Chapter 60
Chapter 60
North Fort Myers, FL
March 21, 1984
0600 hours
The motorcade slowly approached the Edison Bridge, where the National Guard sentries ordered it to a halt in the gloom. Motorcade was probably a generous term, as it was three pickup trucks and an old battered Volkswagen Type 2 van. Several men got out of the vehicles, led by a longhaired, bearded, muscular man. He was, in fact, bigger than either of the sentries holding rifles. In a gravelly voice, the man said, “Listen, soldier, we mean no harm. We’ve come for help. We’re running out of food back home, yeah, and there’s all these people who’ve walked into town with their skin burned and falling off, and we can’t handle it any longer! We need to talk to whoever’s in charge here, and we need to do it now.” The man looked a bit wild-eyed after that last pronouncement, and the soldiers gripped their guns a bit tighter. Another man, a little younger but clearly resembling the first, stepped forward. “Look, we’re desperate and we need help. We heard on FPR that this area hadn’t been struck by any attacks. We can’t go north. We’re from Sarasota, and the fallout levels are awful north of us. It’s St. Petersburg and Tampa and everything else. All we could do was come here. We’ve buried so many people already. Mass graves, people just falling over in the streets. There’s one hospital and it’s overwhelmed. We’ve driven through towns where people were kind and towns where guns were aimed at us. You’re the first soldiers we’ve seen since the day the missiles flew. PLEASE, help us.”
A third soldier came forward. “Privates, we’re going to listen to them. Gentlemen, leave your guns in your vehicles and follow me to the other side. We’re going to have you talk with the major.” The sergeant lifted his radio. “Command post, this is Sterling. We’ve got some visitors from north of here. Sounds like there’s trouble, and they need to talk to the Major.” “Roger that, Sergeant, we’ll go wake him. Bring the visitors here,” the captain who had the overnight watch replied. “Gentlemen, if you will?” Sergeant Sterling gestured to his M151A1 Jeep. The men looked it over. A couple of them were going to have to ride on the back. Sterling chuckled. “I’ll drive slow, I promise. Don’t want y’all falling off and having to get stitched up. Wouldn’t make me look good to the boss.”
About ten minutes later, the jeep pulled up to the Lee County building, even at 6 am a veritable beehive of activity. Volunteer workers preparing for today’s ration handout, bureaucrats tallying up every medicine issued, every bandage, every can of food, and soldiers arranging the day’s patrols. Since the incident at the mall, the area had been quiet, but the patrol area for them covered Fort Myers, North Fort Myers, Cape Coral, Bonita Springs, and Naples. While police helped supplement those patrols, the fact was that it was a lot of ground to cover, and Major Ewing only had 325 soldiers under his command. A plan was being drawn up to reach out to former military men in the area, with inducements being figured out by supply planners and screening procedures being worked out by the lawyers. Ewing was gravely concerned about getting more recalcitrant racists like Tucker Charlton. He’d seen firsthand in Korea how an embedded soldier could wreak havoc, as a North Korean infiltrator into the South Korean army had led an entire squad to its deliberate death before being shot down by American MPs who witnessed the attack. Ewing knew they could not afford the same problems here.
One thing that was in good supply at the Lee County building was coffee. The county bought barrels of it in January, and through careful maintaining of it, there was plenty to keep the men and women running southwest Florida awake and alert. The major brought a tray with coffee for everyone, the sergeant included. Public relations was important to keeping the peace, and besides, the men could probably use it. The sergeant led them through the door, saluted the major, and headed off to the commissary. He was off duty, now, and wanted breakfast before heading to bed. Nighttime patrol was always a bit strange.
Ewing greeted the men, handed them the coffee cups, and walked over to a small conference room off the lobby that was used as a mini-briefing room for the junior officers. Large maps of southwestern Florida were pinned to the walls. “The sergeant tells me you’ve had problems up north. Where y’all from?” “Sarasota and Bradenton,” the long-haired leader replied. “If it wasn’t for raiding the stadiums nearby that had food shipped for spring training, we’d be starving right now, that’s a fact. I’m telling you that we’re not too far from starving, but most of all, we’ve got dead and dying all over and not enough hospitals to accommodate them. We’ve heard nothing from the state, we’ve not seen any of you. It’s just bloody, burned bodies everywhere. People are getting sick because we’re struggling to keep up with burying everyone. The docs at the hospital are talking about using gas and just burning everyone in a big pile so no more people get sick, yeah. They’re talking about things like dysentery and cholera, man, and I don’t dig that, not one bit. So tell me something, Mr. Major, are you gonna help us or not?”
Ewing was torn. He didn’t have a whole lot he could contribute, and if he handed over food and medical supplies to people not from the area, he might have a riot on his hands. On the other hand, this was a blessed area. No attacks, no damage, no fallout. The hospital was well-stocked, and while the basic injuries of life and manual labor occurred, and babies were being born, they were so much better off that it’d be ungodly to not help them out. He looked into the eyes of the man in front of him. Maybe an inch shorter, well-built, clearly an athlete of some sort, very emotional. Someone resembling his brother sat behind him, carefully taking everything in. He was more intellectual, it seemed, quieter, thoughtful. I bet they’ve been through hell.
“Alright, let me make some calls and get the local leadership together. We gotta figure out what we can put together, and then I have to get you some escorts to keep you safe and get the supplies back there. It’s gonna be a few hours. Here’s a ration card for a meal each at the commissary. One of the secretaries will take you. Have some food, take a nap, and I’ll come get y’all when we’ve got everything settled. Listen, I’m taking a big risk on you, so you’d better not be lying, because if you are, then trust me, I will send my men up there, and I promise you we’ve got bigger guns." The major looked the Sarasota man right in the eyes. "We clear?” “Yeah, man, we’re clear, we’re not lying, and you won’t regret helping us.” Ewing stuck out his hand. “Let’s shake on it, then, Mr….” “Randy. Call me Randy.”
North Fort Myers, FL
March 21, 1984
0600 hours
The motorcade slowly approached the Edison Bridge, where the National Guard sentries ordered it to a halt in the gloom. Motorcade was probably a generous term, as it was three pickup trucks and an old battered Volkswagen Type 2 van. Several men got out of the vehicles, led by a longhaired, bearded, muscular man. He was, in fact, bigger than either of the sentries holding rifles. In a gravelly voice, the man said, “Listen, soldier, we mean no harm. We’ve come for help. We’re running out of food back home, yeah, and there’s all these people who’ve walked into town with their skin burned and falling off, and we can’t handle it any longer! We need to talk to whoever’s in charge here, and we need to do it now.” The man looked a bit wild-eyed after that last pronouncement, and the soldiers gripped their guns a bit tighter. Another man, a little younger but clearly resembling the first, stepped forward. “Look, we’re desperate and we need help. We heard on FPR that this area hadn’t been struck by any attacks. We can’t go north. We’re from Sarasota, and the fallout levels are awful north of us. It’s St. Petersburg and Tampa and everything else. All we could do was come here. We’ve buried so many people already. Mass graves, people just falling over in the streets. There’s one hospital and it’s overwhelmed. We’ve driven through towns where people were kind and towns where guns were aimed at us. You’re the first soldiers we’ve seen since the day the missiles flew. PLEASE, help us.”
A third soldier came forward. “Privates, we’re going to listen to them. Gentlemen, leave your guns in your vehicles and follow me to the other side. We’re going to have you talk with the major.” The sergeant lifted his radio. “Command post, this is Sterling. We’ve got some visitors from north of here. Sounds like there’s trouble, and they need to talk to the Major.” “Roger that, Sergeant, we’ll go wake him. Bring the visitors here,” the captain who had the overnight watch replied. “Gentlemen, if you will?” Sergeant Sterling gestured to his M151A1 Jeep. The men looked it over. A couple of them were going to have to ride on the back. Sterling chuckled. “I’ll drive slow, I promise. Don’t want y’all falling off and having to get stitched up. Wouldn’t make me look good to the boss.”
About ten minutes later, the jeep pulled up to the Lee County building, even at 6 am a veritable beehive of activity. Volunteer workers preparing for today’s ration handout, bureaucrats tallying up every medicine issued, every bandage, every can of food, and soldiers arranging the day’s patrols. Since the incident at the mall, the area had been quiet, but the patrol area for them covered Fort Myers, North Fort Myers, Cape Coral, Bonita Springs, and Naples. While police helped supplement those patrols, the fact was that it was a lot of ground to cover, and Major Ewing only had 325 soldiers under his command. A plan was being drawn up to reach out to former military men in the area, with inducements being figured out by supply planners and screening procedures being worked out by the lawyers. Ewing was gravely concerned about getting more recalcitrant racists like Tucker Charlton. He’d seen firsthand in Korea how an embedded soldier could wreak havoc, as a North Korean infiltrator into the South Korean army had led an entire squad to its deliberate death before being shot down by American MPs who witnessed the attack. Ewing knew they could not afford the same problems here.
One thing that was in good supply at the Lee County building was coffee. The county bought barrels of it in January, and through careful maintaining of it, there was plenty to keep the men and women running southwest Florida awake and alert. The major brought a tray with coffee for everyone, the sergeant included. Public relations was important to keeping the peace, and besides, the men could probably use it. The sergeant led them through the door, saluted the major, and headed off to the commissary. He was off duty, now, and wanted breakfast before heading to bed. Nighttime patrol was always a bit strange.
Ewing greeted the men, handed them the coffee cups, and walked over to a small conference room off the lobby that was used as a mini-briefing room for the junior officers. Large maps of southwestern Florida were pinned to the walls. “The sergeant tells me you’ve had problems up north. Where y’all from?” “Sarasota and Bradenton,” the long-haired leader replied. “If it wasn’t for raiding the stadiums nearby that had food shipped for spring training, we’d be starving right now, that’s a fact. I’m telling you that we’re not too far from starving, but most of all, we’ve got dead and dying all over and not enough hospitals to accommodate them. We’ve heard nothing from the state, we’ve not seen any of you. It’s just bloody, burned bodies everywhere. People are getting sick because we’re struggling to keep up with burying everyone. The docs at the hospital are talking about using gas and just burning everyone in a big pile so no more people get sick, yeah. They’re talking about things like dysentery and cholera, man, and I don’t dig that, not one bit. So tell me something, Mr. Major, are you gonna help us or not?”
Ewing was torn. He didn’t have a whole lot he could contribute, and if he handed over food and medical supplies to people not from the area, he might have a riot on his hands. On the other hand, this was a blessed area. No attacks, no damage, no fallout. The hospital was well-stocked, and while the basic injuries of life and manual labor occurred, and babies were being born, they were so much better off that it’d be ungodly to not help them out. He looked into the eyes of the man in front of him. Maybe an inch shorter, well-built, clearly an athlete of some sort, very emotional. Someone resembling his brother sat behind him, carefully taking everything in. He was more intellectual, it seemed, quieter, thoughtful. I bet they’ve been through hell.
“Alright, let me make some calls and get the local leadership together. We gotta figure out what we can put together, and then I have to get you some escorts to keep you safe and get the supplies back there. It’s gonna be a few hours. Here’s a ration card for a meal each at the commissary. One of the secretaries will take you. Have some food, take a nap, and I’ll come get y’all when we’ve got everything settled. Listen, I’m taking a big risk on you, so you’d better not be lying, because if you are, then trust me, I will send my men up there, and I promise you we’ve got bigger guns." The major looked the Sarasota man right in the eyes. "We clear?” “Yeah, man, we’re clear, we’re not lying, and you won’t regret helping us.” Ewing stuck out his hand. “Let’s shake on it, then, Mr….” “Randy. Call me Randy.”
