“Maybe eight thousand rounds for the Mosin-Nagants. I was looking for more, but it’s the weird 7.62x53 Finish stuff. All the rifles are Finish 1891 models.”
“So the ammo is what, from the 1930s?”
“No, it’s remanufactured to the original specs more or less. I had RCBS make me a few sets of reloading dies and then hired a guy to pull the old ammo apart and reload it. Had to convert the primers which was the hardest part. They’re all loaded with 185-grain boat-tail bullets.”
“That’s a lot of work for those old rifles. You think it was worth it?”
“It was just money.”
Now it was Eli’s turn to choke on his coffee. He did a better job of keeping it in his mouth than Jack had.
“Just money?” Jack smiled. “We have different problem sets, you and me.”
“No so much anymore,” said Aaron.
Jack nodded, “True. So what else?”
“Um, I guess about a hundred thousand rounds of .45 ACP for the pistols and the Tommy guns.”
“You have the weapons too?”
“Oh sure, twelve working Tommy guns, about a hundred stick magazines, and six or seven drums. Two dozen 1911s from a 1944 production run, all working.”
“Well, you’re not going to run out of weapons or ammo anytime soon,” said Jack
“I guess not. How sure are you about the working guns Aaron?” Eli’s brow creased as he scribbled on the notepad.
“Um, maybe eighty percent? It’s hard to say, a lot of this stuff is in crates that I’ve never opened. I had local experts do an appraisal which, based on the stuff that I have used, seems pretty accurate.”
“Let’s do the rifles first,” said Eli. “I don’t know how many folks here have any experience with full auto. I know we’ve got a few retired military guys in town. Anyway, without a fair amount of training, the full auto weapons are more likely to offer shock and fear than being useful at hitting anything. Besides which, I don’t want a bunch of folks running around with them. What exactly is a Mosin-Nagant?”
Aaron’s voice took on a somewhat scholarly tone. “The Mosin-Nagant rifle is of Russian design. A simple but effective bolt-action rifle first produced in 1891. Relatively inexpensive to manufacture and widely distributed. It was picked up by several European countries and captured units were often converted to locally available ammunition.”
He paused briefly before continuing in a more normal voice.
“I got all twenty-four for eight-hundred bucks. I think because they’re the weird Finish versions.”
“Bolt-action… Pretty quick to check out and test?” Eli asked.
“Should be,” said Jack.
“Right,” said Eli. “Let’s do the Garands and the Mosin-Nagants first, then the big machine guns, once those are done we can go back and do the Tommy’s and the pistols. Then whatever else you have. I can hand out the rifles for hunting, can’t do that with the other guns.”
“So, we need to strip, clean, check, and oil those as well,” said Jack. “That’s a lot of work. We’re talking weeks… maybe more.”
“Nothing,” said Eli, “gets tested that hasn’t been cleaned, checked and oiled. Nothing goes into the field that hasn’t been tested.”
“That’s going to be a lot of shooting,” said Jack. “The cat will be well and truly out of the bag at that point.”
“Fine, we’ll take the guns five miles back up the road and test them. I’ll have to bring my guys up to speed.”
“Are you going to have enough folks to use all these? I’d expect a fair number of guys already have a gun, a fair number of shotguns and hunting rifles?”
“It’s a good question,” said Eli. “Having some spares will be good. But for defense purposes, if we can standardize on two or three guns and their ammo, I think it will be easier. If we’re providing the guns and the ammo, it will all seem more official, and I believe we may need that implied authority to make this all work.”
“Makes sense,” said Jack.
“At some point, I need to let everyone know. Nobody in town much likes what’s going on in Pendleton, and I don’t think they trust Bernie any more than I do. Might be better if he knows he’s in for a hell of a fight before he tries anything. Most of those folk down there won’t have the stomach for it, and he doesn’t have enough troops to pull it off without more people. Would you want to arm folks you’d been treating the way he’s been treating them?”
Aaron shook his head, “No, and last I heard he’s just finished collecting all the guns in town.”
“Totalitarianism 101, disarm the populace,” said Jack.
“Yeah well that’s what got me thinking he wasn’t about to leave us alone up here,” said Eli.
Later that night Eli showed up with one of his deputies and two guys who’d been in the Korean war. The two veterans must have been in their eighties. They took Eli’s truck out to Aaron’s and started moving guns to the machine shop. It took three trips to move all the weapons. Jack was exhausted by the time they got back to Eli’s house.
In the morning, Lexi headed off to work with Art. Rachael headed down to the animal hospital to talk with Dr. Samantha Podiger, the large animal vet, about working with human patients.
Jack got busy along with his two Korean War Vets and Aaron, cleaning and inspecting the rifles. He rejected one of the Garands that had been improperly packed and had acquired quite a bit of rust. The Mosin-Nagant rifles were well worn. Two had stress cracks in the receivers, and Jack rejected them. He took the stock from one to replace the broken stock on a better action. At the rate they were going, it would take three days to get through them.
“Jim, Noel, if you guys wouldn’t mind building a rack for the rifles tomorrow?”
“Can do,” said Jim. “Kinda looking forward to that M1917. I used one in Korea.”
“Really? Do you remember how to strip it down?”
“I will if I get started.”
“After the racks, why don’t you guys see what you can do with the 1917 while Aaron and I work the rifles.”
“Hot diggity,” said Noel, rubbing his hands. “I hauled a lot of ammo for those but never got to fire one. Just my old M2 carbine.”
“Aaron, I’m a bit surprised you don’t have a couple crates of those old M2 carbines, they were pretty common.”
“I do have them, I just never found any supply of ammo that was cheap enough. Got forty-eight carbines, but only about six thousand rounds of ammo. Kinda wish I’d just bought the expensive stuff now. If you want, Noel, I’d be happy to give you one and some ammo, better than letting it rust.”
“Well, thank you kindly, Aaron, I’d appreciate that.”
“Sure, I just… I hope we never get a chance to use them, not for real, anyway.”
“Amen.”
“Okay gentlemen, let’s call it a day.”
26
GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS
Over the next several days, work progressed in fits and starts. Chris, the electrician, got the welders working while the other guys worked on disassembling and cleaning the various machine guns. He had two functioning .50-caliber machine-guns which had gone together almost like new.
The others required a lot more work. Jack welded up the decommissioned receivers and verified they were within spec. By the time he finished, he had a substantial stack of parts. Jack finished the M1917A1 water-cooled machine gun, and two of the M1919A4 machine guns were ready to put back on the vehicles, assuming they could get the trucks working.
Two of the M1919A4 receivers were a lost cause. Jack just wasn't equipped to fix the extensive damage done to them. A week was gone and Jack had just started on the MG-42s.
"This is taking longer than I'd like Eli. We need to get on the road soon. I keep expecting another snow, and if we have to abandon the bikes, we'll be lucky to get home by Christmas."
“I’ve got a partial solution for that. The hunting teams are back. One went all the way to the Gorge and across. I was tempted to c
hew ‘em out for wasting hunting time on recon, but the news was worth it. We’ve got a clear route across the bridge. They found two friendly towns, and allies for us if Bernie gets ambitious.”
Jack’s shoulders sagged as the tension he’d been carrying for over a week let go. “That is good news. Damn.” Jack shrugged, rolling his shoulders then his neck. “Didn’t realize I was that worried about getting past Pendleton… I’m almost afraid to ask, but how much out of our way is this little trip.”
“No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. You’re gonna to have to go back up the road about five miles and then take the road west. From there you follow the county road west then take Lexington down to Hermiston. They’re friendly, and they’ve got a radio. They’ve chatted with your friends in Adin, and that Henry fellow. From there you need to cut back east to avoid the Tri-Cities. You don’t want to go anywhere near there.”
“At least we have a way around now.”
“Your youngster let Henry know, and he got ahold of them. Apparently, we’re both too close, and too far away, she said something about skipping and invisible antennas. None of it made sense.”
Jack stared at the floor thinking. “Oh…no, not invisible—N-V-I-S—Near Vertical Incidence Skywave. The antenna sends the radio signal almost straight up where it bounces off the ionosphere and back down. It’s a good way to cover about two hundred to five hundred miles around where you are. I’ll bet Art’s already working on setting up a permanent one.”
“Whatever,” Eli waved a hand, dismissing it as technobabble. “The point is, they’ve got a guy up there who makes bio-diesel, so we’ll have something to run our tractors and generators on. Assuming we can plant and irrigate enough rapeseed or soy, neither of which will grow around here without irrigation. The trick is, we got a guy here who grows hops. It’s not a big operation like on the other side of the mountains, but it’ll be enough. They want hops for making beer, and they’re not alone. It’s gonna take a bit, but if we’re careful, we’ll get some trade setup that should keep us in fuel for the tractors and the generators.”
“That’s great Eli.” Jack gave him a slap on the back. “That may be some of the best news I’ve heard in weeks. I was terrified that nobody would trust or work with anyone for a long time.”
“I suspect if they didn’t have as much beef as they do, and horses, it would be a different story.”
“It would be nice if they could lend you some manpower to finish your trench and berm.”
“Turns out the Chief up there doesn’t much care for Bernie either, so he’s sending some guys to help with security. I suspect it’s to keep something between himself and Pendleton. Any case, there’s going to be a couple of extra six-man horse patrols working the farms on the north end of town. He may send more when he gets today’s news.”
“Oh?”
"We've had almost eight hundred refugees come up the road from Pendleton today. It looks like Bernie is pushing folks out, probably so he doesn't have to share the food with them. Mostly older people who can't handle much heavy labor and a bunch of families with small kids."
“What the hell?”
"That's on the heels of the forty that showed up last night. From what we've been able to piece together, they were part of a work party of seventy-five men and boys. Bernie's guys started shooting them for taking a break without permission. It turned into a full on riot. They killed the guards, but with only three rifles, they had no chance against the reinforcements. So they ran. Some of them left family behind, and it's all we can do to keep them from just taking a rifle off someone and going back on their own."
“That’s…not good. What the hell are you doing to do with them?”
“I wish I knew. I’m praying that Bernie didn’t hurt their families in retaliation for killing his guards. I suspect the escape may have been the catalyst behind Bernie pushing more people out of town. I think he’s decided he’s got more people than he can control. Anyway, we’re estimating that nearly thirty of the work party died in the riot.”
“Oh, for the love of God.” Jack closed his eyes and sighed.
"It's created a real mess for us. They're demanding we help them get their families back. It's tough to get a coherent story from them, so we still don't know what's going on. There are rumors of other work parties never coming back. And Jack, most of the new folks, they've been near starved to death. I've never seen anything like it."
“What the… What a moron. What the hell is it with some people? Things go to hell, and their first reaction is to make it worse. I guess that settles it then.”
“Sorry?”
“Rachael and I were talking about when to move on. She said we needed to stay and help get you folks prepared. She needs at least a few more weeks to train people for emergency care. Even Henry said we should take our time. He’s got something in mind but won’t say what. I figured to hit the road as soon as I finished up the MG-42s.”
“Can’t blame you, I’d be trying to get home too if I were in your shoes. You’ve already done a lot for us.”
“Yeah, well… We’re not going anywhere until I’ve finished all of it. That son of a bitch is showing his true colors, and I’m afraid you’re going to need these guns before the end of winter.”
“You think?” Eli asked. The relief was written across his face.
“Why would you push your labor out unless you can’t afford to feed them? Maybe it’s a control issue, but historically that’s never been much of a problem. He has pretty much all the guns and the food. I’d place my bet on food being the main issue. If he can’t afford to feed them through the winter—and he seems to think he can’t—come summer he’s going to be looking for someone else to do his farming for him. That means you. Maybe he’ll wait until your crops are in, but given he’s already resorted to slave labor. No…he won’t be comfortable with you sitting up here getting more prepared while his resources dwindle.”
“Hmm…You might be right. Damn that man. Guess I best figure out a trade for some help with the walls and such. Chief Cox has got a couple of guys who worked as combat engineers, guess I’ll take him up on his offer to borrow ‘em.”
Jack smiled, “Eli, have you noticed that your accent gets heavier when you’re riled up?”
“Reckon so… I took a lot of ribbing down in Portland. One joker got into my locker, swapped my dress uniform hat for a cowboy hat. This one, as it happens.”
“It’s a nice hat.”
“Yeah, cost quite a bit more than the replacement uniform hat, I guess he figured he’d be getting this one back. Might have if it hadn’t fit so well.”
“Serves him right,” said Jack. “I think maybe I’ll clean up the Thompson’s and the 1911s before I start on the MG-42 machine guns. I got a look at them, and they appear to be in good shape. I’d rather have ten or twelve working Tommy’s than one working MG-42. Which reminds me, see if you can work a trade for a bunch of M2 carbines, we need ammo for them.”
“Those are nice little guns. Aaron didn’t mention those.”
“Yeah, he’s got 48 of them but only 6,000 rounds of ammo, which is nothing to sneeze at but it’s only 125 rounds per rifle. So, if you can trade off say ten or twenty for more ammo?”
“I’ll check with Aaron. They’re his guns. I’ll grant you he’s been as generous as a man could wish for, but they are his. I’m not going to assume he’s willing to trade them away.”
“Yeah, sorry. You’re right, I’m getting worked up myself. Why don't you mention it to Aaron? If he's interested, then maybe Lexi and Art can help. I was going to call it a night, but I think I'll stay and clean up a Thompson and maybe one or two of the 1911s. That'll give me some idea of what to expect.”
“Right, I’ll have someone bring some dinner down for you. Don’t stay too late.”
“Thanks.”
Jack had been working for about an hour when Lexi came in with dinner. They chatted while he ate. Lexi was excited about a couple of new radio contacts
. They'd finally reached someone in the military.
“They didn’t say much, just told us they were monitoring. It’s kind of creepy...”
Another contact said the President had been on a trip to India when the storm hit, and no one had heard from him. The vice president had been in Chicago when his motorcade died. He and his protective detail disappeared in a flash mob. The news from the major cities was much as Jack expected. Riots, gangs, chaos, starvation. And a lot of people trying to walk out to the country.
“Jack, won’t the people in the country take them in?”
“Lexi, you’ve seen what we’ve been through, think what would happen if thousands of people came into, say Adin, it would kill that town. They had enough to get through the winter, but it will be tight. Then add thousands of people who have no clue how to do anything useful? No, they won’t be welcome. Even without the animosity that the city dwellers have created.”
“What animosity? When we lived in San Diego, we never even talked about people who didn’t live in town.”
“That’s sort of the point. For years, Washington has felt like it exists only for the benefit of the people around Seattle. The rural areas have little say in how things are done because they don’t have enough votes. They just have to help foot the bill.
“In reality, it probably isn’t… wasn’t that bad, but it sure felt like it. It’s been that way all over the country for a long time, but it’s been getting worse faster and faster.
“When I look at people who live in cities, I get why they might like it, but it’s not for me. It’s been my experience that people who’ve lived in the major cities their whole lives assume that because we don’t like the things they like, that we’re uneducated or not very smart, or both.
“We see it all the time in the way the media talks about Middle America. That phrase ‘fly over country’ pretty much says it all. It’s all just wasted space they have to fly over to get where they want to be. No, Lexi, they’ll get no welcome at all.”
Solar Storm: Homeward Bound Page 29