Willard
01-27-2007, 08:41 AM
Chapter 5 – The Crisis
When it began it was like an avalanche. A snowball here, another there, until it cascaded
into an inevitable slide into chaos. America had never been able to eradicate the terrorist
threat begun by the attack on New York City. After the Democrats took the White House
and Congress in 2008, the war on terror lost its momentum. Iraq was turned over to the
UN, who gradually forced the United States out of the country. Iraq took two years to
slide back into a dictatorship, with one of Saddam Hussein’s chief deputies as the new
dictator. With a weak kneed coward at the helm of the US ship of state, Afghanistan was
eventually abandoned again, and became a bastion of Islamic militancy. Terrorist attacks
against US nationals abroad became common, and there were three or four major attacks
in the US every year, everything from random home invasion that ended always in the
homes being burned to the ground with the terrorists inside, to attacks against power lines,
school buses, and shopping centers.
The U.S. government actually stopped far more attacks than occurred, but the public
outcry for more and better security was quickly answered by politicians. The Department
of Homeland Security was expanded, and all local police agencies were eventually
consolidated into state police forces. Eventually the plan was to go national with the
police, but that would take a few more years of public outcry for safety.
When suicide attacks destroyed the liquid natural gas port at Boston, and an oil refinery
complex in Louisiana, the price of gas went up dramatically. Additional attacks on oil
tankers in the Persian Gulf and on the Alaskan pipeline created further supply trouble. As
a result, the price of food, which was moved mostly by truck, went up. In response to
public outrage over this, the government instituted tight price controls over food and
other consumer goods. Many farmers were foreclosed on, their already thin margins
reduced to nothing by the heavy hand of Congress and the President. The President
proposed an initiative to nationalize food production, which was quickly passed by a
Congress that was bipartisan in name only. Many farmers took this badly, and there were
a very few well publicized armed standoffs, and as Dave knew through the resources on
the Internet, many more that were virtually unheard of outside of their locales.
Many other farms were taken over by government appointees, and as in the Soviet
example these farms were far less productive than private farms of the same size. Like
many other people, Dave and Sandy began a garden of their own, and raised quite a bit of
their vegetables that way. They canned much of it for the long New England winter, and
donated what they could to their church’s food kitchen.
Constant pressure on the Americas power system was compounded by the fact that local
zoning and the effects that environmental extremists lobbying elected “representatives”
had all but eliminated the construction of any new electrical power plants in the last 20
years. Many of the coal and oil powered plants were running on outdated equipment, and
due to the mass migration of manufacturing to other countries replacement parts were
only available from overseas sources. Due to the devaluation of the dollar overseas, this
made fixing worn or non-functional equipment very expensive. Nuclear power, of course,
which would have alleviated much of the dependence on foreign sources for power, was
all but a lost cause. Despite the excellent safety record of Western Nuclear plants, the
Three Mile Island incident and Chernobyl had given the anti-nuclear power crowd
enough material to ensure that the United States was at the mercy of semi-hostile second
world fiefdoms. Dave had long ago discovered that the development of affordable,
efficient solar power technology was controlled by the large oil and power companies,
usually through subsidiary companies. Any new advances in solar power quickly had
their patents bought out for large sums of money, and the technology was kept from the
public eye. Technology that would have allowed every house in America to be roofed in
photovoltaic shingles for little more than twice the cost of conventional asphalt shingle,
efficient batteries, and practical electric cars, all locked in the vaults of the some of the
largest corporations in the world.
Most of the country was subjected to rolling blackouts, and food was sometimes rationedunheard
of in the land of plenty since World War II ended. Dave took comfort in the fact
that he had stored food that he could depend on if things got worse.
The straw that broke the camels back in Dave’s mind was the fact that the government
instituted national travel and power restrictions. You got a card with a number of points
on it, which indicated how from work you lived and the fuel economy of your vehicle.
You were basically allowed to buy enough gas to go to work and back with little left over
for travel and running about town. If you went over your “allowance”, or “resource
allocation”, in Newspeak, you would have your next months allocation reduced
proportionally. The same went for electricity and home heating oil. Fortunately Dave
heated with wood for most of the year, so he was able to trade some of his heating oil
allotment for gasoline with his neighbors. The government also acted to prevent farmers
from producing “gasohol”, an alcohol based fuel made from corn. Regulating its
manufacture through the auspices of liquor control, the government both prevented
farmers from making a living and achieving any kind of energy independence.
When the government mandated that everyone needed to register at their local post office,
Dave began making preparations to bug out.
The next week the government declared that due to the numerous attacks by terrorists that
all previously legal center fire semiautomatic rifles were banned completely, and that
people had 30 days to turn them in for a tax credit, the amount of which would be
determined at a later time. Any persons in possession of same after the cutoff date would
be charged under the Patriot Act 3. No jury, no habeas corpus, no speedy trial. Dave and
Sandy gave their notice, and his family left.
They sold their home for far less than market value, took their equity and converted it
into silver coins, and moved to their cabin. Dave went to work for his friend Steve,
running a backhoe and driving a dump truck for his excavation business. Sandy stayed
home with the children, and volunteered at their school during the week.
New Hampshire was an ideal choice for his relocation as the conservative “Live Free or
Die” state took its motto to heart. When the government passed it’s last anti firearms
legislation, the state general assembly voted with a 90% majority to invalidate the law
within its borders. They reasoned that the Federal Government had no power to pass or
enforce laws contrary to the Constitution of either the United States or the individual
states. A number of states followed suit, including Maine, Vermont, Montana, Wyoming,
Arizona, and Utah.
While the states and federal governments battled in the court rooms, Federal Agents were
escorted to the borders by State Police and National Guardsman. Attempts by the
Federals to activate, and hence federalize the national guard units was met with an
unexpected response-the state governments disbanded the guard units and reformed them
as “State Guard” units, not subject to federal authority. In “passive” states, like
Connecticut, people were treated like a resource for the government to use at its pleasure.
People who were suspected of not turning in their guns were arrested, held, released, and
arrested again in a well orchestrated plan to place as much pressure as possible on them.
Sandy and Dave were able to keep in touch with their family through the spotty telephone
system. They were shocked to learn that Sandy’s father, who had spent the majority of
his career researching land titles as a lawyer, had been physically assaulted by federal
troops in a courtroom in Hartford. Always a devout liberal, Sandy’s father had been a
member and supporter of the ACLU. When the son of an acquaintance was held without
charge or contact with the outside world, his working class parents begged him to take
the case. Although it wasn’t the law he was used to practicing, he was a crusader at heart
and attempted to file for the release of the young man on the grounds that he was being
held in violation of his civil rights.
“You honor, this man is not a foreign terrorist, he is not an illegal alien, and he has
committed no crime that we are aware of. As such, he should be remanded to my
custody,” said Ted, Sandy’s father.
“These are not ordinary times, Mr. Peterson,” said the judge, nodding to the three
Homeland Security Enforcement troops in his courtroom. They began to move towards
the bespeceled lawyer, “further, you overestimate the leniency of this court in cases of
sedition that border upon open revolt to the rule of law.” The judges voice rose, “You
need to realize that the special situation we are now in…”
Ted Peterson, Esquire, shook his finger at the judge, “ This ‘special situation’ is all of
your own creation…the courts and the President do not have the authority to ignore the
Constitution this much,” he held up two fingers about an inch apart, “therefore you
cannot hold a person incommunicado for any period, nor can you hold him and deny him
counsel, as you have done, or not inform him of what he is charged with!” he ended by
thumping his hand on the table, making the opened law books spread across its surface
jump.
The judge sat, red faced. “How dare you address this court in that manner! How would
you like a contempt charge, Mr. Peterson?”
“AT LEAST I WOULD KNOW WHY I WAS IN JAIL!” Shouted Peterson, his voice
trembling with rage, “unlike some people here, Anson.”
“You will address me as ‘Your Honor’ in my court room, Peterson,” snapped the judge.
“There isn’t enough honor in this courtroom to fill a mouse’s thimble, Anson” stated Ted,
his voice firm, his jaw jutting out defiantly.
“It’s only through the graces of our long association that I don’t have you thrown in jail,
Ted,” sad the judge. He nodded again the security troops, “Gentlemen, please remove this
man from my courtroom. If he attempts to set foot in here again for any reason…that’s
any at all, Ted, arrest him and lock him up. This matter is settled.”
The guards grabbed the unsuspecting lawyer by the arms and dragged him, despite his
wild struggling, to the door. Once out in the hallway, the lead thug leaned over said, “Old
man, we can do this the easy way or the hard. Your choice” Ted struggled even harder
against the arms dragging him downs the hall.
“OK, your choice,” and without further provocation, punched Ted directly on the nose.
Ted felt bone break and blood flow as he continued to fight. The man struck Ted again
and again, in the stomach, solar plexus, and face. When they finally got the now limp
man outside, all three of them took turns kicking and punching the man for a few more
minutes.
Ted lay on the sidewalk for almost three hours before an ambulance arrived for him. He
vaguely remembered Samaritans being driven away from him by a Homeland Security
troop who stood near him the whole time. His wife came to pick him up from the
emergency room, and took him home. She tried to talk to him, but he would only grunt
and mumble in reply. She cleaned him up and put him in bed, and went to call Sandy. It
took her almost four hours to get through to New Hampshire.
When Sandy hung up the phone, she was crying. She was still sitting at the kitchen table
crying when Dave got home from work.
“What’s the matter, Hon?” he asked, as he took off his mud spattered boots just inside the
door.
“My Dad was assaulted and beaten half to death this morning,” she cried. “He was in
court trying to get them to release old Mr. Donnelly’s kid, and the judge had him thrown
out. The Homeland Security goons almost killed him.”
Dave frowned. “Where is he now?”
“He’s at home, Mom picked him up and took him home. He’s not talking much, Mom
thinks he’s depressed and angry. She’s worried he might do something rash.”
Dave sighed. His father in law, while always treating Dave well, was a dyed in the wool
liberal. He was happy as a clam when Billary became President, and laughed at Daves
“kooky theory” that the President was murdered to facilitate Billarys rise to power. He
was now, sadly, a victim of the big government he supported.
“My Mom wants me to come down and stay with them until he gets better,” Sandy said,
looking up at him. She knew how he would feel about THAT idea.
“No F’ing way are you going down there, Sandy. It’s way too dangerous. I’m on their list
for a dozen guns I never turned in, and I sent their last demand letter back to them in a
box of dog sh*t. They will pick you up in a heartbeat as an accessory.”
Sandy looked mournful “But they’re my parents! You’d go if it were your Mother or
Father!”
“But they are both safe at my sisters in Paulden and my cousins in Laramie. Your folks
should come up here. We can clean up the kid’s room over the garage for them. We have
plenty of food, and lawyers can still practice up here.”
“I tried to talk her into that, but she wants to stay in her home.”
“Call her and talk to her, then let me talk to her, she usually listens to me on any question
not relating to politics.” Sandy smiled. Dave and his Mother got along well, and she
thought that other than Dave’s “Neanderthal” politics, he had a good head on his
shoulders. After all, he married Sandy and stayed in the area, while all of her other
children had scattered to the four winds, and she only heard from them when they needed
money or at Christmas time.
It was almost 11 p.m. by the time they got through to Sandy’s Mother.
“Your dad is talking dear, but he’s ranting about revenge. He says the judge will pay for
stealing the country, and that he must be a Republican at heart…..oh, I don’t think we
could make the drive, I mean your Father, and you know how I hate to drive. Why don’t
you come and get us, dear? I’ll feel much safer, and you can help me with your
father……no, no, I don’t listen to the news much, dear……OK, let me talk to Dave.”
Dave took the phone, “Hi Mom, how’s Ted?….well, have Doctor Ianotti come out and
look at him tomorrow, he might have a concussion…..yes, I know…no, I won’t say I told
you so, especially to him….no we don’t mind you coming at all, we’d love to have
you……yes, bring the cats and dogs, the more the merrier,” and we can always eat them
if it gets bad, he thought, “I am completely against any of us coming for you. You can
make the drive, we can meet in Jaffrey, it’s only 80 miles or so from your house to the
border. You need to do it before they shut down travel…yes, I believe they will……well,
I was right about….OK, OK, but you see my point….well, talk to Sandy….love you to,
Mom”
Dave handed Sandy the phone, “You need to convince her to leave right now and drive
up here with your Dad. I can meet them in Jaffrey. It will take them two hours.”
Sandy took the phone and argued with her Mother for 45 minutes. Carol was adamant
that Dave or Sandy come get her, just as Sandy was insistent that her Mother drive
herself up. They were still at an impasse when the phone clicked dead. Sandy tried
repeatedly to get through to her Mother, but the poor quality of the phone service
prevented them from completing the call.
Chapter 6 – Where Mortal Men Fear Tread
Sandy spent the next day at home trying to reach her Mother with no success. She finally
resorted to calling the old woman that lived across the street from her parents, Mrs.
Robidas. Although cordial with her, she was known as the neighborhood busybody. At
least she would be able to let Sandy know if her folks were home. It only took Sandy half
an hour to get through to Mrs. Robidas, who was happy to tell Sandy everything she
knew.
Mrs. Robidas launched a one sided conversation as soon as she knew it was Sandy. “You
know dear, they came at about 4 A.M. and took your Father and Mother in a van. I don’t
know what they must have been up to; did your Father own guns? They must have been
looking for guns or drugs. Anyway, the police took them away. They broke the door
down dear, the house is wide open. Oh, they’ll use all of their oil if the heats on. Do you
want me to go turn it off? I really shouldn’t be seen over there if they are terrorists, dear,
but I’ll do it this once. But when will they be home? Do you know? Oh this is awful.
What could your father have done? Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you, I bet they’re listening.
Sandy, you need to get your parents a good lawyer. Why did you move away, your
mother misses you so. Well dear I’m going to go, I don’t want to miss Days of our Lives”
and with that she hung up. Sandy hung up, having not been allowed one word during Mrs.
Robidas’ rave.
Sandy called Dave on the 2-meter radio and let him know what had happened to her
parents. Dave told Steve, and they both drove to Daves house.
“We’ve got to get my parents out of jail,” said Sandy, her eyes red with tears.
“We don’t even know when they are going to be released, or even with what they are
being charged with,” reasoned Dave. He had a feeling he was going to lose this one, no
matter how much sense he made.
“I don’t care. Those are my parents, and this is still America”
“Well,” said Steve, “This is still America, but down there it isn’t, Sandy. Things have
changed.”
“I. Do. Not. Care,” stated Sandy deliberately, “Dave, you and the guys do all that
commando training out at Steve’s place, can’t you rescue them?”
“Sandy, a raid into a place like that with no support? We’d all die. You know I’d do it if I
thought we had even a slim chance of pulling it off. We’ll come up with something, I
promise you. Steve, I want to meet with the group up at Jim’s place, can you help me
round them up?”
“Sure, we’ll stay on 2 meters and I’ll see what I can do.”
They met in Jim’s barn. Jim didn’t use it for anything other then storage, so he and the
others had fixed up a large corner of it as a meeting room. They often met there for
classroom training or just to hang out and BS. The wives of the men called it the
clubhouse.
The discussion about what Dave should do was animated and lively. Some suggested he
write off his in laws, others suggested raiding the prison, and one even half jokingly
suggested that Dave head out alone to find them, stay at his place for a day or two, and
then tell Sandy he couldn’t find them. Dave finally decided he would go down there,
before Sandy took of herself. They discussed how he could do it. He still had his license
plates from Connecticut, and he had not removed his state inspection sticker. He decided
to put those plates on his car. Jim’s brother Gene made him a very close copy of a real
registration certificate. He would hide his New Hampshire plates and registration behind
a body panel, and replace them in his in laws garage, then use that on the way home. He
decided not to carry any firearms. This was a soft recon, and if he was stopped an M-
4gery and 15 30 round mags would take a lot of explaining. After some discussion, he
adopted the suggestion that he dress as he had been hiking. That would allow him to
explain his BOB. If questioned he could say he had been hiking the White Mountains. It
was an iffy excuse, especially given the gas restrictions, but there was still limited
tourism, mostly by people who had the means to purchase black market gasoline. It was
the best he could come up with. They arranged daily radio contact, and pre arranged
signals to let him know if the situation in New Hampshire had changed. They also vowed,
over Dave’s protestations, to come get him if he was hurt, surrounded, or in other danger.
As the meeting broke up, Bill, who lived 20 miles north of Dave in Connecticut, handed
him a note as he shook his hand. Dave read it later. All that was printed on it was “under
my grill”. Dave destroyed the note after reading it.
After filling his wife’s car with gas, Dave went home and began packing his backpack.
He wanted enough gear to bug out, but did not want to draw attention to himself. The
pack itself was a forest green Kelty internal frame. It was expedition size, around 6500
cubic inches. Dave tried not to overload it, but liked the flexibility the larger pack gave
him. The pack itself had integral side pockets. Into the left Dave put a lightweight,
camouflaged, USGI poncho and 6 green bungee cords. Also in the pocket was a roll of
550 cord, GI duct tape wrapped around a Calyume stick, and a heavy green Space blanket.
In the other pocket he put a black knit watch cap, a pair of GI leather gloves with wool
liners, a pair of green aviator flight gloves, his expedient antenna, spare AA batteries, his
folded up GI “boonie” hat with it’s camo cover, two locking carabiners, and a small
bottle of water purification tablets.
The main compartment was accessible by a zippered flap, and this flap itself was a flat
pocket. Dave kept his waterproofed maps in here, along with a spare compass and an
alcohol pen set and a small New Testament. In the main body of the pouch he put food,
his water bladder, a pair of OD jungle fatigues, 4 pair of GI wool socks, four pair of
polypro sock liners, foot powder, a Katydin water filter, an extra rubberized poncho,
German surplus, more 550 cord, his two meter handheld, his wind up radio, a small solar
battery charger, two t-shirts, a flannel shirt, and a small personal hygiene kit with
toothpaste, toothbrush, medicine, Band-Aids and gauze, sewing kit, nail clippers, soap
and a facecloth, and a small packet of baby wipes.
In the top pocket he kept a small LED flashlight, toilet paper, and an OD green
handkerchief.
He attached a GI buttpack to the outside compression strap of the pack. In that he a
carried a space blanket, a change of socks, one MRE, and an esbit stove full of fuel along
with a disposable lighter. Attached to the buttpack was a length of 550 cord so he could
detach it and use it as a shoulder bag. Under the buttpack in a bag made for a MOPP suit
he carried a lightweight Gore-Tex rain suit in black.
On the waist belt he carried a GI canteen and cover set with a metal canteen cup. On his
left hip was a black accessory pouch from a commercial gear maker that carried a small
mirror, a Leatherman Tool, a lighter, bug repellant, a metal spoon, a sharpening steel, his
old GI tritium compass, two heat tabs, a film container of cotton balls soaked in
petroleum jelly, a survival space blanket, a red lenses LED flashlight, a condom (for
water), and even more 550 cord. Next to that on the belt was his knife, a Cold Steel ODA.
His 20-degree Wiggy’s sleeping bag went into its compartment in the bottom of the pack,
and he strapped his dark grey ensolite pad to the outside. Everything in the main pack
was housed in heavy-duty waterproof bags.
In his pockets he carried a Swiss Army knife, his keys with a small LED light attached,
and his wallet stripped of all unnecessary material. He also had a Spyderco knife clipped
on his right front pocket.
He put his custom pack cover in the top pocket of the pack, and looked at his load. Well,
for all the military stuff he used he may as well carry an ALICE pack. But this pack was
so much more comfortable. Oh well, gotta try, he though to himself.
While Dave was busy making preparations, Sandy made phone calls to the police stations
closest to her parent’s home. They would release no information to her, not even confirm
that her parents were being held. She started calling local emergency rooms and found
that her father had been checked and released just a short time before. Sandy immediately
called home, and the poor phone service caused her a 20 minute delay. The 20 minutes
seemed a lifetime to Sandy.
“Mom, are you okay, it’s me, Sandy,” Sandy blurted when her Mother answered.
“I’m OK dear. They arrested your father last night, and took me in as a ‘material witness’.
I refused to say anything dear, not even yes or no. They questioned you father the whole
time, and told him he could be picked again, at any time. He’s upstairs taking a bath.”
“Mom, pack your stuff and come up here.”
“Dear, you father wants to fight this in the courts.”
“Mother, the courts are a lost cause. Can’t you see? How much pressure can dad take?
How much can you take? The next time they might not let you go so soon. You could be
held for weeks.”
“Sandy, I know it seems bad. But we’ll be OK.”
They spoke for a few more minutes, and the call was disconnected. Dave told His wife
“I’ll leave right now. I will basically kidnap them if I have to, but I should be back
tomorrow after noon if all goes well.”
“What if it doesn’t?” asked Sandy, now looking like she regretted Dave’s leaving.
“I can walk home if I have to. And we’ll be in touch, I have my radio.”
After tearful good-byes with Sandy and the kids, Dave headed his wives Subaru south.
Dave felt like he did before a parachute jump-excited, apprehensive, and he would never
admit to himself, a little bit afraid.
When it began it was like an avalanche. A snowball here, another there, until it cascaded
into an inevitable slide into chaos. America had never been able to eradicate the terrorist
threat begun by the attack on New York City. After the Democrats took the White House
and Congress in 2008, the war on terror lost its momentum. Iraq was turned over to the
UN, who gradually forced the United States out of the country. Iraq took two years to
slide back into a dictatorship, with one of Saddam Hussein’s chief deputies as the new
dictator. With a weak kneed coward at the helm of the US ship of state, Afghanistan was
eventually abandoned again, and became a bastion of Islamic militancy. Terrorist attacks
against US nationals abroad became common, and there were three or four major attacks
in the US every year, everything from random home invasion that ended always in the
homes being burned to the ground with the terrorists inside, to attacks against power lines,
school buses, and shopping centers.
The U.S. government actually stopped far more attacks than occurred, but the public
outcry for more and better security was quickly answered by politicians. The Department
of Homeland Security was expanded, and all local police agencies were eventually
consolidated into state police forces. Eventually the plan was to go national with the
police, but that would take a few more years of public outcry for safety.
When suicide attacks destroyed the liquid natural gas port at Boston, and an oil refinery
complex in Louisiana, the price of gas went up dramatically. Additional attacks on oil
tankers in the Persian Gulf and on the Alaskan pipeline created further supply trouble. As
a result, the price of food, which was moved mostly by truck, went up. In response to
public outrage over this, the government instituted tight price controls over food and
other consumer goods. Many farmers were foreclosed on, their already thin margins
reduced to nothing by the heavy hand of Congress and the President. The President
proposed an initiative to nationalize food production, which was quickly passed by a
Congress that was bipartisan in name only. Many farmers took this badly, and there were
a very few well publicized armed standoffs, and as Dave knew through the resources on
the Internet, many more that were virtually unheard of outside of their locales.
Many other farms were taken over by government appointees, and as in the Soviet
example these farms were far less productive than private farms of the same size. Like
many other people, Dave and Sandy began a garden of their own, and raised quite a bit of
their vegetables that way. They canned much of it for the long New England winter, and
donated what they could to their church’s food kitchen.
Constant pressure on the Americas power system was compounded by the fact that local
zoning and the effects that environmental extremists lobbying elected “representatives”
had all but eliminated the construction of any new electrical power plants in the last 20
years. Many of the coal and oil powered plants were running on outdated equipment, and
due to the mass migration of manufacturing to other countries replacement parts were
only available from overseas sources. Due to the devaluation of the dollar overseas, this
made fixing worn or non-functional equipment very expensive. Nuclear power, of course,
which would have alleviated much of the dependence on foreign sources for power, was
all but a lost cause. Despite the excellent safety record of Western Nuclear plants, the
Three Mile Island incident and Chernobyl had given the anti-nuclear power crowd
enough material to ensure that the United States was at the mercy of semi-hostile second
world fiefdoms. Dave had long ago discovered that the development of affordable,
efficient solar power technology was controlled by the large oil and power companies,
usually through subsidiary companies. Any new advances in solar power quickly had
their patents bought out for large sums of money, and the technology was kept from the
public eye. Technology that would have allowed every house in America to be roofed in
photovoltaic shingles for little more than twice the cost of conventional asphalt shingle,
efficient batteries, and practical electric cars, all locked in the vaults of the some of the
largest corporations in the world.
Most of the country was subjected to rolling blackouts, and food was sometimes rationedunheard
of in the land of plenty since World War II ended. Dave took comfort in the fact
that he had stored food that he could depend on if things got worse.
The straw that broke the camels back in Dave’s mind was the fact that the government
instituted national travel and power restrictions. You got a card with a number of points
on it, which indicated how from work you lived and the fuel economy of your vehicle.
You were basically allowed to buy enough gas to go to work and back with little left over
for travel and running about town. If you went over your “allowance”, or “resource
allocation”, in Newspeak, you would have your next months allocation reduced
proportionally. The same went for electricity and home heating oil. Fortunately Dave
heated with wood for most of the year, so he was able to trade some of his heating oil
allotment for gasoline with his neighbors. The government also acted to prevent farmers
from producing “gasohol”, an alcohol based fuel made from corn. Regulating its
manufacture through the auspices of liquor control, the government both prevented
farmers from making a living and achieving any kind of energy independence.
When the government mandated that everyone needed to register at their local post office,
Dave began making preparations to bug out.
The next week the government declared that due to the numerous attacks by terrorists that
all previously legal center fire semiautomatic rifles were banned completely, and that
people had 30 days to turn them in for a tax credit, the amount of which would be
determined at a later time. Any persons in possession of same after the cutoff date would
be charged under the Patriot Act 3. No jury, no habeas corpus, no speedy trial. Dave and
Sandy gave their notice, and his family left.
They sold their home for far less than market value, took their equity and converted it
into silver coins, and moved to their cabin. Dave went to work for his friend Steve,
running a backhoe and driving a dump truck for his excavation business. Sandy stayed
home with the children, and volunteered at their school during the week.
New Hampshire was an ideal choice for his relocation as the conservative “Live Free or
Die” state took its motto to heart. When the government passed it’s last anti firearms
legislation, the state general assembly voted with a 90% majority to invalidate the law
within its borders. They reasoned that the Federal Government had no power to pass or
enforce laws contrary to the Constitution of either the United States or the individual
states. A number of states followed suit, including Maine, Vermont, Montana, Wyoming,
Arizona, and Utah.
While the states and federal governments battled in the court rooms, Federal Agents were
escorted to the borders by State Police and National Guardsman. Attempts by the
Federals to activate, and hence federalize the national guard units was met with an
unexpected response-the state governments disbanded the guard units and reformed them
as “State Guard” units, not subject to federal authority. In “passive” states, like
Connecticut, people were treated like a resource for the government to use at its pleasure.
People who were suspected of not turning in their guns were arrested, held, released, and
arrested again in a well orchestrated plan to place as much pressure as possible on them.
Sandy and Dave were able to keep in touch with their family through the spotty telephone
system. They were shocked to learn that Sandy’s father, who had spent the majority of
his career researching land titles as a lawyer, had been physically assaulted by federal
troops in a courtroom in Hartford. Always a devout liberal, Sandy’s father had been a
member and supporter of the ACLU. When the son of an acquaintance was held without
charge or contact with the outside world, his working class parents begged him to take
the case. Although it wasn’t the law he was used to practicing, he was a crusader at heart
and attempted to file for the release of the young man on the grounds that he was being
held in violation of his civil rights.
“You honor, this man is not a foreign terrorist, he is not an illegal alien, and he has
committed no crime that we are aware of. As such, he should be remanded to my
custody,” said Ted, Sandy’s father.
“These are not ordinary times, Mr. Peterson,” said the judge, nodding to the three
Homeland Security Enforcement troops in his courtroom. They began to move towards
the bespeceled lawyer, “further, you overestimate the leniency of this court in cases of
sedition that border upon open revolt to the rule of law.” The judges voice rose, “You
need to realize that the special situation we are now in…”
Ted Peterson, Esquire, shook his finger at the judge, “ This ‘special situation’ is all of
your own creation…the courts and the President do not have the authority to ignore the
Constitution this much,” he held up two fingers about an inch apart, “therefore you
cannot hold a person incommunicado for any period, nor can you hold him and deny him
counsel, as you have done, or not inform him of what he is charged with!” he ended by
thumping his hand on the table, making the opened law books spread across its surface
jump.
The judge sat, red faced. “How dare you address this court in that manner! How would
you like a contempt charge, Mr. Peterson?”
“AT LEAST I WOULD KNOW WHY I WAS IN JAIL!” Shouted Peterson, his voice
trembling with rage, “unlike some people here, Anson.”
“You will address me as ‘Your Honor’ in my court room, Peterson,” snapped the judge.
“There isn’t enough honor in this courtroom to fill a mouse’s thimble, Anson” stated Ted,
his voice firm, his jaw jutting out defiantly.
“It’s only through the graces of our long association that I don’t have you thrown in jail,
Ted,” sad the judge. He nodded again the security troops, “Gentlemen, please remove this
man from my courtroom. If he attempts to set foot in here again for any reason…that’s
any at all, Ted, arrest him and lock him up. This matter is settled.”
The guards grabbed the unsuspecting lawyer by the arms and dragged him, despite his
wild struggling, to the door. Once out in the hallway, the lead thug leaned over said, “Old
man, we can do this the easy way or the hard. Your choice” Ted struggled even harder
against the arms dragging him downs the hall.
“OK, your choice,” and without further provocation, punched Ted directly on the nose.
Ted felt bone break and blood flow as he continued to fight. The man struck Ted again
and again, in the stomach, solar plexus, and face. When they finally got the now limp
man outside, all three of them took turns kicking and punching the man for a few more
minutes.
Ted lay on the sidewalk for almost three hours before an ambulance arrived for him. He
vaguely remembered Samaritans being driven away from him by a Homeland Security
troop who stood near him the whole time. His wife came to pick him up from the
emergency room, and took him home. She tried to talk to him, but he would only grunt
and mumble in reply. She cleaned him up and put him in bed, and went to call Sandy. It
took her almost four hours to get through to New Hampshire.
When Sandy hung up the phone, she was crying. She was still sitting at the kitchen table
crying when Dave got home from work.
“What’s the matter, Hon?” he asked, as he took off his mud spattered boots just inside the
door.
“My Dad was assaulted and beaten half to death this morning,” she cried. “He was in
court trying to get them to release old Mr. Donnelly’s kid, and the judge had him thrown
out. The Homeland Security goons almost killed him.”
Dave frowned. “Where is he now?”
“He’s at home, Mom picked him up and took him home. He’s not talking much, Mom
thinks he’s depressed and angry. She’s worried he might do something rash.”
Dave sighed. His father in law, while always treating Dave well, was a dyed in the wool
liberal. He was happy as a clam when Billary became President, and laughed at Daves
“kooky theory” that the President was murdered to facilitate Billarys rise to power. He
was now, sadly, a victim of the big government he supported.
“My Mom wants me to come down and stay with them until he gets better,” Sandy said,
looking up at him. She knew how he would feel about THAT idea.
“No F’ing way are you going down there, Sandy. It’s way too dangerous. I’m on their list
for a dozen guns I never turned in, and I sent their last demand letter back to them in a
box of dog sh*t. They will pick you up in a heartbeat as an accessory.”
Sandy looked mournful “But they’re my parents! You’d go if it were your Mother or
Father!”
“But they are both safe at my sisters in Paulden and my cousins in Laramie. Your folks
should come up here. We can clean up the kid’s room over the garage for them. We have
plenty of food, and lawyers can still practice up here.”
“I tried to talk her into that, but she wants to stay in her home.”
“Call her and talk to her, then let me talk to her, she usually listens to me on any question
not relating to politics.” Sandy smiled. Dave and his Mother got along well, and she
thought that other than Dave’s “Neanderthal” politics, he had a good head on his
shoulders. After all, he married Sandy and stayed in the area, while all of her other
children had scattered to the four winds, and she only heard from them when they needed
money or at Christmas time.
It was almost 11 p.m. by the time they got through to Sandy’s Mother.
“Your dad is talking dear, but he’s ranting about revenge. He says the judge will pay for
stealing the country, and that he must be a Republican at heart…..oh, I don’t think we
could make the drive, I mean your Father, and you know how I hate to drive. Why don’t
you come and get us, dear? I’ll feel much safer, and you can help me with your
father……no, no, I don’t listen to the news much, dear……OK, let me talk to Dave.”
Dave took the phone, “Hi Mom, how’s Ted?….well, have Doctor Ianotti come out and
look at him tomorrow, he might have a concussion…..yes, I know…no, I won’t say I told
you so, especially to him….no we don’t mind you coming at all, we’d love to have
you……yes, bring the cats and dogs, the more the merrier,” and we can always eat them
if it gets bad, he thought, “I am completely against any of us coming for you. You can
make the drive, we can meet in Jaffrey, it’s only 80 miles or so from your house to the
border. You need to do it before they shut down travel…yes, I believe they will……well,
I was right about….OK, OK, but you see my point….well, talk to Sandy….love you to,
Mom”
Dave handed Sandy the phone, “You need to convince her to leave right now and drive
up here with your Dad. I can meet them in Jaffrey. It will take them two hours.”
Sandy took the phone and argued with her Mother for 45 minutes. Carol was adamant
that Dave or Sandy come get her, just as Sandy was insistent that her Mother drive
herself up. They were still at an impasse when the phone clicked dead. Sandy tried
repeatedly to get through to her Mother, but the poor quality of the phone service
prevented them from completing the call.
Chapter 6 – Where Mortal Men Fear Tread
Sandy spent the next day at home trying to reach her Mother with no success. She finally
resorted to calling the old woman that lived across the street from her parents, Mrs.
Robidas. Although cordial with her, she was known as the neighborhood busybody. At
least she would be able to let Sandy know if her folks were home. It only took Sandy half
an hour to get through to Mrs. Robidas, who was happy to tell Sandy everything she
knew.
Mrs. Robidas launched a one sided conversation as soon as she knew it was Sandy. “You
know dear, they came at about 4 A.M. and took your Father and Mother in a van. I don’t
know what they must have been up to; did your Father own guns? They must have been
looking for guns or drugs. Anyway, the police took them away. They broke the door
down dear, the house is wide open. Oh, they’ll use all of their oil if the heats on. Do you
want me to go turn it off? I really shouldn’t be seen over there if they are terrorists, dear,
but I’ll do it this once. But when will they be home? Do you know? Oh this is awful.
What could your father have done? Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you, I bet they’re listening.
Sandy, you need to get your parents a good lawyer. Why did you move away, your
mother misses you so. Well dear I’m going to go, I don’t want to miss Days of our Lives”
and with that she hung up. Sandy hung up, having not been allowed one word during Mrs.
Robidas’ rave.
Sandy called Dave on the 2-meter radio and let him know what had happened to her
parents. Dave told Steve, and they both drove to Daves house.
“We’ve got to get my parents out of jail,” said Sandy, her eyes red with tears.
“We don’t even know when they are going to be released, or even with what they are
being charged with,” reasoned Dave. He had a feeling he was going to lose this one, no
matter how much sense he made.
“I don’t care. Those are my parents, and this is still America”
“Well,” said Steve, “This is still America, but down there it isn’t, Sandy. Things have
changed.”
“I. Do. Not. Care,” stated Sandy deliberately, “Dave, you and the guys do all that
commando training out at Steve’s place, can’t you rescue them?”
“Sandy, a raid into a place like that with no support? We’d all die. You know I’d do it if I
thought we had even a slim chance of pulling it off. We’ll come up with something, I
promise you. Steve, I want to meet with the group up at Jim’s place, can you help me
round them up?”
“Sure, we’ll stay on 2 meters and I’ll see what I can do.”
They met in Jim’s barn. Jim didn’t use it for anything other then storage, so he and the
others had fixed up a large corner of it as a meeting room. They often met there for
classroom training or just to hang out and BS. The wives of the men called it the
clubhouse.
The discussion about what Dave should do was animated and lively. Some suggested he
write off his in laws, others suggested raiding the prison, and one even half jokingly
suggested that Dave head out alone to find them, stay at his place for a day or two, and
then tell Sandy he couldn’t find them. Dave finally decided he would go down there,
before Sandy took of herself. They discussed how he could do it. He still had his license
plates from Connecticut, and he had not removed his state inspection sticker. He decided
to put those plates on his car. Jim’s brother Gene made him a very close copy of a real
registration certificate. He would hide his New Hampshire plates and registration behind
a body panel, and replace them in his in laws garage, then use that on the way home. He
decided not to carry any firearms. This was a soft recon, and if he was stopped an M-
4gery and 15 30 round mags would take a lot of explaining. After some discussion, he
adopted the suggestion that he dress as he had been hiking. That would allow him to
explain his BOB. If questioned he could say he had been hiking the White Mountains. It
was an iffy excuse, especially given the gas restrictions, but there was still limited
tourism, mostly by people who had the means to purchase black market gasoline. It was
the best he could come up with. They arranged daily radio contact, and pre arranged
signals to let him know if the situation in New Hampshire had changed. They also vowed,
over Dave’s protestations, to come get him if he was hurt, surrounded, or in other danger.
As the meeting broke up, Bill, who lived 20 miles north of Dave in Connecticut, handed
him a note as he shook his hand. Dave read it later. All that was printed on it was “under
my grill”. Dave destroyed the note after reading it.
After filling his wife’s car with gas, Dave went home and began packing his backpack.
He wanted enough gear to bug out, but did not want to draw attention to himself. The
pack itself was a forest green Kelty internal frame. It was expedition size, around 6500
cubic inches. Dave tried not to overload it, but liked the flexibility the larger pack gave
him. The pack itself had integral side pockets. Into the left Dave put a lightweight,
camouflaged, USGI poncho and 6 green bungee cords. Also in the pocket was a roll of
550 cord, GI duct tape wrapped around a Calyume stick, and a heavy green Space blanket.
In the other pocket he put a black knit watch cap, a pair of GI leather gloves with wool
liners, a pair of green aviator flight gloves, his expedient antenna, spare AA batteries, his
folded up GI “boonie” hat with it’s camo cover, two locking carabiners, and a small
bottle of water purification tablets.
The main compartment was accessible by a zippered flap, and this flap itself was a flat
pocket. Dave kept his waterproofed maps in here, along with a spare compass and an
alcohol pen set and a small New Testament. In the main body of the pouch he put food,
his water bladder, a pair of OD jungle fatigues, 4 pair of GI wool socks, four pair of
polypro sock liners, foot powder, a Katydin water filter, an extra rubberized poncho,
German surplus, more 550 cord, his two meter handheld, his wind up radio, a small solar
battery charger, two t-shirts, a flannel shirt, and a small personal hygiene kit with
toothpaste, toothbrush, medicine, Band-Aids and gauze, sewing kit, nail clippers, soap
and a facecloth, and a small packet of baby wipes.
In the top pocket he kept a small LED flashlight, toilet paper, and an OD green
handkerchief.
He attached a GI buttpack to the outside compression strap of the pack. In that he a
carried a space blanket, a change of socks, one MRE, and an esbit stove full of fuel along
with a disposable lighter. Attached to the buttpack was a length of 550 cord so he could
detach it and use it as a shoulder bag. Under the buttpack in a bag made for a MOPP suit
he carried a lightweight Gore-Tex rain suit in black.
On the waist belt he carried a GI canteen and cover set with a metal canteen cup. On his
left hip was a black accessory pouch from a commercial gear maker that carried a small
mirror, a Leatherman Tool, a lighter, bug repellant, a metal spoon, a sharpening steel, his
old GI tritium compass, two heat tabs, a film container of cotton balls soaked in
petroleum jelly, a survival space blanket, a red lenses LED flashlight, a condom (for
water), and even more 550 cord. Next to that on the belt was his knife, a Cold Steel ODA.
His 20-degree Wiggy’s sleeping bag went into its compartment in the bottom of the pack,
and he strapped his dark grey ensolite pad to the outside. Everything in the main pack
was housed in heavy-duty waterproof bags.
In his pockets he carried a Swiss Army knife, his keys with a small LED light attached,
and his wallet stripped of all unnecessary material. He also had a Spyderco knife clipped
on his right front pocket.
He put his custom pack cover in the top pocket of the pack, and looked at his load. Well,
for all the military stuff he used he may as well carry an ALICE pack. But this pack was
so much more comfortable. Oh well, gotta try, he though to himself.
While Dave was busy making preparations, Sandy made phone calls to the police stations
closest to her parent’s home. They would release no information to her, not even confirm
that her parents were being held. She started calling local emergency rooms and found
that her father had been checked and released just a short time before. Sandy immediately
called home, and the poor phone service caused her a 20 minute delay. The 20 minutes
seemed a lifetime to Sandy.
“Mom, are you okay, it’s me, Sandy,” Sandy blurted when her Mother answered.
“I’m OK dear. They arrested your father last night, and took me in as a ‘material witness’.
I refused to say anything dear, not even yes or no. They questioned you father the whole
time, and told him he could be picked again, at any time. He’s upstairs taking a bath.”
“Mom, pack your stuff and come up here.”
“Dear, you father wants to fight this in the courts.”
“Mother, the courts are a lost cause. Can’t you see? How much pressure can dad take?
How much can you take? The next time they might not let you go so soon. You could be
held for weeks.”
“Sandy, I know it seems bad. But we’ll be OK.”
They spoke for a few more minutes, and the call was disconnected. Dave told His wife
“I’ll leave right now. I will basically kidnap them if I have to, but I should be back
tomorrow after noon if all goes well.”
“What if it doesn’t?” asked Sandy, now looking like she regretted Dave’s leaving.
“I can walk home if I have to. And we’ll be in touch, I have my radio.”
After tearful good-byes with Sandy and the kids, Dave headed his wives Subaru south.
Dave felt like he did before a parachute jump-excited, apprehensive, and he would never
admit to himself, a little bit afraid.