"The five hundred gallon diesel tank is going back to Deliverance to be filled and returned here in three days. That should keep the trucks and heavy equipment running until the remaining fuel is brought down in the tanker. When the other drivers return, they'll be hauling the last of the food we canned, plus straw and hay to start filling the barn lofts. After this initial run, they'll return to Deliverance to haul livestock and the corn for the new corn crib that will be completed by then. We're still on track to have everything moved here by the end of the year."
I stood. "The members of the Leadership Committee who are here have agreed to move all perishable items from Deliverance before Christmas. That eliminates the need to maintain heat in the building; then all remaining personnel can move here. We'll start running trucks between the two sites until the livestock, hay, straw, corn, and commercial feed are all moved. We expect that to happen quickly, hopefully by the end of December."
A loud "Hooray!" was followed by vigorous clapping.
"We'll need people from here to make runs to nearby towns to bring back more furniture. It can be stored in the main room of the lodge for the Deliverance crew to select from when they arrive. Questions or comments?"
A few scheduling questions were asked and answered before Marcie Alton asked a question. "Has anyone seen a problem with the food we canned this year?" Side conversations came to an abrupt halt as everyone quieted and several shook their heads.
"Maybe it's only the batches we have, but I found mold inside two jars of pickles and one of peaches. Looking at some of the others, I think I see small specks that may be the start of mold. You should all check the jars carefully."
Dejection showed on the faces in the crowd and murmurs of, "Oh shit," could be heard.
After the meeting, I talked to John and Anthony about any work they wanted to schedule before the end of the year. They both said the work on buildings was on schedule and going well, and they and the two people assigned to them could handle it. They both felt my building project to expand my families cabin could start in the next few days.
I left them and went to the office to meet with Kira. We'd barely started when people began stopping in to say they, too, had bad food. We finished an hour later and corralled our brood to take them home. Kira went straight to the food pantry. She held several jars beneath the kerosene lantern before closing her eyes as tears drifted down her cheeks. "Over half the jars I'm looking at are spoiled."
For the remaining three weeks of December, our endeavors went smoothly. Deliverance was stripped of everything we wanted, livestock was moved to the new barns and pens, and the remainder of our people moved into their new homes. The fuel tanker arrived from Deliverance with six thousand gallons of diesel. We would conserve it and eight hundred gallons of gasoline as best we could. When it ran out, our electric power would be cut off, and the vehicles would be abandoned in deep gullies.
Several women organized a Christmas Party in an attempt to cheer people up. The failed canning endeavor dragged many of us down; the worst part was that we didn't know what had gone wrong. A Christmas tree was erected in the meeting space and trimmed with handmade decorations. It looked nice, but Kira and I didn't feel it was a joyous occasion. The unknowns ahead of us distracted us and consumed our attention. A frivolous attempt to forget the problems we faced wasn't our way. But, for the sake of our children and friends, we attempted to join in.
A week into the New Year, Ed found me at the south barn. "A good bit of the explosives we had was used to blast the stumps in the field. Fort Leonard Wood is about seventy miles as the crow flies, so I plan to go there to search for more. While I'm there, I'll also check out their weapons, ammo and food supplies. I want to take two people with me."
I spoke up, "Ed, I want to go with you, too. Since the base had heavy equipment, we may find diesel and gasoline tanks that haven't been emptied." He nodded. "When do you plan to leave?"
"In the morning at seven," he replied.
After breakfast, I kissed Kira and hugged the kids. "We may be gone two or three days. This Army base is spread out over several square miles, and it might take all of the first day plus part of the second to locate what we're looking for. At least the weather is decent for January."
She smiled. "Take an extra jacket with you in case the weather deteriorates. The temperature might turn colder before you guys get back."
At the trucks, I joined Ed, Dean, and Martin Radcliff Jr. We were taking two pickups and pulling two sixteen-foot enclosed trailers. We never knew ahead of time what we'd find in locations that were new to us. None of us had been to this base before.
I rode with Ed. "What do you know about the base?" I asked. The rising sun shone in my passenger side window.
"Not a whole lot. It was a training base for the Army Engineers and Military Police units. If combat engineers are involved, there must have been explosives training and heavy equipment on site."
After thirty minutes, we were silent as both became absorbed in our own thoughts. We'd driven north on Highway 63, then turned west on to Route K. After a lot of twists and turns on county roads, we finally saw buildings spread across a lot of acreage.
Ed drove on until we were at the weathered welcoming sign for the base. We were greeted by the sun-bleached bones of bodies that could have been human or zombies when they died.
The main entrance was open. The door on the guard house stood ajar and several of the large plate glass windows were shattered. We drove through, and in the distance, we saw many hundreds of remains scattered in every direction. Decaying remnants of army uniforms shrouded some of the corpses. People had been there before us; many of the skeletal remains had been crushed by other vehicles. We avoided running over as many as we could out of respect for our fallen soldier brothers.
We avoided acres of three-story base housing units and wandered down streets until we saw warehouses in the distance. As we pulled in and parked at the first metal buildings, several overhead doors stood open, giving glimpses into the huge dark spaces awaiting us.
Junior raised the overhead door on his trailer and pushed two 125cc Yamaha scooters out to me. Ed took one, and Dean rode behind him holding a flashlight in each hand as they raced up the concrete ramp into the warehouse. I climbed on behind Junior, and we charged up the ramp, made a hard right, and drove to the end of the building. He slowed to a crawl down the first aisle as I shined light beams on boxes on wood pallets stacked three high on gray heavy duty racks.
We cleared the first and second buildings without finding anything on our shopping list. They seemed to be mainly parts storage. The third warehouse looked more rewarding until we stopped and looked closer. Empty pallets sat on the floor and the shelf above them. Evidence of leakage showed on the stained and buckled cardboard cartons on the next shelf up. Canned goods packed in liquid had frozen and burst. At least we were in the food section.
Two long, dark aisles over, we discovered dry foods: beans, rice, flour, sugar, salt, pepper and other seasonings. We'd have to forgo fruits and vegetables every day and make it through the winter on fresh meat, beans and rice and the commercial canned goods we still had. Upon closer inspection, we saw evidence that mice and rats had attacked several of the cardboard, paper and plastic wrapped goods.
Scattered down the same aisle, we saw boxes of canned salmon, tuna, sardines, canned hams, peanut butter, oats, cold cereals and nuts. All were in larger than normal commercial-sized containers, of course.
The trucks and trailers were maneuvered inside, and we spent the remainder of the day loading boxes of food. The easy to reach goods had been pillaged earlier. A long, wood bench sitting outside the building provided a ten inch wide board twelve feet long that served as a ramp to slide boxes from the upper shelves to waiting hands on the floor. Ed's trailer was loaded with beans, rice, etc. while we left my truck engine run to power the headlights to work by. At the next cache, we loaded my trailer while his truck provided light. When we finished, exhaust fumes were strong enough to make breathing uncomfortable. We left that warehouse and entered the next one where we would begin searching the following morning. Our supper was the same as lunch; we'd each brought meat sandwiches and water.
After a night of sporadic sleep in the truck cabs, we resumed our search. This building contained a wide assortment of dry goods. We located uniforms and stocked up on camouflage fatigues, boots, socks, underwear, jackets and winter coats. I dreaded to think about how our heirs would survive after the existing manufactured clothing and boots were depleted.
The addition of the clothing made my trailer three-quarters full. Ed's trailer was over half full of food. He was anxious to find the armory to learn what, if anything, was available in weapons and ammunition. But he insisted on finding the heavy ordnance storage first. The supply of PETN explosive had been reduced by more than two-thirds and he wanted to double the original amount. "If we don't find PETN, watch for HMX and RDX. Any of the three will serve our purpose. And watch for detonators, too."
Dean and Junior looked at each other with raised eyebrows, apparently wondering what the hell a detonator looked like. I'd received basic instructions on the use of high-energy explosives, but I wasn't nearly as expert in their use as Ed. I looked upon Ed as a warrior's warrior. The man accepted the dangers of battle and had trained to be lethal in any situation. Having him as a close friend had pulled us through many deadly confrontations in the past ten years.
The sky clouded over as we drove past the armory and continued to roam the facility. The buildings ended and the road we were on skirted rough ground that looked like it might have been used for training operators on heavy equipment.
To our left, a tank farm sat. Five tanks of various sizes were of interest to me. On our right, several hundred yards off, many pieces of tracked and rubber-tired earth moving equipment still sat in a staging area. A large number of the rubber tires were flat and all the equipment had begun to rust. We entered a wooded area and continued following the asphalt road.
Ed continued past a sign that read Keep Out - Authorized Personal Only. A quarter mile farther, we passed over a hill and on the other side saw huge dirt bunkers. A tall chain-link fence surrounded the six bunkers. The bunkers were at least a hundred yards from each other. I assumed Ed had found the heavy ordnance storage. The drive-through gates were locked; two chains and padlocks secured the gate sections at high and low levels. A large, heavy duty bolt cutter finally pinched through the large chain links after much effort and swearing on Ed's part.
We drove in and stopped at the nearest bunker. An hour and a half later we'd been through the first two storage units and saw nothing but artillery shells. The third bunker made Ed smile. We found cases of PETN explosives and detonators in large quantities. We packed twelve cases of the material outside and loaded it and detonators in the back of my trailer.
Ed said, "I want to look through those last two bunkers so I know what else is here. Do you and Junior want to hang around or go check out the fuel tanks?"
"We'll go to the tanks and wait for you there. Then we'll go to the armory together."
Junior and I left and drove back the way we'd come. A light mist began to show on the windshield as we reached the tank farm.
Two tanks were clearly labeled as containing water. One was Potable Drinking Water, and the other was labeled Fire System. A spherical tank held propane. The mist changed to a light drizzle as we walked toward the end of the tank area.
The last two tanks were painted black and had white numbers painted on the walls. We approached valves on pipes projecting out from the wall of the nearest tank. Gasoline was stenciled above the valves. I pointed at a valve in a concrete box sat below grade. Water Draw was stenciled above it in barely visible lettering.
"Junior, slowly open that valve and see if there's any fuel left. You should get water first, if it's not empty. The tanks are designed to breathe as the temperature makes the liquid expand and contract. Moist air is drawn inside and it condenses to water."
The valve was stuck tight from sitting closed for many years. Junior struggled to open it with his hands, but it didn't give. A rusty valve wrench lay atop another valve handle a few feet away. I handed it to Junior, and in a minute, smelly water gushed in the box and out a drain line. After several minutes gasoline poured from the drain line, and Junior quickly closed the valve. We'd found a supply of gasoline. On a future trip we'd need to find a way to gauge the tank to determine how much fuel was left.
We jogged to the next tank and learned it held diesel fuel. It too had accumulated water on the bottom. After several minutes of draining water, diesel suddenly flowed into the drain box and splashed up the sides. Judging by the pressure behind the flow there was a lot of liquid in the tank. We'd done good and had found a large supply of both fuels.
As we worked, the drizzle increased to a light rain. We ran to the truck and settled in to wait for Ed and Dean.
I had just tossed a refilled plastic bottle of water to Junior when a huge shock wave rocked the truck. The sound of a loud explosion followed. In the side mirror, a huge fireball filled the glass. A sick feeling clawed at the pit of my stomach. Junior said, "What the hell was that? Do you think....?" His wide-eyed stare met mine until I turned away.