by gerald hall
“Thank you, Marilyn. I had been wondering how I was going to accomplish that. But first, I have to find a good site for it, probably just to the east of town. Then I will have to dig up enough coaxial cable so that we can set up a remote antenna farm. Sooner or later, the jihadists are going to get wise and DF our transmissions. I would much rather that they fire on a bunch of expendable antennas than drop bombs and artillery right on our heads.”
“As soon as you figure out that site location, you better get someone with a dozer or at least a large backhoe to start digging a big hole to park that APC into. If you wait too long, the bad guys might just notice that one of their vehicles is now missing from that big junkyard that you guys made of their first big attack.”
“We will need to do a lot more than put that APC inside of a big hole. We are going to have to thoroughly camouflage it so that the jihadists will not be able to find it at all. I know that your kids have done everything that they can to make their factory look like it has nothing at all to do with producing military equipment.”
“Yes, they have done a pretty good job of it so far, it appears.”
The next day was filled with activity. While some of the militia remained in their defensive positions, carefully watching for any enemy activity, much of the rest of town was busy working on either fortifying the buildings or helping prepare the captured jihadist equipment for use by the militia.
Jeff went over to the Barnes factory late in the day to visit with Marilyn’s children about some of that captured equipment.
“Hello, Sheriff Knox. How have you been doing? The militia has been performing very well so far in defending our home here.” Benjamin Barnes said while shaking Jeff’s hand.
“Thank you, Benjamin. This is only the beginning, I’m afraid. The Caliphate is very likely to throw a lot more troops and materiel at us before long.
I did want to ask you about something though. What are you doing with all those captured assault rifles that we have taken from the jihadists, Benjamin? I was told that you requisitioned about two dozen of the M-4’s along with virtually all of the 5.56mm ammunition.” Jeff asked.
“We want to save our 6.5mm ammunition for our militia troops to use rather than fire it up with our drones’ weapons. So, I had the idea of removing the 6.5mm weapons from our drones and putting stripped down M-4’s in their place. Our factory was able to manufacture new dual drum magazines for 5.56mm to use with these weapons. The lighter rounds work just fine from our drones. There is less recoil and the drones can actually carry a little more ammunition now.” Benjamin explained.
“That actually makes a great deal of sense. Those rifles and ammunition have just been sitting around unused since we first captured them. I’d rather be using my primary weapons and ammunition on the ground, rather than onboard the drones. But we have lost a few drones lately to enemy fire mostly. Are we going to get any more of them?” Jeff asked.
“We are working on that problem already. Using our 3D printers and other equipment, my people have actually been able to manufacture nearly a dozen more replacement drones to use against the enemy forces. This includes several smaller drones that can carry a Glock 9mm semi-automatic pistol with a fifty-round drum magazine. The smaller drones are a lot more agile than the ones carrying the M-4. So we might be able to use those to target enemy high value targets that even Melanie and Marilyn cannot reach with their sniper rifles.”
Chapter Thirty Five:
Ashley, Ohio
August 4, 2048
The jihadists did not give Jeff and his militia very much time to absorb all of the captured equipment. Three days after the first attack, a second one was launched at first light. This time, the vehicles were mostly trucks. The majority of these trucks had jury-rigged armor plating welded onto them to protect them against militia small arms fire. But the armor plating couldn’t protect their weakest link as Melanie and Marilyn focused their fire on engine blocks and front tires once again.
But even as the trucks stopped, one by one, the jihadist soldiers would quickly pile out of their disabled vehicles and continue the attack on foot. This made the enemy advance slower, but also far more difficult to stop because this time, there were hundreds of jihadi mujahedeen coming towards Ashley.
The attackers also started to employ smoke screens of their own to try to prevent the militia gunners from accurately firing. The smoke screen was effective for a short while. But when the automatic rifle drones began to appear over the heads of the advancing jihadists, the smoke had dissipated enough for the militia drone controllers to be able to identify individual targets.
Jeff looked through a set of binoculars at the location of the enemy elements. Though difficult to see, Jeff watched several of the militia drones moving back and forth, hovering for a few moments at a time as the operators located a target. Jeff would then see a brief muzzle flash or two from the stripped down M-4 before the drone would move on to its next target. Other drones were making good use of the many hand grenades that had been captured from enemy troops after the last attempted assault. In essence, the drones dropping live grenades upon groups of jihadi soldiers were like miniature aerial bombers.
Although Jeff hated the impersonality of the war waged by remote control by his people, he much preferred it over the possibility of losing friends and neighbors in close combat.
Losses among the jihadist troops were heavy, once again. But instead of withdrawing, they remained in position until they died by a combination of drone attacks, militia sniper fire and the detonations of multiple directional mines by Ashley’s defenders.
The battle was not completely one-sided though. About halfway through the morning, enemy mortar shells began to land near the militia’s defensive positions. While no one from the militia died, half a dozen were wounded. Two civilians who had remained in town had the misfortune of being caught out in the open when the mortar shells began to fall. Terry and Hannah Ebersol died almost instantly when an 81mm mortar round struck less than two meters away from them.
The mortar fire lasted for less than two hours. Then it abruptly stopped. Jeff suspected that one of the jihadists on the front line was a Caliphate artillery forward observer. The militia commander believed that the enemy forward observer had been killed by one of the militia drones. Without someone calling targets, the Caliphate’s commander must have decided not to waste the limited ammunition that he had available at this time.
The jihadi soldiers that had advanced to within five hundred meters of the town’s limits tried gamely to engage Ashley’s defenders with sporadic rifle and RPG fire. But they eventually discovered that every time that their muzzle flash or back blast was detected, they would quickly receive an unwelcome visit by an armed militia drone.
“What a waste of humanity.” Jeff sadly said as the setting sun left behind a battlefield littered with hundreds of jihadi dead.
“Don’t forget about what they did to the Ebersol’s though, Jeff. They were good people too.” George noted bitterly.
“I know all about Terry and Hannah, so you don’t need to tell me about how tragic their loss is. Melanie is especially upset about their deaths because she grew up with both of them. You can bet that she wants revenge on the people who took her friends’ lives too.”
I understand completely, Sir. I hate to bring this up right now. But we need to go back out tonight and try to recover some more weapons and especially ammunition from those dead jihadists out there. I heard from our drone people after the battle. They burned up a lot of ammunition today. They won’t be able to sustain ammunition expenditures for more than a couple more battles like this morning.”
Jeff agreed that the militia needed to go another salvage mission in the area west of town almost as an afterthought. He was thinking about Melanie and what she might do to make the jihadists pay for the Ebersol’s deaths.
For the next week, the jihadists limited themselves to small harassment attacks with sniper fire and the occasional mortar
barrage. Neither was particularly effective, but it kept everyone in Ashley on edge. They all wondered when the next big enemy push was about to begin.
The workers at the factory toiled for many long hours every day in order to produce additional munitions and other equipment for the militia. When they weren’t on duty, the members of the militia supplemented by other people from the town, collected everything useful that they could find to help the Barnes factory produce the tools of war. Most of the plastique explosives from the suicide vests ended up inside of freshly manufactured directional mines. Some of the captured grenades gave up their explosive charges to fill mortar bodies. The emptied grenades would eventually receive new fillings for smoke or other purposes.
Then the jihadists started firing artillery at the town and all hell broke loose. Everyone began to hear the distinctive whistling of artillery shells approaching from the west. Not everyone recognized the sound for what it was. But Jeff remembered it all too well and yelled out at the top of his voice as he ran for one of the nearby bunkers.
“Incoming!!!! Take cover!!!!”
A few moments later, huge explosions began to erupt all over Ashley. The people that had been caught out in the open were running and screaming as they attempted to find some protection from the death hurling in from the skies. People were slammed by the shockwaves of the exploding shells regardless of where they were. Windows throughout the town were shattered. Glass was flying everywhere in addition to the deadly shrapnel of the exploding artillery shells.
Most of Ashley’s citizens were able to find some cover from the incoming artillery shells. But not everyone succeeded.
After nearly four weeks of stalemate on the front lines, most of the buildings in the middle of the little town were now shattered shells from bombs and artillery fire. Everyone moved quickly between the bunkers that had been hastily built to fight from and eventually to live in after so many of the town’s structures had been destroyed. Even the heavily camouflaged factory run by Marilyn’s children was hit by several shells.
Even so, the successful defense of the town had lifted morale for the citizens of much of the immediate area. Jeff sat inside the dug-in captured M-113 APC and listened to the radios for any messages about both the enemy and friendly forces. One of the militia walked into the vehicle, ducking his head as he walked up the armored rear ramp.
“Hello, Jeff. There’s not much movement going on out there to the west right now.” George Hampton reported.
“Yes, I know. But it is only a matter of time now. The skies overhead have been clear of contrails after the last big aerial battle. I don’t know how many burning aircraft I saw falling from the skies as a result of the fighting above us. But you can be sure that they weren’t just Caliphate birds either. I heard yesterday that several of the highway strips that our planes were operating from have had to be abandoned due to battle damage.” The weary militia leader explained.
“Maybe so. But we are making a difference. We are getting people coming in from the east who want to join us now. We just got several today from over in Marengo. They have told us that others are also coming from as far away as Sparta, Chesterville and Centerburg to help here. We have become a legend to many of our fellow citizens out there.” George enthusiastically replied.
“I really would rather be getting more people out of here. We have far too many civilians here who decided to stay in spite of the danger. Hell, my own wife is out there with a sniper rifle weeks after I pleaded with her to get the hell out of here. Now, I’m praying that I can get these people to leave”
Jeff started to say something else when the all too familiar scream of incoming artillery rounds was heard, followed by a series of deafening explosions all along the militia’s front line defensive positions.
After about five minutes, the explosions stopped. But within a couple of minutes, there were screams for help from several points. With one particular site, Jeff immediately recognized who had been posted there and ran madly towards it.
Before Jeff could get there, he saw Marion standing there, tears running from his eyes, his hands outstretched towards the militia leader.
“Jeff, you don’t want to go there, man. I’m afraid that she’s gone.” Marion said as he wrapped his arms around Jeff, the two grown men both sobbing just about ten meters away from where Melanie Knox had been lying under camouflage with her sniper rifle. A heavy high explosive artillery round had landed directly on her position, killing her instantly. There was little left to even indicate that a human being had been there less than ten minutes earlier.
Elsewhere, five other militia members had also been killed and about ten others wounded. But nothing was as devastating as Melanie’s death. Marilyn Barnes had gotten there almost as quickly as Jeff to where Melanie had died.
Jeff saw Marilyn standing there in shock herself. Marilyn could see the incredible pain in Jeff’s eyes as he spoke, tears also running down his face. She was utterly amazed how he could hold it together after losing the love of his life so suddenly. Through his own tears, Jeff managed to grimly say to her.
“Marilyn, I don’t care about how badly we might need you or how much you want to stay and protect your home. You and your kids need to get the hell out of here now. There’s nothing left for you and your family. Get as many others as you can to go with you, especially our younger people. Otherwise, just grab your things and go meet with that convoy east of here, now.”
“What are you going to do though, Jeff?”
“I’m going to wipe the tears from my eyes, go back out there and lead my friends out there. If I don’t, we are all going to fall apart before the day is done after what we have lost. I will make time to mourn Melanie in a little while. But for now, I have to be strong for all of us.
Please, just do me one favor though, Marilyn.” Jeff quietly asked.
“Anything.”
“When you run into my kids, please let them know that their mom didn’t suffer and that she lived her last days just as fearlessly as she always has done.”
“I will, I promise. I will also share with them just how much both of you loved them too.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Marilyn stepped up for a moment, gave Jeff a hug and just nodded silently in acknowledgement before turning and walking back to where her own children had been living.
Benjamin and Lissette were standing there in the doorway when they saw their mother walk towards them, tears still streaming down her face from the loss of her dear friend. It didn’t require any words for Marilyn’s children to understand that something terrible had happened.
“This is that time, kids. We all need to leave right now before it is too late. Just grab what you can carry on your back and on your bicycles. We can’t risk driving a vehicle out of here, not while the jihadists are flying aircraft over us.”
“Where are we going to go, Mom? This is our home here.”
“It won’t be much of a home soon, now that the Caliphate has brought here a column of additional heavy armor. We won’t be able to hold them for much longer. I know that there is a small convoy of vehicles being organized a few miles from here in Marengo. They are going to head southeast along the back roads until they get to I-77 a bit further south to avoid any enemy aircraft. Then they are going to take the Interstate down to a little town named Caldwell.”
“What’s special about Caldwell?”
“Well, for starters, they have a lot of oil and gas wells down there, so they have fuel available. The state managed to get a small portable refinery trucked down there so they can refuel the aircraft still fighting against the jihadists. But more importantly for our people, the Martians are going to be conducting evacuations via the gravity drive shuttles from there.
There’s a field next to the Interstate that used to be a historical site from where a chunk of an old US Navy airship named the Shenandoah had crashed. That’s going to be the place where the gravity drive shuttle is going to be picking up
refugees from.”
“But why the special effort for us, Mom?” Lissette asked.
“Obviously, Deborah’s got something to do with it. But we need to at least get our youngsters out of here, including you two. They’ve got a future up there along with us.”
“What about Jeff?”
“Years ago, Stewart used his gifts to do benefit us all in ways that we can never repay. I am sure that he is still going to try to do his best to square things up by buying time for as many of our kids as possible to escape from here to have a chance to live their lives in freedom. Now, I will also get our kids on those trucks, even if means shoving them inside while they are still kicking and screaming. Now, get packing. I have to see a couple of friends first before we leave.” Marilyn said before turning to go out the door.
“Where are you going, Mom?” Benjamin asked.
“I have to visit Deborah’s mom and dad. Now, hurry. I will be back shortly.” Marilyn replied as she left.
Marilyn quickly ran to the Marcum’s home which had suffered a little damage from the various Caliphate attacks, but was still largely intact. Joshua Marcum answered the door after Marilyn knocked.
“Hello, Pastor Marcum. I would like to talk with you and Cynthia. It is very important.” The pain was still plainly obvious on Marilyn’s face.
“Please come inside. What happened?” Joshua asked just as Cynthia walked into the living room.
“Melanie….” Was all that Marilyn needed to say. The Marcum’s immediately knew what had happened from the expression on their friend’s face and from having felt the explosions from the artillery barrage that had occurred less than an hour earlier.
“I am so sorry.” Joshua said. Cynthia’s reaction was much more profound because she and Marilyn were both close friends with Melanie Knox. The two women embraced, tears flowing down their faces as they shared their grief over Melanie’s death. Joshua didn’t say a thing. He simply took their hands in his and began to silently pray, both for the lost and for those who had been left behind.