KaBar2

Which brings us back to LOGISTICS. It is a wise idea to arm yourself with the exact same weapon that the Government uses. Soldiers being who they are, you'll always be able to score a few magazines of rounds for something to smoke or drink. I think half the PRC-25 radios carried by the NLF in Vietnam came straight from the black market for stolen military equipment in Da Nang. In regards to a sustainable energy house, if you are the only guy with lights in a neighborhood full of pissed-off, hungry, thirsty people who refused to prepare for disaster, how long do you suppose it will be before some entitled asshole shows up at your front door with his family and starts demanding food and a place to sleep? If you give in to even one guy, "your" food now becomes "our" food. During Hurricane Andrew in Florida, some people went THREE WEEKS with no power, no city water, no food supplies and no cops. They were barricading their streets with debris and mounting armed citizen's defense patrols for WEEKS before the cops showed up. Don't you remember the photographs of the spray-painted, 4x8 plywood signs--"LOOTERS WILL BE SHOT!" from Hurricane Andrew? And then when "help" arrived, the camps of the itinerant, out-of-state construction workers were more violent and anarchic than Dodge City. The cops just sealed them off at night and listened to all the drunken carousing and gunfire. "Two-legged predators," remember?

Good advice, I agree. The U.S. went with 5.56mm so that the troops in Vietnam could carry more rounds in a combat load of the same weight. The enemy in Vietnam was not wearing body armor, combat was generally not in built-up areas, and the combat ranges were pretty short, so 5.56mm seemed like a good idea. However--after having fired and repaired a zillion M16's in the Marine Corps, I am not a fan of the 5.56mm. 7.62mm NATO is a MUCH more substantial round. Longer range, much more accurate, especially in inclement weather, MUCH better penetration through obstacles. In urban warfare, the big disadvantage of the 7.62mm NATO is that most of the rifles that shoot it are full battle rifles, so they are kind of long and somewhat awkward. I wish the U.S. military would adopt a cartridge closer to the 6.8mm or the 7.62x39mm rounds. The 5.56mm is too light, and the M16/M4 is nothing but a "poodle shooter." It is too delicate and too insubstantial to suit me. The fucking M16 will break if you just look at it too hard. That's no combat rifle.

Actually, I agree with you. Detachable box magazines are great, but the SKS was designed to have a 10-round semi-detachable magazine. It was the Soviet answer to the U.S. M1 Garand. We had many members of the Texas militia who could not afford an AR-15 or a MAK-90, and who chose to buy one of the shorter, "paratrooper" SKS rifles, which has a 16" barrel, rather than the full-length standard barrel. Since bayonets are not too useful, and they add weight, these guys usually dismounted the folding bayonet on their Paratrooper SKS. The SKS is loaded with 10-round stripper clips. These guys normally carried a shoulder bag full of full stripper clips, and could mount a sustained rate of fire only slightly less effective than someone shooting an MAK-90. The other group that trained with SKS's were teenaged volunteers. Many militia members had purchased extra rifles (at $99 apiece, they were very affordable in 1994-95) and cases of steel-cased Chinese 7.62x39mm ammunition. When we had a teenaged visitor who did not own his own rifle (many of them already owned a deer rifle or a shotgun) we usually loaned him an SKS. The only drawback that I could see was that the 7.62x39mm blank ammunition was extremely loud, and it disturbed nearby neighbors of our training area. The 5.56mm blanks were much quieter. We used Canadian "theatrical" 5.56mm blanks, they are a lot louder than U.S. military blanks, but still not as loud as the 7.62x39mm blanks. The other main drawback of firearms not chambered for "NATO" cartridges is ammunition supply. In a genuine disaster, eventually ammunition is going to begin to dry up. Weapons chambered for U.S. military cartridges (5.56mm, 7.62mm NATO and 9mm Parabellum) are always going to be easier to supply with ammunition than weapons chambered for cartridges in service with foreign nations. If I lived in Russia, I would be advocating we all buy rifles chambered for the CURRENT Russian Army cartridge, the 5.45x39mm round. The Russians developed this cartridge during the early 1970's as an answer to the U.S. 5.56mm, and in 1974 they introduced a new rifle to go along with it, the AK-74. 7.62x39mm is an outdated cartridge in Russia, and the AK-47 is only in service with third-line reserve units (sort of like the U.S. National Guard.) The 5.45X39mm is very similar to the 5.56mm.

Goon---I don't know much about swordmaking or the type of steel from which swords are made. A "Damascus twist" barrel is actually made out of a type of high carbon wire, I think, which is forged around a mandrel and hammered one way or another until it is "forge welded" together, I think. These shotgun barrels were for shotguns that fired BLACK POWDER shells, much, much less powerful than modern smokeless powder shells. Since the .410 wasn't invented until quite a time after the era of black powder cartridges, I would be astounded if anybody turned up a Damascus-twist-barrelled .410 shotgun. At least, that's what I think. The problem with Damascus twist barrels is that they are made from a type of iron, rather than steel. How this relates to Damascus steel swords, I have no idea. One of you young sword fanciers, please give us a clue. My inclination is to think that despite the similarity in name, the two steels are not the same at all.

I'm no nuke war expert, but I have read about five or six books about it. Bruce Clayton made an extensive research of the subject, and he estimates that there is virtually a certainty that one will occur eventually, but that the guessitmated risk in any particular year is about one-out-of-fifty (2%.) However, if the risk is one out of fifty (this figure is arguable of course) that means that there is a 78% chance FOR nuclear war within the span of the average person's lifetime. Probability of Consectutive Years of Peace YEARS--------------------% of PROBABILITY 1.........................................98 5.........................................90 10........................................81 25........................................60 50........................................36 75........................................22 I'm 54. The last nuclear bomb dropped was in 1945. It kind of looks like we might be due for another one. But I'm not very well versed in statistics and probabilities, so I really don't know. It's a sobering thought, though. It's at least worth considering. Clayton's book covers just about every possible detail of every possible catastrophe. Nuclear war is just one of a host of hazards. One thing I noted. If you were holed up in a fallout shelter, and someone needs to go out, send the oldest people, because the cumulative effects of radiation exposure take 15-25 years to develop, So if a 60-year old goes out and gets exposed, he probably won't develop cancer until he's 80, IF he makes it that far. But a child would develop it in his mid thirties, the prime of adult life. Dosimeters are valuable, and pretty inexpensive. You can get a government surplus Civil Defense Geiger counter for about $200-250. I know survivalists in California who buy and sell them sort of underground. One guy has about five or six on hand all the time. If you frequent some survivalist websites, eventually you'll get good sources for equipment. Try Edmund Scientific, Nuclear Associates, Inc., Allied Health Physics, Eberline Instrument Co., and Dosimeter Corporation of America. These are old sources, but they might still be good. There are a lot of different Field Protective Masks (gas masks) available. The model I was issued in the Marines, the M17A1 is very outdated now, so they are getting cheaper and cheaper. It's still a good mask, but the parts and FILTERS for it are getting hard to find. NBC gas mask filters are not good forever. They wear out after a few days of continuous use in an NBC environment. One of the biggest drawbacks of the U.S. M17A1 and the German M10 (very similar) is that the troops in the field cannot change the two internal filters in the old M17A1 without taking the mask OFF. (Duh, like what idiot designed this thing?) The modern NATO-compatible gas masks allow you to unscrew the external filter and replace it without taking the mask off. They are much more expensive, but if you think you will ever really need a gas mask, DON'T GO THE CHEAP ROUTE. Buying a cheap gas mask is like buying cheap climbing rope. If you really need it, you are going to regret not going first class. If you buy a new U.S. military mask, buy several extra filters for it, and specify that you want NBC combat filters, not "training filters" meant to handle CS gas only. In a real NBC environment, a mask alone is not sufficient, you'll also need what is called an NBC suit, or "MOPP" gear. These are heavy, hot chemical suits impregnated with activated charcoal insulation, big, black rubber NBC gloves and rubber NBC boots designed to fit over military combat boots. The whole get-up is EXTREMELY hot and awkward and uncomfortable to wear. They made us train in the summer wearing all that shit and it nearly killed us all from heat stroke. But I guess hot and sweaty beats "dead from fucking nerve gas and VX."

Villian---The U.S. government tracks every submarine in the world 24-7/ 365. Of course they would know who owned it, and most likely would counterattack "the usual suspects" even if they were not 100% sure of who launched it. Nuclear war is a very real danger and we've come way too close for comfort over 20 times since 1945. The most recent close call that I'm aware of was in 1983, I think. It was a computer screw-up. That error was the basis for the movie "War Games," although in real life, of course, it did not involve a young hacker, but just some doofus computer programmer who screwed up and somehow allowed a war games projection to leak into the early warning system. The point is, it COULD happen here. This is not any new development, it has been this way for over fifty years. I live in Houston, the petro-chemical center of the Gulf Coast. If the SHTF, I doubt I will have any concerns about survival because I will probably be vaporized into radioactive molecules. However, millions of people would survive a nuclear exchange, and for those people, survival preparations would be extremely important. Nuke war is not the only consideration, by far. It's just the worst one. There are a bunch of books on these subjects. One of the best is called "Life After Doomsday," by Bruce D. Clayton, Ph.D. It's about what to do in a real nuclear war and it's aftermath, and how to REALISTICALLY prepare for it. Since the nation is at war, it might not be a bad idea to read it. Ownership of things like Geiger counters, gas masks and NBC suits may be a little extreme, but you won't think so if TSHTF.

tsuifuku--- The M91/30 Moisin-Nagant rifle is probably one of the best deals on the market right now. There is a shorter, handier version too, called the M44, which shoots the same cartridge. The 7.62x54R is a big, full-power rifle cartridge. Nothing "small" about it, except it's current price. It's in the same class as the British .303, the 8mm Mauser and the US .30-'06. These cartridges were designed for WWI conditions, long range, trench warfare. The 7.62x54R is a "thirty caliber" cartridge. (The US 7.62mm NATO uses a projectile of approximately the same diameter.) The NHM-91 did originally come with a thumbhole stock. I have seen several that have had the thumbhole stock replaced with an RPK stock kit, and a sufficient number of Chinese parts replaced with American-manufactured parts to render it legally an "American manufactured" assault rifle. "U.S. manufactured" assault rifles were subject to a different set of standards than "foreign manufactured." Happily, all that shit is in the past, since George W. refused to sign a renewal of the Assault Weapons Ban. RUN, do not walk! straight to a gun store and buy as many unencumbered assault rifles as you can afford, LOL. For my money, I'd go with one of the semi-auto 7.62x39mm Yugoslavian SKS's. They cost about $100 wholesale. You can get a used one for as low as $89. The ammo is dirt cheap too. There are a number of other "semi-auto belt feds." There are semi-auto versions of the .50 M2 HB, if you've got the $$$. There are both 7.62mm NATO and 8mm Mauser versions of the German WWII MG38 and MG42. There are semi-auto versions of both the RPK and the RPD. I've heard rumors of a semi-auto RP, but never seen one. "Survivalism" is really more about being able to supply yourself with the basics of life: clean water, stored food, medicene, transportations, etc. Defense is probably only a very small part of it. However, I have heard many supposed liberals say that they saw no need to go buy a 4x4, if there was a survival situation they would just go down to Land Rover and steal one. What can I say? Some people just don't get it. Survival skills do involve shooting and marksmanship, but they also involve vegetable gardening, well-digging, bicycle maintenance and so forth. "Living off the land" is a complete fantasy. Just imagine 280 million people all trying to "live off the land." Not a chance. And take my word for it, people out in rural areas will NOT welcome hundreds of city slickers intending to squat on their land. I figure any survival shooting I do will be at the two-legged kind of varmints. I store ammunition ONLY in sealed military surplus ammo cans. They aren't fireproof, but they are probably fire-resistant unless they are right in the flames. Got guns? BUY A GUN SAFE.

The military can opener's nickname is "P-38," because back during WWII, the Army Air Corps had a pursuit aircraft called the P-38 "Lightning." The P-38's main use was against tanks, and the troops called it "The Can Opener." It had an automatic cannon in the nose that shot holes in enemy tanks very well. When the Army introduced it's nifty little can openers, designed to be worn on one's dog-tags, the troops wryly nicknamed it the "P-38," after the tank-busting aircraft. During Vietnam, the troops called this same can opener a "John Wayne." A shotgun is a rather low-pressure firearm. It would have to be VERY old to be dangerous. There was once a common type of steel used in shotguns called "Damascus" steel, These shotgun barrels were formed by repeatedly folding over and hammering high-carbon-content steel, giving the barrels a curious marbled appearance. (If you ever see one, you'll immediately recognize what I'm describing. They are quite pretty, but very weak.) A .410 gauge shell does not have much power (compared to a 12 ga.), and the shotguns that fire .410's were often rather inexpensively made. It is considered a "boy's" shotgun mostly, generally a good companion gun to a bolt-action .22LR rifle. They are good for rabbits, squirrels and other small game, and will DEFINATELY KILL A HUMAN BEING, so be careful with it. The range is kind of short, but a .410 single-shot would be a great survival shotgun. If it shoots okay, buy a bunch of different kinds of shotgun shells for it. They even make slug rounds for .410's, so technically, you could hunt deer or hogs. (If you shoot at a feral hog, make damned sure you don't miss. Most people who hunt hogs use a much bigger firearm than a .410, and usually a repeater, just in case they miss the first time.) First order of business is to THOROUGHLY CLEAN IT. Make sure the barrel is FREE OF ANY OBSTRUCTION WHATSOEVER. Then, I would either take it to a gunsmith or gun shop and have him check the "headspace," or I would duct-tape it to a tree and fire it using a LONG STRING tied to the trigger. Shotguns headspace on the rim of the shell (all shotgun shells are "rimmed," nobody makes a "rimless" shotgun shell.) The only way the headspace of a .410 shotgun could be damaged would be if someone fired a high-pressure .41 caliber round for a .41 revolver through it. Even then, it's unlikely. The other big concern would be a bulged, bent or cracked barrel. Most likely, it's okay. I say "Clean it, and get out the duct tape and kite string." Once you back off and yank the string, and it goes "bang," eject the cartridge and examine it closely. You especially want to note if the primer is bulged out backwards from the primer cup, flattened or smooshed in any way. (Other than dented by the firing pin, which is normal, of course.) A flattened, smooshed primer might be a sign of excessive headspace (because there is too much room behind the shell, and the pressure forces the primer backwards against the face of the breech, where the firing pin hole is.) If the spent shell looks okay, most likely the gun is fine. Shoot it five or six times, and examine each empty closely. If they all look okay, I wouldn't worry about it any more. Before you fire a shotgun, ON EACH OCCASION, check and make sure the barrel is free of any obstruction, and MAKE SURE you only have ONE gauge of shotgun shells in your pocket. A 20 gauge shell will fall into a 12 ga. barrel and could block it. Then you might accidently load a 12 ga. behind it, and blow the gun up, LOL. But of course, this can't occur with the little .410, it's as small a shotgun shell as they make.

Both of those addresses are excellent--Warlord is actually somebody I have corresponded with in the past and discussed various ideas. The articlle on "survival preparations in an apartment" is very good, and probably a lot more germane to the lives of the people on 12 oz. than my experiences and preparations. The biggest hurdle to overcome is adopting a "survivalist mindset." For instance, about 99% of preparedness is having enough imagination to think "Gosh, what would happen if the freeway bridges to Gotham got blocked by a burning gasoline tanker?" This kind of thinking is easier if you have some experience. If you live in South Central and witnessed the Rodney King riots, nobody has to work too hard to convince you that you could suddenly find yourself surrounded by rioting idiots and the police withdrawing and cordoning off your side of town and abandoning it to burn. On the other hand, if you've never been in a fist fight, and have never seen any crime or "civic disorder," you may be emotionally convinced that "That sort of stuff never happens here in Maplewood." WRONG. It can fucking happen ANYWHERE. A lot of survivalism (for me) is just thinking a certain way. For instance, I always fill up my truck when the tank reaches "half full." It's exactly the same amount of gasoline and money, but if I fill it on the 1/2 mark instead of waiting until it's on "E," I always have 150 miles of gas in my tank. Most cars and trucks, regardless of size, have a tank good for about 300 miles. So just stop waiting. Fill it up when it hits "1/2." I carry the usual car repair stuff in my truck, but I also carry what's called a "bug-out bag," or BOB. A BOB is supposed to give you a fighting chance of reaching home or getting away from an urban disaster if your vehicle is disabled or caught in some huge traffic jam. It's just an old school backpack filled with stuff like liters of water, energy bars, a couple of cans of pork and beans, a spoon, a P-38 can opener, a First Aid kit, maps of Houston and Texas, extra socks, a baseball cap, a rain slicker, a flashlight, a radio that takes "AA" batteries, EXTRA "AA" batteries and so forth, $100 in small bills and rolls of quarters, a good knife, a box of .38 Special ammunition and a box of .22 LR ammunition and assorted other things. If things went south and my truck was disabled, and there was no bus service, I'd just start hiking towards home. I have a Concealed Handgun License, so I always have a pistol(s) either on me or in the truck. This kind of stuff is not adequate for survival in the long term, and it's purpose is just to get you back to your primary survival cache. WOMEN, in particular, should carry a BOB in their cars, and should include a couple of cans of Mace or other pepper spray to deter attackers. My wife used to be very uncomfortable with the idea of shooting an assailant. Then she got mugged for her purse. Now she says she would have no problem whatsoever pulling the trigger. I asked her, "Do you want to buy some pepper spray?" and she said, "No, my .38 will do the job." Many women feel initially reluctant to defend themselves, but a little EXPERIENCE with criminals, and they become pretty hard-hearted.

The right-wing phrase 'When the Shit Hits the Fan," (WTSHTF)sometimes written as "when TSHTF," is shorthand for the Big Collapse, or Mass Riots or whatever. The period after WTSHTF is called "The End of the World As We Know It,", or TEOTWAWKI (pronounced "tee-oh-TWAWK-ee"). It sounds like some Native American language or something, LOL. Two different stategies are called for to deal with TSHTF and TEOTWAWKI. Generally speaking, TSHTF is considered to be more or less like a free-for-all, with threats coming from every direction, and a great deal of street fighting, arson, explosions, gas stations looted and set on fire, banks and grocery stores attacked and looted, etc. In short, chaos and anarchy. The survivalists do not expect the police or the National Guard to be able to control anything. During TSHTF, the Bug-outs are planning on fighting their way to their retreats(hopefully unoccupied by local opportunists that snickered and sneered at the survivalists for worrying about the shit hitting the fan.) Many Bug-Outs that I know own big, heavy 4x4 vehicles with what can only be described as "roadblock-buster" bars on the front, and large capacity fuel tanks (preferably diesel) and bullet-rersistant panels in the doors, cab and engine housing. They aren't actually bullet proof, but they are kind of bullet resistant, kind of like a less dramatic Mad Max truck. Some of them have a removeable gun-mount post in the bed, so that a semi-automatic, belt-fed weapon could be mounted there, or perhaps a machine gun. (There are civilian versions of the M1919A1 that are legally owned, semi-automatic versions of the M1919A1 WWII machine gun. They cost around $1600.) Our militia unit knew several Federally licensed Class III machinegun dealers who let us shoot their stock for fun and to generate possible sales leads. None of us bought any, partially because of the expense, but mostly because of the hassle with the BATF to get a Class III tax permit so one could legally own a machine gun. Instead, we bought civilian versions of the Soviet machinegun (RPK) called the NHM-91, in 7.62x39mm caliber, and 75-round drum magazines to fit them. Machineguns are great, if you have a zillion-dollar logistics train airlifting you fresh ammunition. But for the militia? Too expensive to run. Several of our sister units had members who owned legal machineguns, but not us. If we had bought one, it would have had to be one chambered for 7.62mm NATO caliber. The M1919A1 has one version in this caliber, it was produced for Israel, and Israel sells disassembled parts kits from these guns to U.S. surplus dealers, but reactivating one is a huge hassle, and very expensive because of the wonderful gun laws in the U.S. Rich people can afford a $10,000 machinegun, no problem. Us poor folks gotta do without. Other 7.62mm NATO machine guns are the Vietnam-era M60, and the modern M240G (the machinegun currently in service in the U.S. armed forces.) These Bug-Outs are anticipating strong resistance to their movement, either by the government, or by local thugs who wish to rob refugees, or criminal gangs or whatever. Whoever it is, the Bug-Outs intend to get where they want to go, and if they have to kill a bunch of people who are trying to stop them, I guess they'll do just that. Many of them belong to groups, and they intend to move in what is more or less like an armed column, ready to defend themselves against whomever. The Bug-Ins are much more circumspect. They intend to stay right where they are, form a defensive position, and drive off any outsiders who attempt to come in. They will let looters burn down the Wal-Mart, but it's death for anybody who attacks their neighborhood. Oftentimes they have their eye on a piece of empty land close to the neighborhood, like a park or a big vacant lot, where they intend to put in a large garden, and defend it from looters. They usually have strong connections with their neighbors, and keep their preparations hardly visable to the outside. They are pretty much systematic in their approach: water, food, medical supplies, fuel, power, communications, defense. If you start thinking about how much water you use, and how difficult it would be to obtain drinkable water if the municipal water supply failed. . .it would be BAD. Houston has about four million people in the metropolitan area. If the water system failed, we would be killing each other over water in a week or less. PLAN ON DIGGING A WELL. It may be dirty, muddy swill, but at least you'll have something to drink when the taps run dry. Better plan on how to get the water OUT of the well, too. Stored food is #1 priority. It takes TIME to grow a garden or raise chickens, etc. Most people in Houston haven't seen a live chicken or duck in twenty years. We always joked that the biggest risk to your guard dog is your neighbor's barbeque pit. Medications, First Aid supplies, books on First Aid, childbirth, "Ditch Medicine," "War Surgery," "Where there is No Doctor," "Where there is no Dentist," etc. You will need a stockpile of medicine, both over-the-counter and prescription medicines, including painkillers and antibiotics. You will need the basic surgical tools, scalpels, blades (scalpel blades are removeable), retractors, various kinds of surgical needles, hemostats of various sizes, surgical thread, catgut, silk, etc. You will need syringes and needles, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, Betadine solution, bandages, tape, wire for splints, cotton padding, plaster of Paris, casting gauze. Aspirin, Tylenol, ibuprofen in large quantities, cold remedies, Benadryl, topical anti-fungal ointment like Tinactin and also vaginal micronazole for girls and women (for yeast infections.) You'll need several different kinds of antibiotic ointments, and oral antibiotics. You'll need just about every kind of First Aid and medical supplies you can imagine, and a bunch you did not think of. We tested numerous kinds of radios, and we were not pleased. After extensive field testing, we decided to go with CB radio, both 23 and 40 channel models, and 2-meter HAM radios. The 2-meter HAM radios also handled 440cm, if memory serves. (I wasn't a communications guy, I was involved in selecting weapons and ammunition.) We rejected VHF/UHF (no penetration in dense woods or rolling hills) and FMRS. Some of our sister units swore by "hunter" VHF/UHF rigs, but our guys did not like them. The best, by far, were CB's running a footwarmer, and HAM radios. Some of those guys bumped their CB's up with a linear amplifier to around 250 or 500 watts (this is illegal--a legal radio can only be 5 watts, so don't do it.) You could practically pick them up on an ALICE pack frame. We were getting about 7 miles out of a vehicle-mounted CB, and about 10-15 miles out of a mobile 2-meter without the repeater tower. With the repeater, about 65 miles, but in a real emergency, we figured the HAM repeater on Southwest Memorial Hospital's roof would be the first to go. The higher the antenna, the wider the broadcast. (CB's and HAM are line-of-sight broadcast radius, from the tip of your antenna to the "horizon" of your broadcast radius, so the higher the antenna, the farther your signal will go.) Some people would carry a compound bow and shoot a di-pole antenna on a thin rope up into a tall tree, communicate, then pull the antenna and the rope back down. We also built "backpack" radios using a 40-channel CB mounted on an ALICE pack frame, and a counter-balanced military surplus PRC-25 antenna, powered by 12 volt deer-feeder gel-cell batteries. More later, gotta go eat dinner.

FINALLY, a topic upon which Villain and I agree 100%. IMHO, the periodic little "panics" that occur over one thing and another help immeasureably to motivate people towards "preparedness." (On the right wing, the term "survivalism" is un-PC. It is a back-door insult, akin to insinuating that liberals are unpatriotic because they are against war, because people who use the word "survivalist" try to equate "being prepared" with "being ready to predate upon those who are unprepared." In other words, if I am prepared, I must be wrong for being ready to defend my stockpile against looters.) The New York Times is always on the wrong side of every issue, so I'm surprised if they are on the correct side of Preparedness. I have not read the article, but experience tells me the Times is probably looking through the wrong end of the telescope, as usual. The most recent scare that amounted to much was the Y2K thing. I still have (perfectly good) stockpiles of food, ammunition, medical supplies and so on marked "1998." My wife and I began preparing our family and encouraging our friends to prepare for Y2K several years before December 31, 1999. I first heard about Y2K in 1982, when computer programmer friends of mine were discussing it at a cocktail party in San Francisco. They stated flat out that there was going to be a collapse of at least part of the computer infrastructure because of the two-digit annual date limitations of the programs that had been written in the early 1960's. Computer scientists then had NO IDEA that these programs would still be running FORTY YEARS LATER. They thought that the probable life span of the programs being wrtitten then was about ten to twelve years, at the extreme. The global computer community collectively spent SIXTY-FIVE BILLION-WITH-A-"B"-DOLLARS correcting the gazillion lines of computer program code to avoid a world-wide meltdown. There were, in fact, quite a few problems, but the problems that did occur were minimized and hushed up. No planes fell from the sky. No electric grids stopped working, and society did not collapse. As a matter of fact, some companies posted all-time record highs in productivity and sales, because of the huge increase in demand for generators, freeze-dried food, water purifiers, etc. My wife and I stockpiled an eight months supply of food in our home. We are probably the best supplied on our block, but we succeeded in encouraging about half the block to stockpile food, water and medical supplies. One of my neighors sneered at the whole idea (I never liked this asshole) and sarcastically said "Well, if there's a blackout, I'll just come over to your house." I said, "Better bring a gun, because I won't give you a god-damned thing. I'm telling you right now, you need to start stockpiling. If you choose to let your family go hungry, that's YOUR problem." On New Year's Eve we fired up the neighborhood CB network and did a radio check. We had eleven CB'ers check in. New Year's Day, 2000, I actually felt a little disappointed, as well as relieved. On the one hand, I was glad we weren't faced with konked-out phones and traffic signals, but on the other hand, I felt like some of the people I had talked to would blame me for convincing them., and of course, a couple of them said "Boy, do I feel stupid for listening to you." But several others said "I stayed up and watched it on TV last night, and the government was taking it dead serious. I think we did the right thing, even if it turned out okay. I could have used some more hurricane supplies anyway." Since then, there have been a few other scares. On 9/11 my daughter called me from her high school, all upset and said "Dad! How many gas masks do we have?!!" And I said, "Seven. Why?" "Oh. I was worried." "Well, we've got plenty. Come home if you feel scared." "Nah, I'm okay." A lot of my neighbors wanted to go buy supplies, but my wife and I didn't need to buy a single thing. We are already prepared. I'd love to have a rural home, all fortified and with shelters built underneath it, but realistically, I will probably never have that. Running from a disaster to your "retreat" is called "bugging out" in Preparedness jargon. Staying where you are and toughing it out is called "bugging in." I'm a bug-in kind of guy. I think living "off the grid," generating your own power, planting "urban gardens," (or in my case, "suburban gardens"), stockpiling food, distilling your own drinking water and other beverages, having photoelectric power cells on your roof, insulating your home for maximum efficiency, etc. are wonderful ideas. I also am a big believer in a bicycle-based transportation system, recycling, living as minimalist a lifestyle as possible, and cheap, efficient public transportation. And, of course, I am a 100% believer in being able to defend oneself and one's home and family. I have no desire to harm anyone, but I would not hestiate to use deadly force against any looter or predator. My neighbor owns a used car business. He intended to bring several trucks home to barricade our street if things got bad. We joked about digging fighting positions in the yards on the end of the block. He bought a new shovel. I bought thirty dollars worth of sandbags from my old militia unit commander, who owns a big construction company. We went around and asked people to dig out their old CB radios from the attic and get them tuned up and working again, since we assumed that the phones, pager system and cell phones would be out of service if there was a computer collapse. Several people did so. We used channel 10, the "westside" Houston CB channel as our channel. I guess, in retrospect, it was a little over the top, but a lot of people were very worried and upset that the crash might actually happen. My computer programmer buddies moved to newly acquired rural mountain property several weeks before Y2K. They got rich writing code during the last six months of 1999, working 16-hour days. But, of course, the "survivalists" were all just a bunch of paranoid, redneck bumpkins that the well-educated, sophisticated liberal elite laughed at for their preparations. My friends and I have thousands and thousands of rounds of 9mm, .38/357, .45 ACP, .223/5.56mm, 7.62x39mm and .308 Winchester/ 7.62mm NATO. We have stockpiles of food and supplies adequate to feed our families for months. We have generators, water purification equipment, pressure cookers (for autoclaves and stills), stockpiles of propane, gasoline, oil, kerosene lamp oil, etc. We are prepared to weather the storm COME WHAT MAY. But we "survivalists" are the stupid ones, the buffoons, right? If there is ever a genuine, no-shit national or global emergency, then we will see who is stupid and who is not, LOL. Meanwhile, I have enough whole grain wheat stored to last till the end of time! One last piece of advice: don't forget to stockpile a couple of can openers, LOL.

Hey, Pfffffffffft, good to hear from you! Sure, go ahead and post the pics. The only exception I'd ask is the one of the Hotel's Name, which would kind of blow the spot, LOL. Otherwise, I'm cool. Did you photoshop them all and remove identifiable faces, etc? This one ^ looks kind of wierd, like a guy with no face, lol. Next time you're down here, give me a call, and me and you and 83 will go kick it or ride a train or something.

I've got bad news from Stretch. He's back in East Cleveland, has a job and is making some money. Goes to work every morning at 0430 at a fibreglas packing factory. I don't remember if I told you guys that Stretch's dog, Burlington, was the pup of another renowned rail-riding canine, Chessie. About eight or nine years ago, Stretch retired Chessie because she was getting too old to be catching out (she couldn't jump down from boxcars any more, etc.) and he set her up with a place to live with an old buddy of his in Massachusetts. Well, Chessie is in end-stage cancer. She's got tumors in her lungs and doesn't have long to live. Now, Stretch tells me that he had to take Burlington to the vet for a skin infection and Burl had to get shaved all over to cool him down (Burl has a very thick coat--he's a "Northern" outdoors dog.) During the examination, the vet discovered that Burl has cancer, too. He said he thought Burl might make it six months. This is a big bummer for everybody that knows Stretch and Burlington. Burl remembers people he has met even one time. He does tricks. He "talks" to Stretch, and gets excited when Stretch says "Hey, Burl, want to catch a train?" He can go take a dump on command, and holds his water for hours when they are on board a train. He carries his own food and water in a double backpack (dog food in each pouch, with a two-liter bottle of water riding on top of the dog food in each pouch.) He knows to be quiet when he and Stretch are sitting in the hole, or layed over in a yard. He is one of the most intelligent dogs I have ever encountered in my life. When Stretch scolds him, he lays down and puts his front paws over his nose. I am really going to miss Burlington K-9. Stretch has streaked a million railcars "Stretch and Burlington Dog K-9." I sure hope Burl sired a lot of puppies.

This weekend I got to meet Fatalist and Pffffft! here in Houston. Pffffft! and I spent the day touring a couple of Houston jungles and checking out railyards and lay-ups. It was hotter than shit, but we had a good time. He got a lot of shots of the jungle and some snaps of graff on passing rail cars. I understand he and Fatalist were down at the Wall of Fame on the east end of Congress Yards, downtown, and met some writers down there (I wasn't there, I had to work.) It was a good day, just really humid and hot, especially for May. I'm hoping he'll be able to come back down here sometime and we can go catch out. Pffffft!---HOPE I SEE YOU UP AT BRITT THIS AUGUST.

CACashRefund--- The Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad (MKT) was headquartered in Sedalia, MO back in it's early history. It was bought and sold a couple of times in the early days, and one owner renamed it the "Kansas-Texas Railroad," and it got the sobriquet "Katy" (KT), a common girl's name in the 1880's (short for Katherine.) Sedalia was a major player during the Robber Baron's era. It had massive locomotive repair shops and car shops where MKT rolling stock was re-built and refurbished. It had large, luxurious hotels, one exclusively for executives, one for engineers and firemen, and one for "common laborers." These hotels were full-service, with baths, dining rooms, large kitchens, and so forth. Downtown Sedalia was (back then) crowded with businesses of all kinds, saloons and brothels. (Prostitution was not illegal in most places, neither was opium or any sort of drug, but only the "lowest" sort of men frequented such places, at least not openly. Ever see the series "Deadwood"? That's a relatively accurate depiction of the Old West, and it those days Missouri was pretty close to being the "wild frontier.") Because Sedalia was a major rail hub, MKT built a very large, very ornate railroad station there, as a showpiece, in 1896. It stayed in operation until the 1960's, I think. The marshalling yards and all that were not far from the railroad station. Tramps and hobos probably walked up to the station from "The Yards," seeking water, information or work. Hanging around, waiting for a train, they carved their streaks into the station's brickwork with pocketknives. Most of the streaks are very neatly done, with thin letters, but cut fairly deep into the brick. The Katy railroad is what is known as a "fallen flag." It is not an independent railroad any longer. It was absorbed by Union Pacific, along with Missouri Pacific and several other, smaller railroads when UP bought them up. However, since the Katy was so well known (and loved, by the people in the areas it served) it's name and renown has remained. The Katy Depot at Sedalia is probably the best preserved representation of the MKT, and if we could get Sedalia to support a hobo gathering there (probably as part of a "Sedalia Hobo Days" celebration) it would be cool. The UP mainline is only about two blocks from the Katy Depot, behind a line of trees, and the old railroad right-of-way has been turned into a hiking trail. Unfortunately, the Department of Parks and Wildlife are acting like a bunch of dicks and make a big stink anytime the Depot preservation society has a picnic or anything on DPWL land. There's always at least one jackass in every situation.

I just returned from a four-day trip to Sedaliia, MO to attend the first hobo gathering at the newly restored Katy Depot. The folks in Sedalia were very nice and welcomed us. We cooked a big "hobo stew" in a turkey fry pot over a propane burner, and sold it for $3 a bowl, plus bread and a can of soda, to help raise money for the restored Depot. Most of the people there knew very little about hobos, tramps or anything, so it was a good opportunity to explain about the old days and what railriders are doing now. Baloney Kid, from Sandwich, Ill., and an older guy who rode back in the 1950's named Kansas City Kid, or something like that, played guitar, and fiddle, and we participated in a bunch of kid's games. It was a fun day, very small-town and laid back. While we were there we discovered that the Sedalia Katy Depot has a genuine " 'TEX' K.T." streak carved into a door frame that used to be the station master's office, probably dating from the 1920's. (This stands for "TEX" King of Tramps.) plus we found about forty or so streaks carved into the bricks on the outside of the building. I found one that said "Hobo Joe 1905." Pretty cool---grafitti done a HUNDRED YEARS AGO and still up and readable. They're talking about making the gathering an annual event, if they can work out the problems about arranging for a jungle, etc. And they paid me $100 to show up! Now that's what I call class!

Yes, that's exactly it. They streaked the train they rode in on, assuming, of course, that they had the opportunity to do so. Sometimes you'll find tramp streaks inside of a boxcar or inside a grainer porch. Some very famous streaks are from railroad workers who would hit ten or twenty cars a day at work. Pretty soon, their streaks were known coast-to-coast. Truthfully, though, it's not about getting to be well-known or racking up high mileage, but living the life. Genuine, 24-7 tramps are really sort of elitist in a lot of ways. You can't buy your way in, you can't get in by trying to be pals. You just get to be part of that inner circle by "being there." I am acquainted with a lot of long-legged tramps, but being on speaking terms and being in tight with them are two different things. In order to be on the inside, I'd have to be "Living the Life" 24-7. Most likely, unless I go through some drastic changes, I will never again be on the rails 24-7. I'm 54, which is getting on up there to be catching out. I have a good job that I'd hate to lose, because I'm trying to bank some retirement cash. But, if all that shit went away tomorrow, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd sell everything I own, invest it all in tax-free municipal bonds and catch the first thing smokin'.

Dank Roller-- Back in the old days people adopted nicknames to reduce being tracked by the railroad bulls. Hardly anybody told anybody eldse their real name, so there were probably fifty guys named "Bill." To differentiate between guys with the same name, they started calling them "Tall Bill," "Texas Bill," "Philadelphia Bill," "Dollar Bill" and so on. The young guys would get tagged with a name by older tramps, usually because of some physical characteristic, like "Stretch" for a tall guy (my buddy Stretch is like 6'3"), or "Shorty" for a small guy. After having a nickname got to be cool, they started naming themselves stuff. That's where names like "Highball Harry" and "Sidetrack", and stuff like that got started. Personally, I think giving yourself a cool hobo name is kind of silly. (I got "KaBar" because of an internet handle I created. I was in the Marines, and a "Ka-Bar" knife is a large combat knife I carried in the Marine Corps. Everybody armed with a pistol gets assigned a Ka-Bar knife instead of a bayonet. Guys armed with a rifle get a bayonet. I was an MOS 2111 armorer in an infantry battalion, and back then armorers got a .45 pistol and a Ka-Bar. But I worked at the battalion armory, so whenever I needed a rifle, I just checked one out temporarily.) I went online talking to trainhoppers on websites, and they called me Ka-Bar because of my internet address. Then when we met face-to-face, they still called me Ka-Bar. I sure am glad I didn't pick some stupid internet name like Fartmeister or something. Sometimes the children or spouses of well-known hobos adopt a version of their name. A real famous hobo, now dead, named "Connecticutt Slim" has two daughters who are retired who travel all over the U.S. in a motor home. The two women call themselves "Connecticutt Shorty" (she's very short) and "New York Maggie," (her name is Margaret and she was raised in New York.) Of course, to all the tramps, they are just "Shorty" and "Maggie." They come to many of the hobo gatherings just to hang out and see old friends who knew their father. My friend "P-Dub", got his moniker from the letters "P-W," which stands for "pussy whipped." He sure does like the ladies, and they like him. Every time I see the guy at a gathering, he's shacked up with a different chick.

RiSC--- Unfortunately, no, I don't have any photos of Cadillac grainers, but when you see one, you'll recognize it. The sides of the tanks are smooth and curved (no ribs), similar to an ACF CenterFlo hopper, but instead of being cut down at an angle, forming the "A" and "B" porches (the "B" end has the brake gear, the "A" end has all the room, and both ends have a grainer hole to hide in) a Cadillac grainer has side walls that almost enclose the porches on both ends. The side walls provide concealment from trackside on-lookers and weather protection. There is even a "window" so you can see out. The porch on a Cadillac grainer is wide and unemcumbered with any gear. You can roll out your bindle. Stretch and me and Burlington could have all three slept side-by-side on the floor of a Cadillac. We had Graincar George with us too, though, so we had to sit on our rucks and sleep sitting up.

I've known a few tramps that are veterans that always have a dog tag laced up in their right bootlaces. It's a tradition from the Vietnam War. I suppose many a young soldier has realized that his greatest fear turned out to be not death, but being lost forever and never returning Home. They wore their dog tags around their neck, and another dog tag under their right bootlace, with the bootlace covering the dog tag. The Graves Registration guys knew to always look at the right boot, if they couldn't find the dog tags and chain around the guy's neck, or if he was maimed so badly that there was no neck or head, from an explosion or fire. The older tramps know that if they die on a freight train or in a jungle, most likely whoever finds them is going to rob the body of any money, identification, Social Security Card, Driver's License, etc. The I.D. and the Social Security card can be used to double-dip Food Stamps and welfare. In fact, the alleged main motivation behind the "railroad murders" perpetuated by Robert "Sidetrack" Silveria was to steal I.D. so that he could collect the victims' monthly checks. Some old hobos are getting Social Security checks, Food Stamps (well, these days it's a sort of credit card deal.) A lot of them carry a post card or something like that sewed into a pocket with their name, address of their family, telephone numbers, etc. on it, so if they get killed, they won't be anonymous. You can buy dog tags at a lot of Army surplus stores. They will custom print whatever you want on them. I just wear my Marine Corps dog tags. Disposing of a body without informing the authorities is a misdemeanor at least, in virtually every state. So if somebody checks out on a train, or in the jungle, his buddies usually go through his gear, remove anything valuable or incriminating or embarrassing to his family, leave the body there, go to a pay phone and call the cops, and then disappear. The cops come out, investigate the death, call the coroner, and then usually cremate the body so it can be shipped UPS or U.S. Postal Service to the dead guy's family. The families are usually too poor to come get Uncle Bob or whatever. If the family doesn't want the body, or can't afford to bury the guy, the County where he died buries him in a pauper's grave, usually six or eight to the grave, in plywood coffins, and marked with a number. If the guy is a well-known tramp, or if his family wants him buried in Britt, they hold the ashes until the Convention in August, and the ashes of people who "caught the westbound" are interred under hobo-made concrete grave markers at the Memorial Service. It's a time-honored tradition, Texas Mad Man and Preacher Steve pour the markers themselves. There's about twenty tramps or so, both men and women, buried up at Britt at the National Hobo Memorial. For homeguards or part-timers, the cost is about $300, still very inexpensive in terms of a funeral expense.

Looks like interesting stuff. I might bid on it. Thanks.

ASERINE--- I'll try to answer all your questions. Hope I can remember most of that. Definitions: When trains come into a yard and must be broken up and the different cars sent in different directions, this is called "classification." In small yards, this is done with a switch engine crew, with an engineer driving the "goat" and a switchman "kicking cars." The engine gets up to "kicking speed" ("No more than 4"--miles per hour) and then the switchman (riding the ladder of the car behind the "cut") yanks up the cut lever and "kicks" the cut loose. The cut is then routed through a switch an onto a blocking track, where it slams into the blocking string (cars sitting on the track) and the impact closes and locks the coupler, adding the "cut" car to the string on the blocking track. In a hump yard, kicking cars is not necessary, because they are backed over the hump. The top of the hump (where the "drop" occurs) is called the Apex. So a "hump apex" is the very highest point of the hump. Downhill from the hump apex is the retarder. It is operated electrically from the Hump Tower. They can see the string of cars being backed over the hump, and are communicating by radio with the switchman "working the string" coming over the hump. He calls out the number of the car, they route it to the proper track (rolling free) after it goes through the retarder (which is like a huge brake that squeezes the flanges of the wheels from the inside--it's horribly noisy. "Flange squeal" it's called. WEAR EARPLUGS.) As the engineer gets the string to the apex, he hears the switchman call "Slack." He gets off the power. The coupler stretches out, taking the strain off the coupler knuckle. At this exact moment, the switchman yanks the cut lever, and the "cut" rolls free, over the hump apex and down the drop, through the hump retarder and is routed to the correct track. It rolls free ("No more than 4") until it crashes into the string standing on that track, and the coupler locks shut. The "No more than 4" rule is frequently violated, especially by crews "kicking" cars, but if the cut is really rolling fast, when it hits the string it could cause the knuckle to break, or some other damage to either the cut or the first car in the string. Many rail cars have a sign "Do not Hump," especially container well cars and auto racks. If you are INSIDE the cut (the rolling car) you could be seriously injured when it hits the string. Best get OFF a train being humped, BEFORE it gets to the hump yard. Hump yards are SUPER dangerous. The cars are rolling free all over the place, it's extremely noisy, cars crashing into each other, etc. The railroad guys freak out if they see you in the hump yard. Get off, and walk around the yard if possible. A "road unit" or "road power" refers to the engine(s) pulling a train from one place to another, usually from city to city. Sometimes road power, or one engine of the train's road power, is used to hump a train, for expediency's sake. Otherwise, humping is done by a "yard goat" or "yard dog"---a utility engine used to make up trains, shuttle cars, kick cars, etc. I do not advise riding solo. If you get hurt or sick, you have nobody to help you. You might run into a group of local thugs or a group of jackrollers or streamliners. You are ALWAYS better off riding in pairs AS LONG AS YOU KNOW YOUR PARTNER WELL AND TRUST HIM. Teaming up with strangers is risky. Wherever you go, your gear goes with you, unless you really, really trust your partner a lot. I have ridden solo some. It's not much fun---kind of lonely. And if things get scarey, it's no fun whatsoever. You can usually tell if your train is being humped by the repetitive noise and movement. The engine speeds up, then slows down and brakes, over and over. Plus you can usually hear the flange squeal of the retarder, right after the engine slows down, as the cut car rolls down the hump and goes through the retarder. TTX 48's are container well cars. When one rides one (BEHIND the container, never in front), you keep a low profile. I often carry a piece of cardboard or a big piece of black railroad plastic and cover up when I'm anywhere near a yard or where people might see me. I guess the answer to your question is "Yes." I do worry about being spotted, so I hide as well as I can--laying down next to the container, covering up, wearing dark clothing, not showing a light at night (flashlights, cigarettes, lighters, etc.) and just generally trying to hide. Different grainers have different size holes. They aren't too big. If you are a small person, you could probably get into a sleeping bag in one, but I don't advise it unless you are freezing to death. Some people take cardboard in the hole with them, and block the opening, like a door. I would worry about somehow getting trapped in the hole inside a zipped-up bag. I usually just use my bag for a cushion or a blanket, but I don't get inside of it. A Cadillac grainer is the best choice, by far. No hole, but LOTS of room, and good cover and concealment. Some yard workers are great guys, some are assholes. They might turn you in if you are drunk, or obviously inexperienced, or are acting in a manner dangerous to yourself or damaging to the railroad in some way. The more you look like a "normal" person who knows what the fuck is going on, the less likely they are to rat you out. If you are sixteen and look like a full-blown punker crazy, you will ptobably be ratted out. I only rarely ever get fucked with, but I am an adult, and look like a long-time tramp, not a youngster who doesn't know what's going on. Ask the workers what you need to know, but BE CIRCUMSPECT. If they help you, they could get fired. If you get busted, DO NOT RAT OUT THE MEN THAT HELPED YOU. We already know trainhopping is illegal. Don't pussy out and say some shit like "That guy over there said it was okay." You'll still go to jail, plus he will get fired. Be a stand-up guy. No snitching, even if you get fucked over. I have never ridden units, but I have plenty of friends that have. If it's cold and snowing, it's more acceptable. Keep a low profile, stay OUT OF SIGHT COMPLETELY. Again, if you get busted, the train crew could get fired or reprimanded. If you ask, and they say "no," then "no" it is. Show some respect. I don't know Wes Modes and have never net him. I read some of his stuff on the Net. He sounds like an experienced person. Take everything you read or hear with a grain of salt, including what I say. What is true for me may not be true for you. THINK FOR YOURSELF. Good luck!

I caught out with Stretch, Burlington Dog and Graincar George early Saturday a.m. from Beaumont. We drove over there in my pick-up, along with my wife, who dropped us off and then drove the truck back to Houston. It was a really strange weekend. First of all, we went to a place where we have caught out numerous times before, not far from a Food Bank. We weren't expecting any problem, definately not from people who work at a Food Bank, usually they are very accomodating and accepting of tramps. Well, not these motherfuckers. We had no sooner unloaded the gear and the dog, and Stretch took the three six-packs of beer and stashed them by the tracks, when this real aggressive black guy and two Mexican warehouse hands can trotting out of the Food Bank and started asking all kinds of questions. It was obvious the guy was some sort of supervisor and had a serious power hang-up, and hated both white folks and tramps. (I've run into this shit before--a lot of black people who work at "relief" agencies think that their resources are earmarked "for black people only"--and while they are super nice to some 300 lb. black welfare mama with four or five kids in tow, they treat trainhoppers like shit.) The likelihood of this asshole calling the police seemed extremely high, so we threw the gear back in the truck, loaded up the dog and George in the back, and drove off. Meanwhile, Mr. Food Bank Nazi went down the tracks looking for whatever Stretch stashed back there. (He seemed absolutely convinced that we were dumping trash for some reason.) We drove back down MLK about a half mile, pulled into a side street and unloaded all our shit under a shade tree. I kissed my wife goodbye, and she drove off to Houston, leaving us afoot in the ghetto side of Beaumont. Stretch was mad as hell. He immediately went across the street and back down the tracks to retrieve the beer. No luck. Mr. Food Bank Nazi STOLE OUR BEER. I thought Stretch was going to come unglued. I have never seen him so pissed off. It's a good thing he wasn't armed, because he was murderously angry. After he calmed down a bit, we went and bought another twelve-pack. During his futile beer rescue mission, Stretch found another good spot, shielded from every direction by trees and brush, with access to the KCS yards and a good comfortable place to wait for dark. We moved over there, hiking down MLK ----three tramps loaded down with packs, sleeping bags, tents, one-gallon water bottles, a twelve-pack of Busch and all manner of hobo shit. I was thinking "We should be holding up a big sign 'WE'RE FIXING TO TRESPASS ON RAILROAD PROPERTY.' " After dark, we moved to another spot right on the edge of the KCS yards, but we were shielded by a bunch of mesquite trees. And it was much closer to the beer store. After finishing off the Busch, we had to make another run for more beer and some burgers. Once it got to be about eleven, and still no trains, we just said "Fuck it" (and after about a case of Busch) and went and camped out on cardboard right next to the mainline. The P.M. crew went off about midnight, after blocking up several cuts into trains and hanging some FREDs. Still no road power. About 0200, we talked to a couple of car knockers, who reluctantly pointed out the Shreveport train. They said it was called for 0330. Suddenly, road power showed up, coupled up, laced the hoses and hauled ass out of the yard. We were like "What the fuck?" I thought the car knockers had screwed us, and was expecting the Beaumont cops to show up any second. Stretch went to talk to the switchmen. They said that the Shreveport train was pulled up about a hundred cars up the track. The yard dog offered us a ride up there. George and I said "yes," but Stretch said "It's too much trouble to load up, I'll walk." That hundred cars was more like a mile and a half. Anyway, the yard dog ran us up there on a grainer in a short string of tank cars, and we walked the Shreveport man, looking for a ride. And what a ride we found! Two Cadillac grainers. They are MUCH roomier than a regular grainer, and have great side walls that shield you from on-lookers. Stretch and Burl got there shortly before the train pulled. We loaded all of our gear, the three of us and Burl into that Cadillac. It was a squeeze, but we all fit. The trained pulled at 0420. We went in the hole only once between Beaumont and Shreveport, for a southbound train pulling mostly tank cars. Kind of unusual---the train dropped the conductor, pulled past the siding, then backed into the hole. Stretch thought that the south end switch must have been damaged. I think they were just trying to avoid having to throw two switches (which would require the conductor to walk the length of the train in the dark.) We got to Shreveport's South Wye on the KCS about 1100--SEVEN HOURS between Houston and Shreveport, LA. That's fast, as fast as most hotshots. We were expecting more like ten or twelve hours. When we realized we were that close to the wye with the UP Rabbit, Stretch suddenly shouted "Shit! We're almost to the Deramus Yard curve! We have to bail, NOW!" I hadn't done a rolling get off since about 1974, and I'm like "What he fuck are you doing here? You're fifty-five years old!" I swung my ruck on my right shoulder and climbed out on the ladder, and down to the stirrup. I waited until we passed over an on-coming switch, then dropped the ALICE pack as low as I could. It hit the ballast, bounced and rolled away from the track. Stretch yelled "Get Burl!" I stepped off the stirrup and hit the ballast running. The train was going about ten or twelve miles an hour. I took about five or six great big running steps, almost lost my balance but didn't, and looked up just in time to see Burl hit the ballast and go ass over teakettle in a cloud of dust. Stretch had had to heave him off like a rucksack. I looked back at my pack--it was securely away from the tracks---and started running to get Burl, up ahead of me. As I got to Burl, I saw Stretch's gear hit the ballast and go flipping and crashing along next to the train, then he got off. Last was George. He put his gear over the side, but when he got off he ran several steps then stumbled, and went down in the gravel. Burl wasn't hurt, just a little freaked out at the get-off. I asked Stretch "How many times have you had to pitch Burl off like that?" and he said, "Geeze, I donno. Maybe five hundred times. He's never really been hurt. Just a little scuffed up a couple of times." In fact, except for some busted up gear, and some scratches on George's leg, nobody got hurt. We lost two one-gallon water bottles (Graincar got flustered and forgot to pitch them) and one got busted open from hitting a frog. The two expensive backpacking packs both got torn up bags and bent frames. My ALICE pack and my military gear came through fine, just a few scuff marks and some dust. We repaired gear as best we could with 550 shock cord, then saddled up and hiked about three or four miles to Ricky's camp in the UP yard, south of downtown Shreveport. Ricky wasn't there. His camp is very large for a hobo jungle. He has a hooch and about ten truckloads of scrap, broken bicycles, lumber, etc., stacked everywhere. I was fucking beat--we'd been up more than 24 hours at this point, so we scrounged up some Thousand-Miler Paper, and rolled out right there in the yard. I tried to sleep, but UP moved about fifty trains Saturday afternoon, mostly going either back to Houston or to Longview. Early Sunday morning (about 0430) Stretch found Ricky home, and he came down to the yard to say hello. Ricky is a very unusual kind of guy. He re-cycles copper and aluminum, collects aluminum cans, dumpster-dives all manner of stuff. If he gets something that works (a TV for instance, or an electric motor) he often sells it or hocks it at a pawn shop. He has no electric power at his jungle, but there is a water faucet in the UP yard. Ricky showed us where the Greyhound station is, so I shook hands all around and boarded a bus for Houston--$49.00. Stretch and George headed for Mississippi. What a weekend---I'm beat.

Latest word on P.W.---he made bail and is awaiting his Court date on February 22. Hope he has a good lawyer. Stretch and Burl arrived yesterday, I picked them up and took them to the jungle. Stretch is already planning to re-roof the hooch with better materials. The weather is clear and cool. Looks like a good weekend. Time for some beers.

Stretch and Burlington came into town on the UP from Shreveport and got here about dark. He called me at work, and when I got off, I went up there to Humble and picked them up and took them down to the jungle. They got stuck on a train with a bad order unit twice on the same train. Three days between Shreveport and Houston. That is really poor speed. We're going to start work on the roof of the hooch this weekend. It's in bad shape. Later.