The Dangerous Summer April 27 2014


Part I



“The revolution occurred in the hearts and minds of the people and in pulpits throughout the colonies long before a shot was fired.”

All across the American Redoubt and in other strongholds across the land, the Rocky Mountain Corn Project is catching fire. Painted Mountain Corn is spreading through the valleys, folds and creases of the mountains, and in improbable places where corn has never grown before. Farmers, gardeners, ranchers and liberty-minded folk from all walks of life are sowing and harvesting these seeds of freedom.

Individuals are sponsoring groups of friends in cooperative and crop-sharing agreements. Seed for sale is popping up on Craig’s List in various locations as the 2014 growing season approaches.

Back in the winter of 2012-13, a friend, let’s call him Jim Bridger, caught the vision of the Project. Although he was busy packing up after a gun show and not a farmer himself, Mr. Bridger said, “Okay, I’ll take five pounds of that Painted Mountain Corn seed. Could you put it in one pound sacks for me?” Jim headed off on the long drive to his home in a remote valley. Yep, he lived in a valley where a river runs through it.

(Don’t know any valleys in Montana that don’t have cricks or rivers and there sure are a lot of valleys in Montana, so I think he’s pretty secure in his area of operation from any inadvertent disclosures here.)

Well, I didn’t see Jim Bridger again until this past winter. We were having a discussion on other matters over breakfast when I casually asked him how the corn project turned out. He put down his fork,

“Let me tell ya what I did. When I got home last year, I invited some friends over and struck a deal. Parceled out that seed and gave them your growin’ instructions. After a while, reports started comin’ in. They were sayin’, ‘I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. It’s comin’ up sooner and growin’ faster than anythin’ I’ve ever tried before.’”

Jim chuckled, “You should see my shop now. I have five gallon buckets of corn sittin’ around everywhere. Those guys just kept bringin’ me more corn. I’m covered up with it.”

Jim and his buddies know from experience the old axiom, “an army marches on its stomach.” They are laying the foundation of an independent food supply and developing mobile field rations of their own making. They know there will be no logistical train with resupply coming in every three days.

Part II


And they say unto him, We have here but five loaves, and two fishes. He said, Bring them hither to me. And he commanded the multitude to sit down on the grass, and took the five loaves, and the two fishes, and looking up to heaven, he blessed, and brake, and gave the loaves to his disciples, and the disciples to the multitude. And they did all eat, and were filled: and they took up of the fragments that remained twelve baskets full. And they that had eaten were about five thousand men, beside women and children.

—Matthew 14:17-21 King James Version


We were just getting ready to bless the food when my neighbor showed up with a whole troop of hungry field hands. I thought, “Lord, how are we ever going to feed this bunch?” More folks had turned up to help us with spring planting than we figured on. Pine smoke curled up around the pot of simmering venison chili and skillets of steaming cornbread balanced on rocks at the edge of the fire, waiting for the slabs of butter fresh from the spring-box.

My heart sank a little. I didn’t want anyone to go away hungry—but it wasn’t enough. Thinking that we’d have to do the best we could, I called everyone over,

“Gather around folks. Let’s go ahead and bless this food before it gets cold.” I shifted my feet in the soft, freshly plowed mountain soil and looked out across the valley, taking in the majestic scene. The sun played hide-and-seek with the clouds, creating shadows running along the valley floor and shafts of brilliant light illuminating the great snow peaks looming above.

As I lowered my head I saw another pickup truck winding its way up toward the meadow. “Oh no,” I thought, “another mouth to feed.”

“OK Lord—loaves and fishes. We really need help with loaves and fishes.”

We had blessed the food and started serving it out when a muddy F250 diesel pickup truck drove through the gate.

The door opened and out stepped old Jim Bridger himself with a big grin on his face. “Sorry I’m late boys, got stuck comin’ out of my place down in Deep Crick. The run-off washed the road plumb out. Thought I’d never get through but somethin’ told me to keep on tryin’.”

He ambled to the back of the truck, dropped the tailgate, and waved me over, “Come gimme a hand. Got somethin’ for ya.” He pulled a five gallon bucket and two bulging, blood-stained pillowcases out from among the tools and gear.

“In the late hunt last winter after that big storm came through, the snow wuz getting’ pretty deep in the timber below the divide. Figured the elk would be coming down outta there after dark and head to that alfalfa field in the valley. We strapped on snowshoes and finally got up near that last ridge right before sunset. Wind had blown all the snow off the rocks so I took off the snowshoes and crawled up and peeked over the ridge and there he wuz—a big ole bull on the trail headed right up to the saddle.

“Field dressed him in the dark but had to go back and get sleds to get him down the next day. He wuz froze solid by then and we were too.” Jim’s grin widened as he handed the heavy pillow cases to me,

“Anyway, he stayed frozen all winter. Finally got him thawed out a few days ago. Got the meat all boned out and jerkin’ most of it to make pemmican, but thought you might be able to use some for this plantin’ jamboree.”

A couple of ladies put down their bowls of chili. They cleared off the tailgate and started cutting the meat up. "Remember those buckets of corn sittin’ in my shop? I ground up some. The cornmeal is in this here bucket,” Jim pulled a small leather bag from his pocket and plunked it down on the bucket lid, “and here’s the salt.”

Ron Shade, 1979,

The first course was chili and corn bread. Strips of elk roasted over the fire and hoe cakes washed down by cold spring water was the second course. Nobody went away hungry and the corn got planted.

Shadows were lengthening as the sun slid toward the mountains when Jim headed back to his truck. He turned and said, “I really appreciate what you’re doin’ with this corn project. After you get the harvest in, I’d like to invite you to a celebration. Pick out six of your most solid friends and bring ‘em with ya. If you’ve got some extra seed-corn you might bring that too. Maybe we can do some tradin’.”

“Sounds good. So this is going to be a harvest festival?”

“You might call it that.” He scratched his beard and gave me an appraising look. “Actually what I had in mind was a little get-together to celebrate the foundin’ of the seed-corn auxiliary.”

Part III


Friends, I will let you imagine what we traded that seed-corn for. Let’s talk about the notion of the Auxiliary. No, I’m not talking about the Ladies Auxiliary Cotillion Club or anything like that. (Although, on second thought maybe the Ladies Cotillion would be a good auxiliary in this sense, so listen up.)

Why is the fish in the sea not thirsty?

Is this a joke? Zen koan? Cosmic riddle? Not at all. It’s simple.

The fish in the sea is not thirsty because it is surrounded by its native and life-sustaining ambient environment. It may be a dangerous environment but the fish lives in the sea and draws its sustenance from the sea. If a fish is caught and pulled out of the water, it will flop around for a while and die or the fisherman might whack it on the head and it will die. Of course, the fisherman might release the fish back to the water and the fish will live if not injured to the extent that it cannot recover.

If we ever experience a societal break-down, some of us will form a mobile defense group, live in the mountains and run patrols to provide an over-watch of our area of operation. We have to detect potential threats before they arrive at our doorstep and deal with them. If the rule of law disappears or if a central authority comes after the guns, most conventional travel will stop because of highway road-blocks and checkpoints. Many will refuse the FEMA camps and you know what will ensue. I don’t have to go into detail. I am not an expert here and I know a select few of you are, so I will give this the broad-brush treatment.

Some will capitulate and some will resist. An underground resistance will form out of those who survive the first raids. Guerrillas will disappear in the mountains and auxiliaries will remain in place to support the operations of the underground and the guerrillas. The auxiliaries and those sympathetic to the resistance are the sea in which the guerrilla fish swim. What is more important? The individual fish or the sea that makes their existence possible? Members of the auxiliary are in the most dangerous position because they have to maintain a normal life while their clandestine role is to provide the food and logistical supplies that allow the guerrillas to operate.

It was the “glorious leader” of the long march of the Chinese communist revolution who first used this analogy of the fish and the sea in his little red book. Since he was responsible for more deaths than Hitler or Stalin, I don’t care to mention his name other than to place him at the head of the Tyrants Hall of Infamy.

Nevertheless, the analogy is often used in discussions to elucidate the nature of the auxiliary so I use it here. At this point in our vignette I yield the floor to someone who has been there and lived it.

Let me present Mr. John Mosby who gave the Union armies absolute fits in their efforts to capture him as he was wreaking havoc behind their lines in the War Between the States. Of course, our Mosby today is alive and well at his patrol base somewhere in the mountains training cohorts to follow in his steps while goading them in relentless exhortations to come up higher and reach the level of proficiency in arms that will be required to preserve our lives in the not too distant future.

John Mosby is a “nom de plume” as well as a “nom de guerre”. He is a literate and compelling writer, holding an M.A. in History. We look forward to his book on the subject at hand that I hear is soon in the offing. For those of you who have not worn the uniform and are unfamiliar with mil-speak in the ranks, take heed of the salty language ahead. I can’t help but laugh at the recollection of a blog post where some patriot ladies had discovered his website and were discussing how they could organize to take his training when one of the ladies commented good-naturedly, “I wish I could get his address. I want to send his wife some lye-soap to wash his mouth out.”

Despite his internet persona, I suspect that he has a big as well as a courageous heart. For review purposes only, I am going to quote (profanity redacted) from two of John Mosby’s essays originally posted on his blog The direct link to each piece is embedded at the end of each excerpt.

The auxiliary is most simply defined as that part of the population that supports the aims of the resistance, and participates in the resistance through active, willing, support activities for the guerrilla force or the subversive underground. The auxiliary is composed of part-time volunteers who have value to the resistance largely because of their position within the community. This is because the support activities of the auxiliary should most often be limited to those activities that can be explained by their normal activities (for example, a machinist would provide support by manufacturing weapons parts or weapons, not by suddenly trying to score a black market shipment of medical supplies from a smuggler. A physician however, might very well be able to explain his need for those medical supplies through his occupation, rather than trying to procure a new 5-axis milling machine, even if he was a hobby machinist).

It is critical that no one ever make the mistake of thinking of the auxiliary as a separate or, God forbid, an inferior organization. Rather, the auxiliary should be considered, and treated, as members of the network who simply fulfill a different role. The fact is, in many ways, the auxiliary not only plays a more important role, but its members are often at the greatest risk of compromise, capture, and death. Auxiliary members continue their role in the “normal” daily life of their community. This means that some of their activities must be performed “after hours,” leading to sleep deprivation and increased stress which can lead to self-compromise through slips of the tongue, or being in a place they shouldn’t be, at a time they shouldn’t be. The auxiliary is the easiest arm of a resistance to infiltrate, due to their proximity to their neighbors, and the need to bring more people into the auxiliary for certain mission requirements. Additionally, the auxiliary is often used as a testing arena for potential recruits to the guerrilla force and/or the subversive underground, meaning agents of the regime will be in contact with the auxiliary far more often than with the guerrilla force or the underground.

The auxiliary is normally organized to correlate with, or parallel, the existing political administration. This is NOT the “shadow government,” however. Instead, this means that each auxiliary cell is responsible for its neighborhood, community, town, county, or state. This is ideal, because it means that the members of the auxiliary are intimately familiar with the physical and human terrain of their operational area. They know, or should know, who sympathizes with the resistance, and who are closet collaborators. On the other hand, this also increases the potential exposure of the auxiliary members, especially in small communities, or tightly-connected neighborhoods, where it is normal for “everyone to know everyone’s business” [….]

—Excerpted from “Fundamentals of Auxiliary Organization” by John Mosby, March 7, 2013. Complete essay here:

The ultimate success or failure of a resistance movement does not reside solely on the tactical prowess of the scared, cold guys with guns hiding out in the forests and mountains (although they are important). All the way back, through the dim, misty curtains of time, to the Maccabees, the success of a resistance movement has depended in the long term, on its ability to maintain the support functions of an active auxiliary organization.

Regardless of the initial political persuasions of the local civilian populace, in order to be ultimately successful, a resistance must gain the willing support of the civilian populace, and be able to organize that support into a coordinated, functional effort. While the active paramilitary guerrilla force is off, freezing and starving at Valley Forge, the task of developing and organizing that civilian support falls on the auxiliary (see what I did there?)

(We who are active in the Liberty movement, especially many of us in the blogosphere, like to throw out the III% label, perhaps too quickly in many cases. The reality is, while yes, only three percent of the colonials actively took the field against the British Empire at any one time, the division of support between the warring elements was closer to thirds: one-third supported the rebellion, one-third supported the Crown, and one-third just didn’t give a shit, as long as their kids were housed and fed. After all, neither Thomas Jefferson nor Benjamin Franklin ever took the field of battle during the conflict—were they somehow less dedicated to the Cause?

The job of the auxiliary is two-fold. On the one hand, they need to organize the support of the first third [that supports the rebellion] into functional assistance for the resistance. Second, they need to convince the last third [that doesn’t care about anything beyond their family’s needs] to begin actively supporting the resistance, rather than sitting on the fence. [….]

Fortunately, the use of the auxiliary to gain and develop support from the local civilian population lends some distinct advantages from a PSYOP perspective. While the regime is busy labeling the guerrillas as nothing more than bandits and brigands (or “bitter clingers”), the public is approached by the auxiliary—who are normal, run-of-the mill neighbors. These are guys they see and deal with every day. They’re not camo-wearing nutjobs hiding out in the hills. This one is on the city council […] and that one is the manager of the local Wal-Mart warehouse! It may be far easier for the neighbor they see every day, the guy who is apparently just like them, trying to raise his kids and make a living, to convince John and Jane Doe, to donate their time, food, or money, to the resistance than it will be for the dirty, mud- and blood-stained guys with guns, who haven’t showered in three months, and hide out in the woods. [….]

Make no mistake about it. As important as the guerrilla force is, without the auxiliary, they won’t last six weeks [….]

—Excerpted from “Development of the Auxiliary” by John Mosby, March 23, 2013. Complete essay here:

There you have it—the vision of the Seed-Corn Auxiliary writ large as the lifeline of the resistance and the foundation of an Alpine Republic waiting to be born. As we traverse the approaching vicissitudes my fervent prayer is that an American remnant will survive to renew the founder’s republic and build a new civilization on the detritus of the old.

America is More Than a Country

Holding up all that is noble, virtuous and true midst the cynicism of the passing age
     amongst those who return home broken by the horrors of war
     amongst those who reach our shores with the hope of reaching for
     the impossible dream
     amongst those who ridicule a simple patriotism,
I will still rise when I hear the call of the anthem played, the prayer sung and the flag waved.
I will still rise to honor those comrades fallen on battlefields soon forgot as we soldier on for the invisible republic that lives yet in the hearts of men.

Men and women of vision and action are sorely needed at this time in our short history as a free people. Some say we have never been completely free. They might have a point, I guess it depends on how long the leash is. If you look down the corridors of history, you might wonder at the extraordinary year of 1776 when three seminal publications would signal the rise of our nation and her people—possessed of unprecedented freedom, wealth and safety. First of course was the Declaration of Independence. Lesser known, the same year also saw the publication of Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations and Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. These documents are our foundation, and they inform our future.

The student of history easily finds that the past twelve thousand years is a record of war and slavery. Freedom has been a rare commodity. Although there are echoes of lost golden ages, inevitably the Hobbesian observation prevails. For most people life was short, nasty and brutish.

In 1877 Lord Acton reminded us that,

At all times sincere friends of freedom have been rare, and its triumphs have been due to minorities, that have prevailed by associating themselves with auxiliaries whose objects often differed from their own; and this association, which is always dangerous, has been sometimes disastrous [….] (

If you study the everyday lives of people from civilizations past, you also find that the life and standard of living of the average American citizen today would surpass that of kings and potentates of bygone eras. From that perspective we should be grateful for the progenitors of freedom on whose shoulders we stand.

And when we stand on the other side of “The Dangerous Summer,” we will see that it marked the rise of the auxiliaries that fed the invisible republic.


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