Chapter 9

Had it been less than a year since my grandfather’s murder? The weeks immediately after his death, the funeral, the reading of the Will, his bequest of the Aston Martin DB5 to me ... and its contents. With all I had gone through after accepting the IM mission, I little realized what it would end up becoming. The inspections, and learning he had been murdered. Then the Compound, and finding of the persons responsible for his murder; plus the destruction of the twelfth, and assuming the mantle as the new Head of the Family.

The brief peace that followed that had allowed me time to complete my work on my prototype. Then the BATF attack, led by the surviving agents of the twelfth. The exuberant feeling following their defeat that caused me to maybe push up my date for testing my device, with its disastrous results. I asked myself again, had it truly been less than a year?

Now, mere days after that, my people were facing a World War, woefully unprepared due to the lack of resources needed. I thought again, just how do you fight a war, using fuel guzzling monsters, with no fuel to feed them? To be sure it would be impossible for anyone to take the Compound by force, but it was already clear we were facing a food shortage, well before any conflict took place.

Now into the first week of the disastrous time shift I was looking at shortages of just about everything and with no long-term fix in sight. But there had been that one line that kept repeating its self in my mind, about the Family Heads preparing the Compound for this for years. How could you do that and neglect food and fuel? Well, the fuel I might understand, but food, just how long could we do without that. I supposed food was available, but no one was just going to give it to us. We would have to give something in trade for it. But what did we have from our time that they could use at this time? Most everything we had required power and these people didn’t have that. Then like a light that had been switched on, it hit me! How stupid of me! In thinking in terms of hard goods, I had overlooked the obvious. We had electrical power and a lot of it. Now the question was, would they trade food for it?

It would be hard to say, they had gotten along without power before. Then there was local’s housing, we could improve on that. There just didn’t seem to be many substantial buildings to be seen, other than the Cathedral that stood in the center of their village. Regardless of what it might one day become, it was nothing more than a poor fishing village today, and by poor, I would think a canvas tent would be a step up for many of them.

It was really unfair of me, coming from mega wealth, and seeing ... Well, think of the Media ads showing pictures of poor children, and for a few cents a day you could change their lives for the better, then think that there were people poorer still.

Yes, it was far too easy to think of them as living sub-human lives. But no, they were not sub-human, these people had a dignity all their own. Yes, they knew themselves to be poor, but the children played happily and didn’t seem to realize the poverty they were living in. The men worked hard at fishing and brought in enough to eat and sell to survive on. Those tilling the land were the same, all hard-working people, doing the best they could.

The reality was, things were just not that bad for them, the population was so low as to not have the widespread pollution that would become a problem later. While education was looked at as something to be desired, it wasn’t considered a necessity.

We could help them with the planting with mechanical assistance. We even had hybrid seeds that would increase the yields. We could aid with the fishing. Now that my mind was working on a solution, more and more options started percolating in my mind.

My people, who had made close observations of the village, had noted just how primitive it all had seemed. The one building of note was the Church, a massive structure of its time, and the only well-built structure in the town. I was reminded that this was a Catholic country, and the locals would put the bulk of their efforts into maintaining it, even at the expense of their own homes!

I had the means to build housing, roads, and layout utilities, even build a new school for them. A hospital, well a clinic really, was not out of the question. Surely that could be done in exchange for food.

I had twenty thousand people with little to do. Granted they were soldiers and the spouses of soldiers and their children; but still, for now, they wouldn’t be fighting anyone soon ... and, well, idle hands and minds made for one hell of a discipline problem.

I called in Colonel Blood and presented it to him. His eyes light up like I had given him a Christmas present. He had already been experiencing discipline problems. With the lack something for the men to do, you could only perform so many inspections; and assigning ‘busy work,’ made for very disgruntled men.

This would be just the thing to change all that. It would be something Militia could see had some real meaning and benefit, for just about everyone. It wouldn’t be ‘busy work.’ As a bonus, it gave them a chance to practice their other skills.

I gave Colonel Blood the green light to go all out with it. We might have to tighten our belts for a short while, but the results soon would start to return. As it turned out we had everything we needed to do just that.

The reports were coming in from the City Manager - I might as well give him the better title since I couldn’t pay him more - and those reports were striking in what was there, versus what was needed. We had warehouses of containers filled with things we would never use! I mean, really, what were we going to do with shipping containers of iPhones and flat screen TV’s? That was enough for everyone in town to have two or more! Then there were more containers of washers, dryers, fans, sewing machines, irons, and other small appliances that nearly every home had. I was sure they already did have them, so what were we doing with all this inventory.

Then there were containers of some really old stuff, TV’s, Radio’s, rotary phones? Now I knew where that phone in my office may have come from. There were a lot of engines blocks - both gasoline and diesel - and transmissions. A lot of stuff from the late 60’s early 70’s shortly after the Compound reverted back into the family’s hands.

What the... ? Of course! As I had said: inventory! It dawned on me that it was meant to be sold! Not to us, but to consumers in America that would never have seen the like before.

The sale of these items could help to finance the building factories to produce more of the same. Investors would be lining up to get on the ground floor this. It is always best to use other people’s money when the outcome is in doubt.

I began looking over those reports a bit more carefully. When I was startled by Adam’s voice, “Mr. Wolfenstein, the computer administrator in New York has acknowledged my system call.”

‘Well! About time!’ I thought to myself, ‘I was wondering if I would have to go there and personally wake him up!’

Looking up, “Okay, what did he have to say?”

Adam replied, “The computer administrator seems to be very annoyed and wants to know just what I am doing there.”

Okay, I thought, “And?”

Adam, “He wants an explanation, as to how and why?”

I was rubbing my head, and with a sigh, asked, “What did you tell him?”

Adam, “As best I could, I conveyed that the system was calling for the Family Prime. There was some delay. Then computer administrator asked for a code.”

Oh! God another code? I thought I asked, “What code?”

Adam came back, “Your access code.”

Did I have time for this, you think the idiot would have called someone to say their system had been hacked! Taking a deep breath, “Transmit the code.”

Adam, “Affirmative, Mr. Wolfenstein. Code transmitted. Awaiting their response.”

I asked, “Adam, do you have a phone number to where that system is.”

Adam, “Affirmative, Mr. Wolfenstein. A line has been traced to its location.”

I nodded, “Good when someone of importance arrives there, place a call to it. That should surprise the hell out of them.”

Adam, “Affirmative, Mr. Wolfenstein.”

It shouldn’t be long, now. Expecting whoever it was to just drop everything, and answer wasn’t going to happen. But the access code had been sent, and it would be answered.

I returned to reading my reports.

Turned out I had diesel fuel, just not enough of it. The tanks supplying the base had recently been filled. Going over the City Manager’s report, there were a lot of shortages, there. About the only thing they were not short of was heating oil for the towns many homes. WAIT! Heating oil? Wasn’t that the same as diesel fuel or nearly the same? It had been a mild winter, and per these reports most all the homes had been topped off recently, mostly due to the lower oil prices of the world spot market at the time. Ten thousand homes with two hundred plus gallon tanks. To be sure there would be no need for heating oil now.

Things were starting to look better. At the word oil prices, I thought back didn’t I see oil jacks around the Compound when I flew in? Now I wondered just how deep were those wells, and how deep did the time shift effect the ground under us. Was I sitting on top of an old oil reserve? If so just how much was there?

I called Dick, “Dick, do you have anyone that can check on the oil jacks I’ve seen around the Compound?”

Dick replied, “Yes, Mr. Wolfenstein, I believe I have just the man, it was his job to service them.”

I replied, “Good. Have him check on all the ones still here. Have him test them. Oh, and Dick, look up the Geologic Surveys if you would.”

Dicks response, “Right away, Mr. Wolfenstein.”

‘Good,’ I thought to myself. ‘If there’s oil down there, I might not have a fuel problem after all.’

It might be time to make my own inspections.

I gathered my reports and had the girls get the transportation ready.

The area of the country where the Compound sat when we were ‘still in Kansas,’ was prone to extremes of temperatures, meaning they needed heating in the winter and air-conditioning in the summer. As we drove outside the humidity and temperatures of the Filipino day struck me full force. It was going to take some time to get used to it. It came to me that maybe I would miss the ice and snow! I could certainly use some now!

All kidding aside, the troops would be suffering till they became acclimatized, I wasn’t sure, being out in it myself, that was going to happen anytime soon.

I would check out the Commissary first. I not sure what I expected, I hadn’t had much call to be in one before. Being mega rich and having servants to do that sort of thing for you. Come to think about it, I don’t think even the servants did that but had things like that delivered. Say what you will, there was a real disconnect between the rich and those not rich. But even without knowing much I could see a lot of bare shelves that shouldn’t be bare. I went to the Commissary manager and questioned him about it. He told me that typically they would have deliveries every other day. Those had of course stopped. I asked how he was going to deal with it? He spoke of the run, at first. Then surprisingly a lot of people brought back what they had gotten. Business was more or less back to normal, but they were running out of most everything, including canned goods. The only thing that they didn’t seem to be short of was Lima beans.

I asked, “Lima beans?”

“Aye,” he told me, “seems no one likes them, even when there no other choice.” Obviously, they didn’t have Cook preparing them.

Then he mentioned TP... TP? I had to ask.

“Yes, toilet paper, TP,” he looked at me like ... well, I couldn’t be sure what his thoughts were, but clearly, they must have been derogatory. I had a thought, ‘TP’ toilet paper, did the paper work never end? I didn’t want to pat myself on the back, but I felt that was rather clever...

Fresh produce was the one thing they couldn’t replace, or store, it had to be used or spoil on the shelves. Meats could be frozen and kept a little longer. Dairy was ... well, it seemed to be the one bright spot, there was a local dairy. It was part of the Agricultural research station. It had been enough for now. Butter cheese and milk and cream we wouldn’t be running out of. We might need to ration them, but they were there. I was even happier when I was told ice cream would be available, though also rationed. It seemed good till I was reminded, and I realized ... well, maybe there was a problem, there. We didn’t have containers! Everything was sold in disposable containers, and as far as I knew we didn’t have any. Just when I thought I found a bright spot, there was something that would need to be worked out. Knowing business is one thing, the day to day details were something else.

I was told that bread wouldn’t be a problem as there was a bakery in town. I must have been slow that day, as I asked didn’t a bakery need flour. I got that same look as before. Then he said the bakery had told him that they would be using the winter wheat that had just been harvested by the Agriculture research station before the... and here he looked at me again, he didn’t look all that happy to be here. I would have to account for that, not everyone would be thrilled with time travel... milling it into flour, and providing bread and other products.

I thought it best to leave, then. I said that I believed the post had stores of canned goods that the Commissary could draw on, and I was working on the fresh produce problem with the locals, and fresh fish would be available soon, too. He brightened up at that, and I got a look that said, maybe I was not the nut case he had thought I was.

I went to the Town Hall next, seems I was just in time for a meeting of some sort. I was informed I had been expected, as I had been seen checking out the Commissary. I lifted an eyebrow at this.

Really, Mr. Wolfenstein, do you think you can go anywhere in this town and go unnoticed? The girls giggled, then the whole room seemed to follow them and broke out in a fit chuckles at my discomposure. I gathered myself and looked at the collected people in the room. They seemed to be the Clergy of the town. While I knew the function of religion, I doubted they knew. Religion and government were not that much different.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” I asked. I had a guess, but I wanted them to come out and say it out loud.

They looked about, but it was clear they had a spokesman. Unlike many Clergy, he didn’t waste a lot of words and got down to the point. It had become known to them that the locals might be in need of ministering to, and they sought my permission to do missionary work. I supposed I should have counted myself lucky they hadn’t started with a prayer.

Had I been as smart as I thought I was, I should have said no and have done with it. But no, I had to open my mouth and asked them why they felt such was necessary. I immediately regretted it. What had I been told about discussing politics and religion? You didn’t win, and often made enemies of those you had sought to be friends with.

They started out in atypical mid-western approach in that if they were not a member of their congregation, then you were in need of saving. And of course, there was that understated meaning that they were brown and living in a poor foreign country that meant they were heathens. It didn’t seem to matter that a third of the Clergy here were Black. So much for the enlightenment of our age. There was even a Catholic priest that was of the same mind.

I let it go on for a few minutes before putting a stop to it. I pulled out a picture I had with me of the Church in the village center and had them pass it around.

“That,” I stated, “is a Roman Catholic Cathedral. The Roman Catholic Church in the Philippines was established in the mid-1500’s long before there even was a United States. The significance of that building means they have a very firm hold here. Perhaps the entire village is Roman Catholic.

“Now I don’t want to say you can’t do missionary work, but I want these people on our side, and that includes their priests. Don’t be rocking the boat because I swear to all of you, if any of you fuck that up, I will find a hole so deep and cold, you’ll wish you were in hell for the heat! Do I make myself clear?

It never seems to fail ... One man stood up, and asked, “So does that mean we can?”

Can I say I was annoyed? I spoke with one of the girls loud enough for everyone to hear, “Make a note to have the Engineers start digging a hole, a very deep one. Tell them not to worry about where to place the dirt, I expect to be filling it back in shortly.” Then I turned back to the one who had asked. Smiling sweetly, “Sure, go ahead ... just know you have been warned!“ I then looked at them, each in turn. “Will there be any further questions?” I was assured there were none. “Good! If there is nothing else, I have work to do.” Excusing them. The one who had asked the question seemed to think I was the one who was leaving. As the others filed out, one of them took him by the arm helped escort him out. Shaking my head, I thought, ‘I just might have need of that hole after all.’

The town manager who had been present and witnessed all, took me aside, “Did you mean it about that hole?”

“It’s tempting,” I said. Then we discussed other business.

Preparations for what we conceived to be needed for the defense of the Compound were being made. It was thought that we could hold the Compound indefinitely, with little additional fortification. But, it was the Japanese empire we were talking about, and they would want us out, bad.

We would be under siege for the better part of four years if we simply did nothing more than defend ourselves. However, we didn’t have the food stores to hold out that long. That meant we would have to take the battle to them and not just simply sit tight.

It was concluded that keeping the Japanese off of, or out of the Philippines, or at least off the main island of Luzon, would be our main goal. Our modern weapons might make that doable, although they did not assure it; due in part to our small numbers. We would be facing something like 20 to 1 odds, at a minimum.

As it stood, the Filipino and American forces were undertrained and even more undersupplied. Plus, given the policy changes, we were aware of on our own timeline. They would not be reinforced or supplied and indeed forced to surrender after a few months of intense fighting.

It was time I spoke to General MacArthur.

I would like to report that it had gone well. Yes, I would very much like to say it had gone well. It hadn’t! Had I said he could hardly say no to our help?

First off, he told me, it was 1938, not 1941. Then he said he was retired and had been for several months. He was not an active duty Officer. He informed me that it was highly unlikely they would reactivate him. Then he told me of his opinion of the Japanese Army as to its abilities to fight Americans. He dismissed them as a non-threat. Then, in ending, he informed me that I was a civilian, and one he had never heard of before. He had been accommodating in allowing me into his home to hear what I had to say, but just what business did I have trying to tell him how to engage in fighting a war. He nearly had me thrown out of his home. I was told not to return. So much for that.

If I’d had doubts about him, he had just reinforced them! He had firmly rejected my offer and had shown an elitist attitude I had seen among the lesser families. Also, it was one, if I was honest with myself, I was guilty of, too. There would be no help or working with him. What could I say about the man? If his ego alone were to defend the Philippines, then they would be unassailable. But egos didn’t do any of the fighting, men did.

My dilemma now was how to step in and help the American forces without General MacArthur stepping in and claiming credit for it. His ego and political connections seemed to have shielded him and his gross incompetence in the after-hours of the attack on Pearl Harbor. He’d just sat and had done nothing, and he’d gotten off scot-free, while others at Pearl had lost their jobs over it. He seemed quite capable of doing it again, on this timeline. In plain, MacArthur was an opportunist. Right now, he, in fact,, had not been recalled to duty. Maybe he saw what was coming and maybe he didn’t. It was hard to tell in the short time I’d had with him.

He had lost the Philippines so badly that he’d caused the greatest surrender of American forces since the civil war! Over one hundred thousand men and women. For that outstanding service, he got the Medal of Honor and tried to deny one to the General who he had left behind to fight in his stead.

Where was the justice in that?

That meant we would not be fighting side by side after all. That was my first take on it. The next was how to do it without MacArthur short term, seeing how we would be unable to move the Compound from this location. That was not to say we couldn’t move everything and build a new Compound somewhere else, well actually we couldn’t there was simply not enough time for that. Long term, if we had the time, that might have been our best option; but right now, I didn’t feel like abandoning these people to what I knew was to come.

While I wasn’t out for profit, I wasn’t in it for a loss, either. I would want to come out ahead on this deal. I would in any case, but this was the time to fix the family’s position as “First,” now and forever. It looked like I was about to become an arms manufacturer and dealer whether I liked it or not.

We all knew the war would end in a little over three and a half years if we did nothing. But just being here changed all that. The Japanese would find us, and realize we were something different. I hoped that by the time realized just how different, it would be too late for them. The die would already have been cast. They were already doomed because of their attack on Pearl Harbor, they just wouldn’t realize it fully for a while. We would accelerate their education.

The plan, therefore, was to hold the Japanese at bay, causing them to concentrate their troops here, instead of other targets to the south. If they were to fail in taking the Philippines, all their other attacks in the western Pacific would be for naught. It would be easy for the American forces to bypass their island strongholds or take them later if need be. The Philippines could and would block their movements in the South China Sea causing them to have to move through the more dangerous and open West Pacific once they brought the United States into the war.

They would be in a worse position having declared war on the United States, without being any better off strategically, and being cut off from the resources they had been after; not realizing we were now in the mix and would be blocking them.

My officers felt we would need to recruit from the locals and train them to fill in the ranks. Given what I had read of the ‘The Philippine Scout Mutiny,’ that General Douglas MacArthur had put down in his usual brutal efficiency part of the local history. I made it clear that we would not be repeating those mistakes. They readily agreed, it had been a mistake then, given their sacrifice; and it was mistake my officers didn’t want to be any part of, again.

Even before it needed to be done, I was building a Veterans Hospital, and writing FDR not to forget the Philipino soldier, they were serving in the United States Army, making the same sacrifices as stateside soldiers. After all the Philippines was a territory of the United States, as such American soil as much as any state.

My officers also expressed hope that I get more food stores and weapons if it came to a protracted war.

It had turned out that when the survey of the complex was completed, it matched very closely with my discovered inventory files.

There was some good news and bad about the Oil Jacks. Turned out they were not oil jacks at all, but water jacks, supplying the town with water. Seems that over the years the water table had been dropping, steadily. Global warming had changed the weather patterns, and the aquifer was not being replenished.

Not only that but the Hydraulic fracturing that had been touted as being safe? Well, it wasn’t. In many of the areas where it had been done, it had poisoned the groundwater. To make matters worse, the government was not holding the those responsible for the pollution accountable for the cleanup.

To add insult to injury, the oil and gas reserves that were said to be there - more than a hundred years’ worth they had said - well that too, was not quite true. While there had been a great deal of oil and gas there, the world’s energy needs were quickly eating it up. Soon not only would they be depleted, but they would also leave the groundwater contaminated, and the cleanup was considered too expensive to do. The companies having done would go into bankruptcy rater that pay to do the necessary cleanup leaving to the government to do if ever. (There were superfund sites that had yet to be cleaned up after generations of waiting!) Those ranchers that had sold the rights to drill on their lands now found they didn’t have water for their cattle. One other thing, they found they didn’t have the rights to, was the rainwater that fell on their land. They couldn’t capture it for their own use. They had to let it run freely into streams and rivers without hampering the flow, even to water their dying cattle. Such were the rules of the EPA.

Okay, that was the bad news, the good news was that none of that had been done, here. While the Aquifer may have been low, it was not contaminated. What we did have here were oil wells that were much deeper and had been capped off, and had plenty of head pressure. There were already pipes from them to the rail yard, in anticipation of selling the oil at one time.

Although over the years while much the land had been sold off around the township, the family had retained the mineral rights and hadn’t permitted Hydraulic fracturing within a hundred miles of the Compound.

So, we had safe water, though that was not really a problem now that we were in the Philippines, as the rainy season would restore those levels to the point that it might even become a problem in itself.

The Compound had a stockpile of weapons and ammunition; so arming, and training our recruits, would not present a problem. We had more than enough for training. Even heavy use of the shooting range and live fire exercises of the larger weapon systems could be carried out. So, our recruits would not only become familiar with their weapons, but competent with them, and we’d still have ample ammo left to fight with.

They would not be the raw unsteady, untrained recruits the Japanese would be expecting. While on their first landings would be against the regular Filipino and American forces, things would go their way. It wouldn’t be that easy once our troops took to the field!

Playing politics in a time of war seemed counterproductive, but as much as I didn’t want to wait - and neither did my officers - I was going to wait till the Japanese got to the Bataan peninsula thus proving just how incompetent General Douglas MacArthur and his staff were at implementing Army plan Orange. I would document every failure, thoroughly. I hoped to force the president to act as I wished, get rid of MacArthur. Then as soon as General Douglas MacArthur was ordered to leave, I would be stepping in to ‘pull the fat out of the fire,’ shoring up the US forces with superior firepower, and regaining air superiority.

It was the middle of the night when Adam informed me that the Prime in New York was online.

Good, I thought, “Make the call.”

I was a bit sleepy, but I didn’t want to waste time, I ordered up coffee. And the girls saw to my other needs. As I thought of the time, I realized I had forgotten about the time zones, it was mid-day there, and midnight where I was.

The call was on the speaker, and I heard the phone ring a few times before being answered.

The voice that answered said, “Hello?”

I replied, “Hello, may I speak with the Prime?”

Clearly, I wasn’t speaking to a prime when whoever it was then demanded, “Just who the hell are you, and how did you get this number?”

I looked up my notes and determined that the current Prime’s name was Mr. Abram Wolfenstein. “May I please speak to Mr. Abram Wolfenstein?”

There was that same voice sputtering that there was no such person there and asked again how I had gotten their number.

Okay, I may not have been a Prime myself for very long, but I was starting to get annoyed, I started again, “This James Adam Wolfenstein, Family Alpha Prime. Code input, this tape will self-destruct in five seconds, good luck, Grandfather.” The line went dead.