Uncertain Times

by Travis Wright

  “Light ‘em up!” Jim yelled, once they were about 300 yards out.

  Automatic, semi-auto and sniper fire poured down on the NWA as they approached. Vehicles were riddled with holes and some caught on fire.

  “Get those men heading for the tree line to the east,” Matt yelled as he changed magazines.

  “I’ve got ‘em,” Danny replied as he shifted his fire.

  Only a few rounds were fired back in the minutes before everyone who came toward them had been cut down. The ground around the men was littered in empty casings from various weapons and links from machine guns. The smell of burned gunpowder hung heavy in the late-morning air.

  “Cease fire!” Jim yelled after the few minutes of continuous shooting.

  The firing from the militia side stopped, but continued sporadically from the other as NWA soldiers fought back to no avail.

  “I only want snipers with thermal to engage. Everyone else, heads down,” Jim ordered.

  The snipers engaged the enemy for about 20 minutes, until the shooting stopped completely.

  “We will wait here until close to dark,” Jim said. “We’ll then recover what we can and head home, unless, of course, we’re attacked, and then we will destroy them, too.”

  They sat at the roadblock throughout the day, looking at the battlefield through scopes and binoculars until twilight. The main force of militia then slowly moved up the road with sniper cover from both flanks. As they moved, the snipers would tell them to stop, a round or two would fire overhead, then they’d get the go ahead to continue.

  The men reached the first bullet-riddled vehicles and began searching for weapons, ammo and supplies. As they made their way to the last vehicle, they realized there were no survivors.

  “This couldn’t have worked out any better if we had planned it,” Bill said as he and Jim walked through the devastation.

  “Do we have a count on the enemy dead?”

  “Initial reports say 47 enemies KIA, but some may have burned up in those vehicles. We only had a couple of our troops wounded and nothing critical.”

  “You do know we’ve poked the hornets’ nest, right?”

  “At least we know where we stand.”

  “Come on boys, let’s get back to the ranch,” Jim said over the radio.

  “You cannot strengthen the weak, by weakening the strong.”

  —Abraham Lincoln

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The cave exploded with questions from all directions.

  “Everybody needs to calm down!” Jim yelled. “This is what we know. The NWA is back and ready for a fight. So far, they’re concentrated north of us, which gives us time. The U.S. Military is engaged in the Lower 48, and we don’t know when they will be able to help us. For now, we’re on our own. We’ve done pretty damn well without them so far people, and will continue to get the job done.”

  Jim said this as if he believed it himself, but hoped to hell the military would answer their calls for help and get there in time.

  “We’re as well prepared as any military unit can be, which is what we are,” Rick said as he stood up beside his friend and brother-in-arms. “With machine-guns and mortars on our perimeter, we can hold off a large force. Most of you have more combat experience than the majority of the men I served in the Army with. I have complete faith in each one of you to do your job and defend this community against any size force coming our way.”

  The crowd yelled and whistled their agreement.

  They dispersed to continue on with their duties, reflect on what had happened and prepare for what headed their way.

  “Do you really agree we stand a chance Jim?” Matt asked.

  “If it’s only troops and APCs they throw at us, then yes, I do. If they have air support and tanks, there is no way in hell we can defend against that,” Jim told him with reluctance in his voice. “Time will tell, but we have to keep morale up because a storm is brewing.”

  They waited. Recon patrols were sent out to probe the enemy’s lines, but always brought back the same information. They hadn’t crossed to the southern side of the Kasilof River as of yet.

  “This is the only bridge connecting the highways south?” Collins asked as he, Jim and a few others stood around looking at a map.

  “Yep,” Jim said. “It’s the only one crossing the Kasilof River.

  “Why don’t we blow it? It could buy us more time.”

  “They have air power and ships. They don’t need the roads or the bridge,” Bill said.

  “I agree with Bill,” Rick added. “It may buy us some time, but will only prolong the inevitable and could prompt a more immediate attack.”

  “We haven’t seen or heard any type of aircraft in months,” Collins brought up. “Maybe they don’t have the air power we assume they have.”

  “What are they waiting for?” Danny asked.

  “Without the proper intelligence, we won’t know until an attack happens,” Jim said, reluctantly. “For now, the only real protection we have from the threat is the mountain itself.”

  “We need an early warning system,” Collins suggested. “I can take some men into town and set up an outpost.”

  “It’s a great idea,” Bill said. “But, you’ll need to be more discreet than when we had Dave and Sara down there.”

  “Pick the people, check with me and make it happen,” Jim told Collins.

  October 9th

  Reluctance is the only word to describe letting Sgt. Collins and a group of militia set up another outpost in town, but his point is valid. We need an early warning system if we’re going to protect the community and meet a threat head on.

  “It is not often that a man can make opportunities for himself. But he can put himself in such shape that when or if the opportunities come he is ready”

  —Theodore Roosevelt

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Everybody in the cave was on edge as it grew colder outside again, knowing how tough last winter had been. There was talk of surrender if it came to an all-out battle. Jim asked everyone to stop talking of defeat, especially when they were so strong. A sense of foreboding was evident and was beginning to tear at the cohesion of the community.

  “It looks like another storm is heading our way,” Rick told Jim over the radio one December afternoon while standing outside the entrance to the cave.

  “As far as I’m concerned it can pass on by. We definitely don’t need more snow. Did you send those reinforcements down that Collins requested?”

  “I did. Matt volunteered to take them. Unfortunately, it looks like he might have to wait it out down there.”

  In the early morning hours a couple days later, Bill woke Jim with disturbing news. “The NWA hit the outpost in town again, and it doesn’t look good this time.”

  “We had 20 men down there. Did any make it out alive?”

  “We have a few survivors headed this way. The initial reports we received on the radio said they had tanks supporting hundreds of troops. When the men get here, we will know everything.”

  “I want to take thirty men, machine-guns and RPGs to meet them on their way up. If they’re being followed, I want to hit the enemy hard and make them wonder if they should keep coming.”

  “I’ll join you,” Bill said.

  The perimeter and the FOB were put on high alert. Those who weren’t already awake woke to man their posts.

  “We might have the fight of our lives headed this way,” Jim said. “I want everyone armed and ready. The women and children need to get to the other side of the mountain, beyond the underground stream. Take what supplies you can and come back for more if you have time to. I want willing and able men and women to be armed and ready to defend our home.”

  Weapons and ammo were handed out to anyone who would stay and fight.

  The contingent left through the southernmost outpost of the perimeter to find the men from town. They made their way down the mountain using night vision and thermal. Six figures were spotted half w
ay down the mountain by the patrol’s point man. The patrol stopped, and a challenge rang out when the six men were close enough.

  “Sandbag,” a voice called out.

  “Dike,” they answered back.

  “It’s them,” Jim said.

  The men found their way to the patrol and were greeted with open arms.

  “Nice to see you boys,” Bill said.

  “Likewise,” Matt said.

  “We’re you being followed?” Jim asked, looking around.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t think so, or know so?”

  “Listen, we recently had our asses handed to us. I don’t think so means no!” Matt had lost a number of good friends and his temper showed his grief.

  “Let’s get you boys home,” Bill said.

  Collins and another man had superficial bullet wounds to their arms and would be patched up quickly so they could rejoin the ranks. As they made their way back through the perimeter, a sentry fired at the patrol before they were identified as friendly and shot a man in his right leg. The sentry was shaken up when he realized his error. “What do you want to do with him Jim?” asked Bill.

  “Nothing. He did his job and he hit his target. It’s not his fault he didn’t get the word of the patrol coming through.”

  November 18th

  So far, we haven’t had any enemy contact since the enemy hit the contingent in town. We lost more good people, and with the cold weather, overall morale is at an all-time low. The remaining civilians in town will unfortunately have to fend for themselves. We can only do so much. The mountain will only protect us so much, and now the only thing we have standing in the enemy’s way beyond our defenses is FOB Talladega. We can only hope and pray this war comes to an end before long, or the U. S. military comes back. I’m actually hoping for both.

  The end of December came and the snow continued to fall. Christmas was in full swing and still no contact with the enemy. The community was in good spirits even though they kept thinking about an impending strike.

  “Not knowing is the worst part,” Jim told Mary as they sat in the cabin with the others.

  “The entire family’s still together which is what counts,” she reminded him.

  “I know, I agree, but I’m worried about the future. It’s so damn uncertain.”

  “We’ve come this far. We can’t give up now.”

  “I won’t,” Jim said as Mary hugged him.

  The winter raged on and, as usual, nearly everyone had a form of cabin fever — or cave fever to be exact. Each one of the occupants wanted to get out, since they had been confined to quarters more than usual. Jim and the others relented, and on a warm January day after New Year’s, the children were able to go outside and sled down a hill the militia had groomed specifically for the occasion. A number of snowmobiles had been brought over to the hill to take the sledders back to the top for another ride down.

  To protect everyone, a long-range recon patrol had been stationed miles from the mountain. They would alert the lower perimeter security stations and the FOB of anything incoming.

  “For the sake of morale this had to happen,” Jim said to Bill as they stood watching the fun.

  “I agree with you wholeheartedly. This is a good thing you’ve done.”

  “We’ve done,” Jim corrected.

  The sled riders had a great time during the much-needed outing and continued to talk about it for days afterward.

  The weather turned cold again and the outer perimeter informed the stronghold most of their propane heaters weren’t working. They needed to maintain the watch, but couldn’t risk it after a few people nearly lost fingers and toes to frostbite. The cameras also stopped working as the cold snap became worse.

  “With the outer perimeter unsecured, the enemy has an almost clear shot at the mountain once they get passed the FOB,” Jim said to the group.

  “The traps will only stop the troops for so long, and the tanks, if they bring any, would roll right through most of them with so much snow,” Rick added.

  “It’s 20 below zero without the wind-chill and only getting colder. Maybe they won’t come?” Danny offered.

  “I love the optimism,” Bill told him. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

  An ice fog rolled in one morning and stayed, making it even harder for the sentries to see anything through their spotting scopes. The middle of January had in recent years been a time when it warmed up a bit, but not this year. Each militia member would have to make do and be ready for the worst.

  “Incoming!” erupted across the radio early one cold February morning.

  “All right, they’re on our left, they’re on our right, they’re in front of us, they’re behind us...they can’t get away this time”

  —General Lewis B. “Chesty” Puller

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mortar and tank rounds began falling and shredding the ground across the lower mountain. White snow could be seen being replaced by dark Earth as the explosives fell with ever-daunting force. The ground shook under their feet, even deep inside the cave.

  “Where the hell did they come from?” asked a trembling voice over the radio.

  “This is Jim. Everyone get inside and hold your fire. After the shelling, I want sniper teams in position. They’re focusing on the FOB and the lower part of the mountain. From the looks of it, they haven’t seen us up here yet, and I want to keep it that way as long as possible. Matt, organize the non-combatants and have them get to the other side of the mountain. Everyone else to the front of the cave and have everyone’s weapons and gear checked by a militia member.”

  This routine had become familiar to most of the compound’s residents. There had been several mock raids, and they were ready in no time. More people than ever were armed and ready to fight.

  “What about the people down at Talladega?” someone asked from the back of the crowd.

  “They know what to do down there and how to get back up here,” Bill replied.

  Sniper teams dispersed around the mountain in defilade when a short window appeared between the mortar and tank bombardment. This allowed them to take out the machine-gunners who could be seen on top of the T-72 Russian tanks. The 125mm rounds fired from the massive machines below were doing substantial amounts of damage to the trees and lower perimeter. From Jim’s initial assessment, there were hundreds of troops and about a dozen tanks which could have been from any one of the 40 nations around the globe who use them. No aircrafts had been reported yet, and they believed it to be due to the extreme cold and low-lying clouds.

  Since they had no communication with the Marines and the outpost in town had been destroyed, they had no prior warning about the tanks heading their way. Even being so cold outside, the NWA knocked at the front door, and like it or not, they had to answer.

  The radio suddenly came to life, “This is Danny. Part of the tunnel has caved in from the shelling. I don’t know if everyone made it through to the other side.”

  “We’ll have to wait to find out,” Jim replied. “We need all personnel capable of fighting to report to the entrance. It’s going to take all that we have to keep the enemy at bay and hopefully repel them, so get up here and bring anyone willing with you.”

  “Jim, these downhill angles, smoke and fog keep proving difficult for most of our people to hit their targets,” Rick relayed.

  “Rick, take yours and two other teams to the lower perimeter to reinforce the militia we already have down there.”

  “Roger that, we’re on our way.”

  The enemy hit them hard and reports of more and more friendly casualties poured in. The troops on the lower areas were ordered to fall back not long after their reinforcements arrived.

  The remaining militia made their way back up the mountain under heavy machine-gun fire from below. The men on top were saving the few mortar rounds they had until the NWA troops moved closer. The smoke from the rounds being fired, the ice fog and the explosions were making it ha
rder for the militia troops to pick out a target, so they were ordered to only shoot at what they could see. The fog of war, they called it, could make it incredibly difficult for both sides.

  “Jim, it looks like the tanks can’t make it up here to us, but with the range of their guns, they can provide cover for their troops every step of the way,” Rick reported once he and most of his men made it back.

  “Those high-explosive rounds don’t even have to get close, they have a massive killing and casualty radius,” Bill said.

  “We have to take them out, but how?” Jim asked.

  “Some of them have flipped over onto their sides after hitting the trenches we made,” Rick reported.

  “It sounds great, but it’s not enough. Rick, get Matt, Danny and their teams together. Go through the tunnel to the cabin side and flank those tanks. Try and get close enough to use RPGs. Aim for the tracks. If we can immobilize them, maybe we can zero in on them with the mortars. To the enemy it will look like a counterassault, but it will only be buying us time.”

  “It’s worth a shot. I’ll let you know when we’re in position.”

  Jim ordered the snipers to put rounds down the main-gun tubes of the tanks to disable them. Numerous rounds were fired at the tubes, but with no success. The snipers were dealing with the fog of war, downhill angles, the cold and the impending night.

  Jim lay behind on his Barrett .50 BMG sniper rifle. He shot six times before getting one round down a tube. The tank fired immediately exploded. Scores of troops on both sides of the machine who were using it as cover were killed in the process.

  “It works!” Jim yelled over the radio. “Anyone with a scope who can hit them, engage the tubes of the main guns.”

  A half hour later, Rick called Jim on the radio. “We’re here, Jim. Have the machine-gun teams open up to draw their fire so we can get closer.”

  “Roger that. Here comes the rain.”

  Continuous machine-gun fire rained down from across the upper perimeter of the mountain while the RPG crews moved close enough to the tanks.