Willard
01-27-2007, 08:49 AM
Chapter 19
After spending nearly a month training local groups, Jim received an invite from the
NHDF Command to attend a meeting with the militia liaison. It came through the town
select board, which was the local government for the small town in which they lived. The
message indicated they were to meet an escort at a small road junction 70 miles away,
near the White Mountain National Forest, and they would then be escorted to the actual
meeting spot. The message also indicated that they could accommodate no more than
three people, so any others coming would have to fend for themselves. It was suggested
that in addition to a militia leader they bring a communication person and/or a medical
specialist. The NHDF also noted that they would supply anyone attending with fuel for
the return trip, and recommended that attendees bring a truck with room to transport
equipment back to their towns. After a meeting in the town meeting house, it was decided
that Jim and Doc Ivarson would go, along with whoever else they felt necessary. Doc
Ivarson was a retired General practitioner who lived in town, and spent most of his
retirement time playing with his HAM radios on the family farm his great grandparents
had passed on to his parents. He was the de facto communications specialist for the area,
as he had the equipment, the knowledge, and the patriotism needed for the job. He had
been a licensed armature operator since he was 11 years old, and had held an Extra ticket
since he was 16.
Jims group had a meeting, and it was decided that Dave, Steve, Mike, and Gerald from
the group would accompany Jim and Doc to the meeting. Steve would drive the captured
Deuce and a half, Doc would drive his Jeep Cherokee. They prepped for the trip as if it
were a convoy through occupied territory, as they did not have any guarantees as to the
safety of the route. Mike would man the MG-3 mounted on top of the deuce, Gerald
would ride shotgun with Doc and Dave, Jim would drive with Steve. They set up radio
contingencies and practiced counter ambush drills. Jim instructed them to pack enough
clothing for five days, food, water, a portable sheepherders stove, the GP Small military
tent they had purchased so long ago, and extra ammo, loaded in magazines and stored in
military ammo cans. They brought one of the 40mm grenade launchers they had captured
and two AT-4 rocket launchers as added insurance. All the men were equipped with
CAR-15's or derivatives, as well as the MG-3, pistols, and Jim's Remington 700 PSS
in .308. As a former sniper in the Ranger Regiment he felt naked without it along. They
were glad for the extra rook the deuce provided. They had filled the deuce's tanks from
home heating oil tanks, and carried a 55 gallon drum of extra fuel. They didn't want to
rely on someone else to guarantee a return trip. On the truck was a collection of pioneer
tools-shovels, picks, an axe, tow straps and chains, and a spare tire. The also carried
enough wood for several days of burning in the small stove.
The small convoy set off three days later with some painful good byes, especially on the
part of Dave and Steves kids, who didn't want their Dads to leave them. Steve realized he
had never been away from his kids overnight before, unless the kids were at their
grandparents house, and Daves sons were fearful due to the uncertainty they had just
experienced with his long trek back to them. They planned to arrive a day early at the
rendezvous site, and stake it out in case the meeting was a set up or compromised. Their
trip was uneventful. The truck was marked on the doors with their painted emblem, and
on the grill and rear tailgate with boards with the white field and green pine tree of the
free militia. It was a symbol taken from the colonial period, when patriots had used the
pine tree as a symbol of defiance to the Crown, which had placed all large pine trees off
limits to local cutting. The trees were declared property of the Royal Navy, for the
purpose of making masts for their mighty fleet, and it was one of the major grievances
the northern colonies had with England. Fortunately for all involved the trip and linkup
with the guide were uneventful. The guides, two NHDF men mounted on matching
Kawasaki enduro motorcycles, led them through the mountains to the entrance of a large
old Inn. Their the gate guards waved them through, and the escorts left them. Following
the driveway, the Inn and it's grounds came into view. More of a turn of the century hotel,
the Inn had four stories and room for several hundred guests, and it's well tended grounds
sprawled for acres under the shadow of the Presidential Mountain Range. They were
stopped at a checkpoint manned by NHDF troops, an M-113 APC with mounted MK-19
40mm machine gun backing them up. About 100 yards away was an M-1 Abrams tank,
providing further deterrent to unwelcome guests. The guard verified them by referring to
a clipboard, and directed them to a parking area past the Abrams, where, he told them,
they would find space to bivouac. There would be a muster later that day, and then
meetings for the next five.
Pulling into the cantonement area, they pulled the deuce up under a sprawling chestnut
tree devoid of leaves. A ground guide told them to set up in front of the truck, and
indicated that they were awaiting the arrival of more men before starting the festivities.
Setting up the tent went smoothly, and the men set up cots and placed some gear in the
tent. They took time to turn the truck around so that it faced the way out, which made
unloading easier and provided quicker escape should they need to. After this, they set out
to mingle with the other militias who were set up all over the grounds. Steve, Dave, and
Gerald met men from all over the state and exchanged stories. Some areas, it seemed,
were pretty well set with a solid cadre of people with military experience, others
appeared top not have any men with any type of military service whatsoever. they met
three men who called themselves "colonel", and a few groups of men who used no rank,
but wore matching uniforms in patterns ranging from tiger stripe to Realtree. They didn't
run into anyone they knew very well, but did see a few men who were acquaintances
from gun clubs they had competed at over the years. There were very few women present,
and no children. They even ran into a unit from Manchester that was composed of an all
black cadre, which caused them to stop and chat for a bit. New Hampshire has a small
minority population, but was one of the first states to abolish slavery, and in keeping with
the Live Free or Die spirit judging a person by character was a way of life long before
Martin Luther Kind suggested it.
"How are you guys today," asked Gerald, whose mother was Okinawan.
"All right, my man, all right. You dudes look serious. Pull up a chair." the man invited.
"Thanks. I'm Gerald, this is Steve and Dave, from the Pine Tree Irregulars."
"How do. I'm Charles, these guys and I represent the Crispus Attucks Militia of
Manchester. Where you all from?"
"You know Ice Spring?" Charles nodded, "We're the next town over, little place, but we
cover all the county."
"Sure, sure. Way up in safe area New Hampshire."
"How is it in Manch-vegas?" Steve asked, calling Manchester by its nickname, as it was
about the only area that stayed open past midnight.
"Rough, man, rough. We get a lot of refugees, and the JBT's like to raid the area. We seen
some serious shyte already. Worse than Iraqi Freedom."
"You were military, then?" asked Dave.
"Sure, 2/7th Marines, I was a rifle fireteam leader. We got us a few Marines, some Army
pukes, and a guy who was in the French Foreign Legion, too, but he's like 60 now, so he
mostly motivates us." The other men in his unit laughed, "How about you?"
Steve spoke up, "Dave here was Airborne Infantry, we got a few others. I was Navy, but
a piston engine mechanic."
"Well, that means you can take orders," smiled Charles.
"I can at that. Listen, nice to meet you, but we've got to move along."
"Sure, we'll see you guys around."
They all shook hands and said their see you later, and wandered back to their truck for a
late lunch. Jim and the others were back.
"Would did you find out?" asked Jim.
"About half these guys look like they are playing at soldier, the other half seem pretty
OK," assessed Dave, "How about you?"
"Same thing. I even met a self appointed general," Jim gave a derisive snort, "who was a
cook in the National Guard."
Doc spoke up "But he was a Special Forces cook." They all laughed. While they
respected military service, the leap from cook to combat leader was laughable unless the
guy was something else. They suspected he wasn't of that type.
The muster was called at dusk, and it was held in a large auditorium inside the Inn. The
three invited members from each group were asked to attend the muster. Jim asked the
others to mingle with the groups and to find the men from the militias from the
surrounding areas. They knew men from them, but hadn't seen them at the bivouac site.
Jim, Dave, and Doc took seats in the auditorium, along with several hundred others. Most
were, like the three, armed with rifles and at least a chest harness of magazines. This
made them feel sure it was not a setup.
"ON YOU FEET!" boomed a voice. Dave, Jim, and others in the hall jumped to their feet,
a common reaction among veterans upon hearing the command. Others in the crowd
looked at the standing men with mild amusement or puzzled looks. Many stood up after
the command sunk in. A NHDF man in BDU's strode across the stage. "Thanks, Sergeant
Major. If the rest of you would rise, I'd like to start our meeting off with the pledge of
allegiance." The hall filled with the sounds of the rest of the assembled militia getting up.
The colonel saluted, the crowd saluted or placed their hands over their hearts. In a voice
that projected but was not in a shout, the colonel began, "I pledge allegiance, to the flag,
of the United States of America. And to the Republic, for which it stands, one nation,
under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
The echo of the voices died in the hall.
"Thank you. Please be seated. My name is Brigadier General Gauvin, I am the
commander of the New Hampshire Defense Forces. Prior to my taking command, I was a
General in the National Guard, and the assistant commander of the New Hampshire
Guard. First, I want to thank you for coming, and thank you for the service you are
rendering unto our great state, and to our republic. Without your commitment, and the
commitment of people like you, America would have been lost a generation ago." He
paused to look around the room. "Judging by the reaction a moment ago to Sergeant
Major Lamoroux's command, a number of you are veterans," laughter spread across the
hall, "Good. We need men like you. To the rest, we need you, too, and appreciate your
dedication to the holy cause of freedom. We asked you to come here so that we can
establish a coordinated militia structure in the state. Many of you from the southern part
of the state, particularly the stretch from Nashua to Portsmouth, have already fought in a
number of engagements against the forces of tyranny that have taken up arms against us."
Dave nodded. This was a good way to look at the situation. "We are, at present, fighting
the enemy in a disjointed manner. Our responses to their assaults upon us, while so far
successful, have only amplified this. What we are proposing to you is that with a central
command and intelligence structure we will be even more effective. We are NOT
suggesting that we move you away from your homes. What we are saying is that with
information flowing in to one central area we will be able to better collate and
disseminate it to you. We have a central supply system. We can help get needed supplies
to units that need it. We can help you get what you need, and you can get excess materiel
to people who need it and can use it. We can also coordinate medical aid, food supply,
and things like gasoline, oil, and natural gas resupply. We have a number of talented
people in this state, and we would like to maximize our effort by allowing them to help
the whole state, in addition to their communities." A murmur of assent rippled through
the crowd. "We will be having meetings all through the next few days-we will try to be as
efficient as possible, but please be patient, we only recently came from the United States
military, and we're still learning how to be efficient." Laughter again. "We'll let you know
how we stand, and we want to hear how you are doing, what problems you are facing,
how we can help you, and please, we need you to let us know how you can help us. We
have refugees coming in every day, through Massachusetts and Vermont, we had a boat
dock in Portsmouth today with four families from Maryland seeking, as they put it,
political refugee status." The crowd chuckled, "We need you to interview refugees
coming into your area, and find out how they got here, what routes they took, and what
we can do to help them. We have an underground railroad of sorts going on right now,
and we need to make it work better. The ISAF forces are actively hunting refugees, and
we do not know how many they are capturing and interring." he again paused to let his
words sink in. He looked around the room, for the most part liking what he saw. All eyes
were on him, and many heads were nodding affirmatively.
"Tonight, after we break, I'd like each of you to write a report on your area. Where you
are, what areas you cover, what your needs are, what your specialties are. We have boxes
of state maps for you at the back of the room. Please take one per unit to mark your AO's,
that's area of operations, on it for us. If you don't have long range radios let us know. If
you have refugees or a refugee camp, let us know. We need numbers and a list of what
you need. We'd like to know, roughly, how many combat effectives you have. Do you
have enough weapons, ammo, and equipment for all of them. Thanks to the generosity of
several businesses in the state we have a large number of weapons and quantities of
ammunition available. They may not be modern military weapons, but they are functional
and effective for the war we anticipate the militia will be called upon to fight. I'd like to
thank you for your time, I wish you all a good nights rest, and I'll be speaking to each of
you individually before the end of the week."
"ON YOUR FEET!" boomed the Smaj again. This time the group rose as one.
"Dismissed!"
"So how'd it go?" asked Gerald as the trio came back to their tent.
"It didn't, really," answered Jim, "just a meet the commander thing. We're going to get
together over the next few days and coordinate commo and logistics. Steve, can you and
Dave go over this map and mark our AO?"
"Sure," said Steve, taking the map. He and Dave went over to a footlocker, using a
Coleman lantern for light and marking their AO with a green marker. In the margins they
made notes about the boundaries for the NHDF cartographers.
The group spoke around the stove for a couple of hours, discussing what the general had
broached and what their response would be. Finally, Jim broke it up. "We need a guard
roster for the night, guards will keep the stove going, too. Mike, will you take care of that?
Put me and Dave on first and last. Doc sleeps all night, and you guys can sleep
tomorrow."
Mike replied that he would, and on his pocket pad quickly drew up a list. Dave had first
watch, and put on his gear and went outside.
The next morning a runner came by, asking the three representatives to come to the Inn
for breakfast at 0700. Jim asked the others to watch their gear and to mingle with the
other men around the camp. Personal relationships were important to Jims ideas on
guerilla warfare.
Breakfast was a casual affair. They turned in their maps to orderlies at each of the two
entrance doors, and they were served a buffet breakfast by the dining room staff. They all
sat at a table to eat, and were soon joined by the commander of the Wildes Corner Militia,
which covered the area to their south. After reacquainting themselves with the others, talk
fell too matters of import.
"What do you think of this?" asked Dave Carlson, the commander.
"I think it's about time," answered Jim.
"Really? I thought independent cells would be the way to go," Dave had done a hitch as a
tanker in the Army before Jim was able to drive.
"No. Not for this phase. We are not guerillas, we're defending our homes. If we were
occupied by the Russkies a la Red Dawn, maybe. But we are already at the open warfare
stage. We need to coordinate state wide, for all the reasons the General stated."
After a brief discussion about the merits of a state wide supply list, another orderly
announced loudly "May I have your attention please? We are ready to begin. Will all of
the militias from Aroostook County follow Sergeant Lavoie over there?" A female in
BDUs waved her hand.
The orderly called off the rest of the counties one at a time. Dave and the group from his
table followed a sweating man in civilian clothes down a hallway and into a conference
room. Three NHDF men in BDUs greeted them. After introducing themselves, the militia
men introduced themselves to the NHDF, as they all knew each other.
Captain O'Donnell, the senior NHDF man, opened up the meeting.
"Gentlemen, we'll get right to the point. We are the staff for your county. All information,
all logistics, will come from us. One of us is on call 24/7 for you. When we set up the
commo net you'll be able to reach us night or day for whatever you need. Any
emergencies will got through the main staff, but anything routine, we are your men. And
woman," he quickly added. The Sergeant First Class was quite noticeably female. This is
not to say you can't deal with anyone else, but we are assigned to work with you. This
way you can know us, and we can know you. Basically we'll be together all week. Now,
what are you positions in your unit?"
Doc spoke first "I'm the commo man, but also the third in our medical detachment." Doc
was picking up the lingo quickly.
"Great, Doc, we'll do all medical and commo thorough you. We'll be having a few larger
get togethers with other medical and commo staffers."
Jim spoke next, "I'm the commander in our town. Dave here is my second in command."
"Good," said Sergeant Moran, her voice a sexy contralto, "We'll be doing all logistics and
military ops with you guys. Transportation too."
The others went around and explained who and what they were. They had another doctor
present, this one a bit younger than Doc and still in practice. A master machinist, a
grocery store manager (great, said Sgt Moran, logistics), a truck mechanic, a private pilot,
a police chief, and two other HAMs who were commo chiefs. The others ran the gamut
from insurance sales to self employed wood cutters.
Jim had the best military credentials of the group. Dave and another guy were about tied,
the other man having served ten years as a Cavalry Scout in the Army. The rest less or no
military time.
"Would anyone object to us making Jim here the military head of your county? Jim, you
can object, too." said the young Captain.
A string of no's sounded. Jim nodded, "I'll do it."
"Good, good. It's helpful to have an experienced Green Beret on the ground. Let's get
started, shall we? Sergeant Moran will pass out notebooks and pencils...."
They spent the next few hours giving the NHDF staff a brief background on their
situation. They seemed particularly interested in Daves walk to freedom. They also
covered the military supply situation, the medical accommodations and personnel, and
the training status of the local units of militia.
After breaking for lunch, they broke into smaller groups. Doc and the commo men front
he other towns went to a communications meeting in another building. Jim stayed to
discuss training, and Dave went to another room to be debriefed about his trek through
Massachusetts. After answering questions for several hours, he finally asked the NHDF
team why they wanted to know all of this.
"Well," started the debriefer, a Military Intelligence analyst named Hodges, "we have a
few reports of the ISAF forces killing refugees, also of them interring many more. We
want to form teams to go south and help these folks get up here alive. It's really a
humanitarian project."
"Well, let's get going. You were asking about the ISAF force that attacked me and my
friends? Well, they were firing up into the trees at first, until they saw weapons....."
Afer four days of briefings, meetings, and brain storming sessions, the group headed back
home. The deuce was full of Weapons and ammo. three crates of Enfield rifles from
Millennium, along with a large stack of ammunition crates. Also more 5.56 and 7.62
ammo, several crates of explosives and related equipment, a large pallet of blankets,
cases of MRE's, and fourteen M-4 carbines, with magazines and web gear. included in
the onboard ammo were three cans of 7.62 match ammo, and two of linked .50 call ammo,
armor piercing incendiary and API tracer.
Doc had complete codes for use on the radio, a list of freqs and codes, and information on
setting up tactical radio nets. Jim and Dave had contact info for the neighboring towns
and counties, as well as rough contingency plans for a number of situations. They had
received briefings on the national and international currents, and had a much better
picture of how things were going.
As a light snow fell, the drove home with a feeling of accomplishment and purpose. Their
hopes were high for victory.
Chapter 20
After assisting Doc in setting up his ICOM IC-756 base station in the communications
center at the police station, the men from the White Pine Irregulars spent a day with Doc
and his local HAM’s. They visited a number of residences and setting up radios, both
HAM and CB, and going over the basics of the Net. In short, they were told to use the
radios for emergencies only, and to keep transmissions brief to help prevent radio
direction finders to the south from pinpointing them. The militia wasn’t of the opinion
that they would be DF’ed yet, put instilling good habits was important. The operators
were given a printout with basic information on them. Antennas were set up pointing to
town, as much as was possible. Neighbors were connected with neighbors, and it was
suggested that folks get to know their neighbors or put away petty squabbles and work
with neighbors for the common defense. They also distributed some of the arms the
NHDF had provided, and took time to check in on others, to ascertain their level of
preparedness and to determine who would need help through the winter.
What they found was encouraging. Most people were pulling together, people were
taking care of their neighbors, and the elderly who remained in their homes were all
either looked after or old curmudgeons who wanted no help. The hunting that people
were doing were probably more effective than any regular picket line would have been,
and there were several folks running around at night jacking deer who acted as night
watchmen. Overall they found the town to be in good shape, and the only real concern
was keeping the batteries charged. Will came up with one way to do that.
“I saw an article once that showed how to make a lawn mower a battery charger,” he said
during the meeting after the days mission was done, “Basically they hooked up a car
alternator to the lawn mower and ran the mower to charge it up.”
Steve spoke up “That might not be a bad idea. Most people don’t have the gas to use their
cars too much, maybe we could fab one up and see how it works. Do you know how
efficient it was?”
“Nope, I just remember it was pretty neat looking, and I filed it away in my head for
later.” Steve nodded, already planning how he was going to do this.
Jim nodded. “OK, Steve and Will, you are the generator detail. I want to know the output
and fuel efficiency, see is it’s worth the time. If it’s worth it we can get plans out to folks.
Probably not perfect, but better than nothing.”
They went about their normal routine. Snow was falling, and they assisted in opening up
the local snowmobile trails, cutting back growth and repairing bridges. Soon the snow
would stick and accumulate, and the trails went from Massachusetts to Canada. They
would be a snowy superhighway before too long. Time was spent by various team
members in gathering wood, patrolling the roads and forests, and training with the local
forces. Although they didn’t shoot much live ammunition, they did ensure that everyone
had good basic zeroes on their weapons. Steve, Scott, and Will set about training those
issued the donated Lee Enfields on the finer points of stripper clip reloading and bolt
manipulation. The NHDF had included plans for scope mounts, and a number were made
up for the Enfields, using “L” shaped angle iron as the mount. They then assisted those
equipped with scoped rifles in obtaining a combat zero. The basic idea was to give the
men a zero that would ensure a body hit with a center mass aiming point. That depended
upon the chambering of the rifle, to a large extent. Essentially it gave them a point blank
zero to three hundred to 400 hundred yards. For anything longer they were told to aim for
the top of the head, which gave most another 200 yards of range. It was the down and
dirty sniper method. The few with ranging scopes, laser range finders, or long range
shooting experience were noted mentally, as they tried not to have too much written
material with names, for security purposes. They did not know if any of the locals bore
any sympathies to the socialists who had stolen America, and did not want to risk
directed attacks or reprisals against loyal citizens.
Little more than a week after the NHDF meeting Jim received a sealed envelope from his
NHDF liaison officers. It was delivered by motorcycle courier in the early afternoon, and
the courier indicated that she was to wait for his reply. Jim read the letter and made a call
on the radio asking for the group to meet at his house poste haste. Most of the members
arrived within the hour, and an ad hoc meeting was held.
“The NHDF is asking for volunteers to help refugees infiltrate the border and the ISAF
picket lines. They are asking us to send a team of three or more, they need military
people, medical, commo. We get nothing but ‘the respect of a grateful state’ for doing it.”
Everyone spoke at once.
“No way.”
“I’ll go.”
“Let’s invade Massachusetts.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Calm down,” commanded Jim. “We’re not sending anyone yet.”
Dave spoke up, “We need to send someone. They gave us a ton of stuff, and they are
asking for our help. And it’s the right thing to do.”
“We don’t need them,” said Mike, “We have enough stuff to make do ourselves. I say we
tell them no thanks.”
Steve spoke next, “I’ll go. I think it’s important to help the refugees and it is a good way
of giving the finger,” he held up the appropriate one, “to big brother.”
Tony stood up, “I don’t have any of the skills they want, but I’ll go if they’ll take me.
Dave saved my families bacon and I wanna pay that back. Doin’ this would make it even
with God.” He looked around self-consciously. He was still a little intimidated at being a
mechanic one week and a member of a survivalist group the next. It had certainly been
something he never expected to have occurred.
Jim nodded, considering what they said. He would have preferred not to send anyone, as
he felt that having the whole team around was better for the overall security of the area.
He also realized that dealing with the state could be quid pro quo, and they may withhold
weapons and support from areas that didn’t display enough support for the home team.
Even if they didn’t, supporting this operation could get them recognition that could be
beneficial, too.
“What we have to weigh is the possible cost of having staff gone and losing critical skills
and not supporting the state. I feel that the state won’t act punitively if we send no one,
but there may be benefits of we do send men.”
“I think the state will look on us more favorably if we send a team,” chimed in Scott, “If
we send a team in and they totally impress them, maybe we can get them to supply us
with better equipment, like M-113’s or TOW’s.”
The discussion continued under Jim’s guidance for another 20 minutes. Finally Jim
stopped the chatter. “ALL RIGHT!” Silence descended like a stage curtain. “We’ll send a
team, five guys, all volunteers. Who wants in?”
Voices again. “Stop it! Dave, Tony, Jim, you guys are going, Dave’s in charge, Tony’s
number 2, Jim, you’re the medic so you can use your EMT skills again. We need two
more, so we’ll ask around town to see. We could use another military guy, though.”
Will raised his hand to get Jims attention. “I’ll go.”
Jim looked at him. Will was an Army veteran, Infantry, three years. But he mostly kept to
himself, he was a very quiet guy. Jim often wondered what made him tick. But he had
proven himself a loyal member and never complained about anything.
“Al right, you’re in. We need one more. Preferably someone with commo skills.”
Steve spoke again, “Let’s ask Doc who he thinks we should take.”
Several voices concurred at once.
“Good idea. Steve, take Jim and go talk to Doc. If you find someone, talk to him, check
him out. If he’s not suitable, ask Doc for a second and third name.”
“Gotcha,” snapped Steve, as he got up, “We’ll be back. C’mon, medic man.”
Jim picked up his coat, “When are we supposed to leave?”
“I don’t know, I need to let the courier know we’re in on the deal. I guess we’ll find out
when they know we’re coming.”
Jim went outside, followed by the rest of the crew. The courier was in the house, drinking
some warm cocoa prepared by Jims wife. When she saw them coming she virtually leapt
out of the doorway, pulling on her thick leather coat as she came down the steps. “Do you
have an answer?”
“Yeah,” Jim replied, “tell them we’re in for a five man team, two military, one medic,
one former refugee, and a commo man.”
“Great,” said the courier, reaching into her small backpack, “Then this is for you. It’s a
packing list, Opord, and other instructions. Do you want to send a message back to
Command?”
Jim raised an eyebrow as he took the proffered envelope, “Just give them a big sloppy
kiss from me.”
The girl grinned, “No way. I’ll tell them you send big hugs though. Thank your wife for
the cocoa.” She hurried to her Honda and kicked it to life, and soon the sound of her
engine faded behind the hills.
“Dave, Tony, come on back to the barn, we’ll take a look. If you other guys want, would
you take a look at the deuce, make sure the fluids are topped and stuff?
“Yeah, sure,” came back the answer.
Entering the barn, Jim took off his jacket and pulled a chair up to the table. He opened the
envelope with his Benchmade automatic knife, bought at a shop in Rhode Island that
specialized in auto knives. He pulled form it a stack of papers. Looking through the pile,
he separated it and handed Dave a thick stack joined by a binder clip.
“Why don’t you start on the Op order. I’ve got some real important Army guy papers
here,” said Jim with a self deprecating grin.
Dave looked at the Opord. Standard Army format-Situation, Mission, Execution,
Command and Signal, Service and Support. The Situation section covered nothing new.
ISAF forces, supported by local police forces, helicopters, observation aircraft, and some
Federal troops equipped with trucks, APC’s, and direct fire weapons were patrolling the
border, stopping escapees and interring them at several known and unknown locations.
ISAF and Federal forces were launching raids into New Hampshire using vehicles,
aircraft, and foot infiltration, and attacking infrastructure targets-electrical pylons,
National Guard armories, airports, etc, to deny their use in New Hampshire. Partially to
cripple the local economy, partially to make things miserable for the average citizen, to
make them unhappy with the state government and undermine its credibility.
Mission-exfiltrate New Hampshire, escort and evacuate people to freedom, protecting
them “through whatever means required” from ISAF interference. Gather intel about
ISAF forces and operations in occupied areas, and intercept any ISAF infiltrators
attempting to enter the liberated zone.
Execution-to be determined by team leaders at NHDF HQ.
C&S-to be provided at NHDF HQ
Svc&Spt-On call NHDF helicopter support, organic NHDF aircraft and artillery, NHDF
reaction forces. Supply TBD by available supplies. Suggested teams provide as much as
possible to alleviate shortages in critical materials. Individual team SOPs to be
determined by individual teams-support provided by NHDF as requested.
The attachments dealt with packing lists, suggested items, and more details that Dave felt
should have been included in the body of the Opord. They were basically going to help
refugees. Blankets, food, medical support, guides, guards. They would have extra
equipment air or ground convoy supplied when they reached their AO, and it was
suggested that each team be able to E&E back to New Hampshire on their own if needed.
The ISAF forces had trail watchers, motorized reaction teams, and aircraft. There would
be recovery teams near the border that could come pick them up when the refugees were
close to the state line. More details to be provided at the NHDF HQ.
Jim handed Dave a typed note that mentioned the Ice Spring Militia was being asked to
provide a team too. Dave made a note to contact them and determine what they were
doing. Perhaps they could travel to the NHDF HQ together. Dave read more of the
material, and handed Jim the Opord for him to go over. A message from their liaison,
asking them to bring a good long range battery operated radio with the team, suggesting
they bring short range radios for team commo. It was also suggested they bring any night
vision they had.
Dave and Jim discussed the mission, and drew up a packing list based on what info they
had.
Basic load-
Load bearing equipment-minimum
Two one quart canteens, with one steel cup and covers
Three ammo pouches, 3x30 round mags
One ammo pouch, accessories-Compass, lighter, knife steel, jackknife, whatever else
militiaman wants
Knife
Pistol (optional)
First aid compress x2, left side of belt buckle
FRS radio and earbud
Snap link
Pack-
Sleeping bag, 0 degree or lower
Sleep pad
Poncho
Bivy sack (if available)
2 quart canteen or water bladder
Right hand outside pocket
Cleaning kit
First Aid Kit
100’ 550 cord
Dry socks and powder in plastic bag
Left side-
Poncho
MRE, stripped
1 bandoleer, 5.56mm
Heat tablets
Disposable lighter
Middle pocket (if pack has)
Wet weather top (Gore tex or whatever)
Main pack-
Team equipment
Spare t-shirt
Spare socks
Snivel shirt
Gloves
Wool hat
9 stripped MRE’s
Other foods
Team Equipment
Batteries
One e-tool
One hatchet
One folding saw
Commo equipment
Water filter
Toilet paper
Medical supplies
Five Claymore mines
Demo kit
Binos
Zip ties
Duct tape
Sewing kit
Suggested each man carry gaiters, sunglasses, earplugs, parka, extra gloves, lip balm,
space blanket, E&E kit, and use wick dry sock liners and t-shirts
Weapons-
AR-15 or derivative, minimum 10 mags, 200 rounds extra
Pistols-personal preference, not felt all personnel need one
StenMk2S+ four mags of subsonic ammo
Grenade launcher, 20 rounds HE
2 fragmentation grenades
1 smoke grenade per man
2 signal flares
Uniform is OD BDU’s, soft cap-either patrol cap or boonie, boots-suggested insulated
Danners or Matterhorns
Team Leader-Dave
Assistant TL- Tony
Medic- Jim
Scout- Will
Commo- TBD
They sat back.
“That’ll do for now,” said Jim, “We’ll add or remove stuff as needed. We need to see
what kind of radio gear you’ll be humping.”
“Sounds good. I’ll write up our warning order and get ready to brief the men when they
get back,” replied Dave, “It’s going to be a long night.”
Steve and Jim came back in a few short hours, looking a little chagrined. Steve came into
the barn where Jim and Dave were working.
“What’s up?” asked Dave, “did Doc get us a commo expert?”
“Um, yeah, a commo expert and an experienced hiker and winter camper,” answered
Steve. He looked uncomfortable.
“What’s the matter, then?”
“Well, uuhhh….it’s just that Sam’s….” Steve was hesitating when the door opened up
and a girl of about 16 entered. Shaking hair long dark hair, she looked around.
“Hi,” she said, her voice sounded odd in a room of testosterone filled anticipation.
“Hi.” Said Jim, “my wife’s in the house.” And he turned back to his papers.
“I’m not here to see a wife, I’m here to see a guy named Dave?” she looked around.
“I’m Dave,” said Dave, standing up, “What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Sam. I’m your commo expert.”
After getting over there initial objections, Dave and Jim sent Sam into Jims house.
“Why didn’t you tell Doc to quit sniffing glue?” asked Dave of Steve and Jim.
“We did, but he said she was the best of who was left who could go. All the boys are
gone. She’s got licenses like Doc’s, and she’s a complete radio freak, Doc said she
dreams in Morse Code.”
“I don’t care if she bleeds dots and dashes, I’m not taking a kid into a possible war zone.”
“Doc said she’s all he’s giving up. They got one boy with asthma, one’s too young, the
others still got a cast on his leg. Doc says it her or nothing.”
“Damn.”
“Dave,” said Jim, “talk to her. She’s a total outdoors nut, too. She hiked the Appalachian
Trail over three summers, and has done Mt. Washington in the winter twice.”
After a pause Dave agreed. “Let’s meet the commo queen.”
After spending nearly a month training local groups, Jim received an invite from the
NHDF Command to attend a meeting with the militia liaison. It came through the town
select board, which was the local government for the small town in which they lived. The
message indicated they were to meet an escort at a small road junction 70 miles away,
near the White Mountain National Forest, and they would then be escorted to the actual
meeting spot. The message also indicated that they could accommodate no more than
three people, so any others coming would have to fend for themselves. It was suggested
that in addition to a militia leader they bring a communication person and/or a medical
specialist. The NHDF also noted that they would supply anyone attending with fuel for
the return trip, and recommended that attendees bring a truck with room to transport
equipment back to their towns. After a meeting in the town meeting house, it was decided
that Jim and Doc Ivarson would go, along with whoever else they felt necessary. Doc
Ivarson was a retired General practitioner who lived in town, and spent most of his
retirement time playing with his HAM radios on the family farm his great grandparents
had passed on to his parents. He was the de facto communications specialist for the area,
as he had the equipment, the knowledge, and the patriotism needed for the job. He had
been a licensed armature operator since he was 11 years old, and had held an Extra ticket
since he was 16.
Jims group had a meeting, and it was decided that Dave, Steve, Mike, and Gerald from
the group would accompany Jim and Doc to the meeting. Steve would drive the captured
Deuce and a half, Doc would drive his Jeep Cherokee. They prepped for the trip as if it
were a convoy through occupied territory, as they did not have any guarantees as to the
safety of the route. Mike would man the MG-3 mounted on top of the deuce, Gerald
would ride shotgun with Doc and Dave, Jim would drive with Steve. They set up radio
contingencies and practiced counter ambush drills. Jim instructed them to pack enough
clothing for five days, food, water, a portable sheepherders stove, the GP Small military
tent they had purchased so long ago, and extra ammo, loaded in magazines and stored in
military ammo cans. They brought one of the 40mm grenade launchers they had captured
and two AT-4 rocket launchers as added insurance. All the men were equipped with
CAR-15's or derivatives, as well as the MG-3, pistols, and Jim's Remington 700 PSS
in .308. As a former sniper in the Ranger Regiment he felt naked without it along. They
were glad for the extra rook the deuce provided. They had filled the deuce's tanks from
home heating oil tanks, and carried a 55 gallon drum of extra fuel. They didn't want to
rely on someone else to guarantee a return trip. On the truck was a collection of pioneer
tools-shovels, picks, an axe, tow straps and chains, and a spare tire. The also carried
enough wood for several days of burning in the small stove.
The small convoy set off three days later with some painful good byes, especially on the
part of Dave and Steves kids, who didn't want their Dads to leave them. Steve realized he
had never been away from his kids overnight before, unless the kids were at their
grandparents house, and Daves sons were fearful due to the uncertainty they had just
experienced with his long trek back to them. They planned to arrive a day early at the
rendezvous site, and stake it out in case the meeting was a set up or compromised. Their
trip was uneventful. The truck was marked on the doors with their painted emblem, and
on the grill and rear tailgate with boards with the white field and green pine tree of the
free militia. It was a symbol taken from the colonial period, when patriots had used the
pine tree as a symbol of defiance to the Crown, which had placed all large pine trees off
limits to local cutting. The trees were declared property of the Royal Navy, for the
purpose of making masts for their mighty fleet, and it was one of the major grievances
the northern colonies had with England. Fortunately for all involved the trip and linkup
with the guide were uneventful. The guides, two NHDF men mounted on matching
Kawasaki enduro motorcycles, led them through the mountains to the entrance of a large
old Inn. Their the gate guards waved them through, and the escorts left them. Following
the driveway, the Inn and it's grounds came into view. More of a turn of the century hotel,
the Inn had four stories and room for several hundred guests, and it's well tended grounds
sprawled for acres under the shadow of the Presidential Mountain Range. They were
stopped at a checkpoint manned by NHDF troops, an M-113 APC with mounted MK-19
40mm machine gun backing them up. About 100 yards away was an M-1 Abrams tank,
providing further deterrent to unwelcome guests. The guard verified them by referring to
a clipboard, and directed them to a parking area past the Abrams, where, he told them,
they would find space to bivouac. There would be a muster later that day, and then
meetings for the next five.
Pulling into the cantonement area, they pulled the deuce up under a sprawling chestnut
tree devoid of leaves. A ground guide told them to set up in front of the truck, and
indicated that they were awaiting the arrival of more men before starting the festivities.
Setting up the tent went smoothly, and the men set up cots and placed some gear in the
tent. They took time to turn the truck around so that it faced the way out, which made
unloading easier and provided quicker escape should they need to. After this, they set out
to mingle with the other militias who were set up all over the grounds. Steve, Dave, and
Gerald met men from all over the state and exchanged stories. Some areas, it seemed,
were pretty well set with a solid cadre of people with military experience, others
appeared top not have any men with any type of military service whatsoever. they met
three men who called themselves "colonel", and a few groups of men who used no rank,
but wore matching uniforms in patterns ranging from tiger stripe to Realtree. They didn't
run into anyone they knew very well, but did see a few men who were acquaintances
from gun clubs they had competed at over the years. There were very few women present,
and no children. They even ran into a unit from Manchester that was composed of an all
black cadre, which caused them to stop and chat for a bit. New Hampshire has a small
minority population, but was one of the first states to abolish slavery, and in keeping with
the Live Free or Die spirit judging a person by character was a way of life long before
Martin Luther Kind suggested it.
"How are you guys today," asked Gerald, whose mother was Okinawan.
"All right, my man, all right. You dudes look serious. Pull up a chair." the man invited.
"Thanks. I'm Gerald, this is Steve and Dave, from the Pine Tree Irregulars."
"How do. I'm Charles, these guys and I represent the Crispus Attucks Militia of
Manchester. Where you all from?"
"You know Ice Spring?" Charles nodded, "We're the next town over, little place, but we
cover all the county."
"Sure, sure. Way up in safe area New Hampshire."
"How is it in Manch-vegas?" Steve asked, calling Manchester by its nickname, as it was
about the only area that stayed open past midnight.
"Rough, man, rough. We get a lot of refugees, and the JBT's like to raid the area. We seen
some serious shyte already. Worse than Iraqi Freedom."
"You were military, then?" asked Dave.
"Sure, 2/7th Marines, I was a rifle fireteam leader. We got us a few Marines, some Army
pukes, and a guy who was in the French Foreign Legion, too, but he's like 60 now, so he
mostly motivates us." The other men in his unit laughed, "How about you?"
Steve spoke up, "Dave here was Airborne Infantry, we got a few others. I was Navy, but
a piston engine mechanic."
"Well, that means you can take orders," smiled Charles.
"I can at that. Listen, nice to meet you, but we've got to move along."
"Sure, we'll see you guys around."
They all shook hands and said their see you later, and wandered back to their truck for a
late lunch. Jim and the others were back.
"Would did you find out?" asked Jim.
"About half these guys look like they are playing at soldier, the other half seem pretty
OK," assessed Dave, "How about you?"
"Same thing. I even met a self appointed general," Jim gave a derisive snort, "who was a
cook in the National Guard."
Doc spoke up "But he was a Special Forces cook." They all laughed. While they
respected military service, the leap from cook to combat leader was laughable unless the
guy was something else. They suspected he wasn't of that type.
The muster was called at dusk, and it was held in a large auditorium inside the Inn. The
three invited members from each group were asked to attend the muster. Jim asked the
others to mingle with the groups and to find the men from the militias from the
surrounding areas. They knew men from them, but hadn't seen them at the bivouac site.
Jim, Dave, and Doc took seats in the auditorium, along with several hundred others. Most
were, like the three, armed with rifles and at least a chest harness of magazines. This
made them feel sure it was not a setup.
"ON YOU FEET!" boomed a voice. Dave, Jim, and others in the hall jumped to their feet,
a common reaction among veterans upon hearing the command. Others in the crowd
looked at the standing men with mild amusement or puzzled looks. Many stood up after
the command sunk in. A NHDF man in BDU's strode across the stage. "Thanks, Sergeant
Major. If the rest of you would rise, I'd like to start our meeting off with the pledge of
allegiance." The hall filled with the sounds of the rest of the assembled militia getting up.
The colonel saluted, the crowd saluted or placed their hands over their hearts. In a voice
that projected but was not in a shout, the colonel began, "I pledge allegiance, to the flag,
of the United States of America. And to the Republic, for which it stands, one nation,
under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
The echo of the voices died in the hall.
"Thank you. Please be seated. My name is Brigadier General Gauvin, I am the
commander of the New Hampshire Defense Forces. Prior to my taking command, I was a
General in the National Guard, and the assistant commander of the New Hampshire
Guard. First, I want to thank you for coming, and thank you for the service you are
rendering unto our great state, and to our republic. Without your commitment, and the
commitment of people like you, America would have been lost a generation ago." He
paused to look around the room. "Judging by the reaction a moment ago to Sergeant
Major Lamoroux's command, a number of you are veterans," laughter spread across the
hall, "Good. We need men like you. To the rest, we need you, too, and appreciate your
dedication to the holy cause of freedom. We asked you to come here so that we can
establish a coordinated militia structure in the state. Many of you from the southern part
of the state, particularly the stretch from Nashua to Portsmouth, have already fought in a
number of engagements against the forces of tyranny that have taken up arms against us."
Dave nodded. This was a good way to look at the situation. "We are, at present, fighting
the enemy in a disjointed manner. Our responses to their assaults upon us, while so far
successful, have only amplified this. What we are proposing to you is that with a central
command and intelligence structure we will be even more effective. We are NOT
suggesting that we move you away from your homes. What we are saying is that with
information flowing in to one central area we will be able to better collate and
disseminate it to you. We have a central supply system. We can help get needed supplies
to units that need it. We can help you get what you need, and you can get excess materiel
to people who need it and can use it. We can also coordinate medical aid, food supply,
and things like gasoline, oil, and natural gas resupply. We have a number of talented
people in this state, and we would like to maximize our effort by allowing them to help
the whole state, in addition to their communities." A murmur of assent rippled through
the crowd. "We will be having meetings all through the next few days-we will try to be as
efficient as possible, but please be patient, we only recently came from the United States
military, and we're still learning how to be efficient." Laughter again. "We'll let you know
how we stand, and we want to hear how you are doing, what problems you are facing,
how we can help you, and please, we need you to let us know how you can help us. We
have refugees coming in every day, through Massachusetts and Vermont, we had a boat
dock in Portsmouth today with four families from Maryland seeking, as they put it,
political refugee status." The crowd chuckled, "We need you to interview refugees
coming into your area, and find out how they got here, what routes they took, and what
we can do to help them. We have an underground railroad of sorts going on right now,
and we need to make it work better. The ISAF forces are actively hunting refugees, and
we do not know how many they are capturing and interring." he again paused to let his
words sink in. He looked around the room, for the most part liking what he saw. All eyes
were on him, and many heads were nodding affirmatively.
"Tonight, after we break, I'd like each of you to write a report on your area. Where you
are, what areas you cover, what your needs are, what your specialties are. We have boxes
of state maps for you at the back of the room. Please take one per unit to mark your AO's,
that's area of operations, on it for us. If you don't have long range radios let us know. If
you have refugees or a refugee camp, let us know. We need numbers and a list of what
you need. We'd like to know, roughly, how many combat effectives you have. Do you
have enough weapons, ammo, and equipment for all of them. Thanks to the generosity of
several businesses in the state we have a large number of weapons and quantities of
ammunition available. They may not be modern military weapons, but they are functional
and effective for the war we anticipate the militia will be called upon to fight. I'd like to
thank you for your time, I wish you all a good nights rest, and I'll be speaking to each of
you individually before the end of the week."
"ON YOUR FEET!" boomed the Smaj again. This time the group rose as one.
"Dismissed!"
"So how'd it go?" asked Gerald as the trio came back to their tent.
"It didn't, really," answered Jim, "just a meet the commander thing. We're going to get
together over the next few days and coordinate commo and logistics. Steve, can you and
Dave go over this map and mark our AO?"
"Sure," said Steve, taking the map. He and Dave went over to a footlocker, using a
Coleman lantern for light and marking their AO with a green marker. In the margins they
made notes about the boundaries for the NHDF cartographers.
The group spoke around the stove for a couple of hours, discussing what the general had
broached and what their response would be. Finally, Jim broke it up. "We need a guard
roster for the night, guards will keep the stove going, too. Mike, will you take care of that?
Put me and Dave on first and last. Doc sleeps all night, and you guys can sleep
tomorrow."
Mike replied that he would, and on his pocket pad quickly drew up a list. Dave had first
watch, and put on his gear and went outside.
The next morning a runner came by, asking the three representatives to come to the Inn
for breakfast at 0700. Jim asked the others to watch their gear and to mingle with the
other men around the camp. Personal relationships were important to Jims ideas on
guerilla warfare.
Breakfast was a casual affair. They turned in their maps to orderlies at each of the two
entrance doors, and they were served a buffet breakfast by the dining room staff. They all
sat at a table to eat, and were soon joined by the commander of the Wildes Corner Militia,
which covered the area to their south. After reacquainting themselves with the others, talk
fell too matters of import.
"What do you think of this?" asked Dave Carlson, the commander.
"I think it's about time," answered Jim.
"Really? I thought independent cells would be the way to go," Dave had done a hitch as a
tanker in the Army before Jim was able to drive.
"No. Not for this phase. We are not guerillas, we're defending our homes. If we were
occupied by the Russkies a la Red Dawn, maybe. But we are already at the open warfare
stage. We need to coordinate state wide, for all the reasons the General stated."
After a brief discussion about the merits of a state wide supply list, another orderly
announced loudly "May I have your attention please? We are ready to begin. Will all of
the militias from Aroostook County follow Sergeant Lavoie over there?" A female in
BDUs waved her hand.
The orderly called off the rest of the counties one at a time. Dave and the group from his
table followed a sweating man in civilian clothes down a hallway and into a conference
room. Three NHDF men in BDUs greeted them. After introducing themselves, the militia
men introduced themselves to the NHDF, as they all knew each other.
Captain O'Donnell, the senior NHDF man, opened up the meeting.
"Gentlemen, we'll get right to the point. We are the staff for your county. All information,
all logistics, will come from us. One of us is on call 24/7 for you. When we set up the
commo net you'll be able to reach us night or day for whatever you need. Any
emergencies will got through the main staff, but anything routine, we are your men. And
woman," he quickly added. The Sergeant First Class was quite noticeably female. This is
not to say you can't deal with anyone else, but we are assigned to work with you. This
way you can know us, and we can know you. Basically we'll be together all week. Now,
what are you positions in your unit?"
Doc spoke first "I'm the commo man, but also the third in our medical detachment." Doc
was picking up the lingo quickly.
"Great, Doc, we'll do all medical and commo thorough you. We'll be having a few larger
get togethers with other medical and commo staffers."
Jim spoke next, "I'm the commander in our town. Dave here is my second in command."
"Good," said Sergeant Moran, her voice a sexy contralto, "We'll be doing all logistics and
military ops with you guys. Transportation too."
The others went around and explained who and what they were. They had another doctor
present, this one a bit younger than Doc and still in practice. A master machinist, a
grocery store manager (great, said Sgt Moran, logistics), a truck mechanic, a private pilot,
a police chief, and two other HAMs who were commo chiefs. The others ran the gamut
from insurance sales to self employed wood cutters.
Jim had the best military credentials of the group. Dave and another guy were about tied,
the other man having served ten years as a Cavalry Scout in the Army. The rest less or no
military time.
"Would anyone object to us making Jim here the military head of your county? Jim, you
can object, too." said the young Captain.
A string of no's sounded. Jim nodded, "I'll do it."
"Good, good. It's helpful to have an experienced Green Beret on the ground. Let's get
started, shall we? Sergeant Moran will pass out notebooks and pencils...."
They spent the next few hours giving the NHDF staff a brief background on their
situation. They seemed particularly interested in Daves walk to freedom. They also
covered the military supply situation, the medical accommodations and personnel, and
the training status of the local units of militia.
After breaking for lunch, they broke into smaller groups. Doc and the commo men front
he other towns went to a communications meeting in another building. Jim stayed to
discuss training, and Dave went to another room to be debriefed about his trek through
Massachusetts. After answering questions for several hours, he finally asked the NHDF
team why they wanted to know all of this.
"Well," started the debriefer, a Military Intelligence analyst named Hodges, "we have a
few reports of the ISAF forces killing refugees, also of them interring many more. We
want to form teams to go south and help these folks get up here alive. It's really a
humanitarian project."
"Well, let's get going. You were asking about the ISAF force that attacked me and my
friends? Well, they were firing up into the trees at first, until they saw weapons....."
Afer four days of briefings, meetings, and brain storming sessions, the group headed back
home. The deuce was full of Weapons and ammo. three crates of Enfield rifles from
Millennium, along with a large stack of ammunition crates. Also more 5.56 and 7.62
ammo, several crates of explosives and related equipment, a large pallet of blankets,
cases of MRE's, and fourteen M-4 carbines, with magazines and web gear. included in
the onboard ammo were three cans of 7.62 match ammo, and two of linked .50 call ammo,
armor piercing incendiary and API tracer.
Doc had complete codes for use on the radio, a list of freqs and codes, and information on
setting up tactical radio nets. Jim and Dave had contact info for the neighboring towns
and counties, as well as rough contingency plans for a number of situations. They had
received briefings on the national and international currents, and had a much better
picture of how things were going.
As a light snow fell, the drove home with a feeling of accomplishment and purpose. Their
hopes were high for victory.
Chapter 20
After assisting Doc in setting up his ICOM IC-756 base station in the communications
center at the police station, the men from the White Pine Irregulars spent a day with Doc
and his local HAM’s. They visited a number of residences and setting up radios, both
HAM and CB, and going over the basics of the Net. In short, they were told to use the
radios for emergencies only, and to keep transmissions brief to help prevent radio
direction finders to the south from pinpointing them. The militia wasn’t of the opinion
that they would be DF’ed yet, put instilling good habits was important. The operators
were given a printout with basic information on them. Antennas were set up pointing to
town, as much as was possible. Neighbors were connected with neighbors, and it was
suggested that folks get to know their neighbors or put away petty squabbles and work
with neighbors for the common defense. They also distributed some of the arms the
NHDF had provided, and took time to check in on others, to ascertain their level of
preparedness and to determine who would need help through the winter.
What they found was encouraging. Most people were pulling together, people were
taking care of their neighbors, and the elderly who remained in their homes were all
either looked after or old curmudgeons who wanted no help. The hunting that people
were doing were probably more effective than any regular picket line would have been,
and there were several folks running around at night jacking deer who acted as night
watchmen. Overall they found the town to be in good shape, and the only real concern
was keeping the batteries charged. Will came up with one way to do that.
“I saw an article once that showed how to make a lawn mower a battery charger,” he said
during the meeting after the days mission was done, “Basically they hooked up a car
alternator to the lawn mower and ran the mower to charge it up.”
Steve spoke up “That might not be a bad idea. Most people don’t have the gas to use their
cars too much, maybe we could fab one up and see how it works. Do you know how
efficient it was?”
“Nope, I just remember it was pretty neat looking, and I filed it away in my head for
later.” Steve nodded, already planning how he was going to do this.
Jim nodded. “OK, Steve and Will, you are the generator detail. I want to know the output
and fuel efficiency, see is it’s worth the time. If it’s worth it we can get plans out to folks.
Probably not perfect, but better than nothing.”
They went about their normal routine. Snow was falling, and they assisted in opening up
the local snowmobile trails, cutting back growth and repairing bridges. Soon the snow
would stick and accumulate, and the trails went from Massachusetts to Canada. They
would be a snowy superhighway before too long. Time was spent by various team
members in gathering wood, patrolling the roads and forests, and training with the local
forces. Although they didn’t shoot much live ammunition, they did ensure that everyone
had good basic zeroes on their weapons. Steve, Scott, and Will set about training those
issued the donated Lee Enfields on the finer points of stripper clip reloading and bolt
manipulation. The NHDF had included plans for scope mounts, and a number were made
up for the Enfields, using “L” shaped angle iron as the mount. They then assisted those
equipped with scoped rifles in obtaining a combat zero. The basic idea was to give the
men a zero that would ensure a body hit with a center mass aiming point. That depended
upon the chambering of the rifle, to a large extent. Essentially it gave them a point blank
zero to three hundred to 400 hundred yards. For anything longer they were told to aim for
the top of the head, which gave most another 200 yards of range. It was the down and
dirty sniper method. The few with ranging scopes, laser range finders, or long range
shooting experience were noted mentally, as they tried not to have too much written
material with names, for security purposes. They did not know if any of the locals bore
any sympathies to the socialists who had stolen America, and did not want to risk
directed attacks or reprisals against loyal citizens.
Little more than a week after the NHDF meeting Jim received a sealed envelope from his
NHDF liaison officers. It was delivered by motorcycle courier in the early afternoon, and
the courier indicated that she was to wait for his reply. Jim read the letter and made a call
on the radio asking for the group to meet at his house poste haste. Most of the members
arrived within the hour, and an ad hoc meeting was held.
“The NHDF is asking for volunteers to help refugees infiltrate the border and the ISAF
picket lines. They are asking us to send a team of three or more, they need military
people, medical, commo. We get nothing but ‘the respect of a grateful state’ for doing it.”
Everyone spoke at once.
“No way.”
“I’ll go.”
“Let’s invade Massachusetts.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Calm down,” commanded Jim. “We’re not sending anyone yet.”
Dave spoke up, “We need to send someone. They gave us a ton of stuff, and they are
asking for our help. And it’s the right thing to do.”
“We don’t need them,” said Mike, “We have enough stuff to make do ourselves. I say we
tell them no thanks.”
Steve spoke next, “I’ll go. I think it’s important to help the refugees and it is a good way
of giving the finger,” he held up the appropriate one, “to big brother.”
Tony stood up, “I don’t have any of the skills they want, but I’ll go if they’ll take me.
Dave saved my families bacon and I wanna pay that back. Doin’ this would make it even
with God.” He looked around self-consciously. He was still a little intimidated at being a
mechanic one week and a member of a survivalist group the next. It had certainly been
something he never expected to have occurred.
Jim nodded, considering what they said. He would have preferred not to send anyone, as
he felt that having the whole team around was better for the overall security of the area.
He also realized that dealing with the state could be quid pro quo, and they may withhold
weapons and support from areas that didn’t display enough support for the home team.
Even if they didn’t, supporting this operation could get them recognition that could be
beneficial, too.
“What we have to weigh is the possible cost of having staff gone and losing critical skills
and not supporting the state. I feel that the state won’t act punitively if we send no one,
but there may be benefits of we do send men.”
“I think the state will look on us more favorably if we send a team,” chimed in Scott, “If
we send a team in and they totally impress them, maybe we can get them to supply us
with better equipment, like M-113’s or TOW’s.”
The discussion continued under Jim’s guidance for another 20 minutes. Finally Jim
stopped the chatter. “ALL RIGHT!” Silence descended like a stage curtain. “We’ll send a
team, five guys, all volunteers. Who wants in?”
Voices again. “Stop it! Dave, Tony, Jim, you guys are going, Dave’s in charge, Tony’s
number 2, Jim, you’re the medic so you can use your EMT skills again. We need two
more, so we’ll ask around town to see. We could use another military guy, though.”
Will raised his hand to get Jims attention. “I’ll go.”
Jim looked at him. Will was an Army veteran, Infantry, three years. But he mostly kept to
himself, he was a very quiet guy. Jim often wondered what made him tick. But he had
proven himself a loyal member and never complained about anything.
“Al right, you’re in. We need one more. Preferably someone with commo skills.”
Steve spoke again, “Let’s ask Doc who he thinks we should take.”
Several voices concurred at once.
“Good idea. Steve, take Jim and go talk to Doc. If you find someone, talk to him, check
him out. If he’s not suitable, ask Doc for a second and third name.”
“Gotcha,” snapped Steve, as he got up, “We’ll be back. C’mon, medic man.”
Jim picked up his coat, “When are we supposed to leave?”
“I don’t know, I need to let the courier know we’re in on the deal. I guess we’ll find out
when they know we’re coming.”
Jim went outside, followed by the rest of the crew. The courier was in the house, drinking
some warm cocoa prepared by Jims wife. When she saw them coming she virtually leapt
out of the doorway, pulling on her thick leather coat as she came down the steps. “Do you
have an answer?”
“Yeah,” Jim replied, “tell them we’re in for a five man team, two military, one medic,
one former refugee, and a commo man.”
“Great,” said the courier, reaching into her small backpack, “Then this is for you. It’s a
packing list, Opord, and other instructions. Do you want to send a message back to
Command?”
Jim raised an eyebrow as he took the proffered envelope, “Just give them a big sloppy
kiss from me.”
The girl grinned, “No way. I’ll tell them you send big hugs though. Thank your wife for
the cocoa.” She hurried to her Honda and kicked it to life, and soon the sound of her
engine faded behind the hills.
“Dave, Tony, come on back to the barn, we’ll take a look. If you other guys want, would
you take a look at the deuce, make sure the fluids are topped and stuff?
“Yeah, sure,” came back the answer.
Entering the barn, Jim took off his jacket and pulled a chair up to the table. He opened the
envelope with his Benchmade automatic knife, bought at a shop in Rhode Island that
specialized in auto knives. He pulled form it a stack of papers. Looking through the pile,
he separated it and handed Dave a thick stack joined by a binder clip.
“Why don’t you start on the Op order. I’ve got some real important Army guy papers
here,” said Jim with a self deprecating grin.
Dave looked at the Opord. Standard Army format-Situation, Mission, Execution,
Command and Signal, Service and Support. The Situation section covered nothing new.
ISAF forces, supported by local police forces, helicopters, observation aircraft, and some
Federal troops equipped with trucks, APC’s, and direct fire weapons were patrolling the
border, stopping escapees and interring them at several known and unknown locations.
ISAF and Federal forces were launching raids into New Hampshire using vehicles,
aircraft, and foot infiltration, and attacking infrastructure targets-electrical pylons,
National Guard armories, airports, etc, to deny their use in New Hampshire. Partially to
cripple the local economy, partially to make things miserable for the average citizen, to
make them unhappy with the state government and undermine its credibility.
Mission-exfiltrate New Hampshire, escort and evacuate people to freedom, protecting
them “through whatever means required” from ISAF interference. Gather intel about
ISAF forces and operations in occupied areas, and intercept any ISAF infiltrators
attempting to enter the liberated zone.
Execution-to be determined by team leaders at NHDF HQ.
C&S-to be provided at NHDF HQ
Svc&Spt-On call NHDF helicopter support, organic NHDF aircraft and artillery, NHDF
reaction forces. Supply TBD by available supplies. Suggested teams provide as much as
possible to alleviate shortages in critical materials. Individual team SOPs to be
determined by individual teams-support provided by NHDF as requested.
The attachments dealt with packing lists, suggested items, and more details that Dave felt
should have been included in the body of the Opord. They were basically going to help
refugees. Blankets, food, medical support, guides, guards. They would have extra
equipment air or ground convoy supplied when they reached their AO, and it was
suggested that each team be able to E&E back to New Hampshire on their own if needed.
The ISAF forces had trail watchers, motorized reaction teams, and aircraft. There would
be recovery teams near the border that could come pick them up when the refugees were
close to the state line. More details to be provided at the NHDF HQ.
Jim handed Dave a typed note that mentioned the Ice Spring Militia was being asked to
provide a team too. Dave made a note to contact them and determine what they were
doing. Perhaps they could travel to the NHDF HQ together. Dave read more of the
material, and handed Jim the Opord for him to go over. A message from their liaison,
asking them to bring a good long range battery operated radio with the team, suggesting
they bring short range radios for team commo. It was also suggested they bring any night
vision they had.
Dave and Jim discussed the mission, and drew up a packing list based on what info they
had.
Basic load-
Load bearing equipment-minimum
Two one quart canteens, with one steel cup and covers
Three ammo pouches, 3x30 round mags
One ammo pouch, accessories-Compass, lighter, knife steel, jackknife, whatever else
militiaman wants
Knife
Pistol (optional)
First aid compress x2, left side of belt buckle
FRS radio and earbud
Snap link
Pack-
Sleeping bag, 0 degree or lower
Sleep pad
Poncho
Bivy sack (if available)
2 quart canteen or water bladder
Right hand outside pocket
Cleaning kit
First Aid Kit
100’ 550 cord
Dry socks and powder in plastic bag
Left side-
Poncho
MRE, stripped
1 bandoleer, 5.56mm
Heat tablets
Disposable lighter
Middle pocket (if pack has)
Wet weather top (Gore tex or whatever)
Main pack-
Team equipment
Spare t-shirt
Spare socks
Snivel shirt
Gloves
Wool hat
9 stripped MRE’s
Other foods
Team Equipment
Batteries
One e-tool
One hatchet
One folding saw
Commo equipment
Water filter
Toilet paper
Medical supplies
Five Claymore mines
Demo kit
Binos
Zip ties
Duct tape
Sewing kit
Suggested each man carry gaiters, sunglasses, earplugs, parka, extra gloves, lip balm,
space blanket, E&E kit, and use wick dry sock liners and t-shirts
Weapons-
AR-15 or derivative, minimum 10 mags, 200 rounds extra
Pistols-personal preference, not felt all personnel need one
StenMk2S+ four mags of subsonic ammo
Grenade launcher, 20 rounds HE
2 fragmentation grenades
1 smoke grenade per man
2 signal flares
Uniform is OD BDU’s, soft cap-either patrol cap or boonie, boots-suggested insulated
Danners or Matterhorns
Team Leader-Dave
Assistant TL- Tony
Medic- Jim
Scout- Will
Commo- TBD
They sat back.
“That’ll do for now,” said Jim, “We’ll add or remove stuff as needed. We need to see
what kind of radio gear you’ll be humping.”
“Sounds good. I’ll write up our warning order and get ready to brief the men when they
get back,” replied Dave, “It’s going to be a long night.”
Steve and Jim came back in a few short hours, looking a little chagrined. Steve came into
the barn where Jim and Dave were working.
“What’s up?” asked Dave, “did Doc get us a commo expert?”
“Um, yeah, a commo expert and an experienced hiker and winter camper,” answered
Steve. He looked uncomfortable.
“What’s the matter, then?”
“Well, uuhhh….it’s just that Sam’s….” Steve was hesitating when the door opened up
and a girl of about 16 entered. Shaking hair long dark hair, she looked around.
“Hi,” she said, her voice sounded odd in a room of testosterone filled anticipation.
“Hi.” Said Jim, “my wife’s in the house.” And he turned back to his papers.
“I’m not here to see a wife, I’m here to see a guy named Dave?” she looked around.
“I’m Dave,” said Dave, standing up, “What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Sam. I’m your commo expert.”
After getting over there initial objections, Dave and Jim sent Sam into Jims house.
“Why didn’t you tell Doc to quit sniffing glue?” asked Dave of Steve and Jim.
“We did, but he said she was the best of who was left who could go. All the boys are
gone. She’s got licenses like Doc’s, and she’s a complete radio freak, Doc said she
dreams in Morse Code.”
“I don’t care if she bleeds dots and dashes, I’m not taking a kid into a possible war zone.”
“Doc said she’s all he’s giving up. They got one boy with asthma, one’s too young, the
others still got a cast on his leg. Doc says it her or nothing.”
“Damn.”
“Dave,” said Jim, “talk to her. She’s a total outdoors nut, too. She hiked the Appalachian
Trail over three summers, and has done Mt. Washington in the winter twice.”
After a pause Dave agreed. “Let’s meet the commo queen.”