Founders: A Novel of the Coming Collapse

23. Up Close and Personal

Five Miles West of Leitchfield, Kentucky

December, the Second Year

Ben Fielding had no previous military experience and just a bit of field experience with the Matchmakers. And of course there was the incident behind the Full Moon Saloon, long before the Crunch. But that occasion he considered just instinctive self-defense and God’s protection. Despite his lack of formal training, Ben soon excelled at patrolling. He had keen senses and better-than-average night vision. He learned how to move almost silently. He originally carried his big Galil .308 rifle, but he later began carrying a suppressed MP5-SD slung with a single-point sling instead. He sent the Galil home for the safekeeping of his family in Muddy Pond, via a courier. He enclosed a note that read simply: “All is well. Keep the faith. B.”

Ben habitually wore a sniper’s camouflage face veil/scarf that had been “liberated” from a dead Austrian sentry. He liked the versatility of the scarf. In cold weather it could be worn as a muffler. And he found that he could quickly don it as a face veil when he was approaching UNPROFOR positions. This obviated the need to put on face paint.

While most of the members of the reconnaissance team wore Woodland or MultiCam pattern BDUs or OCPs, Ben wore all civilian clothes. His clothes were typically green denim jeans and a brown shirt. In cold weather he added a brown Australian’s oilskin drover’s jacket with a corduroy collar that had been given to him by Adrian. Because he didn’t like the way they blocked his peripheral vision, Ben never wore hats with brims. Sometimes, when the weather got unusually cold, he would wear a green knit cap, but never over his ears. To Ben, all his senses were crucial. For wet work, situational awareness often could make a split-second difference between life and death.

By wearing civilian clothes, Ben hoped he could ditch his MP5 and web gear and then quickly blend in with the general population when necessary. But he also realized that by not wearing a uniform he could be shot on sight as a spy or terrorist. On the other hand, given the UNPROFOR’s tendency to ignore the Geneva Convention and other laws of land warfare, wearing a uniform wouldn’t provide any guarantees of good treatment if he were taken prisoner. He often said resignedly, “They’d just shoot us, anyway.”

Even Ben’s boots were civilian—a pair of W. C. Russell hiking boots that had been a college graduation present from his father. In his nearly three years with the Resistance, he had the boots resoled twice.

Ben’s favorite close quarters weapons were the short-handled light blacksmithing hammer that Adrian had given him years before the Crunch, and a large Cold Steel Magnum Tanto XII fighting knife that some would call a short sword. The knife was taken from the web gear of an UNPROFOR Armored Cavalry scout who hadn’t been as quick or alert as Ben. Since he was more focused on function over form, Ben kept the knife very sharp, but spray-painted its blade and sheath green after each sharpening. His backup knife was a big CRKT Hissatsu folder. That had come from the pocket of a German officer who, as Ben explained, had no further use for it.

The hammer turned out to be very effective for eliminating ProvGov soldiers who were manning LP/OPs. Ben always aimed his swings at the neck and head. The sentries rarely made any noise before they went down, usually after just the first blow.

Although he owned the HK pistol, he didn’t carry it after his first week of patrolling and probing lines. For stealth and speed, he found that he liked to carry only minimal gear. All that he carried was a CamelBak hydration pack, a MOLLE vest (without hard ballistic plates), three spare MP5 magazines, a night vision monocular pouch, an oversize belt pouch for his hammer, and his sheathed Cold Steel knife.

In two years with the Recon Team, Ben fired fewer than 100 rounds through his Galil and his MP5. In all, he had killed thirty-two UNPROFOR soldiers, but twenty-six of those were dispatched with either his hammer or his big tanto knife. He often said that killing was the surest “at bad breath distance.” Ben killed so many sentries in messy hand-to-hand work that he got into the habit of carrying a spare clean shirt in a plastic bag, stowed inside his CamelBak bag. Some of the resistance fighters gave him the nickname “Bloody Ben,” out of respect for his accomplishments. But he disliked this sobriquet, so it wasn’t used in his presence.

Near Leitchfield, Kentucky

September, the Third Year

The newest recruit in the Mulholland Company was young, scared, and uncertain of himself. He clutched an old H&R 12-gauge single-shot shotgun and eyed everything going on around him in the camp warily. Ben had taken him under his wing at the small camp where they were temporarily co-located with the Mulholland Company. They bivouacked there just one night as they prepared to raid a small UNPROFOR garrison in Leitchfield, Kentucky.

As they often did, some of the other men at the resistance camp were reminiscing about the things they missed—like coffee, tropical fruit, and iPod downloads. Ben had told the recruit to hang tight while he got him a more capable weapon.

He came back three hours later with an M4 carbine and a MOLLE body armor vest with a ceramic armor plate that was “shingled” with a half dozen magazine pouches. As he handed the vest to the recruit, he said, “Sorry about the blood. It’ll wash out.”

The next morning, the recipient of the carbine and field gear came to Ben’s tent to again thank him. “It’s an honor to have this rifle,” he said. “I promise you that I’ll use it fighting the good fight. And I’d appreciate your prayers. I just wish I could be as fearless as you.”

Ben shook his head. “I’m not fearless. I’m just determined. There’s a difference between the two. I’m nothing special.”

After motioning for the young man to sit down next to the tent, Ben continued, “You know, I read a lot of books about the Holocaust and the people who survived the death camps to go on and fight for the independence of Israel. They had to fight the British first, and then the Arabs. Those men and women could be very fierce and determined, because most of them had nothing left to lose.”

The recruit nodded, and Ben went on. “When I heard that the ProvGov was setting up concentration camps, just like the Nazis, I very quickly decided that I’d never get dragged into one of them. I’d rather die on my feet with a rifle in my hands—”

The recruit interrupted, “—than on your knees.”

“Yes, precisely. My attitude, as a Christian, is that I know that this mortal life is short, and that I already have life eternal in heaven. So it is all a matter of keeping perspective. I have confidence that you’ll fight the good fight. Never forget this conversation.”

Depending on the tactical situation, the five-man Recon Team was often loaned out to work with Hammond’s Hellhounds, the Mulholland Company, the Fawcett Company, Gunners Against Illegal Mayors (GAIM), the Gillian Group, the Morris Maquis, the Lexington-Versailles Company, or the Alvin York Brigade. All these were independent militias that operated in western Tennessee and western Kentucky. They numbered between nine and twenty-eight members, mostly men.

The Recon Team’s specialty was locating enemy positions and lines—and crossing them, if need be. They would then guide militia companies to vulnerable points to attack. The Old Man handpicked all of his fighters from other units. He recruited Ben Fielding shortly after his team’s point man had been killed by an exploding land mine. The Old Man selected men who were exceptionally well tempered, physically fit, experienced in the field, and who had perfect uncorrected vision. Ben and Brent were the only members of the reconnaissance team that didn’t have prior military service. Most of the others had been Army Rangers or Army Cavalry scouts, one had been a Force Recon Marine, and another was a former Navy SEAL.

When Ben asked the Old Man his name, he answered dryly, “You don’t have a need to know, son. Besides, it’s safer for both of us if you don’t know it.”

The Recon Team was famous for never taking more than a one-week break from operations in two years of the resistance war, and most of those were after actions when several team members were wounded. The Old Man was the only member who made it all the way through the war. All of the others were replacements for those who had been killed or wounded. Like Ben, all of them were sworn to secrecy. Further, all were under orders to never mention their surnames to each other. At one point, there were two members on the team named Jim. They were called “Old Jim” and “Young Jim” to avoid confusion.

Brent joined the Recon Team much later in the war than Ben, just nine months before the UNPROFOR collapsed. He replaced a medic who had been killed in an ATACMS missile strike.

From the vantage point of his leaky pup tent, Brent sized up the Mulholland Company. They were a ragtag bunch, with few recognizable leaders. With twenty-nine members, it was one of the larger resistance militias. Recent experience had shown that larger units were easier for the UNPROFOR to detect and engage. In fact, the trend was to split resistance units into groups no larger than fifteen. The Mulholland Company had not yet done so, but a split was already under discussion. The members of the company had a wide assortment of weapons, uniforms, and equipment. A good portion of their gear was captured.

Like many other resistance units, there was a preponderance of young men—many still in their teens and as young as sixteen—and men in their late fifties and early sixties. Most of the married men in the ages in between had feared for their families’ safety and therefore didn’t feel free to join the fight. Both in their forties, Ben Fielding and Brent Danley were in the minority. Like many men their age in the Resistance, Brent and Ben had both lost family to the ProvGov’s actions, so their motivation could be attributed partly to revenge.

And, like many others their age, Brent and Ben had a deep-seated hatred of the ProvGov, and this made them some of the most motivated and tireless fighters. One of Brent’s most common sayings was “I’ll only relax when Hutchings is six feet under, and we have a Constitutional government again.”

The militias that tried using armored vehicles found it made them targets for airstrikes or laser-guided artillery rounds. So after taking heavy casualties in the first few months of the resistance war the goal became to destroy UNPROFOR vehicles, rather than capture and use them.

The most effective use of vehicles by the Resistance was to drive abandoned or stolen civilian cars and SUVs for high-speed covert movement of troops, to mass for short-duration raids. Often their weapons would be hidden in the vehicles in case they had to pass checkpoints.

Most resistance units preferred 7.62mm NATO battle rifles, such as M1As, AR-10s, FN/FALs, and HK91 clones. These gave them better range than the M4s, M16s, and AK-74s used by the UNPROFOR army, yet they were still light enough to carry on long patrols. Light belt-fed weapons such as the M249, MG4 (the German equivalent of an M249), and the M240B were also highly prized. The other weapons that they did their best to procure were Claymore mines, LAW rockets, AT-4s, and the various generations of Russian RPGs. These were used to great effect in anti-vehicular ambushes.

A few resistance units in urban areas found that they could carry M4 carbines broken down into two halves concealed beneath heavy coats and jackets. Assembling the guns took just a few moments. This modus operandi often resulted in gaining the element of surprise when ambushing UNPROFOR troops who were off duty or otherwise in a low state of readiness.