Retribution (Soldier Up - Book Five 5) (11 page)

Colonel Lambert, not wanting to start World War Three in front of the White House sent his Executive Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Cox, along with a squad of Military Police to confront the armor crews.  He wanted to keep it as low key and as non-threatening as possible to get the armor back.  The tanks were parked at each corner of the White House. Lt Colonel Cox nervously approached the first tank, and the crew was out pulling maintenance on the vehicle.  The tank commander was a SSG and Colonel Cox approached him. The SSG called, “Atten-HUT!” The entire tank crew came to attention, the SSG saluted, the Colonel returned the salute and stated, “As you were.”

              The original tank crews had accompanied the Colonel following in two M35 two and a half ton trucks.  They had dismounted a comfortable distance from the Abrams and dismounted from the trucks.  They were coming from the left side of the M1A2. The Colonel, the SSG and the current tank crew were all on the right side, so they were approaching the vehicle sight unseen, with weapons at the ready.  One of the soldiers carried a single AT-4 rocket launcher in the event they needed to disable the vehicle by firing it at the track, which should cause it to come off.

              “Staff Sergeant, I’m the Executive Officer for the 3
rd
and you have been ordered by the President of the United States to turn the vehicle over to me.”  Lt Colonel Cox ordered. He handed a copy of the order to the Staff Sergeant, who took it and read it over twice.  “I’m sorry I can’t do that sir, my orders come from General Wallace.”

              “General Wallace has been relieved of duty and is currently in the stockade awaiting court martial for treason.  Would you like to join him?”

              “Well…no sir, I wouldn’t.” The Staff Sergeant looked back towards his men.  “What happens to us if I surrender the tank?”

              “You’ll be escorted back to post and returned to your unit. From there I have no idea what happens.” Actually the Colonel did, they would be immediately escorted to the stockade, charged with treason and if those charges took they would be executed, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

              The Staff Sergeant looked back over his crew, then at the Colonel followed by looking at the MPs, he then shrugged, “Alright boys,” the Staff Sergeant said addressing his men. “Let’s hand it over and head back to post.”  A couple of the crew members disappeared into the tank which was a cause for concern for Colonel Cox, until he saw them tossing out some of their personal gear.  Once they were done, they tossed it all on the ground, jumped off the vehicle, picked it all up and got into a small squad formation.  As they did that the original tank crew rushed the vehicle and jumped on, completely surprising the crew on the ground.  Staff Sergeant Globe, from the 11
th
ACR at Fort Irwin, directed his men to check her out and be quick about it. They were going to escort the Colonel to the other vehicles.

              It’s not that the other M1A2 Abrams tanks were all that far away; they were located at the opposite end of the White House.  If the crew of the other tank had been at all observant, they would have seen what was happening.  Like the other crew, they were out, on the right side of the tank.  No view of what had transpired on the other side of the White House.  They did take notice when the other tank fired its engines, when they were expressly forbidden to do so, so they weren’t real tank crew.  They were further taken aback when the tank started to move towards them. Behind it was a Humvee and bringing up the rear, with some considerable distance between the two were several M35 trucks.

              Once at the tank Lt Colonel Cox repeated his previous performance and the tank crew surrendered without firing a shot.  The original tank crew quickly exited the M35 and took their vehicle back, did a quick inspection and fired it up.  They fell in line right behind the first tank.  They moved from Abrams to Bradley, each crew surrendering with no problems.  The original crews took back their respective vehicle and joined the road march back to post.  It was all fairly uneventful; once back on post Lt Colonel Cox met with Colonel Lambert and General Clayton to give them a rundown of everything that had happened.  At the end of the briefing General Clayton asked the two Colonels, “You know how you can tell a real tank crew from a fake one?”  Both men nodded no.  “A real tank crew never leaves the tank except to go to the restroom and sometimes I wonder about that too.”

              Both Colonels knew the General was correct and chuckled at his remark, happy right now that the armor and its crews were as good as gold.  While back on post the crews finished up their inspections and ensured their combat loads were good to go. They knew they had a tasking coming down and they were ready to get on with it.  For now, it was, hurry up and wait.

Captain O’Hara was happy to be in the fold again, as he had word that the West Coast was attempting to send help via the Panama Canal.  He didn’t have the specifics nor did he know what they were sending.  He hoped they were sending ships; it would be great to feel like he was actually back in the Navy again.  Over the last couple of months he had teams evaluating the ships at James River, National Defense Reserve Fleet (NDRF) for ships they might be able to use.  Ideally, they were studying the Category B ships, which meant that they were retained for future mobilization and funds were allocated to maintain them.  There were several frigates that they had already pulled out and were working actively on restoring.  They had yet to find any real combat vessels, such as a battleship or destroyer that they could use. 

              Captain O’Hara had gone out recently to the Navy yards to check out the progress of the ships; they were moving along nicely.  The men and women refurbishing the ships were civilians; half of the work force was ship builders that the Navy had used prior to the event.  The others were undergoing serious on-the-job training, but they were all happy to be doing something.  They weren’t being paid in United States traditional currency because it was all but useless.  Like the West Coast, when the event happened all of the banks went under, but over time people gained access to everything within the banks.  However, the bills were only paper with nothing to support their value, not to mention people could walk into any bank unopposed and walk out with hundreds of thousands of dollars, making the money virtually worthless. The Federal Government was working on a new currency, something like they were doing on the West Coast.  For the time being they were moving toward coins until they could secure enough gold to re-value paper money.

              For now, people were being paid in food, shelter and given credit that could be spent in the commissary and Post Exchange.  It wasn’t a bad existence—they had food, shelter, a job, security for themselves and family and they had reasonable goods and services they could purchase.  The jobs were prized by the civilian community and highly sought after.  Many of the homes that surrounded the Navy yard had been abandoned a long time ago. The Navy commandeered them, hired an additional work force to clean them up and used them to house the people working on the ships and on the houses and apartments. 

              One of the rather large and looming problems was food, because it was going to run out in the next six to eight months.  Several civilian groups approached Captain O’Hara asking if the Navy could help clear some land near the base and they would be happy to farm it.  The Captain thought about it. He didn’t really have the authority to start knocking things down, but he didn’t have the authority to restore homes and apartment buildings either.  He could claim eminent domain in the name of the United States; the local JAG said he could do it and probably get away with it.  The courts would have to determine if it was really legal or not, but there weren’t any courts anymore that could hear the case.

              There was a contingent of Seabees on base with nothing to do. Captain O’Hara had spoken with their Commander on several occasions, when the Seabee Commander had asked the Captain for anything for him and his men to do.  Captain O’Hara thought this was right up their alley, and contacted the Commander.  Over the next few weeks, the Seabees worked tirelessly with the civilians clearing homes and buildings for farms.  This spurred another industry—security--they guarded the fields and equipment.  Most of the farm equipment wasn’t affected by the event and the Seabee equipment was EMP shielded. 

              Captain O’Hara was concerned by the amount of fuel they were consuming, as it was still a finite resource.  Granted, they had drained most of the fuel stations in and around the area and brought it on base to keep it secure.  They had syphoned all of the vehicles on the roadways that had died and been left for dead.  So, he had a lot of fuel which could last the next couple of years, but there was no way to replace what they were using now.  What the farmers needed were horses, maybe oxen, to plow the fields. It was a step backwards, but it would save fuel.  He then started sending out patrols to attempt to locate farm type animals, since he knew the zoo had chickens and other barnyard animals, which if they were still alive, he could collect, assuming the zoo was safe. The zoo did have animals in the past that could kill and eat a man, but they had to try.

              There had been ranches around the area, not close to base, but within a thirty to forty minute drive. He believed it was worth the risk, but they would have to venture out into areas that weren’t secure yet.  He thought no time like the present. The Marines were itching for more to do and the force they had originally trained had grown nicely.  The ranches were several miles out, well past the seven-mile circle safe zones that the Marines and Navy had been able to set up.  They now had two battalions of the Navy Special Weapons Sailors that the Marines had initially trained.  Captain O’Hara had ordered both Battalions to the field in support of the operation.  The camp security forces would be able to handle any situations in and around the base.  The Marine Company, under the command of Major Luxon, would take the lead.

              The Marines and two companies of NSWS had been transported to an embarkation point that would take them into Indian Country. They would move out on foot.  Once out of the cities it was very rural. The Marines would road march out to the first few ranches.  Not to say that they didn’t have any vehicles, because they did; the Marines had scouts that used armored Humvees and they took the lead out, but no more than two miles out, as that was the distance the radios could reach.   A follow-on NSWS Company would follow on, about a mile behind.  The other NSWS would be held in reserve, primarily to bail their collective asses out if the shit got too deep.  Major Luxon had no reason to believe the gangs had moved out of the rural areas beyond the cities or that there were any militias in the area.

              The largest two largest ranches around Virginia Beach were more tourist type. They had horses and other livestock, but it was to service the tourists that were looking for horseback riding and other adventurers.  The first ranch was the circle-T and the second ranch was Hawkesbury Farm, primarily used by people to store their horses. It consisted of ninety stables and of course both places had plenty of tack.  Many of the Marines and NSW sailors knew horses and how to ride, so that wasn’t going to be an issue.  They didn’t need much; besides Oceana had its own stables too.

              The Marines and NSWS had to travel south, primarily along the ocean to reach Hawkesbury Farm. It took them four hours to make the march.  The scouts had arrived some time earlier and had made contact with the people that claimed to be the owners.  Mr. and Mrs. Rowland were quite surprised to see two heavily armed Humvees arrive at their property.  They and their hands had been for the most part secluded on the farm since the event.  They had ventured a time or two into Virginia Beach, but found it far too violent and barely escaped with their lives.  Their three sons and daughter lived with them, as well as four hands, all men, that helped them run the farm.  They had started farming about six months ago and were doing quite well. Each harvest they found they had more than enough and lots went to waste. 

              They grew wheat, tomatoes, corn, and pumpkins, and they had apple, orange and lemon trees, but they had those before the event.  They had acres and acres of grass for the horses to feed on, as well as natural springs and wells that were always full.  What they didn’t have was much fuel, so all of the farming was done using the horses, just like back in the 1880s.  Most of the owners of the horses, if not all, never showed up again after the event.  This also meant the cash flow they used to have all but dried up—not that they needed it anymore.  For the most part the Rowlands and their hands lived comfortably and had very few issues with anyone.  Not to mention, they were also heavily armed and weren’t afraid to use the weapons.  All of the hands were former combat Marines and were more than ready for a fight.  Like many of the farms and ranches, the people that lived on them were individualists and conservative by nature and they would be damned if anyone was going to take their land or guns.

              Having two heavily armored military vehicles moving hard and fast down the road towards the main house sent shivers and concerned the family.  They quickly started ringing a bell located on the main house’s porch, which was the signal to grab your guns and come running.  However, by the time everyone had grabbed their guns and made it to the house it was too late.  The Humvees had arrived and a very young second Lieutenant jumped out of the vehicle as it quickly came to a stop.  The Lieutenant was caught by surprise when Mrs. Rowland came out of the house with a shotgun pointed at his head.  This in turn, caused the Marine in the turret to turn and level his M-249 at the woman.

              “Whoa, whoa!” cried the Lieutenant, with his hands up. “I’m Lieutenant Smith from Oceana, United States Marine Corps.”

              “You got any ID?” Mrs. Rowland asked.  About then the rest of the family and hands showed up carrying their weapons and pointing them at the Lieutenant and the Humvees.

              “Yes ma’am, I’ll have to reach into my back pocket and pull it out,” Lieutenant Smith said.

              The door to the second Humvee swung open wildly. This caused a bit of commotion with the hands; they were a nervous bunch.  A gruff looking Gunnery Sergeant stepped out of the Humvee and stared down on one of the hands, “I’ll be God Damned, Hoser is that you, you dirty mother-fucker?” the Gunnery Sergeant said.

              One of the hands turned to the Gunny, “Gunny Tobagen, I’ll be damned!”  Hoser lowered his weapon and stepped toward the Gunny. Both men shook hands and hugged.  “Last time I saw you was in Fallujah; they were carrying your ass out on a stretcher to the slick,” the Gunny said.

              “Yeah, they shot me in my ass,” laughed Hoser, whose real name was Richard Clark.

              “I told you time and again to keep your ass down or else it was going to get shot off,” the Gunny chuckled.

              Hoser turned and showed the Gunny his ass, “Still got it.”

              “Yeah, but now it seems to be on your shoulders,” replied Gunny Tobagen.

              “Yeah, yeah Gunny.” Hoser looked around. “Put your weapons down.” Hoser said. “They’re real enough Marines.”

              For the next twenty minutes the Gunny backed up by the Lieutenant explained the situation, and as they were wrapping it up, Mr. Rowland spotted several hundred Marines marching down the road toward his farm.  He couldn’t remember seeing anything more beautiful in his life.