Haven’t Bugged Out Yet? Then This Is Probably How You’ll Die
written by Canyonman
I’ve been lurking around this site for quite some time, and have finally decided to officially drop on in. I have followed or belonged to other forums and blogs in the past, but as they progressively became overrun with mall ninjas, trolls, naysayers, and the 14.93 million former CIA/Delta Force wet work operator snipers who personally killed Bin Laden (pardon me while I clear my throat), I eventually bowed out, and have been off the boards for quite some time.
Mid 50s, happily married, Army veteran, lifelong outdoorsman and craftsman in the trades. Two years ago my wife and I finalized our departure from suburbia, having spent several years finding the right spot. I wouldn’t call us “preppers”; can’t say I’m fond of that particular moniker. Sounds like a jalapeno suppository. I’ll take 3per, or Citizen Soldier, or even Wolverine. I’m also a BAC-n-LAC (Born Again Christian & Law Abiding Citizen – just invented that one).
The purpose of this particular dissertation is to scare the crap out of you, and thus move you off the pot. Time is short, and the storm clouds are gathering over the Middle East. Our southern border is a free-for-all, drug cartels and gangs have a viable presence in virtually every major American city, and the poser-in-chief thinks he was elected king and is doing everything he can think of to dismantle this country.
And you think you’re ready to bug out?
Having even the best bug out bag, while putting you a few steps ahead of the herd, is still only a few steps. There are at least a million more. Have you thought about them?
If you’re still living in town, with some vague notion that you’re going to “bug out“, then the answer is “No, I haven’t really thought this through”. I will be very blunt here; the following tells you how you’re probably going to die. Oh, and if you bought a big screen TV or any type of sports tickets (money you should have spent on ammo or food) in the last six months, please stop reading and put your head back in the sand, as this article won’t make any sense to you.
The tornado sirens are wailing, the power is off, the grid’s been hacked, the stock market has crashed, a percentage of the police have rushed home to protect their families, suitcase nukes have been set off in various refineries… and you finally, at long last, decide it’s time to bug out. You have your carefully packed BOB by the door. How exciting! You’re off on a grand adventure!!
1. The psycho in the next apartment has been watching you for some time, and checking the labels on those packages UPS leaves on your step. You’ve chatted with him now and again about the end times. As you step into the stairwell, he exhales some smoke from that cig, says, “Wow, something totally weird is going down, dude, for sure” and promptly splits your skull with that hammer he had in his other hand.
2. Or, you make it past the psycho. You, and a few dozen or few hundred or few thousand other BugOuters, are now loose in the streets. You’ve got all this cool gear, and that high end AR-15, and your night vision goggles. Except that the next scumbag waits for you to pass the alley he’s hiding in, then shoots you in the back of the head as you move by. Dang it. And you were so prepped …
3. Or, you get past weirdo #2, to a rally point. Everyone makes it – you have six friends, a full tank of gas in the SUV, and no one’s had to fire a shot. High fives all ’round, you are TOTALLY kicking ASS on this bugout! You rip out of the covered parking lot in your Land Rover with the anti-deer bumper and make it six blocks before you hit traffic. A gang has the street blocked, and they’re rolling your way, robbing and/or killing everyone trying to get out of town. You slide out the back of the SUV with some of your gear while your friends are all getting their heads blown off. Seems Skeeter and Biff never practiced firing their 12-gauges left-handed inside a packed vehicle with the windows rolled up…
4. Change of plans. Off you go in the dark, solo. There’s a national park or farmland or camping area 12 miles outside of town. A woman with three small children begs you for help. Her husband has just been killed and all their bugout gear, guns and survival knives have been taken. You’re pretty pumped on adrenaline from seeing your friends get slaughtered and some of their brain matter is stuck to your face. You try and push past her and she blasts you with pepper spray. As you lay there choking and coughing, she relieves you of your gear, apologizing on behalf of her children.
Okay, let’s stop for a moment. This is a bit farther along the million steps I mentioned earlier. Have you thought this far ahead, and tried to envision what an actual bugout will look like? It most likely won’t be empty streets and you all alone, steely-jawed and navigating by the stars. It will be chaos. Looters and the non-prepped will be mobbing the stores. Think thousands of people. Think New Orleans and Houston in 2005. How will you make your way through such madness, for a few blocks? How about a few miles?
Have you considered how many panicked people and/or criminal elements you’ll encounter? Think you have enough ammo? Got enough people to cover your six, or do you think no one would ever shoot you in the back? Do you think it’s going to be a lot of like-minded, all-American folk out for a hike, sharing a nudge and a wink and their favorite roadkill cooking tips? Think again. Half the people in this country voted for the other guy. They don’t think like you.
They want the government running their lives, they approve of the O-Hole, and at a bare minimum, they’re certain that you are the bad guy and that they’re fully entitled to whatever you’ve got. You are not the Terminator, or Rambo, or Mad Max, or Eli. Think, think, think. Take twenty minutes, go stare out the window, and think. How exactly are you going to pull off this “bug out”? What if it’s subzero in February, or record heat in late July? And if you don’t have an absolute, specific destination, where is it you think you’re going?
5. It’s six hours later. You made it to the edge of town because you’ve got snot running off your chin, your $100 pants and $300 boots were taken while you were down, and you look like a crazy drug addict. But you’re still alive. A spotlight hits you from the darkness. The Obamajugend has a roadblock set up. No one’s getting out of town on this road. Guess what – Get in the truck, there’s a FEMA camp over in the next county …
6. It’s not you, but another guy who gets spotted by the Obamajugend. You creep around the checkpoint and head into the wilderness/country/mountains/open range where folks have been “prepping” (dammit, there’s that word again) for years. You stagger into a driveway in the dark. You have nothing to offer. You need food and water, your feet are bleeding, you’re covered in snot and brains. You have no weapon, no supplies, and whatever else you might be, you are not prepared, or welcome, or invited.
And I, or someone else who has spent years “prepping”, shoots you in the face.
Hopefully I have successfully delivered a BugOut BuzzKill Blow (BOBKB) to your psyche.
For every decent person you may encounter on your walkabout (a.k.a. bugout), plan on encountering ten truly evil dudes. Let’s combine Auschwitz guards, prison shower gang rapists, and ISIS hand and head choppers. Remove any thought of a high school candlelight vigil and a softly swaying crowd singing “Kumbaya” whilst having a Coke and a smile. When the S truly HTF, it won’t be the best side of America that gets to the party first.
So, what’s the answer? What’s the alternative? Is there any hope?
Yes. Get out now.
You’re here, you’re reading this, it’s on your mind, you have the desire and are at least TRYING to glean some knowledge. SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
I know all the excuses. “I have a good job. My kids are in good schools. My parents are elderly. I need to be close to (fill in excuse here). But someday … ” Blah, blah, blah.
Can’t afford to get outta the city? Sorry you didn’t plan or manage your life better, but let’s say time is up. Get three or four or ten friends who want out, get together, and buy some farm or ranch land. Do whatever it takes, but get out now. Do you think it will get any easier?
Having a place to go to really isn’t the answer, because you can’t be certain you’ll actually get there alive. You need to BE there, and start living the rest of your life. Do you have young children? Elderly parents? A handicapped spouse? How are you going to drive/hike/manage/talk your way out of a city to that lakehouse or cabin? What’s your plan if ten heavily armed dudes got there first?
Here’s another thought. How do you expect to be received by those who have already bugged out? Those who have spent time and energy and money developing plans and strategies and fields of fire. Do you think the country and mountain folk will be standing at the end of their driveways with a lantern and a cup of cocoa, saying, “Come, stranger, you look weary.
Take your rest and I’ll show you my vast hoard of food and ammo…” – ? Quite frankly, when the SHTF, you can be waving your Molon Labe flag and singing “Onward Christian Soldier”, and a lot of folks I know will shoot you dead as soon as you cross their property line. Why? Because if I was a murdering, unprepped scumbag, that’s how I’d finagle my way into someone’s home. The pre-prepped might just figure you’re a stupid city dweller who’s trying to take their stuff, who saw the writing on the wall but refused to read it.
Whew. Heavy stuff, I know.
The reason I’m writing this is that I want like-minded people out here, ready, NOW. If you don’t have a plan to stay where you are – if you feel it in your bones that you need to be out of the city – if you have come to realize your house is indefensible – then get rid of the crap, the big screen TV, the junk, and downsize your life. Simplify, get out, and start rebuilding.
Stop planning, and act NOW.
http://www.thesurvivalistblog.net/havent-bugged-out-yet-then-this-is-probably-how-youll-die/
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