Todd went to the circuit breaker box in the utility room and toggled off most of the breakers. The only ones that he left on were the breakers for the inside power outlets. He then turned off the main breaker, disconnecting the house’s circuits from the power main. He explained that if the power were to come back on unexpectedly with the inverter set up, it could cause some real fireworks. Then he switched on the Xantrex inverter—a device that turned 12 volts D.C. into 120 volts A.C.
Next, Todd went around the house unplugging the “nonessentials.” This included the computer equipment in his office, and nearly all of the lamps. As he was unplugging his now-silent PC, Todd said, “Well now I’m glad that I didn’t sink any money into that mega gighertz machine I was planning to buy.”
The only lamps that he didn’t unplug were five low-wattage bulbs located in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, and on the C.Q. desk in the living room. All five of these used Panasonic fifteen-watt compact fluorescent bulbs. Once their small supply of fluorescent bulbs ran out, Todd planned to rely on a set of light-bulb adapters that he had purchased from Real Goods in Hopland, California.
These adapters screwed into a standard lamp socket. Within each was a “bayonet socket” that held twelve VDC automotive tail lamps. Todd predicted that there would soon be a lot of abandoned vehicles from which to procure spare tail lamps.
The only other electronic items that still had power were the shortwave radio, the police scanner, the CB base station, an alarm system, and the charger for small batteries. All four of these ran directly on twelve-volt power, rather than through the inverter. When he had unplugged the last of the unneeded items, Todd announced: “That should do it. If it turns out that the battery bank stays up at a reasonable level, then we’ll reconnect things, one at a time.
In the meantime, however, we’ll just take the conservative approach. We’ll be using the kerosene lamps to supplement the compact fluorescents from this point forward.”
“Now I know why they called the last one of these little setbacks ‘the Dark Ages,’” Mary offered, with a wry smile.
Todd called for a meeting during lunch. He posted Jeff on LP/OP duty during the meeting. Just before Jeff left to walk up the hill and relieve Lisa, Todd remarked: “I guess that you have already figured out why I want you away during the meeting. I just want you to know that you’ll be getting my vote. Don’t get your hopes up, however. The process for voting in new members hasn’t changed. It’s still just like at a fraternity. One black-ball, and that’s all she wrote.”
Jeff nodded stiffly. “I assure you that I’ll pull my own weight around here.
I’m sure that Rose will, too. She’s a good little worker.”With that, Jeff turned and left.
Kevin fried elk-burgers for everyone, using the last of the meat from the freezer, and some of the last of the store-bought bread. He seasoned the burgers with onion salt and teriyaki sauce. Todd began the formal part of the session with the words:“There are two purposes for calling this meeting. The first is to decide if Jeff and Rose, assuming that she recovers, can stay. The second is to get squared away with the operations of the retreat. On the first order of business, I want to let you all know that Jeff has promised me that if they are voted in, he and Rose will pull their share of the weight. To my way of thinking, the key questions are: First, do we really need their help? Second, can they be trusted to perform well, especially under stress? Third, can we afford the extra mouths to feed?”
The debate on Jeff and Rose went on for half an hour. In the course of the debate, Dan Fong, the only member who had kept in contact with Jeff regularly after he had left the group, was asked to bring everyone up to date with what had been happening with him during the interim. He recounted:“Jeff is still in the Marine Corps Reserve, and was still running and doing calisthenics three times a week to stay in shape. Right after he left the group, he got a job as a quality control inspector with Radian Corporation, working in their microwave tube division. He worked full-time for a year, then switched to part-time to go back to school. The last I heard, he had transferred from junior college to the University of Illinois. God knows how many credits he’s accumulated by now. As most of you have heard, at last report, Jeff was still living at his parent’s home.”
Without pausing, Dan went on to brief the group on Rose’s particulars:
“Her last name is Creveling. She’s young, only nineteen, maybe twenty. She was just starting her sophomore year at the University of Illinois—the Chicago Circle campus—when the Schumer hit the fan. She was majoring in advertising, but she hadn’t started her upper-division courses yet. Jeff just met her last spring. They’ve been dating steadily ever since. Jeff told me that he was attracted to Rose because she seemed intelligent and was real outdoorsy. Skiing, backpacking, kayaking, that sort of thing. Trasel started teaching her how to shoot last summer. She’s a Christian. Reformed Lutheran, I think. She’s also a vegetarian. She doesn’t eat meat or fish, but she does eat eggs, milk, and cheese. I really can’t say that I know much more than that about her, except that Trasel told me that she came from a ‘La-Ti-Dah’ family in Aurora.”
As the debate progressed, it became apparent that with the LP/OP, C.Q., and work schedule that they had planned, they would be shorthanded even with the help of Jeff and Rose, especially during the summer months. It was also clear that there would be plenty of food. The only remaining issues were their willingness to work, their loyalty, and their ability to handle stress. On the latter issue, all present were confident about Jeff, but Rose was an unknown.
The issue of her vegetarianism was raised by T.K., who asked, “Does anyone feel that it will be a liability?” Mary piped up strongly in reply: “On the contrary, I think that she’ll be better metabolically adjusted than we are, given the fact that our diet will be heavy on grains and legumes.” Kennedy simply nodded in agreement.
The last major issue raised was by Lisa Nelson. She asked, “What about Rose’s health? What if she doesn’t fully recover from her wound?”Again, Mary spoke up on her behalf. “I’d like to say something on that. From what I’ve read, it’s very unlikely that this kind of wound will leave her an invalid. I’ve been checking her wound three times a day. It is healing nicely. I’ve given her lots of antibiotics, and there is no sign of infection. Once she makes it past the stage she’s in now, where there’s risk of infection, her chances are pretty darned good, especially considering that she is young and has kept in good health. Past that, the biggest risk in the next few weeks is of a hemorrhage, and presumably we can keep her on very light duty while her tissues heal. In the long term, she’ll probably feel some aches and pains, and at worst she may have a limited range of motion in her shoulder, but probably nothing that would make her a burden on the rest of the group.”
When the discussion started winding down, T.K. suggested a paper ballot vote. When all of the votes were tallied a few minutes later, the vote was unanimous to bring both Jeff and Rose into the group. Following T.K.’s reading of the ballots, Todd again took the floor. He ran down his view of how things should be operated on a day-to-day basis at the retreat. There were few surprises in what he had to say. Most of what he said had been discussed at meetings before the Crunch, and much of it was already in written form in SOPs.
He began: “I’ve got to remind you of some ground rules. The LP/OP and the Charge-of-Quarters desk are to be manned continuously. No one quits their post unless properly relieved. We’ll find some pretty disgusting chores—or worse—for anybody that we catch asleep on duty. One new item: to generate power to supplement the solar panels and wind generator, whomever is on C.Q. duty will turn the hand crank generator at least one hour out of each shift.”With this comment, there were groans all around the table. Todd bit his lip and then added, “Just think of the great exercise we’ll be getting. By next spring, we’ll all look like Fiddler crabs.”
Todd waited for the group to settle down, and then went on. “Next, we don’t ever, ever walk out of the
house unless we’re armed. That means a .45 as a minimum, preferably a rifle or a riotgun. When you are working on something outside, you always keep your long gun within arm’s reach.
“Nobody fires any weapon for target practice, test firing, pest shooting—any shooting at all—without the permission of the tac coordinator. The same goes for firing up a chain saw, the two-kilowatt generator, or anything else that has a noisy signature. Any trips outside the perimeter are to be treated as patrols, with a full combat load, an op. order, inspections and rehearsals, assigned rally points, the whole works.
“Next item of business: starting now, especially because the utility power is out, we have to keep full light, noise, and litter discipline. We don’t want to be sticking out like a ‘come loot me’ beacon in the countryside at night. That means that the blackout blankets have to be in place before sunset every night.
It will be the responsibility of whoever is on C.Q. duty to walk around the outside of the house to check for light leaks and make the necessary corrections. The same thing goes for up at the LP/OP. No flashlights without two thicknesses of red filters, and even then, you can only turn on a flashlight to consult a map or whatever with the flaps down over the gun ports. If you are outside and need to use a flashlight to examine a map or something, you do it under a poncho to block the light. Also, starting this afternoon, I want everybody in uniform whenever they go outdoors. No exceptions.”
Todd had only a few more words before he opened the floor for discussion.
“So much for all the macho stuff. Now down to some more mundane issues, such as, how are we going to handle the eating and sleeping arrangements?”
The discussion on these subjects went on for another half hour. It was decided that aside from meals eaten on picket duty, everyone would eat communally, albeit at different hours. Nominally, the food for any given day was to come out of the stored food of one individual, on a rotating basis. This worked out well, because most of the group members had stored similar, or in many cases, identical, foodstuffs.
Sleeping arrangements also worked out well, although things were as Mike described it, “A bit cozy.” The group’s three bachelors, T.K., Kevin, and Dan, were to share one of the bedrooms. The room had only two twin long size beds, but because of round-the-clock security shifts, they could “hot rack”
them, as the Navy did on its submarines. The Grays would have a bedroom to themselves, while the Nelsons would have the other bedroom. Jeff and Rose, being low couple on the totem pole, got the basement. The hide-a-bed from the living room would be moved down for their use. The Laytons were the only missing part of the equation. It was decided that sleeping arrangements would be reorganized if and when they arrived.
Also in reference to the Laytons, Todd declared, “Last item of business: Assuming that they won’t be arriving for a while, I’d like to temporarily assign Lisa with Terry’s responsibilities as logistics coordinator. Does that sound agreeable?” There were nods all around the room.
“Very well then, Lisa is now the authority and final arbiter when it comes to ‘beans, bullets, and Band-Aids.’”
After looking down at his boots for a moment, Gray added, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention it, but for Rose’s reference, and as a reminder to you all, we’re now living a strict ‘Conserver’ lifestyle. We’ve got to make virtually everything we own last as long as possible. Just use common sense. For example, don’t waste a drop of anything, use both sides of each sheet of paper, and then when it is completely filled, save it for kindling. All vegetable matter goes to the compost heap, and all meat scraps and bones not used in soups or stews go to Shona. All metals, including aluminum foil, will be washed if necessary, sorted, and stored in scrap bins. Basically this means that we are going to have virtually no ‘trash.’ We have to live as if each item we use is our last, because with no means of resupply on the horizon, the day will come when we really are out of some things. And under the present circumstances, that may be more serious than a little discomfort.”
The next day, traveling in an armed convoy of four trucks, half of the group went to move out anything that might prove useful from Kevin’s house. With six people working and one posted on security, the moving process lasted just under five hours. The bulkiest item was Kevin’s set of photovoltaic panels. The entire solar tracker assembly, minus its support pole, was carried back sandwiched between a mattress and box spring in the bed of Todd’s pickup. It was the only Power Wagon in the group that was not equipped with a camper shell. Todd would have liked to put the tracker back in action at the retreat, but he did not have any of the extra heavy Schedule 40 four-inch diameter galvanized steel pipe that was needed for a new support pole. Moving Kevin’s support pole was out of the question. The lower three feet of the tracker pole was encased in a thirty-six-inch diameter cylinder of reinforced concrete.
When they got the array back to the retreat, they were able to get it hooked up in a series-parallel arrangement with the retreat’s existing eight-panel array.
Unfortunately, without a tracker pole, they had to make do and bolt the array up against the south side of the house at a forty-five-degree angle in a space between two windows. This at least provided 75 percent of the array’s potential power, and Kevin’s panels were safe from theft or vandalism during what looked like was going to be a prolonged absence from his home.
When Kevin’s stocks of storage food were added to the rest stored in the basement, it made a considerable difference. In fact, there was scarcely enough room to walk around. After the gear from Kevin’s was moved in, Todd asked Lisa to coordinate an inventory of all the expendable items that the group members had brought with them, including food, ammunition, and fuel. Lisa was told not to bother doing another inventory on their pre-positioned stocks, as Todd had been keeping up running inventories of these all along. Lisa asked for everyone to give her their inventories by 8 p.m.
In order to meet this deadline, Mike, who was on picket duty, had to dictate his inventory to the C.Q. over the field telephone. That evening, Todd and Lisa sat down with the inventory sheets and made some rough calculations. They were surprised at the results. Todd called for yet another meeting early the next day.
The meeting was held in the living room so that Rose could listen in without having to get out of bed. Todd began by reading from a written report that he and Lisa had prepared the evening before. “Assuming that Ken and Terry make it here safely, and nobody’s granny decides to show up, we’ll have a total of eleven people to support at the retreat. Also, assuming a normal diet, our combined stored food will last about 1,140 days.” On hearing that point, Jeff Trasel let out a loud whistle of descending pitch.
After the interruption, Todd went on. “If put on a more stringent diet with fewer calories, the supply could be stretched to last more than 1,700 days. Furthermore, this figure does not take into account any food that could be grown in our garden, or Camas bulbs or Bitterroot bulbs that we go out and dig, or game that we shoot or trap. And further still, there’s plenty of water available to expand our garden’s present capacity. The only constraint on expanding the garden would be fencing materials to keep the local deer population from wiping out our garden.”
At this juncture, Kevin spoke up. “I’ve noticed that the locals around here all fence their gardens, but they don’t bother fencing their corn patches. Couldn’t we do the same thing? All we have to do is cultivate another plot the size of the garden and we could have a great stand of corn.”
Todd gave a thumbs-up sign and replied, “Your point is well taken. Thanks, Kevin.”After stopping to look around the room, Todd explained, “We planned our food needs pretty well. We even socked away four hundred pounds of kibble for Shona. Once that is gone, she’ll have to make do on meat scraps. As for ammunition, we are in excellent shape—in all nearly 300,000 rounds, almost half of which is .22-rimfire. I won’t give a detailed list. Suffice it to say that we have plenty of ammunition. Assuming that ammunition will bec
ome the first recognizable form of currency when society starts to rebuild, consider yourselves filthy rich. Joe Schmo on the street probably only has a couple of hundred rounds on hand, on average.”
Lisa cut in. “Most of our calculations last night concerned fuel. There are currently a little over fourteen cords of firewood on hand. What can I say—Todd really likes cutting and splitting wood. Each summer, he cut twice as much as he needed. Given winters with normal temperatures, this supply could be enough to last at least three years. Of course, more wood can always be cut next summer and the summers thereafter. When the gasoline for the chain saws is either used up or has broken down too far to be usable, we can always use the hand two-man saws. That reminds me. We’ll have to find one of the old-timers around Bovill to teach how to set and sharpen those saws. It’s an almost lost art.
“The category of fuel that I am most concerned about is liquid fuels. Our diesel storage tank is presently almost full—about nine hundred gallons. It has been stabilized, and it has been treated with an antibacterial. You’ve all heard this before, but for Rose’s benefit, I’ll repeat it. The basic rule for fuel storage is: the more highly refined the fuel, the shorter its storage life. That means that kerosene will store for fifteen years or more, diesel stores for eight to ten years, and gasoline normally has only about a two-year storage life. Beyond that, it builds up gums and peroxides, and suffers decomposition of anti-knock compounds to the point that fuel filters clog up and engines won’t run. Also, the butane that is added to gasoline tends to evaporate. Once the butane burns off, starting an engine can be hard. You usually have to use a squirt of ether down the carb.
“In general, high temperatures and exposure to oxygen encourage the decomposition process. Stored fuel also tends to attract moisture, and that causes a whole ’nother set of problems. The storage life of all liquid fuels can be extended by the use of a special additive called Sta-Bil that delays the decomposition process, and we have plenty of that on hand. Overall, the best way to store fuel is in a completely full, sealed underground container.”
Patriots Page 9
