After a few more minutes of searching in silence she declared, “Not much worth mentioning in the other trailer and the saddle bags. Mostly clothes.
There’s a 117-volt power cube here, and a power cord with a cigarette lighter type plug. They must be for charging up the batteries for the motor unit.” Mrs. Porter nodded in agreement. “There’s also a photo album, a King James Bible, and a pretty well-stocked first aid kit. Nothing else worth mentioning.”
With that, Mary returned to her position. After a pause, Lon Porter asked expectantly, “Well?” Drumming his fingers on the redwood lip of his spider hole, Mike asked, “Where did you work in Seattle, and for how long?”
“I worked at Boeing for seventeen years. I’m a master machinist.” There was another pause.
“Do you know how to weld?” Mike asked.
Porter replied, “Of course. T.I.G., M.I.G., oxyacetylene, you name it. Boeing even sent me all-expenses-paid to take a special two-month course with Escher Wyss over in Zurich, Switzerland. That was in ’93. Welding isn’t my specialty now, though. I specialize in prototype machining.”
“How about sheet metal fabricating?”
“Of course.”
“Are you familiar with automobile mechanics?” Mike asked.
“Yes, indeedy. I’ve rebuilt I don’t know how many car and truck engines in my spare time. Kind of a hobby of mine. About the only thing that I’m not well versed on is the newer cars with electronic ignitions or the other computerized doodads.”
“And tool making? Lathes, milling machines?”
“Sure. I’ve worked with all the major brands—both traditional machines and the later computer-controlled ones.”
After yet another pause, Mike said, “Okay Mister Porter, I’d like you and your wife and daughter to sit down on the far side of the road there for a while. Please be patient, but there is something that I have to discuss with my boss up the hill at the house.” Turning to his side, he commanded, “Mary, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”
As Mike got out of his hole, the Porters sat down in the grass by the side of the road. They now wore expressions that were more curious than anxious. A few minutes later, Mike trotted back down the hill, with Todd following five yards behind.
“Mister Porter, is it? My name is Todd Gray. I’m in charge of this operation. My friend Mister Nelson tells me that you are a master machinist with no certain destination, who is ‘seeking after employment,’ as they say. If you’d care to join me up at the house, I’d like to explain our situation here, interview the three of you, and possibly make you an offer.”
The debate on whether or not to take in the Porters was brief. With summer approaching, it was clear that the retreat would be shorthanded, especially with all of the gardening tasks that needed to be done. Mary summed up “the bottom line”: Without additional help, they could either have a secure retreat, and quietly starve, or plant a large garden, and have less than full round-the-clock security.
The other key factors were Lon’s skills. Because it now appeared highly unlikely that Ken and Terry Layton would show up, there was a perceived need for someone who knew the intricacies of cars and trucks. In addition, Marguerite, or Margie as she was commonly called, had grown up on a farm in Woodburn, Oregon. This gave her a wealth of practical farming and cooking skills. The Porters were voted in unanimously.
After rearranging the basement, one end was partitioned off with wall lockers and hanging blankets to form a bedroom for the Porters. Unfortunately, the only beds available were three Army surplus folding cots. The Porters didn’t object. Soon after their sleeping arrangements were taken care of, Mike was given the task of getting the Porters set up logistically. Uniforms were not a major problem. Jeff Trasel gave up a set of DPMs for Lon, and Mike gave Margie a set. Because Margie was “big boned” but not overweight, they turned out to fit well. Mary gave two of her five sets of DPMs to Della. They too were about the same size.
The next, and more difficult, task was getting the Porters properly armed.
Dan Fong’s large gun collection saved the day. Although they were not group standard guns, Dan agreed to “indefinitely loan” his FN/FAL and his Portuguese contract Armalite AR-10 to the Porters. Both guns were chambered in 7.62mm NATO. Lon would use the FN, while Margie would use the much lighter AR-10. Dan had eleven magazines for the FN, but only two for the AR-10. This presented a problem, as two twenty-round magazines would not suffice for a firefight of any duration.
Lon went to work in Todd’s shop the next day. First, after disassembling it, he used a dial micrometer to take a complete set of dimensions from one of the AR-10 magazines. He compared the AR-10 magazine with the magazines of other assault rifles chambered for the same cartridge, and came to the conclusion that their dimensional differences were too great to attempt to adapt any other type of .308 magazine to fit the AR-10. Next, he looked through Todd’s collection of sheet metal for stock that would have the equivalent strength of the aluminum used in the original magazines.
The process of making the magazines took two days. The magazine bodies were bent from sheet steel. Their springs came from extra HK magazines. Their followers were cast from scrap aluminum, using the lost wax method. Once they were fully assembled, the magazines all functioned flawlessly. With the permission of Mike Nelson, the AR-10 was test fired and re-zeroed to suit Margie’s preference. Using the new magazines, the rifle functioned without a stutter.
Jeff, who had been serving picket duty, came down the hill after he was relieved. He asked Dan, “What was all the shooting about?”
Fong replied, “We were testing the new AR-10 mags. They work great.”
Jeff had missed seeing most of the magazine manufacturing process because he had LP/OP duty for two successive days. He asked, “Were they hard to make?”
“Nope,” Dan answered. “If I had been doing the work, I probably would have made several prototypes before I got one that would finally fit and function properly. Old man Porter just whipped out all five at once. He went straight from concept to finished product. The guy is incredible. I can see that I’ll be learning a lot from him. He’s a far cry from Ian Doyle.”
Jeff stroked his mustache and asked, “Doyle? Hey, wasn’t he that Air Force cadet that you and Todd used to hang out with in college?”
Dan smiled. “Ah, so you do remember Ian. Yep, that’s the guy. Todd and I kept up with him after college, mainly by e-mail. In fact, I had a chat with him on the phone just a couple of months before the Crunch. At the time he was flying F-16s down at Luke Air Force Base in Arizona. Hard to believe, but he was a Major-Select when we talked. He was married and had a daughter, too.
She must be close to ten years old now. Seems like yesterday that we were in college. When we were living in the dorms, I helped him weld up and part together an Ingram M10 and a Sten gun in his parents’ garage. He had Sionics type suppressers for both of them. The dude was very low key, but he had a secret life as a major gun nut. His motto was ‘Cut to size, file to fit, and paint to match.’ I wonder whatever happened to him, once the Schumer hit the fan.”
“He probably has his own private little empire set up somewhere by now,” Trasel said with a chuckle.