The Bonner Incident: Joshua's War

by Thomas A. Watson

  Walking around Giles, Moore saw he was dead and looked at the stakes. Letting out a groan, he saw the groove cut in each one and three stakes buried in Giles’ abdomen. “Looks like he won’t get his story or his third season,” Winters said coming over and taking off a pair of bloody surgical gloves.

  “That’s low,” Moore said with a drone.

  Giving an ‘I don’t give a shit’ shrug, “He should’ve listened,” she said.

  “What’s the count?”

  “Five dead. They were shot, but the grenades are what killed them. Three more are sinking fast. One was hit in the gut, one in the chest and the other in the neck. I don’t think the neck wound will live more than another ten minutes, if he’s not dead already. Then, we have another nine walking wounded.”

  “Get them ready to move,” Moore said in a tired voice and walked past her to Schmidt who was looking around the machine gun.

  When he stopped beside Schmidt, Schmidt glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he waved a hand at the machine gun. “We are so fucked,” he said. “How in the hell did he think of this?”

  Moore looked at the machine gun that was hanging in the air. Leaning over, he could tell it was wire tied to the gun at the forward handle and the buttstock. “It’s a gun trap Schmidt.”

  “Moore, are you fucking blind?!” Schmidt shouted. “First, look where the gun is set up, in a small cave on a cliff face. There are logs and boulders in front of it to protect the firing position. Now, look at the gun,” he said climbing over the rocks and logs and standing beside the gun.

  Pointing at a small log hanging under the gun by wires, “This is a counter balance to keep the weapon from jumping,” he said and pointed at the front. “These sticks here are to keep the gun from firing too far to the left or right and this one, tied to the top of them is to keep the gun from firing up. They are called firing stakes, so you’ll know your field of fire at night. Now, this is the ingenious part, if that wasn’t enough.”

  Putting his hand on the machine gun, Schmidt rocked it back. “See this string on the trigger,” he pointed. “It runs back, draped over this stick, and has a heavy rock tied to it. Now, look when I swing it back like the gun is firing being pushed back,” he said easing the gun back. The rock settled on a wide piece of bark with the machine gun rocked back over a foot.

  Holding the gun still, Schmidt looked up at Moore. “You can tell the gun is at the end of the arc of the swing, right?” he asked and Moore nodded. “The bark takes the pressure off of the trigger, letting it reset and the gun has lost its rearward momentum because it’s not firing anymore. But since it’s at the end of its swing,” he said and let the gun go.

  The machine gun swung forward lifting the rock off the bark and Moore saw the trigger get pulled back again as the rock was lifted off of the bark shelf. “That’s why it was firing in bursts. Firing in bursts doesn’t overheat the gun and you have fewer malfunctions,” Schmidt said and pointed at a huge pile of brass on the ground. “That’s at least four hundred rounds, so Joshua linked at least two belts together but the ready box only holds two hundred rounds and I can’t figure out how he did that.”

  Pointing to a stick on the ground with string tied to it, “That’s how it was set off; the rock was balanced on the stick. The trip wire was in front of the toggle release spear trap. When the first man went to help Giles, he set it off,” Schmidt said staring at the machine gun in almost reverence.

  “I’ve seen that spear trap before, but I can’t recall where,” Moore said studying the machine gun.

  “You’ve seen First Blood, the first Rambo movie?” Schmidt asked and Moore nodded. “It’s used in it.”

  “Well, I have to say, this is pretty ingenious,” Moore said, trying to figure out how long it would take to set up.

  “Moore,” Schmidt cried out. “Joshua made a fucking remote firing station with some wire, sticks and stones! I’ve seen million dollar robots that weren’t this effective.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out. You have a camera?” Moore asked and Schmidt nodded. “Get me photos, then we need to get these wounded out.”

  “I’ve called for the choppers,” Wagner said walking up and looking at the machine gun. “How in the hell did he come up with this?”

  Shrugging, Moore looked back as the wounded were gathered up. “You can’t land a chopper here and the landing zone is two miles away,” Moore said as Winters walked up.

  “One has a hoist and we can get the most critical out with it,” Wagner said.

  “How in the hell did you radio out in this valley?” Schmidt asked taking pictures.

  “I sent a man up to the ridge and he made contact,” Wagner said as Winters cleared her throat.

  “Sir, I’d advise you not to call a chopper in here.”

  “I know it can’t land. Didn’t you hear, it has a hoist,” Wagner snapped.

  Shaking her head, “Not that sir, in the other ambush site, Joshua made sure the team walked out of his kill zone. It’s his way of saying ‘You’re in my world until I decide to let you out’.”

  Seeing Wagner getting ready to unleash, Moore grabbed his shoulder. “Winters, we should be okay,” Moore said and pointed behind the hanging machine gun at a scrench stuck between two rocks. “He’s done with this area.”

  Not believing it, Winters gave a huff as an explosion sounded behind them and they all dropped to the ground, waiting for the rest of Joshua’s vengeance. When nothing else happened, they all raised their heads out of the dirt to hear screaming.

  “What was that?” Moore asked getting up.

  “Hand grenade,” Schmidt said, looking back down the valley. “Joshua put one under the body of the man flipping the bird.”

  Grabbing his radio that the group used to keep in touch. “Don’t move any of the bodies of the first team that was hit. We’ll have to send in the bomb techs to retrieve them. How many are hurt?” Moore said lowering the radio.

  “We have two dead, sir and another three wounded really bad,” a panicked voice shouted over the radio.

  “Winters, go and see if you can help,” Moore said shoving the radio back in the carrier on his waist.

  “I’m not a medic,” she said walking off.

  “Yeah, but you’re doing a good job for one,” Moore said and turned to Wagner. “Um, I just want to know, do all of your men carry hand grenades in the field?”

  “Of course,” Wagner snapped. “We’re authorized to carry them and any weapon we’ve been trained on.”

  “Hold that thought,” Moore snapped back. “It’s not bad enough that the BATF and FBI agents are carrying flash bangs out here, but your boys are carrying hand grenades and now have supplied them to Joshua. And,” Moore stressed holding up a finger. “You aren’t trained to use hand grenades; your own men were killed by the grenades your other men threw at the machine gun.”

  Moving to the other side of the hanging machine gun and taking more pictures Schmidt asked. “Just how many grenades does each agent carry?”

  “Four,” Wagner said and Moore groaned, dropping his stare to the ground. “And each SRT member has been issued a claymore mine for this operation,” Wagner added in a low voice.

  “Oh, shit,” Schmidt mumbled, almost dropping the camera.

  “Wagner,” Moore said looking up. “You just cost us a bunch of men.”

  “We are authorized,” Wagner spat.

  “We’ll deal with this later,” Moore growled. “Do you at least have a sniper team that wasn’t killed?”

  “Yes, one team is intact. They were going with Giles.”

  Giving a sigh of relief, Moore looked up in thanks. “Tell them to set up looking over this area and hide really well. Give them enough food and water to stay here for a week because Joshua is coming back here.”

  “You said he was done here,” Schmidt said climbing over the rocks and logs and putting his camera away.

  “With us, but I can guarantee you, we haven’t hit all his of traps and h
e’ll get rid of them so an innocent person doesn’t trip them,” Moore said. “I know it’s shitty to shoot him before he disarms the traps, but this has got to end.”

  Wagner grinned. “I’ll have this valley closed until we can get engineers in here to make it safe after we kill him.”

  With a perk in his step, Wagner walked away as Schmidt turned to Moore. “So, now you’re on their team to shoot him on sight?”

  With a regretful nod, Moore looked over at Schmidt. “We don’t have a choice anymore, Joshua’s going to keep this up until he dies or we run out of agents.”

  Hearing the choppers coming, Schmidt walked away. “The public will only watch so many hard military action types of attacks from us against civilians before they get pissed off.”

  “They haven’t yet,” Moore mumbled.

  ***

  On a ridge over the valley to the east, Joshua was laying on the ground behind the Barrett. It had taken him some time a few days ago, to put it together and screw the massive suppressor on, but he’d figured it out. After bore sighting it, Joshua had found the crosshairs were almost true to him and had fired two shots to zero it in.

  The agent he’d taken it off of, had a PDA that had a program like the one he had on his phone that gave a reading of point of aim when you fed in the distance, bullet weight, etc. When he’d fired the first shot, he’d seen a big flash as the bullet had hit the rock he’d been aiming at and looked over at the black-tipped shells lying next to him. “They really do have armor piercing incendiary rounds for this. I thought the API on the box was where it was made,” Joshua had mumbled.

  Now, tucked back in the forest, Joshua looked west at the ridge across the valley that he was overlooking. The next valley was where he had set up his surprises. After listening to the distress call from a Homeland agent on the other ridge, Joshua was pretty pleased with his results and when he’d heard the call to send the choppers, he pulled the Barrett fifty caliber off of Jack.

  Picking up his laser range finder, he waited, hearing the thump of the rotor blades getting closer. “You will walk out, boys and girls,” he said lifting the range finder to his eye. Two choppers flew over the valley and one hovered as the other made slow circles around the valley.

  Resting the aiming point of the range finder on the hovering chopper, Joshua pressed the button so the laser could tell him how far. “Eighteen hundred and thirty-two yards,” he said with a soft whistle, lowering the range finder to see something descending from the hovering chopper.

  Setting the range finder down, Joshua grabbed the PDA and put in the numbers and then adjusted the knobs on the scope, dialing in the range. “I wish I could use my Lapua, but I don’t think it has enough ass to knock those birds from the sky,” he said pulling the stock to his shoulder. Twisting the magnification up to maximum, Joshua settled the crosshairs over the engine compartment and flipped the safety off.

  Letting his breath out slowly, Joshua gently pulled the trigger back. ‘Sapow’ the rifle coughed and bucked off the ground. Watching in the scope, it was almost two seconds later when he saw the flash on the engine compartment and the chopper lurched down, but stayed in place.

  What Joshua didn’t know was, they were winching one of the agents up and the pilot thought he had an engine malfunction. But not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Joshua pulled the trigger two more times. The next two bullets killed the second engine and gravity took over control of the chopper as everyone on the ground ran for cover. Because a helicopter had the glide pattern of a rock, the Blackhawk fell almost straight down.

  The second chopper flew over as the first chopper disappeared into the trees and hovered over the crash site. Dropping the magazine, Joshua put in a new one and rested the crosshairs on the chopper which was facing him. He could make out the shapes of the pilot and copilot through the glass and wondered if an API could make it through the glass.

  “Only one way to find out,” he said and slowly exhaled. Starting on the right, Joshua squeezed the trigger till the gun jumped, reset the crosshairs and squeezed again. He sent all six shots in three seconds and saw with his own eyes, yes, API fifty caliber rounds will punch through the glass of a Blackhawk.

  The copilot died instantly as did the crew chief behind him in the cargo area from the same bullet. Bullet number three hit the pilot in the shoulder blowing his arm off and the chopper did a nose dive straight down.

  Jumping up, “Time to make tracks,” Joshua said and picked up the Barrett with a grunt. “I’m hiding your big ass. You’re nice to have, but hauling you around sucks.” When he’d strapped the massive rifle on Jack, Jack looked back at him. “Yeah, I know. With a suppressor that weights more than an M4, bipod and a scope that I can hit the moon with, the damn thing is heavy, but we will find it a home until we need it.”

  When it was tied on, Joshua climbed on King. “Time to head to Middle Earth,” he said giving King a soft kick.

  Chapter Thirty

  Middle Earth was a cave almost two miles behind the house on the other side of Binarch Mountain. When the Lord of The Rings movies came out, William fell in love with them and one day, when they were out hiking and Joshua was teaching William what Mary had taught him about plants, they’d found the cave. It wasn’t a real cave, only going back ten yards, but to William, it was Middle Earth. For a whole summer, William and several kids that lived nearby would ride four-wheelers to the cave and battle the hordes of Saruman.

  In the letter, Joshua wanted to make sure that even if it was intercepted, those that read it wouldn’t understand it, but he wanted Sonya and William to know, he was keeping an eye on them. Granted, it was from miles away with a spotting scope, but he was still watching out for them.

  The Section 19 reference was more for Gene, letting him know that Joshua wouldn’t come within half a mile, so they wouldn’t be afraid to shoot at a man crawling toward the house, thinking it was him. And only an old-time logger would know what Section 19 was.

  Logger paradise in heaven; where massive old growth trees grew and you spent all day cutting them down and when you woke up the next morning, all the trees had regrown and you just kept cutting. The place only an old-time logger would see as heaven, one square mile of never-ending old growth forest, just for them.

  Joshua had little fear that the feds would know that so he felt confident, if Gene or the others saw a single person sneaking within half a mile, they would shoot first.

  The attack he had just done was almost nine miles southwest from his home, so he rode hard through the trees to put some distance between him and the site. Weaving through the trees, Joshua considered stopping to have a look at Gene’s place just to make sure his house was okay. It was only a few miles south of his place and he would be traveling close by. Joshua was surprised that no other choppers had shown up right away. It was two hours later and he was six miles away before he heard the first choppers heading south.

  Glancing at his watch he smiled, seeing that he would make Middle Earth before nightfall and could drop off the spare radio, another letter, and other stuff he thought Sonya needed and could use as leverage.

  Thinking of the radio, Joshua reached back and lifted the top of the saddlebag, turning it on. He pulled the headset up close to his ear to listen with the volume down. There was another search team between him and the house but they were further west near Pelke Divide Mountain, but he didn’t want to risk someone hearing the blaring radio.

  “This is base, any contact, air six?” came over the radio.

  “This is air six, negative base. I can see the team, request permission to extract first group.”

  “This is base, air six, permission granted. Have air four take the wounded to Spokane and you and air five, ferry the team back here while air one covers.”

  “Base, this is air six, that’s going to take three trips, leaving us over the hostile area longer. Request permission to have air one take a load, so it will only take us two trips.”

  “Air six, this i
s base. Request denied.”

  “Copy base, air six out.”

  Joshua grinned when the radio beeped as it changed frequencies. “Base, this is team seventy-one,” he heard and pulled back on the reins stopping King. Team seventy-one was the team close to Pelke Divide Mountain.

  “Seventy-one, this his base.”

  “Base, it sounded like a war southeast of us here about two hours ago, is the search continuing?”

  “Seventy-one, you are to hold position because suspect is near. You are advised to find observation point and call for any movement spotted. What is your current location?”

  Joshua quickly dug out his map as seventy-one called out his location. He soon found the spot, a ridge north-west of Pelke Divide Mountain.

  “We copy, seventy-one, can you move to following location, 48°28'23.57"N, 117° 1'42.78"W,” base called out. Moving his finger Joshua found the spot, a ridge to the east of the team that overlooked a valley floor that Squaw Valley Rd ran along. If the team took the logging road near them, it was over two miles away. But if they went cross country, they would cross several draws and ridges, it was only a mile but would take them much longer.

  After several minutes, “Base, this is seventy-one. We copy coordinates, but please be advised it’s going to take us several hours to get there if you think suspect is close.”

  “Seventy-one, base copies and you are to engage any ATV on sight.”

  “Um, base, this is seventy-one, did I hear correctly, any ATV because there are two off grid home sites in this valley. We were given instructions to not engage the deputized civilians at any cost and we’ve seen them riding on-,” seventy-one paused. “On Squaw Valley Road and some were on ATVs. Base, I have to warn you, at the home site to our east we counted over twenty with some serious weapons. If we shoot at them, they will shoot back, so are we cleared to engage them?”

  “Hold seventy-one.” Joshua pulled out his notepad and made notes on what was said. “Seventy-one, this is base, do you copy?” came over the radio after ten minutes.