widows and children of the men who died?”

  Colonel Adkins looks Zach in the eye. “You let your guard down, Captain. But we won the day. You rallied your soldiers, you ran into the fight, not away from it. Your sergeant followed you, and launched that LAW rocket. This community would be cursing us. As it stands now, we’re heroes. This community needs us, needs you. In the pitch of the battle you rallied. Yes, we lost good soldiers, but we hold the ground we were told to hold. Stand strong, Captain White. Your men need you to stand strong.”

  Those words give Zach the encouragement and motivation he needs to move him back to reality. The time for remorse and reflection is not now. Now is the time for action. He says a brief prayer as he wipes the tears from his eyes and surveys the battlefield around him.

  He continues his report. “We captured two combatants and killed at least eighteen. I don’t think anyone got away. We also recovered a working 50 caliber with over five thousand rounds, an M60 with three thousand rounds and fourteen farm tractors with trailers. We only captured eight of the tractor drivers. They were basically forced labor and I consider them noncombatants”

  “We got lax, Ma’am. I will not deny that,” Zach states looking at the ground, head hanging low again. “I got lax.” He knows that he was the leader. He got lax and dozed off. His men got lax and dozed off too.

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” the colonel responds, knowing she needs her best field captain fully engaged, not dwelling in self-doubt. “It could have been much worse. That deuce and its fifty cal could be shooting up McConnellsburg right now. You stopped that from happening.”

  “Yes, but men died needlessly because of me. We could have taken that crew out cleanly, but it turned into a bloody battle,” Zach responds.

  “Your leadership and knowledge got the site set up. No one here could have done that. And even though you got lax, you were prepared, and you accomplished the mission. The people of this valley would be giving up their food that will see them through the winter if not for your actions. You volunteered for this mission Zach. Did you think we would walk a primrose path to that arms depot? You knew tough slugging was ahead. Today was one of those tough days.”

  Zach is still shaken, but he knows the colonel is right, he knew that tough days, tough fighting, would be needed to accomplish their mission. He sucks it up. “Let’s get the area cleaned up and the rest of our wounded taken care of. We also need to plan for our next steps. They will know very quickly what happened here. We need to make our move now.”

  “That is the Captain White I know,” Colonel Adkins responds. “We need to reorganize and send scouts forward as soon as possible. We also need to get word back to the general as to what happened and what we intend to do.”

  Chapter 44, Move Now

  The farmstead

  10/19

  “So that is our posture right now, major,” I state. I just spent an hour with Major Jeffers, his executive officer, and his senior NCO, explaining our survival philosophy and the general lay of the land and the players we know about.

  “So, you control a large area of farmland that enables you to feed your people and more. A gang banger controls the city but he will trade with you, food for needed items. You have a three hundred foot crane you are trying to move from Richland so you can snatch turbines off the windmills. And you have set up immigration policies with aid stations at all control points. You have quite a community here, general.

  “But you have not fully explained this push to the east. You all can hunker down here for the winter and see what comes this spring. Why this urgency to explore to the east?” Major Jeffers asks.

  Just then there is a knock at the door. “Pardon me, major. This must be important.” I open the door and Grace pops his head in. “We just heard from Uncle Zach.” Grace glances at the major. “I mean Captain White. He contacted us through the Sideling Mountain control point. He will be here in an hour.” He glances at the major again. “Can I talk freely, Pap?”

  I nod, “Go on Grace, the major is part of our Militia now.”

  “There’s been a firefight. A pretty bad one. Uncle Zach and Colonel Adkins are okay, but we lost at least ten guys. They need more men and are sending scouts forward. Uncle Zach will be here in an hour.” Grace smiles at both of us and ducks back out of the room.

  The major sits back and looks at me. “If we are part of your team, do you care to enlighten me about that exchange, especially about the ‘scouts are moving forward’ comment?”

  “It’s all about arms, ammunition and supplies, major. You asked about ammunitions the day we met. We are moving on the Letterkenny Arms Depot. Colonel Adkins and our men are within twenty miles right now. I am sure Zach is headed here to update the situation, lay down their plans, and return to the field with the needed men and ammunition to take the depot.”

  The major looks at me quizzically, his mind searching the deep crevices of his brain to recall any reference to Letterkenny. He leans forward with a bewildered look. “What is the Letterkenny Arms Depot and why should I care?”

  I smile and lean forward. In a quiet voice I respond. “I am so glad to hear that you don’t know about it. We are hoping that everyone has forgotten about it too. It’s a cold war relic that congress never killed. It is an inland stock pile of arms, ammunitions and supplies in case America was invaded. Twenty thousand acres of arms and ammunitions. All stockpiled during the sixties, seventies and eighties. Everything from M16’s to Abrams tanks. All kept in good working order and well maintained. The largest existing depot of its type in America”

  The major sits back in his chair and eyes me over. “That stuff of fairy tales and conspiracy theories, general.”

  The Major’s Executive Officer speaks up. “Major, the general is on to something here,” she states. “We were taught about these depots in one of our West Point history classes. Most of them where deactivated, but not all of them. They were well supplied to equip any remnants of
the army to fight of an invasion, just as the general stated. Most were decommissioned in the 90’s”

  The major’s eyes go wide. Looking at his XO he exclaims, “Seriously! All that equipment is either pre electronics age or has hardened electronics. Whoa, that’s a freaking gold mine! That’s a game changer, a king maker.” The major sits back in his seat as he thinks of the game changing consequences of who controls that depot. In the wrong hands, devastation could be wracked upon the country.

  I watch him as he processes the implications. We sit silently for several moments. Finally he looks at me. “You didn’t give a rat’s ass about the Chaffe’s. Red said something about you all being more interested in the security team. I let that comment pass, but now I know why. You are a conniving son of a bitch, general.”

  I smile. “Please don’t speak of my mother that way, she was a good woman.” I chuckle a bit. “And I am not conniving, I plan ahead. I take hold of the opportunities God presents to me. You and your team are one of those opportunities. Who am I to deny what God has laid before me?”

  “So you think God sent me here so you can take this arms depot?” the major states with a bit of disdain.

  “Call it fate, call it coincidence, call it whatever you want.”

  “What if I say no? What if I reject your calling from God?” The major responds.

  “You won’t. But even if you did, we will move on and take the arms depot anyway. We put this plan in place weeks ago, long before we knew about you and your group.”

  He looks at me stoically. Finally he speaks up, “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “You have lots of choices,” I reply. “You can pack up and leave. You can say no, and continue to monitor the western ridge. Or you could decide to work the fields. I don’t care what you decide. Me and my militia are going to take that depot. We have to.”

  The executive officer speaks up again. “Boss, we are not roadblock specialists, we are special operators. This mission is what we do! We don’t play at guard duty, we take on missions. This is a mission! These folks have been straight with us, and now they are asking for our help.”