Willard
01-27-2007, 08:52 AM
Chapter 23
Dave leaned his back against a small Birch tree to catch his breath. Spring was here in the
north country, the woods were alive with the sounds of birds returning from their winter
sojourns in warmer climes. Dave closed his eyes. What a winter. He had spent most of it
cutting firewood which he bartered around for the little his family needed. Quite a bit was
flat out given to folks who needed it. But he had managed to get a milk cow, fodder for
the cow (his boys had named her Bossie), a dozen laying hens, a rooster and twelve more
Rhode Island Red hens for breeding, and enough chicken feed to last a year. Having
enough gas to make wood deliveries was an advantage Dave hadn’t thought of so long
ago. He had a farmer who was going pay him in a few weeks with a sow and her piglets,
which would mean meat through the year. He had also taken the boys hunting, each of
them taking small game with their pellet guns and the .22 rifles Dave had for them, both
of which were handed down from his uncle. The time spent with his family was the best
of all. The boys had accompanied Dave when he had gotten the moose with his trusty old
Lee Enfield, and the moose antlers now adorned the wall in the boys bedroom. Daves
pack contained a fair amount of jerked moose meat, and Dave took pride in the fact that
he had prepared to provide for his family in times such as these.
Leaves and bark fell down from the Birch tree as it was cut by a stream of heavy caliber
machinegun bullets. Dave was shaken from his moment of reflection and rolled over,
seeking the protection of the low tussock that the Birch sprouted from. He clicked his
push to talk button “Does anyone see that .50?”
Steve replied “Yeah, it’s down the hill, on the road. Krauts on a 113,” meaning an M-113
armored personnel carrier. Dave sighed, and reached for his large ALICE pack, releasing
the straps that held one of two long olive drab tubes to its side. Dave pulled the safety pin
on the rear of the M-136 rocket, cocked it, and uncovered the sights, which popped up
with small snapping sounds. Gripping the sling with his left hand, he shouldered the
rocket. “How far?” he asked.
“About 175 meters,” came the terse reply.
“I’m gonna take it, cover me.”
Dave’s answer was a sudden cacophony of gunfire from Steve’s position, which quickly
spread up and down the line of militiamen.
Dave rolled to his right and knelt, just his eyes peering over the edge. He heard the fifty
firing again, but it was aimed away from him. He raised himself to a crouch, high enough
for the rockets fins to clear the earth when he fired, and saw the green and brown
camouflaged APC downhill and almost straight away from him. Pressing down the safety
he squeezed the “trigger” and the rocket launcher belched flame and smoke as it fired it’s
deadly 84mm cargo. Dave saw the red trace element in the back end of the rocket as it
streaked downhill and struck the APCs hull directly above the second road wheel. The
explosion rocked the track as Dave dropped down, discarded the tube, grabbed his pack
and pulled it away from where he had fired. Tracers crisscrossed the firing point as Dave
crawled away. Moments later the Birch tree was toppled as a 40mm grenade from the
dismount ISAF infantry got their act together and returned some effective fire. Dave
popped the straps on the other rocket and abandoned his pack. Shouldering the 15 pound
package, he high crawled behind a large Oak tree and peered around its trunk. The M-113
was in flames, the gunner gone, the fifty pointing straight up in its mount, flames and
black smoke billowing from the open hatches.
”You are a ‘Go’ at this station,” thought Dave to himself, as he saw an ISAF trooper
kneel a little higher to get off a shot from his G-36. Dave snapped his CAR-15 up and the
red dot of the Aimpoint sight centered on the mans chest. Dave fired once, twice, and the
man fell over. Dave executed a “combat roll to his non firing side” and made haste to
another spot.
“There’s another track coming up the road,” an unidentified voice said in his ear. A
Whooosh BOOM told him another AT-4 had found its mark.
“Scratch that one,” he heard Will say. Dave smiled. Will was doing all right. He had
moved into Sams house shortly after she had turned eighteen, with her parents blessing,
and they planned to marry next Fall.
Dave found another tree and did his peek and look. He saw two ISAF troops rushing
forward, one carrying a machinegun, another with each hand holding two ammunition
cans for the gun. With their flec camo, Fritz pattern helmets, and MG-3 they looked all
the world like a WWII MG-42 team on the Eastern Front. Dave shot both at a range of
about 40 Yards with five quick shots, as a stream of tracers from their own MG-3 laid a
stream of fire across the German line. The ISAF men were being cut down as the volume
of fire from the Americans increased. Dave added his fire to the symphony, changing
magazines as fast as they emptied. Suddenly their were no more targets.
“Cease fire, cease fire,” came the call up and down the line.
Daves radio crackled “Red and Blue Teams, search and clear. White and Black cover. All
others withdraw,” said the calm voice of Jim. Men and a few women rushed forward,
some with pistols and shotguns in hand, their rifles slung. Shots rang out as they
approached the bodies-no sense in searching a guy if you weren’t sure he was dead. They
quickly loaded weapons, ammo, and gear onto ponchos, and by fours returned with their
heavy loads. Some were grinning. One unrecognizable camo painted face went by and
said “Nice shot, Dave!” Dave nodded thanks and returned to sweeping his sector.
He cocked his head and then stood up and yelled “Birds inbound! Birds inbound! Move
the rally point, now, all colors!”
He heard the cry get passed up the line and then heard Jims whistle blow, three longs and
a short. Fall back, NOW! Dave dropped the rocket, slung his pack, picked up the rocket,
and joined teams in falling back to their prepared positions further in the woods. As they
ran they heard the sound of explosions ripping the treeline as the ISAF Cobra gunships
fired their 2.75 inch rockets into the recently abandoned ambush site. Dave stopped as
one Cobra swept over them and everyone froze, but the bird was flying straight over them.
Dave saw one militiaman fire his MAK-90 at the bird.
“CEASE FIRE!” Dave yelled. The man looked at him quizzically.
“You stupid SOB! What the F$&% are you doing, trying to get us killed? How many
times do we have to say it? NO SHOOTING AT HELICOPTERS IF THEY ARE NOT
SHOOTING AT US!”
The man looked chagrined. Dave was seriously PO’ed.
“Unload that weapon and help carry a poncho, dumbass,” Dave ordered. The man
unloaded the rifle and Dave again took up the flight, moving quickly through the sparse
brush. Soon they reached the secondary hides. These were prepared bunkers with
interlocking fields of fire, shaped like a horseshoe. If there were pursuers, they would
walk into the horseshoe and take fire from three sides. One end of the horseshoe was
closed by a water cooled Maxim, and it was into that bunker that Dave finally slipped
into. There were four “picket” bunkers, well camouflaged and hidden, basically one
person listening posts. They would report enemy movement but would not engage. They
were merely early warning posts.
Dave settled in with the others in the bunker, two of the three who had manned the gun
during the Chinook ambush. The men nodded to Dave but remained intensely focused on
their sector of fire. They were expecting the ISAF to track them, and were hoping to thin
the herd shortly. The air support didn’t surprise them-they had expected it. And the ISAF
didn’t know, but the free men and women who they faced held all of the aces.
The lead ISAF scout ship flew over the scene. “We have four burning APC’s, and we can
see many dead men on the ground-they appear to all be ours,” the observer reported.
Above him, in the Command and Control ship the Colonel swore. The Spring offensive
wasn’t starting out as he had planned. “Land the QRF and get me more attack helicopters.
Alert the reaction company and Brigade command. We seem to have found a hornets
nest.”
“Roger,” came the reply.
Seven UH-1H Huey helos swept in and quickly disgorged their cargoes of warm bodies
into a nearby cornfield. 56 ISAF troops swept into a skirmish line as they carefully went
over the ambush site. They found no survivors. The passage of the militia was obvious,
and the Germans had no trouble tracking them. To their rear another four Hueys landed
and German crews set up four 81mm mortars, under the observation of five teams of
rebel marksmen.
============================================
The TA-1 field radio in the position clicked. Dave answered.
“Position 1.”
“Dave, LP/OP reports ‘as if’ troops moving up. Have your team wait for the signal.”
“Gotcha,” said Dave, “Guys,” he addressed the two men, “LP/OP reports the Krauts are
coming. Wait for the signal.”
Both men nodded their understanding. The assistant readied several boxes of ammo.
Dave opened an ammo can and refilled his ammo pouches with loaded magazines, then
took the empty magazines from the front of his shirt and refilled them from stripper clips
from yet another can. His pack was in a small “pack bunker” behind the one he was in.
His other rocket was propped up near the entrance of the bunker. Dave shrugged off his
LBE but kept his chest pouch with it’s ten magazines on. Drinking from one of his two
canteens, he shivered as the sweat on his body dried. He thought about getting his
polypro top from his pack, but then figured he’d be warm again soon enough. Better to
shiver now than sweat like a dog in a half hour, when he might need not to.
Up and down the line militia fighters readied themselves. They had been busy all winter,
and were now armed with a wide variety of weapons. There were several long barreled
AK’s that had been converted to full auto and were equipped with all of the 75 round
drum mags the militia could scrounge. The two Browning .30's in town were also on the
line, as were a large number of fully automatic heavy barreled AR’s and several captured
MG-3’s. The state had provided an additional number of M-60’s to the town, and the
venerable old gun was also represented The others were armed with mostly AR’s and the
M-4’s supplied by the state, and there were a smattering of captured G-36’s, which were
becoming a status symbol among the men. The heavy barreled AR’s were supplied with a
large number of loaded magazines, and Dave had contributed his three Sterling 40
rounders to a heavy barreled auto rifleman, a 17 year old fighter. Dave made sure that the
gunners had clear fields of fire, and then turned his attention to a long black case on the
side of the position.
He undid the four latches holding it closed and looked inside. His Remington 700 PSS
lay just as he had left it, it’s camouflage green and brown paint showing dully in the
darkened pit. He picked it up and opened the action. Using a bore snake he wiped the
bore and loaded four rounds of Match ammo. Closing the bolt over the top round, he put
the safety on and opened the covers on the 10 power Tasco Super Sniper scope. Ensuring
that the lenses were clean, he closed them and opened a box of Match ammo. He filled
the butt cuff with rounds, and closed the case. Morton, the assistant gunner, hissed to
Dave “We’ve got movement!”
Dave moved to the second firing slit to the right of the gun and peeked out. Three men in
flec camo were moving in a wedge, spread out about 20 yards, moving quickly but
cautiously. Watching through a small pair of binos, Dave noted that all had full size G-
36’s, one with a 40mm grenade launcher mounted. All were wearing heavy body armor.
All three froze behind cover when a Cobra bearing large black Maltese Crosses roared
overhead. Dave crossed his fingers and hoped no one would fire at the buzzing hornet
above them. As the sound of the AH’1’s turbine faded, the three men were up and
moving. As they moved beyond Daves vision more men came into view, all dressed and
armed the same. Moving in fire team wedges, they were staggered, spread from one end
of the draw to another. Dave noted two RPG teams. “Must be using old East German
ones,” Dave mused to himself. Then the command group passed, two men armed with G-
36K’s and with four RTO’s surrounding them. Also with him were two men in GI BDU’s
carrying M-4 carbines.
Dave picked up the TA-1 and pushed the dynamo that would make the phone at other end
ring. “Command group passing, sticking out like a sore thumb.”
When he heard the acknowledgement, he returned the phone to its place and went back to
the firing port. When he looked out, the Germans were stopped. At an unseen signal the
men spread out and took up positions behind trees.
Dave was startled, even though he was expecting it. The simultaneous detonation of
fourteen Claymore mines rocked the draw. Almost immediately the sound of several
dozens weapons firing covered the reverberating sound of the mines. The Germans tried
to return fire, but they hadn’t a chance. Swept by six belt fed machineguns and over a
dozen magazine fed automatic rifles, the arcs of fire covered all possible hiding spots
from at least one angle. In addition, men like Dave were picking off individual targets as
they could. The old Maxim next to Dave poured out an almost continuous stream of
deadly fire-with water the gun could fire at its cyclic rate indefinitely without harm.
Dave quickly worked through the first four rounds in his Remmy and ducked down to
reload. As he did the bunker shuddered and the sounds of chopper blades shook the
ground. The TA-1 was clacking, and Dave wouldn’t have noticed except that his head
was right next to it.
“Maxim,” he said.
“Dave, we’ve got a Cobra making runs on us. Can you guys get a shot?”
“No way,”
“All right, we’ll try something.”
Dave heard the sound of something being launched and an explosion. Looking through
his port he could hear the Cobra hovering and firing its rockets into the bunker line, but
he couldn’t see it. Dave stood the rifle in the corner and with his CAR-15 flopping went
to the bunkers entrance. The Cobra was hovering just over the treetops, and the MG’s in
the bunkers couldn’t bring fire on him. Dave grabbed the AT-4 and at a crouch exited the
bunker. Dropping, he crawled over the crest of the hill and then stood up and ran as the
Cobra fired another rocket. Following the rockets path he saw it hit one of the .30 cal
bunkers directly, logs and dirt flying up into the air. Dave pulled the safety pin as he ran,
and cocked the rocket. Seeing a clear view, he stopped and backed up. He quickly aimed
and fired. At first he thought the rocket had exploded-he was showered with dirt and
debris, and the back of his legs burned. Checking quickly he realized that he had almost
been killed by the backblast from the rocket. Looking up, the Cobra was gone. That ought
to keep him away for a few minutes thought Dave as he dropped the fired rocket tube and
raced back to his bunker.
Dave returned to see a twisted mass of smoking logs that was the bunker next to his. He
ducked into the Maxim bunker to see Morton dressing a wound on Ernie, the gunners,
arm. “We don’t have time for that,” hollered Dave over the din. He stepped over Ernie
and grabbed the spades. A cluster of Germans was running past, to the rear. Dave lit them
up, the cocking handle on the right side of the gun making a blurring motion in his
peripheral vision. All five dropped in a heap as the Devils Paintbrush colored them dead.
Ernie came up alongside him and readied another belt of ammo. Dave fired continuously,
sweeping the gun from side to side. Suddenly the sound of gunfire was overwhelmed by
the sound of rotor blades. Ernie looked at Dave with fear filled eyes.
“Shyte, we’re toast now,” he said, even as he loaded a fresh belt into the smoking
feedblock.
Dave smiled. “No, I think the cavalry is here.”
==============================================
As the echo from the Claymore blast reached the little clearing where the mortar crews
were waiting, the sniper teams tensed. The Germans quickly scrambled to put rounds
downrange. As four sets of hands were readying the first of many stacked high explosive
rounds, five pairs of trigger fingers tightened. When the sounds of gunfire reached them
the fingers tightened, and eight of the German crewmen fell. Looking around in
confusion, the other Germans had but a moment before ten more shots rang out. The rest
dropped lifelessly to the ground. More shots rang out as riflemen put black tipped
reloaded armor piercing rounds through the tubes. And as quickly as that, the teams fell
back, melting into the forest.
The German security team near the mortars ran to the men to find most dead and several
seriously wounded. Some men fired randomly into the hills around them, but by then the
teams were over the crests and safe from direct fire. The air throbbed and the German
radio operator handed the mike to his CO, who tried to contact the choppers on the
frequency for air ops. Nothing. He turned as the throbbing got louder, and saw a flight of
Apaches approaching. He waved to them, and the lead ship with his wing turned towards
him. The German Captain waved the microphone at the helo, trying to let the idiot know
he wasn’t on the correct push.
===========================================
“Whiskey lead to Whiskey Two, I have troops in the open. Engage on my lead.”
“Roger.”
“Tom, you got them?” the pilot asked his gunner, who was looking from side to side.
“Yup. Some idiot is waving at us.”
“Light’em up.”
Tom’s finger tightened on the trigger on his joystick, and the nose mounted 25mm chain
gun roared, the high explosive rounds chewing up the clearing. He flipped a switch and
sent a salvo of FFAR, folding fin aerial rockets, 2.75 inches in diameter and packing the
punch of a 105mm howitzer round, into the clearing. The men in the clearing disappeared
in a cloud of black smoke. Another salvo from the trail ship rocked the woodline,
destroying a German troop truck.
====================================
The German Captain watched in horror as the Apaches fired at his men, the rounds
tearing up terrain all around him. “Idiots” he screamed to no one “We’re on your side!”
His final cry was cut short by fragments from a rocket, his voice dying on the wind as his
life bled from him.
“Killed by my own men,” were his last thoughts.
=======================================
The militia once again swept the field, rounding up wounded men and collecting weapons,
ammo, gear, and emptying the pockets of the dead. They captured 7 wounded Germans,
one wounded American, and one American who had not even a single scratch. Following
the doctrine of “Silence, Segregate, Separate, and Speed” the wounded were taken to
different areas to be treated, and the American was bound, blindfolded, and led away.
After the wounded were stabilized they would be taken to NHDF HQ for a thorough
interrogation. The Americans, too, although they faced the possibility of firing squad for
treason.
=======================================
“President Billary today announced a new offensive against the areas of America
currently in open defiance of the Federal government.” President Billary’s annoying
voice came over the radio, “….and we will root out the leaders of this movement of open
defiance of the controlling national authority, and try them for treason….’ And she had
this to say about reports of mass desertions of US Military units, ‘These reports are
merely propaganda designed to weaken the American peoples resolve. These are a few
zealots who oppose reasonable gun control, public education, and other progressive
programs. It’s hard for some to believe that there were so many racists and domestic
terrorists out there, but we will root them out and we will bring them to justice.’
“President Billary’s press spokesperson, Heather Lyalott, denied rumors that entire units
of ISAF forces had been destroyed, as reported by the Manchester New Hampshire
‘Union Leader’. Stating that the Union Leader was a known mouthpiece for the, quote,
'radical right wing fringe’, unquote, she assured America that in the future such
irresponsible reporting would be subjected to stronger government oversight. ‘We cannot
have people abusing the First Amendment in such an irresponsible manner, spreading
fear and untruths’ she is reported to have said.”
“In other news, three more Senators were killed last night as the wave of terrorism
continues, bringing to fifteen the number killed since the Spring offensive began two
weeks ago. A large number of representatives on the state level have been killed, also. A
message put out by an organization calling itself the “America Terrorist Liberation
Organization”, or ATLO, has announced that the killings will not stop. They are targeting
persons who have, in the past, supported gun control, the United Nations, the taking of
private property for the public good, and, according to their information, anyone who
supports the ISAF presence in the United States, and anyone else they consider to be
‘domestic enemies of the Constitution.’ The FBI is investigating, and Congress will vote
today to let the Central intelligence Agency amend its charter to allow it to operate within
the borders of the United States.”
“On to sports....."
Chapter 24
Dave grinned as he shook Sam's hand and presented her with a computer printed, framed
award-the militia didn't have the wherewithal for medals, and resorted to other methods
of recognition. In this case it was an awards ceremony in the gym of the local high school.
There wasn't an empty seat in the place. As the crowd applauded Sam blushed and went
to join the rest of the awardees on stage. As she did the crowd stood to give a standing
ovation to the 23 people on stage, all being recognized for their assistance in the war
effort-from Mrs. Magee, the teacher who was instrumental in setting up local schoolswith
little gas to spare the one room schoolhouse was back in vogue-to Doc, whose
commo net was considered instrumental in saving more than one infant whose Mom was
having tough labor, among its other successes.
Dave waited a few minutes for the crowd to show its appreciation and for the awardees to
bask n the limelight.
As the crowd settled down, Dave announced "That's it for now, folks. If our distinguished
guests," he nodded towards the awardees, "would like to sit down, Jim would like to
address everyone before we go."
Jim was walking up the stairs to the stage. "Hold it right there, Dave." Jim pointed at the
awardees, "There should be one more person there."
Dave looked at the list in his hands. He was sure he had gotten everyone. At least, he had
given out all of the awards they had made up.
"Dave McGrath, attention to orders!" barked Jim.
Dave snapped to attention, more out of habit than anything else. After all these years
some things were reflex.
"For single handedly destroying the Red Barons reign of terror over our beloved valley,
the Pine Tree Irregulars present you with the 'Order of Snoopy, First Class'." He walked
up to Dave and held the award up for the crowd to see. Dave grinned. It was a Snoopy
pin, the Beagle wearing his aviators hat, with scarf and swagger stick. Behind was affixed
a red, white, and blue ribbon.
Jim pinned it on Dave, and then told the town, "As you know, Dave here single handedly
shot down a German Cobra attack helicopter with an anti tank rocket, and almost fried
himself doing so. In fact, I think his legs are still smoking from that stunt." The crowd
laughed. Dave grimaced. His legs did still sting a bit. "And Dave didn't even know he hit
the damned thing until we told him at the AAR two days later." More laughter. No one
had been more surprised than Dave had been when he was thanked by a man from the
other side of the horseshoe for knocking out the snake. 17 people had died in their
bunkers from direct 2.75 inch rocket hits.
"All right, enough of that. You guys should all go home and not celebrate. I put you all
on patrol tonight!" Said Jim affectionately. The awardees all laughed as they filed off of
the stage.
----------------------------------
NHDF had told the units in the southern half of the state to expect a large assault by the
ISAF forces. Their moles with ISAF as well as reports from the occupied areas had all
reported large buildups of vehicles and men in the last few weeks.
The basic plan was for the NHDF line units to do what they could to stop them, but they
didn't have the troops or transports to fight a regular war against a large ISAF army. The
plan that evolved was for the militia to fight a guerilla war against the ISAF-hit and run
all the way. The NHDF would pick a time and place to dig in and hold, and the guerillas
would pick away at the ISAF flanks and rear areas as they could. One contingency even
called for militia units to infiltrate south and wage war deep in the enemies rear areas.
To this end the militia worked on decentralizing. They organized as many men and
women as they could into two man teams, each armed with at least one scoped high
power rifle. They still encouraged teams of friends for organization into larger teamsthese
ranged from 6 to 32 people. Other teams were organized, too. Medical units,
commo, transport, safe houses, caching teams, depending on the capabilities of the
volunteers. Some folks were simply not in any condition to fight on the front lines-too old,
debilitating illnesses and infirmities, or other handicaps. But a man who couldn't run 50
yards on an arthritic knee could drive an F-250 full of supplies back and forth or work in
an aid station.
Dave and his crew, with Jim and a three person staff-Sam for commo, Will, the EMT, as
medical chief, and Jims father, Charlie, as supply NCO and driver, planned to operate
together as much as they could. To a man they all carried fully automatic CAR-15's or M-
4's, and almost all the teams had two scoped precision rifles. Steve had a single shot .50
and his team consisted of three men to support the heavy weapon.
--------------------------------------------
Dave and Tony were a team. Tony had left his beloved G-36 with Sandy and carried a
captured M-4 Carbine. Dave had swapped out the three round burst mechanism for a
spare set of M-16 internals. As he told Tony, if you need rock and roll, you don't need
three round burst-you might need thirty round burst. They carried Daves Remington PSS
in .308 as well. Tony carried a camouflaged rubber armored spotting scope that was
Daves, as well as a 10 meter radio and battery with solar charger.
Dave and Tony had packed their rucks the same way, Dave using his trusty civilian pack
he had humped from Connecticut, Tony using his civvie pack, long hence dyed black.
The packs were loaded identically, as were all of the militias.
In the bottom they each carried a sleeping bag in a waterproof bag. In the left side pouch
was a first aid kit , bandoleer of .223 ammo, and a poncho or other rain gear.
In the right side pouch was a weapons cleaning kit, a hygiene kit, spare socks and foot
powder, and toilet paper.
In the top flap pouch was a Claymore mine, heat tabs, and stripped MRE.
In the main compartment flap pouch was a heavy space blanket and maps of their AO.
In the main compartment they carried, by SOP, at least one spare pair of pants, five pair
of clean socks, a spare t-shirt, black watch cap, a jacket or heavy shirt of some type, more
ammo, a poncho and 550 cord for shelter, and food.
A two quart canteen was carried on the outside of the pack unless the person had a
Camleback type bladder in their pack. Dave and Tony also had a spare SAW ammo
pouch clipped onto the outside compression strap that carried between them spare
Match .308 ammo, camo creme, a pocket Bible, smoke grenades, three skyrocket signal
flares, booby trap wire and seven improvised booby traps, knife steel, duct tape, 550 cord,
butane lighters, a sewing kit, and a small mirror.
In their top left pockets they carried a small notebook and pencils. In the right was a
small compass.
Additionally they all carried pocket knives and/or multi tools in their pants, along with a
firestarter. Dave and Tony each had a magnesium block with a short piece of hacksaw
blade attached. These were dummy corded the a belt loop.
Dave and Tony each wore USGI LBE's-Tony being largely equipped from Daves stock
of extra LBE he had squirreled away "just in case".
Daves consisted of four 3x30 round ammo pouches, a large accessory pouch (which was
sold as a hunting pouch at large retailers before the crisis). Dave found it ideal for empty
mags, a small flashlight, his multi tool, camo creme, and whatever else he might need.
Also two one quart canteens with cups and a canteen cup stove, three first aid pouches,
two with two pressure dressings each, the third with a 20 round magazine of tracer. A
buttpack completed the ensemble. When he wore the pack it would be detached and
clipped to the pack itself the enable him to wear the pack comfortably.
In the grenade holders of the ammo pouches Dave carried a Buck Nighthawk knife, a roll
of black electricians tape, some rolled 550 cord, and hanging from a carabiner a pair of
black GI leather gloves. He also carried two fragmentation grenades.
In this he carried 9 AR magazines and two boxes of .308 Match.
Tony's LBE setup was similar, and each carried a small day pack rolled up under the top
flap of their rucks. Each also carried a neutral colored ensolite pad for sleeping on or for
using in a hide.
Daves PSS was carried in a GI parachutists weapons bag that was attached to his pack. It
provided protection and relatively easy access. Both packs wore identical camouflaged
covers, as Dave had helped Tony make one over the winter.
They had a small night vision scope, which had been made by taking an AN-PVS 5
goggle apart, separating the two image intensifiers into two handheld observation devices.
It operated on AA size batteries and was smaller, lighter, and had better resolution than
any cheap set they had tried.
Each two or three man team carried one e-tool, a hatchet or saw, a water filter, and if they
wanted a small camp stove. Dave and Tony opted for more heat tabs over the stove.
Dave and Tony both also carried .45 pistols, with four magazines apiece. They carried no
extra .45 ammo.
Daves CAR 15 had a lightweight 16" barrel, Vortex flash hider, and tritium sights. He
had been using an electronic sight, but opted to take it off for this mission. Tony's M-4
had a flip up sight that it had come with, and mounted a small, 2.5 power scope that had
been designed for turkey hunting. it reticle didn't cross, it formed a circle. Tony liked it
because at close range all he had to do was put the target in the circle and pull the trigger.
And longer range he had it zeroed so that he could use the bottom crosshair where it
joined the circle as an aiming point.
The irregulars planned to stash their packs and using day packs and buttpacks operate for
two or three days away from the large rucks, returning for resupply only when they had
to. This would help them remain agile and mobile in the field.
---------------------------------------------
So it cam as no surprise when Dave was awakened one night by the emergency tone
coming over his two meter base station radio. He woke quickly and when the signal
stopped reported in, as did several others. Jimmy, one of the commo volunteers, came
over the air. "About an hour ago a large force of ISAF forces launched a coordinated
attack against southern New Hampshire in the Manchester and Portsmouth corridors. We
know that NHDF forces are heavily engaged at this time. All units are ordered to disperse
immediately and begin offensive operations against any and all ISAF forces. NHDF
command reiterates the strategic and tactical importance of our..." his voice paused. Dave
figured he was turning the page on a prepared script, which is exactly what he was doing.
Jimmy again read, "...mission. This message will repeat every fifteen minutes for the next
ninety minutes, at which time we will switch to combat communications." Jimmy's voice
quivered, "God Bless you all, and good hunting." Jimmy had added the last, and Dave
knew he meant it sincerely.
Dave put on sweat pants over his underwear, and pulled on a pair of thick socks. it was a
chilly Spring morning. he went up the hall and knocked on Tony's door. After knocking a
few times, Rhonda's head appeared. With bleary eyes she said, "Dave, what's wrong?
C'mon in...."
"That's OK, thanks. Can you wake up Tony and let him know that the ISAF has invaded?
They're over by Manchester, but we've got orders to deploy."
"Yeah, sure Dave. I'll have him meet you downstairs."
"Thanks Rhonda," smiled Dave.
Rhonda smiled back sleepily, "I'm gonna be awfully upset when I wake up." She shut the
door quietly as Dave turned away. Dave returned to his room and woke Sandy. Briefing
her as he dressed, Dave left his wallet and keys on the dresser and put on his old pair of
dog tags.
When Dave got downstairs Rhonda was heating water for tea over a kerosene lamp.
"Tony's in the basement getting his gear," she said to Dave by way of greeting, "I'll have
eggs going in a minute, the stove was still warm and I threw in a couple more logs."
"Thanks," said Dave. He heard Sandy coming downstairs as he went tot he cellar door,
where he meet a fully laden Tony coming up.
"Why do they have to do this stuff at inconvenient times?" he quipped.
Dave laughed quietly, "Just proves the ISAF are inconsiderate jerks."
In a few minute Daves gear joined Tony's by the door, and they sat down to an early
breakfast with their wives. It was a quiet meal as the all knew it could be the last meal
they ever ate together. As they finished, Dave and Sandy went into the living room to say
their goodbyes, leaving Tony and Rhonda to do the same.
-----------------------------------------
Sandy drove them to Jims house, where the militia was meeting. After watching her go,
Dave dropped most of his gear outside the barn, where it joined a large rank of rucksacks
and LBEs of those already there.
"We are going to deploy as a unit and set up a patrol base," Jim was saying, "and then fan
out to our zones from there. If you run into any 'as if' forces, get on the horn and let us
know. We can make a hasty plan from there, depending on the size and composition of
the enemy forces. As we've discussed," he continued, nodding at Dave a he came in,
"we'll fight a delaying action and try to slow them up until we can amass a force large
enough to confront them. Any questions? We've covered all of this before, so I don’t
expect too many. Sam has a bunch of papers for you, codes, brevities, and such.
Remember what to do if you are compromised and forced to radio in to us." Everyone
nodded grimly. They had prearranged codewords and phrases to use of they were caught
and broadcasting under duress.
"Remember, we don't know what they will do to us if we're captured. They may treat as
guerillas, they may treat us a POW's under the Geneva convention. Our treatment of their
prisoners may help us in that regard."
Everyone nodded in assent. "The primary goal is intel, then delay. We've got a few more
people on their way, but we might as well start our inspection now. I want you all to
spread out your gear outside and Dave and I will inspect it. Dave will inspect me first,
and I'll do him. I know he's packed something useless, like fuzzy slippers or something."
Every one laughed, and headed outside. Dave stayed behind to speak to Jim.
"What do you hear from NHDF?"
"Nothing new. They are fairly busy right now in their sector, but if we have significant
activity they will send us what they can spare. Let's check these guys out. I want to be
able to roll as soon as the last guys are done."
"OK, let's do it."
---------------------------------------
The inspection served more to determine who was short critical equipment. After re
verifying their weapons zeros on Jims backyard range, they piled their rucks into two
pickups and headed into the mountains. After a ride of some two hours they were
dropped of and headed out to their OP.
"Scott, your team has point, Dave take slack. We all know where we are going, but we
don't know if there are recon teams out there already. Let's keep our intervals and don't be
slack. We could get ambushed on the way in or not see anything for a month. Treat it like
we might get ambushed at any time."
Scott and his wingman moved out, the rest of the militia filing in behind them. Dave
waited for his pack to get comfortable. He always found the first hour or so the worst, as
his body adjusted to the weight of the pack and his legs warmed up to the movement. he
also had to get used to being dirty all of the time-he found that the worst for the first two
days, then he got used to that, too.
He and Tony moved out last, covering their backtrail. As they knew where they were
going they moved slowly, stopping frequently to cover the rear for anyone following
them. Dave's inner voice drifted as his consciousness drifted. He took comfort in the
familiar feel of the LBE and weapon. This always took him back to his past. How many
days and nights had he spent bent under the weight of similar loads? A lot more than he
could remember, for certain. Dave smiled. There was something happy about it to him,
somewhere inside. Memories of friendships forged in hardship, and validation through
hard work and being good at the work. He looked at Tony, who was fitting right in. What
a transformation he had made. in some ways he was showing more moxie than Dave was,
as he had begun with no military experience and no survival mindset. But he had
acquitted himself well in the three actions he had been in. Dave smiled again. Once again
he was reverting to his inner animal, and somewhere in the primordial depths of his DNA
it was good.
Dave leaned his back against a small Birch tree to catch his breath. Spring was here in the
north country, the woods were alive with the sounds of birds returning from their winter
sojourns in warmer climes. Dave closed his eyes. What a winter. He had spent most of it
cutting firewood which he bartered around for the little his family needed. Quite a bit was
flat out given to folks who needed it. But he had managed to get a milk cow, fodder for
the cow (his boys had named her Bossie), a dozen laying hens, a rooster and twelve more
Rhode Island Red hens for breeding, and enough chicken feed to last a year. Having
enough gas to make wood deliveries was an advantage Dave hadn’t thought of so long
ago. He had a farmer who was going pay him in a few weeks with a sow and her piglets,
which would mean meat through the year. He had also taken the boys hunting, each of
them taking small game with their pellet guns and the .22 rifles Dave had for them, both
of which were handed down from his uncle. The time spent with his family was the best
of all. The boys had accompanied Dave when he had gotten the moose with his trusty old
Lee Enfield, and the moose antlers now adorned the wall in the boys bedroom. Daves
pack contained a fair amount of jerked moose meat, and Dave took pride in the fact that
he had prepared to provide for his family in times such as these.
Leaves and bark fell down from the Birch tree as it was cut by a stream of heavy caliber
machinegun bullets. Dave was shaken from his moment of reflection and rolled over,
seeking the protection of the low tussock that the Birch sprouted from. He clicked his
push to talk button “Does anyone see that .50?”
Steve replied “Yeah, it’s down the hill, on the road. Krauts on a 113,” meaning an M-113
armored personnel carrier. Dave sighed, and reached for his large ALICE pack, releasing
the straps that held one of two long olive drab tubes to its side. Dave pulled the safety pin
on the rear of the M-136 rocket, cocked it, and uncovered the sights, which popped up
with small snapping sounds. Gripping the sling with his left hand, he shouldered the
rocket. “How far?” he asked.
“About 175 meters,” came the terse reply.
“I’m gonna take it, cover me.”
Dave’s answer was a sudden cacophony of gunfire from Steve’s position, which quickly
spread up and down the line of militiamen.
Dave rolled to his right and knelt, just his eyes peering over the edge. He heard the fifty
firing again, but it was aimed away from him. He raised himself to a crouch, high enough
for the rockets fins to clear the earth when he fired, and saw the green and brown
camouflaged APC downhill and almost straight away from him. Pressing down the safety
he squeezed the “trigger” and the rocket launcher belched flame and smoke as it fired it’s
deadly 84mm cargo. Dave saw the red trace element in the back end of the rocket as it
streaked downhill and struck the APCs hull directly above the second road wheel. The
explosion rocked the track as Dave dropped down, discarded the tube, grabbed his pack
and pulled it away from where he had fired. Tracers crisscrossed the firing point as Dave
crawled away. Moments later the Birch tree was toppled as a 40mm grenade from the
dismount ISAF infantry got their act together and returned some effective fire. Dave
popped the straps on the other rocket and abandoned his pack. Shouldering the 15 pound
package, he high crawled behind a large Oak tree and peered around its trunk. The M-113
was in flames, the gunner gone, the fifty pointing straight up in its mount, flames and
black smoke billowing from the open hatches.
”You are a ‘Go’ at this station,” thought Dave to himself, as he saw an ISAF trooper
kneel a little higher to get off a shot from his G-36. Dave snapped his CAR-15 up and the
red dot of the Aimpoint sight centered on the mans chest. Dave fired once, twice, and the
man fell over. Dave executed a “combat roll to his non firing side” and made haste to
another spot.
“There’s another track coming up the road,” an unidentified voice said in his ear. A
Whooosh BOOM told him another AT-4 had found its mark.
“Scratch that one,” he heard Will say. Dave smiled. Will was doing all right. He had
moved into Sams house shortly after she had turned eighteen, with her parents blessing,
and they planned to marry next Fall.
Dave found another tree and did his peek and look. He saw two ISAF troops rushing
forward, one carrying a machinegun, another with each hand holding two ammunition
cans for the gun. With their flec camo, Fritz pattern helmets, and MG-3 they looked all
the world like a WWII MG-42 team on the Eastern Front. Dave shot both at a range of
about 40 Yards with five quick shots, as a stream of tracers from their own MG-3 laid a
stream of fire across the German line. The ISAF men were being cut down as the volume
of fire from the Americans increased. Dave added his fire to the symphony, changing
magazines as fast as they emptied. Suddenly their were no more targets.
“Cease fire, cease fire,” came the call up and down the line.
Daves radio crackled “Red and Blue Teams, search and clear. White and Black cover. All
others withdraw,” said the calm voice of Jim. Men and a few women rushed forward,
some with pistols and shotguns in hand, their rifles slung. Shots rang out as they
approached the bodies-no sense in searching a guy if you weren’t sure he was dead. They
quickly loaded weapons, ammo, and gear onto ponchos, and by fours returned with their
heavy loads. Some were grinning. One unrecognizable camo painted face went by and
said “Nice shot, Dave!” Dave nodded thanks and returned to sweeping his sector.
He cocked his head and then stood up and yelled “Birds inbound! Birds inbound! Move
the rally point, now, all colors!”
He heard the cry get passed up the line and then heard Jims whistle blow, three longs and
a short. Fall back, NOW! Dave dropped the rocket, slung his pack, picked up the rocket,
and joined teams in falling back to their prepared positions further in the woods. As they
ran they heard the sound of explosions ripping the treeline as the ISAF Cobra gunships
fired their 2.75 inch rockets into the recently abandoned ambush site. Dave stopped as
one Cobra swept over them and everyone froze, but the bird was flying straight over them.
Dave saw one militiaman fire his MAK-90 at the bird.
“CEASE FIRE!” Dave yelled. The man looked at him quizzically.
“You stupid SOB! What the F$&% are you doing, trying to get us killed? How many
times do we have to say it? NO SHOOTING AT HELICOPTERS IF THEY ARE NOT
SHOOTING AT US!”
The man looked chagrined. Dave was seriously PO’ed.
“Unload that weapon and help carry a poncho, dumbass,” Dave ordered. The man
unloaded the rifle and Dave again took up the flight, moving quickly through the sparse
brush. Soon they reached the secondary hides. These were prepared bunkers with
interlocking fields of fire, shaped like a horseshoe. If there were pursuers, they would
walk into the horseshoe and take fire from three sides. One end of the horseshoe was
closed by a water cooled Maxim, and it was into that bunker that Dave finally slipped
into. There were four “picket” bunkers, well camouflaged and hidden, basically one
person listening posts. They would report enemy movement but would not engage. They
were merely early warning posts.
Dave settled in with the others in the bunker, two of the three who had manned the gun
during the Chinook ambush. The men nodded to Dave but remained intensely focused on
their sector of fire. They were expecting the ISAF to track them, and were hoping to thin
the herd shortly. The air support didn’t surprise them-they had expected it. And the ISAF
didn’t know, but the free men and women who they faced held all of the aces.
The lead ISAF scout ship flew over the scene. “We have four burning APC’s, and we can
see many dead men on the ground-they appear to all be ours,” the observer reported.
Above him, in the Command and Control ship the Colonel swore. The Spring offensive
wasn’t starting out as he had planned. “Land the QRF and get me more attack helicopters.
Alert the reaction company and Brigade command. We seem to have found a hornets
nest.”
“Roger,” came the reply.
Seven UH-1H Huey helos swept in and quickly disgorged their cargoes of warm bodies
into a nearby cornfield. 56 ISAF troops swept into a skirmish line as they carefully went
over the ambush site. They found no survivors. The passage of the militia was obvious,
and the Germans had no trouble tracking them. To their rear another four Hueys landed
and German crews set up four 81mm mortars, under the observation of five teams of
rebel marksmen.
============================================
The TA-1 field radio in the position clicked. Dave answered.
“Position 1.”
“Dave, LP/OP reports ‘as if’ troops moving up. Have your team wait for the signal.”
“Gotcha,” said Dave, “Guys,” he addressed the two men, “LP/OP reports the Krauts are
coming. Wait for the signal.”
Both men nodded their understanding. The assistant readied several boxes of ammo.
Dave opened an ammo can and refilled his ammo pouches with loaded magazines, then
took the empty magazines from the front of his shirt and refilled them from stripper clips
from yet another can. His pack was in a small “pack bunker” behind the one he was in.
His other rocket was propped up near the entrance of the bunker. Dave shrugged off his
LBE but kept his chest pouch with it’s ten magazines on. Drinking from one of his two
canteens, he shivered as the sweat on his body dried. He thought about getting his
polypro top from his pack, but then figured he’d be warm again soon enough. Better to
shiver now than sweat like a dog in a half hour, when he might need not to.
Up and down the line militia fighters readied themselves. They had been busy all winter,
and were now armed with a wide variety of weapons. There were several long barreled
AK’s that had been converted to full auto and were equipped with all of the 75 round
drum mags the militia could scrounge. The two Browning .30's in town were also on the
line, as were a large number of fully automatic heavy barreled AR’s and several captured
MG-3’s. The state had provided an additional number of M-60’s to the town, and the
venerable old gun was also represented The others were armed with mostly AR’s and the
M-4’s supplied by the state, and there were a smattering of captured G-36’s, which were
becoming a status symbol among the men. The heavy barreled AR’s were supplied with a
large number of loaded magazines, and Dave had contributed his three Sterling 40
rounders to a heavy barreled auto rifleman, a 17 year old fighter. Dave made sure that the
gunners had clear fields of fire, and then turned his attention to a long black case on the
side of the position.
He undid the four latches holding it closed and looked inside. His Remington 700 PSS
lay just as he had left it, it’s camouflage green and brown paint showing dully in the
darkened pit. He picked it up and opened the action. Using a bore snake he wiped the
bore and loaded four rounds of Match ammo. Closing the bolt over the top round, he put
the safety on and opened the covers on the 10 power Tasco Super Sniper scope. Ensuring
that the lenses were clean, he closed them and opened a box of Match ammo. He filled
the butt cuff with rounds, and closed the case. Morton, the assistant gunner, hissed to
Dave “We’ve got movement!”
Dave moved to the second firing slit to the right of the gun and peeked out. Three men in
flec camo were moving in a wedge, spread out about 20 yards, moving quickly but
cautiously. Watching through a small pair of binos, Dave noted that all had full size G-
36’s, one with a 40mm grenade launcher mounted. All were wearing heavy body armor.
All three froze behind cover when a Cobra bearing large black Maltese Crosses roared
overhead. Dave crossed his fingers and hoped no one would fire at the buzzing hornet
above them. As the sound of the AH’1’s turbine faded, the three men were up and
moving. As they moved beyond Daves vision more men came into view, all dressed and
armed the same. Moving in fire team wedges, they were staggered, spread from one end
of the draw to another. Dave noted two RPG teams. “Must be using old East German
ones,” Dave mused to himself. Then the command group passed, two men armed with G-
36K’s and with four RTO’s surrounding them. Also with him were two men in GI BDU’s
carrying M-4 carbines.
Dave picked up the TA-1 and pushed the dynamo that would make the phone at other end
ring. “Command group passing, sticking out like a sore thumb.”
When he heard the acknowledgement, he returned the phone to its place and went back to
the firing port. When he looked out, the Germans were stopped. At an unseen signal the
men spread out and took up positions behind trees.
Dave was startled, even though he was expecting it. The simultaneous detonation of
fourteen Claymore mines rocked the draw. Almost immediately the sound of several
dozens weapons firing covered the reverberating sound of the mines. The Germans tried
to return fire, but they hadn’t a chance. Swept by six belt fed machineguns and over a
dozen magazine fed automatic rifles, the arcs of fire covered all possible hiding spots
from at least one angle. In addition, men like Dave were picking off individual targets as
they could. The old Maxim next to Dave poured out an almost continuous stream of
deadly fire-with water the gun could fire at its cyclic rate indefinitely without harm.
Dave quickly worked through the first four rounds in his Remmy and ducked down to
reload. As he did the bunker shuddered and the sounds of chopper blades shook the
ground. The TA-1 was clacking, and Dave wouldn’t have noticed except that his head
was right next to it.
“Maxim,” he said.
“Dave, we’ve got a Cobra making runs on us. Can you guys get a shot?”
“No way,”
“All right, we’ll try something.”
Dave heard the sound of something being launched and an explosion. Looking through
his port he could hear the Cobra hovering and firing its rockets into the bunker line, but
he couldn’t see it. Dave stood the rifle in the corner and with his CAR-15 flopping went
to the bunkers entrance. The Cobra was hovering just over the treetops, and the MG’s in
the bunkers couldn’t bring fire on him. Dave grabbed the AT-4 and at a crouch exited the
bunker. Dropping, he crawled over the crest of the hill and then stood up and ran as the
Cobra fired another rocket. Following the rockets path he saw it hit one of the .30 cal
bunkers directly, logs and dirt flying up into the air. Dave pulled the safety pin as he ran,
and cocked the rocket. Seeing a clear view, he stopped and backed up. He quickly aimed
and fired. At first he thought the rocket had exploded-he was showered with dirt and
debris, and the back of his legs burned. Checking quickly he realized that he had almost
been killed by the backblast from the rocket. Looking up, the Cobra was gone. That ought
to keep him away for a few minutes thought Dave as he dropped the fired rocket tube and
raced back to his bunker.
Dave returned to see a twisted mass of smoking logs that was the bunker next to his. He
ducked into the Maxim bunker to see Morton dressing a wound on Ernie, the gunners,
arm. “We don’t have time for that,” hollered Dave over the din. He stepped over Ernie
and grabbed the spades. A cluster of Germans was running past, to the rear. Dave lit them
up, the cocking handle on the right side of the gun making a blurring motion in his
peripheral vision. All five dropped in a heap as the Devils Paintbrush colored them dead.
Ernie came up alongside him and readied another belt of ammo. Dave fired continuously,
sweeping the gun from side to side. Suddenly the sound of gunfire was overwhelmed by
the sound of rotor blades. Ernie looked at Dave with fear filled eyes.
“Shyte, we’re toast now,” he said, even as he loaded a fresh belt into the smoking
feedblock.
Dave smiled. “No, I think the cavalry is here.”
==============================================
As the echo from the Claymore blast reached the little clearing where the mortar crews
were waiting, the sniper teams tensed. The Germans quickly scrambled to put rounds
downrange. As four sets of hands were readying the first of many stacked high explosive
rounds, five pairs of trigger fingers tightened. When the sounds of gunfire reached them
the fingers tightened, and eight of the German crewmen fell. Looking around in
confusion, the other Germans had but a moment before ten more shots rang out. The rest
dropped lifelessly to the ground. More shots rang out as riflemen put black tipped
reloaded armor piercing rounds through the tubes. And as quickly as that, the teams fell
back, melting into the forest.
The German security team near the mortars ran to the men to find most dead and several
seriously wounded. Some men fired randomly into the hills around them, but by then the
teams were over the crests and safe from direct fire. The air throbbed and the German
radio operator handed the mike to his CO, who tried to contact the choppers on the
frequency for air ops. Nothing. He turned as the throbbing got louder, and saw a flight of
Apaches approaching. He waved to them, and the lead ship with his wing turned towards
him. The German Captain waved the microphone at the helo, trying to let the idiot know
he wasn’t on the correct push.
===========================================
“Whiskey lead to Whiskey Two, I have troops in the open. Engage on my lead.”
“Roger.”
“Tom, you got them?” the pilot asked his gunner, who was looking from side to side.
“Yup. Some idiot is waving at us.”
“Light’em up.”
Tom’s finger tightened on the trigger on his joystick, and the nose mounted 25mm chain
gun roared, the high explosive rounds chewing up the clearing. He flipped a switch and
sent a salvo of FFAR, folding fin aerial rockets, 2.75 inches in diameter and packing the
punch of a 105mm howitzer round, into the clearing. The men in the clearing disappeared
in a cloud of black smoke. Another salvo from the trail ship rocked the woodline,
destroying a German troop truck.
====================================
The German Captain watched in horror as the Apaches fired at his men, the rounds
tearing up terrain all around him. “Idiots” he screamed to no one “We’re on your side!”
His final cry was cut short by fragments from a rocket, his voice dying on the wind as his
life bled from him.
“Killed by my own men,” were his last thoughts.
=======================================
The militia once again swept the field, rounding up wounded men and collecting weapons,
ammo, gear, and emptying the pockets of the dead. They captured 7 wounded Germans,
one wounded American, and one American who had not even a single scratch. Following
the doctrine of “Silence, Segregate, Separate, and Speed” the wounded were taken to
different areas to be treated, and the American was bound, blindfolded, and led away.
After the wounded were stabilized they would be taken to NHDF HQ for a thorough
interrogation. The Americans, too, although they faced the possibility of firing squad for
treason.
=======================================
“President Billary today announced a new offensive against the areas of America
currently in open defiance of the Federal government.” President Billary’s annoying
voice came over the radio, “….and we will root out the leaders of this movement of open
defiance of the controlling national authority, and try them for treason….’ And she had
this to say about reports of mass desertions of US Military units, ‘These reports are
merely propaganda designed to weaken the American peoples resolve. These are a few
zealots who oppose reasonable gun control, public education, and other progressive
programs. It’s hard for some to believe that there were so many racists and domestic
terrorists out there, but we will root them out and we will bring them to justice.’
“President Billary’s press spokesperson, Heather Lyalott, denied rumors that entire units
of ISAF forces had been destroyed, as reported by the Manchester New Hampshire
‘Union Leader’. Stating that the Union Leader was a known mouthpiece for the, quote,
'radical right wing fringe’, unquote, she assured America that in the future such
irresponsible reporting would be subjected to stronger government oversight. ‘We cannot
have people abusing the First Amendment in such an irresponsible manner, spreading
fear and untruths’ she is reported to have said.”
“In other news, three more Senators were killed last night as the wave of terrorism
continues, bringing to fifteen the number killed since the Spring offensive began two
weeks ago. A large number of representatives on the state level have been killed, also. A
message put out by an organization calling itself the “America Terrorist Liberation
Organization”, or ATLO, has announced that the killings will not stop. They are targeting
persons who have, in the past, supported gun control, the United Nations, the taking of
private property for the public good, and, according to their information, anyone who
supports the ISAF presence in the United States, and anyone else they consider to be
‘domestic enemies of the Constitution.’ The FBI is investigating, and Congress will vote
today to let the Central intelligence Agency amend its charter to allow it to operate within
the borders of the United States.”
“On to sports....."
Chapter 24
Dave grinned as he shook Sam's hand and presented her with a computer printed, framed
award-the militia didn't have the wherewithal for medals, and resorted to other methods
of recognition. In this case it was an awards ceremony in the gym of the local high school.
There wasn't an empty seat in the place. As the crowd applauded Sam blushed and went
to join the rest of the awardees on stage. As she did the crowd stood to give a standing
ovation to the 23 people on stage, all being recognized for their assistance in the war
effort-from Mrs. Magee, the teacher who was instrumental in setting up local schoolswith
little gas to spare the one room schoolhouse was back in vogue-to Doc, whose
commo net was considered instrumental in saving more than one infant whose Mom was
having tough labor, among its other successes.
Dave waited a few minutes for the crowd to show its appreciation and for the awardees to
bask n the limelight.
As the crowd settled down, Dave announced "That's it for now, folks. If our distinguished
guests," he nodded towards the awardees, "would like to sit down, Jim would like to
address everyone before we go."
Jim was walking up the stairs to the stage. "Hold it right there, Dave." Jim pointed at the
awardees, "There should be one more person there."
Dave looked at the list in his hands. He was sure he had gotten everyone. At least, he had
given out all of the awards they had made up.
"Dave McGrath, attention to orders!" barked Jim.
Dave snapped to attention, more out of habit than anything else. After all these years
some things were reflex.
"For single handedly destroying the Red Barons reign of terror over our beloved valley,
the Pine Tree Irregulars present you with the 'Order of Snoopy, First Class'." He walked
up to Dave and held the award up for the crowd to see. Dave grinned. It was a Snoopy
pin, the Beagle wearing his aviators hat, with scarf and swagger stick. Behind was affixed
a red, white, and blue ribbon.
Jim pinned it on Dave, and then told the town, "As you know, Dave here single handedly
shot down a German Cobra attack helicopter with an anti tank rocket, and almost fried
himself doing so. In fact, I think his legs are still smoking from that stunt." The crowd
laughed. Dave grimaced. His legs did still sting a bit. "And Dave didn't even know he hit
the damned thing until we told him at the AAR two days later." More laughter. No one
had been more surprised than Dave had been when he was thanked by a man from the
other side of the horseshoe for knocking out the snake. 17 people had died in their
bunkers from direct 2.75 inch rocket hits.
"All right, enough of that. You guys should all go home and not celebrate. I put you all
on patrol tonight!" Said Jim affectionately. The awardees all laughed as they filed off of
the stage.
----------------------------------
NHDF had told the units in the southern half of the state to expect a large assault by the
ISAF forces. Their moles with ISAF as well as reports from the occupied areas had all
reported large buildups of vehicles and men in the last few weeks.
The basic plan was for the NHDF line units to do what they could to stop them, but they
didn't have the troops or transports to fight a regular war against a large ISAF army. The
plan that evolved was for the militia to fight a guerilla war against the ISAF-hit and run
all the way. The NHDF would pick a time and place to dig in and hold, and the guerillas
would pick away at the ISAF flanks and rear areas as they could. One contingency even
called for militia units to infiltrate south and wage war deep in the enemies rear areas.
To this end the militia worked on decentralizing. They organized as many men and
women as they could into two man teams, each armed with at least one scoped high
power rifle. They still encouraged teams of friends for organization into larger teamsthese
ranged from 6 to 32 people. Other teams were organized, too. Medical units,
commo, transport, safe houses, caching teams, depending on the capabilities of the
volunteers. Some folks were simply not in any condition to fight on the front lines-too old,
debilitating illnesses and infirmities, or other handicaps. But a man who couldn't run 50
yards on an arthritic knee could drive an F-250 full of supplies back and forth or work in
an aid station.
Dave and his crew, with Jim and a three person staff-Sam for commo, Will, the EMT, as
medical chief, and Jims father, Charlie, as supply NCO and driver, planned to operate
together as much as they could. To a man they all carried fully automatic CAR-15's or M-
4's, and almost all the teams had two scoped precision rifles. Steve had a single shot .50
and his team consisted of three men to support the heavy weapon.
--------------------------------------------
Dave and Tony were a team. Tony had left his beloved G-36 with Sandy and carried a
captured M-4 Carbine. Dave had swapped out the three round burst mechanism for a
spare set of M-16 internals. As he told Tony, if you need rock and roll, you don't need
three round burst-you might need thirty round burst. They carried Daves Remington PSS
in .308 as well. Tony carried a camouflaged rubber armored spotting scope that was
Daves, as well as a 10 meter radio and battery with solar charger.
Dave and Tony had packed their rucks the same way, Dave using his trusty civilian pack
he had humped from Connecticut, Tony using his civvie pack, long hence dyed black.
The packs were loaded identically, as were all of the militias.
In the bottom they each carried a sleeping bag in a waterproof bag. In the left side pouch
was a first aid kit , bandoleer of .223 ammo, and a poncho or other rain gear.
In the right side pouch was a weapons cleaning kit, a hygiene kit, spare socks and foot
powder, and toilet paper.
In the top flap pouch was a Claymore mine, heat tabs, and stripped MRE.
In the main compartment flap pouch was a heavy space blanket and maps of their AO.
In the main compartment they carried, by SOP, at least one spare pair of pants, five pair
of clean socks, a spare t-shirt, black watch cap, a jacket or heavy shirt of some type, more
ammo, a poncho and 550 cord for shelter, and food.
A two quart canteen was carried on the outside of the pack unless the person had a
Camleback type bladder in their pack. Dave and Tony also had a spare SAW ammo
pouch clipped onto the outside compression strap that carried between them spare
Match .308 ammo, camo creme, a pocket Bible, smoke grenades, three skyrocket signal
flares, booby trap wire and seven improvised booby traps, knife steel, duct tape, 550 cord,
butane lighters, a sewing kit, and a small mirror.
In their top left pockets they carried a small notebook and pencils. In the right was a
small compass.
Additionally they all carried pocket knives and/or multi tools in their pants, along with a
firestarter. Dave and Tony each had a magnesium block with a short piece of hacksaw
blade attached. These were dummy corded the a belt loop.
Dave and Tony each wore USGI LBE's-Tony being largely equipped from Daves stock
of extra LBE he had squirreled away "just in case".
Daves consisted of four 3x30 round ammo pouches, a large accessory pouch (which was
sold as a hunting pouch at large retailers before the crisis). Dave found it ideal for empty
mags, a small flashlight, his multi tool, camo creme, and whatever else he might need.
Also two one quart canteens with cups and a canteen cup stove, three first aid pouches,
two with two pressure dressings each, the third with a 20 round magazine of tracer. A
buttpack completed the ensemble. When he wore the pack it would be detached and
clipped to the pack itself the enable him to wear the pack comfortably.
In the grenade holders of the ammo pouches Dave carried a Buck Nighthawk knife, a roll
of black electricians tape, some rolled 550 cord, and hanging from a carabiner a pair of
black GI leather gloves. He also carried two fragmentation grenades.
In this he carried 9 AR magazines and two boxes of .308 Match.
Tony's LBE setup was similar, and each carried a small day pack rolled up under the top
flap of their rucks. Each also carried a neutral colored ensolite pad for sleeping on or for
using in a hide.
Daves PSS was carried in a GI parachutists weapons bag that was attached to his pack. It
provided protection and relatively easy access. Both packs wore identical camouflaged
covers, as Dave had helped Tony make one over the winter.
They had a small night vision scope, which had been made by taking an AN-PVS 5
goggle apart, separating the two image intensifiers into two handheld observation devices.
It operated on AA size batteries and was smaller, lighter, and had better resolution than
any cheap set they had tried.
Each two or three man team carried one e-tool, a hatchet or saw, a water filter, and if they
wanted a small camp stove. Dave and Tony opted for more heat tabs over the stove.
Dave and Tony both also carried .45 pistols, with four magazines apiece. They carried no
extra .45 ammo.
Daves CAR 15 had a lightweight 16" barrel, Vortex flash hider, and tritium sights. He
had been using an electronic sight, but opted to take it off for this mission. Tony's M-4
had a flip up sight that it had come with, and mounted a small, 2.5 power scope that had
been designed for turkey hunting. it reticle didn't cross, it formed a circle. Tony liked it
because at close range all he had to do was put the target in the circle and pull the trigger.
And longer range he had it zeroed so that he could use the bottom crosshair where it
joined the circle as an aiming point.
The irregulars planned to stash their packs and using day packs and buttpacks operate for
two or three days away from the large rucks, returning for resupply only when they had
to. This would help them remain agile and mobile in the field.
---------------------------------------------
So it cam as no surprise when Dave was awakened one night by the emergency tone
coming over his two meter base station radio. He woke quickly and when the signal
stopped reported in, as did several others. Jimmy, one of the commo volunteers, came
over the air. "About an hour ago a large force of ISAF forces launched a coordinated
attack against southern New Hampshire in the Manchester and Portsmouth corridors. We
know that NHDF forces are heavily engaged at this time. All units are ordered to disperse
immediately and begin offensive operations against any and all ISAF forces. NHDF
command reiterates the strategic and tactical importance of our..." his voice paused. Dave
figured he was turning the page on a prepared script, which is exactly what he was doing.
Jimmy again read, "...mission. This message will repeat every fifteen minutes for the next
ninety minutes, at which time we will switch to combat communications." Jimmy's voice
quivered, "God Bless you all, and good hunting." Jimmy had added the last, and Dave
knew he meant it sincerely.
Dave put on sweat pants over his underwear, and pulled on a pair of thick socks. it was a
chilly Spring morning. he went up the hall and knocked on Tony's door. After knocking a
few times, Rhonda's head appeared. With bleary eyes she said, "Dave, what's wrong?
C'mon in...."
"That's OK, thanks. Can you wake up Tony and let him know that the ISAF has invaded?
They're over by Manchester, but we've got orders to deploy."
"Yeah, sure Dave. I'll have him meet you downstairs."
"Thanks Rhonda," smiled Dave.
Rhonda smiled back sleepily, "I'm gonna be awfully upset when I wake up." She shut the
door quietly as Dave turned away. Dave returned to his room and woke Sandy. Briefing
her as he dressed, Dave left his wallet and keys on the dresser and put on his old pair of
dog tags.
When Dave got downstairs Rhonda was heating water for tea over a kerosene lamp.
"Tony's in the basement getting his gear," she said to Dave by way of greeting, "I'll have
eggs going in a minute, the stove was still warm and I threw in a couple more logs."
"Thanks," said Dave. He heard Sandy coming downstairs as he went tot he cellar door,
where he meet a fully laden Tony coming up.
"Why do they have to do this stuff at inconvenient times?" he quipped.
Dave laughed quietly, "Just proves the ISAF are inconsiderate jerks."
In a few minute Daves gear joined Tony's by the door, and they sat down to an early
breakfast with their wives. It was a quiet meal as the all knew it could be the last meal
they ever ate together. As they finished, Dave and Sandy went into the living room to say
their goodbyes, leaving Tony and Rhonda to do the same.
-----------------------------------------
Sandy drove them to Jims house, where the militia was meeting. After watching her go,
Dave dropped most of his gear outside the barn, where it joined a large rank of rucksacks
and LBEs of those already there.
"We are going to deploy as a unit and set up a patrol base," Jim was saying, "and then fan
out to our zones from there. If you run into any 'as if' forces, get on the horn and let us
know. We can make a hasty plan from there, depending on the size and composition of
the enemy forces. As we've discussed," he continued, nodding at Dave a he came in,
"we'll fight a delaying action and try to slow them up until we can amass a force large
enough to confront them. Any questions? We've covered all of this before, so I don’t
expect too many. Sam has a bunch of papers for you, codes, brevities, and such.
Remember what to do if you are compromised and forced to radio in to us." Everyone
nodded grimly. They had prearranged codewords and phrases to use of they were caught
and broadcasting under duress.
"Remember, we don't know what they will do to us if we're captured. They may treat as
guerillas, they may treat us a POW's under the Geneva convention. Our treatment of their
prisoners may help us in that regard."
Everyone nodded in assent. "The primary goal is intel, then delay. We've got a few more
people on their way, but we might as well start our inspection now. I want you all to
spread out your gear outside and Dave and I will inspect it. Dave will inspect me first,
and I'll do him. I know he's packed something useless, like fuzzy slippers or something."
Every one laughed, and headed outside. Dave stayed behind to speak to Jim.
"What do you hear from NHDF?"
"Nothing new. They are fairly busy right now in their sector, but if we have significant
activity they will send us what they can spare. Let's check these guys out. I want to be
able to roll as soon as the last guys are done."
"OK, let's do it."
---------------------------------------
The inspection served more to determine who was short critical equipment. After re
verifying their weapons zeros on Jims backyard range, they piled their rucks into two
pickups and headed into the mountains. After a ride of some two hours they were
dropped of and headed out to their OP.
"Scott, your team has point, Dave take slack. We all know where we are going, but we
don't know if there are recon teams out there already. Let's keep our intervals and don't be
slack. We could get ambushed on the way in or not see anything for a month. Treat it like
we might get ambushed at any time."
Scott and his wingman moved out, the rest of the militia filing in behind them. Dave
waited for his pack to get comfortable. He always found the first hour or so the worst, as
his body adjusted to the weight of the pack and his legs warmed up to the movement. he
also had to get used to being dirty all of the time-he found that the worst for the first two
days, then he got used to that, too.
He and Tony moved out last, covering their backtrail. As they knew where they were
going they moved slowly, stopping frequently to cover the rear for anyone following
them. Dave's inner voice drifted as his consciousness drifted. He took comfort in the
familiar feel of the LBE and weapon. This always took him back to his past. How many
days and nights had he spent bent under the weight of similar loads? A lot more than he
could remember, for certain. Dave smiled. There was something happy about it to him,
somewhere inside. Memories of friendships forged in hardship, and validation through
hard work and being good at the work. He looked at Tony, who was fitting right in. What
a transformation he had made. in some ways he was showing more moxie than Dave was,
as he had begun with no military experience and no survival mindset. But he had
acquitted himself well in the three actions he had been in. Dave smiled again. Once again
he was reverting to his inner animal, and somewhere in the primordial depths of his DNA
it was good.