Mike, and I were all deputies and had worked together on the SWAT team. We had all spent a lot of time together. We worked together all day and then hung out at night and on weekends. We watched out for each other at work and also had each other’s backs out of work. I had gotten so close to these guys over the years that I looked at them like brothers.
In 2006, I decided I wanted more out of my career and wanted to try working in a place that saw constant action. I heard that a department in Maryland was hiring experienced police officers, so I applied and got the job. The rest, as they say, is history.
As I walked, I continued to think about Josh and Mike and soon lost all track of time. When I finally came back to the present, I realized that the sun was starting its downward arc. I wasn’t sure how far I had traveled, but it would be night soon. I figured I was somewhere along Route 95, maybe five or six miles from Laurel. I walked off into the woods and looked for a place to set up a camp. I did a recon of the area and found a small cluster of pines several yards from the roadway that would be a good site for a camp. It was about fifty yards from a small stream that I could use as a water source and provided some cover for light discipline.
I dropped my pack and got out my canteen. I took a long drag on the water and finished off the two-quart canteen. I opened my pack and took out my cloth tarp that I used for my shelter. It was a ten-by-ten camouflage nylon tarp that worked great. I used five fifty cord to set it up in a quick and easy lean-to style shelter that would protect me from the rain if it started to come down again, but I expected it to be nice out, as I saw no clouds in the sky.
I then used a small gardening trowel to dig a Dakota firepit. A Dakota firepit consisted of two holes connected by a tunnel. You built a fire in one of the holes and fed the fire with wood pushed through the other hole. It allegedly kept the light and smoke created by the fire to a minimum, which would limit the possibility of being seen.
I gathered some wood and kindling and fed it into the pit. I had a ferrocerium rod, also called a fire steel, but I decided to just use a lighter. I didn’t need a large fire for heat; I just needed something to boil some water and heat up dinner. As soon as those tasks were done, I would be putting the fire out. It was now the end of March and was averaging sixty-five to seventy degrees out at night, so I wouldn’t need a fire, but I would use my sleeping bag.
I walked down to the stream and got some water in a waterproof bag I used as a water bucket. It held about five quarts of water, which I carried back to my camp. I got out my Klean Kanteen and emptied the water from it, into the two-quart plastic army canteen. I then filled the Klean Kanteen with water from the stream and brought it to a boil. Once it cooled, I put the lid back on it and repacked it into my pack. Any water I was drinking tonight would be boiled and drank with some single-cup coffee packs I had in my food container.
Finally, I took a stainless-steel pot that I carried and put some water into it, also bringing it to a boil. Once it started to boil, I emptied half of a Mountain House spaghetti meal into it, letting it set for a couple of minutes. Once it was ready, I leaned back against my pack and ate dinner. Once I was done, I cleaned my pot and fork, put them away, and leaned back with my cup of coffee. The air was cooling down, and the temperature was getting nice. The birds were still singing, and I could hear small critters scurrying around through the woods. I watched the sun set and soon drifted off to sleep with my AR across my lap.
I awoke several hours later. It was still dark outside, so I’m not sure what woke me up. I sat there, not moving, letting my eyes adjust and listening for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. My only thought was how much I wished I had night vision.
I’m not sure what woke me up, as nothing seemed to show itself, and no noises seemed out of the ordinary. I’ve heard that if you’re not used to sleeping in the woods at night, normal woods noises will keep you up, so I figured that’s what it was. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.
I moved off my pack and dug out my headlamp. I turned on the red light, as red light is harder to see from distances at night. I decided to make a cup of coffee, so I prepared another small fire in the Dakota pit. After the coffee was made, I put out the fire and my head lamp, leaned back against my pack, and drank my coffee. I sat there awake for several hours, listening to the nighttime noises of the forest.
The next thing I knew, the sun was coming up through the trees. I decided to get started before it got too hot, so I packed the gear I had used for the fire and the coffee, took down the cloth tarp, and packed it up. I checked my weapons, and once I was sure both weapons were loaded and ready for the new day, I shrugged on my pack and headed back to the road.
Once on the roadway, I decided that I was going to play it safe and avoid roadways as much as possible now. It was now time to start moving cross country. I checked my compass, got my North West bearing, picked a tree off in the distance that fell within that North West reading, and set out. Once I reached the tree, I’d take a reading, find another tree, and set out.
Things went on like this for several days. I’d walk through the woods, cross roadways, use the road for a while, and break for water, food, and sleep. Some areas along the roads had an abundant number of cars on them, stalled along the roads, while other places seemed baron. I needed to be careful of places that were littered with abandoned cars, as they could be used as ambush sites. I would skirt these areas and get back into the woods as quick as possible.
I was doing pretty good food-wise. I had several thirty-five hundred calorie food bars that I was breaking up into two meals a day. Water was okay, as finding little streams and runoffs was fairly easy. Boiling it ensured I’d kill any pathogens in it, but it didn’t always taste that great. The key was just making sure that I stayed hydrated.
I was actually comfortable in the woods. Some of the patrol skills I had learned in the Army were starting to come back to the forefront of my memory, looking for things at wrong angles, wrong colors for the terrain, or movements of trees and bushes that just seemed out of place. I was paying attention to foot placement, weight placement, and sound discipline. I’m sure that by this time, people had reached a point of desperation that would be forcing them to do anything needed to survive. I didn’t want to stumble into anybody, so I needed to resort to all the patrol tactics that I could remember.
One afternoon, I could see the sun through the trees, which indicated to me that I was coming to some kind of clearing or roadway. As I got closer, I could hear what sounded like crying, mixed with yelling. I was far enough away that I couldn’t make out what was being yelled or if they were yelling at somebody. All I could tell was that they were yelling. I dropped to a knee and listened. It was coming from the direction of the clearing. I dropped my pack behind a tree. This would be my personal rally point if things went south.
I worked my way closer to the yelling, moving in crouch, being careful not to step on branches or twigs. My AR was up, in the low ready position. As I got closer, I could start to hear what was being yelled.
“Help! Somebody please! Help me!”
I dropped to a knee again. I listened for any other noises, anything that seemed out of the ordinary. I was listening for anything more out of the ordinary than somebody screaming for help. I also scanned the wood line for any movements. I was looking for anything that looked like an ambush or anything that might indicate that this was a trick. I didn’t hear anything or see any fishy movements.
As I moved closer, I came to a roadway that had a fairly steep shoulder. The roadway was a secluded, two-lane country road. There were no cars or people around. There were heavy woods on both sides of the roadway. Off to my right, I could see an older model, 1950s era truck, rolled over onto its roof. It was badly damaged, with the windshield shattered, and the roof collapsed. I took another knee and scanned the wood line up and down both sides of the roadway. I listened some more but heard
