“Within the Bill of Rights are some very basic rights we can’t take for granted. The right to bear arms, the right to freedom of speech, the protection from unlawful search and seizure, no cruel or unusual punishment and the right to a fair trial. You follow me so far?”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Ok, good. Now here is what I see now.
“This group has declared this area to be theirs. They are taking what they want, when they want and from whom they want. Not for the good of the people, but for their own good. I don’t see them sharing anything with anyone. You think they paid for anything they brought in there? I doubt they paid for that tanker full of fuel. I doubt they paid for this airport or anything else they have acquired most recently.
“A traditional militia is about their own community but they also support those around them. They may not take them under their wing or into their shelters, but they certainly don’t steal from anybody or pull the BS they are pulling here. They really don’t make sense to me. To me they are an enemy.
“They took that family’s gun at the tornado shelter. He had a right to bear arms and carry that gun, more so today than ever. They have people down there being held prisoner for who knows what reasons. You think they had the right to due process? You think they are getting trials? Who knows how they are even being treated. Especially the ones caught while they were looking for us. They are forcing their will upon the people around here and I would say they’re doing it with fear and with force.
“I don’t see these guys as a typical militia. I see them as nothing but a bunch of hoodlums who have strayed far from their original goal, if they even had one. I see a force of people no better than a lot of war criminals or Third World warlords. Years ago I took an oath. In that oath it stated enemies both foreign AND domestic. These are enemies, Blake, I know that now.
“Blake, I’m not in the service now, but I will maintain and uphold that oath. I will not stand by and let these people hinder the freedoms of other Americans for their own personal gain. I don’t know what I can do, but I have to do something. Sooner or later I will have to show my hand. I hope it’s good enough to win. I want to get on with life as much as the next guy, but when they come knocking on our door what do we do then? And is it too late at that point?”
“I hear ya, Mr. Haliday. I had that same feeling. I just don’t have the experience you do.”
“You don’t have to, Blake. You just have to have the will power to want to help and to want to make a difference. That’s all. I’m glad you’re here. Now, we have some more recon to do, so let’s get that rest. I’ll call the group and check in. Let them know we are ok.”
The sleep was very welcomed. Both had become very tired and the past few days had taken a toll on them. After tonight they would head to the house and get all the rest they needed. One last night of recon would give him enough info on the compound. He still didn’t know what he would do with it though.
They moved out heading to a new area.
“Why not the spot we used last night?” Blake asked.
“It was a great spot, but there are a couple things to consider. You visit enough times and you leave telltale signs that you were there. You start to alter the soil, and the vegetation, and it makes it easier to find. Secondly, we need another vantage point so we can see what else is going on in there.”
They went out of their way to avoid some houses and ultimately ended up northeast of the airport, across the street. This was a great spot for watching the militia. It gave them a completely different viewing angle. They did the same thing as the night before and laid up for the night.
He looked over into building 4 and indeed they had two small planes in there. Piper cubs, ancient, simple, parts everywhere, but still not running. Not sure what they could do with them, other than some aerial recon which would be nice. Maybe they could arm them somehow, he guessed. By the looks of it though, they had a long way to go. Haliday started thinking, damn, should have brought the 203. Well, it wasn’t really a 203, but rather a 37mm grenade launcher. Too many questions would arise with a true 40mm launcher. Not to mention the registration of it with the BATFE.
Those planes wouldn’t be running for at least a couple of days. He looked around some more. He saw the same routine with the security again. Every hour on the hour a perimeter check. Looked like checks of the prison building, but that view was now somewhat blocked. Nothing really different yet. They actually kind of reminded him of the old football game that you plugged it in, and the men just vibrated across the field in random directions with no sense of purpose.
At the HQ building he saw a few guys get into a four wheeler and head over to the prisoner building. The next view he had of them was when he spotted them at what he called building 12. They had a man with them. They took him inside and he didn’t see them for almost an hour. After that he watched them drag the guy from the doorway and back to the prisoner building. They must have beaten him something fierce. Haliday’s blood was boiling. He told Blake, “Mark down that they torture people.”
He watched again as they took a woman inside the same building. He waited again and noted the time. It had barely been half an hour before they brought her out and dragged her back to the building. “Damn it,” he said. He had an idea who these people were. He was ready to go down there guns blazing. Evidently he had been speaking aloud and mumbling because Blake had poked his head out again.
“Roger, do you think that’s who they thought we were?”
“Yes I do, and I’m f’ing beyond pissed off right now. I’m half tempted to go down there but that would be the end of me for sure. I’ll get even with these pricks, mark my word. I’ll get even with these pricks.” Blake had put his head back under the blanket. “Blake, you only need to poke your head under when I tell you info to write down, you don’t have to stay under there all the time.”
“It’s warmer this way.”
“It’s that or you like dutch ovens.”
“You’re a sick man, Mr. Haliday.”
No one else was taken out and interrogated that he had seen. It was late in the night and they started to close up a lot of the buildings. They seemed to still be working around the motor pool though. They had some kind of project they wanted finished; he just didn’t know what. He hadn’t gotten a close enough look inside that building to see.
He was watching this one when he saw a man walk out of one of the motor pool hangars. Haliday watched him and watched his motions. “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me?” He told Blake to stop taking notes and look. Blake poked his head out of the blanket.
“It’s a guy waving his arms like at the airports.”
“No Blake, it’s a ground guide, watch.”
They could hear the rumbling of the engine and soon it appeared. Blake said, “Holy shit.”
“Ya, that’s what I say. I can’t believe it.” It looked like an M113, armored personnel carrier but slightly different. It had to be some kind of variation or prototype that made its way into civilian hands. He still couldn’t believe it.
The ground guide walked it out to an empty area between the hangars and one of the runways. Once there the driver ran it around in circles, spun in place a few times, shot up and down along the runway, and then eased it back toward the motor pool hangar. Quite a crowd had gathered around and was cheering. They walked it back into the hangar.
Blake looked at Haliday. “That’s pretty bad ass. I wish we had one.”
“Oh ya, hell I wish we had several. Some Bradleys, a few M1s, hell, why stop there. Couple Cobras and Apaches, a Blackhawk or two,” he was rambling now. He stopped himself. He looked at Blake, “no problem at all Blake. It won’t do them a damn bit of good.”