(Everything) Join with your knowedge & imagination to tell the story. THE AWAKENING

Monday - noon

It's been a long weekend but I got to stop at the house so I'm happy, if a bit tired.

Dropped Andy off at the house. He'd taken grenade shrapnel in both thighs Friday. Said he shouldn't have stayed to make that third shot because the gunner in the lead APC was way too fast in coming back with his automatic grenade launcher. If he hadn't already been moving out he probably would have been killed instead of just wounded. The doc says he'll likely heal up clean with no loss of ability if they keep the wounds dry and clean and they don't get infected. Andy wanted to stay at the base to recuperate but Parker said it was getting too crowded and since I was going to be passing near to the house anyways I should drop him off. Neither one of us was looking forward to facing Libby! Frankly, I'd rather face the Cubans than an irrational and hysterical pregnant woman. At least she has to take it easy on Andy. She sure didn't on me though!

Reports of communicable disease outbreaks have been coming in from some of the impromptu refugee camps that have sprung up in places like shopping centers on the main north-south highways such as on U.S. 19 in Chiefland and Cross City, U.S. 41 in Williston and Newberry, and U.S. 27 north of Ocala. A team of docs and other med professionals from the university requested us to provide them security and Parker wanted me to recruit volunteers so he agreed. The biggest concern was highwaymen. Once you're well away from the Interstate the Cubans don't seem to much care unless they've been taking a lot of attacks from the area. Spent nearly a day getting it all together and then infiltrating it across the Interstate. Had a force of twenty men including the med people, but all were armed so we didn't have any bandit problems.

We stopped at the six camps that we knew about and learned of a number of others. Conditions were pretty rough but in each one some form of governing committee had formed and was trying to get things straightened out so far as latrines, trash disposal, and drinking water was concerned. Folks are pretty hungry and it wouldn't do to go walking about at night without being heavily armed but between the locals, the folks trying to do the organizing, and the university folks it looks like they'll eventually get on top of it if nothing else really bad happens. At least they're getting the bodies buried and are trying to get folks not to pee in the drinking water.

Had some luck in recruiting. The younger guys were all local but I came up with an even dozen and likely more to come after. Also came up with some military retirees with skills we could really use in intelligence, logistics, and ops. Parker will have to sort them out but at least they're willing and not so old as to be likely to die on us (soon anyways). We might get so many folks with actual military experience coming in that I can go back to being a civilian! Some how I don't think Parker would see it that way, but I can hope.

Stopped at the house on the way back, just for a few hours, but it was nice. It's rained a time or two, not a lot, but enough that the grass is bravely attempting to put on some growth. We need to scrounge up something to serve for guttering to catch all the run off water we can. Uncle Wayne has pretty much got the deep well hand pump rebuilt and crafted linkages that should get the job done. He's trying to find a well and pump man to give us advice on how to make the change out so water won't be disrupted longer than it must. If we survive this war I'm am for damn sure going to put in a second well with a permanent handpump even if I never use it again for anything more than watering flowers! Just wasn't time to do anything about long-term water before the war came and I'm bitterly regretting it now. The house grounds have never looked better. Nothing like having four adults at home full time and needing to grow all of their food to really make things over.

I find I'm also the adoptive father of a son and a daughter! His name is Zeb and he is two and a half, slightly younger than my daughter. Her name is Summer and she's four. Highwaymen got their parents not long before the local posse got them. Really hadn't planned on more kids yet but they were already here and from the set of her walk, the look on her face and the tone of her voice I could see there wasn't any use in trying to talk Jo out of it, particularly with Aunt Clara and Libby on her side and Uncle Wayne (the rotten coward!) having made himself conspicuously absent when she presented them to me! Ah well, they're both strong and healthy and they'll make a fine addition to the family if we don't starve first.

Big news out of the Ocala area. It seems the Forest resistance has decided to come west of the Ocklawaha and took out the Ocala airport destroying a number of Cuban aircraft. That really drove Charley mad and he executed a large number of people in reprisal. Don't know for sure how many but it may have been as many as several hundred. Both the destruction and the reprisals will work in our favor by driving the uncommitted into our arms. Eventually we'll use the rage that he has created to drive Charley into his grave.

Word has finally gotten out as to why we haven't heard the Plant City group come up on the air. Charley is now beginning to use poison gas in his attempts to protect his convoys. Details are still very confused but it sounds like the Cubans may have faked a convoy breakdown to lure the resistance in close then used what sounds like some form of nerve gas to take them out when they had fully committed themselves in their attacks. No word on casualty counts but it sounds pretty high. This presents for a serious complication in our planning because we have very few effective masks and nearly no protective suits.

Parker thinks our most effective defense for this will be an effective offense so we are now sending several missile teams with every convoy strike. They'll set up in areas where they can achieve good visibility between five hundred and a thousand yards out from where the strike team is at. Timings going to be tricky because if they fire the missiles at range the aircraft stands a good chance of getting away. Fortunately, it sounds like Charley used some form of spray equipment rather than missiles to deliver the gas so we're hoping that the missile teams can let the spray planes get close enough to them that the pilots will have little time to react when they fire their ground to air missiles but not so close they'll have already begun spraying. With it being summer, temperatures in the nineties, humidity being relatively low and usually at least a little breezy the planes will have to get fairly close in before they can begin spraying to achieve reliable coverage so they ought to be well within range of our missile teams. We hope.

We did take out one strike aircraft yesterday, but we could not determine if it was a spray plane as it came down right in the Interstate median and the Cubans pretty well burned what was left into slag with thermite and phosphorus.

D-Day approaches when maybe we'll get a little of our own back.

……….Alan.

"DL its the devil! Meet Sambo and friends at Scramble town dump box at dawn. Sambo in a humvee." "Roger, Devil...send some corn meal if ya can."

Well, we got Cedric and both of the bikers headed out to float the river down to where Cedric has the humvee hidden. They left here about 2am and that should allow them plenty of time to meet with DL in Scramble town off of SR 40 on 314. We all took turns grinding corn meal and I sent 25 lbs of the meal, and 10 lbs of white flour, a can of crisco and some baking powder. Was the best I could do for them. Now we are going to be low on corn. I have 3 55 gal drums of whole dried corn but that was supposed to be for the chickens. Well, they may have to share.
Cedric and Liz said that no one had bothered our house and CH and I got to talking about moving back. But then I get scared. I think we would be sitting ducks there. BUt we are going to make a run for the house today and have a look around and fill up some of our water drums as we are getting low on water. Have got to learn to conserve better. We haven't had any rain and live in fear of the woods catching on fire. All we would be able to do is run for our lives if it really headed over our camp. We have the sump pump for the pond, but fire crowns in these pine trees and just starts leaping across the forest.
Liz and Bonnie and I are still inventoring our supplies and I am getting really concerned. When we did our prepping it was for y2k and I didn't figure on having to feed a bunch of militia off and on or taking in 3 more mouths and a dog.
I hate to do it, but when some of the men come back we are going to go down to the Holly Farm and see if he still has cattle. One way or another we are going to have to get a beef. Either we barter something, buy it or take it at gun point. I figure if we jerk most of it we will have protein for a long time. We are also going to have to make a run to the river and do some fishing. I don't want any guns going off anywhere around us as thats a dead give away that we are here. CH has a turkey caller and so now he sits by the hour and shoots rocks at a target with his sling shot. Figures he can maybe get us some turkey that way. The woods are full of them. There are lots of hogs out in the woods too, but you don't want to cross them unless you have a gun. They are mean and could easily kill a man. What we need is a good strong man in camp with a hunting bow. We could have enuff meat then.
Got dinner in the bush box. Its a rice and veggie mixture that comes in jars. Bought about 15 of them pre rollover. So I mixed that with hot water, tossed in a half dozen whipped eggs. Bonnie had taken the bones of the deer haunch and had gotten every scrap of meat, fat, tendon that she could get off the bones and we put that into the pot and then put the bones in too. Boiled it up and put into the bush box. When it comes out I will pour a can of heated mushroom soup over it. Serve it up with corn bread...what else? I do need to get my bucket of vitamens out and get some C out for everyone. We don't get enough fresh stuff. Come winter and we will have lots of citrus even if its sour oranges from the root stock that came up after the trees froze out in the 80s. When we go to the river I am going to get us some "sea lettuce" and bring it back and see if it will grow in the pond here. May take moving water. I have only seen it in rivers and in real large lakes. Also along the river is wild rice. I understand its really a grain and not rice, but who cares? The indians ate it so we can too. It won't be ready to harvest until about first of November. We will need some kind of boat or raft to float the river to gather it. But by harvest time maybe we will have figured that one out. I am sure there is a lot more food growing around us and we just don't know it. Will have to pick Liz's brain. She had spent a lot of time with her black inlaws and knows a lot about foods around here that I don't. I know we have wild persimmons and plums. I also know that there are bee trees out here in the forest but I am not going after them until we start getting low on cane syrup. And since I had 15 qts of it, plus 24 bottles of pancake syrup, and 4 qts of honey, we aren't exactly in a world of hurt for sweet stuff. Also have 100# of white sugar in Vittle Vaults in the basement of the trailer. Also a couple buckets of brown sugar. We have a lot of salt and pepper too, but I wish we had more salt so we could try salting some stuff down.
Do you ever think we will defeat the enemy and drive them off, or better yet, kill them all? I wouldn't mind so much this way of life except for the fear. If we could go out and hunt and barter and live in our house with the well with the hand pump, etc., it would be heaven compared to this. The most prominent thing here is FEAR. I am tired of living in fear. If we could just get rid of the fear we could rebuild our lives. They will never be the same, but who is to say they might not be better in someways? Just to be free of fear again!

"Devil, we got the corn meal and headed down river"

Well I guess Cedric and the bikers connected with DL and his bunch and are headed north (river runs south to north)to connect up with Alan. I am going to miss the bikers. They gave me some sense of security. I have about decided that what we need are some young couple or families moving in around us. The problem with that is do we have to feed them? Fear...and more fear!!

Taz

Wednesday - dawn

Returned last night from the Palatka and points east area after a recruiting drive. Near to fifty men came back with me, many of them refugees from the Jacksonville fracas. Expect to get twice that many tonight. It's becoming a problem to feed and shelter the volunteers but Parker says keep beating the bushes. Charley has been steadily reinforcing his refuel and repair depots so we're going to have to have more men for our part of the coordinated strike.

It's been nearly a week since the Cubans have managed to get a convoy up I-75 without losing at least a couple of trucks outright and we've either severely damaged or destroyed several whole convoys. Taking out the Santa Fe river bridge forced them to detour around which made it easier to ambush his trucks. Our losses have been steadily mounting but in general we feel we are winning. He has twice now used what we think to be nerve gas to take out our troops. The first time we did lose four dead when the spray plane managed to get a pass in before one of our missile teams downed it. The planes are at a disadvantage in that they can't spray from a really high altitude nor make mach plus passes - if their spraying is going to be effective it has to be fairly low and rather slow. The second time we had our missile teams further out and better sited. The plane had just committed itself to its run when our man fired and the pilot simply didn't have time to react before he was hit. We've taken out a chopper and damaged another as well. We're using up missiles fast but it's keeping their air cover off of us. He's bringing in more strike jets to help suppress our attacks which means they're not going to the front lines. We're also seeing more armor and their gunners are getting better at getting on target quickly so we have to duck and dodge faster. A never ending series of improvise, adapt, and overcome. How much armor, troops, choppers and jets he can commit to dealing with us before it begins to seriously hurt him on the invasion front we cannot answer but we believe it has to be having an affect.

The use of poison gasses, hostage taking, and the Cubans murderous reprisals against non-combatants are beginning to work in our favor as resistance groups up and down the line of I-75, I-10, and the Florida Turnpike report increasing numbers of volunteers. Many are beginning to realize that like it or not they are in a fight for their literal survival and that it's better to take the fight to the enemy rather than waiting for him to come to them. I don't know how long we can sustain this effort but we're going to make the most of it while it lasts.

Just had Officer's Call. Parker and all of us who are the organizers and coordinators met to make our final plans and decisions. We'll spend the rest of today getting our men and equipment together preparatory to moving them out tonight after nightfall for our part of the joint strike. I'm in charge of the ballista battery. Parker said as it was my idea I should have the honor of commanding them. Fortunately, the gunners are trained and I'll have a second who'll actually coordinate the fire with two men serving as artillery spotters. Owning a book is one thing, but having technical competency in artillery fire is quite another. The bows will have an important role in opening the attack so I'm praying they'll work as intended.

There was considerable tension in the room as we wrapped up the meeting. If this attack came off badly we would lose a very great part of our fighting strength and equipment. Parker's orderly came in with a bottle of whisky and a tray of glasses. As the man left, the Captain said, "Gentlemen, upon a time it was customary to have a toast and a drink before opening a battle. I thought we'd reinstitute that custom here. Who'll give us a toast?"

No one spoke for a moment so I raised my glass and spoke, "I give you the Marquis of Montrose.

<center>He fears his fate too much
or his desserts are small
who dares not put it to the touch…

to win or lose it all."</center>

………Alan.

First the really good news. The NG boys and girls sent out two convoys of trucks back to their hometowns. Went to pick up the families of theirs and bring them back here. There had been a few NG that walked off in the night to go back home. The commander had a big meeting and a vote (a vote in the NG?) and that is when they decided to bring the families back up.
Made a lot of sense. The families were under tremendous hardship back home and the troops up here were only functioning at maybe 50% here worrying about their families.
They arrived yesterday and it was like an old fashion carnival and family reunion rolled into one. Spirits were flying. Lot of tears and laughter and party half the night around campfires in the fort and on the beach. All us civilians were as glad as the NG. It raised our population to well over 4000 as close as we can figure. So many new faces was good for all of us. Plus,on the selfish side,it meant the work load decreased for us. Hopefully not so many patrols and sentry duty.
Now the bad news. The Sovs are on the move. They were not going to come back down towards us. That hurt them. So we got the news that they are heading WB across the northern UP and heading towards Ironwood the hang a hard left and head towards Chicago.
Our NG is going to have to head over on US 2 on the south side of the UP and head em off at the pass.
Strategic wise we have screwed them up by holding here. We have stopped them from an easy north-south split and what they were attempting to do would be a very poor second. But encirclement is what they were trying for even if the circle included Lake Michigan in it.
If they got stopped again it would really boost morale for this whole part of the USA. The contingent of Sovs is unknown. We are sure it will be substantial so with our NG and Wisconsin NG blocking them we could pull off a neat trick of lowering their morale and building ours. If it can be pulled off. They had to have reinforcements come in. Our NG had kicked their butt hard enough last time so they couldnt try it with the troops they did have.
All of us were getting lessons in military weaponry. We needed to get up to speed fast. The civilians would be taking over all the duties of the NG. They would only be leaving a handful with us.
One other duty I hadnt really spelled out was that by us holding this area,more shipments by water couldnt get through to Chicago through the St. Lawrence Seaway. Yeah they could drop off at Detroit but that would be it.
So some of our artillery pieces were right on the bridge and anyone coming through.....didnt. The small boat patrols helped us with the eyes and ears of the operation so ships couldnt sneak past us. On the north end of the bridge the NG had already shipped out WB and a group of civilians had already taken over that job protecting the bridge in case the Sovs made a pass back at us from the Soo.
We all had to stay loosy goosy and be ready to jump over to the north side or back down to us in case the Sovs. tried coming up NB on 75 again.
So the RV's that had been in the park,were positioned on the approach of the bridge and were set to head north if needed.
The north side had a like number of RV's ready to move south to protect us.
Each RV could hold,in a pinch about 40 people with small arms and gear for a fire fight. Anything more than this would require more trips and also some gear hauling equipment that we really didnt have. The NG would need it to head west. The tanks and such were being hauled on low boys so they could make better time to Ironwood. We only had a few trucks to haul things of any size. It was going to be tight.
Our carnival had left town. All the happiness when the families got here was short lived. The NG pulled out early in the AM of the second day of the reunion of their families. Lot of tears. From us too. The NG had saved our lives. We owed them so much.
And we especially owed them a home to come back to when they were done over on the other side of the state.
I hate goodbyes.

It was surprising how quickly things could change. The Colonel had hoped to have some of the people of Ocala join in the resistance. After the Cuban reprisals however, they were almost willing to charge the Cuban positions en masse, armed or not. It was all He could do to keep them from wasteing their lives in such a useless way.

The Cubans on the other hand had taken the lack of action on the part of the local people as a sign that they had been cowed into submission. They had begun to try to crush them even more than before. The impressed workers were driven to work longer and harder than ever. With the additional work, and the need to replace workers that had been executed, they hadn't noticed that some of the new workers weren't quite the same as the rest. The new ones were a little more likely to willingly work closely with them. Especially if the work was near the areas the Cubans had taken over for their barracking, and recreation.

The resistance however found the intelligence gathered by the 'workers' that they had sent to be most valuable. Times for convoys passing through, destinations, cargo, and troop numbers were all reported back through the militia to the forces in the north. Enemy losses continued to mount, steeply.

All the time, the weather continued to get worse. There wasn't any doubt any longer. A hurricane was moving in, slowly from the Gulf of Mexico. While this would disrupt plans for both sides, it worked in favor of the resistance. The Cubans hadn't been able to bring in any resupply ships for about three days now and the storm hadn't yet hit.

It was early in the season, so slow moving storms weren't unknown for this time of year. The only question was how bad would it get? If it was a weak hurricane, it raised possibilities. It would be risky, but if the storm was small enough, and if they timed it right, it might just be the best chance they had so far to really hurt the Cubans.

"day late calling A.T. We need to talk. Sambo is going to the tower."

Now would Alan know He ment the Central Tower the Forest Service used to watch for fires. Time was short. Hurry Alan Hurry.

While I was eating some terrific elk stew, George started his story. George is 35 and a former spec forces member. His dad is 78 and has a pacemaker.

We came up to Payson about two weeks before thshtf. Dad was enjoying the cooler temperatures and I was trying to get used to the quiet. We saw the flash from the explosion in Phoenix. I told dad to get down in the basement! By the time I had gotten to the basement, my dad was doubled over in pain!! There were probably high altitude detonations going off for the purpose of EMP. The shock of seeing the flash over Phoenix and the EMP was too much for my fathers heart!!!

I laid him on the floor and grabbed a pillow off a chair for his head. It only lasted a minute and he was gone!!! There was nothing I could do!!!! I'm not sure if he had been standing in a truama center, if they could have done anything for him!!!

I buried him later that day. It was tough going because there was so much rock. I said my words over him and went over to my neighbor Dorothy. She was stunned by the news but otherwise okay. Her son Ed happened to be up from Phoenix to help her move some things.

I went back to the house after awhile and stood lookout on the top balcony. I could see anyone coming into the area by roadway.

The next day, I grabbed my pistol and two extra mags and set off to town. I wanted to stop by and see Steve. I drove down the mountain to Steve's little store. The door to the store was open and so was the door to Steve's trailer!!! I checked in the store and no one was there. The place was a mess and it looked like most of the goods had been taken!!! I went around to the trailer and stuck my head inside. I could hear a moan!!! I crept inside and spotted Steve!!! He was face down in a pool of blood!!! I hollered "Steve, Steve, it's me George," but he was too far gone. They must have come after him just a couple of hours ago!!!

Steve died in my arms. He probably didn't even know! I buried him behind his place and marked the grave. Too much death!!!!

I started back up the mountain to the house. I got as far as the water tank when I heard the shooting. I parked the truck and went on foot with my pistol in hand. My house was on fire and Ed was firing on the intruders. I snuck up a little closer and nailed two of the perps with my first two shots!!! I fired three more times at another one and got nothing but air!! His shot caught my upper thigh. I fired off two more rounds as I went down and nailed him twice in the upper torso!!! By now Ed was running to my position. We had gotten all of them!

We had to watch the house burn as there was nothing we could do. It only took about a half hour and it was gone. Ed took me to Dorothy's and we bandaged up my leg. The bullet had gone all the way through and had not hit anything vital like bone or arteries. I was laid up though as it hurt pretty bad. The leg felt like it was bruised, but from the inside out!!! Ed made me a pair of homemade crutches and I got around okay.

And after awhile you showed up. Hey, could you get my stash off the mountain ?

Long lost diary entry:

This is Fred Smith. I'm six foot one, brown eyes, brown hair, and a potential customer for Rogaine. I have been a computer analyst for eleven years.

It's been a week since the AWAKENING. Like most people, I woke up to chaos. I live (well, us to) in the southern suburbs of Carlisle, PA. It didn't take long to realize that we didn't have any food or water, and couldn't remain here. There was widespread violence. Like most people around me, we tried to start our cars to drive away, but they would not start. Somebody said it was because of an EMP blast - what ever that is. It didn’t look like my car had any damage, so I don't know why it didn't start. My next door neighbor, Bob Green, had a Datson Z sports car from the 60s. His started for him, so he drove himself and his wife away. Lucky dog. The majority of people started heading south on foot. Everyone was heading south, so I joined them - it must be the right thing to do since everyone else was doing it.

Thoughts keep haunting me about Jon, a guy I work with that seemed to think preparing for y2k was a good idea. Man, did I ever torment him about that. I wonder what he is doing now ...

The crowd I am with, which I think is most of the city, is not getting along very well. We are all hungry and thirsty. Food and water are hard to come by, and when we do find something, the ones who have guns seem to always get it, and those who don't get what's left over – usually nothing. We, the 'have-nots', refer to the ones with the guns as the 'haves'. I can't understand why the government doesn't have more cops and military keeping the order. One cop tried to stop the "haves", and they shot him dead. To make things worse, the "haves" teamed up, and they each are watching out for their own interests, letting the "have-nots" just die. If we beat them to a stash of food, they will kill us. There are quit a few rowdy people in the crowd, well, it's actually more like a huge riot. I wish I had a gun about now ... and knew how to use it. All I can do is to try and keep a low profile.

I am a fair skinned person, and it didn't take many days in the sun to get burnt, especially the top of my head. I can't stop to rest and heal, because there is nothing here to eat or drink - to stop would mean death. I can't turn back, back to the barren city, filled with corpses and human waste, it stinks bad enough here, let alone back there. No one has had any showers. People are really starting to get mean and nasty. It's every man for himself.

Dumb luck would have it, I guess, that I ran into my sister, Jane, her husband Jake, and her 8 year old daughter, Julie. We talked about what we should do, and all of us agreed to try to separate ourselves from the crowd if possible. We started watching which way the majority of the "haves" went, and we went the other direction (but without back-tracking). Other's had the same idea, so finding food and water was still very difficult. Many people started getting sick from the unsanitary conditions, and the junk they were eating and drinking.

I haven't eaten anything in a couple days, and am willing to do anything for food now. I came along a road block, and the police were not letting anyone in - they said the area was quarantined. I begged with the officer. "Please give me some food. I haven't eaten anything for two days now." Just a quick look at me was all I needed for my witness. He said, "No, we don't have any food to hand out."

"Please, just a little bite of your sandwich."

"No, we are not a Wal-Mart."

I could see a Wal-Mart store about a mile past the blockade, so I begged, "Then let me past to get something at the Wal-Mart. It's not right that you keep people from getting the food."

"Mister, we are not blocking the area off to keep people from the food. Didn't you hear? The area was gassed with an unknown bio-agent. Everyone inside is the area is dead."

Well, that explains why there isn't anyone around that Wal-Mart. I have an idea though.

"Well, ok officer, I will look else where."

"Wise choice."

I left the blockade. There was another road perpendicular to the blockade. It was on a slight downhill grade, curving around the quarantined area. There are biohazard signs placed every quarter mile or so. I came across an area between two hills that doesn't look like it is being guarded. I was down the road far enough that the cop couldn't see me. No one is around. I sneak between the two hills, still no one. There is a little brush cover right up to the Wal-Mart parking lot. Finally I make it to the parking lot. I can see the cop now. He was sitting facing the other way. I just hope he doesn't look back my way. The best thing to do now is run. One last look at the cop, and I'm off. As long as I don't run into anybody with an illness, I can't get sick. It's so stupid of them to block this area off.

The doors are not opening since there isn't any electricity. I pushed on the one, and opened it manually. It's dark in here, and there isn't anyone around. There is a bad odor; it must be from the fresh produce rotting. It's been about a week since the USA was attacked. Wow! The bakery is inside the door, getting just enough light for me to see it, and there is still bread there! It's stale, and has some mold on it, but I scraped it off, and enjoyed every bite.

I have to get a flashlight to see well. I am moving slowly through the store - I always hated these Wal-Mart Super Centers - it takes all day to find something in them – and that's with the lights on. It's so dark; I can just barely make out the isles. "Ouch!," I just ran into something - trying to feel it - it must be some kind of display they keep in the middle of the isles. I must be half way into the store, and I can't see anything. I'm never going to find a flashlight this way. Wait, I have an idea ... maybe they have a small flashlight at the checkouts. Why didn't I think of that before? So stupid. I can see the light from the doors, so I am walking towards the front of the store at a faster pace. I have to pull every item off the check out racks, and hold it up to the light just to read it. Finally, here's one. I go back through the store, getting a backpack, and various supplies, canned goods, and wouldn’t you know it, chicken, which still smells like it is ok!

You know how you get the feeling that someone, or something, is watching you? Normally you can shake it off with a "you just watch too many movies." This time I can’t shake off the feeling, and the feeling is getting stronger. "This is silly", I think. I catch myself just before I yell out "whose there?" Wait! What if it's that cop? He could kill me. Maybe it is an infected person whose stash I'm raiding. He might not be willing to share. He could have a gun. No, if he did, I would probably have been shot by now. This feeling just keeps getting stronger. I know someone else is in here. I feel someone coming up behind me, I swing around, and shine the light down the isle, but no one is there. Now if feels ... I swing around the other way, but I don't see anyone. It could be more than one person. They might be playing games. I've got to get out of here, or maybe I should hide on a shelf. Right here with the dog food.

I climb on the shelf, turn off the flashlight, and listen. Luckily I still have good hearing. Silence. Five, ten minutes. Silence. Whoever it is must really be quit. I have an increasing feeling that the person is in the isle next to me, right where I'm sitting! Like he is going to punch his hand through the shelving, and grab me ... kill me ... or whatever suits his fancy. I can't stay here.

I'm in the middle of an isle. If I run down to the end of it, and take a right, it's pretty much a strait shot to the front doors. If I run without the flashlight, I will stand a slightly better chance of not getting caught. I quickly turn the light on, check both ends of the isle I'm in, turn off the flashlight, and make a quick run. Make my right. "Ouch", I just tripped and fell over something. My flashlight flew out of my hands, and spun away on the floor. Without even thinking, I try and feel what it is. Kind of soft and mushy. I swear I slid back ten feet without getting up! But where is my flashlight? Wait, I think that’s it over there. I grabbed my flashlight, shined it on the object. A bag of kitty litter! How did that get there? Was it there when I entered the store? Did someone read my mind, and know I was going to run? I quickly shine the flashlight all around, seeing no one, I run to the front door, knocking over a display of stacked cans that got in my way. Finally I made it to the cash registers. Just as I hit the door, I remembered the cop at the road block; he might here me slamming the door like that. Oh well, too late now, and anything is better than going back in there. I take off to the right. It's dark out now, and I can't see. I am not using the flashlight for fear that the cop will see me, or for that matter, whatever was in Wal-Mart. I'm running through the brush. I think I'm going the right way. Can’t see very well in the dark ... thump ...

"Ohhhh ... "

"What happened ... "

Then it hit me all at once. I jump up, and look around. It is now morning and there is a fog. There is a tree in front of me. I must have run into it. My head is really sore.

I jog out of the quarantine area, feeling much better now that I ate the bread. I look around the road, and don't see anyone. There is an abandoned car along the side of the road. I look around again, don't see anyone, and put the bag of goodies under the car. Nobody should look there for something. I don't want anyone seeing me caring the bag, or they will kill me, and steal the bag. I've seen it happen to many times now. The fog is starting to lift.

It took me almost all day to find sis and family. I quietly told them about the food I have found, and to follow me.

"The biohazard signs have everyone scared of this area, so I hid the goods under that car up there.”, I laughed.

"Where did you get this stuff?”, Jane asked while looking over at the biohazard signs. Before I had a chance to answer, "You didn't go into the quarantine did you?"

"No, of course not. I found someone's cooler with this inside."

They bought the story. This will be good for them; if I had admitted to it, they may not have eaten anything. We all had chicken sandwiches with mustard ... nothing could have tasted better.

They were getting a little antsy about hanging around the biohazard area, but there wasn't any people hanging around (what a relief), so we broke into an abandoned house a near by, and decided to stay the night.

Julie was the first, "Mommy my stomach doesn't feel good." Jane picked here up unto her lap. "It will be ok, honey."

Soon we all were sick. I never had so much pain in my life. I can hardly think. Jake was the first to accuse me, I imagine he would have been shouting in my face if it wasn't for the fact that he was curled up on the floor in agony.

"You did go ... into the quarantine ... didn't you? ... How could you ... do this to us?"

I didn't respond fast enough, and Jane knew I had lied to them.

"My ... baby ... how could you ... do this to my baby ... Julie?", she was crying.

"Yes ... but I didn't come ... in contact with any ... infected person, so ..."

Jake interrupted, "you idiot, ... you don't need to ... contact someone to ... get the bio-warfare ... agent"

"Mommy ... am I going to die? ... I don't want to ... die."

"No, honey, ... it's ok ... Let's say a prayer."

Religion is a very touchy topic with me. Jane and I would get into some livid arguments about it. I keep telling here all the scientific evidence against a god, and all the conflicts the Bible has, and she would never listen to a word I said. She always said that God does not force you to believe in Him, and if He made Himself known unto you, you would no longer have a choice, you would then have to believe in Him. I wasn't in a position to argue this time around.

"Jesus ... we come to you tonight ... to ask for forgiveness ... and ... please heal us ..."

"Amen"

"Amen"

I'm not going to say anything.

It had to have been the longest night of my life. Visions of my mother and father kept flashing through my mind. Visions of my former life. I never knew how good I really did have it. The songs of the birds. The traffic flowing along at night, everyone going to their safe home. To their wives and children. And now look at the USA, who would have ever though something like this could have happened. How can it be that I am dieing, I don't want to die ... if only I could go back ... go back to the way it use to be. My parents lived in NYC, we have heard unconfirmed rumors that they, whoever they are, blew up the city. If only I could see them one more time, one more time before I die ...

Morning broke; Jake was the first to notice. The pain doesn't seem as strong now. Jane agreed, "God has answered our prayers." I knew this couldn't be the case, so my mind raced for another explanation, "It was just salmonella poisoning from the chicken.", I blurted out. So stupid of me not to think of it earlier.

They didn't appreciate the comment. Whatever the case was, they were right, the pain was subsiding. We remained grounded for the day, and set off the next day. Although, now, they refuse to be with me since I had entered the quarantine. So we went our separate ways.

Thursday - four a.m.

Open air on the radio… Click… Click… Click…

This was it. I looked down to my gunny and said "fire." I had so much nervous tension that I nearly shouted it but the Cubans would have heard that for sure. I keyed the radio and whispered, "on the way."

clackTHWEEP! THWEEP! THWEEPTHWEEPTHWEEP! THWEEPTHWEEP! All seven bows released and their glass projectiles quickly disappeared into the darkness. Seconds later I heard the distant sound of shattering glass. I prayed they had fallen into the two mortar pits. The weather had been steadily building since dawn the day before and the wind was now blowing a steady thirty miles an hour and gusts to over forty from the northwest. Figuring windage had to be done as much by guess as by calculation. No doubt about it though, we were in the path of some sort of tropical storm, perhaps even a hurricane. It's too soon in the season for the big west Atlantic storms but lesser systems were known to brew up quickly in the Gulf this early.

I could hear unintelligble shouting now as the first tongues of flame appeared. Fanned by the wind they were leaping quickly for the sky. It appeared four of our first seven had successfully hit the Cuban mortar pits with the other three being near misses. Our forward observers began calling corrections. The gasoline mixture we were using in the bottles spontaneously combusts when it contacts the dry chemical soaked fabric material glued to the outsides of the glass but the reaction took several seconds. Alarms were now going off in the Cuban camp and search lights began to come on. As quickly as they lit Sarah and her sniper group would fire on them to put them out.

As the first lights flared our RPGs fired - long tongues of flame out of the tree line - and slammed into the firing slits of the bunkered APCs, and the machine gun bunkers. The two gunships were protected by highwalls of sandbags. As soon as they had fired two rounds each we would have four bows detailed to dropping incendiaries over the tops of the walls to take out the choppers. If that didn't work our missile teams would have to cope with them after they cleared the ground.

THWEEPTHWEEP! The winch crews were bringing their bows back into the firing positions. THWEEP! With an all out effort two strong men could crank the heavy winches fast enough for each bow to fire at a four round a minute pace. TWHEEP! It was a gut busting pace though which we would not be able to long sustain before having to drop back to three rounds a minute. THWEEP! With any luck at all the show would be over before the winch men were exhausted. THWEEP! THWEEP!

The wind working in our favor the mortar pits were now awash in flames. I could hear to infantry leaders shouting and see the troops leaving the tree lines for the sprint of their lives across three hundred yards of clear ground. The second round of RPGs fired out searching for targets not taken by the first volley. The Cubans began to come back from their initial shock of surprise and machine guns opened up raking the tree line and at least one automatic grenade launcher. Our RPGs and machine guns began searching for them. We'd soon be entirely out of rockets.

With the wind fanning the flames into hellish brightness our first two volleys had taken out their mortar pits. The RPV photos supplied by Peterson had been invaluable in ranging our targets. Four of the bows followed their original orders to shift fire onto the chopper bunkers and I called for the remaining three to drop fire on what we thought to be their ammo storage bunkers and their antenna farm. I had wanted to drop fire on the troop bunkers but Parker thought we wouldn't be able to get our troops to run through the flames. Our homemade bangalore torpedoes began clearing paths through the Cuban wire and mines as our own machine guns poured suppressive fire on the Cuban positions until our RPGs could take them out.

THWEEPTHWEEPTHWEEPTHWEEP! The four bows fired nearly as one as they lofted their projectiles towards the gunships. Only one fell into the protected area itself with the remaining three shattering against the outsides or the ground nearby. The observers began calling corrections. THWEEP! THWEEPTHWEEP! The other three bows let go. The first one put its load directly into the midst of the Cuban antenna masts. The other two missed the ammo bunkers by yards and began making corrections. The screaming and shouting of men in the field and the bunker line was tremendous. We were taking serious casualties crossing that field but this would be acceptable if we could get a toe hold in their line and begin clearing a hole through. Even without the searchlights there were so many fires fanned by the wind the entire area was lit. It looked like a scene from Hell.

A Cuban crew began setting up another set of mortar tubes behind one of the ammo bunkers. Sarah's group couldn't see the position so it fell to the ballistas to take them. Their next volley should fall fairly near as they came on target for the bunkers themselves. We'd have to overshoot somewhat to reach the tubes - hopefully before they could be seriously brought into play. Our first men made the bunker line. I could see bodies littering the ground in front of the wire, inside and in front of the bunkers. Grenades flashed inside of the bunkers as we began to clear them.

My attention was distracted when I saw the rotor blades of one of the choppers begin to spin. "Faster!" I shouted down the hill to the bow teams, "They're cranking the choppers!" I wasn't sure they could crank any faster than what they already were but if those birds cleared their nests we'd have big trouble. The second chopper began to spin as well.

THWEEPTHWEEP! THWEEPTHWEEP! Four bows let go. THWEEP! THWEEP! THWEEP! The other three went soon after. Short streaks of reflected light as the bottles began to fall. Three of the four fell into the chopper nests this time. One bottle even hit rotor blades but they weren't spinning fast enough yet to be damaged. Another bottle hit amidst the antenna masts adding to the fire already there. Quite soon the antenna leads would be too hot to carry radio signals and their insulation would burn off. Probably managed to get at least a short message off but we couldn't much help that. Either Day Late's group had cut the Interstate in West Ocala or they hadn't. He was pretty sure they could do it and keep it closed for at least several hours when we had our hurried meeting early yesterday. It was a risk getting down there and back in such a short period of time but Parker thought the more resistance troops we could coordinate the better the chances for our attack. The I-75 & I-10 interchange base should be under its own attack now and unable to come to the lesser bases aid. Army Spec Ops was leading that action and we were merely tying up possible assistance the Cuan's might send. Even this was going to cost us in a major way.

Two bottles hit the ammo bunkers directly but we'd have to move off them to get to the mortar crew. Observers called corrections. I heard a distant phoomp as the first of the Cuban tubes fired. Surely they'd have to range their shots in before they'd be effective and by that time we ought to be able to range them. The first chopper had its rotors up to full speed and was fanning the burning gasoline in its nest so hard that it looked like a NASA rocket lifting off from its gantry. The second chopper was still spinning but appeared to be on fire. I prayed it wouldn't lift off.

The first Cuban mortar round hit near to a hundred yards in front of us in the field. Their second tube fired. It hit about fifty yards behind us. The bows themselves were behind the hill so I knew they couldn't see them but it was the best position to place indirect fire weapons so they probably had it already scouted out. THWEEPTHWEEP! TWHEEP! I ordered the bow firing on the antennas to shift to the mortar crew. The Cubans fired another mortar volley just as our last came down. Still a little short but I could see one man gesticulating wildly so at least one must have been close. Our next volley should be dead on them.

THWEEPTHWEEPTHWEEP! THWEEP! The bows firing on the choppers let go once again. The second chopper was clearly burning and wasn't going anywhere. The first had cleared its nest and was airborne. I ordered the four of them to shift to counterbattery fire against the mortar crew. With a bang that wasn't as loud as I'd thought it would have been bow seven flipped over as a mortar round fell next to it. The second round hit behind a large live oak so we were largely in the tree's blast shadow. One man of the Cuban mortar crew was on fire and running wildly. Panic rose in me and I wanted to order the bows abandoned but our toehold in the bunker line still appeared to be tenuous and if they were able to bring that mortar battery into play we might lose it.

The wind was steadily increasing and giving everyone problems. The next two mortar rounds fell outside of our area, though one was right on the lip and showered us all with dirt. The gunship was coming in fast for his first pass. A tongue of fire lashed from the treeline two hundred yards away from us and about four hundred from the gunship. The bird had just begun to jink away from it as the missile slammed into the turbine exhaust and the chopper exploded. Flaming fuel and wreckage fell on the field and edge of the bunker line. Even in death the gunship had taken some of our men with it.

Two more mortar rounds fell on us. One on the edge of the dell, hitting a tree and throwing long splinters of wood everywhere with one impaling the triceps of my left arm. The second fell near enough to gun three that fragments took the gunner and one winchman but left the bow itself intact.

The surviving man began shrieking "SHIT! ALAN! We have to bug out! They've got us ranged!"

Shit! Don't lose it on me NOW! "Man one of the other bows!!!" I screamed back at him, "We've nearly got them ranged too! We can take them out!"

It was useless - panic had taken him - and he ran screaming over the back of the dell. Several others had stopped what they were doing and were plainly considering running after him. I drew my .45 and fired a shot in the air. 'GODDAMNIT!!! MAN YOUR BOWS! I'LL SHOOT THE FIRST MAN THAT RUNS! WE'VE GOT MEN STRUNG OUT FROM HERE TO HELL ACROSS THAT FIELD AND WE'VE NEARLY GOT THEIR MORTARS RANGED! KEEP SHOOTING! IF YOU RUN NOW WE'LL LOSE THE BATTLE!!!"

Maybe it was the certainty of getting shot as opposed to just the chance of taking a mortar hit that decided them or maybe the hysteria of the moment had passed but they threw themselves back into their winches with a frenzied strength. THWEEP! THWEEP! THWEEPTWHEEPTHWEEP! Our five remaining bows fired a second before the next mortar rounds impacted. One in the top of a tree and the second near to bow four and its ready ammo. Fire shot out in all directions engulfing the bow crew. I ran down the hill and snatched up one of the large fire extinguishers we'd brought. One man was down and not moving, another shrieking wildly ran up and out of the dell and the third rolled on the ground trying valiantly to snuff out the fire in his burning clothing. I sprayed him with the extinguisher while screaming "KEEP FIRING!!!" at the other bow crews. One man cut and ran anyways and my gunnery sergeant calmly shot him down then leapt to take the man's place at the winch. I called one of the ammo runners to see to the burned man now that I had him out and went back to my place.

When I arrived I could see the Cuban's mortar position was now awash in flames. There'd be no more fire from it. We were down to four bows and about three and a half bow crews but we were still in the game. It looked to me like the fracas would be decided one way or the other before the ammo bunkers became important so I shifted fire to targets of opportunity like the fuel pumps and main building of the truck stop itself. The gunners were getting the measure of the wind now and were able to put rounds on target so we had the fueling area burning with the next volley. I don't know what the wind speed was up to now but it was more than it was before we'd arrived just an hour ago. It seemed like I'd been here all of my life.

The gates of the compound blew out with a bright flash so I knew our sapper teams had penetrated. I could see our men inside running from one structure to the next shooting and throwing grenades. The main truckstop building itself was on fire after a satchel charge blew the front doors and windows out. I ordered the bows to cease and the crews to see to the wounded. Our part in the battle was over.

I've just noticed a large splinter of wood in the back of my left calf and it hurts like hell.

…………Alan.

We have been watching the weather and my bones, teeth and sinuses tell me that we have a big storm coming in from somewhere. Not sure if its tropical or not. Seems too early for one to come barreling in from the Atlantic. More likely coming up out of the Gulf of Mexico. Ch has finally gotten the right size batery charged for the weather radio but can't seem to get anything but static. Is going to hobble out into the clearing of the drying up swamp, which a year ago could still be called a lake. Meanwhile, both Bonnie and Bud, who have lived all their lives here, say there is a 'cane coming! God knows we need a good hurricne to provide us with some water and break up the terrible drought we have been in for the past 4 or 5 years. But we are really concerned...if it even brushes us we will have terrible wind and there are always tornados that spin off the hurricane. We dare not stay under all these trees if we are going to get heavy rains. When CH gets back maybe he will have heard something on the radio.
Our house, last we heard, was still there and no one had vandalized it. We could all go there and ride it out in relative comfort as there are no large trees to fall on us. We also have the 40 kw generator which would allow us to pump water, etc. But all our preps are in the two RVs that we have here. That means we have to haul out the RVs and get them back through the woods to our house. Not an easy feat, especially as our truck has standard transmittion and CH's left foot and leg is still pretty useless except for hobbling around.
And there is no way that I can pull that big trailer without wrapping it around a tree. We have to make the decision before the winds start and before the torrential rains start.
CH just came back and said there is a catagory 3 headed for Cedar Key on the west coast. This info was coming out of Ocala, so someone is at work there. Is to make landfall sometime during the early morning hours. So...we need to pack up and go Now or hunker down. We decide to eat some breakfast and talk about it. Allowing ourselves one hour to make the decision.
The guys are in the "Patio" and Bonnie and LIz and I are in the trailer making breakfast. I noticed that both of us were taking things off the counter and putting them away as we went about getting breakfast. I think we woman have decided to go home. We don't stand a chance out here if that hurricane comes straight in. Its the trees falling that will get us killed or at least trapped. We eat...we vote. Its unanimous that we run for the house and take everything with us. First thing to come down is the camoflage and everything in the patio is packed up and put into the back of one of the trucks. Things are quickly battened down within the RVs. Now its time to catch up the hens. I take TJ and his sister and get the cage and we make short shift of that job. We load that cage into the back of one of the trucks. Then TJ and I cover the pen with palm fronds and junk so it won't show. The awnings are rolled up and everything is ready to go. With 5 adults and 2 smart kids, we are ready to hook up and move out with in an hour. I would never have thought it could be done that fast. The key was putting things away after using them so there wasn't excess stuff to pick up. I check that all windows, and vents are closed. The steps are folded up and the door shut. CH is backing the truck up and hooking up. There is no room for anything in the back of that truck due to the 100 gal fuel tank in the bed. Looking at that I rememberd the 3 100# propane tanks we had in the brush. Bud and I got those loaded into the back of the 350 along with the camaflage. Bud and Bonnie's trailer is much smaller and is a pull trailer so they have space in pick up for stuff. Soon there is nothing left but the hooked up trailers and the extra truck. Ch is going to have to drive the truck pulling our large trailer. There is no other choice. Bonnie has to drive theirs as Bud's handicap keeps him from being able to turn his neck. I am driving the 350 crew cab and I will have Liz and the kids. We have our little radios and its decided that since I am the most mobile I will lead out and stay about 1/2 mile ahead. Liz is in the front with me and had both a hand gun and a shot gun. The two kids are in the back laying on the seat. Head 'em out ...lets roll.

Taz

The wind and rain had slowly but steadily been increasing all night long. It had taken most of that time to make all the preperations for what they now waited to happen. It had taken only a couple of days to find the barracks, motor pool, and communications center located in Ocala. At the same time, the militia had found the people they needed.Most of the city was ready to join in the coming fight, and most of them didn't even know it was coming.

As the storm gathered to unleash its' fury on the central Florida area. The Cubans had counted on the hurricane to do the job of guarding most of their instillations for them. Most of the soldiers had taken to the shelter of their barracks for the duration of the storm. Almost all of their vehicles were in the motor pool, and only a skeleton force was actively on guard.

Throughout the night, small bands of militia fighters had tracked down the guards and quietly killed them. Nobody would have heard it if they had used fully automatic weapons in the high winds, but they didn't want to take the chance that some really sharp guard would get off a radio warning before they could stop him. It was slow work. It was up close and personal in the worst sort of way, but they got it done. As the "guards called in according to schedual, nobody noticed that the people reporting in sounded a little differant than they had the last time they had called in.

Just as quietly the resistance fighters that had been in town working with the impressed workers had revealed themselves to their co-workers and selected certain of them to aid in the coming battle. Weapons that had been smuggled into the town were passed out and men given their assignments.

Now, day late and his small group waited for the signal to start the attack. They had to cut these Cubans off from any chance of re-enforcement. Three men were even now working at the base of one of the guide wires that held up main communications antenna in place. It was hoped that the sudden loss of radio traffic from Ocala would be blamed on the high winds. The three men worked quickly in the dark and stormy night, but suddenly they turned and ran as fast as they could from the base of the wire. The charge was so small that they really had no fear of it at all, but when it poped, the result was amazeing. The 2 inch thick cables were severed neatly. With the strain they were under, however they were like long bull whips. They slashed around wickedly, sliceing the communications building cleanly in two, killing all the men on duty that night. With one of the cable supports gone, the antenna slowly began to lean and then with increasing speed topple over.

That was what they had been waiting for. Day late gave the signal on the small radio in his hand. Explosions started to go off around the barraks the Cubans were sheltering in, and they began to collapse around them. Most of them died inside the buildings, but some few managed to get out before the buildings either killed or trapped them. With very few arms among them, they stood no chance against the enraged towns folk that were covering all the exits.

As the buildings were being brought down, day lates' group moved on the motor pool. With the hurricane blowing hard all around them, the men inside never evem heard the barracks being blown up a few blocks away, but they were a little more observent than the others. As the fighters raced towards the building first one then a second machinegun opened up on them. At least a half dozen men went down. The militia attackers fell back to the shelter of the light armored vehicles around them.

The fate of the entire southern flank of the resistance in Florida depended on this attack, they couldn't afford to fail. The plan had been for as many as possible attacks to be made along I-75, to cut off the Cubans that had already made it into Georgia. To slam the back door on their supply lines, and let them slowly starve for want of fuel, ammo, and re-enforcements, while the American forces suffered from no such handicap and could get all of that and more from their own people.

Now the whole ball of wax was endangered by a few men in a building with two machineguns. Without any more rockets, and some 70 yards between them and their goal of the heavily armored tanks sheltered in the parking garage that had been taken over for the purpose of protecting them during the storm. An engine started, and an APC rolled forward. day late looked in time to see Shane behind the wheel as it passed him, heading straight for the machinegun on the right. He didn't even try to avoid the weapons fire. He hammed the gas pedal and ducked down as low as he could get as the vehicle bounced across the parking lot and into the gun nest. Screams could just barely be heard as the 11 ton APC rolled over the gun enplacement. The second gun crew swung their gun around and raked the APC up and down its' side before a grenade ended their part in the fight.

Almost immediately crews dashed to the tanks, climbed in and started moving towards the tanks that the Cubans had guarding the north/south lanes of the Interstate. Incredibly, with the hurricane roaring around them, the Cuban tank crews had heard none of the fighting that had taken place. One tank crew did have the chance to realize that something was wrong, as they saw their companion on the other side of the road erupt in flame as the shell from the approaching tank tore through its' side and set off the ammo in the tank. Before they could react they were burning as well.

Ocala was now secure as they could make it for the time being. The cost had been far less than they had expected. Only ten dead and about twenty-five wounded, but day late didn't care about any of that at the moment. He was working feverishly with the medic to stop Shanes bleeding.

By the time our little caravan got started out to the road, the rain started and the winds were beginning to whip things up. We are getting the first of the bands radiating out from the hurricane which has approximately another 18 hours before landfall. But ahead and east by northeast of a cane can be the worst area. Especially NE side of one thats coming in off the gulf. Will check the time the bands last and the time between them when it will be smooth sailing. Liz and I made a decision for her to get into the back seat where she can open the rear window and both side windows that gives her pretty good shooting area. We approached the road slowly. Could't check for tire tracks or foot tracks as the rain is so heavy the roads are going to be just drainage ditches in another few hours. We made our turn, alerted the two behind and went down the road about a half mile where we pulled off into the brush. I then took the 410 and with my .38 special tucked into my pants, I went down the road and crossed over where I could get a view in both directions. Finally I see the crew coming up the road. I click twice, the prearranged signal that all is ok so far, and head back for the truck. We repeat this several times before we hit the "main" dirt road. We stopped about a qtr mile in from there and while CH laid down in that truck and got his foot elevated, Liz and I hiked through the brush for the road to have a look. We planned on making that mile run down that road when the next band from the 'cane hit us. Not likely that too many people will be out in this during that time. Unless they are like us and heading out of the woods for elsewhere. We didn't have too long to wait. The bands are lasting about 15 minutes now and coming in at a space of 45 minutes. This means that sucker is really churning and is big in diameter. I click twice and move out. We get to the turnoff and move again into the brush. Its still pouring and blowing. I am concerned about CH missing the turnoff as we did and had to back up. I wasn't watching for it as I was just trying to keep on the road and not hit the quickly developing ditches. I got out of the truck and crossed over the road and headed back a little ways and waited for the crew. Here they come. Can see that CH is having some problems with the wind and our high profile rig. It will be better when we are off this road and back into the brush again.
I click once and then step out into the road. I jump up on the running board as CH slows down and we continue on to the cut off. Back in my truck now and tootin' right along. Oh damn! There is a large pine tree across the road. I stop and look around. Can't see the stump....need to make sure that its a blow down and not a cut down. Click 3 times for the rigs behind me to stop where they are. This time Liz gets out and blends into the brush as I want to be able to back up in a hurry. LIz comes back and says its a blow down. Well, now what to do? This band is pretty will worn out so can't use the chain saw with the noise it makes. I am going to see what I can do with the winch. Its a fair sized tree. If I can pull it out of the way then we are going to have to cut it out. We are only a mile from home now and I am getting anxious and frightened.

Taz

bump

Ed and I went up the mountain and got George's stash. It took two of us two trips each and that was only by leaving some of the things he didn't need right now!!! We each carried about 50 lb each trip. George got his longrange rifle, a custom made 375 Improved Mauser. Also his extra sleeping bag and clothes. The heavy stuff was the #10 cans of dehydrated food. It was all I could do to carry down two cases in one trip. I told him I would stop on the way back and make another trip up the mountain for him!

I left the next morning about 6:00 am. The sky was overcast and the air had a little nip to it like a storm was coming in. I travelled through the forest and stayed out of the open. I would take the long way around rather then expose my position. I had my Ghillie suit on and would stop and make observations and keep notes of whatever caught my attention. My ghillie suit was made out of a pair of oversized coveralls turned inside out. I keep a small notebook and mechanical pencil in my chest pocket on the inside.

I saw very few people out and about. Most that I saw were just trying to do the things that would provide food, keep them warm or clean and healthy.

I got real careful as I approached the enemy lines south of Payson. I snuck up to a militia encampment. I spotted the two guards on this side and decided to have some fun. I snuck right between them and got to the edge of the camp. As soon as the fellow at the cook fire turned around, I rushed over to a bush and tried to blend in. In my ghillie suit, I look like a pile of dried weeds!!! The fella came back and went to check the coffee he had set on the fire to perc. Just as he picked up the pot, I said " do you mind sharing that with an ol' soldier?"

He dumped about half the pot when he jumped!!! As I stood up the guy cussed me pretty good about scarin' ten years off his life!!!! I got out my little fold down cup out of my kit and offered some suger and non-dairy creamer as compensation for scaring the daylights out of him! His name was Jerry and somehow he got made into the camp cook. I overheard him mutter something about what two guards would be eating tonight for letting me slip through the perimeter!!!!

Over coffee, we caught up on the news. The enemy had fallen back from it's assault on Payson and had left just enough troops in place to slow any type of heavy counter offensive while shifting their forces to the east and west. That is why they were able to push as far north as St. Johns despite heavy resistence. All the locals could do was slow them down until our regular forces could get into place to counter attack. Most of the time, we owned the skies. Our fighter pilots had made short work of theirs despite being outnumbered 3 to 1!!! Then they took out the radar stations and went after the 'copters. That's why the invaders don't have air escorts for their convoys. The militia sent out search and destroy teams to the south to deny the enemy any help with food or anything else. It was a scorched earth policy to keep the enemy weak and on the defensive. There were rumors of a massive offensive coming up out of Mexico. Some people reported an army forming that was 100s of thousands strong!!! No confirmation yet!!

I met Alex, the militia commander that evening. He asked if I had come for news or to volunteer? I told him mainly news, but that I had time for one mission if it was a short one. I showed him my rifle, a custom made Yugo Mauser with a Premium Douglas barrel, McMillan stock, Harris bipod and 6x18-50 Pentax scope. Shoots less then .25 MOA. He decided that a certain outpost was due for a visit. We made plans for the raid to happen the morning after next. I went to sleep that night with a thousands thoughts swirling about my head!!! I would get my chance at a shot that could make the difference between life and death for my mates!!! Nothing like a little pressure to make one perform up to specs!!!!

Monday - dawn

Been pretty busy ducking and dodging as best we can but the fact of the matter is that we're winning. The Cubans haven't successfully managed to get a supply convoy through North Florida since our attack on I-75.

The hurricane bore down on us as we wrapped up our attack. The university in Gainesville said they recorded top winds at 74 mph with gusts over 80. Sitting in the center of the peninsula where drag would slow air velocity the offshore winds probably topped 100 mph. It's for sure that the Air Force didn't send a Hurricane Hunter out for that storm and who knows if any of our weather satellites are still there. Nevertheless it was a respectable storm for this early in the season and it was Providence that it arrived when it did. Not sure that we can stretch it so far as to call it a kamikaze wind or not but we'll accept it as one just the same.

The fighting lasted only a few minutes after we'd shot our last volley with the ballistas. Our trucks rolled up even as we were still rounding up the enemy prisoners. We knew that at least some word had to have gotten out so wanted to get what we could and begone as soon as possible before the Cubans were able to get significant forces in to retaliate. The wind and rain made it difficult for us to get work done but we also knew that it would make it difficult, perhaps impossible for the Cubans to even get aircraft to us.

Unlike our past practices we took prisoners this time. We stripped and cuffed the surviving officers and handed them over to our spec-ops liaison for transport and interrogation. The surviving enlisted men and their wounded we gave a truck with enough fuel to make Tampa but no weapons or radios and a large white flag flying from a mast we tied to the roof. Don't know if they actually made it or not but we let them go - trying to keep P.O.W.'s would just be a burden. I think our Army counterparts were horrified at the way we had crucified captured enemy and demanded that we stop. Easy for them to say, it wasn't their children being taken hostage or murdered in reprisal. We made certain to tell the prisoners that we'd once again nail them to crosses if ever they took non-combatants hostage or executed them in reprisal for resistance attacks. Many of them men are angry that we let them go.

We lost twenty three men killed and took fifty two injured to one degree or another, equal to all previous actions combined. We used up nearly all of our RPGs as well. Fortunately, we captured sufficient weaponry and supplies to largely replace what we used but the loss of troops is going to hurt until we can recruit more. Medical supplies are nearly non-existent now.

It was approaching mid-morning before we were able to get everything collected to move out and our progress to our collective rally points was slow due to driving rain and winds, trees down and mud. The storm continued to intensify the entire time, finally peaking Thursday in the late afternoon. This gave us time to disperse our captured supplies and get our wounded to where they could be cared for. Got the splinters removed from my left leg and arm but I'm afraid the wounds are infected. Could be a problem as we have no antibiotics left. We're working with such herbal remedies as can be found and frequent hot saltwater soaks which is serving to improve my command of invective! Infections don't seem to be getting worse now but they're not going away either.

The storm began to dissipate by Friday morning and the Cubans came in with a vengeance with a heavy armored force coming north from Tampa and east from the bay bridges at Pensacola and Milton. We don't have the strength to oppose such forces so we didn't try to keep what we took but we did have multitudes of small ambushes strung the length of the Interstates. One to three troops with what anti-armor missiles, RPGs and machine guns we had to snipe and run, snipe and run - our standard harass and delay tactics. Not sure how much all of the resistance groups were able to take out but we accounted for four APCs, nine unarmored gun trucks and a tank. Word has it that Charley is building forces in both Tampa and Pensacola for a real punitive expedition to reopen the Interstate but it hasn't materialized yet.

The attack on the garrison at the I-75 & I-10 Interchange was successful as well, thanks to the able assistance of three Apache gunships. That was a combined operation between several spec-op units and three resistance units. Don't know what we lost but it sounded costly, I do know we lost one of the Apaches. Peterson thinks the Navy had an op planned against the bay bridges at Pensacola but the hurricane probably forced that one to be canceled.

Day Late reports overrunning the guard unit in Ocala and even taking some of their armor. Charley now has no bases from northwest of Lake City south to Plant City and has to run large armored units to get through. Soft skinned vehicles like trucks we are able to deny.

Radio chatter on the shortwave is that the Mississippi offensive is slowing and perhaps has even stopped. For what it's costing us to choke Charley's convoys we're praying that is has.

……….Alan.

<BODY>

<FONT SIZE=2><P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1">I've been going for so long</P>
<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1"> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;
I think it's Tuesday,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
yes&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
Tuesday</P>

<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1"> I've seen the tortures&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
the awful tortures </P>

<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;
How can man do this to man?&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
I'd heard of them but </P>
<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1"> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
But to see them . . . .</P>

<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
I was running</P>
<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1"> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
We all were running</P>
<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1"> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;
I don?t know if others survived I don?t think so</P>
<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1"> I have found cars and such just left abandoned but with gas to keep me going</P>

<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;
Where is everyone&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;
I ran to get away I guess I did</P>

<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1">I used to photograph&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbs p;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;
beautiful photographs </P>

<P style="margin-top: 1; margin-bottom: 1">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
As I was running away -&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
I took one last photo&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp ;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;& nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nb sp;
of seattle </P>
<P> I only hope it came out</P>
<P> It was so bright and intense this is what I got when I turned around</P>
<P> Is seattle still there - who is there - i only
know i got here&nbsp; </P>
<P> the noise&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; the
earthshaking noise&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </P>
<P> i ran from the cloud of dust</P></FONT></BODY>

Changes come. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes good, sometimes bad, but nothing stays the same. Shane was going to survive his wounds, but recovery would be slow. None of the wounds were life threatening by its'self, it was just that there were so many of them. The machinegun that had raked the APC he had driven into the first machinegun nest, had been firing armor piercing rounds. They had sliced through the door and chewed into his legs, mid-section, and upper arms as he had heald on to the steering wheel during the impact.

Right now he was resting comfortably enough, with Sherry at his bedside. This was after a very short, very loud, and very one-sided discussion in Shanes hospital room. As day late walked back to the temporary cp, he could only hope that Sherry would listen to what Shane had to say about the fight. Maybe she would stop blaming him for what happened. But then again, in her way, she seemed to blame him for the whole war. If they had stayed in Gainesville, Shane wouldn't be hurt now. She seemed to believe if he hadn't spent so much time money and effort in preping, none of this would have happened. He shook his head again. A strange smile crossed his face when he thought how he never knew that HE was such a threat to the Cuban people.

As he entered the cp day late was already all business. They had taken Ocala, but without a full scale invasion of American military forces, they couldn't hold it. On the other hand, it was quite a boon for their shrinking resources. They had managed to capture 18 tanks, 36 APCs, fuel for both, a large number of small arms, heavy and light machineguns, and a small mountain of ammo.

While the communications tower had destroyed the comm. building nearby, searchers had recovered a mass of dispatches, reports on the current statis and placement of enemy forces. These included kia, mia, and wounded,before the recent attack. All of the paper work was promptly boxed up and sent north to the American forces that were working with the militia units in that part of the state. He knew some of it would be useful intell, if he could get it north fast enough for them to sort through it all.

Right now he had to get things sorted out for this area. They had taken a number of prisoners, which had to be protected. Then the answer to the problem came pulling in, off of I-75. A apc loaded to overflowing with enlisted Cuban troops, came in and surrendered to the men guarding the off ramps to the interstate. It didn't take any time to find out where they had come from, and where they were going. They were sent on their way, with another three vehicles following them, with even more enlisted men in them. Officers were cuffed, hogtied, and packed off with the paper work.

After that was taken care of, he called in his most trusted men.

"Fellas', we took this town, and now we've got to give it back."

That went over about as well as expected. He let them howl and rant for a few minutes before continueing.

"Men we don't have the forces we need to hold this place, let alone air cover. How long do you think we will last against the Cuban airforce?"

That caused them to pause and think. Aircraft had taken more lives than any other source.

"So what do you think we should do sir? It seems kinda stupid to do all of this and then just give it back."

"We've done more than you know. The weapons alone are worth all the trouble. And who knows what the Army will get from the officers and paper work we sent them.

Now we have to get ready for them to come back. I want each of you to pick two men to help you and do what we have already done. Namely I want each of you to start your own squad. Grow it into a platoon, and eventually a company. Stir around behind the lines and cause as much troble as you can, without getting caught. That means fight on YOUR terms, don't let them force you into a fight you're not ready for. When in doubt, BACK OFF. We don't need dead heros. We have enough of them now. Think about it. First one group hits over here, then another hits forty miles away. You'll draw their forces apart, and make it impossible to mass for another major offensive."

He could see them thinking about the possibilites, and grimly smiling. He knew this would work.

One thing day late had to hand the Cubans, when they needed something to work, it did. Maybe not well, or smoothly, but it worked. They hadn't needed the t.v. to instruct their subjects, but they did need some way to tell them what their days duties were. So they had one of the local radio stations broadcasting 24/7. When it wasn't issueing orders, it had been playing propaganda. He decided to use it to reach as many people as he could.

Now that he sat in front of the mike, he felt foolish. Of all things, why should he feel stage fright? Knowing that public speaking was one of peoples greatest fears didn't help. He was still unsettled about what he now had to do. Still He hit them with something to shake the people up as much as he felt.

All over Ocala loudspeakers crackled and came to life, playing "The Star Spangled Banner".
People just emerging from the shelter they had taken during the hurricane stopped in their tracks to listen to the sound.

"Good Morning Ocala,

As some of you already know, during the storm the Cuban forces occupying the town were attacked and defeated by the Militia of Marion County. I have the honor of commanding that unit.

I now want to tell you the situation as it exsists today. As I said, the Cubans have been defeated. Most of them in Ocala are now dead, and I am informed that the enemies that once occupied Belview and Wildwood have retreated towards Tampa going down I-75.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I wish with all my heart that I could tell you that they are gone forever and all will be as it once was. To do so however, would be a lie. We simply do not have the men, weapons, or little else to hold them off. The Cubans WILL be back. In force and with a vengence is my guess. Over 500 of them now lie dead on the streets of this town. Many of them at the hands of YOUR friends and neighbors.

So now, the question is, what do we do? Honestly, you already know what the enemy will do when they get here. You have already seen with your own eyes what happens to those who resist. So what will You do? If you wait here for them to return, You WILL die. You must leave. I cann't tell you where to go, but I can tell you they have gone west and will return from that direction. But let me ask you something.

When they do return, what will you leave for them? If you abandon your home, will you leave it for them to use against you by sheltering troops in it? If you cann't take all of your vehicles with you, will you give them the means to chase you down? Will you give them the means to patrol the rivers and lakes?

Ladies and Gentlemen, as hard as it is for me to ask you this, I must. If you cann't carry it, wear it, eat it, or shoot it, please burn it. We must not allow the enemy to find ANYTHING that they can use against us.

The militia will be pulling out in the next 4 to 6 hours. Some of us will be among you. If you choose to join in the fight we will know and contact you at the right time. If you choose to not join us, we will understand. The choice of what you do, is up to you. We will respect your decision.

May God be with you."

All of that was 6 hours ago. day late paused as the militia pulled out of Ocala. The smoke was already rising.

The Cuban army advanced down I-75 with caution. They had taken a beating from the hurricane. Badly needed supplies laid at the bottom of Tampa Bay, or along the west coast of Fla. The men were tired, and the armor formations they had put together were mainly older tanks that had been expected to be used to patrol the streets of captured towns. They knew that they still were a powerful force. No militia would be able to stand against a massed force like this. In fact that was the new plan. All advances were to be made with overwelming force, so as to make any resistance to them melt away before the first shot was fired.

Still they were unprepared for what they found as they came to the town of Wildwood, which was the first to be "pacified". They had planned to wipe out anyone that remained in the town and move on to the next target of Belview. Wildwood was now just a name on a map. Nothing remained for them to pacify. the town was little more than ashes, and the only life to be found was of the natural kind.

Slowly and even more carefully they went on to Belview as what they found had somewhat un-nerved them. They had thought they would encounter SOME resistance. But when they found Belview in the same condition as Wildwood, they were even more unsettled. Resistance, fighting, and butchery they knew and expected, but this made no sense. The Americans were known to love their comfort. How could anyone have expected this? To completely surrender the land to the enemy wasn't like them.

As they pulled into the remains of what once was Ocala the next morning, they found every overpass on 75 blown to bits. Every gas station in the area was either still burning or smoldering ash. No building worthy of that name remained intact. By now, each Cuban soldier was trying his best to grow a set of eyes in the back of his head, certain that the next attack was going to come at any moment.

Steve had waited for the Cuban forces to pass. Then he waited some more. He was known for his patience. He was know to take a couple of sandwiches into the woods during hunting season before dawn and not show up again untill well after dark. After he hadn't seen any sign of the enemy for two hours, he lead his small force of resistance fighters across I-75 and into the forest on the other side. He knew they weren't alone in this move to get behind the Cubans. It was part of the plan.

"Steve, I want you to take a platoon of men on a 'cavalery raid'"

"A what?"

"A 'cavalery raid'. During the War between the States, Stonewall Jackson was known for it. And that's what we need right now.

You will take your pick of the men available, and sneak behind enemy lines near Wildwood. From there, you will move as the situation permits. You will strike at targets of opportunity where you have a reasonable chance of success and move on, as terrain and time will allow.

I will expect you to recross into our lines somewhere near Micanopy in a week or so. You will take a radio with you, but will not transmit unless you absolutely must, or when you are near enough to our lines to make the announcement of your return nessessary. You will not be alone in this. I'm sending at least two other patrols out to do the same.

Any questions?"

There were none of course. Now that he was actually behind the lines, he began to look for "targets of opportunity". He thought to himself that this could almost be fun.

Most of us going on the raid were allowed to sleep in. We ate breakfast and headed to our first full meeting. All were introduced and the militia commander started the briefing.

Seems this encampment had been known for it's savagery against civilians and any militia they captured. The militia tried one assault and came away with a bloody nose!! The problem was the lookout who had his hand on the switch of about 50 claymores!!! It could only be assaulted from one side because of the terrain, and that side was controlled by the claymores! Now if someone could take out that lookout and anyone else who tried to get to the controls, then we could have a battle go our way!!!

This is when I was introduced and given the task of taking out the lookout. 652 yards as measured by a laser ranging device. Really not too bad a shot in ideal conditions! But it had to be 100% or a whole lot of our people would be running right into a swarm of remote detonated claymore mines!!!!

We left by truck that evening and rode to within two miles of their camp. At that point we debussed and took off on foot. We got to our approximate positions by midnight. Now all we had to do was wait until dawn!

The commander woke me just as the false dawn started. I stretched and took several deep breaths. I sat there in silence watching the colors start to appear on the horizon. After a couple of minutes the commander spoke "Well?" I took a look through my spotting scope. It was just starting to get light enough to make out shapes. I told him "fifteen minutes and it will be light enough for me!"


I looked back at the sunrise and the beautiful colors!!! It was going to be a gorgeous morning with clear skies above and a light wind!

I shouldered my rifle and looked through the scope. Yep, almost time!!! My rifle was lodged between two rocks that formed a V ontop of my m-65 field jacket and liner. I cycled one of the five rounds in the magazine into the chamber. At that point I clicked off the safety and got comfortable behind the rifle. In a prone position with the rifle supported, I put my off hand into a fist under the butt. With just a squeezing of my fist, I could control the tiny amount of adjustment needed in my hold. I looked through the scope. There he was!!!!! I could just make out his features. This was the one who liked to laugh as he blew apart our men!!! I put my finger tip against the trigger as I made my final adjustments. I would shoot when he bent to look in his spotting scope to check the outskirts. His head would be at the best possible angle. I aimed for his right temple. If the shot went right, it would hit his eye. If it went left it would enter through the earhole. Every little bit helped.

I started the trigger squeeze and like usual, didn't know when the round fired. Very smooth!!!!

The round hit just above and behind the temple. He went right down. Before his body hit the floor, the militia came out charging!!! I cycled another round into the chamber and picked up the spent case. As a soldier tried to scramble up the latter to get to the detonators, I put a bullet through him dead center and he fell off. The militia had made it inside the compound and were using RPGs to knock out the barracks. All of their vehicles were on fire and their troops were getting mowed down by heavy machine gun fire!!! The invaders were getting what they deserved!!

I cycled another round to the chamber and looked for any targets after pocketing the case. There was no one alive to shoot!!! The attack had come off without a hitch! We hit them totally by surprise and took out their best defense with only one shot!!!

Total count after the fact was 38 enemy dead. We took three casualities. All expected to survive!

After collecting much booty, the militia went back to their camp. I spent the night there and left after breakfast. It was time to go my own way, besides, I had promised George that I would make another trip up the mountain for him to get the rest of his supplies.

Well between the winch and the chain saws we were able to get the large pine out of the road and make a run for the house. It took us a while as there were more trees down across the road and I was more scared of us getting hit with a falling tree than any Cubans! We could only use the chain saws when the bands of the hurricane came around and the wind made enough noise to cover the sound of the saws. By the time we finally made it out of the forest the outer rim of the 'cane was on top of us. We got to the house and parked our trailer in the pole barn. Its not really a barn as its just a high roof to park under with no walls. Those kinds of building usually can stand a pretty high wind as it just blows under and over. We got into the house and hunkered down. Then I remembered the chickens in the cage in the back of the truck. Out I went with Liz and we got the chickens into their house and fed. Boy were they drowned rats. But then so were we.
I figured that what we all needed most was a warm shower and a hot meal. CH got the generator going and since the water is all solar hot water it was plenty hot for a number of short showers. There were still canned goods in the house so we used them. Had soup and fried canned potatos with some home canned pork. Nothing fancy but sure tasted good.
The kids were already fast asleep on the floor when Cedric arrived. He said that the NG had moved north and he had cut out for the forest. He decided his family and the local militia would be better served with his skills, since he knew the whole area so well. Said Ocala was pretty well gone along the freeway as was Bellview and Wildwood. Heard that the same had occurred in Gainsville. Most people in Ocala were hunkered down in their homes. He didn't know what they were doing for water, but those that were on the move, and he said there were hundreds and hundreds of refugees, were all moving west over toward the Gulf coast. Many had been caught in the hurricane and he figured alot of them had probably perished as they would have taken a pretty direct hit, whereas we were skirted by the south side of the cane as it headed NE for Georgia and the Carolinas. I wondered why more weren't headed our way but he guessed it was because of the Marshall Swamp in between the forest and Ocala, plus the bridges over the Ocklawaha river were all gone. There is no way the "city folk" are going to swim that river with all the gators and snakes.
So...our decision has been made to shelter in place where we have some of the amenities of civilization and out of the path of "the hoards" and it seems... the Cubans. They seem to be mostly in the I 75 corridor and we are 30 miles east of there. This does not mean that we don't have to have sentrys out all the time. We could still use a few more men on the place. I wish our bikers would come back but I suppose they are still with Alan. Cedric is going to rest up for a few days and spend time with his family. Then he is heading out again to join up with a band of friends who are hell bent on shooting Cubans. We are just going to have to do the best we can here. We have plenty of guns and ammo and hopefully enough food. Our number one priority is to get back to camp and retrieve the 3 drums of diesel buried under palm fronds out there. Cedric and Bud are taking the big 4x4 pickup and going back to camp to retrieve the fuel. We need that fuel for the tractor. We won't use the genny much as it makes too much noise if anyone is passing in the woods behind us. But we did use the heck out of it while the winds from the hurricane were so noisy. We had the air conditioning going on in the house, we cooked up a storm and even heated the pool up. But with the noise gone we won't use the genny. But CH needs to get the garden tilled up pretty soon for fall planting. After its tilled we will turn the hens out on it to scratch up bugs and grubs. They can really clean out the bugs and the weed seeds. I sure wish we had a couple of dairy goats. Sure would be nice to have milk and cheese.
Taz

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. I like starting out these things like this. Gives it literary flavor so to speak. Doesnt make it better though.

The best of times. Here in Mackinaw City at the northern tip of the lower penninsula we are the tiny spout of a funnel. Anything or anybody heading north,unless they have a boat,go through here to get to the upper penninsula.
On the north side of the bridge,is St. Ignace,the north twin city to us here. And of course anyone heading south has to go through this town.
Let me say here that this was not our plan to stay here. Our plan was to head for the south end of Whitefish Bay about an hour west of Sault St. Marie. My brother has a small place on the bay there. With two problems. One,its right beside the highway and on the other side of the road is a hill that goes straight up from the road. Another funnel for west and east bound traffic. Second thing is there is very little arable land anywhere near there.
And being right on Lake Superior the crop season is very short anyway. If I was any kind of fisherman there is a big crop of white fish around. But I aint and it aint peas,potatoes and carrots.
So what I wish for is that my brother,if he decides to head for his more isolate place on the bay,I will be able to spot him and persuade him to stick with us.
That's why I stay on patrol on the foot of Mackinac Bridge with our RV. This is not the warmest spot to park this thing. Its a 3 season camper,but we have to keep it buttoned up most of the time because the winds get pretty chilly.
The best of times is the funnelling that occurs here for building our population. We are growing and so is St. Ignace to a lesser extent. As close as we can figure,we are at about 5000 people now and St. Ignace is at about 3000.
With greater number comes all the complications of feeding,housing, etc this size group. The up side is the large group of talent and the extra firepower and troops we can muster.
We still are a mixed army of men and women. And we will always probably be that way. Real equal death opportunity here. All of our static and moving patrols needs about 4-500 people alone. Then we are working on having a highly mobile force that can move to a trouble spot. This is going to number about 2000 troops. These are almost all civilians,or militia as it were because most of the NG is still off cutting the Sovs off at the pass,over on the west side of the state.
We ask for volunteers and got about 200 that are heading WB on US2 over to Hwy 183. This is the top of the Garden Penninsula that juts down into Lake Michigan. Big Bay De Noc is the bay on the west side of the penninsula here. Its called the Garden Penninsula for a good reason. There are many good size farms here and good soil to grow things.
The 200 volunteers have gone there to protect the farmers and the families here from marauding creeps who are parasites off the people. By protecting this area,we can be more assured of food for all of us this coming winter. Maybe not the luxury stuff,but good solid grains and other vegetables. If the 200 stay in force near the north end of the penninsula,it just about guarantees peace of mind and the farmers can devote their energies to farming. The 200 have kicked some butts a few times and now have a nice reputation amongst the crud. They think many times before coming around the farmers.
Thankfully there have been people that have risen to the top as natural leaders. Not so much elected with ballots,but through people's confidence in them. They are hard workers themselves and they lead by example and the rest of us follow.
Myself and a few others have organized the patrolling of the city of Mackinaw not unlike police patrols. But again we rely on self discipline of our militia rather than any political scene. Everyone knows the stake we have in this place and work hard to keep it.
There have been several foraging parties of some size working to the south of the city gathering worthwhile items of all kinds. Scavenging now and the protection of this stuff will help us greatly in the future.
Because of my duty at the bridge and in the city,I havent gone on these expiditions. Its hard work but I know it will pay off.
We had one bad scare for our city a week back. A large group of raiders approached us from the Lake Huron side. They came up fast on US 23 from Cheyboygan and hit us hard. They got into the town before we could muster our small army to push them off.
We lost over 50 of our people. The only thing that saved us was the discipline and planning we had in place. We have built up our communications now where we can coordinate a fair amount of people. What we lack in military discipline we make up for in desperation. We kicked their collective ass. And hung the rest of them. If they were with that mob,they died either during the battle or when we caught them later. We always let a few go on purpose. That way the word spreads downstate that we mean business.
We are having a cool spring and early summer even for up here. Seems like a lot of rain and that aint all bad. No fires can be set in the woods south of us.
It seems like we been doing this our whole lives. It could be worse. We could be in the big cities. Our isolation has helped us tremendously. And for that we are thankful.

You folks are good! Wish I had gotten to this sooner. Has anyone thought about putting this together as a book? There are just enough story lines that are running cohesive enough. Transpose it all to third person. Take the proceeds to fund the forum. If nothing else it would make a great "prepper" seed planter to those kinda curious....
Maybe add a storyline or two of non-preppers experience through the whole thing...

"The Doomer Diaries"

"America's Armeggedon"

LOL....ok..I'm rambling here....just a thought....

Renegade,

It would have to be "Doomer Diaries". These stories are so wide flung across the country, I think it would be almost impossible to string them together into a single tale.

Steves' trip through the Cuban held territory wasn't what had been expected. Targets seemed to be almost elusive. There were few attacks, but the intellegence gathered was far more than expected. It seemed that the enemy was useing terror and patrols to maintain order, rather than troops on the streets. That could be exploited.

Steve had left with 21 men. During the patrol they had made only ten or eleven attacks, and lost one man. However when He returned, there were only 9 men with Him. The rest had been left behind the lines to begin brand new resistance cells with people that longed to fight back against the Cubans, but lacked training and leadership.

Resistance slowly spread. Towns with names like Umatilla, Eustis, Tavares, and Lady Lake to the south and east of the forest became actively involved with the resistance. In Dunnellon, Ingis, Crystal River, Williston and even Cedar Key on the west coast cells began to start their own attacks along 19/98 that followed the gulf coast, which the Cubans had been forced to use for resupply to the troops in the north. The resistance was wipeing out more and more of their convoys and bridges along the route were becomeing fewer and fewer.

Mt. Dora, Inverness, and other towns joined in the fight. The Cubans were starting to lose Florida, and they knew it. Still they weren't entirely without their resourses. Paul White had been promised that if He carried out His mission for them, the surviveing members of His family would be freed and returned to Him. He didn't have to do much. Just attach a tracer to the car used by the leader of the militia. They thought with him gone, the resistance would be less of a problem.

It took Paul several days to locate the militia headquarters. Finding the Colonels' personal car took almost no time. He waited untill dark and crept quietly up to the suv. Quickly reached under the car and put the tracer on the frame. Then straightened up and moved off into the darkness.

Sherry knew how to stop this madness. Her son lay on his bed slowly recovering from the wounds. There was war all over the state. Her home in Gainesville, well she didn't even know if it was still standing. The fighting had to stop. Nobody seemed to realize that people were dieing every day. Friends went away and never came back. It had to end, and she knew how to do it.

Before dawn, she went outside to the car. With the twist of a key, she was on her way. She knew that she could no longer cross the River, so she turned south. Leesburg wasn't far, and from there she would make her way to the Cuban lines, and tell them where and how to find her husband. After all, he WAS the one that had nearly gotten her baby killed. It was HIS fault, and he would now pay for it.

As she approached the lines near Leesburg her mind was made up, and her resolve firm. She never even heard the smart bomb that turned the suv to burning wreakage.

REPORT ON WEST COAST CONDITIONS FROM: PINE GROVE, CALIFORNIA

We're forming a convoy to try getting through to "Back East" where some have family. Pick-ups, a fuel truck, some cargo vans, two dirt-bikes for scouting, weapons, tools and general gear.

There's been sci-fi films and books about efforts like that, hasn't there? I'll write this report and send it in case the convoy gets through. Sorry if it's a bunch of disjointed factoids and comments but equipping the convoy has been hectic and I've got to put this together in a hurry.

Much info we hear from Back East is picked up on CB. At night we get a lot of CB transmission skip, especially those boosted by linear amplifiers. We hear bits and pieces or one side of a conversation or report. We hear of fighting and resistance groups and have no way to help. It's frustrating to compare the little we get with the pap on the few remaining radio stations.

We've heard one report, rumored to be from someone calling himself "eXe" (?), saying Northern CA had nuclear explosions and was totally destroyed. The refugees who came in say it's true in the port cities. Any port big enough to take a tramp steamer got blown up. One refugee told us, "It rained fish and longshoremen for two days."

From their local results the blasts were probably small, as far as any nuke can be small. Suitcase, tactical size or even home-grown? Overall, they were devastating. The blasts, then the riots must have been hell in the cities. Here in the Sierra Foothills there's a few groups left. From our limited contacts it seems few have done as well as we have, lucky for us. we think it's because we organized quickly.

We live in Pine Grove, on Hwy 88, sixty-five miles southeast of Sacramento. Jackson, the county seat, was ten miles west of us. Pioneer was an upscale golf course community on isolated lots, fifteen miles to our east. Both are ravaged and empty. They didn't get organized in time and were wiped out house by house. Most of the families who went it alone are gone, known or presumed dead, and the places looted. Pine Grove had a population of around 2,000. We have under 800 left. We have little information on most of the missing. Some didn't join up and were over-run. Some bugged out and haven't been heard from since. Some appeared to have died of despair or fear. Just dead, not a mark on them. Due to the elderly nature of the area there's always been a high number of deaths, usually replaced by someone who inherited the property or by being sold to some newly retired couple. Now, they're just gone and few come in.

We had only 32,000 people in the county. Almost half lived around or in the county seat. Jackson was wiped out by waves of refugees. We doubt there's 3,000 people left in the whole county. The county population was once estimated as being over one-third retirees, and the death toll was high among the elderly. Many were defenseless when the refugees came, many depended on meds that ran out, many of those down in the valley were dependent on almost daily trips to the stores.

In our isolated community, off to the side on a secondary highway ten miles up in the mountains, we wound up having to fight fewer people than wiped out Jackson. The whole area has seen no foreign invaders, just refugees, roaming thugs and gang members. The few pushy types and gang-banger thugs who hit us didn't last long.

Whoever started this depended on the bombs to either wipe us out or let civil disorder and infrastructure breakdown take care of any survivors. Except for some enclaves, like us, they succeeded. The areas where the people didn't organize and do it quickly are gone.

The talk, nothing official, is the West Coast blasts hit every port in California, Oregon and Washington. Southern CA, about 60% of the state's population, was hit hard. The blasts are thought to have been from devices hidden in ships and maybe some in areas away from the coastline from devices in trucks. Probably no bursts at high altitude so we have cone shaped areas behind hills where electronic gear still works but lots of flats where everything electronic is dead.

What we're calling "First Day" was mass confusion. Everything seemed broken. Must phones didn't work. The electricity was out. Most vehicles were dead. We got pre-digested pap about "There is a current State of Emergency but everything will be alright within a few hours" from any radio station or TV channel still on the air. What little was on, well, I'm sure everyone heard the same stuff, how "The Authorities" would soon be make announcements and tell us what to do? Sure they would! Notice how they said those words, "The Authorities?" Listeners could hear quotation marks and capitals.

Many neighbors tried our phone, but few calls went through and those were routed east. Nothing at all to the west. Some neighbors went to the county seat to see if they could buy supplies. Both our vehicles were still running so we all made some stocking-up trips. In fact, all our stuff seemed to work, same with my closest neighbors. We were probably sheltered from the EMP. The big stores were closed due to lack of power. The small stores were running on pencil and paper and Coleman lanterns, taking cash and checks only.

On Day 2, quickly organized now through the Homeowner's Association, we went back and opened those stores where others hadn't already done it. We took everything remotely useful and salved our consciences by leaving lists and who to contact about what we took.

My group lives in a retirement park of 78 homes on the edge of our small town. The town was a village of 2,000 people. The homes in our park, nice up-scale double wide or larger mobile units, are scattered all over a forested hill. When we put it together, the homes on the southeast quadrant of the hill still had working electrical gadgets. The others didn't, so the hill must have sheltered us. The pattern, drawn on a map, forms an arrowhead pointed directly at Sacramento.

We got the Homeowner's Association together in the park clubhouse before noon on First Day to talk the problem over, with fifty or sixty-odd people, both men and women, present. It turned out the Association was to become the central force in organizing the whole town. We were comparing notes and looking at a AAA map when three of us looked at each other and said, "Sacramento's gone! It came from Sacto!" Whoever did this probably sent a rusty old freighter up their deep-water channel to pick up a load of rice and there's no need for fancy intercontintal delivery systems!

Well, we'd be in better shape than many, if only from the nature of the park. It wasn't quite a gated community at the time as the one and only entry was open but it was fenced and protected at the back by a cliff it would take climbing equipment to scale. The single entry was blocked by cars and guarded before sundown. Now, it is half-blocked by cement barriers, well lighted, fully gated and has armed guards.

Age may soon be a problem for the group. You had to be 55 to buy in our park, but few were. Most owners are in their sixty's and seventies. I'm nearly 71. On the other hand, nearly all had supplies and emergency lighting and stoves, commonly kept for the regular winter storms we get once or twice each year at our altitude. We are going to lose some people as meds run out, too. We have a lot of interest in herbal medications we can grow.

Some family and friends from "outside" have made it in, including my eldest son, who's in his late 40's, and two grandchildren. His wife was killed at a road block in Stockton. Most of the family were in Southern California. No word and no refugees from the entire area. The younger son, early 40's, has guns, a 4X4, camping gear and a half-grown son old enough to drive or shoot. He and his family might make it but the chances are slim. The arrivals have given us more hands to help and to stand guard. There are some classic stories being told of what many went through to get here. Road blocks, riots, that sort of thing.

The men in our Homeowner's Association used to bump into each other at American Legion and VFW pot-lucks as most of us were vets. One fiesty older neighbor said his last military action was jumping into Normandy with the 101st Airborne! Now, he runs our sentry/scout system. Most, like me, are Korean War vets and some early Viet Nam vets. Most homeowners had a gun or two. Shotguns and lots of .22 rifles, more than one per home, deer rifles, maybe not used in years but ready to go. A few pistols. Most of the men were fishermen, a major reason for retiring in the area, along with decent hunting on public land. Most had camping gear. Eight had camp trailers or motor homes in thestorage lot and we've moved them into the main park.

Ammo might have been a bigger problem but some tax-and-spend type in the now nonexistent State Legislature did us an accidental favor when he tried to get a nickle-per-bullet tax put through, the money to go to hospital emergency rooms for treating gunshot victims. Sure!

The tax measure failed big time at the polls due to terrorist nerves but several of us stocked up in case it passed and many were concerned enough to buy a box or two. Me, well, I didn't admit to the crowd I'd gone overboard and had stacks of bulk and brick .22 ammo, several thousand rounds. Enough to make good trading stock without worrying about it for a long time! A pocketful of .22 LR's, spent like coins, will buy a lot of stuff on one of our weekly market days.

Along with many hunters, I'd stocked up on mixed loads for the shotguns and on ammo for my scoped big game rifles. Like several others, just more than some, I'd gathered enough pre-tax ammo and reloading components to keep me shooting (or trading) for years.

Beyond the high percentage of gun owning veterans in the park, we had three guys retired from the military and three retired LEO's. Four of us turned out to be reloaders. Between us we had a wide variety of dies, gear, some mostly small sized shot, powder and primers for both shotguns and rifles. Two of us and a couple of guys in town have molds to cast bullets in several calibers and 12ga slugs. By the way, the same four of us turned out to be closet preppers or survivalists who had kept their odd hobby and the extent of their supplies to themselves.

We have a retired doctor, two refugee doctors, a retired small animal vet and several women with professional nursing experience. The fire house and EMT station was across the road from the town hall. The town controls all the fire and EMT gear as well as the local drug store since the owner, our only pharmacist, died in an early refugee fight.

Years ago my wife hunted with me at times and shot at the range with me often. Still had her own guns. She's started to teach the ladies to shoot, starting with .22's. As we discovered what happened to the women in some isolated homes when the refugees started to hit the area on Day 2 her students pay close attention.

The phone and power company employees who were local residents are working at least part-time on those systems. We do it as part of the barter system. Somebody shows up and plows his garden, ten old men come over and plant it. A dozen youths arrive to hoe his corn so a lineman with volunteer helpers has time to hook up another house or two. We've gotten the electricity back for most of our eastern half of the county and some local phone service.

We have two small hydro-electric dams in the county. Both work, for now, as they are in deep river valleys. We exported more electricity than we used. Opening and dismantling some major switches keeps it at home. We have a trailer mounted generator to run the community water well if needed and another to power up the town hall. Two smaller ones will give us power at the Park's club house.

Having power is a blessing. For one thing it lets us keep the golf carts from the local courses going. Those, bicycles and adult trikes are keeping the gasoline consumption down. We have over a dozen of the electric scooters used by the handicapped, as the county had a big elderly base. Nobody but us thought them valuable enough to collect them.

We had three local gas stations. One gas tanker-trailer was stranded here. Good timing for us, but all the gas will be gone some day. We are trying to prepare for it. Diesel is in short supply already.

All the flower beds, front and back yards all over town, parts of the cemetary, every flat area and every five gallon bucket or container in town are now growing veggies. Most of us are building small greenhouses and hot-frames. We have lots of raised bed and square foot gardening. The local nursery has two big green houses, too. The local Ace Hardware ex-staffers are building a community greenhouse at the fire station.

Some of the older ladies are running a free child care center when Mom's are canning or maybe on guard duty. School classes are taught in the town hall three days a week and we do lots of home schooling. The emphasis is on basic skills. There's too few kids to keep the school open, but we could if it becomes necessary.

The kids are eager to read. They see adults always going to the books to see how to build, repair or grow something. There aren't many kids. We're mostly an older group and the few young people don't want to have kids until we know more about the fall-out.

We had no geiger counters in town but we built some detectors following plans in an old Dean Ing paperback survival novel from the library. If they're working properly, our background is high but not really bad. Luckily, our major breezes come from the southwest and the closest radiation source is to our northwest. Radiation is a wait and see game, we're guessing.

Community canning bees and classes are starting up at the Town Hall, where we have an old but good commercial grade kitchen. We can veggies, fish and meat, now. The first meat and fish canning or preserving didn't go too well until somebody came up with some old books on early ways of doing it. The canning bees are already great social events. So are quilting bees, also starting up, because winter will come. They aren't terrible here, it's cold, usually in the 40's with a breeze, but rarely hits freezing. We have a four-season climate with one or two light snows per winter. We're 2,000 feet below winter's normal permanent snow line which is about twenty miles up the road in a normal winter.

Natural gas hadn't been piped into the area so home heating here has always been wood, electric or propane heat. The little tank farm of a half-dozen big common-usage tanks at our retirement park had, luckily, recently been filled. The local dealer has four trucks, mostly loaded. We have all rounded up every electric heater we can get, since we still have power and no power bill. Makes sense, as long as the power holds out. Some day it'll go, probably.

Our local welding shop owner is making wood stoves out of old drums we found in a junk yard, making half and full sized drum stoves. He's fair on the barter he takes, even taking scrap metal or items he can repair. We have a good market in old wood stoves, of course. Someday it may be only wood for heating and cooking. We're surrounded by National Forests, when the day comes.

Some people still use money, thinking it might come back or maybe to keep score. Some will accept IOU's or undated checks but the main trade is in barter. I prefer barter and will take labor in trade or IOU's for labor or for crops. Market activity seems to set some standard prices. So far, no big problems.

Our unincorporated town had no mayor, city government, local ordinances or police force. We made Mayberry RFD look like a big city. Twice a year we got together at the Town Hall and yelled at each other. Now we'll do it monthly. Our Homeowner's Association had an organization and over 75 armed and women. For the present, it has sufficed as a government, now called the Executive Committee. A large majority of us are strong conservative Republicans or Libertarians. Many of us are retired managers of some company or another so we don't require, and won't accept, a lot of governance. We settled for an elected Executive Committee. Works for us. Your milage may vary, if the chance comes to try it.

By the way, this isn't a commune, or any other form of communism or socialism. In fact, it's mostly Libertarian, with a lot of voluntary cooperation. Some of that is church based. What's yours is yours. The right to defend what's yours with deadly force if needed was decided early. Your property is yours to keep, trade, give away or burn. We help each other out. It's a small, tightly knit community. My wife and I were "newcomers" with only 12 years here. This town has always done it that way and we hope we always will.

The old authorities haven't been seen at all. The Highway Patrol and the Sheriff's Deputies who used to be around haven't been seen. They only did traffic patrol and set speed traps when the coffers were low. We lived in our home for twelve years and never saw a police car drive down our street. They damn sure weren't around when we fought gang members and refugees.

We have been lucky. We've seen no foreign invaders to fight, no tanks, APC's or gas attacks. Our only combat has been brushes with gang-banger types, probably from Stockton. Our deer rifles and bird guns removed these people from the future gene pool and increased our arms supply.

Most of them were armed with junk we've bartered away, but there were a few good guns, probably stolen. We've gotten several good rifles and shotguns. The gangs seemed low on ammo. None of them could have hit a barn if they were locked inside it. Their assaults are "Spray and Pray" affairs. Once intimidation and threats had failed, they seemed to only be interested in surviving. We did nothing to help them survive!

We've captured several semi-auto M-16's, AK-47's, MAC-10's, two Uzi's aand a number of 9mm semi-auto pistols. One AK's original owner discovered he lacked enough range when faced with a long range rifle and a scared old shooter with no notion of letting him get close. Some people have absolutely no sense of a fair fight and I'm one of them. He made threats so his answer was a "Bang! Who goes there" type of thing. I never did like to be addressed as, "Hey, you honkie old muthaf....r, drag your ass over here!" Never piss off a scared old man.

Some refugees we helped or even took in. There were some groups who we suspected of raiding isolated homes. Told to move on, they didn't. We fought. They lost. Isolated homes didn't fare as well as organized groups. We've had attacks by raiders trying to take over. They didn't.

Except for two of the half-dozen preachers in town, every man, the older boys and most woman are armed at all times. Bad guys avoid trouble with armed groups. They don't reform and turn into church goers but they go look for easier prey. We're glad we've had no troops to fight, as you've had to do back east.

Two "military" groups showed up to try to take over, quoting orders we'd never heard of. From the shoulder patches we figured one group to be National Guard and the other was regulars from a mixture of posts. We felt they were just survivors. There weren't enough of them to take over. One group of ten one time, one of a dozen another time. They looked dirty, tired and hungry but were armed. In spite of the arms, they didn't start anything with a hundred also-armed citizens with more arriving every minute from every direction to see why the fire siren was wailing our short-burst code for a general call-out.

Too bad they came on hard, trying to take charge. After that, we could see no way to allow them to stay as part of the town. Both times we let them shower in the crew-room at the firehouse, fed them a decent meal, relieved them of anything except small arms and made them move on. Our take on it was eight hand grenades and some extra magazines.

Haven't seen or heard of them since. We've got an idea they are up in the hills, maybe in some of the abandoned homes, but they haven't bothered us. We made sure they knew the few people or groups who have bothered us aren't around to do it again.

What else? Well, we post sentries and change locations for them in case anyone is scouting us. We have night patrols and a day-watch. We have roving scouts. The duties are rotated. We make good use of dogs who were pets a short while ago.

Fresh meat is now coming from the fairly good local deer and turkey crop and from steers, sheep and goats on now abandoned local ranches. We have quite a few chicken pens and rabbit hutches being built. If untended, the sheep don't do too well but the goats are prolific.

If the weather's normal, we'll get a lot of waterfowl this fall and next spring. We still have a lot of trout in the streams and lakes, too. We have a half dozen lakes and a couple of hundred miles of trout streams. In fact, it's why many retired here. We voluntarily limit our catches to keep breeding stock. Feels funny to go fishing with a gun guard, though. We're getting started on fish farming, too.

Breeding stock of all types is being tended and conserved. Some pigs, hard to keep, were turned loose to mix with the feral ones, we hope. Some stock was discovered dead inside of fenced range so the fences are being cut and gates wired open to allow the stock to find natural food and water. We hope they'll roam and breed. We've quite a few horses around. Many died in stalls before we started our patrols. More are being bred but stallions are scarce.

There was a horse drawn buggy from the museum clopping down the street a few days ago. It was drawing far more attention than a new Mercedes used to get! People are planning and building automobile tired wagons. Some steers are being fed up as "pet" oxen, an experiment of course. We'll soon have slipped back into the ways of the miners of '49 who opened up this country. The good side is we hadn't gotten as far from those ways as the city folks had.

All roads are blocked, mostly at mined bridges, and manned by armed men and women with CB's. We have home-made command detonation mines and claymores set. People could get through, we know, but not quietly or without cost.

We aren't heros but we've picked up a reputation of being a bunch of old folks who don't seem to give a damn, won't bluff and won't back up. We've lost quite a few men and women from our town in refugee and gang fights. We're such hicks they were buried with honors and are mentioned every Sunday in all the churches. Many have been wounded or injured but have recovered.

So, this is a report from a group who hunkered down and is working hard at getting by. Since we started early, we feel we've made a lot of progress. We know of several similar groups and are in touch and in trade with some, still reaching out to some others. There's also some "wild card" groups out in the hills. Those, we're watching. Most are pretty shy of us as they know what happens when we're threatened by outsiders.

The bearer of this report will provide any information needed if you can figure out a way to contact us. We have two hams in the community and the messenger will have the call-signs and frequencies but so far some really bad static has kept us isolated. The 10,000 foot mountains to the east of us don't help. Maybe trouble from radiation to our west? None of us are experts, not even the hams who were both newly licensed hobby types.

Some in the convoy plan to collect loved ones and return, if things as bad as we believe. Perhaps they can bring back some word from you, if their plans work out. If anyone is interested and can get here, all we ask is you come in friendly. Anyone is welcome.

We're not asking for anything. Considering the conditions, we don't need much help and could maybe even offer some to others, especially after the expected fall harvest and a hunt we're planning, but we'd like to be in touch with the rest of the country. It tears our hearts out to hear snatches of desperate fighting going on in the rest of the nation.

The convoy will have a list of everybody here and all their relatives back there, as well.

Hope someone gets to read this!

GrayBear, for the community of Pine Grove.

(Note to editor - This is my view of what might happen, locally, in my remote mountain community. Feel free to delete it if you feel it doesn't fit into the theme of the other posts.)

bump

A note to our readers. Since there seems to be a lack of additions to this thread, this will be my last post here. Unless we see more contributions, I guess we will just let this story die a peaceful death. I do hope that my humble contributions have been enjoyed, as it has been my purpose to simply tell an entertaining yarn. I hope I have been successful.
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As he turned the burned and discolored ring over and over in his hand, day late realized there was no doubt. It had been Sherrys' wedding ring. He knew She was gone. He wanted to find the men that had done this and make them pay, slowly and painfully, for as long as he could make them last. He also knew that He couldn't do that. Revenge had no place in a successful resistance movement. Besides, he had too much to do now.

The cells started by the men that had been spread across this part of the state had begun to make themselves known to the enemy. It somehow seemed fitting that the resistance had lifted a page from the manuel written by Chairman Mao to battle the Cubans. Mao HAD run a successful war against first the Japanese, and then the Nationalist Chinese after them. If it worked for them day late reasoned, it should work for us.

"The enemy advances, we retreat.
The enemy camps, we harrass.
The enemy tires, we attack.
The enemy retreats, we advance."

An agressive defense, as he thought of it, was working. Now the problem was to keep success from makeing the resistance cells to cocky. The loss of one cell, numbering 39 men, in the Leesberg area HAD served as a warning to the others. Now he had to make the point stick. Instead of large numbers of revenge attacks in the same area, he had ordered the groups near Leesberg to stand down for a week or so. Then cells in Cedar Key, Newberry, and other places along the western edge of the battle area were put into high gear.

All across the central Fla. area the Cubans were losing ground, men, supplies, and confidence. They had even pulled completely out of the Ocala/Wildwood/Belview area. This was a major loss for them. It ment that they no longer believed they could make their way up I-75, and had cut their losses and run. The citizens of these places had begun to move back in and rebuild their lives.

Now as he bounced down the back roads towards Dunnellon he considered the next phase of the war. They had seriously hampered the enemies ability to resupply and re-enforce troops to the north. Radio traffic they had picked up indicated the enemy was starting to retreat from their earlier gains and suffering large numbers of losses. Atlanta was back in American hands, or what was left of it. There were even reports that the Army had managed to free up enough men to begin to send dome of them down to Tallahassee. And if the stories were true, they might just be able to make it down as far as Marion County to provide some much needed relief.

That was fine by him. He wasn't ment for this life. It would be a relief to hand command over to the professionals that actually knew what they were doing. Besides NOBODY was indispensable.

That's when the mine exploded under the hummer he was riding in.

Bump for the day crew.

How strange life has become.The war,and its brothers,chaos and death,now seem the way things have always been.Memories of 'before'seem as unreal as childhood dreams of Christmas

I was luckier than most.Nearly all of those I cherish made it through the initial madness,a combination of nuke and bioweapons that killed nearly 70% of the urban NW population. The incredible lethality of "The Cough" betrayed its heritage....bioengineering. 90% dead in 4 days.The true horror was anyone who had it KNEW they were dead. It is still a matter of debate why the nuke that burnt Portland/Hillsboro was targeted where it was. I think it missed where it was supposed to go.As it stands now,most of the area west of Portland is now black wasteland.Many times in my life I have cursed the rain in my home, but the blessed rain is the only reason anything is left of Portland.Due to the very low levels of activity after the blast, it had to be an airburst.The firestorms were stuff of nightmares.

The emergency planning ,and preps ,are most of the reason why my family and closest freinds are alive now. At first,a serious attempt was made by what was left of the gov. to organise help for the survivors.Until "The Cough".Now, no stranger is welcome.Sick strangers tend to be shot.No questions.Shot.

The aborted attempt by the chicom to establish a beachead at Coos Bay was the only true enemy mil. activity seen sofar.The force, estimated at between 40,000 and 50,000 troops,were hidden mostly in container ships outfitted as clandestine troop carriers.It almost succeeded.By all account we have recived via cb/ham ,the utter savagery of the fighting,and finally use of tac nukes to destroy the support forces will be remembered as one of the bloodiest chapters of our struggle.The most surpriseing aspect of this battle was the makeup of the defenders,90% which were irregulars .Only a handful of chicom survived.Very few of our heros survived either.This was due to one of the oddities of "The Cough".Outside of a mild,flulike cough,no other effects are appearent,until the 4th day,when you drop dead.Deadmen walking are terrifing warriors.I think this was a mis-calculation on the part of our enemy.Instead of frightened disorganised mobs,they found quiet walking death.

My own life has developed a new,rythm.I am nightwatch,from12pm to 8am. I tend my garden,and chickens,and try to make the transition to this new,uncertain existence.Sometimes the local exchange works,and my younger brother keeps astounding me with the new innovations he brings out of my workshop[a former robotics engineer can be a very handy guy on your side] Its time for my nightly hike.Will post when god wills....snuffy

Reaction to the invasion and biological plague varied across the country. As the masses that had once relied solely on their governments to provide and protect them, discovered that there was no one left to provide for them, many refused to believe that the Federal government and the military would not eventually come to their rescue, providing shelter, food, water, medical care and most importantly protection from the roaming gangs of looters, brigands and foreign soldiers.

This type of thinking was a direct result of the American public being subjected to decades of liberal indoctrination; and many Americans ultimately came to believe in and rely on the liberal mantra of “The Government will provide protection and keep you safe”.

The result of the liberalization of America was, that it left hundreds of millions of Americans wondering when the government was going to step in and take care of them.

Keep them safe? The ones that had not fallen for the party line just kept asking, “Wasn’t this the same Government that had been totally unprepared and ineffectual in dealing with the resulting National crises in the first place?”

It is hot and it is miserable, Pete Walker said to himself as he sat with his back to a sun- warmed boulder, his rifle balanced across his lap. Slowly and patiently he made adjustments to various parts of the rifle, pausing after each adjustment to jot down a note or two in a small notebook. Finally satisfied, he picked up the notebook, and tucked it into his jacket before pushing his way though some low branches, and then knelt down on a thick mound of pine needles. Pete had spent eight years in the Army, even after all this time he had continued to exercise, practiced various hand to hand fighting techniques and with a variety of weapons, everything he did was designed to keep him in full fighting trim.

Pulling his compact binoculars out of his vest, he slowly scanned the area, looking for signs of human life. A lot of people are dead, possibly in the hundreds of millions, others are lying low, waiting for the Fed Gov to come in and rescue them. Some have, become militia members and survivalists by default and are not hunkered down, waiting for the worse to pass. It had been a very bad last few weeks, trying to wait out the plague, and now trying to survive the ever-growing gangs of looters and enemy soldiers roaming around this part of New Mexico. I’d be willing to bet that what’s left of the inner cities are a major nightmare by now. Places that had food warehouses and distribution centers are probably attracting the refuges, looters and eventually the enemy. Starvation and diseases are just starting; after that we are going to start having problems with wild dogs, wild animals, flies and rats, lack of food and polluted water, and the presence of enemy troops. Things are still headed down hill and are certainly going to get worse.

So far all Pete saw as he scanned the neighborhood were deserted streets, a few dead bodies; trash and other wind blown debris that had piled up against the wheels and doors of the abandoned and wrecked houses and vehicles. Here and there on to the side of the road small lumps were scattered, Pete tried not to think too much about them, instead remembering his first trip into Silver City, there were no people outside or in the streets.
Lot’s of dead bodies, packs of wild dogs and then the smell, it was beyond description, horrible was as close as he could come to actually placing a name to the smell. When he started looking closely at some of the windows in the houses, he could sometimes see someone peeking out, through the curtains. Finally, in one yard there was a little kid playing, he might have been three or four years old. He ran out and started to wave. Right away a woman, probably his mother, came running out of the house, picked him up and ran all the way back to the door. I was starting to get the idea that I was not welcome.

How in the world did I get myself into this mess? One minute I'm on vacation, well actually on a hunting trip with my brother, the next I'm in the middle of an all out Invasion, followed by a FEMA goat roping contest. Talk about having a crappy vacation. The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.

What happened? Pete concentrated; trying to remember what had happened but the memories would only come in bits and pieces. Most of them were not pleasant. Shoot, life sure is full of surprises and sometimes they aren't all warm and fuzzy.

The night before the invasion, he had driven his Jeep up to the Heart Bar Wildlife Area to set up camp for their annual hunting trip, and to wait for his brother to show up. They had been looking forward to spending some quality time together and bagging a nice sized doe or two. After Mike (Mike was in the Army and stationed at Fort Benning, in Georgia, and had flown out to New Mexico for the annual hunt) had showed up, they had stayed up late, talking about this and that, nothing serious, just getting reacquainted and talking about the old days and looking forward to the next several days. Had that really only been fourteen days ago?

As if on autopilot, Pete rose to his knees and zipped up his jacket, collected his gear and started back to where he had left Mike and the Jeep. Pete walked slowly back down the hill, avoiding the trail (using trails and roads was stupid, it invited all kinds of trouble), towards Mike’s position and eventually back to where they had stashed the Jeep.

His camouflage hunting clothes were covered with mud, pine needles, bits and pieces of leaves and only God knew what else. He was tired beyond belief, every single muscle, and every joint in his body ached and throbbed. Mike was just as bad off, yet somehow they had kept going, their survival instinct a little too strong to allow them to just call it quits and give up. Thanks to their Army training, both Mike and Pete were accustomed to staying alive as long as possible, no matter what the conditions or situations they might encounter.

A lot of hard choices lay a head, staying in the mountains was definitely not an option, so it was either head up to North to see if they could find some type of resistance group or possibly an Army or National guard unit or head straight to Timberon, where he had a vacation cabin (and multiple caches of supplies and equipment) located.

But, before he could think anymore about their possible options, he heard a noise nearby. Before the invasion he might have missed the sound, but now his hearing had become re-accustomed to hearing small out of the ordinary noises. Slipping closer to the trail, Pete moved to the edge of the tree line. He hugged the brush and tree line and peeked cautiously down the trail and into the meadow. He could see Mike hunched down about twenty yards away, behind a dead log, it was apparent that Mike had also heard the noise.

Pete scanned the field as the gray light of morning began to replace the shadowy darkness. Clouds of fog hung low to the ground, giving the scene an eerie quality. But he could not see or hear anything out of the ordinary. So he moved down to where Mike was waiting.

Removing his hat, Pete wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He took a small drink from his canteen and saved the rest for later when the sun would be beating down and sapping his strength. He looked at his watch. More than an twenty minutes had passed since he had thought that he had heard something, and he began to relax a little at the thought that perhaps it was just his imagination.

Pete's mind returned to the present when he heard the sound of men laughing and joking, punctuated by what sounded like someone in pain, came to them just as they were about to step out of the scrub brush that was cover following the narrow trail between two hills, fanning out across a meadow bordered by a wall of pine trees. They dropped into the knee-high grass and crawled back into the forrest.

Spotting movement in the distant trees, Mike yelled. "Pete…those are soldiers! What do we do? We can't outrun them."

Pete looked around and made the call, hasty ambush, if there are not to many, if not we hide. "There, Mike." He pointed to a trio of pine trees growing close together with their intertwined branches low to the ground. Around their branches the underbrush grew heavily, forming a natural barrier within the triangle. Mike bellied over to it and wriggled underneath the tangled mass. It was just big enough for one man to hide in and defend for a while. It wasn't a perfect plan, but they had to go with the best they had.

Pete then slipped away into the scrub brush. Mike, could see what looked like soldiers walking in a single-file formation, one soldier on point, followed by two more with AK-47 rifles, the second one angrily poking a prisoner along. Three more soldiers brought up the rear.

The metal of the rifle was cool against Pete’s cheek as he peered through the scope, and into the meadow and surrounding tree line. He could hear the sound of movement and muted voices drifting on the breeze. Suddenly he caught a flash of color and then saw someone walking out of the trees.

Pete's 30-06 cracked from the tree line up ahead and the point man fell, a slug dead center in his chest. He crumpled to the ground, a second shot catching the soldier behind him, dropping him in his tracks. The three trailing soldiers stood stock still, staring around them in horror. As they started for cover Mike’s rifle opened up. One of the soldiers collapsed like a sack of wet grain; the other two fell writhing on the ground. A gaping wound opened in the thigh of the nearest one and he soon lay still in a lake of bright blood. The farther one picked himself up and tried to run, but another blast caught him in the middle of the back and he too, lay still.

The remaining soldier behind the prisoner, came to a complete stop, then pulled him in close, to use him as a shield and began backing carefully toward the rear of the meadow.

Pete grasped his Warhawk, welcoming the sharpness of the blade’s edge as he heard…he lay motionless, his body pressed as far into the ground as it would go, his senses totally focused on what lay ahead. This was a situation that he’d faced many times before, but ever since the first time he’d always faced it calmly and coolly, but most importantly in control. The rush of conflicting emotions would come later, after things had calmed down, providing he survived.

Suddenly the bushes rustled and Pete burst into view, the blade of his Rinaldi Warhawk glinting in the afternoon sun. One swipe across the brigand's throat, and the man fell clawing at some invisible enemy, whimpering and gurgling blood as he, too, died. Pete was silent, wiping his knife on the long grass that grew at the edge of the meadow.

He had watched as the soldiers died from the wounds he had inflicted, and once again he quietly wondered what in he'd gotten himself into.

“We can’t stay here,” Pete said. “If there are any more soldiers in the area, they will be on their way. We’re all a little low on ammo and just can’t risk it, right now. The ex-prisoner still dazed and bleeding, slightly from a head wound, allowed himself to be lowered to the ground by Mike and Pete.

After stripping the dead soldiers of their food, weapons, ammunition, radio, and most importantly a medics kit, the pair, heavily loaded down with gear, grabbed the ex-prisoner and moved out as quietly as possible.

The last few yards took on a dream like quality, the ex-prisoner leaned heavily on Mike, who was so intent on staying on his feet that he was literally oblivious to anything else.

Silently, gracefully, the new day brightened, heralded by clouds the color of the burning smudge.

"D*mn, how do I get myself in these jams? The Cubans lines of supply are disrupted and I wanted to hunker down and chill for a while, but no such luck, gunny knew that I was familiar with the Cherokee and Choctaw nations to the west in the Warrior Mountains. He wanted to set up liason with them. I can't blame him; they've been in there since the removal by Andrew Jackson. Old Hickory couldn't find them and neither can anyone else if they don't want to be found. "Ok", I thought, "a couple of days riding, then a few visiting with old friends, and then a couple back. Right? WRONG!"
Gunny said, "Take Jimmy with you to teach him the ropes and for backup."
The kid is good on a horse and good with a gun, they grow up that way around here. But he's plumb dadgum dangerous on a scouting mission! Now it's been a week's riding and dodging and finally we're with the Echota in a little pow-wow. The kid makes more racket than a Peterbilt going downhill through a briar patch. I'm trying to talk the Echota chairman into taking him under their wing to teach him some woodcraft; Lord only knows here in the Warrior Mountains of the Bankhead National Forest he'll learn some or die trying.

What I've learned is that it was the people here that cut the lines from the Florence/Mussle Shoals, Alabama area to the more central Interstate system. I kinda figured that but now I know that they are holding from here across the valley to the Tennessee River. Their ancestral lands or at least some of them. It ain't a healthy prospect being a bad guy, whether Cuban or bandit or renegade, in this here neck of the woods right now. I doubt if we'd be alive if these folks didn't already know me before I got here.

The chairman wants a chance to get to know the kid and I need to rest. My horses have to rest too, so I'm going to set up camp a couple miles away in a little grassy canyon for a few days and leave the kid with them. If I'm neeeded they'll know where to find me, but right now I'm gonna sleep and then sleep some more.

Spear

I made it back to Payson and got the rest of George's stuff off the mountain. I invited George to come back to the farm with me, but he declined. Said he wanted to heal up first and travel down into the desert for awhile.

I dug my bike out of the underbrush and headed for home. A warm bath was worth hurrying for!!!!! The trip went well. I got home with almost a quarter gallon of gas left!!! I was warmly greeted and knocked down and slobbered on by my dogs!

I ate a large portion of stew and a hunk of homemade bread. I enjoyed every bite!!! Not much had happened on the old homestead. Bruce was feeling better and wanted to get out and about. The animals were healthy and the garden was doing well. My greenhouses were going to give us three crops this year!!! The goats were as ornery as ever and the chickens made a noise like you wouldn't believe. I was back home again!!!!!

For the next two weeks, I worked the farm and did maintenence. Fixed a loose board on the hen house and patched up where a storm had damaged the roof. I cleaned out the hen house and started a new compost pile. I was trying to make two huge piles to go into our 1/4 acre garden.

At a town hall meeting, it was decided that we needed to send someone to meet with the Indian Police and Tribal Elders. I tried to decline but got drafted anyway. I would travel to Window Rock to meet with the Navajo Elders and then over to the Hopi Nation.

I decided to take Bruce with me as he was part Indian and was driving me crazy about getting out and around!!! We readied our two bikes for the trip. We took an extra 3 gallon plastic gas can with us as Bruce's Harley drank gas like it was free!!!

I had armed myself with my Remington 1890 in 45 Colt and a Marlin Guide Gun in 45-70 Gov't. The rifle went into the boot attached to the front forks. The 45 rode on my hip. A 38 Spec belly gun was tucked into my waist band under my shirt. My Cold Steel SRK was on my left hip and a boot knife was gouging my ankle.

We left early and headed north to an unknown rendezvous. I hoped that we had GOD's Blessing on our mission!

THE QUICK YEARS

Life has been good,mostly.
It took many sacrifices including many lives,but we have won back the new State of Michigan.
Nowhere big as before but enough for the people who lived.
It has been five years since our NG troops headed west to kick the Sovs butts on the west end of the state and into Wisconsin.
We are now geographically as big as we want to be. The state is on the west,the old Michigan border with Wisconsin with forts at Ironwood and south is another fort at Iron Mountain. And south of that is Fort Menominee. That is our western border with roving patrols going north and south on the border. Wisconsin is mainly depopulated up here. Most of the folks headed more south and stick mainly to the west shore of Lake Michigan. They make it almost to Chicago. There is no more Chicago or Detroit.
A couple of dirty bombs have made this area in between and the lower part of Michigan uninhabitable. But in its way a good barrier for us here in upper Michigan.
There is a lot of water traffic with the new sailboats,merchant types, sailing the great lakes. We have habitable land just south of Grand Rapids and easterly over to Port Huron.
Midland is the Capital of the State (might as well read nation)of Michigan. But we also have a capital in Marquette. A duplicate really. It may seem redundant to have the legislators 6 months in Midland and 6 months in Marquette,but it works for us.
Thats a lot of miles across the UP and people just werent happy with just the Midland capital.
On the Eastern border of Michigan is the Soo. We got it back. Also we now extend into Canada a few miles at the Soo. This was a vote by the people of Canada who wanted the better protection that we as a group could give.
Wherever there is any center of population is a fort. We call it that rather than an armory of the NG. All men and women ages 17-60 are in the Michigan NG. We rotate our duties and live at these forts for two weeks a year. There are patrols and training we go through. It would be really complicated if there was a big population but we are at about 250,000 right now. That seems big but compare that from before when there were 1,000,000 in Detroit alone and well over 9,000,000 in the whole state.
We keep about 100 NGs at each fort at all times and at our strategic border cities,there are 200 NGs. Gad we even have a few planes! Course with the lack of fuel,they are used mostly for scouting. Michigan was blessed with both oil and natural gas in our area. Not much,but enough that we didnt go completely back to horse and buggy. Not that a lot of us dont use this method,but still you see and hear cars and trucks fairly often going by.
We also have coal and a lotta lotta trees so fuel is still not a problem for heating,etc.
The west side of the state has a lot of wind off of Lake Michigan and there is a program to start wind powered electric for the state. Gonna be a few more years but looks good.
Now that there is less crap in our great lakes,we do have fishing to help our diets. There is still a lot of farmland in the south and that supplies a lot of people.
That why life is good. Mostly.
I dont have to go to NG duties but my DW does. So when its her turn they get an extra OF to help out in my limited way.
Our motor home is still our home most of the time. We have a small home that was vacant in Mackinaw City when the temps drop too low to heat the motor home. Barter and work trade is still big in the economy but our new currency (like IOUs) are helping to bring us back to a more solidified population.
There is talk of starting up trade contacts,etc of other parts of the USA but still just talk.
Thankfully we pounded enough of the bad boys of the world (and they pounded each other) that they are leaving the USA alone now. Plus they all have their own problems. Our world is less connected than it was. And that's good as far as I'm concerned.
Here's hoping we stay this way.

ok...my turn. ;)

'She waited for him in her little quiet valley. They had been planning on getting together, making a life with each other. He was so far away and they both had 'Things' to take care of.

Now it was too late.

At night she could see the orange glow around the mountains that ringed her home. The fires resulting from the nuclear bombs that had wiped away the cities. There was no power in her town since it was sent over the mountains from the big city to the West. No water either. She had some power for refridgeration and she had acess to spring water. She alsi had preps-some she had bought and packed away and some the man who loved her had begun sending months ago. The last man who she had been with had always said things like "What do you need all them damn beans and buckets for?" The new lover said things like "Is THAT all you've got? We need to get you more!" and laughed and hugged her. It was so right.

So now she waited.

Not knowing was the hardest part. Anticipating.
Some of the people she'd known for years that weren't "G.I's" had shown up on her doorstep-she gave them a little but they ransacked her home looking for more...knowing she had it-but it wasn't there. She'd moved it on her mans advice to some caves only she know of on her property. He always told her when it hits the fan they'll come a runnin and all bets are off.

He was right.

She also wore a handgun he'd given her. She wasn't against guns but still wasn't neccesarilly for them either-she didn't want to shoot ANYBODY.

She hadn't had to either but she did have to thin out a pack of dogs gone wild to save her grandson.

She waited-by the window one of her 8 hour cadles burning there to light the way for her man.

She knew he'd come...he promised.

Early the next morning...the Sun was rising to start another day. She heard a noise-the gravel crunching under faltering footsteps. Her eyes wear sleep-blurred but she looked up from her crossed arms where she had fallen asleep, the .357 magnum by her hand. Candle had burned out.

The crunch of gravel was louder and she saw his boots...he went down to his hands and knees-how far he must have walked!

She ran to the door and he was there...tears welled in her eyes upon seeing him-her hand covers her mouth to stop the cry.

He was, to say the least-a mess.

Sunburned and dehydrated...his clothes torn from the track thru the mountains. She sat as he did and he wrapped his arms around her legs, kissing her knees.

"I told you I'd make it baby...I promised, just like I promised to love you forever...."

She used the end of her shirt to wipe the dirt and little sweat from his face. "I know, I know love..." Barely holding back the tears.

She held him like that as he drifted off into the eternal sleep. She held him as he relaxed-his breathing stopping in mid-exhale.

He loved her and kept his promise...to the end of his life.

The farther they went, the more they noticed the smell. It was something they knew they would never be able to forget. The smell of smoke, and explosives, and worse, rotting flesh.

They crept along the base of the ridge, staying low, shrinking from the sunrise gilding its crest. Below them a field sloped gently to the main road then continued upward at an even shallower angle to a growth of scrub pine and aspen in the distant east.

Pete summed it up for both of them. "Holy---" The rest of the expletive died in his throat.

Everywhere they looked there were bodies.

Neither one of them had ever been on a battlefield hours after the battle.

Mike pulled his hat over his eyes and turned away, retching. Pete slid back from the top of the ridge and lay motionless, only his eyes flickering with life.

What had been a line of ragged civilians, many carrying children in their arms, had been making its way down the road. In some of the trucks there had been several tightly-packed groups, obviously elderly, hunched and bundled against the morning cold.

"Refugees." Mike pounded his fist into the weed-matted earth.

"I counted close to fifty trucks and buses, must have been close to two hundred people in that convoy." Pete said in a voice suddenly hollow and detached, "Looks like they were trying to make it further north, maybe up to Santa Fe. Maybe further."

There was no way we would have been able to save those people. " Mike spoke softly, as though to himself.

The meeting in Window Rock went okay even though nothing was decided. Both parties agreed that there should be better communications set up. Both wanted free trade. Both wanted law and order. Neither could come up with any workable solutions!!!!

It was finally agreed that we would meet again in one month after plans and ideas could be drawn up to accomplish what we both wanted. It was a good start. At least we were talking!!! I meet with a sargent in the Navajo Police. We both agreed on a ham frequency to be monitored. This would allow both parties to pass on vital info when it was needed. Renegades, both white and red were a problem that we had to face and come to some agreement on. Neither could patrol the borders of the reservation and quarantee that no one could cross. We could communicate and interact to cutoff and capture those that went too far.

We left the next morning after a sound nights sleep. We rode west on I-40 and then cut off and went north. I had a crude map to find the Hopi Elders encampment..

We rode into their camp and turned off the bikes. All the kids gathered around and had to touch the bikes. The Elders greeted us warmly and escorted us into a low roofed house. The house sat 3 ft underground and the rest above. It was cool and quiet.

We sat across from each other on benches with a long heavy wooden table between us. The large room was lite by two hanging oil lamps that cast shadows to the corners and sides. I pulled out a tobacco pouch and offered. An Elder quickly accepted and lite a long pipe. He passed it clockwise around the table, each person taking a puff and passing it on. When it got back to the first Elder, he put the pipe down, smiled, and said let's talk!!!!

And talk we did!!! We spoke of the Hopi Prophecies. I spoke of the lost tribes. On some matters we agreed to disagree and others we were in complete agreement.

I should go back to the start. After passing the pipe I identified myself as "the one who walks alone", "the lone walker". Bruce, I called the "long wolf", he is 6'5" and dances with wolves! Is partners with two also!

We spoke of the wind and the mountain lion. Of the bear! Of high mountain meadows and distant horizons. Of how the wind whispers through the trees on a hot summer day! Of the quiet steps and stillness of the hunter!

We had a great time!!!! We ate and slept well. I must note at this point that Bruce and I slept outside the entire time. We could have of slept on cots in the house except that early on, I noted that there were not enough cots for all the women and children. The Elders, as old as they were, slept under the stars! We did too!!!

We relucently left the Hopi and started home. There was a sadness in our hearts because we left people who we knew to be true. But there was a gladness as well for accomplishing our mission and getting to head home to loved ones!

Being in the wind helped alot! The bikes roared along and ate up the miles. Soon we passed our checkpoint after a brief stop. Home was just around the corner!

We pulled into the farm and the dogs overwhelmed me and took me to the ground!!! They weren't just a little happy!!! Bruce left to go see his wolves, I went into the house to see my Linda crying her eyes out. She said " they took her, I know they did!!!!"

It seems some riders had stopped by yesterday. Staci, my step daughter, was missing this morning. (it was about 10:30am). I asked were she was last seen. Kyle, my grandson, said that mom had gone for a walk and not returned! I asked in which direction she had gone and he indicated to the southwest. I already had my six shooter and exchanged my rifle for a short 12 gauge double barrelled shotgun. I took a blanket and two days provisions and slung them over my shoulder. I started off at a trot toward the southwest. Bruce caught up with me and asked what was happening. I explained in 25 words or less and declined his offer to help as this would be a one man job. And, I was the "lone walker"!!!!!

I jogged until about 2:00 PM. I stopped, sat down and checked what Linda had packed for me. I grabbed the two egg and cheese sandwiches and devoured them in record time!!! I drank from one of the two 1 liter bottles of water. After about 10 minutes I felt refreshed! I started off at a walk. I did this for 30 minutes until I felt strong enough to run. I jogged for about an hour, and then for no reason I could fathom, started stretching my strides and running!

I had crossed their tracks and was in hot pursuit!!!! I lengthened my strides downhill and shorten them when running uphill. I was eating up the miles without even feeling it! Sunset was fast approaching and I had not caught up with them as yet!!! They were on horseback and I was afoot. It made no difference to me as I was determined to catch up with them!

I had slowed to a jog as night approached so I could better observe my surroundings. I saw the light of a campfire in the distance and headed that way. It seemed like it took me forever to get there!

I slowed to a walk and finally stopped to catch my breath. Stealth would now be more important then speed! In a few minutes, I would face my destiny!!! I wanted to feel fresh and ready, instead, I felt old and tired!!!

I crept up to their camp and observed. There was only one guard posted and the rest were having their fun! I snuck up on the one guard, it wasn't too hard as his attention was on the happenings in the camp and not on being a lookout! I grasped the shotgun very firmly and struck the sentry on the back of the neck as hard as I could. The snap of his neck sounded like a thunderclap to me, but no one in the camp heard it!

I took three deep breaths and walked into their camp!!!! When they noticed me, I said, " Can a stranger have some fun too?"

I had my six shooter in my right hand hid behind my leg and the shotgun held loosely in my left hand. As they became aware, I lifted the shotgun and fired twice. Without even knowing it, my six shooter had started to roar!!! One down then two, and three!!! The fourth got a shot off a shot and I hit him dead center! The last one took two bullets to the brisket!!! It was done in a matter of seconds!!!

I went to Staci and cut her loose. She had been staked out spread eagle. I held her close and told her that we had to leave as the wolves would be here in a hurry!!!! The human wolves!!!!

I told her to find clothes and shoes and to hurry as I gathered up what weapons and ammo that were worthwhile. After about 200 yards, Staci faltered and fell down. I picked her up and continued. I went on for what seemed like hours but was only 30 minutes. We looked back when we heard gunshots. The human wolves had arrived at the campsite!!!!

I told Staci that I could not carry her anymore and applied a dressing to the wound in my side. I had lost a lot of blood and was feeling very weak after the adrenilin had worn off. We went into some thick brush and laid down. We slept until sunrise.

I hurt pretty bad!!! We walked the rest of the day, stopping only a short time to rest and eat and drink. Our water ran out and I was too tired and hurt to hunt for more. We arrived at the farm at 3:00 AM. I collapsed after I got inside the gate. I don't remember much after that for awhile.

Now I remember doggone good and well I wrote an epilogue to my part of this story and now I can't find it. Must be losing my mind or something and deleted it instead of posting it. I'll have to see if I've still got a copy of it laying around somewheres.

.....Alan.

bump for the new SIG