Details....details..........

      Melvin had been at the private auction as security for 7 hours now, filling in for a man who had a case of food poisoning. He was no stranger to last minute details. Just wished he had a little more notice to work with this new team. Don't sweat the small stuff he told himself. Everything is small stuff.

     The VIP was not into hiding his guns for hire behind suits and sunglasses. The contracting agency was specifically asked for the security contractors to look as obvious as possible. So today Melvin and his four person team was in jeans, button up shirts, desert boots, level IV coyote plate carriers, pistols, and tricked out carbines.  This was very much not the norm for this profession outside of the PSD realm in war zones. He kinda felt exposed for some odd reason. However, it did project an image for people not to try anything silly.

     The rest of his team consisted of three men and a woman he had worked with in the past.  Adam Douglas was the next in the chain. The average height but thick muscled native American wearing a faded Mossy Oak ball cap stood at Melvin's 12 o'clock across the large room. A former deputy sheriff and Operator on his department's SWAT team he had the ability to get along with anyone or beat them into the ground. At the side exit of the room was Erick Tobon. The former Colombian national worked for DEVGRU before getting out and going private. His full head of hair and long black beard made him look more like a Taliban militiaman than a contractor. He was the team's medic. The group's Designated Marksman Sam Mur was on the second floor overlook. The former member of Uncle Sam's Misguided Children was no nonsense and all business. You did not want to be on the business end of his scope. Rounding out the group was Jennifer Darty. She was the only non law enforcement or military background in the bunch and was at the podium nearest to the auction staff manager. She started off and was still a bodyguard by trade. The carbine in her hands kept most single men at a distance from hitting on her.

     The crowd was not very large. However, it contained more millions of dollars per person than any other crowd he had been outside of. The man behind the whole auction, Jonathan Beckett, was working the crowd. Behind him were three cabinets of the hardest to find antique firearms and one of a kind items. Estimates were that the end of the auction would net 120 to 200 million dollars. One of the more interesting items was one of the gold plated AK-47s belonging to Saddam Hussein. Another was General Robert E. Lee's 1860 Colt Army revolver. Melvin knew better than to ask where some of the items came from. However, he was curious.

     Melvin has noticed the dark haired woman from the distance looking at him from time to time.  He had seen her several times over the course of the day talking to people and signing books they brought up for her to autograph. He didn't recognize her. But, she did seem familiar...........

Training in the hills Day 3: Are we there yet?

     I had gotten a much better nights sleep after the coyotes decided to take a hike and had not chewed on my neck while I slept.

     Morning routines out of the way I began to wrap up camp. I did everything I could to remove as many traces as possible that I was there. I would take ALL of my trash with me on the pack other than what I had buried. I poured enough water on the camp fire location turning it to mud and stirred it with a stick. I did not want to be responsible for causing a forest fire and not being allowed to come back onto the property. 

     One thing that I can say about this trip is that ounces equal pounds and pounds do equal pain. The deep cycle battery was heavy to carry and added more discomfort than I needed. Odds are it may not be brought on the next trip. What I will bring is the small solar chargers such as the Kodak and the Solio Classic.

     I managed after a downhill trek to get back to my parked truck and unload my equipment. I was tired but I had a big sense of satisfaction.

     I managed to do three days and two nights on my own and actually was fairly comfortable during the hottest part of the Summer. I was able to see what I should and should not take with me in that time of the year. My next trip will be during the winter for the same amount of time.

Training in the hills Day 2: Not in my comfort zone

    I managed to wake up with only a slight crick in my neck. Go figure. I was using my Frogg Toggs in it's pouch as a pillow. Next time I would pack one. Bad thing was I had sweat through my clothes the first of the night then the temp dropped to the low 60's. I would suffer for that later in the week. My fire had died down to ash with no problems. It is always nice to tell my fire fighting friends I  have not caused a forest blaze.

     After a man's usual morning rituals, breakfast consisted of Cliff Oatmeal bars and copious amounts of water. Yet again, hydration is a key. See a theme? I didn't want to cook anything so that I could get moving sooner in the morning cool air before the temp got up in the 90's with very stupid humidity. That would be an all day battle for me. The elements and exertion will literally suck the water right out of you.

     On my ILBE I had packed a smaller Voodoo Tactical Multicam Day hydration pack I would take with me for the days activities. In it I packed sub sonic Nosler tip 5.56mm ammo if I needed to use it with my suppressor, my IFAK (Individual First Aid Kit,) targets, range finder, camelbak bladder, and MRE lunch (pork rib....yum.) On my left side I had my Cold Steel Kukri machete. In the small of my back was my custom Cold Steel tomahawk. I wore the same chest rig with all my lethal goodies. I would end up using the machete and the tomahawk on this trip more than any other tool. Money well spent.

      I had an appointment with the property owner that morning. I put on all the gear, slung my rifle,  and made the trek back down the ridge to ranges on the other side of the property. I made much better time with a little help.

      I met with the owner of the property at one of the ranges and demonstrated different weapons usage techniques that I teach for my company for about two hours. During that time he tried out my rifle's setup to see if he wanted to spend the coin on an ACOG scope. He had decided that it was a needed item for his next build. I was contracted to make such a build for him.

     After he departed the scene I began to hit the trails. I took this at a steady pace trying to keep as aware as possible. Every 100 yards or so I would stop and listen. If I was satisfied the woods sounded like.......well, the woods I would start to move on. I managed to find some wild game sign and followed the track for some time till I hit the property line and could not go any further. Three quarters of the way through my round trip I had emptied my CamelBak. Figures. The nice thing about my location was that I never run into anyone. I was by myself. The solitude was deafening. I loved it. I don't think I could do it for a super long period of time to start off with. Despite being a loner I do enjoy human contact.

     I am a hefty person and love to eat. However, even if I don't eat after burning so many calories I feel really sluggish. So around 1300 hours I stopped and at lunch. The whole MRE I ate cold. I did not want to waste one drop of water on the chemical heater if  I did not have to seeing that the temperature was in the mid 90's by now. Some of you know that MRE stand for "Meals Ready to Exit" or "Meals Refusing to Exit." I'll spare you the details. I did feel better after the stop.

     During this second day I shot at high and low angles as well as through brush and at longer than 100 yard distances. All of these circumstances does effect the bullets path through the air one way or another. Shooting suppressed with super sonic ammunition still rang loud echoing through the hills. At least anyone listening would have a hard time finding out where the shot came from. Running Dr. Packett's Love Potion #9 in the subsonic variety all you could hear was the impact of the bullet on target. Modestly I am a trained marksman have little trouble with these shots. I don't like training on a flat range anymore. It has gotten quite boring.


     For an evaluation I brought with me a 42 round ProMag AR-15 magazine. I will have to say I started out with NO faith that this thing was going to work considering the brand. During the day for most of the drills I ran was with this magazine. I have to say that it did not fail at all. Everything that day was done suppressed. For those who don't know that causes a back pressure of hot dirty gases into the upper and lower receiver with quite a bit ending up in the magazine. After a while that causes the mag to gum up.That's when most mags start failing.

     I was going to hit the rack at a decent hour after a dinner of tuna and rice. However, the coyotes had other plans. I started hearing their calls about 2100 hours at the bottom of the ridge while I was checking email and looking over videos and images. I could not tell how many there were but, I knew they were pretty far off. So I pretty much ignored them. After a half an hour they were much closer. And closer after about another half an hour. By around 2215 it was danger close. I had already set my rifle in my lap as I watched the fire. Hearing them pretty much circle me. I thought to myself, "Come on. I ain't got all damn night."

     That fight never came for whatever reason...........Cowards. I finally managed to let myself lay down while listening to the fire. I was tired and passed out quickly.

Continued on: Training in the hills Day 3: Are we there yet?

Training in the hills Day 1 Part 2: Arrive on scene

     I arrived at my destination a little winded and soaked from head to toe. I gripe. But, I got there. It was nice to get the pack off. My abs personally thanked me for the relief. As soon as the pack was set down I did a 300 foot circle survey of the area. My shelter I'm not allowed to give a full picture of but, I can tell you it is a three sided open air structure with a porch and sleeping cots. It is very well made to stand the test of time. The camp fire place is about ten feet from the edge of the porch surrounded by large stones. A little earlier I had brought up by OHV firewood and water and cached them on site. Part of my agreement was not to tear the place up. So chopping firewood would not be ideal. I was on top of one of the tallest ridges in the area. It was all downhill after walking 100 feet in almost every direction. Defensible.

     I treated the time like I was in an area I was not welcome and kept my carbine on my back and my pistol on my side. I had not worn a rifle this long since I worked in Afghanistan along the Iranian border. I treated where I'm at with the same paranoia.

     Setting up security was just a test to see if it even worked. I brought with me a roll of 30 pound test fishing line and a bag full of jingle bells (Ho Ho Ho.) On the accessible areas I placed the lines at shin level and had strung the bells on it. It was not going to stop anything. However, it would give someone a moment of confusion when they are tangled up in it making some noise. For animals it would just cause an aggravation. If the line was crossed during the night it would give me the two or three seconds needed to get to my handgun or carbine.

     This area was also a test bed for an electrical setup my brother put together for me. On the roof of my shelter I put a RV outdoor solar panel that had about 15 feet of chord that was run to a small car booster pack. It isn't much but it powered my led lighting, recharged my tablet, and phone. Believe it or not I had 4G cell service at the top of the site. The booster pack was attached to a 120V inverter. In theory I could have run my laptop for a while on it. I was just happy to have some communication to the outside world with the setup.

     About and hour before dark was on the way I began to start my camp fire. I made sure all my materials were together starting with some dryer lint and a ferrocerium rod. The humid air made everything hard to start. But, I managed to get it going. Within fifteen minutes I had a good roaring fire with a sense of gratification.

      One of the gizmos I brought with me was a BioLite stove. It uses a thermoelectric probe in the fire chamber to generate electricity that you can access through a USB port in the front of the module. Using sticks no bigger than your finger and coals from my camp fire it is fairly easy to use. Once the fire is started you switch the module on and the internal fan kicks in forcing air into the chamber. This in turns makes the fire burn much hotter. Once the internal battery has been charged the indicator light will turn green letting you know that you can plug something into the USB outlet. Using a multiple USB hub I was able to charge my tablet and my phone. As long as the fire is fed the power will keep coming. I managed to cook a nice dinner of brown rice and added some canned chicken and gravy. This is easy to use if you want to a keep a smaller thermal signature than a camp fire or use it when you are on the road. For an extra 50 bucks there is an attachable grill. This stove was best emergency piece of equipment next to a knife I could have gotten my hands on.

      With dinner dishes finished, I checked work email and prepared for sleep. I set Gretchen (my Carbine) next to me, I listened to the fire crackle till I passed out from exhaustion.


                               Continued on: Training in the hills Day 2: Not in my comfort zone

Club Etthica Part 1

    This theme for club Etthica and the story was derived from a short I wrote in one of my notebooks over 12 years ago. The main character is the mix of several folks I know and the others are based off people I have met in my life from so long ago. I just updated some of the techniques the characters used to the 21st century and added a few extra elements. However, the tone, theme ,and story line do remain the same.
________________________________________________________________________________



      Melvin Small was in the back alley of an old office building near 5th Street downtown. He wasn't alone. A small line of well dressed people had formed at the only door in the alley with a neon red sign saying only the name Etthica.

     Melvin had been in the club several times before on business of a professional level always. As much as he worked he never had time to make the visit personal. If he ever got the chance he may someday take a nice girl to this place of sin. Just, not at the moment. The owner of the bar, Ms. Savage had a huge crush on Melvin since he had been using the club as a private meeting spot for clients. The huge noise and crowds usually obscured any professional activity. Not that he was doing anything illegal. Just that his clients liked a little anonymity.

     For meeting his clients Melvin was wearing his Sunday best. Two piece black tailored suit with ash gray open collared button up shirt. Under it a level IIA ballistic vest custom cut to look like all he wore was an undershirt. On his left wrist was a black on black Suunto Core. On his right was a woven sage para-cord bracelet he had made while he was overseas. His black boots had a mirror polish on them that anyone could see their reflection in. The belt was a thick black leather range officer's belt that could hold what could not be seen under the jacket. Attached to his belt were several items. On his right hand side about at the three o'clock position was a Zero Concealment Systems black Kydex inside the pants holster. It held his Redrup Custom Shop Glock 19 loaded with Dr. Packett's nastiest Love Potion #9 in plus P. Three spare magazines were in the same ZCS brand holder at his nine o'clock under his left arm.  A Sig Sauer P238 Scorpion with the same custom loads in an ankle holster. His left hip pocket held his keys and a SureFire Backup 200 lumen fighting light. His right pocket a Emerson Karambit combat folder sharpened to a razors edge along with his favorite Zippo lighter given to him by a Chief of Police from a small town he lived in years ago.

     He wore all of this without have to worry about getting checked at the door or at the gate. If you were a VIP, and Melvin was, you would be given a password. A different one every week. This password kept you from getting frisked at the door and at the gate and allowed you to go to the front of the line with an unlimited bar tab for clients. Only six such people enjoyed such a privilege for a yearly fee. He was paid three years in advance in case of slow times. Right now the door was being manned by a six foot five inch Samoan dressed in all black who Melvin remembered was a former MMA fighter and Navy Master at Arms. Very polite when you got him off the clock and sat down with drinking a beer. However, at that door he was a no nonsense machine. He had already turned two couples down ahead of Melvin in line for drugs and weapons. Ms. Savage had a zero tolerance narcotics policy. Weapons were allowed but just to a select few who she knew was responsible enough not to cause trouble.

     It was his turn next in the line. He could see up close that the doorman had been at the gym very often and towered above Melvin by a good eight inches. If he had to ever fight him he would have be dirty as hell to beat him before getting hurt himself. Off course he always fought dirty. Time is money and the longer you took gives someone better odds of getting lucky. However, Melvin smiled and waited to be acknowledged. The dark Samoan looked up from his Ipad VIP list not giving one hint that he knew him. 

     "Password?" the doorman asked.

     Melvin looked him in the eyes. And knew the answer immediately.

     "English," Melvin replied.

     The dark doorman checked his tablet over the weeks passwords and nodded.

     "Your table has been reserved. However, your guests that you reserved it for have not arrived yet. Ms. Savage would like to see you once you come in. She will be at the bar she and I'll text her that you have arrived."

     With saying that he ushered Melvin into the door and down a fifteen foot hallway. He did know that buried in the walls was a scanner that looked for contraband. The latest technology that the owner had "borrowed" from the Department of Homeland Security and Transportation Safety Authority. They were not going to miss it anytime soon from what Melvin understood. He also understood at the end of this hallway was four heavily armed and skilled former Army Rangers waiting for him if he had gotten anything he was not supposed to have that far. The hallway was well lit for security's sake. There was no way to go except in or out. A smart person would not want to get into a shoot out in this narrow corridor. He made his way to the end of the hall and found himself in a small plexiglass cage with four yet again huge men. Two sporting what looked like SCAR 16's that have been severely customized. They all knew Melvin. However, the supervisor asked for the password a second time which Melvin happily gave. Once that was done he could hear two distinct "clicks" of selector levers on carbines going back on safe.

     When the sentry opened the plexiglass door Melvin winced a little at how loud the music was. He knew the Disk Jockey "Spleen" very well. Tonight seemed to be a Techo kind of night for him. He could see him on the balcony in the back of the club dancing to the beat of the music as he looked for the next song on his laptop. Purple was the color of the day for his hair as he changed it almost nightly. He like to dress in S&M garb with an assortment of spiked jewelry. Melvin debated with himself on just how he managed to have a few women hanging off him every night. This night there were two of them again sitting in lounge chairs off behind them in their own S&M costumes. He put the thought out of his head as he took in the scene.

     The club itself was one huge red carpeted room with smaller "VIP booths" situated in the corners for customers to have more privacy with the dancers. In the center was a large circular stage that had four poles that ran from floor to ceiling. On each one was a dancer in some stage of being undressed. On top of the tips that they were allowed to keep Ms. Savage paid them all well so they did not have to "moonlight" to make ends meet. No "working girls" were allowed.

     Scattered around the club were several plexiglass cases filled with ancient swords, knives, and daggers. Two of the cases were filled with snakes of different species. Two of those Melvin recognized as poisonous. Somehow the owner managed to dot the floor with several in ground pots filled with tropical plants from afar. Sun lamps above them provided some of the much needed nourishment. It gave the area a feel and smell of being in a jungle of sorts.

     Off to the side of the stage was the full length bar bar tended by the girls who were not dancing right away. Their outfits revealed just enough to keep the mind curious and come back for a second or third drink. The bar itself was made of ballistic plexiglass and filled with water and tropical fish. Not really seen anywhere else. At the very corner of the bar to the right of Melvin was the owner, Ms. Savage. At five feet even she was a short but plump woman who had always had a love for the finer things in life. She wore a black strapless dress that pushed up her cleavage almost to her neck. She knew Melvin would be here tonight and she had dressed up. However, he had no interest.

     He made his way over to her taking note of the people and of the surrounding to see if anything was out of character for the scene. So far, nothing had caught his attention.

See Part 2

Training in the hills Day 1 Part 1: Oscar Mike

Author and Gretchen headed to camp

     Most think of me as a nerd and a city type kid who can shoot really well while fixing your computer. In most respects they are correct. However, you can do all that and still be able to function outside. 95% of the time my job is outside and hardly ever inside a building. I'm in a car a lot but, I'm also in the elements a lot. I was going to take this weekend as a personal challenge. How can I teach anyone something hard if I have not done it myself. By no means fun.

     A while ago I believed that my training was lacking in the area of outdoor weapons use and working in the wilderness. I have gotten training and guidance from different sources on different subjects over the years of my life. However, I have never put them all together. This was attempted once before in 2009 and my health took a nasty turn. Once I found out what the problem was, and corrected it, I was good to go.

     One of the objectives was to spend three days and two nights out of doors away from civilization on property belonging to a good friend and work on skills that would be used in a Bug Out scenario in the short term sense. An example would be if I had to travel for three days on foot to my objective going through the hills. Could I do it? I would have no help from the outside world. Only relying on what was on my back or had pre-staged as a cache.

USMC ILBE and author's patrol carbine

     The second objective was to practice my rifle work in a wooded setting with high humidity and heat as well as shooting from high and low angles from unknown distances. I wanted to test my rifle setup to make sure it would perform the jobs I wanted it to. Humidy and sweat causes rust and breaks down some lubricants. I was running my Bushmaster XM-15 (aka "Gretchen") with a Trijicon ACOG 4x32 with a flash hider for distance with an offset Aimpoint H-1 micro for 50 yards and in, Troy TRX 15" Alpha rail, Magpul furniture, and surefire light. For training I used XM193. To use for defense and anything that wanted to do me harm I had 5.56mm MK255 in five Pmags that I carried in a chest rig with a Glock 19 in a SERPA hoslter. No body armor this trip. I brought one ProMag 42 round magazine that I had received from a friend for evaluation.To keep my presence as Q-word as possible I kept a Advanced Armament M4 2000 suppressor on the muzzle. Someone could hear the sonic crack but not where the shot came from. It kept my training discreet.

     Keeping Gretchen (my patrol carbine) running smooth I have used FrogLube. The funny thing is that I did not start this trip with a clean gun. I had ran two other range sessions suppressed (the dirtiest way to go) and as fast as I can run the gun. So the internals were already caked up with gunk before the party even began. I have used FrogLube now as an evaluation for about a year. I've ran my guns for at least three training sessions or classes at a time before a cleaning. I have had NO malfunctions due to lubrication in these weapons. Think of this product as seasoning your frying pan. Once it is in the metal you don't have to worry about it. Getting the gear home and cleaning it was very very easy.

     I brought with me a bunch of techie type gear to evaluate for the stay. First one was a Suunto Ambit to keep track of my progress by way of GPS and several other sensors inside the wrist computer. It will keep track of my location, altitude, rate of speed, distance traveled, and average pace. All of this data is downloadable to any computer or the internet. When I looked at my progress I knew I was a slow poke. But, not as slow as 2009. I'll talk about my other gear later that weighted me down.

     Most of my burden would be contained in a USMC ILBE pack that had come from my business partner Mr. Vargas. I found this pack very handy and distributed the weight pretty well. I loaded four days worth of food, two sources of water, gizmos, training ammunition, hygiene items, Cold Steel pipe hawk, cold steel Kukri machete, sleeping bag, Frogg Toggs, TCCC kit, fire starting gear, TP (duh,) , a secondary smaller pack for day 2, and spare changes of clothes. Almost all of this was in complemented waterproof bags that you can pick up at your local WalMart. I did this so that I did not have gear strewn all over the place and I only grabbed the bag I needed at the time. That way if you need to leave in a hurry you don't have to put all your lose stuff in the ruck. You may only have a few minutes to split.

     On a side note the day before the trip I pre-treated all of my shirts, pants, and boot tops with Repel Permanone and allowed it to dry overnight.  This is to keep ticks and fleas off of me when I'm going through the brush. On my skin I used Off Deep Woods spray. After three days outside I went home and stripped down. (I know that was a great mental image) and did not find one flea or tick attached. When I worked for the local Sheriff's Department I would treat my uniforms because more often than not I would have to track a runner or find stolen property in the woods. I took that tip from a close friend of mine that does Heat and Air conditioning service. He is outside even more than me. Lyme disease is soooooooo overrated.

GPS mapping from author's Suunto Ambit

     The private property I would be working on is owned by a good friend of mine who shall remain nameless and the location a secret. It consists of old logging roads, thick vegetation, heavily wooded, steep inclines, high enough ridges, and slippery slopes that make my day more than entertaining. On the property, in the middle of the mess is a small shelter which will be my rest station and sleeping area for the duration of my stay. It is a open style shelter that only shielded me from the rain and gave me some protection from other problems that may arise. Cached there was water and firewood seeing that there were no sources of water on the property. The map says there is a creek but, upon inspection, it had dried up.

     To add a bit of realism I had literally not slept in over 26 hours. So I was already in a wonderful mood. I had worked my regular night shift job, got off duty, went home, prepped my gear, loaded up the kid and equipment and headed on my way. I figured if I needed to go Oscar Mike it would  happen at the worst possible time with the least amount of rest. Around 1500, (3:00 pm for y'all) after taking my oldest daughter to her grandparents I parked my truck in between what I call ranges 1 and 2 on the main access road. I first put on my chest rig that contained my four spare magazines of Mk 255, two magazines for my glock 19 that was in the SERPA holster, a Cold Steel SRK, Gerber Multi tool, and several flexicuffs (don't ask.) I then put on my ILBE, and slung Gretchen in two point sling mode on my person. I weighed myself at the hacienda fully loaded and weighted down at 340 pounds. Ouch.

     The whole trip took just under 30 minutes to travel uphill gradually for 1.1 miles. Yes that is an absolutely HORRIBLE pace to make. But for my first ruck march I'll have to take it. Part of that time was pauses to stop, check my surroundings, make sure I was not being followed by anything, and hydrate. I was supposed to be running this like I was in an unfriendly place. My rifle stayed at low ready and I attempted to make as little noise as possible keeping 360 degree awareness.

Movescount is a web based service for the Suunto Ambit that tracks your travel and adventure data.

     I found myself absolutely soaked by the heat and humidity during my ascent. During this trip hydration was paramount. If I was to fall out for dehydrated or by getting injured from something that I could not fix on site, some poor soul was gonna have to get their off road vehicle and CASEVAC my ass out. You could not get a ambulance to where I was at.The Rocky desert boots I had selected for this trip did the job well. They had already been broken in and my feet hardly hurt at all by the end of the trip. I was going to wear my Vibram FiveFingers but, talked myself out of it. The way up to the top of the ridge was not a straight up hike. The trail had several turns to it most of the time going at a steady grade up. I had to watch where I put my feet seeing most of the trail had deep enough gullies washed out in it and I was right in snake country. I never saw any. Not that I mind snakes. I don't like Pit Bulls personally as well as the occasional bad tempered Chow. I won't lie. The trip up sucked. Not Indian runs at the police academy suck. A suck none the less.

     Continued on Training in the hills Day 1 Part 2: Arrive on scene