Patriots Page 6

She mainly did renderings of what a completed building would look like, complete with parking areas and landscaping. Eventually, she got the chance to take on other projects such as design and layout of a promotional brochure for the company, as well as work with the firm’s computer system that generated blueprint designs. Although it was not exactly the type of job she would have chosen, she enjoyed most of the aspects of her work, and it paid very well.

  Mike and Lisa dated for two years before getting married. Although their schedules were not entirely compatible, they had a happy relationship. They both enjoyed the same activities, and both had the survival bent long before they joined the Group. Mike’s grandparents had built a bomb shelter in the early 1960s, and both they and his parents had encouraged Mike to be independent and self-reliant. Above all, they had told him: “Be Prepared.” Lisa received similar nurturing. She grew up in a large Mormon family where food storage was a way of life. Her strenuous and often dangerous hobbies had also built confidence, self-reliance, and an abiding love for the outdoors.

  When she was a freshman in college, a fellow dorm resident loaned Lisa a copy of How to Prosper During the Coming BadYears by Howard J. Ruff. Reading Ruff’s book had already adjusted her to a “survival mind-set” as it was termed by the Group. Mike first mentioned the existence of the group to Lisa soon after they first began casually dating, just to see if she would give a positive or negative reaction. When he mentioned the Group’s plans to “head for the hills if the world falls apart,” the first words out of her mouth were, “Will you take me with you?”As their relationship blossomed, Mike and Lisa began spending nearly every weekend together. Most of these weekends were devoted to hiking, rock climbing, hunting, or fishing—anything to get out of the city.

  It was Mike who first told Todd and T.K. about northern Idaho. During his graduate study, Mike had spent nine months living in Moscow, Idaho. There, he had studied “microclimate growth patterns of the Ponderosa Pine in eastern Washington and northern Idaho.” His graduate adviser had loved his paper, but that didn’t help him get a job as a working botanist.

  Mike spoke in glowing terms about northern Idaho. He reported, “Idaho is big-time survival country. Half the population is composed of survivalists that don’t even realize that they are survivalists. Self-sufficiency is just their native way of life up there. They definitely have the survival mind-set. Almost everybody hunts. A lot of people use woodstoves and they cut their own wood.

  Most people do home canning, and a lot of families are set up with their own reloading presses. Lots of them homeschool their kids. Home birth with mid-wives is popular, and a lot of families do what they call ‘home churching’—small congregations of one to four families, meeting at home. All in all, they are just a lot closer to the land than your average city dweller, and they are about ten thousand times more self-sufficient.”

  The next person brought into the group was Kevin Lendel, a shy, bookish electrical engineering major. His only claim to fame, and virtually his only form of exercise aside from bicycling, was foil and saber fencing. His constant fencing practice gave him a wiry build, tremendous flexibility, and lightning-fast reflexes. Kevin was a member of the University of Chicago fencing team for three years. He was never a phenomenal fencer, but he was good enough to help the team win several tournaments.

  Kevin was not like most of the other members of the Group. He wore glasses with thick lenses, and had a mop of black hair that he constantly brushed out of his eyes. When he fenced, he wore a green bandanna to keep the hair out of his eyes. Kevin was Jewish. All of the other Group members were devout Christians. He was not particularly interested in the outdoors, and until he joined the Group, he had never fired a gun. However, Lendel did see the wisdom of preparedness, and changed his lifestyle and spending habits accordingly.

  Lendel influenced the Group in a number of subtle ways. Most importantly, his cautious, well-considered approach to conversations and life in general tended to “ground” the group. He often said things like, “Hold on, let’s not be hasty” at group meetings, and even in the field during training exercises, and in planning patrols. Another influence he had was on the importance of quality knives and sharpening stones. His saber fencing experience made him “edged weapons conscious.”With his guidance, each of the group members eventually bought two or three skinning knives each, as well as a defensive knife.

  Kevin taught several classes on knife fighting, and one on saber fencing.

  The latter was more or less for fun. Kevin also individually taught each member the art of putting a fine edge on a knife with a soft Arkansas stone. For skinning knives, most of the members bought standard mass-produced Case and Buck knives, but a few opted for custom knives made by Andy Sarcinella, TrinitY Knives, and Ruana. Most of them also bought a Leatherman tool and a CRKT folding knife. For fighting knives, most purchased standard factory produced knives made by Benchmade or Cold Steel. Kevin bought an expensive New Lile Gray Ghost with Micarta grip panels.

  Against Kevin’s advice, Dan Fong bought a double-edged Sykes-Fairbairn British commando knife. Kevin warned him that it was an inferior design. He preferred knives that could be used for both utility purposes and for combat.

  He observed that the Fairbairn’s grip was too small, and that the knife’s slowly tapering tip was too likely to break, particularly in utility use. Dan eventually wrapped the knife’s handle with green parachute cord to give it a more proper diameter. Because the Fairbairn did indeed have a brittle tip, Dan did most of his utility knife work with a CRKT folder with a tanto-type point.

  Kevin Lendel was very quiet at most of the group meetings. Typically, he had his nose in a book during most of the meetings that were dominated by discussion. This unnerved the others until they realized that Kevin was not missing a word being uttered. He could actually maintain two points of concentration simultaneously. On the few occasions that Kevin did speak up during meetings, it was either because he had been asked a question, or to make a point that everyone else had missed.

  One of Kevin’s favorite phrases to use at meetings was, “I’ve just had a blinding flash of the obvious.” Many of his suggestions later ended up in written form as SOPs. For example, it was Kevin who first suggested that during times of crisis, every trip outside the perimeter be treated as a patrol, and that as such, the “two-man rule” be used. Kevin was also the initiator of group regulations on sanitation and the oft quoted, “Every injury or illness, no matter how slight, will be reported to the group medic as soon as possible.”

  Kevin’s motivation as a survivalist was never fully understood by most of the group members. Todd, in awe of Kevin’s intelligence, but with doubts about what made him tick, referred to him as “a riddle wrapped in an enigma.”

  After graduating, Kevin put his degree to use as a software engineer for Y-Dyne Propulsion Systems in Chicago. He started out in 2007 as a junior programmer with a salary of $85,500. By 2009, he was the senior systems analyst, and made $122,000.

  In 2002, Kevin launched a second career as a freelance software writer. He offered his services in Pascal, Fortran, C, and Ada, the specialized programming language used in many projects by defense contractors. When he started doing freelance software, he was not sure if he could make enough money for his sole source of income, so he stayed on half-time with Y-Dyne. After six months of doing work for a variety of companies, he found that he actually had more work than he could handle. At this point, he resigned from his position withY-Dyne, and he started working entirely at home, using a Sun Microsystems Sparc-20 workstation—which was loaned to him by Y-Dyne—and two computers of his own: a Macintosh tower, and a hybrid IBM clone later upgraded with a 2-GHz processor.

  Many of Lendel’s contracts came from outside of the Chicago area. He generally sent his software using a modem, since Bovill was not in a DSL service area, and it was just beyond range for the local wireless broadband service. Occasionally, he would send the programs on Zip disks via Federal Express. F
edEx came right to his doorstep, since his house was just off the county road. To his surprise, nearly a third of Kevin’s contract dollars came from his former employer, Y-Dyne. They couldn’t get along without him.

  Although he did not make quite as much money as he had withY-Dyne, Kevin enjoyed the escape from the mindless process of daily commuting and working 9-to-5. He told the other members of the group that it felt good to get back to working the “hacker’s hours” that he had enjoyed in college. He often worked as late as two or three a.m., and slept in until noon.

  Most of Kevin’s contracts were to write software for industrial applications.

  Few of the group members could relate to or even understand the complexity of Kevin’s work. It was not until he showed off a dazzling fractal graphics program that he had recently written, that the other group members got a full appreciation of his skills.

  When Kevin saw Todd and Mary’s house in Idaho for the first time, his eyes lit up. He quickly realized that he was looking at his future, as well. Because he worked almost entirely from home, it did not matter if he lived in the suburbs of Chicago, or Outer Mongolia. All that he needed to work on his software writing contracts was power, a telephone line, and an Internet service provider.

  He started looking for a place near the Grays’ farm almost immediately.

  Kevin soon found a place that he wanted to buy. Ideally, Kevin would have liked to have bought a parcel contiguous to Todd and Mary’s. Unfortunately, all of these farms were 120 acres or more, and none were likely to be on the market anytime soon. In fact, on three of the four sides, adjoining farms had been owned by the same families for two or more generations. The fourth adjoining parcel, to the east, was a full section of land belonging to the Bureau of Land Management, part of the federal government. Beyond that was National Forest. Gray was told that B.L.M. lands were sometimes put up for auction, but that this piece probably never would be because it had historic significance. It was a traditional site for digging camas bulbs, a staple food of the native Nez Perce tribe. In fact, the camas plants still grew there, competing with the non-native grasses that had all but taken over the area.

  The house that Kevin eventually bought was less than a mile away from Todd and Mary’s. It was on the same county road, but farther out of Bovill. His house was an earth-bermed passive solar design. It was situated on twenty-six acres. About half of the acreage was open, and suitable for hay cutting or pasture. The other half of the land was in second growth pines that averaged forty feet in height. Kevin would have preferred more land, since he eventually planned to pasture cattle, but he went ahead and bought it. The house was well built, and the price was right, at only $92,000. He paid cash.

  Todd Gray was twenty-two years old when he and T.K. first formed the group. He was six-foot-two with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He stayed slim, never letting his weight get over 185 pounds. By the time Todd entered college, his father was ready to retire. The owner of three hardware stores in the Chicago area, Phil Gray had amassed the magical million-dollar figure, and decided that he should slow down and take life easy. Just a year later, when Todd was a sophomore, his father died of a heart attack. Todd’s mother Elise was the classic TV mom. Dinner on the table at six o’clock. Laundry on Thursdays. Canning in the summer. Homemade candies for Christmas gifts in the winter. Years later, she still talked about Phil as if he were still alive. She died of cancer just after the turn of the century.

  Todd graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in economics. Soon after gradua-tion, he landed a position with Bolton, Meyer, and Sloan, a major accounting firm with branches in metro areas throughout the country. It was at about the same time that Todd married Mary Krause, an Occupational Therapy major that he had met during his senior year at the University of Chicago. Mary appealed to Todd for many reasons. First, she was quite attractive. She had waist-length naturally blond hair, a cute smile, and a trim, compact body. Todd also liked the idea of dating a woman with a strong background in medicine.

  As he explained to T.K., “She might be a good prospect for a medical specialist for the group.”

  T.K. replied, “Naaaw, admit it. You like her ’cause she’s a total babe.”

  • • •

  Tom Kennedy was Todd’s roommate for all four years of college. As with so many college freshmen, Todd and T.K were assigned to the same dormitory room at random. They had never met before the day that they helped each other move in. They immediately became good friends. Tom, or “T.K.” as everyone (including his parents) called him, was reserved, polite, and soft-spoken. He was getting his Master’s degree in business administration.

  Kennedy was the youngest son of a retired Air Force pilot. Upon retiring as a full colonel after thirty-two years of service, T.K.’s father took up calligraphy as a retirement hobby. This eventually developed into a second career, occupying at least twenty hours a week. He even taught calligraphy classes at a local junior college. His mother was a Spanish woman that T.K.’s father had met while stationed in Spain. His father died in 2008 of a heart attack. His mother died a year later, of leukemia.

  His half-Spanish ancestry gave Tom black hair, a medium complexion, and piercing dark brown eyes. Because T.K. had been born prematurely, he only reached a height of five-feet-four. Even at his heaviest, when he was in training for wrestling in high school, T.K. weighed 140 pounds. Because of his small stature, when he was in college he was often mistaken for a high school student. He was “carded” when entering bars well into his thirties. To combat being mistaken for a child, T.K. grew a mustache during the summer between his freshman and sophomore years of college.

  After graduating, T.K. got a position as a management trainee with a Sears & Roebuck store in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. He soon rose through the ranks, and in 2002, after a stint at the Sears corporate headquarters in Hoffmann Estates, he was made the general manager of the Sears store in Wheaton, Illinois.

  T.K. was always shy around women. He never dated when he was in college, and he never married. Tom remained active in the Catholic Church. When he was young, he served as an altar boy. After college, he became a lay minister. He helped with communion and training altar boys. When T.K. was in high school, his father introduced him to target shooting.

  He found that he greatly enjoyed engaging in a sport where his small stature was not a handicap. T.K. eventually became an active high power competitive shooter and achieved an expert classification. Although he practiced regularly and went to every match that he could, T.K. never got scores high enough to qualify him for a position on the state High Power team. His dream of shooting at the National Matches at Camp Perry, Ohio, was never fulfilled.

  T.K. was the oldest of the group members. He was also the first to get out of college and start making a good salary. This gave him the opportunity to become the first group member to get completely squared-away logistically.

  Like any other dedicated survivalist, T.K. did not rest on his laurels after he had bought his “group standard” equipment. He continued with a well organized purchasing plan, putting away a large stock of storage food, ammunition, medical supplies, and a comprehensive personal library on survival and practical skills.

  T.K.’s only unusual purchase was a crossbow. He bought a Benedict S.K. 1 with a 150-pound draw weight. He also bought several dozen aluminum broad head bolts, a fishing reel modification kit, fifteen spare strings, and a spare bow limb. At a group meeting in early 2008, T.K. mentioned casually that he had bought the bow. Dan Fong instantly pounced on him, asking him why he wanted a “medieval” weapon like a crossbow. Kennedy replied, “The crossbow isn’t any more impractical than your black powder guns, Dan. In fact, it has several advantages. First, it will give us the capability to hunt game silently. That could be a real advantage if we are out in the boonies and want to avoid detection. Second, crossbows are much more effective at killing game than traditional bows. That’s the reason that they are illegal for hunting in most states.

  Third, I’
ll never have to worry about running out of ammunition. Once I start to run low on bolts, I can start making my own. The last advantage is that it takes some ‘oomph’ to cock the darned thing. Practicing with it is more than just target practice, it is also good exercise.”

  Mary Krause became a de facto member of the group when she became Mary Gray. At the time that they married, Mary knew that Todd was a member of a survival group, but had no idea how deeply involved he was, or the full ramifications of his membership. Mainly, she was surprised at the amount of money that Todd had “invested” in his survival preparations. In six years, he had spent more than $5,000 on guns and ammunition, $3,000 on storage food, $4,800 on buying and restoring a 1969 Dodge Power Wagon pickup, and $1,800 on various web gear, backpacks, sleeping bags, tents, et cetera.

  To her dismay, Mary discovered a thickly padded clipboard that listed hundreds of additional items that Todd intended to buy. With his accountant’s mentality, Todd had itemized the purchases, compared prices from several suppliers, set priorities, and noted the sequence in which he planned to buy them. It was then that Mary realized that her plans for long vacations overseas would probably never come to fruition.

  Just before marrying Todd, Mary landed a job as a sports medicine therapist at Cook County Hospital in Chicago. She truly enjoyed the healing arts.

  Naturally, she became the group’s medic. In jest, she was sometimes referred to as the “Medical Honcho.”

  In 2008, Todd was able to work out an arrangement with his manager to begin working half-time from home. In requesting the arrangement, Todd was very direct with his boss. He told him that his “forty-minute, each way, each day commute” was driving him crazy, and that it was “contributing to premature burnout.” His boss was upset when he heard Todd use the term “burnout,” as it had precipitated the loss of several good accountants in recent years.

  Even though Bolton, Meyer, and Sloan was an “old school” accounting firm, Todd’s boss was able to push through an arrangement whereby Todd could begin to work from home three days of each week.