10 Lines - Load Out

 

The gear had hung in the backroom closet, since the move up country, long years ago.
 

A personal load out, intended to support a sudden flight from urban target into some vague rural destination.
 

It had been packed against potential need, a reflection of now distant times and once dreaded circumstances.
 

’I’ve got it if I ever need it, and if I ever do need it, I’m going to really need it.’
 

’Besides’, with a smile, ‘You know the deal : If I have a thing, I’ll never actually need the thing…’
 

At least dry tested after hushed late night phone calls from friends of friends of associates, warning of bright green tracks on sweeping screens.
 

Now, not so much forgotten, but more like some kind of integrated talisman; not much of a guarantee, but at least some kind of preparation.
 

But the years churned by, ‘the bones turning old, stiff and sore, the forgotten gear from a forgotten war’ (to paraphrase a line).
 

‘Lessons’, some just imagined, from situations two generations back, put together in bits and pieces, hanging ready, while the world changed, circumstance changed - and physical ability faded away.
 

In the end, the carefully packed equipment, and the knowledge it represented, turning into a home for mice.

Readers : This is more intensely personal than these have been up to this point. Although you can see the shift into topics pressing on my mind of late. 

The image was gathered over the internet, my gear not exactly as seen there. Missing is the shell dressing to upper left shoulder strap, compact binocular case the lower right strap. There is a machete scabbard, then the mess tin carrier on the left belt (holding a folding stove and two pouch meals as well), with a small personal first aid kit, then grenade pouch (compass matches, snare wire, basic fishing kit) to the right. The rear 'fanny' gas mask pouch holds a plastic tarp sheet and more boil in bag meals, plus odds and ends.