They brought only three guns with them: Andy’s SIG P228 pistol, his Mosin-Nagant bolt-action, and Kaylee’s Browning Hi-Power. The latter, along with 100 rounds of ammunition, two spare magazines, and a holster, was hidden wedged inside a mounted spare tire. It would take a bead-breaking tool (which they also carried) to access the gun, but they felt confident that it would not be found even in a rigorous search. To conceal it, they chose their one tire rim that was painted differently from the others to avoid any confusion.
For emergency communication with the Resistance, Andy also brought his Elecraft KX1 QRP shortwave transceiver. This low-power transceiver could be used to transmit Morse code in the 20-, 30-, 40-, and 80-meter ham radio bands. Powered by six AA batteries, the ten-ounce radio was capable of transmitting around the world when ionospheric conditions were right. It put out just 1 to 2 watts of power on the internal batteries, or up to 4 watts if using an external 12-volt battery or AC power adapter. Using his 200-watt Kenwood HF transceiver in Texas, Lars had had several successful two-way contacts with Andy when he was in Afghanistan, even though his younger brother’s transmitter put out only “flea power.”
Andy knew that the transmitter would be vulnerable to radio direction finding if he used it within forty miles of Fort Knox or any other HF intercept site. So he decided that he would use the transmitter only briefly, and then only in the event of an emergency.
21. TDY—Temporary Duty, Yonder
“You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”
Amarillo, Texas
August, the Third Year
They knew that they had crossed over into UNPROFOR-controlled territory when they crossed the Texas state line. But they didn’t see any signs of the UNPROFOR occupation until they reached the outskirts of Amarillo. Someone had spray-painted a concrete highway overpass with the words “U.N. Out!!!” A half mile beyond that they began to see powder-blue billboards that read, “U.N. Partners for Peace. Building a Better Tomorrow.” On one of them, someone had expertly vandalized the sign with spray paint to instead read, “U.N. Partners for Piss. Building Maynard’s Tomorrow.”
At the Georgia Street exit, there was a sign added that read: “UN-MNF HQ.” Andy took the off-ramp and said with a gulp, “Well, this is it.”
The UNPROFOR outpost was in a large parking lot beside an abandoned Walmart Supercenter with a collapsed roof, at the corner of Georgia Street and Canyon Drive.
The fence around the outpost was seven strands of concertina wire piled three courses deep, erected in a defensive donut. A light blue UN flag hung limply on a pole near the front gate. Most of the vehicles inside the wire were HMMWVs, but there were also a few Caiman and MaxxPro mine-resistant ambush-protected (MRAP) vehicles.
A sign proclaimed:
322nd M.P. Bde.
Force Prot./Civil Affairs
“Bad to the Bone”
UN-MNF Command
UNPROFOR Region 6
No Civilians Beyond This Point
Andy Laine parked the pickup and trailer 100 yards away from the concertina wire. It was a hot, still day. They cracked open the windows for ventilation. Andy said resignedly, “Okay. Wish me luck.”
Kaylee kissed his cheek and said, “Not luck. I’ll be praying for you.”
Andy was wearing a set of ACUs—faded from many washings—and an ACU boonie hat. He had black “railroad track” captain’s bars pinned on his hat and Velcroed in the center of his chest on his ACUs. He wore a “Laine” nametape above his right breast pocket, but just a blank Velcro patch above the left pocket, since he had heard that wearing a “U.S. Army” tape was considered an offense. Empty-handed, Andy carried only his holstered pistol.
He approached the gate guards and pulled his Army Reserve ID card from his pocket. He handed it to a pimply-faced PFC who was wearing an MP shoulder brassard and carrying a well-worn M16A2 with a badly scratched polymer P-MAG. The soldier was well enough trained to know how to salute with his rifle, bringing it smartly parallel with the centerline of his body. Andy returned the salute and said, “I need to talk with your S1.”
The young MP answered, “Yes, sir. You need to go to the longest trailer, there on the left. I’ll get you an escort.”
The brigade headquarters consisted of four single-width trailers of the type that Andy had formerly seen used at construction sites. A generator set whined in the distance. HESCO bastions filled with sand ringed the perimeter. The scene reminded Andy too much of what he had seen in the Middle East. But now he was an insurgent.
Laine was ushered into a spartan trailer office with steel furniture. Two box fans roared in open windowsills. A first lieutenant wearing OCP camouflage utilities, with a “UNPROFOR” nametape, sat behind the desk. A hand-inked sign taped on the front of his desk read: “1LT Taylor—S1.” He rose to his feet when he saw the captain’s bars on Laine’s chest.
The lieutenant offered Laine a seat, and then gave him an expectant look. Laine handed the lieutenant his pink Army Reserve ID card, saying, “I’m here to volunteer to go back on active duty.”
Across the room, the MP brigade commander—a full colonel—listened in on their conversation as he worked sorting a stack of papers.
Lieutenant Taylor asked, “Where did you go to school?”
“Texas A&M.”
“Were you ‘Band’ or ‘Corps’?” Taylor retorted.
Andy flashed a grin of recognition at a fellow Aggie. “Corps of Cadets. I was on a four-year ROTC scholarship. I got branched Ordnance, but after OBC, I was mainly given branch immaterial slots. You know, to fill ‘the needs of the Army.’ I did a tour in Afghanistan with Task Force Duke, as the S4 for a Stryker battalion. The Crunch came down just when my active duty obligation ended.”
Lieutenant Taylor nodded, and said, “I see.”
“So, are you looking for Reserve officers for active slots?” Andy asked.
“Absolutely. We have far more active duty positions than we have qualified officers. There are detached companies out on the frontier that are bringing back every former commissioned officer who is willing—even some retirees in their late fifties. I even met a former Coast Guard officer who’s now a commissioned Army officer, leading troops.”
“So how do I come on board?”
“That’s at the CO’s discretion—any commanding officer of a brigade or higher can make the call. There are no review boards or any of that bureaucratic bravo sierra.”
Glancing down, Taylor continued, “Sir, before we proceed, I have to ask you to surrender that pistol. Civilian pistols are contraband.”
Andy raised his index finger and said, “Wait just a minute, I’ve got a hand receipt for it.”
Andy opened his wallet and pulled out a soiled and deeply creased document. The lieutenant examined it and looked up at Laine. “Sir, this hand receipt is on the Old Army form and it’s dated three years ago.”
“I can explain. Before I left active duty in Germany, I had T.I.’ed my M4 Carbine and TA-50 gear. But since things were so chaotic, I kept the SIG out on hand receipt for my personal protection while I was in transit. You have no idea how FUBAR things were at the time in Germany.”