A man across the table pointed a pen at the doctor and said, “Don’t lecture the man. I know you’ve been working 18 hour days since the Seattle blast.”
Dr. Scott smiled at him then turned to Caden. “Perhaps we should both sit down.”
That was a welcome suggestion. As soon as Caden sat the pain faded to a dull throb.
They took turns around the table introducing themselves to Caden. Dr. Scott was there representing the local hospital. The mayor of Hansen was next along with delegates from the fire department, civil defense, health department, city utilities, a county commissioner, a city police officer, the Emergency Manager from the sheriff’s office and someone from the Salvation Army.
“We run the local food bank,” the church member said.
“Do you still have food?” Caden asked.
He shook his head. “Even with rationing we ran out days ago. People are going hungry.”
With that everyone looked at Caden. He was tempted, just for a moment to repeat the old Ronald Reagan line, ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help,’ but decided against it. “Well, as I said I’m the new C.O. of the armory. Governor Monroe wants me to help maintain law and order in this area and assess local needs.”
“Need?” The Emergency Manager said cupping her hands before her and leaning forward as if in prayer. “We have refugees from the west end of the county along the freeway. We put some up in the motel and others are at the campground. We might have a three day supply of MREs for our police and firefighters but after that…. In this county I mainly coordinated with FEMA during floods, but we can’t make long distance calls and the Internet is down. I can’t….”
“Okay,” Caden interrupted, “I’ll try and get some communication restored. Meanwhile, make me a list of what you need.”
The county commissioner said, “We need everything.”
With feverish intensity the civil defense coordinator took up the litany, “We’ve done everything we could, no one in the county plans for nuclear bombs. I’ve attended every meeting, done everything according to regulation but….” He shook his head. “It’s not my fault.”
In a much calmer voice the man from the food bank stated, “Many are already going hungry.”
Another said, “The drugstore pharmacy was robbed. Three thugs tried to raid the hospital pharmacy, but….”
Annoyed, Caden interrupted, “People are hungry. The hospital must be short of medicines, but what I need is a list of critical supplies that will keep people alive.”
“I’ll get you a list of medical supplies,” Dr. Scott said.
“In a voice barely above a whisper the Emergency Manager said, “I’ll get you a list.”
Caden’s emotions were mixed as he left the office. If he alleviated some of the shortage it would be a big help to the community, but the need was huge and growing. He feared people would die before life returned to something reassembling normal.
He opened the door to his car. Now, onto the armory.
He drove east, about a mile out of town, and then turned onto a side road that led north up a large hill. The area was well wooded on the right with the left side looking down into the valley and over the town. Nice homes had been built along this part of the hill and as a young man Caden had been up here many times, but never onto the armory. As he rounded a curve near the crest a light snow fell. A few hundred yards farther and a large, gray, two-story building surrounded by a chain-link fence came into view.
As he slowed to stop at the gate a soldier stepped from the guardhouse. The guard, in ACUs, the now standard camo uniform, carried an M-4 over his shoulder. A dozen or more children played on the large grassy lawn that surrounded the main building. Despite the growing snow several adults in civilian clothing mingled among the children.
The sentry saluted and asked for identification.
Caden flashed his ID. “Who is the commanding officer and where are they?”
“Lieutenant Brooks. His office is on the second floor. I don’t know the room number.”
“That’s fine. I’ll find it.” They exchanged salutes and Caden pulled into a nearby parking lot. He glanced back at the guard who was on the phone. He knew he would not have to find Brooks, the lieutenant would come to find out why a major had arrived. Using his cane, he walked as casual as possible, for a man with a limp, toward the building.
Several kids ran over to him.
“My dad is in the Army.”
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Do you have a gun?”
“When can we go home?”
Just like the kids at the refugee camps. No. He glanced at the growing number of children around him. These kids are more…bouncy and none have asked me for food. Well, as yet anyway.
Only as he approached did he notice the keypad beside the main door. Do the kids know the entry code? Before he could ask, a young second lieutenant exited, popped to attention, and saluted.
“I’m Lieutenant Brooks. How can I help you sir?”
Caden returned the salute and looked him up and down. Other than the rank insignia at the center of his chest, and the unit badge, there was little else in the way of ribbons or insignia. However, he wore a pistol on his hip.
The lieutenant stood about as tall as Caden and had close-cut blond hair. I’m young, but this guy is a kid, probably fresh out of some college ROTC program. “I’m Major Westmore, here to assume command. Let’s go to the office.”
Brooks seemed tense as he turned to open the door.
On the upper floor a small office served as headquarters for Bravo Company, the unit stationed at the armory. To his left several motivational prints hung on the wall, while the right featured recruiting posters, a picture of Governor Monroe and Adjutant General Harwich, the head of the Washington Guard, along with random thumb tacks that no one had bothered to remove. In the corner a radio played the numbing drumbeat of emergency announcements. Beside it was a SINCGARS army transceiver that was on and a shortwave radio that was turned off. Caden stopped and talked briefly with the four soldiers in the room.
The next space was a mid-sized conference room. One wall was covered in a large map of southwest Washington and on another were smaller maps of Hansen, the county and the state. A large table and chairs filled the center. In many ways both rooms were much like any of the hundreds of other military offices Caden had been in, old and in need of fresh paint, but it would serve as a decent command center.
Two open doors led to offices, but Brooks stopped, “Perhaps this would be a good place to begin the transition.”
Caden handed him the written orders.
Brooks read them, came to attention and said. “What are your orders, sir?”
“I’ll need a detailed report on the company’s personnel and equipment status. When that is ready we can bring in the other senior personnel, but for right now I’d like a briefing from you.
“Senior personnel, well,” he sighed, “that’s a good place to start. Other than First Sergeant Fletcher there are no senior personnel. We’re shorthanded, about half-strength at fifty-two soldiers.”
Well, that’s the brief on personnel. Not so good. “Why do we have children and civilians here?”
“I know it is against regulations, but many of the soldiers were worried about their families. I was the only officer here; I don’t know where the commander is….”
“He’s dead.”
“Oh.” His eyes went wide and he took a slow deep breath. “Do you know when or how, sir?”
Caden told him what he knew.
“About the civilians… well, most of our soldiers live outside Hansen, some as far away as Seattle. I authorized them to move their families here if they feared for their safety. Most chose to do so.”