Patriot Son

by T A Walters

  “Yeah, she’s (A+), and I’m (A-). All she has to do is open an artery and bleed on me, and I’m dead.”

  Bill shook his head and grinned, “Where did we find her?”

  “Crazy enough, back before our neighborhood was destroyed, she was staying with her parents across the street from me. That is before we were invaded. Stuck up bitch wouldn’t even give me the time of day until I got hurt the other day and lost my leg.”

  Mitchel’s eyes rolled back in the sense of ironic inevitability. He told Bill that she was on leave from the Army in Iraq when the shit hit the fan here in the US. Her idea of R&R got shot up the kazoo you see. Having been a surgical nurse over there; she’s just a nurse with a knife here.”

  “Her name?”

  “Jessica Parker or Jess as she prefers.”

  Why he didn’t notice it before, but as Jess climbed in, he saw her dog tags hanging from her neck. It was Scuba Bill’s cue to duck-out, “Well, I’ve got much to do before I turn in, so if you need anything give me a shout.”

  “I could use a crutch,” Mitchel said.

  Jess interrupted saying, “You’re not there yet. You need therapy and then a crutch.”

  “I’ll have Tommy look into greasing both Abrams first thing in the morning.”

  “Get Ellsworth to do it. Tommy is a stooge when it comes to mechanical things.”

  “Will do, Mitchel; get some rest.”

  From outside the mobile medical ward, Bill could hear them argue. “If you insist on sleeping in that chair overnight, then stuff a sock in your mouth. You sound like a walrus with your snoring.”

  “I do not!”

  Before moving on, he paused to light his cigar. All he could think of right now was getting those Abrams greased at first light. Also, a concern was how long would that take? There would be much to do tomorrow. Persuading Paul and his motorcycle club to hang awhile would be one of them. Paul informed Bill that there was no one left alive in the City of San Antonio. Not one there to arouse suspicion. ISIS stormed the Mexican border by the thousands and what they didn’t burn they blew up. ISIS lined up people by the hordes and shot them; others were burned them alive. Generally speaking, ISIS employed the mayhem of genocide using Sarin gas and brute firepower. Paul believed they moved on to the northeast to join up with Iranian forces. There remained an effective conduit of enemy forces Paul warned. However, nowhere near the numbers of the first wave of ISIS fighters. Scuba Bill recalled Paul saying, “Anything that moves in that town is a target.”

  There was much work to do before heading out in the morning. After the refueling and breakfast, the added chore of machinery maintenance depressed Bill. It wouldn’t be until noon before the convoy’s first tire began to roll down the road.

  Little pup tents sprouted like mushrooms in the cool local night air. Scuba Bill looked down the road berm to the motorcycle camp. He could see some light flickering down there and decided to pay them all a visit before turning in for the night.

  Everyone was engaging in small group conversations, except Paul and Lil. They kept to themselves, sipping cognac and talking about grandchildren. It was interesting to see Paul cleaning an old M-16 in the dim light of a small campfire. He had the whole upper-end of the carbine laid out. Along with the buffer and spring from the lower end, Paul wiped a coat of light oil on the spring and plunger. While he checked the trigger mechanism, he squirted a drop of oil on the bolt. Paul then fitted the bolt into the bolt carrier along with the firing pin. Slipping the assembly in ahead of the slider tang of the charging handle, it slid into place in the receiver. The lower and upper-end carbine parts mated back together with the detent pins. Paul pulled back the charging handle where it locked into place. He pressed the action release tang, and the charging handle slammed forward. In testing all modes, Paul recharged the receiver three times, pulling the trigger each time. In finishing, he slapped a loaded magazine into place setting the mode switch to safety.

  Scuba Bill watched and with a half grin he asked Paul, “5.56 rounds?”

  Paul looked up and said, “Not.”

  “I’ve got tons of NATO rounds,” Bill offered. “The 5.56X45, if you want?”

  Paul laughed, “That’s a misconception!” What you don’t know about the difference in those two rounds could someday kill you. That is if you use an antique like this M-16. But an AR15 that specify .223 could fire either or. But then I’d be cautious about swapping ammo around like that because of the leade area in the barrel nearest the receiver end. For a .223 the barrel leade is only .080 thousandths where on a 5.56 it is nearly double that.”

  “What do you mean about the barrel leade?”

  “That is the area where the rifling in the barrel begins. So the leade is a smooth bore section where the slug sits waiting to be fired. The leade allows the bullet to enter the rifling after it is shot. This enables the right pressure to be applied throughout the length of the barrel. If the 5.56 is chambered into a shorter leade, the bullet ends up in the rifling area. This seals the round in a way that allows excess pressure to be applied when fired.

  A non-standard round (of generally imported) ammunition will fit too tight in the leade. Resistance to early bullet movement can cause elevated chamber pressures. Flattened primers or powder stains around the primer reveal leaking gasses. If you see that, I don’t care if ya got a million of ‘em, get rid of the dangerous bastards.”

  Scuba Bill followed along, nodding his head, “So to play it safe, use .223’s if you’re not sure?”

  “Yes, that would be one way of putting it. As you can see I do, even if the carbine you are using is engraved for 5.56 NATO, I’d still be leery. The worse you can do with using the .223 is a slight loss of velocity. This ain’t a problem in battle unless you are a sniper, that is.

  With all those rounds and weapons confiscated from a US military armory, I’d suspect they are matched. So I wouldn’t worry about it. We do have a qualified gunsmith in our compound if you want him to check your AR’s.”

  Bill nodded.

  Chapter 3

  The sun hadn’t quite poked over the eastern horizon. Scuba Bill rounded up Ellsworth and Tommy for a quick shot of coffee and a grease gun. Ellsworth didn’t seem bothered by the job of lubricating the Abrams. Tommy though was full of questions relating to how to do the job.

  Ellsworth, being of a huskier build told Tommy he’d be in some minuscule nooks underneath the Abrams. Especially when doing the ‘walking beam’ bushings. To make matters worse, those bushings needed a lot of grease, which meant lots of pumping against tight clearances. “If I recall,” Ellsworth said, “the weight of the tank needs to be off the treads so it will take the grease more uniformly.”

  “So how we gonna lift those behemoth machines?”

  “We don’t,” Ellsworth replied dryly. “It’s just gonna take lots of elbow grease to pump the grease in.”

  Scuba Bill finished the last gulp of his coffee, “Quit yer bitchin and let’s get the job done before the next sunset.”

  “You Commander?” Tommy began, “You’re gonna help us?”

  Scuba Bill shoved his cigar into his mouth and stood up dashing the rest of his coffee in the campfire. “Well, I ain’t gonna hang around her and powder my ass like you two boys. We gotta get this done!”

  ~~~~

  Scuba Bill rolled out from under the first Abrams Tank. He announced that they had finally finished greasing the first Abrams. Bill looked at his watch. It was a quarter to noon. A sense of urgency overcame him. While Ellsworth and Tommy gathered up 25 empty grease gun tubes, he walked away. “Ellsworth, get Tommy to wipe off grease fittings ahead of you while you get busy oiling on the other Tank.”

  “Where you going, sir?”

  “Paying a visit with Jabba the Hutt,” Scuba Bill replied without looking back.

  Ellsworth and Tommy stood looking at each other cluelessly.

  Midway down the convoy was the mobile hospital ward. Scuba Bill disappeared inside. Ellsworth smiled and
nodded at Tommy, “That would be Mitchel.”

  “That’s heartless,” Tommy said.

  Ellsworth sighed, “Well, Commander came from a cruel world.”

  The two men went back to doing what they were ordered to do. Meantime Scuba Bill met with Mitchel who seemed surprised to see him. “How’s the greasing going Commander?”

  “Good. Finished one Abrams and getting prepared to do the other.”

  Mitchel frowned. With a skeptical eye and an air of doubt in his voice, he asked, “How many tubes of grease?”

  “Twenty-five giver take.”

  “Oh, okay; I thought you were implying you finish the first one. You mean you finished one side of the Abrams correct?”

  Scuba Bill’s voice began to crack, but he stopped and cleared his voice. “It takes more than twenty-five tubes of grease?”

  “It takes around fifty or sixty tubes.”

  “We did both sides.”

  “Yeah, you do all the lower pivots on both sides, and then you get up top and grease the upper pivots. Without a power greasing rig and a load jack, it takes about a full eight hours. Two hours if you have the right tools.”

  Bill added another streak of grease to his forehead as he rubbed his brow. “Guess this shoots my question up the yin-yang.”

  “What question did you want to ask?”

  “If you thought it safe to put off the second Tank until tomorrow after driving it another 4 or 5 hundred miles.”

  Mitchel flinched as if being stuck by a pin at the question put to him. “Not wise since we don’t have spare parts to replace the ones we’d be wearing out. I mean, what did you think when the boys and I loaded 250 cases of chassis lube and a dozen grease guns in one of the supply trucks?”

  Nurse Jess returned from talking to Ellsworth. She excused herself and then looked at Mitchel. “Ellsworth said they were getting ready to grease the second Abrams now.”

  Mitchel apologized, “Sorry Commander for sending Jess down there. I wasn’t trying to supervise the job, just was wondering how things were going.”

  “No worries Mitchel,” Bill replied.

  Jess stared at Bill, but directed her question to Mitchel, “They did say something about Jabba the Hutt?”

  Mitchel’s face beamed while he clapped his hands, “I love that guy!”

  Scuba Bill ducked out in time to here Jess start arguing with Mitchel.

  “He’s not a guy, he’s an overgrown slug. He eats little animals while they’re still alive.”

  “So what? I love to eat oysters and clams while they’re alive.”

  “You’re a weird piece of work; can’t wait until you’re up on your feet again.”

  “You mean foot.”

  Bill could still hear them going at it from a safe distance away.

  Strolling along in deep thought, Bill decided the hell with it. They would spend the entire day and get both Abrams Tanks finished. He’d deliver the news to everyone that they would head out early tomorrow morning.

  Paul met up with Bill, and it was clear to Bill, Paul was toe-tapping and impatient to get on the road. Bill explained the situation in detail. He promised they would finish today and head out tomorrow.

  Bill watched Paul’s body language. Paul seemed to be anxious to head out, but hesitant at the same time. “Is there something up the road I need to know about?”

  “Put it this way Commander,” Paul began, “I believe we’ll hang around with ya’all and keep close. Anything we can do to help?”

  “Ever use a grease gun?”

  ~~~~

  At six thirty pm, the two Abrams was finally serviced, inspected and lubed. Joe and Kat had arrived a few hours earlier. Kat was still recovering and claimed she was feeling better. Joe noticed her color was returning. Despite her objections, he took care in making both Kat and Penny comfortable in the JLTV. Also, Joe asked Scuba Bill if he might take over driving the JLTV in place of Tommy. Bill had different plans for the JLTV that didn’t include Joe. He explained the JLTV was far too valuable to have it in a non-break-away position as a lead vehicle in convoy. He was sending the JLTV near the rears and Tommy would remain the driver. Joe could not present an argument over Bill’s decision. It made better sense to Joe to have the JLTV moved to the rears. Joe’s half-hearted attempt to remain with the JLTV was only an offer of goodwill and nothing more. He was happiest when riding point in the convoy. Having it known that he was a valuable member of the force, filled him with pride.

  ~~~~

  When Mitchel heard the two Abrams were serviced and that several others pitched in, he was humbled. It was a pleasure to hear of such comradery existing in the ranks of the convoy. He did mention that he could have handled it all himself in less than half the time. Bill just took it in stride knowing it was Mitchel’s way of protecting his self-worth. Jess frowned, calling Mitchel an arrogant and pompous son of a bitch. It was Scuba Bill’s cue to exit.

  Scuba Bill hesitated, not wanting to be seen.

  After given permission to speak freely, Major Edson and Paul were heard arguing outside Mitchel’s recovery vehicle, “So you’re leading this unit into an ambush?”

  Paul went on the defensive. “Those are pretty harsh words, Major.”

  “It is what it is. You said we would be heading into a possible firefight with ISIS while traveling near San Antonio.”

  My friends and I had no trouble heading east to Florida. Heading back, I suggest there is a possibility, so be prepared for the worse.”

  Major Edson shook his head while slowly looking down at his boots. “I know it was Commander Bill who agreed to this assignment of yours, but if it were up to me, you’d be on your own.”

  “Good to know how you stand on this sir,” Paul said. “But I believe if this is what it takes to keep our country from falling into the hands of our enemies then I am ready to fight and die for my homeland.

  Commander Bill feels the same way. Despite what you might think, we have a chance to make a difference. I am part of a top-secret government compound. Within that complex are homes for over two hundred men and women. Their purpose is to maintain military hardware and machines warehoused a few dozen feet underground. We need Commander Bill’s Auxiliary Power Units to power the lifts to get that equipment to the surface. And if we can recruit to our cause, everyone in this convoy, then we can push the bastards back to where they came from.”

  Major set his steely blue eyes on Paul’s face. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? You talk of ISIS, but do you know anything about them? Their strengths? Anything?”

  In an expression of embarrassment, Paul frowned. “We’ve hadn’t had a newspaper or television for over forty years,” he admitted. “We’ve volunteered to be isolated from society by the US Government. We extend our services to our brothers and sisters who fought in the Vietnam War. We make for ourselves, using our survival skills farming the land. We hunt rabbit and gopher and sometimes wild pig and deer. We have an underground bunker equipped with a freshwater well system. The well is capable of sustaining our lives and those of the compound. Occasionally, we get some of the war machines out to do parades and shows.”

  Major’s expression softened. He even addressed Paul with respect, “Well Lieutenant, your reasons have changed. Let it be known I’m with you on this, and I too, have changed. I never dreamed we’d have to fight the enemy on our soil, but now I see it has come to pass. So let’s take down these bastards!”

  “Get all your men together, we need a briefing.”

  Major Edson nodded, “Of course Lieutenant, I’ll inform Commander Bill right away.”

  ~~~~

  Later that evening, Commander Bill’s fighting forces gathered around a giant bonfire. Lieutenant Paul and Major Edson outline their mission’s plan. Each man knew how to prepare for battle. From mission briefs, everyone knew the convoy would be ready to address any threat while traveling close to the city of San Antonio.

  Major Edson addressed the crew, “The convoy would m
ove swiftly ahead for approximately 30 miles. From that point, the first M-1 Abrams will move forward to take a position and also to remove the highway blockage Paul described earlier. The towing vehicle would then fall in behind the Abrams pending the outcome of the road recovery operation if necessary. The goal is to keep the convoy from coming to a stop. The minor wreckage will be drug out of the way to help minimize disruption in the timely passage of convoy vehicles. San Antonio was being considered a hostile fire zone and a potential site for an ambush.

  Convoy radio channels will be maintained by the crew aboard the JLTV under the supervision and direction of Kathryn Colby. I understand she has restored military satellite links, so they are back in service. The JLTV is a remarkable machine capable of tracking enemy movement. There are sensors for early warning systems and advanced terrain mapping for natural air support coordinates. That is if we had an intact Air Force liaison.”

  Lieutenant Paul (the Ratchet) Monroe stood up and spoke. “Major, we have an Air Support Group waiting on us back at the compound.”

  “Jets?”

  “Yes, sir; Several F-100’s and over a dozen F-4 fighters jets; choppers too, a couple dozen UH-1, and two CH-53 Jolly Greens with all the goodies.

  And oh yeah, I almost forgot to say, we have a dozen air support carrier vehicles, including two car Gamma Goats for a total of ten troop transport cars.”

  Major Edson beamed with pride, “Do you have anyone on hand that knows how to organize an airstrike on the fly?”

  “Yes, sir. His name is Gordon; goes by the name Flash. He and his son are also excellent barbers if anyone needs a haircut; but yes, I’ll have Gordon brief Kat on the basic 5 line gun run.”

  ~~~~

  Joe Wyatt remained behind after the meeting broke up. All that was left of the bonfire now was just a pile of embers. Somewhere in those embers were the days he yearned for, and in a daydream state, he could see Mary’s face. He saw all the times they had together. The happy moments they shared, of the sailing and the future he saw in her eyes.