By the author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica; The Second Year
In case you missed the last chapter, you can find it here.
Dear Diary,
It’s me, Jessica.
We just finished hauling HAM guy’s fresh set of batteries up the hill and sat down to dinner when a shout came from the top of the barricade at the bridge.
Jack and Carlos returned from their daylight RECON.
A moment later, Jack and Carlos exited the chute. They were freely sweating, with sweat marks on their camouflage uniforms. They sat down on upturned logs, leaned their rifles against the log they sat on, and took long pulls from their water bladders in their packs that they set down in front of them.
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We waited for them to rest, knowing they would tell us what they saw.
“Most of the personnel seemed to be support. Not actual combat soldiers,” Carlos said, using his hand to wipe the water from his chin.
“And the few we did see were perimeter guards,” Jack continued.
“I think that is important, but I don’t know why. Explain it to me,” Sean said.
“They do not have a lot of combat soldiers, so they are relying on drones,” Carlos answered.
“Means either they do not have the manpower or they are stretched thin across a wide battle front,” Jack added. “Drones are a force multiplier, but they do have their weaknesses, as we proved.”
“And they are going to anticipate our little oil and transmission fluid trick in the future,” Carlos lamented.
“And that is where the bad news comes in,” Jack said with a degree of concern. “Just before we left to come back to Four Corners, three more communications vehicles arrived. If what HAM guy says is true- three drones per communications vehicle- then they can and will send twelve.”
“Aye, that is a problem,” Sean said, leaning back on his log.
“It is a problem but not our only one,” Carlos responded. “The other problem is they were swapping out the machine guns on some of the reserve drones for rocket launchers.”
“Aye, that is a problem.”
“Is Four Corners that important to them?” Rae asked with a degree of concern in her voice.
Jack and Carlos looked at each other, then Jack looked at Rae,
“No. They couldn’t care less about Four Corners. They want the bridge. We may have to drop it.”
“But that will cut us off from Jamal and the supplies from the city,” I exclaimed.
“Yes. Yes, it will,” Jack replied flatly.
HAM Guy came running up, winded from the hike down the hill where his radio equipment was set up.
He leaned over, hands on his knees, took a moment to catch his breath, and then stood up, wiping sweat off his brow.
“I heard from City HAM Guy. He said, ‘Friend, if you are out there, just listen. The noisy neighbors moved out, in your general direction. Only the watching neighbor is still here, but they have a big dog. Take care, and hope to hear from you soon. Out.’ He was only up for maybe ten seconds. Depending on how good their equipment is, they might have found the frequency, might have used direction-finding to get the direction of his signal back toward the city, and might have recorded the whole thing. Or, they might have missed it entirely.”
“What did he mean?” Rae asked.
“Something changed. I think the ‘noisy neighbors’ are their communications group.”
“Three more communications vehicles showed up to the drone base camp about an hour ago,” Carlos said.
“Okay, that tracks. The ‘watching neighbor’ is the Aerostat and aerial drone group. ‘Big dog,’ I dunno . . . a big guy with a big gun?”
“Armored Personnel Carrier or some other like armored vehicle,” Jack answered. Jack looked at Carlos.
“If City HAM Guy is right, all their communications gear that control the drones, the yahoos who know how to run the communications gear and drive the drones are all in one place. Then . . .”
“One heck of an opportunity.” Carlos smiled.
“Secondary targets: the generator and the pull-behind fuel tanker. Take those out; they lose power to the command post and the ability to charge the drones. Whatever fuel they have in the support vehicles and the APCs is what fuel they have. Now, we just have to figure out how to take out the communications vehicles.”
“I have an idea.” Carlos smiled even bigger.
From the West, the distant sound of thunder rumbled.
“Okay,” Carlos’s smile faded. “Maybe I don’t have an idea.”
Entry two
We were humping fast, trying to beat the storm before it started.
It would be close. The sky was a solid dark gray, almost charcoal color, covering the sun somewhere low on the horizon, if it was not already setting. Night was going to come early.
The intervals between the lightning and thunder were about eighteen Mississippis, as Dad taught me how to estimate the distance by the flash and the report. The main body of the storm was three miles or so away. But the rain could start anytime. I could feel the temperature drop suddenly as the wind picked up out of the West and drove the heat and humidity away. It felt good but once the rain started it was not going to be fun. To keep the rain out of our eyes, if we did not have a wide-brimmed hat, Jack had us borrow one from someone in Four Corners.
I was wearing a cowboy hat. Rae said it looked flattering on me.
I felt dumb.
Jack and Carlos planned to use the storm to cover our approach and infiltration of the base. Before we left, they joked something about, “If it ain’t raining . . . it ain’t training!”
It seemed to be very funny to them.
To Rae, the rest of the team and I, not so funny.
Big, fat raindrops began to fall here and there on the road.
At first I thought it was the wind but it was not the sound of the wind the tree tops above. It was the sound of a downpour hitting the tree leaves and the pavement as it moved like a wave toward us and over us as we hiked. In less than ten seconds, I was soaking wet.
But the cowboy hat did keep the rain off my head and out of my eyes.
I no longer felt dumb.
Ten minutes later, Jack, in front of me, held up the halt sign. I immediately did the same, as the person behind me might not see Jack, as darkness was fully upon us. The intervals between lightning and thunder were getting shorter, lighting up the road and trees around us like a strobe light.
“Get into the treeline just off the road. Carlos and I will scout ahead. Get a good-sized stick and lay it on the edge of the road for us to know about where you are. Pass the word.”
With the sound of the pouring rain, I had to get really close to Rae to pass the word. For a moment, I was afraid I was talking too loud, and someone might hear, but I realized the only person who could hear me was Rae. She turned to pass the word, and I looked for a decent-sized stick. Rae and the others began moving into the tree line. I put the stick down on the road and joined them.
The trees gave us some protection from the rain. It did not seem to make sense to sit on the wet ground, but we were soaked already. Might as well to rest our legs from the fast pace we set out.
Minutes passed when suddenly Jack and Carlos appeared out of the dark before us. They both had clipped a small dim red light to the brim of their hats to see us.
“The base is about three hundred yards up the road. One APC in front facing us, the communications vehicles and DRASH tent. Then the generator and fuel tanker. The two support vehicles and the other APC facing the opposite direction. They are only running one floodlight. It will be hard to see. Those of you who have lights attached to your rifles, use them only if you absolutely have to. We stick with the plan. Make ready. We go in one minute.”
Everyone began checking their rifles and magazines. As I checked my own rifle and gear, out of habit, I said, “On it.”
Entry three
The plan was for Jack and Carlos to be the ‘main effort’. The thirteen others of us were in ‘support.’
Diary, I do not think I have ever been so nervous in my life.
The Battle of Four Corners, the battle against the Cult, the second fight against the gang, all, basically, stand-up fights. One side vs the other.
This was different.
It was what Jack called a ‘clandestine mission.’ Stealth. Subterfuge. In and out without being seen.
It was nerve-racking. I think I would rather have a stand-up fight.
We got to the edge of the base, Jack and Carlos handed Rae and I their rifles and held up while the rest of us split up into the treeline on either side of the road from the back of the one APC to the back of the other. If Jack and Carlos were to get caught, we were to open fire on the generator and the fuel truck. And then to try to cover Jack and Carlos’s retreat.
I was not keen on the ‘cover’ part. It suggested something going wrong.
Lighting illuminated the area for a brief second and we could see the entire base. I counted eight Mississippis before the report of the thunder.
There were a few dim red lights around the communications vehicles and where the communications vehicles were backed up to the DRASH tent. We could see a thin but bright line of light where the tent connected to the back of the communications vehicles.
The one floodlight only illuminated one side of the tent in the middle of the base. Everything else was in the shadows it created and the darkness of night.
Lighting flashed again, and I saw Jack and Carlos with their handguns out in front of them, running crouched in front of the APC, and then they disappeared into the dark.
A few seconds later, thunder rolled.
About 1stMarineJarHead
1stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.
He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.
