by Cliff Deane
“Nest 6, Snake 6, Over.”
“Go ahead Snake, sitrep, over.”
“Roger, Nest, both men down and appear to be severely injured. Recommend you send Dust-Off if you still want them alive. Over.”
“Truth be told, no, I don’t want them alive, and I don’t want to waste fuel flying them back here. Would you prefer Gus and I come out there and hold a Field Tribunal? I authorize you to conduct the trial if you are comfortable with doing so.”
“Nest, Snake, of course, I’ll take care of it. Major Page will be here soon to act as Prosecutor and Lieutenant. Carr can be Defense. Over.”
“Roger, Snake, your call. Anything else, over?”
“Negative Nest, we’ve got it covered, and we will do it properly. Personally, I can’t wait to hear their story, Over.”
“Thanks, Snake, Out.”
Susan landed the bird about 50’ from the two injured men. She and Denver exited the craft and immediately heard Virgil screaming in pain. Artemus was also whining, but his twin drowned him out.
Susan approached Virgil as Denver disarmed Artie. She heard him tell Artie to stop whining; it was only a sprained ankle. Artie paid no heed to Denver until he rapped the sprained ankle with the muzzle of his M-4A1 rifle. Artie screamed from the pain.
Denver looked down at Artie and said, “Now, listen up, you worthless piece of shit. I will count to two, and if you are still crying, I will break your kneecap. Okay, here goes, one, two…? Artie managed to stop the screaming, saving his kneecap.
Virgil, however, was beyond any threats to keep him quiet. Through his pain, he asked for Susan to shoot him. When she said no, he then begged for a gun, so he could do it himself.
Susan could see that there was nothing to be done for Virge, short of morphine to ease his pain. Unfortunately for the murderer, pain meds were never used to alleviate the pain and suffering of criminals.
She sighed deeply and asked Denver to check Virgil’s injury and to offer his opinion.
“Ma’am,” said Denver, “this man will never recover, and the pain is beyond my ability even to comprehend.” He drew his sidearm and seeing Susan nod her head, Denver shot Virgil in the back of the head. It was indeed an act of kindness that animal did not deserve.
Artie completely lost his mind when he saw his twin lying in on the pavement with a spreading pool of blood oozing from his head wound. He had lost his only friend and relative; his twin brother. In that instant Artemus became totally insane as he crawled to his brother and lay across his back, sobbing uncontrollably. Suddenly, Artie’s head jerked up, and his arms began flailing outward. He remained in this posture for perhaps ten seconds, then fell dead onto the back of the only person who had ever cared about him. His death was the result of a brain aneurysm. No Tribunal, no hanging, yet justice, of a sort, was served.
The posse arrived fifteen minutes later and was, at first, angry that the two men were dead, but after hearing from Susan, all agreed that the mercy shown was appropriate. The bodies were dragged to the drainage ditch and left for the buzzards. As Levi had once told Kate, “buzzards got to eat, same as the worms.”
***
Chapter 7
The Patrols
16 October 0800
Walmart Super Center
Hwy 90
Ocean Springs, MS
Staff Sergeant. Pete Woolery had volunteered to lead a patrol from Bayou La Batre to Pascagoula and onto Ocean Springs.
Along the Gulf shoreline, the patrol found several small fishing communities, consisting mainly of extended family groups.
For the most part, the fishermen were shy and unwilling to make contact with the patrol. The exception came at Bayou La Batre, where a group of ten families had begun fishing the Little River and working the Bayou just as their families had done for three centuries. They would have gone completely unnoticed but for a Huey flying to Keesler AFB saw the fishing boats on the river.
When Staff Sergeant Woolery’s patrol arrived to ask how the group was doing, he was greeted with gunfire. Fortunately, the shots were meant as a warning to stay away. Instead, Woolery raised a white flag made from a bedsheet, and being unarmed, asked if he might approach to talk.
The upside here was that the fishermen were equally curious about the patrol. Pete was directed to approach the guard post and wait to be searched. Once the guard was convinced that his visitor was, in fact, unarmed, he sent his mate to bring up the Mayor, which took only ten minutes.
The village Mayor, Marcelle DuPont was pleased to see the newcomers. He told Pete that the only chance for news was from some folks about six miles north who were also fishing, and according to Marcelle, they didn’t know shit, either.
Pete told him everything he knew about the world outside of Mobile, and Marcelle shared information about carving out a living by fishing, crabbing, and backyard gardening. He told Pete that the group had started as two families that had always made a living off the river, and how, after most of the folks had either left or died, his group had moved themselves into these fancy homes. For mutual protection, the clan had welcomed another eight bayou families into the fold.
“Mon Ami,” said Marcelle in his bayou Creole, “the first year was very hard. There were killers everywhere; it was as if the world had gone mad. No one knew what had happened and soon they were killing each other over food. We have several food stores, including a Walmart Super Center that changed hands many times in the first month. One group, or family would kill whoever controlled the stores, and soon others would kill them to take over. It was bad, very bad.
My family lived in the Bayou, and we just laid low and continued to live like we always had, well, without electricity, of course; we do miss that, but we’re doin’ okay, all things considered. Why Mobile Bay has quite a few artificial reefs, and now they and the bayou are chock full to the brim with clams, oysters, shrimp, crawfish, and gators. Yes, ‘bout the only thing we lack is bread.
After about a month, suddenly everyone was just gone, or dead. Currently, there are several small villages like ours fishing the river. The Little River is now flushed clean, and the fish are plentiful. Quite a few still live deep in the Bayou, and we trade with them for things like spices and meat and such. Things ain’t exactly good, but I figure we’re doing as good as most, maybe even better.
One of the villages along the coast now trades salt for things they need. They won’t tell anyone how they did it, but somehow, they managed to make shallow bowls, about five feet in diameter and fill them with saltwater. The sun evaporates the water, and then they scrape out the salt.
We still have plenty of fuel from all the dead cars to run our boats; funny how our cars died, but our old fishin’ boats and skiffs just kept pluggin’ along.
Pete asked, “Mr. Mayor, do you have any idea why so many of these little villages run away from us? We really mean no harm to anyone.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said the Mayor, “it’s because other soldiers came through here about four months back. They were killing people and stealing everything they could find. I guess people just think it’s easier to hide than take the chance that y’all are just like them.”
Pete’s face grew dark as he said, “Mr. Mayor, we are nothing like them, in fact, we are on their trail, and we intend to destroy them. They must be stopped.”
“That’s a good plan, son; I sure wish you luck, but be careful, they are just plain mean, I guar-own-tee.”
Pete thought that these people might profit from breeding rabbits and decided to ask if a Buck and maybe ten Does could be given as a goodwill offering.
The two men spent another hour talking about hopes and plans for the future. It was at that exact moment that Pete knew that the human race would survive; these people weren’t whining about how bad things were. They were planning for the future, not crying about what they used to have. This community knew that the fancy stuff was gone.
As the two were saying goodbye, Marcelle said, “Pete, you be careful,
now, because a Biker Gang has done took over in Pascagoula and them folks ain’t very nice, at all.”
Pete thanked him and said his goodbyes before he and the patrol set out to continue their mission.
He radioed back to the TOC all the information he had received from Mayor Marcelle. He also asked about the rabbits.
“Nest 6: Seeker 1-6: Over.”
“Seeker 16, Nest 1, 6 is out of pocket: Over.”
“Roger, Nest, I just met with the Mayor of a ten-family fishing village in Bayou La Batre. Ask 6 if we might send a few breeding rabbits to Mayor Marcelle DuPont.
Also, received info that Pascagoula is occupied by biker gang; advise: Over.”
“Seeker 1-6, Nest 1, wait while I find 6: Over.”
“Seeker, Roger out.”
The patrol resumed their mission as Staff Sergeant Pete Woolery directed his radioman to stay alert for a message from Nest.
“Gotcha, Sarge, I’m on it,” said Corporal Regan.
The small patrol made their way north on Hwy 19 before turning northwest on Hwy 188 toward the village of Grand Bay, just ten miles away.
The word came back to the patrol to hold position for pickup at Grand Bay as the convoy would be upon them before the patrol could reach Pascagoula.
Staff Sergeant Woolery knew his patrol would be tasked to recon the bad boys in good old Pascagoula. He personally thought that it was about time for some action, his guys were getting stale, and that just would not do, no sir, it would not do at all. He was reminded that he had lost men on another patrol, and he had no intention of letting that happen again.
Forward 1-6
16 October 1130
LAV III, Motor Park
Fort Polk
The ROA LRRP and Maintenance Crews created a hive of activity as each section set out to find and make operational the vehicles and equipment necessary to try and catch the rogue Mercenary Mechanized Battalion.
In short order, it became clear that the Mercs had already been to Polk and had taken a number of Light Armored Vehicles, version III. When, however, was the optimum question, and how far behind was the LRRP?
Lieutenant. Costello and his Commo Team were able to readily find a fully loaded Communications Truck, and everything in it worked perfectly. Unfortunately, the ROA had no comparable radios. Costello’s Commo Sergeant asked a very simple question.
“Sir, if the equipment we have here is EMP hardened, why not go to the HQ Communications Room to see if that equipment is working? If it is, let’s strip the radios out and fly them back to the Convoy. If we can make them work, I would surely prefer to use proper radios, instead of these PRC-77s with only a five-mile range.”
Costello smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and said, “Of course, the answer to our commo problems is so obvious that I completely missed it. Well done, Sergeant, that’s why you’re my hero. Get on it as quickly as possible.”
“Yes sir,” smiled Sergeant Zucker.
Costello went straight away to the helo pilot and told him of the communications discovery, and that his Commo Chief would strip out the non-working radios for the newly discovered hardened replacements.
Five hours later the Huey 1J, newly equipped with working radios, and carrying the same for the ROA Head Shed.
Forward 1-6
16 October 1000
LAV III, Motor Park
Fort Polk
The LRRP vehicle and supply list was quickly fleshing out; departure was tentatively scheduled for 18 Oct at 0800.
Gus sent a message to Lieutenant Costello, directing him to prepare a briefing on any evidence that the Mercs had been to Ft Polk ahead of the ROA.
Initially, the L T was flown over all of the Light Armored Vehicle (LAV III) Motor Pools where he made notes concerning specific areas requiring further inspection. He then flew over the vast Ammunition Supply Point, discovering several Ammo Bunkers with the doors blown off, indicating that someone had looted the bunkers.
Costello was also surprised to see a Motor Pool containing OPFOR (Opposing Force) training vehicles.
He knew that Levi and Gus would be thrilled at his discovery because both men absolutely hated the Humvee, and here, were many Jeeps.
This find contained a treasure trove of Jeeps, along with every class of heavy movers from the 1960s and 70s.
What made this find of such old, but well-maintained equipment so valuable was that the vehicles of that era were much more accessible to repair, having no computers or solid-state electronics.
Once back on the ground Costello took a Humvee and a driver to begin his inspection tour. He decided to go first to the OPFOR Motor Pool to check on the condition of the vehicles. He was somewhat disappointed, but not surprised to discover that the tires on most vehicles were flat, and the batteries were, of course, dead from sitting for nearly two years. Looking under the hood of an old Jeep he found lots of dust, but the engine seemed no worse for the wear.
The large supply depot provided a plentiful supply of spare parts, all securely stored and protectively wrapped to ensure long life.
The L T decided to request additional maintenance personnel to be flown in from the Convoy to replace the tires, batteries, fluids, and all the rubber hoses on each vehicle.
Costello’s next stop was a LAV Motor Park where he discovered sixteen LAV IIIs missing, old rotted tires, and sixteen dead batteries strewn about. He was a bit surprised at what he didn’t see any old rubber hoses. Apparently, the looters had merely changed the tires and batteries before driving them away. This was definitely something worthy of recording in his briefing document to be filed away for future consideration.
The Ammo Dump was a mess in those bunkers and areas where the looters managed to gain access. Again, an essential note for his briefing was the fact that no heavy munitions, like missiles, or mortar rounds over 60mm were taken. The only things Costello could find missing were small arms, from 9 mm to 30 mm, five-hundred blocks of C-4 plastic explosive, one-hundred Claymore Anti-personnel mines, and large numbers of the shoulder-fired rocket called LAWs…ouch.
At 1500 hours, Lieutenant Costello boarded a Huey 1J departing for the ROA TOC (Tactical Operations Center). He would spend the evening preparing his formal briefing for the ROA Command Staff at 0800 the following morning.
ROA TOC
16 October 1830
ROA TOC
The Road
Levi and Gus were beside themselves with both joy and anger; joy over resolving the commo problem, and irritation for not checking the radios at Ft. Bragg.
Gus just shook his head and said, “Damned Army always got everything before the Marine Corps; hell, we, for the most part, just got the leftovers and hand-me-downs from the Army. It used to drive me crazy. Levi, both of us should have thought about testing the radios at Bragg.”
Levi also nodded his head in agreement with his XO.
“Sergeant Major Cobb, how could the three of us have so missed the obvious?”
The Sergeant Major smiled and said, “Oh, I thought of it, but I just figured you gentlemen didn’t think it was necessary.”
“Oh?” said Levi, “Hmm, if that’s your story, are you really planning to stick to it.”
Everyone in the TOC began laughing when the Sergeant Major said, “Well, it is my story, but I ain’t sure I want to stick to it.”
Levi crushed a paper coffee cup and threw it at the Sergeant Major, who artfully dodged it as it sailed past his shoulder and hit Sergeant First Class Jones squarely on the nose.
“Officer abuse, Officer abuse!” shouted a laughing Jonesy.
Gus choked out, “I’ll give you Officer abuse if you don’t find a way to get some muffins in here pretty damned soon.”
In his defense, Jonesy said, “But sir, I don’t bake ‘em, I just, uh, find ‘em, you know, lying around.”
Levi turned to Gus and said, “Some Dog Robber he’s turned out to be; excuses, nothing but excuses. Colonel Murtaugh, we might have to make Jones here, a C
orporal, again just to create a new sense of urgency in him. What do you think?”
“If we don’t get some muffins,” laughed Gus.
Communication was vastly improved with the installation of the new radios, taking a lot of pressure off the LRRP (Forward 1-6), and the chopper pilots.
ROA TOC
17 October 0840
ROA TOC
The Road
“…in closing, Sir, judging from the rust and lack of tracks, due to rain, exiting the Motor Park, I would estimate that the looters were approximately two months ahead of us.”
Following the briefing, and questioning, Lieutenant Costello was excused; the Command Staff remained in session to discuss the possible ramifications of the unsettling discoveries at Ft Polk.
As the Sergeant Major was about to comment on the possible location of the Mercs, a knock on the TOC door interrupted him. The door opened, and there stood Jonesy replete with a tray containing a dozen hot muffins and a fresh pot of steaming coffee.
Levi said, “What, you brought muffins and fresh coffee? Well done; you are back in my good graces Dog Robber. Now, please tell us how you managed this wonderful surprise.”
Smiling now, Sergeant First Class Jones said, “Sir, I hate to admit it, but threats of deadly force were involved, and I must also admit that I am really rather fond of my stripes.”
Levi looked to Gus and the Sergeant Major, “Well gentlemen, do we have a consensus on Sergeant Jones?”
