Enforcing Home

by A. American

  I was stunned, “That would be great!”

  He held a finger up, “Don’t be so quick to agree; it comes with conditions.”

  I held my hands up, “Let’s hear it. I’m game.”

  “It will make you guys a regional clinic. People will be showing up for treatment, lots of people. It could also make you an even bigger target for the Feds. They’ll want to eliminate the resource. It’s part of what they’re doing all over the country.”

  “I thought you guys had the Feds on the ropes.”

  “We do in places, but it’s a big country. There are plenty of places we can’t deal with yet. We’re leaving the cities alone for now, concentrating our efforts on more rural areas. We’re making a big push right now in the Dakotas, Wyoming and Montana.”

  That confused me. “Why? There isn’t shit out there.”

  “There’s plenty there,” Fawcett replied.

  “Oil,” Sarge said.

  Fawcett nodded, “Exactly; we’ve got an operational refinery in New Castle. It’s keeping us in fuel and other distillates.”

  “Why not concentrate on the gulf? There are way more refineries there.” I noted.

  “We own most of the Gulf already, but it’s taking a lot of time getting those larger facilities up and running. New Castle was in shutdown mode and wasn’t damaged nearly as badly, so we were able to get it up and running a lot faster. Plus, there are a lot of trains out that way we can use to move the product. Of course there’s still a lot of work to be done to get them running.”

  I was surprised, “Wow, I had no idea. Back to your original point; we’re good with it. The DHS is already causing trouble. At least now we’d have a reason for it.”

  Fawcett nodded, “Okay then; just remember this is a DOD asset. If the time comes that I need it, I’ll have to take it back. Just so we’re clear.”

  Nodding, I replied, “I understand.”

  Fawcett picked up Sarge’s note and looked at it, “Give me some time to get this together. I’ll also get to work on the field unit. Why don’t you guys go to the chow hall and get something to eat. I’ll send for you when we’re ready.”

  Sarge jumped to his feet, “Sounds good to me, General.”

  Fawcett looked at me. “Sheriff, would you mind giving me a minute with the First Sergeant?”

  “Sure,” I said as I headed for the door.

  I went out and milled around. The place was buzzing with people. It looked like your typical office; it could have just as easily been a mortgage company. The one thing missing though was the ringing of phones. Instead, there were a number of large green consoles stacked around. They looked a lot like Sarge’s Green Monster. It was from these the communications were handled.

  After a bit, Sarge came out of the office and waved for me to follow him. I waited until I was outside to ask him what Fawcett wanted.

  Sarge grinned. “Just to let me know the gloves were off, he said if we catch ‘em in military uniforms, we can execute ‘em.”

  I laughed, “If you’ve had the gloves on this whole time, I don’t want to see what it looks like without them.”

  Sarge winked at me, “You have no idea.” Well that’s disturbing, I thought. “Come on; we’re going to take a little detour.”

  “Where to?” I asked.

  Sarge smiled, “Want to check on an old friend of mine.”

  I followed Sarge to a large fenced structure. A sign with an arrow read MOTOR POOL. “What the hell are we doing here?”

  “I need a couple of things and want to visit an old friend.”

  Sarge walked in like he owned the place and made his way out to a large shop. Stepping through the door, he looked around and shouted, “Hey Faggione! You in here?”

  A barrel chested man rolled out from under a Hummer. He was on his back on a creeper looking up at Sarge. Taking a cigar from his teeth, he smiled. “You better not be here to tell me you’ve wrecked my buggies.”

  Sarge smiled, “I told you I’d take care of them.”

  Faggione got to his feet. The cigar seemed to be in perpetual motion, moving from one side of his mouth to the other. “Then you just dropped by to say hi?”

  “I need some oil filters and oil. Couple tubes of grease and a few other things,” Sarge replied and handed him a slip of paper.

  Faggione took the cigar from his lips, pinching it. Using it as a pointer, he gestured at Sarge, “I knew you wanted something.”

  Sarge looked at the stogie in Faggione’s fingers. Pointing at he asked, “That’s not the same ones I gave you is it?”

  Faggione smiled and looked at it, “No. Yours were good, but this, this is straight from Havana.”

  “Cuba?” I blurted out.

  Faggione nodded and Sarge implored, “Where the hell did you get those?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Sarge crossed his arms, “Try me.”

  “We’re making flights down there, doing a little trading if you will. One of our loadmasters has gotten real friendly with a Cuban Colonel named Felix. We bring him some whiskey and he gives us cigars.”

  “No shit! What kind of whiskey are you trading and where the hell are you getting that?” Sarge demanded.

  Faggione smiled, “Come on Top, I can’t give you all my secrets. It’s business.” Faggione reached into his blouse pocket and pulled out a cigar, handing it to Sarge.

  Sarge took the finely rolled tobacco and ran it under his nose, inhaling deeply. “Damn that smells good.”

  Faggione motioned with his stogie, “Cuba’s finest.” He looked at the paper and then back at Sarge. “I can get this for you.” Smiling, he added, “And since I like you and you hooked me up in my time of need, I’ll add a little something to your order. On the house.”

  Sarge cocked his head to the side, “On the house?” Faggione nodded. “Bullshit!” Sarge bellowed. “There ain’t no such thing as free!”

  Faggione nodded his head slightly, “You’re a smart man Top; let’s just say you’ll owe me one.”

  Sarge threw his hands up, “Oh for fuck sake! Last thing I want is to be in your pocket!” As he spoke, he dug around his vest and produced several silver dollars.

  “Your money’s no good here.” Faggione replied with a wave.

  Sarge squinted, “Oh yeah?” And went back into his pocket. This time coming out with a gold Krugerrand. “This any good?”

  Faggione’s eyes lit up, “Well now, I wouldn’t want to be inhospitable and refuse you.” He reached for the coin.

  Sarge tightened his grip on it and looked Faggione in the eye, “You know how much this is worth. You better not come up short.”

  “Let’s just say you have an open line of credit. I promise you’ll be happy with what you get.” Sarge released the coin and Faggione held it up to inspect it. Looking back at Sarge, he said, “It sure is a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “Just get my shit out to the Blackhawk that’s taking us home,” Sarge replied.

  Faggione nodded and they shook hands. “Good to see you again, Top.”

  “Good to see you too,” Sarge replied and spun on his heels and headed for the door.

  We made our way to the mess hall. Inside, I stood and marveled at the place. The lights all worked, the floor was shined, and it was full of people talking and eating. Sarge led the way to the serving line. I picked up a tray and made my way down the line, stunned by the offerings. There were hamburgers, with buns……. buns! French fries, hotdogs, mac-n-cheese. All sorts of stuff I hadn’t seen in a long time. Near the end of the line were several trays of cookies. I grabbed a double handful and stuffed them into my pockets.

  Sarge glanced at me, “For the girls?” I nodded, and he grabbed a bunch and stuffed them into his poc
kets as well.

  At the end of the serving line, a man in cook whites was dumping a large pail of brown liquid into a beverage dispenser. I waited until he finished and picked a cup from the stack.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Tea,” he replied as he put the top back on.

  Looking at the container, I said, “No shit?” The surprise must have been obvious.

  He nodded, “Yeah, use that one. It’s cold,” he said, pointing to an identical container sitting beside it.

  I quickly filled my cup and took a long drink. It was perfect. Not too sweet, just enough. I looked at the man that filled the container and asked, “You guys have tea?” He nodded, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Can I get some?”

  He cocked his head to the side, “Tea?”

  “Yeah, can I get some from you guys?” I asked.

  He shrugged, “Sure. How much do you want?”

  “How much do you have?”

  He smiled, “A lot.”

  “Good; that’s exactly how much I want,” I said with a smile.

  The guy laughed and told me to wait there for a minute. He left and returned a short time later with a large box the size of a small cooler. Setting it on a table, he said, “Here.”

  “Holy shit; that’s a lot of tea bags!” I shouted.

  He laughed again. Pointing at the label on the box, he said, “This ain’t bags. It’s lose tea.”

  “Lose tea? Shit, that’s even more!” Then I thought about it, “How the hell am I going to make that?”

  He shrugged and reached for the box, “If you don’t want it”………

  I slammed my hand on the box, “No, no; I didn’t say that. I want it. I really want it. I’ll take it. Thanks, you have no idea how much, but thanks.”

  He smiled, “No problem man. Especially if it makes you that happy.”

  I set my tray on top of the box and picked it up, “You have no idea friend.” We carried our heavily loaded trays out to the dining hall to find a place to sit. Sarge looked around and nodded towards a couple of guys in flight suits. I followed him over and we sat down. I set the box beside my chair so I could keep an eye on it. The two guys looked over at our plates.

  One of them gawked wide-eyed, “Damn; why didn’t you get more? I can still see the edge of the tray.”

  Sarge held his hands over the tray like a teepee. Smiling he said, “Maximum angle of repose.”

  The reply confused him until his friend tapped him on the shoulder, “He means you can only stack shit so high before it rolls downhill.”

  Sarge pointed to the other man with his fork, “Exactly.”

  I wasn’t much interested in the talk; I was busy piling pickles on my burger. Once properly dressed, I doused it with enough mustard to coat a chicken. Raising it, I took a bite, mustard and pickles squirting out the backside as if being uncontrollably purged. But it was awesome! I sat with my eyes closed, chewing until I heard Sarge.

  “Good God, Morgan! Buzzards eating a dead possum make less of a mess.”

  I looked down at the tray, mustard and pickles covered everything on it. I didn’t care though; it would still be good. Looking at Sarge, I said, “Leave me alone; I’m savoring the moment.”

  One of the guys looked at his tray. “If this shit impresses you, I feel sorry for you.”

  I grunted, “You should come hang with us for a while then. You’d be begging for this.”

  Sarge stuffed a fry in his mouth, “What’s your call sign?”

  One of them smiled, “Bronco three, Swamp Rat.”

  Sarge smiled back, “I had a feeling. Thanks for the help.” Sarge leaned over and nudged my shoulder, “These are the boys that saved our ass this morning.”

  Sarge stretched his hand across the table, “Linus Mitchell.”

  One of them grabbed it, “Mark Phillips, this is Dennis McQuillen.” Sarge shook his hand as well.

  Dennis pointed his fork at Sarge, “First Sergeant Mitchell, huh?”

  “Retired,” Sarge replied with a smile.

  Dennis looked him over, “You sure got a funny idea about retirement.”

  “This is Sheriff Morgan Carter,” Sarge said.

  Mark dropped the sunglasses that were resting on top of his head over his eyes and leaned back. In a wretched attempt at Bob Marley, he sang out, “I shot the sheriff!” Dennis joined in with a chorus, “but I did not shoot the deputy!”

  I shook my head, “You two are idiots.” Looking at Sarge, I asked, “Relatives of yours?”

  Sarge smiled, “We’re all cut from the same cloth.”

  Stuffing a fry in my mouth, I replied, “Y’all need some new cloth. This batch is tainted.”

  “Next time I’ll just keep my Hell Fires to myself,” Mark replied.

  Dennis laughed, “That was pretty cool. First time we ever shot an MRAP.”

  “Things like that aren’t meant to be kept to yer’self,” Sarge replied. “They’re meant to be shared liberally with those you hate the most.”

  Mark grinned an evil grin, “An’ I got some hate.”

  “A deep burning, white-hot hate,” Dennis added.

  “Wel,l I appreciate the help boys. We didn’t have anything to hit that damn thing with. You saved our asses,” Sarge said.

  Dennis jabbed a fork at Sarge, “This is starting to become a habit, us saving your ass.”

  I snorted, “It’s a full time job for some of us.”

  Sarge looked over at me and boomed, “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve saved your ass more times than I can count. If you were a cat, there’d be a litter of dead cats!” Sarge looked down at his plate grumbling under his breath. “Saved my ass, talking out his ass.”

  Dennis and Mark laughed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle too. We ate our meal while we talked with the guys. They were much like Mike and Ted; didn’t seem to take themselves too seriously. I thought that was odd for officers.

  “What rank are you guys?” I asked.

  “We’re both Chief Warrant Officer Three,” Mark replied.

  I shook my head, “What’s that? Is it like a commissioned officer?”

  “It is; but it’s for guys that came out of the enlisted ranks and don’t have the table manners for real officers,” Sarge replied.

  Dennis stuck a French fry in his nose, “Hey, what are they talking about?”

  Sarge looked at me, “See?”

  Mark leaned back and crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, you’re still supposed to salute us.” He had a smug grin on his face.

  Sarge jabbed his fork at him again, “You’d have a better chance of seeing the face of God than seeing me salute your ass.”

  Mark sat there stone-faced for a moment, then started to laugh. “Better chance of seeing the face of God! That’s funny shit!”

  A soldier walked up to the table, “First Sergeant Mitchell, General Fawcett requests you return to his office.”

  “Alright,” Sarge replied with a nod. We stood to leave, and Dennis and Mark rose as well.

  “First Sergeant?” Dennis said, he and Mark sharing a look of mock respect.

  “Retired,” Sarge replied. Smiling, he added, “So I don’t have to salute no damn body.”

  Dennis leaned across the table, “Retarded?” He suddenly let out a yelp. Sarge, with uncanny accuracy had kicked the shit out of his knee.

  With a sickly sweet smile, he emphasized, “Retired.”

  Dennis was rubbing his knee, “Retired; ok, ok, retired.”

  I reached across the table and shook their hands, “Thanks for the support guys.” Looking at Sarge, I said, “I appreciate it.”

  After shaking my hand, Dennis held his hands out like two pistols. “Call us any time you need
a precision application of whupass.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Sarge shook their hands and said, “Try and keep them contraptions in the air boys. I’m sure we’ll be seeing one another again.”

  Dennis and Mark both took on a serious tone, “You guys be safe out there. Keep your powder dry,” Mark said.

  “Yeah, keep an eye out for them Feds. Let us know if you find them all bunched up in one place. We’ll be more than happy to come in and prosecute the target,” Dennis said.

  “With extreme prejudice,” Mark added.

  We headed back to Fawcett’s office. As we walked across the base, Sarge patted his belly, “Damn that was good!”

  “I know, just having something different was great.” I patted the cookies in my pocket, “The girls are going to love these.” Holding the box of tea out in front of me, I added, “And I love you.” I leaned in and kissed the box.

  Sarge smiled, “Yeah, we’re going to be real popular when we get back.” Then looking me up and down, he said, “And you need help.”

  “More tea for me,” I quipped.

  Sarge snorted, “Yeah, you just try and deny me a glass of tea and you’ll need the help of a proctologist to get my boot out of yer ass.”

  “Well, since you asked so nice an all…” I said with a smile.

  We found Fawcett in his office. He was standing with another officer.

  “Linus, I got you some party favors that should take care of the armor issue if it comes up again. They’re loading a M3 aboard your return ride now, along with the ammo and some of the other stuff you’ve requested.”

  “A Goose! Well General, I love you long time,” Sarge said with a smile.

  “You’re getting a dozen and a half of assorted rounds. It’s all I can spare right now,” Fawcett said.

  “What about the mortar rounds?”

  Fawcett nodded, “You’re getting more.”

  “Tomorrow at 1100 hours, we’ll be bringing in the field hospital. You need to have an LZ cleared where we can set it down. Call us with the location later today. I’m also sending a squad to provide security for it; that way we don’t draw down the available force.”