Trace of survival trilog.., p.5
Trace of Survival Trilogy, page 5
“I’ll be thirteen this Christmas. I’ve ate almost all the food we had in the house. The bathroom doesn’t work, so I’ve been going in the back yard. I ain’t took a bath in a long time, but it smells like you ain’t either, Peter.”
“You’re right about that.” Peter turned toward us. “Reggie, Da -- can we take him with us?”
We knew the boy was dead if he stayed here by himself. I looked at Reggie. He nodded.
“Ok, everybody, load up,” I said. “You too, Tommy. Go pack a bag with some clothes.”
Within fifteen minutes, we were on the road again. Tommy had a large backpack of his dad’s he packed with as many clothes as he could get in it. We checked his house and found a Ruger Mini-14 in .223 in his dad’s closet, along with about 250 rounds for it. That was the only thing we took from the house. The SUV was crowded with nine people in it now.
When we pulled back on I-24, we noticed that the two punks that shot at us earlier were gone or were laying low. We headed south on the interstate. It is three or four lanes wide in that area, or it used to be anyway. There were more people walking south than earlier. There were also some bicycles and a few motorcycles and autos headed south. I hope the good people among those travelers made it to a safe location.
Several times, some idiots tried to get in front of us and wave us down, but a big SUV traveling at sixty to seventy miles per hour is nothing to mess with. They got out of the way real quick.
Highway 840 between I-24 and I-65 was almost totally empty. When we exited onto I-65 we found the walkers were again going south, away from the city. We exited I-65 onto Bear Creek Pike. Here we encountered a little trouble. A few wannabe idiot thugs had set up a wooden barricade to slow people down so they could jump out and rob them. It didn’t work. We had Reggie riding in the front passenger seat, Peter with the M1 carbine in the seat behind the driver (me), Fred was behind Reggie with the Mini-14, and Samantha was guarding the rear of the vehicle with the hunting rifle. I just drove the big vehicle through the barricade with the others blazing away out the windows. We think two thugs were hit.
As we drove through the small business area where Highway 31 intersects 43, we saw a few people scrounging around. A couple miles more, and we came to the exit to the National Guard Armory. We believed we had enough time before dark to stop for a while and talk to some people there. I had the others pull their long guns in and put them out of sight.
I pulled up to the entrance where there were two guards posted. “Sorry, sir. You can’t enter the Armory property,” I was told. I showed him my retired ID and asked to see Major Bryon or First Sergeant Bateman if they were around. He radioed the building.
“Someone’s on the way,” he said. “Just standby here and keep your hands where I can see them.”
A few minutes later, I heard this big booming voice say, “Well, look what the cat dragged in!” It was Bateman. “Private, let the vehicle in. Isaiah, drive around to the front of the building and park. Let everyone get out of the vehicle. I know you have weapons. You’d be stupid not to right now. Leave them in the vehicle and lock it. I’ll tell the guard at the front door to keep an eye on it. Then come inside. Smells like somebody -- or bodies -- needs a shower. We have one you can use. Isaiah, the Major wants to talk to you alone.”
We wound up spending the rest of the day and that night there. When we left the next morning, we were a convoy of four vehicles. We were joined by two Humvees and a bobtail tractor pulling a small tanker loaded with diesel for the Humvees. The tractor was to locate a good place to drop the tanker, and then it would return to the Armory. The fuel was for the Humvees, so they could patrol their area of concern for an extended period of time.
It seems the National Guard had been ordered to activate and report to the DHS thugs for assignment. The unit in Columbia had decided that they weren’t going to violate their oath. They were refusing and were going to resist the takeover by the communists.
They wanted to establish an scouting outpost along the Natchez Trace, and I was needed to help get it located. Since I knew the Trace for many miles, from the Alabama state line to Franklin, they were happy I came by. It seems that many of their troops were not reporting in. That included many of their senior NCOs, and me being a senior NCO, I was needed to liaison with this outlying post. I was guiding a team of five young troops with me. One of them was married, and his wife and kid were coming also. The Guard unit was keeping their families close because of all the danger now in our world.
We had all gotten a shower and, believe it or not, they issued us all a set of digital camo uniforms. No boots, but we got trousers, a utility shirt, and hat. The kids thought it was great. We got a couple of good, hot meals before we left. The Guard unit was part of an armored cavalry regiment and had a mobile kitchen setup. They were cooking meals for the troops and their families.
The Humvees were each pulling a small trailer with the ammo and gear the troops would need. They carried MREs, clothing, cold weather gear, a tent, camo netting, Night Vision Goggles (NVGs) and other survival gear that the small detachment would need.
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We pulled back onto Highway 43 and headed south. We backtracked on the same route that Reggie and I had come in on the previous day. Some things had changed since yesterday. Cars that had been abandoned had been broken into. Doors were open and windows were smashed. Some gang had probably went along the road and vandalized and took what they could find, or it could have been hungry people just looking for something to eat. We could see many smoke columns along the way. From different sources, I imagine: houses burning, vehicles burning, or people burning wood just to stay warm. There were still some people walking the roads or riding bicycles. We were the only motorized vehicles on that road that morning.
As we passed the place where Reggie and I had to deal with the two young scumbags the previous day, we said nothing about it. We could see some buzzards picking at the bodies. I don’t think any of the others in our vehicles saw the bodies, or if they did, they kept quiet.
Summertown hadn’t changed. Only people I saw were chopping firewood or just watching us go by. We went to Reggie’s place first to drop off Samantha and Fred and get my ATV. Reggie’s wife, Joann, couldn’t stop crying and hugging her daughter once she got her in her arms.
“Come on,” Reggie said to me. “Let’s get your family to your place and find somewhere for these soldiers to set up.” Peter felt responsible for Tommy, so he was coming with us.
There was a lot with a clearing and pine trees across the road from my property. The owner lived out of state. I didn’t expect to see him soon, if at all. We were going to set up the Guard detachment there until they had a chance to scout around and find a permanent location if this place didn’t suit them.
I led the little convoy back to my place. As we pulled down the little county road I lived on, I saw a car parked outside my locked gate. I pulled my 9mm and drove to within fifty feet of the vehicle, stopped and got off the ATV. The driver’s door opened and my youngest son, Paul, got out. I holstered the weapon, walked up, and hugged him. His wife, Trish, and their two-year-old, David, were in the car.
While Reggie showed the Guard troops where to set up, I unlocked the gate, and my family and I went to the house. The dog and cats were waiting, but the cats took off when they saw all the people get out of the vehicles. I unlocked the house, and while my crowd was unloading their stuff, I started a fire in the woodstove. The weather was getting colder. Winter was settling in. The two daughter-in-laws opened several cans of soup, poured them in a large pot, and heated it on my propane stove. Also heated some water for hot chocolate. We had that for lunch.
After we ate, I went across the road to check on Reggie and the troopers. The tanker had been hid in the trees and covered with some camo netting. The tractor that pulled it in was already gone with the two soldiers that came with it. The other troops were setting up their large tent. This would be their living quarters. I said, “See ya later,” to Reggie, and he headed home. His family was waiting for him. The Guard troops would spend the rest of the day settling in. Tomorrow I would get with them and get some planning done.
Back at the house, we gathered around and exchanged stories with Paul and Trish. When the grid went down, Paul was at work at the electronics shop he worked in. He headed home, and got there with no problem. Over the past few weeks, he had talked by radio to his brother, Joshua. Joshua lived on the other side of the river from Paul. Josh was trying to scrounge enough gasoline to get his family to the Trace and head north to my home. He wasn’t having much luck. I later found out he’d had to abandon his sedan several miles from his house when it ran out of gas. A few days later, his wife’s SUV ran out of fuel a block from their house. He couldn’t even get enough gas to get it to their home.
Paul, Trish, and their son lived in a community near a large dam on the north side of the Tennessee River. This dam had been a hydro-electric producer for decades. Paul had stocked up on food and other items, so they were going to wait and see what happened. Three days ago, DHS troops had rolled in with their large armored vehicles, cargo trucks, fuel tankers and black SUVs and Hummer2s. They had blocked all access to the dam within a half-mile radius. He knew he had to leave at that point.
He had learned from a neighbor of a private back road that wasn’t blocked and could get him out of the community. In the middle of the night, they loaded up and headed out. They got out, made it to the Trace, and headed north. They had been sitting at my gate for several hours, waiting for me without even knowing when or if I was coming back. They were going to give me till dark, and then they were going to break into the house. I was glad they didn’t have to.
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Over the next month, everyone got settled in and we developed a routine. It took awhile to get used to not having all the conveniences we used to enjoy. For the first time in their lives, Peter and Paul did some serious hunting. Peter decided that he preferred hunting small game such as squirrel, rabbit, and sometimes wild turkey. Paul and I did the deer hunting. We each got one in early December while the rut was on and the bucks were chasing does. Peter got a turkey right before Christmas. The kids were adaptable and started enjoying the rural living. The wives of my sons were having a hard time adjusting to the way we had to cook now. I had been cooking outdoors for years just for the fun of it. We had a couple of propane stoves and some grills. I had also built a large firepit and a rocket stove. Thank God I had stored a large amount of dry rice, beans, and pasta. A large family goes through a lot of food. Once a person gets used to primitive cooking, it’s not so bad.
Washing clothes and other chores was not very easy now, but we adapted. I had good water sources: a well with a hand pump, and a creek flowed along the back of the property. Also had some rain catchment setups to catch clean rain water. I had solar shower bags for showers, even though we didn’t take one as often as we did before the Collapse.
The house was crowded with nine people living in it. With two bedrooms and the partial basement we got sleeping arrangements worked out. The little bit of electricity I produced let us watch a DVD at night when we wanted to. There was always board games and cards to play also. We also started learning other crafts, now that civilization was mostly gone. We knew we would have to hand-make items when they wore out.
The Guard troops across the road had settled in. They started making patrols on the Trace in the Humvees. They also established some concealed observation points so they could watch any people or vehicles traveling on the Trace. Each Humvee had a machine gun mounted in its turret. One carried an M2, .50 cal and the other had a M60, 7.62 X 51mm. They patrolled a sixty-mile stretch in Tennessee. They were concerned with any DHS movement, gangs and refugees that might move into the area. The trooper that brought his family was their maintenance man and provided security for their camp while the Humvees were out. This trooper’s name was Evers and his wife was Leigh. At that time they had a little girl. I don’t remember her name anymore. She got sick and died that winter.
The soldiers had good radio contact. Major Byron issued me one of their radios. It was a AN/PRC-117F. It had the range we needed, once I set an antenna high enough to run it as a base station. We also listened to the shortwave every night. There was no good news. Reports from around the world told of people dying by the hundreds of thousands. It was winter in the Northern Hemisphere. That meant ‘cold’ with a capital C. The fuel shortage meant no heating oil for many. The grid down meant no electricity. Both of these meant many thousands were freezing to death. Our population had gotten so used to readily-available energy sources, that when these sources were gone they died.
There were no medications for people who needed these to survive on a long-term basis. They died. Seniors and people on life support in nursing homes and hospitals died. The criminals and gangs killed freely with no law enforcement on the job. Mass graves were now the norm. The world’s population had gotten so large that when SHTF happened, the house of cards fell and the predicted disaster happened. So many had ignored the signs and now it was too late.
There was a small amount of people moving down the Trace. By down I mean from north to south. Mostly from the Nashville area. There wasn’t more than a couple of dozen or so observed each day. The DHS had all sides of Nashville blockaded, so not many were getting out of the city. Actually, most of the city dwellers didn’t want to leave. They had spent most or all of their lives in the city, and thought things would get better. By the time they realized they were trapped, it was too late.
I rode with the troops on patrol sometimes, and we talked to some of the refugees. DHS was trying to control the city, but was having a hard time of it. There wasn’t enough food, medicines, and other supplies, and gangs were fighting for turf. What food and meds that were delivered were gone in minutes, and most times there were fights among good people just trying to get a little rice and beans to feed their families.
DHS had also started removing a part of the population to their detention camps. These people were to put to work on farming compounds or in manufacturing facilities. They wanted the young and healthy for their camps. If you were old, sick, or infirm, they left you out there to die.
Early on, the folks moving south on the Trace were mostly good people. The family groups we tried to help in some way if we could. We directed them to good camping spots, mostly in a wildlife preserve the Trace ran through. We showed them how to snare small game. Some were hunters and had hunting rifles or shotguns they could hunt with. We didn’t have food to spare, but if there was a small child, we did what we could to help. A few of these families stayed at their camps and made semi-permanent homes. Most eventually moved on or merged into small villages. If there were just men, single or in a group, we questioned them thoroughly, and if we felt they could be a problem, we encouraged them to move on. If we had problems with anyone, we made them move on. A small biker gang did ride down the road. We caught them trying to rob and brutalize a couple of families that were camped together. Two Humvees with automatic weapons made short work of them. We had seen no sign of DHS storm troops at that point.
All during that month before Christmas, I had my son Joshua and his family on my mind. He had one of the two-way radios that Reggie and I used, but the range was too great to make contact from my home. I contacted Major Byron and got an ‘okay’ for the Humvees to make an extended patrol into North Alabama, with me along for the ride. If I could get to the bridge where the Trace crosses the Tennessee River, I might be able to make radio contact with Joshua and find out what was happening with him.
I radioed Reggie and let him know what was I was doing. He wanted in on the trip. I had already okayed this with Major Byron, anticipating that Reggie would want to come.
We left two hours before dawn on Christmas Eve morning. This way we would be positioned so I could try to contact Joshua in the half-hour after dawn. Joshua had told me months ago that he would be listening then and the half-hour before dusk if this kind of situation ever existed.
We had no problems getting into Alabama. A half-hour before dawn and two miles before we reached the river, the Humvees pulled over and hid in the woods. We were worried that the bridge could be a problem. We were right. Reggie I were going to advance on foot to the bridge and scout it out, and then make the radio call to Joshua. We advanced within the edge of the wood line bordering the Trace. Reggie was on point about ten yards ahead of me. As he got to within visual distance of the bridge, he held up a closed fist telling me to stop. I stopped and kneeled. He came back to me.
“We got a problem,” he said.
“What?”
“DHS!” he replied. “There are some Jack Booted Thugs with an MRAP at the bridge!”
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Volume 2
"Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect every one who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force. Whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined." --Patrick Henry, speech in the Virginia Ratifying Convention, 1778
"The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave." --Patrick Henry
