Founders (28 page)

In a private conversation with his plant manager, Phil McReady, three days before the UN forces arrived, Martin had said, “The guys from the pacification contact team from the Fort Knox government will be here tomorrow. What I want you to do is quietly tell everyone to just play along, and carry on operations as usual. We want to lull the ProvGov to sleep, thinking that our refinery is safely
their
refinery and that the Navajo coal mine and the power plants are
theirs
, too. We need to make them assume that there won’t be much resistance in the Four Corners region. That way, they’ll leave just a small garrison and move on. But right under their noses, we’ll be diverting fuel and lubricants to resistance groups all over the Southwest. I’ve already discussed this with the tribal elders.”

McReady nodded, and Martin continued, “So tell everyone:
Do not
sabotage any equipment or interrupt any processes. We’re the only ones who know how to operate this plant, so it will continue to be ours. It’s a lot like things were in Italy under the fascists.”

Phil grinned hugely and said, “So the trains still run on time, even though we’re plotting against
Il Duce
, and providing logistics for
la resitenza.
”

L. Roy shouted, “
Minuziosamente!
” They shook hands.

The next day, L. Roy’s conversation with Chambers Clarke lasted less than an hour. Clarke came across as a saccharine-sweet character, full of promises about ProvGov protection and sumptuous benefits in exchange for nationalization of the refinery and its associated pipeline infrastructure.

Recognizing the UNPROFOR’s disproportionate firepower, L. Roy feigned a cooperative, pro-Hutchings attitude. But he bargained hard for salaries for all his employees, even carving out a concession that part of their pay would still be in the form of bartered fuel. Only two days after the Federals arrived, L. Roy turned day-to-day operations of the refinery over to Phil McReady.

Martin publicly announced that he planned to take “a well-deserved and much delayed fishing vacation.” But after just two days at his ranch, he started working two twelve-hour shifts each week at the CONEX. Later, once it was clear that his actions weren’t attracting suspicion, he increased his workload to four twelve-hour shifts per week.

Just as he had been doing before the UN forces arrived, Martin kept his SIGINT team small, realizing that one any larger was sure to be detected or infiltrated. The core of Martin’s team was Pat Wicher, a retired Air Force senior master sergeant (SMSgt) who had for many years been on the cadre of joint service field stations for the Air Force Security Command (AFSC). Wicher had worked all over the world at both tactical and strategic levels, communications intelligence (COMINT), and electronic intelligence (ELINT) intercept and analysis. A good portion of the gear at the refinery’s intercept site came out of the collection in Wicher’s garage and attic. Wicher had squirreled away an impressive array of electronics. Most importantly, he owned two spectrum analyzers—a continuous swept-tuned analyzer and a wideband snapshot analyzer. These were crucial for the mini–field station’s mission. With them, rather than simply scanning through the spectrum, they could see signal spikes where they could then quickly tune. Wicher even knew how to use an oscilloscope to realign receivers. L. Roy was constantly amazed at the breadth and depth of Pat’s knowledge.

Partly because the ProvGov could no longer rely on an intact technological infrastructure to keep encrypted and frequency-hopping radios working, and in part because of their arrogant
condescension, they made many transmissions “in the clear” and they used obsolete encryption methods such as Four-square and Playfair substitution ciphers, which were easily broken. Because they assumed that the Resistance was not listening in some bands or that their ciphers could not be broken, the ProvGov and its army often had its communications compromised. This yielded a wealth of practical intelligence to the Resistance.

L. Roy Martin’s team very rarely transmitted, and only then in the HF band via skywave, because it was very difficult to locate via direction finding other than via groundwave in the immediate vicinity of the transmitter.

At their ranch near Bloomfield, New Mexico, Lars Laine and his brother Andrew launched into another one of their conversations about resistance to the Provisional Government. The brothers were both Army veterans. The elder brother, Lars, had been given a disability discharge in the aftermath of a roadside bomb explosion. That incident cost him a hand, an eye, and the hearing in one ear. The younger brother, Andy, had been released from active duty as a captain at the end of his six-year contractual obligation, just as the Crunch was unfolding. He was stranded in Germany, with all military and commercial airline flights grounded. He resorted to buying a bicycle and trailer, and pedaling across Germany and France. On the coast of France, he used part of his dwindling supply of small gold and silver coins to pay for passage to England on a French fishing boat. From there, he pedaled up the east coast, finally finding work as a hired security man on a yacht that would soon sail for Belize. In Belize, following an ambush by bandits that left him with a broken leg, Andy bought a horse and made his way by horseback up through
Mexico, crossed into Texas, and finally made his way back to the family’s ranch in New Mexico.

Lars and Andy had spent the evening in the “radio shack” corner of the master bedroom, listening to the massive Scott SLRM multiband radio that had belonged to their late father. The old vacuum tube radio was originally designed for use on U.S. Navy ships, just before World War II. It was a very robust boat anchor design that weighed eighty-five pounds. The radio’s most distinguishing feature was that it had a green cathode ray tuning eye. The front of the cabinet was stained yellow-brown with tobacco smoke from its original Navy service. The radio was powered by an isolation transformer, which was considered a must for safety with these radios, because of the shock hazard of running one without isolation.

Lars and Andy had spent the evening tuning through the 40-meter and 80-meter amateur bands on the Scott radio, listening to ham conversations about the Provisional Government. The consensus seemed to be that the new government was illegitimate and had a penchant for larceny. Although both Lars and Andy had ham radio licenses, they rarely keyed up, preferring to gather intelligence without raising their profiles.

Lars turned off the big radio and they launched into a fairly loud conversation about the ProvGov. When Lars’s wife, Lisbeth, and Andy’s wife, Kaylee, overheard this talk they sat down on the edge of the bed and listened intently.

Bloomfield, New Mexico, is just east of Farmington, in the Four Corners region, where the boundaries of Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona meet. The region was rich in natural gas and coal. The only child at the farm was Lars and Beth’s daughter, Grace, who was six years old when the Crunch began. They also had three young hired men who worked as their in-house security and ranch hands.

Lars and Andy debated how to best resist the Provisional Government
and their “guest” UN peacekeepers. They discussed some options, including sabotage, establishing a clandestine newspaper or radio station, computer viruses, and even raids or ambushes. They briefly discussed assassination. Lars compared the looting of the country with armed robbery, saying, “The only thing that can stop a bad man with a gun is a good man with a gun.”

“That’s true,” Andy countered, “but there are a couple of problems. How would someone get close enough? And more importantly, from what I’ve heard, Hutchings is a figurehead. The real seat of power is at the new UN headquarters.”

Eventually, the conversation turned to reconnaissance of Fort Knox itself. Lars mentioned that Fort Knox had traditionally been the home of the U.S. Army’s Armor Corps, but that role had shifted to Fort Benning, Georgia, in 2007. Then, just before the Crunch, the tanker school had been moved back to Fort Knox for political reasons. Lars said, “Things have been so fluid, it is difficult to get a grasp on their order of battle. We need to know where the units are, and any planned troop movements, adjustments to TO&Es, and specific task organization changes or operational control arrangements.”

“Well, somebody’s got to go there to scope things out,” Andy insisted.

“I could go,” Lars offered.

“No, after your trip to Arizona to whomp on the looters, it’s my turn for some travel. Besides, I’m the one with the pink Army Reserve ID card. You’ve got a retiree’s card. You’d have to argue your way past your injuries. It’s more logical for me to go.”

Lars cocked his head and asked: “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about going back on active duty.”

“What? Are you serious, actually
join
the ProvGov army?”

“That’s right,” Andy answered. “There’s no better place to gather intelligence than right in the belly of the beast. Anything less would just be some halfhearted poking around at the periphery—you
know, sort of like the old fable about the blind men feeling different parts of the elephant. If we really want to get a clear picture of what’s going on and send back some meaningful intel, then it’s the most logical thing to do.”

His wife, Kaylee, chimed in: “You can go, but only if I’m going with you.”

Before they departed, Andy and Kaylee made contact with her family, the Schmidts, in New Braunfels, Texas. Being sympathetic with the Resistance, they agreed to help courier messages. They already had contacts in Kentucky, and they were confident that they could help set up a courier network.

Andy soon put out the call locally for purchase or donations of USB flash memory thumb drives or pen drive sticks. Within a few days, they had accumulated almost 200 of them. More than half of these were 2-GB sticks that were silkscreened with a Nacel Energy logo. These were leftovers from a trade show giveaway, donated to the Resistance by a former Nacel marketing department employee.

Packing up took only a day and a half. They were satisfied the ranch would be safe in their absence. The Laines’ three teenage hired hands—the Phelps brothers—were gaining confidence, competence, and strength as time went on. But more than anything else, Andy was concerned with the well-being of his sturdy gelding horse, Prieto. He had ridden the horse all the way from Belize to New Mexico, so he was particularly fond of him. Lars promised to groom and exercise Prieto regularly.

The box trailer behind Andy Laine’s pickup was completely full of gas cans. In all, they carried twenty-three cans. Theoretically, between the gas in the cans and what was in the pickup’s tank, they could drive 1,914 miles.

They brought only three guns with them: Andy’s SIG P228 pistol, his Mosin-Nagant bolt-action, and Kaylee’s Browning
Hi-Power. The latter, along with 100 rounds of ammunition, two spare magazines, and a holster, was hidden wedged inside a mounted spare tire. It would take a bead-breaking tool (which they also carried) to access the gun, but they felt confident that it would not be found even in a rigorous search. To conceal it, they chose their one tire rim that was painted differently from the others to avoid any confusion.

For emergency communication with the Resistance, Andy also brought his Elecraft KX1 QRP shortwave transceiver. This low-power transceiver could be used to transmit Morse code in the 20-, 30-, 40-, and 80-meter ham radio bands. Powered by six AA batteries, the ten-ounce radio was capable of transmitting around the world when ionospheric conditions were right. It put out just 1 to 2 watts of power on the internal batteries, or up to 4 watts if using an external 12-volt battery or AC power adapter. Using his 200-watt Kenwood HF transceiver in Texas, Lars had had several successful two-way contacts with Andy when he was in Afghanistan, even though his younger brother’s transmitter put out only “flea power.”

Andy knew that the transmitter would be vulnerable to radio direction finding if he used it within forty miles of Fort Knox or any other HF intercept site. So he decided that he would use the transmitter only briefly, and then only in the event of an emergency.

“You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

—Vice Admiral James B. Stockdale, a former prisoner of war in North Vietnam, as quoted by James C. Collins in his book
Good to Great
(2001)

They knew that they had crossed over into UNPROFOR-controlled territory when they crossed the Texas state line. But they didn’t see any signs of the UNPROFOR occupation until they reached the outskirts of Amarillo. Someone had spray-painted a concrete highway overpass with the words “U.N. Out!!!” A half mile beyond that they began to see powder-blue billboards that read, “U.N. Partners for Peace. Building a Better Tomorrow.” On one of them, someone had expertly vandalized the sign with spray paint to instead read, “U.N. Partners for Piss. Building Maynard’s Tomorrow.”