by T J Reeder
Our medical team was busy, so I led him to some shade and sat with him. I handed him my canteen and some of our homemade granola bars which got a smile. He chewed on it for a while washing it down with water. He sat quiet for a bit then said, “I lost people, John; we fought them for weeks while withdrawing thru the mountains.” He said they had buried their dead when they could in the proper way and then moved on.
He was exhausted and weak from blood loss but he was still Charley. He was stronger than most men I’ve ever known, with a spiritual inner strength most people will never have. We sat quietly while he gathered his thoughts and then he sighed and said, “John, we got problems.” I had to laugh because here we are in a dry canyon in the butthole of Mexico and we ‘have a problem’?
He smiled at that but said, “Yeah, we do. It ain’t here yet but it’s coming and we have to get back to start preparing for it.” I asked him what it was, and his answer was to call out to one of his scouts who left and returned with a man wearing some strange camo pattern BDU’s. He had a hood over his head which was removed and I was shocked.
Standing there in front of me was what could only be an officer in the Chinese army. I know nothing about their rank insignia but he was old enough to be a fairly high ranking. Charley introduced him as Col. Chang of the PRC who was a leading element of their military coming to repossess America for past debts. I laughed and said, “You gotta be shittin' me, right?” Charley said, “Oh no, ask Col Chang yourself. He speaks English just fine, having graduated from UCLA.”
I pointed to the ground and Chang sat down. I passed him the canteen and some of the granola bars. He looked at it strangely so I took a bite and chewed it up. He followed suit and smiled and said, “Ahh, granola! Homemade I assume?”
Chang was all that was left of his former command of 200 troops. They had expected to have to deal with some Mexican dopers with a few AK’s. What he didn’t expect was to run right into a Navajo buzz saw and get his ass handed to him. His big mistake was chasing Charley thru the mountains- he never had a chance. It was a victory for Charley and his people but they paid a price. One we would not speak of, as was the way of the People.
I asked Chang if he really thought they could waltz in and just take over America. He said no, but his leaders were under the impression that Americans were weak and cowardly and would run from the PRC troops.
I asked him if he remembered the words, “A rifle behind every blade of grass?” He smiled and said, “Oh yes” and he knew it to be true but the new leaders of China believed they were the most powerful force left on the planet.
I had to admit I kind of liked Chang and I could tell Charley did too. He was still the enemy but that didn’t take away from the man.
I asked him when they were going to make their push and where, and he said ‘soon’ was all he could say. He really didn’t know when, but he knew where. They were planning to have some troops land in Southern California; I said good luck with that! He nodded and said he tried to tell his leaders about the gangs of LA but they shrugged it off as a bunch of petty thugs with switchblades. Now I was wishing we hadn’t done such a good job on the LA gangs, but I knew they poured right back in as soon as we left…well, the live ones did.
The other landings were going to be further north along the California coast but not as far as Oregon- why, he didn’t know. He did say the EMP had done as much if not more damage to China as to the US and they were relying on sheer numbers of troops to overwhelm any resistance. They had some armor and artillery but not as much as they would like.
Their landing ships could hold several thousand troops and he knew there would be 50,000 troops. They had no air power outside of some chopper gunships and troop haulers.
But he added they were mostly conscripts who were rounded up and told they were in the Army, little or no training and no motivation.
My first thought was, “Fuck!” then I thought of the story about the deer hunters in the Northeast; what was it, Pennsylvania fielded over 600,000 hunters, Minnesota almost as many. Hell, just the deer hunters in that small area of the US was an army of one and a half million shooters. Of course, that was then and this was now.
But I’d put five thousand American riflemen up against 50,000 troops fighting for nothing half way around the world from home. Of course the only way to do that was to never let them get close. Five hundred yards was an easy shot for most hunters on a man-sized target. Hit and run away, live to fight another day.
Shit, here I was sitting in the shade of a rock cliff talking to an Indian and a Chinese army Col. about fighting a war we hadn’t even known was coming.
Sandy came over and asked Charley if he would come to the Doc to get fixed up. He smiled and said, “Just for you.”
After Charley left Chang said, “I like him, he’s a very good man and I believe would be a very good friend.”
He added he regretted being on the wrong side in this because he didn’t believe in it and didn’t want to see his people wasted for nothing. I just nodded.
We spent the night and rolled out the next morning. We went’ balls to the walls’ as the troops were fond of saying and with the chopper flying well ahead of us we could run pretty free. Of course we had scouts out, but we were making tracks.
We needed to get back across the border and home and we needed to spread the word of the pending war- a war we didn’t want but one we could handle.
I just wanted my people home and I wanted to see my kids and Beth for more than one night. I needed to get people moving and plans to make.
Ten days later we crossed the border again. We hadn’t fired a shot and had seen nobody. As soon as we got close enough Ralph got Sam (our other pilot) on the horn and got him moving with the big plane we picked up when we killed the gang leader from LA.
It was a plane set up to haul parachutists and could handle all our wounded. Sam made the trip, landed on the highway and was gone within minutes. We hadn’t been using the bigger plane and I don’t know why. Most likely something to do with needing a better landing place than the bird dog.
I know Sam’s a good pilot but not a chopper pilot. We need to spend more time on getting our air power built up.
Charley refused to go- he sat beside me and smiled at the girls and their latest ongoing argument over something that nobody has a clue about, except May’s stand is, “Did not” and Sandy’s is, “Did too“. Charley looked at me and said, “It’s good to be home and see some things never change”
We kept rolling into the future- one we can’t control but we will handle it as it comes, as we always do.
All Enemies, Foreign and Domestic
Book 12
“John?” (Sandy)
“JOHN!” (May)
“Stop it! I was waking him up first.”
“Big fucking deal!”
“It will be a big deal if you piss me off!”
“Oh, gimme a break.”
“How 'bout a break in the arm?”
“You and who else?”
“BETH!” (Me)
“Jeeze, whatta pussy!”
“Yeah, calling in the reserves already!”
“Beth! I’m gonna shoot 'em if you don’t come get ‘em!”
“Stop John, yer making us laugh too hard!”
“Yeah, you couldn’t shoot the shit without help!”
“Shit!”
“Hey! He’s awake! John, guess what?”
(Sighing) “What?”
“We’re bored.”
“Yeah, John. We’re tired of sitting around the house.”
“So? Go kill something.”
“Yer sorry, John. Ya know that?”
“Girls? Why are you bothering John?” asked Beth, my savior.
“We’re bored and no- we don’t wanna go kill something” said Sandy.
“You don’t? Wow. That’s a record!” said Beth.
“Now you’re sounding like John. Sarcasm becomes you” said one of them.
“OK!” I sat up. “What
is wrong with you two?” Now they launch into a long litany of impossible things that are, might be, could be, maybe wrong. Beth and I sat with quiet astonishment as the list grew longer. It was really impressive even for these two.
Finally I held up a hand and said, “Stop! We’ve been home from saving the world from slavers AND acquiring a lifetime source of coffee for a whole week. You two killed about a thousand scumbags, you burned down a mansion in Mexico and I’m not sure you didn’t sink a ship somewhere in between times.”
“John, that’s so unfair. That ship was sinking when we saw it and you know that”, said May. “Besides, it was a small ship and really old”, said Sandy. “And it was ugly and had a really bad paint job”, said May.
I looked at them- absolutely beautiful, walking talking mayhem.
While we were heading back from Costa Rica we came up on a small ship adrift. We checked it out and found it empty; it had probably been adrift ever since the EMP.
We were just pulling away when I heard a loud ‘swoosh’ and a rocket slammed into the old wreck blowing a hole in her. It was followed by a second rocket and another loud boom, and there ‘they’ were- launchers on their shoulders laughing up a storm with the crew applauding them.
I was shaking my head when the ship’s captain said, “Can’t you control them?” I just said, “No, I’m waiting for you to do it.” I think he mumbled, “Right, and fuck you very much” as he returned to his bridge. Coward to the end.
I did go ask them, “What the fuck?” They smiled and one said, “Well, we had these rocket launchers.” The other said, “And we needed to see if they would work.” “And?” I said. “They work!” they both said.
I pointed out to them that they just shot up several thousand bucks’ worth of munitions. Sandy said, “Well, take it outta our pay!” May added “Yeah, IF we ever get paid.”
Anyway, back to the here and now. It’s been a wonderfully quiet week, the babies are wonderful- they have decided pulling my beard is their job in life.
And actually, the girls have been on good behavior. Meaning they haven’t killed anybody, burned anything down or blown anything up. Yet.
They have refused to allow Beth to lift a finger and have even allowed me more baby time than usual- all of which was warning enough that a storm was coming. Living with them is …well, it’s an adventure.
Two parts ‘scary as hell’ and three parts ‘fun’ and all aging me rapidly. Beth, bless her warm soul, is the glue that holds us together in a wonderful place.
The babies are the icing on the cake. But the other two? They are scary trouble from the second their eyes open in the morning until they close at night…if they actually close.
I know I can open my eyes in the middle of the night and one or the other will be looking back at me with a smile. Scary. I’m glad they love me (and even like me).
But all this has nothing to do with the right now issue. First of all they are right. We need to be doing, and we have an enemy who may be getting closer by the day.
Well I know that’s not true because Charley has his lads out to the west watching for them. But we need a plan. Col. Chang, who had turned out to be a friendly enemy, had told us all we knew about the coming problem. And while I had no doubt we would win the fight, I was adamant we would do so with the absolute minimum losses.
We would be fighting on our turf and fighting our way- we would pick the ‘when, where and how’. What could possibly go wrong? Let me count the ways…
We have the good ol' boys with the big guns down in Texas to call on. We have the big bird we used to fry the Beaner gangbangers in LA. We have dedicated shooters who fight for home, flag and mom’s homemade apple pie…. mostly the pie.
And, we have ‘Them’. I know they are gonna come up with some weird shit that is gonna be super nasty. I already feel sorry for our little yellow brothers.
“Hey! Know what?” Sandy always has to ask that instead of just telling me what she wants to tell me, and if I don’t play the game she pouts.
“Well let’s see. OK, you're gonna turn in your guns and become a Nun!” “Are you fuckin crazy?” she said. “Stop cussing”, I said. Why? They can’t talk” (meaning the babies). I did point out that if JC’s first word was ‘fuck’ and not Mommy or Daddy she was in trouble. I hate it when she laughs when I get tough. But I could now say, “What?”
And she surprised me; she said, “Did you ever hear of the Confederate Air Force?”
And I had! And I slapped my head and said, “SHIT!” real loud and was told to stop cussing.
I said, “Yes! The Confederate Air Force in Texas’ name was changed in ‘02 because the PC crowd found the word Confederate to be offensive; they changed it to the Commemorative Air Force.”
Sandy said, “Yeah, well fuck them and a bunch of PC. My daddy called it Confederate and that’s good 'nuff for me. Anyway, they have old war birds there in Texas- maybe some still fly? Maybe we could re-arm them and use them!”
I looked at her for a minute and said, “Baby, that might be a great idea. Those old gals are very long in the tooth, but you reminded me that it’s high time we got our ass in gear and found pilots and things for them to fly. There are all kinds of military aircraft out there that we could be using. We just need to find somebody to get it organized.”
I used the five watt to call the communications shack. A familiar-sounding kid answered with, “You phone ‘em, we bone ‘em.” I asked if that was proper radio procedure and got, “ Hey, you’re not boss of me.” I gave up and said, “Put out the arm for Ralph and Sam (our pilots) to come for a meeting.” She said, “10-4, good buddy, rubber duck out!” She’s been watching old movies again. When they arrived, I laid it out for them and both agreed that we had been short-sighted.
Sam said there were a lot of Blackhawk choppers on the scattered military bases, and surely all the pilots and mechanics weren’t dead. And that choppers were better on our battle fields than fixed wings.
I smiled and pointed at him and said, “OK, General, you’re in charge of getting us some air power.” He sat for a minute and said, “Well OK, but I’d say Texas is the best place to look ‘coz them ol’ boys kept the cork in the bottle (so to speak) and I bet we can get it all done right there.”
I used the 5 watt radio to reach the communications shack and this time I recognized the voice of my nemesis- the nasty little brownie thief. Her professional reply was, “What’s up grumpy?” I’m gonna kill her.
Sandy said, “No you’re not. You love her and she loves you.” “Huh?” says I. “Jeeze, John are you blind? You’re the daddy she don’t have and she’s doing everything she can to get and hold your attention.”
I put this on the back burner for now and nicely asked the sweet lil' thing to please locate and send Bear and Harry up to the rock pile. She said, “10-4, big guy” and was gone.
I sat there thinking about being maybe 12 years old and not having a real family. It was sad. I know most of the kids we have around the place have adopted families they live with and are pretty happy with it all but it bothers me to think of that little girl maybe being alone.
I took the girls aside and asked them about the kid. Beth said her name was, believe it or not, Sandy and she lived in the communications shack in a small room the size of a closet. I asked why she chose that and none of them seemed to know except she seemed to prefer to being alone than living with anybody.
I stood there for a minute and said, “OK, I’m taking a walk …alone. When Bear and Harry get here tell them to talk to Sam. I’ll be back in a bit.” Surprising me, all three of them just smiled and said, “OK, babe.”
I headed down the hill and met the Texans coming up. We met on the trail and I told them to go on up and I’d be along shortly. They said fine- they liked the girls better than me anyway. Laugh a minute, both of them.
I walked into the communications shack and found the kid sitting there reading a book bigger than her. It was named, “The complete History of
the World” and it looked old enough to have been written before all the schoolbooks were altered to please the liberal socialist crowd and their agenda.
Seeing me in the door, she stood up and got that deer in the head lights look- fight or flee. I took a seat and picked up the book. She was about to the part leading up to WW1. I swear the damn book weighed more than Sandy’s gun collection.
I looked at her and said, “Well? What do you think of it so far?” She thought a moment and said, “I think the shit they taught me in school was a crock!” What a mouth on this girl. I wondered if she was kin to Sandy.
I said, “Yeah, I know. The limp wrist commie bastards made a hash of it many years ago.” She sat down and said she had gotten interested in real History when she read a book called ‘The Gates of Fire’ and I had to laugh. I now knew where she got her mouth! That book was a modernized (language-wise) version of the 300 Spartans and King Leonidas which had the Spartans talking like a bunch of Marine grunts.
She said that when she read ‘Gates of Fire’ she started wanting to read more and more history since there is usually more truth than fiction in a history book. I had to agree with her.
