Dear Diary, It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 18 (Book 2)

By the Author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica

Find the previous chapter here.

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Jessica.

Jack is back home!  

He can walk, but at a much slower pace.  It would have taken him most of the day to walk home from Four Corners.  And, Daniel was not crazy about the idea of Jack making the trip, so we made a makeshift litter.  The front was attached to my horse while we used a garden cart to carry the back end.  It was slow going for being on a horse, but much faster than if Jack tried to walk it home. 

Of course, he complained.  Rae gave him one of her looks and said from the horse she was on, “Honey, you don’t hush up that nonsense, I will make you wish you got shot again.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Jack replied, but gave her one of his grins.  

“I will ‘aye, ma am’ you!”

We tied the horses up to a tree outside of Jack’s house.  Rae helped him out of the litter, while I got his rifle, his pack, and other things out of the garden cart.

The dogs were watching from the windows as we walked up to the front door.

“Ready for this?” Rae asked with one hand on the doorknob, the sound of the dogs on the other side of the door.  Samson actually stood up on his hind legs, front paws on the glass pane window, looking eye-level, excitedly, at Jack.

Jack nodded, “Ready!”

Rae opened the door, and Samson and the puppies rushed up to him, licking his hands as he tried to pet all three at the same time.

“Okay, okay!  Come on, boys!  Inside!”

The dogs lead the way into the house, with Jack, Rae and I behind them.  Standing in the kitchen, Jacked sighed. “Oh, it is good to be home.  When I was in the Marines, they bounced me all over the place: exercises, deployments, TAD (Temporarily Assigned Duty).  I was rarely in one place for more than a month or two.  After I got out and bought this place, well, since I joined the Marines, this is the first place I could call home.  Was not till now I realized how much I missed it.”

“There is something about being in your own space,” Rae said.  “Your own things around you.  Even the smells.”

Jack nodded.

“Jack, where do you want your stuff?” I asked.

“Oh, just leave it by the door.  I will take care of it later, once I am settled in.  My gardens look better than I thought they would,” he said as he looked out the sliding glass door.

“The ladies and I came over a few times a week to water and weed them.  We picked vegetables when they were ripe, hope you don’t mind,” Rae explained.

“Of course not.  Thank you.”

“Dinner is at our place today.  Are you going to be there?” I asked.

“Would not miss it.  I am going to putter around here till then.”

“Okay, Jack, see you then.”

Rae and I left.

Entry two

“The King of New America has decided it was in the best interest of his nation to hold open elections for different parties with him presiding over a new contra-parliamentary system of government,” HAM Guy reported to the rest of us, gathered for dinner, as he sat in his camp chair.

“What is a ‘ contra-parliamentary system of government?’” Dad asked.

“I have no idea, and I don’t think he does either.  He announced his one pig would be his election and legal advisor.  The pig thinks we should have primaries locally.  When party members are elected we then use the HAM nets to convene the contra-parliament and conduct government affairs like that.”

“The ‘pig’ seems to have put some thought into this,” Mom noted.

“Well, the first bill the ‘pig’ wants to put to a vote is recognition of the Klingon Empire and the Wookie nation delegation.  The second bill is to declare war on the Cylon, Morlock Confederacy.”

“Right,” Mom said sarcastically and rolled her eyes.

“Anything on the radio falling outside the realm of crazy?” Rae asked.

“Yes, City HAM Guy says they have not seen or heard from the gang or gangs since the attack.  Jamal is not sure if that is good or bad.”

“I don’t like the idea of people going hungry,” Joanna said after she put a cast-iron pan of dinner biscuits into the outdoor oven.  “But maybe all quiet is better.”

“I get what you are saying,” HAM guy agreed, “But if it were me, I would like to know what was going on, right, Jack?”

“I agree.”  

“I did hear from that HAM operator in Ireland.  She had heard of more reports of civil war going on in the UK and Europe.  She said all the reports were confusing, but the one thing they all seemed to have in common was the fighting was going on between the native born and immigrants.  The fighting is reportedly brutal.”

A kind of quiet spread over all of us gathered around the outdoor oven and the big prepping table on our back patio at that bit of news.  

HAM Guy broke the silence and continued, “Got a few reports of a big storm, maybe a hurricane, going up the Eastern coast starting in the Carolinas.  Lots of rain, flooding, high winds.  The HAM network spread the word up and down the East coast the best they could, but there will likely be injuries and maybe deaths.  I did hear a bit of good news from the one HAM operator up North.  They had a good season, the livestock are fat, he brought in all the hay he needs for overwinter, and his crops did very well.”

“How did he ‘bring in’ the hay?” Dad asked.

“He is in a similar situation to the Millers and some of the other farmers around here.  He buys his fuel in bulk, kept in big tanks on his farm.  When the power went out, he conserved as much as he could, using the fuel and farming equipment only when absolutely necessary.  I told him last year about the Miller’s training some of their cattle to be beasts of burden.  He took that to heart and now says he has half a dozen trained oxen.  He is working on a way to convert some of the haying equipment from gas-powered to be able to be pulled behind the oxen and do the same job.  Won’t be as efficient as gas-powered, but once the fuel is gone, it is all he has.”

“Hmmmm,” Dad scratched his chin.

I leaned over to Mom and whispered, “Dad has his thinking face on.”

“Next time you think you are going to talk to him, let me know.  I might have a few ideas.  Might also be useful to hear what he has done that worked, I could use for the Millers once their fuel runs out.”

“How much do they have left?” Jack asked.

“Oh, they have cut fuel usage way back,” Dad responded.  “Mr. Miller thinks they have enough to get them through next year, but that will be about the end of it.  They have been using manual labor for the gardens and some crops.  Even the corn.  The surrounding farms all get together at one farmer’s place and hand-pick the corn.  With that many hands, it takes a day.  A long day, but they got it all in.  They use some now, traded some, and canned the rest.  Then, they let the livestock in to feed on the corn stalks.  Corn is technically a grass.  Cows, goats, and sheep all love it.  Mr. Miller will still need fuel and farming equipment for crops like oats and wheat.  Would like to speak with that guy up North to bounce back and forth on some ideas of how to use existing equipment for work when the fuel runs out.  He sounds like a forward thinker.”

“He is that and in spades,” HAM guy replied.  

Entry three

Whoa, Diary!  It has really cooled off!  Mom’s kitchen thermometer read forty-nine degrees at seven this morning.  I put on jeans, and I needed a light jacket while I got some firewood.  I was walking back up to the house with an armful of firewood, I heard the sounds of horse hooves on the road, Katie riding up by herself.

“Good morning, Jessica,” she greeted me as she reined in the horse.

“Good morning, Katie.  What brings you by?”

“Well, I wanted to pass word that we have decided we would try settling down in one place for a while.  Through winter into next spring and see how we like it.  If we like it, we will make it permanent.  If not, well, we can always get back on the road.”

“Katie, that sounds great,” I smiled.  “We like having you around.  I know I do.”

“You are so kind, Jessica.  And after our little encounter with the gang in the city, I can see why they call you The Hero of Four Corners.”

“Ugh,” I rolled my eyes.  “Sean and that dumb song.”

“Oh, stop.  It’s flattering.”

“It’s embarrassing,” I deadpanned.

She smiled.  

“Your Mom is part of your community council, right?”

“Yes.  Why?”

“Well, if we are going to be part of your community, I would like to request a seat on the council as representative of my group.”

“Oh.  That makes sense.  Tie up your horse to the tree over there and come on in.  You and Mom can talk over a cup of tea.”

Mom listened to Katie about their plans to stay at least through the winter and the spring and her request to be a council member, representing her group.  Mom did not think anyone would object, as it just made sense. 

This weekend was militia training and for the community council to hold session, if one could call ‘session,’ sitting around in camp chairs or on the ground, talking or debating and making decisions after dinner.  Mom did question how they would incorporate Katie’s men into the militia and the chain of command.  While Jack was in no condition for physical training, he would still lead and command militia training this weekend.  It just might be from a camp chair.  

Entry four

Rae and I talked with Jack the night before militia training weekend and told him what we did while he recovered at the Four Corners aid station.  We mainly concentrated on the fundamentals of marksmanship, back-to-basics of small-team tactics, first aid, and tactical retreat.  

Jack nodded in approval. “Even among professionals, the basics need to be reviewed from time to time.”

It was early Saturday morning when Jack gave the order and the militia ‘fell in’ to their fireteams, squads, and platoons, when Katie and her men rode up.  After a quick talk with Jack, they unsaddled their horses and set up a picket line in front of one of the abandoned homes.  

Jack and Katie talked for a few minutes and made a decision:  They would have Katie’s Nomads make up their own platoon for now, till Jack could evaluate their skill levels, then they might incorporate the two groups.  

Only a few of the men in Katie’s Nomads had military experience.  It took them more than a few minutes to get the rest of the group into a platoon formation.  

“With Katie’s men, we are just a few short of straight riflemen company-level strength.  If we were to add our reserves, which include those trained but without combat experience, the young ones who can shoot, we would be just shy of three full companies.  If we ever had to factor in Four Corners militia, they have two platoons of trained and experienced through-fire people.  Add in their reserves, they have a company plus one platoon from what I have seen.  Now we are talking about at least a battalion and a half of combatants.  But, Katie’s men, they know how to ride.  Cavalry.  That can be a force multiplier right there.  On one hand, I prefer the idea of them incorporating with our militia.  On the other, as a cavalry unit, they would be a force to reckon with.  Just have to see how well they shoot.”

About 1stMarineJarHead

1^stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.

He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.

The post Dear Diary, It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 18 (Book 2) appeared first on The Organic Prepper.