Fortress Farm Trilogy: Volumes 1, 2 & 3 (Fortress Farm Series)

by G. R. Carter

  “Captain Ratcliff, we all understand why you had to do that,” he said calmly to the black-clad man standing next to him. Stillman could clearly see Ratcliff’s hand shaking, trying to holster his .45 that he wore as a sidearm when in tactical gear.

  “Captain, we don’t hold this against you. Those two men were going to get you all killed. And Captain, one other thing,” Stillman said as the trembling man finally made eye contact with him. “If you hadn’t done that, I would have.”

  A nod, and then a handshake sealed the unstated deal. Captain Ratcliff was now the chief of police, and Major Stillman was now the man in charge of all of Decatur. They stood for a brief moment beside the statue of Abraham Lincoln still standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Lincoln had to go through the same thing, he thought. And he was regarded as the greatest president ever. This may not be such a bad day after all,

  While still pondering his newest victory his Recon Scout leader reappeared with even better news.

  “Sir! Those Shelby County hillbillies are back in town at the office complex down on the south side of the city. There’s quite a few of them, and the best news is I saw Martin Fredericks and the rest of his deserters with them!” the scout leader shouted over the top of the motorcycle engine.

  Non scratch that, awesome day, Stillman thought. With almost his entire force here and ready to go, he’d be on top of the traitor before he could escape back to the sticks.

  “Captain Radcliff, I’m leaving you in charge here with your men,” he said to the quickly recovering SWAT officer. “I’m going to leave a couple squads of my soldiers here to back you up so there’s no misunderstandings about you being in charge, okay? I just ask that you gather up any of the other city leaders who thought joining with us was a bad idea. Lock them in the holding cells. Unless they resist, you don’t need to do anything besides lock them up. Then, get all your people ready to make the move out to the base. It’s not safe for you to stay in this building anymore, and I’m sure your women and children would like a good night’s sleep. Captain, are we on the same page?” Stillman demanded, trying to shake any cobwebs out of Radcliff that might still be fogging his judgment.

  “I’m going to eliminate a major security threat to New America’s Reconstruction, but I should be back very soon,” Stillman assured him as he climbed back on board his Humvee. While his driver gunned the engine to make the quick jump to the south side of the city, he watched Radcliff regain his composure and turn and begin issuing orders to his SWAT officers.

  Yep, he thought. Awesome day.

  *****

  Captain Fredericks, now acting commander for the Okaw Valley Self Defense Cooperative, stood surveying the same office complex parking lot where he first met a little group of foraging farmers. That was just weeks ago, but he already considered himself a soldier fighting for his adopted homeland. The people of the Okaw welcomed him and his men, plus all their families, with the warmth only small towns could give. Even though they struggled to take care of the folks born and raised there, still they welcomed these newcomers with open arms.

  Thinking back now, he wasn’t sure where he intended to lead his group once they made their escape from the Decatur National Guard. He just knew that they couldn’t stay with someone who was a dictator and psychopath. Fredericks trusted the Almighty to lead them, and somehow He had led them here. All of the horror and strife he experienced around the globe prepared him for a greater good, he knew that now.

  Fredericks doubted that many times throughout his life, but his doubts evaporated when the world changed just months ago. With the computers going to sleep and technology disappearing, he knew that some men he served with saw the Great Reset as a chance to remake a collapsed society in their own image. At first that seemed like a good idea, but he quickly recognized that their version of peace and safety came at the price of freedom. In his heart of hearts, he knew that there had to be a better way to survive.

  His training in the hellholes would give the Okaw SDC’s farmers and small-town folk a fighting chance at survival in this crazy new world. Fredericks just needed to make sure he got the timing right; he didn’t want to lose a single casualty on any campaign, but especially here where each able-bodied man and woman had three jobs to do every day besides playing soldier. Fortunately, the SDC’s leaders agreed this was a critical task that needed doing. Fredericks appreciated their foresight to understand that eventually the soldiers stationed in Decatur would be coming for them.

  When Fredericks had been tipped off to Major Stillman’s plan to hit the police headquarters, he knew that was the opportunity to set their plan in motion. Stillman would have almost his entire force together, so the SDC wouldn’t have to worry about any remnants of resistance from Decatur once his main force was defeated.

  Lacking many experienced troops himself, Fredericks designed a simple plan to defeat Stillman and his goon squad. It was a plan that worked on half-trained soldiers who hadn’t fought in the difficult places he had. Since the National Guard based at Decatur contained a mix of washouts and bureaucrat types just looking for an easy paycheck, they wouldn’t be looking for a trap designed by professional soldiers. Stillman held just the kind of hatred and rage Fredericks could use against him. All he had to do was provide good enough bait and have courage to set the hook, and Stillman would come straight to him.

  The real soldiers assigned to Stillman would come to join the Okaw SDC once their families were safe; Fredericks made sure that information got to likeminded sympathizers not able to safely make the jump to Okaw yet.

  Fredericks had six Snapping Turtles with him here in the parking lot. The modified armored trucks and their crews were making a lot of noise, acting as though they were another salvage crew coming to finish up where they left off when Fredericks first met them. The sympathizers Fredericks had in the National Guard ranks dutifully reported back to the National Guard base that there was a big Okaw crew at the office park, and that Fredericks and the rest of his men were with them. There was little doubt about what Major Stillman would order next. Bristling with embarrassment from the escape of the Ten Vets and the surprise skirmish loss to the SDC, the leader of the Decatur force led every available vehicle he commanded down the parkway towards the office complex.

  Seeing the lead elements approach his position, Fredericks ordered the men in the Turtles to immediately retreat from the office park, down the frontage road toward home as quickly as possible.

  Over the next few miles they let the pursuers get just close enough to lose pursuit discipline and open fire at the armored shells of the Snapping Turtles. With their blood up and lust for revenge overriding training, the Decatur group screeched around a blind corner to come face to face with two giant camouflaged metal nightmares sitting just a few yards away, blocking the road. Fredericks allowed Alex Hamilton to pilot one of the new armored bulldozers, or Mark 2s as Okaw’s Wizards named them, with Phil retaining command of the other.

  The SDC’s most experienced men, as well as the remaining Ten-Vets took up positions above and below the elevated road, executing a perfect ambush on the Decatur forces. Stillman’s hatred for Fredericks and his Okaw allies led his troops into the teeth of a crossfire. Smoke billowed as the lead Humvees and trucks locked up brakes in a screeching mess, each vehicle veering in an attempt to avoid running into the next. Weeks of chasing mostly unarmed civilians led to sloppiness, and almost every vehicle had been following the others too closely. Some made contact, others swerved off the road down into the gutter, barely missing some of the Okaw troops hidden in the multitude of abandoned vehicles that now littered the city.

  Before any of the National Guard officers could get a grasp for what they were facing, heavy weapons fire raked the vehicles side to side. Okaw SDC troops with the best aim took out the lead drivers first. Unguided Humvees and trucks in the middle of the column rolled to a stop to the left and right, as soldiers poured out to what they thought was safety.

  Under a hail of bullet
s from all around, men began to fall to each side of the vehicles. Officers at the rear of the column scrambled to figure out what was stopping the lead vehicles, when four more armored beasts appeared behind them. A few brave (or shell-shocked) men managed to get shots off at these olive green and tan mottled nightmares belching black smoke and crunching underneath anything that got in the way of the grinding tracks. Light caliber weapons merely ricocheted off the heavy steel plating welded over the driver’s seat of the Okaw Mark 2s, leaving barely a scratch. In reply, twin mini–cannons spat fire towards the encircled Decatur men.

  Experiencing the terror of combat and the futility of their weapons to kill these steel dragons, most of Stillman's soldiers quickly succumbed to fright, throwing down their weapons and throwing up their hands. First experience with real combat or witnessing the man beside him cut down in a bloody heap took a bigger mental toll than physical. That inexperience, added to the sudden shift from a pursuing predator to helpless prey, became too much to bear, and in less than five minutes, thirty vehicles and three hundred National Guard soldiers and their auxiliaries were either captured or killed.

  Okaw troops secured the remaining prisoners as Fredericks interrogated each one himself, identifying who he thought would be a security threat. Some he knew to be good soldiers just trying to figure out who represented legitimate authority in this fallen land. Once he had been through the living, he began inspecting the dead. Towards the front of the line of vehicles stretching back nearly a half mile, he approached a command Humvee with the large whip antenna tied off at the back bumper. Pushing back an involuntary smile, he did his best to objectively inspect the familiar face in the passenger side seat. Major Terry Stillman, US Army Commander of the Western Sector of New America, stared eternally forward, eyes wide with surprise and chest soaked in crimson.

  With barely a bullet hole to fix, the Okaw Valley Self Defense Cooperative had just won their first real battle. The heavy equipment and food production plants of this former manufacturing hub, along with military hardware and vehicles, were now theirs. New America would find their Reconstruction plans a little harder to accomplish, at least as long as they faced the Okaw.

  Chapter Five– Shield of the Okaw

  Northwestern Indiana

  Seven Months after the Great Reset

  Colonel Darian Walsh, Commanding Officer of New America, raised his field binoculars to inspect hastily-built earthworks around West Lafayette, Indiana. Walsh spanned the large semicircle, noting how it curved back around a portion of the city, protected by the river to its back. The mounds stood about six feet tall in most spots, though there was no uniformity to the structure from spot to spot. Walsh doubted the townspeople building the wall remembered that soldiers needed firing platforms to make those fortifications effective against assault. Maybe they thought that New America would bypass resistance and move on to easier places? West Lafayette clearly didn’t understand what the goal of Reconstruction was. At least, not yet.

  Ironic that we’re facing a city named after a hero of the American Revolution. So much history in this part of the country, they ignored it even at the Academy. The American Revolution and War of 1812 saw pivotal battles around here. Tippecanoe…Wait, “tip a canoe”... The old joke made him chuckle as he thought of a plan. Could do a river landing behind the wall, where it’s unprotected, but I don’t have enough boats. Maybe insert a small force under darkness?

  Walsh’s Legions had so far experienced little organized resistance as they rolled up the small towns of eastern Illinois and western Indiana. Most communities they came into contact with were thrilled and relieved to see the Stars and Stripes flying once again. Small-town patriots assumed the American government finally had a handle on things and the lights would be coming back on soon. When townspeople finally realized that New American forces weren’t bringing electricity but martial law, it was too late to do anything about it.

  Most of them would have been dead by the winter without us. Pathetic discipline and no structure, he assured himself.

  Walsh remained unclear if West Lafayette intended to fortify before learning about New America’s approach. Either way, the townspeople near the former Purdue University campus were working feverishly to complete their defenses around the small city.

  “Why would they not accept Reconstruction when we just want to put the country back together?” his driver asked, sincerely confused.

  “Bad information, Corporal. They believe we intend to conquer them. Whoever is leading the city now wants to keep control for themselves. Perhaps they think they’re part of a separate society. No longer part of America. Whatever the reason, I’m sure the citizens will understand once we’ve removed the liars who have misled them,” Walsh assured him.

  Silently, Walsh was glad to finally test the training and tactics they had been drilling. His Centurions and Guardsmen were hungry for a fight. A few had experienced small battles here and there with obstinate small towns that didn’t welcome Reconstruction. But his losses had been minimal, and any resistance usually ended with several dead townspeople and their selfish leaders executed.

  Walsh wasn’t concerned about being able to overcome simple fortifications at West Lafayette, but he did relish the opportunity to teach some real-world lessons to his men without too many New American casualties.

  “Get me Captain Eckert,” Walsh commanded over his shoulder to a young Guardsmen acting as his messenger.

  Ridiculous, radios not working again. It was almost funny at first, but commanding a battlefield with runners and flags is like something out of the Civil War. Everything the radio techs try gets fried in just a few days.

  Captain Tyler Eckert, Walsh’s battlefield Executive Officer, approached Walsh's position at double-time.

  “The Legions stand ready for your orders, sir. We’ve deployed three columns, each prepared to strike the walls simultaneously,” Eckert reported.

  “Thank you, Captain. Excellent work as always,” Walsh said. Eckert beamed at the praise, which Walsh only offered when absolutely warranted.

  “Tell the men to hold position. I’ve decided to attack at dawn tomorrow morning. We’re going to work on night logistics, which shouldn’t be too tough with relatively flat terrain,” Walsh told the Captain.

  “I understand, sir. And we look forward to the test tonight. But if I may, won’t that allow the rebels time to further improve their positions?” Eckert asked, earnestly wanting to know what his commander had in mind.

  “Actually, that’s an excellent question, Captain. I would have been disappointed if you didn’t ask for clarification. What I have in mind is for our demolitions team to get some work in tonight, also. Can you bring them here, please? We’ll go over the plan together. Here’s how we’ll launch the attack…”

  *****

  Colonel Walsh could hear voices yelling above him – and a bright light cut through the fog as he looked up.

  Why am I lying down? I’ve got so much work to do. And why is everyone else awake if I’m not?

  Walsh’s command knew his famous work ethic and lack of need for regular sleep, just catching a few hours here and there.

  Something must be wrong, why can’t I move?

  Pain sharpened his focus as the fog began to drift from his eyes. He raised his head just enough to see doctors looking over his right leg. He could see bandages with blood, that was about it.

  When did I get hit? I don’t remember a thing. Must be under sedation, was I that close to the fighting? Wait, how did we do?

  Turning his head slightly, he could see Captain Eckert speaking with one of the Field Surgeons.

  Walsh attempted to speak through dry lips, but the sound barely came out. Seeing the Colonel awake, Eckert nodded and leaned in.

  “Please rest, Sir. You were hit pretty badly. Don’t worry, Doc here says you won’t lose any motor function as long as there’s no infection. We doused it with enough sulfa to sterilize a moose as soon as you went down,” Eckert assur
ed him.

  “What, what…what happened to the attack?” Walsh rasped.

  “You don’t remember?” Eckert asked.

  Walsh shook his head weakly, imploring Eckert to explain with a waving of his hand. Walsh noticed for the first time the IV stuck into his arm.

  “Well, sir, the attack went off like you planned. The Demo–Lites got into the town without a hitch. They set off charges all over just before daybreak, and then we hit them from each side of the wall. The transport trucks backed right up against the earthworks, and the Guardsmen went over the walls and into the city with hardly any casualties.

  “What we didn’t know was that a couple companies of first line Service-Marines were in town. They got stuck there after GRAPEVINE crashed. Escorting some VIP coming to inspect the food production research at the University. We got that info from a journal one of the Marines had in his pocket. We’ve counted fifty of them dead so far. None were taken alive, so it’s hard telling if there was more that escaped. Colonel, the Marine commander inside knew his stuff. He had all his men ready, and had at least another hundred really well-trained militia men as well. Again, that’s how many we have counted out in the makeshift morgue we put up in the Get–Mart parking lot. That’s where we set up the detention area for any prisoners, but so far all the armed resistance is dead.

  “Anyway, the explosions confused them for a little while, but the Marine commander rallied his group, and they counterattacked right up the middle of our center punch. Our guys were expecting to root out some resistance while going house to house, not get hit with a full on counter-strike. We lost Lead Centurion Ramirez and seven out of the ten Squad Centurions serving Second Legion. I take full responsibility for that, sir. I let us get overconfident. I’ll tender my resignation if you’ll accept,” Eckert said solemnly.