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Cold Camp by TimJ ??????
Another Military type shoot em up story by TimJ ?????????
Table of contents and chapter 1 review here
good read, flow good, text formating bad but the file was orginally in a pdf format. I can not read the pdf format on my pda. something wrong with my pdf reader. I convert the pdf to text and then load it on my hand helt pda cell phone. The only way to go. I can read every where and do not have to carry a book.
I recommend Cold Camp for the readers here.
I will attempt to find the site I got this story from and will post a link at a later date.
Cold Camp by TimJ
Table of contents
Chapter 1 - Breaking Camp
Chapter 2 - Preparation
Chapter 3 - Prearranged code
Chapter 4 - Beginnings
Chapter 5 - The Crisis
Chapter 6 – Where Mortal Men Fear Tread
Chapter 7 – Checkpoint Charlie
Chapter 8 – Escape And Evasion
Chapter 9 – Refugees
Chapter 10 – Redemption
Chapter 11 - Responsible for their safety
Chapter 12 - He saw white light
Chapter 13 - Fluorescent orange
Chapter 14 - Why would we let them have ideas
Chapter 15 - The fire fight is on
Chapter 16 - A hasty ambush
Chapter 17 - The ambush team
Chapter 18 - Armor piercing
Chapter 19 - Training local groups
Chapter 20 - With better equipment
Chapter 21 - Tell me about that Sam
Chapter 22 - Winter Doldrums
Chapter 23 - Does anyone see that .50 cal
Chapter 24 - Direct 2.75 inch rocket hits
Chapter 25 - Live Free or Kill Germans Forever
Chapter 1 - Breaking Camp
He broke camp at sunset, packing his gear into his Kelty pack, everything going back
where it had come from. He was comfortable with the routine of the act; it gave him a
feeling that some things were consistent, and hope that some things would remain so.
After packing, he pulled the camouflage cover over the pack, securing it at the top and
bottom so that an errant tree branch wouldn’t pull it off at the wrong time. Shrugging on
his Blackhawk chest pouch he picked up the pack by the sides and lifting it over his head,
settling it onto his shoulders. He jumped up and down to get the pack just so, and buckled
the waist belt, pulling it just a little tighter. He wondered to himself how much more
weight he was going to lose. Not that it was a bad thing. His trek so far was burning the
soft life off of him 1 pound at a time, and every day he felt both younger and much, much
He picked up his rifle, and draped the sling over his shoulder and neck. He set out
cautiously, stopping every few minutes to listen to the sounds of the forest. So far so
good. Just birds saying good night to the sun, and the last few crickets of the season
looking for love in the twilight. As the fading light turned the world from Technicolor to
gray and black, he paused for moment to look up at the darkening sky. The stars were
much brighter now that there were virtually no electric lights to blind suburban man to
the wonders of the universe.
Well, he thought, we really were a short footstep from the dark ages. Continuing on, he
consulted his USGI tritium compass every so often, and adjusted his course as he needed
to. After moving a click and a half, he again stopped, and removed his canteen from his
hip belt. He took a long pull of the tepid water, and swallowed. He stowed the canteen
and moved forward, even more slowly than before, using every bit of his somewhat rusty
skills to make as little noise as possible.
After two hours and then some he saw a break in the trees, marked only by a band of
twinkling stars through the leaves. He stopped and took a knee, loosening his right pack
strap and unbuckling the waist belt of his pack. Rolling his shoulder, he shifted the
weight of the pack to his left, and slid it to the ground at his left heel. He then dropped to
the prone position, pointing his rifle at the road that lay 20 meters to his front.
Shivering slightly as the chill of the night crept up on him, he listened for activity on the
roadway. The sound of a motor, a cough, muffled voices, a radio breaking squelch, the
distinctive whir of the thermal sight of a TOW launcher mounted on a Humvee. After a
half hour of hearing what he wanted-nothing-he again rose to one knee and adjusted his
left shoulder strap, then replaced the pack on his back. The cold sweat on his t-shirt made
him colder still as the pack resettled on his spine. Pulling the straps tight he left the waist
strap unbuckled in case he needed to dump the pack in a hurry. He slowly made his way
to the edge of the brush that lined the two lane state highway in front of him, and
promptly walked into a rusty wire fence. “Damnation” he hissed. The rusty fence was put
there by the state to keep random and easily deterred trespassers from despoiling the
wood surrounding the reservoir where he had refilled his canteens and spent the day. He
felt the wire with his bare left hand, and determined that it was thin enough. Reaching
into the left accessory pocket of his chest rig he pulled out his trusty Leatherman Tool
and unfolded it. Cutting carefully, with his attention still focused mainly on listening for
the sounds of approaching danger, he clipped the wire in two areas, about 30 inches apart,
and down four layers of wire. Re-stowing his Leatherman he pulled the wire towards him,
and folded the cut area down. He quickly crossed the fence, and turning, pulled the wire
back into place, as best he could by touch. He turned to the road and took a knee, looking
both left and right for signs of approaching vehicles, or something or someone waiting
quietly on the shoulder. Seeing and hearing nothing but normal night sounds, he quickly
rose and darted across the road, his pack thumping against his back with every step, his
rifle held at high port in both hands. Reaching the far side of the road, he crashed through
the first row of pucker brush that is so common on roadsides, and stopped. He flopped to
the prone, and peered over his rifle at his back trail. After several minutes of listening to
his heart return to a normal rhythm, he stood and buckled his belt, turned on one heel, and
moved slowly and deliberately through the woods, keeping the highway, as best he could,
200 meters to his left.
He again made camp in a wood. It wouldn’t be dawn for a few more hours, but according
to his map this was the last significant patch of undeveloped land on his route for about
10 miles. And between that patch of land and this was the Turnpike, eight lanes of
potential danger. He had several miles of semi rural land to cross, and at least two of
suburban tract houses to pass safely through. He ate a cold MRE beef stew, and dug a
small cathole to take care of other matters. He buried both his waste and MRE packet in
the same hole. He had stopped outside of a dense stand of Oak trees growing from a wild
pile of bracken and vines. He risked a brief red filtered search with his LED flashlight,
and found what he was looking for in a few moments. On hands and knees he followed
the small game trail into the thicket, wriggling on his belly when his pack hung up on the
dense vegetation. Reaching the clear spot at the base of the three oaks, he listened tensely
for a few minutes. He then took off pack and removed the cover. Rolling out his ensolite
ground pad, he unrolled his sleeping bag and laid his poncho over it. Fishing around in
the outside pocket of his pack he removed a small bundle of green bungee cords and
quickly assembled a low poncho hooch over his bed. He removed a pair of socks from
the pocket and threw them onto his sleeping bag. He then sprinkled dried leaves over the
top of the poncho, and quickly crawled back down the game trail. He then covered the
trail as best he could in the dark in an effort to disguise his path. Reaching his hooch, he
again covered his pack with the cover. After listening to the sounds of the night and
detecting no apparent threat, he removed his chest pouch and laid it next to the sleeping
bag, and placed his rifle on top of that. He removed his boots and socks, and put the
socks in the bag. Dusting his feet with foot powder, he pulled on a pair of dirty but dry
socks, crawled into his bag, and drifted off to a fitful sleep.
chapter 1 of Cold Camp
I've been working on an edited version , but time and life are interfering. The link above is still valid, though, I'm glad you've enjoyed the story!
I can't believe this guy Dave.
Firsly he's a war criminal. Starting a battle when on tour in direct voliation of his Rules of Engagement.
Secondly a murderer. He kills the three ASIF peace keepers, who were invited into the country by the legally elected government, he kills them in cold blood!
Dave and his group of domestic terrorists time and time again ignore the laws of the democratically elected government just because they don't like them and call *themselves* patriots while they murder everyone who doesn't agree with their minority view!
If they think the government is in violation of the constitution they should take it to the supreme court, that's how democracy works.
Yes I'm serious.
When Dave and his crew were in the foreign country as peace keepers they felt justified in being there.
Yet when the ASIF forces are invited into the US Dave and crew feel they have been invaded.
They torture their prisoners for information and then expect that if they're caught the Geneva concention will apply.
I can disagree with a person but respect their position but the double standards of these guys are staggering.
Last edited by Skvez; 12-21-2010 at 08:03 AM.. Reason: typo
Peacekeepers were protecting the innocent. Dave and his men were protecting women and children in the African nation they were deployed to. ISAF forces in America were there to exploit and occupy, the elected government having sold out literally and figuratively... they were not invited for humanitarian reasons. Even my five year old can see the difference. But he isn't a moral relativist, he's too smart.
I'm not sure where I implied or intimated that they expected to be treated as POWs...recall the hikers that were killed by the troops that Dave's friends dealt with....
Of course, it's fiction.....
Thank you for your strory I read it with great interest a while ago.
I hope to not derail your thread but this got my dander up.
As for Skves well everyone has a opinion and mine is that any troops coming to this country invited or not would be bad for all.
UN troops face child abuse claims
UN-backed troops raping and killing in Congo
Just the top 2 examples from google.
Welcome to the forum newbie.
Great story--I mean an absolutely great story.
It was exceptionally realistic.....
And what was it from Herr OberStrum Fuhrer ?
Not getting enough Bosco in his Milk? (Or Crystal Meth up his...?)
Don't sweat it.
By the way, do you have any other complete stories floating around out there?