Trailer park

It was only after I called from the airport that my hosts told me to look for a trailer park.

"Take I-40 west to the Cherry Valley exit," she told me. "You can't miss it. The exit is to Highway 64, go west on 64. We're about twelve miles from the interstate and once you pass through Cherry Valley it's about four miles to where we are. Look for a big sign with "Chapman Trailer Park". The office is in a house just past the main entrance to the park."

That seemed easy enough and was - there's not much out there but farmland - a lot of corn and rice. Here and there a pasture with a small herd of cattle. Cherry Valley had no stoplights and a population of 612 according to the sign. As I reached the city limits on the way out I found myself behind a large tractor - a very large tractor pulling not one but two large earthmoving machines. No sooner had I passed it than another one loomed ahead. Fortunately there was little traffic and I soon passed it to find myself behind a third one. Luckily the there were only three and shortly afterwards I spotted the sign.

'Chapman Trailer Park' was painted on a large wooden sign, about five by ten feet. I passed two roads, each with a row of mobile homes on each side. It was nowhere near full, I guessed half the lots were vacant. Just past them was a house and several outbuildings with a sign that read "OFFICE" and an arrow pointing towards the house. I turned into the large graveled lot and stopped to collect my thoughts. The people at Silver Mountain had seemed fairly normal and interacted with society and government - federal and local - as business operators. These people were if not in the middle of nowhere close to it. I called Ken and advised him I had arrived and gave him the GPS coordinates of my location. Then I called Rebecca to tell her I had arrived. She said to stay in the car and someone would be right out.

Shortly the front door of the house and two people emerged - a young man and woman I guessed would be Rebecca and someone else. The thirty-something woman was indeed Rebecca - or she introduced herself thus - and the also thirty-something man was Henry. They didn't give last names. Inside the house - an old one probably built in the 1960s or earlier but well maintained - I was shown into a large room furnished with a huge couch and several very comfortable-looking chairs. Rebecca told me to take a seat and she would be back shortly.

She and Henry disappeared briefly and returned with a tray containing three glasses of iced tea and a plate of what looked like freshly baked cookies. The tea was strong and sweet and I could see myself getting addicted to it. And the cookies were still warm and delicious.

"This house is where the original owners lived," Rebecca told me. "We use it as a headquarters, mostly it's just an office. We have one or two people staying here 24/7 for security and in case anything needs attention. We live in one of the trailers over there. Ready for the grand tour?"

Of course I was and off we went. We took a golf cart, Henry driving and Rebecca describing the sights.

Immediately behind the house was an enormous garden - about two acres Rebecca said - with the usual variety of vegetables. Further on was a small apple orchard, about a dozen large trees. Near the back of the place were several large ponds. A couple of large windmills stood there, their appearance suggesting they were home-built. A sizeable field of solar panels occupied the space around them, all covered with tarps.

"Solar panels are of limited utility," Henry told me. "They have a useful life of maybe three year and at five are useless. In an emergency we would use those if necessary, when other sources failed. The windmills provide most of our power - we're connected to the local utility but don't use much. It partly for camouflage - we look like a normal community, each house gets an electric bill. Our water comes from the wells - he pointed towards a corner - and it keeps the ponds topped off and the garden irrigated."

The ponds were fished regularly to prevent overpopulation, a good problem to have Henry said. There was a large chicken farm, with about two hundred birds proving an endless supply of eggs and meat.

"The population out here is so thin the nearest people can be miles apart outside of the towns and places like this," he said. "We trap rabbits and could probably live on those if we had to. And deer are like rabbits - they have to have annual hunts to thin them. We sell excess from the garden at a farmers market in town. We own a small farming operation that produces a fair amount of income - that mostly goes into an contingency fund. We raise organic cattle, hogs and chickens. There's a waiting list for the cattle and hogs, we have them custom processed and shipped to the customers."

We met a few of the other residents, driving through the park and talking to whomever we happened to meet. There were quite a few older people, mostly couples I guessed were married. There were a number of young couples as well, and most had children.

All of the trailers had vehicles parked in the drive but some were unoccupied. Henry and Rebecca took me inside that was used for storage. In one of the rooms he showed me a room with walls lined with racks of rifles.

"Here are about thirty M-1 carbines," he told me as we looked at one. "Military surplus, until a few years ago you could buy them for a couple hundred each, now they're three to four times that at the low end. Some of us were into prepping back in the '80s and got some good deals. We have a good supply of ammo and reloading equipment and supplies. The M-1s are to give us a common weapon that everyone is proficient with. We all have weapons of whatever type we like - shotguns, AR-15 types and handguns."

Other trailers had large stocks of food and other supplies. Later, before they showed me to my quarters we talked with several other members of the group. One was the nominal leader, a man in his sixties with the look of a former military man. Henry introduced him as Mike - all of the relatively few names I heard were fairly common so I have no idea if they were using their real names - I suspect they were.

"When they asked us to let you visit," Mike said, "they told us you were a journalist who wanted to get a realistic idea of what the prepper community is like. Whether or not you are working for the government or they interrogate you later we want you to know some things that they need to know, for all the good it will do them. We only know about a few of the other groups and only a handful of people know where all of them are. Many of us own other properties, in the cities around here or in the country not readily traceable to us, and there are some bug-out locations and caches of supplies away from here as well. So if this place is attacked - if any of us escaped or weren't here - we have places to go.

"We are one of - we don't actually know how many - groups large and small. Some are just a dozen or fewer people, some are large and well funded. They're scattered over three million miles of what people in the government and the news media - which is mostly an arm of the government - call flyover country. They know almost nothing about the situation here. That is dangerous, because the present regime appears to believe it is insignificant.

"Aside from the fact that there are somewhere around twenty to thirty million people out here who are like us - not always as well organized but who will refuse to submit when they are pushed too far - and are all well-armed and able to survive for long periods of time when food, energy and other essential needs are interrupted. You could put an impenetrable dome over this place and we could survive for months, even years with no outside contact.

"If at some point the regime does go too far - whether by attacking us or by failing to do with those matters that will eventually break things - the national debt for example - infrastructure failure will be one of the most, probably the most, prominent result. The cities are cut off - energy, food and water - and the millions trapped in there will become uncontrollable. Out here we won't worry about it.

"The important thing is that we can't be neutralized, and trying will be a disaster for the regime. In any case we wish you well and you at least, with what you now know, are somewhat better off than your peers.

"Do you think that is likely to happen?" I had to ask. These people all seemed as normal as people could be.

"Do we think we'll be attacked here? By the government? Possibly but the government is the only thing we prepare for. In the event of a situation such as I just described they would be busy dealing with the urban populations. If they fail to contain them or worse intentionally allow them to spread into the countryside they would be a threat. Not a serious one except in large numbers - the average urban denizens might have handguns and some rifles but not much ammunition for them or expertise in using them. Certainly we don't see an organized assault - more like dealing with individuals and small groups foraging."

"What would you do in the absence of military or law enforcement resources," I asked.

"Most law enforcement is already in our camp," Mike replied. "Let's just say that the local sheriff's department is in regular contact and regards us as a backup resource in such an event. Some of us would, if needed, be deputized to assist them outside of our own enclave. In the case of government attempting to use local law enforcement against the citizens almost all would refuse and quit their jobs. Even if not out of moral conviction they know we will prevail."

I wondered how far to push it.

"Would they arrest trespassers?" I asked.

"Whatever is necessary," Mike replied. "It would depend on the numbers. If they have any sense, or survival instinct, they'll leave and go somewhere else once they see we're prepared to defend ourselves."

I left it there. They were well armed and intent on surviving - if threatened I suspected that they would use whatever force was needed.

As darkness approached we returned to the house where I had dinner with Rebecca and Henry and spent the night in a guest room. Breakfast was delicious - eggs that don't come from a factory farm definitely taste better and the free-range organic ham is to die for. I may have to see about local sources when I get home. I spent the day with Henry and Rebecca driving around the sparsely populated countryside. We visited a farmer who lived in a big house with big farm equipment sheds and a fenced area with several horses. Henry introduced them as Maurica and Betty. I guessed him to be in his fifties and his wife was about the same age. Their two sons were out working on the farm but two younger daughters were present. The house was large but not a mansion - just a large comfortable house. I noticed a guest house and a couple of new-looking mobile homes but didn't inquire about them and they didn't volunteer information.

Our next stop was a house at the end of a dirt road a half mile off the highway. It was occupied by a man about forty-something and a young woman not much if any more than half his age. The house looked pretty run-down on the outside but the interior was quite nice. Some high-end electronic equipment was visible - computers and other things I didn't recognize.

"Bryan and Marcie operate an observation station," Henry told us. "As do Maurice and several other people out here." We visited one more site even further out. It was a cabin on on the banks of a large pond mostly surrounded by woods. The occupants were a young couple in their twenties or early thirties. They also had a sizable set of electronic equipment.

"There are a few more," Henry said. "Scattered around the area. They're even less visible than the main site is. They keep track of what goes on out here - at this point practically nothing - but any unusual visitors will be under observation and not even know it."

Back at the airport the same plane and pilot were ready to take me home. They had offered to fly me, I was told, because going through Memphis was risky. Not flying in and out but getting out of the city alive. I had heard as much. They had used Lunken Airport instead of the instead of the big airport - I live about twenty minutes away and had never flown out of there - it's much quicker.