The United States is sending ninety M777 155mm howitzers to Ukraine along with 180,000 thousand rounds of ammunition. In concert with counter-battery radar, these howitzers should be able to take out Russian heavy artillery currently leveling Ukrainian cities. These guns fire a near 100-pound shell out to 20,000 yards. Special rounds can double that.
I had opined to my wife that we would send our older M198 howitzers to Ukraine, which weigh seven-tons each. The M777 hogs are made with mucho titanium an so weigh just 3.5-Tons. This means they can be airlifted by smaller helicopters. They also cost ten times as much as the steel M198.
I wish them all success. Rick
​ 

​Synopsis: The Washington State Patrol is tasked with evacuating the epicenter of the predicted sinkhole to La Brea near Seattle. La Brea is a land of Ice Age giant animals and mysterious humans; including some that recently fell into the Los Angeles sinkhole. Those include Eve and Josh Harris. Father Gavin Harris and amputee daughter Izzy are at the Seattle sinkhole, partly in hope of rescuing Eve and Josh. Neophyte Trooper Jeremy Cross locks eyes with Izzy and, if not love, intense mutual interest is felt by Jeremy. 

The Seattle sinkhole is maybe twenty yards across, rather than the quarter mile in Los Angeles. There is no room for an airplane and it will not stay open for weeks. Maybe just hours. Apparently wearing just their street clothes, Gavin and Izzy make a daring leap to re-connect with Eve and Josh. A galvanized Jeremy equips himself from the trunk of the cruiser he shares with Sergeant James Royal and jumps in after them.

* * *

Jeremy woke lying on his left side. It was cold and his feet felt like blocks of wood. The landscape was bright without the familiar Douglas fir to block the glare. That was when he noticed the lack of evergreen scent. No jay birds or squirrels scolded him. He looked up and was pleased no vultures were circling, yet. Sitting up, he saw he was on a tundra of lichen, grass and low shrubs. The tall mountain to the east could one day be Mount Rainier.

Jeremy had leapt into the Seattle sinkhole to La Brea just a few minutes after Gavin and Izzy Harris. Izzy had given him a thousand watt smile before leaping with her father and Jeremy had been overwhelmed with the need to protect her. La Brea was said to lie 12,000 years in the past and this place looked the part.  

Jeremy stood up, donned his glasses and did a slow scan. Among the shrubs were stands of white flowers with yellow centers. The flowers had eight petals. Dryas flowers. Geese gabled on a knoll nearby. There was a darker patch in the distance that might be a herd of animals. There were no real trees nearby but there was a dark line to the south. No sign of Gavin or Izzy.

Jeremy had heard that some of the Los Angeles sinkhole survivors had arrived miles from others. Jeremy rearranged his pack to more easily access his rifle and revolver while taking a swig of water. After some thought, he loaded the fixed magazine of the rifle with five rounds and pushed his remaining fifteen rounds into three brass stripper clips. The clips fit into a notch at the rear of the Mauser action and allowed five rounds at a time to be pushed into the magazine with his thumb.

Taking in water made him notice the pressure in his bladder. He could have been out for hours while Gavin and Izzy headed south. The trees there would offer shelter and firewood and were in the general direction of Gavin’s wife and son. Still, if the two had landed to the north, he could be walking away from them, if he acted precipitously.

Jeremy climbed uphill for the best vantage point atop a basalt border and blew a whistle three times before doing a slow scan with binoculars. He repeated the distress call twice more with no response. Crap. If they were walking south, there was a 50% chance they were walking away from him and were already too far away to hear the whistle. Once they reached the tree line, they wouldn’t be able to see more than a dozen yards.

Jeremy set off a red smoke signal and fired a rifle round to gain attention. The blast was not only loud but had a distinctive supersonic crack. Jeremy decided to camp on the downhill side of the boulder while leaving the red mountain rescue pack bag on top to attract Gavin or Izzy.

Jeremy walked down the ridge towards the west. Depending on the siteline, he built a stack of rocks with a ground level rock pointing back to his chosen campsite every 50-120 yards. He had spent hours building a line of cairns when the sky flashed overhead. When Jeremy looked up, he could spot a faint star in the day sky, too high to be Venus. It must be the gateway. Nearly half a minute later he heard thunder.

Going back, Jeremy stopped at every monument and used the binoculars to scan the ground and sky. A third of a mile on the return, he spotted a patch of color on the hillside a quarter mile to the north. He eased down his ridge and up the gentler opposite slope to discover a trio of backpacks roped together. The smallest was pink while another was bright yellow and the last cobalt blue. Jeremy shouldered the largest and heaviest pack and carried the others in either hand.

Burdened with three packs and returning uphill, it took Jeremy more hours to reach has chosen campsite. No one was waiting for him. The sun was only a handbreadth above the horizon and Jeremy didn’t think he could reach the tree line before dark. Especially carrying four backpacks. He would have to do without better shelter or firewood.

Jeremy was too exhausted to explore the new backpacks. He arranged a few stones to hold his camp cup over a fuel tab and heated water for tea. In addition to the carbohydrate lifeboat ration, the red rescue pack yielded foil packets of tuna, chicken and jerky. An unopened jar of peanut butter offered nourishment for someone with dental damage. Jeremy selected a tuna packet with a lifeboat ration for dessert. His meal was more filling than he would have imagined, after the day’s exertions.

At 5’ 11” and 155-pounds, Jeremy did not max out the volume of the space fabric sleeping bag from the rescue pack. He placed both firearms inside the bag to conceal them from anyone walking up in the dark. Jeremy promised himself not to shoot off any toe, or more vital appendage, looming over him when he awoke.

* * *

Sergeant James Royal had a plan for evacuating Jeremy Cross’s furnished apartment. He had arrived with banker boxes, packing materials, shopping bags and black trash bags. Dishes went into the dishwasher and clothes into the washing machine. Next came the refrigerator with liquids going down the toilet and produce going into garbage bags. 

Unopened containers went into the shopping bags. Open ones were trashed. Thoughtful consideration could waste hours. 

Pots, pans and dishes were packed into the banker boxes for storage along with the jetsam of Royal’s marriage. Towels cushioned the fragile pieces. The few pictures were staged at the door for removal last. Jeremy’s choice of an upstairs apartment saved him from basketball players overhead, but was a pain when moving out.

Shirts and jackets would go out next to last; covering the banker boxes and cushioning the paintings. Royal was packing up Jeremy’s sock drawer when he came onto two boxes of rifle ammunition. Yes, his partner could probably use more than twenty rounds on a year-long hike to 10,000 BC Los Angeles.

* * *

Sergeant Royal had hoped to make a one stop shopping trip at the mall. The hunting shop had .308 Winchester ammo. 140-rounds on the shelf. Royal had planned to purchase eighty more rounds. That would allow two shots a week for deer and weigh about ten pounds. Royal believed in messages from the almighty and bought all 140 cartridges. There was no .44 ammunition, yet. There was plenty of 9mm NATO ammo and some 10mm but traditional American calibers had not caught up with demand. Royal would have to stop at his apartment to donate his revolver ammunition.

The hunting shop was still able to contribute a pair of abalone knives, incredibly strong fishing line, a variety of fish hooks and a sturdy stainless steel cook pot with bail for camp cooking.

The nice lady at the backpack shop became enthused when Royal said he was outfitting three friends for a Pacific Crest Trail through-hike. Royal turned down the four-ounce, 160-decibel, flight-deck whistles. Royal hoped Izzy was a size medium.

The grocery store yielded noodles, instant rice and oats. James selected three pounds of salt, dry onion flakes, pepper, paprika and tobasco for seasoning. He threw in some hard cheeses, knowing they would not last long. Instant coffee, tea, sugar and dry milk went into the shopping cart.

The pharmacy supplemented the mountain rescue first-aid kit with large bottles of ibuprofen, laxative and anti-diarrhea pills. James added fingertip bandages, waterproof tape and 3-in-1 antibiotic ointment. The pharmacist was helpful regarding prosthetic leg care.

James hoped the hardware store was his last stop for bendable steel wire, flexible snare wire, drill bits and sturdy work gloves. If he acted quickly, he could make a supply drop before the sinkhole closed up. 

The 'surprise' invasion of Ukraine by Russia has invigorated discussion of the need for civilians armed with military weapons, as listed in the United States Constitution: The Biggest Case for the 2nd Amendment Is Happening Right No - Firearms News Are there plausible threats of invasion?
I will boldly assert that the United States could (not will be) invaded by Mexico, China or by an evil alliance.
The rationales for Mexico include prior territorial claim, mistreatment of immigrants and re-opening their drug market. Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands in 1982 with a territorial claim based on a sighting of the island by a French or Spanish navigator. Argentina ignored the stronger claim of British colonization in 1840 and continuous occupation to this day. Argentina invaded despite Britain being a nuclear power. Mexico colonized the present states of California, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Texas. According to Mexican maps as recent as 1948, these regions were 'temporarily' ceded to the United States at the end of the Mexican War.
Italy invaded Ottoman Libya, in 1911, based on prior colonization by the Roman Empire and the mistreatment of Italian agrarian colonists allowed in by the Ottoman Turks. We have millions of legal and illegal immigrants from Mexico in the United States. While legal immigrants take a loyalty oath, we witnessed many Mexican flags being waved in the USA in anticipation of the 2016 Presidential election.
Great Britain sold opium in China for tea and fought two or three opium wars in the nineteenth century to keep their market open when such sales were outlawed by the Chinese government. Should the USA close the southern border, or end the drug war, the cartels might be tempted to re-open their market by force of arms. Otto von Bismark united multiple kingdoms in Germany to create an Empire and invade France in 1870. This is an unlikely scenario that would certainly take us by surprise.
The enmity of China for the United States is evidenced by both the supply of drug precursor chemicals to the Cartels and the free departure of infected Chinese from Wuhan after they were quarantined from the rest of China. China is contesting United States power in the Pacific with a larger navy, carrier targeting ballistic missiles and armed islands in the South China Sea. The immediate target is Taiwan.
The United States tariffs on Chinese products has hurt their economy. A loss of their drug sales my put them in domestic distress and needing an external war to pre-empt a civil war. China has a population of 1,300 million versus the 300 million in the United States. Tens of millions of Chinese men were born without hope for brides due to sex-selective abortions for decades. The Chinese merchant marine includes 1,200-foot container ships that can cross the Pacific in just five days. 
Another reason for a Chinese invasion is lebensraum. A 1970's study found sufficient water in China to feed just 500 million people indefinitely. North America could provide much needed space for Chinese farmers.
So I believe invasion is a plausible reason for civilian ownership of military arms. That is in addition to home defense and domestic discord.
​Best regards, Rick Kester

Washington State Trooper Jeremy Cross screamed out “Noooo” with a volume that shook the woods when Gavin Harris and his daughter, Izzy, stepped into the sinkhole near Seattle. He may have been the only one, or just by far the loudest. The other troopers guarding the site had been hardened by exposure to highway wrecks and, less frequently, homicides.
 
Of course, they hadn’t gotten the smile. Jeremy 's college girlfriend, Sally, had recently left him and he had had no hope of finding anyone else.
 
Sally had never had enthusiasm for his plan to live in Muckleshoot reservation housing while they built his dream home: a passive house in the mountains. Evidently, Sally had taken advantage of his sleeping at the Patrol Academy five nights a week to explore her options with other suitors.
 
On this day, Jeremy and Sergeant James Royal had spent most of their shift giving evacuation warnings to residents and news people in preparation for the catastrophic opening of a quarter-mile-wide sinkhole to the land of La Brea, 10,000 years Before Present Era. When it happened, the earthquake was no more than 4.5 on the Richter scale and the sinkhole was no wider than a house. Jeremy remembered several Olympic long jumpers that could have spanned the gap, given surer footing.
 
The Washington State Troopers had arrived at the sinkhole first and tried to secure the dangerous hole, which ran straight down for 20,000-feet. The Troopers were outranked and pushed aside by geologists, NASA scientists and agents of Homeland Security.
 
Walnut haired Gavin Harris and his blonde daughter had arrived at the rear of the entourage, though it was Gavin’s visions that had provided much of what was known about La Brea. Also, Gavin’s wife, Eve and their son, Josh, had fallen into the Los Angeles sinkhole and were alive in 10,000 BPE.
 
Jeremy found his eyes tracking Izzy and when she looked at him, she smiled. Jeremy smiled back with all the wistfulness of a young man who had lost his love and was surprised to find a girl who even noticed him. To his utter surprise, Izzy widened her smile. It seemed to Jeremy that a ray of sunshine shone only on him and thawed the icy loneliness of his heart. He would give her his card and ask for a phone number when she returned from gazing into the depths.
 
Gavin and Izzy stood dangerously close the brink and talked quietly to each other. Then they joined hands and jumped forward, disappearing from the modern world. Yes, Jeremy had screamed. Then Jeremy turned away and strode purposefully to the patrol car.
 
“What are you doing?” asked Sergeant James Royal. James was an inch over six feet in height with blonde hair and an athletic build.
 
“I’m going after the blonde girl to protect her.” Jeremy didn’t mention the smile, but James had seen the sappy look and knew there was no way to stop his partner, short of physical restraint. That would likely take several men and, given the reporters’ presence, would disgrace the Washington State Patrol.
 
“Okay,” James agreed with all the dourness of a man making a bad choice and hoping it wasn’t the worst, “Let me help you get as prepared as you can be. This sinkhole may not be here tomorrow. First, give me your equipment belt and radio. Taking Patrol equipment will give you a black mark. Hell, when you get back, I hope to get you re-instated.”
 
Jeremy hadn’t thought that far ahead but handed over the radio, gun, badge, and his apartment keys. He quickly wrote a note giving Sergeant James Royal authority to handle his affairs in his absence and handed it over with his ATM card.
 
Royal finished loading the four-inch forty-four revolver he carried, in the trunk, for search and rescue missions. He secured it in its flap holster and handed the gun belt to Jeremy. “Put this on.”
 
When Jeremy had buckled on the revolver, James helped him don a storm parka, red mountain rescue pack and strap Jeremy’s privately owned patrol rifle to the side of the pack.
 
Jeremy’s rifle was a bolt-action 1898 Mauser that had been remodeled by the Spanish to resemble the 7.62X51mm NATO chambered CETME assault rifle they had adopted in the 1950’s. Jeremy’s father had bought it three decades ago as the popular .308 Winchester cartridge was the clone of the military round.
 
Jeremy carried a twenty-round box of ammunition on the off chance of needing a big game rifle to deal with a bear or crazed livestock. The sealed primer and bullet of the premium brand was supposed to protect the powder from water while the cases were nickeled against corrosion. Not designed for mammoth but arguably better than the department issue 5.56X45 NATO (.223 Remington) some people disparaged as a varmint killer.
 
The red search & rescue pack only had three days of food but had such bushcrafting tools as a saw, camp knife and entrenching tool. The first aid kit alone would greatly enhance the trio’s chances, if he was able to join up with them.
 
Jeremy tucked his glasses into an inner pocket as they walked back. He expected to reach a terminal velocity of 120 miles-per-hour as he fell. When he turned to give James a final handshake at the brink of the abyss, he spotted several people converging on them and sidestepped into the empty air.
 
                                                                           * * *
 
Sergeant Royal’s Captain was a small, lean, man who never looked at ease behind a desk.
 
James Royal skipped asking for forgiveness for himself and went straight to his ask, “Can you give Trooper Cross leave without pay?” And laid Jeremy Cross’s gun belt and radio down.
 
Captain Arnold pushed out his lips as he weighed his reply, “Sorry, but there’s no way. I can’t ask for more sworn personnel to help in Seattle while holding open an empty slot. How long an absence do you expect?”
 
Sergeant Royal had trained himself to not tug at his mustache, “If they make it to Los Angeles in less than a year, it will be a miracle. I see your position.”
 
“Okay,” Captain Arnold conceded, “I can write this up as a voluntary separation without prejudice. We do this a lot for female troopers who re-think their career choice. As you know, the average male recruit remains with us for eighteen years.
“How about you? You seemed closer to Cross than your other trainees. Are you thinking of joining him?”
 
Sergeant Royal rocked back on his heels. His recent status as a divorcee had left him open to spending off-time with Jeremy Cross but he currently was seeing a librarian, when their schedules allowed. “No Sir, I have important work here.”
 
“Good to hear it. Now get out of here. You wouldn’t believe the mountain of paperwork this sinkhole is giving me.”
 
Royal left before the Captain thought to delegate some of the load onto him.
 
                                                                                 * * *
 
Jeremy woke lying on his left side. It was cold and his feet felt like blocks of wood. The land scape was bright without the familiar Douglas fir to block the glare. That was when he noticed the lack of evergreen scent. No jay birds or squirrels scolded him. He looked up and was pleased no vultures were circling, yet. Sitting up, he saw he was on a tundra of lichen, grass and low shrubs. The tall mountain to the east could one day be Mount Rainier.

To be continued?
​Rick Kester