The Legend of Indian Stream

by Steven Landry

  After lunch, Mack set the men to work in two teams. Dwight’s team’s initial task was to clear the way for a road that proceeded west from the field camp to Back Lake’s southeastern shore. The other team worked to the east, clearing a roadway over to River Road. All of the trees to be felled had already been marked with bright orange paint. Dwight estimated that the road would run about one hundred yards south of the northern boundary of the Fallon property.

  Dwight and the other new men made a good start, and Mack appeared satisfied with the day’s progress. Kellen’s team of snow cat drivers had hauled off almost a hundred large trees. As dusk approached Mack gathered the crews at the mess tent, had them clean and lubricate the chainsaws, and gave each man his pay. Kellen got the local men loaded into the passenger snow cats and brought them back to town. Dwight retrieved his horse from the stable, mounted up and headed home to his family, satisfied with having done a hard day’s work for a good day’s wage.

  When Dwight arrived at the stable the following morning, he found that word of mouth had resulted in an additional four men seeking employment on the lumberjack team. Mack seemed happy to have the additional men and they joined their comrades on the line that afternoon, after completing their training.

  Corcoran, Kellen and Mack gathered the men at the end of the day. Prior to paying them their wages, Corcoran laid out what he expected them to accomplish by the time BLE had to cut them loose for spring planting season. When the snow melted and the ground thawed in the spring, the Fallon Party would be ready to embark on a building binge.

  * * *

  Republic of Indian Stream, Monday, January 7, 1833

  Dwight awoke to the insistent clanging of the town fire bell. He dressed as quickly as he could, kissed his wife, and headed out into the frigid air.

  “Fire,” someone shouted, “Fire at the mill.” Fletcher's Mill in Pittsburg was the economic engine of the Republic. All the grain from the crops grown on the local farms was milled there before it was exported to New Hampshire, Vermont, or Lower Canada. Loss of the mill would be catastrophic. Dwight ran as fast as he could to the mill, where he saw flames shooting from a window. The burning roof lit up the night.

  The town’s fire engine had already arrived, dragged to the mill by the four men living closest to the shed it was kept in, near Assembly Hall. David Mitchell appeared to be in charge, and he directed Dwight to join the bucket brigade, ferrying buckets of water from the river to the cistern on the back of the engine. Six other men worked the hand pump that fed the two hoses spraying a feeble stream of water on the mill’s roof. It looked like they were fighting a losing battle.

  “What the hell is that?” Junior Blanchard asked. Dwight was so intent on passing the next bucket that he dropped it on Junior’s foot when the man failed to grasp it. “Oww!”

  “Sorry,” Dwight said. Then he looked in the direction Junior was pointing. Coming down Back Lake Road was a procession of light, some flashing red, others steady white, moving very fast. He immediately guessed the lights were mounted on BLE snow cats. “Looks like the Fallon Party folks are coming,” he told Junior. “We can use the help.”

  Four snow cats roared up to the mill. Two were the articulated passenger models Dwight had ridden in many times. These discharged eight Fallon Party men. The other two were models Dwight had not seen before. Both were as large as the cargo cats BLE used to drag fallen trees to the saw mill, but the cargo beds were enclosed. Their flashing red lights cast an eerie glow.

  Mack began issuing orders almost as soon as he emerged from one of the snow cats. Two men dragged one end of a large hose to the riverbank and shoved it out into the river. Two additional men attached the other end of the hose to a connection on the side of what Dwight realized was a much more advanced version of their fire engine. Other Fallon Party men dragged smaller hoses off of a rack on top of the vehicle and ran towards the mill. Within seconds, water was arcing onto the mill from a pair of three-inch hoses. Dwight saw that the streams were so powerful it took two men to handle the nozzles.

  “Anyone still in there?” Mack shouted.

  “Don’t know,” David Mitchell replied. “We haven’t seen Ol’ Man Fletcher since we got here.”

  “Liam, Garret, get in there quick and check it out,” Mack said. Dwight, who was still passing water buckets, thought that a crazy idea. Then he saw two figures emerge from the second large snow cat covered in shiny silver garments. They had large, bulbous heads and big humps on their backs, and headed straight for the mill’s wagon entrance.

  “Sean, Enid,” Mack said, “cover them.” One of the two teams manning the fire engines hoses moved in behind the two silver figures and one of them did something that changed the water flow from a thick stream to a heavy mist. The hose operators stopped at the door as the two would-be rescuers disappeared into the smoking building.

  “Anyone else hurt?” asked a woman Dwight had only met once. Mack had introduced her as Doctor Sheila Flynn, although Dwight had never heard of a woman doctor.

  “Don’t think so,” Mitchell said. The roof was no longer burning and the BLE fire hoses appeared to be extinguishing the fires inside the mill, so Mitchell ordered the exhausted hand pumpers to stop. Once the cistern was filled to the brim, he also ordered the bucket brigade to shut down, and Dwight passed the last bucket to Junior before stretching his aching back.

  A cheer went up when the two rescuers emerged from the mill, carrying Ol’ Man Fletcher between them, but the mood quickly soured when those closest saw he was badly burned. Dwight and Mitchell rushed to help, and Sheila directed them to the snow cat she called the ambulance. They climbed up into the vehicle and laid Fletcher on a narrow bed, then Doctor Flynn and Corcoran Fallon’s daughter, Aileen Coyle, both set to work on him. The four men left the vehicle, and Mack directed Liam and Garret to go back inside to search for any other victims.

  An hour later the fire was completely out and no one else had been found inside the mill. David Mitchell inspected the interior of the mill and told everyone that while the roof and the some of the internal walls would have to be replaced, the milling mechanism was largely unharmed. “I believe the mill can be up and running well before harvest time,” he pronounced.

  “Guess we have Mack and his men to thank for that,” Dwight said.

  “Can’t argue with that,” said Nathaniel Perkins, who had arrived from his homestead in the Indian Stream valley along the Republic’s western border during the latter stages of the search. “From what I could see, we would have lost the whole mill without their help.”

  Dwight realized that Mack’s firefighters had won over two of the three Supreme Councilors, as well as a majority of the menfolk. And he expected that John Haines’ dire warnings about the Fallon Party’s true intentions would now fall on deaf ears.

  6 - DWIGHT

  Indigenous Forces Pack: a two-man portable, air-transportable, package containing ten M1 Garand gas-operated, rotating-bolt, semi-automatic, 7.62mm combat rifles and one M32 six-round, 40mm multiple grenade launcher, plus ammunition and cleaning supplies for both weapons, and assorted training aids. The Pack is designed to quickly upgrade the capabilities of indigenous forces fighting alongside ISRM units. Glossary, An Illustrated History of the Republic, Helen O’Shea, Ed.

  Republic of Indian Stream, Saturday, March 23, 1833

  When the Fallon Party arrived in December of 1832, the Republic’s militia consisted of thirty-nine men at arms under the command of Captain Hermon Bechtel. Dwight had been a member for three years.

  The first drill of the New Year took place in a meadow near where the Indian Stream joined the Connecticut River. An early thaw had melted the snow, revealing the dried brown vegetation beneath. To the west, the land rose abruptly into a steep, grassy hillside. They would fire in that direction, in order to avoid hitting any people or animals with off-target shots.

  Mack O’Malley and eight other Fallon Party men were already waiting on the drill field when Dwight and the ot
her veterans arrived. Captain Bechtel, whom Dwight considered an ass, immediately made fun of the strange-looking, short-barreled muskets the Fallon men were carrying, calling them “cute”. O’Malley was clearly nonplussed. He made Bechtel a bargain. He pointed to two targets that he had placed downrange before the rest of the militia arrived.

  “I’ll bet you that I can put more rounds through the three hundred yard target in two minutes than your entire company can put through the one hundred and fifty yard target in the same time. If your men win, I’ll pay for the first two rounds at the pub after drill. If I win, you let me run the rest of the drill. Deal?”

  Not smart enough to realize he was being set up, Bechtel took the deal. The two targets were man-size silhouettes, seen from the waist up. Bechtel examined both of them with his spyglass, probably concerned that Mack was cheating. Apparently satisfied, he formed the men into a two-tier firing line. Bechtel held up a pocket watch and started the firing drill.

  “Prime and Load.” Over the next two minutes the company managed to get off seven volleys. Pretty good for the first drill of the year.

  Bechtel ordered Dwight to go fetch the target. On the way back, he counted the holes. Of the two hundred and forty rounds fired, thirty-six had actually hit the target. That was excellent for a one hundred and fifty yard target.

  Once Bechtel and Mack counted the hits for themselves, Mack took up his weapon and held it at port arms. Looking at his pocket watch, Bechtel said “Go”. Mack pushed a small lever on the right side of the weapon, which was followed by the solid thunk of metal slamming into metal. Without pausing to load a bullet into the weapon, Mack brought it to firing position and fired. And again, and again, and again, without reloading the weapon. Dwight counted thirty shots before Mack brought the rifle back to port arms thirty seconds later. Mack hit another button on the side of the weapon, and a rectangular box fell out of the bottom. He quickly replaced the box with a similar one from a pouch on his vest, pushed the lever again, and raised the weapon to firing position.

  By Dwight’s count, Mack had fired ninety rounds before Bechtel said “Stop.” Again Bechtel sent Dwight to fetch the target. Dwight didn’t have enough time to count all the holes in the target as he walked back, but there were a lot more than thirty-six.

  Mack didn’t gloat. He simply asked Dwight to put the target back where he found it.

  “And now for the other barrel.” Returning to the firing line, Dwight watched as Mack slid a much larger barrel on the bottom of the weapon forward and pushed a very large cartridge into the chamber, then slid the barrel back into position. He raised the weapon to his shoulder, and fired.

  The bullet was large enough to see as it arced toward the target. When it got there, it exploded like an artillery shell. When the smoke cleared, the target was no longer there. Mother of God, that’s one hell of a weapon.

  Hermon Bechtel conceded defeat and turned command of the drill over to Mack, who directed the veterans to stack arms and ordered his own men to break out the Indigenous Forces Packs. There were four packs, each heavy enough that two men were required to carry one. Each pack contained eleven weapons of two different types, plus ammunition. O’Malley explained that the weapons were from the previous generation of Back Lake Enterprises products, and had since been replaced by a newer generation of weapons, similar to the one he had used in the contest.

  Taking one of the weapons from the pack, Mack held it at port arms.

  “This is an M1 Garand gas-operated, rotating-bolt, semi-automatic, 7.62 millimeter combat rifle. It has an eight round clip, and a practical firing rate of forty to fifty rounds per minute for a well drilled soldier.” Mack handed the rifle to another Fallon Party man, Liam Keating, whom Dwight had met once in the BLE mess tent. Liam closely resembled Mack, except that he was six inches taller, and even more muscular.

  “Before we get into the specifics of the weapon, let me explain how the ammunition works.” Mack held up a bullet like none Dwight had ever seen. It was wide and blunt on one end and thin and pointy at the other. “This is a 7.62 by 63 millimeter cartridge. It exits the barrel travelling at eight hundred and fifty-five meters per second. The bullet spins about twenty-one thousand times per second, which stabilizes it in flight, providing much greater accuracy.

  “Fired from the M1, the effective range is four hundred meters. These weapons are much more complex than your muskets and require a lot more care, but they are also much more reliable when cared for properly. Let’s get them passed out and Mr. Keating will show you how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble the M1s.” The four packs contained a total of forty M1s. Each of the veterans got one.

  Liam organized the men into groups of five, with one of the Fallon Party men assigned to each group. He painstakingly walked them through the disassembly, cleaning and reassembly process, then had them repeat it until they all got it right. They were also taught how to load the eight round clips with cartridges, and how to load the clips into the M1. Then they moved to the firing range, where Liam demonstrated the standing, kneeling, and prone firing positions. In addition to the speed, accuracy, and range of the M1s, one tremendous advantage of the new weapons was the ability to fire and reload from the prone position, greatly diminishing the target presented to the enemy.

  Finally, they got to fire the weapons, still in their groups of five. Dwight was surprised by the diminished kick of the M1 compared to his musket. Each man fired thirty rounds at three sets of targets set up at seventy-five, one hundred and fifty, and three hundred and fifty meters. Then they broke for lunch.

  The Fallon Party had brought lunches for everyone, similar to what Dwight had been eating while on the BLE lumberjack job. After lunch, the whole training and firing process was repeated, this time using the last weapon in each of the packs, the M32 six-round, 40mm multiple grenade launcher. When they got to the range firing portion, Liam explained that since there were only four M32s, it would be a contest to see who the best grenadiers were.

  While he was awaiting his turn, Dwight noticed that Mack and Captain Bechtel were off by themselves in another corner of the drill field. Bechtel was firing a pistol of some type. From the rate of fire, Dwight assumed that it operated in a manner similar to the M1.

  Dwight took his turn firing the M32, and was shocked by the formidable recoil of the weapon. He adjusted his stance and fired once more, this time coming much closer to the target. His third round found the mark, as did the fourth and fifth. Dwight was elated. He was the third best shot with the M32, and would be assigned one of the weapons at the next drill, or God forbid, if the militia was called out in a real emergency.

  Mack and Bechtel returned to the group as they were finishing up. Captain Bechtel called the men into formation and announced that Mack was hereby promoted to Lieutenant and Liam was promoted to First Sergeant of the company, both subject to approval by the Supreme Council. Lieutenant O’Malley stepped forward and announced that the veterans could take their M1s home with them, along with ten of the eight-round clips of ammunition. The M32s would be kept by the Fallon Party and distributed to the assigned grenadiers whenever there was a drill or a call-up. Dwight was a little disappointed that he couldn’t take the M32 home as well, but understood why the Fallon Party wouldn’t want those weapons loose in the Republic. Mack saluted Bechtel and returned to his place in the formation. Bechtel announced the time and date of the next drill, and dismissed them.

  As they walked to where their horses had been waiting patiently all day, Dwight asked Bechtel about the pistol he had been firing. Bechtel removed the strange looking weapon from a holster and showed it to Dwight.

  “It’s a Glock nine millimeter, semi-automatic pistol. It holds fifteen rounds in a magazine that fits in the handle, and reloads itself from the magazine just like the M1. It’s a hell of a lot more accurate than my old fifty-four caliber Henry flintlock.” Bechtel seemed to have gotten over his disdain for the BLE’s weapons.

  7 – DWIGHT, CORCORAN & MACK
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br />   Light Tactical Vehicle (LTV): a seven-ton, four-wheel-drive, V-hulled, armored combat vehicle. The standard variant seats four passengers, plus a gunner in an overhead turret fitted with an M240 7.62mm medium machine gun; two more soldiers can be squeezed into the LTV’s cargo space if needed. There are also cargo, shelter-carrier, and field ambulance variants. Glossary, An Illustrated History of the Republic, Helen O’Shea, Ed.

  Republic of Indian Stream, Wednesday, February 12, 1834

  Dwight Carver was expecting a very interesting Assembly meeting as he settled into his seat in the Grand Hall of the new Assembly Building on River Road. The first order of business would be the election of a new Supreme Council, and Dwight fully expected that Corcoran Fallon would be reelected to the seat he had won the previous year. With almost three-quarters of the men in the Republic now working at least half the year for Back Lake Enterprises, Dwight also expected that Kellen Coyle would win a seat on the Council, giving the Fallon Party a majority.

  The newly elected Council would then call for a general vote of the Assembly on whether or not to consider changes to the Republic’s Constitution. In the Republic’s unique brand of democracy, each and every eligible voter was a member of the Assembly, which meant every adult male present would get a vote as long as he had resided in the Republic for at least three months. Dwight’s wife Mellissa, who was seated to his left, didn’t have a vote. He hoped that was about to change. There seemed little doubt the Assembly would agree to consider changes to the Constitution, as only a simple majority was needed. Then the fun would begin. Everyone listened intently as Corcoran made his proposal.

  “Preposterous!” Nathaniel Perkins shouted. “The very idea of giving women the vote is beyond reason. For all that women understand of politics, you might as well give the vote to horses and cows as well!” This was met with a chorus of hisses from most of the women present, and not a few of the men. Dwight idly wondered what Mrs. Perkins thought of her husband’s opinion of the fairer sex.