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Post by bluefox2 on Dec 9, 2019 17:49:37 GMT -6
what kind of pinko commie puts sour cream on pie ... Listen, here, son, you gots to remember that I is in Commiefornia. Next you gonna tell me I should settle for pie crust and tortillas made without lard? And I'm such a pinko commie that I might even volunteer to be a pall bearer for Hank's daughter's funeral. Of course, that'd just be so I could be first to pee on her grave. The line would be too long if I waited more than 5 minutes. Pie Crust at the very least has to be made with real lard. so do biscuits.
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 9, 2019 20:50:43 GMT -6
He is learning.... Thanks wtr for the chapter.... Texican.... More importantly, I think, is that he is learning from whom he should be learning and who to ignore.
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Post by wtr100 on Dec 10, 2019 14:27:53 GMT -6
Chapter 7 - this is the bad guys
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They used powered wheel chairs and high end baby strollers and shoes to smuggle in their equipment. The chairs and strollers where barely searched by the minimum wage ‘security’ staff at the park entrance allowing four Sig P226 pistols, ironically Israeli Police turn-ins imported into the US, and four cheap Chinese knock-offs of USMC Fighting Knives to be secreted into the park. Others of the faithful wore insoles in their shoes made of explosives. The parks had several family restrooms that were used either to consolidate explosives or distribute weapons. A solo member would meet with a couple with a stroller or chair and mingle then go into one of the many convenient Family Restrooms to make the transfer.
The process was slow taking from early entry time of 7:00 am until almost 2:30 pm. By then three suicide vests had been constructed with 10 kg of Iranian high explosive and one kilo of 5 mm hard glass beads. To make the injuries from the beads worse they had been coated in Coumadin aka Warfarin aka Rat Poison. The strong anticoagulant would cause heavy , difficult to control bleeding in wounds. In addition to the vests there were four pistols and four large knives. Unknown to the planners several of the courier boys, those who walked in with explosive insoles to their shoes had not left the park but instead had acquired non-metallic knives, sneaking them into the park to join in the killing.
The attack was to begin at 3:00 pm. The date had been chosen to be one of the busiest of the year. The park was actually two separate parks connected by a shopping and restaurant district. The attack would focus on the most popular and most hateful part of the parks, the part full of sorcery and wizardry. It should have been hateful even to even these decadent Christians but was by far the most popular. The Wizard World was so packed the vests could barely move.
One of the 'knives' was getting more and more enraged as he walked through the park. He had assumed it would be full of infidel Americans. But there were a surprising number of the what should have been the faithful. He saw several hijabs, some niqab and even a few burkas. When he saw several early teen girls in hijabs in obvious colors of the fictional Wizard factions or houses. Instead of waiting for the vests to blow he attacked immediately. He screamed ‘Aloha Snackbar’ and charged the early teen age girl in a red and gold striped hijab. He stabbed her low in the back hoping for a kidney. The Chinese steel was cheap and soft, the blade crude but it was none the less razor sharp and plenty strong. He plunged the blade a full seven inches into the poor girl. She screamed and fell to her knees as he pulled the blade out. The next closest girl in a blue and gray hijab had instinctively turned toward her friend. She received seven inches of knife into her belly.
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Dianna Valesquez , actually SSgt Valesquez USMC was on leave between classes of 'boots' at USMCRD Paris Island South Carolina. She was a Military Policemen by profession and a Martial Arts Instructor by assignment. She was one of a small number of women in the entire USMC with a Black Belt in Marine Corps Martial Arts Program (MCMAP) Instructor Trainer Certified. She was treating her 18 year old sister and 19 year old niece to a few days in Orlando. They were having a blast in the park. They had breakfast early and skipped lunch to this point so Dianna was thinking of a late lunch , early dinner at one of the nicer sit down restaurants, if you had to pay $13 for a stupid turkey leg may as well pay for a real meal. Sis and Niece were heads down into phones when Dianna noticed the commotion in the crowd. The hairs on the back of her neck were just starting to perk up when she heard one low crump followed by a second crump. A tour in Iraq and a tour in Afghanistan told her exactly what that was. She grabbed Sis and Niece and pulled them at right angles to the crowd. They came to a fence / gate, it was closed and locked but a quick kick fixed that. Beyond the gate was a service area behind several restaurants. The restaurant workers were standing around looking dumb. Through an open door Dianna saw a prep area with several large knives. She picked up one, tested the edge and discarded it. She chose another a wicked boning knife, 5 inches long and sharp as sharp can be.
Rather than flee blindly Dianna decided to fort up back here. Hearing gunfire out front, though she had mentally said she's stay back here, Dianna found herself running to the sound of the guns. She found a man taking careful aim and firing a pistol the panicked mass. She attacked from behind and to the right. She trapped the pistol in her left hand and used the boning knife to slice the inside of his right arm. The professional quality chef's knife instantly cut to the bone severing the flexor tendons making it impossible to grip anything in the right hand. The shooter sank to his knees howling. She was about to kick him in the head when something bellowed to her rear. She spun in time to almost duck an on rushing attacker, his nonmetallic knife digging into her scalp. 'Damn that hurts', she thought. The attackers momentum carried him down an four step flight of stairs where he sprawled in a heap. She shot him in the head from 15 feet away. The slide locked open on an empty magazine, without thinking she ejected the empty then realized she had no spare. It made sense, it wasn't her pistol.
The man she cut was on hands and knees trying to get to his feet so she kicked him in the head and stomped on his left hand. She was panting and shaking now. She searched the man hoping to find a second magazine, no luck. Without even thinking she pulled his shirt inside out and over his head and pulled his pants down around his ankles. "Crap I didn't even think about a suicide vest, good thing all he has on is underwear." She thought. She repeated the process on the dead man, the only weapon he had was a strange plastic knife, "Cute", she thought, "this way it got through the scanner."
She was getting a serious case of the shakes right now so tucked the pistol in her jeans and headed back to her sister and niece, maybe escape though the back lot. Little did she know the whole event was captured in surprisingly high quality surveillance video. Within a month she would receive a numbered Challenge Coin from the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and drank shots of Irish Whiskey with the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps. The three minutes of video would be required viewing by every Marine Recruit. She would only ever be able to purchase her own alcohol with the greatest of difficulty in the presence of other Marines.
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I wasn't all that hot on going to Florida and spending four days in a hotel and theme park but the wife wanted to and it would possibly be the last chance for a family vacation. The rides were ok and #1 son was able get his Wizard on. I was amazed to see other college age people spending $50 on a stick , I mean wand, to wave at windows and see what the spell did. He was in fact much less wizarded out than many, who were in full costume with robes and stripped ties. He managed to spend quite a bit of time with a surprisingly attractive Electrical Engineering Major from Ohio State in short skirt, knee high socks and tight sweater. Who knew?
#2 son was way not into the whole wizard thing so he and I got to ride roller coasters. Which was pretty cool.
It was odd to walk around with not so much as a pocket knife after carrying a pistol for so long.
It was our last day and we were watching four guys juggle fish. Well plastic fish. It was a juggling, acrobatics and comedy show at the edge of the artificial lake that was the center of the dining and shopping area. While is sounded dumb in the park brochure these guys were hysterical.
BLAM!!!
Next thing I know I'm on the ground feeling like I've been hit by a truck. My ears are ringing and I can't see straight even my nose was ringing. Wait can a nose ring? I haul myself upright. Wife in in a ball on the ground but looks ok. #2 son normally is trying to tourniquet a 10 year old girls arm using a scarf from one of the souvenir carts and a wand. The poor girls lower arm is hanging by a chunk of meat for lack of a better term.
#1 son? Where is #1 son? I scan and see nothing. Then I see him. He's staggering down a dock out into the lake. He performs an adequate lifeguard water entry into the lake and rescue strokes to something in the lake. Turns out it's a small child blown maybe 40 yards into the water. He pulls her to the dock and starts rescue breathing while still in the water.
#2 son has gotten up is looking we get to work packing wounds and attempting tourniquets. What worked best was to use two scarves as a pressure dressing. Use the first one top pack as much scarf into the hole and wad the rest on top. Use the second to wrap down as tight as possible to form a pressure dressing. #2 son managed to find a few more wands, they were surprisingly stout and made workable windlass style tourniquet.
#1 son managed to revive the little girl in the water and passed her off to a park employee and was working to dressing wounds. Eventually dark clad SWAT dudes arrived. I locked eyes with one and one and got a curt nod back. Behind the SWAT dudes came regular cops, although carrying rifles , and firemen and medics. We eventually left the park and got back to the hotel.
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Outside Draper UT
The three men were retired 'forces guys' . They still worked for the National Guard Department of the United States Army. Hearing of the attack in Florida they geared up for a night of 24x7 news channel. One of them pulled a frozen block of chili from the deep freeze and put it in a pan on the stove to slowly reheat. They were also working with other 'forces guys' some retired and some still not on a side project. One that would use unconventional warfare aspect of the special forces in an unconventional way.
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Post by texican on Dec 10, 2019 14:55:02 GMT -6
The three men were retired 'forces guys' . They still worked for the National Guard Department of the United States Army. Hearing of the attack in Florida they geared up for a night of 24x7 news channel. One of them pulled a frozen block of chili from the deep freeze and put it in a pan on the stove to slowly reheat. They were also working with other 'forces guys' some retired and some still not on a side project. One that would use unconventional warfare aspect of the special forces in an unconventional way.
Getting hot....
Thanks wtr for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 10, 2019 21:33:08 GMT -6
I guess I ain't never gonna mess with no girly Marines.
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smitty60
New Member
Posts: 28
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Post by smitty60 on Dec 18, 2019 11:48:42 GMT -6
Good story. There is a problem with it though. We need some more. Thank you and happy holidays and Merry Christmas
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Post by wtr100 on Dec 30, 2019 11:06:30 GMT -6
Chapter 8
James, aka #1 son , had a nightmare. Again. He woke in a sweat. In his nightmare he swam to the little girl, when he tried to pull her to shore the body split into pieces and sank. It was 2 am, and he was in his dorm room. He had become a bit of a celebrity on the tiny college campus. Video of him saving the little girl blown into the water had made it to the internet. It even caught the little girl vomiting in his face as she began to breathe again. But the little bit of fame seemed to keep the nightmares coming.
From the dark, “You ok Big J Man.” It was his roommate King, a monstrous football player from Arkansas. King was 6’5” and few fried chicken legs over 300 lbs., black as the Ace of Spades. He carried a 4.0 in Philosophy along with every running back or receiver that he got his hands on. His grand plan was to graduate, then Seminary then serve as an Army Chaplain in the Rangers or something like that.
“Just another dream.”
“Ok bro, listen and I’m serious here. Start coming to conditioning with me. Conditioning coach is more than cool with it. He’ll exercise all that **** right out of your head.”
“Thanks, King. You ok with me surfing the net some? I can go out to the lounge if it’ll keep you up.”
“That’s cool man, I’m going to get some Bible time while I’m up.” A reading light on King’s bunk lit up. King’s main hobby besides working out was reading various translations of the bible and making notes in a bound book of the differences.
James went to one of his comic book web sites. Then found himself surfing the Army and Marine Corps recruiting pages. A degree in Accounting seemed so pointless now. He browsed a couple three letter agency pages, CIA, FBI… He decided he was going to go talk to some recruiters. He dropped a few ‘contact me’
He swapped back to an Alternate History Fan Fiction page. A personal message box popped up.
/dev/ones: Do you really want to fight terror.
FanFicBigJ: Yes
Ok this is really weird how does this person no what I was doing and how did they get special characters in their user name.
/dev/ones: Do you really, really want to fight terror.
FanFicBigJ: Yes! I think I’m going to drop out and enlist
/dev/ones: No! /dev/ones: Finish your Accounting Degree. /dev/ones: If you want go to Air Force bootcamp this summer. /dev/ones: We’re going to switch your Senior classes to the Forensic Accounting ones /dev/ones: To REALLY fight terror we need to track and fight their money.
FanFicBigJ: But those classes are outside my track
/dev/ones: Trust us it can be made to work. Get in shape. /dev/ones: An Air Force recruiter will come see you.
Then his computer shut down and restarted. When he got back the thread was gone.
In the morning. “King, I think I’ll take you up on the conditioning thing.”
“Outstanding, we’ll start now drop and give me 50 pushups! Just kidding. We’ll start with your diet. I’ll spot you some protein drink. Then at breakfast you can have all the meat, eggs, cheese and fruit you want. No bread or pancakes or cereal. One little glass of juice, no sugar soda… “
James was nervous and almost didn’t go to the gym for the first work out. But he was welcomed by the players and coach. He didn’t quite die on the first day and the nightmares were gone.
A few weeks later Jame’s cell rang. “James this is Staff Sergeant Wigger USAF, I understand you’d like to enlist. Would you care to grab some dinner and talk about it? “
Wigger picked him up in a slate grey jeep and they went local BBQ joint. Wigger was a short little dude in Carhart jeans and a grey flight style jacket and wellington boots. In the restaurant he had on a maroon polo with a pararescue emblem on the chest.
“Ok this isn’t the standard recruiting pitch. I’ve seen the video with the little girl as a Pararescueman I give you a big ‘hoo ya!’ over that. I think you might have a future in that community but that’s not what we’re here for.”
“So are you on recruiting duty?” James asked.
“Not quite, convalescent and rehabilitation.” He hiked up his left pant leg showing the prostatic leg underneath.
“Anyway here’s what we have to offer, eight and a half weeks of basic military training in lovely San Antonio Texas. But wait there is more. We’d like to put you in a SOC platoon. These are guys who are fitter and smarter than the average boot. Most of them want to be PJ’s like me or Combat Controllers or some such. You’ll do a little more PT so the academic classes are run a lot faster. You’ll do a lot more pool work but being a lifeguard that should be less of an issue for you. To be honest boot camp ain’t all that tough and this is just a little tougher.
“Then what?”
“To be honest Iduhno. I’m going around and pitching to guys like you for something special. Not like ape special like mad scientist special, cyber war, financial war. For you I understand you come back and finish college then I don’t know if they send you to office school or what next. Oh and you get $300 a month allowance in school. So are you in?”
James hesitated. “Listen man I don’t know exactly what this is but the people running it are no BS. They been there and done that and most lost the body parts so they don’t need no t-shirt. If it was me I’d jump on it.”
James jumped.
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I’d always said if the group started to make ghillie suits I was out of there so what was the next meeting, making ghillie suits. To my limited mind this was the height of foolishness. Sniping in a rural environment seemed the least likely ‘mission’. The warning order for the training said to bring an old field shirt or coat and binoculars or spotting scopes, notebooks and writing Implements. The order made reference to the ‘Battle of the Cowpens’.
To my limited understanding the Cowpens wasn’t so much a sniper action as a defense in depth and excellent bit of leadership. American General Morgan had in mind to never ask more of his men than they were capable of. Morgan had regulars, militia and riflemen. Back in the day the milita was seen as next to useless and liable to run at or before the first shot. Riflemen not much more reliable with the real fighting done by regulars.
Morgan set two companies of riflemen in skirmish order out front with orders to ‘fire at the big hats’, those being the sergeants and officers. Then to fall back and form up with the militia.
The militia was formed in line in front of the Regulars. The militia, reinforced with riflemen, was to fire two volleys then retreat behind the hill the regulars were on.
The plan worked almost exactly as expected. The riflemen eliminated much of the British leadership. As the British advanced on the militia they mistook the shift to the rear after the second volley as the militia breaking. So they charged intending to sweep the field. But instead of fleeing a broken militia they ran headlong into regulars. Morgan even managed to rally the militia behind the hill marching them around the hill and into the British flank.
The result was a devastating loss for the British.
Back in modern times the make ghillie class was actually somewhat interesting. They showed both the traditional sewing burlap strips on and faux-ghillie using camouflage netting. After lunch we had classes in observing. I found this very useful. They guys teaching had been to some of the higher end civilian ‘sniper’ schools. I learned a lot about what good binoculars or a good spotting scope could do. We spent time glassing areas noting the items seen. We tried peering into windows, look mom Peeping Tom 101! Finally our instructors stalked up on us in ghillie, not sure exactly what that was good for but it was interesting.
The day ended with talk of GOTT’17 , Gathering of the Tribes 2017. It was a 5 daylong event to bring together militia units from several states. One the one hand it could be a lot of fun – on the other it could get way way way sideways really fast. Maybe the voice in my head , er computer, would chime in Gravy and Ratchet were both planning to attend so that was a good sign.
Back at home the wife had chilly on, she was headed out for a hen party of gals playing one of the bizarre card games women play. #1 son was home but soon to head out to see Gravy’s daughter Emily. They were beginning to become a bit of an item. “Where are you going?”
“Saturday night service at her Church then dinner at her folks place. Maybe a late movie. Hey can you help me brush up on my shooting? They’re talking about going to their farm if it’s not too cold tomorrow … “
Now both sons knew how to shoot but #2 was much more into it than #1. “Sure Bud but sounds like you’ll have to be up early”
I figured I’d get contracted during my surfing session that night. Nothing. Damn unreliable mysterious internet presence. I looked up GOTT and it seemed legit. Seems like it would be on public lands in South Dakota. Trailers would be ok but no electric or water. Temps would typically be chilly at night but nice during the day. Well I had my trusty French Army tent. Folks laughed but two simple poles and it was up. The bathtub floor was super thick totally waterproof and the top and walls were extra thick as well.
The was the first campout I will have been on with an assigned radio frequency list …. Well definitely maybe.
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March training was called Sergeant Paul Bunyan training. A guy from the Son’s of Liberty was apparently a Stihl chainsaw dealer and trainer. I’d never seen SOL before but they seemed to prefer the old school olive drab uniforms. This guy was an awesome trainer. We started with how to sharpen axes, chain saws and even bow saws. He demonstrated using hatchets, axes and bow saws to fell trees and then to piece them up. Then we got to practice on real live trees. Well real dead trees in a river bottom.
Over lunch he talked of his time as a hot shot firefighter and smoke jumper out west. He demonstrated the fine art of preparing ‘Smokejumper Spam’ 1. Build small fire if you’re not already in the middle of one 2. Open can of spam 3. Take out knife wipe majority of funk from it 4. Cut deep tic-tac-toe pattern in spam, still in can 5. Liberally sprinkle orange bug juice powder on top of spam, lemonade powder is good too, red is acceptable any other color is an offense against God and nature 6. Work can into the edge of the fire until it begins to sizzle The bug juice will mix with the spam fat to form a glaze of sorts. I took the chance to taste some, quite good.
After lunch we got to use chain saws. He demonstrated why chainsaw chaps are a must, using an old pair of chaps to show how quickly they could stop a saw. He demonstrated a sharp chain vs a dull chain. He demonstrated the green low kick back chain vs the yellow professional chain. He checked out everyone’s saw, my Stihl 290 got a thumbs up, and set us to work. Something manly about using a chainsaw. At the end of the day he demonstrated special carbide saw chain. Where a regular chain dulls when you saw into a nail or into the ground a carbide one keeps right on going. Making them very popular with rescue squads and such. The down side was three fold, first it was expensive, second it was very high potential for kickback and lastly it right though protective chaps.
This was some of the best training we’ve done. Very relevant in my mind to a mission we might actually do. It was somewhat entertaining to see the huffing, puffing and wheezing of the smoking crew. Small of me but there it is. I made a mental note to check out the Sons Of Liberty group.
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The idea for The Network stated as a capstone project with a then Special Forces Major at Naval War College. His thesis was on the value of a civilian militia. As the regular military is prevented from operating in the US. There were numerous militia groups being formed in the US, could these groups be harnessed. The paper earned the Major a the lowest passing grade, B-. Rumor was teh staff was afraid to fail him. The Major didn’t care, he was just punching a ticket to get back to the Special Forces community. It might have ended there but one of the board that reviewed his work was a Navy Captain, a SEAL navy Captain. Who thought to himself hmmmm. The Captain passed it to a Spec Ops general he knew and a high ranking official in Homeland Security. These folks thought to themselves hmmmmm. And so it started. The project was quietly classified and the Major promoted to LtCol and transferred to 19th Special Forces Group in Draper UT.
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The Presidential election was a mess. Several states were won by less than a single percentage point with reports of ‘irregularities’ rampant. Voting machines were inaccurately recording votes, oddly enough all in the same direction. There were precincts with 100%, 102%, even 108% turn out. In other precincts with lines out the door the recorded vote was 30%. By Wednesday morning neither candidate had the required 270 electoral votes. The vote too close to call in what was normally an insignificant state. By Friday morning lawyers from both sides were doing legal battle in earnest. Federal courts often with judges recently appointed by the sitting President made ruling and issued injunctions. Higher courts stayed and reversed. Several states went from decided to recounting. Some states ordered to recount refused to comply.
It was a huge mess. It had not clarified by Thanksgiving. The country took a pause to feast, watch some parades and some football. The country was shocked when it was announced the president would address the nation the evening of Thanksgiving. The NFL frantically worked to reschedule the evening game around the president’s address to the nation from his vacation in Hawaii. It was unlikely the president read from the teleprompter that the election results were unlikely to clarify in the mandated times. Any attempt to force this would make a large portion of the population not accepting of the results. He was there for ordering ALL states to recount the election 100% to be supervised by the justice department. As it would not be legal for the President to carry on beyond the end of his second term and it would be unseemly to turn over power on the 20th of January he would resign on January the 19th with the vice president taking power with the title of President Pro Tempore of The United States.
Pause for feasting, football, parades and shopping over! The internet went WILD! The 24/7 news channels went wild!
I told the wife planned shopping for the following day was canceled, at least until well after daylight and we had a chance to see what was shaking out. I decided to get up early to watch some Fox and see what was shaking. I hauled the bread machine out deciding to set it to have fresh Bimany Bay bread – a dense yeast loaf with whole wheat, oatmeal, eggs and molasses. There was something about early morning news with fresh hot bread and butter. Oh and coffee, hmmmm the jar was low and I had bought myself some Black Rifle Coffee Company Murdered Out Blend, “It's darker than a steer's tuchus on a moonless prairie night."
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Nobody was happy with the solution. But the President, normally feckless and incompetent, was crafty with his plan. He well knew the Supreme Court ,SCOTUS, was a 4 - 4 tie and both sides of the SCOTUS had closed ranks. In a shockingly political move the VP now President Pro Tempore had nominated his party's Presidential candidate to be his Vice President Pro Tempore.
The congress responded by doing nothing. That is the majority party essentially went on strike. Preventing a quorum and stopping all business. It was threatened to have US Marshalls bodily bring Congressmen and Senators to the capital.
The military was in quite a quandary. Who was National Command Authority? Did they follow the orders of the President Pro Tempore of The United States? Could they not follow orders? Several of the Joint Chiefs wondered aloud about resigning to which the Chairman angrily replied he'd have the Sergeant Major of the Army break both their hands so they couldn't sign a resignation letters.
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 30, 2019 21:31:49 GMT -6
Glazed Spam don't sound too bad, just don't ask me to eat it with lima beans. I'm sure it'd bring back memories of ham & mofos. Thanks for postin' more.
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Post by texican on Jan 3, 2020 22:29:13 GMT -6
wtr, Reeving up the coming fracas.... Just when will it start? Thanks for the chapter.... Texican....
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Post by wtr100 on Jan 8, 2020 11:51:49 GMT -6
chapter 9
The Network was the brain child of a Special Forces Major ( Lt Colonel selected ) while a student at the Naval War College. Being the unconventional thinker that SF officers are the Major proposed harnessing the various 'millitia' elements forming up in the states. The Major reasoned while some of these groups were cosplay whannabe's and others were racist whackaloons, many and even most were people of varying levels of skill and motivation, exactly what SF was used to working with. The thesis earned him a B-, the lowest passing grade. It was joked the professors were afraid to give him a lower grade for fear of having their throats cut in the middle of the night. The Major was simply relieved to have this box checked and move on with his life.
One of the instructors reviewing the work was a Navy Commander, in the Judge Advocate General Corps, a lawyer. He was a bit of an outside the box thinker himself and slipped it to an Admiral knew in the Pentagon. Lunches were had, noon time runs were taken, rounds of golf were played and rounds of drinks were downed. The idea morphed some. There would be two parts to The Network. One part would be people inside the government, eyes open , quiet and very unofficial. The others would be outside the government, some of these would be militia members selected for level heads and general good personness others would be retired members of the Spec Ops community. Mostly these would be from Special Forces but commandos and raiders from units such as SEALS, Rangers and the like. They would have special skills and maybe even special equipment in very extreme circumstances.
In theory it would work with the inside the government seeing a situation. Contacting outside the government assets, providing information and requesting action. The outside the government asset gets his group moving. They may link up with other units or with retired assets.
"So what if we pass down a tasking and the militia says 'No'"?
"We'll be no worse off than before and maybe we ought to rethink that tasking."
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I decided to attend GOTT. So I sent for info. The first thing that came back was earlier information was incorrect, trailers were a no go. Pickups with bed campers 'should be able to make it' . A bunkhouse with wood floor , cot and weather proof roof would be available first come first serve for a fee. All vehicles should be 4wd with a minimum ground clearance. There would be a dinner available for a fee each evening BBQ Beef and beans , BBQ Pork with rice and Fried Chicken and corn on the cob were the offerings, with sides , desserts and sweat tea. It was to be an absolutely dry affair as Camp would be a hot range, all guns loaded all the time. Fresh water would be available but 'Some folks systems might object to drinking it so having a quantity of your own drinking water might be to your advantage.'
I registered and got an odd e-mail. It provided directions to a small town in the butt end of South Dakota. In town was a decent 24/7 stop and rob , thought robbing said mini mart in rural SD might be hazardous to a robbers health. At the mini-mart it was recommend to buy any last minute supplies, especially the buffalo jerky, then call the designated short wave frequency for directions andGPS co-ordinates. Again 4wd was pretty much mandatory, trailers were a no go. Travel at night to camp was not recommended. Be sure to close all gates once you pass through them. Cattle has the right of way.
I guess it was time to splurge on one of those BaoFeng radios, hopefully it'll be less than $100 bucks. I shoot an SIM ( secure instant message) to Sparky they militia ham dude. He laughed at my request for a $100 BaoFeng radio. Oh boy I thought , here's an expense I wasn't planning for. He sent me two links, opening the links I found to my great relief a $49 unit and a $69 unit with Sparky recommending the $49 unit being more durable and with a longer battery life and 'simple enough for me to figure out'. Gee thanks pal. He even sent me a discount code and said to call when it arrived and he's help me set it up and 'hack it'.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=- Months Later
The drive out to SD was quite nice. I binge listened to my gun pod casts and subsisted on high protein energy drinks, power bars and beef jerky. I overnighted in a little motel somewhere in eastern South Dakota. The little attached restaurant served a killer beefalo burger with bacon added right into the burger before grinding and cooked over a bed of onions on the grill. Heading from the restaurant to my room I caught a flash of four red jackets in the parking lot getting out of a suburban assault vehicle aka Cadillac Escalade - black of course.
I didn’t think much about it and headed to my room for an evening of finishing up the Civil Affairs manuals I'd been assigned to read. I was afraid it would be dull in the extreme but was actually quite interesting. I never realized the Civil Affairs worked hand in hand with Special Forces before I stated to study training materials about it. The room had crazy fast internet so I killed an hour watching Skinny Medic you tube videos.
Breakfast at the restaurant was typical small town diner excellence, in my case eggs and hash browns smothered gravy with three shakes of tabasco. I could hear my arteries clog as drove away. I could afford to splurge once in a while these days, I was 50 lbs lighter than I had been when the adventure started.
I arrived at the designated small town gas station around noon. As I was firing up the radio I noticed the suburban assault vehicle from the motel with one of the red jacket crew on a radio just mike mine. He flashed me a thumbs up. I got my co-ordinates and decided to check out the store that was more of a small Walmart/General Store than a stop-and-rob.
In the Escalade a large black man got out wearing a bright red jacket and placed a rather snazzy red beret on his head. We met at the door to the store. He said, "I believe we might be headed to the same place."
"Inside the store?" I dead panned.
He hesitated for half a second then laughed loudly, "That too, that too." He stuck out a massive black hand, "Charles Washington, St Louis Guardian Angles'
I took it, wow this dude has a grip. "My nom de millia is Reloads, or you can call me Phil. I run with the Militia " Managing to extract my hand before permanent damage was done, "After you sir."
"I thank you sir. " Entering the store he took a huge sniff spied the ancient coffee pot and headed over. He inhaled deeply again, "Oh now is that some sweet smelling coffee." He selected a large foam cup, poured and took a sip. "Oh yeh, Oh yeh." He finished filling the cup then picked up a pod of creamed examined and held it for me to see. "Now this Mr. Reloads is how you tell a fine establishment. What you have here is real dairy half and half creamer. It comes from a cow like God hisself intended it, not that non-diary who knows what's in it. And not the crime against humanity that is French , carmel , irish flavored stuff." He dumped three pods into his large cup.
We wandered about the store picking up some last minute supplies. I found real pemmican bars. Dried meat and suet and dried berries, made by the local Oglala Lakota tribe. Beef and cherry, bison and cranberry , turkey and peach. The wrapper even joked the last one was 'off the reservation'.
Checking out Charles asked, "Care to join us in some lunch?" He indicated some fast food booths in the Store. "We have a bit of a proposition for you."
Minutes later I was seated in a booth with Charles, Hyme , James and Carlos. Before me was a Bison Brat and a small mountain of fries. "It might come as a surprise to you but we're not exactly outdoors kinda people." Laughter. "We were wondering if you could take a look at our gear. Make sure we don't look like 'those black guys from the city who don't know nothing'."
We talked about their gear. They want back into the store to buy two large tarps, one for under and one for inside their big cabin style tent , and a roll of black Gorilla brand tape. Each also bought a large native made wool blanket and watch cap to supplement the 40 degree sleeping bags they had with them. Each man wore high end Danner Ft Lewis boots , immaculately shined, quality black bdu style pants with heavy nylon riggers belts. Getting well off the 'Guardian Angel' , which strictly forbids firearms, program they had Canik TP9SA pistols in basic paddle holsters and a S&W M+P Sport rifle with three p-mags each. The rifles and pistols looked anything but new. As Hyme put it, "We been training to not embarrass out selves any more than we need to."
We convoyed out to the GOTT site. My truck in the lead with Carlos riding shotgun, Charles driving the Escalade , actually rented , behind me. They weren't kidding about cattle gates once we got off the highway. We had it down to a science quickly, I didn't even stop the truck sometimes. Carlos would jump out run forward and open the gate as I slowly rolled through. He'd jump in as I came though. Hyme would jump out as Charles drove though then run and hope in. It was immature. It was unnecessary. It was a hell of a lot of fun!
We checked in at the GOTT site it was amazing. A flat in a valley with a small river / large stream. We were given a safety brief. The whole area was a hot range, all weapons could be loaded at all times. The firing range was over the hill. In another valley. Water from the stream was drinkable and quite tasty. The 'grub hut' wouldn't be open until tomorrow night. There was mandatory colors at the flag pole in about two hours. We were pointed to the 'camp area' , a large open bit of ground. "One patch is as rocky as the next!"
We decided to camp together. I showed them the trick on one tarp below the tent and one inside. The laughed at my French F1 pup tent. Camp more or less in shape and an hour before colors the 'Angles' decided to work out. In a flash they had knocked out 50 pushups. Then they moved into martial art that looked a lot like the Krav Maga I knew. I joined in and soon we were all working out. It turned out the St Louis Angles trained mostly in Hagana. Charles was fluid and fast as a snake. Turns out he was a rated instructor in Hagana and knew quite a lot about Krav Maga.
By the time 'Colors' rolled around maybe 80 of the 300 expected had arrived. The Dakota Freemen provided the color guard. The Pro Tempore Commander spoke a few words before sending us off.
We set out chairs at camp. The Angles passed out mre's for dinner, I cut up some hot dogs and put a can of pork and beans on my little camp stove. Jokes about me remaining downwind for the night were countered with at least I might be able to visit the pit toilet before the weekend was over.
We talked about the Angles and their safety patrols thought St Louis , not so bad , and East St Louis , really really bad. The Angles had been invited out to GOTT to provide some hand to hand training, boy could they ever do that. But more to bridge the gap not so much in color as in rural , urban and suburban. Charles had a real vision in his head.
I asked if anyone wanted to try some back packer brownies. "Aren't we brown enough?" joked Charles. My expression must have been priceless cause they all howled in laughter. I set some water to boiling. I crushed graham crackers into a zip loc bag and added chocolate chips , instant hot chocolate mix and a teaspoon of instant coffee. With the water at a rolling boil I added a few spoons full to the bag a squiched it around. Not 100% happy with the consistency I dipped the bag into the boiling pot for a few seconds then resumed the squiching.
In my best professorial tone, "The key to proper backpacker brownies is correct squiching." I pressed the slightly molten dough into a thin layer in the bag and allowed it to harden for ten munutes. Using my knife I opened the zip lock cut into five pieces.
"Oh damn that's good." Rumbled Charles. "That little hint of coffee with the chocolate, mmmmmmmmmmmmm"
With that Hyme , James and Carlos began to fish things out of their thigh pockets.
"Oh hell no." Rumbled Charles. It was cigars and cutters and lighters.
"Comm'on we'll stay down wind. Yo Reloads care for a cigar?"
"Sorry, not a fan of them."
From out of the darkness in the next camp. "Hey bring them ceeegarssssssssssss over here, sit and chat for a spell we've about to fire up some stogies our selves."
Hyme , James and Carlos happily took their chairs and smokes over to soon be engulfed in billowing clouds of smoke and deeply involved in cigar talk.
"Hey now don't get this wrong but I noticed you have a USMC Civil Affairs manual. Wasn't snooping just noticed it and it's not the kinda thing most folks read. Does anything odd ever happen with your computer?" Charles was holding a US Army Civil Affairs training manual.
"You mean like instant messages that pop up. Then your computer reboots or shuts off and they're gone?"
"Exactly, are you supposed to be 'met' here.
"Yup..."
"Damn ......."
=========================
US Software companies had used both off shore sub-contractors and foreign nationals on H-1B visa's to save a buck for a long time. Almost always these folks just did whatever job they were paid to do with a varying level of quality but at much reduced price. Sometimes even government projects were done this way. Such was the case for a flight plan entry system for the Dept of Transportation. The project came off only a few months behind schedule, quite good for a government job and not outlandishly over budget. The trouble is some programmers took some side money to leave a backdoor into the system. The back door survived unnoticed for several years, the system not being exactly national security critical. But the ability to spoof a flight plan was there waiting ....
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Post by texican on Jan 8, 2020 21:25:33 GMT -6
wtr,
Grown boys with weapons out in the Dakotas....
Just what could go wrong?.?.?.?
Texican....
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Post by 9idrr on Jan 8, 2020 21:39:31 GMT -6
Startin' with 50 push-ups? As long as I can take 10 days to do 'em. :^)
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Post by texican on Jan 26, 2020 15:27:18 GMT -6
WTR, Two weeks without moar makes the Moar Hounds mentally weak, but most of them are in a constant state of mental weakness that is abated for a short period after getting to read one of your chapters.... Now where was I? See it even impacts me.... Have mercy on the Moar Hounds and help to eradicate their mental weakness even if for a shot period of time.... Thanks.... Texican....
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Post by sniper69 on Mar 28, 2020 10:12:39 GMT -6
wtr -hope all is well, and look forward to more of your great story.
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Post by texican on Mar 29, 2020 0:04:40 GMT -6
wtr -hope all is well, and look forward to more of your great story. Agree.... WTR, please post and tell your redears how you are doing. Texican....
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Post by wtr100 on Jun 3, 2020 11:55:06 GMT -6
Checking in , getting back to it
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Post by texican on Jun 3, 2020 18:50:11 GMT -6
Checking in , getting back to it wtr, It is good that you are still out there and doing ok. Texican....
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Post by bunyip on Jul 19, 2020 4:33:24 GMT -6
Keep writin' this and I'll keep readin' it. Thanks. Ditto here. If a story could be described as 'moorish', this is one of them. BZ.
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Post by wtr100 on Jul 30, 2020 7:32:58 GMT -6
--------------------------------------------------------------- After the official opening of Gathering of the Tribes, complete with 12 pound Napoleon cannon salute courtesy of the Montana Freemen, Charles and I headed behind the Grub Shack as instructed. Maybe a dozen guys where there when a short stocky guy in Carhart jeans, faded navy blue t-shirt, faded Chicago Cubs hat worn backwards and battered Wiley-X sun glasses arrived.
“Youse guyz here fer the graduate programs”
Nods and mumbled agreement.
The guy had a beard that looked like it would need to be shaved with a weed eater and a wad of Copenhagen snuff in his lower lip the size of a tootsie roll. “Ahn youse gots yer tech and pack and all de udder stuff ewes spozed to have? Den weze off.”
He hoisted a battered ALICE pack and headed up a little goat path over a hill and down into the next valley. In the valley was a battered F350 diesel truck, a cattle trailer and a bigger dude in faded 5.11’s , equally faded “Club Git ‘mo” t-shirt. “Welcome gents. We’re going to take a little ride maybe half an hour. He back of the truck has no shade but less dust, The trailer has more dust and more shade.”
Charles and I and some other dude ended up in the bed of the truck, while the rest piled into the trailer. The ride was almost exactly 30 minutes and I figure it took us 5 – 7 miles. We pulled up at some old cattle run in sheds. One was a thee sided affair with 4 small tents set up inside, the other had no sides but did have a blue tarp stretched across part of one side.
Two burly guys were waiting for us. “Ok dump your **** over here in the shade then grab a chair from the back of the truck.”
“Ok you guys have been watched for a while. What you’ve been watched for is something called ‘The Network’. Now don’t get all hibbly gibbly on me. The Network is a bunch of men in and out of the government. The idea is to help protect the homeland using retired military and leveraging the militia movement that’s growing up. Now we’ve weeded out the nut cases and whanna be’s and racist whackos. What’s left if you and guys like you. Impressive are you not?”
Laughter.
“Ok you’ve all been studying the Civil Affairs material we’ve been sending you. You role is somewhat like a military Civil Affairs officer except you’ll be coordination ex-military folks and local militia and patriot groups. We’re going to spend next few days in a Finishing School of sorts. We’re going to set you up with some comms. They’re yours to keep. There is no bill and no data limit but try to keep the Filipino donkey porn to a minimum.”
Chuckles.
“Seriously these don’t look like much but they’re pretty high speed low drag. They have an amazing battery life and are lightning fast. If you go off the reservation it’ll self-destruct! Ok no, it won’t but it will stop working. Also if the authorities shut down the cell networks these will still work. Cool huh? Questions?”
“So you give us orders to carry out through those things?”
“Not so much orders as suggested tasking’s. If you get something that is illegal or doesn’t smell right to you, don’t do it. Worst thing we can do is cut you off. You must not do anything that violates the Constitution. Many of you are Oath Keepers as am I.”
“We’re not all there is are we?” I asked.
“Not by a long shot. How many are there? I have no idea.”
He went into more details and man by man we became hooked on the program. We spent the next few days doing role playing civil affairs operations and were back at the main camp in time for the big evening meal.
It was bittersweet when the program ended and we went our separate ways.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++
Officer Kayla Washington was rethinking her decision to become a police officer. At 28 she found herself with a Masters of Arts degree in Urban Studies, a quarter million dollars in college debt and no job. The jobs she could find would shortly be found out by the banks who would put a serious lien on the income. She found a federal program to become a police officer. The program would halt payments on the loan so long as she worked as a law enforcement officer her loan payments would be suspended along with her federal income taxes and after 10 years the loan would be forgiven.
Kayla figured with her advanced academic degree after checking the box at the police academy she wouldn't be wasted as a plain street cop long. She's probably be an administrator or assistant to the Chief or Superintendent doing grant requests or studies. Perhaps her background in Urban Studies would allow her to develop innovative strategies for the department.
Her time at the Academy was awful. The marching , what was this the Napoleon era? The running and exercises at 7:00 am, she only passed the pullups part of the PT test by the grace of a sister recruit. Each fudged for the other that they could complete one pullup. Kayla actually liked shooting her handgun a little bit, especially when they swapped her to the slightly smaller Glock 19. It wasn't something she'd do on her day off with her own money but was kinda fun. Shooting the AR15 was not as much fun, too heavy and the targets too far away. The 12 gauge Benneli shotgun was awful. It kicked so hard. Worse was the weapon retention and hand-to-hand classes that left her bruised and sweating. Law classes weren't too bad if way below her vast intellect. They didn’t write papers on what the law meant but simply how to recognize violations of existing law. Maybe once on her feet go back to law school she thought.
Once 'on the force' her Sergeant and training officer had other ideas. Remedial combative and retention either before or after a tour. She was only allowed day and evening shifts long after her classmates began to go out with training officers on the dreaded but very exciting over-night shift.
The sergeant and training officer were writing up paper work to release Kayla at the end of her probationary period before she killed someone or herself but word came down from the top that this wasn't happening. At a loss they paired her with one of the most street savvy and experienced officers in hopes some of it would rub off and she wouldn't get herself killed.
Nick wasn't a bad guy for a white man Kayla thought. The brothers had respect for him, didn't exactly like him but showed respect. On the Mexican side of town he was actually well liked. It was only with difficulty he could pay for a cup of strong coffee or his favorite Chorizo Torta sandwich from one of the street carts.
They were in the 'hood' tonight, one of the Indian or was it Pakistani she could never tell them apart, little smoke, booze and junk food shops was being harassed by some young 'darker men' as the dispatchers called them. They arrived and found one huge black man bellowing in the shop like a bull. Nick went in and almost had him calmed and walked out when the man suddenly became enraged and charged knocking Nick to the ground and attempting to pound his head into the floor.
Kayla had her ASP baton out in an instant but her lack of training failed her at this point. She swung the flexible metal baton in a fairly feeble manner and managed only a glancing blow. Instead if distracting him with intense pain he got up and darn near roared, Kayla dropped the baton.
The perp charged giving her a hard straight arm to the chest knocking her backward and off her feet. He turned back to the stunned Nick on the ground intending to stomp his head in.
It was like a dream Kayla was up an her Glock 19 was out. She'd whacked her head on the ground she was wobbly and her eyes weren't well focused.
Somebody had come into the store and was now videotaping with a ubiquitous high end cell phone. The intrepid videographer couldn't see officer Nick sprawled helpless on the ground. "Don't shoot him! He gots no gun!"
Training totally failed Kayla at this point. With the roaring monster back to her and about to stomp her partner she never said a word. She dumped 16 rounds in the general direction of the crazed black man only managing three hits from a distance of 15 feet. One grazed his left side near the ribs, another dug a gouge in the right bicep. The final Federal 124 gr HST hit him perfectly at the base of the skull. Her lack of height and the perps excess height drove the bullet at an upward angle through the skull. Blowing a large chunk of forehead out killing him instantly, quite likely saving officer Nick's life.
It was all caught on high definition, image stabilized digital video. "You killed him. You didn't have to kill him. He's black just like you why did you shoot him!"
"I'm Sorry. I'm Sorry. I'm Sorry. I'm Sorry.", Kayla wailed.
At that point more officers poured into the store. The videographer sensing she had something big immediately uploaded the video to the cloud and shared it on her You Tube page. She just locked her phone before police began to question her.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The video out of full context was damning. It appeared to show a police officer shooting a man in the back with no warning. The video was copied and recopied. Text messages were sent and professional agitators packed bags and made travel plans. The press didn't make things better - playing the video essentially on a loop. Their 'experts' used to add color to the action were by and large self-aggrandizing former police bureaucrats.
=====================================
It was hot in North central Mexico. Easily as hot as most of their home countries. The plane and its crew had arrived and was inside the old hanger. About half the brothers had arrived for the grand martyrdom mission. News from the great satin peaked the leaders interest. Riots over police killing. The city was less than 200 miles from the intended target, 200 miles closer in fact …
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Post by wtr100 on Jul 30, 2020 7:35:46 GMT -6
The Leader was keenly interested in a message from Tehran, sources in the Great Satan believed a city not 150 miles from the intended target was going to erupt into riots over a police officer shooting a criminal. He’d never understand the Americans. The sources said the riots were set to last 3 or maybe 4 days, how sources the length of a riot would last was confusing but often as not they were correct. He had a problem at this point, he could switch targets and jump early. This wasn’t the planned target, it was roughly half the size of the original target, the bothers hadn’t planned for this city and only half the bothers has arrived at the jump off site in Mexico. The head pilot said it was easily in range of the aircraft, actually a bit closer. With fewer men onboard he could load more fuel, equating to a bigger boom. He could easily reach the original target for his martyr run once he dropped the brothers. The runway at the new airport was long enough and the airport itself was ‘international’ so they hack into the air traffic control system should work.
Part of the leader’s mind screamed to stick with the plan. He watched some you tube videos of recent riots. It was sooo tempting. He did the Salat-l-Istikhara hoping to get some guidance. In the morning he called his unit leaders -giving them the new city the operation would be the following evening. They were to use their 'surfaces' find new targets for their units then brief back. To one of his Lieutenants, the one who spoke some Spanish , "Ask our hosts if they can provide American police uniforms."
An hour later, "They can if the quality of the fit is not important. I asked them provide them to us. They recommended we trade weapons with them. They will trade us one for one AK's for AR15's. Most of these come from something called 'Fast and Furious' they claim the Great Satin gave rifles to them. "
"Seems a good idea. Make the arrangements."
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Harm brewed a double strong cup of Black Rifle Coffee Company 'Murdered Out' from a fresh bag. The smell was one of life's true pleasures. He half-filled a much battered stainless steel mug and added a tablespoon of coconut oil and a tablespoon of butter then mixed vigorously with a spoon to make bullet proof coffee. His gig at the NSA was a cushy one. He could veg out and watch internet videos all day if he wanted to. Truth be told every once in a while he did just that but only once a month or so. Today he was checking google searches on the Black Lives Matter riots that might or might not explode. His money and the money of his colleagues was explode. NSA hadn't been given direct access to Googles data and hadn't been allowed to attempt a hack, well as far has harm knew they hadn't.
The Germans now, those cleaver Germans had hacked Google, but the US wasn't allowed to hack the Germans either. Allies and what not. The Russians, they hadn't managed to hack Google either but had managed to hack the Germans who had hacked Google. So Harm had access to some data Google would prefer he not have. He suspected both the Germans and the Russian knew from time to time the Americans spied on Google this way, but since everyone hated Google they allowed it.
Harm did a heat map to visualize the searches on the soon to be rioted city just to see if there were any surprises. There was. Why was there a hot spot in butt end of nowhere Mexico. He took a long pull on his coffee, man that was good. Harm wrote a quick query to pull a bunch of data for really dive into, while it was running he set up his pot to brew three normal cups of Murdered Out. He was on to something and needed more fuel but didn't need to caffeinate to the bejezus belt.
Wow there were a lot of separate devices in that one area doing a lot of searches. He shot a quick IM to a SatRecon guy who knew that area of Mexico. What the heck was there? Answer - 'Can I get some of your coffee?'
'Yes, now what's there?'
'Be up in a minute.'
Harm growled and looked at the type of queries. They were google map searches. He was able to follow the thread of the searches. They started with the Airport, that was odd the Airport was maybe 12 miles from where the riots were expected. Were they thinking of smuggling drugs or illegals in under cover of the riots? Why do that? After taking office one of her first actions as president was to make the border as porous as a spaghetti strainer.
Wham! Wham! At the door was SatRecon coffee moocher.
"If you weren't in that wheel chair I'd kick your mooching butt ..."
"Yeah, well I'd roll over your toes if they weren't stainless steel. Now fill 'er up" He extended a possibly more battered vacuum mug. Taking a deep swig of rich black coffee, "Oh man that's the stuff. Ok at that site is pretty much nothing. An abandoned Mexican Airforce base with a long runway. A pretty decent cell tower a few miles off, fast 4G data service. Not really a heck of a lot."
"Alright man how much lead time to do a 'focus and calibration' on the site."
"Two hours maybe less, gunna need it?"
"Duh'no. Prolly not."
"Well if it's something that can get us in trouble you know where to find me. Top me off for the road?"
The wheeled coffee guzzler had made off with two of his three cups of fresh coffee.
Harm would send the standard reports up the chain in a few minutes but first he clicked <ctrl> <alt><t><p> to open a secret Instant Message protocol. He'd passed a few things up this way before and nothing ever happened. This time the reply was almost immediate.
THIS IS OF GREAT INTEREST WORK TOP PRIORITY PASS INFO UP YOUR CHAIN WILL MONITOR VIA YOUR CHAIN STAND BY FOR FURTHER TASKING BZ
Woah that was fast.
Harm set to work informing his chain of command ....
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Post by wtr100 on Jul 30, 2020 7:37:56 GMT -6
He’d worked with the DEA since being honorably discharged from the Wounded Warrior Battalion. He picked up a third fluent language, Spanish and with this picked up a gig with the DEA monitoring all sorts of traffic from north central mexico. He spent hours listening to sped up audio , like listing to Speedy Gonzales , of cell phone intercepts and reading text messages from cartels. Today they were all bent out of shape over costumes. Now over the years he’d heard lots of odd stuff. There was the time one of the Jeffe’s little cousins was sick and wanted a particular kind of ice cream that had been discontinued. The messages flew fast and furious as sicarios and other assorted thugs scoured the country looking for that particular flavor of ice cream and ended up with a good squad in black escalades rolling into the ice cream factory and forcing them to produce a batch of that flavor at gun point! They could move lightening quick like that or it could take until monyanna …
The watch before turned over something about costumes. He listened to some of it and read through some texts. Then dug back the day before. Not costumes the original request was for uniforms. Odd they didn’t wasn’t the customs and border patrol or TSA uniforms. They wanted plain old police uniforms, odd. They needed a lot of them, so would costumes work. Still not enough. Jackets with ‘Police’ could be sewn together at a local sweat shop. That seems to be the solution. He did some wrangling to look at a couple pictures texted from one cartel flunky to another. It was from those BLM riots, must have been cops called in on short notice. The jacket was a basic blue wind breaker with an embroidered star/badge on the front and POLICE on the back. The second picture was the hasty replica, the badge was crude and silver instead of yellow / gold and the lettering was even cruder, the wrong size and white instead of yellow but from a distance... Better or maybe worse it seemed to meet the needs and 50 would be enough.
Why would fifty druggies want raid jackets around a race riot? He’d boot this up the chain but first there was that other place that wanted tipped off. He wasn’t sure what it was all about but when his old Forces Buddy said it was important he believed. So <ctrl><alt><3><5> opened a message box. He didn’t even think that above the 5 key was the % - so it could be read Control Alt Three Percent ….
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Post by wtr100 on Jul 30, 2020 7:39:58 GMT -6
The retired Col puzzled the events in Mexico. The spike in google map and google earth traffic from butt end of no place Mexico. Then there was somebody franticly making 50 replica police raid jackets for a drug cartel in the area. He looked at the empty coffee pot and the bag of Black Rifle Blunderbuss Brew but decided on tea. Not the Lipton tea from the grocery store his tea was supplied by the retired head of India’s Naval Commandos. They’d trained together and darn near drown on the last time. The tea was strong and black, the Col took it Indian style with a shot of whole milk.
As the Col drank his tea the source for the information on the ‘Google spike’ reported more information he gathered his own from a closer look at the searches. It seemed like they started at the Airport well away from the riots and then radiated out some towards the riots others way ending at hospitals, a power plant and a factory / industrial district.. He got a really bad feeling. He opened a message window to his much abused deputy.
“I see it and I don’t get it either. The cartel couldn’t have a whole jet at that airfield could they? Is that runway even still functional?“
“Let me see if I can get a tasking to look at it, hell maybe I can just get somebody to drive out there and look around. Take a note for me, feasibility of expanding The Network to Mexico and Canada heck maybe the Caribbean too. Can you put a bug in the ear of some of our contacts in the official chain?”
The Col got some other big brains in on the problem and tried to get either a tech recon or even a live person to drive up to check out the old airfield. He got a report back from on Google Spike. There were about 50 separate devices searching google maps and google earth. About two thirds of the devices were cheap Chinese smart cell phones of a type not imported to the US but widely available in the sand box. The other third of the devices was cheap Chinese tablets, again of a type not imported to the US but widely available in the sand box.
The tech/satellite recon was going to take some time. Darn the laws of physics and orbital dynamics . A message from his deputy opened.
“Official chain is notified and somewhat interested but are a wee pre-occupied. They think maybe upward of 2,000 ‘spontaneous demonstrators’ are arriving in town for the peaceful demonstrations that Black Lives Matter is ginning up. Intel points to some real bad actors. The Governor has called out the National Guard. At the same time the President has her Justice Department doing their best to de-nut the Guard. I hear they’re even individually contacting the Guard Officers and threating er educating them personally. At this point I’d think the Chief of Police might welcome our raid jacketed mystery crew as reinforcements.”
A thought was lurking somewhere in the Col’s mind but it wouldn’t form. He was out of tea so decided to brew some Blunderbuss Brew coffee. What would the Cartel be doing in the middle of America. What could they steal or smuggle in or smuggle out that would be worth the effort and expense. He messaged a Network contact at the FAA asking if there were flights from Mexico to the city of interest.
The contact said most flights to the city had been canceled period and nothing international was inbound for days.
It was getting on dinner time and the Col thought about heading home. Hell he’d just flip channels watching the riots, here he had multiple monitors. He called to the security post and told the Sergeant on duty there to call to a small Korean joint to deliver an order of beef and green beans, an order of the ‘off menu’ kim chi and to order dinner for himself and put it on the Col’s tab.
The FAA contact got to thinking what was flying towards a city expected to be in a riot. He found a 707-320F , a freight hauler from Texas. He did some research and there had never been a cargo flight between these airports. A little more research showed flights from the Texas airport almost always went to the West Coast. Something didn't look right about the flight plan. A little more digging and a call to a friend in 'IT'. There was something definitely wonky. There was no record of a take-off and the log numbers were not in the right range. Alarm bells went off in the FFA man's head, that flight hadn't existed an hour ago and a flight from Mexico City to Denver disappeared.
How the heck had that happened? What he didn't know a several parts of the air traffic control system had been outsourced by American companies to off-shore companies in India. Some of the Indian programmers had made a few extra dollars leaving some back doors into this system. These had only rarely and very very carefully been used before then left dormant.
The FAA man opened the secure messenger to The Network, alerting the Col. He tried to alert his supervisor. She looked at it and declared it to be nothing, this part of the ATC system wasn't 100% perfect and the 707-320F was following a valid flight plan ....
The Col. took the FAA man's report. Maybe something in the nearly thermonuclear, special off menu kim chi brought the Col mind into focus. What if it wasn't drug cartel smuggling in or out? What if it was some flavor of jehadi? What kind of hell could they raise? They could attack the police, they could commit atrocities dressed as police and really throw gasoline on the riots. The hit the emergency 'all hands' to his deputies as he searched the database for the nearest resource. Charles Washington with the Guardian Angles. The Col. tried to raise him via secure IM.
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It was cold and crowded on the floor of the cargo plane. But everyone was excited. Even though this wasn't the original target is was a opportunity not to be missed. The AR15 rifles felt strange but for their purposes should be more than enough.
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Charles and I were chatting on line. He'd crossed the river and was assisting an up and coming Angles Force. They had managed to turn a few whanna be rioters away from a residential area the night before. Charles was nervous, word on the street was tonight was going to be the Big Show. The media had time to arrive in force along with seasoned rioters from all over the country.
"Hey man are you packing?"
Charles replied, "I know my permit isn't valid here. Holy carp, the Col is IM me direct and the box is flashing big and red. Gotta go."
>>> Charles this is the Col, I have a Network Tier 1 Tasking for you
<< Rodger that sir, standing by
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Post by cavsgt on Jul 30, 2020 11:40:16 GMT -6
Thank You Thank You Thank You Hell of a story, keep it up.
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Post by travelerii on Jul 30, 2020 19:41:43 GMT -6
All the recent agitator actions had me worrying about possible scenarios. And the author puts all my fears down on paper. Thanks a lot. Now I'm really worried.
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Post by bunyip on Jul 30, 2020 22:02:04 GMT -6
Thank You Thank You Thank You Hell of a story, keep it up. Ditto that, BZ.
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