The Battles of Rock Harbor: A Bugging In Tale of the Apocalypse

by J. B. Craig

  “Sheepdogs, we’re getting chatter on the radios, which means that the wolves are close. The last time they came, they had a scout with an RPG. I don’t want to lose 3 ‘dogs to a clean shot, so I say we use the 5-ton as bait. We need dummies or something, with some fake guns, so they think we’re using the same tactic. Maybe they’ll give themselves up.”

  Jennifer spoke up with, “I found a dress-making mannequin on a salvage run. Lord knows we have enough camouflage in the group. I’ll take Greg’s Boonie hat and rig up a machine gun out of a broomstick and some scraps. I think I can make it look realistic.”

  Greg looked at Jen, with admiration in his eyes. “Sweet! Except you can’t have my boonie hat. Assuming you can find another hat, I’m good with this plan. Any objections?”

  Greg, this isn’t a democracy. You make a decision, and I’ll talk to you off-line if I think you’re being stupid. That’s how commanders and senior NCO’s do this.”

  “Top, I remember, and respect this, but we have non-military experts who may have good ideas. I’d like to hear them. How about – speak up if you have strong concerns, otherwise, we’ll go with it unless Top, Bill, Manuel, Angel or Gunny pulls me aside. I spent 25 years in the corporate world, and it took me a while to learn about group-think.

  “When I used to be in the corporate board room, I watched some CEO’s come into a large group of staff, and say what the problem is, and what they thought we should do about it. Starting out that way makes everyone ‘group think’ along the path that has already been inserted into their thinking process. By the time I was a senior leader, I learned that I got a whole lot more from my team if I walked in and said ‘Here’s our agenda of things to discuss and problems to resolve.’ Other than calling a close and signing off on a resolution, I didn’t speak on an agenda item until the team had brainstormed through it, and debated the best solutions. Near the end of the discussion, I’d point out lessons I learned painfully around an issue like the one in question, then we’d gain consensus on a solution. Rarely did I have to decide – because the right answer often showed itself with enough discussion, and people smarter than I almost always had better ideas.”

  Greg saw Top have a bit of a concern on his face with all this squishy talk of ‘discussion and consensus’. He said to Top. “Gunny has been here since day 1 and lived all we have. I know you out-rank her, but she’s got the Marine perspective. Angel lived through more guerilla war than, I dare say, any of us, in Central America, or at least a different kind of warfare. None of us are current military, so we can go around the chain-of-command in favor of brainstorming an answer. They’ve all fought these bikers on this land, so please give me the benefit of the doubt on this one.”

  Top was trying to hold his tongue, then thought about it. He smiled and said “Yes, Sir Jefe.”

  “So, we have a decoy, unless anyone can think of a place to stash the 5-ton and use the Deuce as a decoy.” Asked Greg.

  “Si, Jefe,” said Este. “There is a barn about half mile down road. 5 ton will be safe. No reason to blow that baby up. The truck will be safe. My new Ranger buddies are teaching me fun, um booby traps.” He snickered at the way English idioms sometimes turned out.

  “Outstanding, yelled Top! Greg, you just proved your point in less than 2 minutes. That 5-ton will be an asset if we can save it. We can pretty-up the Deuce-and-a-half, move it a bit, and make it look like a legit target. We can swap out some of the good rear tires for the blown front ones. Maybe we even rig a real rifle to pop off a few rounds remotely, to draw their fire?”

  Greg smiled and high-fived Top. “That’s teamwork and thinking outside the box team. Now we have a decoy and over-watch. The clothesline worked well, at low cost last time, how about we rig a few more biker-chokers?”

  “I’m on it, Jefe.” Esteban smiled at having a way to set up a few biker-killing trip wires. “Maybe they lie sideways off of path when bikers get close, like our snares. Tripwire bends tree, and noose tightens. Muy Bueno, Jefe. I’ll also find, ha ha, ‘volunteers’ to fix up the truck.”

  Greg got up, and tried to hug Este, but he was too big around. “You are one sick giant, Shrek”, joked Greg, referring to the guy’s large size and kind heart – when he wasn’t slaying dragons.

  Este said “I’m like an onion, Jefe.” Referring to the Shrek movie. I’ll leave you safe with this team and go rig some death quicker than Iocane powder. They won’t smell this coming, either!”

  “Another Princess Bride quote, Esteban? I’m going to have to get you a working DVD player. I have your Christmas present in mind.” Joked Greg.

  Este did his Andre the Giant laugh from the same movie and walked out to set up snares to kill the bad guys.

  “Let’s talk heavy weapons”, said Top. “We have Andre the Giant there on the 3rd floor with the .308. Someone on the .50 cal. in the Eagles Nest. Our support team will be in the circle, farthest from danger. Greg and Jennifer will be in the Eagles nest with the 90MM.” We’re getting low on .308, so let’s put the 240 in the Mortar nest, so they can defend our only artillery, but only in a pinch. I think we have 1 belt left, plus assorted stray rounds from Este’s gun.

  “What the fuck is that!?!?” yelled Greg. I’m out front, with my men.

  “No, Jefe, you are the fuck not!” Said Top. Jennifer, Gunny and Angel all conveyed the message in various words, almost at the same time.

  Sergeant Jones said, “As the uninvolved third party, let me tell you why, Sergeant Creighton: First, we need someone conducting the battle with 2 radios, long and short-range. That means in the rear. Second, you know the 90MM, and we need some heavy weapons back here in case they break through. Third, they might come from the harbor. They tried a frontal assault, and they are likely to try to flank us next time. If it were me, I’d flank the last killing zone. We’re going to have support team members in water-facing windows. They’ll know if they need to shift to circle attack formation. Jennifer is going to have to be not only loading, but watching the harbor behind us. It’s likely they’ll send something up our ass, and the 90MM will take out almost any boat they have, especially with the sand bar limiting the size of the boat. We have some flares for the mortar, so if you hear anything, you can call for some light, and then light-em-up!

  Greg just looked at Jones, then at Jennifer. She nodded, and then said, “We’ll need one of the M-4’s. The Mauser is good at a distance, but too slow for multiple targets.”

  “Wow, Jen, I was just thinking that!” Greg was surprised at Jen’s increase in battle tactic skills. He guessed that being in a fortified compound with bad guys all around sped up one’s learning curve.

  “We already discussed that.” Said Sgt. Jones. You’ll have an M4, along with 6 magazines. We’ve also set up a river-facing bunker near the boat ramp. You’ll have to move your ladder to the side of the house, so you can disengage and move to the position if you start drawing fire. The view of the boat ramp isn’t so good from the nest, so you’ll have to drop down and run to the bunker, which is also protected from the view of any attackers on the boat ramp. I was able to improvise a crater charge and some honest-to-goodness claymores from my backpack around the boat ramp. That’s their most obvious ingress point, because of the concrete slope. What they don’t know is that concrete makes excellent shrapnel when there’s an upside down crater charge buried in it. You think you can remember how to use an old-fashioned Claymore detonator, after that bull-shit radio-crank detonator you rigged?” Jones smiled sarcastically. “I heard the story. But seriously – nicely done, Jefe. Remember to yell ‘Fire in the hole this time’, and plug your ears, Hooaaahhh?”

  “Hooaahh” Responded Greg with a smile.

  The community boat ramp was 2 houses down from the Osprey nest. A quick slide down the ladder and sprint across a front yard could put Greg and Jennifer in a fortified bunker with a view of ramp and sand-bar at the mouth of the harbor. They didn’t know what was coming, but having options was a beautiful thing.

  “Th
is plan was not just thrown together. It sounds like most of you already discussed it.”, said Greg, confused.

  “You don’t think the NCO’s first get-together would include the officer, did you?” Top said, smiling his Cheshire grin.

  Let me run this by the group. The Chinese General, Sun Tzu, once said something like, “When you surround an Army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate fool too hard.” His thinking was that desperate men fight to the death, but those with a way out might retreat. “That may work in conventional war, but I think we made a mistake. We did that once, and it looks like we’ll have to fight them again. If we had cut off the head when they were down to 6 bad guys, we might not be in this position – and Dahlgren might still be there. He looked at Jen apologetically.

  “That was NOT your fault, Greg. Stop beating yourself up over that.” She walked over and hugged him from behind. She may even have tweaked his nipple, although it was subtle.

  Greg continued, with a smile, “These guys aren’t going to retreat if they’re winning, so we need a plan to cut them off when we’re winning again. Any ideas?”

  Sgt. Baker smiled and replied “I’ve got this covered. Do we have any civilians who can drive a 5-ton?” Discussion of his plan followed, with many smiles around the table. When this plan was nailed down, Greg circled back around to his last question.

  “OK, so Jen and I are on the roof? You mentioned flares for the mortars. What’s the plan on their deployment?”

  Top said, “We’ll have that back behind the brick house halfway between the community center, and the circle. We’ve already dug the pit and reinforced it with hardwood. They’ll have a 2-man fire team, with over-watch from Este on the front, and you from the rear. Do NOT let them get flanked!” Radio discipline would be necessary to drop accurate mortar fire. Now Greg understood more why he was in the Osprey nest with both types of radios.

  While the military vets were adept at calling in artillery, most of the Sheepdogs didn’t know how to call it in, so the team discussed several pre-spotted artillery targets. They labeled them with easy-to-remember nicknames. This way, anyone with a radio could call in a target by nickname, versus an 8-digit latitude and longitude, so the first target would be at least close, and could be adjusted with distance and directional guidance.

  “What’s your fire station, Top?” asked Greg.

  “In the ditches with the bitches.” Smiled top. No offense, ladies. “I’ll be holding the line at the berm and directing fire. We have a strategic retreat plan if there are too many, thanks to Este covering our ass. We rigged up a few detonator toys for Este and Gunny in the Nest. With the .50 covering from over-watch, we’ll be able to disengage and regroup in the Mansion, where the civilians who can’t shoot will be. If the Mansion gets hot, we have an escape route along the shore to the circle.”

  “If you hear the mansion go, Sir, that means that you’ll be covering a strategic retreat. Stay frosty.” Greg nodded at Top, sincere in his conviction not to lose any more people, if possible.

  Top continued: “I’ve had PFC Newman working with the galley crew cooking up some improvised Napalm, in case the berm or mansion falls. We don’t want fire like that out here unless the Shit has truly and desperately hit the fan. If the berm falls, they’ll all be in hell, and we’ll cook the Bastardos. Those that don’t burn will remember it and be a little jumpy. Remember, most of these guys are raw recruits. They’ll wilt in the heat.

  “If the mansion falls, it will fall in a shit-storm of trouble for the attackers. The escape route along the water should be safe, and we’ve got some civilian escorts set near the water in case anything goes wrong. The path requires some crouching and crawling under docks, but we’ll be covered and concealed all the way to the house next to the Osprey Nest at your old place, Greg. I figure nobody will be able to get close to there with you on, um, “bazooka”, not to mention Jennifer’s magic sheer force of will stopping bullets. She’s made it this far through the big shit, and is unscathed. That’s magic.” Top laughed out loud, while Jennifer gave him ‘the look’.

  “Corporal Baker has been scouting with one of the PRC backpack radios that we brought with us. Doc is in the 5-ton monitoring and can relay info on the walkie. We’ll know when they’re coming. Baker has some surprises with him to slow them down, so we can be pretty sure he’s back in the mortar pit before we need him. If not, I have a plan B.”

  Greg laughed. “Doc can’t be in the truck. I understand he’s there now, but we’ll go with our civilian, and a little radio training. Well, y’all have already made the plan. What the hell are we here to discuss?”

  Top said, with a straight face. “To get the officer’s approval!” The group laughed. “But seriously, Greg. You had a few excellent strategic ideas that we haven’t thought of. They may make the difference. We’re a team, and we’ve got your back. Whooaahh?”

  “Whooaahh, Gunny!”

  Mourning together

  That night, Greg was awakened by a body in the bed, climbing up his own body. He pulled his .40 from under the pillow and was greeted by Jen’s voice, saying, “Relax, Greg.” I don’t know what else to do. I lost my husband, and I have this deep, deep need to hold him, or someone. If I promise to stay clothed, will you hold me, please?”

  Greg looked up at Jen in her t-shirt and underwear, “Um, yeah.” His voice was husky. “I’m not sure I can be a gentleman, but I’ll try. I’ve felt the same way since I heard about Atlanta being Nuked.”

  “I feel like the worst wife ever,” Jen sobbed quietly into his chest. “We never got the privacy at the barracks in Dahlgren to have sex. I haven’t made love since before this STUPID thing happened. Now, it’s too late, and I want to go back, and hold him, but he’s dead. You’re the only one I trust to not tell stories.” At that confession, she fell on Greg and sobbed into his shoulder.

  Greg spent every day trying to hold it together, so he could relate to Jen’s situation. Most nights, he fell asleep crying into a pillow, wishing desperately that the pillow would hold him back. He whispered to Jennifer that he could use a good hug, too. He admitted, “I’ve not had anyone to hold, and some nights I sob into the pillow. Losing someone you love is the most crushing thing I’ve ever experienced. The only thing that’s worse is not knowing.”

  Jennifer lay on top of Greg’s chest, and wrapped her arms around him in a death grip. She also happened to be straddling his waist. After they both sobbed for a while, and some of the worst of the emotional loss was out, she was still on top of him panting.

  “Um, Jen, I’m sorry. You should probably go.”

  “I feel you under me, and that’s exactly what I need to feel. To feel some passion. We are BOTH keeping our clothes on, mister, as I’m a widow, but I still need to be held. Just hold me and follow my lead. I think we’ll both enjoy this, and you will not say a word about it, ever.”

  Jen started rocking on top of Greg’s under-armour boxer briefs. A few moans escaped her lips. Greg could feel her wetness through both sets of underwear, and damn-it, was enjoying this. He could feel Jennifer’s labia open up and add lubrication to the whole deal. She kissed his forehead and said “shhhhh”. She started moving forward and back. “You’re just a sex toy, and I am too… let me know if I’m going too fast.

  “Um… OK.” Greg gasped out. He was growing beyond the bounds of his boxer briefs, and she didn’t happen to care, as she stroked him with her powerful inner-thigh muscles. “I need a little ‘me time’, Greg. That’s all this is. Hold me, please.”

  Greg held Jennifer and whispered in her ear that it would be OK, as she rocked, and climaxed on top of the tip of his cock, which had peeked out from the boxer-briefs. He also came, quietly, and knew that he’d need a fresh t-shirt, as this one needed to go in the laundry, along with her underwear. All of this was done without raising voices above more than a whimper. She shuddered one last time, and rolled off him, onto her side. He spooned her, kissing her neck, and his arm just happened to fall over the
front of her. When he tried to move it from her breast, she reached up and moved it back. Then she reached back and put her hand on his cock. “Thank you, lover” was what he thought he heard her whisper, before her breath calmed down, and she started to doze.

  As they both lay there, sated, she eventually rolled over, brushing his chest with her breasts. She kissed Greg’s forehead, and said “time to go check on Annie. Thank you for holding me. I needed this more than you’ll know. I feel human for the first time in a long time. It’s like you hit my reset button. You’re a good guy, Greg. I’d follow you anywhere.”

  He said “How about the shower? That’s been good to us.”

  In your dreams, lover boy. “There’s no warm water, and I told you, it’s just a little exercise. Behave yourself.”