A Solemn Oath

[2t2crash]

I started this a while ago, it's my first attempt at writing anything. It's based off real people and their personalities, the majority are Veterans.

*WARNING* there will be a fair amount of foul language and will read like a bunch of military are talking though I have cleaned up a LOT out of what our real conversations sound like.

feedback welcomed.

1
What a beautiful night it was in the Pacific Northwest, mid-summer, clear skies and a comfortable 65 degrees out. It was another get-together with the family veterans: my brother Jake and cousin Corey the Marines, Brad the Army grunt and then my wife Raquel and I… the Zoomies, or Air Force Veterans. We were the current generation of warfighters from a line that boasted military service during the Civil War, WWI, WWII, Vietnam, and the four of us in either Iraq or Afghanistan… or both. All made it home after their different wars. I don’t know what it was about our bloodline, just blessed I guess. Papa was infantry in WWII and fought
across Europe and I wish he was alive today to share in the stories around camp fires, but cancer is a bitch… f*** cancer.

“Jim what the f*** are you doing? Play a fucking card!” Corey interrupting my thoughts, but I was holding up the game.

Corey was 35, stocky with short cropped hair, a sandy colored beard and the shortest of us at 5’8”. He had served four years as a Combat Engineer in the Marines, with a deployment under his belt where he had spent much of his time sweeping roadways with a mine detector. He had the shortest temper of us all, and when push came to shove he brawled with reckless abandon that could get you punched on accident if you were trying to help even the odds in a fight. He was also quick to laugh and have a good time and like the rest of us he had a twisted sense of humor that gets developed when you join the military and spend way too much time facing possible death.

Jake was two years younger than me, with brown hair, brown eyes and a squared off jaw. He was the tallest of us three brothers, standing at 6’2” and 200lbs. He had enlisted right after graduating high school, joining the Marines as well. He had been a helicopter Avionics tech, working on Hueys and Cobras. He spent nine years in the USMC with a tour to Iraq and two to Afghanistan. Generally he was pretty reserved and wore a facial look that most took for a scowl but when people got to know us brothers they just realized it was something we all did. It was unintentional but gave off a “Don’t mess with me” look.
Brad was the youngest at 30, 6 foot even and a thin 175lbs of lean muscle. He had gone to college and gotten a BS in Information Technology and Security, then much to our dismay he Enlisted in the Army… as an Infantryman. He’s ten years younger than I am and tends to be withdrawn and quiet, always appearing to be deep in thought but I guess that is what happens when you spend a year in combat overseas. He had deployed to Afghanistan late in the war when we had decided to take the gloves off and fight ISIS rather than stay within the confines of the base walls. Though we tried to get information out of him and help him talk through some of the things that might be haunting him he rarely gave us much. What he did do was give the rest of us tips on shooting as well as teach us some of what he had learned while in the Army, it was fun.

And then there’s me. The oldest, shortest at 5’10” and definitely the one with the least hair and fattest. I had joined the Air Force a year after graduating high school and gone into Logistics loading cargo onto planes. After 13 years of pushing heavy equipment onto planes took its toll on my body I had gotten out, you can’t be useful if your back and knees are busted up and you can’t pass a fitness test anymore. I had 4 deployments under my belt, but only one “real deployment” according the other guys. Jake and I had been in Iraq at the same time, just at different bases. I can’t complain though, the USAF is where I met my wife Raquel, she had been in the same career I was in but she had been medically discharged after a pretty bad fall that damaged her back. She was a 5’2” Filipina that had enlisted alongside her brother right after they had moved to America. She had a temper that would impress a redheaded woman and was smart as hell. How I managed to grab her attention I don’t know but I knew I was blessed for it.

The card game… We were playing an old card game called FUBAR. A game made by veterans similar to Cards Against Humanity where each player held cards with different ridiculous things on them that were funny as hell if you understood the original context, or weird and deranged if you didn’t.
I threw my card down. “Here you go, you fucks!”

My wife had laid out the topic card and proceeded to shuffle then read out loud the cards we had turned in. “The topic is Why I punched that Afghan. The cards are: Discovering the coffee maker is broken, HEH… a Care package full of dildos. Drinking before noon, that is so you Corey… aaaand. Accidentally putting on your jizz sock… what the hell is a Jizz Sock?”

Everyone fell out laughing except for Raquel of course. Brad had to run to the bathroom before he pissed himself, Jake looked like he was having a seizure and Corey was laughing so hard he was crying, meanwhile I was having trouble breathing from laughing so hard. “Babe… a Jizz sock. Deployed. Masturbating.”

“EW!” Raquel had a disgusted look on her face for half a second. “The coffee maker wins it!”

“f***!”

“Awe man.”

“I thought I had that with the sock”

Brad had just stepped back outside “Booya bitches! I won the round and the game!”

I looked around, “Want to play again?” My wife shook her head no and yawned. “I’m going to sleep. Nobody drives home tonight since you are all drunk as hell and if anyone wakes me or the kids up I have my 9 in the room.”

~~~~

It was a few hours after Raquel had gone to bed and we had wisely relocated to my garage to stare at my Jeep and BS about something near and dear to us: Guns. We all had our different tastes. I liked old stuff, WWII. Jake just wanted magazine fed and topped with an ACOG, Brad loved his AR platforms and suppressors. Corey was spur of the moment with what he thought was interesting at the time of purchase.
Corey had been moving towards my safe so I knew what was coming next. “Jim let’s see your new toy… I know you got it finally and I haven’t seen it.”
Everyone had stopped drinking an hour ago and had switched to water, so I figured “what the hell, why not?” I dialed in the combo and opened the door to reveal a safe jam packed with guns, ammo and other crap I had collected over the years. Front and center stood my newest addition… a Semi-Auto M1919A4 Browning machine gun.

Jake sat back and laughed “and you say I buy stupid shit… what in the f*** are you going to do with a semi-auto belt fed that weighs a fucking ton?”

I looked at him with a smile “Shoot Bambi… duh!”

While I had been going back and forth with Jake, Brad had Corey had lugged out the Browning and laid it out on my work bench. They had the bipod extended, top cover open and were going through it muttering to each other. Brad looked up at me and smiled “When are we shooting this fucker?”

They all looked at me expectantly and I sighed. “We’ll have to go out to one of the forests, I don’t feel like hearing the range masters bitch and give their opinion on what I should be able to own… oh and you assholes better bring some of your .308 because it’s not all coming out of my reloads”. Though it was still legal to own the “assault weapons” and my Browning the political tides were changing in the area. Liberal progressives had continued to flood the PNW and push their views into politics. Taxes on non “Eco-Friendly” vehicles had tripled, diesel fuel had hit a disgusting $5 per gallon, cities like Seattle had all but banned gun ranges and stores as well as elect politicians who belonged to the no-shit Communist party. We all hated it but when you have solid jobs and family all around you it is hard to up and move to another state.

2.
It had been a few weeks since we had all gotten together for cards and drinks. We had gone out to the forest and messed around with our guns but it was just for a few hours. Brad had taught us how to add the MG into the mix with some of our squad movements, it was a nice relaxing time.

I was at home flipping through the local news stations when an alert caught my eye.
    KING5 NEWS: “The President has just passed into law I-781 which bans all semi-automatic rifles with detachable magazines and other feeding devices in excess of 5 rounds. Additionally the private ownership of     more than 25 rounds of ammunition of any caliber is deemed a threat to local and national security. Local and Federal law enforcement agencies will establish collection points as well as conduct house to house     visits for firearms turn in.”
I sat in shock and stared at my television. The political nature in the US had been divided severely and it seemed as both parties took turns putting forth candidates that leaned more and more towards the outer fringes of their political ideals. The fact that the sitting president was rabidly anti-gun had not gone un-noticed by staunch Second Amendment supporters and now it appeared we had all been put in a precarious position.

Just then my phone buzzed with a text notification from my Uncle. He was a Vietnam veteran, he had been a Marine and seen some shit during the war. We all looked up to him.

BOYS. MY PLACE. NOW

That was the extent of the text. Short. Simple. Not a request.

I ran to the other room and gave my wife a kiss. She could tell something was wrong just by looking at me. “Honey I have to go to Uncle Leo’s, go watch the news and you’ll understand. I’ll be back in a while”. With that I grabbed my keys and helmet and hopped on my Harley for a quick ride to my Uncles. He lived alone and had a large front yard but I knew space would fill up for parking and the bike was the easiest way to get a spot. I tried to bury the thoughts of WHAT IF that boiled in my mind as I put on my helmet. The rumble of the Harley as I started it up helped clear my head. The empty streets during the 5 minute ride made the neighborhood seem like a ghost town and it gave me the chills.

I pulled into the yard to park and I noticed I wasn’t the first there, a few of my other family had already arrived. A lifted red GMC 2500, a grey chevy and a silver Nissan were already there. The Vietnam Vets/Family patriarchs must have been hanging out again at the time of the announcement on TV.

As I pulled my helmet off and hopped off my bike a big green Jeep pulled in and slammed on the brakes, leaving two nice gouges in the grass… Uncle Leo will give my brother Jake hell for it I thought to myself. He got out of his vehicle looked around, then leaned in and pulled out his AR15. Always the dramatic one.

“What in the hell do you need that for Jarhead?”


“f*** you.”

“WOAH… alright, but have fun explaining the trenches you left in Uncle’s lawn.”

We walked up to the door and before we could knock we were greeted with a loud “COME IN!”. I held the door open and gave a mock bow “After you Ma’am.” My brother gave me a light shove as he walked past me, grinning the whole time. The response from the old men in the room was immediate. “Fucking Marines!” my Uncle Bill exclaimed. Larry gave his light chuckle and shook his head and Leo gave a scowl “Way to go, now anyone interested knows you just walked in here with a damn assault rifle after it was just announced they are now illegal!”.

Uncle Leo and Uncle Bill were in their late seventies, both had snow white hair and were a little worse for wear but still hiked the hills during elk season like they were 30… well okay maybe 50. Larry was a friend of Leo and Bill and like them had served in the military during Vietnam. Uncle Leo had served almost two tours in Vietnam while he was in the Marines. He had officially been a “Ground Radio Repairman” but in all honesty, that was the most buttered over description of what he had done in those jungles. He was like a god to my generation and we knew he had seen serious combat while over there.
I turned to watch the ongoing news coverage as Jake received his ass chewing. The streets in major liberal cities had begun to fill with crowds of people. ANTIFA and other sects of the far left had never been one to miss a good reason to gather and cause chaos, how the hell they managed to get away with it for so long was beyond me but it seemed the passing of a nationwide gun ban was the perfect opportunity. Local footage of Seattle showed a group of idiots blocking I-5, challenging drivers to try and get through.

My chain of thought was broken as two vehicles arrived at the same time, my cousin Matthew and Corey in Matt’s truck, and my brother Brad in his mini cooper of all things. They all walked in and we settled down to see just what we had all been called over for.

“Boys” Uncle Leo started, then gave a pause as he took a deep breath. “I’m sure you all saw the news announcement about the gun ban, and the shit storm that is building. I might not be effected as far as the firearms listed because I only own hunting rifles and a couple shotguns but this bothers me as much as I’m sure it bothers you all.” He looked around as we nodded, all disturbed by the implications of what had been announced. “I think this is just the start of things to come and I want us all on the same page in case things get really crazy. I think we all need to work together and plan on the possibility of having to get the hell out of here.
I know it’s a tough thing to consider but you each need to decide if you are going to turn in your guns and follow these new laws or fight it. I’m old and my family is grown so it’s an easy decision for me. Us older generation have kicked around the decision of where to go if we need to leave and we have decided that our elk camp is a good spot to start.
We have all raised our hands and taken the Oath of Enlistment, which I personally intend to uphold if necessary, search your hearts and make your choices with no judgment from any of us”.

I looked around at the others, some nodded, others stared in deep thought. This was a serious shit sandwich.

We all stuck around for a while longer discussing what we thought and had pretty much realized none of us were going to surrender our weapons or freedom that we had all spent precious years of our lives to defend, many of us burying friends. It was a daunting thought. The five of us younger generation convened at our trucks for a quick chat. I broke the ice.
“Guys I think we need to get our kits in order and have a bag drag, as well as go over what we should have pre-positioned so that we can hook up, meet up and then get the hell out in a hurry if needed.”

Mathew looked at me questioningly “What the hell is a bag drag?”. Matt had enlisted in the Army with a Special Forces contract but a week prior to shipping out had an automobile accident that left him with both leg bones broken just above the ankle which had ruined that opportunity. A lot of our lingo went over his head.

“I’ll tell you later Cuz, let’s get home to our families and enjoy the potential fights over the plan.”

Not all of the wives were thrilled about the prospect of getting out of town, a couple of the group had serious fights over it. Raquel on the other hand was on the same page as I was but she had a couple of conditions. “My sister, nephew and my cousin are coming if they want to. Those spots are Non-negotiable”. Her sister was a nurse in Seattle and I’d be surprised if she and her son joined us. Her cousin on the other hand was more than willing and ready to join. He had served in the Navy as a Corpsman during the height of the Iraq war and had seen more blood and combat than many of us.

[texican]

2T2,

Good start....

Moar would be great....

Texican....

[2t2crash]

3.
A week after the meeting at our Uncles we younger generation had reconvened to get a game plan together and inspect our setups. This time we had a few extra bodies with us and we made the introductions. I started first:

“Guys, this is my cousin Ryan, he was a Corpsman and was there during the thick of Fallujah as well as the second battle of Ramadi, and this is my neighbor Jose, he was a Recon Marine and Air Force Combat Controller.” Ryan was 5’8” with dark islander skin, deep brown eyes and a constant smile on his face, Jose on the other hand was 5’5”, broad shouldered and had a no nonsense look about him… he was like a Pitbull; intimidating as hell, built like a brick out-house and yet if you knew him well enough you’d know he was the best friend you could ever ask for.

Corey’s friend stepped forward and looked at Ryan “Doc Rios?! HOLY SHIT!” The two had not seen each other before we had circled up and much to all of our surprise they both stepped forward and gave an emotional hug. “Guys Doc saved my life in Ramadi! Holy hell what a small world! If Doc is coming, then I’m all in with you guys.”

Corey looked around. “Guys this is my friend Zach Smith, he was an Oh-Three-Eleven Rifleman and fought in Ramadi, obviously.”

Zach was a slim figure and weighed in around 150lbs, stood at 5’9” and had a tired look behind his eyes. His lip was bulged with his ever-present pinch of tobacco and his head was covered with thick yet short cut black hair. He and I had been friends since our introduction by Corey five years prior.

Brad looked around. “Well we have a bunch of Crackers, a couple of Filipinos, and a Mexican…. At least the Liberals won’t be able to brand us as a group of white power assholes.”
Everyone laughed.

Before we could get down to business we were interrupted by the sound of metal banging off the concrete coming from my workshop.

Jake looked at me curiously “What the f*** was that?”

“Oh just a little project Dad is working on, come see.”

Backed into the workshop of mine was my truck, an early model Ram 2500 powered with a Cummins turbo diesel with 4-wheel drive and a six speed manual transmission. Sparks and bright flashing light spilled out of the bed and over the sides. My Dad was loving life welding and modifying my beast.

“Hey Dad.. DAD!” My old man stopped welding, lifted his hood and looked over at me and gave an eloquent “WHAT?!”

After asking him to take a pause on the welding everyone gathered around. A steel tube cage had been built in the back of the truck, just behind the bed, the cage was topped with a ring that sat just even with the top of the truck. Two sides of the cage were covered with steel, the back looked ready to have it applied.

“Dude! You are building a technical!” Zach exclaimed.

“Yep, AR500 steel plating, a full cage and a top mount and ring similar to the Hummer but Dad managed to make it so that the MG mount can swing down into the truck when we want the top hatch closed. The steel is 3/8 inch thick and should stop small arms fire.”

Jake looked at me curiously “So we are going to mount that semi-auto belt fed of yours up there I take it?”

“Yep”. Little did he know I had made it full auto by completely changing the innards and side-plate with ones for FA. “It’s not semi anymore, I converted it to auto plus I can swap parts to change between .308 or 30-06… they made us felons last week so f*** them. Now who’s going to be my gunner?”

We spent the rest of the day inspecting each other’s equipment setup. Most were squared away, mine needed some work but with guidance from the actual combat veterans I was set up properly. When we came to Brad’s gear we noticed he had some other equipment as well.
I pointed at a black case “What’s in there?”
Brad opened it up to reveal his toys. “This here is a civilian market radio that I’ve turned into a PRC-117, a field radio. Ever since they made me a radioman when I was in the Army I’ve gotten into messing around with this stuff. It isn’t digital so it’s not encrypted but it will help us communicate. I have this one setup for me to carry and I have a larger one plus antennas and everything needed for a ghetto TOC setup.” TOC… Tactical Operations Center, it had been a long time since I had heard that term.
We were certain we were set for gear, plus we had thousands of rounds of ammunition ever since we had all gone together to buy a reloading press capable of producing up to 500 rounds an hour. We shot a lot and it was cheaper to make than to buy. We were as ready as we were going to be.

    KING5 NEWS REPORTING: “President Clampton has signed a bill which will authorize the creation of a new group within the BATFE responsible for the collection of all newly banned firearms, magazines, and ammunition stocks in excess of the legal limit. This newly established group is to be titled the Federal Firearms and Ammunition Collection Assembly and will provide jobs for over 15,000 Americans. Per the President’s Press Secretary, the goal of the FFACA is to go door to door in order to collect voluntarily surrendered firearms while granting criminal immunity. This is intended to provide a safe and easy method for Americans to turn in their dangerous and now illegal Assault Weapons.”

[2t2crash]

a bit more added. what do you all think? I've enjoyed all the stories here for many years and just felt like giving back with my first attempt at writing.

4.
I woke to the sound of my doorbell being rung and looked at my clock… 0600. Who in the hell is ringing my door at 6 in the morning?

My son, now 16 and a chip off the ole block opened his door which was adjacent to mine. “Dad, there’s a couple of people outside and a big truck at the bottom of our driveway.” I could tell he had been woken up too.

I put on a pair of pants, one of my favorite black shirts, and grabbed my .45 from the safe by my bed. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I had a pretty good idea that it was one of the goon squads out taking in “Voluntary” firearm relinquishments. The FFACA or “Fucks” as we called them, had really ended up being formed by Federalizing and arming the ANTIFA groups. They were just the right group of left wing extremists for the job and had also been a big voting base for the president.

I sent a group text out to everyone planning on leaving when things got crazy: “The gun grabbing assholes are at my door, prepare yourselves”.
My doorbell rang in a series of pushes, this time waking up my 5 year old daughter and I lost my patience “WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE AND I’LL BE THERE!”

As I got to my door I could hear a muttered “This mufukka better hurry up”. Just as I swung open my door I could see the man was getting ready to ring the bell again.

“What in the hell are you doing waking me up at 6 am on a Saturday?!”

Beyond my storm door stood three men in their 30’s, all wearing a uniform of sorts consisting of black pants, undershirts of various colors, and a black lightweight jacket with FFACA on the front. The man at the door held a clip board and was slightly taken aback, but after looking back to make sure the other two were still behind him he looked back at me and then at the papers on his clipboard.

“Are you Mr. McCoy?”

I stared at him, then looked at his companions behind him. They both stood taller than the first and were meant to be the intimidating factor to their equation. “You know I am now what do you want?”

“We have on record from sales purchases in the past that you have two illegal firearms, this is your chance to turn them in before we have to take them.”

“I don’t have em, now f*** off and get off my property.”

One of the bruisers from the back took a step forward and spoke in a rumbling voice. “Yo we aint stupid, now hand them over before we come in and take them!”

I’m typically a very patient person, with an even keel but one of the few triggers I have is when threatened… especially in my own home. With a cool sense of calm, I reached forward and unlocked the deadbolt on my storm door, the audible click was like gunshot on a quiet night. I took a step back and gave a stare that dared him to enter.

In two quick steps, he advanced forward and yanked the storm door open, as his first foot landed through the threshold to my house I drew my pistol while rushing forward. He had looked down to ensure he didn’t trip coming in and that was the opportunity I needed. Before the other two could react I had closed the distance with the goon, wrapped my left arm around his right and locked it up at the elbow, while also punching the barrel of my pistol into his breastbone. As he doubled forward from the pain in his chest he was met with a knee to the gut.

Just as the other two recovered from the shock I stood the big man up, my 1911 under his chin. The audible click of the safety coming off froze them in their tracks yet again.

“You tried to illegally invade my house. You are still in my house. I should pull the trigger and spray what little is in your head all over my ceiling. I told you fucks I have nothing to surrender. Now, leave and don’t come back… or should I have the Sheriff clean you off my ceiling and floor?”
The man with the clipboard took a step back and stammered. “Hey man, be cool… we’re leaving.” As the two stepped back I stared into the hate and pain filled eyes of goon still in my control. I pushed the pistol up harder, forcing him on his toes as I moved him to the side. With a shove, he was out of my house. I fought the desire to pull the trigger as he gave a parting promise: “We’ll be back... and we won’t be so nice next time.”

As their vehicle drove down the road I slammed the door and felt a wave of exhaustion hit me, I turned around and saw my wife had been behind me the whole time, her pistol in hand and a hardened look on her face. My knees buckled slightly as nausea overcame me. I ran to the restroom and dry heaved into the sink.

The precious couple of minutes during the altercation had felt like hours and the rush of emotions mixed with adrenaline had been a new feeling for me. I was not used to violence, I always mentally prepared but relied on avoidance.

I rinsed my mouth out with cool water and cupped a little to pour over my head. Looking over I could see my 5 year old daughter Jessica looking wide eyed through her cracked open door. I turned toward her while switching my pistol to safe and holding it at my side.

“Come here sweetie, are you okay?”

“What was that daddy?” Her eyes began to tear up and the fear was all over her face.

“Just some bad people Honey, they are gone now, come give me a hug.”

As she took the three steps to my arms she began to cry. “They said they’d be back!”

I hugged her tight with one arm while passing my pistol to my wife. “It’s okay Sweetheart, they won’t hurt you. Did you hide in your closet like you were taught?”

She nodded her head. “I hugged my teddy and stayed quiet too!”

[texican]

2t2,

Seems like the goons are going to be experiencing real Americans....

Texican....

[remembergoliad]

A good start. I'll be reading. Thanks for writing!

[9idrr]

Glad to see you're keepin' this goin'.

[2t2crash]

Thanks everyone, truth told I have just shy of 20,000 words written so far. I started writing last fall and hit a snag at the current stopping point but I can hear my muse whispering again and I figured posting here for feed back (good, bad, ugly) would help encourage and improve my writing.
With that said, here's more, this time with some action.

5.
The rest of the morning was spent gathering everything together and preparing the vehicles. My truck was loaded with gear in the back of the bed along with food and water. I hitched my little trailer to the back of it. My truck was an 03 RAM 2500 4x4, I would have never touched a Dodge let alone a used one but the truck had belonged to an elderly man who had only managed to put 40,000 miles on it in ten years. The real seller was that it was a Cummins motor with a six-speed manual, I loved to tell people “I didn’t buy a Dodge, I bought a Cummins that just came wrapped in one”.
The trailer was a Vietnam era M416 trailer which was small but very solid and even though it was rated at only 500lb load capacity I had been assured by my uncles that they themselves had loaded those trailers to the brim with ammunition, barrels of water or anything else that exceeded the limit at least twice. It was small and barely visible in the rearview mirror when empty. It held a variety of our camping gear, spare tires and jerrycans of diesel.

We also prepared our two Jeeps, the first was a four-door wrangler that was Raquel’s, it towed my baby: A restored Willys MB that I had rebuilt myself. I figured it would be handy, plus as stupid as it sounds I wasn’t about to leave it behind.

As we were loading our vehicles Brad drove up to our garage. The great thing about my house was that the driveway went back around the house from the main road and our parking area was out of view. He stepped out of his car and walked towards me, while at the same time his wife went to Raquel. His wife Naomi was a tad shorter than Raquel, with curly jet black hair and dark brown eyes. Though typically quiet she was a very happy lady who had bonded with Raquel almost immediately when they first met. Naomi was half Hispanic and half Filipina and had learned to speak Tagalog from my wife. The two hugged and then walked back to Brad’s mini to grab my nephew Mike who was just four years old.

Brad looked at the vehicles and then at me and gave a sigh. “So this is it huh?”

“I guess so man, those three thugs came this morning and knew I had banned weapons so they must be accessing the ATF purchase files to know who likely has what.”

“So what do you want to do? They haven’t come by my place but I live close so I am sure they will be soon.”

“I think we need to get all of your stuff here, load it in the Jeep and then have the girls take it to Mom and Dad’s for the night.”

“Why not just go with them, and why load my stuff in the Jeep?”

“Your Mini is nice… but it’s going to be worthless out there man. As to why not go with them, well those assholes said they’d be back and I don’t want the kids here when they do. There are still things I need to prepare and pack.”

“So you want me to leave my fucking car behind? I hate to say it but you are right on that.” Brad looked at his car, and then our families and sighed. “Okay. Let’s get them to Dad’s, they shouldn’t hassle him since he doesn’t have anything illegal. Jake is already loaded and there. But you aren’t staying here alone tonight.”

“Okay, take the Jeeps, load all your stuff up and then come back with your kit… I don’t know if it’ll get shitty tonight but we might as well be ready for it. I’m going to let Jose know what’s going on and text Uncle Leo. Just have Naomi take the Jeep and Willys to Mom and Dad’s and drive here in your car. I’ll make sure Raquel and the kids get there in an hour or so.”

Dad had stopped by to pick everyone up and take them to their place. It was an hour drive south of us and was on the other side of McCord Field. While here he informed me that the base had been oddly quiet all day and that the FFACA had already stopped by his place. He had handed over an ammunition can filled with various boxes of hunting rounds and they had left him alone. We swapped the M416 trailer to the back of his pickup truck so that it would be one less thing to worry about in the morning when Brad and I drove down to their place in order to leave.

My Dad looked me in the eyes and spoke. “I love you son, I’ll see you and Brad in the morning, drive safe and stay out of trouble. Don’t worry about your family, they will be fine.”

Later in the evening I heard Brad’s car pull in and was surprised to see that not only was he there but so was Jake, Ryan and Zach… and pizza.

Jake got out and looked at me “You didn’t really think we’d let you deal with this alone did you?”

The others looked at me expectantly.
“Honestly I don’t think those idiots are dumb enough to come back but I guess we might as well be ready. Most of my stuff is at Dad’s, but I have my kit and the 30 Cal is mounted. I don’t know what these guys are armed with but we might as well be prepared in case they are.”

“We are, now let’s fucking eat!”

The next few hours were spent with nervous banter as well as going over plans and the situation all together.
Just as we were winding down and thinking it’d be a quiet night our hopes were shattered by the sound of car doors slamming followed by a brick sailing through the living room window: The ANTIFA assholes had come through on their threat to return…

The brick had been heaved through my front window and smashed into my television, causing an instant reaction from within the house.

“Shut the fucking lights off, gear up now!” I shouted. As the room went dark we were able to see thanks to the roadside and exterior lights on the house. I took a peak outside from the corner of the window. A loose cluster of men wearing all black clothes and hats stood outside facing my house, all armed with either pistols or Kalashnikov rifles. How the hell they had been armed with this array of firearms was beyond me but what wasn’t was the fact that they were here for a reason and it wasn’t a “friendly” gun collection.

The skinny man from the morning pointed a pistol at the window and shouted. “We told you we’d be back, we ain’t here for your guns this time… now it’s yo ass!”

The front facing wall of my house provided the benefit of cover for us thanks to a brick wall that went halfway up the side of the house. The house had been built in the early sixties and the half brick wall must have been the preferred look back then, I wasn’t very fond of it before but now I most definitely appreciated it. I looked around and noticed my brothers had positioned themselves alongside the windows. “Where’s Doc and Zach?”

“They are at the windows in the other rooms, ready to go.”

With a nod to them I yelled out the window. “Get the f*** out of here or I’ll kill you all!”

A chorus of laughs and guffahs reached my ears followed by their leader’s voice. “After we kill you and your boy… we are going to take real care of that pretty wife of yours… then we’ll kill her too. Welcome to the new America white boy!”

Suddenly the front windows erupted in a hail of lead and glass. We hunkered down as my home was shredded with a combination of pistol and rifle bullets. The glass falling reflected the light as it came crashing down in bits and pieces. The noise was tremendous and made it hard to focus. So this was what combat felt like.

The momentary pause in fire was joined with curses and the sounds of weapons being reloaded. Brad looked at Jake and I, though we were older and had spent far more time in the military than he had… this was his world and he took over. With a simple command, he spurred us into action.

“UP!”

Immediately all three of us pivoted towards the window with guns drawn and determination in our eyes. The dump of adrenaline in our systems slowed time down. I brought my rifle up to bear and sighted through my red dot sight. Centering it on the first person I saw, a young man towards the front of the group, busy reloading his rifle. As if in slow motion he looked up at me in mid reload, a look of realization in his eyes.
Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it. I can feel the push of the stock in my shoulder, the bark of my AR-15 barely registering in my ear despite the fact that it was unsupressed. Despite the fact that my rifle was not the only one responding.

The round punched through the young man’s chest, followed by two more from my own rifle. He didn’t get thrown back like the movies, he didn’t cry out. He just… crumpled in place like a doll with its strings cut. I had killed a man and in that instant, knew that the look on his face would never leave my memory.

My reverie was broken by a shout from Brad. “Get down you f***!” I ducked back around behind the bricks, just in time as more rounds came in, splintering wood and brick… sending it flying into the house. It was pure pandemonium but God help me, it was a thrill.

Steady fire was being sent out of the windows from the other side of the room. I gave a quick look out the window to see that the attacking group was scattering for cover, four lay dead or dying on the lawn. At only 20 feet it was child’s play shooting… if you aimed.

Brad took command once again. “Jake shift position to that side window, Jim get ready to fire. They have five left, they were reinforced by shooters from a second vehicle. Three, two, one. UP!”
This time it wasn’t like slow motion, this time in was chaos for the attackers. I sighted in on a man standing in the open, pistol held sideways firing and not hitting shit. I fired, watching rounds hit him from both my weapon and one from the other room. Using the training my brother had given me I pivoted my whole torso as I searched for my next target.

There, standing behind the tree and leaning out like he’s Bruce Willis! Taking aim and putting pressure on the trigger I begin to squeeze only to be knocked flat on my back with the feeling of having been hit in the chest with a sledge hammer.

I laid on my back stunned, seeing my ceiling and knowing I can’t breathe but also hearing no return fire.

Is that smoke I smell?

Without looking down Brad yelled out “DOC Jim’s hit; get the f*** in here!”.

I gasp in a deep breath and clutch my chest, expecting to come up with blood covered hands. Ryan runs in at a low crouch and looks down at me and laughs in relief. “You lucky son of a bitch! It hit your plate, you’re alright now snap out of it!”

I shake my head to gather my wits just as Jake shouts out “CLEAR! The house is on fire, it’s time to roll!”

Doc helps me up and loops my arm over his shoulder as we all make a move towards my truck in the back. With my chest still hurting like hell and breaths coming in ragged gulps I am shoved into the back of my own truck.

Brad was still in command mode and issued orders, “Jake up front… the passenger side, motherfucker! Doc with Jim, Zach you’re the on the gun so get in the back, don’t open that top hatch but be ready in case we need to put the .30 cal in action. Pull the locking pin on the mount and that will allow you push the gun up through the hatch halves and you can push the halves over on your way up. That pivot point keeps the turret and gun hidden until needed.”

“Copy, damn I love playing the Trunk Monkey!”

The roar of the truck firing up sounded distant in my ears due to all the gunfire in a confined space, I watched as my house went up in flames while we hauled ass down the street… probably never to return.

[supermag]

I'm really enjoying the story do far and look forward to more.

[2t2crash]

Apr 3, 2018 23:21:36 GMT -6 supermag said:

I'm really enjoying the story do far and look forward to more.

I Appreciate that! I'm working on proof reading it as I go, eventually I'll hit a point where ya'll will have to wait for me to write but I'm still set for a few more chapters.

but, ask and ye shall receive.

6.
I leaned back against the chair and tried to process what was happening, my house in flames, family now on the run and I had just killed at least one individual who was a part of this new overreaching government. I had become a criminal.
Hands tugging at my vest pulled me out of my thoughts. Doc was leaning over trying to get a look at how I was doing. “Take your Plate out, good now get your shirt off and let me have a look… I don’t give a crap if you think you’re fine now let me do my damn job! Breathe deep, good… does it hurt while I push on your ribs? Tender is fine and you’ll have a hell of a bruise but nothing is broken. Look at my finger, ignore the flashlight… follow my finger side to side. Alright man, you’re good to go, put your shit back on and hydrate.”
Doc was now checking on everyone asking how they were doing and checking on any wounds. All that anyone else suffered was small cuts from glass.
Jake looked back at me and then my bullet proof plate that was sitting on the seat next to me. “Pull the round out of the plate and put it back on, we’ll replace it when we get home but it can still take a few rounds if we need it to between here and Dad’s… Figures it’s the damn Zoomie that gets shot on the first engagement.”
A round of chuckles fills the truck as the nervous tension saps away. Brad is driving slowly, observing the speed limit and taking side roads to avoid potential problems. As he rolls down my window he reaches down and turns on the CB radio I have mounted on the lower dash just under the steering wheel. With no chatter on the main channels we leave it on CH 19, the usual channel for I-5 just in case anything pops up. “Jim I don’t care if you don’t like it, I’m having a smoke in your truck... anyone else?”
“Dude, I just got shot… I had quit but give me one!” With a deep inhale of nicotine, I realize I had missed the habit that I had started during my deployment to Iraq. “Man, that feels good!”
Zach leans forward from the rear gunner’s compartment “Give me one! Hey turn on the radio and let’s see what the hell is going on out there.”
..EMERGENCY BROADCAST CENTER: DUE TO SPORADIC VIOLENCE A CURFEW HAS BEEN ORDERED BY THE WASHINGTON STATE GOVERNOR. ALL WASHINGTON RESIDENTS AND VISITORS ARE TO REMAIN IN DOORS FROM DUSK TILL DAWN UNLESS TRANSITING TO OR FROM WORK…”
With a flip of the radio nob the EBC announcement went silent.
“Looks like we’re breaking curfew!”
“f*** a curfew!”
“What a bag of dicks!”
I spoke up. “Sporadic violence… looks like we aren’t the only ones not taking any shit from the ANTIFA asshats. Keep going Brad, everything has been clear but we still need to cross the freeway and that is just a couple of miles till the overpass.” Turning around I look back at Zach “You ready in case we need you?”
With a thumbs up and a big grin Zach replies “Born ready, I missed this shit! Hey the rounds aren’t marked, what am I shooting?”
“Standard M2 Ball, no tracers no AP.. all hand loaded FMJ 30-06 so if you need to disable a car go for the engine unless you need to eliminate a threat the old fashioned way.”
“Roger.”
The CB radio crackled to life with conversation, the sudden noise giving us all a start, and a laugh.
“Hey Red what do you see up there, any sign of what’s causing this brake check and traffic?”
“Yeah, I’m passing by it now Billy, it looks like it’s from the off-ramp to Fort Lewis. A whole lot of flashing red and blues have the gate and off-ramps blocked not letting anyone in or out, the traffic is all the way back to the bridge. Good luck!”
“Great… I-5 North, the biggest Parking Lot in WA!”
Brad reached down and decreased the CB’s volume. “Well we don’t cross that area anyhow, but we are approaching the overpass, after that is the shit part of town and I can see fires burning plus I’m sure you’ve heard the occasional small arms fire over the sound of this loud ass truck”
As we traveled further down the two-lane road we could tell trouble was brewing. A car burning here, people loitering around over there plus a couple of businesses in the process of being looted.
Ryan looked out his window incredulously, “Putang Ina?!”
Zach spoke up “English, motherfucker!”
“He said What the f***”
Jake shrugged, “I dunno Doc but it looks like something is fucky up ahead, two cars on the sides of the road, plus a bunch of assholes standing in the middle of the lanes, maybe a shakedown? Look alive boys, lock and load. Zach… get ready. Slow down and see what these guys want Brad but be ready.”
The diesel engine surged a bit as Brad down-shifted and let the gears slow the heavy truck, keeping it in 2nd gear with his foot on the clutch and hand on the shifter. As he rolled down his window a young white male approached
“Shut down your engine please.”
Brad looked at him with a cold stare. “Who are you and what do you want? Tell those idiots to move or I’ll run them over.”
“This is our road, nobody gets through without being searched… we’re the local ANTIFA sub group.”
Brad laughed “Move that group of tweakers and idiots… oh and f*** off.” With that he let off the clutch and got on the accelerator. The group clad in black in front of him had just enough time to skirt out of the way as the truck slowly gained speed. She was big and powerful, but a race truck she wasn’t.
PING!
“What the f*** was that?” I asked.
“Contact Rear, two sedans, five personnel each. I see three long guns and possibly a couple of pistols. Some jackass with an AK is spraying the street and trees trying to hit us. Distance… 300 meters and closing.”
“f*** yeah!” with that Zach unlatched the locking lever to the hatch and with a grunt pushes the gun up and into position, shoving the hatch halves open with his helmet and shoulders as he stands.
I turn around in my seat and grab an ammunition can marked “M2-Ball, LINKED” and throw the lid off, slapping his leg to get his attention. “You have another belt here ready to go… If they don’t get the hint seeing you up there throw a burst in front of them. If they are still stupid. Light them the f*** up!”
“150 Meters on our 6 and closing!”
“FIRE!”
“DIE MOTHERFUCKER DIE!” As Zach speaks he squeezes the trigger, the sound of the light machinegun hammering away lasted only a few seconds but Zach’s chant was one that had been taught to the military as a way to control the burst of an MG to around 8 to 10 rounds per burst, this helps maintain control of the weapon, the accuracy of the rounds as well as keep a gunner from going haywire and melting down his barrel. The rounds land 10 feet short of the two cars, sending asphalt chips into the windshields and peppering the passengers leaning out of windows in the process.
“They didn’t get the hint, 100 meters, still closing… TAKING FIRE!”
The sound of more rounds pinging off the armor of the gun position could be heard in the truck, followed by a curse from Zach. I lean back and yell at him “Get em off our ass!”
Zach clutched the pistol grip and pulled the stock into his shoulder with a grim look on his face as he leaned into the Browning. The muted chatter of the gun in repeated quick bursts filled the interior of the truck to join the sound of spent brass and belt links falling onto the bed. I’ll have to figure out a way to keep it from getting in the way of the gunner’s feet.
Zach’s first target had been the second vehicle, chewing up the windshield and pulverizing the passengers inside. After three good bursts the car careened to the left and smashed into a cedar tree where it smoked with no sign of movement. Rather than halt their chase the remaining car sped up, the passenger in the front again swinging out with what we could see was an old school M16 with the rubber heat shield. Where the f*** were they getting these weapons?
With a slight adjustment of the gun Zach focused on the individual training his rifle on my truck, once again unleashing a stream of copper jacketed rounds into his target. As the passenger reacted to the rounds entering his torso Zach worked the gun to his right, maintaining a steady pull on the trigger. Like a sewing machine across fabric the machinegun punched a steady line of holes in the windshield from passenger side to the driver’s side, ending in a spray of blood, brain matter and teeth that bathed the interior of the car. “OORAH! Both vehicles down, all targets now deceased!”
“Good!, Secure that gun, Brad slow down and lets look semi normal even though we just took a big bite of shit-sandwich!”
The rest of the drive was quiet as we drove out of the city and into the rural area towards our parents’ home. As we pulled up to the drive we noticed the heavy pipe rail gate was closed. We were met with a verbal challenge from the left. “Identify yourselves!”
I rolled down my window and shouted back “It’s us you short f***… let us in Corey!”
Corey walked out into plain view from behind a large Rhododendron bush, flipping us the bird as he unlocked the gate to allow us in. He was wearing his old green MARPAT uniform with an AR-15 hanging from his vest by a single point sling that was hooked on with a metal carabiner. As we passed through he closed the gate and then hopped in the bed of the truck. With the slap of his palm against the side of the bed he let us know he was ready. Brad eased us forward to the house.
We had arrived intact and still breathing which set the score at McCoys 1, ANTIFA 0.

[2t2crash]

little bit slower pace on this one.
7.
“Alright boys, safe your weapons, Zach clear the .30 please. We’ll take care of the spent brass and links later, good job and good shooting.”

We disembarked the truck and amongst grunts, groans and curses we pulled off our vests. I studied the hole in the center of mine, that could have really sucked if I hadn’t been wearing my plates.

I was so wrapped up in my inventory that I hadn’t noticed Raquel walk up next to me.

“What’s that?”

“I got shot, the plate stopped it.” I took a deep breath and prepared to break the news about what had happened. “Honey ANTIFA came back, the assholes had backup and started shooting up the house. I don’t know how to tell you this but the house is gone, one of them hit it with a Molotov cocktail and it was in flames as we left.”

After a moment’s pause and a single tear my wife looked me in the eyes and gave a smile. “It’s just stuff honey, and it looks like I’m lucky to still have you. What happened after they started shooting, are you guys okay… is anyone else hurt?”

“No babe, we killed them all and then took the back roads. We hit a roadblock in Spunaway, a bunch of tweakers thought they could shake us down so we blew past them. They gave chase, and I bet my tailgate has some new holes in it. Zach cut them down with the machinegun.”

Raquel stepped in close and grabbed me tight, resting her head on my chest. The smell of her hair and her embraced helped ease out the tension I hadn’t realized had a grip on my mind. She looked up and with a kiss on my lips smiled. “You’re still here, that’s what matters. Come on inside, I’m sure your back is killing you and you look exhausted”.

Grabbing my rifle in one hand and her hand in the other we walked into the house, followed by the others and their wives. She wasn’t wrong, between the back injuries I had sustained in the military and the weight I had gained since it didn’t take much to aggravate it at times. “Honey where are the kids?”

“Inside sleeping, it’s 2 am!”

“Oh… damn already?! I need a drink.”

“I’ll get you some Scotch you can sip on while we sit on the porch and you unwind.”

“Thank you Love.”

I sit down in one of the old wood chairs on the porch and breathe a sigh of relief, the events of the night still going through my head while also wondering what the next step is. It won’t take the puppet masters long to figure out who had thrown a wrench in their plan nor where we could have gone to. We needed to get everyone together who was ready to leave and we needed to do it soon. In just a short time the government had gone from respecting and obeying the constitution to sending goon squads out with little to no control over them and it only made sense that we weren’t the only ones who refused to live on our knees.
The soft footsteps of my wife clear my head, she hands me a glass and takes a seat in the chair next to me. “Are you doing okay? I wish I was there to help, I can’t believe the bastards came back with the intent of killing us.”

Raising the glass to take a sip I pause to reply “I’m okay, and it’s best you were here, it was insane. I was always curious as to what combat was like and how I’d react and now I know. I fear by the end of all this you and our son will know what it’s like too.”

A sip of the amber liquid, a pleasing taste and burn. Belvenie 12, not an expensive Scotch by any means, but it had quickly become my favorite after Uncle Leo had introduced me to it so many years back during my first season at Elk Camp in Eastern Washington.

“What’s been going on here since you arrived?”

“Nothing much, Mom and Dad have their trailer packed with everything. Dad spray painted it green and brown. Matt and his family arrived earlier in the day, they came over after your text… Corey and the family did too. It’s the Uncles and the older generation who haven’t arrived yet, I think they are coming over tomorrow….. well later today I guess.”

“Oh okay. Is anyone on watch? You should probably be armed from now on, it’s getting nuts out there.”

Raquel stands up and lifts the side of her shirt to reveal her pistol, a 9mm Springfield XD. I had bought it for her before my first deployment, just a month after we had married. It wasn’t her favorite but she was good with it and concealed it well, her favorite was my 1911 and I wasn’t about to give that one to her. “I have the XD. Corey is on watch, then Dad. I’m going to bed, finish that and join me. AFTER you shower because you stink… dirty white boy!”

I attempt a smack on her ass as she turned but we’d been married long enough that she expected it and easily dodged it with a giggle “Too slow old man! Oh! Not you Dad, I was talking to Jim.”
As Dad steps out onto the porch he gives me a quizzical look. “I’m surprised you’re still up, the others went to sleep right away.”

I notice Dad is dressed in a set of BDUs, old uniforms I had given him a long time ago. He is also wearing a reproduction WWII cartridge belt with pockets full and his M1 slung over his shoulder.

“I’m about to go shower and sleep. You’re taking the Garand with you to go on watch?”

“Yeah I’ve loved this thing since you got it for me. Anyhow I best get out there before Corey starts to bitch.”

“Goodnight Dad, I love you and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Damn I’m tired, time to finish this, shower and get my ass in bed.


~~~~



Dawn breaks and I wake to the sun poking through the trees and the one sliver of light that manages to make it past the curtains is in my eyes. Raquel is still asleep but I know me… once I’m awake there’s no going back to bed so I get up as quietly as possible and put on a pair of pants, it’s coffee time. Damn my back is stiff.

As I walk down the hall I can hear hushed talking, metal parts clinking and realize I failed to grab my rifle so I head back and get it. The smell of coffee, carbon powder and CLP put some pep in my movements. Rounding the corner from the hall to the kitchen I see the table is covered in towels and firearms in various states of disassembly. My brothers, cousins, Ryan and Zach are busily working over their rifles, plus Zach has the .30 cal MG on the table.

Jake doesn’t even bother to look up as he sends the opening shot my way. “It’s about time you got up you old ass bitch!”

“I love you too Jarhead… coffee time then weapons cleaning. Move your shit over and stop taking up two spots at the table.”

Zach looks up “I don’t know how to take this fucker apart so I waited for you.”

As I pour myself a cup of liquid gold I respond to him. “I’ll go over it with you, it’s not too difficult. Pull the charging handle back and hold it, then take that flathead screw driver and turn that screw back by the handle a quarter turn clock-wise, slide the bolt forward an inch or so. Cool, now us the flathead screwdriver to push the locking lever forward, its right in front of the rear sight. Now lift the back plate straight up then pull the charging handle out and then remove the bolt out the rear. Lastly see the detent on the right side? Use the tip of the charging handle to push that in then pull out the lock frame and barrel out. Done.”
“That’s simple, I thought these had a big ass spring in them that fires out.”

“It does, we locked it in place with that screw. I’ll go grab my cleaning kit for that as well as my A6 conversion kit so we can re-configure it.”

“I know 240s and 249s, what the hell is the M1919A6?”

“The M1919 is the main light machinegun used by the US during World War Two, right now it is in the A4 configuration. The A6 configuration converts this from pintle or tripod mounting to a more portable version by adding a butt stock, carry handle, bipod up front and a flash suppressor, but it can still be locked into the pintle of the vehicle.”

An hour later after we had cleaned, lubricated and reassembled everything the first of the kids came out.

I smiled as my little girl came walking down the hall rubbing her eyes. “Good morning Jessica, did you sleep well?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m hungry!”

“Okay, what sounds good?”

“BACON AND EGGS!”

“Well then bacon and eggs you shall have! Do you want to help me make enough for everyone?”

“Yes! Can I crack the eggs?”

“I’ll take care of that, but how about you stir them up real well?”

“Okay Daddy.”

[texican]

2t2,

Good chapters....

It is starting to get more than real....

Thanks....

Texican....

[htfiremedic]

Heck fire yeah!

[2t2crash]

thanks guys.
Texican you are absolutely correct, Massachusetts seems particularly interested in making its citizens defend their line in the sand.

8.
    KING 5 NEWS REPORTING: President Clampton is set to address the nation on the nationwide violence in response to gun confiscations… here she comes now.
    “My fellow Americans, as you all know I recently signed into law legislation banning a vast array of deadly firearms that are not fit to be in the hands of anyone other than the military or law enforcement personnel.     These weapons in the hands of civilians have been the cause of countless deaths of children and minorities. The newly created FFACA has been diligently working to remove these machines of death from the public     but have been met with violence. Most the violent response has stemmed from right wing extremist hate groups who refuse to follow the laws of this nation.
   
    In order to stem this tide of violence and hate I am authorizing state governors to federalize their national guard units to be used as peacekeepers and to back up FFACA when necessary. Any signs of violence from     individuals who are suspected of owning outlawed firearms will be met with deadly force. It is time for the United States to join the rest of the world by creating a society free of fear and hate. Thankyou”
   
    Well you have now heard direct from President Clampton the plan to deal with the violence that we have experienced even here in the Puget Sound. Just two nights ago Tacoma endured its share of bloodshed, our     field reporter Chris at the scene of the crime:

    “Good morning Dianne, this is what is left of the house where a deadly shootout occurred, resulting in the deaths of 8 FFACA employees. Jim McCoy is wanted by Federal and local officials who say he ambushed the     group as it was coming to collect voluntarily surrendered firearms. Though most of the house was burned down a partially burned Gadsden flag was found in the ruins of the garage. This attack by Mr. McCoy is     believed to be race driven. Back to you Dianne.”

    “Thank you, Chris, the Gadsden flag is of course the yellow flag with a snake on the front and the words “Don’t tread on me” under the snake. This flag is known to be used by right wing extremists. If you have     any leads on the whereabouts of Mr. McCoy please contact local authorities but do not approach him as he is most likely armed and dangerous. That’s it for the news, now back to our scheduled program.”

The adults plus Jim jr. were all sitting in the front room watching the speech and subsequent news report.

I looked at my wife “Well… f***! Sorry Dear but apparently, you married a racist.”

“I knew it!”

Dad looked over to me and sighed “Well they sure as hell made up as much as they could, didn’t they? This complicates things and I can bet the authorities will be coming here soon. We need to get out of here, Leo and the rest should arrive within the hour, they were supposed to arrive shortly after you did but called to let me know of the delay.”

The sound of vehicles approaching from the distance could be heard followed by the scrambling of feet as everyone moved to grab their weapons and gear.

I jumped up and ran back to my room to grab my gear as well as my Browning “Son come with me!”. I grabbed the gun with both hands, hoisting it over my shoulder with a groan. “Open those two cans of ammunition and pull the belts out, give me one then grab another belt and my AR. You stay by my side and let’s go!” Raquel had already grabbed her little .30 Carbine and ran out the door by the time we got outside, the drawback to using a 34lb gun was just that… this bitch is heavy!

As I hopped off the porch and noticed everyone setup and behind cover Brad yelled directions. “Set the MG up beside that big ass rock and face directly down the driveway on the opposite side of us, you provide enfilading fire if they hide behind their vehicles, the rest of us will provide fire along the length of the convoy as they come up the driveway. Doc be ready to move if needed, nobody fire until I do!”

Nervous tension filled the air, I rushed up beside the rock and got into position, loaded a belt into the receiver and pulled the charging handle twice, the sound of a metal link and live round dropping from the receiver let me know I was locked and loaded. “Son get down on my left and keep your head down. Your job is to give me ammunition and stay down behind the boulder understood?”

“Yes Dad, I’m scared and need to pee.”

“You’ll be okay just relax and lay still.”

As the vehicles got closer we could distinguish them from each other, two diesels and a car. I relaxed a bit as the lead vehicle turned into the drive, Uncle Leo had arrived before we expected him to, along with Bill and Larry. Brad stepped out from behind his cover and slung his rifle. “Relax, safe and sling weapons. Friendlies coming in!”

I breathed a sigh of relief and released my grip from the gun. “It’s okay son, it looks like more of the family has arrived. Lay those belts down neatly while I unload the Browning.” As my son laid the belts down I opened the top cover, pulled the belt out and then pulled the charging handle back to pull the round out of the chamber. That done I stood up and walked up to the lead vehicle to join the group gathering around the old men.

Matt was talking as I approached “Where’s Uncle Donald at Uncle Leo? He was supposed to come with you guys, right?”

Uncle Leo gave a deep sigh and looked at the ground for a few long seconds before looking back up. “Boys, Don is gone. The government assholes went to his house sometime in the night and killed him. When I swung by this morning there was yellow tape across his obviously kicked in door and the interior of the house was covered in bullet holes. I could hear the gunfire from my house but I didn’t know it was him. He put up a hell of a fight before they got to him though. Don’t cry for him, since his wife died three years ago, he’s been ready to go.” The years showed on Uncle Leo’s tired face and I knew something deep and dark was trying to surface but I couldn’t put my finger on it. At 75 years old Uncle Leo was the eldest but what had always surprised me was the youthfulness he seemed to have. Though he needed hearing aids and would limp from time to time he always made us younger guys feel out of shape and slow when we were hunting.

“Who’s with you Uncle Leo? I see someone in Wire’s truck?” The nickname Wire had been given to Uncle Bill back when he was in high school. His hair had gone from an Irish red to a snow white at a very young age.
“Oh… Jim’s neighbor saw me sifting the ashes over at his place and came to see who it was. Recon was pretty pissed off and asked to join us. He’s had enough of the bullshit just like the rest of us.”
Jose stepped around the corner and headed straight for me with a big smile on his face. “I KNEW you all got out of that house, by the time I had my kit on and was around the corner you were all leaving like a bat out of hell! Anyway, if you think a Marine is going to sit back and let the Chairforce do all the fighting you’re wrong!”

That drew a few chuckles and side comments from the Jarheads in the group… it’s a real bitch being the only AF guy in the bunch sometimes but if it weren’t for friendly inter service rivalry we’d be a bit bored.
Uncle Leo cleared his throat to quiet us down. “It’s time everyone, we cannot stay here and our families need to be safe. We need to convoy out to Camp and setup a base of operations and a semi-permanent living area. FFACA has had a hard on for Jim since the firefight at his place, but they don’t seem to have a clue who else was there. We need to get ready to leave so who are we missing?”

My Dad stepped forward. “Leo we still need Jim’s in-laws and that’s about it.”

“Pops my Sister in law and nephew aren’t coming but I sent a text to a friend of mine this morning, he’ll be meeting us in about 10 minutes.”

Corey looked at me curiously “And who the f*** is this person, someone to help or just mouths to feed?”

“Former 11 Bravo… Fallujah combat veteran, Purple Heart and Bronze Star awardee… and a blade smith. That okay with you?”

“Sounds good!”

It was Brad’s turn to speak up. “We need Comms, does everyone have a CB? Good, once we get the convoy setup and seating situated we’ll get vehicle callsigns so we know who is who but aren’t throwing names on the open frequency.”

“I’ll be Hand-Banana!”

“I want Mad Max!”

“I’ll take Kilroy!”

“Shuttup you assholes, what you get is what I give you… hmm, Dumbass 1, Dumba…”

Uncle Leo had sat back quietly until we began to act like a pack of Privates, then he again came forward. “SHUT THE f*** UP! This isn’t a damn game, we know they have no problem shooting and killing. We just lost Don last night so enough with the f***-f*** games so we can get ready and move. Brad, continue, seriously… wait anyone hear a Deuce and Half?”

I knew that truck, my buddy Rich had arrived. “That’s the last member of the group Uncle.”

Rich was a short man at about 5’8’ but was known as “Diesel” By his friends because he was built like a brick shit-house. He sported a sandy colored full face beard and still kept his hair within Army regulations even though he had medically separated after his injuries in Fallujah. As he pulled up he gave the “Hang Loose” wave and shut down his truck. As he hopped down from his surplus Army 2.5 ton truck he looked around. “I hope this is the right party… is Jim here?”

“I’m here Rich. Come on over.” With that there was a round of introductions, it wasn’t hard for combat veterans to get along with each other which meant any feelings of mistrust were quickly scrapped.

“Good timing, we are going over convoy driving order and prepping to move out, I see you have the canopy on the Deuce, how are you for space back there?”

“Good, front half is full but the back half has the seats down and room for passengers or cargo.”

Wire spoke up this time “Who’s the leader of this party then?”

All eyes looked toward Uncle Leo, once he realized what was going on he stood up a bit and threw his hands up. “Now hold on, why the hell is everyone looking at me?”

“You know damn well why Uncle, you’ve always been the leader… hunting season, your initial contact to have a meeting, and we all look up to you and trust your judgement… plus you know how to fight in dense vegetation, us young guys are a mix of never been in combat, or been in combat in desert or mountain terrain.”

“f***. Alright, now the last time I was in a convoy was 1968, does anyone have more recent experience?”

Zach raised his hand. “I do Sir”.

“Cut the Sir shit, I was a Corporal, now a “Mister”, do you care to setup the convoy?”

“Sure. We have nine vehicles plus trailers, that’s a lot of ass to be convoying in plus we have three trucks with single occupants. If we could leave a couple of vehicles behind by adding passengers to others it would put more shooters available out the sides. Jim I want your truck up front, it’s heavy and powerful plus it has our only mounted weapon. I’d like the next couple of vehicles to be the families with younger kids, the middle vehicle will be our RTO/Command vehicle followed by more vehicles with families and then if you don’t mind Rich, your bigass truck in the back, tailgate sandbagged and two shooters facing rearward. We don’t have to worry about IEDs for once, but small arms can and will pierce these vehicles so keep the kids in the middle and as safe as possible.”

“Okay that settles the vehicles and driving order, Brad do you have call signs?”

“I do, Command Vehicle/Uncle Leo will be Castle 1, Jim you guys are Hercules, Jake Cobra, Matt will be Hawkeye, Dad you’ll be Crawdad, and Rich you’ll be Blacksmith… Obviously, these are what popped into my head for various reasons based on who’s driving. I’ll be handling the comms for Castle and disseminating information and orders to all vehicles.”

Uncle Leo thanked Brad and looked around, addressing everyone. “Some of us have been in convoys, many have not. We don’t know what we will encounter between here and our destination but we need to be ready. We will take Salmon Pass, if the gate to the federal land is locked we’ll cut it and push on through. Don’t shoot shit up unless it’s in self-defense and don’t plan on stopping for a while. This is a three-hour trip normally but we shall see how long this takes now. Don’t bunch up too tight but don’t let more than two car lengths in between each other. If we experience an ambush call out where it’s at and where the fire is coming in from but DO NOT STOP! If we come under fire we push through and once a mile past the site we will assess damage and treat wounded.

Keep the kids down, guns ready and stay alert. Let’s get everything hooked up to tow and line the vehicles up. Go!”

I pulled my keys out of my pocket and walked over to my truck. I needed to get my trailer and get lined up and ready.

[crice118]

well done well done
never read this on convoys before thanks for pulling it in as it gives me a new aspect on travel if my kids need to leave from a city area
good job keep it up

[2t2crash]

Thanks Crice, I never ran convoys when I was in, I loaded cargo aircraft for a living. One thing about Veterans is we tend to group up in friend circles so I bounce some of the ideas among them to make sure my writing at least sounds like it could be accurate. While I am changing names, family sizes and ages every character is based off of a family member or friend, with background pretty close to what they really did while serving and personalities are very close to the actual person.
The foul language we use and verbal harassment we give eachother is probably ten times worse than what I put here.. but I cant have the F word thrown in every fourth or fifth word. LOL

[texican]

2t2,

Thanks for the chapter....

The convoy will turn heads....

Have to be ready for it getting real....

Texican....

[2t2crash]

Thanks Texican, I'm quickly hitting the point where I gotta write more. LOL

I'm working on making sure it doesn't read like an 80's action movie where bullets fly the entire time from an un-ending supply and bottomless magazines.

[2t2crash]

screw it, Here's a short one for ya'll while I proof-read a longer chapter.

9.
With my truck at the head of the line, topped off with fuel and ready to go I walked down the line to check on everyone. Jake was the first one I approached. He sat calmly in his jeep while Denise looked nervous and Henry just sat in his seat in the back, dead to the world as he slept soundly.

“You good Jake?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah, this is going to suck… stay sharp.”

“You too Zoomie”

Next in line was Uncle Leo, with him was Brad, Alma, Mike and Larry. Brad was going over his clipboard of callsigns, along with an old topographical map with our route on it, I could only assume it came from Leo.

“All set in here?”

Uncle Leo looked at me “We are. Listen Jim, I know you’re leading this and have never done it before but relax. Your truck is top heavy with that steel box up top so you set the pace. If you take fire keep driving and trust your gunners.”

“Got it Uncle.”

Next was Matt and his family. As I approached I could tell he was nervous, but not in a scared to the point of shitting himself way. “Matt relax man, we’ll be alright. Once we get to our destination and setup we’ll start going through the combat drills with you. Is your AK47 up here with you guys?”

“Yeah Angela has it. I’ll be alright man, just ready to get on the road.”

“Yeah me too, we are just about ready.”

Mom, Dad and Jessica were in the Wrangler, along with Uncle Bill. Raquel and I had agreed to have the little one ride there instead of the lead vehicle because we figured she’d be safer there, Jim remained in the truck with us. As much as it pained me to put my son in danger I had accepted the fact that he was 16 and was a hell of a shooter, plus I didn’t need to hear him complain and gripe about being stuck “With the little kids” anymore. Dad sat back, relaxed and looking like he was trying to nap.

“Wake up old man!”

“I’m awake shithead, just waiting for us to go. Are you doing okay son?”

“I’m fine Dad, we’ll be okay. I love you.”

“I love you too boy.”

Lastly was Rich. The big surplus truck looked like it could break down at any moment but looks are deceiving. This vehicle had been overhauled prior to being put into storage and then subsequently sold off by the military. Rich and his wife sat in the cab, their kids in the forward most bench seat in the back of the truck, protected by a wall of MRE cases and various boxes and crates that had all been strapped down. On the other side sat Jose and Ryan. I looked up at Rich and smiled. “Is this old hog ready to go?”

“Ready as she will be, nothing short of a .50 cal or Rocket will stop her.”

“Cool man, good luck.”

“You too.”

With that it was back to my truck where Raquel, Jim, and Zach awaited me.

Zach looked out the driver side rear window and gave me the “Hang loose” hand sign. “JAMBOOOOO!”

I laughed and responded with the hand signal as well. “Get on the gun, jackass.”

Hopping in the cab and settling in with a sigh I looked at my wife. She was beautiful, and displayed no hint of fear. Quite contrarily she had a look of grim determination and held her M1 Carbine between her knees, muzzle down. Jim was in the right rear passenger seat, staring off into the distance. He had my AR15 and magazines in a chest rig, looking like he could be 20 with the weight of the world on his shoulders yet eager to carry it. I knew that look, it had been on my own face 20 years ago in a desert waiting for Operation Iraqi Freedom to kick off.

“I love you guys, stay calm, be ready to respond to attackers but be safe.”

Zach leaned down from the hatch and stuck his head in the cab. “I love you too Sweetheart… now let’s f*** this goat!”

I picked up my CB’s handset and pushed the talk button. “Fire em up and let’s di di Mao!”

The sound of both Diesel and gas vehicles filled the air, the Deuce and a half in the back the most easily distinguished of all six vehicles.

Over the radio came the order. “All vehicles, all vehicles, this is Castle One Actual, let’s hit the road.”

[2t2crash]

10.
JOINT BASE LEWIS-MCCHORD
Brigadier General Tom Moore’s briefing room
0900hrs

The General’s briefing room was a large room capable of holding 50 people but today it felt small. The large table in the center of the room was occupied by commanders from every major combat and logistics unit from both Ft. Lewis and McChord Field. The chairs that lined the walls were all filled with either commanders of smaller units or E-9s be they Sergeant Majors or Chief Master Sergeants. The tense atmosphere was filled with low voiced discussions between the various military members, some small talk but most of it was focused on the current state of affairs. All had different ideas on how to manage the situation, these ranged from conducting operations as usual to direct action against the FFACA and the brutality they were receiving reports on that was occurring in the cities around them. One thing was certain: nobody was happy with the situation at hand.

All conversations died as the door to the briefing room was opened and a Command Sergeant Major stepped through the entryway.
“ROOM TENCH-HUT!”
In a smooth and rapid motion every man and woman stood ramrod straight at attention as the base commander entered the room. BG Moore walked to the head of the table. “At ease everyone, have a seat.”

Though in his mid 40’s the General had always had a look years younger than he was. At 6’2” and 180 pounds of lean muscle the man was in great shape and only had a small amount of white showing through his short cropped brown hair. He had prided himself in being able to maintain his physical fitness in a way that set the example for all under his command. Today he looked like he had aged 10 years in the last month since the change in political atmosphere. He had bags under his eyes and a gloomy look to him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen as you are well aware there is a situation outside of our gates that demands our attention. As you all know the President has signed into law legislation that has effectively split our nation in two. You also know that the Governor has decided to block traffic in and out of JBLM as well as Camp Murray. This has left us not only at a 70% manning level but it has confined our soldiers and airmen to base, many with families outside of the wire. I am aware of the fact that this has led to some our own troops hopping the fence to try and get to their families on foot. This is the first thing I will address.
In normal times this would be an offense punishable by the UCMJ, however these are not normal times. Lt. Col Keeyes, Major Braxton, I know both the 42nd Military Police Brigade and the 62nd Security Forces Squadron both have prisoners in their cells who have been apprehended attempting to leave. Later today we will discuss in depth how to handle these troops but I want it clear that no formal charges will be on their records nor will they remain in their cells after today. Ladies and Gentlemen one of our duties as leaders is to take care of our personnel and we will. Being split from families while deployed is one thing, but to be locked in while chaos reigns outside is different. As for the security of this base, continue to have your units conducting roving patrols as well as protect the gates. Understood?”

Both commanders nod and respond. “Hoah”, “Roger Sir”.

“Now, I have been informed that the President has decided to suspend Posse Comitatus and wants the US Military to join the efforts in gun confiscations, house raids and patrolling the streets to enforce the curfew and her political will. At absolutely no point will any of our men enforce curfews, aid in action against our citizens or so much as point a weapon at them unless it is in self-defense at which point defensive fire will be the ROE. The US Military will not shed the blood of Americans defending their rights. That said we WILL be sending advisors out if requested. These will be Combat Veterans from our Ranger or SFS units and their job will be observation and intelligence gathering, they will be our eyes and ears outside the wire. Do not send a PT stud with the IQ of a brick.

Our next concern is Logistics, we are well stocked in food, fuel and ammunition but we need to ensure our supply lines in and out are maintained, additionally we will prepare for an influx of personnel as our troops bring their families inside the wire once this blockade is handled. I want tent cities built with facilities to support them, all units will provide working parties to help build. Remember these will be families not a bunch of single men and women so take space and privacy into account.

Major Fisher, once we get logistics lines moving we will need the 62nd APS rocking and rolling with cargo movement, can you handle that with your numbers?”

“Yes Sir, as you know I’m at 53% manning but my 2T2’s are damn hard workers and can move anything any time… they might be known as the Alcoholics Moving Cargo but they are the best at what we do.”

“Good. Colonel Smith I want Strykers at each gate on this installation, two per active gate, plus eyes on inactive gates and the rest split set as a QRF if we ever need them.
Ladies and Gentlemen this is all for now, I want a report in 24 hours from each of you detailing your plans to handle what I have tasked you with. Does anyone have any objections to this? Good, I don’t have to fire anyone. Dismissed.”

“ROOM TENCH-HUT!”
“As you were.”

(Hell with it, here's another chapter)

BG Moore’s Office
1030hrs

BG Moore and CSM Marshawn Peele prepare for their meeting with Washington State Governor Emanuel Mendez whom they have kept waiting in the commander’s lobby with his stand in aid Captain Griffin. General Moore sat back in his leather chair behind a large heavy desk made of American Oak. The desk had been used by the commanders of Fort Lewis since the first World War and while it showed age it had been well maintained and displayed an aura of power. CSM Peele stood to the commander’s left, he was 5’11”, 230lbs of muscle. He was a dark skinned black man with a family service history that included Buffalo Soldiers, Tuskegee Airmen and his father who had been a Green Beret during Vietnam. Marshawn himself was a Ranger. His face sported at 10” long scar that ran from above his left eye brow down the side of his face to jaw. The scar had been the result of an RPG blast that could have taken his head off. The scar and Marshawn’s calm unreadable facial expression was enough to intimidate anyone who did not know the man, and when he would frown it shook men to their bone. To those who knew the Sergeant Major he was a fearless warrior and a loyal and steadfast friend who would do anything for his people.
Both men were in their dress uniforms, the lights in half of the room had been turned off creating an atmosphere of intimidation. The only illumination overhead was above the military personnel. The stage had been set for a meeting with WA state Governor Emanuel Mendez who had earlier that day come to the base’s main gate demanding the meeting with BG Moore.

“Are you ready for some fun Marshawn? Frown at the prick’s security when they are in here. If any of them step out of line just do your thing. They’ve been waiting long enough, shall we?”

“Let’s do it Sir.”

The General pushes the intercom button on his phone that allows him to talk directly to his aid in the other room. “Captain please let our guests know we are read and show them in.”
In the other room, a visibly irritated Mendez gets out of his chair. A career politician with friends deep within the Democratic Party he is not accustomed to being made to wait. Dressed in his finest Italian suit and blue silk tie he is a tall skinny man with slicked back black hair and wire framed glasses on. Beside him are his two body guards, both are large Hispanic males with tattoos poking out above their suit collars. Mendez felt secure, safe… arrogant. To him the military was just an organization filled with dumb followers, folks too stupid to go to college lead by those who went to college but couldn’t hack it in the real world. The Governor strolled towards the door with an air of contempt mixed with assurance, this was a task he figured would be easy to handle and almost beneath him. He was not prepared for what he was about to encounter.
Mendez was taken aback as he stepped into the dimly lit room, the walls lined with American and State flags hanging from poles standing straight up from the floor. The large desk that the General sat behind had no seats in front of it and was occupied with a computer monitor on one side, a folded flag in a case beside it and a small green tank on the other side of the desk next to a picture of a soldier in black and white beside a similar vehicle. Mendez pretended he was not impressed as he confidently strolled up to the desk, his men standing on either side of him a few paces behind.

General Moore leaned back and folded his hands across his lap. “Governor Mendez, welcome and how may I help you?”

Mendez stood straight and adjusted his suit coat. “Colonel.. “

“Brigadier General, or just General.”

“My mistake. GENERAL. I’m here to provide you with my needs of your units and support in carrying out the gun confiscations and bringing order back to the area.”

“Won’t do it.”

Mendez’s shock showed clearly on his face. “WON’T?”

“You heard me clearly Sir, Posse Comitatus and the US Constitution forbids it.”

“Posse Comitatus has been suspended by order of the President, your boss. She has delegated the powers of her office down to State Governors during this time of unrest. You WILL follow orders General!”

General Moore unclasped his hands and leaned forward, growling out his words. “Governor Mendez I have patiently endured this silly blockade of yours at my gates that has cut off my troops from their families, or from coming in to work. If you think I am going to soil the reputation of the US Army and US Air Force here at JBLM for gun confiscations while you harass my people you are sorely mistaken.”

The Governor slammed his fist on the oak desk in rage “Those blockades are there to ensure your people did not do anything stupid without orders!”

Moore stood out of his chair, launching it five feet behind him as he did, leaning forward towards Mendez with a hard look on his face. “Do you think for one second those police and armed thugs with them impress me? I could easily crush them in an instant so I would remind you that testing me is not the smart move and I don’t give a f*** who you are, the next time you bash my desk it will be the last!”

As the General made his point the two bodyguards started towards the desk. They had worked with the Governor for years now and were used to being the intimidators, never had a situation like this occurred where the person they were visiting stood defiant, let alone threaten their boss. Their advance was halted immediately as the large black man next to the General took two long steps forward and glared at them with his arms crossed at his chest. A new feeling gripped them at the sight of this sinister looking man with the scar down his face… fear. It was immediately impressed upon them that they would be dismantled by this man.
The silence in the room was broken as the General stood back and relaxed. “Governor you want help and I want my men and women free to move in and out of my base. I’ll make a deal with you: remove your forces from my gates and allow my men and women to get their families on base. I’ll provide you with military advisors to observe and aid your police forces. My people will not be an enemy of the citizens of this country and they are not a law enforcement agency but if we can provide indirect assistance then we will do that.”

The Governor relaxed as well and straightened his suit. “Very well General. Your men can observe and aid but if they attempt to intervene in the confiscation and policing efforts I’ll be back to ensure the compliance of JBLM with my needs.”

With that Mendez turned to leave, noticing the look on his guards’ faces. “Let’s go!”

As the door closed the Command Sergeant Major looked to his commander, to his friend. “That could have gone better Sir.”

“Oh I don’t know Marshawn, I think it went rather well. That little shit thinks he got the better end of the bargain. Let the Battalion and Wing Commanders know what the situation is, and to get their asses in gear.
It’s time to get eyes outside, and our people inside. We don’t need to fight yet, but we sure as shit aren’t helping them.”

“Roger that Sir.”

[2t2crash]

So what do you guys think so far, is my writing clear enough or can I get a bit confusing to the reader?

[freebirde]

The only suggestion I would make would be to put space between paragraphs and changes of source of dialogue. Oh Yeah, more chapters would help also.

[crice118]

Excellent!

[2t2crash]

Apr 10, 2018 17:01:44 GMT -6 freebirde said:

The only suggestion I would make would be to put space between paragraphs and changes of source of dialogue. Oh Yeah, more chapters would help also.

let me know if this helps.

11.
I took a deep breath as I put my truck in gear and eased off the clutch, putting our convoy into motion. Turning right onto the road I looked at my parents’ house, hoping they’d be able to come back to it someday. Hoping we’d all get to go home eventually but this was one of those times where you just had that feeling you were stepping off into something momentous, something new and dangerous. I hadn’t felt this way since my first deployment and it was exciting and terrifying. With one simple signature, our nation had been rent in two based on ideologies, it would take time for a full-scale war to break out but it was already starting and I doubted it would be a quick one.

I looked over at my wife and noticed she was nervous as hell. “Take a few deep breaths Dear, we are just getting moving and it’ll be a long trip, hopefully uneventful. Make sure the carbine has a round in the chamber, set to safe and then turn it around, keep the muzzle up but pointed at the ceiling, not you. If you need to draw it up to fire that’s the fastest way. Jim make sure you’re set the same way.” As they both readied their weapons I checked the safety on my .45 to ensure it was in place, a habit I had built while concealed carrying before all of this craziness.


Raquel turned and looked at me “I love you, I hope we are doing the right thing.”

“We are dear, we won’t live under anyone’s boot, and neither will our kids.”

“I know, I didn’t mean that… I meant where we are headed. I’ve heard plenty of stories about where you guys hunt, it doesn’t sound easy plus we don’t know how we’ll be received by the town.”

“We’ll get by, we know the land well to include approaches and where to hunt food. It’s Eastern Washington so I’m sure there won’t be very many people happy with what is going on. We have plenty of experience here, I’m sure we can get setup well out there plus we have a lot of combat veterans who can train us.”

“You sound pretty sure about this, are you sure this will work?”

“No, but it’s the best bet we have. We took the same oath my Love, we cannot let these political thugs change what the nation is and if we have to fight for it then so be it. I’m nervous as all hell too, you know we weren’t combat troops, we loaded planes. There’s a steep learning curve to fighting and killing… and staying alive. I just hate that Jim has to come along for the ride.”

“I can hear you Dad.”

“I know. Are you watching the road?”

“Yes. Dad what about school? My friends all stayed back, I doubt they will join the fight.”

“I don’t know right now Son, I’m guessing you’ll be learning a whole bunch of new stuff now. I know you aren’t a legal adult yet but you are mature and intelligent, pay attention to the Vets and learn what they must teach you. Taking a life is no fun and I pray you never have to but it is better to be prepared than not.”

“I know, this isn’t a toy I’m holding. I won’t let you down.”
Our conversation is interrupted by the sound of the CB, giving us a jump.

“All vehicles this is Castle One, Radio and status check in reverse convoy order.”

“This is Blacksmith, we are Green on fuel, Green on ammunition and I copy Lima Charley.”

“This is Crawdad, we are good on gas and you’re coming in fine.”

“Hawkeye is good”

“Cobra Copies, Green and Green.”

“Hercules here, coming in clear and we are set on fuel and ammo.”

“All vehicles Castle One copies all vehicles coming in clear and set green-green. Castle One out.”

We continue to drive along the straight roads heading to Salmon Pass in silence. The sun was high in the sky by now and we had settled down and began to enjoy the drive. With the windows down, we could smell the forest around us, the tall green pine trees gave off their wonderful scent and helped keep the drive cool enough that all windows were down. Zach was relaxed in one of the rear seats, dozing off.

“Zach wake up man, get on the gun. We’ll be approaching a town in about 5 minutes.”

“On it.” Zach immediately hopped back into the back of the truck and unlatched the turret’s hatch. The gun swung up into position easily, causing me to admire my father’s handiwork once again. With the hatch closed you could barely tell there was one up there from the outside. Zach sat into the web seat that hung down from the turret and pulled the charging handle on the browning to get it set if we needed it. “Is this another belt of ball ammunition?”

“Yes. If you need it, the can on the far-right shelf down there has tracers every fifth round”

“Word, why so much with just ball ammunition?”

“Tracers are fucking expensive.”

“All vehicles, Castle One. Sound off with vehicle status from front to rear.”

“Red, Green”

“Half a tank of fuel, good on ammo.”

“1/4 tank.”

“Green, Green”

“Copy all statuses, we are Yellow and Green. Hercules find us a gas station that has diesel and we’ll all fuel up. Keep your eyes peeled and stay alert.”

“Hercules copies”

Raquel looked over to me curiously. “Why are we Hercules?”

“because of the C-130, since we used to load them.”

“Oh, makes sense.”

As we approached town everything seemed normal. There were folks walking the streets, stores were open and nothing showed signs of the chaos in the big cities. We drove into town at the posted speed limit, the distances between our vehicles closing to normal traffic sized intervals. We received a mix of curious looks as well as those of alarm. We weren’t exactly inconspicuous especially with Zach and the machinegun up top, I should have had him stay down but it was too late now.

I pulled into the first gas station that had room for us all, it was a Chevron station with typical Chevron prices. $6 for a gallon of Diesel felt like robbery but that’s because I still remembered griping at it hitting $3 a gallon years ago. I pulled directly in to the pump and wasted no time getting out to refuel. We wanted this done so we could get on the road as fast as possible.

As the fuel pump fed my truck I looked around at the surroundings. Everyone but Rich had made it into a stall to refuel. There were two other vehicles refueling, including a blue Subaru hatch-back in front of me that had the rear bumper covered in stickers. COEXIST, PEACE, CLAMPTON 2020. Fucking liberals… this could be trouble.

Jim looked out the window at me. “Dad, Mom and I need to pee.”

I sighed, I guess you can’t help some things. “Make it fast.”

As the truck doors closed and they headed into the store I looked up at Zach who was smiling down at me. “The f*** you are staring at Zach, you need a diaper change or something?”

“No, I’m good but you can add a couple of trucker bombs to our inventory.”

“You sick bastard.”

As I hung up the nozzle and closed my fuel door I was alerted to a commotion at the gas station door by Zach. “Hey, someone’s fucking with Raquel and your son, young male in early 20’s, white with blonde hair…. Oh shit, never mind. Jim just punched him and put him on his ass. Damn!”

I walked around the truck and headed towards my family as they were coming out. Jim was obviously pissed; my wife was smiling.

“What was that all about?”

“I came out of the bathroom to see that dude was talking trash to Mom and I about us being stupid redneck gun lovers, then he called Mom a whore so I knocked him out.”

“Good job. Looks like he’s not totally out though.”

The man came storming out of the store heading straight towards my family screaming profanities which is when I stepped forward. “I suggest you shut the f*** up and get in your car, if you think my son hits hard you don’t want some of me.”
The man stopped and was taken aback, then he spotted the pistol on my hip, then the truck’s addition and his eyes widened. “That gun is illegal! You aren’t allowed to have it and need to turn it in. That’s the LAW!”

“f*** the law, f*** you. Get lost kid.”

“I’m calling the local FFACA office on you!” he hopped in the Subaru and I could see he was on his phone. Everyone in the convoy had seen what happened and thankfully all were fueled and ready to go so I hopped in my truck after my family were in and secure.

“All vehicles this is Castle One Actual, let’s get the hell out of here while we can before the Federalized idiots show up. Same vehicle order. Castle Actual out.”

With a quick turn, we were back on the road heading out of town. Even though Rich had not been able to refuel his truck we didn’t have to worry, the old Deuce had two 40-gallon fuel tanks and I bet it could make it to our destination with no problems. Everything was quiet for a few minutes until a call came over the CB.

“Castle One this is Blacksmith, we have a sedan hauling ass up behind us with what looks like one of those magnetic cop lights on top. It isn’t a cop though. Might be FFACA, what do you want us to do?”

“Have Jose put a couple of rounds in front of it and report back.”

The sound of three rapid shots plus screeching tires was easily heard amongst the convoy.

“That worked, he stopped.”

“Copy, good work.”

As we drove on I mumbled a few curses under my breath, not something new to my wife but she must have been curious this time.

“What was that Honey?”

“I was just muttering to myself. I wish these fuckers would leave us alone and realize we
aren’t in the mood to be fucked with. Hopefully the dry side of the state is a little less idiotic.”

“Eastern WA folks seem to be a different breed than the liberals on the west side of the Cascades, so let’s hope.”

“It’s already going to suck getting setup, it’d be nice not to have to worry about every town being a combat zone like over here. How are you doing with all of this?”

“Same as last time you asked me, my love… I’m processing it but doing okay, I hope my sister is doing okay and that the other ladies with us are too.”

“Yeah, hopefully Jim does okay with it, we’ll have to figure out schooling and that sort of thing too.”

“Dad, again, I’m right here you know… and don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

Zach pounded on the top of the truck and yelled down. “What about me? No love for your gunner?”

I smiled to myself and gave a little laugh. “Quit being a baby and watch the road you retard!”

“I am watching, there isn’t shit to shoot at.”

We continued in relative silence, the sound of the diesel engine surrounded us as well as the scenery we drove through. The two-lane highway was lined with pine trees that would occasionally have gaps where acre sized areas had been logged. These were filled with small pine trees growing in various heights depending on how long ago the area had been replanted. I couldn’t help but think that the clear-cut areas were great spots to hunt black-tailed deer when the season was around. This thought took me to the task ahead of us. We would have to setup camp when we reached our destination. The area was tucked into one of the canyons of the land we hunted, most of the ridge line in the area was bare of trees or scrub, just lots of grass which left vehicle travel at the top extremely exposed but the canyons were forested quite well. One area was nice and flat, had plenty of trees as well as a stream that ran by the remains of an old hand cut log cabin that must have been built in the early 1900’s as a rest stop for the cattlemen that would drive their herds through the area. Food, sanitation, shelter, security… the list went on. Knowing the area and having experience with living out there for a week to a month at a time during hunting seasons gave a bit of an advantage but we were still going to have to figure a lot of things out. Hopefully the town close by would be hospitable or we’re screwed.

“All vehicles this is Castle One, we are approaching the last turn prior to a 2-mile-long straight away that leads into another town, after the town we’ll be in nothing but open road until after the Pass, look alive and be alert. Castle One out.”

“Hercules copies, slowing for the turn now.” As I down shifted and slowed for the tight turn I was on edge, the trees blocked my ability to see what was coming up around the bend and something felt off. We hadn’t seen any vehicles heading the opposite direction for about ten minutes and usually we would have. “Zach look alive, something doesn’t feel right.”

“Copy!”

Zach stood up from the improvised chair and took up a stance that told me he was on the gun and ready to engage. “Raquel, Jim, have your weapons ready, I have a bad feeling shit is about to hit the fan. Stay low if possible, shoot if we get fired on.”

As I came around the turn and could see the road ahead I immediately noticed why we had not experienced any traffic headed our way. The road was blocked less than a quarter mile ahead by two cars that were sitting trunk to trunk with their front ends towards the shoulder with men dressed in black behind them, weapons pointed our way. The traffic was blocked by a third vehicle about a half a mile past them. I was thankful they chose this long stretch to try and stop us since it made it easier for us to see where everything was setup and where not to shoot.

I immediately grabbed the radio and gave a report while keeping my speed “All vehicles we have a roadblock ahead, approximately 10 armed individuals pointing weapons our way.”

“This is Castle One Actual, ram the damn cars if you have to, nobody stops!”

I shifted my truck into a higher gear and mashed the pedal, I was only doing 20 mph through the turn and wanted more speed. By the time I hit 30mph I could tell the people manning the road block were getting antsy, finally one of them shot at us when we were within a couple of hundred yards. The first shot missed wildly but it was the leak that broke the dam and gunfire erupted from behind the two blocking vehicles. Most of the shots were wild but three managed to stitch my windshield right between my wife and I, sending shards of glass into my face but not damaging my eyes thanks to the Oakley sunglasses I was wearing. The rounds passed by my family safely but I heard them smack into the armor plate behind us and then a curse from Zach.

“Motherfuckers! I’m hit, but not bad.” The string of expletives that followed from Zach’s mouth was drowned out by a particularly long burst of return fire from the browning. I could see the asphalt chip up as he adjusts his fire and walked the rounds into the vehicle on the right. Glass exploded from the side windows of his target and the rear passenger side doors were shredded with holes as Zach focused on the shooter he felt responsible for the aimed fire at the truck. The man’s body jerked as rounds pierced his torso and a final shot resulted in his head snapping back accompanied by a spray of pink mist behind his head. Further bursts were directed towards the vehicle on the left. Zach’s fire had an immediate effect as it caused two more casualties and another destroyed vehicle. Our attackers all scrambled to get away from both the deadly fire directed their way as well as my 8,000lb truck that was barreling towards their cover.

When I was within 20 feet of the vehicles I left off the gas long enough to downshift and get more torque behind my wheels. As I focused on aiming my truck for the small gap between the two cars my wife and son both opened on the right. The shots were going out as fast as they could pull the trigger, the .30 Carbines making their small pops seemed like child’s play when compared to the .30 caliber on the roof but they still did their part to keep heads down and attempt to protect.

“HOLD ON GUYS!”

The truck smashed into the two cars in a violent manner that sent them both swinging wide and cleared a path, despite my warning we all got scrambled a bit and it was all I could do not to lose control of the wheel. I could hear gunfire from each vehicle as we passed the now defunct road block. The next problem would be the third sedan and its passengers that were blocking the oncoming traffic. We had a half a mile to prepare but it ended up that violence was not needed. As we approached I could see the two FFACA members with their hands in the air and guns on the ground. Every gun on the left side of our convoy aimed at them as we drove by but nobody fired, we weren’t cold blooded murderers plus the long line of civilians sitting in their vehicles looking dumbfounded were bystanders we didn’t want to see hurt.

“Zach are you alright?”

“A ricochet hit me in the ass but I’m okay for now.”

“All Vehicles check in!”

“Hercules has one non-critical wounded, a little banged up but the vehicle is good.”

“Cobra good”

“Hawkeye, we’re fine”

“Crawdad here, we’re okay”

“Blacksmith has one down, I’m getting no response from Jose in the back, all else are
fine, we need Doc back here to look at him.”

“Castle One copies… here Doc take the mic.”

“Blacksmith I need more information, is Jose down or dead? Where’s he hit and can you see any blood?”

“Negative Doc, Rich just climbed in the back through the rear window and is evaluating
him now, no blood. What’s that Rich? Okay…. Doc Rich says Jose took a round to the plate and Kevlar. He’s unconscious, but alive and has minor bleeding from a gash in his forehead.”

“Copy, get his legs up, take his helmet off and put some gauze and pressure on the head wound, if his situation gets worse radio us. When we hit a safe spot to check him out further I will but it sounds like he got his bell rung.”

“Roger that Doc, be advised he’s coming to, a bit incoherent but otherwise okay.”

“Copy, Castle One out.”

[texican]

Apr 10, 2018 13:28:29 GMT -6 2t2crash said:

So what do you guys think so far, is my writing clear enough or can I get a bit confusing to the reader?

2t2,

Two dead bodyguards and a govern in the deepest wettest cell on the post would have been appropriate, but probably coming....

Now another chapter to clear all of this up would help....

Thanks,

Texican....