It was October and the girls were starting to show baby bumps. Stephanie was pregnant again. Still not telling who the father was. Rain to fill all the cisterns was but a month away, hopefully with the weather changing the way it was. The hurricane had quelled the drought but the dead grass and brush remained, dried out again after two months without rain.

For the most part, the harvest in the Central Valley, what little there was salvageable from field crops, was over but there were winter crops, like alfalfa and winter wheat that would need to be planted and cultivated if there were ways of harvesting and processing them for cattle feed and flour locally. Dairy production and honeybee harvest also continued through the winter. The biggest problem was having enough hands to do the work.

Most of the land became fallow from lack of cultivation. The wild returned rapidly as all the small creatures multiplied that survived the flood.

Two days before we were to leave, I gave Morgan a call. He answered, "Sheriff Singh, Port of Los Angeles."

"Hello Morgan. It's Drake. How'd you like to come along with us this weekend to the Central Valley?"

"I don't know. I'd like to go along, but I'm not sure about the security that Derek and Wondah have rebuilt and whether my staff are up to being alone now that my cousin was killed in the line of duty."

"No better way to break them in than to give them more responsibility. When I found my parents gone I had to grow up immediately and take charge of our neighborhood or it would have fallen apart and everyone would have died only because no one would take charge and do something."

"You're right, Drake. I need to let my staff take charge so they can learn to take responsibility and I can leave and learn from what's happening in the Central Valley… A place I've never been."

"You'll like it. Can we count on you leaving from the port at 8 am on Saturday?"

"Okay, you've convinced me. I'll put someone I think I can trust in charge and join you. Are you taking the SWAT vehicles?"

"Wouldn't take anything less, but we are leaving the tank here because we can get tanks and other military vehicles close to Fresno."

I was glad that he accepted and would learn from the trip like I knew I would and needed.

We left that morning with my truck and a trailer, two hydrogen fueled SWAT trucks and a refrigerator truck filled with fish and seafood.

The Santa Anas were picking up as we left the city and the acrid smell of brushfires was in the air. While the hurricane flooding had stemmed the drought in the Valley, the hillsides of surrounding mountains where water had run off very quickly remained bone dry and now burned unhindered by firefighting crews like so often in recent months.

When we arrived at the Grapevine we could see fires burning on both sides of the road. There was a smoky haze in the air but no smoke yet crossing the road to affect our visibility or breathing to drive on through and into the Valley.

We turned off after the 99 bypass of Bakersfield to Mondale because I wanted to introduce Morgan to Sheriff Alex Crockett. I wanted to ask him to come along and learn how to deal with gangs if he could, too.

But when we pulled up to where the roadblock had been, it was no longer there. We drove on to the clearly marked Sheriff's Department and pulled up. No one greeted us.

But when Morgan, Nick, Derek, Melody and I entered the office, we were greeted by Deputy Ramirez like our first arrival. He rose from his seat behind the reception desk and came over to meet us.

"Where's Sheriff Crockett?" I asked.

Ramirez got a sad look on his face, shook his head side to side and replied, "He's dead. What's left of this town is in mourning. We buried him and five townspeople this morning. You've come at a very sad time for us."

"What happened?"

"About thirty gang members from Bakersfield snuck in here In the middle of the night two days ago and started killing and robbing people until we all woke up and Alex led the charge. We killed fifteen of them before they left with nothing. But they left us with more sorrow after all we've been through already."

I motioned Morgan forward to introduce him. "This is Sheriff Morgan Singh, our newly elected sheriff of Los Angeles County and the only law we have in our port village."

"Pleased to meet you, Sheriff," the deputy said with a strange look on his face seeing a uniformed sheriff in front of him with a black beard, a black turban and an obvious dark skinned Asian face.

"And to meet you," looking at his nameplate, "Deputy Luis Ramirez. You're the first small town sheriff's department that I've visited. Mind if I look around a bit because we are building ours right now."

"I guess you know our situation. We usually have about seven people here every day. But today, it's just Gloria, our dispatcher, and me. Our whole department is only five people after what has happened. The others are sleeping after the night shift."

"I just lost my first deputy, my cousin, shot by gang members a week ago. I know what you mean." Morgan shook his head up and down and his expression showed that he understood.

Some townspeople were called out to accept the seafood we had for them and Morgan toured the office briefly before we had to continue our journey. I offered Luis to come along, but he, understandably, said, "I can't, in good conscience with the threat we are under."

As we got underway I didn't tell the others, but thought, when we have the opportunity and depending on how well we do in Fresno, we would come back and see what we could do in Bakersfield. Bakersfield was much bigger than Fresno and probably had many more gangs. But then, we were in the process of taking on the gangs of LA. A nearly impossible task.

We arrived at Grandpa Ralph's just before 4 o'clock and he was waiting for us with a big party. The Meyer brothers and Gladys were there along with other farmers that would be going with us the next day to Fresno.

The party ended and we went to bed early knowing we would have to get up early to go to Bob's Surplus to gather equipment and plan our attack.

Gramps insisted on going along even though I told him it would be dangerous. We were also joined by the Meyers boys and several other farmers in a convoy as we arrived at Bob's.

Bob Holcomb came out to greet us. Shook my hand but acknowledged Gramps. 

"Glad you're all here, Ralph. I've decided that I'm going to drive one of the tanks. Three nights ago, they came and tried to break in. I lost one of my friends who heard the shooting and came to help out as I was firing at them. It's a damn shame. We've already lost so many."

I responded, "It never seems to quit. We are all losing good people to these gangs, time to get rid of them like we are attempting in Los Angeles."

"I don't envy your task, but I'm glad you're here."

After I introduced everyone all around, Bob showed us two Korean War era Abrams tanks that were fully operational and fully armed. Derek, Monsour and Nick would man one of the tanks and Bob, Morgan and Bob's tank mechanic, José, in the other. I would drive the lead SWAT with Melody by my side.

After Derek showed his skills with Bob aboard we were ready to move out. We left all of the vehicles behind except the two tanks and the two SWAT vehicles with all of the SWAT occupants in body armor, including Gramps because we knew we would get hit. I knew we would have to make sure that the tanks were not compromised because they could be death traps if stopped by losing tread or hit with a Molotov cocktail or bomb.

When we arrived at Fresno, Bob knew where he was going and drove immediately to the west side to the headquarters of the Valley Blods. There were two machine gun equipped pickups out front and he blew them both up with two well placed shots from his big gun.

A couple of guns opened up on us but were quickly dispatched by a rocket from Derek. Bob broke through the gate to their parking lot and firing ceased. We got out and entered the place. Found five women and kids but the only men left were the ones that were firing at and they were dead.

Nearby, were the North 7. Their yard was open and there wasn't anyone alive around. We moved on to where the Young Brown Militia had a compound. They fired at us from three places and we returned fire until they didn't anymore. When we went inside we found only one woman with a baby to her breast. All of the gang members were dead.

By that time, everyone in Fresno had heard the firing and word had reached the several Bullhead affiliated gangs running drugs for the cartels through Central California. They descended upon us from all sides and we got in a firefight with them.

Unfortunately, even with machine guns on their pickup beds, they were outgunned and we destroyed five vehicles and killed about fifteen gang members. Our guys were hit seven times but no injury was permanent. They were able to shake it off with nothing but deep bruises and soreness.

I watched in horror when some of the wounded gang members came out from where they had been with their hands up only to be mowed down by fire from the farmers that were with us.

I yelled to Cy, Jr., "What's going on? I thought we had a deal we weren't going to kill anyone unless it was in self-defense?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Those guys lost kids to the drugs here in high school. I know, Rich and I tried a little marijuana, but didn't go any further once Dad found out."

I understood. "Yeah, Derek and I had the same problem."

"About that time, we heard sirens wailing and two cars pulled up. One had Sheriff painted prominently on its side. A man stepped out holding a gun on us with the bullhorn.

"What's going on here! What are you doing in this county! Who are you?"

Bob Holcomb stuck his head up out of the tank hatch he was driving and yelled, "Oh, Harve! You're a little late for the party. We have just been eliminating your gang and drug problem."

He continued for our benefit. "Guys, this is Deputy Harvey Ford of the Fresno County Sheriff's Department. How is Sheriff Grant doing?"

"He's dead for months now. I had to take over as Sheriff, unfortunately. Pandemic got him along with a lot of others. It looks like you guys have pretty much wiped out all the gangs we have here. They've been terrorizing the city and the surrounding farms ever since the pandemic. Let's go check out where they all hang out and see if there are any stragglers." He looked really tired but happy.

We followed Harvey to several places and entered. We got shot at in a couple of places and ended it very quickly. As we moved about town, people came out on the street and started waving and cheering like we were a military parade. They were also grateful.

I thought, If only Los Angeles could be cleaned up this easily. I knew it wasn't to be.

Grateful, too, were the farmers among us because they knew they could bring their food into town now without having to deal with the gangs anymore.

The Fresno folk wanted us to stay and celebrate but we declined, although some of the farmers said they would come back to town that night for the celebration.

We pulled into Bob's Surplus a little after 4 pm and were back at Gramps's place by 4:30. The Meyers invited us and others over there and Gladys was so glad to have her boys back safe she gave us a feast before heading back to Gramps's for the night.

The next morning, we left early and made it back into town with edges of flame on hillsides and black smoke in the air all around. Sometimes nearly blinding us as we drove through thick smoke blowing across the road. Santa Anas whipping at our high-profile SWAT vehicles, sometimes threatening to throw them off the road.

As we passed Santa Monica on our way to the port, the state forest behind our compound was burning and there were fires all over LA fanned by the strong winds.

I wondered; will it ever stop? I didn't know and I didn't know what would be waiting when we got to the port.

Copyright 2023 © Ronald W. Hull

11/2/23