by Glen Tate
“Col. Heintz and the families have agreed to provide the gold to the treasury of the State of New Washington for a two-year period. The money is to be used for the Restoration. To rebuild infrastructure and create the framework of a tiny government that does only the one thing it is supposed to do: protect individual liberties. That includes having a small military, which relies on voluntary militias for most of its strength, having a justice system, a Legislature to pass some minimal laws to allow us all to live better.” Ben realized he was drifting into a speech about the Restoration and didn’t want to take the spotlight off of Randy.
“But enough of that,” he said. “The midnight miners are donating two years of gold to us for rebuilding purposes. After that, we—the state, that is—will enter into a fair agreement with the families, and families in neighboring towns with similar gold mines, to mine the gold and deposit it into the state treasury—but not to spend. We will use it to back our state currency which will provide a solid currency for us to build businesses on.”
“Randy and the midnight miners have asked for one thing in return, which we would have done for them anyway,” Ben said. “They will be happy to supply the state treasury with gold as long as New Washington does not attempt to impose regulations on their natural resource economy. They said no more ridiculous restrictions on logging, mining, ranching, or farming. I told them that I would urge the upcoming Constitutional Convention to write that into the new state Constitution. Randy said to me, half joking but half serious, that they ran the feds out of Okanogan County and could do the same to New Washington if we went ‘tree-hugger’ on them. Duly noted, Col. Heintz.” The audience laughed. They knew that conversation probably occurred exactly as Ben was describing it.
“Back to the topic of gold to the state treasury,” Ben said. “We won’t use it to spend on welfare,” he said, “unless the Legislature can override my veto.” The audience laughed.
“No, as I said, we will use the gold to back our new state currency, which is being called the Evergreen, after the trees in our state. We are currently using local private bank notes and New Dollars,” which was the currency of the western and Southern states. The currency was backed partially by gold and by oil from Texas. “We think competition is good, and that’s true of currencies, too. So the state of New Washington will mint its own Evergreens, either gold coins or paper currency redeemable for gold. If people would rather use local private bank notes or New Dollars, that’s fine. We’ll hold onto the Evergreens or trade them for other currencies,” he said and, looking to the Speaker of the House and Senate Majority Leader, added, “if the Legislature approves of that.” They smiled.
“In sum,” Ben said, “We have the gold to back our currency, the Restoration can be paid for, and we had money to win the war because of the midnight miners, and Col. Randy Heintz in particular.”
Chapter 351
Col. John Trappford
(The Happy Warrior)
Ben became very serious after the applause for Col. Heintz died down. He was dreading this next presentation for two reasons. First, it was sad. Second, many people in the audience knew this colonel so it would hit home for a lot of them.
“Just like most of our experiences during the Collapse and war,” Ben said, “We’ve had highs and lows. It has been an emotional rollercoaster. We had a high with hearing about the midnight miner, and now we’ll have a low hearing about Colonel—and Senator—John Trappford.” The crowd became silent. A few people were already crying.
“This is another one of our posthumous awards of a colonelship,” Ben said slowly. “I knew Senator Trappford before the Collapse and considered him a friend. I’ve spoken with numerous people about him, from his family to many members of the Think Farm. A clear picture emerged.”
“Senator Trappford loved liberty and knew he was put on this earth to get some of it back,” Ben said, speaking from the heart and without notes. “He was humble and felt blessed to have a role in this fight. The bigger his role—and, correspondingly, the bigger the danger he was in—the happier he was. ‘I’m landing more punches’ he said to me when I expressed concern before the Collapse about him taking the leading role for the Patriots in the old state Legislature. I told him the Limas would kill him if he kept fighting them; he just shrugged and said, ‘Then I’ll be in a better place,’ referring to heaven. Then he laughed and got animated about whatever legislative or political maneuver he was planning to slow down the Loyalists. He was a happy warrior.”
“John was a lifelong resident of Republic, Washington—quite an ironic name for his hometown, right? He enlisted in the Marine Corps, became an officer, and saw action in Desert Storm. Then he came back home.”
“Like a lot of residents of northeastern Washington, which is up near Chesaw, actually, John’s family had to have several jobs to make a living. They logged, ranched, and he had an excavation business. It was hard to make a living in rural Washington because, as you’ve already heard, the natural resource economy of the region was not allowed to operate.”
“John wasn’t a politician by nature,” Ben said, “He was a fighter who happened to settle on politics as his preferred mode of fighting. He told me that he would get in less trouble fighting in the political arena than the way he did it in the Marine Corps.”
“John was in the Marine Corps from the late 1980s to the mid-1990s. Republic, Washington and the rest of America changed a lot while he was gone. This was when all the environmental regulations kicked in with full force. When he came back, he assumed life would be the same in Republic as when he left. He was wrong.”
“Now he needed a permit to excavate near a small stream on his property so he went to the state office to get one. He was told his entire 120 acres could not be ‘disturbed’ because an endangered rodent might be living there. He assumed the state regulator was kidding. He wasn’t.”
“He got mad and did all the things he was told in high school civics class to do in a democracy like America: he wrote letters to the editor, made his case to local officials, met with his legislators, and he filed an administrative appeal of the decision.”
“His neighbors loved his letter to the editor, his local officials agreed with him, his legislators did, too—but the administrative appeals judge upheld the decision to prevent him from using his land. ‘Democracy’ wasn’t working like they said it did in civics class.”
“John wondered what had happened to his property and to America. It seemed like the rodent was more important than his family. He realized why: voters in Seattle cared more about rodents than his family. That’s what mattered to the people in charge.”
“One of his county commissioners was retiring so he ran for office and won easily. Then his state legislative representative retired and he won that office, too. Finally, he became the state senator for his area.”
“John took an almost perverse joy in sabotaging and delaying the Seattle liberals’ legislative plans,” Ben continued. “The Republicans in the old state Legislature had so few seats that they were constitutionally irrelevant. By that, I mean that they didn’t even have a third of the votes so they couldn’t pass a bill, let alone override a governor’s veto. They were powerless.”
“John loved the challenge. He knew that the more he and his fellow conservatives talked, the more the liberals liked it—at least at first. His opponents loved it when he appeared on TV because the more ‘anti-environment’ things he said, more the Seattle liberals would use it to scare their voters from voting for Republicans. He knew they were using him—or so they thought—and he encouraged it. He appeared on every talking head show about state politics and was always available for radio interviews on news talk stations. He was the Republicans' go-to guy and, pretty soon, he was well known in the state, at least among people who followed politics.”
“‘Mission accomplished,’ he once told me when we were talking about the fact that he was now the ‘face of the Republican party.’ He added, ‘Now, when the
state falls apart like it certainly will in the next few years, they’ll all look to me for solutions. I’ve already had the solutions—and now I have an audience.’”
“So that was his strategy: become a household name and then wait for people to ask him to fix the inevitable mess that was coming. It worked exactly like he planned.”
“‘Thank God the libs have destroyed the state,’ he once told me, half joking. ‘Now people will listen.’ To be clear, he didn’t want the state to fall apart, he just knew it would. He had explained in hundreds of interviews exactly why the current path of state government would lead to exactly what ended up happening. That was the only way he could try to prevent the destruction that he could see was coming.”
“I remember right before the Collapse, when we all knew a crime wave would be coming soon, John decided to get some headlines and remind people which side was okay with people owning guns to protect themselves. The Senate had a rule against carrying firearms in the legislative chambers. John decided to strap a Colt single action Army cowboy revolver on his hip. He had inherited it from his grandfather. He was promptly arrested by the Senate’s Sergeant at Arms and his gun was confiscated. It was a huge news story, which is exactly what he intended.”
“With the Collapse looming, the Loyalists needed to discredit John. They also needed him out of office. Here is something that isn’t obvious to most people,” Ben explained, “It is critical to have a few solid Patriots in elected office, even if they can’t do much. The reason is that an elected official, even one who doesn’t have the power to get much done, has been elected and has legitimacy. Take John for example. He was ‘Senator’ Trappford. That carried a lot more weight than ‘some cowboy from eastern Washington.’ This meant that the Loyalists had to take away the legitimacy his Senate seat gave him.”
“So they impeached him,” Ben said. “He was the first and only Senator in the history of Washington State to be impeached. They impeached him for safely carrying a gun on his hip, which seemed very petty when, right during his impeachment, people all over the state were being terrified of criminals and wishing they had a gun like Senator Trappford. It was brilliant.”
“When he was impeached, John was in increasing danger. The rabid leftists had some deranged followers who threatened Patriots. John received several death threats. His family was safe in Republic so he didn’t really care.”
“I remember when he left Olympia after his impeachment. It was sad, but more importantly, it was dramatic. We all knew that he was going back to eastern Washington and there was no way it would stay part of this state. John Trappford’s leaving Olympia was the symbolic—and, as it turned out, literal—act of half of the state departing from domination by Seattle.”
“John was a hero in Republic and throughout eastern Washington when he returned. There was a serious movement to elect him ‘Governor of eastern Washington.’ I’m glad that didn’t happen because he would have taken part of my job.” The audience laughed.
“His timing was perfect. He returned to Republic on April 30th to great fanfare and the Collapse hit the very next day. He instantly wanted to return to Olympia, of all places. Not to be in the Legislature. He wanted to be where he could help the Patriots put a state or states together after the Loyalist old state disintegrated. He knew that eastern Washington had plenty of leaders who could secede from the old state; they didn’t need him for that. He would just be a glory hog. He knew he could do more to help the Patriots hiding out in Olympia and coordinating activities with them in the other Patriot parts of the former state.”
Ben pointed to Col. Dauen Hauer and said, “John hopped a flight on Special Air Service and landed in a remote airfield outside of Olympia. He was taken by a security team to what later became known as the Think Farm. There he and the other Think Farmers, as they became known, planned out a new state. They worked on a framework for the new constitution, and picked interim leaders,” Ben said, choking up, “like me.”
Ben looked at the audience and said, “Allow me to read a letter I received from a brave messenger when I was hiding out at the Prosser Farm.” He got the letter out of his suit jacket pocket and read it:
“It’s our time to fix things, Ben. We need you. We need you for governor. We’ve talked about it and talked about it, and no one can come up with a better person to be the Interim Governor. This will be the most important thing you ever do. People will remember it for generations. We need you.”
Ben felt a tear welling up so he brushed it away, hoping no one would see him but, everyone did, of course.
“This letter was dated June 1st,” Ben said, “Ten days before John was assassinated.” Ben didn’t describe how the Limas pulled this off; he didn’t want to highlight one of their successes, especially one that grieved so many people in the audience, including Ben.
“There is no way we’d be sitting here today, as the Legislature of New Washington, without Senator John Trappford. He recruited many of the legislators here to be interim legislators, which was a dangerous job,” Ben said.
“Much of the proposed state Constitution was written by John Trappford. He even came up with the design for our new flag.” The audience was silent and a few were quietly weeping.
“But this flag,” he said, pointing to a large New Washington flag next to him, “and especially the new Constitution, will live on long past John Trappford ever would have. He once told me, ‘Die with your boots on.’ He did, with his cowboy boots, at least. But he lives on. Every time you see this flag, and every time you enjoy liberty, which is protected by our new Constitution, John lives on.”
Chapter 352
Col. Sergei Romanov
(The Bizness Man)
They took a short break from the speeches. It had been a while since they started and many of the audience needed to use the restroom. The break was good, Ben thought, to have a clear demarcation between one kind of honoree, like John Trappford, and another kind, like the next colonel.
When the audience had settled back in, Ben said, “And now for something completely different.”
“Our next colonel is,” Ben paused, “well, I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just say it: a former mobster.” He pointed toward a man in the front row and said, “Is that fair to say, Sergei?”
“Da!” the man yelled out, which was Russian for “yes.”
“But you’re not doing that stuff anymore, are you?” Ben asked the man with a smile.
“Nyet!” the man responded.
“There was quite a debate about honoring a man with Sergei’s background,” Ben said. “But we could not ignore the fact that some people, even past criminals, offered a lot of help to our side. We wanted to be honest and describe this.”
“Sergei is quite a character with quite a story,” Ben continued. He motioned for Sergei to come up the rostrum. “Please come up here and tell us what you did and why.” The audience clapped as a Russian in a nice suit walked up to the rostrum.
“I am accustomed to being around criminals,” Sergei said in near perfect English, “so I am quite comfortable in the legislative chamber of the former state government.” He smiled and the audience laughed.
“I used to be a ‘bizness man,’ which, in case you don’t speak Russian, is actually the Russian word for ‘mobster.’ I am not kidding. I find a lot of meaning in the fact that the Russian word for mobster is ‘bizness man.’” The audience chuckled again.
“In all seriousness,” Sergei said, “this is profound. Because, in a corrupt, socialist country like Russia, the crony businessmen who are favored by the government are essentially mobsters. Does this seem true, too, in the old Washington?” The audience was nodding in agreement.
“We heard Col. Lezsek Stachyra describe life in Communist Poland, and everything he said was also true about Russia. And, everything he said about the old Washington State and a communist country being similar, that was true, too. I have experienced it firsthand.”
“I did not choos
e to be a ‘bizness man’ when I came to the United States. It was, how you say, the family business. I inherited it and was expected to continue it. We just did little things,” he explained, a bit defensively. “We did not sell drugs and we did not have anything to do with prostitution.”
“There was a large Russian population in Tacoma,” he explained. “My family was influential in that population. Like many other immigrants, we Russians wanted escape the oppressive governments we came from and live freely. We can see corruption and oppression much faster than native-born Americans because we know what to look for.”
“As the economy was going down, my community started to notice more and more corruption. Police taking bribes and judges selling decisions. Everything was for sale. You want to get in to see the doctor sooner with the government health insurance? Cutting in line was for sale. You wanted the land use permits to remodel your home? That was for sale.”
“This reminded us of where we came from,” Sergei said. “We didn’t like it.”
“Soon, the police were coming to us and offering to let us run our part of Tacoma in exchange for a ‘cut’ of the action. The ‘bizness man’ in me said, ‘Da.’”
“But the whole time, I was noticing who the corrupt officials were. I was keeping a list in my mind. I knew that these people could not be trusted and would need to be eliminated eventually. It seemed like a dream then, back when the Loyalists were in charge. But I felt less guilty about my ‘business’ activities when I kept track of these corrupt people.”
“Things got worse and worse,” Sergei continued. “When the Collapse hit, I was not surprised. It was just like Russia in the 1990s. In fact, we in the Russian community fully expected the Collapse; we knew the signs of a country that was imploding. Because of this, we did not ‘freak out’ as you say.”
