How to Properly Celebrate Resistance Day

[Poohbah]

How to Properly Celebrate Resistance Day

August 24th, 1990
San Diego, California

"So, what can we do for a Resistance Day observance at Patrick Henry High School?"

Mark Jester's question hung in the air.

I said, "Look, here's the President's proclamation . . . let's see . . . "

I ran my thumb down the lines until I found the phrase I'd remembered and read aloud: " . . . We celebrate the spirit of resistance to tyranny, especially to a tyranny that baldly proclaimed a love of mankind's freedom while utterly despising free-minded people . . . "

I looked around Roberta's living room at the half-dozen veterans and schoolmates gathered. "And I know just the thing to do."

Chris Batchelder put her face in her hands. "Ah, jeez, not that again . . . c'mon, Josh, it's over!"

Roberta, sitting next to me, suddenly stood up and said, "It's over? Nothing's over until we say it's over! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?"

Everyone laughed at the old joke.

Thank you, Roberta, I thought. We'd been lurching along to having something resembling a relationship over the past three months. She'd said it would be hard, and she was right. But when we were in harmony, it was wonderful.

"Josh is right. We need to do this. That act was a travesty, wiping out years of tradition and hard work in an act of officially-sponsored vandalism supposedly done 'for our own good.' If undoing that vile deed ISN'T in the true spirit of Resistance Day, pray tell me what is, people!"

Bill Javan, '85, a former tank commander, raised a bottle of beer toward Roberta. "Hear, hear!"

Joe Salatino, '79, who'd spent the war in a brigade operations shop, took a long pull of Heineken and said, "We'll need more bodies . . . and we're going to need a real plan of action. Josh, start working the phone tree, see if we get buy-in. Roberta, Bill, Mark, let's start putting our skulls together . . . Chris, start putting together a shopping list."

I said, "Tomorrow morning."

"Uh-uh. Right now. No time like the present. Besides, it's better to get people before they're too drunk or hungover to remember what they promised."

* * *

25 August 1990

I said, "OK, I've got enthusiastic commitments from everyone I called, including my sister."

Roberta's face instantly grew a worried expression. "Josh, she's still in the Guard."

"And she said she wouldn't miss it for the world. Can't leave her out, she's still got some of the critical sketches and photos, possibly the only copies left, definitely the only copies I know of."

Bill Javan said, "Yeah, we'll need those."

Chris Batchelder held up a legal pad. "Got the basic supply list for everything except Mickey. Josh, any luck with skills for the repair job?"

"I've got a freshly FIGMO'd Navy electronics technician--Pete Bardswell, Class of '84--ready to rock."

Chris smiled. "Was he the redhead with the cute dimples?"

"Redhead, yes; I leave the judgement of his relative cuteness to the distaff side of the house, as I am a flaming heterosexual."

Everyone chuckled.

Mark Jester said, "OK, we've got bodies, we've got critical skills, we've got a supply list . . . now all we need is a real OPLAN and a cool code name. The latter is, of course, FAR more important than the former, witness the stunning success of Operation SCREAMING FIST."

Roberta said, "Oh, jeez, Mark, SCREAMING FIST was just a rumor."

Jester said, "That's what the Bildebergers, Trilateral Commission, the Masons, and the Stonecutters' Guild all want you to think. The truth is out there!"

Bill Javan jumped in. "All right people, let's not get into an argument of what's an urban legend or not. Josh, Mark's right, we need a cool code name. Try to find one from history that matches the spirit of this noble enterprise."

* * *

Shakespeare Pub, San Diego

Lieutenant (er, "Leftenant") Colonel Michael Ferguson, Royal Marines, took a sip of Guinness and "Well, Josh, how's it going between you and the lovely Roberta?"

"We're lurching along. Not perfectly, but there's forward motion."

Mike nodded. "She's an incredibly strong woman . . . I'd probably still be bawling my head off if I were in her position with her experience. Give it time and effort, Joshua. That's what the two of you need most."

"I'm not backing down this time. And I sense she's not, either. I guess we just ride out the storms as they come."

"Stay on it, lad. She's definitely a keeper."

We chatted about mutual acquaintances for a while, and then I broached the question.

"Mike, did your side have any good code names in the Falklands?"

"Operation CORPORATE was the overall one . . . not a good one, actually, if I'm following your intent. Why do you ask?"

I outlined the operation to Mike, and the reasons behind it.

"All right, then . . . well, there was the Vulcan raid on Stanley Airport. An absolute Heath Robinson, kit-bashed together at the last second sort of thing. 'BLACK BUCK' was the code name. And the success code was very nice: 'Superfuse.' That should work; the two are very similar, really. It's a wonderfully impractical operation, of dubious value at best, and one that might get the whole lot of you sent to gaol. But it's the sort of magnificently silly and utterly pointless gesture that my countrymen would heartily approve of, so I wish you every success in your endeavour. As always, if you or any member of your IM force should be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow all knowledge of your actions. Good luck, Josh! This message will self-destruct in five seconds."

We clinked glasses.

* * *

Joe Salatino clinked a fork against his wine glass.

"All right, we have most of our supplies, we have our personnel, and we have the outline of an OPLAN. Josh, did you manage to pry a good code name out of your Royal Marine buddy?"

"Operation BLACK BUCK." I explained the history.

Javan looked around the table. "Any objections?"

All of us were silent.

"BLACK BUCK it is."

Jester asked, "We got the manufacturer info for the clock in case we need spare parts?"

Karen plunked down some Xeroxed sheets. "Budget extracts from the San Diego Unified School District, 1984-85. This was an estimate for repairing the clock. The good news is the manufacturer is still in business, I have a current quote for the hardware, and they can FedEx it in 24 hours. Bad news is that the best way to repair the clock is a complete change-out."

Bardswell nodded. "Better than trying to rebuild it--two guys can do a replacement in the time we have, and two guys is all that can work in there. So what's the problem?"

"Cost. About $16,000." Karen paused, then said, "Everything else requires the vendor to come out and fix it, which is both costlier and a security problem."

I looked around the table. "All right, my class has about 700 survivors. Roberta, '82 had, what, 1200 in it?"

"247 killed in action out of 1,233, figure another 50 have died of other causes. Call it 900 people."

"Karen, your class had, what, 1,800?"

"Spirit of '76, remember? We managed to graduate exactly 1,776 Patriots for the Bicentennial after we transferred a few troublemakers to alternative schools and gave some of the jocks basket-weaving classes. Class of '76 is probably still over a thousand strong."

"We got points of contact in our classes, people?"

Everyone nodded.

"All right, we hit the phone trees ASAP. Tell them we're fundraising to fix the clock, and that we have a very short window to raise the funds in. Do NOT tell anyone the real reason for the short fuse. I figure we've got close to 8,000 alumni we can reach out and touch. If we can get an average of $2 a head, we're good."

* * *

Jester smiled. "Josh, we are on FIRE! $23,000 in the bank now, plus whatever we get raised before the cease-begging calls catch up with the fundraisers."

"They also serve them who pays the bills."

* * *

September 3th, 1990

"Josh, what's this?"

"Anniversary present."

Roberta's eyes narrowed. "What anniversary?"

"The tenth anniversary of my laying eyes on you and seeing my destiny."

She unwrapped the box and opened it.

"A SiG P229 . . . the same model I had my eye on."

I handed her a gift bag. "And something nice and feminine as well."

She opened the bag and pulled out a purse. "Oh, it's lovely! My color and everything . . . "

Then she saw the tag.

"Designed for concealed carry . . . "

She gave me a crooked smile. "Nice and feminine?"

"I wouldn't be caught dead carrying that. That definitely says 'Roberta Kreider is a sharp-dressed lady who knows how to properly carry a sidearm.' The holster's detachable, so you can tuck it under your jacket if you're wearing one."

Roberta looked at the purse again. "Josh, it's a cliche, but . . . you really shouldn't have. It's silly, foolish, and overdone . . . come to think of it, that means it's perfect. Thank you."

We embraced each other for a moment. I felt an awkwardness and tension in her posture for a moment until she relaxed again.

Please help us through the next downward swing, Lord. I don't want to lose her again.

* * *

1700 PDT, 4 September 1990
Patrick Henry High School

Mark Jester's voice came over the radio. "All right, let's move to objective. BLACK BUCK is a go!"

Pete Bardswell and I were lugging a complete clock set, minus the hands, on a pallet jack. Our backpacks held tools.

Ernie Richards, class of '72, clumped along behind us. He'd lost one of his two favorite legs in San Francisco as part of Delta Force.

"OK, wait up, guys, I need to take the lead here." Ernie stepped forward, stuck a magnet into the doorframe at the alarm sensor, then picked the door lock.

He looked inside. "OK, no alarm keypad. Didn't think there would be. After you, gents."

* * *

1715, 4 September 1990

Bardswell looked at the clock mechanism. "OK, this part is simple enough; climb over this frame, break out the big wrench and undo the hands so the other team can pull them out.

I nodded. "Hand me some WD-40, please."

I sprayed it onto the threads, then waited for a few minutes.

After some initial resistance, the nut turned freely.

"So far, so good."

"Don't get cocky, Josh, that's one small step for man, about 147 giant leaps for Mickey to go."

* * *

2145, 4 September 1990

Chris Batchelder's voice came over the radio. "Parker Brothers, Superfuse."

"Copy."

I glanced at my watch. "Pete, we're running a bit slow."

"I know. Don't sweat it just yet."

* * *

2319, 4 September 1990

Roberta's voice said quietly, "Wherehouse, Superfuse."

I didn't bother to look at my watch; I was trying to get a fifty-pound motor positioned properly.

* * *

0346, 5 September 1990

The radio crackled again. Bill Javan said, "Timex Outer, Superfuse, just waiting on Timex Inner."

Pete spoke quietly into his headset. "Timex Inner, we'll be done when we're done."

"Copy."

"Fotomat, Superfuse."

* * *

0610, 5 September 1990

"All right, power on . . . "

Nothing happened.

Joe Salatino said, "Timex Inner, need a status, we're going to have people here in twenty."

Pete said, "Wait one," then said, "OK, let's check the obvious."

We went through the entire installation checklist.

"Josh, I'm getting fuzzy. We've got it positioned right, wired up right, why isn't it turning?"

"Breakers set?"

"Damn." Pete turned the clock off and yelled down the ladder. "Ernie, go to the main breaker box and make sure the clock breaker's on!"

After some scuffing and clumping, Ernie said, "Try it now!"

Nothing.

"Wasn't it!"

Two tries later, the clock started up for the first time in nearly a decade.

Pete quickly set the clock's intended time and waited for the hands to motor into place.

"Timex Inner, clock's running, get out of there now!"

"Negative, gotta clean up and put it into normal mode once the time's correct--they left it in set mode all the time, that's why it broke so fast, it put too much stress on the motor and burned it out."

I began lowering bags of tools and the old clock components down the ladder with a nylon rope. Pete epoxy-glued a plaque into place that read "CAUTION: AFTER SETTING CLOCK, RETURN NORMAL/SET SWITCH TO NORMAL MODE. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL BURN THE MOTOR OUT."

"Timex Inner, perimeter security just spotted the principal's car at College and Navajo."

About a mile out, maybe two minutes to the entrance at Wandermere.

"Copy all."

The clock hit 6:27 AM, and Pete put it into NORMAL mode.

"Timex Inner, Superfuse!"

We rolled the pallet jack outside to the delivery truck. Four men grabbed the old clock pieces and threw them into the back; we loaded the pallet jack on, then jumped into the truck and pulled the door shut.

Twenty minutes later, I was cleaned up, wearing Marine dress blues, and stepping into the quadrangle of Patrick Henry High School, walking from west to east.

The famed Mickey Mouse Clock was repainted and back in service. On the west end of the quad, the giant Monopoly board was pristine again, breaking up a vast expanse of concrete in front of the cafetorium. Rock 'n' roll album covers were painted next to the board; this included pictures for Styx's entire A&M discography, including new paintings for "Caught in the Act" and the just-released "Edge of the Century." (Henry had always been full of Styx fans; at least 10% of the yearbook epitaphs for '83 were quotes from their songs.) On the east end of the lawn, Henry's Hut--a small gazebo used as a hangout by an eclectic bunch (including both Roberta and me), inevitably known as The Hut People--was sporting a freshly repaired and re-shingled roof, and it was painted in its traditional scheme of green with gold trim, matching the school's colors. News crews from all of the San Diego television stations were taking shots of the quad and interviewing the faculty and students.

I took my place in the ranks of veterans by the flagpole.

The principal was staring at the quad.

Finally, she asked, "What in the hell is going on?"

Roberta marched up to the principal, saluted smartly, and said, "Happy Resistance Day, ma'am."

[Matt Wiser]

Good one. No doubt a lot of that was going around that first day back in 1990 when it was all over.

[Poohbah]

Good one. No doubt a lot of that was going around that first day back in 1990 when it was all over.

You want a free nation of free people, you're gonna have to put up with some shenanigans.

[jemhouston]

Good one. No doubt a lot of that was going around that first day back in 1990 when it was all over.

You want a free nation of free people, you're gonna have to put up with some shenanigans.

That's how it started, remember the Boston Tea Party.

[Wolfman]

I’m glad Lordroel was able to find this, Poohbah.