The Union Creek Journal

A Chronicle of Survival

Archive for the tag “farm”

May 25, 2015: Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day.

I still can’t believe my dad is gone – that he gave his life for our freedom just a little more than two weeks ago on May 9, 2015.

He led the charge against the U.N. soldiers that wanted to take away our farm and put us in FEMA camps or kill us.  He was a brave man.

Sometimes I still cry when I remember him.  I think he’d be OK with that.  He was always telling me to be tough, not to cry, but I know he had a sensitive side too.  I know he was sad about what happened to our country.  He may not have cried on the outside, but I bet he did on the inside.

I think sometimes when he got mad on the outside, it was because he felt like crying but he needed to be tough.  He needed to be tough so we would keep believing that things would get better.

I think he wrote this journal because there were some things he just couldn’t say out loud.  Maybe when I’m older, I’ll do the same.  I hope the world is a better place when I’m his age.  The age he was.

Today we’ll decorate his grave with flags and flowers to honor what he did and what he fought for.  We’ll do the same for the other people from Union Creek that fought and died to keep us free from the U.N. soldiers.

They’re all heroes and we’re still free.

As long as we’re free, there’s still a chance that things can get better.

– D.J. Johnson

May 9, 2015: Death is Not the Worst of Evils

It is just after midnight and we are about to mount up.  The heat of the day has not yet dissipated.  I can hear the frogs singing their chorus down by the pond as the sweat trickles down my spine.  Is it the heat or my nerves?  Probably a bit of both.  I am more anxious about this battle than I have been about anything in years.  It feels … monumental … pivotal.  It is.

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Relief Pitcher

As Pitcher and his men crested a long rise, a fertile valley spread out before them.  Below were the signs of started crops, hillsides dotted with cattle and the pungent odor of hogs kept in confinement.  Although it reminded Pitcher nothing of his home in the Georgia swamps, it felt welcoming after more than 1000 miles over treacherous dirt roads.

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May 8, 2015: Just Over the Horizon

Today’s journal entry will be brief.  I’m only pausing long enough from our preparations to write down a few thoughts about the last six months and the upcoming days.  Tomorrow we go to war and there is much to do between now and then.

It has been just over six months since I started this journal and only slightly longer than that since the world crashed headlong into a financial abyss so deep that it may take decades for those who have survived to pull themselves up and out of that chasm.

At the six month mark, there still is really little evidence of recovery.  Tomorrow’s battle is a pointed reminder of how lawless and uncivilized our country remains.

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May 7, 2015: The Essence of War

In all likelihood, we only have hours until the forces spotted by Tanner’s men are within striking distance, but I needed a little time to think and plan.  So, I stuffed my shooting mat, spotter’s scope, a couple targets and 100 rounds of ammo in my Real Deal Brazil Manaus pack, grabbed my Remington 700 and headed over to the east end of the farm for a little target practice.  The gathering at Pete’s wasn’t scheduled until 10:00 a.m. and I had a feeling that sharpening my long-range shooting skills wouldn’t be a bad thing.

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May 6, 2015: Embrace the … New Normal

Two trucks left the farm today and one returned.

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May 5, 2015: Alliance

Tanner and his crew are back from their “undisclosed location”.  The three trucks we loaned them were loaded down so heavily that I thought the springs would collapse.  I offered to loan them my gooseneck trailer too, but they thought that would attract too much attention.  As it turns out, wherever they went, they didn’t encounter too many people.  Tanner said they had a couple small run-ins, but nothing of consequence – certainly nothing on the order of their run-in on the southern edge of the Union Creek area.

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May 2, 2015: Road Signs

There’s kind of a buzzing in the back of my head that just won’t let up.  The humming seems to be slowly creeping forward toward the front of my brain immediately behind my eyes.  It’s as if a hive of bees made their home inside my head.

They’re constantly working, those bees, building their hive larger and larger every hour.  My eyes are burning and my vision is a little blurry.

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May 1, 2015: Others Like Us?

Pete and I were able to make it to the southern end of Union Creek and back without incident today.  We went by the place where the Marines said they were attacked.  Sure enough, there was a burned out HMMWV carcass in the middle of the road.  After poking around in the wreckage for a bit, Pete and I decided that the story we had heard fit with what we saw.  The topography made for a good ambush site.  We found blood on the nearby hilltops, but no bodies.  There was a sizable chunk out of the road where the IED must have been detonated.

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April 30, 2015: Oh, Schmidt!

We sent Schmidt off to retrieve his daughter today.  He was coached on a few key elements of misinformation to provide to his daughter’s captors.  He was also instructed to keep his eyes open and his ear to the ground to learn anything he could about the group holding his daughter.

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