[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]DUCK AND COVER[/FONT]
[FONT="]Gasoline is the Ichor of the American titan. The superpower was twice brought to its knees by counties and organizations that by no other means could. Gas lines stretched for miles, people sitting in the hot sun waiting for their turn to buy some overpriced gasoline. Our military could not walk, let alone run without out gas. Our houses were made livable by its application in heating. Medical miracles were brought about by the application of crude oil into plastics. Our farms were run on oil. Oil is the lifeblood of America.[/FONT]
[FONT="]And in America there is no bigger oil culture than that in Texas. Based out of the Midland-Odessa area, massive drilling rigs and platforms exploded since the discovery of oil in the early late 1800’s. Americans pioneered many techniques including off shore drilling and massive refineries. The most powerful company in the world was Standard Oil, an American oil monopoly. For decades, America was the world leader in oil production. However, competition from other countries with more oil and newer equipment quickly overtook the early American lead. By the 1980’s, America had lost its dominance in the world oil market.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet in Texas the drilling culture remained strong. Most ranches had pumpjacks in their fields, and local refineries were scattered across the state. Texaco remained a major local employer and hundreds of new pumps were still erected every year. New pipelines were still being built and in the Gulf of Mexico oil rigs were built and run by Americans. [/FONT]
[FONT="]Oil fields in Texas are divided into two main groups, East and West. The East field is centered in Tyler and the West centered around Midland and Odessa respectively. Out of the two, the West is far larger and far more famous than the East.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]But with nuclear strikes after The War it was unclear what kind of condition the drilling fields were in. Had the Soviets turned the fields into glass, in an attempt to cripple our industry? The dual bombings on both Odessa and Midland had rendered communications with the fields sporadic if not non-existent. Every once and a while scratchy radio pleas for help were heard, but besides a few preliminary flights early after the war was over, very little contact had been made.[/FONT]
[FONT="]However luckily for the oil industry, only one strike materialized in East Texas, Texarkana, and it was out of the way of many major drilling sites and pipelines. Also the only major local refinery remained intact, the Delek Refinery in Tyler. While the East Texas oil field was nowhere as large as its western sister, it remained operational. At least for Texas oil and natural gas would be abundant enough for limited civilian uses.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]But even if the Western oil fields were intact, how would the oil be transported? It was assumed that many pipelines were hit by Soviet bombs, and if there were some intact where were the leaks? Could the oil be rerouted? If so how easily? Thousands of questions surrounded the western oil field. Cleaning and repairing a pipeline was dangerous as it was, but combined with the danger of radiation the work could be suicidal.[/FONT]
[FONT="]A massive flyover was decided upon. Two weeks before OPERATION BLACK GOLD the Tyler refinery was converted to producing thousands of gallons of Aviation grade gasoline. It was then shipped to evey surviving air field, air base, and crop dusing cooperative’s home field. Every plane and pilot was being conscripted for the mission. [/FONT]
[FONT="]But most would have volunteered for the mission anyway. For weeks all flights of any kind had been grounded due to the lack of fuel and the spotty radio coverage. Most of the pilots were itching to get back into the flight seat. [/FONT]
[FONT="]OPERATION BLACK GOLD was the largest aerial survey of the oil fields since WII. The remainder of the Texas Air National Guard and CAP would lead the operation. For two weeks the flights flew over the Western Oil Field. Thousands of photographs were taken, not just of the fields, but of every inch of pipeline in the state. Ironically this thorough of a survey would have been impossible in the pre-strike world. Too much civilian air traffic would have gotten in the way.[/FONT]
[FONT="]When the photos were developed, the map created and marked with damage, the situation looked grim. The question now was whether the oil was worth months of work and the resources. [/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Lieutenant sat in the passenger’s seat of the pickup truck leading the convoy north. There had been an attack on the Tyler Refinery. A note was left proclaiming a holy war was being waged by the forces of Zion. The Lieutenant knew who did it. The “Wakos from Waco” were gaining force.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*Perhaps smartly they had fled Waco after the battle. The Convert remembered the frantic packing, taking the pills and all the rushing. Within days they had set up shop in another community. Paris, Texas. It was frantic after the dramatic first week. They needed a place to lay their heads. Paris needed men with guns. They had guns.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Eventually a compromise was worked out. The Forces of Zion would patrol the area around Paris, gather food and help refugees. Paris would survive.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The compromise was mostly in the Temple’s favor. It even included an abandoned building to base their religious services and administration out of. [/FONT]
[FONT="]No doubt it had to do with the Charisma of the Preacher. Same with the hundreds of new converts. [/FONT]
[FONT="]They were growing.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The truck rattled past a sign, “Welcome to Rowlett.” The Lieutenant looked over to his driver.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Private where exactly are we?”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Rowlett, sir. A little way’s north of Dallas. My Uncle lives… lived here.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]Silence filled the cabin for a moment. The convoy rolled down the empty main street. A handful of military pickup trucks, jeeps, and a single outdated Patton 1 tank were supposed to reinforce the local forces against the Davidians.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The convoy was to hook up with State Troopers, Texas Rangers, and local police near the town of McKinney. It was only a short ways up the road.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Convert was on guard duty. The Temple had been under attack by vandals again. Across the front of the building some female volunteers furiously scrubbed the spray painted phrase in the hopes of it coming off. The paint only faded slowly. They would have to paint over the slur.[/FONT]
[FONT="]For now the writing on the wall would have to stay.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“WAKOS FROM WACO! GO HOME!” [/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Convoy was stopping for the night. They had stopped at a small neighborhood on the outskirts of a town called Wylie. Seis Lagos or Six Lakes it was called. More like “Six Mud Puddles” the Lieutenant thought. The neighborhood had turned into a little city state. They were receiving some support from the College Station government however the Lieutenant’s team was the first military support they had ever seen.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Where you from?” a local asked that night as they set up camp on the undeveloped half of the neighborhood. [/FONT]
[FONT="]“College Station. We’re from the new government there.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“You an Aggie?”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“I was Corps of Cadets before all of this…” the Lieutenant waved his hand.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Now I’m in charge of 30 something volunteers and a tank. I’m only 19, I shouldn’t be doing this. Good God I sound like a bitch.” He shook his head sadly.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“But we all have to do what we have to do. Were you an Aggie?” he asked the old man.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The old man smiled and raised his right hand in a kind of salute, pointer and pinky extended.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Hook Em! But seeing how Austin took it on the chin, we’re all Aggies now.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Lieutenant laughed “I guess.”[/FONT]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]DUCK AND COVER[/FONT]
[FONT="]Part IX: Black Gold[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]And in America there is no bigger oil culture than that in Texas. Based out of the Midland-Odessa area, massive drilling rigs and platforms exploded since the discovery of oil in the early late 1800’s. Americans pioneered many techniques including off shore drilling and massive refineries. The most powerful company in the world was Standard Oil, an American oil monopoly. For decades, America was the world leader in oil production. However, competition from other countries with more oil and newer equipment quickly overtook the early American lead. By the 1980’s, America had lost its dominance in the world oil market.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet in Texas the drilling culture remained strong. Most ranches had pumpjacks in their fields, and local refineries were scattered across the state. Texaco remained a major local employer and hundreds of new pumps were still erected every year. New pipelines were still being built and in the Gulf of Mexico oil rigs were built and run by Americans. [/FONT]
[FONT="]Oil fields in Texas are divided into two main groups, East and West. The East field is centered in Tyler and the West centered around Midland and Odessa respectively. Out of the two, the West is far larger and far more famous than the East.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]But with nuclear strikes after The War it was unclear what kind of condition the drilling fields were in. Had the Soviets turned the fields into glass, in an attempt to cripple our industry? The dual bombings on both Odessa and Midland had rendered communications with the fields sporadic if not non-existent. Every once and a while scratchy radio pleas for help were heard, but besides a few preliminary flights early after the war was over, very little contact had been made.[/FONT]
[FONT="]However luckily for the oil industry, only one strike materialized in East Texas, Texarkana, and it was out of the way of many major drilling sites and pipelines. Also the only major local refinery remained intact, the Delek Refinery in Tyler. While the East Texas oil field was nowhere as large as its western sister, it remained operational. At least for Texas oil and natural gas would be abundant enough for limited civilian uses.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT][FONT="]But even if the Western oil fields were intact, how would the oil be transported? It was assumed that many pipelines were hit by Soviet bombs, and if there were some intact where were the leaks? Could the oil be rerouted? If so how easily? Thousands of questions surrounded the western oil field. Cleaning and repairing a pipeline was dangerous as it was, but combined with the danger of radiation the work could be suicidal.[/FONT]
[FONT="]A massive flyover was decided upon. Two weeks before OPERATION BLACK GOLD the Tyler refinery was converted to producing thousands of gallons of Aviation grade gasoline. It was then shipped to evey surviving air field, air base, and crop dusing cooperative’s home field. Every plane and pilot was being conscripted for the mission. [/FONT]
[FONT="]But most would have volunteered for the mission anyway. For weeks all flights of any kind had been grounded due to the lack of fuel and the spotty radio coverage. Most of the pilots were itching to get back into the flight seat. [/FONT]
[FONT="]OPERATION BLACK GOLD was the largest aerial survey of the oil fields since WII. The remainder of the Texas Air National Guard and CAP would lead the operation. For two weeks the flights flew over the Western Oil Field. Thousands of photographs were taken, not just of the fields, but of every inch of pipeline in the state. Ironically this thorough of a survey would have been impossible in the pre-strike world. Too much civilian air traffic would have gotten in the way.[/FONT]
[FONT="]When the photos were developed, the map created and marked with damage, the situation looked grim. The question now was whether the oil was worth months of work and the resources. [/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Lieutenant sat in the passenger’s seat of the pickup truck leading the convoy north. There had been an attack on the Tyler Refinery. A note was left proclaiming a holy war was being waged by the forces of Zion. The Lieutenant knew who did it. The “Wakos from Waco” were gaining force.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*Perhaps smartly they had fled Waco after the battle. The Convert remembered the frantic packing, taking the pills and all the rushing. Within days they had set up shop in another community. Paris, Texas. It was frantic after the dramatic first week. They needed a place to lay their heads. Paris needed men with guns. They had guns.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Eventually a compromise was worked out. The Forces of Zion would patrol the area around Paris, gather food and help refugees. Paris would survive.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The compromise was mostly in the Temple’s favor. It even included an abandoned building to base their religious services and administration out of. [/FONT]
[FONT="]No doubt it had to do with the Charisma of the Preacher. Same with the hundreds of new converts. [/FONT]
[FONT="]They were growing.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The truck rattled past a sign, “Welcome to Rowlett.” The Lieutenant looked over to his driver.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Private where exactly are we?”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Rowlett, sir. A little way’s north of Dallas. My Uncle lives… lived here.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]Silence filled the cabin for a moment. The convoy rolled down the empty main street. A handful of military pickup trucks, jeeps, and a single outdated Patton 1 tank were supposed to reinforce the local forces against the Davidians.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The convoy was to hook up with State Troopers, Texas Rangers, and local police near the town of McKinney. It was only a short ways up the road.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Convert was on guard duty. The Temple had been under attack by vandals again. Across the front of the building some female volunteers furiously scrubbed the spray painted phrase in the hopes of it coming off. The paint only faded slowly. They would have to paint over the slur.[/FONT]
[FONT="]For now the writing on the wall would have to stay.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“WAKOS FROM WACO! GO HOME!” [/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Convoy was stopping for the night. They had stopped at a small neighborhood on the outskirts of a town called Wylie. Seis Lagos or Six Lakes it was called. More like “Six Mud Puddles” the Lieutenant thought. The neighborhood had turned into a little city state. They were receiving some support from the College Station government however the Lieutenant’s team was the first military support they had ever seen.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Where you from?” a local asked that night as they set up camp on the undeveloped half of the neighborhood. [/FONT]
[FONT="]“College Station. We’re from the new government there.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“You an Aggie?”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“I was Corps of Cadets before all of this…” the Lieutenant waved his hand.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Now I’m in charge of 30 something volunteers and a tank. I’m only 19, I shouldn’t be doing this. Good God I sound like a bitch.” He shook his head sadly.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“But we all have to do what we have to do. Were you an Aggie?” he asked the old man.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The old man smiled and raised his right hand in a kind of salute, pointer and pinky extended.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Hook Em! But seeing how Austin took it on the chin, we’re all Aggies now.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Lieutenant laughed “I guess.”[/FONT]
.