A continuation of The Future of Warfare

J. Croft

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ABANDONED FARM

ANDOVER, OHIO

March 18, 2014

Kayla Miller is in bed, convalescing from the recent battle, her war injuries; a tray that had food was virtually cleaned off, hardly needing washed.  She was watching a movie on the TV courtesy of the VHS-an old one called The Survivors.  By her bedside was her Mosin-Nagant ; she cradles the suppressor-equipped M-14 she got off the cop she bagged during the closing seconds of the Battle of Pymatunig Lake… her new best friend.

A knock on the door.  Kayla cooly points her new rifle… “who that?”

Chris Bernard walks in, all 140 lb 5’7 gangly teen.  Maybe before the war you could call him a gamer or a geek but him wearing full German camo, a pistol belt with a Browning Hi-power and his eyes… he’s seen combat, definitely.  He was scrawny, but he didn’t look weak…

“Sup Chris.”

“Hey.  How’s the shoulder?”

“It’ll get better.  Range was too far for the 5.56 to do it’s hyperlethality bullshit or I’d be out an arm.  I be out bustin’ on fools soon enough but until then I guess I’ll be giving lessons.  Which is cool because the more people we got out there with rifles that know what the fuck they doing, the sooner this war’s gonna end… if I HAD to though, I could go prone or support my new boyfriend on my pack-but hopefully they give me some time to recup, y’know.”

“Sorry about your dad.”

“So am I.  Believe that.  Got back at the muthafuckas though.”

“Yeah we did!”

“Good service though.  It fucking worked!”

“Fuck yeah it did!

“Just need to get the next one to be able to hit ground targets.  Could’ve definitely used some of that the other day.”

DOCKYARDS

BAYONNE, NEW JERSEY

In the largest port in the world, dozens of commercial Roll on-Roll off fast merchantmen are being opened up and unloaded…

The entire U.S. European Command plus British, French,  German and Belgian armored divisions are being offloaded, combat ready.  The Main Battle Tanks; M-1 Abrams, Challengers, Leopard IIs, infantry fighting vehicles are driven onto trains and flatbed trailers and secured.

Those trailers roll out in convoys under heavy guard and air escort from Apache gunships, Reaper drones and fighters from both the U.S. Air Force and various NATO services.  They head westward, toward Ohio.

ABANDONED HOUSE

ANDOVER, OHIO

Kayla and Chris watch The Survivors…

“That’s going to require a lot more programming and perhaps better sensor technology than repurposed surveillance cameras-like IR or synthetic aperture radar.  Or maybe I can modify some pattern recognition technology but then we’d need the same IFF aircraft use but then there’s introducing a transceiver into the design and any radio link will open a way to hack it.  As it is we’ve pushed the available technology pretty far-you got to remember we can only use whatever’s available and the Beowulf requires certain chips, certain components.  Thank God the rest of the Minuteman can be put together in about any machine shop and hanger, the fuel’s common enough and we can throw about any machine gun into the thing… and what the fuck are you watching?”  Chris catches his breath.

“The Survivors.  Robin Williams is some yuppie turned survivor, some country singer is some killer trying to whack him and some other old dude’s trying to stop him or some bullshit.  Kick it with me for a bit an watch it’s actually not that bad.”

Chris pulls up a chair by Kayla and they watch, and she’s still lovingly cradling her M-14.

WRIGHT-PATTERSON AIRBASE

DAYTON, OHIO

F-15s, F-16s, A-10s, RAF and Luftwaffe Tornados, Apache gunships are all being rapidly fueled and armed.  Overhead, a KC-130 tanker flies by with F-22 fighter escort.  Pilots from the US Air Force and NATO air services emerge from the barracks… we can see on their legs strap on maps with a 100 mile circle hue around Lake Pymatunig.

ABANDONED FARMHOUSE

ANDOVER, OHIO

“Would you like me to get Pastor Conrad, get you two properly hitched?”  Chris teases Kayla about how attached she is to her new war prize.

“Huh, what?  Oh, my new rifle?  …Well that just means you’re out of luck aren’t you?”

“Funny.”

They watch the old movie; Robin Williams and Jerry Reed are exchanging gunfire in the woods, Robin banging away with his Valmet and Jerry being a practiced killer.  “See that hillbilly would be me an’ those cops are fucking Robin Williams with guns they don’t deserve.  Now we got the drone issue solved I can get back in the hunt.  We all can.  Get some more nice ass pieces to add to my collection.”

“What about your Mosin?”

“I dunno… I mean I like how I can put down a muthafucka with it, an I like working the bolt and lining up but I can lay crosshairs on a lot more motherfuckers in the same time with the 14.”

They watch more of the movie-Jerry shoots Robin’s expensive Valmet’s barrel, ruining it.  They laugh.  David Getz enters, 6’ 200lb, in his 20’s in fatigue pants, combat boots, a form fitting t-shirt.  Soldier.  “Ah, you found The Survivors.”

“You shot my rifle!  What kind of sick bastard does that?!”  More laughs.  Robin pulls his handgun.

“Chump.”  Kayla snorts.  Robin shoots one shot-then his pistol jams…

“Uh, um, can-can we have a cease-fire?”

“A cease-fire?!”

“Yeah.  Um, uh, you’re not going to believe this but I loaded the wrong bullets in my gun!”

“You what?!”

“Yeah, see I loaded the long, skinny bullets when I was supposed to load the big fat ones.”

Kayla doesn’t look comfortable-Chris laughs: “Kayla I remember you doing that your first mission.”

“No shit?”  Dave gets in.

“Yeah I remember you fucking shitting yo’self on yours-an we didn’t even start out.  Glass houses dude.  An fuck you too Dave for jumping in!  I’m a combat casualty-EMMA!”

Emma Moritz, short girl, peeks her head in, holding some electronics parts:  “what’s up Kay?”

“These boys are interrupting my convalescence an’ shit.  Make em’ go away.”

“Honey, I just make sure you get food an’ help you to the toilet.  I got nothing to do with these clowns.”

“Ha!”

“Fuck you Dave.”  Kayla frowns… she hits pause on the remote.

“Shouldn’t they be tearing the state apart looking for us?  I mean, we did take down two drones and two jet fighters with our drone.  They gots to be pissed.”

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

Phone Crews, guarded by State Police, are busy disconnecting phone lines and fiber optics along the western border of town.

STATE COLLEGE, PENNSYLVANIA

More Phone Crews, more disconnection of landlines, fiber optics.  All over town, all supervised by Pennsylvania State Police.

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

Same story: Phone Crews disconnecting service all over town.  The Mayor, a shriveled crow of a middle age woman approaches the ranking State Police Trooper, a Lieutenant:  “what’s going on-why are you cutting service?”

“Orders.”

“But, we can’t use cell phones, we have no television, radio, internet-“

“-State of emergency, that’s all I know.”

“What about everyone west of us?”

What can the LT do but shrug.  Orders are orders.

MORGANTOWN, WEST VIRGINIA

Phone Crews under the supervision of Belgian NATO troops cut phone service all over town.

ZANESVILLE, OHIO

Same story:  Phone Crews under supervision of U.S. Army cut landlines across town.

MANSFIELD, OHIO

More Phone Crews cutting service across town, supervised and guarded by Ohio Highway Patrol.

SANDUSKY, OHIO

Last phone line is cut by the last crew… they watch as elements of a US Army Brigade Combat Team-Stryker AFV variants-line up…

LAKE ERIE

Coast Guard patrol vessels-armed with machine guns and cannon-are patrolling hard along the shore of Lake Erie, alongside their Canadian counterparts, with Canadian Air Force F-18s flying overhead.

CITY HALL

CLEVELAND, OHIO

Pure chaos rules the heavily fortified 30’s granite structure nestled in the midst of downtown Cleveland’s fortress/skyscrapers and office buildings;  people dart in and out, yelling, trying in vain to get cell phones to work, landline phones to work, but it’s not going to happen.

A US Army Major, flanked by a six man infantry squad briskly enters the office of the Mayor of Cleveland, whose having an emergency joint meeting with staff from every office that could come at an emergency notice without electronic communications of any sort.

The Major assumes control; “gentlemen, I am here to inform you that this city and the entire region are under direct military rule now.  You are to cooperate fully with any and all NATO military forces operating in this area.”

“Why” the Mayor has to ask, “why is everything down?”

“National security.  There’s a major terrorist threat, and we’re here to contain it; it is feared domestic terrorists may have another nuclear weapon-“

“-OH MY GOD!”  A councilwoman blurts out.  Everyone is really afraid now.

“Yes, that’s why.  We have our NATO allies here to assist us in crushing the insurgents once and for all.  I won’t have another Columbus on my watch.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

MINOT AIR FORCE BASE

MINOT, NORTH DAKOTA

A B-52 is being armed with six freefall nuclear weapons, under heavy guard.

ABANDONED FARMHOUSE

ANDOVER, OHIO

Chris Bernard expands his thoughts.  “Actually the Minuteman took down two F-22 Raptors.  Those are as top-of-the-line as they come but as stealth as they are against radar and I guess infrared, they can’t mask engine noise.  Minuteman uses both optical and audio recognition software, and even that’s derived from common software.  It flies and fights like an air to air missile only it searches for the next target; just homes in and kills but it can also react faster than a human.  Any human.  Preprogrammed maneuvers and scenarios… well it works.”

Kayla nods.  “Believe me I saw it!  I thought I was dead but then I saw the fighters-no it was the drone-shoot missiles at it but they only hit the rocket boosters after they separated.  THEN, there was the dogfight an’ our drone took both those F-22s out like they was nothing.  Course the Reaper sent every last missile after the Minuteman but it dodged them all an’ handled business.  Most awesome thing ever, and if y’all hadn’t have launched it, I’d been dead, for real.”

“And you saved ours when you made that last stand and took out two of their ground droids.  We’d been dead if you hadn’t.”  Emma chimes in.

“Tell the truth I didn’t have no place to go and… I didn’t care.  I think they will-they ought to we downed two of their best jet fighters and all their drones-why haven’t they gone ape shit?”

“Good point Kayla.  I think we really shocked the fuck outta them.  I think we stunned them and they’re trying to figure out what to do.”  Dave Getz though shakes his head…

“Then we need to attack.  Right now, and take advantage of their shock an’ fuck they shit up proper.”

“Would love that but that was our only drone.  Yeah we recovered the hard drive but everything else is busted up we got to build another one from scratch-body, avionics, sensors, get a Beowulf built up, get another cannon.  Can we?  Depends how long until they regroup-“

“-An flatten the state looking for us.”  Dave shakes his head.

“Think they’ll go that far, Dave?”

“Chris, Emma; you try getting on the nets?”

“Been laying low y’know after the battle.”  Chris nods at Emma’s comment, and it seems to have been the appropriate response.

“Get those plans out, now.  Nets, dead drops, however you can: we got to unass outta here, might as well get the word out.  Hopefully people are spreading the word on our battle-if not, then it up to us.

They’ll be sweeping the entire state, just as soon as they can gather enough troops.“

FEDERAL FUSION CENTER

WARREN, OHIO

March 20, 2014

The new Ohio Federal Fusion Center is located in otherwise abandoned downtown Warren, Ohio-the town itself being cleared of the last of its former inhabitants… which Lieutenant General Andreas Warburg of the German Army hasn’t arrived yet as he’s en route.  Accompanying him is his aid and liason officer Major Carl Fox, US Army.

“We’ve established a hard 160 kilometer perimeter marking the edge of total electronic blackout-landlines cut, every signal jammed.  We also have a 30 kilometer perimeter we’re forming as well, and with NATO reinforcements we’ll have an airtight perimeter to begin operations.  And we’ll have additional support from Wright Patterson-we cleared out Dayton several months ago and are in the process of doing the same with Warren.  The fusion center in town has the only operational communications within the blackout zone” Major Fox finishes, then: “kinda overkill ain’t it?”

“A fully autonomous drone that can dogfight and shoot down stealth fighters and be built in some hillbilly’s garage?  No, Major-this could change the course of the war, and that will not happen!”  General Warburg sits, thinks, then; “so, still no explanation what really happened to Columbus?”  The German looks archly at his Aide D’Camp.

“No:  the fissile materials tested indicated it was an American device, but the readings are inconclusive, like someone remanufactured the device from different bombs thrown in the same mix.  That’s the analysis at any rate.”

“Our opponents obviously have those.”

“Which ones, you think?”

“Could be the Israelis double dealing, could be some devices stolen from your inventories.  Since the warheads are locked out they’d have to tear them apart and remanufacture them anyway and it would not be in the interest of Israel doing a double cross and using weapons that can be traced back to them.  They could’ve recovered some bomb lost in the sea, in North Carolina, used what they stole out of Minot, or maybe… ach forget it!  If there’s really another bomb, we’ll deal with it then-there’s one of your B-52s that will make certain of that.  Right now we got a drone problem.”

“Amazing they chose a ramjet for the engine.”

“Not really; turbine engines require a sophisticated industrial base.  Ramjets are but shaped metal tubes with fuel sprayers and burners, but require high airspeed to begin operating and our opponents do not have factories nor airbases.  So a crude engine with rocket boosters is the logical choice no?  Set up anywhere and launch.  …The computerized brain they used; they’ll be wanting to get that out, or at least the plans.”

“We’re jamming literally every frequency.  All landlines are cut, and there’s two perimeters; we’ll close in, go house to house every step of the way.”

DINER

MARIETTA, OHIO

The former Commander of the Warren Base is sitting at the counter in work clothes, grimy and tired.  He watches as the Waitress flips through every channel only to find static.

“Nothing!”

The Commander gets a cell phone out and checks the bars-nothing.  “Looks like the cell networks out.”

“Another nuclear attack, Hank?”

“Had one of those; it didn’t take out everything.  I gotta go” and Hank the Commander leaves.

WARREN, OHIO

The German General, and his American staff continue in the MRAP.

“We have civilian authorities looking for every dead drop, busting anyone who even remotely looks suspicious; we need more bodies for the FEMA camps.  Speaking of which, we’ll have Warren emptied out by the end of the week.  Too bad about Columbus, I really liked that town.”

They travel;  along the route he witnesses an operation as he’s driven via a MRAP.

“Stop!  I want to see this.”

The Driver obeys.  Warburg watches with cold blue eyes as down a side street is being raided by elements of the German and US Armies in a joint operation;  Bundeswehr Infantry alongside elements of a Army Combat Brigade go in hard and fast with armor support from three Strykers and a Leopard II Main Battle Tank originally tasked with repelling the Soviets… a NATO operation in America’s dead heartland.

Half the homes are boarded up; several of those boards pop out and machine gun fire scythes the troops; the gunners are good and catch about all of them, but they also hit several civilians.

The Stryker variants employed have remote operated .50bmg mounts and they go into immediate effect swiveling to the machine gunners and chopping away at the entire homes.

More boards pop out and grenades-no, much larger than hand grenades, larger than rifle grenades-lob at the Strykers.  Now, the Strykers have the railing on the side which chain link fencing is attached to act as a catcher’s mitt for rocket propelled grenades or anything else with a HEAT or HESH charge.  The grenades lobbed at the Strykers are just big bombs filled with high explosive-they rip and shred the railing, the fencing and a second volley of rifle grenades splat on the surface of the Strykers-HESH rounds that spread their soft plastique charges over a wider area and detonate creating a spall effect.

The Leopard, oriented outward of the operation spins around on the asphalt and orients toward the action.

“Halt the Leopard!”

“Yes General” an American Sargeant gets on the radio.

General Warburg can’t watch from the MRAP.  He steps out.

“Tell that crew I am approaching.”

“This is too much for his Aide D’Camp: “General you can’t go out there its dangerous!”

“Stay there: I want air support right now, these insurrectionists are not getting away!”  And off goes General Warburg, climbing the Leopard II tank like a tanker and raps on the command hatch.

The Sargeant and the Major look at each other in dread, horror, awe.

At the Leopard the hatch opens and a Bundeswehr Lieutenant pops his head up to see a General cocking the handle on the pintle mounted .50 BMG.

“Sir!  What are you doing, this is very dangerous!”

“Yes now I want you to start shelling that street.”

“Our troops-“

“-Are dead!  Level every fucking house on this street!”  General Warburg’s left hand loosens its grip on the 50 and starts moving toward the Beretta.  Now the tank commander understands; he ducks back in his tank.

General Warburg aims the .50 at the first house enemy fire came from and chops away.  He adjusts as the Leopard II’s turrent traverses to the gunner’s own priority target and FIRES it’s 120mm main armament at a house which blows up spectacularly!

Warburg keeps raking the enemy positions on his own as the Leopard FIRES and blows up a second home, a third home, a fourth home, a fifth.

General Warburg empties the .50 bends down inside the Leopard II: “take it from here!”  He jumps off the tank runs back to the MRAP to a shocked Major Fox and crew of his command vehicle.

“I’ve sent a message: we’re not going to fuck around anymore.  Where’s my air support?”

Major Fox was thinking as this Kraut general sat, sweating, a feral look to him and made up his mind that  this bastard wasn’t someone to fuck with.

“Sir, as you know there is only landline communication and we’re waiting on fighter cover before we can-“

“-They are not going to get away, do you understand Major?”

“Yes, General I do.  The Air Force-“

“-I’ll get that air support if I have to take that panzer to Wright-Patterson and ram the main armament up their arses myself!  Get that fucking air cover up right now!”

“Our troops General-”

“-Died doing their duty but they died stupidly.  That is that.  …How much longer must I wait for my air support Major?”

Five hours later…

A third of Warren shot up, burning… US A-10’s and Apache gunships fly low overhead, F-16’s fly higher for air cap….

General Warburg finally arrives at the Federal Fusion Center astride that Leopard II; the center itself occupies an foreclosed office building that’s been heavily fortified… the entire Downtown is fortified against a major assault.   The Leopard stops and the General hops off.  Tankers are short to fit easier inside their vehicles but Lt. General Warburg must’ve just barely met Bundeswehr requirements.

Greeting him:  FBI Special Agent in Charge Allison Stevenson;  Jack Caruthers of Homeland Security; Major Terrence Brown of the Ohio Highway Patrol;  Major Allen Tibbs of the Pennsylvania State Police; Major Janet Hines of the West Virginia Highway Patrol; Major Dan Glass of the New York State Police; Trumbull County Sheriff Dan Kowalski.

General Warburg bulls through: “Inside!”

The German General bulls through security, through everyone and enters the Command Center; lavishly high tech with workstations and screens and dozens of personnel from both civilian and military branches of the government.

“Achtung!” Everyone stops, looks at their new commanding officer.  Germans certainly know how to get attention.

“I am Lieutenant General Warburg, German Army, and this is now a military operation under the North Atlantic Treaty-my country and the rest of NATO are going to assist you in putting down your latest rebellion.  When we are finished it will be the last.”

The General approaches a interactive holographic display of the region-Ohio, Pennsylvania, Western New York, West Virginia.  Varying shades and shapes of blue represent local police, state police, US military-all of which are cordoning off both a hundred mile and 20 mile perimeter around Lake Pymatunig if they’re not already swarming that area far more than the rest of country-if they could.  Red represent known rebel forces and those are very few… what aren’t are the number and types of attacks.  Streaming into Dayton, Columbus, Cleveland, Pittsburgh are NATO forces from Great Britain, France, Italy, Norway, and a huge contingent from Germany itself.  Additional US forces stationed in Germany also accompany the airlift.

“Your rebels have managed under heavy internal suppression, disarray, and a lack of apparent research and manufacturing resources to field a fully automated drone capable of air combat-something straight out of a terminator movie.  That drone from reports can be easily manufactured under clandestine conditions, and apparently so can the computer given the conditions the enemy operates under.  This… Battle of Pymatunig Lake if repeated could be the turning point of this war, negating our air dominance and open the way toward total collapse that the detonation of several nuclear weapons on your soil hasn’t.  That will not be allowed to happen: we are establishing a 160 kilometer and 30 kilometer perimeter around the battle site: every possible landline is cut, every frequency jammed, and from there we shall close the noose and catch the parties responsible for constructing that drone and secure this area.  I have been authorized to use whatever means necessary.  All forces in the region will be under my direct command, neither resistance nor incompetence will be tolerated.”

General Warburg looked about at his staff; all of them had some measure of fear in their eyes.  Good.

“That will be all for now, I have had a long day.  I will be in my office freshening up.  Major…

Major Fox leads the German General to his office; it is of course an executive office.  The Major shows the German in and he assumes the soft leather seat at his desk, already equipped with his computer and papers.

“Ah, good.  You set up exactly as specified.  I think we will work well together.  Now: I need something to fuck, right now.”

“I got that covered as well General.  How do you feel about ‘Batman and Robin’?”

“Ah, I like that one!  Do we have costumes?”

“Of course.”

Several minutes later the German General and the American Major are… God in Heaven the kraut’s wearing a Batman cowl, cape, his combat boots, a ‘utility belt with cuffs and sex toys and that’s it.  The Major’s Robin and similarly attired… (author’s note: unbelievable… these are some sick fuckers but that’s the kind of satanic pedophile that would conduct this sort of operation against civilians.)

The Major marches into an adjoining room and drags out a naked, underweight 14 year old boy.

“Ah, he’s just right!  Wunderbahr!  Let’s begin! NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NANANANA BATMAN!”  The Major lets the boy go and both he and Warburg give chase…

ROUTE 6

OUTSIDE CHARDON, OHIO

A work truck, used for hauling rubbish from roofing jobs is cruising westbound through the pretty Ohio countryside, carrying a full load…

…Inside that load is a hollow space and in it are:

Kayla Miller: commander of the Pymatunig Militia, sniper:  “hope to God we don’t see combat cuz’ I can’t do a whole lot beyond snipe… should’ve got the fuck outta there right after the battle!”

Chris Bernard: computer programmer:  “I had no ideal they’d shit themselves this bad over it.  Must’ve really scared the fuck outta them-this might be the game changer we’ve been looking for.”

Danny Miller: (no relation to Kayla) the Amish kid who helped Kayla at the Battle of Pymatunig Lake.  “You really should have stayed back at the farmhouse Kayla, you need time to heal.”

“Shut up Danny, we’re going through with this.  Em, you getting anything yet?”

Emma Moritz:  short blonde girl in her early 20’s, kind of a hippie but has seen a lot of combat.  She is going through several cell phones trying to get a signal. “Still getting nothing.  I think they really did shut down all communications.”

David Getz: ex US Army, Iraq War Veteran, has the M240:  “All of you be ready when we get to the checkpoint.  Danny you help Kayla.  We’ll have to move fast, get to a car-stay together.  Hopefully this hide will work.”

Hal Leskovitch: 30’s, balding and aside from his AK it’s unclear what his role is.

“At any rate we’ll get to our contact in Chardon-go from there.”

“Yes” Kayla replies, “and above all we got to get Chris here to safety.  We can hide him in Cleveland, eventually get him to Alabama, Upper Michigan, Montana, Texas, Jefferson, or one of the other Free States.”

Kayla pulls out of her pocket a picture of her a few years back; 30lbs heavier… she really had a fine body back then… friendly, untouched by poverty or war.  She has her little brother with her and they pose for the camera and she’s happy to do so… same kid the German has as she looks at her photo.

At the checkpoint, Geauga County Sheriff’s Deputy Angie Kent shuffles her 5’9”, 130lb frame on her tired feet as she waves traffic forward.  It’s been a long couple days.

“Come on!  Next ten-let’s go!  Follow the vehicle in front until it stops!”  Backing up the cop is Corporal Dylan Gordon, U.S. Army, carrying a M-4.

“Let’s FUCKING GO NOW!”

The line of vehicles and horse drawn wagons starts to advance forward.  The checkpoint was organized in a single file line, with ten TSA Search Teams waiting at each “station” strung along the road; Mike Benson leers at the incoming meat, his slicked back hair, greasy skin, glasses, 300lb fat frame just scream pervert, as do the rest of those freaks and rejects.

Overhead are four deployable towers, with two US Army soldiers, each with a rifle and a M240 or M249.  Beyond that, a pair of British Challenger Main Battle Tanks, their 120mm smoothbore cannons and top mounted 50 cal heavy machine guns aimed menacingly at the Americans.  All of them.

1^st vehicle:  a semi hauling a tanker.  Driving is Bill Buford-just turned 50 whose clothes hung loose on his once well filled beer gut, just wanting to get in and through this latest brand of government bullshit and get home.  A CB and a shortwave radio are off-since no kind of radio was working now.

BILL BUFORD’S HOME

SHARON, PENNSYLVANIA

March 6, 2013

Bill Buford is looking over his semi, parked at his Ranch style home just outside Sharon.  His wife, Ann, stomps out of their home with suitcases in each hand, their children carrying suitcases-all headed to their ancient station wagon.  Ann whirls on Bill:

“Bill will you please come with us!”

Bill keeps working on his truck…

“Bill!”

Bill keeps working: “You should stay here-this’ll blow over.  Just do what you’re told and it’ll be alright.  I’m essential to the war effort, we’ll be taken care of.”

“I’m not telling you where we’re going, and don’t you dare come after us!”

“Don’t come back.”  Bill looks at his wife “Just don’t.  But you’re on your own out there, and if you’re caught, you’re in for it.  Just don’t take my kids.”

Ann pulls out a .45… Bill takes a breath, faces her.  “You’re just asking for trouble having that.”

“The kids are coming with me.  They won’t be slaves.”

“Then go.  You’re dead to me.”

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

Now

2^nd vehicle: a green PT Cruiser driven by a single woman, about 30, strangely vacant look to her eyes but immaculate.

3^rd vehicle is a flatbed truck hauling a backhoe.  Two Construction Workers sit in the cab utterly surprised at this kind of checkpoint… though given the events of the past few years one wonders what rock they were living under.

“Shit.”  Mike the driver looks at his boss, Jeff.

“Just go through, it’ll be alright.”

JEFF’S CONSTRUCTION BUSINESS

AKRON, OHIO

March 4, 2013

Jeff’s construction business is in a rented warehouse space, which given how Akron’s more economically depressed than most of the area, was cheap.  Jeff himself is in his office on his computer when Federal Agents rudely bust in.

“Jeff Goernke, we’ll be needing copies of all your records-“

“-Whoa, hold up!  Who are you and where’s your warrant?”

The first Agent grabs Jeff and SLAMS him to the ground, puts his Sig Saur to his head.  “We’re from your government.  We need your records because you’re a essential business-and we’d rather have people running their business helping to rebuild our country instead of just shooting you and seizing the equipment.”

Second Agent chimes in: “Goddamn it’s like you didn’t hear we’re under martial law or-“

“-Say WHAT?!”  Jeff realizes… he’d had his head up his ass…

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

Now

4^th vehicle is a Geauga County vehicle driven by Dan Basolignio, a code enforcement officer who just screams unctuous prick with his ridiculously slick back hair, beady eyes, wearing a 1000 dollar suit-but working for the government these days carried lots of perks… but this damn roadblock-checkpoint-whatever’s going to get in the way of brunch….

GEAUGA COUNTY ADMINISTRATION BUILDING

CHARDON, OHIO

March 1, 2013

Dan Basolignio rips through the parking lot of the 70’s era government building in his new Mustang, pulls into his parking spot, gets out in his not-1000 dollar suit.  A Black Male approaches him, lost.

“Excuse me, but could y’all tell me where I pay this fine?”

Dan looks this latest mark up and down, “In there dumbfuck.”

“Hey man, I’m just trying to pay up.”

“Shut up.  You should have obeyed the law, but no, your dumb ass is giving us money.  Matter of fact, maybe I go in, find out who the fuck you are and fuck your life up some more.  How about that?”

“P-please Mister, don’t I’m trying to pay but my-“

“-Oh I don’t wanna fucking hear it!  …Get out of my sight.”  Dan quickly got tired and the man scurried off.

Dan enters the building, and there’s a sign stating everyone is to meet in the conference room, which he does, because doing what one’s told to do keeps your ass out of a sling.  Unlike that one dumb fuck outside-arrives where he’s supposed to but asks where he’s supposed to pay?

Dan enters, and someone from the Federal Government is just starting:

“I’m from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, and as you know due to a combination of external and internal crises the President of the United States has put the nation under martial law.  FEMA will be liasoning with your offices in order to make the necessary transitions.  Now, aside from the ordnances you normally enforce you will also be authorized to enforce state and federal mandates, and codes.  Essentially you and your government are being united with the federal government.  Any questions?”

Dan steps up:  “Yeah, how much authority will we have-I mean, how much leeway will we have to do our jobs.”

FEMA Man leans forward, smiles, “as much as you need, Sir.  You’ll be armed, given any necessary firearms training, have the power to arrest and detain.  We’re in martial law, under a state of emergency, this is how it is.”

Dan smiles.  His career choice is paying off in so many unexpected ways.

Right after the meeting Dan marches out to the lobby where that man he accosted sits, waiting.  Dan motions for a Chardon Police Officer to accompany him, which he does.

“Officer, I need you to arrest this man’ he made terrorist threats against the government-“

“-I FUCKING DID NOT, MOTHERFUCKER-“

Chardon Cop pulls out his taser and zaps the wrong, protesting Black Man…

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

Now

5^th vehicle is a late model Mustang.  The driver is in his late 40’s male, powerfully built, in a leather jacket.  He has a government-issued Panasonic Tough Book open and displaying  a failed attempt to log onto the internet, a government website.  He has in his jacket a Glock 18 machine pistol and a carrying case with four 33^r round 9mm magazines… and a duffel bag on the passenger side floor.

6^th is not a vehicle but a Amish cart hauling a full, tarped load with a married Amish Couple.

TOMKIN’S FARM

MIDDLEFIELD, OHIO

August 15, 2012

Dale and Jane Tomkins are tending their farm outside Middlefield, a small basic farm for a couple starting out-and the Ohio Department of Health, backed up by Middlefield Police and the Geauga County SWAT Team pull up in SUVs and the SWAT armored vehicle and conduct a raid.

October 6, 2012

Another raid on the Tomkins farm by about the same lot of law enforcement and bureaucrats, only with more force and some of the Tomkins’ property being vandalized during the search.

March 30, 2013

Dan Basilgliano leads this raid, and is finishing, smacking down on their kitchen table a list of violations he drew up.

June 8, 2013

A US Army HMMV pulls up, the Gunner aiming at the pacifist Amish couple with his .50 M2 while the other four Soldiers dismount from the vehicle… emerging later with eggs and produce-robbing them essentially.

June 20, 2013

Dale and Ann Tomkins are dragged out in the middle of the night, naked-they had been making love when this latest raid occurs.  A State Trooper emerges from the barn “No rebels, Sir.”

“Take what you want, then.”

June 22, 2013

Having nothing left of their farm, Dale and Ann spread kerosene all over their property, and set it ablaze.

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

Now

7^th vehicle is a Dodge Charger packed with a Family; Dad driving, Mom, and Four Kids.

Mom:  “Honey…”

Dad:  “Yeah.”

Oldest Kid:  “I see blueshirts!”

“TSA!”

“Daddy I don’t want the blueshirts to touch me again!”

“Dad, please, can’t we go back please?!”

The two youngest-toddlers-start wailing uncontrollably.

“Honey let’s turn around-“

“We CAN’T!”  Dad had had enough…

…He thinks…. Shit.  There’s a loaded Hummer behind them, a checkpoint with 10 berths for TSA, flanked by four of those portable guard towers.  No drones-no kind of radio signal was working-but there were plenty of cops and they had two huge tanks in the distance, their cannons aimed right at them.  He looked to the right, and there are trees, homes.  He checks a tear in his seat; just visible is the butt of a revolver.

“I want all of you to get to those trees to the right, as fast as you can.  No arguments-I’ll clear the way for you.”

8^th vehicle: pickup truck driven by Mark Harper, a former college student turned farmer and his truck’s loaded with produce.

MARK HARPER’S HOME

ASHTABULA COUNTY, OHIO

Earlier today

Mark Harper’s home is a century home in the middle of Ashtabula County, with peeled paint, several vehicles in the driveway.  Mark’s truck is in the back and he and several other Boarders/farmers load the produce.

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

NOW

9^th vehicle is a U.S. Army Hummer with five Soldiers-all of them in good cheer.

“That was a good fuckin’ raid!”

“Hell yeah it was!  Nice when you don’t have motherfuckers shooting you in the back.”

“Yeah we actually had time to have some fun with those Yoders.”  “Yoder” being a term for Amish…

“Hey Sarge, you think we got these insurgents broke?”  Sarge sits shotgun in the front, about 34, a veteran of Iraq.  The rest are kids scooped up when it had come down to work for the government or take your chances starving or getting busted growing food illegally.

“I seen shit sway back and forth in the sandbox; one side gain an advantage, the other side figure out counters-it goes back and forth, just like here.  Share some shit with y’all; you know why comms all down?  It’s because they established a quarantine; they need to catch whatever group put up a drone, shot down three drones and two F-22’s-no bullshit.”

The troops all look at each other in shock.

“They built a drone that shot down two Raptors, and three drones?!”

“I wanna say naw” Sarge looks out at the line of vehicles ahead “but a LT showed me some classified footage-footage from a drone and you can see that fucker fly and shoot down those jets like it was nothing-and nothing we had could hit it.  It was unbelievable.  Hell’s coming down on here…”

The Roofing Truck is number 10…

Chris looks out… sees this checkpoint, sees the blue shirted TSA people.

“I don’t believe this!  Kayla, look at this!”

Kayla rises, looks out…

“Oh hell no!”

Scott Foster watches from the opposite side of the checkpoint from Kayla-in Ohio Outdoors, his sporting goods store.  Behind him are a rack half filled with antiques, 22 rifles, muzzle loading rifles, and single shot shotguns; a sign above them says CIVILIAN LEGAL WITH PERMIT.  Below the ammunition shelves were nearly bare.  To his left is a locked glass door, and a Chardon Cop emerges-we catch a glimpse of more potent, modern rifles and pistols-and locks the doors, pockets the key.

“Okay, we’re secure there Mr. Foster; let’s lock ‘er up.”

“Yes Sir.”  Scott robotically hands the store keys to the Cop and he escorts Mr. Foster outside and locks up the store, both security door and the main entrance.  “Y’know I did everything you wanted.  Everything.  I even sent friends of my down the river for you-I don’t deserve this!

“Thank you for your cooperation Sir, you’ll be compensated for your service” the Cop robotically intoned.  Scott just turns, stares at his now closed store.

Not asking for his keys.

Not asking when, IF, his store was going to open.  Scott Foster looks out again at the checkpoint; all the cops, the military, the long line generated, the machine gun armed helicopter style drone buzzing overhead, and further above he catches a Predator.

NELLIS AFB

Drone Command Center

Airman Kelly Goode is in the drone seat and he scans the area around Buffalo, New York; his tactical display shows a much larger overall military presence in the area, and about 20 fighters and a KC130 tanker orbiting alongside a veritable ring of law enforcement and military in a hundred mile radius from Lake Pymatunig, which is tinted as a NO GO zone for his drone as it’s radio command and every signal, every frequency is being jammed.  His commander coldly looks on from a distance-no communication, no camaraderie and certainly no Airman Dan “Master Chief” Hladr.  Kelly knew what happened-wasn’t Dan’s fault, but he got the blame, and got disappeared.

“Kind of an odd tactic isn’t it?  Jam every frequency so nothing works, including our equipment.”

“Just do your job Airman.”  The Commander had had a close enough call the other day; she had to bullshit hard and fast to get the blame square on “master chief”.  But that’s the way it goes.

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

The line of 10 cars is guided into their slots and the TSA descend upon them.  With the backing of the cops and NATO military any earned hatred is suppressed.  Ten berths: ten VIPER teams… blueshirted losers smirking, freshly confident that they once again have the upper hand.

Deputy Angie Kent waves Bill Buford’s tanker truck forward.

“Go all the way up to the first berth, Sir-LET’S GO!”

Bill throws his rig into gear, lumbers forward to the first berth a few hundred feet forward…

Deputy Kent waves forward the green PT Cruiser with the immaculately done up, immaculately spaced out woman-and Deputy Kent was in no mood for frightened sheep today.  She marches to the stopped car and slams on the roof “HEY, WAKE THE FUCK UP IN THERE, LET’S GO!”

The woman turns, looks up at the Deputy, her hand on the heel of her service pistol.  Somehow something connects and she puts her car into gear and goes forward.

“BERTH TWO!”  Angie shakes her head in wonder.   Some people… and there was no TV, no radio, no cell phones… no phones period!  Not even communications with the Sheriff’s Department were working, it’s like every wire was literally cut.  It’s the goddmandest thing.  Someone’s fucked up-but there’s work to do, gotta wave forward this third-pair-of assholes.  “Let’s go boys!  Time’s a wastin’.”

Mike looks at Jeff-fucking TSA fags and rapists out there.

“Just go forward and let’s get this over with” Jeff says, and Mike puts the rig into gear, heads to Berth Three.

Deputy Kent now looks at the Geauga County vehicle, with Dan Basogliano… oh joy, and he pulls up and stops right in front of her.

“Hey Angie” Dan gets smooth with her.  He’s even worse when he’s trying to be smooth, just makes him even more a greaseball.  “Any way you can let me ‘round this heavy duty roadblock?”

“Everyone gets screened Dan.  Everyone.”  Feels good to tell this cocksucker that, just like that.

“Hey, Hon; just to remind you I’m a County Official-“  Angie goes for her pistol…

“Jesus!”

“Berth Four.  I’m not telling you again.”  Angie would have NO problem shooting this fuckhead, it would be a pleasure.

“Alright.”  Dan goes forward, to the TSA VIPER team awaiting him at Berth Four… and he WILL get that cunt fired when he’s done-as soon as he’s done!

Deputy Kent waves forward the Mustang-and hello Daddy… Angie liked slightly older men and this was definitely a Man rolling towards her-she holds her hand out and stops.

“Hey, what are you doing?!”  A Soldier calls out.

“Just a minute here!”  Angie has authority and she’s going to take advantage of it!  The Mustang halts in front of her and she leans forward… okay this isn’t a totally fucked up morning.

“Hello, Sir.”

“Hello Deputy.”   This guy was smooth in every way Dan Basogliano would never be.  He even pulls off the cliché leather jacket without looking like he’s trying.  “Agent Cooper, FBI” and he shows her his ID.  “I’ve been in the field and got cut off-is there any place I can call someone?”

“Not in this town, or anywhere near here.  We’re under a total blackout.”

“That so?  Figures.  Anyway I can get around?”

“Sorry Agent” and now Deputy Kent was sorry for subjecting Cooper to this… “Orders are everyone goes through the screening.  Everyone.  You can check with the VIPER Team at Berth Five… sorry.”

“I got you.”  Cooper was cooperative.  Nice to know some people understand there are things beyond her control… though she didn’t mind Dan getting the blueshirt goons all over him as he’s pulling up to his berth now.  Angie turns and sees… AMISH?!

Holy shit.  Fucking unbelievable-what the fuck are Amish doing this far north?!  She has to ask… she waves the Tomkins forward and halts them.

“Whoa there!  Say what business do you have in Chardon?”

“Got goods for sale.”

“Here?!”

That Soldier butts in-“Hey, leave the questions to the VIPER teams!”

“I’m doing my job here!”

“Get those pilgrims the fuck on to their berth-RIGHT NOW!”  Shit, this fucker just might shoot me.  Dog eat dog…

“Berth Six-just go and get this over with alright?”

The Tomkins nod without another word, go forward.

Goddamnit.

Angie waves forward the car with the family packed in…

…Angie looks at the Driver: male, 30’s, he’s looking at me funny.  He’s hunched forward-what’s he reaching for?

Deputy Kent draws her service pistol “STOP!  STOP WHERE YOU ARE!  SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!”

Soldiers nearby can’t notice but hear Deputy Kent and join in aiming at the fully loaded family trickster.

“EVERYONE PUT THEIR HANDS OUT THE WINDOWS-RIGHT NOW!”

In the lead British Tank, Leftenant Alan Hines watches from his optics the local deputy and soldiers drawing on the fully loaded family vehicle.

“Gunner-front!”

Gunner sees, aims his armament at the suspect vehicle.

Both British tanks aim their cannon at the vehicle.

Behind them in the US Army Hummer, the Sarge makes a decision.  “Goddamn if I’m going to get splattered by our own allies-get the fuck out of the line of fire now Corporal!”

“Yes sir!”  Corporal/Driver guns it and the HUMMV maneuvers off to the side, the Fifth Man gets up on the M-240 7.62mm NATO machine gun, aims at the suspect vehicle.

“Beats getting raped by the TSA”  Corporal jokes.

In the Roofing Truck, everyone in the hide looks at Kayla.

“I-I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do.”  It’s obvious all the OPFOR armament’s aimed at the family truckster up front, which wouldn’t take too much effort to aim their way.  Soldiers, machine guns, fucking tanks!  Fuck fuck fuck!

What can they do for them?  What?  They got to get that hard drive, those plans, outside of this communications dead zone the enemy has thrown down on the entire area and now they’re about to get blasted-some poor family’s about to get blasted AND THEY CAN’T DO FUCK ALL ABOUT IT!

Berth One:   Bill’s out of the truck, waved forward by a TSA “Agent”; some jelly gutted slacker given a choice of government service or starvation.  “Come on, hands on top of your head, Sir.”  Agent Slacker begins the pat down… feel down really… of this nasty ass trucker… feeling his sweaty flesh under his stained shirt, the grease, the hair follicles through his blue latex gloves, his lard pressed up against his lard… just view it like masturbating and maybe you can get a chick next time.  That was always the hope.

Berth Two:  that wacko woman in the PT Cruiser pulls up and the blueshirts grin at each other-jackpot!  They’ll take their time with her… make her take her bra off, her panties, her shoes… no telling what terrorists are hiding and where these days… she stops, parks…

Berth Three: Mike and Jeff pull their rig in the berth.  The TSA here look back at the blueshirts in berth two, who snicker at them-they got construction workers to play with.

Berth Four:  “Hey, where’s our meat?”  A blueshirt looks irritated as the Geauga County government vehicle stops, and Dan gets out, rushes to the action in the back.

A black woman in a blueshirt waddles after him “hey get back hear cracka!”

The Mustang stops, pulls into Berth Five and he steps out waving his ID “Agent Cooper, FBI; you got a working comm link? “

The lead TSA blueshirt of Berth Five, an older man, never like presumptuousness, but this was a badge and the man holding that badge looked like he meant business.  “No sir, all communications are down.  We’re going to need to search you, your vehicle and your computer-orders from NATO command.”

“I got my orders” he wanted to call him a blueshirt kiddie rapist “and some of those mean none of you are going near myself, my vehicle, or my equipment.  And you’re certainly are not going to disarm me.”  Agent Cooper looks back at the scene with the family of six behind him-this was getting serious.  “Excuse me-don’t touch it, I mean it.”  Agent Cooper trots back to the action…

Dale and Ann Tomkins look at each other, and at the scene behind them.  They had to get this produce to the market or aside from not getting paid for their labor they’d get evicted from the home they were at.  No they weren’t Amish but the way things are they wouldn’t be surprised if the same deal had gone down with one…

The car full of scared to death family being covered by every gun at this roadblock… nobody hasn’t soiled themselves in utter terror…

Maybe it’s an overreaction, and there’s been enough of that during this war.  Deputy Angie Kent is joined by Dan Basolgliano-fuck!

“We going to deal with them or what-“

“-GET THE FUCK BACK NOW, ASSHOLE!  FUCKING CODE INSPECTOR-SOMEONE GET THIS FUCKER OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

Agent Cooper comes up behind Dan, grabs him in a come-along…

“Let’s go Dan.”  Flings the bureaucrat aside and gives him a look stating he’s not hard core…

Agent Cooper directs his attention to the family.  “Stressful day.”

“Yeah.  I think we’re overreacting here.”

“What was all this about?”

Why is she confiding in this guy Angie thought.  Why, how does-oh… “He was reaching underneath him, he was leaned forward.”

“Did you ask?”

“I should have.”

“You want me to handle this?”  Agent Cooper asks.  He really needed to get out of here, but these poor bastards…

“I got this.”  Angie Kent gathers herself.  She approaches the family, the father still reached down, frozen.  “It’s going to be alright.  I just need you to sit up, show me your hands, okay?”

The father has his hands fully around the grip of the revolver tucked in his seat.  Gripping hard.

Berth Two:  the lucky blueshirts approach the car, open the door.

“Ma’am, step out the vehicle-I know you know the routine.”  Snickers erupt.

The immaculately dressed woman gets out, stands erect with dignity… with a remote control.

“FREEDOM!” 

She mashes down on the button before anyone can react…

…there’s a explosion in the PT Cruiser; a bursting charge rips out sending fuel to mix in the air, burning embers of mothballs like fireflies suspend in the air…

…the fuel-air mixture reaches the correct ratio on its own and the fuel detonates in a blast wave.

…Bill’s having a whole hand up his ass, his pride, his dignity long ago taken by the same government raping him now-now his truck he sacrificed everything for becomes immolated by the fuel-air explosion and the fuel in the tanker explodes, greatly increasing the conflagration.

British Tanks:  both are rocked by the fuel-air detonation, the crews rattled badly.

Jeff has no time to say goodbye to his employee Mike.  There are worse people to die with-he’s a good kid, a good worker.  Too bad.

Berth’s Four, Five, Six, and Seven are immolated by the fuel air blast-agents and all.

Dale and Ann Tomkins and their horses perish in the blast wave, sending their wagon and carcasses back towards the soldiers with their guns on the family.  Several are taken out.

Agent Cooper goes to tackle Deputy Kent, to shield her from the explosion…

…The father decides then: he draws the revolver from under his seat-a classical 6” .357 magnum with scope and blasts Deputy Kent in the head…

Agent Cooper tackles the Deputy to save her from the blast and gets blasted with brain and bone from her.

The explosion sends Agent Cooper flying, the Deputy’s corpse, and flips the car over.

All four portable guard towers are knocked down by the tanker truck enhanced fuel air explosion.

The blast reaches the HUMMV and rocks it almost sending it off on its side.

The Roofinig Truck is hit hard-doesn’t tip over but its load/hide is wrecked… the Pymatunig Militia is now exposed… and exposed to the sight of the blast.

Hal Leskovich stirs first, and checks his teammates out:

Kayla seems alright, and she stirs at Hal’s touch-then leaps up, awake.

“Shit!!  Holy fuck was that a nuke am I dead?”  Kayla catches her breath.

In the distance Agent Cooper looks at the people in the Roofing Truck… wait wasn’t it full of old tiles… who has money for a new roof…

Kayla and Hal check the others-Emma, Chris, David somehow escape serious injury but are pretty gonged from the blast… so are they.

So is Agent Cooper… that’s the roofing crew… that was a huge blast-fuel air type but it must’ve been the tanker truck that went… landline… there must be a link outside the quarantine… and why are those roofers wearing camouflage carrying AKs, M240, scoped M14… those faces…

…They’re the Pymatunig Militia-his targets!

DINER, STOREROOM

ANDOVER, OHIO

March 19, 2014

Agent Cooper has an Elderly Lady handcuffed to a chair in the half-bare storeroom and it’s late night.  Cooper’s tired from days and his patience with this stoic old bitch was up.  Before her on a table is Cooper’s toughbook, displaying a database of mug shots which she steadfastly refuses to look at even after all the cuts on her, smeared with salt.

So Agent Cooper goes out.  The woman takes a breath, makes a silent prayer… and the Agent comes back dragging her Granddaughter-a waitress-by handcuffs binding her arms behind her back, dragging her backward… she too refuses to scream.  Agent Cooper slams the girl down on a chair in front of the Elderly Lady, produces a knife, and starts to cut up her clothes…

“D-d-don’t!  Please…”

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

Kayla looks about her team:  “let’s get going already.”

Chris:  “soon as the planet stops spinning.”

“Spin with it already.  C’mon…”  David gets up, grabs Kayla and staggers up, as does the rest of the Militia.  She looks forward at the huge mushroom cloud rising and dissipating into the wind.  The entire roadblock is devastated; cars and trucks tossed, burning, bodies… what’s left… nearby homes and businesses are on fire, windows blown out further.  In the distance are two tanks.

In the first Challenger tank, Leftenant comes to, the rest of his crew stunned; their main battle tank’s armor having saved them from immolation.  He starts to get up…

Agent Cooper sits up.  He has to get up his primary target’s right there: Chris Bernard.

DINER, STOREROOM

ANDOVER, OHIO

March 19

The Elderly Lady sits, defeated, talks, her Granddaughter only having a couple cuts:

“…ran by Brian Miller but he got killed by a drone.  His daughter Kayla is his second.  Emma Moritz and Chris Bernard are their computer experts.  David Getz, Hal Leskovich,  Gary Wright-that’s all that’s left…”

Those six have their mug shots on Agent Cooper’s toughbook.

ROADBLOCK

CHARDON, OHIO

Kayla remembers-shit Gary!  She goes to what’s left of the front of the Roofing Truck, and sees what’s left of Gary Wright’s upper torso and head, and turns away.

“Let’s just go!”

“How’s Gary?”  Emma’s the last to get up.

“Dead.”

Agent Cooper manages to get on hands and knees, wobbly as hell, and now he notices the world’s a high pitched tone.  Years of training, of combat help get his equilibrium but those heavily armed insurgents who built and launched that autonomous drone are emerging from the back of a roofing truck.  A roofing truck that shielded them from the worst of that fuel air blast, and they’re heavily armed.

Cooper looks to his left-nothing left alive in the direction they’re headed, they can get away… wait there are two British Challenger main battle tanks in over watch in lieu of drone support; hooray for our NATO allies.  Maybe they’re alive but Cooper’s been extensively trained and that includes using a 70 ton tank.  Only way he’s going to get an edge over this bunch in his current condition-can he even aim straight?

Cooper watches the Pymatunig Militia march forward, slowly; a soldier stirs and the little girl-Emma Moritz-aims her AK-47 and puts a single shot into him.  He sees Chris, and Hal are also armed with AK’s and do likewise to the three people still alive in their way.  Okay:  three riflemen, one sniper, one machine gunner.  Everyone has pouches with spare belts of ammo for the M240, a couple grenades each.  A well put together fire team and even though they got gonged(not as much as he)they’re operating well.

The girl Kayla’s the eyes-going to blind them.

Cooper reaches into his jacket, draws both his Glock 18 and a suppressor and unites them.  Unsteadily he staggers forward, but not straight at the Militia; he goes to the side, staggering parallel to them… there he’s getting better, and  maybe if he can just stop the Earth from spinning and wobbling he can do what he does best.

In the first Challenger tank, Leftenant and crew check all their systems.

“Thermal’s out, so’s night vision.”  Gunner operates his turrent control yoke “bloody control’s broke!”

“Have to use the sodding crank then.  Fucking BALLS!  Fucking colonials!

The tank starts up.  “She starts up, Sir.”

“Right!  Gunner load beehive!”

The Loader hefts a 120mm shell and loads it into the breech of the cannon:  “beehive up!”

“Fucking Christ…” the Leftenant pops his hatch open, looks topside… the second Challenger isn’t even stirring, well that won’t do at all.  12.7 got shorn off by the blast as well as the grenade launcher.

“There’s nothing fucking left!  Who’s bloody ideal was it to jam every fucking frequency?”  Leftenant sees six targets in the distance; five man squad and a sixth individual, a civilian with a suppressed pistol off to the right.

“TARGET FRONT!”

“Got a bloke lookin’ like the Terminator with a pistol advancin’”

“There’s a five man squad to his left bout 50 meters.  M2’s gone with the grenade blast, aim for the squad!”

Gunner grunts, manually cranks the turrent wheel and…  “FUCKING turrent!”

“Driver on my mark traverse left until ordered to stop on my… MARK!  TRAVERSE LEFT!”

“Traversing, suh!”

Kayla and the rest of the Pymatunig Militia advance-until they see one of the Challenger tanks begin to turn left, toward them!

Where to go?!  Houses to the left-“To the houses!”

As best they can, they run, stagger to the burning houses… toward Agent Cooper!

Agent Cooper sees the Challenger turn it’s 70 ton bulk toward the militia, sees the militia running across him to cover…

“They bloody spotted us-turning right!”

“I can do elevation, Sir!”

“Well that’s something.  Don’t wait on my order fire when you-“

-Gunner sees the militia, that Terminator yank in his vision-it’s beehive that’s close enough-

“ON THE WAY!”

The Challenger 120mm smoothbore cannon FIRES!

Agent Cooper and Kayla’s militia turn, hear the boom, the blast of the British tank’s main armament, the blast and kick up of thousands of metal darts-nails with fins-into the dirt just bare meters from them!

“FUCKING GUN’S OUT OF ALIGNMENT!”

Both Gunner and Commander work on the balky fire control system-no use not to if the gun can hit something so close.  Driver keeps a watch on their targets…

Agent Cooper coughs, there’s a lot of dust, debris-this has turned into the mother of all clusterfucks-where’s that militia?!

Kayla Miller and her team advance-no sense not taking advantage of a broken battle tank that can’t shoot!  They advance…

…Cooper sees the militia advancing towards the tank, which makes sense if the turrent’s jammed and fire control system’s broke.  Up to him, then: five man well armed fire team, haven’t even noticed him…

“Spread out already” David Getz waves everyone away from him “don’t give those fucking English an easy target!  They’ll be a few minutes fixing their fire control!”

The militia starts to break up their formation, yes they’re experienced.  Gotta hit em’ right now… Agent Cooper aims, his Glock 18 on full auto with 18 rounds of 9mm hollowpoint… Cooper draws a 33round magazine, ejects the flush magazine and slaps the extended mag home-34 rounds.  His pistol on full automatic fires at 1200 rounds per minute-20 rounds per second so a full auto sweep across their formation may or may not get them all.  Cooper being a pro knows the Glock 18’s trigger intimately and can feel the sear break…

Get the machine gunner and sniper, in the center…

…Hal turns, sees some guy in a black leather jacket aiming a pistol-he raises his AK-47.

Cooper by reflex turns to the threat and fires P-FFFFFT!  Three round burst rips across Hal’s torso, and he FIRES a round, which impacts the remnants of the Roofing Truck and he falls.

Kayla, Emma, Chris, and David turn as one to face the new threat.

“Chris, RUN!”  Kayla raises her M14.  Emma and David raise their weapons as well.

Cooper reaches back, chucks a smoke grenade and it goes off, generating thick black smoke-Cooper heads to his left inbetween houses.

“Shit!”  Kayla moves forward-

“-Stop!  That’s what he wants!”  David points the M240 in the general direction of where Cooper went and lets loose a long string of machine gun fire.

“Emma help me get Hal up, get his belt Dave’s gonna need it now!”  Emma grabs Hal’s belt of M240 fodder as Dave empties his machine gun into the nearby homes, hoping for a hit.  She goes to him, and Dave immediately opens the cover, loads the belt as she covers.

Kayla gathers Hal, “gotta get up, this is a bad place to bleed-come on!”

Hal struggles to get up.

Agent Cooper lies low, letting the gunner empty his 240.  The rounds stop, he gets up, staggers forward-one ran… Chris Bernard.

Chris runs into Chardon, between homes afire, broken glass about.  One good thing about the war was he finally got in shape because being a tech expert… ‘nerd’… usually meant being physically pathetic.  Now he’s running for his life… no, he’s running to save the Second American Revolution from defeat.

Chris stops, turns, sees in the distance that man in the leather advance.  He aims his AK, fires… no he’s not the best shot but he’s got 6 more magazines and he’s got a pistol-how bad can this be?

Chris misses Cooper but not by much and he goes for cover… about 80 yards away, which is iffy for an accurate hit, but he has a machine pistol so he fires a burst.

Cooper’s short, Chris takes cover behind a house, pretty sure 9mm won’t penetrate.  He has to escape, but he’s going to have to kill this bastard.

Cooper advances, pretty sure this is just some kid whose seen some combat, but still a kid.  Just have to go right, go behind, hope he freezes and he’ll have this one bagged.

Kayla works on Hal, and thankfully his bulletproof vest stopped two of the three impacting 9mm rounds… the third hit his thigh unfortunately.  Not a lot of blood loss, but it’s centered.  Thigh bone’s broke likely.  Hal knows.

“Leave me.”

“Hell’s no!  There’s only five of us left-“

“-Four!  Protect Chris, that fed’s after him and we lose him, we lose this war-GO!”

Kayla gets up.  “Emma, take care of Hal, his leg’s broke.  Gimmie your ammo belt.”  Emma tosses Kayla the pack with the MG belt and she and Dave march forward after Chris and that fed agent.

The two spread out but stay in sight.

In the Challenger the crew finishes recalibrating the fire control system.

“Can’t traverse, the turrent’s jammed; but maybe the bloody sights will be on target.”

“Load beehive!”

Loader loads another beehive round: “up!”

“Fire!”

Gunner has both Hal and Emma in their sights… “on the way.”

Both Dave and Kayla jump at the BOOM of the Challenger tank’s 120mm cannon.

“Fuck…”

“Turrent’s jammed probably, from the explosion.  Lucked out there.  This fed’s the one we need to worry about now.”  Dave moves smoothly covering their left as Kayla covers their right with her M-14 rifle… good thing she had that now instead of having to do this with her Mosin…

“Chris, stay put!  We’re coming for you!”

Agent Cooper heard Kayla, now he’s got a sniper and a machine gunner to worry about again-sounds like the Brits took care of the other two though there’s no telling if or when help arrives… maybe as soon as some NATO jet sees the smoke and fires… then they’ll carpet bomb this entire hick town-gotta move fast!

Cooper moves around the house, sees Chris Bernard squatting just behind.  No need to sneak up, he aims and fires a burst into Chris’s back, the suppressed 9mm not sounding like a machine pistol.

Kayla gets a bad hunch… “COME ON!”  Kayla and Dave come running straight for Chris and oh God his body’s on the ground and not moving…

“CHRIS!!”

Dave cuts loose with half a belt of 7.62mm…

…Cooper ducks low, just low enough to avoid the burst and retreats backward as the M240 climbs on the gunner and the rounds fly through homes relatively safely overhead.

Kayla runs around the house… same path Cooper took.

Dave stops firing, runs around to get a better shot…

Cooper lunges forward, sees Dave and empties his Glock 18 machine pistol into Dave, cuts him down.

Behind him, Kayla aims her M-14 and fires five times into Cooper’s back, bucking him down.  She fires five more times.  Throws her rifle down, and Kayla checks Chris but he’s dead.

No time for grief.  None, she knows this.  Where’s the hard drive, the plans;  she searches Chris but there’s no trace so she goes over to Cooper and-there!  Kayla grabs the satchel with the plans and the hard drive.  She also takes Cooper’s Glock 18, roots around him and grabs his three other 33 round magazines and finds room for them on her.

Crap.  The M240-can’t leave it we need every weapon we can get our hands on but that thing’s nearly a third of her weight-unloaded!  Kayla look around-wheelbarrow by a garden!  Well, it’s for the war effort; Kayla grabs the wheelbarrow, just barely lifts the general purpose machine gun, puts the three belts of machine gun ammunition, sets her own M14 in and…. Damn this shot shoulder!

Do they got a car-with gas?

30,000 feet overhead a German Tornado fighter-bomber patrols, it’s two man crew having blanket authority to attack anything suspicious-an odd way to treat allies in their homeland even if they are shit Amis.

“I see smoke.”

“And I see the fire too!”

“Shall we go lower?”

“With those new rebel drones?  We need help.”

“How do we get that help, the radio doesn’t work.”

“Shit.  Up to us then.  We’ll just have to improvise!”

The Tornado fighter bomber could carry a greater ordnance load than a World War Two B-17, fly twice the speed of sound so it swoops low over Chardon in bare seconds.

Kayla sees the German fighter bomber rocket overhead… always bad news, those fucking Krauts love to blow shit up so much you’d think they were Americans.  Those poor souls haven’t had gas for their vehicle for a year, worse luck.  She needed an out-now….

…Chardon Police Officer Mark Goss stops in his cruiser, gets out with his M-4 in hand to establish a perimeter-what the hell happened there was a explosion then automatic gunfire, tank gunfire… hope they stopped it but if not it’s up to him to stop-

-Kayla puts one round into Mark’s cranium shutting him down for good.  Marching over she examines her prize… she rips his badge off and strips him of his M-4 and spare magazines… takes his hat as well.   That will have to do.  She gets in the police cruiser, does a donut in turning back where she came and-there’s the wheelbarrow!  Kayla pulls up, loads her rifle and Dave’s machine gun in, then west and turns on the sirens, flying through the streets, the intersection; no traffic due to the fighting and everyone running out of Chardon for their lives.

I’ll cry later.  It’s got to be later, I gotta get out of here, get the hell outta Chardon, get west.  Out of Ohio-U.P. of Michigan sounds good and she can go from there to Alabama, Texas, Montana, and finish off in Jefferson… just how are they going to make a 51 star flag look good though?

I’ll cry later….

The Tornado makes another pass, judges the wreckage and some bodies nearby.

“Rebels-in those houses I bet. “

“Ja!  Let’s leave some ordnance here!”

And the Tornado attacks the burning houses, letting loose pod rockets and drops several 500 lb dummy bombs in a bomb run, blowing up another good part of another American town.

FUSION CENTER

WARREN, OHIO

General Warburg watches the main view of the inclosing perimeter around Lake Pymatunig .  Major Fox talks to a Lieutenant briefly, then reports:  “General, getting reports of a town being attacked.”

“What?”

“Chardon, Ohio; there was a large explosion, dozens of casualties.  The entire TSA VIPER contingent is dead, as are a platoon of US infantry from a thermobaric blast.  One British tank and crew dead the other crippled.  And a federal agent along with five enemy combatants identified as the Pymatunig Militia-“

“-Ah, they’re the ones who launched that drone!  And they’re dead now, good.  What of the plans?”

“No plans, General.”

General Warburg looked at the rapidly updating tactical display of Northern Ohio and Western PA….

“They-I will assume there’s more than one of course, but an individual will be even harder to track…”

Jack Caruthers of Homeland Security stand by the German General, “they go north, catch a boat we’ll pick them up; Lake Erie’s only 70 feet deep at the most so even a submersible’s out.  They backtrack into PA, try for Appalachia-“

“-We’ll catch them.  Our forces are literally shoulder to shoulder, searching every last house, cave, outhouse-“

“-And reestablishing order.”  General Warburg whirls on the Homeland Security chief:  “get this straight-those plans cannot get out!  They do, and these rebels can and will turn the tide of this war, and we’ve already drawn down our forces across your country for THIS operation!!”

General Warburg turns back to the holographic display, zooms out to a wider view of America…

“You’re right Caruthers-we finish this operation, we can send NATO forces westward unimpeded.”

J. Croft
http://freedomguide.blogspot.com/
http://freedomguide.wordpress.com/
http://www.youtube.com/user/freedomguide

Been thinking on mass prison break operations:

1.)Where’s the prison located? Typically they will be in depressed rural communities which are dependent on it for their economic survival, and if there long enough the local adopt a kind of ‘strawboss’ mentality because their men and women work there and boss convicts around. So staging the assault in/around these small towns won’t work.

2.)The prison and its defenses; they’re configured mostly for keeping convicts in, not repelling a major military assault…. that’s what it would take to pull that off. What you will have to count on however is an immediate response from every police department within a hundred miles, state troopers, national guard and US military, so you have to figure out what is the opfor.

3.)Your ins an outs. Six ways in, 12 ways out is the saying but if there’s only a few or even one road you will need cross country equipment.

4.)Weapons and provisions-I’m assuming an illegitemate government sweeping up Americans en masse. You got weapons-even .22 rifles? Crates of milsurp bolt action rifles with bandoliers would work fine. What about food, clothing, transport?

5.)Where are all of these people are going to go? Do you have places-likely over a hundred miles away because prisons are in remote or hard to access places on purpose. Will they join you-and do you have enough for them? Likely not, they’ll have to go… someplace. In this scenario you’re making a mass prison break and caches of arms and building an instant army. Armies need food, shelter and warmth like any other mass of people… or will you be operating in cooperation with other forces with their own people inside? Alliances can be tricky but as long as the goal is kept in mind doable.

6.)Who do you have on the inside? It would be of great benefit to contact various leaders and influential inmates and risk getting snitched on and blowing the operation and get their troops up to speed on say, basic woodcraft, marksmanship and rifle team/squad tactics. Yes I know there won’t be a rifle range in the joint but they can be told the theory and upon the operation will have the theory to use that Enfield-guided by your men of course. When the prison break occurs they act on the inside as the inside pressure to your outside pressure. More than likely the prison will fall.

7.)Breakout! What’s coming? Do you/can you have teams along the various approaches to disable, delay, destroy them? Can you get your prepared inmates armed in time to turn them into an ad hoc military force and greatly improve your odds?

No you won’t be making a stand there, the objective is to escape and harness your instantly generated increased combat power to attack whatever secondary objectives come up. You have to before opfor panics and calls in the US Air Force…

J. Croft

http://freedomguide.blogspot.com

http://freedomguide.wordpress.com

http://www.youtube.com/user/freedomguide

The title says it all. Jesus needs you to fight back. Never mind what your favorite televangelist says he’s some kind of fallen liar to begin with. I mean look at a megachurch: a huge, gaudy edifice to sanctimony, where people go get a false salve of religion as the pastor uses neurolinguistic programming on them to 1.)finance his megachurch and his lifestyle of hookers and blow, and 2.)follow IRS and government mandates to not go into politics, and certainly not tell the truth. The US government being the enemy of all mankind as there are two Americas; Our America that we and our ancestors believe in, and died to protect and grow, and the US-that beast that is the product of illuminists, freemasons, and banksters and that has taken Our America and prostituted it to use as this country’s happy face.
Evil flourishes and grows because those that presume themselves ‘good’ don’t oppose, either enough or at all. You know this in your heart because that’s from God, and this has always been true.

America-yes you have to acknowledge the truth it was founded as an freemasonic grand project for a ‘new atlantis’; read Francis Bacon’s book on that name, it’s a blueprint not a vision. A blueprint that’s been carried out as well as freemason Albert Pike’s ‘three world wars’ prophecy/blueprint:

1st world war was to bring down the monarchies-Russia, Austria-Hungary and Germany lost those as well as introduce communism and shatter a European Golden Age. Unfortunately those people had a fanciful attachment to the romance of war and an entire generation of men was murdered in the trenches, on attacks usually coinciding with occult numerology.

2nd world war was to pit fascism against democracy. Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan were built up by wall street banksters and gave a good run at world conquest. Things looked scary as the Nazis pulled far ahead in military technology but Adolf Hitler was in charge so every strategic blunder was made. Roosevelt, having introduced socialism to America as a response to the banksters pulling the rug out from under the planet through depression, forced Japan to attack us through embargo-Japan has few natural resources. He had the Pacific Fleet park it’s battleships at Pearl in neat rows to be torpedoed… a set up. The United Nations, nuclear warfare, and the ascendancy of the USA and the Soviet Union resulted. Don’t worry the banksters were still in control, they always are.

3rd world war is to pit Islam vs Christian/Zionism and suck in every nation on Earth until nearly everyone was killed, everything destroyed. Then those that enacted Pike’s blueprint would arise from their bunkers and compounds and take over. Yeah, this war’s happening now.

…Speaking of blueprints have you not been paying attention to even the mainstream media of late? It’s like the illuminati are arranging all their pieces to stage an enactment of Ezekiel; Gog and Magog and the Kings of the South invade Israel, while Mesach and Tubal don’t respond. Most people who study biblical prophecy translate that as Russia invades Israel along with the Moslem World while the West doesn’t respond. And that Iran would be turned into a wasteland never to be inhabited again. China and India-Kings of the East-jump in as well; Ezekiel and Albert Pike are in accord.

The question that begs is, why?!

Why follow through on biblical prophecy? If that book states in the end the devil goes down in defeat, why do everything possible to follow those words to the letter if it results in their defeat?
…Well, that question depends on whether ‘they’ or their ancestors didn’t at least have a hand in writing those prophecies-that they use as their blueprint for action. Craziest thing you’ve ever read from me-no.

Who wrote the Bible?

Well, a more correct question would be: who wrote what parts of the Bible? You have to look at the origins of each component.

The Pentatuch, the first five books of Moses, the Torah, were written at once. Genesis is a highly edited and compressed version of the Sumerian creation accounts. Sumer itself considering itself having gotten their civilization from ‘gods’. Abraham himself was a Sumerian so the Hebrews were an offshoot of Sumer. Those Hebrews settled in Egypt and prospered as a minority, so that particular god decided to make conditions bad enough there so that they were driven out. That same god fanaticized the Hebrews by a 40 year forced march through the desert until they were ready to invade and conquer Canaan-committing genocide and utter destruction in order to ethnically cleanse the land. A very strict code of laws forced onto them to further culturally insulate them from outside influences.

Is any of that what Jesus would do? I mean, the Hebrews took slaves, ripped people off, waged genocidal wars-if that Hebrew god was Our Father, where was Jesus? Why wait until after Rome had taken over Judea? Why not THEN?

Jesus saw the Disciples on their knees and giving thanks in prayer and the question is asked “who are you praying to?” What you’re praying to is the devil, a liar, and a murderer from the beginning-and if you read the OT/Torah you’d know that to be truth. Jesus did NOT consider the OT god His Father or anyone elses.

The devil never rests and after Jesus was murdered Saul of Tarsus took Jesus’ message and twisted it-and being a Pharisee Paul was an expert at it; the surviving Disciples repeatedly warned about Paul but whose writings dominate the New Testament?

Who physically put the Bible together? A Roman Emperor who wanted a new unifying religion to reunify the Roman Empire, and by then Christianity had devolved back into an authoritarian religion like any other. We all know how debauched the Romans are but you may not know that the modern day elites can trace their genaeologies back to the elites of Rome and Sumer.

Basically it’s the same clans of inbred psychopathic bluebloods that rule now that have ruled since the dawn of recorded history. If they had a hand in shaping and breaking whole nations, shaping religion and inserting their plans as ‘prophecy’ wouldn’t be impossible. Not for that far thinking bunch.

So, how is biblical prophecy being used today? For people calling themselves Christian it’s an excuse to just sit back, live their lives and let evil run its course-which fulfills their ‘prophecy’.
We need to turn away from our apathy, our defeat, it’s what the devil wants. We need to face what we’ve allowed to fester and destroy Our America. We need to take ACTION and do it now, because the United States of America is like a stack of Jenga blocks with but a few of them at the bottom-and they’re being yanked out as you read this. For us.

For them, they’ve been digging out bunkers and stocking them for a generation now. FEMA is set to become the emergency government once this grand charade known as Modern America falls, and for us it will be genocide through starvation, disease, race and civil war. At the cusp of 2012, they’re looking to building a unassailable technological advantage. Plus they got us all targeted, but there are things you can do:

Remove yourself from the enemy. They use every lever of power unfortunately: food, fuel, culture, religion, economy, government, health.

Grow your own food, under a greenhouse to shield it from GMO and radiation contamination. Use organic seed, look up aquaculture, hydroponics. It’s all too easy to cut off the flow of fuel and food-which would empty your supermarket in days.

Wean yourself from using centrally controlled energy sources. This will require a substantial investment and a significant sacrifice. Look up alternative energy and free energy. Learn to tinker, use tools.

Unplug the cable and dish. Look for alternative media. Mainstream media sucks anyway. They’ll be shutting down the internet soon so you’re going to have to make your own and copy others. Think for yourselves!

Any 501(c)3 religious institution is co-opted. They promote pacifism, escapism, and a false gospel. Worse under Homeland Security they’re to lull you into disarming and guide you into the camps. Besides, all they do with your tithes is finance their mansions and drug/sex habits. You’re better off finding Our Father on your own-which is what organized religion was created to prevent in the first place while presenting a placebo of religion.

The economy’s been destroyed. What’s out there? One minimum wage job per 100 applicants? The problem’s twofold-no jobs so there’s no money being injected into the economy at our level, and since nobody has spare money, what you can sell is going to be limited to items in high demand in a depression setting. Worse, federal reserve notes are being quantitative eased into toilet paper, and precious metals are being forced down in price to the point where they’ll be abandoned as an investment. At the top the enemy is smart, even if their underlings are the definition of dumb so you will have to provide goods and services people NEED.

Removing yourself from the beast that is the United States Government is going to be far trickier. All levels of US government are actively involved with our suppression and ultimate destruction so this is a multi-level task.

Find a place to live that isn’t in your name. The enemy relies on reliable records to be able to come down and steal from you, and one day murder you. Find a place-do a house swap, find an apartment, dig a underground house in a south facing hill. However you do it, do it now.

Militia up. Form fighting groups of rifle teams. Learn to shoot, fight, and sustain you and your group as a fighting force. Buy guns, ammo, spare parts, cammo, gear, communications. Lone wolves will not make it in the long run regrettably as that’s the only reliable way to avoid the militia honey traps of set up orgs and snitches. Find people who have enough sense to never sign up to a public militia group-your shooting buds who are as aware as you? Guess what, you’re a militia-get it? Jesus commanded to sell everything else if you have to in order to have arms.

Reassert control over YOUR government. The leviathan we face? They’re our PUBLIC SERVANTS. Remind them we are the master, We the People are Sovereign. Be sensible and start local-start a recall election drive, field a full ticket of candidates and sweep YOUR government clean of the scum politicians and the scum bureaucrats and oath traitors.

Band together, network, make alliances, talk to people not like you and find common ground-and go from there.
Beyond that you build strength, oppose evil whenever and wherever you find it.

J. Croft

http://freedomguide.blogspot.com

http://freedomguide.wordpress.com

http://www.youtube.com/channel/freedomguide

NELLIS AFB, NEVADA

March 17, 2014

 Airman Dan Hladr waddled down the hallway of this modern and clean US government facility.  Waddling because he’s 360lb of greasy fat built from a lifetime of gaming and in his US Air Force uniform …just didn’t fit in it.  In fact a US Air Force Captain; average height but thick with muscle stomps by trying so hard not to rip the obese Airman just for sharing his air.  Airman Hladr salutes as he was taught and it takes everything the Captain has in discipline to snap off a salute back and just. Get. Out. Of. There.

 Unfortunately for Airman Dan Hladr he’s self-aware enough to know open disgust when he sees it.

 Fortunately for his psyche, and his heart, his destination lay just ahead.

 Airman Hladr enters a Drone Command Room; it looks like a good size video arcade but equipped with the same video game.  The obese Airman waddles over to a desk with a Watch Commander, a Sargeant, awaits.  Airman Hladr presents his ID badge in silence, and the Sargeant scans it in silence-no they’re not friends and will never ever be friends.  The Airman salutes and the Sargeant salutes back and gets back to his duties.  And so does the Airman.

 Airman Hladr waddles over to his assigned console-number 10 currently manned by another overweight geek turned freshly minted Airman, Airman Kelly Goode.  He is at the throttle and stick of a US Air Force Drone of course, flying southbound over the border between Ohio and Pennsylvania, just south of Lake Pymatunig at about 10,000ft, at about 200mph.  The status window on the bird, a Raptor, indicates about 60 percent fuel remaining and fully loaded.

“Hey Kelly, sup.”

“How’s it going Dan?”

“It goes, y’know.  How’s hunting?”

“Man, what hunting?  I couldn’t find anything all day, not even some Yoder chicks hanging laundry.”

“That sucks.”

“Sucks fucking balls is what that bullshit does.  How the fuck do I get any points if nobody does nothing?”

“Well, that’s what the Air Force hired us for.”

“Maybe we… well, y’know-overhunted this area?”

“Dude, we had some EPIC fucking battles back in the day!”

“Muthafuck yeah we did!”

Dan and Kelly laugh.  Actually, on the screen there’s a window displaying Airman Kelly Goode’s portrait, ID, and a score: 9,334.  Kelly sets the drone on AUTOPILOT, works the keyboard with a deft hand belying his otherwise nerdish exterior, logs out, then slowly, shakily creaks out.

“Oh man I’m hungry Bro.”

“I just ate.  At Sonic.  Good shit too”

“Fuck you, Dan.”

The stench from the seat where Kelly sat hits Dan.  He ignores it-God knows he’s stank that very chair up worse.  Dan plops down, logs in with the same deftness over the keyboard and his ID, profile, and score pop up… 17,253.

“I ain’t ever gonna catch up to you.”

“Never say never.  Never, ever, say never.  See anything around the lake?”

“Naw.  Like I said, NOTHING’S going on down there.  No unauthorized road traffic, no boating, certainly no flying, not even an assist call today.  We done and hunted all those gunloving motherfuckers to extinction I think.”

“Could be.”  Could be: Dan and Kelly wistfully look at the screen with the Reaper Drone flying southbound toward Youngstown, with Dan taking the drone off autopilot and gently swinging the multi-million dollar remote controlled aircraft back around to the north…

“Man those were the days-take off and land at least ten times a day to rearm, refuel, get back to blasting hillbillies and hoodrats, and those fucking raw milk drinking Amish motherfuckers.”

Dan laughs, guides the drone along the west coastline of Lake Pymantunig, aiming his ball turrent cameras down to carefully go over the coastline.  Dan, like Kelly, is obsessive compulsive; playing a game incessantly until he absolutely mastered it.  For them, being in the United Air Force, under NORTHCOM-this was a game as well.  A game that pays sweet for their highly specialized skill sets.

“Well, there has to be some pig fucker down there still cradling his SKS somewhere” Dan hoped out loud.

“IF they’re still out there, and IF they’re still like, smuggling-using that reservoir(Lake Pymatuning really is a reservoir that became a local tourist attraction… until recently)-then, how-“

“Submarine.  That’s how I’d do it.  Short distance, it’s literally under the patrol boats, and this puddle’s nothing to police compared to Lake Erie.  Also makes a nice choke point.”

“Dude, they’ve been looking for such since the war began.”

“Yeah; they found them on Lake Erie, for sure, from the Mohawks and the freighters-until we shut that shit down.  Fuck dude you know how many lathes, how many 3d printers there are out there?  All you need is the raw materials, the blueprints, and power and you can churn out weapons all day long.  And I ain’t even going into what we lost during those first days, I bet a lot of that’s still out there.”

“Get stocked up, get ready for some Tet Offensive type action.”  Kelly nodded, going along with Dan’s literal armchair strategizing.  Fatigue and his considerable appetite however get the better of him.

“Awright dawg I’m out.  Later.”  Such a wigger.

“Peace.”  Both of them.

The two nerds turned drone pilots look at each other in irony, and have one last laugh.  Kelly waddles off and Airman Dan Hladr’s world shrinks to his console and the Reaper Unmanned Aerial Vehicle assigned to him.

And the part of the world before him, that is his responsibility.

LAKE PYMATUNIG, OHIO-PENNSYLVANIA BORDER

 In a hide built inside a collapsed boat shed Brian Miller looked up in the sky with the tripod mounted Russian Zeiss glassed binoculars he bought 20 years ago when Warsaw Pact surplus flooded the gun shows that were now a thing of the past.  His belt, holding his baggy pants with fresh notch holes spoke in mute testimony of the one time abundance of food that too was a thing of the past.  Brian eyed and could just make out the heavily armed Reaper UAV making a fresh pass along Lake Pymatunig….

“Oh.  Your shift now is it?”  By Brian is a Army surplus field telephone with wire leading… well, wherever; he cranks it up a few seconds, picks up the receiver: “hold!” 

Setting the receiver back down on the cradle Brian observed the barely visible US Air Force drone high up, untouchable as its horrifically efficient pilot was across the country and in the middle of an Air Force base literally in the middle of the desert-unapproachable save for perhaps a division of heavy armor with air support.

“Never say never.” 

Kayla, his daughter, gingerly enters the collapsed boat shed.  She sheds a camouflaged space blanket with branches taped to the outside.  Dressed in whatever practical clothing could be had, she could be described as pretty, even borderline beautiful, but beauty was nothing she cared for.  Not for a couple years.  Like father, Kaila’s eyes and demeanor spoke of a single-minded mission.  Also spoke of having hunger as a constant companion, starvation a spectre that her 90lb 5’7” frame has to struggle to find nourishment. 

“Never say never what, Dad?”

“Those Goddamned drones.”

“Need an air force for that, an’ that got shot down.  Or kill the dorks driving em’.  Good luck crossing the Nevada desert.  Or getting into Las Vegas.  Old debate there, Pop.”  Kayla just perceptibly, trembled with rage.  “We gonna eat today?”

“Not while that bastard’s in the air going over us like the IRS.  Well, this particular debate just needed a fresh approach…  I just told em’ to get er’ ready to launch.”  Brian had just made up his mind to change the debate.

Kayla gasps, frozen.

“Today’s the last day I’m allowing drones in MY sky!”

Kayla bounds over, hugs and kisses her Father and then runs out as fast as she can clear the rubbish and the fallen boards.  Brian settles back to the tripod mounted high powered binoculars to continue observing the Reaper buzz by-it was getting closer.

Good.

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, DRONE COMMAND ROOM

Airman Dan Hladr looked down upon Lake Pymatunig like a god would his kingdom.  In fact, in his Area of Operations roughly along the Ohio-Pennsylvania border he IS GOD.  And ‘god’ right now had before him a lens glare and two just visible IR signatures emanating from a collapsed boat shed by the west shore of Lake Pymatunig.

“I think you might be what I’m looking for.”

Airman Hladr marks that shed as a navigation point; he’d be back in a bit to check up on it.  Check up on it after combing both sides of the reservoir before checking out the farms along the border-interstate transport of ANYTHING was forbidden without explicit clearance due to the national emergency caused by those gun loving assholes and welfare recipients.  Which Dan was thankful for because their half-assed revolution made his government desperate enough to find pilots for all the drones they built to make up for all the defections and desertions by the US military… of which even he and Kelly Goode were quite careful not to SAY ALOUD LEST THEY FIND THEMSELVES IN SOME DETENTION FACILITY….

Yep.  War was a boon to both him, his friends and the defense contractors.  I mean, what the FUCK were those flannel wearing fucknuts thinking bumping up against the government?!  Their guns armed those fucking spics running dope up from shithole Mehico, the homies were shooting cops right and left… well, Dan never really paid attention to the news save for when he saw something kewl like fighters, tanks, drones, robots, grenade launchers, guns. 

If those fuckholes screaming about some old parchment wanted to shoot assault weapons and blow shit up they should’ve just enlisted and gone over to the sandbox, save say a hundred thousand PATRIOTS and maybe even an entire US fleet from being destroyed.  No-they had to start shit up stateside and tear the fucking nation apart. 

Those were some desperate days.  Oh yes; power was out, you could catch a bullet from a gangbanger or a cop or some hick in Realtree.  Later, even whole military units joined in blowing their own country up-the fucking marines joined in.  What the fuck.

Dan sees a IR signature bolt out from the collapsed boat shed.  He switches over to optical and tracks Kayla Miller, zooming in, in, seeing she was pretty, almost beautiful; but way too plain.  Thin too but so is everyone who isn’t working for the government in some way.  Too little to eat would never be one of Dan’s problems.

Captain Ashley Barnes, USAF struts over to see Dan Hladr’s latest prey and no, she’d never be confused with pretty.

“What do we got Airman?”

“Ma’am, got suspicious activity in that collapsed boat shed: light reflection off perhaps observation binoculars, and the IR signature is just barely detectable, like there’s mylar in there.  Also, this girl (Kayla)suddenly ran out of there.  It’s an observation post.”

“Blow it.  Make it a nice show.  Remind those Amish who’s in charge.”

“On it.”  Dan steers the Reaper drone about in a wide arc-this particular UAV is a great improvement over the first generation Predator drones that flew over Iraq, Afghanistan, and in pacified urban areas but it wasn’t some fighter jet you could pull snap rolls on.  More than one ex-fighter jock tried that… not a good thing to be responsible for the loss of Uncle Sam’s toys because you were too dang rough.

Dan had a patient touch.

Dan maneuvered the Reaper around, line up in an attack run. 

“Not the same anymore Ma’am.”

“Yeah.  But let’s kick this anthill over, see how many ants scurry out.”  Dan selects from the weapons aboard the Reaper the 76mm laser guided free flight aerial rocket pods.  Cheapest ordnance was always expended first, and with things the way they were domestically-hell worldwide-shooting off a big ticket item like a Hellfire missile…. Better have a damn good reason to as replacements weren’t coming as they should.

Or so Dan heard, not that he’d ask why.  Not a good ideal to ask why these days.  Dan’s not stupid that way.

Dan lines up the simple crosshair on the collapsed boat shed.

LAKE PYMATUNIG, COLLAPSED BOAT SHED

Brian Miller didn’t need the binoculars to see the Reaper drone do its lazy circle about.   Brian eyes the ex-Army field phone by him, momentarily.

Brian picks up the receiver… then hangs up; it didn’t matter.  He couldn’t run far enough, fast enough to escape the likely death from the likely attack-a salvo of the new laser guided 76mm FFAR that’s being launched right now, right in front of him.

“Father in Heaven, take me home and watch over my childr-“

Ten 76mm free flight aerial rockets explode on the collapsed boat shed, around the trees and weeds about.

Kayla Miller spins about, falls on her butt, watching in horror as the United States Air Force takes yet another person out of this world.  Her dad.  She watches as just visible the Reaper drone fires more rockets into several nearby homes.

Just to make sure.

Just because the undoubtedly morbidly obese virginal zit-faced nerd could blow her Dad and her neighbors to she hoped, heaven. 

Kayla couldn’t grieve.  Not now.  She had to get the hell out of there, and fast!

NELLIS AFB

Dan Hladr watched through the Reaper’s electronic eyes at the young woman looking back at the collection of homes and boat sheds he just blew up.  He regarded her… she wasn’t a MAM-military aged male, and, she wasn’t armed.  Others would be armed and those he’d be hunting for now that on his tactical display of the vicinity symbols designating lower cruising, slower, lower-tech drones were being launched or dispatched to where he engaged, hopefully, some domestic terrorists.  He’d worry about the point count later; his priority now is to provide overhead coverage, just in case this does turn into a battle.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Kayla moved fast.

Going into the brush she grabs a long backpack, camouflaged poncho and ducks into the brush.  She heads toward her home, now on fire, to disappear in the smoke and thermal flare.  Hoping her precaution’s enough she unzips the backpack pulls out something short and wrapped in cloth and unwraps it…

It’s a Mosin-Nagant carbine, disassembled into two sections; a cut down stock with magazine and the barreled receiver with bent bolt and Burris Fulfield rifle scope. 

Possession of this sniper rifle is a death sentence-if she was very lucky that death sentence would be executed where she was found.  The way she looked, that likely wasn’t going to happen… it didn’t the first time.

Kayla worked fast she was going to need her rifle really fast.  Her hands grab a screwdriver and she does the screw holding the magazine to the stock and the other magazine screw in the tang in the receiver.

“Don’t shake, don’t sweat” she tells herself-unscrewing, she hurriedly fits the barreled receiver to the stock, then screws the rifle into unity and pulls back the long bent bolt back.  Grabbing five 7.62×54 rimmed cartridges loads the magazine slowly, surely… as this battle allowed.  Slamming the bolt home and loading a cartridge Kayla now pulls out a long cylinder.  Yes she should’ve put the suppressor on before she loaded up.  A fitting at the muzzle of the barrel accepts the suppressor and she attaches.

Kayla Miller looked around.  She was in concealment, but this wasn’t cover.  Worse, she risked being pinned against the reservoir and yes she could swim-but not with her rifle.  She wasn’t strong enough anymore.

And yeah about that she thought bitterly:  that shipment they were expecting, that her now late father had telephoned to “hold” they needed that food!  Kayla and her group hadn’t had a full meal in nearly two weeks.  They’d run out of even the emergency rations two days ago and Kayla had been forced back to her bitterly acquired habit of searching under every rock and log for grubs, earthworms and such.   

She had the energy to shoot.  She had the energy to get out of that immediate area.  What she wasn’t sure of was did she have enough gas left to get out of the battle zone? 

If the Pymatunig Militia didn’t rise to the occasion, if they chose to hold fire, hide and hope this attack just blows over, she’d be found.  She’d be found and her way or their way she would be dead.

She’d already done the rape.  That sure as hell wasn’t happening again.

Kayla moved past the brush, across the street to a stand of trees in a sprint.  When she reached her new position, she collapses, and tries to gather her strength for what’s next.  She really had to think about what she’d do next but that was about impossible when your mind’s about food all the time.

NELLIS AFB

Airman Dan Hladr guided his Reaper UAV around, looking for the fight. 

“Master Chief, this is OHP; establishing perimeter, over?”

“Master Chief here, over.”  Being the top shot among the drone jockeys at Nellis had given Dan the nickname Master Chief, in honor of the Halo game character.  Dan watched his tactical display as the lower, slower drones closed in.  State Police and County Sheriff units had stopped at roadside intersections in a 1000 yard perimeter to cordon off the area.  Dan zoomed out on his tactical display; an Army Combat Brigade out of Warren were already dispatching Blackhawk helicopters loaded with troops. 

“Master Chief, this is 3^rd Artillery Company, transferring FAO to you over?”

“Roger that, I give you something to shoot at, over.”  And it’s so good to work with people you can work with.  Combat had a brutish way of sorting things out and teamwork was the essential ingredient to combating a wily, desperate, and at times surprising enemy.

They could fight-he HOPED they’d fight.  He could blast them himself with onboard ordnance and/or direct 155mm gunfire from the Army Combat Brigade artillery in Warren.  That was always fun to watch them blow shit up, but he preferred to get the credit himself.  He earned more points.

What worried him was if it really was just a observer with a field glass.  Times are tough, even for the government.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Nearby homes filled with hungry, desperate, scared people just like Kayla who’ve had their backs against the wall.  Innocent-even innocent of helping the resistance!  Kayla didn’t need any more motivation to wage war against the government-but those fuckers were more than happy to keep giving them to her.

Kayla knew how to give back.  And, she could.  She improvises a field position through the brush, resting her suppressed, scoped Mosin-Nagant rifle through the brush, the muzzle just inside, makes damn sure the buttplate is firmly on what’s left of the meat of her shoulder.  Kayla inhales, deep, lets half out and pauses her breath-no she wasn’t going to make a loop in the sling she needed to be as mobile as possible. 

Kayla finds a State Trooper in his duty uniform, holding a scoped M-4 type carbine, and settles the Fulfield II reticle crosshairs on him.

She squeezes…

FFBAP!  No not the shhhh the movies lied to everyone about, but with the brush and the noise distracting the enemy… hopefully that’s enough.

Kayla keeps her eyes open, follows through perfectly on the trigger-and her effort’s rewarded with the puff of blood coming from the 7.62×54 steel core round blowing through the oath traitor.

Sniper doctrine called for Kayla to immediately move to a second shooting position.  Kayla however wasn’t going to expose herself to automatic gunfire in the open with a bolt action rifle.  She cycles the bolt, ejects the empty cartridge, chambers a second round as fast as she can and settles down on the rifle, looks through the scope, looks for a second motherfucker to blast…

…Motherfuckers took cover! 

Well, she was told when she started fighting back this shit would happen; take incoming or someone just gets popped and yes you will be ducking for cover and whatnot.  It’s to be expected and in the past would’ve afforded her the opportunity to dash for that second shooting position and have some more fun.

Not anymore. 

Kayla looks up from her scope, sees one of those unit portable jumped up model airplanes.  Shit! 

Kayla thought back; by the time the shooting back had started, the us government (never again getting the respect of capitalization) had fitted gunshot detectors on every last low and mid level drone it could.  Now the tactic that had initially been worked out was to quickly overwhelm the operators controlling them with as many weapons shooting at the people those drones were supposed to support as possible.

The tactic works IF you have enough people pulling triggers to overwhelm the OPFOR, and defeat them quickly enough so that fire supremacy could be established.  Then it was supposed to be a matter of engaging the drone operator and you get a new drone in inventory…

…Doesn’t work with supporting Predator or those fucking Reapers.  The Predators were bad enough; fly up to 10,000 feet hit your position with a thermobaric version of the Hellfire… no you’re not going to engage with Pappy’s goose gun.  Yet when they had air assets to take on the Predators they became easy meat buzzing about but those fucking Reapers-DAMN, SNAP OUT OF IT!

Kayla looked around.

Nobody else was shooting back at these motherfuckers.

That drone was circling about and she got a look through her rifle scope-aw hell no it was armed with a fucking grenade launcher?!

Well this has turned into a ripe shit sandwich.

NELLIS AFB

Airman “Master Chief” Hladr was getting audio and video feeds from the locals on scene at the battle area, along with one low level armed drone-that will be useful, he thought.

His commander stands behind him, just close enough to see him at work, but not too close due to the ripe seat he was occupying.  Brian was in for it…

Dan worked the feeds, the Reaper drone, the overall situation like a maestro.  A maestro looking for targets to engage.

“Ma’am I don’t think they’re wanting to fight today.”

“A state trooper’s down.”

“A lone sniper?  We’ll flush em’ out.”  Snipers were bad news on the ground, Dan knew that much and those Ohio cops had a reputation for never taking anyone caught with a scoped rifle intact. 

Dan checked out the feed from the State Highway Patrol drone; it had gunshot detection, night vision-no IR that was too expensive and increasingly unavailable.  Did have the 25mm grenade launcher with the programmable fused rounds.  Kewl. 

Dan let the State Trooper drone look around, hoping to see any kind of movement. His own sensor suite being much more capable Dan zoomed in with thermals, but those house and brush fires he so enthusiastically lit with his first attack were going to make that not work.

“You put too much on that attack Airman-now our tango’s got cover for her IR signature.”

“If only these rebels would make a stand up fight-“

“If only but you guys chased them under the proverbial rock.”

“Ain’t my fault they got the shit end of the paradigm shift in warfare Ma’am.”

Airman Hladr watched his displays; whoever shot that Statie was alone and quickly surrounded. 

“This one’s experienced Airman.  Note how he’s not making for a second shooting position?  She’s fought under drones before.”

“He doesn’t move his position’s going to be compromised real fast.  Looks like that Trooper knows what he’s doing with his drone.”

“You think he’ll get the points Airman?”

“You’re kidding right?!”

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Kayla Miller watched the low level drone come up on her position:  if she fired now, hit, and swatted that fucking little drone out of the sky she might get away-but that Reaper drone… she was certain it was a Reaper… would bag her; if she moved, she would certainly be spotted and have a missile lobbed at her; if she stayed in place and waited things out her position was certain to be found.

Kayla was also certain her fighting group had turned punk on her and was laying low thinking the same thing she was.

Fuck!

She wasn’t getting out of this.  Not now.

Motherfuckers!  Can’t fight, can’t even fucking run-all because nobody else would step up and fucking engage these fuckers…

…There was that Reaper flying out of reach a calm voice told her.  And, it told her, you know why:

WARREN BASE

December 16, 2013

“Warren Base” was a set of caves dug out from a sewer line in Downtown Warren-nothing to comment about there.  Kayla Miller made her way down the sewers to the camouflaged entrance, made entry….

The base itself was something else; the entrance was a dogleg with the long portion at an angle, with a armored fighting position at the end equipped with a .30 Browning and an array of microwave magnetrons hooked up to a bank of batteries.

Kayla walked forward-she was in full civilian winter garb, her rifle and field gear in a duffel bag.  She approaches the fighting position and a Guard is there.

“Mandrake”

“September” Kayla replied.  “I’m going for the challenge coin now.”

“Nothing sudden.”  Kayla slowly eased into a coat pocket, pulls out a sheared off Challenge Coin-a token.  The Guard goes into a small jewelry cabinet with an alphanumeric code, looks up a code, pulls out a second challenge coin-also sheared. 

They slowly approach; the Guard at an angle to provide a clear field of fire for the Browning.  Overkill, but these days…

They mate the sheared challenge coins up-they match.

“Proceed, Commander.”

“Sho thang.”  Kayla Miller walked past the position, made a right and now she was in the base proper.  Kayla passes offshoot rooms with Uniformed Militia Troops bunking, a Mess Hall with more Uniformed and Civilian garbed Militia and Resistance Fighters eating-which Kayla really wanted to go in and help herself so bad but duty calls.  That duty compelling Kayla to go all the way to the end of the main hall, passing machine shops, production lines churning out bombs, ammunition, chemicals of this and that. 

Soundproofing; old drink holders, foam mattresses and such helped dampen the noise.  God knew where they got the power from but having this base under a city was a slick, risky move.  Seems to be working so far though.

Kayla reaches the end; another Guard and Kayla produces from another pocket another sheared challenge coin, another challenge, another correct reply, another sheared challenge coin reunited and Kayla was granted entry into the Command Center of the Northeast Ohio/Western Pennsylvania Resistance.

A uniformed Militia Commander is there to greet Kayla personally.

“Commander.”

“Yeah, not by my choice there Sir.”  To Kayla the Commander had earned the Sir as he, his unit, and others like them and him had bailed her and her fighters, and a lot of others like her when the shooting started.

Oh, for sure she repaid the favor back, had long proven her worth as a fighter and a squad leader. Had a lot of fun giving the enemy payback for everything they did to her, everything they took from her.

“War goes like that, Kayla.  Come on in the conference room-we got a plate waiting for you in the mess.“

“SWEET!” 

Fuck yeah there was food for her!  If there was a constant to Kayla’s nightmare existence it was hunger.  Fatigue can be slept off, fear passes, rage came and went with combat and whatever atrocities she bumped into.  Hunger-that was a regrettable constant.  One of the enemy’s most effective weapons, and God damn them for it.

Kayla and the Commander enter the Conference Room; it was about half full of representatives of all kinds of Resistance cells and units.  Everyone from rebelling US military units to Militia, to bands of everyone from street gangs to Occupy Protestors who put down the placard and picked up the rifle to neighborhoods that had quickly evolved into militia to Libertarian from compounds who found they had simply isolated themselves and made themselves an easy target-and got out just in time. 

A lot of people didn’t.

A lot of those people weren’t here.

“We’ll begin now” the Commander started, striding to where he can address everyone; by a map of the United States that had a vastly different complexion than it is now.  Simply put, a lot of hinterland was plain, most delineated mines, roads, railways and the military bases and cities were under the red of the enemy.  Friendles were shades and unless they were in the country they had areas of operation, not territory under their control. 

Kayla remembered an earlier map that had a lot more area under their control-in fact they WERE expanding rapidly but…

The Commander addressed his audience; to a man and woman were hardened, angry people.  “We’re being paralyzed by all the drones the enemy’s been producing-you all saw the effects of that first hand trying to get here today…  Operationally we can’t do anything until the drone situation is addressed.  That is our one priority and that’s why we’re being pushed back, carved up, and being defeated in detail.  All of you know that part.

“What you don’t know is that until the situation with the horde of drones the enemy is operating can be addressed, our unit size operations are coming to a standstill until we can come up with better counters.”

An old Militia Commander rises; “What about interdicting FEMA?  They’re still sweeping up all the homeless and welfare cases.”

Nothing we can do.  It would be of benefit to increase your efforts to track down whoever is involved with production, transport, and use of drones and take them out.  That’s priority one.  The only priority; we can’t do anything else until that’s handled!”

“You think we got enough bullets left for all the pasty nerds left in this country flying them muthafuckas?” A Pittsburgh gangbanger spoke up and half his face was badly scarred.  He was definitely in constant pain Kayla thought.

“You saw the production lines down the hall right?  You’ll all be taking out of here what you can-we got one more op out of this base…. We built this base right under downtown Warren about 20 years ago after Waco, hoping that the enemy wouldn’t be too crazy as to bomb their own facilities to get at us.  Well, we just got intel that they’re putting a headquarters above us and an firebase nearby.  We’re going to strip this base down to the last useful bolt, turn it into a gigantic fuel-air bomb and blow them to hell.”

“Damn you got another base?”  Kayla had to ask.

“We’ll tell you when we can.”  The Commander usually liked to play things close to the vest.  It was irritating; Kayla like everyone wanted to know just how the war was going.  After all she was fighting it on the front lines(so to speak)but she also cherished the need to keep your mouth shut.  And make those who wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

An aging Hippy turned guerilla rises:  “So what exactly is moving in there?”

“C3, interrogation facilities, new fusion center-that sort of thing; too much heat upstairs for us to stay.  We’re going to make it too hot for them too.”  A chuckle waved through the audience.  Yes everyone in the room and in the base can appreciate a good fire.

A little later, Kayla was in the Mess Hall chowing down on instant mashed potatoes, the last of a field kitchen ration that wasn’t big enough for her.  The Commander approaches.

“Mind if I join you Kayla?”

“Sure.”  Kayla kept eating but she wasn’t being disrespectful, she was very hungry.

“How’s your Dad doing?”  There was a wistfulness in his eyes, regret.  A lot of that.

“Still at it, and he’ll keep at it til’ he can’t.  That’s what he had to say, and that was it.   You going to have anything for those drones?  Cuz’ if you don’t I don’t think this war’s going to go much longer.  Just my opinion of course.”

The Commander gathered himself.  “Maybe.  Tell your Dad this: for what it’s worth he’s right, we should’ve started fighting five years ago.  Give him my regards.”

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Now,  March 17, 2014

Kayla Miller could just imagine her situation through the constant hunger…

She was under cover, the house and brush fires made the immediate area too foggy for thermal and with her space blanket turned ghillie poncho she was for the moment invisible.

She had fired however and nobody on either side was a rookie anymore.  They had a general ideal which direction she was.  They had two drones-one low flying and close in and the other buzzing about way up that had murdered her father.  And she was certain, she was going to be surrounded-but retreat, even movement, was out of the question because one drone or the other would pick her up and pick her out.

Her unit was supposed to be around.  Her unit was supposed to have engaged the State Troopers and given the drones too many targets to engage as they chewed up the ground units.  That was doctrine but that doctrine hadn’t worked of late.  Half her command of ex-OWS protesters, street hoodlums, veterans, hunters, Amish(?!) had perished as the about all seeing, all hearing hordes of drones buzzed and made guerilla warfare as they had practiced it so briefly impossible.

She can’t be mad at them.  They were doing exactly what she was doing, making the same calculations, and coming to the same bad math. 

She would fight.  It would be her last one.  There was nothing else to be done about it.  And, she hoped, that would allow the rest of her unit to retreat and fight another day.

And lose.  No they weren’t going to win the war now.

Kayla mounted her rifle to shoulder, looked through her rifle scope; the State Ticket Salesmen had a semi rig pull up, stop; three ground drones, each on four off road wheels and mounting a belt fed machine gun and grenade launcher happily wheel out the back.  Icing on the cake.

Kayla had no rifle grenades nor the means to mount them on her Mosin-Nagant and certainly no homebuilt panzerfaust.  Sprinkles.

Well, she had her rifle and she had ammunition; Kayla Miller would show those motherfuckers just who had given them all nightmares this past summer!  Good times.  She aimed at the nearest one of those ground drones; she knew the model, it had a particular spot that was a one-shot kill, and…

FFBAP!  The suppressed Mosin sent another steel core round right at the robot, right where its design fuck up was at and the machine sparked and smoked and malfed and went inoperable.

Kayla cycled the bolt back, quickly stuffs two rounds she grabs off her stock into the magazine, slams the bolt home…

…as the other two drones charge forward, State and County Sheriffs in tactical and duty uniforms following with M-4 type carbines.  About 20 and damn did Kayla wish yet again for a M-14 she could’ve laid them out.  Her last one got wrecked by a too close call with a drone, ironically.

Too much confidence, boys… she quickly lined up the crosshairs on the second machine-yes they’ll have a fix on her position for sure-and fires, FFBAP-and gets another spectacular show of drone death but no time to appreciate!  She cycles the bolt, aims… and they take cover again.  Chumps.

That last ground drone gets behind a house as well, damnit.  Kayla searches the brush, the houses with her rifle scope looking for stupid. 

Stupid turns out to be her: that low flying drone is overhead and circles about! 

Damn got caught up with the ground assault and got picked out by the low flyier.  A couple of goose guns-12 gauge shotguns with 30 inch full choked barrels could’ve taken that out but her unit, her crew, her friends were not here this time.

The low flying drone turns about, lining up a shot with the onboard 25mm grenade launcher…

NELLIS AFB

Airman Dan Hladr watches off the drone feed the drone lining up a shot on a clump of vegetation, with just the barest hint of a suppressor tipped rifle.  Dan had looked carefully, tweaked the sensor feed off his own Reaper drone and there was just enough of a heat signature off that, you just knew it was a rifle.

“You’re going to leave the kill to the State Police?”  His commander more stated than asked.  Dan was no fool about that-now Brian on the other hand would’ve automatically pickled a Hellfire on that position and got the points but Dan knew one of their own had died. 

“You don’t have to ask that with me.”  Dan was ready however if there was a fuckup.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Kayla Miller raises her rifle up, aims at the incoming drone, disregarding camouflage, her position.  She aims through the rifle scope-trying to remember up angle and range and the size of her target and calculating for the holdover…

Across the way the State Troopers, County Sheriffs finally see Kayla and as one cut loose with roughly aimed fire from their M-4s.

Kayla ducks but not in time-she’s hit in the shoulder by a 5.56mm round!

“Fuck not again!”  She sure as hell hoped it was outside the 75 yard hyperlethality range and was just a .22 ice pick, which was bad enough.  Just bad luck and too far for their short barrel carbines to really be effective outside a vital shot.

The ground drone rumbles out from behind the house it was taking cover and aims its heavy armament…  Kayla’s big mouth at getting shot locks her position in as it too has gunshot detectors.

Kayla looks, sees the low flying State Police drone, sees it fire its 25mm grenades at her.

Then an explosion, heard from a short distance-wow what had gone up?!

A grenade explodes behind her-fucked up on the range but that way off explosion keeps going… wait, not an explosion… a rocket!

All the enemy as one look to see it climb as well.

NELLIS AFB

Airman Dan Hladr watches the massive heat plume and trajectory of some kind of rocket:

“Launch warning, launch warning, I repeat launch warning!”

This got his Commander’s attention:  “What is it?”

“Don’t know.  Not a SAM it has two-no three heat plumes.  Currently eastbound.”

“Rebel fighter?”

Dan and the Commander look at the visual as the Reaper’s optics tear away from Kayla Miller and towards this new threat.  The computer made a generated image of the Rebel… fighter- “Those are rocket boosters: I’d bet it’s some kind of garage built jet and they launched it from a trailer or launch rail.  It’s not anything we had in the inventory Ma’am.”

“I’m calling Wright Patterson, have them scramble.”

“I’d tell those Blackhawks out of Warren to back off until we can handle this.”

“Can you engage?”

“I can but that thing’s going to break the sound barrier any second now-my drone’s not built for a dogfight though.”

“Do it to em Hladr.”

“Roger that, going in with Hellfires.”  Dan’s Reaper had no air to air missiles as the nascent Rebel Air Force had been driven to ground by North Atlantic Treaty Organization fighters of all kinds-overwhelmed by numbers and tech as too many of the practically invincible F-22s had been retained.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Kayla watched as a miracle took place before her eyes; as one both the remnant ground drone, the aerial drone and the entire assault team turned 180, headed toward the source of that rocket blasting off.  Kayla looks at the head of the rocket trail… it splits in two like a fork in the road.

10,000 feet above Pymatunig Lake the Rebel rocket boosted fighter’s boosters separate and go their separate ways-as a Hellfire SLAMS into the right booster and EXPLODES IT just barely clear of the fighter…

The fighter itself is a homebuilt copy of a stealth drone but in a more streamlined delta shape that emphasized air combat. 

It doesn’t have a pilot.

A dome turrent near the nose automatically swiveled, tracked the Hellfire missile streak back to the Reaper drone gently buzzing a few miles away.

NELLIS AFB

Dan watched as the Rebel drone-yes it’s a drone as it performs a 12g snap roll and heads straight for his drone at near supersonic speed.

“Commander, that’s a drone!  I got a visual, but I don’t have a radar lock nor do I have enough of a heat signal-that thing’s got stealth!”

Can you jam or override the signal?”

There is no signal!  You better get those jets here fast!”

“In bound in less than a minute.”

“Giving it everything I fucking got!”

Dan mashes on his triggers…

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Dan Hladr’s Reaper Drone ripple fires every last Hellfire laser guided missile, every laser guided 76mm guided rocket at the incoming Rebel drone.  They ride the beam locked… “locked” on by Dan as he’s relying on a visual-yes the military has a lot of kewl shit and being able to track by image was one of them.

The Rebel Drone waits until the last possible second then snap dives downward at a rate impossible for human control, and Dan’s desperate ripple-fired barrage of repurposed air to ground missiles misses.  Neither type of laser guided ordnance is geared toward aerial combat and they fly off wherever.

This new drone on the other hand does a wide loop upward.  Its next target is the Reaper drone.

Kayla Miller still in her hide digs out a blowout kit and applies it to her shot left shoulder.  She watches as the enemy advances toward the launch site.  She was also certain that every last pig in Ohio and PA were going to be vectored in and around them.  Which is why she hurries with her blow out kit.

Overhead, two F22 Lightning fighters charge in at supersonic speed, their sonic booms deafening!

NELLIS AFB

Dan Hladr got comm. Feeds off the F22 Raptors as they entered the battle:

“Razor two do you have lock?”

“Negative-not enough radar return nor heat signature.”

“Well that’s damn interesting.  We’ll go in with cannons-hope that thing don’t have AIMs itself.  Charge!”

Dan watched as the F22s closed in on the rebel drone…. Closing in on his drone.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Kayla patches herself up with the blowout kit.  She gathers her wits and her strength…

Looks like the State Troopers launched another of their drones-one of those trashcans with helicopter blades with a slung under machine gun turrent.  Fine she’s dealt with those before.

Amazing what one can do when you too have air support… Kayla looks skyward over Pymatunig Lake…

Overhead the mega-million dollar F22 Raptors close in on the Rebel drone-it too heads directly for the stealth fighters and FIRES-it has a automatic cannon of some kind and it fires a short burst-the first Raptor takes small 50BMG Raufoss rounds in the wings, tail and left engine-it smokes!

NELLIS AFB

Airman Dan Hladr is desperately trying to pilot his 400mph Reaper drone out of the battle zone, he’s clearly outclassed.  Nervously he and his Commander listen in on the air battle:

“I’M HIT!  I’M HIT!”

“GET OUTTA HERE, I’LL HANDLE THIS-JUST LAND THAT BIRD ALRIGHT?”

“ROGER THAT!  GOOD LUCK!”

They watch as the hit Raptor turns, tries to flee on one bad engine and quite a bit of damage.

“That enemy drone has a heavy machine gun-if it had had a 20mm cannon it would have bagged him.”

They watch as the crippled Raptor tries to flee and the remaining F22 attempts to get behind the Rebel drone-which pursues the crippled jet.

“He’s got to bail out-it’s coming for him.”

“Airman you remember just how expensive those birds are?!  He’d be lucky if his career’s over!”

“IT’S COMING FOR YOU!”

“ENGAGE IT ALREADY!”

“I CAN’T LOCK ON!  I CAN’T LOCK ON!  GOING TO GUNS!”

The Rebel drone closes on the cripple F22-explosions can be heard over the intercom.

“EJECTING-“

The crippled F22 comes apart in midair.  Because Dan’s trying to get the Reaper out of there he can’t see what happens himself but the transponder for the first F22 is gone.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

The Rebel Drone FIRES its lone 50BMG heavy machine gun, the Raufoss rounds it fires are an exquisite blend of armor piercing tungsten, high explosive and incendiary compounds that impact on the smoking, crippled F22 and EXPLODE IT!

The lone remaining F22 closes in but as soon as the explosion happens that drone executes a snap turn at an impossible rate-impossible for a human to execute.  It comes back on the Raptor and FIRES-as the pilot executes a loop; one round impacts the right rudder and disables it.

The Pilot does an Immelman but as he does the drone turns and intercepts as he inverted!  It FIRES another short burst impacting the cockpit!

NELLIS AFB

Dan and the commander can only look on helpless as the second F22 is taken out.  It moves to take out the Reaper.

“Permission to self destruct my bird Commander-“

“Do it!”

Airman Dan Hladr punches in his code, flips open a cover and hits the red button.

His signal and displays go blue.

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Overhead Kayla watches the hated Reaper drone explode overhead-she laughs and claps, her pain, fatigue and hunger gone.

Perfectly distracted, that machine gun armed hover drone closes in on Kayla and is about to fire when 50BMG Raufoss rounds explode on it and the ground around it, exploding it!  The whole thing catches Kayla by surprise!

She watches the Rebel drone swoop overhead-it looks like a small stealth fighter, kind of.  Nimble critter she thinks as it circles the battlefield; although there are plenty of ground targets it doesn’t engage.

“Well, fuck-they got some more work to do on it.”  And with that Kayla rises, her Mosin-Nagant rifle in hand and runs toward the enemy closing in on her group, the fighting intense. 

They still had problems; if they can’t hit that one ground drone’s sweet spot it’ll give them all kinds of problems.  And as all of them deal with that problem, the State Troopers and Sheriff’s Deputies will give them a few other problems.  Fucking drones-oh and there’s that one other low flying drone…

…Which her drone (yes Kayla thinks of it as her drone now) FIRES at-and stops, missing.  Adjusting in the blink of an eye “her” drone decides to act like a oversize air-to-air missile and HIT the cheapo low flying drone taking it and crashing into the woods!

“Oh you fucking asshole!  NO!”  Oh well, she heads to the first shooting position she can get to shoot those motherfuckers in the back….

NELLIS AFB

Two Air Force Security Guards accompany two plain grey suited Government Agents as they enter the control room.

“Commander, Airman; we need you to accompany us for a debrief.”

The Commander and Airman Dan “Master Chief” Hladr look at each other with dread….

PYMATUNIG LAKE

Kayla watches as her group overwhelm the last of the on scene State Troopers and they crumple; she’s been patiently stalking one of the bad guys with pretentions of being a sniper-and FFBAP!  Her suppressed Mosin-Nagant rifle connects yet again, hitting him right in the neck!  His Observer just starts running…. Kayla cycles one last round, aims and connects, sends the fucker down.

Kayla goes over to the Sniper-and he’s got a M-14 with a scope and suppressor!

“Holy fuck, Christmas came today, yo!”

Kayla slings her rifle, takes his rifle as he’ll never need it again.  She strips his gear, his Ghillie suit, his uniform, boots, pistol belt-nice Sig.  She slumps down by a tree, enjoying the moment.

A young Amish man in camouflage bearing a FAL rifle runs to her.

“You alright Kayla?”

“I’m good.  Got hit by a .223 but I’ll make it.”

“See you got yourself a M14 again.”

“Yep.  Got some of my taxes back.”

They laugh.  “How we set?”

“We’ll be burying some people-four I think.”

“Motherfuckers!”

“We got us a couple prisoners though.”

The two of them smile.  God help those poor bastards.

“Yeah-good thing that drone was launched; that would’ve been the end of us!”

“Think we tipped them off though.”

“Yeah.  But it couldn’t have been helped I think-imagine if you hadn’t launched it and those fuckers had captured it.  Speaking of-“

“We made sure nothing electronic remains.”

“Leave the rest of it.”

“Why?”

“I want them to know enough to make them afraid of us again.”

“Ah.  Good point.”

“There’s another one over there Michael, can you strip him for me?”

“I got it.  Need any help?”

“I got myself.  Hurry up we gotta get out of here before they start dropping rounds down on us.”

As she finishes a BUZZ can be heard-overhead she was certain a Predator drone had been dispatched and just as certain artillery out of Warren would be dropping down on them.

Too bad that base underneath Downtown Warren got raided before it could have been blown.  That would’ve been fucking awesome to watch—seeing those government buildings all blown up, all those bureaucrats and agents ripped apart, burnt, screaming in agony. 

Just a taste of what they done to the country.

NELLIS AFB, INTERVIEW ROOM

March 18, 2014

Airman Dan Hladr sits before those two grey suited G-men and the two Airmen.  He was exhausted, having been interviewed literally ever since the battle.  They have before him a report.

“Crash confirms your hunch, Airman-homebuilt drone.  It had its armament and whatever it used for a guidance system stripped out of it.”

“What-how’d they come up with the jet engine to fly that thing?”  Dan’s curiosity overcame him even though these bastards had put him through the proverbial ringer.

“It’s a ramjet.”

“What?  Oh-that explains the rocket boosters.”

“Yeah.  And since there were no control signals of any kind that means it was completely internally guided.  Damn, they leapfrogged ahead of us-how did they do that?!”

Dan shook his head.  Maybe NOW this would be over and he could get some rest, he’d certainly earned it.  Even if he took the hit for having to blow up his own drone he wasn’t sorry-better his own hand than give the Rebels another notch.  The Battle of Pymatunig Lake was a bad enough defeat as is.

The other G-Man spoke up.  “Well, Airman, you did your best under the circumstances but someone has to take the fall.”

“Wait!  What?!  You mean-you can’t!”

“Take the Airman into custody Gentlemen.”

Dan Hladr screamed and the Air Force Guards jump on his corpulent ass and start to beat the crap out of him… eventually to secure him but thugs are thugs.  The Government Agents watch as the fat drone jockey gets the beginning of his punishment for failing his government.

END

J. Croft

http://freedomguide.blogspot.com

http://freedomguide.wordpress.com

Scum rises to the top. When you leave scum alone, it festers. It festers, stinks and eventually poisons everything in and around. That’s what has happened in America.

We the People of America… our parents, grandparents-or you perhaps-were sold a package of lies about the system of government and the general condition of the society that the enemy has crafted for us.

The enemy are scum of course. Career police officers longing to harass lowly civilians-or hurt them serve career bureaucrats who couldn’t hack it in the real world so they climb whatever government molehill is handy to lord it over lowly civilians. Career shyster lawyers fill the elected public offices to write their laws, administer their laws, and WHEN you find yourself facing the legal machine they’ve built they force you to hire some ringer shyster lawyer to offer a pretense of a defense. All to enslave you.

Atop all that scum are the banksters , major shareholders, and corporate chair room seat warmers who collectively pull the strings on both the government and corporate entities that comprise the United States. (1, 2)

Ah yes, the corporations. Given personhood by the “supreme court”(3). Driven the family farm and the mom and pop stores into quaint anachronism they’ve made us addicted to their goods and services, then dependent, and now we’re as enslaved to them for our very sustenance as we’re enslaved to the dictates and taxes of the various organs of the United States government.

I mean, let’s break it down: Say your productivity for one hour equals 20 dollars-doesn’t matter what you really make, just… go along with it…

So you have 20 dollars and you work for a wage. Doesn’t really matter what or where but out of that 20 bucks you’d best not do it with A 20 dollar bill because 19 of those 20 dollars of your productivity, the fruit of your labors are going to be pocketed by your boss before you’re even going to see it.

So you got one dollar for the 20 dollars of labor-oh wait, now the government’s going in and taking out in taxes before you even get that bill, damnit. Okay now you’re going to have to get change, and after all the withholding done on your paycheck before you even see it you got maybe 50 cents. Believe me the IRS will make damn certain you pay that 50 cents, bitch.

Forget the quarters. Everything in America that’s corporately provided is taxed at several levels. Gas, food, insurance, housing, smokes, what have you but by the time you get down to what you actually can carry around in your pocket… maybe 20 cents or so… well, maybe you can afford housing, maybe even a home. Renting no matter how you do it because on your deed for your home you’re listed as TENANT. Because if you don’t pay property tax the scum county sheriff will evict you from your home and the home you’ve dedicated a lifetime to servicing a mortgage to gets bought up by some scum local developer or ‘investor’ for pennies on the dollar. So either way, you rent.

Basically after you pay your rent, utilities(taxed), gas(hella taxed), food(taxed, probably making you diabetic), you JUST MIGHT have some pennies over.

Now get this: on that 19 dollars you’ll never, ever see, the corporation will likely pay maybe five dollars if it’s a smaller company. If it’s part of a larger corporate structure however the expenses and costs are dumped into one section so there’s no tax, and all of the physical possessions like land, building, equipment are leased from another subsidiary whose costs exceed profits somehow and there’s no tax-leaving the corporate entity that manages the whole hustle to rake in the money because it’s a multinational and manages through legal chicanery it probably lobbied… paid some congressmen off… through literally its own tax laws to not pay one red cent. It pockets that 18 or even 19 dollars of your productivity.

You think a multinational corporation just banks that 19 dollars of your productivity? No, they invest that in stocks we can’t get in on because we’re not “qualified investors”, real estate, and investment vehicles you and I will likely never have a chance to even know about.

Oh yeah, banks. They take everyone’s money to “safeguard”, offer you a few percentage points of interest-then take your money and use it as collateral to generate about a hundred times that in loans, take the income from those loans and invest… you heard of derivatives right? There’s about 1.6 quadrillion dollars worth of those investment vehicles-which are financial fictions based upon other financial fictions like loans, real estate, bonds, etc.

…And if you think that’s bad, just how much expense is involved with the private federal reserve system? Its biggest expense is running the printing presses and paper and ink for the small fraction of the currency it creates out of nowhere. Which the United States government BUYS from AT INTEREST to issue as currency-and yes, an ever-growing debt is generated from this arrangement, along with the classic overspending. Owed to the same private federal reserve system. All of which causes perpetual and ever growing inflation, which means that the purchasing power of the dollar over the past hundred years since the income tax (IRS) and federal reserve were instituted, that purchasing power has been cut 99 percent… like the 99 percent of the fruit of your labor, your productivity goes into someone else’s hands.

…Guess whose hands? Guess who are the major shareholders of those corporations, those banks, the PRIVATELY OWNED “federal reserve” that has been granted by Congress an unconstitutional license to print our money? No need to guess it’s the same pack of way too rich, mostly white, mostly old male scum that have been allowed to rise to the top and stay undisturbed for so long, the crust that’s formed could have a World Trade Center built on it-and have a false flag attack staged on it and explosively demolished to generate wars, terrify Americans into a police state, and kick billions in insurance claims to Larry Silverstein.
No wonder the People of America seek escape from their reality, but that leaves the scum at the top to continue poisoning and enslaving us. Don’t worry about the dissidents; they have plenty of tools in their toolbox to keep things going just as they are:

Television-the perfect mind control tool. The ownership of the media production pre-internet was concentrated in the hands of the very scum who sought to keep us ignorant and distracted. Whole generations could through tightly controlled news, tightly controlled entertainment programming be instilled with the same thought control and indoctrination. (4, 5, 6)

Professional sports-where Americans are supposed to expend their testosterone on. And their last penny. Cities both great and small can’t simply cut taxes to encourage entrepreneurialism by the average American but they can taxpayer subsidize mega-million dollar houses of worship, whose idols may perform as few as sixteen times a year, or as many as fifty. Meantime that’s more money in the form of taxes that’s stolen from us before we even see the paycheck.

Drugs-smuggled in by the US government in exchange for weapons. In the 80’s they were illegally made in Arkansas (thank the Bush/Clinton cartel) and today they’re simply stolen from American gun owners by the ATF for some lawyer-made legal pretext then “walked” across the border. Or to the street gangs the Bush/Clinton cartel favors. Meanwhile, Americans economically trapped in the cities when the scum in government and business sent their factories overseas turn to drugs for both escape and SOME kind of income… coupled with welfare policies destructive to families and well, just cruise through the nearest ghetto to see what you get.(7, 8)

“Education”-oh yeah, the scum take a LOT of money for the mandatory bussing, the NEA, the wasteful, ineffective drone factories they call public schools. Unfortunately, it’s not just that 12 years of regimented force-feeding of shit made up by scum is shoved down our throats, it’s the underlying agenda of every course, every class assignment, every problem. It’s also what’s NOT taught that casues even more damage; more and more Americans graduating from state schools cannot read or do basic arithmetic. Anyone who can’t stand the decade plus of monotony is now drugged with legal heroin, or legal cocaine-whatever’s appropriate. Yeah I’m talking about ritalin and prozak. The thugs are sent to their own ‘finishing school’ callied juvie where they’re shitcanned into a mold that spits out the criminal caste that the scum in power uses to terrify us into accepting the scum with guns terrorizing us. The smart people? They’re steered to college where neo-marxist scum can fry what’s left of their brains with political correctness and even more outrageous lies. Then by aptitude they become the next businessmen, the next bureaucrats, the next veteran-shooting oath traitor cops, the next GOD FORBID, the next shyster lawyers. (9)

Lawyers-Yeah, someone has to administer the slave system deceptively labeled the ‘land of the free’ and that species of scum are lawyers. The biggest single category of college graduates are… yes, lawyers. That’s about as good a ‘profession’ anyone whose family tree doesn’t go in a straight line can hope for. Lawyers run for public office because they have elected public office pretty much monopolized. Lawyers write the laws (that they’re told to), and make them into law. Those lawyer-made laws are administered over you, slave, by lawyers in public office. When their muscle (aka/cops) bring in a victim to go through THEIR system, it’s a lawyer in a black robe with a god complex they face, another lawyer off to the side trying to get them to plead so as to generate revenue and keep their prosecution rate abov e 99 percent. “Your” lawyer is an Officer of the Court-just like the cop that found a legal excuse to arrest you, that prosecutor in the bad suit and that black robe wearing faggot with the god complex-all scum. Don’t even try to bring up the Constitution, they’ve convinced themselves they’re not under it and neither are you.

Cops-man, where to begin?! You been paying ANY attention to the news for the past 20 years you know EXACTLY what’s wrong….

…You do know of course, that most all the above enforcers, the people running the corporations, banks, etc. are freemasons, right? America was founded as a great freemasonic experiment, and only once during the 1830’s came close to losing their hold on the country thanks to the Anti-Freemason Party. Masonic themes are in this country’s architecture from coast to coast-Washington, District of Columbia is a city-sized Masonic shrine. The very one dollar federal reserve note is a Masonic document. Oh, it’s not like Officer Barbrady handing out speeding tickets is on the same level as say, Ben Bernanke, as he’s in the bottom level blue lodge but even there it’s a mutual backscratching, good ol’ boy’s network of public officials and prominent local businessmen-all scum.

All in all, a slave state dressed in the trappings of ‘liberty’ ruled by scum. The United States is a fraud perpetrated upon America and the entire world.

The very origins of the United States in the political form it’s had since 1789 is a fraudulent form of republican government that on the surface divides the government into separate components that often act against each other. The election processes used guarantee that the incumbents can stay in power barring something catastrophic happening. The system of amending the 1787 US constitution is problematic; a massive campaign is required for even a single amendment. Either that or a constitutional convention has to be called for which throws out the entire faulty 1787 constitution and God Knows What will be the replacement. The very origins of the 1787 constitution are a gigantic fraud perpetrated by the scum ancestors of the very scum that rule us-we let rule us.

Oh, that’s a tale that needs to be told and retold…

See, before that fateful summer in Philadelphia in 1787, America was a Confederation of 13 sovereign nations under a central government just strong enough to run a postal service, a navy, and a Congress. The states made their own currency, raised their own militias, and generally had every other power a nation-state has. A war had just been fought-and won…

…Yeah the American Revolution? Started by rich and powerful scum on both sides of the Atlantic-about all of them freemasons who wanted a “New Atlantis” (10) to fulfill some Masonic dream. They needed people to populate the New World so they emptied England, Ireland, Scotland, Germany of the poor. Most Americans were indentured servants or the descendants of indentured servants-yes America was a slave state. Unfortunately for the inbred psychopathic blueblood scum America was a frontier they couldn’t possibly control back then, and, the slaves were armed. With rifles capable of killing scum out to 200 yards when their line infantry couldn’t engage past 50 yards. Worse, those Americans had been surviving Native Americans attempt at resisting encroachment and extermination and learned how to fight like they did. They knew the land, were self-sufficient, hardy, and most definitely could fight. They knew who their enemy was too, well, at least those in the puffed wigs sending redcoats their way.

What the scum back then did was to harness the rage of the common Colonial. Ramping up economic and political pressures on the 13 Colonies until a fight was inevitable, and the battle of Lexington and Concord kicked off the shooting phase of the American Revolution. Mind you, the average American Militiaman was fighting for Freedom; they would’ve liked to have had that freedom under the Union Jack but you know who ran England. So they fought for independence-not knowing the first thing about the freemasons that controlled both Congress, Parliament, and both the American and British armies.

Think about it; the British Empire was the superpower of that era. Nobody could really challenge it and everyone knew it. It was like if Alaska tried to break away from the United States today-the only way that would play out is if it were ALLOWED. The British had so many chances to break the American Army and let each of those opportunities just slip by. The Americans? The highly effective American frontiersmen using basic woodcraft, Indian fighting tactics and rifle marksmanship could’ve driven the massed line of battle dependent British Army to destruction in due course, but George Washington, high raking Freemason and single largest landowner in the New World, wanted to fight just like the British Army-who were experts at it. Basically, enough of the important figures in that conflict were freemasons that the war could be to a great degree orchestrated.

So, that’s how America won its revolution. Now to go into how Americans lost that revolution:

The bankster scum of that era orchestrated a depression that forced the wig wearing scum to get tough with debtors. Scum were also lining up to defraud the valiant veterans of that conflict of the very pay they earned risking all; Colonial Script promising full pay after the war was won were swindled from them for a pittance. Because there was a depression engineered by bankster scum and they needed to eat.

Farmers were foreclosed on for minor debts, sent to prison; for a people that fought off one tyrant that sparked many a revolt. Currency manipulation by the bankster scum among the 13 states further excascerbated the economic crisis, turning it into a political crisis that just about broke America apart.

Conveniently, they drove Congress to authorize a convention to fix the Articles of Confederation to allow SOMETHING to be done by them to stabilize the situation. The scum of course took full advantage of the situation they created in the first place to ram through that 1787 constitution and through fraud and in Rhode Island’s case embargo ramrod it into the becoming the “supreme law of the land”. (11)

The scum won their ‘new atlantis’.

And over the next two centuries the scum, and their descendants and the lower level scum that gravitated to power gingerly, carefully imposed their United States upon Our America. Going gingerly because Americans were still literate, self sufficient, hardy, armed and willing to fight.

So the enemy set out to tame that horse.

Public schools were instituted in the 19th century to instill group think and regimentation, which in the 20th progressively dumbed down each succeeding class.

Economic manipulation of commodity markets priced the family farmer out of business. That was coupled with initially attractive factory wages, which coupled with the innovations of the Industrial Revolution filled the cities and depopulated the countryside. Once in the cities, Americans became dependent on wages meted out by corporations-compensating for only a small fraction of the work they did-to maintain an urban lifestyle.

With urbanization came crime as a natural side effect of lots of poor being near wealth. Crime beget the police. Not having a frontier need for the rifle, and losing the memory of needing the rifle to repel scum with pretentions of superiority, urbanized Americans eventually acceded to gun control. Or because they were black and a defeated South needed to keep them in their place.

Urbanization, coupled with the advent of television and the Madison Avenue/Hollywood manufactured mass culture softened and unmanned Americans. The progressive conditioning of accepting public servants as being ‘authority’ led to dependency and eventually for many, acceptance of being disarmed and having faith in the very scum that enslaved them in the first place.
All these generations of dependent, obedient Americans were taught one cardinal rule above all: leave running the country to the “professionals”. Have faith in ‘their’ institutions and just live their lives. Don’t rock the boat and roil the waters, which lets the scum rise and fester and choke and poison us all. From your town hall and chamber of commerce to Wall Street to the White House there’s scum thick enough to build a house on.

Roil the waters.

Roil the waters; the scum are weak, they cannot stand the scrutiny, the action against them. They have no loyalty, no honor, no moral backbone; they rely on being left alone either through ignorance, distraction, or through the force they command.

Because they’ve been left alone by Americans long ago who should’ve known better but believed the lies put out about who runs this country. It’s their nature that they’re cowards, that rely on thugs and trickery to maintain power.

We give them their power by being obedient, dependent, weak, in fear. What you need to fear is what hellhole existence you leave to whatever children of yours manage to survive the scheduled destruction of Our America. Or more accurately, what’s left.

Your obedience is consent for the scum to keep dominating you. Your dependence is license for the scum to enslave you. Your weakness allows the scum to maintain the illusion of strength they love to maintain. Your fear is their psychic lifeblood and just encourages them to continue their crap.

Stop obeying the scum. Yes, obedience to scum presenting themselves as ‘authority’ is deeply embedded in your psyche so start where you can and build up your courage to break more of their bullshit rules.

Become self sufficient. Learn a skill. Get together with others to form a farm co-op and grow your own healthy food. Network with like-minded others and trade among yourselves. Find ways to generate your own electrical power and fuel your automobiles.
Remove yourself from the enemy’s beast system. Stop banking at their banks, stop posting your life on Twitter and Facebook, stop being truthful about where you live, what your ID is, your very name on any government or corporate form. Use forms of communication that can’t be tracked from you. Better yet give up your ID and encourage others to do likewise; your ID is your consent to being tracked and therefore enslaved.

You will have to become strong to protect what you have, because scum’s scum and will attempt to take what you got. It’s the history of our country. You will need to learn how to fight and shoot and not only are there still schools available to lowly civilians like you, but there are airsoft replicas of your weapons you can buy and practice on-stack your ammo. Learning how to fight individually you will need to learn how to fight as a group; team shooting, team tactics. Basically you’re going to become a militia.(12)

Your biggest obstacle is going to be the fear the scum, your enemy, has instilled in you your entire life. Hard thing to do and best taken in steps over time, but Our America has so little of that left I fear. You find your courage with God, our Father. No I don’t advocate any religion or denomination; I state you must forge your own relation with God, our Father. Jesus said that there are none good but the Father. Jesus also stated that we’re all Sons and Daughters of our Father, just like Him.
Find a quiet place. In your bed, your closet, your car-don’t matter. Empty your mind of yourself, the noise of your various thoughts. Empty your mind and feel your heart, your very spirit because there Our Father is there, wanting to talk to you, to love you.

Trust God. God gave us our Freedom as a gift and wants us to claim it in this world and the next. We are here in this time, in this place because it is vital for us to be here. To reclaim not only our own destiny but the destiny of America from the scum that have imposed the evil two-faced tyranny called the United States for the past two centuries.

Once you’ve reclaimed yourselves and joined with others of like mind, we all need to retake our country. Forget the national offices they’re a sideshow, a distraction, and as the United States government is currently configured, a complete waste of time… until the foundation of Revolution is laid. That will be at the local level because the way the United States government is currently configured most tyranny is administered at the local level. Most local elections have light voter turnouts-less than 10 percent of the voting population actually, which means much less than 10 percent of eligible adults. Hell, many scum candidates go UNCHALLENGED!

Follow the example of the GIs of Athens, Tennessee. In 1946 the scum that had settled into positions of power in that town had pushed returning World War Two Veterans too far-fining and jailing them at every opportunity as the scum had turned public service into a criminal racket. So they organized for the upcoming election a full ticket of candidates to do the job right and sweep THEIR local government clean of the scum.

Scum being scum, they stole the ballot boxes, assaulted a black GI and took two GI monitors as hostages, and holed up in the local jail. Being Americans, the GIs went to the local National Guard Armory, took rifles, ammunition and a machine gun and laid siege to that jail, and eventually laid dynamite on that bitch. Scum being scum, they lost their heart and surrendered. First time you’ve heard of this? No doubt it wasn’t by accident.(13, 14)

No reason you can’t do the same, whether you’re in the Patriot Movement or participating in Occupy Wall Street.
(Yes I know there are ideological purists in OWS, in the Tea Party Movement, the Patriot Movement who refuse to see the forest for the trees. Divide and conquer is a time honored strategy because it works.

Yeah I know this article’s quite long. OWS and the Tea Party Patriots-like cats and dogs right? Yet you look at what the grass roots of both movements oppose and it’s the same scum. Sure the Tea Party has been co-opted and OWS genesis was a false flag opposition by the scumbag toadie George Soros. Sure there are apparatchiks working both movements-I know, I’ve tried influencing both and have been blocked. That doesn’t mean the People in both movements cannot compare notes and get together. End of that.)

Yet, even so, how hard is it really to roil the waters? Even if you can’t find enough willing Americans to join with on such a campaign you can still clean up your area.

Keep an eye on your local scum. They step out of line, do something about it. Scum are cowards and a few well-made examples will cow the rest.

Scandal works. Especially now with the internet you can bypass the scum owned networks. Find out where the local scum go to get their little pricks shitty in some unfortunate little boys and well, run with it.

Know who your code enforcers are, what they look like, etc. In fact get to know the details of every last public servant. Know who they are, where they live, where they meet, etc.

Free your locale, you can spread the Second American Revolution to neighboring towns, then neighboring counties, then neighboring states-and THEN can you sweat about cleaning out the federal government; you will by then have the state and local political machinery to field national level candidates. You’ll have people in Congress and as the Second American Revolution spreads an unstoppable majority-likely a dozen or more parties acting against our common enemy-will allow a takeover of the Presidency and then we can deal with all the scum that have been allowed to thoroughly cake the executive branch of government.
I mean, the Council on Foreign Relations, Brookings Institute-all those think tanks, and all those petty career bureaucrats, thug agents, murderous “operators” and the rest of the SCUM need to be cleaned out…

…Unless the scum, the enemy, see this actually coming about and decide to stage some false flag to get those that haven’t awakened to the con to accept martial law “for your safety”…

Just shoot them… there have been Americans who’ve gone that route. Christopher Monfront killed four cops in Seattle for their atrocities-this after years spent trying to get justice for the victims of the scum Americans have been conditioned to obey and leave alone. Scum being scum, his efforts were systematically defeated. Systematically defeated to the point where Monfront used his FAL rifle to get justice. He now is slowly dying from his gunshot wounds incurred during his last stand and is using his trial as one last chance to witness against the corrupt United States government.

Carl Drega attempted to live a peaceable life in New England, but the local scum in public service harassed him for decades before a oath traitor state trooper attempted to ticket him for rust on his pickup truck. Drega shot and killed him, then attacked and killed a couple of scum posing as public servants and a newspaper editor.

Marvin Heemeyer was in the same situation as Drega; in Colorado he was pounced on by code enforcement officials while a neighboring plant wasn’t even bothered. Something to do with the size of the business, or knowing whoever in the local good ol’ boy’s club. So Heemeyer spent a month transforming his D9 bulldozer into a massive armored vehicle; steel plate with concrete sandwiched in between, firing ports for rifles including a .50 BMG, and cameras to offer a 360 degree view. Marvin Heemeyer spent his last day on Earth demolishing the city hall and businesses that benefited from being in the local good ol’ boys club. He killed himself when his killdozer got stuck… took the local scum 12 hours to break into that homemade tank.

Lessons learned:
1.) Last stands will leave you dead, or worse, dying in enemy custody.
2.) Have a place to go after the operation. Safe house, cave, whatever. Your living after your operation will have a much greater effect-remember Eric Rudolph and Ralph “Bucky” Phillips and the panic they caused among law enforcement, even when they struck only a couple times.
3.) Shoot to kill. If you have a pistol assume any armed opponent is wearing body armor, go for groin or head shots. A groin shot hits the pelvic bone, instantly immobilizing your opponent, you can then finish off with a head shot. A better option would be to use a rifle and at as long range as you can shoot and hit.
4.) Improvised armored vehicles could be an asset but could also invite an air strike. Plus, one on the scale of the killdozer took a month to construct. Better to go mobile, use hit and run tactics.
5.) Lone gunmen have a much lower chance of surviving the engagement than teams. One militia unit that will remain unnamed caught a federal raid and ambushed them, killing them dead. Of course I have no proof because a federal defeat would shatter forever the image of invincibility the scum have built about themselves.
6.) Surviving the engagement and advertising the results would conceivably shatter enemy morale and image. Surviving further engagements and recording the results would most certainly shatter the scum-both image and morale. After that though, one had better have a recruitment plan in operation because the kitchen sink will be thrown in your general direction.
7.) Be in good enough shape to win your engagement. Have enough in ready ammunition in magazines and carried in pouches or gear.
8.) Death is preferable to surrender, torture, incarceration for years before a show trial meant to glorify the scum you let capture you alive, and then being incarcerated and tortured to death.

NOTES:
1.) http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=few%20corporations%20control%20economy&source=web&cd=1&ved=0CB0QFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.treehugger.com%2Fcorporate-responsibility%2Fproof-of-global-domination-by-a-few-corporations.html&ei=qHPATqG0KpC62gXRxMmiBQ&usg=AFQjCNFqJfSfe84Pfl0DWU6U3CgCBYdruA
2.) http://www.theyrule.net/
3.) http://humboldtherald.wordpress.com/2010/01/21/corporate-personhood-wins-big-in-us-supreme-court/
4.) www.rense.com/general69/mass.htm
5.) pupaganda.com/originals/Tv_mind_control.html
6.) www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iEq00R1nK4
7.) http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8681225708920427234#
8.) www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qvk_WICNMLc
9.) www.deliberatedumbingdown.com
10.) www.angelfire.com/wy/1000/NewAlantis.html
11.) www.javelinpress.com/hologram_of_liberty.html
12.) appleseedinfo.org/
13.) www.constitution.org/mil/tn/batathen.htm
14.) http://freedomguide.wordpress.com/2009/02/11/recall-election-obstacles-to-overcome/

J. Croft

http://freedomguide.blogspot.com

http://freedomguide.wordpress.com

http://youtube.com/user/freedomguide

Most people are under the impression that the words “freedom” and “liberty” are synonymous. They’re not.

The legal definition of liberty from: http://legal-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/liberty

The state of being free; enjoying various social, political, or economic rights and privileges The concept of liberty forms the core of all democratic principles. Yet, as a legal concept, it defies clear definition.

The modern conception of liberty as implying certain fundamental or basic rights dates back to the writings of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century theorists such as Francis Hutcheson and John Locke. Hutcheson believed that all people are equal and that they possess certain basic rights that are conferred by Natural Law. Locke postulated that humans are born with an innate tendency to be reasonable and tolerant. He also believed that all individuals are entitled to liberty under the natural law that governed them before they formed societies. Locke’s concept of natural law required that no one should interfere with another’s life, health, liberty, or possessions. According to Locke, governments are necessary only to protect those who live within the laws of nature from those who do not. For this reason, he believed that the power of government and the rule of the majority must be kept in check, and that they are best controlled by protecting and preserving individual liberties. Locke’s philosophies gave rise to the Separation of Powers and the system of checks and balances that are the basis of U.S. government.
Limitless freedom is untenable in a peaceful and orderly society. Yet, the founders of the United States were concerned that individual liberty interests be adequately protected. Echoing Locke’s natural-law theory, the Declaration of Independence states that all people have inalienable rights, including the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Similarly, the Preamble to the Constitution outlines the Framers’ intent to establish a government structure that ensures freedom from oppression. It reads, in part, “We the People … in Order to … secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity….” The Bill of Rights sets forth a number of specific protections of individual liberties.

Through these documents, U.S. citizens are guaranteed Freedom of Speech, press, assembly, and religion; freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures; and freedom from Slavery or involuntary servitude. Criminal law and procedure require that a person may not be detained unlawfully and that a person who is accused of a crime is entitled to reasonable bail and a Speedy Trial. The right to be free from unlawful detention has been interpreted to mean not only that the government may not deprive a person of liberty without Due Process of Law, but also that a citizen has a right “to be free in the enjoyment of all his faculties; to be free to use them in all lawful ways; to live and work where he will; to earn his living by any lawful calling; and to pursue any livelihood or vocation” (Allgeyer v. Louisiana, 165 U.S. 578, 17 S. Ct. 427, 41 L. Ed. 832 [1897]). State governments may not regulate individual freedom except for a legitimate public purpose and only by means that are rationally designed to achieve that purpose (see Nebbia v. New York, 291 U.S. 502, 54 S. Ct. 505, 78 L. Ed. 940 [1934]).
The liberties guaranteed to individuals are not granted without restriction. Throughout U.S. history, the U.S. Supreme Court has held that individual freedom may be restricted when necessary to advance a compelling government interest, such as public safety, national security, or the protection of the rights of others.

Of course the legal definition of liberty is hard to define, it make the entire word a legal strawman to be granted, smeared, or taken away as expedient by your public servants. You can say under liberty you have a ‘right’ to protest-yet you have to acquire a permit to do such a thing.

Military personnel are GRANTED liberty from duty.

If something sold to you as a ‘freedom’ is sold with restriction, it’s not freedom. The patriot movement uses the word interchangeably with freedom in grievous error, as American tyrants can grant liberty all day long and at the same time find a different tact toward subverting that same purported liberty.

Liberty is granted by one’s masters. It is a creed for slaves-a few bones with some strands of meat thrown to them… to you. Those bones can, have, and are being taken away from you.

Freedom is what you naturally have, or take. Freedom is something you choose to do-or not. There is no compromise with Freedom, there is no asking permission to exercises one’s Freedom.

Liberty is a trap. The word’s treatment by the general public as a synonym of Freedom is the bait, but the snare is that you’re asking permission of someone that YOU hold above you to do or say something.

Freedom, you just do it.

Liberty’s exercise is regulated by those you hold above you. There are restrictions and penalties for exceeding those restrictions-and of course there are the commonly accepted restrictions to wallpaper over the trap that you’re not exercising Freedom.

Freedom requires you to be responsible to yourself. To Do The Right Thing which is the Golden Rule: do not unto others that which you wouldn’t do unto yourself. This when held under Jesus’ one commandment to Love God and Love Others as you do yourself, in an environment conducive to normal loving relationships means you exercise your Freedom and nobody else has to worry because you by your self-restraint aren’t going to:

*Steal
*Lie
*Damage their property
*Murder them

That’s it. Those that are afraid of true Freedom call it ‘anarchy’. It requires no bureaucrats or police forces to manage millions of moral, Free people. That is why classical Christian self-restraint has been systematically purged. I mean, you dig out a old Leave It To Beaver cassette and you don’t see Wally and Beaver on a busted up city street corner doing a drive by on their competitors… or for that matter snitching to the nearest bureaucrat about a neighbor growing organic vegetables on their front lawn to cover over holes dug to fix a natural gas pipeline. And you can certainly not dig up a Andy Griffin Show tape and see ol’ Sheriff Andy and his goofy sidekick in tactical black carrying fully automatic weapons busting up organic co-ops or shooting friendly dogs, or planting drug evidence on a coveted property-then conducting a raid that… well, golly gee the home owner “resisted”… read he got hosed by those government granted machine guns.

That is the trap of liberty.

The word liberty in the hands of the lawyer caste running America is as dangerous to one’s Freedom as is the word reasonable.

The word reasonable simply means some slick politician/ambulance chaser uses his well-honed rhetorical skills to hustle you out of what’s yours. Most importantly your Freedom, but your wealth and property are what’s generally coveted, and with defending yourself in their courts they take your time. Be advised that everyone from the cops to the court personnel, the judge, prosecutor and whatever shyster you hire to hustle you of your money are on the same team.

You’re their opposition. You’re their enemy.

And so as to make things run as smoothly as possible they will ‘reason’ with you as to why they have to steal your money for fines and court costs, why they have to vandalize your property because your organic garden in the front lawn violates their ordinances, why Sheriff Andy and Deputy Fife had to hose your friendly dog come running… had to hose your spouse because he picked up a gun to defend his property when those oath traitors come busting in your door to steal your property that they coveted and planted drug evidence to justify the raid.

Those lawyers want you to play their court game-and if they have to they’ll do a jury trial, and get twelve stooges and/or idiots to find you guilty anyway after the prosecutor ‘reasons’ in front of them and states yes you have Liberty to own the property they had to plant drug evidence on (oops they don’t mention that part), have Liberty to plant organic food-just not in the front that’s not allowed. And most certainly don’t make that organic food available at a co-op.

Homeboys Wally and the Beaver come busting in and do a home invasion? Well under our system of laws while we do have ‘liberty’ as a tenant of ‘our’ society, you shot those two minors with an unregistered handgun so you have to pay for your crime against THEIR society and go to prison and face the wrath of Wally and Beav’s homies up in the joint….

Being Free means shooting all the above enemies on sight when they try their crap and do it under the banner of ‘liberty’.

Turning what started out as a Soros false flag op to trigger martial law and making it into a genuine revolution.

J. Croft

http://freedomguide.blogspot.com

http://freedomguide.wordpress.com

I will go on record: in spirit I am with you. It is WAY past time Americans got up off their asses and shook things up, take their country back.

That being said I have also been on record as being in spirit aligned with the Tea Party Movement; they too… on an individual basis… as having enough of the (insert your term) that runs America.

Unfortunately, once the Tea Party Movement started coalescing into actual organizations they fell to the shopworn technique of control your opposition by controlling your opposition’s leadership-and made ineffectual. Yes as part of the Freedom Movement I’ve seen that pulled more than once. Oh God yeah… the COINTELPRO in the ‘right wing’ is working HARD to play the commie and hippy cards up to dissuade Americans from coming together… believe that we are all Americans. It’s OUR nation, the people who shipped our industry overseas, got us involved in nearly countless wars-THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE OUR PUBLIC SERVANTS!

We forgot to remind them of that. We forgot, and that emboldened them with each trespass beyond their servitude to US.
So yeah; there are indicators that Occupy Wall Street was initiated as a Soros false flag operation to harness anger against the bank bailouts and the general spiraling down the toilet bowl condition of America. Harness the anger of left wing and independent activists… as many right wing activists as possible…

…Spark some incident(s) to clamp down with all the sub 90 IQ thugs the enemy has hired as a domestic army arrayed against us. Already happening as I write this in Oakland, California with the assault on a Iraq War Veteran with a gas grenade-then nailing the 20 or so protestors who bravely charged in to help him out with a concussion grenade! Obama’s former Chief of Staff Rahm Emannuel broke up the Occupy Chicago protests… Atlanta… with the Occupy Wall Street becoming an American Autumn that means all those tin badge punks, those oath traitors can march up and down Main Streets across our once Free and prosperous land and presumably put us in what the enemy imagines is our place.

This protest was masterminded by George Soros to harness the decades of pent up rage against the system he serves. Masterminded in a Hegelian Dialectic; problem, reaction, solution. The enemy likes to move in increments, so as to not arouse too much anger-until it’s time for a paradigm shift, shock… then things settle into the new paradigm and the process continues.
Likely, the recent deal by the European Union to bail out Greece yet again is to keep the global economic con game going just a little longer-suck in what privately held pockets of wealth into their markets; once they get that money then perhaps then they knock out the last props. Or maybe OWS will be the thing that knocks out those last props? Hard to tell exactly where the tree’s going to fall but the chopping has already been done with globalizing national economies-particularly the economic strip mining of America… most of you protesting at OWS are doing this for that very reason!

So why go along with the enemy’s script?

What’s a protest supposed to do?

To the protestors, it’s an act of direct democracy; make your grievances heard so as to compel change, or otherwise inspire others to enact that change.

To those in power a protest is a potential threat. People are actually not parked in front of the electronic narcotics in every home, or at the ball game and are actually giving a damn. That being said, the enemy is well versed in taking social and political threats and neutralizing them. They do this by imposing an organization, or subverting an already existing org so as to harness… no, bridle the energy of the people joining that org for real change and delivering nothing of the sort.
First off, stop calling for the enemy to have MORE POWER. Supporting Obama now is like hoping the fifth rapist in a gang rape might actually kiss you, it’s beyond obscene and it’s turning off support big time. Big time support from what’s dubbed by corporate media and politicians as the ‘right wing’.

Second, look who ARE the responsible parties…

Wall Street are a bunch of brokers: moneychangers… they get their money elsewhere, and that’s the federal reserve system of private banks. It would have a much greater strategic impact to simply pack up and occupy the 12 reserve banks whose stockholders ARE responsible for enslaving us. THAT would take George Soros’ attempt at a left-wing provocation of a martial law initiative and shove it back up his fat, wrinkled old ass.

A better move would be to transmute Occupy Wall Street into a general strike; no buying consumer goods, no paying taxes, civil disobedience. Then use that general strike to help rip ourselves away from the beast that has its tentacles into literally every aspect of American life. Starve the beast of the money, the labor, the time we’ve been brainwashed into giving it.
Make the Second American Revolution happen: go back to your communities. Most of the political tyranny happens on a local level, and most of our solutions will likewise take place on that same level. I mean, just imagine if Amish raw milk producers, organic co-ops, children’s lemonade stands, etc. had the PROTECTION of local government… public SERVANTS instead of the swine that we’ve collectively allowed to enslave us. Take the local communities back from the criminals there and trust me there isn’t a single town in America that isn’t packed with good ol’ boy cliques or otherwise packs of freemasons working every angle. You want to break the power of the beast, actually taking and holding real estate’s the only way that’s going to happen. Google Recall Elections: Obstacles To Overcome and It’s Time Freedom Guide: it’s a blueprint on accomplishing a peaceful Second American Revolution. It is the hope of the world that America changes course, becomes a Free nation, and all revolutions start locally… this media inculated obsession with national politics is the proverbial carrot on the stick; you cannot gain and keep national offices if you don’t have the states, the local governments backing you up. Look at Ron Paul; he talks a good game but has he seriously raised up local candidates, built what was termed ‘coat tails’-state and local candidates to build a real political base?

In the meantime, have or get a place where your encamped activists can rest, shower, change clothes outside of the protest area. And ALWAYS have ways out…

Get your most physically able protestors aside and making some riot gear; shields, padded lances, rancid human waste and slings. Model them on the ancient Greek phalanx and practice both defensive and offensive tactics.
…Can’t some of your protestors wear business suits? Believe it or not there’s more than one member of the Stock Broker community as disgusted as you are-and if you don’t believe me Google ‘Martin Armstrong’.

Being inclusive pays off: I watched a US Marine confront 30 different NYPD oath traitors about how they assault what are supposed to be their fellow Americans-the very people they’re charged with protecting and serving! Dude pulled a July4Patriot right there and pwned them. Yeah you need to Google Sgt. Charles Dyer as well, he’s a political prisoner having a bogus child rape charge thrown at him for his own political activism and if that US Marine can get persecuted by the beast so will that Marine who gave those tin badge punks hell.

For God’s sake stay decentralized! Listen to each other, and feed off each other… feed those around you too. Use the protests as a platform for grievances-but also to get participants and those inspired but don’t want to be seen at the protests and be profiled as troublemakers in police databases towards action. Action is what the enemy fears most!

For the past three years, Charles Dyer/aka July4Patriot has been openly persecuted by the US government. He has had to fight three court cases-all three of which he beat. Now the enemy has a fourth case on him; he’s out of money, and he’s alone in this.

The man is a voice in the Freedom Movement. We can sacrifice a six pack, or a couple boxes of shells for the range to help him out. Hell I’ve been unemployed for years and I’m kicking in! Watch and then donate.

Dyerfest has a MUCH better ring to it than Dyerpalooza, so let’s go with that.

Okay, we need venues. Specifically, land sited in jurisdictions with patriotic, Oath Keeper lawmen to provide a legal shield. The land ideally should have power, or if not someone’s going to have to step up with a generator and fuel. If we have just one, it should be as close to Stephens Co. Oklahoma as possible but can any town in Oklahoma be trusted? How about Northeast Texas?

A farmer with some land if that’s what it takes. Or a shut down strip mall. Whatever.

Let’s get the land donated for use, after that we will need the following:

*Internet site to handle live video feeds from both primary venue and any other venues across America for those who want to but can’t travel to the main site. We will need reporters both at the main site and at the supporting sites. We will need a webmaster, someone to string it together and a emcee, director-what have you-to conduct this. The website must have individual feeds from Patriots across America going live for Dyer as well.

*Vendors: we’ll need food, drink, games. Also, bands. Poker Face would be ideal for this.

*Security… we need both the militia and oath keepers to step up, although ALL OF US are militia. Let’s make this a 3%er event and come ARMED-all of us.

We are going to present Dyer’s case and we are going to present it to the world. We are going to assert our Freedom. And, we are going to have fun doing it.

If you can donate any of the above, please contact me at j-croft@graffiti.net immediately!

J. Croft