Glen Tate: 299 Days: The Collapse

Over the next few days, patrolling was boring. Grant was getting used to the schedule. It was only every third or fourth night, so he could handle the loss of sleep. When he was on call, waiting for a car horn to blare, he had to be prepared to rush off to a gunfight. He had his pistol belt, with his pistol, in the trunk of his car, along with his AR. Lisa wouldn’t look in the trunk. And if she did? So what. He was protecting his family.

Grant kept both guns loaded, but not racked with a round in the chamber. He always checked to see if a round was in the chamber before using a gun, so he wasn’t concerned that he’d forget to rack a round.

Grant had a tactical vest, similar to those that soldiers and SWAT teams wore. He used it when he trained with the Team. However, he didn’t want to be seen with it by the weenies. Grant would lose all credibility if he were caught in that tac vest. But he had it. He kept it in a suit bag in the garage so no one had a clue what was in it.

Instead of a tac vest, Grant used a small shoulder bag with extra AR and pistol mags. It looked totally normal to have one. He could jump in his car and be to most parts of the subdivision within a minute. He could also open his trunk, grab his AR and shoulder bag, and run to anything in his immediate area. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than calling 911 at this point in time.

Grant didn’t just focus on the security of the neighborhood; he also had to worry about his house being broken into, which was his first priority. He kept his tactical shotgun under the bed. A few years prior, he had a shoe repair shop use their strong sewing machine to make a customized bandolier sling for the shotgun. The sling held twenty-five shotgun rounds. Grab and go. He wasn’t locking it in the case. He knew Lisa would flip out, but he needed to have it ready to go if he heard glass break. He didn’t load it, at least. He had practiced speed loading that shotgun so many times with the Team he could do it in his sleep.

Grant really wanted Lisa to know how to use that .38 with the laser dot. He asked Manda if she thought Lisa was ready to confront reality in this way. Manda brought it up and Lisa said hell no. Manda reported back to Grant.

“Well, Manda,” Grant said, “you can train Mom on this in a minute or two, can’t you?”

“Yep,” Manda said. “But why wouldn’t I use it? I mean, I know how to shoot and she doesn’t.”

Smart girl. “You’re right,” Grant said. “You will be responsible for home defense when I’m not here. Don’t store this thing unlocked. Use the padlock set one number off so you can get it quick. Hide it in your room where your Mom won’t find it.”

“OK, Dad,” she said.

Grant hated to sneak around Lisa like this, but he had to.

Grant headed off to work. No one was getting anything done, but the WAB guys were working hard on Rebel Radio. They put out a fabulous episode each week; there was a lot to talk about.

At WAB, Grant spent a good part of his day reading the latest news and talking on the phone or texting Pow, Bill Owens, Steve Briggs, and others. Pow was patrolling his neighborhood, Bill Owens was doing the same down in Texas, and Steve said things were relatively calm in Forks, but people were openly carrying pistols in town.

Not in Olympia, though. Life was going on as normal, which was really, really odd. Grant constantly wondered if he was overreacting. How could all these people in Olympia be so oblivious?

He would visit Capitol City Guns to quench his nervous curiosity about anything relating to the events that were unfolding. Capitol City was nearly cleaned out of handguns and shotguns. They still had quite a few ARs because the prices were so high; $3,000, or so. AKs were about $2,000. Ammo and magazines were through the roof, too. Grant was glad he had purchased his stuff long ago. And that he knew how to use it.

The WAB guys were still concerned in varying degrees, but didn’t seem to be doing anything about it. One afternoon, Brian came up to Grant and said, “Hey, man, when the shit hits the fan, I’m coming to your place.” He smiled nervously.

Grant didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say, “No, you’re not.” But Brian was a good friend. Grant thought about it and said, “I’ll do what I can but we all have to put our own families first.” He didn’t want to turn Brian away, but didn’t want Brian to rely on him.

“Understandable,” Brian said. He didn’t seem to be as concerned as he was in the past. “I have decided to buy a gun. Would you help me pick one out?”

“Hell, yes,” Grant said. This was more like it. Grant would be happy to help those who would help themselves.

“Tom and Ben are getting guns, too,” Brian said. “Can we all go to the gun store? Like, soon?”

“Hell, yes,” Grant repeated. Nice. These guys were taking some action.

An hour later, Grant took them to Capitol City and helped each one pick out a handgun. Chip managed to find some in stock for friends of Grant.

Ben pointed to a fifty-round box of ammunition and asked, “Should we get one?”

Fifty rounds won’t get them through what’s coming, Grant thought. He pointed to a thousand-round case of ammunition and said, “Actually, get one of those and split it.”

They all got 9mm Sig Sauers, which was all that was left. They were fantastic guns, but more expensive than most, so they weren’t sold out. At least Tom, Brian, and Ben could use each other’s’ magazines interchangeably.

Grant pulled Chip aside so the other customers wouldn’t hear him, “Hey, Chip, could my friends get a case of 9mm?”

Chip smiled. “Yes. And, you’re welcome.” Grant knew how hard a case of 9mm was to come by. “But, since they’re not you, they pay full price—$495. It’ll be $650 tomorrow.” Wow. Ammo prices were going crazy.

“Thank you, Chip,” Grant said. He told the guys how lucky they were to have any ammo.

Grant took them out shooting right after buying their guns. He showed them how to take apart their guns and clean them. They were OK shots.

“We’ll clean these now since we’re all here,” Grant said. “But if you need to use these, don’t bother trying to clean them. They run just fine without cleaning them. I’d hate for you to lose a part and not be able to put them back together.” Grant said. They were soaking it all in.

It was yet another amazing moment during a time that seemed to have several amazing moments every hour. There was Grant teaching Tom, Ben, and Brian how to shoot and clean pistols. This wasn’t for fun. It was for real. Everyone sensed how much things had changed.

Things continued to get worse. Congress had been passing laws like Washington State; authorizing checkpoints, more draconian civil forfeiture laws, and authorizing more warrantless searches. This was on top of a previous law, the 2011 National Defense Authorization Act that allowed the military to detain or kill anyone—without a trial—who committed a “belligerent act” against the U.S. It was up to the President to decide what a “belligerent act” was. No charges, no jury, no civilian judges, no appeal, no due process. At first, Grant thought the NDAA was a made up internet rumor. Then he read the law. It was real.

Even though things like the NDAA were on the books, America still wasn’t yet under “martial law.” It was not because the people running the government were such lovers of liberty that they wouldn’t impose martial law; it was that they didn’t have the ability to pull it off.

Thank God, literally, for the Oath Keepers. They had announced that Oath Keepers members would not carry out these new laws. That was the only thing preventing the government from taking over. The only thing. The politicians wanted martial law and most of the sheeple did, too. It was the “middlemen”—the Oath Keeper soldiers and cops—who got in between the politicians and the sheeple and prevented it from happening.