Last month a buddy of mine in Texas called me at 11 PM asking if I thought martial law was really coming after that governor's standoff with federal troops at the border crossing, and I realized most people have no idea what actually happens in the three days between when order breaks down and when someone else's order gets imposed. This week I am walking through the specific decisions you need to make in that narrow window, because waiting to figure it out when it is happening is about seventy two hours too late.

The phrase martial law gets thrown around like it means tanks rolling down Main Street and soldiers kicking in doors, but that is not how it starts and that is not what kills you. What kills you is the gap. The space between when local law enforcement stops responding to calls and when military command sets up checkpoints. That gap can be three hours or three days, and during that time you are making choices that will echo for months.

I started thinking seriously about this after watching what happened in New Mexico last April when the governor declared a state of emergency and suspended open carry laws in Albuquerque. It did not turn into martial law, but it showed me how fast normal legal protections can evaporate when someone in authority decides the situation calls for it. Then in August we had the incident in Portland where federal agents detained people without charging them for up to ninety six hours under emergency detention powers. These are not hypothetical scenarios anymore. They are current events.

The question is not whether martial law could happen. The question is what you do in the first seventy two hours if it does.

The first thing to understand is that martial law does not get announced with a clear starting gun. What you get is incremental restrictions that build on each other until you wake up one morning and realize you are living under military authority. It might start with a curfew. Then checkpoints. Then restrictions on travel between counties. Then suspension of certain constitutional protections in the name of public safety. By the time someone uses the actual phrase martial law, you are already three steps deep into it.

I keep a document I call the Restriction Timeline taped inside the front cover of the Ice Storm Ledger. It lists the sequence of restrictions that historically precede martial law based on case studies from other countries and from limited instances in U.S. history. This is not paranoid speculation. This is pattern recognition.

Stage one is curfews and movement restrictions. You will hear about this on the news or on social media first, probably framed as a temporary measure for public safety. The curfew might be 10 PM to 6 AM initially. Pay attention to how it is enforced and whether it expands.

Stage two is checkpoints and travel permits. This is when you start seeing roadblocks on highways and at county lines. They will check IDs and ask where you are going. If you do not have a good reason to be traveling, you might get turned around. If the situation deteriorates, you might need a permit to travel at all.

Stage three is suspension of assembly rights. Gatherings of more than a certain number of people get prohibited. This includes churches, public meetings, and protests. The number might be ten people or fifty people, but once that restriction is in place, the First Amendment is effectively paused.

Stage four is communications restrictions. This can be internet shutdowns, social media blackouts, or restrictions on what can be broadcast. If you lose access to outside information, you are operating blind.

Stage five is property seizure and rationing. The government can commandeer supplies, vehicles, and buildings under emergency powers. Fuel, food, and medicine can be rationed. Your ability to move freely or stock up on supplies disappears.

Stage six is detention without charge. This is when people start getting arrested or detained for violating emergency orders, and normal due process protections are suspended. You might get held for days or weeks without seeing a lawyer or going before a judge.

That timeline matters because your window to act closes as you move down the stages. If you wait until stage five to decide you need to stock up on food, the stores are already empty or you are not allowed to buy more than a fixed amount. If you wait until stage six to decide you need to move locations, the checkpoints are already up and you are not getting through.

The seventy two hour window I am talking about is the time between stage one and stage three. That is when you still have some freedom of movement and some ability to make choices, but the trajectory is clear. If you see curfews announced and checkpoints going up, you have maybe three days to make your big decisions before the window closes.

Decision one is whether to stay or go. This is the hardest decision and it depends entirely on your specific situation. If you live in a rural area with low population density, staying might be the right choice. If you live in or near a city, leaving might be smarter. There is no universal answer, but you need to make the decision fast and commit to it.

If you decide to stay, you need to lock down your supplies immediately. Go to the grocery store and buy two weeks of food minimum. Fill your gas cans. Fill your prescriptions. Withdraw cash from the bank. Get your important documents into a fireproof safe or a go bag. Do all of this in the first twenty four hours, because by hour forty eight the stores will be cleaned out and the banks might be closed.

If you decide to go, you need to leave in the first thirty six hours. After that, the roads get clogged and the checkpoints get stricter. Your destination needs to be planned before the emergency starts, not during it. That means you need a place to go right now, today, that you could reach in one tank of gas. It could be a relative's house in another county. It could be a hunting cabin. It could be a friend's property in another state. But it needs to be a real place with real people who are expecting you, not a vague idea about heading to the woods.

I have a specific evacuation destination written down and shared with Darlene. It is her brother Tom's place outside of Joplin. Tom knows we might show up with no notice if things go bad. We have talked through what that would look like. He has space for us. He has his own well and his own septic. He is forty minutes from any major population center. That plan exists on paper and in conversation, not just in my head.

The second decision is what to take if you go. You cannot take everything, so you need a priority system. I use a three tier system based on what I absolutely cannot replace, what would be very difficult to replace, and what I can live without.

Tier one is documents and irreplaceables. Birth certificates, Social Security cards, property deeds, marriage license, insurance policies, medical records, prescription medications, family photos, hard drives with important data. This stuff goes in a fireproof document bag that lives in our bedroom closet. If we have to leave, that bag goes in the truck first.

Tier two is survival essentials. Water filtration, food for two weeks, first aid supplies, fire starting materials, weather appropriate clothing, cash, communications gear. This is the stuff that keeps you alive and functional. Most of this lives in pre packed bins in the garage that can be loaded in under ten minutes.

Tier three is comfort and convenience items. Extra clothes, books, tools, camping gear, anything that makes life easier but is not critical. This stuff only comes if there is room and time. Most of the time there will not be.

The third decision is communications. If normal communications go down or get restricted, how do you stay in touch with family? Wendy and Steve are in Oregon. If something happens in Missouri that triggers martial law, I need a way to let them know we are okay and vice versa. Cell phones might work. They might not. Internet might work. It might not.

We have a communication plan that does not rely on infrastructure. Every Sunday at 8 PM Central Time, I check a specific email address that was set up just for emergencies. Wendy checks the same address at 6 PM Pacific Time. If either of us needs to send a message, we do it through that account. The messages are simple. We are okay. We are at location X. We need help. Call this number. If the internet is down, the plan does not work, but it is better than no plan.

We also have a ham radio backup. I have a Baofeng UV 5R handheld radio and Wendy has the same model. We have programmed in a specific frequency that we both monitor. 146.52 MHz is the national simplex calling frequency, and if things are bad enough that we need to use ham radio, we try that frequency first. The range is limited without a repeater, maybe five miles with the handheld, but if we are both monitoring it there is a chance we connect. I am not a licensed ham operator, and I do not use the radio except for practice and emergencies. The FCC can fine me later if it comes to that.

The fourth decision is defensive posture. I am not talking about shooting people. I am talking about how visible you make yourself and your supplies. If you are staying put during a breakdown of order, you do not want to advertise that you have food, fuel, and water. That means no generator noise at night. No lights blazing when everyone else is dark. No cooking smells drifting out the windows. You want to look like every other house on the street. Empty. Low key. Not worth the trouble.

This is where the Warm Box Plan earns its keep. A propane heater is silent. A battery powered lamp does not shine through windows the way a generator powered floodlight does. Meals that do not require cooking do not create smells. The goal is to be invisible to people who are looking for easy targets.

I also move certain items out of plain sight during the first twenty four hours. The gas cans go into the shed instead of sitting on the porch. The generator goes into the basement instead of the garage. The Aquatainers go under tarps in the corner instead of lined up against the wall. If someone looks in our windows or walks around our property, they should not see anything that makes us look more prepared than our neighbors.

The fifth decision is who you trust. This is brutal, but it is necessary. If order breaks down, some people are going to show up at your door asking for help. Some of those people you will help. Some of them you will not be able to help even if you want to. You need to know before the emergency which category people fall into.

I have a list in my head of five households we would help no matter what. Darlene's brother Tom. Our neighbor Ed and his wife Martha. Darlene's cousin Rachel in Springfield. A couple from church named Bill and Susan. A guy I used to work with named Greg who lives two miles down the road. Those five households get help if we have it to give. Everyone else is a case by case decision based on what we can spare.

That sounds cold, but it is realistic. If I give away half our food in the first three days to people who did not prepare, we will not make it two weeks. I am responsible for Darlene first, Wendy and her family second, and our close circle third. After that, I do what I can with what is left. That is not selfishness. That is triage.

The sixth decision is how to handle authority. If military or federal agents show up at your door during martial law, you need to know in advance how you are going to respond. The safest answer is compliance. You comply with orders, you answer questions without volunteering information, you do not argue, and you do not give them a reason to escalate.

This does not mean you have to like it. It means you recognize that the person at your door has more force than you do, and getting into a confrontation is a losing proposition. If they ask to search your property, you let them. If they ask about your supplies, you tell them you have enough food for a few days. You do not lie in a way that is obvious, but you do not volunteer that you have three months of food in the basement.

If they confiscate supplies, you let them take what they take. You do not fight over a case of bottled water or a tank of propane. Your life is worth more than stuff. This is hard to accept, but it is true.

The one line I would not cross is letting them take all of our food or water. If they try to clear out everything, that is when I would push back and ask to speak to a commanding officer. Most of the time, confiscations are not total. They are looking for excess or hoarding, not trying to starve people. But if it comes to that, I need to know my line before I am standing there making the decision in the moment.

The seventh decision is operational security. Do not talk about your preparations with people outside your trusted circle. Do not post on social media about what you have or what you are doing. Do not brag to neighbors. The more people who know you are prepared, the more people who will show up when things get bad.

This goes double during an actual emergency. If martial law is declared or looks imminent, you stop talking about it entirely. You do not speculate out loud. You do not share information about what you have seen or heard. You keep your head down and your mouth shut. Loose talk gets people targeted.

The seventy two hour window is not a guarantee. Sometimes you get more time. Sometimes you get less. The Texas border standoff I mentioned earlier resolved in forty eight hours without escalating further. The Portland detentions lasted a week and then scaled back. But both situations showed me that the window exists and it closes fast.

What I have done is prepare for the window in advance. The decisions are already made. The lists are already written. The supplies are already staged. If I wake up tomorrow and see that curfews have been announced and checkpoints are going up, I do not have to invent a plan. I have to execute one.

That preparation is not about fear. It is about having options when other people do not. It is about being able to make rational decisions instead of panicked ones. It is about protecting the people I am responsible for.

I do not think martial law is likely in Missouri right now. But I also did not think we would see federal troops facing off with state National Guard units at a border checkpoint, and that happened in January. I did not think we would see governors suspending constitutional rights in major cities, and that happened twice last year. The gap between unlikely and impossible is narrower than it used to be.

So I keep the Restriction Timeline updated. I keep the evacuation plan current. I keep the supplies rotated. And I keep watching the news for the early signs that the window is opening. Because once it opens, you have seventy two hours or less. And that is not much time at all.

These bars live in a gallon Ziploc bag in the pantry, and they have been there in some form for three years. They do not need refrigeration, they do not need cooking, and they pack enough calories and protein to keep you functional when you are too busy or too stressed to make a real meal.

I developed this recipe after reading about emergency rations used by search and rescue teams. The goal was maximum nutrition in minimum space with ingredients that store for months. What I ended up with tastes better than I expected and worse than a candy bar, which is about right for emergency food.

Dry ingredients

Wet ingredients

Mix the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Whisk them together until everything is evenly distributed. In a separate bowl, combine the wet ingredients. If the coconut oil has solidified, melt it in a pan over low heat first. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix with a wooden spoon until everything is combined. The texture should be sticky and thick, like very dense cookie dough.

Line a nine by thirteen inch baking pan with parchment paper. Press the mixture into the pan with your hands or the back of a spoon. Press it down hard so there are no air pockets. The mixture should be about half an inch thick and even across the whole pan.

Put the pan in the refrigerator for two hours. This firms up the bars and makes them easier to cut. After two hours, pull the parchment paper out of the pan and set the whole block on a cutting board. Use a sharp knife to cut the block into twelve bars. If the knife sticks, wipe it clean between cuts.

Wrap each bar individually in plastic wrap. Store them in a gallon Ziploc bag in a cool dry place. They will keep for six weeks at room temperature, longer if you refrigerate them. I rotate them every two months just to be safe.

Each bar has around three hundred calories and fifteen grams of protein. That is not a full meal, but it is enough to keep you going if you are on the move or if cooking is not an option. I have eaten these for breakfast during power outages and during long days working on the property when I did not want to stop for lunch.

The flavor is okay. It tastes like peanut butter and oats with a hint of chocolate. It is not exciting, but it is not awful. The texture is dense and chewy. You need water to wash it down. If you do not like peanut butter, this recipe will not work for you.

One variation I tested was adding dried cranberries or raisins. It made the bars taste better, but it also reduced the shelf life because the fruit added moisture. I decided the extra month of storage was worth more than the improved flavor, so I keep the recipe as written.

These bars are not meant to replace real food. They are meant to fill the gaps when real food is not available. If you are bugging out and you need portable calories, these work. If you are sheltering in place and you do not want to use fuel to cook, these work. If you are rationing your supplies and you need to stretch them further, these work.

The ingredients cost about fifteen dollars total, and that makes twelve bars. A little over a dollar per bar. Compare that to store bought emergency rations that cost three or four dollars per bar and taste like cardboard. This is cheaper and better.

Hi everyone, Wendy here. We had a close call three weeks ago that changed how I think about what happens when normal systems stop working.

There was a wildfire about twelve miles west of us that jumped the highway and forced evacuations in two small towns. We were not in the evacuation zone, but we were close enough that the smoke was thick and the roads were clogged with people leaving. For about six hours, it was unclear whether the fire would spread east toward us or stay contained.

During those six hours, I watched our little town turn into something I did not recognize. The gas station ran out of fuel by 2 PM. The grocery store was cleaned out of water and canned goods by 4 PM. The hardware store sold every generator they had. People were panicked, and panic makes people do things they would not normally do.

I saw a man yelling at a cashier because the store would not let him buy more than two cases of water. I saw someone try to cut in line at the gas station and almost start a fistfight. I saw a woman crying in her car in the parking lot because she could not get formula for her baby. It was not martial law. It was not even close. But it showed me how fast things can unravel when people are scared.

Steve and I had already decided we were staying unless the evacuation order expanded to include us. We had our supplies. We had our plan. We had talked to the kids about what we would do if we had to leave. But sitting in the house watching the smoke and listening to sirens made me realize that having a plan and executing a plan are two different things.

The fire got contained that evening. The evacuation orders were lifted the next day. Life went back to normal. But I could not stop thinking about those six hours.

What I realized is that the breakdown does not start with soldiers in the streets. It starts with empty shelves and scared people. It starts with systems that work fine ninety nine percent of the time suddenly not working when everyone needs them at once.

After the fire, Steve and I sat down and updated our evacuation plan. We had a plan before, but it was vague. Now it is specific.

We have three rally points. The first is the elementary school parking lot, which is two miles from our house. If we get separated and cannot get home, we meet there. The second is the Chevron station on Highway 20, which is fifteen miles east. If the first rally point is not accessible, we go to the second. The third is Steve's parents' place in Bend, which is two hours away. That is the final destination if we have to leave the area entirely.

Each rally point is written on a laminated card that we each carry. Luke and Charlotte have cards too. The cards also have our emergency contact information and a couple of phone numbers for family members out of state. If the kids get separated from us, they know to show that card to a teacher, a police officer, or a firefighter.

We also packed a second vehicle bag. We already had emergency supplies in Steve's truck, but we did not have anything in my car. Now we do. Water, snacks, first aid kit, flashlight, phone charger, cash, and a paper map of Oregon. If I have to grab the kids and leave while Steve is at work, I have what I need to get us to safety.

One thing I added after the fire was a laminated list of what to grab if we have ten minutes to evacuate. It is taped to the inside of the coat closet door. The list is ranked by priority.

Priority one is people and pets. Get Luke, Charlotte, and Jasper into the car.

Priority two is documents and medications. The fireproof document box and the medication bag go in the car.

Priority three is the Ready Packs, the vehicle bag, and one change of clothes for each person.

Priority four is anything else we can fit in five minutes. Photo albums, laptops, valuables.

Having that list took the guesswork out of it. I do not have to stand in the hallway trying to remember what matters. I just follow the list.

Steve and I also talked to the kids about what an evacuation actually means. We did not sugarcoat it. We told them that sometimes people have to leave their homes quickly because of fire or bad weather, and that we have a plan to keep everyone safe. We walked them through the rally points. We showed them the evacuation list. We practiced packing their Ready Packs.

Charlotte asked if Jasper would come with us, and I told her yes, Jasper is part of the plan. That mattered to her more than anything else.

Luke asked what happens if our house burns down, and I told him the truth. We would be sad, but we would be okay because we have each other and we have family who would help us. I do not know if that was the right answer, but it was honest.

The fire was a wake up call. Not because it was a disaster, but because it almost was. We were one wind shift away from a very different outcome. That narrow margin is what keeps me focused on preparedness. It is not about living in fear. It is about being ready for the moment when the margin disappears.

This week I want you to build a cash reserve and test whether you could survive three days without using a debit card, credit card, or electronic payment of any kind.

Start by pulling two hundred dollars in cash from the bank. Use twenties, tens, fives, and ones. You want a mix of bills because exact change matters when systems are down and nobody can make change. Put the cash in an envelope and label it Emergency Cash Reserve. Hide that envelope somewhere in your house that is not obvious but that you can access quickly.

Now for the drill. This weekend, try to go seventy two hours using only cash. No cards. No phone payments. No online purchases. Just cash. See what breaks.

You will learn fast which places do not take cash anymore. You will learn whether you have enough small bills. You will learn how quickly two hundred dollars disappears when you are buying groceries, gas, and basics. You will also learn how it feels to operate outside the electronic payment grid, which is what you will be doing if the power goes out for days or if banks close during an emergency.

After the seventy two hours, sit down and write out what you learned. Could you buy what you needed? Did you run out of cash? Were there places that would not take cash? Did you feel vulnerable carrying that much cash? Those observations matter.

Based on what you learned, adjust your cash reserve. Maybe you need three hundred dollars instead of two hundred. Maybe you need more ones and fives. Maybe you need to keep fifty dollars in your car. Make the adjustments and put the system in place.

One more thing. Do not tell people you have a cash reserve at home. Do not post about it. Do not mention it casually. Cash in the house is a target if the wrong person knows about it. Keep that information between you and whoever else lives with you.

This drill is simple, but it will show you gaps in your preparedness that you did not know existed. Do it this weekend.