Patriots Awakening

by R. M. Strauhs

  ~~~

  “What the hell is happening to our forces in America?” Jarmain shouted to the men standing in the large office. “Report after report coming in, and none of them good. Our soldiers, planes, ships, supplies, you name it, are being wiped out by the outlaws. Even our goddamned ships are being blown out of the seas by their submarines. This has got to stop, and stop now,” he roared, pounding his fists on the desk.

  The men were silent as Jarmain ranted and raved.

  “I’m going to go on television,” he shouted and ran from the room.

  “Well, look who’s on TV again. Frog Face,” Mike yelled. The adults in the cave scrambled to the living room to see what the bastard was going to say.

  ~~~

  “Hello, my friends.” Jarmain smiled as he faced the camera. “It’s been three or four weeks since I last talked to you. I wanted to stop in and remind you that if there is anything you need, let the officials in the camps know. I want your lives to be as comfortable as possible.

  “I also want to thank all of you for your support of the new government. We cannot have a smooth functioning government unless we all work together. As many of you realize, there are outlaws out there trying to wreck all the dreams you have. They are hurting officials in the camps and hurting you, the people as well. Through their terrorism, they have caused deaths and ruined housing units. We cannot stand for this. If you know of such an outlaw, please call the officials. If you see them, please do not try to stop them, but let the officials know where they are. To show how much I want to put a stop to such wicked men, I’m offering a reward of five thousand New World dollars for any information that leads us to the whereabouts of any resistance member. I will say good day to all of you . . . my dear, dear family.”

  Stephan laughed until he had tears in his eyes. “Wahoooo! We’re kickin’ the bastards’ asses.”

  “Yeah, we must be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be getting so desperate. You gotta love it,” Cord chuckled.

  The short wave crackled.

  “Sub Captain here. Heard his broadcast. We blew 15 of his ships. Keep up the good work on land. Out.”

  “Aunt Alma here.” An elderly lady’s voice said. “Mr. Schultz took out a whole town in Oklahoma by himself. Had a good thousand of those awful soldiers in it. God Bless his soul. Out.”

  “Not much ship or barge traffic on the New Madrid Gulf. We sunk them and blocked the channel. Out.”

  The men in Sean’s cave, as well as Stephan’s cave, and the rest of the Special Forces listened with interest as the reports kept rolling from the radio. The number of convoys, ships, planes, trains, ammo dumps, refineries, and camps taken out by the so-called outlaws was unbelievable. Eventually, they heard a report from someone in Canada who was in contact with overseas Freedom Fighters. The same sort of actions were taking place all over Europe.

  “You’re not going to get on there and tell about the trains and convoys you took out in the mountains?” Mike asked Cord.

  “Nope,” was his simple reply.

  ~ 28 ~

  A week after the announcement of a reward from Jarmain, Mike, as usual, was scanning the television dial for signs of life.

  Suddenly, the snowy screen cleared, and a man of perhaps twenty-five stood in front of a huge American flag. “I hope some of you in America see this transmission.” The young man seemed nervous but continued. “I’m here to tell you we have the upper hand against this so called New World Government nut. All you American citizens, I beg you to not fall for the lies this Jarmain person is feeding you. He is nothing but an insane person dedicated to ruling the world – another Hitler! You have no freedom and will never have any freedom under this man. Fight for America. Fight for all your family members who died at the hands of this crazy bastard. Blow up everything they have. Kill as many of Jarmain’s soldiers as you can. Do anything you can to disrupt their troop movements. Do not take his money by turning in your fellow Americans. The patriots are the true heroes of our country. They’re leading the way to rid our country and the rest of the world of these heartless bastards. I ask every one of you to get the lead out of your asses and do something so we can have our own government back. I end with this.” He held out an American Flag and started saying the Pledge of Allegiance . . . with tears streaming down his cheeks.

  There wasn’t a dry eye in any cave, compound, or home where they were able to receive the broadcast. The tape played for five solid days around the clock, on four major stations before it went blank.

  ~~~

  How many people the tape reached, no one knew, but eighteen year old William Robert Lincoln MacArthur saw it. He was holed up at a small cabin in the Hill Country north of San Antonio. As the screen came to life, he and his twelve-year-old brother, Matthew, watched the young man on their ten-inch battery operated black and white television. Tears ran from Billy Bob’s eyes as he thought about his younger sister and both his parents being killed by a murderous gang of blue helmeted soldiers. He and Matthew had sneaked into Bandera, Texas after dark, looking for food, when their family was killed, but they saw the troops leaving their small ranch as they returned. The two boys buried the family around midnight up on the hill by the large oak tree and left on horseback for the small cabin in the hills.

  William Robert Lincoln MacArthur got his rather lengthy name because, as their firstborn son, his parents not only named him after each of his grandfathers, but Abraham Lincoln as well. His father admired “Honest Abe” as the greatest President the country ever had. And, Billy Bob, as he came to be known as he grew up, had learned as much about all his namesakes as possible, knowing they all were important in their own way. His last name was distantly attached to General Douglas MacArthur.

  Billy Bob had been an excellent student and inherited his father’s love of history – especially military history. He was a typical kid in many ways during his high school years but opted out of college. His parents had worked hard to build the ranch, and Billy Bob was determined to build atop their efforts. His dream was to have a ranch one day that would not just earn a living for the family but make them wealthy. Now, it seemed, his dream had been completely stolen, as well as all of his family, except Matthew. If this Jarmain guy took over everything, no one would ever own anything again but be told where to live and what to do by the government. Billy felt the rage building inside and knew he had to do something about it. This Jarmain person wasn’t taking anything else from him.

  Billy watched the tape of the young man on the tiny television over and over. Finally, Matthew said, “Man, Billy, turn that off. Haven’t you watched it enough?”

  Billy Bob tapped the off button, and answered, “Sorry, Matthew. I wasn’t really watching. I was thinking about Mom, Dad, and Martha and how much I’d like to pay those bastards back for killing them. We gotta do something, Matthew. We can’t just sit here forever doing nothing. We need to help those guys out there trying to stop these bastards.”

  Matthew stood and gazed out the one small cabin window. “Shit, Billy, what can you and me do? We ain’t even been in the Army or nuthin’ ta learn how to fight.”

  “Yeah, but we sure as hell know how to hit a deer at two hundred yards. Couldn’t be any harder to hit the blue helmeted sonsabitches!”

  Matthew, startled by Billy’s vehemence, whirled around to face him. “So how do we do it without gittin’ ourselves killed, Billy? We go in there shootin’, and they’re gonna track us down and kill us. I ain’t afraid of dying, but what good would it do to just kill a couple?”

  “Matthew, do you think you could make it over to Ray’s place to see if they’re okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Here’s what I want you to do. You tell Ray to put a gun in the hand of every damned illegal and legit worker they have, and have them come here with all the ammo and supplies they can carry. Then, go on over to the Cooper’s place, and tell him the same thing. Tell them about what we saw on television; tell them I have a plan to rid San Antonio of these b
astards.”

  “What are we gonna do, Billy?” Matthew bit his lower lip.

  “We’re going to put ourselves an Army together and hit the bastards head on. They’d never expect that.”

  “You sure?” Matthew’s voice trembled.

  “Yeah. Listen, I might not be here when you get back. You have all those boys hide out in the woods around the cabin. No damned fires or anything that can be spotted from the air.”

  Matthew frowned and asked, “Where you goin’?”

  Billy gulped before answering. “Well, I’m going to sneak into San Antonio and find Ricky.”

  “Aw, man, Billy, you’ll get yourself killed.” His voice went up a couple of octaves. “Shit, Ricky’s bad news, Billy.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. If Ricky and his gang are still alive, it’s like a ready made Army. They probably have as many weapons stashed as those blue helmets own.”

  “Yeah, but do you think he’ll do one dang thing you ask him to do? Remember he hates your guts.”

  Billy Bob shrugged his shoulders. “Things have changed Matthew. Ricky’s in as much trouble as the rest of us, and he’ll want to survive as much as we do. Be dark in an hour. You get your stuff ready to go over to Ray’s. We’ll ride outa here soon as the sun goes down.”

  ~~~

  Billy Bob hugged his younger brother and each galloped off in opposite directions. Both boys were well armed with not only a rifle, but two hand guns each and all the ammo they could pack in the saddle bags. It would take Billy Bob two days to make his way through the hills and woods to the edge of San Antonio. Then, another day to get to the area where he knew a major compatriot of Ricky’s lived.

  Billy turned his horse loose on the west side of town to fend for himself. He’d have to sneak in on foot after dark. It was nearly three in the morning when he moved to the side of the small clapboard house and rapped on a window – quietly at first, then harder. Damn. Had he made his trip for nothing? Then, he felt the weapon jab him in the back.

  “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck you want, man?” A voice with a heavy Mexican accent asked.

  Billy Bob put his hands in the air. “Easy, Man, I’m a friend of Ricky’s.”

  “Oh, yeah? What the fuck’s your name?”

  Shit, if this guy recognized his name, he might not be real anxious to take him to Ricky. “Billy Bob MacArthur.”

  When the man whirled him around to face him, Billy Bob saw there were four others in the shadows with AK47s pointed his way.

  “Hey, you’re the motherfucker got Rick locked up a few years ago, ain’t ya?” The Mexican gang member asked.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean to. Honest to God, I didn’t. You get hold of Ricky. Tell him I need to talk to him.”

  “Oh, I guess you’re workin’ for those motherfuckers that took over everything. What they givin’ ya to get Ricky set up, man?”

  Billy Bob stared him in the eyes without flinching and said, “Those people killed my Mom, Dad, and little sister. I want Ricky and some other people to help me kill those bastards. We’re putting a small Army together to do just that. You tell Ricky, will you? We need your help, man. And you need ours.”

  The man, some ten years older than Billy Bob, stared at him for what seemed an eternity, the AK47 pointed directly at Billy’s midsection. Finally he waved the weapon toward the garage. “Back there.”

  It was an old tumble-down garage typical in this poor neighborhood, but a new four wheel drive pickup, raised some six inches with lifts, sat inside. The man prodded him past the truck. They continued through the small rear door and stopped outside. Billy Bob knew they were going to slit his throat. However it wasn’t a knife the man pulled from his jacket pocket but a television remote control. When he pushed a combination of buttons, the pile of firewood stacked against the back of the garage raised up six or eight inches, then swung out to reveal a set of steps, with the tiniest of red lights at the bottom.

  “Down there.” The man pointed at the stairs, and Billy Bob started down. At the bottom, another coded entry in the remote opened a door to a huge room with another small red light at the opposite end. Once inside, the door closed behind them and the lights came on. A door to one side of the room opened, and Ricky stepped out.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my old amigo, Billy Bob.” As he walked toward him, Ricky continued, “Who you workin’ for these days, Amigo?”

  “Rick, I’m not working . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah! I heard all that bullshit you told Jose up there. What the fuck you really up to? You know you’re the dumbest fuckin’ gringo I ever met! You get my ass locked up for six months, and you got the nerve to walk in here like we’re the best of amigos?” He stared at Billy Bob for a few seconds. “Your Padre and Madre really muerto?”

  Billy Bob’s eyes moistened. “Yeah. The bastards killed them. They killed Martha, too.” He got a catch in his voice as he spoke, and it was hard not to outright cry.

  “You know what, amigo? I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He moved toward Billy Bob. “The motherfuckers killed my little brother, Pete, too. You remember Pete. Feminine little shit. Always wanted to read books instead of hangin’ with me?”

  “Yes, I remember Pete. I always liked him.” Billy eyed Ricky.

  Now Ricky smiled. “But, you never liked me, huh, Amigo?”

  “Wasn’t anything personal Ricky. I just led a different life than you. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, maybe. So, you wanta make up an Army and attack the soldiers, do you? Suppose I throw your ass to the wolves and tell them what you’re planning? Might get me a buncha favors, mi amigo.”

  Now, it was Billy Bob’s turn to smile. “I know you better than that, man. You’d do about anything except that. Kill me, torture me, but never put the law onto me.”

  “You hungry or thirsty, Amigo? C’mon, let’s eat and drink and talk about your Army.”

  After a couple beers more than he should have, Billy went to sleep with the information that Ricky was planning an assault of his own. Ricky had managed to get four major gangs in San Antonio together, and between them, they had weapons stolen from the military bases and National Guard armory and over three hundred people.

  Billy slept well into the afternoon. Later, Ricky and three of his top men sat with him mapping out their campaign strategy. The bulk of the enemy were encamped at a small former Army base named Camp Bullis some fifteen miles north of downtown.

  Ricky told him, “We scouted the place out, man. They got a bunch of armored personnel carriers and huge stockpiles of everything from truck mounted rockets to surface to air, man. We gotta hit ‘em fast and hard, mi amigo. We gotta kill enough of them; they can’t get their armor after us.”

  “Let’s hit at four in the morning. Do you know where they sleep?” Billy asked.

  “Yeah, in four buildings. See, we got ‘em marked right here.”

  “What about guards?” Billy looked at Ricky. “You know how many they have at night?”

  “Not many, man. The dumb bastards think they have everyone scared shitless, and we won’t come after them.” Ricky grinned, evidently looking forward to the fight.

  Billy Bob smiled and reached across the table to shake Ricky’s hand. “I’ll have all my people in place south of Boerne in five days. On foot, that’s four hours to the camp. If you can get your people there, we’ll set our final plans to attack the following night. I have to get back to the cabin before my brother thinks I’ve been killed.”

  Ricky had four of his gang members accompany Billy Bob out of town. Ricky had supplied walkie-talkies with an eight-mile range and would be the liaison between Billy Bob’s Army and his own.

  ~~~

  Six days later, Ricky’s and Billy’s groups attacked the camp. Ricky had been right. What few guards were there immediately had their throats slashed by straight razors. When Billy Bob questioned whether Ricky’s men could operate the armored personnel carriers, Ricky’s laughing answer was th
at these guys could hot wire and steal any damned thing that moved. That proved to be true. They had control of the base with no prisoners taken within fifteen minutes of killing the posted guards.

  As the gangs rolled into San Antonio, the enemy quickly withdrew to the south, driving whatever they could get their hands on toward Laredo and the Mexican border. Ricky’s men enjoyed killing the enemy too much to let them escape. They took no prisoners.

  Ricky and Billy Bob were told what was left of the police department was locked up in the city and county jails. They took fifty men and destroyed the few idiots in blue helmets stupid enough not to head for the border.

  Ricky laughed uncontrollably when he saw the Chief of Police sitting in a cell. “Hey, Chief, how you doin’?”

  “Just open the goddamned door, Ricky. We have to get the hell outa here,” the Chief screamed.

  “Whoa, Chief. There ain’t no hurry, man. Mi amigo and I killed all them bad guys. We liberated your city for you, dude. What kinda reward we gonna get for that, Chief?” Ricky leaned against the cell bars and lit a cigarette.

  “What th’ hell do you mean, you liberated the city?”

  “Simple, we put our own little Army together and caught these motherfuckers nappin’. Someone said there was some more of ‘em over at Fort Sam, but some of my boys and Billy Bob’s group goin’ over there ta take care of ‘em. I want a promise from you ‘fore we let you out, Chief.”

  The Police Chief stared at him, none too happy and asked, “What the hell you want, Ricky?”

  “First off, I want a little respect, Chief. Quit lookin’ at me like I have a case of the lice, man. Second thing, I want me and my amigo to get to announce on TV to the whole fuckin’ country that we took our city back from them bastards. Don’t want you gittin’ no damned credit where it ain’t due. That’s all we want, man.”