“Damn it to hell!” Deputy Dan Jefferies of the Inyo County Sheriff’s office muttered to himself. Turning around he looked over to where his partner Sam Baker was examining the damage to the road leading out of Barstow towards Ft. Irwin National Training Center. “Did you hear from the Constabulary Commander yet?”
“Well yes and no…”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Yes and no?”
“He said, and I quote, “M1A1 Abrams tanks do not just drive off the reservation and make a goody run to the Bun Boy in Barstow, California. And are we sure it is tank treads and not a civilian dozer tracks?”-End of quote.”
“Funny, thing that Sam. I followed those tracks back to a section of fence on their reservation. You can see the tank tracks coming from and returning to.”
“I know… we both served in the Army. I talked to the late night managers at the Mad Greek and Bun Boy. They both said the same thing. It sounded like rumbling noise they both could feel in their feet. Then it stopped. They and their workers thought it might have been an earth quake. Bun Boy’s manager stated, “Four of the scruffiest, dirtiest looking soldiers she has ever seen came walking into the restaurant.” In fact she said, they were so covered with dirt, they looked like Raccoons. The only clean spot on them was where it looked like their dust goggles had covered up their eyes.-She also stated that they said, that they had not been re-supplied in a week. They were starving. Nick Scropolous over at the Mad Greek, said pretty much the same thing. Except they ordered everything on the menu and they mentioned something about having to feed an entire platoon.”
Jefferies began rubbing the back of his neck. He turned his head sideways and said, “I think this is going to go down in the annals of goody runs as epic in nature.”
“If it wasn’t for the fact the road is tore up and going to need CALTRANS loving ministrations… I have to admire the American Fighting Man.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean look they were hungry. Out of MREs and apparently in desperate need of rations. Got to hand it to some unknown 20 something soldier, feeding his initiative and his stomach all at the same time. Do you really want to track these guys down and have the MP’s throw em in the stockade, for the sin of starving?”
Several long minutes passed, with both deputies standing next to their cruiser, looking at double rows of chewed up asphalt trying to sum up the events in their minds.
“Naaw! Screw em! Must have been that construction crew that came through here yesterday…!”
“That’s what I am going to put in my report.”
The End
DS Baker
