“We need food… And the last time I looked, there weren’t many grocery stores open for business.”
It was sarcastic. He started moving toward the small pile of essentials they had managed to scrape together.
She sensed the mockery in his voice but let it slide. They were all on edge and hungry. He wasn’t a mean man and she knew he wasn’t trying to scold her. He was simply stating a fact in a flat way. He was looking at his compass as he talked.
“Let’s gather up our things and head east,”
Shirley had the two youngsters working, directing them with hand signals and body movements as they prepared to move. They all knew what they had to do. They had done this a number of times in as many days, following these bikers from nearby Crescent City on the coast.
“We’ll stay a few hours behind them. That’ll be easy enough, we’re on foot.”
Randy swung his pack onto his shoulders and went about getting ready to move out. Shirley was tired. They all were. The lack of food was draining the energy out of each of them. Shirley wasn’t looking forward to the hike, which could possibly be another thirty or more miles. She was tired of walking, tired of foraging in the garbage the slavers were leaving behind. She felt like a dog as she was doing it. The food was plentiful in the scraps that the slavers left behind, and she liked the fact that when they were able to forage and find food, it kept them alive. But just the thought of what they were doing filled her with revulsion.
“Shirl,”
She knew what was coming.
“Before we move out, let’s do what we’ve been doing and go over to that camp and see if we can scrounge up some food from what they left behind.”
Her thoughts evaporated at his words and she joined her husband and the two young people as they walked toward the abandoned camp. She thought, but didn’t say anything,
“Woof, woof, master.”
The four of them moved around the abandoned slaver’s camp and began to scavenge in the trash that was left behind. Some remnants of edible food were tossed here and there. The area covered a couple of acres of ground and it took a while for the family to pick through what was left so, they could eat.
Satisfied they had salvaged enough to keep them going for a little longer, they moved out toward the substantial trail left by the bikers.
It was dark now, and Randy watched the moon rise over the horizon. He carried a flashlight he had found at one of the other camp sites the slavers stopped at earlier. It was a military flashlight with a gooseneck that looked like an inverted “L.” It was still fairly bright, and he used the batteries sparingly.
Their greatest find had been a rechargeable light that people once used a while back to light up a pathway in their garden or patio. It was convenient, and the batteries were recharged every day with a little solar cell on the side of the light fixture. They could use the two lights intermittently, and he simply pulled the battery from the pathway light to keep it from shining needlessly.
Tonight, there was a full moon, which alone would be enough light to help them see the trail they were following. He was grateful because that would help save their batteries.
Randy had a small hand-held compass that displayed radium covered dials and principal points of the compass, giving them a pleasant glow in the darkness.
They were heading toward the north and east. It would take them all night and part of the next day to catch up to the large group of slavers. They had to be careful they didn’t accidentally catch up with any of the stragglers lagging behind; that would invariably result in a shootout.
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They traveled four hours, stopping now and then to rest, until it was obvious, they all needed to get some sleep. They set up a sleeping area by gathering leaves to lie on, which acted as an insulating barrier between them and the ground. They then spread their meager blankets and spare clothing over the leaves to form a make-shift mattress.
Randy remained awake while his family slept. He could catch cat naps later. His main preoccupation was to make sure his family was safe. He was grateful it wasn’t raining, or worse, snowing.
He remembered last winter when they were on the western side of Mount Shasta. It was cold there; freezing, as a matter of fact. They gathered firewood, then dug a pit and built a fire that burned for a few hours. Slowly, they gathered rocks the size of a cantaloupe and placed them in the pit with the fire. Over the course of a few hours, the hole was covered with enough dirt to smother the fire, but the rocks stayed warm all-night long. They built a small lean-to over the covered pit and the four of them slept comfortably on top of the covered hot rocks. It snowed that night, but they were snug and warm.
Tonight, the stars were overhead, and it was dry. There was no need for a lean-to. In an effort to stay awake, he concentrated on his plan.
They would follow the slavers in the morning, which was difficult, at best, because the slavers were driving vehicles and Randy and his family were on foot. They stayed miles ahead of them which was okay with Randy, no chance of a showdown with that kind of separation between them and his family. Even though, he didn’t believe any of the large group would come back this way, he always made sure they set their sleeping camp well off the traveled trail—just in case.
If they could ever find themselves in a place where there was plenty of food and adequate shelter, he would take the time to make safety provisions such as building booby-traps for perimeter protection. But since the war, they hadn’t found any place that he felt would support them long-term, just an occasional area that had enough food to keep them going for a couple weeks at most.
Instead, they simply did what the Native American tribes of old had done; they lived off the land as long as they could and then moved on. Lately, they were following this large gang and were surviving off the scraps the bikers left behind. Randy knew his wife wasn’t too crazy about doing this, but they were eating on a fairly regular basis because of it. He knew it took a lot of energy and a lot of luck to find food in the wild these days. Shirley knew it too, she was smart but could get cranky now and then, and frustrated. He tried to not criticize. What was the point? Sometimes his self-control slipped, and it caused the old silent treatment to come out for a day or longer.
He wanted to get close enough to take a couple of the slavers out in order to acquire some much-needed items from them, such as another weapon or two, and a lot more bullets. He was down to about a dozen for his 30.06 Mauser and Shirley only had a few rounds for her Luger 9mm pistol.
The kids had no firearms, just a hunting knife each. He had been teaching them some hand-to-hand fighting techniques, as best he could. They were coming along. He wanted to get a few canteens, more blankets, and of course more firearms. Perhaps tomorrow they would get lucky.
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Morning came, and Randy felt very tired. He woke Shirley up first.
“Honey, it’s time.”
She rose without saying anything and immediately started preparing something to eat from some of the scraps the bikers left behind yesterday. Randy lay down next to the kids and tried to rest but couldn’t. The best he could do was nod off a bit. He remained in a twilight stage without actually sleeping.
When the food was ready, Shirley woke the kids and they ate. Later they gathered their meager belongings and headed down the trail once again.
He could try to sleep the next time they stopped to rest.
It was going to be a long and hungry day!
As they followed the large, prominent trail left by the outlaw gang, they found a loaded .357 Magnum revolver lying on the ground. Someone must’ve dropped it when they hit a pothole on the road nearby. He gave the weapon to his daughter.
Perhaps their luck would hold today.
Several hours later, they reached the slaver’s encampment. There were no posted guards or perimeter patrols yet; not that they bothered half the time anyway. They were resting.
Randy crawled forward on his belly until he could get
a good look with his binoculars.
He didn’t notice the mounds in the field below him and to the right—or the fact that they moved toward him.
Chapter 2
Down and dirty
Two weeks prior to the bombs…
Eric Bell returned to his unit at Twenty-Nine Palms, California, after his mother’s funeral to find orders to go to an Army Mountain Climbing School at Camp David Driscoll near Mount Rainier in the state of Washington. The camp was named after a world war two recipient of the Medal of Honor. As a Marine Corps Scout sniper, Eric was often sent to a number of different training camps.
He attended and graduated from SERE, (Survival, Escape, Resistance and Evasion), Jungle Training, Desert Environmental, Cold Weather Operations, and a few others over the last two years. This time it would be mountain climbing. He enjoyed the different schools, the challenges each one posed, and the opportunity to meet and interact with other specialists. His other schools were:
Urban Snipers
High Angle (Mountain) Snipers
Scout Snipers team leader course (Formerly the advanced course)
Foreign Forces Sniper Schools
He knew eventually other courses would be offered to him such as:
The British Royal Sniper School
The Israeli Foreign Forces Sniper School
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For this course, High Angle Mountain Training, the Marine Corps arranged his transportation, and after a couple of days to recoup from his mother’s demise and funeral, he packed his duffel bag and headed to the airstrip at Twenty-Nine Palms. The flight was to McChord Air Force Base, just south of Seattle, Washington. It was an overnight layover, and then he rode with a military convoy to the school near Mount Rainier the following morning.
The trip would have been quite boring but a comedian by the name of Sergeant Joe Delgado made the trip in the Humvee a lot shorter with his barrage of one joke after another. Eric found it absolutely amazing that anyone could have that many jokes committed to memory.
Before he knew it, the Humvee took a turn down a long mountain road that terminated at a guarded gate manned by U.S. Army Military Police. After presenting their IDs, they were allowed to proceed to an office area where he could present his orders. This took about a half-hour and a corporal was directed to show Sergeant Bell to his quarters.
The billeting (temporary living quarters), was a Quonset hut; barracks-style on the interior with a wooden floor. There were sixteen cots in a straight line on one side of the hut and the other side of the structure was identical. At the foot end of each cot sat a steel footlocker for personal belongings. There was a diesel-fuel burning stove on one end with a chimney that went up through the roof of the hut.
Eric imagined it must get pretty cold here.
The camp was, after all, right next to Mount Rainier, a towering semi-dormant volcano covered with snow and ice year-round. Eric stowed his gear in the foot locker and walked over to the Non-Commissioned Officers Club, accompanied by his spotter, to see what it had to offer.
The camp was remote and a bit isolated from nearly everything. He guessed the recreational facility would be a decent place to break the monotony of the camp. It was in his experience, from other training facilities, the more remote the camp, the better the entertainment facilities.
He wasn’t disappointed.
There was a large TV viewing area for movies, and a couple of other big screens to watch sporting events. Chairs were set in place in order to be comfortable while watching the screens. One area housed a couple of pool tables and another section sported an ample bar. Behind the bar was a small grill area to cook hamburgers, a deep fryer, and a Coke machine. It wasn’t bad considering the remoteness of the camp. Eric met some interesting people. He talked and joked with a few of his new friends before deciding to turn in for the night. Tomorrow would be a long day.
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Reveille came early the next morning. The loudspeakers blared a bugle call and the camp came to life with trucks moving about and people getting ready for the day. When most of the people at the camp were dressed and ready, they all headed for the large chow hall.
The first week of training was grueling and physically draining. All the participants were young soldiers and, to a man, were in excellent shape physically, as any soldier should be.
They climbed a sheer cliff that ascended vertically several hundred feet and terminated on a small ledge, only to continue up several hundred feet more and terminate on another ledge that was ample in size for all of the climbers.
Eric learned how to use a number of climbing knots and how to use pitons and other climbing paraphernalia. As tough as it was, it was extremely interesting. The first ten days went effortlessly in terms of climbing, reaching the objectives, and rappelling from the top back down… Or, as some experienced people might say, “roping down” to the next successive ledge below, rig for the next one, and do it all again until they were all safely at the bottom. Up and down they climbed or descended. It became second nature to think out each move; it became automatic as the days passed and the repetitions ensued.
This initial training readied them for the rest of the course.
In weeks two and three, there were two injuries; one soldier fell and broke an arm, and another washed out due to his inability to adapt and follow orders. This was a “washout” course. If for any reason some soldier couldn’t cut it, they were simply sent back to camp, issued new orders, and sent to a new duty station doing a different job than what they did prior to coming to the course. You didn’t re-assume your old duties. Washing out meant more than failing a course.
It was what was referred to as “down and dirty.” These training programs were reserved for the elite. Among them were Green Berets, Rangers, Force Recon Marines, and Navy SEALs. They were normally selected by a senior enlisted advisor and approved by a company commander to be here in the first place. Few were selected to attend, and most that were selected, completed it to the regulated standards.
Eric loved the sniper phase of the course. It was innovative, interesting, and moved along smoothly. It was exclusively for the sniper or scout sniper individuals only. Other courses were conducted in different areas and were exclusive to him, his spotter and the other snipers from different branches of the military.
Some of what was required of snipers and their spotters was fairly routine and Eric had done much of it many times before. There were, however, some new innovations that he found not only interesting, but also stimulating. He had been through an extensive thirteen-week course which entailed the following:
The new curriculum is introduced, with shooting as the course’s primary focus and stalking a secondary focus. The new course is now twelve-and-a-half weeks long. It’s no longer called the Scout Sniper Basic Course, because of the new and extremely difficult shooting qualifications, it is now called Scout Sniper Course, as it is no longer considered basic. There are nine straight weeks of shooting qualifications before the majority of field training.
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It is highly recommended, but not required, for the student to have completed the following courses: Land Navigation, Patrolling, Calling and Adjusting Supporting Arms, and Reconnaissance, Marine. It is also recommended, but not required, the student have conducted basic Scout Sniper field skills: stalks, concealment, field sketches, range cards, range estimations, and firing of the M40A1 rifle, prior to attending the course. Students should also possess a high degree of maturity, equanimity, and common sense.
Marine Corps PFT: For a perfect score: A three-mile run in eighteen minutes, twenty-three dead hang pull-ups, one-hundred-ten sit-up/crunches in under two minutes.
Swim Qualifications: five-hundred-meter swim using side or breast stroke, fifty-meter swim holding a weight out of water, tread water for thirty seconds holding a weight out of water with no signs of panic.
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M40A1 Sniper Rifle
Manufacturer: Specially
trained armorers at Quantico, Virginia.
Length: 44 inches (111.76 centimeters)
Barrel length: 24 inches (61 centimeters)
Weight: 14.5 pounds (6.58 kilograms)
Bore diameter: 7.62mm (.308 inches)
Maximum effective range: 1000 yards (914 meters)
Muzzle velocity: 2250 feet (777 meters) per second
Phase 1: Marksmanship and Basic Fields Craft Phase
•During this phase, Marines are trained in basic marksmanship on the Known Distance (KD) Range and also receive classes on basic skills such as camouflage, individual movement, weapons systems, observations, and field sketches.
Day one begins with in processing, which includes a PFT, (USMC Physical Fitness Test), gear check, and service record check for prerequisite compliance. Potential students must also pass day and night land navigation courses. After all students have been admitted to the course, classes and a general overview of the course are given.
KD range includes shooting at the 300, 500, 600, 700, 800, 900, and 1,000-yard lines. Five rounds are fired at each yard line. During this phase of training, Marines must become experts at the fundamentals of marksmanship. They must also become experts at calling wind and weather. During this portion two students work together, one on the rifle and the other behind the spotting scope calling wind. If a student is not proficient at calling wind, they will cause their partner to fail, not themselves. After the first student fires his rounds, the two switch positions. After each yard line, the students must quickly throw on their packs and grab all their equipment and run to the next yard line. The course of fire for qualification is as follows:
Avalon- The Construction Page 2
