083: A Day

December 21st, 2000 (morning before breakfast)

Everyone not on watch or pulling KP is in the entry hall of Columbia.  We've pulled out seats for every one of the soldiers and civilians.  There's a small table for Reese Creb and Lt. George.  I have a speech podium liberated from one of the lecture halls, thank you teaching hospital, and another small table for Doc and Leo.

Showtime. 

"By the power granted to me as a commissioned officer in the United States Marine Corps I call this tribunal to order.  We are here this morning to determine the status of Reese Crebs, captured while bearing arms against the United States government.  Once we have finished reading the case, I will be accepting testimony later in this hearing regarding his culpability and character.  If you wish to testify, please raise your hand and wait for myself or one of the other officers to call on you.  Major Miller."

Doc stands and reeads from a short prepared statemnt outlining our first and subsequent contact with Reese.  Once she finishes George stands and presents the sorry details of life under the Disciples stressing Reese's age and circumstances.  As George said earlier its my dog and pony show.  Then the locals get to vent.

There's a great deal of anger in the room.  They've been chaffing under horrible conditions illtle better than slaves.  Reese is the only one of them present.  I keep control.  Everytime they stray off to what Disciples have done I turn it back to what he has done.  I keep getting the same story then.  yes, he beat them.  Yes, he ground them down.  Yes, it was always in the presence of an older Disciple.

Finally, I get to Dwayne's daughter.  I have to shut her father down.  He doesn't want her to speak.  I didn't think he would.

I can barely hear her speak, but the crowd has gone silent.  "You all think we fled because he took me when they made him.  He asked and I said yes.  After that..."  She stops distraught.

"You don't have to go on." I tell her.

"I do, it was Mash.  And I am damned glad he's dead."

With that we're done with testimony.  Doc, Leo, and I confer to the judgement we already planned.

"Please stand.  Reese Crebs, this tribunal has determined your combatant status is that of a "child soldier" and as such you are not to be charged with rebellion against the US governemnt or treated as a Prisoner of War.  I believe you have the capability to grow and become a member of this community.  I am instituting a probationary period of two years for you."

I look over to my 'shills'.  "I need a few volunteers to concil and correct this young man by word and example.  Are there any volunteers?"  Three of my men 'volunteer'.  One each; white, hispanic, and black.

"Reese Crebs, these soldiers will be overseeing your work and training.  You will be expected to perform the same labors as they do or learn by observation and example.  They have the authority to correct and discipline you.  Push-ups and laps are in your future.  You will be fed the same as any of my men and civilians in our facility.  You will not be expected to work beyond your physical capabilities.  Respect and privligies will be extended as thye are earned.  To begin with, you will address every person by Sir, Ma'am, or their last name until given permission otherwise."

"Do you understand, Mr. Crebs?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mr. Crebs, please report to Sgt Koons before breakfast.  This tribunal is adjorned.  Let's eat."

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(post breakfast stupor /  administrative meeting)

"So, George, what are they saying?"

"Surprise you didn't just shoot him.  Guarded optimism.  We're too good to be true."

"They're right," Leo grumbles. 

We stare at him for a moment.  "Go on."

"What we're doing here isn't part of the mission.  It's part to the cover.  We're here to find the gold.  Once we're done command'll going to pull us out and they'll be back where they started.  We can't afford the distraction.  We can't tame the island.  The mission creep will kill us."

 "Leo, how long do you think it will take to find the gold?"

"I have no idea.  But all the planning for Columbia and opening a med center and taking on refugees isn't speeding us along.  We need to go out to the GW bridge and the ambush site.  We need to be looking."

"I don't know how long it will take either.  We could be looking for months or years.  This place is that big and our target that small.  What we're doing here gives us a stable base, support, and, maybe, information.  It is advancing our mission.  And it helps our countrymen.  Your countrymen."

I give him a moment to chew on that.

"But you're also right.  We need to get back out and looking as soon as possible."

"I am?  I AM."

"George can handle day to day operations.  Ross and Jana can handle medical ops.  We'll head out to the GW this afternoon and look it over.  We'll discuss heading south again tonight.  Now, food, fuel, and ammo."

Aron opens his notebook.  "With the stores you took we'll be good until the shipment arrives fro Ft. Dix in January, but we'll have to scavange, trade, or take additional supplies to get us through that month.  We're cutting it close on fuel.  The first still is up, but it is a trickle compared to our needs.  Griffiths says he'll have a larger model up before New Years.  If the numbers he gave me are correct we'll still be short, but our draining of reserves will be far down and give us enough time for a third.  He'll need a scrounging expedition for parts for that one.  Ammunition is holding steady."

"I'll request additional food shipments once the first arrives.  Otherwise, you're giving me good news."

"Now about watch schedules..."

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A knock on the door.  "Major, we've been contacted on the 'Cloisters' frequency.  Zimmerman requests permission to approach."

"Permission granted.  Alphabit, he's your friend.  Go down and show him around."  Donald lights up.  "Don't take his weapon unless he offers it.  Tell the watch he's allowed in that way."

"Yes, Major."

"Get."

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We talked over and rejected the idea of going back down to Harlem to take the rest of the Disciples stores.  They'll have moved them by this time and we need better intelligence before grabbing them.  Besides we'd need to truck down there to bring up food in bulk and there's no hiding their presence. 

Alphabit takes a good hour before bringing Staff Sgt (ret) Dan Zimmerman to see me.  We have a short sit down.  I answer his questions as best I can.  He understands the 'sceurity' answer and I get it back fairly often.  I can tell he's impressed adn more than a little frustrated at our luck. 

"We thought about combing the Allen Pavilion, but we assumed it was either looted or under new management.  Our mistake."

"Dan, I'm serious about medical sevices.  If you have sick or injured bring them up.  If they're too badly hurt to transport we'll come get them."

"And then be in your debt."

"Sliding scale Dan, sliding scale.  You give us what you can afford.  If that's a shirt and a shaker of salt so be it.  It could be tipping us off about raiders sighted in the area or just pointing refugees in our direction.  I've got a task here and helping you is part of it."

"Yeah, so what are you wanting to know?"

"Who's the powerhouses.  We've heard of the River Rats, Hizzoner, the Duke, and several Harlem gangs, but we don't know squat."

"I've only been on this side of the island, but I'll ask."

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Hot lunch! 

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(early afternoon)

Back on the road.  We're taking a constitutional down to the George Washington bridge.  Retired Zimmerman and Jim are coming as far as the Cloisters.  He'll talk to his headman for us.  We'll see how it develops. 

After we part, we'll give their home a wise berth for politeness, Alphabit tells me Zimmeraman was asking pointed questions about how long we'd been on the island.  I know Donald can't lie worth a damn and Zimmerman probably knows too.  Seems there's been soldiers sighted about two weeks before we arrived.  They were talking census too.  No one had been hurt on the Cloisters side, but it hadn't been for lack of trying.  Interesting.

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The bridge is a bust.  There are the remains of trucks and soldiers, but no information.  Trucks have been stripped and sat outside for two years.  The men won't tell tales.  Leo and I both agree, the violence was sudden and complete.  Ambush or betrayal.

"I am losing faith in the human race."

"You sill have some?"

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I'll save the battle report for my memoirs.  We need to work on our urban combat tactics.  Thank the DOD for body armor.  Leo took a load of buckshot right on top of his helmet, Rutkowski caught a few 9mm rounds in the chest, and all of us took splinters from an ill-conceived grenade toss (Alphabit).  If they'd had grenades we'd have been in a world of hurt.

Disciples are down another 11.  They weren't carrying much in the way of ammo, but the 3 M16s will be a happy addition to my 'militia' plans or I can trade them to the Cloisters.  A couple more shotguns, a few pistols, and one nice scoped 30-06 bolt action rifle to round out the take. 

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(late afternoon)

Leo's right.  The George Washington was a bust, but their might be more to see near Central Park.  If all else fails we can snatch a local and get answers to the current situation.  Never one to wait I've decided we'll inflate the big boat and head downriver after full dark. 

With luck and a bit of sweat we should be able to get into a storm sewer outlet.  This is NYC, they'll be large enough for boat and crew.  Plans call for making our way via sewers to near the target and then pop up for a look around.

After briefing George and the squad leaders I'll catch some sleep.