Glen Tate - 299 Days - The 17th Irregulars

As they got into the truck, Grant said his predictable “This never gets old.” There was that armed serenity feeling again; riding in the back of the truck, AR on a sling, with his guys.

“Beats the shit out of selling insurance,” Pow added, just as predictably. That always reminded them how lucky they were to be out here doing what they were doing. It was a good mental framework to begin a day of hard, potentially dangerous, work. During the ride up to the Grange, the Team talked about their girlfriends. Time dedicated to discussing tactical preparations was non-existent. Instead, they meticulously planned who would have the rooms with a door that closed and when they would rotate. That consumed their planning energies. Grant and Chip looked at each and both sighed and smiled. They’d been young once, too.

Mark dropped them off at the Grange and took off. They all went in and started to eat a breakfast of biscuits, deer meat, and fresh raspberries. Lots of other people from the community were there, engaged in several conversations about a variety of topics.

Grant saw Rich and Dan talking and went up to them.

“Good mornin’,” Dan greeted him. “I’m surprised your guys can walk after what they’ve been doing the past few nights,” he said with a smile. Word travels fast.

“Hey, guys,” Grant said, disregarding that comment about the Team Chicks and getting down to critical business, “I need to talk to both of you about something pretty important. Don’t worry, it’s good news.” Grant wanted to put a positive spin on the topic of the Ted project. He was always amazed at how much more receptive people were when someone prefaced the topic with “this is good news.”

“This is something,” Grant continued, “that we need to concentrate on and I’ll need your planning help. It’s top secret so we can’t talk about it just anywhere. You guys got some time?”

“Sure,” Rich said, wondering what Grant was talking about. “How about now? We can go outside.”

Grant would have preferred to talk to Rich and Dan over some whiskey, but he couldn’t wait until later that night for the conversation. He didn’t want them to hear about it from someone else, like the Chief, Paul, Gideon, or Chip, all of whom knew about Special Forces Ted.

Grant nodded and walked outside, with Rich and Dan following him. They went outside, toward a corner of the gravel parking lot that was out of everyone’s earshot. It was becoming obvious that this was going to be an important discussion.

When Rich and Dan got to the corner of the lot, Grant looked them right in the eye and grinned his biggest grin. “Well,” he said, “we have some help coming.” He paused and said, “Quite a bit, actually.”

Rich and Dan both had an inkling of what kind of help was coming, as well as the dangers that came with it.

“What sort of help?” Dan asked.

“Special Forces,” Grant said, still grinning. “Patriot Special Forces will be training up a unit out here.” Grant nodded his head as if to say, “See, I told you that would be cool.”

Rich and Dan weren’t smiling. To them, this wasn’t good at all.

“What?” Rich said loudly. “What the hell do we need Special Forces for out here?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, “we’re not trying to be some military unit. We’re trying to protect our people so they can survive this.” He was pissed. “I’ve seen enough combat,” he said, “I’m not looking for any more fights. I want to protect my people and get through this. Wars aren’t good survival plans.”

Grant was surprised that Dan didn’t realize how awesome it was to have Special Forces Ted out here. But, if Dan’s focus was surviving, then Grant would tailor his arguments to address that concern.

“Guys, winter is coming,” Grant said. “We can’t just sit around trying to survive. We need to do what it takes to reverse this whole situation. To fix things.”

“By drawing attention to our little area?” Rich asked. Dan was nodding.

“These guys train covertly,” Grant said. “You know how SF operates. We’ll have a secret place out here. We’ll come up with a cover. Besides, I know the lead SF guy, Ted. I’ve been friends with him for years. He trained the Team. That’s why they’re so good. We’ll get lots of trainers and equipment. They’re based…nearby,” Grant said, not wanting to give away their location in Boston Harbor. He trusted Rich and Dan with his life, but saw no need to tell people more information than they needed to know.

Rich and Dan were still silent, thinking about the whole situation. The fact that the SF unit was led by this Ted guy that they’d heard about from the Team’s stories, and the fact that Grant had known Ted for years, was something to ponder. This meant this wasn’t some harebrained scheme with some Patriot stranger.

Grant sensed this was the time to present his best argument.

“You guys are Oath Keepers,” he said, looking them in the eyes. “You get why this is necessary. You’ve seen this coming for years. Don’t deny it. You knew that eventually it would come to this. This is our moment, gentlemen. We’ve been called on to do what’s necessary, just like the Founding Fathers’ generation. It’s our turn. It’s a huge honor to be given this opportunity. A huge honor.” Grant kept staring them in the eyes, waiting for that to sink in.

Rich and Dan were still silent. They were thinking. Something like this couldn’t just be agreed upon on the fly. This was serious stuff, with many implications. And it was a game changer for Pierce Point. This would mean the Limas would be gunning for Pierce Point if the existence of the Patriot unit was discovered, as it probably would be. That meant fighting regular Lima forces, which could easily overpower the gate guards. It also meant dozens or even hundreds of well-armed strangers in their midst. Rich and Dan had heard the stories about defecting military units turning into gangs. And now Grant wanted to invite them into Pierce Point?

Dan was the first to speak. “Grant, I hate war. I’ve been in it. I’ve seen horrible things. People’s heads blown off. Legs blown off. Ever seen a guy who gets blinded and comes running at you, screaming that he can’t see? Ever talk to his wife?”

Grant was silent.

“A rocket attack on the Bagram Airfield,” Dan said, staring out into the surrounding area. “Explosions everywhere. Shrapnel everywhere. You ever seen what shrapnel does to human beings?”

More silence. Grant was unqualified to disagree.

“You know,” Dan said, “that the other side will have rockets, mortars—God I hate mortars—and probably air cover. You know what a 500 pound aerial bomb does to a few dozen of your closest friends? Or your neighbors? Kids and all. Or what a helicopter gun ship can do? That shit ain’t fair. It ain’t the rifles and pistols we use out here, where you basically know who you’re killing. The shit they’ll have is indiscriminate and lethal. And maiming.”

Dan straightened up his posture, as if to deliver something he didn’t want to say.

“With all due respect, Grant,” he said, looking Grant straight in the eyes, “you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

For the first time out here, Grant was scared and wondered what he had gotten himself into. He worried that he’d made a wrong decision, a huge miscalculation.

Rich finally spoke, interrupting Grant’s worrying mind.

“What can the Patriots do for us if we provide sanctuary, fighters, and a training facility?” Rich asked. He was thinking of this as a business transaction; not a greedy transaction, but a prudent one.

“Protection,” Grant said quickly. He had thought of the answer to this question in advance of asking them for their blessing. “A shit load of extremely well trained and well-armed troops. It beats the crap out of anything around here. The Blue Ribbon Boys against Special Forces? Please.” He sighed.