Grant thought back to George Washington’s writings on the Revolutionary War. A constant theme was the discipline of the troops. Washington faced the same situation Grant did: untrained volunteers. They couldn’t be disciplined like regular troops because they could just go home, but there had to be enough discipline for the untrained volunteers to be an effective fighting force.
Grant thought that they were achieving that balance out there. Time would tell. Sending a boy home was one thing. What about when the troops tried to desert or stole some food? Do you shoot him? Shoot one of the residents you’re trying to protect? Hopefully they’d never confront that, but Grant knew they probably would.
A truck came down the road from the Grange. It had the last load of volunteers and was picking up the Grange ladies to take them back. There was no need for grandmas to be in a firefight. Pastor Pete got out of the truck. He had a pistol. How appropriate. Grant was reminded of the saying from the Alamo: “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.”
The bustle went on for another hour or so. Everyone was running around doing things like getting the right ammo to everyone, setting up a field hospital, filling sandbags, and giving impromptu weapons lessons. The longer this went on, the more the initial excitement of pitching in was wearing off. People were watching the sandbag bunkers going up and realizing real bullets would be flying toward them. Real bullets. The field hospital was reassuring in one sense, but terrifying in another: people would be lying on those tables bleeding to death. Screaming. Dying.
Volunteers who didn’t know much about guns were runners. They would resupply guards with ammunition and evacuate the wounded to the fire station, if necessary. They would run messages between points, including the snipers. The snipers had a radio, but it was impossible to predict when things wouldn’t work. Runners thought they weren’t doing the important work since they didn’t have rifles, when in fact the runners had perhaps the most dangerous job.
Dan and Ryan were putting together squads. In the real military, a squad was usually ten men. Ten or so people were behind each of the two cross-fire sandbag bunkers. The snipers were another squad (although Grant never really saw them so he didn’t know how many there were). Ten or so more were split between the two sandbag bunkers guarding the flank by the river in case anyone came across there. This squad probably wouldn’t have direct contact so they were held in reserve. The medical team and Pastor Pete did their own thing; they weren’t in a squad. The fifteen or so runners were a squad. The squads were just groupings; they were not formal units. They were just a way to keep track of people and have them organized around tasks.
The Team, which only had six, was another squad. The Team would be the dynamic, offensive unit that would attack, if needed. When they weren’t doing that, the Team would motivate the guards. And in preparation for all of this, they would train guards.
Each squad had a squad leader. Rich picked them since he knew most of the guards. The exception was the Team; Rich didn’t pick that squad leader because everyone knew it was Pow. He was the tactical leader of the Team and Grant would just be a member of the Team.
That’s when Grant realized that he’d never actually been in a gunfight with the Team. This would be their first one. He hoped they’d live up to their reputation.
Chapter 121
The Authorities Arrive
(May 12)
Seeing the Grange ladies going back reminded Grant about Chip at the Grange. Grant ran to the communications person, the “comm chick” as they called her. Her name was Heidi and she was in her late teens. She was a sheriff’s search and rescue volunteer and a radio geek. She had a ham radio—a nice one—and kept in contact with her dad, Curt Copeland, the ham radio guy. He was at his house with the massive ham radio antennas. They also kept in contact with Linda Rodriquez, the former Seattle police dispatcher who was the dispatcher at the comm center in the Grange. Between Heidi at the gate, Linda at the Grange, and Curt at his house, they had communications with everyone they needed to. They needed to have a CB and a ham radio, and sometimes both, and switch back and forth, but it was better than no comms.
Grant asked Heidi, “Can you get me the Grange?”
Heidi nodded. She handed Grant the ham radio. Good, Grant realized when he had a reasonably secure ham radio, what he had to say wasn’t something he wanted just anyone on a CB to hear. Linda answered.
“Hey, Linda, this is Grant. Can you get me Chip?” Grant said, while Heidi was cringing at Grant’s improper use of radio lingo.
Linda answered, “Hold on. I’ll get him.”
About thirty seconds later, Chip came on. “Yah?”
“Chip, it’s Grant. We’re geared up down at the gate pretty good. The Grange ladies are coming back to you. Here’s my question: You got enough beef watchin’ the snacks?”
Chip laughed at Grant’s rather lame attempt to speak in code about the semi. “Yep,” Chip said. “Got five cows and me, the lead bull. Besides, the farmer has the keys.” That was pretty lame code talking, too.
“What’s going on at the homestead?” Grant asked.
“Lots of people got the word,” Chip said. “They’re showing up. I screen out the ones that won’t be much help. One old fart came with his M1 Garand from Korea and wanted to fight. He’s one of the reserve cows. The strong young bulls, I send down to where you are. I let them know what’s going on down there. So, what is going on?”
Grant didn’t want to say too much, even on the ham radio. “Things are fine down here,” he said. “‘Nuff said. See you in the morning,” Grant added, thinking silently, “Probably.”
“You come back in the morning, Mr. Matson,” Chip said, “so I can say, ‘Mornin’ Sunshine.’”
It was silent for a while. Chip didn’t want to lose any members of the new Pierce Point family.
“Will do, Uncle Chip,” Grant said.
He handed the radio back to Heidi. “How many handheld ham radios do we have?”
“This one down here,” Heidi said, “one spare at the Grange, my dad has one, Linda has one at the Grange, and the Chief has one. The rest of the radios here are CBs. Rich, Dan, and the snipers have a CB. So do I, of course.”
“Any extra CB handhelds?” Grant asked.
“Yep,” Heidi said, “One. Who needs it?”
“Pow,” Grant said. “I’ll take it to him.” Heidi got it, checked the battery level, and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” Grant said.
As Grant was walking over to Pow, the CB crackled.
“Visitors,” a voice said. Grant got a chill down his spine. That was exactly what he feared. Grant looked at the sky. It was still light out. It was late afternoon. It was a terrible time to try to attack, unless the attackers were furious and blood-thirsty. Why not wait until night?
Rich and Dan yelled for the squad leaders to get their people ready. This was it.
Dan had his dog team in hand and pointed at the gate. Anyone who walked across that bridge would be chewed to bits by those dogs. They were terrifying, which was half the point. The other half was actually chewing bad guys to bits.
Grant ran toward the Team, which was gathering together behind one of the sandbag bunkers. He would be a foot soldier on the Team now that he’d done all that organizing. The Team looked at each other. They knew one another so well. They’d done this before. Not “this” exactly; not a gun fight. But, they’d done plenty else. It was time to prove themselves. They were up for it.
A police car with its lights flashing was slowly coming down the road from Frederickson. It stopped, well short of the solid metal gate, and turned down Pierce Point Road. The car wasn’t about to try to drive across that bridge.