Ms. Hodge is reunited with some of the other civilian officials. The whole group is bolstered by the defiant acts of the convoy and the turning of the main roadblock between them and their county seat. Somerset County is filled with self-reliant people. Martial law will not be tolerated.
At two AM a message is received from Central City. In cryptic style it reads: Somerset alliance must remain strong. Will exert pressure from north. Will be on radio in direct contact by seven AM. Davidsville operations postponed. Your stability the priority.
After this stark message has been relayed the room goes a bit quiet. "Those are good friends, smart friends. Let’s not let them down," Sergeant Hay states. "Let's figure out how to take our town back."
Chapter 4, Uprising
The Road to Somerset, PA
September 24th
The night sky is clear. The Milkyway looms brilliant overhead, its bright swath of stars clearly visible with no manmade light to diffuse its glory. In the brisk air of the predawn hours a dozen men and women are heading out on horseback to rally the sleepy countryside. Another half dozen on dirt bikes will sound the call of freedom to more distant hamlets. They are the Paul Reveres of this time and place. The countryside is going to be rallied to take back their town. The citizens may be armed only with pitch forks and shovels; others will be heavily armed. But the message is going to be clearly sent that martial law will not stand in Somerset County, and the time to act is now, before its evil tentacles can take hold.
The horse riders will range across the county west of town and gather all who will rally to march on Somerset. Word had been sent to the resorts further west, and over a hundred people have already gathered at this early hour and are filling up on fresh farm eggs, bacon and corn muffins with maple syrup. A middle aged man and his wife are in the crowd, with their two teenaged daughters. The man works in the background, asking questions and making suggestions. The woman and her girls help in the kitchen and serving tables.
The woman's maiden name is Sarah Mays. She imposes on the scout riders before they leave, insisting on saying a prayer over them. A local minister and several "prayer warriors" from local churches join them. Some eyes are rolled at this "mythical" notion. But more eyes are moistened at the love and concern displayed.
Properly commissioned, and with a final word of encouragement and direction from Sergeant Hay, the Revere riders head out. The bike riders are to head to New Centerville, Sipesville, Rockwood, Jenners and other small farming communities. Martial law will not stand! 'March for freedom' is the message they will convey. The horse riders will do the same, but to each and every nearby farmstead and household.
Captain Albright's position is weak. The council believes a mass uprising will topple him. With the additional arms they have received and the support promised from Central City and the other towns from the north, Captain Albright will have no choice but to give in, give up.
* * *
"You have five hundred people already closing in from the west?" I exclaim over the CB radio.
"Roger, General, and several hundred reportedly coming up 281 from the south," Sergeant Hay responds.
"You set the county on fire, Sergeant. I got two hundred folks in front of me and I hear of another large group massing out of Sipesville. I got all the fire power, but the lead crowd is a quarter mile ahead of me. These people are fired up."
"No one likes the martial law, sir. It just took someone to rally them against it. I'll keep you informed of any developments, we're about two miles from town."
It's nine in the morning, and despite my throbbing leg, I am elated. At seven AM our strongly armed group arrived at the top of the hill overlooking Stoystown. From there we established direct CB contact with Bakersville. At that time we were informed of the Somerset Council's planned march on Somerset. Crowds where already forming at several locations.
Two hours later, mobs of civilians are marching on the town in defiance of the martial law decree that the local National Guard was ordered to enforce. Most of the people marching are from the hamlets and villages surrounding the main town of Somerset with a population of about five thousand people. The farmers and the food they produce are threatened by this martial law decree. They are willing to stand against tyranny, and for free trade and civilian government.
I see the large group in front of me closing in on the Friedens armory. I send two armed vehicles ahead, in case it is defended. A half dozen uniformed soldiers come out, hands in the air, wanting nothing to do with defending the building against several hundred civilians and the heavily armed squad at their front gate. Captain Hutchins' men, along with a few locals occupy the armory. There could be vital tactical equipment there that needs secured, radios, optics, spare parts. The mob continues towards Somerset. I radio to Sergeant Hay of our progress and that the armory is secured.
He prompts me to leap frog forward and secure the county airport. Our crowd is not set on looting and mayhem, but keeping vital assets secure is wise. We leave a detail at the armory and Captain Hutchins’ crew rushes forward with a two truck advanced squad to secure the small airport. Our crowd, now over five-hundred strong, continues forward. Most are men but many woman and children have joined the march, just to be part of the movement, enthralled by the spectacle.
The lead elements of our group crest the hill overlooking the Route 219 interchange. I know this will be defended and I have Larson push our van forward along the side of the road to get ahead of the crowd before trouble erupts. But our crowd pushes forward. Seeing the mobs of people heading down the road, the half dozen people still defending the overpass join up with the movement, relieved to not be fighting their own neighbors.
From here, the Georgian Place mansion is in clear view, less than a mile away, on a hilltop overlooking the entire town. I reach Sergeant Hay over the CB and he lets me know his crowd has swarmed into the downtown area. His people have secured the County Court House and Jail, where they freed the remaining council members and a dozen others held for defying the martial law orders.
I try to get in front of the movement, to let them know to be wary as we start to enter the Somerset commercial district. But there is no stopping this movement. As we came into town, the size of the crowd doubled as the local populace joined in. I can only see a few hundred yards ahead of me, to the turnpike interchange. The streets are covered in people, all now moving north towards the Georgian Place Mansion where Captain Albright is stationed. Amazingly not a shot has been fired.
I thank God that no blood has been shed. I pray for a peaceful resolution as the throng of people heads north, toward Georgian Place.
The last strategic roadblock is the bridge over the PA turnpike. I watch closely as the few guardsmen still there fold into the mass of people coming towards them. I glance up the hill. Will Captain Albright try to make a last stand, or will he and his remaining holdouts walk out and join the people they are supposed to protect?
Over the CB radio I confer with Sergeant Hay that the rebellion needs to be completed. He concurs, then asks me to look to my rear left. I do, and see him wave at me, from his farm truck, about twenty yards back, stuck in the multitudes of people. We continue our slow progress up the hill towards Georgian Place. We see a mob of people come over the hill from the north. The groups from Sipesville and Jenners have arrived.
I don't want Captain Albright dead, I want him on my side. I make Larson push through the crowd, honking furiously. Sergeant Hay follows behind us. We cut through parking lots and drive as aggressively as we can, reaching the head of the column just a few hundred yards from the knoll that the one-hundred year old stately mansion commands. Sergeant Hay pushes forward with his squad to stop the crowd that is coming in from the north.
My group, including Larson, Paul, Daneel, Britt and some locals manage to stop the crowd coming from the south. Looking down the hill towards town, I see over two thousand people gathered to overthrow the chains of tyranny. I look skywards and thank God for this s
mall miracle.
Then I turn and look at the mansion on the hill. An American flag flies high atop the flag pole. Beneath it the 28th Division banner flaps in the strong breeze. Captain Albright is a loyal man, following orders. Can we convince him to alter his loyalty?
Using the CB, Sergeant Hay and I, along with the Somerset Council come up with a plan. Fifty armed men set up a perimeter along with four trucks armed with SAW's. These trucks and men are to be visible but alert. Two more SAWs are set up in concealed locations, along with a dozen men, both locals and veterans. They will be our sniper contingent in case things go sour.
Getting this set up takes close to half an hour, and the crowd starts to get impatient. The councilmen and women walk through the crowd, explaining the need for caution and keeping things calm, asking them to move back. I have the mansion watched closely as our people move into position. No movement is seen. We estimate that there is no more than a dozen people in the mansion. But a dozen soldiers in a defended position can inflict serious casualties against two thousand rebellious civilians.
Finally, I receive word that all is set. Many civilians, mainly the women and children, are moving away as word has spread that a battle may be coming. I meet our assembly of ambassadors at the foot of the knoll: myself, Sergeant Hay, one of the captain's Lieutenants, two of his senior NCO's, Ms. Hodge and three other council members. Larson is alongside me as my guard as I cannot carry a riffle and walk with the crutches. My stump throbs, and I check it for bleeding.
Our small group walks up the hill towards the stately mansion, stopping one hundred feet short of the imposing front doors. We carry three banners, a white flag, the Stars and Stripes, and the Somerset County banner, which someone grabbed from the County Court House. Movement in the mansion can be seen at several windows as we approach.
Sergeant Hay begins the negotiations as planned. "Captain Albright, this Is First Sergeant Hay, First Calvary Division, retired. We are here to offer an alliance with you and your men," He states loudly.
Ms. Hodge speaks next. "Sir," she exclaims, "the council has determined that the United States government is not in a position to adequately take care of the security of our community. Until such time as the Federal Government can provide adequate security, we the local civilian governing body, will implement measures as we deem necessary."
Another councilmen steps forward. "The council has agreed to an alliance with the newly formed Laurel Highlands Militia, a civilian controlled militia. We offer you and your men the opportunity join us in this alliance."
Another councilwoman speaks up. "As you can see, our community has no faith in the martial law that you were ordered to implement. We have no faith in the federal government under the current circumstances."
Now comes my turn in this carefully scripted plea. "I am General Mark Mays of the Laurel Highlands Militia, elected to that post by the governing civilian body of Central City and accepted as leader of military operations in northern Somerset County. Your tactical skills and loyalty are renowned, Captain Albright. The federal government has fallen. Your loyalty is better placed with your local civilian government. I would be honored to have you as an officer in our militia."
The closing argument comes from one of the captain's own officers. He steps forward. "Captain, Lieutenant Marsh here. This is legitimate, captain. I have met with these guys. They are professional and defer to the council. I am all in with them sir. We need to do what is best for our families, our community. The feds, they ain't coming. We’re on our own. Join us captain. It’s the right decision."
All is quiet as our group stands thirty yards from the mansion, waiting for a reply. If the captain goes haywire, half of us will be dead in the first volley. We wait silently for several minutes. Finally the massive front door opens and three well-armed men step out. Captain Albright is one of the men. They glance around, obviously noting the huge crowds in the distance and the open display of firepower surrounding them.
They loosely march down the hill towards our ambassador contingent. I sense Larson tensing at their approach, but we all remain stoic. Captain Albright walks straight up to me. I try not to be tense. I know God has my back, but the situation is tense.
Captain Albright, is a large and trim man, well over six feet tall, muscular, with pronounced cheekbones, a stern jaw, ebony skin and hazel green eyes. He walks straight up to me and looks me directly in the eye.
"General Mays, until the federal government can reliably call upon my services, I pledge my allegiance to the Laurel Highlands Militia. I would salute you sir, but I deem this a combat environment."
I eye the young man over. Personality and leadership exude from him. He upheld orders. But he figured out those orders where baseless, and made a difficult decision. I respect him already. "Welcome to our world captain. I appreciate your discipline."
"Well, you ain't no slouch either, sir." He responds, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "You got us surrounded, set up additional tactical teams of snipers and heavy weapons, then you come in whole hog with negotiations. You could have cleaned us out of here if you wanted to. That’s what I expected you to do. We were ready to die. You were too. But you did what you needed to do to keep the peace. You are a professional, General. That won my respect. I will gladly serve with you. That is, until the federal government reforms."
"I understand and appreciate your loyalty, captain," I state. "Now here's the deal, we got a crowd around us. They are glad to see there is not a battle, I am sure, but they are expecting something. So let's shake hands, and hug some of your men, okay? Then everyone can go home happy."
A broad smile breaks across the captain's face as he grasps my hand firmly. "I like you, General, I like you," he says sincerely as he turns and hugs a few of his men and some of the council members warmly. At seeing these signs of camaraderie, the crowd starts to cheer and celebrate.
I turn to Ms. Hodge and her council friends, grinning broadly. "Martial law is over, you have civilian control again. I hope this seals our informal alliance."
Ms. Hodge turns and hugs me, "Count Somerset as an ally. I've already been spreading the word about the work for food program, and how accepting refugees can strengthen us. As soon as this celebration is over we will get to working on that."
"Well this was quite a day. You can count on us to be here for you. We are in strange times Ms. Hodge. What happened here today is inspiring," I reply. "But the mobs are still coming out of Johnstown. We are going to need your help on that. We will work that issue through with Captain Albright and Sergeant Hay. Is that going to be a problem?"
"After what happened today, I feel we can rely on our militia, the Laurel Highlands Militia. Something special happened here in this community. I am sure the council will approve of our people helping your people. The stopping line is Route 30, if I recall correctly. We got a few thousand people here, I think we can help with that."
"Well, that call for help needs to be heeded now. We came here to shore up this alliance instead of trying to slow down the refugee crisis. More farms have been taken and more people have flowed south while we have been here. Our road home will be more dangerous. But securing this alliance, making sure your farms are protected and free is vital for all of us to survive."
* * *
As the town celebrates its re-found freedom, the crowds begin to disperse. Many just have a short walk back to their homes here in town. But the march on Somerset started many miles away for several hundred people. Plans are quickly made by service clubs and churches to feed their distant neighbors who led the uprising. The community and the surrounding farmers and tradesmen grow closer as they tell stories and talk of the future and how to rebuild.
While eating roasted chicken at St. Paul's Missionary Church picnic grounds, Captain Hutchins and I discuss strategy with Captain Albright, Sergeant Hay and their leaders. I stress three things. Maraudering refugees have to be stopped at the Route 30 line, the Davidsville area farms need to be taken back, and w
e need to plan for more refugees coming over the mountain out of Pittsburgh within another week.
Captain Albright's leadership qualities and charisma come forth in this meeting. Many of his National Guard unit's NCOs come by, happy to be serving him again. And as he gets a grasp of the situation; those same NCOs are sent north to secure the Route 30 line. Before leaving, I let him know Lt. Anders will be in touch to formalize communication systems. We met as adversaries. We part as allies. Not a single shot was fired. 'Thank you God' I say many times as our convoy heads home.
Chapter 5, My Land
Davidsville, PA
September 25th
Before the EMP attack, Dave Jones was a merchant and wanna’ be political activist. A large man of six foot two inches and three hundred plus pounds, he was considered obese; even had a handicap permit and preferential treatment for government contracts because of his 'disability'. Two weeks after the lights went out, without a steady diet of Big Macs and pizza, he has shed fifty pounds and is starting to like his trimmer body.
And, he likes the position he is in. Several days earlier, realizing there is bountiful food in the countryside only a few miles away, he scouted the farms of Davidsville and returned to Johnstown with a cow. He had it butchered and cooked, offering the food to the helpless people of the city. This act of generosity gathered a following of people desperate for any sign of hope. His actions offered hope to the starving people of Johnstown.
Now he sits on a stately wrap around porch, overlooking the two hundred year old Joe Johns’ farmstead, the founder of Johnstown. The people that followed him out of Johnstown are entrenched, having occupied the houses and farms of the area. Dave had preached a song of fairness. 'Why should the farmers have all the food while we starve?' was his message. 'The food and land belongs to everyone.' he preached. 'Follow me to the land of milk and honey.'
And the people followed him. The food in the city had run out. Those who had extra stores of food had been overrun, robbed or killed. The drug gangs were running rampant. The promise of food and safety moved several thousand people to follow him, anything to escape the chaos and death that was consuming the small city.
Righteous Sacrifice Page 3
