by Cliff Deane
Owens raised his left hand and held out his index finger, signaling for Sgt. Penn to come forward.
“Sarge,” said Owens, “There is someone or something in this building. There is no question that I heard a distinct rustling sound.”
“All right, Owens, good job,” said Sgt. Penn as he also peered into the darkened room. Penn’s eye caught a faint movement in the darkest portion of the diner.
He raised his right arm and pumped it up and down to tell the remaining troopers to rally to him. As the troopers made their way to Eric, PFC Owens again peered into the room. He overly exposed himself to see into the portion of the room where Sgt. Penn had detected movement. In this instant, PFC Owens was hit and knocked onto his back by a large, thick breasted Pit Bull. Within just a few seconds the dog had killed Owens by ripping out his throat and severing the Carotid Artery.
Bullets from several weapons slammed into the dog. In another second the air was filled with growls and barking as four more large dogs, turned wolves, rushed the troopers. Rifles roared and spat flame as bullets took down these fierce hunters. Two other troopers were also bitten.
Sgt. Penn immediately radioed for the on call Dust Off, requesting immediate medical assistance and extraction.
As the Med-Evac lifted off for their Base, each man fought to control both his nerves and heartbeat. These men were shaken, not just because of the wolves, but by a combination of a city filled with lost souls, and the deadly, unexpected attack.
Gus met the patrol at the helipad and received an immediate walking brief from Sgt. Penn, who related the events, culminating with the attack by the wolves.
“Sir, now I know how the really large cities must feel to anyone who dares to invade these crypts, and that’s what they are, sir, giant crypts. Sir, walking among the tall building was the spookiest, no, wait; the scariest thing I have ever done.
The wind produces a low moaning sound as it grows and magnifies between the buildings; papers from open air news stands were blowing along the deserted streets, many of them catching in the grills of the dead cars. Sir, I think we should avoid the cities, there is nothing there but the skeletal remains of buildings and the ghosts of those who still belong there. I know that sounds crazy, but sir, every one of us felt their presence.”
The wounded were treated by the Aid Station Nursing Staff, and the carcasses the dogs were tested for rabies.
PFC Owens was wrapped in a poncho and laid to rest, minus his personal effects, which would be saved for burial in Defiance.
***
Chapter 14
Ben gets his 1st Command
18 August 0800
TOC Helipad
Findley
Levi decided to expand Ben’s horizons just a bit and placed him in command of the Supply Train bound for Columbus Air Force Base; Neal Page was his number two. Ben was excited to have his first actual command, even if it was for only six days. He also knew that Neal was along to babysit, but that did not matter; his horizons were expanding, and he wanted to do well.
The roads were, of course, difficult with the dead autos, but by this time the M-88 Crew had found their rhythm and the clearing process became a bit quicker. The march, itself, did take two days, well, more like one and a half.
The Cobras did an aerial search of the Base and quickly found the fuel storage farm.
When Ben’s force arrived at the Base, they found the gate still locked, and the round crash barriers designed to deny car bombers entry were up and solidly in place. Normally, this would have created a problem, but Ben saw it as an opportunity to excel. He ordered the M-88 to cross the open ground just north of the main gate and simply knock the fence down; easy peasy, nice and easy.
Following directions from the Cobras, the convoy was led to the fuel farm where the tankers were refilled. The Mech Platoon had been dispatched to recon the Air Port, in search of supply hangers.
By 1700 the Infantry Platoon had established a security cordon around the quarters of the Officers being trained to fly. A separate detail was sent to find bedding.
The Base was just as empty as the city of Columbus, but without the tall building, they were still unsettling, but not quite as eerie. Still, safety trumped everything else.
While exploring the Base Ammunition Supply Point (ASP), the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Team found a bunker marked as holding small arms munitions. They blew the double doors off the bunker and found large stocks of munitions for individual weapons systems, to include the caliber .50 Ma Deuce, but no linked 20 mm for the Gatlings. Now, the question of what to do with the excess ammo reared its ugly head. They knew the standing order of never leaving a bunker open to potential looters; this left only one option; blowing up the excess ammo they could not take with them.
It didn’t take long to find the C-4 bunker and repeating the procedure of blowing the doors the team gained access to a smaller bunker filled with the American plastic explosive, C-4. The bunker contained enough C-4 to take up, perhaps one-quarter of a semi, or one 5-Ton Truck.
A portion of the EOD Team commenced the mission of wiring the explosives to ensure total destruction of the remaining small arms ammo, while the remaining two men began searching the plat maps found on each bunker door. Their goal was to find 20 mm, linked, and, or the 70 mm rockets for the Super Snakes. Unfortunately, the training base had no need for live missiles, so their search came up empty.
The evening meal may have consisted of MREs, aka, meals rejected by Ethiopia, but no one minded because they would sleep on real beds that night.
Ben was a bit disappointed that no missiles or 20 mm ammo was found, but the small arms ammo, Ma’ Deuce, 50 cal, and the fuel farm made the mission a huge success.
The remaining scavenging team returned to Ben’s FTOC with wonderful news; they had found a hanger, that according to the hanger plat map was filled with over a million MREs. The entire force was elated. Ben knew he did not have sufficient trans assets to recover them all, so he ordered the doors to the hanger closed and locked with a high-density lock Ben had secured from Lejeune. He also ordered the removal of the hanger plat map, which displayed the location of whatever was stored in that particular bunker or hanger. The location of the rations would be recorded, and Hueys from Lejeune would transport them over time.
Neither Ben nor Neal could fathom how those rations were not issued to survivors. Neal thought the commander of the Base must have been a total asshole.
Though it would shorten his command time by a couple of days, Ben decided to start back to the Findley Camp a day early, and because the road had already been cleared, his command made it back to camp in only six hours.
Not a single person had been spotted during the resupply trip.
The long road home
20 August 0900
TOC, Findley
Levi informed everyone that the Brigade would depart for home on 22 August, and spent the meeting discussing the preparations for departure at 0800 hours.
Following the meeting, Levi asked Captain Smith to remain behind. They sat down across from each other and Levi asked Smitty if he would consider accepting command of a company of infantry in the ROA.
The Captain was honored that Levi would think him worthy of joining the 1st Brigade, but in the end, he felt that he must decline the offer. His personal mission and his future lay in assisting the Findley area’s survival and growth in the coming years.
Smith said, “General, I want to thank you for your offer, and if the ROA should ever expand this far west, I would certainly be open to consideration of inclusion into the ROA.”
Levi understood completely how his new friend felt and wished him well in his quest.
Levi then turned the conversation to the semi-trailer loads of fruits and vegetables, promised by Smitty as payment for the running diesel trucks.
“Oh,” said Smith, “you’re going to hold me to that, huh?”
“Youuuu betcha,” smiled Levi, “now about the grub.”
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
Robert Frost
22 August 0600
TOC, Findley
At breakfast, Levi and Gus discussed the route and Gus felt that since the roads were cleared enough to squeeze by, it would be best to back track they way they had come. It could take as much as a couple of weeks off the trip home.
Levi, however, wasn’t too keen on going over the same ground twice, especially since the principal mission was complete with only mop up operations by going south and east; Levi was leaning to the southeasterly route until the Appalachian Mountains came into the picture. By going south far enough to avoid the Appalachians the journey home could be very long indeed. Going straight east through the Cumberland Gap, sounded good, at first, but that route would take them through some very scary roads once they reached the panhandle of West Virginia, especially if winter came very early.
Levi realized that the southern route would take far too long for a volunteer army that had already been out for nearly three months, and Levi definitely did not want to have to hole up in a Valley Forge situation in West Virginia or Pennsylvania. No, Gus was right; go back the way they had come and get home before the first frost.
At 0800 the scouts were out, helos in the air, flanking LAVs in position, and a convoy which crossed the LOD on time at 0800 began movement north east the same way they had come.
The decision to return by the northerly route was met with near unanimous joy as the realization came to them that they might be able to make as much as fifty miles per day, and be home in two weeks; that is if they could keep everything running.
Still, in what had become a standing joke, the only segment of the 1st Brigade to be unhappy with the decision to return home by the northern route were the tankers. To date, their only action had been in Fredericksburg. Tankers bitching about not being able to, as they liked to put it, run over cars and break shit.
Levi promised them that there were still many cities around the ROA that needed to have cars run over, and their shit broke up. Though the tankers still weren’t happy about the situation, they were somewhat mollified with the knowledge that they would eventually get to run over stuff and break shit.
After the meeting, Levi said to Gus, “Tankers!”
Gus laughed and said, “Yup, that pretty well sums them up, but I have to tell you that I like ‘em.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know; me too.”
The road home did allow the Brigade to average right at fifty miles per day. The Cobras still flew missions each day searching for people and mosques. They were able to knock down a few mosques, but between Detroit and Cleveland, they saw not a hair of any human activity.
The first significant sign of activity came from acreage under cultivation. The helicopters spotted several small farms as they flew over what used to be Middlesex Township. A family emerged from a farmhouse and waved to the copter. Martyr Maker landed nearby, while Gangsta held station as overwatch. The conversation lasted for approximately three minutes before the crew remounted and both Cobras flew back to the convoy to make a report.
Levi ordered the convoy to continue their drive to Pittsburgh, while he conferred with the Cobra Crews. Lt. Gavin Coates, the Pilot of Gangsta, said, “Sir, the farmer we spoke with wanted to know if we were at war with, as he put it, them Rooskies, or them Chinee. He had no idea what had caused the power outage. Apparently, their little community is so remote from any major highways that they had seen no new faces until we came along.
At first, he thought we might be Rooskies, because of our uniforms. All in all, they are doing fine and have adjusted to the lack of power very well. Sir, I would recommend we just leave them alone.”
“Yes, I agree; okay, let’s get back to work,” and following salutes, Levi rejoined to the convoy, while the birds returned to their recon mission.
Invasion
4 May Year 0
Miami, FL
Coronel Jesus (Hay ‘soos) Guevara led a battalion of the former Cuban Revolutionary Armed Forces in an assault upon the United States of America. His battalion arrived on the Florida shoreline in May of year zero. Their mission was to subjugate the Florida Peninsula for Cuban colonization. What the Coronel discovered was that there were insufficient foodstuffs to maintain a garrison in one position.
With no communication with his higher command, he ordered his battalion to systematically commandeer all supplies of anything that would allow for the continuation of his mission. He had considered promoting himself to General (Hen A ral), but he didn’t have the proper shoulder boards.
Guevara slowly made his way up the east coast of Florida, his force attracted many Cuban recruits, which quickly increased his battalion personnel. They commandeered supplies, especially running vehicles, which actually retarded his movement. His battalion scouts managed to find a running dozer at a Caterpillar sales center, which somewhat improved his northern swath of destruction.
At the junction of I-95 and I-10 Guevara changed his course and began to meander away from the coastal regions in anticipation of finding better pickings in the interior lands. His force angled through central Georgia; avoiding Atlanta and most other large cities. North of Atlanta he set his line of march, keeping the foothills of the Appalachians to his left and traveling along the Coastal Plain of South Carolina. This placed his battalion, which had deteriorated into an army of ants, killing, looting, raping, and murdering everything in their path, toward Eastern North Carolina.
In Central Georgia, his force began to meet resistance from snipers, who would shoot and scoot.
Guevara increased his recon and flanking elements, which did decrease the shots fired at his Officers but did nothing to stop the now peripheral attacks upon his outlying forces.
Initially, Guevara ordered nightly ambush patrols, which were, at first, somewhat successful, but soon turned disastrous as his patrols were often found hanging from Georgia Pines. There was often a sign that read: “Country boys can survive.” Upon further consideration, Guevara eliminated the patrols and kept night security to Listening Posts (LPs); this proved to be more satisfactory than patrolling.
The irritation and distraction of local resistance were, at first, just that, distraction and irritation. This began to change as the forces arrayed against them became more than irritants as the American guerilla force began shooting in greater numbers.
In retaliation, the battalion rounded up everyone they could find. They raped, tortured, and murdered in horrific ways that brought an end to the irritant of sniping. These actions produced a further devolvement from a disciplined military force, toward becoming a large and well-armed gang who had come to enjoy the dark side of the spoils of war.
After fifteen months, their wake left no living thing larger than a rat.
Their path led straight to Defiance.
***
Chapter 15
Hurricane: Aught One
26 August 0800
TOC
The Road Home
“General,” shouted the TOC Messenger, as he ran up to Levi, “Sir, Colonel Murtaugh asked for you to come to the TOC, ASAP!”
Grabbing his fatigue cap, Levi said, “Thank you, please, tell him, I am on the way.” Levi arrived just seconds after the TOC Runner; as he entered the tent, he asked what’cha got Gus?”
Gus was listening as the Sgt. Major spoke with Lejeune on the HAM Radio. He turned to Levi and said, “Bad news, sir, Lejeune reports a very bad storm approaching. The recon pilot said that he is sure it is a major hurricane bearing down
on Lejeune. They are battening down the hatches and moving the choppers into the hangers. The troopers will then go to the high school gymnasium.”
Levi asked if the direction would bring it up the coast to hit the 1st Brigade.
“Wait one, sir, Bradley is trying to get that info now.”
Together they walked over to the Sgt. Major to hear the conversation with Lejeune.
“…Roger that, sir, can you tell if the ‘cane is heading up the coast?”
“Yes, Sgt. Major, it appears that it will come ashore at Newport and go through us like shit through a goose; hell, this thing is gonna be on us like a hobo on a ham sandwich.
Please tell the General that it appears to be on a direct line to Defiance.”
Levi’s jaw clamped together so tightly that he nearly cracked his teeth. Defiance had not yet built a hurricane shelter.
“Roger, sir, do you have any indication of the barometric pressure, and a guess at the size of the storm’s eye?”
“Wait one…” The communications went silent for several seconds before Lt. Colonel Guyardo again spoke. “This is not good; our barometer is registering a pressure of twenty-nine, and falling. This could well be another Hurricane Katrina event. The storm surge could run around twelve feet along the coast. May God forbid it, but this could be a cat five here, and in Defiance; maybe a three in DC, if it rides the coast.
