The first truck I saw was very early in the morning. I had woken early and was making a start clearing the drive before more of the forecast snow arrived. It was already a couple of feet deep from the overnight falls. Everyone was saying how the really heavy stuff, the stuff that would trap us in our homes, at work or if we were really unlucky on the road, was on its way. I wasn’t too worried. If you lived in this state, you expected the kind of winter storms we got. It didn’t stop people from bitchin’ about it though. As long as you kept on top of things it couldn’t get too bad, that was a lesson I’d learned from my Daddy, so I was OK with waking up just before dawn. I’d get a couple of hours in before heading off to work.
I’d just cleared the first third of the drive and was standing admiring the neat piles I’d constructed either side of the drive and the clear, whitened stretch of tarmac when I saw headlights turning into the street. It had those extra lights above the windscreen and across the front of the roof which included big, adjustable spotlights interspersed with lozenge flashers. There was a bullhorn on the roof too and cow bars across the front, though I doubt this van had ever been near a cattle ranch. The small, high windows of the cab were blacked out and I guessed bullet proof too. As the truck passed the bottom of my driveway, close enough for me to spit on it if I wanted, I saw the familiar blue, red and white Make America Great Again logo. The damn thing covered almost the whole side and that truck was big. I could hear the crunch and creak of the tractor size wheels as it’s weight compressed the fresh snow. Rumbling forward like a tank it halted across the driveway of the house of a family I only knew by sight.
I took off my cap off to mop my forehead, I was sweating like a hog and my lower back throbbed. Pushing my cap into a pocket, I leant forwards on to the snow shovel, driving it deeper into the pile, both hands clasping the moulded plastic handle – it was a relief to take the weight off – and watched the truck. Whatever was happening it wasn’t a secret.
The rear doors opened and six officers in riot gear jumped down. The back of the truck was several feet off the road and with a practiced action the last officer swung a short ramp, like the ones you see on ambulances, down after him. They all ran up the driveway. The first carrying a door ram. I’d seen those suckers on TV and they were mean. They’d rip a cheap door right off its hinges, and the doors on these places weren’t built for anything but privacy.
The house they were at was totally dark, and I knew they had small kids in there. Boy, they were in a for rude awakening. This was in the early days remember, so the officers hammered on the door before using the ram. I watched the lights turning on as someone woke up. The houses in this street were all built on the same plan so I could watch the progress from bedroom, hallway to front room where the door was. Another light was going on in what I guessed was the kids’ bedroom. Probably Mom getting them up ready. They must have been expecting it, I mean Trump had been very clear about his plans right from the get go.
As the officers poured into the house I could hear shouting and kids crying, but in less than 20 minutes they were all on that truck and pulling away. I could see that the front door was still slightly ajar so I did the neighbourly thing and went over to close it. No sense in giving intruders an easy entry.