The Retreat Read online

  Just then Mikey came in with a steak dinner with fried potatoes and green beans. The General’s eyes bugged out of his head yet again. The General eagerly dug into the steak.

  “Now, where were we?” Mitch began. “I realize we are not professional soldiers, General; we are simple folks but we have listened to your Irish Colonel’s version of your plan of attack and we are certainly not giving you our hard earned material based on that cockamamie plan. We bought it, grew it or produced it ourselves, with our sweat and blood. We have no intention of giving it to you just so you can go get it blown up or captured by the enemy.”

  Duncan interjected. “I am sorry, General; you might be the reincarnation of George Patton and Robert E Lee all rolled into one but the second you put your Army into the field against armor, artillery and complete air cover you are dead, done, gonzo. I will feel bad since Angus speaks highly of you and called you almost good enough to be a Buck Sergeant, which is high praise, since I’m not even good enough to be Corporal in his eyes; I will raise a glass and offer you a toast but that is what you will be: toast. I realize the US Army has never engaged or led a guerilla force before, except for a few green grunts in their Girl Scout hats and have always gone into battle force on force. Overwhelming fire power, extreme correlation of forces, artillery support and air cover. You had all of those things in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan and lost all of those wars. Most of Idaho is forested, like the Ardennes only thicker, a mechanized force can’t go through it. They can bomb it, blow the crap out of it with artillery or try and burn it down. None of those things work without people on the ground telling the arty where to shoot or planes where to bomb. If you knew Angus when he was a Corporal then you were in Vietnam. That was their jungle, well, this is our forest. All the material Melanie was kind enough to show you is all prepositioned in the forests of Idaho, some of it is hundreds of miles from here. In these woods we are the apex predators. The marauders are on roads and highways running through small towns like a hot knife through butter. We need the cockroach defense and make them dig us out. They need to eat, drink, sleep, refuel and go to the bathroom. We need to divide them up into smaller groups to come looking for us, then kill them all. The Viet Cong made us fight their war their way on their turf, we need to do the same thing. There will be no Gettysburg and no Waterloo in this war; you make a stand, you die. We will disrupt their line of communication and their supplies; we will make transportation difficult for them. We will give them no choice. The people need heroes, legends and leaders who they see fighting and winning. We are Robin Hood and this is Sherwood Forest.”

  “Good speech, Duncan,” the General laughed. “I see you’ve been working on it for a while. Here is the problem with the military; command and control systems are a hierarchy, and the average soldier follows the chain of command. Everyone follows orders from the General all the way to the PFC. Without the chain of command there would be chaos and without coordination how would anyone know where to go or what to do, when to eat or where to take a crap? I can’t just send squads of soldiers into the woods with a map, a compass and a pack and say, “Do your best.” Your people here have probably trained in these woods together for years. You have detailed maps, routes, and caches throughout the forest, you know what you can eat and not eat. You have a communication system and even have command and control already in place. I would love to send you 100 five-man fire teams but you don’t have enough people to liaise with them. They’d all probably end up shooting each other. We have thought of attaching units to the local prepper groups and most have a very impressive stash of food and armaments but the prepper groups are not coordinated so we are trying to talk the prepper groups to joining our command and control nets.”

  “Well, well, well, General,” Duncan laughed. “Can I get you another splash of scotch? What if, hypothetically of course, you sent us 200 five-man fire teams to come live in the woods with us. We will keep all your people supplied and the 200 teams would be in contact with both you and each other. You can help liaise with other groups so our areas of responsibility don’t overlap.”

  “You can field 200 fully supplied and armed squads, Duncan?” the General asked skeptically. “You will excuse my skepticism and no offense is intended but exactly how many people do you have out here?”

  Duncan laughed, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, General. I’m pretty sure you are not going to show me your order of battle so don’t ask me ours. My people are not professional soldiers but professionals have taught them their skills. Please feel free to ask Angus if our people can shoot but I can already tell you that Melanie here will most certainly shoot better than you, and not only is she smarter than you, she’ll also kick your ass if she wants. Like I said though, the decision is yours. We will fight this war either with you or without you, I just don’t want to get in each other’s way and we figured we might prove useful enough for you to provide some favors down the line, assuming we can all stay alive that long.”

  “I tell you what, Duncan,” the General said thoughtfully, “let’s try this if you are game. Let me send you three five-man squads that you marry up with three of yours, let them see if they can work together. The squad leaders from each team can give their reports to both of us.”

  “Ok, General,” Duncan said. “I think a bet is in order and I won’t stack the deck. I assume you will be sending regular army units and not reservists. If you send reservists then I will pair them with our reservists. Regular Army, you can pick a number between zero and two hundred, reservists you can pick a number between two hundred and six hundred. Our teams are already squadded up and are available within ten minutes time. You let us know and we’ll be there. You give me a bottle of scotch for every pass your squad leaders give my people and I’ll give you a bottle for every pass your folks get.”

  “I don’t have any scotch, Duncan, this is the first good drink I’ve had in a month and I’ve been sleeping in the bush for over a month eating MREs,” the General said. “My orders are to hold Idaho, period. I have good troopers who are itching for a fight.”

  “I’ll spot you a case, General,” Duncan said. “Hang on a second.” Duncan clearly said into his radio, “This is two calling five, over.”

  “Five,” came Angus’ voice.

  “Can Fitz be trusted?” Duncan asked, looking the General in the eye. The pause took almost a minute.

  “Yes,” came the reply.

  “The Colonel?” The answer was an immediate yes.

  “OK, General,” Duncan said. “Can you spend the night?”

  “I am pretty sure the gangs are not coming across the wire today, so yes I can, especially if you have any more of this scotch,” the General said.

  “Sure, General,” Duncan said while refilling the General’s glass. “OK, here is it, this is the Retreat. The facility you are in now was a government-built boondoggle in the woods, it is 36 square miles in size and is home to over 4,000 people. It is 100% off grid and completely self-sustained. We have the capacity to house an extra 1,000 people. We have caches and a communication system throughout the woods.” Mitch flashed a map of the woods showing the caches on the big screen. “All our residents are highly proficient in both armed and hand to hand combat and are skilled woods people who can live off the land here indefinitely. We have our own fully stocked hospital and pharmacy and food growing capacity for 10,000 people. We have food, water, electricity, medical supplies and the means to defend it. If the Retreat is invaded by a superior force then we will fade into the woods and kill anyone that tries to keep the Retreat. It is hardened and has single cable landlines to each cache location with redundant extra cables. We will fight to defend our homes and our State. We will not fight for the United States. We are vulnerable anywhere except in our woods where we are the apex predators. We will not place ourselves under your command and we will fight anyone who tries to take what is ours without our express consent. We ask that 100% of what we just told you stays with you and the Colon
el. We are not an asset and we certainly don’t want to become a target. Our biggest asset is invisibility and anonymity.” Mitch zoomed the map out to show the State line. “Our intelligence, which I rate at as a 2, is that the marauders will not move for the next two months so we are going to start infiltrating some teams to track them. Oh sorry, Mikey who isn’t here is the G-1, I am the G-2, Mitch is the G-3 and Melanie is the G-4. You now know everything we know except we have 60 days to get all our shit in one bag and figure out a plan.”

  “Thank you for the summary, Duncan. You have given me something to think about,” the General confessed. “You know as much as I do about what the Chinese are doing. I do not look at your amazing group as an asset but I do consider it a place with unique capabilities that could allow us to change our tactics if we work together. I do know that I don’t want to be on the receiving end of artillery and air strikes. I am a recently retired General who came out of retirement when I saw the final disgrace of the Federal Government. The troops did not get a vote. Two days before the President’s surrender every base had a mandatory special muster. All the arms and hardware were secured by Homeland Security and the soldiers were ordered to march off the base at gunpoint. It was the biggest shame ever delivered by the Joint Chiefs and their civilian Commander in Chief.”

  “Well thank you for your service, General,” Duncan said. “Can I interest you in a hot shower and a few more drams of the nectar of the Gods? I’ll even throw in a steam or hot tub if you want. We can crash at my place since my wife is out in the bush tonight so we can sit around and tell each other as many lies as you want.”

  The General and Colonel were given a tour of the Retreat the next day and confessed that the Retreat was in better shape, better equipped and better supplied than the Idaho National Guard. It was Sunday so the General went to church and even stayed for afternoon exercises. The General considered himself a pretty good shot and managed to come third in the twelve-year-old division, a young boy and girl both beat him. Angus just watched and gave his signature “Humpf” when the General turned in his weapon and it was inspected. The General declined field exercises and the hand to hand exercise pits and instead opted for the doctor and dentist’s office. He came out three hours later. “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Duncan? I am hypertensive, Vitamin D deficient, needed two cavities filled and the hygienist kept saying “oooooh” as she raped my mouth. They explained that the checkup and dental work was on the house to “support the troops” but if I did not improve on the next visit, I was out three gold coins. I said I did not have any gold coins and they said my retirement gold watch and West Point ring should cover it. They were not sure but they had a scale to see if I wanted to check it before leaving and I was welcome to do so if I desired.”

  Duncan laughed. “Healthcare is expensive, General. Our healthcare is only expensive if you don’t do what they say. Did you get a brushing and flossing lesson?”

  The General laughed in return. “They even sent me away with a free toothbrush and some floss. I guess I can shiv myself with the toothbrush or hang myself with the floss if I screw up next time; they are not getting my watch or my ring. I’ll stick to government healthcare next time.”

  “There is no government anymore, General,” Duncan said. “Those saw bones have a monopoly and you better make your quarterly visits because if you get sick and need their help and have not been in, then you’ll lose way more than your watch and ring, General. You’ll be donating plasma and scrubbing floors to pay off your debt.”

  “What are these gold coins?” the General asked.

  Duncan fished into his pocket and flipped him one of the Retreat’s gold coins. The General caught it and examined it, whistling when he turned it over. “Do you know what this is worth?”

  “Yes, General; it is worth one cavity at the dentist office if I have any plaque on the next visit, it is worth a bottle of scotch and what Angus charges if I turn in a dirty rifle,” Duncan laughed. “Mitch and Melanie valued it at the spot price of gold pre bankruptcy so it is worth around $1,000. We have quarters at around $250. We don’t have any silver so most people run credit with each other until $250 has been reached. The lowest laborer at the Retreat earns a gold coin a week and they are militant about maintaining excellent health and oral care. They also take their marksmanship seriously because Angus charges by the round if they don’t listen to the shooting instructors; shooting high expert means you get free rounds, anything under that and you have to work at the reloading shop, clean the range and dig out spent bullets from the berms to be melted down and recast. Our people are healthier than yours, shoot better than yours, have better woodcraft than yours and are more disciplined than yours. We can supply, support and pay 1,000 of your troopers but you and your troopers will play by our rules and our laws.” A bell rang at the church and everyone within sight began to move indoors.

  “What was that?” the General asked.

  “Thirty-minute warning,” Duncan replied.

  “For?” the General asked.

  “The satellite could have visual of the Retreat in thirty minutes. Everyone goes inside or to cover, all heat signatures are erased and people stay inside for an hour until the satellite passes,” Duncan said.

  “The people will show up inside the houses, Duncan,” the General chided.

  “No, they won’t,” Duncan explained. “The roofs are shielded; we put mylar sheets under the roof shingles when we built the houses.”

  “What about the people in the woods?” the General asked.

  “We require ghillie suits in the field, General,” Duncan explained. “They are all lined in mylar, we took a few pages out of the Mujahadeen playbook; remember, a bunch of “goat herders” have kept both the Russians and the US armed services from defeating them for over forty years. Their descendants even managed to fly a few jumbo jets into a couple of high rises as well as the Pentagon.”

  “You’ve made your point, Duncan, but why do you want my soldiers so bad when you can just go fight this war on your own?” the General asked. “Is this some form of power grab so you can subvert my troops until the conflict is over and seize power for yourselves?”

  Duncan laughed. “No offense, General, but I could be asking you the same question. We just opened our kimonos as a sign of good faith. Me and my people just want to live in freedom and be left alone to live life the way we choose. If we can use our material and people to help Idaho turn the tide of this war then we hope Idaho will see fit to leave us alone in the future. You will owe us an unpayable debt of gratitude and grant us complete freedom in the future; that is all we want.”

  “I’ll have to consult with the Governor on this,” the General said after a few minutes of contemplation.

  “General, would you rather ask for permission or beg for forgiveness? If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance then baffle them with bull. You get all the credit and we don’t exist. Yes, I am hedging my bets with your troops because eventually you are going to have to give them a direct order for them to leave the Retreat because they won’t want to leave,” Duncan laughed. “Would you care for a wee libation, General?”

  “I have noticed that you always seem to offer me a drink while you are picking my pocket, Duncan,” the General sighed. “We’ll do it your way and I’ll send you 1,000 troops.”

  “Five at a time, General, under cover of darkness. We’ll pick them up in Bovill and get them settled. We’ll have sixty days to get them trained up and integrated into our squads and we can go over our standard operating procedures, tactics and overall battle plan,” Duncan said.

  “You don’t by any chance have room for my command staff like the Colonel, do you, Duncan?” the General asked.

  “Funny you should ask, General. Mikey, our personnel officer, also happens to be the guy who built the Retreat, has taken the time to convert my private offices into a barracks for you and a staff of ten while Mitch has donated his private offices to be your command center. There are two rules, General.
Your people, including you, have to pull their weight and agree to follow the rules; no politician will know of the Retreat’s existence or step foot on the property; and no soldier will ever send a radio transmission from within 100 miles of the Retreat,” Duncan said.

  “I need to be able to communicate and coordinate with my troops, Duncan,” the General said.

  “We already have twenty radio antennas with hard lines to your communications room set up in various parts of Idaho, General. The only reason you are not currently being chased by drones and air strikes is because their advance is not ready to begin yet and they do not take your capabilities seriously. You can start using a few antennas and we’ll know when the advance is going to start because those antennas will be destroyed by our enemies since it is standard operating procedure to decapitate the enemy command authority at the onset of an engagement, isn’t it?” Duncan said.

  “How the hell did you figure all this out, Duncan?” the General asked.

  “We have multiple prepper fiction authors who have war gamed every possible disaster end of the world scenario that can be imagined, as well as every prepper defense strategy imaginable. Hell, half of the survivalist “redoubts” in Northern Idaho were the brain child of a prepper fiction author. The authors have been playing “what if” scenarios for decades. The bad guy is usually FEMA, the UN, the US alphabet soup departments or zombies. The design of the entire Retreat was based on the scenario we find ourselves in today,” Duncan said.

  “How would your Retreat fight against the marauders, Duncan?” the General asked.

  “Not my department, General. I suggest we grab a quick dram and go see Mitch,” Duncan said.

  The General’s hands went instinctively to his wallet.

  Duncan and the General walked into Mitch’s virtual office. While Mitch was on his treadmill watching the map in front of him, the two of them sat in a couple of chairs to watch. The four monitors showed a display of Idaho and two red arrows showing the line of advance of two opposing forces toward Coeur D’Alene and Boise. The second bank of monitors on another wall showed Boise and the third wall showed Coeur D’Alene. The rear wall set of monitors showed the order of battle for each force and a casualty list. The blue dots showed Mitch’s forces and troop counts. There were only four dots totaling 40 blue troops on the outskirts of Boise. There was an engagement and the four blue dots withdrew but were being chased and enveloped by the red forces. The casualty list on the rear screens showed the results of the engagement. Some of the red forces kept chasing the blue forces while the bulk of the red force stayed in Boise. The red force then split up like spokes on a wheel and sent eight smaller forces along the roads to engage the smaller cities and towns on the various State routes and main arterials. Mitch kept pulling his blue dots further and further away from the red forces and once they were thirty miles out from Boise and stopped in a town, Mitch marshalled his dots and attacked, wiping out the red forces before support from Boise could be marshalled. The remaining red force in Boise then continued down the Interstate en masse until it cleared the national forest and swung north to link up with the Coeur D’Alene force giving the red force mutual support. The red force continued as a large force but got strung out due to road constrictions. The blue dots kept stinging the red force from both sides, withdrawing immediately. The two sides played cat and mouse for a couple of days and the casualty reports climbed on both sides. The red force continued to string out while the blue dots started to mass on each side of them and attacked the center of the line; the red force chased the blue force which scattered on one side of the highway, sending dots in different directions. The second massed blue dot attacked from the other side of the road while the scattered blue dots that were fanned out turned around and reattacked from the front. The casualty card on the back wall showed 21% KIA of 2,000 troops and 28% WIA for the blue team. The red force showed 80% KIA of 6,000 troops and a 10% WIA. Mitch finished the engagement and turned to look at the back wall and hung his head muttering “We need to do better.”