The Southern Threat

South American is a continent that has been consumed with wars, diseases, disasters, revolutions, and an out of control crime epidemic that is creeping northwards into the American heartland. For decades, the potential for continental war has been brewing amid the squalor and insufferable decadence at the hands of military juntas seeking to rule with the absolution of military might.

 

If it weren’t for the United States, the people of Central America and South America would experience a higher infant mortality rate, lower life expectancies, and an economic climate that pales in comparison to what it currently is.

Women in those third world countries have four times as many children as their counterparts here in America. Family planning initiatives have failed miserably due largely to conflicts with religious beliefs. Overpopulation is inevitable, and already America is seeing the results of decades of arbitrary government mismanagement.

The increased birthrate is already crushing most South American economies. A discernible division between the poor and the wealthy has created an imbalance that is pushing poor people into poverty; while the wealthy are forced to hide themselves behind armed-barricaded walls. These wealthy enclaves of the South American elites are the ones shown on American television commercials urging tourists to spend their “gringo” dollars that support these elite communities.

Rural areas are not able to maintain their own economies as more of the middle-class city-dwellers transition into the rich farmlands of South America. Farming communities are forced to watch helplessly as family farms are forced out of business by greedy land developers. Migration into the already desperate cities leave few choices for income starved families. Yet; the cycle perpetuates itself because there are no jobs to be had in the cities. The cities offer little in the way of resources, since many coming from the rural areas have little technical skills or education. Parents are sending their minor children to work in sweat shops, just to put food on the dinner table. The substandard pay scales continue to feed this vicious cycle that swallows entire family clans.

In many cases; third world countries are witness to an increasing number of riots, civil unrest, and outright civil disobedience. These events play out on American television stations almost weekly, but the lingering images of burning cars and dead bodies sprawled in the streets are soon forgotten as another reality show distracts the population. Sadly; the South American elites have systematically clamped-down on these “peasant” riots with brutal and oftentimes, deadly response.

Mexican Elite Police

 

This brutality by their own government, has turned many people into the waiting arms of insurgencies that have operated in the region for decades. Under severe economic conditions, and lack of jobs, the South American insurgency has flourished, as well as gained popularity among the disenfranchised population.

As a result, the governments have lost even more control and started directing horrific violence towards their own citizens; thus creating even more insurgents who fight because the government control has effected their families, or displaced them even further into the cesspool of third world politics.

On top of all the woes in South America; the ethnic hatred remains as functional today, as it did in the early colonial days.

Brazil is mostly Caucasian, The dominant religion is Roman Catholic, and the official language of the country is Portuguese. Venezuelan’s are Mestizo, practice the Catholic faith, and speak Spanish. Guyana’s population is comprised of East Indian, Hindus, and they speak English. Meanwhile; The French Guinea are Mulatto, attend Catholic churches and use French as their country’s primary language. Multicultural diversity is oftentimes forgotten as gunfire replaces dialog.

Even out in the dark jungles of the rain forest; a warrior tribe consisting of the Yanomamo Tribe is emerging. These are the indigenous people that until the early 1940’s, never had contact with the outside world–the last of the head-hunter tribes. Their tribal villages are spread out across the borders of nearly every South American country. These villages play an important role in the transportation and protection of the drugs being transported through their respective areas.

The instability of the South American governments have provided rich opportunities for the major Drug Cartels. Throughput the years, the cartels have offered jobs, schools, and hospitals to impoverished villages. Starving families were put to work producing or transporting drugs. When a Chieftain, Mayor, Police Commissioner, or Politician couldn’t be bought—he was assassinated.

Since the American “War On Drugs” was initiated in the early 1980’s; the drug cartels ability to operate with impunity has been reduced. This forced the cartels to organize, train, and equip their own armies. Sources indicate that these South American armies have a strength that far exceed a hundred thousand soldiers. The sales of drugs financed these rouge armies. Weapons, equipment, munitions, explosives, and modern communications gear is bought from willing countries such as North Korea, Iran, and former Soviet states. Cartel armies are, in most cases, better equipped and financed than many South American military forces.

 

dead_cartel

The commanders of these cartel armies have learned much from their Iranian and Korean Special Forces instructors. When attacked by the government troops, they systematically begin a terror campaign targeting the government soldiers family members. When Cartel leaders are apprehended or killed, government buildings, as well as civilian targets are hit with bombs, tourists kidnapped, school children slaughtered, and snipers kill police officers on the streets and in their homes. It doesn’t take long for the underpaid soldier or police officer to understand how the game is played. This is one of the reasons the Mexican Drug War has spiraled out of control.

 

cartel_1

cartel_2

cartel_3

cartel_4

cartel_5

cartel_6

cartel_7

[ Source: http://www.npr.org ]

There have been many reports flowing out from the Nightly News networks detailing critical information about Iran’s nuclear weapons ambitions. yet; it is rare to hear about the possibility that Iran already has acquired a nuclear weapon courtesy of North Korea, and smuggled it into the United States. Considering the following reports:

“Since September 11, 2001, DHS has reported a 41 percent increase in arrests along the Texas/Mexico border of Special Interest Aliens,”

According to the report, “hundreds” of OTM illegal aliens from special interest countries from countries including Iran, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Pakistan, Cuba, Brazil, Ecuador, China, Russia, Yemen, Albania, Yugoslavia and Afghanistan have been apprehended in the South Texas region alone since September 11, 2001.

“Just recently, U.S. intelligence officials report that seven Iraqis were found in Brownsville, Texas in June 2006. In August 2006, an Afghani man was found swimming across the Rio Grande River in Hidalgo, Texas; as recently as October 2006, seven Chinese were apprehended in the Rio Grande Valley area of Texas.”

A jacket with patches from countries where al Qa’ida is known to operate was found in Jim Hogg County, Texas by the Border Patrol. The patches on the jacket show an Arabic military badge with one depicting an airplane flying over a building and heading towards a tower, and another showing an image of a lion’s head with wings and a parachute emanating from the animal. The bottom of one patch read ‘martyr,’ ‘way to eternal life’ or ‘way to immortality.‘”

Confirmed Terrorists Apprehended
A few of the apprehended OTM illegal immigrants with confirmed ties to terrorist groups listed in the congressional report include:

Neeran Zaia – arrested on September 8, 2004 – headed an organization responsible for smuggling more than 200 Iraqi, Jordanian, and Syrian nationals into the United States. When he was arrested, U.S. Customs agents discovered that Zaia had a prior conviction for human smuggling.
Mahmoud Youssef Kourani — pleaded guilty on March 1, 2005 to providing material support to Hezbollah. “Kourani is an illegal alien who had been smuggled across the U.S.-Mexico border after bribing a Mexican consular official in Beirut for a visa to travel to Mexico.”
Salim Boughader Mucharrafille – was arrested in December 2002 for illegally smuggling more than two hundred Lebanese, many believed to have ties to Hezbollah into the United States.

[ Source: http://usgovinfo.about.com ]

 

SURVIVAL STRATEGIES:

When SHTF, those people and families living on, or near, the borders must be prepared for an immediate infiltration of massive illegals, many of whom will likely be OTM’s whose only purpose is to kill Americans, and sow death and destruction.Survival groups operating in those areas must strategize, plan, and prepare for this eventuality.

 

{ All pictures are the property of their original owners, and used for demonstration and clarification purposes only }

An Open Letter To Mahmud Ahmadinejad

Franke Schein Alaska Survivalist

 

Dear Mr. Mahmud Ahmadinejad,

I’ve been listening to you ranting and raving against America and Israel for years. Day after day, week after week, you, or one of your people get onto television and threaten the world with your military might, or that you will close down the Strait of Hormuz.

You look like a clown pointing your finger in the air, trying to convince the world that your army is the most powerful, the meanest, and ready to battle America and its NATO allies.

German, Italy, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iran, North Korea, China, Mexico, they all thought that they could fight the most powerful military force in the world. They thought wrong, their armies were destroyed.

I would bet every dollar in my bank account that if you asked the people of Iran if they want a war with NATO, the answer would be much different than what you think. I would submit that you, like other petty dictators, are gorging yourself, while other Iranian families are wondering where their next meal will come from.

In case you don’t know this, allow me to show you something very important:

The American Bald Eagle was selected as a symbol for victory for two reasons:

 

First, he is not afraid of a storm; he is strong, and he is smart enough to soar above it.
Second, he wears no material crown. We had just broken from the King of England.

Notice what the Eagle holds in his talons. He holds an olive branch and arrows. This country wants peace, but we will never be afraid to fight to preserve peace. The Eagle always wants to face the olive branch, but in time of war, his gaze turns toward the arrows.

Do not foolishly believe that the American public will want out of a war that you helped to start. Killing Americans will anger many fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, sons, and daughters of our soldiers. The wrath of a free nation will decent down upon you like the plague. In the end, you, like other petty war mongering dictators will hang, just like Saddam Hussein.

 

Nobody in America wants a war with Iran, but you seem intent on having your way. If this is the case, then I fear your days are numbered. remember this, a few years after you are gone; the people of Iran will hardly remember you.

 

Another thing: Israel is America’s closest ally. The Jewish State has many American citizens living in its borders, and many Israelis have family members living here in America. Attacking Israel is like attacking America. Our countries are connected through the blood of generations of our families. We will not stand by and watch you attack our families.

As far as your nuclear weapons ambitions; let me take  moment to explain something to you; American submarines prowling the deep oceans carry more nuclear weapons that you ever imagined. Detonate one single nuclear weapon in the world, and you will find out how hot the sun feels. Americas weapons are used as a deterrence; unlike you and your regime that want a nuclear weapon to threaten the free world. Don’t mistake America’s reluctance  to use our big weapons as a sign of weakness–that would be your final mistake.
 
 
 
Arabic Translation:
عزيزي السيد محمود أحمدي نجاد،

كنت استمع إليكم صراخ وهذيان ضد أمريكا وإسرائيل لسنوات. يوما بعد يوم، بعد أسبوع الأسبوع لك، أو واحد من الناس الخاص بك الحصول على التلفزيون وتهدد العالم بالقوة العسكرية الخاصة بك، أو أن كنت سيتم إغلاق مضيق هرمز.

لكم تبدو مهرج الإشارة بالإصبع في الهواء، ومحاولة إقناع العالم بأن الجيش الخاص بك هو الأقوى، اللئيمة، ومستعدة لمعركة أمريكا وحلفائها في الناتو.

الألمانية، إيطاليا، وفيتنام، وأفغانستان، وإيران، وكوريا الشمالية، الصين، المكسيك، جميع يعتقدون أنهم يمكن أن مكافحة أقوى قوة عسكرية في العالم. ظنوا خطأ، دمرت جيوشها.

أود أن الرهان كل دولار في بلدي حساب مصرفي أنه إذا طلب الشعب الإيراني إذا كانوا يريدون حربا مع حلف شمال الأطلسي، فإن الجواب سيكون تختلف كثيرا عن رأيك. أود أن أقول أن كنت، مثل سائر الطغاة البسيطة، هي جورجينج نفسك، بينما الأسر الإيرانية الأخرى يتساءلون من أين تأتي هذه الوجبة القادمة.

في حال كنت لا تعرف هذا، اسمحوا لي أن تظهر لك شيء هام جداً:

النسر الأصلع الأمريكية اختير كرمز للانتصار لسببين:

أولاً، أنه لا يخشى من عاصفة؛ أنه قوي، وذكي بما يكفي أن يرتفع فوقه.

وثانيا، أنه ترتدي لا ولي العهد المادية. أننا مجرد كسر من “ملك إنجلترا”.

لاحظ ما يحمل النسر في بلده ومخالب. وهو يحمل غصن الزيتون والأسهم. هذا البلد يريد السلام، ولكن لن نكون ابدأ أخاف أن نكافح من أجل الحفاظ على السلام. النسر يريد دائماً أن تواجه غصن الزيتون، ولكن في وقت الحرب، يتحول له نظرات تجاه الأسهم.

لا بحماقة نعتقد أن الرأي العام الأميركي يريد الخروج من حرب التي ساعدت في بدء تشغيل. وسوف غضب الأميركيين قتل العديد من الآباء والأمهات وأزواجهن، زوجات، أبناء وبنات جنودنا. وسوف غضب أمة حرة كريمة أسفل عليكم مثل الطاعون. وفي النهاية، يمكنك، مثل الحرب البسيطة الأخرى يتاجر الطغاة سيتم إنهاء، تماما مثل صدام حسين.

لا أحد في أمريكا يريد حرب مع إيران، ولكن يبدو أنك النية على أن يكون طريقك. وإذا كان هذا هو الحال، ثم أخشى الخاص بك أيام معدودة. أن نتذكر هذا، قبل بضع سنوات بعد أن كنت ذهبت؛ وسيتذكر الشعب الإيراني يكاد يمكنك.

شيء آخر: إسرائيل هي الحليف الأول للولايات المتحدة. الدولة العبرية قد العديد من المواطنين الأمريكيين الذين يعيشون في حدودها، والعديد من الإسرائيليين أفراد الأسرة الذين يعيشون هنا في أمريكا. مهاجمة إسرائيل أشبه بمهاجمة أمريكا. بلداننا متصل عن طريق دم الأجيال لاسرنا. ونحن لن يقف إلى جانب ومشاهدة يمكنك مهاجمة أسرنا.

وفيما يتعلق بطموحات الأسلحة النووية الخاص بك؛ واسمحوا لي أن أخذ لحظة لشرح شيء لكم؛ الغواصات الأمريكية يجوب المحيطات العميقة تحمل المزيد من الأسلحة النووية التي كنت يتصور ابدأ. لتفجير سلاح نووي واحد واحد في العالم، وسوف تجد الحرارة الساخنة كيف ستصبح. وتستخدم أسلحة الأمريكتين كرادع؛ وخلافا للنظام الخاص بك ويمكنك التي تريد سلاح نووي يهدد العالم الحر. لا تخطئ ممانعة أميركا استخدام أسلحتنا كبيرة كعلامة ضعف اليوم أنه سيكون خطأ النهائي

Cold Weather Survival

 

Being afraid of extreme cold weather is a natural thing. Most people have the tendency to stay indoors next to the wood burning stove when the temperatures dip into the sub-zero ranges. But, some of us enjoy the challenges of facing the extremes—a Man against Nature challenge. Most people think that I’m nuts when they hear that I’m heading 150 miles into the Northern interior of Alaska. Sometimes I believe them too…
Nonetheless; being out there in the thick of winter is both a way to test my gear, and myself. It allows me the quiet time that I need to recharge myself, and the opportunity to get my survival mind-set used to the frigid weather.
 
But it starts at home through meticulous selection of the gear that I will be trusting to keep me safe…
 
Clothing:

Base Layer:

  • Fleece (Stretch) Union Suit
  • Polypropylene Socks
  • Thermax Sock Liner
  • Polypropylene T-Shirt

 
Mid Layer:

  • Wool Pants
  • Wool Pull-Over Sweater
  • Polar-Tec Insulated Jacket

 
Outer Layer:

  • Gortex Parka
  • Gortex Gaiters
  • Gortex Gloves
  • Fleece Face Mask
  • Fleece Watch Cap
  • Snow Goggles
  • Cold Weather (Bunny) Boots
The list above includes everything that I wear. It looks like a lot of clothing, but in reality, it is three layers that help to trap body heat, and keep the cold wind, as well as the wet snow from the “creeping chill” that signals the start of hypothermia.
 
Choosing my gear is very important. If my life will depend on a piece of equipment, or clothing, you can be assured that a lot of thought has went into it, before I lay down my money. The Parka is one such piece of gear that is essential. I don’t play around when choosing what Cold Weather Parka.
  • Snag proof Zippers
  • Multiple Inner-Pockets
  • Multiple Outer Pocket
  • Draw String Waist
  • Snow Skirt
  • Adjustable Collar That Reaches To The Nose
  • Fur Trimmed Hood
  • Nylon Sleeve Skirt: (Keeps the snow and wind off the wrists)
  • Waterproof (Not Water Resistant)
  • Armpit Venting Zippers
The multiple inner-pocket hold the survival gear that I consider essential out in the cold weather.
Extra Insulated Socks are layered in both (large) lower pockets. Having them rolled-up creates unwanted bulk, so I keep one sock in each pocket. It reduced the bulk; most times it’s easy to forget about them until they are needed.
 
Extra Cell-Phone Battery is stored in one of the upper zippered pockets. The battery is wrapped in wool, and then placed inside of a small zip-lock bag. The wool helps to protect the connections from snapping, and in a pinch, the wool can also be used as an emergency fire starter. The zip-lock bag can be used to melt snow for water.
 
A Mini-Flashlight is kept in another chest pocket. During the Alaska winter months there isn’t much daylight. The sun rises about 10:30 AM, and stats setting around 3:30 PM. By 4:30 it is already dark. Having a flashlight handy is a blessing.
 
Disposable Lighter & Waterproof Matches are likewise stored in a zip-lock bag inside of the Parka.
 
In one of the upper-pockets an Emergency Blanket rides along in case I am forced to hunker-down and get warm. I carry both the standard blanket, and the Emergency Space Bag. Both are essential survival gear that I don’t want to get separated from.
 
Zipper-Pull Mini-Compass and Temperature Gauge complete the ensemble. Sometimes it’s beneficial to know what the temperature is, and during darkness or white-out conditions, the little compass might help to determine travel direction. But, during a blizzard, hunkering-down is the only way to survive. It’s easy to get lost out there, or walk right off the edge of a cliff, or stumble into an ice filled stream.
 
A small Water Bottle that is kept half-filled rides near my chest. Keeping it half-filled insures that in the event that I fall down, the water bottle isn’t crushed, and end’s up exploding inside of the parka. Keeping it next to my chest insures that it doesn’t freeze.
 
A pair of Extra Gloves are not only an essential item, but a part of the survival gear. Gloves get wet, or ripped open on sharp ice. Having a spare set of gloves insures that my time out in the woods is uneventful.
Oftentimes a few granola bars, and chocolate bars are stashed away in the pockets for added energy during the arduous trek across the frozen landscape.
 
Peppermint candies gives a little energy boost. A few soft tissues will help to defray the “runny nose” problems that are associated with cold weather. Soft Berber Fleece works really good, as does pieces of Marino Wool from worn out clothing.
 
 
 
Having quality Cold Weather Boots is paramount to survival out there in the snow country. I prefer the military “Bunny” boots. They are rated to –60 below zero. Topped-off with a set of gortex gaiters to keep the snow out from the top of the boots—keeps my feet in good condition.
 
Tinted Snow Goggles are also a must out there. The sun reflecting off of the snow can quickly create conditions called “snow blindness”. Blowing snow, or ice-fog are likewise deflected by the goggles.

Basic Survival Equipment:

  • Rucksack/Backpack
  • Cold Weather Sleeping Bag
  • Gortex Bivy Cover
  • Sleeping (Ground) Pad
  • Folding Stove w/ Heat Tabs
  • Canteen Cup
  • Arctic Canteen, w/ Carrier
  • Eating Utensils
  • Ka-Bar Knife
  • Sharpening Steel
  • Leatherman Multi-Tool
  • Toilet Paper
  • Fire Making Kit
  • Parachute Cord
  • 8′ x 8′ Canvas Tarp
  • Chemical Lights
  • Chemical Heat Packs
  • 3-Piece Mess Kit
  • Individual First Aid Kit
  • Lensatic Compass
  • Waterproof Map Case
  • Lip Balm
  • Complete Change of Clothing
  • Small Thermos Bottle
  • Water Purification Tablets
  • Poncho

The one thing that I always try to keep in mind when I am out there, is that weight can be the enemy. Humping around a heavy backpack means that walking in the snow requires more effort. Minimal gear which fulfills the requirements for cold weather survival is the only way to go. The added space in the backpack is filled with extra food.

Food Supplies:

  • Instant Oatmeal
  • Instant Coffee
  • Instant Soup
  • Hot Chocolate
  • Tea Bags
  • Raisins
  • Dried Pineapples
  • M&M (Crushed) Candies and mixed with Brown Sugar
  • Emergen-C Vitamin Drink
  • Sugar Packs
  • Non-Dairy Creamer Packs
  • Salt Packs
  • Pepper Packs
  • Mountain House Freeze Dried Scrambled Eggs & Peppers
  • Mountain House Freeze Dried Chili Mac
  • Mountain House Freeze Dried Beef Stroganoff
  • MRE Wheat Bread
  • MRE Crackers
  • MRE Peanut Butter
  • MRE Jelly


Emergency Gear:

  • SPOT-Satellite “Messenger”
  • Arial Signaling Flares
  • Signaling Whistle
  • Orange Signaling Smoke Markers
  • Fluorescent Orange Marker Panel

When I am “just playing” out in the woods; there’s always a chance that I could get myself into serious trouble. Being alone out there when the temperatures are 30-50 degrees below zero, can mean death if a broken ankle, or deep laceration occurs. Having and extra cell-phone battery is alright as long as there is a signal, but most times there isn’t a tower nearby. The SPOT Satellite device works wonders. It’s easy to summon assistance. But once the search and rescue airplanes are overhead, you have to help them find you. Orange panels, smoke bombs, and signal flares will make it easier for SAR to get to you. All of these items can be wrapped inside of an old Blaze Orange hunting vest, and then secured with rubber bands.

 

READ THE FULL ARTICLE: HERE

Sanctuary Among The Trees: (Part 1)

 
 

It’s 2pm Thursday afternoon; as my ride pulls away, I wave a final goodbye to civilization. The next few days will be spent living out of my Bug Out Bag—testing my own survival skills.

Quickly I creep into the thick brush and squat down. Listening and watching to see if my infiltration has gone unnoticed. I’m surrounded by thick brush, tall trees, and downed-timber from the recent ice storms last season. The air is slightly nippy, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds brings a little light into the otherwise gloomy Alaska boreal forest.

My Lensatic Compass gives me the bearing that I will be taking. It’s nearly fifteen miles to my Safe Area; a little spot on top of a remote hill surrounded by a large boggy marsh. It’s one of the intermediate areas that I have set-up as a cache point. I hope to reach it as soon as possible.

The leaves squish underneath the soles of my hunting boots as I stalk through the maze of Alaska jungle. It’s quiet out here; other than the sounds of mosquitos, and the occasional sounds that nature makes, for all intents it feels like I have stepped back into time itself.

A Rugger .338-Winchester Magnum rifle is held close to my chest. It’s my grizzly bear rifle. The powerful cartridge kills moose and bears with impunity; That’s what they are designed for, that why I carry it. A shoulder holster carries my defensive handgun; a Taurus “Raging Bull” .454-Casull Magnum. The powerful handgun serves as my last ditch protection, and a back-up hunting weapon. But it doesn’t belay the fact that some bears like to wait in ambush, and then pounce out of the brush at speed equal to a horse. Many hunters and hikers have been savaged in this way—with little or no warning. I don’t intend to become a victim if at all possible.

My steps are quite but sure. Each step brings another fifty yards into view. Each brush is scrutinized, each downed log is searched with my eyes, each step through the maze of lumber carries me deeper into the dark gloom that has slowly surrounded me like a fog. My eyes take in every nook and cranny that could harbor a predator. Making my way silently through the million year old forest—my friend and my adversary.

I am at home here. The lush green wraps itself around me like a warm coat. The air flowing into my nose is filled with clean air, the scent of old dirt, and the aromatic spice of nature’s returning from its winter sleep. The varied hues of colors dazzle my eyes—overhead  the shrill cries of a Raven remind me that I am a trespasser in his home. But I smile and send my mental signals of friendship up to him, asking him to keep watch over me—but he is already out of sight—a mere dark speck against blue skies.

My nose picks up the slightest scent of wood smoke. It’s faint, and far off. But that means other people are out here with me. I check the wind; it’s coming from my left. The upper leaves in the trees confirm this. I cannot allow anyone to see me out here. They must be made oblivious to my presence. Dropping to my left knee I listen for sounds; closing my eyes-willing my senses to reach out beyond the horizon. Using my mind to comb the area—tuned for the slightest disturbance in the energy field. After a few minutes; satisfied that I am alone, I resume my solitary trek deeper into the forest. I alter my compass heading three degrees towards the right, and count each step using my pace-count beads.

My feet carry me through twisting ravines, steep hills, and have me scrambling across countless downed trees, I notice the ground underneath is getting a little firmer. I have made it out of the valley; somewhere ahead of me rises the snow-capped mountains—my destination.

Throughout the afternoon the shadows creep along beside me. The air grows thinner, and I feel a change in the air. Night is coming soon. My eyes take in the sun’s position, the quietness creeping through the forest. There is a slight perceptible change around me—a primitive, almost ancestral-nocturnal fear reaching forward from the dawn of my ancestors time; reminding me that night brings death. It is time to find shelter, and appease my gnawing hunger.

A small hillside beckons me to rest; a cozy patch of sunlight illuminating a small comfortable circle of light. A downed log replete with soft moss–It cries out to me, demanding that I take rest upon it; but light and clearing is death in these woods. I choose the dark foreboding scrub-filled bog; a place better suited for defense—a place that hides my unnatural form and actions.

I kneel and listen; analyzing each sound, processing every movement of leaves and twigs; tasting the air as it flows part me. Sensing beyond my eyes for a tell-tale disturbance, an unnatural color or line; for the smell of something foreign. But all that returns to me is quite—I am alone out here, at least for now.

Moving quietly and slowly, I shed my rucksack and pull it behind me as I crawl deeper into the thorn filled thickets. My cheeks are ripped by the thorns, and somewhere on my right knee I feel a stab of pain, but I cannot stop until I am firmly inside this protective wall of punishment. The ground gives way to peat-moss; until at last I am crawling through knee deep water; my destination a dry clump of tall grass, a tiny island of dryness large enough to fit my form. This will be my home for the night. This will be where I can sleep without fear of a slow-creeping ambush.

My folding stove balances precariously on the lid of my mess kit. The boiling water being fed by the blue flames of my home-made fuel-tinder. A freeze dried food packs awaits the hot water, as does a tea bag. I am famished, and ready to sustain myself—to feed the fire that drives me further into this unreal place that I have called home.

While the water boils, I crawl forward and replace the thickets and brush that I have moved while crawling in here. There cannot be any sign of my passing or occupation of this place. A small black length of twine is tied near the entrance and woven back to my area so that I can be warned of an adversaries approach. A stick near my head will fall—thus alerting me to unwanted entry. I am surrounded by prickly thorns that thrive in muddy marsh water; and overhead the gently bowing branches of many birch trees lean down towards me—creating a living green cave.

My home for the night is small and uncomfortable; a mere three feet wide by six feet long protrusion of land; it is the only dry spot in sight. It will have to do—it will serve me well when darkness once again shimmers among the heavenly stars that will be my only company.

 

There will be no camp fire tonight; no lights to betray my presence. The stillness will not be broken by my voice, or caused by my action. I will remain quiet, a ghost among the gently swaying trees; I will fade into my respite, become part of the vegetation that so hides my presence.

My belly full, and legs stretched out ahead of me, I revel in the stillness around me that is mine. Laying back against my left elbow I sip at the Camille tea, swirling the dark liquid around inside of the canteen cup; allowing my eyes to travel across the quickly darkening skies overhead. It’s vast expanse making me feel small and inconsequential, a singular speck of humanity against the dark forest stretching infinitely around me. I ponder at the eyes of my own ancestral lineage that have witnessed these same sights, perhaps thought these same thoughts, and felt the the smallness that is felt among the towering pines and endless skies. A contentment sweeps over me, the peace that only can be realized in moments such as this. The connection across time eternal to First Man and First Woman—the pulls of generations yet unbroken.

With my gear re-packed, I make ready to get some sleep. Everything must be ready to go at a moments notice. There can be nothing laying around, nothing that will require me to stop and scoop it up. I must rest; yet I must maintain my defense as well. This requires that I not allow the shameful sloppiness of humanity into my camp. A poncho and poncho liner serve as my bedding. There will be no warm and comfortable sleeping bag tonight. The wetness all around me precludes it.

I strip off my outer-wear, and don the warm fleece pants and sweater that will substitute for my sleeping bag. My gloves and cap, also of fleece, complete the sleeping gear. Slipping back into my waterproof outer-wear, I roll into the luxurious warmth of my poncho; my head resting against the rucksack. With my rifle laid underneath the poncho; my last conscious thought is of the claustrophobic feeling that the mosquito head-net gives me—but soon the pleasure of slowly spiraling into the void of sleep…

It is night, something has awakened me. I dare not breath, hearing my heart pounding inside of my chest. I have to relieve myself, but movement might spell trouble. The comforting outline of my bear rifle is felt along my left leg under the poncho. My mind conjured images of a slathering grizzly bear trashing its way through the cold dark water—our eyes meeting each other in the surreal darkness around me. I quickly push the thought deep back into the corners of my thoughts, and reach out with my hearing and senses to see what has roused me from sleep.

My breathing sounds abnormally loud, and I will my lungs to slow down some. My eyes slowly scanning through the tangle of undergrowth, sensing movement, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but the wind rustling the leaves in top of the trees. Somewhere in the far distance I hear the faint howl of a lonely wolf. I hold my breath for a moment, listening for a return call; but only silence greets me.

Scooting over a little towards my left, I roll over onto my side, and relieve myself into the sloping ground leading into the dark waters. Standing up would make noise, attract attention; whatever awakened me might still be close—I cannot move right now.

It seems like a lifetime before the urgency of danger leaves me. With it, the taste in the air changes as well. My heightened sense detected something out there. Something that alarmed my inner being, something that awoke me to the dark night’s fear. It is a feeling that I have counted on in the past—a feeling that I can trust.

Still unsure, I lay my head back down determined that I may hear it again. but soon the swirling drops me back into the bliss of sleep…

Its been a long night; daylight has finally returned. Many times I was awakened by something moving around outside of my little fort. It was only during the last few hours that my mind and body finally rested; dropping me near exhausted into a deep satisfying sleep, the kind that rejuvenates the tiredness of body and mind.

The diffused sunlight peeks out from behind the trees; I gaze up into the skies and watch the low hanging clouds moving slowly by; it feels like rain today. Putting away my sleeping gear I reach into the rucksack and pull out the small thermos bottle. Hot water boiled after last nights dinner make the task of breakfast easier. Oatmeal, coffee, and some vitamin-c drink, help to get the day started without much fuss.

Using my map and compass I am able to triangulate my position against the nearest mountains. I’ve travelled about halfway to my destination.  Today’s travel will take me through the low-lying foot hills, and across many streams that I will have to ford. It’s the most difficult part of the journey. The high-snow capped mountains in the distance fills me with a sense of awe, and at the same time reminds me that man has struggled against them for millennia. Many have perished amidst those ragged peaks. A broken ankle, a sliced artery; the mountain has its own way of getting even with those beating themselves against it. The mountain’s ominous warning proclaimed by the thick fog drifting to and fro near the top. A cold barrier, a sign reminding me that nature is in control—I am but an unfamiliar inside of these tangled trees.

My gear once again rests comfortably on my shoulders. The food and coffee invigorating me; giving me the energy that will be required. The swarms of mosquitos rush toward my exposed face; quickly retreating from the scent of the repellant that has been liberally applied. These pesky-insects congregate around my head like a dark cloud, seeking to drain blood from my already battered and bruised body. The tiny aches and pains of my journey a reminder that out here, the human body is soft. This is evidenced by the throbbing in my right knee. Yesterday a small thorn punctured into the flesh, forcing me to strip down and cut it out with my multi-tool. It was a painful and slow process, but in the end the tiny sliver of wood coated with toxic resin was removed. Antibiotic from my first aid kit helped to quell the infection that would have surely resulted had I allowed the wound to fester.

Two hours later I drop my rucksack and squat carefully beside a small stream. The crystal clear water pumping through my water filter will insure that I m hydrated. Crossing over these life-giving streams without refilling my canteens is suicide. It’s then that I hear a splashing noise further upstream. Slowly I withdraw into the thick bushes, my rifle quickly filling my hands. With my back against a tree, I search the banks of the streams with my eyes for the source of the noise. It could be anything, a salmon jumping, a rock moving, a scampering rodent—but I hear the splashing sound again, this time a little closer.

It’s the unmistakable sound of paws padding through the waters shallows. It’s then that I catch a glimmer of movement; a patch of brown fur, the realization that I am seeing a large grizzly bear—and it isn’t aware of me. This is a dangerous situation. To surprise the grizzly is certain to cause it to charge, to stand up and let myself be seen, is sure to surprise this carnivore.

With a soft click I release the safety on my rifle; edging further backwards around the tree, I mentally will my body to fade into the green. Praying that my camouflage will help to hide my outline. I don’t stare at the bear; fearful of sending out a signal that his inner-senses will pick-up; I keep my eyes on the ground in front of him. My eyes watching the ground as his slow gait brings him closer to me. Close enough that I can hear his breathing, seeing as his small eyes flick back and forth—close enough that we are separated by only a distance of five yards.

 

The bear slows; his nose sampling the air; the nose seven times more sensitive than the best hunting dog. He has caught a whiff of me. I watch the muscles ripple along his chest as he assesses the area that I am hiding in. He starts to come towards me, my heart sounding like a bass-drum; my breathing excited. I edge further into the bushes; my rifle slowly coming-up into the firing position. I can smell the musky aroma emanating for this powerful king of the forest. I can smell my own fear as well. I steel myself for what is sure to come…

Suddenly; I hear a shrill cry of a Raven; overhead the black shadow circles twice, his screams matched by the quick dives towards the ground—and just as quick, the Raven is gone out of sight.The bear stops, swinging his massive head back towards the water; he plods along on his original route. I’ll never know if I was spotted, if this North American carnivore allowed me to remain; but I am thankful that the two of us didn’t have to encounter each other in violence. It’s time to be on my way again.

Hours later I find myself resting against an over-turned tree trunk; munching down a power bar and dried pineapple fruit. My tired muscles complain as I shift position, and I feel the trickle of water creeping down the side of my neck, travelling onto my chest. Even the best-made rain suits cannot prevent the cold rain from penetrating into my body’s warmth.

The rain began soon after the encounter with the grizzly bear. It began with a slight drizzle; culminating with a frenzied down pour sending sheets of driving rain through the trees. The forest around me becomes darker, the leaves dripping water; the wind arcing the rain sideways across my vision. I hope the rains would let up a little, but I know better. These rain storm blow in all the time with little warning. They can last for days on end, and then just as suddenly as they appeared, they withdraw and allow the Sun to regain a foothold—having nourished the foliage with its life-saving sustenance.

Brad Meltzer’s Decoded “2012 The Beginning”; Interview With Franke Schein

Filmed on-loction in Anchorage, Alaska August 2011

Franke Schein; a Alaska based survivalist talks about preparing for 2012 Prophecies, and other disasters.

A hard-Hitting expose’ …

Survival: Protecting What’s Yours

DSC03279

The use of firearms when SHTF is probably one of the most talked-about issues on the internet these days. In many cases, firearms sometimes rank higher than food supplies in some circles.

The trend in survival firearms has taken a radical right turn; instead of defensive weapons, many have turned towards assault rifles, and offensive weapons. It’s not uncommon to see survivalists wearing tactical gear, Kevlar helmets, ballistic vest, and sporting an assortment of battle-ready guns with multiple magazines of ammunition.

The problem with that is; it doesn’t leave much room for survival gear. Heading out into the woods with tactical gear, and preparing for a gun battle is okay if that is your mindset. But the reality is that all of that gear won’t help you one bit—when faced with multiple opponents. On the contrary, it will only serve to make their job easier because it’s hard to run wearing all of that gear.

When I train newbies out in the field, the rule is only carry the things that you will actually need, and replace everything else with food supplies. Nothing is as important as food—nothing!

One of the things that I attempt to have people understand, is that even though firearms are an integral part of any survival plan, they should not be the entire plan.

No matter what the weapon of choice is; it is necessary to first become intimate with the weapon. That means spending a lot of time at the range, shooting at various distances, and shooting during weather extremes. It takes hundreds of hours to “Become One” with your weapon. But when the honeymoon is over, you’ve got something in your hands that is both familiar and might provide for an extra edge if you are ever forced to shoot somebody down.

It really doesn’t matter the make or model of the rifle, what matters is the weight, the maneuverability, and whether or not you can hit what you are aiming at in any survival or weather condition. One of my more favorite weapons is an old Soviet battle rifle: The Mosin-Nagant M1944 7.62x54R bolt action rifle. The rifle is sometimes referred to as a “Russian .308”; and that would be a close description.

DSC03102

[ Mosin-44 Out in The Alaska Back Country ]

The Mosin-44 is a trusted old rifle that is still being used today in many parts of the world. Here in Alaska, these old rifles are found in the hands of Eskimo hunters, and homesteaders alike. It’s reputation and durability makes this a rifle that has earned its place by the people that count on it for their day to day existence.

I’ve owned and fired tons of weapons throughout the years. Some weren’t worth a plugged nickel, while others were worth their weight in gold. One of my more favorite defensive weapon is a Diamond Back .380 caliber handgun. It’s small size makes it an ideal carry-weapon,. It certainly doesn’t pack the same punch as a .45 ACP, but again—it’s all a matter of getting to know your weapon, as well as your own capabilities. What is amazing for this small caliber cartridge, is the penetration factor. As a primary combat weapon it’s all but useless due to to lack of energy; but up-close-personal, this weapon will do what’s asked of it.

1223111158a

[ DB-380 Semi-Auto Handgun ]

Survivalists should consider firearms as yet another tool that gets the job done. Over-reliance on weapons is the one problem that should be avoided. To me personally; a rifle that I carry in the bush has to be suited for hunting and defensive situations. The standard that I apply to myself is that I carry one rifle, and one handgun; perhaps if the situation requires it, I may also hump a folding-stock shotgun. But in my own survival plans, everyone in my group is armed, and even if it’s just my family and I tromping around in the bush—we all carry weapons.

DSC04732

When SHTF; protecting the family and yourself, as well as protecting your stockpile will require firearms that are capable of doing the job with little or no frills. A basic pump shotgun, an assault rifle, or even a bolt action rifle will make life miserable for those individuals who foolishly believe that a “force of arms” will feed them.

I much prefer the heavy caliber weapons such as the belted-magnums. There is no doubt in my mind that a .375 H&H magnum will punch right through ballistic armor. Subsequently, the .454-Casull Magnum will certainly eat bullet-proof vests everyday of the week.

Additionally; in the hands of an experienced shooter, the bolt action .308 caliber rifle loaded with deadly Armor Piercing ammunition is a force of nature unto itself. A determined shooter can far exceed the range and killing power of assault rifle wielding assailants.

When it comes to self-defense in a survival situation, it’s important to understand that if you are doing things correctly; nobody out there should see you, hear, you, or realize that you are in the area. When things go south, and you find yourself confronted with armed thugs, your best option is to get away as quickly as possible. Breaking contact might not sound very “Macho”; but I guarantee that you will not feel so Macho when one of your kids, or your mate is laying dead on the ground.

WordPress Tags: Survival,SHTF,cases,food,trend,weapons,gear,Kevlar,assortment,ammunition,room,woods,mindset,weapon,Become,somebody,Soviet,Mosin,Nagant,action,Russian,description,Alaska,Back,Country,world,Here,Eskimo,reputation,existence,tons,Some,worth,gold,Diamond,caliber,handgun,size,cartridge,penetration,factor,energy,Semi,Auto,Survivalists,tool,Over,reliance,bush,situation,hump,plans,frills,life,individuals,armor,Casull,Magnum,bullet,shooter,nature,self,defense,area,option,Macho,kids,firearms,magazines,opponents,hunters,situations,assailants,thugs,ballistic,doesn’t,shotgun

Map picture

E-Mail: frankeschein@hotmail.com

So You Think You’re A Survivalist?

Franke Schein In Alaska

 

At the age of eight years old I had made-up my mind that I wanted to be a Mountain Man.

By the time I was Ten, I had read nearly everything published about survival. At the tender age of 11; I ran away from home to chase those dreams…

Over the course of the next year, (I didn’t know it at the time) but I executed a Tactical Bug Out from the deadly swamps of Florida, along a route that took me through backwoods of Georgia and Tennessee. I eventually settled myself down in the Daniel Boone National Forest—Koomer Ridge Kentucky. I was twelve years old at the time.

Along the way I managed to elude a boatload of police, truant officers, and nefarious people that were out to either capture me, or hurt me. The world was a different place back then, but it was nonetheless as dangerous place for a skinny eleven year old kid. Sexual predators, druggies, modern-day slave traders, and a host of others roamed the streets and countryside looking to take advantage of children. Gangs of every description plied their violence wherever they could; and farmers were likely to “shoot first” when confronted with a “chicken Stealing” runaway kid.

I learned hard, and I learned real quick the ways and manners of becoming a young survivalist. I grew up in the woods, and later migrated to the streets of America’s biggest cities. Cities that offered food, shelter, and a new lifestyle. A life of running with the violent street gangs—most of whom were runaway’s themselves. They were the outcast that society didn’t talk about, and the media only mentioned when one of their dead body was found in some ditch or garbage dumpster.

Many of these runaway kids ended-up in “Snuff Films” that were widely circulated at the time. Some stranger would offer food, money, shelter, and friendship. Only to later drug the kid, and film them being sexually abused—and then murder them by slitting their throat on camera. Many young boys and girls lost their lives to these “snuffers” as they were called in those days.

But I never forgot my “survivalist country-boy” roots; as often I would grab my backpack and start walking out of the city to reacquaint myself with the forest dwellers. For months I would play in the woods; hunting, trapping, fishing, stealing grub where I could, and doing my very best to keep the law from capturing me.

Twice I was cornered and caught by Park Rangers and Police that were just a little smarter than I was. Twice they locked me up in a Juvenile Detention Center. A prison for little kids; a finishing school for young career criminals. Bellevue Kentucky along the Ohio river was a very bad place at the time. Louisville’s Juvenile Detention Center was the pits. Once the guards closed those steel doors at night; it was every kid for himself. You learned how to fight, how to quickly incapacitate, and how to be a Man at 14 years old. It was one of those “Do or Die!” experiences that came with the territory, and came with the time.

Each time that they locked me up—I would plan, and later execute my escape. Sometimes it took weeks or months, other times just a matter of days. Give me one single chance to “rabbit”—and then color me GONE. Twice I made my escape back into the forests of Kentucky and Tennessee. They never caught me again. I’d had enough of that crap to suit me the rest of my life.

Life in the woods was severe. The nights were cold, the hunger pangs omnipresent, the thought of being captured never out of my mind. When it rained I got wet. When it snowed I was cold. Bathing was done in the creek or ponds. Drinking water was boiled in an old tomato can. Wild edible plants were plentiful, but toilet paper was the Grand Prize. A steady diet of fish and greens will quickly convince you of this…

I stole what I could, when I could, and where I could. Nothing was safe around me. My first .22 rifle was acquired from a broke-down pickup truck on a rainy backwoods Kentucky dirt road. I learned how to shoot for meat, how to dry it out, and it helped to ease the constant hunger.

Fishing for catfish became a “hunger easing” passion. Bank lines, spear fishing, netting, and bow fishing were added to the survival skill-set. Snares and traps that I learned from reading the US Army Survival Manual kept me busy running the trap line. Some days would be good, others days were real bad. You took the bad with the good. There was no place to fall back to, and no choice but to put the left foot in front of the right.

Wild onions, potatoes, carrots, and a host of other veggies and fruits added to the (sometimes) daily meal. Supplemented with rabbit, squirrel, coon and possum; the meat helped to add protein to vitamin-deficient diet. The hides were used for many things—but mostly I traded them for cigarettes and .22 ammunition.

Other people lived out there in the forest. Most were criminals hiding out from the law, others were operating moonshine stills, or growing marijuana crops. All were dangerous people when surprised or confronted, but I learned how to barter with them; once that they understood that I was a run-away kid.

The “Bush Hippies” and “Back To Nature” crowd flooded the woods in the late 1970’s. They built earth-shelters houses, cute little cabins, and got themselves back to nature. But on the side they dealt in drugs, illegal guns, and often times formed their own little gangs. Gangs reminiscent of the Charles Manson’s “Helter Skelter” crowd. Being around these devil worshipping freaks brought another level of a dangerous element to the survival mix. A few people ended-up as human sacrifices to this crowd.

My home was a small earthen cave—a former bear den. I could barley stand up in it, but it was small, and easy to heat in the winter months. I learned how to keep the fires small, how to NOT draw attention to myself, and that no matter how nice that fire feels—I was still cold to the bones.

These days I look back onto those primitive days of my youth with resignation that I could have perished. But I am thankful that GOD allowed me to survive through those times, and grow into the Man that I have become today. I have been blessed in many ways; and I am humbled by the experiences.

I’ve watched some of the YouTube survival videos being posted out there. I have learned a few things here and there. It surprises me that there are so many people out there waning to live the life that I lived at a young age. Yet; I think that they don’t realize what they are wishing for. What Mother Nature has in store for them.

It’s pretty easy to fantasize about living off the land—but the stark reality isn’t as simple as what one would expect. The elements necessary to live off the land require more than gear and equipment. It requires skills and patience. It also requires a reality based survival plan—not the bullshit that I’ve seen on the internet.

Forget all that “Dual Survival” crap and come back to reality. Bear Gillis and Survivor Man have nothing in common with real survival. Their shows are teaching people to take unnecessary risks, and that it’s possible to live off the land anywhere. That’s why very few of their shows are done during the winter months. The few that I have watched, always end up with them “finding” what they need at “exactly” the right time. In real life it doesn’t work that way.

Here in Alaska—seven experienced mountain climbers have perished on Mount McKinley. These are the people that climb mountains for a living, and as a serious hobby. In some parts of Alaska, people walk out into the woods, and are never heard from again–EVER!

Executing a Bug Out should be the last thing on a survivalist’s mind. Bugging Out should be a last option when everything else fails. But then the real world of survivalism actually begins. Here’s what I think about bugging out:

  • You will not be alone out there.
  • Shooting a gun will get people’s attention that will do you harm.
  • Camp fires will give away your position.
  • Flashlights a night are signals to “Come Steal My Shtuff” cuz’ I’m stupid.
  • Food should replace battery operated gear.
  • Night Vision devices are a waste of time in the field.
  • Over-reliance on technology will get you in trouble, or dead.
  • You cannot live out of your Bug Out Bag forever.
  • If you have no Safe Area to bug-out towards—you are already a victim.
  • Wild edible plants are hard to find under three feet of snow.
  • You gotta’ sleep sometime, that’s when people like me “ghost” into your camp and take you stuff and life!

You Ain't Gonna' Be Alone Out There...

In a real survival situation, you have to understand that you will not be able to just head out into the woods and set-up a clandestine survival camp. The longer that you remain in one area, the more of the area’s resources you will use, and thus you will have to travel farther away from camp to get meat and veggies. That’s when you are most exposed, because your camp is a stationary area that will be easy to ambush. Never stay in one area more than 48-hours. Even then, you have to change sleeping areas several times, or set-up a decoy camp to draw the “bushwhackers’ into your own ambush site.

For those survival crisis that has you feeling government or UN troops—I got some real bad news for you: If you head into the woods you have already lost!

Make no mistake about it; the technology is on their side. They have all the cool toys and sophisticated weapons. Forward Looking Infrared Radar, Thermal Imaging, Satellite Movement Detection, Satellite Movement Tracking, Ambient Temperature Tracking, Chlorophyll Based Tracking Sensors, Sound Sensors, Movement Sensors, Heat & Light Sensors—most of these platforms are both airborne and space based devices. You will never even know that you are being watched and tracked. It would be better if you stayed in the cities and melted into the framework of what’s going on. When the Soviets invaded Poland in 1968, that’s what the Polish resistance did. They stayed hidden in plain sight, and caused the Russian Bear much grief.

If you think that you have what it takes to survive out there by yourself when being hunted by seasoned and experienced troops. Think Again! You have absolutely no chance against the military special forces, I don’t care what country their from. Rambo was a fictional Hollywood character—and you ain’t  him!

Your days will be filled with fright and fear. If you don’t believe that—then you have never been exposed to bullets screaming by your right ear. Your night will be cold because if you build a campfire to stay warm—you will probably never awaken.

And finally; for those off you that are heading out into the bush at the first signs of SHTF—what is your wife gonna’ say about that? Do you think that she’s gonna’ want to drag herself and the kids out into the cold dark countryside where Bad People with guns are waiting?  Better think about that little scenario, before you head off into your Bug Out Experience.

Like anything else that I have written; these are my own ideas, and the way that I work things out. They work for me, they might work for you—or not. It was written from the heart, and not to proclaim that anyone is doing things wrong, or that I’m right. It is what it is, and if you take exception to it—Tough Shit–Deal With It!

 

Franke Schein - Alaska Survivalist

Casting Call: Survivalists Wanted

Casting Call For Survivalists

Casting Call For Survivalists

Major national television production is looking for Survivalists, Preppers, and individuals actively preparing for the 2012 End Of The World phenomenon. If chosen, you will be featured on a national syndicated television show that reaches millions of viewers.

If you are a survivalist; then this is your chance to help spread the message that emergency preparations
mean more than getting ready for 2012. It also means preparing for weather events, local and national crisis, as well as disasters that affect local economies.

Respond by sending email HERE:

( URL: http://frankeschein.blogspot.com/2011/11/casting-call-survivalists-wanted.html )
Please include a brief bio, picture, and explain what you think may happen during the 2012 events, and what you are doing to get ready. This show will feature “A Day In The Life” kind of episode. It’s not about sensationalism–but rather about showing the true survivalists out there that are serious about survival planning.