Jernigan's War (22 page)

The rest of the soldiers must be sleeping in the house as he found no others in any of the buildings or on the grounds. He took the time to carry wood around to the dead guard’s fires to keep up the appearance of them hard at work. He went around to the basement doors on the side of the house and listened. He did not hear anything so he tried them. He was surprised to find them unlocked. The family may have escaped this way. He quietly eased down the stairs; a lamp in the corner lit the room. He found three more soldiers asleep in the basement. Music was playing upstairs; that was a good thing, they wouldn’t hear three quick shots. He clicked off the lamp and made his way to the
stairs. The door at the top of the stairs was open. The smell of cigarettes filled the air. A layer of smoke was hovering about head high in the room, as a fire roared in the wood heater. An empty bottle of whiskey rolled on the floor. Tied to a chair in the middle of the room was Sam. He had obviously been beaten senseless as he appeared unconscious sitting in the chair with his head hanging forward. He could see a guard standing by the door.

A Chinese office speaking in broken English was arguing with an American soldier. He screamed, “What is wrong with these, what you call Texans, don’t they know we have them beat?” “I don’t understand it either, the people in California were almost happy to see us.” Porter thought to himself, “That’s because they were like my mother and grandmother.” Porter waited long enough to make sure that those three were the only ones in the room. The 1st floor of the home consisted of a large room that held the living area in the front, a large country kitchen with a table and a big pantry to the side. All the bedrooms were upstairs and in the loft of the big old house. It had been a ranch house for many generations of the Cross family. He rolled his bad shoulder again to keep it working and proceeded into the room. A shot through the head of the guard dropped him in his tracks; his next shot hit the Chinese officer square in the chest. The officer fell back and the American ran for the back door. A bullet between his shoulders sent him sprawling. Porter turned back to the officer who was rolling around on the floor trying to get his pistol out of his holster. Two more shots, one to the chest and one in the head, stopped the attempt. A shot across the room to the back of the head of the American on the floor put him down. Porter replaced the magazine in the Baretta and using his knife cut the bindings that held Sam to the chair. Porter eased him to the floor and turned his attention to the stairs.

The music was still playing on the radio so Porter turned it up a bit and proceeded up the stairs. Room by room he killed
the men inside, only once was he discovered when one came out of the bathroom in the hall. Charlie’s training of Porter paid off when a quick offhand shot to the man’s head from 20 feet came off with a snap. By the time Porter had finished he had emptied another 15 round magazine. He now had the last full magazine in the pistol. He made one last walk around the property to make certain he hadn’t missed any one. Sam was coming around by the time Porter got back in. The sun was coming up and they got on the radio. Charlie, Bonnie, Steve and the girls were taking shelter at a small hunting lodge about 5 miles away. It was one that the family used as part of their guided hunt business. Charlie and Steve had both been wounded in the fighting but would recover. Sam was in no shape to travel, so he put him on his cot by the heater. Porter hooked up the hay wagon to the tractor and made the trip to the lodge. Charlie, obviously devastated by the death of his son, grabbed Porter and hugged his neck. A large bloody wound on his leg was wrapped in duct tape, he was standing; so, it was evidently a flesh wound. He said, “Thank you, son.” Sandy and Ally each took one of Porter’s hands and clung to him. Sandy hugging him proclaimed, “You’re bleeding, you’re shot!” The shoulder wound was seeping again, the pain was raw but he kept up the practice of moving the arm and shoulder to keep them working. Against his wishes they pulled off his coat and shirt, and insisted on cleaning and bandaging him. When Sandy spotted the wound in his side she said, “I can see your rib moving when you breathe.” She became pale and Porter grabbed her as she wilted.

Ally looked at it, “That looks nasty, does it hurt much?”

Charlie, grimaced, “I can tell you, it hurts like hell. Douse it with some whiskey from the cabinet, cover it with a piece of cloth and tape it down with duct tape; we’ll do it right when we get back. We have a lot of work to do.”

Steve had been hit in the head. A bullet had hit him high on his forehead, traveled under the scalp and exited out the back
without penetrating the skull. It did however; knock him out cold as it gave him a concussion and probably cracked the skull. He joked, “That’s what you get when you don’t keep your head down.”

The trip back was uneventful. The family got back and started the grim task of cleaning out the house and burying John. The Cross family had a family cemetery up the hill and under one of the few big trees on the property. It was a sad, mournful time for John’s wife and the rest of the family. Steve and Sam hauled all the dead Chinese and the communist American out to the crossing and piled them up like cordwood at the gate. Bonnie and the girls patched and stitched all the wounds and secured all the buildings. All the livestock had survived but the one gelding that the Chinese killed and ate. The dogs and all but three of the chickens were accounted for; so, life was soon back to normal.

Chinese troops didn’t try to cross the ranch again, the shortwave indicated that troops from Fort Hood had routed them and they were unable to join the Houston invasion. But, that didn’t mean that more of them weren’t on the way. After all, there were over a billion of them and more were being flown and shipped in every day. The communists in the US government and military had castrated the U.S. Armed Forces.

CHAPTER 21

QUIET BEFORE THE STORM

A
great sadness hung over the house, but Bonnie and the girls managed to decorate the house for Christmas. They hung stockings on the fireplace and built a large fire in it. The house was heated by the wood stove next to it. In old days meals were cooked in the fireplace, the old cast iron hooks and racks were still in place. The snows came off and on for the next week and Christmas came on schedule. With nothing but the light from the fireplace, Charlie recited the “The Night before Christmas” and the kids all got ready for bed. With tears streaming down their faces, they sang Christmas carols and enjoyed some homemade eggnog. All the adults including Porter and Sandy had a little bourbon in their drink. All was quiet on the ranch and Christmas came. That evening Santa came on time, Porter and Sandy helped put out the gifts. The three granddaughters, two grandsons and Ally had homemade outfits and homemade toys. There were hand carved toy guns and handmade baby dolls. Porter had made hand woven bracelets from paracord for everyone. He made Ally and Sandy head bands as well. On Christmas day they had a day of feasting that included venison, turkey and ham. Bonnie and the girls broke out canned pumpkin and dehydrated apples and made pies. In the midst of disaster and loss they had a day of joy and, if only for a moment, they were at peace.

The day after Christmas, Charlie limped up wearing all his gear and woke Porter up. “Porter, it’s time for your training to continue”.

“You up to running with that leg, Mr. Charlie?”

“No, but this may not be the last time we’re wounded. Every day we sit around is a day we’re getting weaker.” Steve and Sam were ready and geared up also. Sam’s eyes were still black and blue, but his lips were somewhat healed. Steve still had a funny looking cowlick in his hair and winced when he pulled the stocking cap over his ears. Porter and Charlie helped them saddle up the mules so they could resume sentry duty on the range. Charlie and Porter saddled up Dollar and Charlie’s horse, Dolly, too. They headed out to Porter’s blind to retrieve his rifle. The ride out was cold but the snow covered landscape was beautiful. They reached the blind; the dead Chinese were still lying where they fell. While Porter retrieved his rifle and bandoleer Charlie tied a rope around the necks of the dead Chinese and gathered up their rifles. He tied their guns, magazines and gear into a bundle and stowed them on the back of the saddles. They towed the dead bodies down to the pile of frozen Chinese dead and added them to it.

Porter said, “I know this sounds crazy, but I want to kill more of them, a lot more. Something came over me back in the blind, I can’t explain it.”

Charlie nodded, “You went from being a boy to a man, I can tell it in the way you carry yourself and the way you look. I am sorry it had to happen because you will never be the same or look at the world in the same way again.” They rode back in silence and spent the afternoon cleaning all the weapons and checking the sights on Porter’s rifle. By the end of the afternoon, Porter could disassemble and reassemble an AK47 with his eyes closed.

The next morning he was awaken by Sandy with a welcome, good morning kiss. “Can you teach me and Ally about the guns and how to shoot?”

“Sure, I think it would be a great idea.”

“Do you think Ally can shoot?”

“Sure, I have just the weapon.” That day Porter taught Sandy and Ally how to assemble and disassemble the AK47s. He also taught Sandy how to handle the AK47 and to shoot the Remington rifle. He broke out his .22 rifle and showed Ally how to shoot it. The stock was a little long for her; so, he taught her how to shoot from the waist. It took a while but she became very adept at hitting a snowman at 30 feet. He made up a back pack for each of them out of those salvaged from the Chinese. He loaded the packs with supplies and made them bugout bags. They laundered some sleeping bags and rigged up a saddle for Sandy.

Charlie was back in the house with Bonnie and they watched as Porter taught his ladies to shoot and handle the weapons.

Charlie nodded toward Porter, “A boy went out on the range, a man came back; do you have any idea what it took for him to clean out this house? That boy slipped in here and did what no man I know of could pull off. It’s not easy killing up close and personal; it’s one thing to look through a scope and pull a trigger, it’s something else entirely to use a knife and shoot men at point blank range.”

Bonnie put her arms around Charlie, “I know.”

“Our boys were trained from young boys,” Charlie continued, “Porter grew up in L.A. for God’s sake and only shot a .22 rifle before this started. I never taught him tactics or how to approach a situation like he faced. In the time it took us to evacuate to the lodge, he crossed the range on foot, infiltrated an armed camp, and methodically killed 18 men. He was also shot through the shoulder, had two broken ribs and is probably still carrying a bullet. He never even winced when we stitched him up. I had to clean pieces of his coat and shirt out of that shoulder and side wound.”

“He’s a brave young man, Charlie.”

Charlie was still amazed at what Porter did for the family. “He can throw a knife better than any man I have ever seen. He just has a feel for it. We are lucky to have him, Sam would be dead for sure, and I don’t think I could have come back and killed all of them without getting killed myself.”

Bonnie sighed, “As far as I am concerned, he is one of our boys, and the girls are part of our family, too. There is no doubt that he is Cooney Jones’ grandson.”

That evening Porter took Charlie aside after supper, “Can I take one of the mules for Sandy to ride? I’ll be glad to pay you for Dollar and one of the other mules.”

“Your money is no good here, Son, you are one of my sons as far as I am concerned and I consider Sandy and Ally mine also. Go ahead and get her outfitted out and teach her to ride. I’m glad you’re teaching them to shoot. Just don’t let Ally cut herself on a knife, her hands are still small.”

Porter embraced him, “Thanks Mr. Charlie, I feel like they are my responsibility, do you mind if I fix her up with John’s old mule, Daisy?”

“Sure, she is the gentlest animal we have, she would be perfect. The Chinese cleaned out our smokehouse; in addition to the gelding, they ate up most of the sausage and ham. Do you feel up to some hunting for the next few days? It will get us some exercise and we can get the smoke house fired back up. Steve and Sam will be on the lookout for game while they are on watch.”

“Sounds great to me, Mr. Charlie.”

Patting Porter on the shoulder, Charlie nodded, “We’ll start in the morning.”

Morning came and Porter was once again waken by Sandy, this time with a kiss and a cup of coffee. Porter had grown
accustomed to drinking a couple of cups a day. In fact he looked forward to a morning cup and a mid afternoon cup. Charlie laughed when he came down the stairs and saw Sandy give him a wake up kiss on the cheek. “I can think of worse ways to get woke up.”

Porter snorted, “Yeah, like getting punched by a crippled old man with a piece of firewood.” After hauling in some wood they had a hearty breakfast, that once again included heavy cream and butter. Afterwards they headed out to the barn. As usual they were packing pistols, rifles and knives. Instead of the Chinese AK47, Porter carried the Remington long gun. Charlie was packing his .308 battle rifle with a 20 round magazine. Porter asked, “Why don’t you shoot a long gun like mine?”