Ricardo Lopez’s shift in emphasis for the plant at first mystified and soon chafed old-timers like McReady. They considered him a bit of a mad scientist and thought that most of his projects would be unlikely to break even. Since Lopez was Cuban and only five feet three inches tall, he was soon nicknamed “Ingeniero Ricky Ricardo” or “Little Ricky.” It was not until after the Crunch that they all realized that L. Roy and Lopez had repositioned the company to be able to continue to operate in the midst of a massive economic upheaval.
Immediately after the Crunch began, Martin ordered three of the plant’s four units mothballed and closed out all the company’s existing commercial contracts. “No paper money accepted. Silver only!” Martin decreed. Gasoline, diesel, and propane sold for twenty cents per gallon, payable in pre-1965 U.S. silver coins or equivalent weight in .999 fine silver trade dollars. Empty Scepter fuel cans were $4 each in silver coin, and their spouts were fifty cents. Martin began paying his employees in silver, and they had the opportunity to buy gas at a 10 percent discount. The average wage was $1.20 per day-all paid in pre-1965 U.S. silver coins. Their feedstock suppliers were happy to be paid in a mixture of silver and transferable vouchers for finished product. In many ways the business model for the refinery was similar to before the Crunch. It was only the scale that had changed. But the smaller scale of production made for a tight profit margin, since many of the overhead costs in running the plant were the same, whether they were running all four refinery units or just one.
At L. Roy’s direction, seventeen refinery employees with recent combat experience in the Big Sandbox became full-time security guards for the Bloomfield plant, working round-the-clock shifts. Many of them were armed with “black guns” from Martin’s extensive gun collection: AR-15s, M4s, M1As, AR-10s, L1A1s, and HKs.
13
Kasserne
“Inflation has now been institutionalized at a fairly constant 5% per year. This has been scientifically determined to be the optimum level for generating the most revenue without causing public alarm. A 5% devaluation applies, not only to the money earned this year, but to all that is left over from previous years. At the end of the first year, a dollar is worth 95 cents. At the end of the second year, the 95 cents is reduced again by 5%, leaving its worth at 90 cents, and so on. By the time a person has worked 20 years, the government will have confiscated 64% of every dollar he saved over those years. By the time he has worked 45 years, the hidden tax will be 90%. The government will take virtually everything a person saves over a lifetime.”
Laine’s flight to Ramstein was on a C-17 with a mixed load of cargo and passengers. About thirty passengers lined one wall, on flip-down seats. It was an uneventful but noisy flight. He wore his earplugs. While on the flight, he composed draft e-mails to send to Kaylee and to his brother. Then he read some psalms.
After arriving at Ramstein, Andy got nervous when he saw a scene unfold in an adjoining hangar. A Texas National Guard unit that was on an emergency redeployment back from Bosnia was undergoing a “health and welfare” inspection overseen by officers and senior NCOs from the unit as well as some MPs. All of the troops had to completely unpack their duffel bags and backpacks. They even had dog handlers there, with German shepherds sniffing through the spread-out baggage. As an officer traveling alone and on a flight
At Ramstein, there was more frustration: Because of fuel economy measures, he would have to wait until the next day to get transport to Grafenwohr Training Center. From there he could easily catch a ride to Rose Barracks, his unit’s home near Vilseck. So it was one more night in an Air Force BOQ.
There was no wireless Internet service at the “Q,” so he was forced to “war walk” with his laptop to find an open wireless network. He finally found one in an NCO accompanied housing complex. After he had logged on, he sent out his draft e-mails and checked his in-box. There were three new “Hurry home” e-mails from Kaylee. Then he checked the AFN Germany weather page and the HQUSAEUR G3 Road Conditions Web page. Out of curiosity, he checked the spot price of gold at Kitco.com. He was startled to see gold at $5,453 per ounce. It had gained $312 per ounce in the past twenty-four hours. Since his laptop’s battery was down to 32 percent, he turned it off and walked back to the BOQ. He was in a foul mood.
The next morning at breakfast, he discovered that the local Internet was up but that no connections to anywhere in the United States were working-for both e-mail and Web pages. The AFN television news soon reported the same Internet outage, with no known time or date for resumption of service. Andy shut down his laptop and prayed.
The bus to Graf at noon the next day was crowded. Most of the passengers carried six or more loaded shopping bags. They said that they had been forced to come to Ramstein because the shelves at the small commissary at U.S. Army Garrison Grafenwohr were nearly stripped clean.
Simultaneously, the price of food on the civilian economy-in the town of Grafenwohr-became astronomical, after the conversion from U.S. dollars to euros.
Andy overheard two military wives sitting in the seats ahead of him, discussing their mandatory next-of-kin evacuation orders (NEOs), NEO contingency suitcases, and the lack of transport to the United States. They were quite anxious and at a loss as to what they should do. While on the bus, Andy copied all of his personal files onto a flash-drive memory stick. He also copied the PDFs of several field manuals, including a joint service “Survival, Rescue, and Escape” manual, several out-of-copyright books on primitive skills like candlemaking, and a copy of the book
Once he had arrived at Graf, Laine borrowed a cell phone to call for a ride to Rose Barracks. But before he could finish, he was interrupted by a staff sergeant who had overheard him. He said, “Sir, if you don’t mind riding in a War Pig, I’m headed to Rose in just a few minutes.” Andy recognized him as a supply NCO from one of his unit’s sister squadrons. Laine nodded and gave a thumbs-up to the NCO and then, turning back to the phone, said, “Strike that-I just got a lift. Out here!” He flipped the phone closed.
The sergeant helped Laine with his bags as they walked to the M1078A1 truck. The two-and-a-half-ton truck-the replacement for the venerable M35 deuce-and-a-half-was an ugly boxy truck with a long step up to the cab. This was the same up-armored variant that Andy had ridden in many times in Afghanistan. A corporal was standing guard behind the tailgate, holding an M4 with a magazine inserted. It seemed odd, seeing that level of security in Germany. To Andrew, it looked more like A-stan mode than what he was used to seeing in Germany.
As they loaded Laine’s baggage, Andy could see a large pile of boxes and crates with “ORM-D” labels and large orange diamond-shaped “Class B Explosives” stickers.
“Ammo?” he asked incredulously. He cleared his throat and asked, “I thought that none of the squadrons were doing range fire until next April.”
“Sir, I guess you’ve been out of the loop. At 2330 last night Regiment put everyone on an alert for civil disturbances.”
“Whoa! Sounds serious.”
Laine’s first stop at Rose Barracks was the brigade orderly room. It was humming with activity. Before he even had a chance to put his bags down, Colonel Olds spotted him and shouted: “Andrew! Good to see you finally made it back here. Transportation problems?”
“Yes, sir, plenty. A major Charlie Foxtrot almost every step of the way.” He set down his overseas bag and flight bag but held on to his duffel bag. They shook hands.
“Well, I’m glad to see you back. We could really use your help. I think for the time being, I’m going to lend you to the S3 shop up at Regiment.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I’ve passed my active duty obligation date. That was seventeen days ago. I’m just
