299 Days: The 17th Irregulars

by Glen Tate

  Ted started the flattery, which was part legitimate praise and part salesmanship. “Hell, I trained you in the fundamentals, so I know you know your shit. And,” Ted looked over to Chip, “I understand you’ve been perfecting these skills out here lately.” Chip nodded, followed by Rich and Dan.

  It worked. The Team was flattered. They would be a special squad in a Special Forces guerilla group. Their heads were spinning, even the head belonging to wise and mature Grant.

  One of them wasn’t flattered, however. “What kind of special squad?” Ryan asked. As a former Marine, Ryan knew “special squad” could be a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Well, a SWAT team, basically,” Ted said. The Team was pretty good, Ted thought, but not like the kind of urban-trained military units he had at his disposal when he was in the FUSA Army. The Team was no professional law enforcement SWAT team, but they would have to suffice. This was not to say they sucked; they were light years ahead of a bunch of raw civilians.

  “Taking down small facilities,” Ted continued, “especially in urban settings. You know, ’There’s a bunch of Limas in that building. Go get them.’ That kind of thing. You’ll still need to know patrolling, communications, and larger unit movements like everyone else.”

  Ryan was nodding slowly. OK, he thought, that would be a good role for them, but he would make sure that “special squad” didn’t mean “run through this minefield and see which ones blow up.”

  “I think of your specific role as an MP SWAT team,” Sap said, referring to the acronym for a military police unit. “There are military aspects to MP law enforcement. It’s a combination of a law enforcement mindset in a military setting. You guys have been operating as LEOs for a while now,” meaning law enforcement officers, “So you have the LE mindset,” he said.

  This, too, was a little bit of flattery. Sap knew that the Team was not trained law enforcement; they were just some guys who had been doing it full time for a couple of months out of necessity. “We’ll add the military skills and give you the overview of the military setting. You’ll plop your LE skills into that,” Sap said.

  “Plus,” Ted said, “You guys will also be a liaison with the locals here in Pierce Point. You know them. They trust you guys. That’s important. And,” Ted said pointing to Sap, “more importantly, we trust you.”

  The Team was a little disappointed. They were thrilled to be a special squad, but they had assumed the guerilla unit would be built up around them. That they would be the stars in a sea of untrained civilians. But, now there would be quite a few military people, including infantrymen who knew more than they did.

  On the positive side, though, the Team realized that it was good that there would be experienced people around them, which increased their odds of making it through this alive. But, they had to admit, they kind of wanted to be the best trained people in the new unit. Oh well. The fact that there would be real military people in this unit meant that it would be more likely to get some good missions, with lots of bullets flying. That’s what the young guys wanted.

  Ted looked at Grant. “And, depending on the mission, the Team will be the core of a civil affairs operation that we’ll be running out of this unit.” Ted knew he needed to sell this mission to the younger guys on the Team who wanted to knock down doors and get in firefights. They were volunteers and could walk away at any moment. Ted couldn’t order them to do things and then court martial them if they didn’t. He had to sell, not order, which was the kind of diplomacy Special Forces employed when organizing teams of indigenous fighters.

  The Team looked at each other. They were going from a special squad of MP SWAT to doing pansy-ass paper-pushing “civil affairs”? Ted could tell what they were thinking.

  “By ‘civil affairs,’” Ted said, “I mean Grant here will be spearheading some occupation matters for our little unit.” Not only did Grant have a track-record of running Pierce Point smoothly, he was pre-positioned near the city his unit would be taking: Olympia. HQ marveled at their luck of having a guy with town-running skills who was already near the target city. Perfect. In fact, this unit was being built around this civil affairs capability.

  Ted continued, “Civil affairs isn’t paperwork, gentlemen. It’s, you know, overseeing the things the civilian population of a city needs. Food. Finding remaining Limas. Seeing if enemy deserters can be trusted, or if they need to be detained. Putting up makeshift detention facilities. That kind of thing. Managing the civilians so the regular military can do their regular military thing.” Ted was gauging the Team’s reaction. He wanted them to be excited about the importance of their mission.

  The Team just sat there staring at Ted.

  “Well,” Ted continued, trying to fire up the Team, “all this civil affairs shit happens in a very dangerous setting: a city we just barely took a few hours earlier. The situation is still fluid. It’s not like all the bad guys show up in a city park and lay down their arms. There will be pockets of bad guys everywhere.”

  Ted scanned the Team to gauge their reactions and then kept going as they appeared to be warming up to the idea. “Pockets?” Ted continued. “Hell, there’ll be buildings and whole neighborhoods that are still chock full of bad guys. They’ll be desperate and they’ll fight like hell, so our civil affairs people need protection. That calls for lots of urban fighting. Small-unit shit. It calls for us to be able to say, ‘Go take down that building and then resume trying to feed these civilians.’ You guys are already a cohesive and well-trained small unit. And Grant’s part of it and he’s the civil affairs guy. You guys should go into combat together. It’s a no-brainer.”

  “Sounds cool,” Bobby said. Others joined in.

  Ryan was a little skeptical. He’d seen glorious assignments turn into shitty jobs before. He sat back and thought. He was the only one who wasn’t nodding. He saw the wisdom in having the Team perform the MP SWAT/civil affairs role. It was a way cooler mission than most of the irregular units of indigenous fighters would get. But still, that “special squad” thing was concerning to him.

  “MP SWAT is a very unusual role for a Special Forces guerilla unit,” Ryan said. “Very unusual.” Ted could tell Ryan was skeptical.

  “You’re the former Marine, right?” Ted asked Ryan. He nodded.

  “You’re right,” Ted said to Ryan. “The usual mission of a Special Forces-led guerilla unit is to harass the enemy behind enemy lines, but guess what? There are no enemy ‘lines’ in this war. There is just Seattle and, to a lesser extent, Olympia where the old government has hunkered down.”

  Ted put his hands up for emphasis. “Civil affairs is very important in this war,” he said. “Those ‘enemy’ people in occupied cities are not Iraqis, Afghans, Russians, or North Koreans, who, let’s be honest, no one sheds a tear if they go hungry for a little while. No, the ‘enemy’ in the areas we’re going into are Americans. We need to treat them as well as possible. They’re our friends and, in some cases, our family. Some are Limas, but others aren’t, and even the Limas are still Americans, so we need to do everything we can to help them. Getting their city back up and running and feeding them is what we need to do. They’re Americans.”

  “So,” Ted said to Ryan, “I see why you’re saying it’s unusual for us to be tasking you guys with this MP SWAT and civil affairs shit. It is unusual, but you guys are here near one of the objective cities. I personally know that you’ve got gun fighting experience, and a track record of running a town. It’s a no-brainer.”

  “What about me?” Chip said. “I’m too old to do this shit.”

  Ted and Chip had been very close friends for years and Ted knew that Chip wanted to go into the city.

  “It’s Rich and Dan’s call,” Ted said, once again utilizing the diplomacy he’d been trained in. “I made a promise to them that the internal security of Pierce Point would not be weakened by having a guerilla unit out here. I know you run the day guards at the Grange, Chip, which I think needs to continue out here.” Ted had already thou
ght that Chip wasn’t needed in the guerilla unit, except maybe as a trainer, and he wanted to show Rich and Dan that he wasn’t taking too many guys away.

  “You want to go?” Rich asked Chip, hoping the answer was “no.”

  “No,” Chip said. “I’m too old for that shit. I’ll do it if I have to, but…”

  “Say no more,” Ted said. “You’re needed here. That’s important. Same with Rich and Dan,” Ted said looking at them. “Of course you two are invited into the unit but, I gotta say, you’re doing very important work here.”

  “We’ll stay here,” Dan said. He and Rich had already talked about it and instantly came to the conclusion that they had to stay in Pierce Point. Without Rich being the calm law enforcement leader of the community, Pierce Point could disintegrate. Without Dan and his amazing facility-defense skills, the gate could easily be breached.

  The most Rich and Dan would agree to donate to the guerilla unit was the Team and a few of the good guards, but not all of them. Rich and Dan concluded that they were helping the effort tremendously by letting the Patriots train a guerilla unit at the Marion Farm. That was all they could do. They would do more if they could, but they couldn’t risk everyone in Pierce Point just for this. Besides, after hearing about the plan to bring some military people into the unit, they realized the guerilla unit would do just fine without every last security force member at Pierce Point. Rich and Dan’s first job was the survival of Pierce Point, and helping topple the remnants of the former government was a second priority.

  “What can we do to help you?” Rich asked Ted.

  “Well, not much right now other than what you’re doing,” Ted said. “We’ll start bringing in boatloads of personnel and materials. I’m working well with the Chief and Paul on the beach landings.” Ted paused and thought. “Can’t think of anything right now.”

  Grant thought he knew the answer to his next question, but wanted to be clear with Ted on this important topic.

  “The personnel you’re bringing in are self-sufficient, right?” He asked. “We—Pierce Point—don’t need to feed them, right?”

  “Correct,” Ted said. “We don’t bring people out until we can sustain them. Everything. Food. Medical. Oh, that reminds me. We have a couple medics with us and they ‘liberated’ a ton of medical supplies from their former FUSA units. You guys need any?”

  Ted always tried to get as much stuff as possible to the host community. It bought a lot of good will. Whether it was Afghanistan, Columbia, the Philippines, or Pierce Point, the principle was the same: take care of your local fighters’ families and they’ll do amazing things for you.

  “You bet we can use them,” Grant said, knowing that Lisa was very concerned that the initial batch of medical supplies they traded for in Frederickson was not enough. “Get them to me and I’ll get them to our clinic,” Grant said.

  Ted smiled. He knew Grant would figure out a way to make sure the Patriots got political credit with the community for the medical supplies, thereby bolstering support from the host community. But Grant would do it in a way that didn’t disclose the location of the guerilla unit out there. Perfect.

  “Well,” Ted said, “I guess that’s it for us. You have any more questions?”

  No one did.

  “OK, we’ll go to the Marion Farm now with some supplies,” Ted said. “We’ve got a couple of guys down at the boat right now. They’ll be staying at the farm and guarding things. I didn’t bring them up because, well, you’ll meet them soon enough.”

  Sap and Grant figured out the logistics of getting the future shipment of medical supplies to Lisa.

  Rich looked at Ted and said, “I appreciate how you’re going about this.”

  Ted nodded.

  “I mean, you’re not poaching all my guys,” Rich said and then pointed at the Team, “just these shit bags.” That got a laugh. “If you keep operating this way, I don’t think we’ll have any problems.” Rich looked deadly serious.

  “Message received,” Ted said. “We appreciate the hospitality you’re showing us and we’ll put it to good use.” He’d used that very line in several languages in several countries. And he sincerely meant it.

  Chapter 198

  First Look at Marion Farm

  (July 21)

  The Team tried to lead a normal life after Ted and Sap left, but it was not easy. They did their day jobs while constantly thinking about their training at Marion Farm and then their eventual mission. They were excited about being in a guerilla unit. It was the thrill of a lifetime.

  Grant was doing his day job of organizing and judging at the Grange and training with the Team one or two afternoons a week. He was hiding the Ted project from Lisa, which was really wearing on him. But, he had to keep it secret; not only were lives depending on him keeping quiet, but he knew that Ted would literally kill him if he talked. Grant knew that the longer he kept it from Lisa, the more betrayed she would feel. A couple of times, when he and Lisa were getting along extra well and he realized how great it would be to stay married to her forever, he thought about telling her. But he didn’t. Every time he was tempted to tell her, he imagined what Ted’s reaction would be.

  Three days later, Scotty’s special “Ted radio” crackled. Ted said they would be coming with a load of men and supplies and wanted to meet with the Team at the yellow cabin. The guys were very excited. They had been craving contact with Ted or Sap for days.

  The Team Chicks were asked to go to their own places that night. Ted and Sap came up to the yellow cabin at 8:00 p.m. and told the Team to come with them and see Marion Farm. This time of year, it didn’t get dark until about 9:00 p.m. The Team went to a bigger boat than the little one that Ted and Sap usually zipped around on. It was nice civilian boat, over thirty feet long, and several men were on it.

  When the Team got on board, Ted said, “Gentlemen, I believe you know Stan and Carl.”

  There was Stan, the construction contractor from Capitol City Guns, and Carl the computer guy who used to hang out there, too. Everyone was thrilled to see their old gun store buddies.

  “How’ve you ugly bastards been?” Stan asked. He had lost a lot of weight.

  “I like the beards,” Carl said, looking at the Team and stroking his own. “Never seen you guys unshaven.” He, too, had lost a lot of weight.

  They caught up on what had happened since May Day. Shortly after the Team evacuated the gun store, Stan and Carl, both strong Patriots, linked up with Ted. They helped Ted move his half of the gun store’s guns and ammo from his Olympia-area home to Boston Harbor, which took about a month. They moved them in small quantities at night and would carry them around checkpoints, having to hike through back streets and, sometimes, the woods. They didn’t tell anyone about the time when they had to kill two FCorps at a checkpoint. They had walked up to them with knives in their sleeves and did it the old fashioned, and silent, way.

  After Stan and Carl helped Ted move all the weapons, they started helping around the Boston Harbor HQ of the Patriot forces. They were teamed up with two other guys, Tom and Travis. Tom was an Air Force load master at nearby McChord Air Force Base, where he helped arrange cargo on transport planes. Travis was a Navy guy from nearby Bangor submarine base. He was a machinist who worked on the subs. Tom and Travis, both Patriots, went AWOL and drifted around until they found a Patriot stronghold, like Boston Harbor.

  Now, Tom and Travis were assigned, along with civilians Stan and Carl, to a “liberator” unit; as in, “liberate” government food and supplies from the Limas. They came up with a variety of ingenious schemes to do this. They made fake IDs and learned the forms that the Limas used to move their food around. They even drove a truck of food right out of a Lima warehouse one time. They got that one with a low-tech method: bribing the FCorps guard with two cartons of cigarettes.

  “We brought out some snacks,” Carl said and showed them the cases of food in the boat. “We’re taking them out to the farm. We will be the supply officers for the gu
erilla unit.”

  “We’ll be taking our ‘liberator’ operation on the road and start operating in your area,” Travis said. “We’ll need a briefing on where all the Lima storage facilities are.”

  Paul was steering the boat to the Marion Farm landing. The Team helped the visitors from Boston Harbor unload the boat. They then put the supplies onto two big landscaping carts that were stashed down at the landing. They were the big carts with the huge tires; the kind used to haul large plants around a landscaping site that worked great for moving supplies along the quarter mile road to the farm.

  “This is the last load we’ll do with the carts,” Stan said. “We have a truck scheduled to be here tomorrow morning, which will make the unloads much easier.”

  They talked about how they would get the word to Dan that a truck with two guys would be coming to the gate. Grant would tell Al that these two were “rental team” guys, who, in turn, would nonchalantly tell everyone else that they were residents going to their cabin. No one would remember them and wonder why they weren’t at Grange meetings. The majority of residents didn’t go every night anymore because things were running relatively smoothly.

  Grant had never seen the Marion Farm. When he came up on it, he was amazed. Even in the low light of dusk, he could see how perfect it was. It was huge and had a horse fence around it. The road from the beach was easily defensible. There was a little high spot facing the beach that was perfect for an observation post and a machine gun. There were two large outbuildings. Sap said they were empty but would be put to good use. The farmhouse was big. It could use a little cosmetic work on the outside, but it was solid. It was nice inside. It hadn’t been lived in for a while, but someone had cleaned it up pretty well. The electricity and water were on. Thank God.

  They went out to the huge barn. Like all barns its size, it had a hay loft. There wasn’t any hay in it, just a large floor for sleeping dozens of men. Same with the bottom floor, which still had remnants of hay and general farm dirt in it. It would take a thorough cleaning to get it up to sanitary shape for human habitation, but the troops out there had lots of manpower and lots of time. Cleaning a barn and turning it into sleeping quarters was one of the unglamorous things soldiers did for the 99.9% of the time they weren’t engaged in combat.