Uncertain Times: A Story of Survival

by Travis Wright

  “We’d better get down there,” Jim said.

  The forward operating base had been constructed to give an early warning of attacks and to cut the enemy down some before reaching the stronghold. Rick had named the outpost. His love of car racing had been the reason for it, and he said the name couldn’t be mistaken for any other on the radio.

  When Jim and Bill returned a few hours later the main room of the cave was getting louder with questions as they all wanted to know what happened and who was hurt.

  “The wounded were sent to the medical room and their families have been notified. As far as the man who the enemy killed, only some of you knew him,” Jim said with a rough voice. “Naythan was one of the first to come up here with us and was a proven warrior. He will be missed, and we will honor him and all others who follow him by continuing to fight for our freedom.”

  January 6th

  This journal will be a testament to the willingness of free people everywhere to stay free and to fight for what they believe in and die for it if necessary. Someday when the freedom and way of life we’re so desperately hanging on to by a thread can be won back from our oppressors, we will remember young men like Naythan and everyone who sacrificed their lives for it. He turned out to be a warrior who had an aggressive spirit and it had shown brightly in each battle.

  He will never be forgotten!

  “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”

  —Thomas Jefferson

  Chapter Sixteen

  “At some point we need to push back and establish some lines,”

  Jim brought up in a meeting of team leaders a few days later. “The guerilla tactics we’ve been implementing have hurt the enemy, but they retaliate on civilians each time we attack.”

  “The main problem with defending anything after we hit it is the lack of man power. And the enemy has armor, artillery and air support,” Rick pointed out.

  “Then we need more men and need to take what the enemy has and use it against them.”

  “Unfortunately, all we can come up with right now are some young, unseasoned men and a few dozen tired, broken and hungry patriots,” Bill said. “We’re doing all we can at this point.”

  “For now, we’ll keep recruiting and doing what we can to help people out,” Jim said. “Do any of you have any other business to discuss?”

  “We lost two more men on the most recent recon patrol, one succumbed to his wounds after setting off a landmine, and another was killed in action from the ambush after the mine exploded,” Matthew sighed.

  “Landmines now?” Jim said. “How many of the enemy did they take out?”

  “They don’t know. Their priority at the time was to get the wounded out of the kill zone.”

  “Alright, let’s continue to take the fight to the enemy and try to be smarter than them.”

  “Jim,” said a soft voice as the men were getting up.

  He turned to see Evelyn. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to join one of the teams now, if there’s any room.”

  “Go see Danny. Tell him you’re the new member of his team.”

  She left the room with a smile on her face.

  January 10th

  One of the main problems has been the lack of information. We have no idea what’s happening outside of the immediate area of operation. Is there really no U.S. military anymore? Did they simply give in to the pressure of the U.N., or did some commanders stand and fight? The bottom line, we need help if we’re going to make a real difference.

  “How do you know the information this girl told you won’t be sending us into a trap?” Jim asked Danny when the young man reported what he’d heard.

  “This girl, as you say, is the local Baptist preacher’s daughter and I’ve known her for years. She overheard the soldiers talking. It’s as simple as that,” Danny said.

  “We’ll have to discuss the viability of the idea,” Jim countered. “I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

  “If we have a consensus, then we should attempt it,” Bill argued. “Supplies are running low again.”

  After the whole group agreed to the raid, they outlined the plan the evening before the mission. Jim talked separately with the people on perimeter security. The women and older children who would be staying behind were given security tasks while the bulk of the group would be gone. Some were reluctant, but it had been explained to them, if this operation wasn’t completed, they could starve.

  “I know you want to help people, but how far do you plan on taking this?” Mary asked Jim as they lay in bed late that night, whispering so they didn’t wake the kids.

  “I not only want to, I need to. If the colonists simply let the king of England continue to rule from across the Atlantic and not stand up for their beliefs, what would our lives have been like before this?”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said.

  “Mary, I promise to take precautions so I can to make it back safely to you and the kids, but I can’t continue let bad things happen to people who can’t defend themselves. Not here, not now.”

  “I know, and I love you for it.”

  Mary snuggled up to Jim and fell asleep in his arms as he went over the mission specifics in his head and eventually fell asleep, as well.

  “What are your thoughts?” Jim asked Bill as they stood near the fireplace drinking coffee the next morning.

  “I think it’s a solid plan, and something needs to be done. We can’t just sit up here being comfortable while we know atrocities happen constantly on the outside.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Mary asked as she walked up and filled their cups.

  “Good morning, baby. We were discussing whether or not we’re doing the right thing,” Jim told her as he hugged her and kissed her forehead.

  “The food’s about done and yes, you are,” she reassured them.

  “It smells great,” Bill told her as Jim nodded in agreement.

  After a breakfast of hotcakes, eggs and corned beef hash from a large can, goodbyes were said to friends and family.

  The combat patrol set off toward their objective in the early morning hours of a crisp January day. The group was silhouetted against the snow by the glow of moonlight as they plowed through the powder, waiting for their ride to the target area. Some had night-vision goggles, but they weren’t needed this time. The plan was to take control of the convoy and set up a line of defense within the closest town to the north. They had all heard rumors of other clusters of people fighting back, and this would give them the chance they needed if their plan was successful. If they could link up and stay in contact with other militias, everyone would have a better chance of survival.

  “Will we reach the highway in time?” Terry asked Bill as they trudged through deep snow.

  “We have more people this time, but I should have correctly calculated the time it will take to shuttle everyone down on the few snowmobiles we have. We’ll be fine.”

  “Getting the whole group down the mountain took the better part of three hours,” Jim said once they reached the target area.

  “We need to hurry and set up the kill zone. Snipers need to get in place to provide overwatch,” Rick added.

  The teams were dispersed throughout the stretch of road they had picked for the ambush. They waited patiently in the cold for their prey to arrive.

  Jim broke radio silence to make sure they were ready. “Here we go people. I want everyone to stay calm and remember the plan.”

  As the lead vehicle entered the kill zone, a claymore mine detonated right as it passed over it. The convoy stopped and the turret gunners in the Humvees opened up on both sides of the road, shooting wildly at random.

  “Snipers, time to go to work,” Rick said over the radio. “The rest of you, keep your heads down.”

  The once calm, still morning became noisier than a construction site in Manhattan during rush hour.
r />   Terry started shooting the containers of Tanerite binary explosives he had placed beside the road. The additional explosions confused the U.N. troops even more. Some of them detonated right next to a few of the vehicles, causing minimal damage, but aiding the snipers by providing more targets. As the enemy troops exited the trucks to take cover in the ditches, they were surprised by the hidden militia.

  “This is like shooting fish in a barrel,” a voice radioed.

  “The remaining troops are completely confused,” Jim announced. “All teams, we have the upper hand. Secure the vehicles now.”

  Suddenly, two tandem-seat, tan and green camouflaged Tiger attack helicopters rose from below the bluff. The men and women of the militia hadn’t known they were there. The aircrafts had been waiting until the full force of the resistance attacked the convoy. Jim and the rest of the snipers engaged the helicopters. They were extremely maneuverable, and their armor made the small arms being fired at them, like they were being shot with BB guns. The birds made strafing runs with their 30-mm nose-mounted turrets and were hard to hit as they flew low and fast right above the battle. The pilots in the Tigers fired at will, aiming at both the trucks and militia. The militia returned fire on the helicopters and the remaining enemy force on the ground.

  “Aim for the tail rotor or the top rotor,” Jim yelled over the radio, hoping someone would hear him.

  The helicopters stopped their fast and aggressive attack runs and were hovering over the battle to carefully attack targets on the ground. This opportunity allowed Jim and his men to do what they needed. One of the aircrafts was finally hit in its tail rotor. The helo started spinning wildly out of control before slamming into the ground near the tree line on the inland side of the road. The other helicopter paused to attack the sniper who downed the other aircraft. The remaining militia opened up with more sniper and automatic fire. A couple militia members jumped in the turrets of the Hummers and started shooting, as well. The helicopter tried to maneuver out of the barrage, but had been hit numerous times and limped over the bluff with black smoke pouring out of the two MTU Turbomeca Rolls-Royce turboshaft engines, and soon crashed into the beach below with a fiery explosion.

  “This is Sierra One to all call signs. Recover what you can and fall back. Leave no man behind!” said Jim.

  They killed the rest of the U.N. soldiers in the convoy in retaliation for what had just happened to their brothers and sisters. No quarter was given, even to the wounded.

  “Look what I found,” Matthew said as he pushed the button on a black-handled switchblade and showed off the knife.

  He started walking toward Jim when a lone shot rang out. The militia members stopped in their tracks as Jim saw Matthew fall to his knees.

  “No!” A woman yelled.

  “Sniper!” Jim hollered, as he saw the boy collapse in front of him.

  “I’ve got him,” Rick said over the radio as multiple rounds were fired at a man by a fallen tree. “He’s down. Who got hit?”

  “Matthew, they shot Matthew,” Jim said. “We’re done, people. Head for the treeline, now!”

  “How many people did we lose?” Matt asked as they moved out in a hasty combat patrol.

  “Three wounded and five dead, including Matthew,” Rick told him.

  One of the dead had been a woman who had shown promise. Evelyn had been mistreated by the invading troops and wanted payback. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened to her, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.

  They were a half click off the road when the ground shook from explosions, and a massive shockwave took their breaths away. They dropped to the ground, taking cover and saw the trucks blow up as two jets raced by, followed by two more. The lead jets were attacking the trucks, probably thinking the militia members were still there. They maneuvered into some thick alders to hide and watch. They were witnessing a dog fight between four jets. Two were hopefully friendly, but they couldn’t be sure.

  “The two silver ones look like F-16s and the camolooking ones look like they might be Russian Migs,” Rick said as he looked through binoculars.

  “So the F-16s are ours?” Terry asked.

  “I’m sure they are,” Jim told him, “but it doesn’t mean they’re on our side.”

  The fight didn’t last long, but the aerial display was spectacular. Flare chaff was used as missile countermeasures, and tracer fire filled the sky above the water. One jet exploded in mid-air. Then as the remaining camo jet tried to make a run for it, its left wing was ripped off the fuselage as machine-gun fire from the pursuing jet tore into it. The aircraft didn’t explode, but flew into a flat spin before slamming into the icy inlet below. The two silver jets flew off toward the south followed by sonic booms. The militia stood up and cheered when the threat had been eliminated.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Matt said to the group.

  With the dead and wounded, the trek back would take much longer than the original three hours it had taken to get there. They made litters with tree branches and rope.

  Rick, who pushed forward on point and front security ahead of the rest, suddenly broke radio silence 20 minutes later. “Parachutes! I just saw a dozen or more of them open up. Put your heads on a swivel people.”

  As they made their way up the mountain, heading for where they had stashed the snowmobiles, they were especially cautious and quiet. They had walked for about forty-five minutes when Rick’s hand rose up into the air, halting the patrol. Rick still on point with Jim close behind when a yell rang out.

  “FROSTHEAVE… FROSTHEAVE!” called the voice.

  The militia stood motionless. They heard a challenge word, yet they didn’t have the countersign.

  “We are American citizens and we mean you no harm,” Jim called back, hoping it wasn’t an enemy ambush.

  “Do what you can, where you are, with what you have.”

  —Teddy Roosevelt

  Chapter Seventeen

  They were suddenly surrounded by arctic camouflaged troops pointing their weapons at them.

  They hadn’t cut them down with their guns, so as Jim heard several of the militia’s safeties click off, he yelled, “Everyone hold your fire!”

  One of the camo troops moved to the front.

  “I’m Cpt. Daniel McGee, First Force Recon, United States Marine Corps. And you are?”

  “Are you part of the U.N. forces?” asked Jim.

  “I’m asking the questions, here!” McGee asserted.

  “We’re starving American citizens doing what we can to survive. We’ve had a long winter. We have dead and wounded to take care of. Now, either help us or engage us! Your choice Devil Dog,” Jim said.

  Stunned, McGee asked, “You know Marine jargon?”

  “I’m Sgt. Jim Stanton, Echo Company, Second Battalion, Fifth Marines.”

  “Well, boys, I believe we’ve found our insurgents,” McGee said.

  The militia members who had their weapons pointed at the Marines focused their aim. Jim could tell some of them were nervous.

  “Hold on now boys, we were sent into this sector to help. Marines lower your weapons,” McGee said.

  The Marines did as they were commanded, but the militia didn’t relent.

  “OK,” Jim said, “Now you guys.”

  Jim had already lowered his rifle and pushed the barrels nearest to him toward the ground.

  “What do you mean, you’re here to help?” Rick asked.

  “We kept getting info over the U.N. net about a group of locals who were attacking convoys in this area, and it was escalating. It means you men and women have become a thorn in the enemy’s backside. They’re talking about your group way down on the West Coast. I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner to help in your ambush,” McGee said.

  “We had it under control until the attack helicopters came into the picture and we realized we’d been set up,” Matt interjected.

  “It could have been worse,” said Jim, “if most of us had not been trained already by Uncle
Sam. And, of course, having the initial advantage helped immensely.”

  “Roger that,” McGee said.

  “Not that I don’t trust you, Sir, but after today and what we’ve already been through since this all started, we need verification before we bring you up to speed and into our house.”

  “I thought you might say that, so I brought proof.”

  A Marine brought out a laptop computer and opened it. McGee pulled up a video from his commanding officer, Gen. Hummel, detailing what needed to happen to recover America. McGee showed the militia news footage of the initial attack which crippled America, far beyond just Alaska.

  “A few military commanders obeyed the unconstitutional order given by the President, but not enough,” McGee began. “Once we found out what they were doing, we flew back from Afghanistan, along with several other units from each branch of the military, to take our country back. For now, we have air support in this region and have established lines from which to push forward against the enemy. We were not the only unit to parachute in, however. We’ve received word of successful attacks on each of the U.N. installations in this area. Other units like us were sent in to link up and help the resistance troops. I can’t guarantee things will get better right away, but for now you have the full support of what’s left of the U.S. Military.”

  None of the militia could believe what they were hearing, and they started to talk simultaneously amongst themselves. Smiles could be seen on most of their faces.

  Could the fighting be over this fast? Jim wondered.

  “Captain, we need to get back and treat the wounded,” Rick told him.

  “Of course. We will accompany you and help however we can. I have a Navy corpsman if you can use him.”

  The corpsman came forward and walked over to the wounded to make sure they were stable enough for the remainder of the trip.

  “We have a doctor,” Jim said. “But more medical hands and supplies would be great.”

  “One more thing,” McGee said. “We have a C130 in orbit with food, water and medical supplies. The pilot just needs a grid and he can drop the payload.”