The Army Comes Calling (19 page)

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Authors: Darrell Maloney

BOOK: The Army Comes Calling
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     Amy walked off to continue her work and the colonel went on.

     “As you see, we’re making use of the airspace above the floor as well. It just didn’t seem smart to let it go to waste.”

     As Frank and Karen watched, workers used ladders to carefully groom walls of vines which stretched up specially built walls sixteen feet into the air. The vegetables they plucked from the plants were placed into baskets which hung at strategic places from the rafters overhead, and were lowered by ropes whenever they were full.

     Karen thought her own greenhouse at the compound was impressive. But this operation amazed her.

     “Wow!” she said. “How much are you yielding from day to day?”

     “The report I read yesterday said we’re averaging four hundred pounds of tomatoes and nine hundred pounds of assorted beans per day. Of course, that number has been steadily rising over the past few months. We’re still learning as we go, you see, and we keep learning how to do things better and smarter. We’d like to think we’ve got the brightest and best agronomists in the world on board, and each of them is bringing in their own ideas and experiences. We’re also experimenting with various fertilizers and pest control methods to determine which can provide the best yields and nutrients for our needs.”

     “And this is enough to feed all the survivors in San Antonio?”

     “Not by itself, no. But coupled with the produce we get from the other hangars, it makes a hell of a dent.

     “Each of the hangars is used to grow different crops. For example, the one next door to this one is where we grow our squashes and berries. On the other side of that one, we grow varieties of rice and peppers. Then we have two hangars each devoted to wheat and to corn. Three more are designated for growing potatoes and carrots, and two others for lettuce and cabbages. Every one of the old hangars on the two airfields is now being used to grow something.

     “We have an average of thirty one produce trucks that roll out of our gates daily. Each one has designated distribution points scattered around the city and every one of the neighboring counties.”

     Karen asked, “What about the seeds?”

     “We’ve got agronomists that visit the civilian leaders in each neighborhood. We send armed guards with them, but so far they’ve been pretty much left alone. The gangs all know that they’re there to help the bad guys as well as everybody else, so they haven’t been aggressive toward them.”

     “And what do the agronomists do in the neighborhoods?”

     “They work with the residents. As much food as we have, it’s still limited. For example, when a produce truck shows up on a particular street, it may be surrounded by a hundred survivors or more. So it usually has to ration things out. Say, four potatoes and a melon for every man, woman and child who shows up and stands in line.

     “We know that won’t feed everybody until the next truck shows up a couple of days later, so the agronomists’ job is to work with the residents. To show them how to save the seeds and plant them. So that they can grow most of their own food, and just use ours to supplement their diets.”

     “This is really something,” Frank observed.

     Montgomery smiled like a possum.

     “Just wait. You haven’t seen my pride and joy yet.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 32

 

     The group’s next stop was one of the largest hangars in the line. It was the second to last hangar, and still had the words “Air Force Logistics Command” painted in huge letters on its side.

     The colonel led Frank and Karen inside, and Karen’s jaw dropped.

     As far as the eye could see were row upon row of small tree saplings, in evenly spaced planter boxes. There were easily several thousand of them, tended to by workers scurrying about them. Watering, pruning, inspecting them.

     Karen was simply speechless.

     But Colonel Montgomery wasn’t.

     “Now, I’m a man who likes oaks and sycamores just as much as the next guy,” he started. “But you won’t find any of them in here, no sir. Every tree in this facility grows something the citizens can eat.”

     He walked down the end of the facility, pointing out the placards on each row: peaches, pecans, red apples, golden delicious apples, pears…

     “We grow them from seeds, and hang onto them until they’re mature enough to survive the elements on their own. Depending on the type, that may be two years, or as many as four.

     “Our first batch will be ready for transplant in a few months. We’ve already got teams of volunteers to spread them around the area, and to train people what to do with them.”

     “What to do with them?”

     “Yes. Our plan is to put them on trucks and drive around the neighborhoods. We will plant one tree per residence, and will let the resident choose the tree he wants, under certain conditions.”

     “What conditions?”

     “We will plant their tree for them, and will provide them with instructions on how to care for it. In exchange, they have to agree to care for the tree, and to save all the seeds from it. We’ll tell them to use the seeds to plant similar trees if they want more of them. Or to trade the seeds from their tree with a neighbor who may have a different type of tree. Or to just give them away to another neighbor who has no tree.

     “We will tell them that under no circumstances are they to throw any of the seeds away. If nothing else, they are to save them and give them to one of our teams who will drive through periodically to check on the trees’ progress and give pointers to the growers.”

     “We’ll continue to grow the trees here, of course. But the real growth potential lies in the neighborhoods themselves, as the neighbors begin to trade seeds with each other. One man may get a walnut tree, and the lady next door gets an apple tree and the lady down the block gets a peach tree. As their trees start to bear fruit and they start swapping seeds, the population of each species should spread through the area rather quickly.”

     “So we can assume that the fruit and nut trees that were here before the freeze all perished?”

     “For the most part. I’ve seen evidence of some of the trees coming back from the roots to grow new saplings, but they’re still in the early stages of development. Actually our saplings are doing much better than those in the wild, because we’re caring for them daily and providing the best fertilizer for them.

     “Let’s walk over to the tropical hangar. Then we’ll go get stinky.”

     Frank and Karen looked at each other and Frank smiled. But neither asked what Montgomery meant.

     The next hangar was unlike any of the others they’d been in thus far. It was essentially a huge greenhouse built within the hangar itself. The hangar had been modified as the others, but the second greenhouse raised the temperatures tremendously.

     “This is like my greenhouse within a greenhouse,” Karen explained to Frank. “Only on a much larger scale.”

     “That’s right,” Montgomery said. The temperatures in the inner structure rise to tropical temperatures, even in the wintertime. It’s roughly the equivalent of putting a second blanket on your bed. One blanket may keep you warm. But a second one will triple the temperature and keep you downright toasty.”

     They walked into the inner structure to see the same long rows of tiny trees. Only these trees were different than the others.

     These were lemons, limes, oranges and tangerines.

     Montgomery continued with his presentation.

     “A lot of people don’t know that the climate is mild enough in San Antonio to grow citrus. Our plan is to let these saplings grow a little bit bigger and then to spread them all over the city, just as the others. We’ve also got farmers who are preparing their own orchards, and will soon be producing enough citrus to feed everyone within a thousand miles in any direction.”

     Frank smiled.

     “San Antonio, the new citrus capitol of the United States. Who’d have ever thought?”

     Montgomery continued.

     “You can’t see them from here, but we’ve also got pineapples growing over there in the corner. Our experts are trying to develop mango, kiwi and banana plants that are hearty enough to put out massive amounts of fruit in the area climate. They’re showing a lot of promise for the future.

     “Any questions?”

     “No. But I have to say I’m quite impressed.”

     “I can’t take any credit. All of our scientists and technicians come from the civilian sector. All we’ve done is find them and give them a secure place to practice their trades. Then we just turned them loose and let them do their thing.”

     He led them back to the golf cart and headed west, across what used to be one of the busiest active runways in south Texas.

     “We put our other facility on the far side of the runway so it was a bit isolated from the base population. You’ll understand why in a minute.”

     Karen sniffed the air.

     “I can tell already.”

     “The prevailing winds blow from the west, and usually carry most of the smells away from the base. But sometimes Mother Nature likes to turn the tables on us.”

     Frank let out a slow whistle as the facility came into view.

     “That’s got to be the biggest stockyard I’ve ever seen.”

     “As far as I know, it’s the biggest one in north America. The livestock you good people contributed to the cause are mixed in there somewhere. Or at least their offspring are.”

     Frank and Karen looked out at a sea of cattle and pigs. There were thousands of them, in vast pens in the open air.

     “The poor things look awfully crowded in there, packed in the way they are.”

     “Tomorrow’s cull day,” Montgomery said. Their ear tags will be checked and the oldest ten percent of them will be sent off to slaughter. That’ll give them a bit more space.”

     Karen winced.

     Montgomery noticed.

     “I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. Sometimes I’m more blunt than I should be. It’s just that I have a hard time seeing the animals as anything but food. And my job isn’t to feel sorry for them or make them comfortable. My job is to raise as many as I can as fast as I can, so we can stop the dying of people. They, not the livestock, are my concern.”

     “How, exactly, are you ‘raising as many as you can as fast as you can?’”

     It was hard not to notice the acid in her voice.

     This time the colonel was truly contrite.

     “And once again, I stuck my oversized foot into my mouth. Luckily my mouth is more than large enough to accommodate it.

     “I apologize to you, ma’am. I guess I’m hardened from watching people starve to death. Especially the children. Those are the ones that hit you the hardest. Wasted away to skin and bones. It does something to you, and you wind up swearing to God almighty that you’ll do whatever it takes to stop the suffering.

     “As God is my witness, I am not blind to the plight of the animals. We do all that we can to make sure their passing is quick and painless. And that they are well cared for while alive. If they don’t have the best accommodations while they await their fate, then I apologize for that. But let’s keep the end goal in mind, shall we? The whole purpose in their being here is to provide nourishment for the survivors.”

     Karen softened. She knew the colonel was in a difficult position.

     “I know, colonel. It’s just that… well, they give their all for us. The least we can do is let them lead comfortable lives until it’s time for… you know…”

     “Yes, ma’am. I agree wholeheartedly. We have the highest quality veterinarians on staff to make sure they are healthy. The sick and injured are removed from the herd and are nursed back to health whenever feasible. Mothers are left with their babies until the babies are six months old. When their time comes it is quick and painless and they never see it coming. It’s not the best of circumstances. But it’s the very best we can do.”

     Karen repeated her question. “What did you mean, ‘as many as you can, as fast as you can?’”

     “I simply mean that we don’t wait for nature and romance to take their respective courses. We have the country’s best vets and animal husbandry experts on staff, under the direct supervision of Beverly Silva. Once the vet gives a cow or a sow a clean bill of health and a green light, she is artificially inseminated. This reduces the time the animal is not carrying an offspring, and greatly speeds the growth of the herds.”

     Karen said, “Beverly Silva, the former head of PETA?”

     “Yes, ma’am. The one and the same. She was so concerned about our treatment of the animals we asked her to join us. To make sure we did it right.

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