Chapter 6: Poncho Takes the Battle to the Drug Lords!

On the morning of Monday, November 21, 2018, the senior men of the town came together for a meeting. The circle of buckets was much larger now, over a hundred. Maria and many other women who had shown their worth on the targets on the rifle range were included. At the first meeting, Gloria and Willa had been afterthoughts. Now they sat next to their husbands as members of the circle. Teresa and her two brothers sat within the circle along with dozens of other young people that had performed beyond expectations. Poncho stood, “We now have almost three thousand horses. We have not lost a man, woman, or child. The horses have come from people whose intentions were to harm us. Our town has the absence of many of our older generations as we stood by as children and young adults, seeing them gunned down. We now can take the fight to them, those that would do such harm.”

Lorenzo stood, “I propose we take the battle north to assist Peter and we also go west and clean up Campeche.”

The circle agreed. The circle was those sitting today including those standing behind them.

“Who will stay and protect our homes?” Poncho asked.

One of the few older men stood, “We have enough weapons and ammunition to become good with them. Four thousand go north, four thousand go west and leave me with three thousand primarily with women and children. I was not born here but came here after I got out of the army many years ago. If the people are willing to stand with me, we can do this.” The man’s fatigues went from shades of green to shades of blue. Many in the circle also changed to shades of blue. God or Spirit or Gaia had made the decision of who was to go and who was to stay.

When the 300 young men and women investigated the camp of the Campeche riders, they discovered twenty wagons with teams of horses to pull them. There was even a strongbox full of gold and silver coins. They also found many boxes of ammunition and guns that could be added to what was being left behind. Over six hundred horses were found.

Poncho stood again, “Peter Adams, and his group of 2,000 are in trouble. They have very little ammunition and not enough guns. Around them is 20,000 of the army and 5,000 of the riders of who we believe work for this William Smith, who is part of the Los Zetas Crime Family.”

Many made negative comments at the mention of Los Zetas.

“I suggest we split the 10,000 R-15’s as such, 3,500 go north, 3,500 go west, 1,000 stay here to protect our homes and I propose we send Peter 2,000 rifles and 200,000 rounds. With the rifles, I ask for 100 volunteers to go with them to train Peter’s group in their use and stay until we bring the rest of our army to Pachuca.” Poncho liked the energy of the group. This was going to happen.

The circle agreed.

“I also propose that I call up President John Taylor and ask for additional 500,000 rounds of ammunition for our R-15’s.” Poncho was suggesting. The meeting was being held under the protective cover among the trees where Poncho first had his portable stove. Everyone could see the town square through the trees. What before was a good view became blocked with a giant stack of boxes that said Remington Arms on them? The boxes were the same as what the first batch of ammunition for the R-15 and M-16 had come in.

The man that had volunteered to stay with the town stood up again looking at the stack of boxes, “I think God agrees.” Agreement went throughout the people of the town. The feeling was they were in alignment with God! The man purposed, “We send 300,000 rounds to Peter!”

The circle agreed.

Lorenzo stood again, “Do you think we could get some more chickens. Our 1,000 baby chickens have tripled in size and seem to be doing great. We have another pen just west of the baseball field.” The number of bugs in the area had defiantly decreased. The young chicks were getting their share of protein.

Brad stood up and shared in Spanish, “We will ask.”

Everyone applauded. The meeting ended. Both Tony and Brad were on their phones. Tony to Peter and Brad to Jenny. Jesus and his team were moving 2,000 of the R-15’s into a separate pile. They also moved 300,000 rounds into a pile next to the guns.

The Mission near Pachuca, Mexico:

“Peter, where do you want the guns and ammunition?” Tony asked, “The town has agreed. We are now gathering up 100 volunteers.” Peter and Patty were in the central part of Mexico on the east side. There was an old historic mission with a fort that looked very much like the Alamo in Texas. It was just west of Pachuca. Around the mission was an area of thousands of acres of flat land. Nothing growing on it. Very much like some of the high deserts in Nevada.

With the guns and ammunition came 20 volunteers. A few minutes later an additional 20 volunteers showed up. Every few minutes twenty additional volunteers showed up. The last group included Tony and Willa. They had their rolling cases with them.

“Welcome brother!” Peter yelled when he saw Tony. The two young men hugged, beside them were Patty and Willa also hugging.

“What have you brought us?” Peter asked.

“One of the best weapons on the planet. For a semi-automatic, it can put out 60 rounds per minute.” Tony was lifting one out of its shipping box for Peter to handle. It does not bounce half as much as the M-16.

“Yeah, but can anyone hit anything with it at that rate?” Peter asked.

“There were 16 of us that put down 162 riders in less than 25 seconds.” Tony shared, “We did not know they were coming, they showed up and just started shooting during a lunch break.”

“Who were the sixteen?” Peter asked.

“The four of us, Demetri and five more of his Russians, Jesus the 15-year-old son of Poncho, his 12-year-old brother, 9-year-old sister, and 11-year-old Cousin, Poncho, and his brother.” Tony shared.

“Well, the Russians probably got the lion’s share of them.” Peter assumed.

“Oh, they did, they got 68 of them. Willa got 14 and the other 9 cleaned up the other 80. I was one of the other 9. We hit one horse that jerked in the way.” Tony smiled, “He’s fine. We told him to drink lots of water.” Tony laughed.

“OMG. Yesterday we were attacked by a hundred riders, and we only hit 14 of them. Maybe we can do this.” Peter smiled as he thought about how to proceed. Peter had a man very much like Poncho as leader of the local Mexicans. 8th-grade education, quiet and not very assertive. His name was Carl. God picked him, and the people loved him and followed him. Carl had also been into the United States as a boy and again as a young man. His English was about 80% comprehensive and 50% speaking. He was the first black lanyard in the area.

The 98 volunteers of Poncho’s First Battalion were passing out the R-15 rifles and making sure that everyone could put the magazine in and load a round. They also learned how to unload and make the weapon safe. They would aim at a faraway target and squeeze the trigger until the hammer hit home. Each man got four magazines with forty rounds. They also got two boxes with twenty rounds. As Peter’s men went to God, touched God, they got a tan uniform with shades of red and orange in it. The stories about the rifles were being passed around and the confidence of the men was rising. The next attack would make or break this group of men.

“Carl and Peter, someone has poisoned the water.” One of the men in a red and tan uniform informed.

Tony was there when the information came. There was a large concrete formed pool with a fountain on the east side of the mission. During the hot periods, the mission turned it off to save the water for the gardens. Tony went and stood before it, “Peter where does the water come from that supplies the mission?”

“That hill north of the riders.” Peter shared.

Tony closed his eyes and before Peter and hundreds of Peter’s men and a few of Poncho’s, he filled the large fountain with thousands of gallons of water. Poncho’s men told the others to get buckets and in short order, fifty buckets were near the fountain. Tony filled them also.

The next thing that roared up was the mission was getting low on food. Tony and Willa got with Carl and Peter with Patty, and they took twenty men to God. They each got two buckets of food. Tony had the men put the buckets in a circle and sit down on them in the fort’s open area. Willa was next to him, “Tell the story, honey.”

Willa had the men understand what Tony had done. One of the men translated what was being said. He just wanted to make it easy for them. The food storage was almost empty. It was big enough to hold 1,200 buckets of food. By the time Willa had finished her story, they had attracted almost all the men and women that were not on guard duty. Willa placed a bucket of black beans in the middle of the circle.

“We want a hundred buckets of black beans.” Tony shared. He led them in the Lord’s Prayer, “Let’s place them in the northeast corner of the fort’s open area.” It took a bit of time. but it happened. There was a happy cry then shouts and applause, “Can some of you take some of the buckets into the kitchen. Tell the chef, rice is on the way.”

Willa found a bucket of rice and with all her strength got it on top of the beans.

“Everyone focuses, we want a hundred buckets of rice next to the beans.” Tony shared.

People started laughing. There they were, like the beans a column five wide by five long, four high.

Tony called out the others and things came much faster, “Dehydrated Shredded Beef, Dehydrated Shredded Chicken, Dehydrated corn and peas and diced tomatoes. Corn Flour, again. 100 two-gallon containers of Corn Oil and 100 two-gallon containers of hot salsa. Twenty buckets of jalapeño peppers.”

“Take buckets of each to the chef and ask him what else he wants,” Tony said.

The man at the door that had been watching, “Coffee. 20 buckets of ground roasted Brazilian choice coffee.”

The atmosphere was very much like the first days at José María Chetumal. People were excited. There was hope in the air. People were greeting each other and smiling. The coffee came easily, and Tony and Willa joined in with the others in moving the mountain of food into the food storage room.

“Who are you?” The chef asked in passable English.

“I’m Tony Taylor and this is my wife, Willa.” Tony had set the buckets of coffee down to shake the man’s hand.

“I’m Carlos. I’m the cousin of the leader here. I’m a few days older than he is.” The man laughed, “We are both named after our grandpa who went by Carl. How did you two create all this food?”

“Have you been to God?” Willa asked.

“Yes, many times.” Carlos shared.

“The next time you are with God, touch God and ask for something.” Tony suggested, “Then the next step is believing you can ask from here.”

The man was stunned, “This seems too easy.”

“No, it is not!” Tony laughed, “Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank You!” Carlos turned back to his kitchen mumbling, “I will never be hungry again.”

Tony and Willa picked up their four buckets of coffee and moved onto the storage area. Their first day was quiet. Carlos and his team made a great lunch. The men from the José María Chetumal felt the pride knowing that two of their own had made a big difference here. Wait until the enemy is attacking.

Peter and Carl were assigning battle stations for everyone to get ready for when the attacks would come. They now had more than enough guns to supply the troops to fill all the spots. The fort was twenty feet high and the walkway around the top could hold 800 shooters. There was another wall that went around the outside of the fort. It was about eight feet and had been built upon the inside about three and a half feet high making a nice shooting ledge at four and a half feet high. That could hold twelve hundred shooters. The west end with the gardens and fountain could hold another three hundred with four-foot walls, allowing the shooters from the fort and the lower wall to shoot over the three hundred down below. The west end appeared to be the most vulnerable, but with the new R-15’s it would soon be shown to be a bloodbath for the riders.

When the moving of the food was complete, Tony and Willa went back to find Carlos, “Thanksgiving is on Thursday. Can you cook turkeys?” Willa asked.

Carlos froze for a few seconds, then finally, “Come with me.” He took Tony and Willa to the backside of the big oven. “There are many cords of wood here. More than enough to cook a hundred turkeys.”

“We would need other fixings and pies too.” Willa shared.

“I know where we can get all of that.” Tony looked up and thanked our father.

Havana, Cuba. November 21, 2018:

The meeting with Casta had been intense and Bill, Johnny and their wives didn’t want to sit in the hotel room for the rest of the day. They were out walking around Havana, Cuba when they came upon a park. There was an older man that looked to be Asian. He was leading a group in Tai Chi. There was no doubt that this man was an expert at his craft. He had attracted over five hundred to his practices this day. Johnny and Bill McCormick looked at each other, then at the nodding smiling faces of their wives. Johnny had heard from his dad the story of Jesus and his rock. He picked up a nice, rounded rock and handed it to Bill. The two men walked towards the man. Their wives are following close behind. Johnny tapped the man on his shoulder, then stepped away.

Johnny nodded, and Bill threw the rock. The rock hung in the air about 4’ off the ground and two feet from Johnny. Johnny sent it back to Bill slow enough to follow with the eye. Bill’s shield reflected it to Johnny. Johnny picked the rock out of the air and handed it to the old man.

The old man felt the rock and continued to stare at Johnny. He then tossed the rock to one of his students. He went into a fighting stance challenging Johnny. His first attempt was with his arms. Johnny was thankful there appeared to be no lasting damage to the man’s hands as his shield stopped them. The next attempt was on his feet. He was flying towards Johnny and was about to uncoil his legs when they hit Johnny’s shields. He ended up on the ground. He stood and made another attempt to Johnny’s left. Johnny quickly stepped to his left. The man ran into Johnny’s shield which knocked him back to a position of squatting on the ground. The man stood, bowed to Johnny, “You are a master?” The man asked in very understandable English.

Johnny reached under his shirt and pulled out the black lanyard, “Yes, I follow the teachings of St. John.”

“I’ve only been beaten once before when I was young and foolish. Since then, I have beaten that opponent five times. Why are you here?” The man asked.

“To teach you all that we know.” Johnny smiled, “So you too can become a master of St. John’s teachings.”

“What is the first step?” The man asked.

“To take you to God!” Johnny answered.

“Just me, or all of my students too?”

“Everybody,” Johnny answered.

“Let’s go!” The man stood straight.

“Tell everyone to take a deep breath please.” The man did! In a flash, they were there.

The old man was crying, “I was here once as a young man. I had taken enough drugs to kill me. I have tried thousands of times to come back. Every day I have meditated with the hope of coming here.”

Johnny stayed with the old man. The others found a few that could help translate. They worked with a hundred or more each. Johnny had around him 50 or 60 that stayed with their teacher.

“What is your name sir?” Johnny asked.

“Brien Soule.” The man said. Tears were still coming from his eyes, but he appeared to be emotionally stable.