join the Militia. They’re taking anyone who’s willing.”
The men glanced at each other. Their expressions had the feeling of, “Why did we come to hear this?”
“Listen,” Paul said, “I’m telling you this because you have to want it so badly that you can’t sleep otherwise.”
“Want what?” Smith said. He was thin and of medium height. The wrinkled, lined face said he must be sixty at least, and held an AR-15 in his gnarled hands.
“Want to get rid of the Chinese,” Paul said. “Once you start, they’re going to hunt you night and day like you wouldn’t believe. They might even bulldoze your house or your neighbor’s house to teach all of you a lesson. They might hang your wife in front of you, or hang your kids or grandkids if they’re around. This isn’t a game and it’s not like hunting ducks. It is war, guerilla-style. Now, after you’ve thought about those things and if you’re still prepared to go the distance, then fight. Otherwise, go back home and survive this mess.”
“Why aren’t you at home?” Smith said.
“Of course I would like it better than doing this,” Paul said. “I haven’t seen my wife or son…well, for a while anyway. But I’m an American. For me, that means I’m either free or I’m dead. You’ve just seen that I say what’s on my mind. It’s an old habit and it’s a habit only for a free man who can back up his words. So you see, I’m not suited to being a slave to the Chinese. I might as well fight.”
“The same goes for me,” Smith said.
The other men nodded.
Paul stared each of them in the eyes. They were angry and five of them looked determined. One was scared but seemed like a fighter. When Paul looked at the biggest man—a farmer named Knowles—the man dropped his gaze. Paul didn’t like that. No, he didn’t trust the big man. Knowles struck him as someone who would eventually inform on his friends to get out of trouble. It was a gut feeling, that’s true, but Paul had long ago decided to trust such an instinct. He really didn’t like the idea of helping these gentlemen and seeing a coward like Knowles turning in his friends and ruining everything.
Maybe it was the mental image of the little girl he’d seen hanging before, the one with the red tennis shoes. He couldn’t get it out of his thoughts.
“If you’re decided on doing this,” Paul said, “you have to figure out your objectives. The first thing is this. Don’t ever square off against the regular soldiers and never think about testing the White Tiger Commandos. If you want to drive out the Chinese, you have to stay alive long enough to do some real damage to them. That means IEDs or booby-traps. If you’re lucky, maybe it means gasoline and a match burning up supplies. If you get the chance, pour sugar down a gas tank. Heck, slash a tire. This is the death of a thousand cuts, a million cuts. Every little bit helps. But don’t think you can get in a firefight with enemy soldiers. That’s suicide. They have training, armor and much better weapons than you’ll have.”
“You said you could give us some supplies,” Smith said.
“I can—if you have a truck with gas.”
“I have,” Smith said.
“Good. You’re going to take us to a place.”
“What place?”
“You’re going to tell me,” Paul said. “It has to be lonely, where no Chinese would see a helo land. He and I are leaving, but we’ll give you the supplies from the helicopter.”
Smith nodded. “Fair enough, but first you need to explain more about this guerilla work. I want specifics on tactics. You need strategy to hunt ducks. I figure that holds true with what we’re thinking.”
For the next hour and a half, Paul did just that. Several of the men took out notepads and jotted things down.
Afterward, Paul said, “You ready?”
Smith nodded.
“It’s going to take some work unloading the helo,” Paul said. “You’re strong, why don’t you join us?” He pointed at Knowles, the big man who still refused to look him in the eye.
Knowles glanced around at the others. He looked as if he wanted to ask, “Why me?” But he nodded in the end. He didn’t seem popular with the others, and that only confirmed Paul’s instincts about the man.
A half hour later, Paul and Romo sat squashed in the cab with Smith. Romo radiated feverish heat. Knowles hunched in the back of