Uncertain Times: A Story of Survival Read online

  “Bravo One, this is Bravo Two, we have heavy incoming. U.N. troops are dropping on top of the target building and in the yard from multiple aircraft. It’s getting real busy out here. We will cover your withdrawal as best we can, out.”

  “Get downstairs now!” yelled a Marine. The men covered each other the whole way to the exterior door.

  “Bravo Two this is Bravo One, we are ready to exfil!”

  “Go, go, go!” said one of the snipers over the radio.

  The Marines and militia left the building and moved between cover as machine-gun fire erupted around them and grenades exploded nearby, sending steel shards and splinters in several directions.

  “This way,” said a Marine. Jim and a few others followed him onto a ship docked nearby. “OK, we need security teams to guard this door. You two men, with me,” said the Marine. Jim followed the two Marines into the back of the ship along with another militia member.

  “Alright, now you have to tell me why we’re really here!” Jim demanded.

  “This ship has an EMP weapon aboard and we’re here to destroy it.”

  “Let’s get to it then Marine!” Jim yelled as the battle outside intensified. Explosions and gunfire could be heard rapidly increasing.

  According to the Marines, the U.N. had left the place lightly guarded because they figured they wouldn’t need it anymore. They had won, and America would join the rest of the newly formed World Government. Or so they thought.

  “OK, here it is,” said the Marine as he opened up a wooden crate.

  “What’s the plan?” Jim asked.

  “This charge is ready to go,” he said, placing a satchel in the center of the device. “We have two minutes to get off the ship. It’s set, now let’s move!”

  The men moved toward the exit as fast as they could through the tight corridors and staircases.

  The detonation was meant to do two things —blow up the weapon and sink the vessel. As they were exiting the ship, one of the Recon Marines was shot in his left leg and fell to the ground. If they didn’t leave the blast area, they would be incinerated. Jim looked back as bullets went flying passed his head with loud snaps and whirrs as he dove for cover behind a nearby cargo container. The other Recon Marine went back to help just as the explosion started. He grabbed the fallen Marine and threw him over his right shoulder. He started moving as fast as he could, but it wasn’t quick enough. The two Marines were blown onto the pier as the blast ripped through the steel hull. The shockwave shattered windows in the nearby buildings and knocked men off their feet. The edge of the pier was smoldering as the sinking ship spewed columns of fire and black smoke into the air as if Satan himself was escaping from hell.

  The snipers and ground troops made quick work of the U.N. troops with few Marine and militia casualties. The remaining enemy troops left the area and were pursued by a platoon size force.

  Jim walked over to the two Marines he had seen fall and removed their dog tags from around their lifeless necks. “You won’t be forgotten brothers,” he whispered as he closed one man’s eyes.

  “Mike, Uniform Three, this is Phantom, over,” came a voice across the net from the command center.

  “This is Mike Uniform Three, go ahead with your traffic, over.”

  “You’re to move southeast to hook up with Mike, Uniforms One and Two for building searches, over.”

  “Roger that, Mike Uniform Three, out.”

  “Everyone listen up,” said a Marine lieutenant. “We’ve been tasked with searching building to building. We’ll meet our sister units and move in conjunction with them.”

  “What about the KIA?” Jim asked.

  “We will mark their bodies with strobes and come back for them.”

  “Here are their dog tags,” Jim said as he handed them to the lieutenant, who took them without saying a word.

  The snipers stayed back, covering their six, and would follow them as they made their way up the street. The attack force turned patrol spread out enough so if they came under attack, casualties would be limited as they engaged.

  “Where are the people who live here?” asked Sam, one of the men who volunteered to come with the militia from the mountain. He was a civilian, a high school physical education teacher before the war started. He had lost his wife and 3-year old son after the initial takeover and wanted payback for their murders. Fighting back was his way to cope with his grief. He was new to fighting but learned fast. He never showed any amount of hesitation, doubt or weakness. He waded into the fray every time with selfless devotion to duty and brotherhood. Jim had mentioned more than a few times that Sam had missed his calling as an infantryman.

  “The U.N. ran most of the city’s population out of the area. The others were either rounded up or killed when they resisted,” a Marine answered.

  The Marine and militia elements moved down the street, parallel to the other Marine units, and before long, entered the first of the numerous buildings in the downtown area. Enemy snipers lay in wait for the troops to enter each open area in force before attacking. Friendly troops would get hit and then the buildings around them would be rocked with M4 and machine-gun fire. The enemy snipers would displace before getting hit and would start over with the same tactics almost immediately after.

  They encountered U.N. troops as well as a few civilians as they continued. The fighting became more intense in the areas where larger concentrations of U.N. troops remained, and casualties on both sides began to climb. The civilians they came across were directed to a safe area near the arena. They called in air support and when needed, and M1 Abrams tanks accompanied most patrols as they fought their way through the city, providing suppressive fire. They would shoot M830 shape-charged rounds from their 120-mm main gun into the buildings that were occupied by enemy troops before friendly forces moved in. The fighting raged on for the better part of a week as the Marines and militia gained the advantage, and the tides slowly turned in their favor.

  September 3rd

  I barely recognize the city. We’ve been fighting day and night against an enemy who doesn’t seem to realize they can’t win. Do they even know what they’re fighting for? If they know, do they believe it’s right or moral? The men and women we have been fighting alongside make me proud to be an American. The militia has surprised the Marines on more than a few occasions. The full measure of our resolve is evident in the way we fight, and they have noticed. Friendships have been formed, and we are no longer the outsiders.

  After what felt like a lifetime to most of the friendly forces, word finally came down that they had taken the majority of the city back and ruled the skies completely.

  As the troops moved back toward the FOB, the fighting slowed considerably. Only small pockets of resistance were left and would quickly be taken out. Compared to the enemy who lost hundreds of soldiers, few Marines or militia were killed in the week of fighting. The enemy who weren’t killed or wounded were defeated mentally. With no support or resupply, the remaining U.N. troops surrendered quickly.

  Most combat troops were directed back to the FOB by command. The others followed in short order. Surveillance planes and drones continued to fly over the city to make sure no more U.N. troops were hiding before the civilians could re-enter their homes. General Taft thanked the Marines and militia for their sacrifices.

  As everything appeared to be winding down back at the make-shift base, a voice came across a loud speaker.

  “Marines, we’ve been requested to help out in Portland,” the general announced. “Team leaders have your Marines check their weapons and gear, resupply and get ready to move.”

  Most of the Marine elements were leaving on C-130 transports headed for the Pacific Northwest corridor. A stretch of the Seward highway had been cordoned off and made into a hasty airstrip due to the extensive damage on the tarmac of Anchorage’s Ted Stevens International Airport.

  Transport back to the mountain for the militia was arranged, and gladly accepted by Jim and the rest of the milit
ia, including the deceased. They helped out where they could until it was time for them to leave.

  The militia, Cpt. McGee and a few other Marine escorts loaded aboard CH-46 helicopters early the next day for the trip south. As they flew, they could see more parts of Anchorage were left in ruins than they had seen on their trip north. The campaign goal had been to rid the city of U.N. forces and to try to leave the buildings intact if possible. This had been accomplished, for the most part. The city could be rebuilt, but first the invaders had to be removed.

  Danny sat smiling as they flew back to the mountain. Most of the men and women were sleeping, but Terry couldn’t, so Danny attempted to talk to him over the loud noise of the engines. “What are you going to do when we get back?”

  “Take a hot shower,” Terry yelled back.

  “I want a hot meal,” Rick interjected as he heard the conversation.

  “Sleep,” Jim said. “I want to sleep.”

  The others smiled at each other as more people woke up. The cabin lights had come on and the crew chief lowered the rear ramp.

  When the helicopters approached, most of the occupants of the mountain complex walked outside to meet the returning militia. They hadn’t received any news since they had left and were anxious to see their family members return.

  Three stretchers draped with American flags were carried off the two aircrafts by Marines, then the wounded followed by the rest of the militia and Marines. Most of the militia had been wounded in one form or another, from shrapnel to bullets to stress disorders. For some, it would be a heartbreaking reunion, and for others, joyful.

  Jim and a few others saluted Cpt. McGee, who gladly saluted back.

  “Thank you, for you and your people’s help,” McGee told Jim as they shook hands.

  “We wouldn’t have missed it, sir. You and your men be careful out there and come back whenever you want.”

  “We will. It looks like you have a welcoming party, and we need to get back.”

  “Semper Fi!” Jim yelled as the Marines reboarded the birds.

  A large group from the mountain met them at the landing zone to help with anything they might need.

  “Daddy, daddy!” Sally came running for Matt. A few of the other young kids were happy to see their parent, as well.

  Once the fallen were identified, cries could be heard and tears seen on several faces. The group walked back up to the mouth of the cave with their loved ones, dead and alive.

  Prior to going inside, Jim and Bill watched the helicopters fly away. Minutes before they were out of sight, one of them blew up in midair from rocket fire, and the other was hit but kept flying. The remaining helicopter limped away and disappeared.

  “What the hell is going on Jim?” Bill asked.

  “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

  Three hours passed and a call on an encrypted frequency came in on a radio the Marines had left.

  “Jim, this is Cpt. McGee, are you there?” Jessie answered the call and quickly left to get Jim.

  “I’m here, Captain, what the hell happened out there?”

  “The U.N. launched a massive counter attack across the entire state and we’re rapidly losing momentum and our lines. They want Alaska awfully bad. We need you and your people to be ready. I will be in touch, McGee out.”

  “What about the request for them to head to Oregon?” Matt questioned.

  “Let’s hope they finish the job here before they leave us,” Jim said.

  “Never, never, never give up.”

  —Winston Churchill

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “The enemy has millions of troops worldwide and apparently isn’t willing to give up easily,” Jim was talking to Mary after he got back.

  “The kids, Carl and I are just glad you’re home. While you were gone, a quill popped out of the roof of Carl’s mouth. It’s a good thing it hadn’t been farther back, or it could have migrated to his brain.”

  “This isn’t home.”

  “Home is where we are together.” Mary could hear the frustration in Jim’s voice. She knew he would be stuck in combat mode for awhile and would check on Carl when he was ready.

  “We fought so hard to take a small chunk of real estate back from them and now it’s lost again. So much sacrifice, for what?”

  “Has each country given in to the U.N.?”

  “Not from what we were told, but for the ones who have, they’re using the cooperating country’s soldiers against the rest of us.”

  “We can’t stop fighting, we can’t give in,” Mary reassured him.

  “Until this nightmare’s over, we’re not going to. We have too many people depending on us.”

  Three of the people who left to help the Marines in their fight up north had paid the ultimate price, and most had been wounded during the long week. The healing process for them would take weeks, even months, for most. For others, it would take longer.

  “Winter’s going to be here before we know it, and we still have more preparations to make,” Bill brought up in a meeting the following day.

  “We need a new way to get information on convoys and troop strength when they reenter our area as well,” Rick added.

  “What about setting up a base in town?” Danny suggested.

  “It will only put more people at risk on a full-time basis,” Jim countered.

  “Let’s bring it up and see if we have any volunteers,” Bill said.

  They held a meeting in the commons and, surprisingly, a couple who had come to the mountain for refuge spoke up right away.

  “We agree we haven’t helped as much as we could have up to this point. This will be our contribution to our country and each of you,” they said.

  Dave and Sara Whitlock were both in their late 40s and had no children. They said they had nothing to lose, aside from each other. They would recruit new people for the cause and store weapons and supplies until they could be transported to the places they were needed the most. So it didn’t look suspicious, the safe house was set up in their old home. It was off the beaten path of the main highway and was easily accessed by the four-wheeler trails that everyone had become familiar with.

  “We can use some of the long-range encrypted radios the Marines left us,” Bill suggested.

  “With a little help, I can build a hidden safe room in the basement,” Dave told them.

  “We need to get the key components in place before winter if this is going to happen,” Jim added.

  October 18th

  The work on Dave and Susan’s house is going well. Some false walls have been added so they can hide caches of weapons, ammo and other key supplies, as well as people. It took some doing, but a tunnel leading from the basement to the side of the valley that the house overlooks was dug out. Workers dug day and night from both ends and met in the middle. The length of the tunnel is about 400 yards. The ceiling was reinforced with wood found at a nearby lumberyard that was abandoned not long after the U.N. arrived. Most of the dirt we encountered was hard-packed clay and gravel. Hopefully we don’t have any issues with water come springtime, but we will deal with it if it becomes an issue.

  The autumn leaves were quickly changing color and falling off the trees. A cool crispness could be felt in the air and the snow slowly crept down in elevation. Winter preparations were the priority and were nearly complete.

  As November rolled around and the snow piled up, the people from Shangri-la wondered if the U.S. troops would come back to help them. Most of Alaska had been won back, and then suddenly lost again. New troops from countries no one had ever heard of were controlling the convoys now and roaming the streets of the nearby towns. They received info about the troops they were fighting now and found out they were a coalition made up of dozens of countries.

  Most of what they heard couldn’t be substantiated right away. They had no real way of telling fact from fiction. The time appeared to pass slowly. Little to nothing had happened with the enemy lately, but the militia continue
d to stockpile guns, ammo, food and supplies they would need to continue the inevitable fight.

  The safe house was doing wonders for the cause. Hard-to-obtain items, like medical supplies, were trickling in and sent to each outpost. A barter system, kind of like a black market, had been established, and not only the locals, but the enemy soldiers took part in it, too.

  The Alaska Militia continued to grow. Most people wanted the U.N. out of the country. There were some civilians who were comfortable with the change and even prospered from it. When found out, the collaborators were dealt with. Treason had been declared punishable by death, and no one took it more seriously than the men and women who were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to defend their country.

  As the weeks drifted by, the temperature dropped, but the militia adapted with warmer clothing and other necessities for operating in the harsh conditions.

  A long-range reconnaissance patrol even went as far south as Homer on the southern tip of the Kenai Peninsula to gather information and recruit people. While there, they met the local resistance and performed a coordinated attack on the high school, where an internment camp had been set up for those caught opposing the U.N. forces. News of the victory was heard as far as Anchorage and prompted more retaliation from the enemy, but it was met head on by the resistance.

  One cold day in late November, an ambush was executed on a small supply convoy heading south on the Sterling Highway.

  “We have great cover with this light snow falling, but all of you need to stay alert,” Sgt. Collins relayed over the radio once they were in position.

  “Isn’t this a routine ambush,” Danny gloated.

  “There’s nothing routine about any ambush,” Jim said. “I want radio silence from here on out. Once I take out the lead vehicle with the claymore, I want snipers to start engaging, like we talked about.”