PART I - EXPLORATION:

MEMORANDUM -

From: Jacob Q. Mattin, Colonel, Australian Expeditionary Force, California Sector.

To: Lawrence E. Gilliam, General, Australian Army, Director of North American Survey Project, Melbourne, Australia.

Subject: Status Report - ONE.

Date: March 13, 1997.

Sir, for my first status report of our expedition, I must first comment that your suggestion of half-track vehicles for our use was an excellent one. We have encountered much rought terrain in the countryside and many blocked and deteriorated roads while in various cities.

As predicted, we arrived off the coast of San Francisco today at 3 A.M. The weather was clear and when the sun came up about 7 A.M. we got a clear view of the San Francisco skyline. I had studied pictures of the great city but the sight that greeted us this morning was certainly nothing like the pictures of it taken in the late 1930's. We could tell that one or more great explosions had taken place in the central business district. I estimate that ground zero of the major explosion was at or near the southwestern end of Market Street. This was virtually in th center of the city. Many of the prominent high buildings were no longer there. I would estimate that one or more 30 kiliton bombs were used here. We found the radiation level light or non existant.

At 8 A.M. we cruised in closer to shore and embarked into our large amtracks. As expected, we included 3 of our halftrack vehicles in the amtrack and included 20 of our men to go along.

We landed near our primary landing beach. As you will remember, we felt that a landing near the Golden Gate Bridge would be close enough to the city to give an overview of whether any population still existed. Near the South side of the bridge we discovered an old, high walled fort that we estimated to be almost 200 years old. We established a temporary headquarters there.

I must report that the Golden Gate Bridge is still standing. However, several spans of the roadway have caved in and I would certainly not assume that it is safe enough to drive an armored vehicle across.

At 11 A.M. we loaded into our three half-tracks and proceeded southward on the peninsula. We had anticipated finding some signs of life. However, there was not a sound other than the faint chirping of birds and the rattle of our metal tracks on the pavement.

The going was rather rough in that many of the narrow streets were barracaded by fallen walls. We had to backtrack many times due to the ruins of buildings and the cars blocking our way.

We did find what can only be construed as human corpses. In the past 50 years they have lain in the streets unburied. Of course, this fact is not surprising, considering the magnitude of the destruction that the attack apparently brought. We even found one corpse still sitting in an upright position on a stone step inside an old barber shop. It was virtually a skeleton and had little skin or clothes on the bone. In the streets there were thousands of bits of bone. Time has deteriorated and scattered the remains of the dead.

We will not waste our valuable time in burying even one corpse. It would take a hundred years to bury the dead that we have seen. We saw virtually no sign of any reconstruction being made here. Every- thing seems to be just as it was shortly after the attack was received.

In either direction for over a mile from the center of the main blast there is now a grass and debris covered crater area. It appears that just about everything in this general area was atomized. There are a few fairly good sized scrub trees in this area also.

Farther out from the center, about a mile, are the foundations of homes and business buildings. The farther out we went from the center of the crater the higher the rubble stands until you come to buildings that were only minimally damaged.

Buildings near the ocean front are almost fully intact and I feel that the deterioration we have seen in these buildings is probably solely due to the wear and tear of nature and the lack of maintenance over the past 50 years.

The city has an unearthly silence about it. Something like the old American ghost towns that we have seen movies of.

One can only imagine the scene of riot and destruction just after the attack. The thousands of injured pinned beneath the rubble. The ambulatory survivors in shock, wanting to help the trapped people, but not having the medical supplies or expertise available to help. The rush of the survivors to find their families and the gradual, painful deaths of the burn/radiation victims haunt these walls that still stand. One can almost imagine the sound of the suffering and the sight of those who lay for days or a week and who finally expired due to their agonizing injuries or starvation.

We have found the remains of vicims still pinned under the rubble. As we passed by we could hardly tell the difference between human remains and the rubble. Bones and skin have turned gray and have merged into the concrete. People really do turn to clay when they die.

The eyeless skulls stare at us as we walk by. I have never seen such a haunting, silent graveyard of lost dreams as we have seen here in San Francisco.

From the air I would assume a pilot would look down on San Francisco as a beautiful area full of great green park areas.

The Crater Area, I feel, would look from the air somewhat like New York's Central Park. But instead of nicely manicured parks and children playing on the swings, what we have here is a graveyard where neither children nor adults have neither played nor existed for over half a century.

Certainly, if there are people still living in California Section they have scorned these nuclear waste fields for healthier climates. We spent our first day exploring miles of the city. We must have crossed the Crater Area five or six times to get to different areas of the city. The relatively flat area of the Crater is much easier to traverse than the narrow streets full of rubble.

We found no life. If we had found human beings alive this day, we would have kept a wide margin from them. Even though I feel that the plague is probably over I am taking no chances with my men's lives. After a full day of exploration we returned to our headquarters by 5 P.M. We wanted to make sure that we made it back to a safe area prior to darkness. Even though I don't believe that there are any humans, or whatever, lurking about, I wish to give nothing a chance to attack us.

This evening we made a thorough search of the fort we were using as our headquarters. This fort, as stated before, predates the Golden Gate Bridge by about a hundred years. We located some documents in a glass display case that identified this high walled creation as "Fort Point". You may wish to research your history of this fort. I am sure that your vast library of information on this area would include something of it's historical significance.

March 14, 1997:

We divided into two groups this morning. I took 6 men with me and we set out to cross as much of the Golden Gate Bridge as possible. I ordered Lt. Hefner and six of his men to advance along the Embarcardero area and follow the shoreline until they came upon the Oakland Bay Bridge. We wish to establish today whether either of these bridges is possible to cross so we can explore further inland. At 8 A.M. we proceeded to find the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. We noticed that just as we become level with the bridge that one of the center towers looked like it was about to topple over. As we entered onto the brige I had one man walk in front of us and remove debris from the road. At the same time we delegated one man to walk 30 feet ahead of us to check out the roadway for obvious instability.

Of course, there is no way for a 185 pound man to adequately test a bridge's stability, but I felt that he could at least see if there were any obvious hazards, such as holes or breaks in the roadbed. Within a few minutes, we came upon several automobiles located about one quarter of the way across. We found no occupants, however. I would assume that the people probably stalled their vehicles at the time of the blasts but were far away enough to not be badly injured. They were probably able to walk off the bridge.

Half way across the bridge we came to a section that had collapsed. I had been unable to determine the extent of damage from below and had hoped that at least one lane of the bridge had stayed intact.

However, I was to be disappointed. Only a small walkway was still spanning the 30 foot section that had fallen away. Several of our men braved the flimsy section and crossed to the other side.

It became obvious that we would have to completely rebuild this section of the bridge if we were to cross over to the northern, or Marin County side by half-track.

By 1 P.M. we had completed our survey of the South side of the bridge and we headed back to base. I was fully convinced that I would prefer to completely pack up our vehicles and supples and head up the coast by ship than to go to all of the trouble of rebuilding that section of the bridge. I hoped that Hefner and his group had had more luck with the other bridge.

When we returned we broke for lunch and had just finished when Hefner and his group returned at about 1:45 P.M. He reported that the span of the Oakland Bay Bridge was intact and he felt that we could attempt a crossing in the morning. I was ecstatic. I was itching to get off of this peninsula as it was clear that we would find one one here except the dead.

The rest of the afternoon we spent in loading supplies from the ship into our three half-tracks. Ship's Captain Eric Murphy was ordered to proceed down he coast of California to the area of Los Angeles and unload another survey group. Then he was to return North again and meet us at the Fort Bragg area on or about April 1st.

We loaded up with three weeks of supplies. Just in case we were delayed in our exploration, I felt it appropriate to bring more than we expected to use. I estimated that we had about 700 miles to travel during our estimated two weeks of exploration. However, you can never be sure of what we might find and we may be delayed.

During the next two weeks, the ENDURANCE will travel the coast and take radiation readings. She will also occasionally offload survey teams to further explore the coastal areas. One area of immense curiosity is the Los Angeles area. However, if it compares to what we have found here in San Francisco, it will be a very depressing exploration.

We will keep in radio communication with the ship, however, it is expected that certain mountain locales will make communication impossible at times.

I slept fitfully this night. I suppose I was excited about what we would find in the East Bay the next day. I hope we will find survivors.

I sat up for several hours and watched the stars overhead. The moon is bright and I imagine that years ago Americans looked up and romanced to the bright orb. It is a sad fact that probably none exist to still do so today.

March 15, 1997:

We arose about 6 A.M. Most of us hadn't slept due to excitement, but we all seemed wide awake and more than ready to escape from this cemetery of millions.

At 7:30 A.M. we began our journey across the great city to the bridge. We followed the approximate route that Hefner had traversed the day before.

After leaving the crater area we encountered the famous steep hills that we had heard so much about. There was rubble strewn in the areas adjacent to the crater. But the rubble seemed to recede as we headed eastward. We encountered one famous landmark on the way. The world famous Coit Tower lay in pieces at the bottom of Telegraph Hill. It appears to have been blown off of it's foundation at the time of the blast and it must have rolled down the hill for a block or two. A flattened area of houses lays between the top of the hill and where th Tower now lays. This area appears to be just about the only real area of destruction in this part of the city.

Bones of victims lay in the streets as we passed over. I will never forget the sound of our wheels and tracks crunching bone. However, I had no choice in the matter. We would still be there in San Francisco if we had moved each part of a corpse that had been in our way. The biggest problem we encountered was the problem of pushing wrecks of automobiles out of the way. Hefner had gotten confused and got us off on another route other than the one he had taken the day before. We found ourselves wasting much of our time in finding the correct route. I advised him to make a map of his proposed routes the next time he does more exploring.

By noon we were at the foot of the enormous bridge. We parked our half-tracks and ate our noon meal.

As I sat with my back propped up against the rear wheel of one of our tracks, I thought silently of the vision that was before me. From our location we could look over the silent city. Some of the city looked almost normal from this distance. However, we could also see portions of the crater area and the mass destruction that radiated out from it's hub.

I remembered several years ago seeing pictures of the 1906 earthquake that occured here. The view was much the same, except where women in their early 20th Century woolen clothes once stood and watched the flames light the sky and where firefighters stood helplessly and frustrated because of the immense destruction and fires, there are now only ghosts to rebuild the city.

The early 20th Century survivors rebuilt the city and made it even better. I hope that some day we can do the same here again. However, I know that this colossal reconstruction will not occur in my lifetime.

I also remember the vintage movie " San Francisco" where a carefree Clark Gable and Jeanette MacDonald cheerfully kept their chins up while the whole city fell around them. It is apparent that there were no smiling heroes or heroines around this last time to pick up the pieces.

We entered the roadway of the Oakland Bay Bridge at about 1:30 P.M. This rusting hulk of steel was going to become our highway to the East Bay and the valley beyond.

Several wrecks of cars were pushed aside as we lumbered across this relic of the past century. Above the roar and the clatter of our vehicles I can still hear the loud shriek of girders and bolts that have not been stressed for decades. There were times when we would all jump from the sound of this shriek for fear that the bridge would come crashing down on our heads. The bridge tended to shake and tremble as it shrieked and I vowed that I would never return across this "accident looking for a place to happen".

We crossed onto Yerba Buena Island and found one of the most bizarre sights of our first few days. All around the main entrance to the Naval Base (Treasure Island) there were stacks of skeletons. Possibly the military had attempted to do the impossible job of collecting and cremating the victims of the war. These bodies had not been burned and it looks as though whoever was doing the "dirty work" had been stopped in their tracks by something. A caterpiller tractor was near by and it appears that it was being used to push the bodies into some sort of pit. Whether this was for burial or cremation is unknown. A body lay fairly close beside the tractor as if it had fallen from the seat. Possibly a victim of radiation or the plague.

We did not linger here as we were alreay sick of the sight of death and we wanted to explore further. We continued back onto the bridge and proceeded down the rest of the bridge to the Oakland side. As we left the bridge we located a two lane road that lead to the right or southward from our position. Our objective was the area of the Alameda Naval Base, a few miles from the bridge. Again we were faced with a ghostlike silence.

Oakland/Alameda was a good sized area in the early 1940's. Many people had migrated from all over America to this area and to the Hunter's Point shipyard in San Francisco to work in the shipyards and defense plants.

But now the area was literally devoid of life. We did see to occasionally hear some rustling in the wind. The day was bright and clear and under other circumstances would be described as a lovely spring day.

The homes in this area bore no outward sign of damage except for the natural deterioration we would expect to find. Damage was so slight that we almost expected to see people opening their front doors to go to church on a quiet Sunday morning.

By nightfall we were on the edge of a channel that was spanned by a narrow steel bridge. I decided to make our camp for the night and we parked our half-tracks in a sheltered spot near a large building that was marked with the name "Zanon Meats" on the front. We explored the building for security sake and found, as expected, no sign of life. We had lights out at 9 A.M. and I left Private Kvislen on guard duty. At about 11:30 P.M. Kvislen woke me up with a start. He stated that he had seen and heard something move just inside the open door of the building. We awoke everyone and armed ourselves. We stood listening just outside the door for several minutes.

I was about to chew Kvislen out for imagining things when we also saw a movement in the dark area next to the door. A dark mass about the size of a large mouse scurried off into the building with us in hot pursuit. I was not about to let the only living thing that we had seen on this continent excapt. We ran after it down a long hallway and it scurried through a hole in the door.

I gingerly pushed on the door and it gave way with a loud crack that sent shivers down my spine. The door completely fell away and slid down a concrete stairway that appeared to lead to a storage area. The door struck the bottom with a loud clatter.

We shined our electric lanterns down the dark abyss and Sargeant Baker pushed past me and ran down the stairs after the fugitive. No more than a few seconds went by when we heard a loud shriek and he reappeared with a look of stark terror on his face with his mounth agape. All he could say was "Run!. Bugs!". Well that certainly didn't tell me just exactly what he had seen and as he had gone by me as if he was not going to stop for several miles, I took my gun in hand and slowly went down the stairs.

What greeted me was a sight I will never forget. The glint of my lantern caught the bottom of the storage area. It appeared black. It also appeared to MOVE! The entire floor was covered with a living carpet of cockroaches! I swear that they must have been at least 4 to 5 inches long. Even the ones in Australia are not nearly so large. To say the least, I backed out of there rather quickly and did not even discover what there was down there that attracted them. I guess I would just as soon not know what they were eating. That is for your "But Eggheads" to discover when they come over here to study. All I know is that apparently the radiation and plague did not reduce the cockroach population. They have just gone underground and made themselves scarce and, fortunately, hard to find.

We sealed the door to "Zanon's Meats" and I stationed a guard at the entrance to the plant. I wasn't convinced that the building was the only source of the little buggers, but I was not willing to let any of this mess we knew of escape during the night while we were still in the area.

The night was deathly quiet except fo the constant footsteps of the sentries. As I lay there listening, I realized that I had become very depressed over what we had found to date. I had hoped for some existing civilization. I can understand why no one returned to this area to make these dwellings liveable again. Possibly any survivors thought that the job was too overpowering to accomplish. Or possibly, any survivors may not have the technology to determine that the radiation has diminished to an acceptable level.

I have seen a change come over my men in the past few days. They were originally very excited over the chance of exploring this area, however, they now appear rather somber and depressed. The ruins of a civilization that once was the technological model for the rest of the world is a very upsetting sight. I will strive tomorrow to be as up-beat in my attitude as possible. We must keep our morale up if we are going to do a proper job of exploration.

March 16, 1997:

We crossed over the bridge and onto Alameda Island at 8 A.M. this morning. At first we saw buildings in the same shape as we had seen in Oakland. However, after a few hundred feet, our radiation detectors became more active. A few hundred feet more and we found the reason for this activity. We rounded a rock wall that had once been someone's property line for a back yard and discovered nothing but wasteland on the other side.

From the edge of the wall to the very edge of San Francisco Bay there was nothing but an enormous nuclear crater. In this crater was found the relics of rusted ships hulks and planes. As in San Francisco, the farthest out from the nucleus of this crater you went, the larger the chunks of wrecked buildings and other structures became.

A portion of a pier still rested against the shore and next to it was a rusting and blasted hulk of an enormous ship. This hulk could very well be the remains of a large aircraft carrier or possibly a battleship. The upper portion of the ship was totally destroyed and only the semblance of any ship remains. Surprisingly the hulk is still afloat. We did not attempt to board this hulk as we could tell that there was nothing worth exploring.

Whatever base or residential area this island once had was flattened by the blast. This blast crater appears to be even larger than the one in San Francisco. A large portion of it extends out into the bay and therefore, some of the bay has formed it's own little inlet into the island.

I can see no further reason to linger here. This is even more of a wasteland than the city across the bay.

By 11:30 A.M. we had finished our survey of the island. We had eaten our mid-day meal a bit early and I continued our journey at noon. We were glad to leave the Bay Area to the cockroaches, birds and corpses.

Just prior to her journey up the coast, the ENDURANCE had launched her survey plane and had reported that a bridge still stood over the Carquinez Strait to our North. That strait is the only major obstacle to our exploration in that direction. Without that bridge across the strait, we would have to swing to th East about 60 miles out of our way.

We then backtracked somewhat back across the small bridge and into Oakland. We followed the main road northeastward and found the same silent environment. The congestion of the cities fell away and we encountered a more rural area.

The day was again clear and bright and and dark green grass was only broken occassionally by the abandoned houses and rusted vehicles of the past inhabitants. The day grew warm and the heat intensified in our half-tracks. I was in radio communications with the other vehicles and I ordered a rest stop along about 3 P.M. We had traveled about 3 hours and we pulled over under some Elm trees near a road sign that advertised a certain restaurant a few miles ahead.

For three days all we have had to eat has been our K rations and we could envision a thick steak smothered in onions at the restaurant up ahead. The large sign showed just such a luxurious meal with a rather sexy waitress serving it with a smile. It was like looking into the face of a dead person. I wondered what had been the fate of this beautiful woman with the bright red lips and short green dress. I wondered if she ever really existed or was just the fantasy of some California Advertising man.

But such thoughts did not help our sanity in the environment in which we had found ourselves.

Just beyond this gorgeous restaurant sign was another one stating that Vallejo was just 7 miles away. That means that if all went well we could be across the Carquinez Strait and into Vallejo by night fall.

After a half hour's rest we continued on. We found ourselves in rolling green hills. As we advanced over a hill at about 4 P.M. we were startled to find four German armored vehicles located in a deep ravine to the right flank of our vehicles.

I proceeded down the main road on foot keeping behind as much cover as possible. We coult not tell from the distance whether these vehicles were old and abandoned or an active leftover of the old Nazi regime. It would be terribly ironic to find the only humans alive on this continent were our old enemies the Nazis.

Suddenly our men began firing their automatic weapons at the Nazi Tiger tanks. I ordered our machine guns to begin blasting also. We let fly with a burst and then waited for a response. There was none. Gingerly we proceeded down the hill on foot. Our other men were already there. They had already opened the turrets and Private Jackson was climbing down out of a German tank.

What we had discovered was the remains of a blasted German column that had been apparently ambushed decades ago. Surprisingly, the paint on the tanks was not radically faded, nor were there any obvious damage marks on the outside to tell that they had already been destroyed.

Jackson reported that there were several bodies in each of the tanks. We also found the slight remains of other dead in what appears to be sleeping gear. It looks like some clever American partaisans had conducted a very well planned sneak attack on this group. The attack was very probably conducted at night by the looks of it. Some sort of fire bombs were dropped down the turrets and that took care of the majority of the troops. The sleeping victims may have had their throats slit.

We discovered a cache of Nazi weapons in one of the less damaged vehicle interiors and I allowed our men to take along several helmets. These were the only Nazi gear that was really worth saving. The automatic weapons were totally rusted and nonsalvageable. Jackson put a Nazi helmet on and made some antique Hitler gestures. His antics drew some laughts until I pointed out that that SOB Hitler was the main reason for the destruction that we had recently witnessed. I also noted that the Third Reich had supported the Japanese in their invasion of our homeland.

We pushed on after that and crested a hill. Down the hill, in the distance, we could see a body of brown water. To the left we caught sight of a rust-red bridge with twin towers.

The sun was just setting but we wanted to cross this obstacle and camp near Vallejo for the night. We stopped just short of the bridge and I sent Jackson and Chamberlain to scout for stability. It took several minutes for them to cross and return and they reported that it appeared stable except for a few broken bits of asphalt and concrete.

It was dusk now and we turned on our headlights. My halftrack was the first to cross and we encountered no problems except the now familiar sharp creaking that these old bridges emitted when they received the weight of our vehicles.

Sgt. Evans' half-track made it with no problems either but Lt. Hefner in number three had the right front wheel come crunching through the asphalt. It took a few minutes to make sure the rest of the vehicle was not going through also. Then we jacked up the right front and drove the vehicle over a board we placed and had brought along just in case this kind of thing happened.

Within a quarter of a mile past the bridge we came upon the sign, "Vallejo - Population 20,072." By now the sky was pitch black and we pulled off to the left onto a street labeled "Tennessee Street". It was a relatively wide boulevard and we found a small park up the street a ways in which to park and camp for the night. This town was just as dead as the Bay Area had been even though there was no sign of obvious war damage. This was relatively surprising though. I had studied my manual on the area and it showed that Vallejo hosted a large naval facility in the 1940's. I guess the Germans had determined that it did not constitute a vital enough facility to waste a big bomb on it, however.

We were exhausted after our journey from San Francisco and I placed the sentries on two hour shifts and turned in early.

March 17, 1997:

About 5 A.M. this morning the weather turned cold and windy and a steady rain began to fall. After the beautiful days we had enjoyed, this radical change in the weather was a surprise. We had hardly even seen a cloud for the past week and now it seemed that they all converged on us at once.

We bundled up and ate a cold breakfast of K rations. After all, even warm K rations are better than cold ones. But this morning the rain beat down so hard that we were out of luck.

We rumbled out of the park area at about 7 A.M. The rain blasted against our windshield and we longed for another dry spell. The only good thing about the rain was that we were able to collect some good clean drinking water. We had hesitated to drink from the streams that we had run across without using our decontamination kit or boiling water. We tested the rain water, however, and found it excellent. We passed an almost constant line of rusted vehicles. In some cases these vehicles did not resemble anything other than an oversized rusted and crushed tin can. Tires had rotted away. Doors had become detached and lay in the road and the environment had rotted great rusting holes in the sides and roofs of cars. In some cases you could place your hand in and through the sides of a car with minimal effort. The oxide flaked off and you could take great handfulls of the stuff with ease.

Of course there were the occassional bodies in and beside the road. As in San Francisco, bones were scattered about as if some animal had dragged them apart. Whether an animal, indeed, was involved or whether the bones had been scattered by the elements is up to conjecture.

We continued to travel in a relatively rural area. The trip northward was being delayed due to the terrible storm that we were being subjected to. Several times we had to stop and recheck our map. Visability was down to only 100 feet as the wind-whipped rain blasted from left to right across or northerly path.

By noon we had traveled about 20 miles. We stopped and ate our noon meal in our individual vehicles.

The wind had whipped itself up to about 50 miles per hour and two of the men in my track had to go relieve themselves. I warned them to be careful. They exited the vehicle and had to continually hold onto each other to keep their footing. Both lost their caps and finally dropped down into a culvert to relieve themselves. The culvert provided some protection from the wind.

After a few minutes they returned to us and looked much worse for their experience. But they did have smiles on their faces. With all the water dripping outside I am surprised that more of us didn't feel the urge to relieve ourselves.

We had occassionally taken some short cuts in our travels, but today I was staying on the main road. Even a track can get bogged down in a muddy, water-filled field.

The rest of that miserable afternoon we continued to travel northward with no unusual occurances. The flat terrain offered no break from the boredom and stress of the environment that the storm produced. By 5 P.M. we were exhausted and we stopped beneath a grove of trees a few miles outside a town called Dixon.

That night I slept fitfully, and I am sure I was not the only one, what with the noise of he storm. Despite the obstacles that had been thrown in our path that day, we had actually accomplished the admirable task of traversing over 40 miles.

March 18, 1997:

After having slept in our half-tracks last night you would have expected us to be in a relatively poor mood. I, myself, awoke about 4 A.M. and couldn't get back to sleep. I was terribly cramped in the back from sleeping in a semi-reclining position. At least I had a padded chair that I could recline in somewhat. The majority of the men only had the hard floor of the track and their sleeping bags. For the majority of the night we lay awake listening to the howling wind and pounding of the rain outside.

At about 6 A.M. however, the noises subsided and I looked out from the windshield to see what appeared to be clearing skies. Since that day we have become accustomed to the radical changes in this North American weather, but this first quick change came as a surprise. The wind had whipped the storm in and out in a 24 hour period.

Deep rivulets streamed down the sides of the road and the fields around us were a deep quagmire. It appeared, however, that any further rain had passed for at least the time being.

I gathered my motley group together and we took our time getting on the road that morning. I figured that they had had little sleep and I planned a fairly easy day for them. I only wish that it had turned out that way.

The route northward was flat and should prove to be uneventful. Our anticipated objective was to reach the ruins of Sacramento by nightfall. An easy journey of 25 miles.

We spent the majority of the morning checking our equipment for any damage and providing some quick preventative maintenance. The vehicles hadn't been looked after much since we left the ENDURANCE and I was especially concerned about Track #3 due to the crunch it's right front had received on the bridge near Vallejo.

All damage, however, appeared minor and we got on the road about 10 A.M.

The sun shone brightly as we pulled out and we were in high spirits despite our lack of sleep.

The fields appeared to be drying rather quickly as the sun was quite warm. We noticed that there were many more birds in the trees than we had ever seen. Where we had only seen a few birds at a time in the Bay Area, we now saw whole flocks of small, dark birds. This was a very good sign that at least some large amount of life may still exist in California Section.

We had traveled about an hour when my driver spotted a dark image off about a quarter of a mile to our right. We drove off the road into the muddy field that held our weight surprisingly well. As we got closer to this object, we could see 10 or 15 similar objects. As we came closer we identified these vehicles as Nazi Panzers.

Even from a distance we could see that these were not intact. By the time we had reached the closest tank we could see literally hundreds of these vehicles scatterd in front of us. They littered both sides of the main highway that we had been traveling on. We headed back to the main road and continued northward. These disabled vehicles littered the entire area within our view. Apparently a great tank battle had occured here as we could now see American Shermans littering the area to the North.

In order to make a better survey of the extent of this battle, I sent Track #2 a half mile to our left (West) and Track #3 a half mile to our right. I instructed them to make a count of the respective German and American vehicles in the sectors I had assigned. We traveled in a steady line with my track on the main road and the other vehicles flanking me on each side.

We continued in this arrangement for over an hour and it looked like it might be another hour before the extent of the battle could be surveyed.

These rusting hulks seemed to go on forever. We were still 10 miles from Sacramento. I would assume that these rusted relics represented a last ditch stand on the part of the Americans to stop the advancing Axis forces. I would estimate that about one third of the Axis tanks were small Japanese vehicles. Their faded red insignia could be seen from far away as could the white star of the American tanks.

Suddenly, our ears were assaulted by the sound of a great blast. Looking over to my right I could see a black cloud of smoke and flames. Track #3 was fully enfulfed in flames and the smoke rose high into the sky!

We quickly launched our Track off toward #3 and were well on our way when a thought struck me. Track #3 had struck a mine! I immediately ordered my driver to stop and hailed #2 by radio to wait for us back on the main road. I also instructed #2 to have one of the men walk in front of the track with a mine detector until it was again on the main road.

Johnson got out in front of us with a detector and we found that we had been directly in line with another mine if we had continued. We skirted this mine and Johnson paved us a very direct route to #3. Within 5 minutes of the blast we arrived at #3, but there was nothing we could do. The Track was fully engulfed and the 6 men inside had had no chance of survival. Unfortunately, the ammunition we had stored therein had gone up immediately when the mine went off.

For the most part we just stood in shock and watched the vehicle burn. The smell of burning human remains was new to us all and it's sweet, sickly smell made us nauseous.

By 3 P.M. the fire was extinguished and we went about the ghastly task of recovering and identifying the dead. All of the bodies were burned to a blackend horror and the only way we were able to identify Hefner and his men was by the locations where we found each body. Hefner was in the left front seat. Jernigan, his driver was in the right side of the seat. Wayne was just behind Hefner in the rear seat and Sgt. Baker was behind Jernigan. The only real problem we had was identifying Simpson from Short. Both men were located in the back storage area of the track and they were both about the same size. We finally decided that we could not really be sure of who was who and we just guessed. Both identification tags had been burned deep into each of their chests and we were not of the mind to dig for them. But finally, I was able to determine Short's identity by a large ring he wore on his right hand.

The rest of the afternoon we spent in the digging of a mass grave for our comrades. I sent Kvislen to work on a wooden headstone.

We dug at 6 foot by 6 foot pit and placed the wrapped bodies into it. Kvislen had done a fine job in obtaining a large sized piece of wood. Since he was the best letterer of our group he was recruited also to letter the names of the dead and today's date along with their ranks. Also, the name of our survey expedition was listed at the bottom. We heald a short memorial service at about 5 P.M. The dead were committed to the land where so many others had died a half century before. I felt that they were in good company with our American friends.

Just prior to nightfall, we returned to the main road and camped. Corporal Giles reported that he had counted over 400 wrecked vehicles so far on the West side of the road. I felt that we would have to double that figure at least in order to give an accurate accounting of this battle. I am sure that Hefner had counted at least that many before his group had been killed.

So the mass defense of Sacramento had been one of enormous proportions. We know who the victors had been, but it was heartening to know that the Americans had given them a definite run for their money. It, obviously, had not been a walk over by the Axis.

Giles also reported that he had found the remains of a German Jet (ME-262) back about a half mile from our present position. It had shown signs of being machine gunned and had slid into the ground. It had apparently not burned and it is possible that the pilot had survived. Giles stated that it look like the thing slid in and left quite a lengh of torn terrain in it's path.

So the "easy day" that I had envisioned had turned into one of horror. The depression we felt that night was overwhelming. We had seen nothing but death since our landing and now almost a third of our number had been killed by a 50 year old American Claymore mine that had been intended for some Nazi or Japanese tank. It was disheartening, but we shall carry on as best we can.

My main worry is our supply problem. Most of the food we had was stored on Track #3 and that was totally destroyed. We must find something else to live on. We only a few days of rations left.

March 19, 1997:

The sun shone brightly again this morning and we rechecked the burial site prior to heading out. I just wanted to make sure that we had not left any tools or other valuables behind. After losing so much yesterday, I didn't want some oversight to rob us of any more valuable equipment. I looked at the headstone that Kvislen had made. The long shadows of the morning playing off of it will remain in my memory for a long time.

The ENDURANCE was scheduled to make a run up the coast off of San Francisco and drop gasoline and food supplies to us. I had encountered some problems in getting in contact with ENDURANCE that morning, but was finally able to establish contact by 11 A.M. The ENDURANCE was right on time and sent a small plane to our area shortly after noon.

I would imagine that the pilot was rather surprised to see only two tracks, but we were very glad to see the silver plane come out of the western skies.

Suddenly, three bright orange parachutes blossomed against the bright blue sky. They landed within a few feet of each other and we recouped a large supply of gasoline and K rations. The K ratiions were nothing spectacular, but at least we knew we would not starve.

We continued our journey northward and came upon a leasurely sloping chasm. Over the chasm there appears to have been a causeway, or bridge of some sort. However, it had all collapsed and the roadbed lay deep into the water of the small lake that had been formed by the rain water of the 16th.

Correspondingly, we had to skirt around this area. The road had gone right up to the chasm and then dropped off. We spent the rest of the afternoon going around this area and, along about 4 P.M., we encounterd another nuclear crater.

This crater appeared just south of the Sacramento City Limits and the bomb seemed to have been dropped in a totally uninhabited area. Possibly it was dropped by the Germans to separate the American defense force from the possibility of escape or resupply. All I could tell is that the blast had little or not effect on any dwellings as the closest houses that we could see appeared to be several miles to the north of the blast.

We had not accomplished much this day except it had afforded us some time to clear our minds after our horrible incident of the day before.

Our minds bedded down that night in a deep depression. I hoped to see happy, smiling faces in the City of Sacramento the next morning.

March 20, 1997:

But the happy faces were not to be seen. The Sacramento area had been hit with a total of three nuclear weapons including the one we had seen south of the city.

Again the morning shown brightly, but as we could see as we entered the city, our spirits would not be brightened this day. It was another dead city. We could see the Capitol dome from the time we entered the city and could see that it was crumbled. The basic structure was there, but it had obviously been damaged.

We decided to visit the Capitol building and area that morning and we discovered that a blast to the southwest had caused much damage to the downtown area. The block on which the Capitol is situated is totally overgrown and where once a beautiful manicured area probably existed, there is nothing much left except weeds.

We entered the main entrance to the Capitol building and immediately found a statue of Columbus. It's head was detached and located on the floor, and it had become discolored with age. The silent halls, where I am sure, historic decisions were made are now dead and probably will never awaken with any intelligence and productivity again.

As I sat on the steps of the Capitol Building I found that I had sunk to the depths of depression. Never before or since have I felt the deep sense of loss that losing all of those men had caused. I gazed out onto the green overgrown lawn and was suddenly sick. I suppose it was due to the overall stress. I hoped I was not coming down with something.

My men had broken for lunch and I went back to try to get something down. I will need my strength in the next few weeks.

The nuclear craters we have discovered are located in the South, East and West of the city. They were dropped in a "V" pattern. They appear to have blanketed most of the main routes of escape from town. I am sure that tens of thousands of people died here.

One of the men called my attention to an object located about 5 feet from the Capitol Building. The object was a gray cylinder, half buried in the earth and mostly camouflaged by the overgrowth. I inspected the cylinder, which was about 3 feet long and had the circumferance of about 12 inches. Some German writing and a swastika appeared on the casing and a large "Z" also showed above ground. My best guess is that this is a Zyklon-B poison gas container. Apparently the Germans decided that in certain non-nuked areas,they would use their poisonous chemicals.

I remember hearing of the use of these cylinders against the Russians. It was almost instantaneous death. The yellow cloud would hover about 4 feet from the ground and be moved along by a current of air.

During World War I mustard gas was used and would cause death, but the victims would linger and cough their lungs out over a period of weeks.

However, Zyklon-B effects caused death within just a few minutes. In our search of the grounds, we found 6 of these cylinders close by the Capitol Building. We found many dead inside the Capitol Building also. Some remains were still partially in their chairs with other remains spilling upon the floor. Scraps of skin, bone and clothing lay where they had fallen decades ago. Many victims appear to have been caught by surprise and were dead before they knew anything was happening.

Between the nuclear blasts and the poison gas, I am sure that the majority of the population of Sacramento had no chance of escape. I feel though, that those located in the northern suburbs may have had a chance to head North. I am still hoping that someone still survives in California.

With the blanketing of most of the outside areas of Sacramento with nuclear bombs, there were few buildings left undamaged between the areas of the blast. It almost appears that the bombs may have triggered earthquakes. If not, the bombs must have caused such a vibration that many buildings were rocked off of their foundations.

March 21, 1997:

We awoke to a gray, dreary drizzle of a day. The clouds seemed to hang dark and low over the city as we dragged ourselves out early. I planned to make a long run this day. There is virtually nothing North of us for about 40 miles and the area looks flat on our terrain map so we should hopefully find no obstacles in our path.

We crossed a large steel bridge to span the Sacramento River and passed through the last few blocks of residential area. By 9 A.M. we were just out of the congested area and heading across the flat, dusty fields.

We were able to hit a narrow main highway just out of the city and observed very little evidence of any houses. Where south-west of the city we had encountered a long line of rusted vehicles, we now found found, to the north of Sacrmento, only a few isolated wrecks that littered the narrow highway. We had to push a few of them off into the fields but they did not delay us long.

This area has to be the most unsettled area we have come across so far. However, we have encountered one encouraging sight. In the puddles that developed from the major rain that we had the other day, we are finding many signs of life. A number of large birds, possibly cranes, are nesting in these areas. It is a lovely sight to see these beautiful white birds, shining in the now clearing morning. It is just good to see something alive and thriving again.

We have also spotted some rodent-like creatures that may have been rabbits or ground squirrels. They dart from hole to hole and we are unable to determine what they might be from this distance. But things are looking up and I am becoming more hopeful of finding people.

We have encountered some shacks that are tumble-down but must have been quite nice before the war. There are no signs of any habitation nor have they been obviously disturbed other than by the wind and rain.

We made good time and by the time we stopped for the mid-day meal, we had traveled almost 40 miles. All during our travels we are cramped into the tracks and there is a continual clanking and rattling. It makes the butt sore after awhile.

Off to the East we can see a rather large amount of snow on the Sierra Nevada mountains. We must be able to see for about 40 miles or so toward that direction. A small breeze has seemed to clear the air to a dazzling brilliance.

But even this rest has to come to an end. We packed up our kits and were off again at about 1:30 P.M. I will always remember that rest stop along the road as probably the most serene and beautiful time we have had. We were surrounded by green and actually felt positive about life for the first time in over a week.

The road was straight and we were able to spot a glint of light shining off somewhere out to our left. It appeared to be about 1/4 of mile away and I sent two of our men, Harrison and Kvislen, off to investigate. They brought a communicator with them and were able to report that they had found an American B-17 Bomber. According to them it was very well preserved and had skidded in pretty well intact.

What they did find, however, was upsetting to us all. They reported that they found 8 American uniformed bodies all laid out as if they had been shot up against the inside wall of the plane. This is all just conjecture, however it is possible tht when the plane came to a stop, the Americans were captured and executed.

The bodies were all laid out in a row and face down. As the doors of the big bomber were closed, no animal had apparently disturbed them. All bodies appeared to have broken breast and rib bones and that is why we feel that they may have been executed.

A few miles further and we crossed an old steel railroad bridge. The concrete highway bridge was fully collapsed and our trip across the steel bridge was very rough and uncomfortable.

Two road signs had fallen and we recovered them from down a steep embankment. One stated "Yuba River" and the other stated "Marysville- Population 6,646".

Upon entering Marysville we discovered that this place really resembled a ghost town. It was a small town to begin with and certainly resembled the old west at it's grimiest. The town road was littered with fallen facades from the old style buildings. I would guess that the first section of town that we entered dated back to the 1860's at least. Further into the town the buildings became somewhat newer and I could recognize some buildings as 1930's architecture. Not much, however, was really left of Marysville. While no war damage was evident, the natural deterioration of time had laid waste to this area. It was similar to earthquake damage we had seen pictures of. Possibly an earthquake had occured.

We stopped in front of an old three story brick building and ate our noon meal. The men relaxed on the grassy area and we enjoyed the warm sunshine that filtered through the trees. It was wonderful to lay down in the open air.

How the people must have fled this town. I can just envision their radios blasting the news of the Sacramento attack into their panicked brains.

The shock of not knowing where to find solice. I can just see the panic and the wave of people gathering their possessions into their cars and scurrying North or East. I can only imagine that some decided to stay and fight the advancing Axis troops.

We have found nothing to indicate that fighting occured here, but I can envision the Nazi and Japanese troops rolling into Marysville and finding it mostly deserted except for a few diehards who opted to fight till the last.

I can greatly admire the ones who fought. They remind me of our struggles that my grandfather fought in 1940. When England was invaded he was captured and killed by Gestapo agents. He was in the underground and fought during the invasion and continued to fight a guerilla war against the Nazis until 1942. Then, that summer, he was caught after blowing up a Nazi headquarters in Coventry and he was never seen again. My grandmother and mother have passed down the stories of his exploits for the past 50 years. I can only hope to be half the man he was.

After his death, my grandmother escaped to Australia and we have considered that our "Mother Country" ever since.

Marysville basked in the late Winter sun and I listened to the silence. The only break in the silence was Kvislen and Giles discussing who would win the All-Australia Baseball Tournament coming up next month. I always wondered why they called it the All-Australia Tournament still, as no one else could possibly participate in it but us Australians anyway. I remembered that the Americans were the ones to invent and make baseball popular. It is terribly sad that the originators, who were such baseball fanatics, have not been able to enjoy any such diversion for a long time. Possibly, if we find anyone alive we can revitalize the tradition. Again, I suppose that this is all silly wishful thinking on my part.

Marysville did not enthrall me and the only thing we gained from our three hour stay there was to see how easily old architecture crumbled. So we moved on by 3 P.M.

North of the city we left the dry, flat scrub area and then entered an area of old orchards. North of Marysville there must have been a great walnut and orange industry as we quickly found well developed citrus and nut trees on each side of the road. The fruit, however, was past it's time and was rotting on the trees. The trees were neatly rowed and healthy as if they had been well watered and cultivated. But the grass between the rows was over 3 feet high and had obviously not been cut or weeded for decades.

It was a more interesting type of terrain, but it was depressing. Occasionally we saw a well built house that had been left to ruin. My guess would be that it was probably the house of a ranch owner. Certainly no farm worker could have afforded this kind of house on the wages they were paying in 1945. It just goes to show that when the chips are down, money means nothing. Money held no more security for the owner of this land than for his simple laborer. I wonder which descendents of which still survive. I would take a bet that the laborer's descendents would survive long after the land owner's as they would probably be of tougher stock.

But it is superfluous for me to waste time and space in this report to hyothecize who survived this desperate struggle when we know of absolutely no one who did survive.

Prior to our expedition, a fairly good aerial survey of California and Nevada was conducted. One of our few jet aircraft flew over these areas for several weeks and took photographs of the most promising areas and still could find no settlements.

We hoped that a ground survey team, taking it's time and seeking out some of these most promising areas would be successful in finding human life. At least it is hoped that we can confirm that recolonization of this area is practical.

To date I am still of the opinion that it will take almost too much effort to recolonize any of the Bay Area region, however, this northern area appears to have far less destruction and may very well be a good place to start in our resettlement of the continent. We appear to be traveling into a very unspoiled area that has not been effected by either blast or massive death. Possibly farther North or East of here we can find a region that will be completely clear of the effects of war.

About 15 miles North of Marysville we camped for the night. I hope to find something of importance in the next day.

We are seeing more animal life as we go along. I thought I saw a deer today. I wished I could have had a good shot at it. Fresh meat would be a refreshing change. But it almost seems like a crime to kill a thing of beauty such as a deer after all of the ugliness we have seen. I don't wish to contribute to the body count on this continent. I think my men are finally getting back to their old selves. On board the ship we were always joking but after the deaths on Track #3, they were solumn and we have tended to be at each other's throats. I have had to break up a few near-fights in the past week. But tonight they sat around our fire and sang some old songs from the 1980's and really enjoyed each other's company. It is reassuring to hear the men sing. It seems to ease my own conscience and make me feel that there really is hope after all for the human race.

I don't know if they blame me for the deaths in Track #3. I am asking them each to make a full report to you when they get back. I have heard no derogatory remarks about me but I cannot be sure about their feelings on the subject. You will have this report before we get back and I will face whatever punishment you feel fitting.

Johnson and Giles thought they saw a rabbit this evening and took off with a .45 calibre pistol to hunt it down. They came back empty handed, however. I told them that I figured that they were outmatched by the rabbit. Also, I wouldn't think there would be much left of a rabbit if they had it with a .45 anyway. Even so, the thought of a rabbit dinner sounds very good.

March 22, 1997:

These Northern California weather patterns change so quickly I still have not adjusted to them. This morning we were greatly fogged in and it was a toss up as to whether it would rain again or clear up. It was cold and crisp and we put on our heavy field jackets.

This is crazy. Yesterday it as almost like Summer and today we are back again to Winter.

We pulled out at 8 A.M. and found it slow going. The fog was so thick we could only see about 20 feet in front of us. The road looked narrow and forbidding in this fog and we only traveled about 20 MPH as I wanted not to run into anything that had been left stranded in the road.

In the fog back in Melbourne we became used to taking our time and plodding along on foot. However, here with a vehicle, it is a totally new experience.

The only break in the monotonous scenery was the crossing of three small concrete bridges that were dated 1940. They looked sturdy enough, but we got out and inspected beneath each one before crossing. The WPA (whatever that was) certainly built strong constructions. I have noticed those initials on some sidewalks in some of the towns we have visited. I hope that you can enlighten me as to the meaning of those initials when we return to Australia. We slowly proceeded through the fog. This trip was a lonely one from the beginning, but there is something about the fog that can make me feel more alone than anything else. My men became nervous and joked in a half-hearted tone. I suppose that any moment they felt that some unspeakable horror would jump out at them.

By 10 A.M. we noticed that it was becoming lighter and that we could see farther than before. We could see off to the East a brightness tha seemed to grow. Apparently the sun was finally burning away the fog bank.

We crossed over a small stream and it seemed like the world had changed. From that point on the sky became blue in small patches above us and it became clearer.

A slight wind was blowing westerly and that seemed to move most of the fog banks away from us.

Before we knew it, we stood at the banks of another river. The small bridge had grown very weak and we did not wish to take the chance of crossing here. I would not have trusted a small boy on a bicycle to cross this rickety old bridge safely. Even though it was made of steel, the roadway had fallen in and was barely hanging on to the steel girders. We could see where a heavy tracked vehicle or vehicles had used the bridge years ago. Track marks were still imprinted into the asphalt.

A two lane road went off to the right and we saw that we were entering the main street of another small town. It, like Marysville, was falling apart and the fronts of it's stores had fallen in and appeared to have been looted. Several areas of the main street had burned and we found the remains of an American figher plane next to the burned out remnants of the City Hall. Upon the front of the City Hall appeared the name of the town - Oroville.

War had certainly arrived in Oroville in all of it's fury. There were a few German armored personnel carriers and a half-track near the town square. The town boasted a rather large library building and upon investigation we found much Nazi paraphanalia. A few Nazi flags hung haphazardly from the inside walls and some yellowing propaganda leaflets were found in a large cardboard box. All of this material had gotten wet at some time or the other and was, fortunaltely, in sad shape.

The German vehicles were bullet riddled and it seems that quite a struggle had ensued. We found a few bodies in and old oriental temple near the river but we could not tell if they were civilians or not. They appear to have become somewhat mummified and no shread of clothes was on the bodies.

The fog bank still remained just North of us, but by noon we could see that a large mountain lay just to the northeast of the city. We lay there in the welcome sunshine and watched as the fog gradually disappeared. It became quickly apparent that a very large plateau was the subject of our attention. The left side of the mountain appeared completely flat and the smooth sheer sides lead off toward the North. To the right we could see a valley open up before us. Farther to the right was another part of the plateau and it stretched off toward the northeast. The whole face of the mountain was a dark green carpet.

There was a small waterfall visible and it seemed to form a bright silver ribbon as it plunged straight downward from the lava cliffs. I decided that we would stay here the rest of the day and further our exploration of this town. I split my forces and had Sgt. Evans and his men go off into the South part of the town while we explored the downtown area along the river. I felt it important to explore this little town as here was the first place we had found that appeared to have put up a fight against the Axis. The only other place was South of Sacramento and it is doubtful that anyone survived the nuclear onslaught. But here we might find someone who was tough enough to survive.

Our exploration, however, brought forth the same fruits as before. We found no sign of any recent habitation or life. By the time we had finished our wanderings about, it was 4 P.M. and I decided to have us stay in this town for the night. We could get a fresh start in the morning and head further northward.

We set up camp along a park at the south side of the river. The park boasted a much neglected swing set and teeter totter. Kvislen was the first to try the swing and he wishes now that he hadn't. He swung really high and just at the summit of his swing the old board he was sitting on broke through and he was thrown sprawling into the sand and almost into the river. We all couldn't contain our laughter and it has to have been one of the funniest things I have seen for years. It must have been taken him over a half hour to remove all of the sand and gravel out of his hair, ears, and from out of his shirt. I think from now on we will call him "Crazy Kvislen". He has earned that most distinctive title.

Just before sunset Giles went down to the river to get some fresh drinking water. We had tested the river earlier in the day and found it very good. According to our charts the Feather River flows out of the Sierra Nevada and heads south through Marysville. It's cold water being fed by the Sierra snowpack. Giles was one to goof off a bit if you would give him a small chance and he spent too much time sitting on a rock and using his high-powered telescope we had brought along for the purpose of observation. He had decided that the planets Venus and Mars were to be in view tonight and felt that worthy enough to take the time to set the telescope up.

He had been gone for over a half hour and I was just starting down the trail along the river to chew him out when we heard a yell. We all scurried down the beach to the river thinking that he was in trouble. We found Giles wide eyed and very excited. He stated that while he was getting the telescope ready he had scanned the top of the plateau. Now he swears that he saw something up there move. He was not sure whether it was a man or an animal but it was approximately man sized and moved relatively quickly.

Several of us scanned the mountain top with the telescope but were unable to find the elusive figure again. I had him point out the spot to me and I made a small sketch of the area. The area of the sightings lay approximately 100 feet above and barely to the left of an enormous white "O" figure on the mountain.

We ate our dinner and spent the rest of the evening planning our assault on the mountain for the next morning. We would have to wait until daylight to find a route up to the area. However, we had already discovered a route across the river. Only a few blocks from us is a fine old steel green bridge (dated 1906) that is very well preserved. I am sure that it will support the weight of our tracks. That night we all slept rather fitfully. Evans and I sat up until late planning strategy for the morrow. The climb looked like it might be rather rough. The side of the mountain appears to be straight up in most areas.

March 23, 1997:

We were lucky that the weather cooperated this morning. We could not have asked for a more beautiful day for the climb. We got up early and crossed the old bridge at 7 A.M. The bridge, surprisingly, did not creak and groan nearly as much as some of the newer bridges we had crossed.

Immediately on the North side of the Feather River was a fairly steep hill and we tended to slide somewhat. But we made it up the hill without too much trouble.

The two lane road was fairly well torn up and probably was one of the worse roads we had encountered. The big white "O" on the mountain became larger as we moved toward the muntain. All during this short drive I had Giles scanning the top of the mesa with the telescope, but we saw no movement. About a mile ahead we found a road that turned off eastward and seemed to be the way to go to get to the top of the mountain.

We crossed some rather rolling hills and could see that we had made the correct turn. Despite the fact that Giles saw no movement on the mountain, I still felt that it was our best chance of finding life. However, I dearly hate wild goose chases and hoped that this wouldn't turn out to be a waste of time.

We discovered a small dirt road that ran off to the left and took us right up to the foot of the mountain. From that position, we were only a fifth of a mile from the top of the mountain. However that fifth was a mile was straight up.

I left one man each with our vehicles and the rest of us headed up the mountain. It seemed like forever to reach the half way point, but once we did so, the view was worth it. We could see about 35 miles South and could see a small mountain range that we had missed because of the fog. This mountain range lies just northwest of Marysvile and our map identifies it as Sutter Buttes.

We expended another half hour on the climb and finally reached the "O" figure on the mountainside. It was made of concrete and even larger than I expected. As it lies at a 90 degree angle I wondered out loud how anyone could have gotten all of that cement up this sheer cliff. It certainly was not possible to drive up here. I wondered about the purpose of this enormous letter and suddenly realized that it obviously stood for the first letter of the town below. I suppose the townspeople were proud of their town and wanted to commemorate it.

It could also represent one of the schools in town. Kids were always pulling stunts and possibly they were responsible for this. We even did stunts back in high school. We pulled stunts that were more clever than this, but certainly not as extravagant or long lasting. This figure looks like it has been been her for 60 years. Time has forced cracks in the concrete and small chunks are missing. But, all in all, the figure is very well preserved.

All of us are in our early to mid 20's but we were all panting as if were in our 60's as we crested the top of the lava cap and beheld the most perfectly flat natural object I have ever seen. The mesa appeared to go on for miles and except for a few irregularities, such as a few small ravines and gullies, the mountain top was just as flat as a table could be.

And on this flat plateau at 10:15 A.M. that morning we discovered the most happy and reassuring sight. There must have been over 300 head of cattle grazing on that plateau! Our stomaches and eyes became very happy again and the visions of a thick, juicy steak was not just a roadside sign anymore.

We also know now that life in abundance can live here. If these fat cattle can live here, so can we. And so too, could live other survivors. Thus it was an historic occasion. We had finally discovered truly healthy, abundant life in California.

Shortly we set about capturing one of the cattle for examination. It was a small calf and we obtained unending joy from watching two of the men try to catch him. Finally Martin grabbed a back leg and the others dragged him down. We took a blood sample and fortunately had brought a small testing kid with us. One thing that the war and plague had produced had been a revolution in medical research and discovery over the past 40 years. We had cured cancer and many other types of afflictions, such as polio, but the cure for the elusive "Black Plague" still eluded us.

We were unable to detect any abnormality in the animals' blood and then went about taking a small biopsy from a section of the calf's left rear leg. We also drew some bone marrow. All of the tests conducted that afternoon showed no sign of any known dread disease, nor any sign of any radioactive residue.

These animals have probably never left the plateau and are probably the descendants of cattle that had lived on this plateau at the time of the war.

I have never been much of an animal lover, but it is so wonderful to see something of this size alive and healthy again.

I congratulated Giles on his sharp eye and told him that without his tendancy to malinger, we may not have found these animals for many years. This discovery has, by itself, made this expedition a success. We camped on the plateau that night and advised the two men guarding the tracks of our plans and discovery. We advised them to place the tracks in a sheltered area and to sit tight the next day while we continued our survey of the mountain top.

We bedded down early that night and I lay awake and listened to the serene sound of the cattle lowing. My stomach was happy too. It was the first beef steak I had had in weeks.

March 24, 1997:

We began our trek across the plateau early in the morning and it was one of the easiest maneuvers we had attempted. The mountain was completely flat and our direction of travel was toward a small grove of trees located at the farthest end of the plateau. Trees only existed on the edges of the mountain. The majority of the plateau being made up of just scrub grass. I had underestimated the number of cattle. We counted over 400 head and wondered how so many of them could have survived during the summer months. I am sure that this grass completely dries up in the high temperatures that must bake this area. Possibly the cattle migrate off the mountain during the summer and obtain green grass elsewhere near a river or a stream. It took close to an hour to hike across the plateau and we saw nothing but cattle all that time.

Upon reaching the edge of the plateau we looked down upon a small valley that formed quickly back up to another mesa. In the valley was a densly wooded area.

We proceeded down the steep incline and wound our way through the dense brush and mesquite trees that were generously sprinkled with jungles of poison oak plants. I had never had the occasion to be exposed to this weed before and therefore did not know if I or any of the men were allergic to it. However, I certainly did not wish to find out so we were very careful to avoid these patches. I had heard horror takes of people suffering with rashes for weeks. That problem we could do without. Especially since most of our supplies for rashes and medical salves were lost in the destruction of Track #3.

We reached the valley floor in about an hour and crossed several pasture like areas. I noticed one lone palm tree in the middle of the valley and wondered how one species of tree could have gotten this far away from nowhere.

In a very short time we were heading up the hill to the second plateau. This turned out to be a much easier climb than the one up the initial plateau.

Within 15 minutes we were on top of the second mesa and were heading out. So far this morning we had found no sign of any human habitation. We had seen however, several ramble down shacks off to the right of the first plateau. These, however, were obviously not occupied. Roofs had collapsed and in one of the shacks there was a small tree poking through the remains of the roof. This seemed to be another dead end area and my initial exuberance in finding the cattle had subsided with the prospect that there may be no humans in this area.

We took a rest break in the middle of the afternoon and I sent Martin up ahead to scout the trail. He was gone for only a few minutes when he called me on the communicator. He stated that he thought he had found something important and for us to come immediately.

He sounded excited so I wasted no time in getting the men moving down the pathway at a quick pace.

We headed down he narrow path between the two lava rock sections and around a grove of small trees. We heard Martin call "over here", and we hiked toward the sound of his voice. We found Martin sitting in a small clearing. He had a look of distinct satisfaction on his face. He related to us what had happened. "I had come around that small grove when I thought I saw something move up ahead. I thought it might be more cattle so I wasn't too concerned. However, I then heard footsteps running. These sounded just like you and I running. Whatever it was ran on two legs. So I began to run and found these footprints. I continued and found this clearing. You can see that this camp fire is still warm. You'll also find some clothes over there next to that tree".

Martin had come through for us. Here was absolute proof that some sort of human still existed. We examined the prints in the soft, reddish earth. They appeared to be shod in some fashion. Some sort of sandles I would presume.

Martin showed us which way the person had gone and we followed the tracks as quickly as possible. It was not difficult to track the person except when he or she ran across the lava rock flow. The tracks continued in a generally northern direction and we found ourselves getting farther and farther away from the two guards near the "O". I stopped for a second and called them up on the communicator. I wanted them to continue down the main road and see if they could follow in the same general direction that we were going. Possibly that road would eventually bring them up to the top of the mountain that we were on. They sounded rather excited to be told to do something besides sit as they had for the past day or so. They were probably bored stiff.

The terrain varied between flat pastures and a few sloping hills. Of course there were always several large lava formations to climb over. After two hours of this chase I wondered if we were getting anywhere in the pursuit. I twas now almost dark and we may not be getting closer to our friend up ahead. His footsteps were still very fresh and I opted to stop our chase at sundown nevertheless because I didn't want any of us falling into any of the deep holes in the dark.

March 25, 1997:

We continued early again this morning. I wanted to get a jump on our friend in case he slept in late. The terrain is still flat but is mainly just a grassy pasture. The areas of soft sand no longer are seen and I am afraid that we have now lost the trail of our human survivor.

It is so frustrating. You can see for miles up here and yet we can see nothing moving but the grass in the wind. The combination of the terrain and the human's obvious knowledge of the area has conspired against us to lose him.

We brought with us the clothes that Martin had discovered. They appear to be very old and worn. They may be leftovers from the pre-war era. They don't appear to be hand made and are made of fairly fine cloth. The only problem is that they are old and quite dirty. Whoever wore these clothes must have pilfered them from some well preserved old clothing store or store house.

It had been increasingly quiet on our trek this morning. We did not do much talking as we hiked over the dark green pastures. We could hear each other breathing and the sound of our boots crunching the twigs in our path.

The pasture moulded into a sloping hill and we walked along the foothills toward a stream in the distance. We stopped for a cold, refreshing drink and took a break. My feet were hot and tired and so I stuck my bar feet into the icy cold creek. My relaxation was interrupted by the realization that Morrison was relieving himself in th water upstream from my position. I did a lot of screaming at him for a few minutes. For the sake of decency he at least could have relieved himself against the hill or downstream from me. I made sure that I too, drink upstream from his location.

I made it very clear that I don't like being pissed on. While getting everyone ready to resume our trek, I thought I could hear a rumble in the distance. I decided that my ears were deceiving me and that the rumble was probably the wind in the trees.

However, within a minute I knew that the rumble was a reality. We walked through another well populated area of poison oak and I could see the reason for the rumble. Here, before us, was a very high waterfall.

The winter rains had filled the fields above the waterfall to capacity and the rainwater ended up tumbling down this deep chasm that we had found ourselves in. I was taken aback by it's beauty as we stood looking up at this spectacular sight.

The small pond that was formed by the torrent emptied out and formed the creek in which I had rested my feet.

But the waterfall was not the the only discovery. Almost hidden in the lava rock wall behind the waterfall was a shallow cave that went back into the hill about 10 feet. Kvislen was the first to enter the cave and reported that many old boxes and supplies were located therein.

Upon entering the cave, I found that most all of the supplies were water soaked and in poor conditiion. I feel that this cave has been abandoned for decades. I was hoping for life and have again found disappointment.

I set Martin and Giles to work opening some of the supply boxes and they discovered much canned food and boxes of ammunition. All the ammo was water soaked and the one rifle we found was rotted away. The continued in the exploration of the supplies while I pondered what my next move would be.

We have not seen any foot tracks for several hours. Probably our quarry is miles away. I do not expect to find him now.

I contacted our half-tracks and found that they had followed the road up the valley and were now located in an area that we felt was only a few miles away from our position. We had estimated correctly that the road did eventually lead to the top of the mesa. We could leave immediately and head back toward town, or we could stay one more night on the mountain and hope to run into our fugitive friend.

I opted to give it one more night. I kept Kvislen, Giles, Martin, Harrison and Vargas and assigned Sgt. Evans to lead the rest back to the tracks. I told Evans that the first course of business was to make sure that Jefferson and Tower, our track guards, got a beef steak dinner. They had been left out of that treat so far.

Evans and the group left about 4 P.M. They headed up the side of the cliff to the top of the waterfall and across the flat terrain toward the Tracks in the East.

I decided that the best course of action would be to send out Giles and Vargas on a survey hike to our North and to send out Harrison and Martin out to the West to check out that area. It was really about my last shot at locating our friend before sundown. They were all ordered to be back by sundown.

Kvislen and I decided that it might be interesting to sift through some more of the supplies in the cave. So far we had found nothing of value. All of the food, of course, was worthless. Martin and Giles had checked out all but a few of the crates and I figured that we would be errant if we did not check out everything that might be of possible value.

There were three large boxes in the left corner of the cave and Kvislen began on those. I found a small pile of books within a metal box. Included in this small library was "War of the Worlds" by H.G. Wells. A most appropriate choice under the circumstances. There was also a copy of "All Quiet on the Western Front" and one called "Wilderness Survival". The last book in he pile was a 1939 almanac. On the front cover was scrawled in red, "Page 28". I leafed through the book and found that page. Taped to the page was a yellowed scrap of folded paper. I unfolded it and discovered a small map. The map showed the location of the waterfall and the cave and indicated a location above the falls and a small distance to the East of our present camp site. The place was marked with and "X" and the notation, "Rob/Journal here".

I am afraid that I was really fascinated and intrigued by this map. The thought that I had possibly discovered something that had been hidden for years brought me back to the days when, on the Coast of Australia, we kids would search for "pretend" buried pirate treasure. By the time I realized what I had on my hands, it was too dark to do anything about it. The two survey teams would be returning shortly and hopefully they would have good news. I will keep the map and the thought of "Buried Treasure" in the back of my mind until morning. Giles and Vargas returned at 6:15 P.M. and had no news to give. The area to our North showed no trace of any camp sights. It was as I suspected. I will not find our errant fugitive today.

Harrison and Martin dragged themselves in about 6:25 P.M. and had to rest a few minutes before being able to explain what had occured. They had gone about three miles to the West when they had run across another human footprint. They followed the prints for another mile or so before they lost the trail in some lava beds. In order to regain the trail they climbed down an almost sheer lava wall and hoped that they would stumble across the trail again. But to no avail. They had to take a round-about trail to get back up the lava wall. In the process they became rather scarred up and on one occasion had to backtrack several hundred yards when they headed into a box canyon. It was a wasted effort except that now we know that possibly our quarry was off to the West.

We ate an evening meal of steak and K rations and I told them about the map that we had found. They were all immediately of the opinion that we should go out into the dark and search for this journal. I quelched that thought immediately as it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack if we tried to find something at night in this unfamiliar country. Besides that we really don't know if we are looking for a marker above the ground or below. We will bring a shovel tomorrow morning just in case it is needed.

The night was clear and we could see our old friend Venus shining brightly in the western sky. I used the telescope to get a better look. For thousands of years these stars and planets have shone down on our planet. They have stayed relatively the same for the past thousand years and would not probably change appreciably in the next thousand. I suddenly felt very small and insignificant. The search for one human survivor seemed like a very trivial concern in the overall scheme of things.

March 26, 1997:

The first thing I grabbed this morning after rolling out of bedroll was the map. We had discovered no other important information in the supply boxes and this map appeared to be a clue to some relic of the past and possibly provide some lead as to where everybody went after the war started.

The target area was up the hill above the falls and to the South. We climbed single file up the sheer cliff and made the summit in a surprisingly quick time. Even clumsy Harrison and Martin made it in style.

I suppose they especially were being careful after the scrapes they had received last night.

We found the area above the falls very similar to the rest of the mesa. It was flat and with occasionally rolling grasslands. The map showed a rock formation approximately one half mile from the falls and we found a 4 foot high rock at that location. From there we turned somewhat westerly and came to the area where the "X" is located. The map showed that the "X" location was to be found 300 feet to the West of the rock formation. What we found was a worn wooden cross stuck in the ground. The two wooden pieces were tied together with a rawhide type of material.

I had forwarned the men that they should be prepared to dig and I think their enthusiasm for fiding whatever treasure we were going to find overcame their natural fear of hard work.

The ground was broken around the cross and Kvislen yanked the cross up and tossed it next to a small rock. The worn cross broke into several pieces when it struck the rock.

The men dug and the sweat rolled from them as the sun grew higher in the sky. They had gone down about 4 feet when a spade struck something solid. We move away some of the earth and found the object to be a flat, smooth piece of wood. The area was more widely cleared and it became obvious what we had found. A coffin.

Now the men became less enthusiastic. They had seen enough death this trip and the thought of digging up a 50 year old corpse did not intrigue them However, I pointed out that we might be in the process of discovering something really important. It may be, indeed, the only thing of real substance we have found besides the cattle in this initial period of discovery.

My little blurb tended to soften up their attitude and they proceeded with the digging. The area was cleared away and I got down to pry a lock off of the coffin. It was almost rusted through but we found it impossible to break. So I simply used my .45 on it and it came off quickly.

The moment of truth came as I slowly lifted the coffin lid. As it came open the rusted joints groaned and made Kvislen jump a bit. There in the coffin we saw the remains of a rather large man. It seems that the body was very well preserved. He was dressed in a green American military uniform and had a cap with an eagle ensignia and chevron on it. To the outside of his left hand was a long thin package wrapped in waterproof plastic material. I reached in and pulled the package away from the body.

To the right side of the coffin was a small piece of cardboard stuck in between his right hand and leg. On the piece of cardboard read, "Here lies Rob Watson. A good friend. A lover of freedom. Born: June 17, 1919. Killed in action: March 4, 1945."

We checked the body for any valuable articles and only found a watch and a few rings. We reburied him with everything except the package. We also had Kvislen letter him a fitting headstone with his name and dates of birth and death. Kvislen said that with all of the experience he's had on this trip, he's thinking of becoming a funeral director when he gets back home.

I glanced at the contents of the package at the time of discovery but it was just shortly after we had reburied the body that I was able to take a closer look. Inside the waterproof packaging was a fairly large, hardbound journal. In a manila colored envelope there were also several maps, drawings and photographs. I am glad for the waterproof material. The contents are remarkably preserved. I sat beneath the shade of a large boulder and scanned the contents for a few minutes. The journal began in 1945 and also seems to backtrack to earlier dates. The pictures enclosed were dated and identified on the reverse of each photo. They all appear to be photos of this area in 1944-45.

After some minutes of scanning, I bundled them up again and we all headed out toward our tracks.

Our group had advised us by communicator the day before that we were only about two miles from their location. They had done an excellent job of estimating our position and had driven to the closest rendesvous point possible.

The ground was more rolling than flat as we advanced and we were only able to see the tops of telephone poles in the distance. Our group at the tracks stated that they were near telephone poles so we headed for them as a point of reference. The day was again beautiful and I was not totally dissatisfied with the progress of our expedition so far. We had discovered a small bit of history and the possibility that human life still exists in this area.

We located our half-tracks by 11 A.M. and we were all glad to be back together again. I announced what we had found in the grave and the men seemed very interested in the contents of the journal. I advised them that I would be reading it this evening and that when I finished it would determine if any of the information would be made known to them.

Now it was time to decide what our next move would be. I sat in the motionless track and looked at our makeshift map of the area. We were due to rendesvous with our ship on or about April 1st, however I had the option to stay in this area longer if I wished. The prospect of actually finding people certainly intrigued me and if I terminated the exploration at this time I may never again be in the position in my military career to do something as vital.

The men were tired, but still in good spirits and the only thing that we were in need of was a small amount of supplies and a bit of rest. We had a lot to eat as we had taken and salted down plenty of beef. But we did need a resupply of toilet articles and some new uniforms. The uniforms were mainly for Harrison and Martin due to their slide down the hills. Also, as it was now beginning to warm up in this climate, a less warm uniform for us all would be welcome.

I contacted the ship by radio and, despite the static and weak signal, we were able to discuss the situation. The Captain of ENDURANCE advised taht he would remain in our area for another three days. Then he would return to the South to pick up the survey team that was sifting through the ruins of Los Angeles. He stated that as of this date, the L.A. survey team had also found no live humans. I was disappointed over the fact that the southern crew had also failed to find people. However I am still determined to find some. Possibly that fact made me decide to stay for awhile longer. I am not satisfied with the sketchy contact that Martin had made with the "mystery human" that we could not positively identify.

We set up with the ship's Captain that the survey plane would meet us at a pre-arranged landing area just west of Oroville. I gave the Captain a list of supplies and he stated that they would be delivered at noon on tomorrow, March 27th. I asked that the plane land as opposed to dropping the supplies by parachute as before. I wanted to give the pilot some of what we had found. Several articles of importance including some photographs we had taken and sketches Giles had made would be included in the packet.

In addition, this first report of my journal is included along with the old journal, pictures and maps that we had just uncovered this morning.

I will begin my journal of "second report" as soon as the plane leaves. A meeting with the plane at noon tomorrow will give us enought time to transit back down the mountain to town and for me to further scan the newly found journal.

At 1 P.M. we began our trip down the mountain. We cruised through a beautiful area of dense trees and green fields. We went by one of the shacks we had seen from above and we were correct in our determination that it was deserted. One thing that we had not noticed, however, was tht there was an old derelict school bus located out in front of the house. It looks like it had been used, at least temporarily, for living quarters.

A few miles further and the trees dropped away to reveal a river to our left. We slowed down to view a rock wall that ran along the riverbed down below. It snaked along the edge of the river and appeared to be about 8 feet high and approximately 3 feet wide. It had been made out of river rock and concrete and was quite an engineering masterpiece. I wondered just what the purpose of this wall could have been. I realized that we had seen part of this wall from our perch near the "O".

We passed the road by which we had forked off toward the "O" and we found our way back to town in another 15 minutes. This time we camped North of the river and I allowed the men to just relax for the evening. I saw no useful purpose in recrossing the river bridge and again entering the town. We had fully explored it and I felt it more important to give the men a rest tonight. I also wanted time to read the journal we had found.

We camped on the river bank and ate another good meal of beef. I am afraid that I am now getting a bit tired of beef. I have no other alternative than that other than the K rations we have left. I longed so much for it for the past few weeks and now that I have had nothing but beef for the past few days I am getting bored by it. I suppose I should, and do, count my blessings.

After nightfall I had the men take it easy and I escaped a few yards off and attempted to read the journal by flashlight. It was a relaxing evening. The men were singing an old Australian ballad and it set my mind at ease. The journal we found seems to me to be quite informative and gives a good historic record of the years just prior to, and during, the fall of America. I read until about 2 A.M. and then got some sleep.

March 27, 1997:

7 A.M. came too early this morning and I dragged myselt up. The day was a bit overcast and we could only see a few miles to the West. I got the men organized and we picked up all our loose gear. Kvislen and Sgt. Evans helped me package up the important documents and some other souveniers of our first few weeks here.

We headed North up the hill at 10 A.M. and turned westward. Our landing site for the plane was an old, abandoned airfield just west of town that we had noticed on our drive from Marysville. We found ourselves passing through a very small and deteriorated residential area. A few miles further and we turned South. Two more miles and we were in sight of the old airfield. It consisted of a ramshackle hut and a flag pole. The length of the runway was hard to determine as it was very overgrown, but I knew it would be more than sufficient for our small scout plane.

For the next hour we discussed what we had accomplished and what my immediate itinerary would now be. I expect that we will go North from here and explore the area around Redding. The old journal we found has given me enough information to know that many survivors headed that way. If we do not find anyone there we will then return to Australia. I figure a month under these circumstances is fully enough hardship to put any of our men through.

I know that this will not be my last trip here and I will someday find our elusive survivors.

It is 11:55 A.M. and our plane can be heard droning above the cloud cover. We can now see it's silver color against the whitish clouds. It turns and comes in from a northwesterly direction. It again turns and lands in our deteriorating runway, bouncing as it strikes the various chuck holes.

It is good to see Reeves, our pilot. again. He was a real character aboard ship. He always had a off-color joke to tell.

The men loaded up the souveniers and Reeves is now about to take off. It is 12:41 P.M. and I am about to finish this "First Report" and place it in the satchel. Included also is the old journal. Sir, I hope that this report meets with your approval. I have attempted to give all information in a detailed way. I also hope that you realize that I have been fully honest in my self-criticism. The deaths of those men in Track #3 weigh heavily on me. If I am to stand to account on any charge I am more than ready to defend my actions. We hope to return from the second half of our exploration within a month. The Captain of ENDURANCE has assured me that a special plane will be detailed to fly this journal and the rest of our artifacts to you at the earliest date.

I hope to see you as soon as the situation here makes it feasible. The first entry of the old journal appears immediately following this report.

Respectfully,

JACOB Q. MATTIN, Colonel AEF, California Section