Standing Before Hell's Gate

by William Alan Webb

  “Why are you sitting behind my desk, Tom?” Colonel Saw said in a decidedly non-friendly way. “And what the fuck is going on around here?”

  “Please sit down, Khin. Relax. Despite what you might have heard, I don’t bite.” He grinned and his voice had the same friendly tone he’d used with Nick Angriff on that little airplane in Switzerland. It was a practiced persona so ingrained he never had to think about adopting it any more. “I am damned glad to see you, Khin.”

  “Do I need to repeat my question, General?”

  “Old friends like us do not need formalities in private, so for God’s sake, call me Tom.”

  In the far corner of the Crystal Palace was a sliver of shadow where the blast doors on the mountain ended and morning light couldn’t come through. The colonel started because he hadn’t noticed the large man tucked away over there.

  “And let me introduce our new S-5… Colonel Khin Saw, meet Colonel Adder.”

  Saw stood and extended his hand without taking his eyes off of Steeple. Adder stepped over and shook it. “My pleasure,” Saw said. “So I ask again… what’s going on, Tom?”

  “Sit, sit.” Steeple moved back behind the desk and resumed his usual position, with hands folded on the top. Saw remained standing. “I know this came as quite a shock to you.”

  “I don’t know what this is, but yeah, it’s a shock.”

  “Let me explain, Khin. Hear me out.”

  “Answer my question. What the fuck is going on here.”

  “I will, I promise, but please sit down. There.” He indicated the chair facing the desk. With nostrils flaring, the colonel sat ramrod straight in the chair facing Steeple, which wasn’t easy because it had a curved back. Steeple waited for a response but Saw said nothing. Since no question had been asked, no response wasn’t required, and his silence told Steeple that the stocky, muscular officer was not an ally. Yet Saw’s approval of his taking command would go a long way toward mollifying the rank and file.

  As he steepled his fingers, the irony wasn’t lost on the general, and with elbows propped on the polished wooden surface of the desk, he tapped his index fingers against his lower lip.

  Saw’s eyes had been fixed on the American flag hanging behind the desk but now shifted to Steeple’s face. His expression remained devoid of emotion, except for his eyes, which were just a little too wide. It was a tell. No officer in the U.S. Army, then or now, ever read facial clues better than Steeple. He knew Saw represented opposition.

  “Get to it,” Saw said.

  “The short version is that I have taken command of Operations Overtime and Comeback.”

  “By who’s authority?”

  “By the authority of the United States Army, which named me as commander effective the moment that I entered Long Sleep.”

  “The Army? The same one I belong to?”

  Steeple didn’t like sarcasm when it was directed at him, and insubordination would ordinarily have gotten Saw thrown into the stockade without any discussion, but he needed the colonel on his side, so he held his tongue and kept the smile on his face. It wasn’t easy. “Yes, Khin, that Army.”

  “Is that who those people outside are? Because they sure as hell don’t look like American soldiers.”

  “Them… no, they’re not. They’re… allies.”

  “What does that means?”

  “You know, Colonel, I have great respect for you, but either you drop the attitude or we’re going to have a problem.”

  Saw had unconsciously been leaning forward. At that he straightened. “I’m the acting commander of this base and you’re a disgraced officer awaiting trial for treason. If anybody should have an attitude, it’s me. And I’m on the verge of calling the MPs and having them jerk you out of my chair.”

  “You do approve, do you not?”

  Saw had no option except to respond, “I’m not qualified to rule on such legalities, General Steeple.”

  Steeple’s sigh was well practiced and sounded wistful. “Let me turn my cards face up, Chain. I removed Nick Angriff because he was never intended to be the commander of the combined Operations Overtime and Comeback. His place in the chain of command was second, right behind me. I hand-picked him to be my Chief of Staff, second in command and military advisor. We both know Nick is the finest battle commander America has produced since Norman Schwarzkopf, maybe even better. His ability to win battles when others could not is uncanny. But as great of a warrior as he is, one thing he is not is an administrator. That’s where I come in.

  “Overtime was built by me, not Nick Angriff, me. It was designed for him to use the powerful military force that I personally recruited and equipped from day one to overcome any opposition we might face once awakened. My job started once a territory had been pacified, in restoring infrastructure, government, services, and security. Every inch of this place owes its existence to me. I fought tooth and nail for every dollar that went into getting it built, and believe you me, it took a lot of dollars.

  “Are you familiar with the flak towers in Berlin, Hamburg, and Vienna?”

  “What?”

  “The flak towers, during World War Two. Built by the Germans to combat the American strategic bombing campaign.”

  “I’m vaguely aware of them, but no details. And I don’t understand the relevance.”

  “Hear me out, Khin. We worked together long enough at the Pentagon for you to know that I do nothing without a good reason.”

  “Good is subjective.”

  Steeple ignored the comment. “The flak towers were huge fortresses so thick with steel and concrete as to be almost indestructible. After the war, efforts to destroy the ones in Vienna failed, and as far as I know they are still there today. Each tower had gondolas with 20 and 37 millimeter cannon on them. On top were not just the ubiquitous 88 millimeter gun we have all heard of, but its big brother, the 128 millimeter heavy flak gun. Their firepower was extraordinary.

  “But as massive and heavily armed and protected as they were, those flak towers were only the fighting part of the fortress. As strong as they were, without being told when and where to shoot, they were ineffective. That was the role of a second tower near each of the gun towers, where the command and control were housed. That’s where the radars were, the communications center, and, most important, the commander of the whole tower complex.

  “When I started this project back in 1996, that’s how I envisioned it being constructed — that was my vision. Operation Overtime would be the gun tower, the combat arm of the renewed United States armed forces, while Operation Comeback would be the command and control part. Except General Angriff apparently didn’t understand the whole picture, and that may have been my fault. Regardless, I’m here now, and I intend to do what I do best: manage. You’re a combat commander who happened to be good at his job while at the Pentagon, but can you imagine Nick Angriff in the Personnel Department, or Procurements? That’s an actual question, Khin, it’s not rhetorical.”

  “I imagine he’d do the best he could.”

  “I do not doubt it for one second. Nick is a fine soldier who would perform his assigned task to the best of his ability, but what a waste! Putting Nick Angriff behind a desk would be like trying to convert a tiger into a vegetarian. He needs to be in the field, at the head of his troops. Likewise, putting me into a combat role would be foolhardy. It is not what I do well.

  “Let me be clear about this… I personally admire, respect, and like Nick Angriff. He is an amazing man. Unfortunately, Nick’s precipitous decisions have made our situation much worse than it had to be.”

  “What?”

  There it is! Steeple thought. “There were alternatives to fighting the Republic of Arizona, ways that could have reformed the existing government and acquired it as an ally instead of an enemy. Americans killed Americans, and that wasn’t necessary. That would have left the entire brigade to deal with the army of the Caliphate when it showed up, the ones you’ve nicknamed Sevens. Angriff could have destroyed its
combat capabilities in one fell swoop but now, mark my words, we’ll have to deal with that army again in the future. And now I understand there are riders wearing red scarves moving into the region?”

  Saw sat quiet.

  “That was a question, Colonel.”

  “Which you don’t have a right to ask me.”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “Yes, there are horsemen we call Rednecks coming into the area, although we don’t know where they’re from.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that I do know where they come from?”

  That hit home as Saw leaned slightly forward. “Do you, General?”

  “Yes, I do. Contrary to what you may have been told, I am the only five-star general appointed by Congress since Omar Bradley died in 1981. That rank had been retired until it was given to me, and I didn’t receive such a high honor by being a fool. So yes, I know precisely where those riders come from, I know why they’re here, and I know how to counteract them. I also know more about this so-called Caliphate of the New Prophet than you might imagine. I bleed Army green just like you do, but I do the dirty work men of action like Nick Angriff don’t want or need to worry about. It’s not what they’re good at, and if we’re going to rebuild this country we have got to have both.”

  “Are you implying that if you regain command of Operations Comeback and Overtime—”

  The word regain didn’t go unnoticed.

  “—that you are going to restore General Angriff to his command?”

  “I’m not implying it. I’m saying it, Khin. I have ordered him detained but not arrested, and treated with all of the courtesy due to a lieutenant general in the U.S. Army, because Nick Angriff will again command Operation Overtime just as he always has, from this office, and the only difference will be that I have his back, and yours, once an area is liberated. I will also negotiate ceasefires and treaties with those of our enemies who are willing to listen.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that twelve thousand people cannot conquer an entire continent. We are going to have to make decisions we might not like in pursuit of the greater good, and before you argue that point, remember, America took more than two hundred years to grow to the point it was at during the Collapse. We can’t rebuild that in a year or two, or a decade, or maybe even a century. All we can do is make a good start and train the next generation. I hope that makes sense to you.”

  Saw’s nod was reluctant, but it was there.

  “Good. Together we can put this country back on the map. Can I count on your support, Khin?”

  “I’m not sure I have much choice.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I think it’s exactly like that… but I suppose you can count me in, General.”

  “Guesses don’t help us move forward. Either you’re in or you’re out.”

  “Yes, you can count on me.”

  “You’re in?”

  “I’m in.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I appreciate you not opposing me,” Steeple said. “You could have, but I’d like to believe that you understand the legitimacy of my taking over command from General Angriff.”

  “I don’t know if I do or not, but it seems to be a fait accompli at the moment. So yes, I’m willing to serve under you again.”

  “Excellent!” Steeple rose and extended his hand.

  Colonel Saw hesitated, then stood and took it. “So what exactly do you want from me, Tom?”

  Steeple feigned surprise at the question. “I want your support. I want you to be my S-3.”

  “Operations? That’s Norm Fleming’s job.”

  “I think General Fleming would be more effective as the S-1. You would, of course, be elevated to 0-7 and work closely with me. Is it a deal?”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “No, I need to know right now. Just say yes, Khin, and let’s get down to work. We have a lot to do.”

  “All right. I’ll do it.”

  Steeple grinned like a boy with his first girlfriend, but behind the well-rehearsed façade he studied Colonel Saw’s face and read signs of doubt.

  “Can I ask you one thing?”

  “Absolutely, Khin.”

  “People are going to be hurt by this, a lot of people. It may be for the greater good, but does it bother you?”

  “It is the curse of great men to step over corpses,” Steeple said.

  Colonel Saw’s expression didn’t change. “You have quite a way with words.”

  “Not really, just a good memory.”

  “Oh? Who said it, then?”

  “Heinrich Himmler.”

  “The Reichsführer SS?”

  “Just because he was a mass murderer doesn’t make it any less true.”

  #

  Chapter 44

  It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

  William Blake

  Hawthorne Army Depot, Nevada

  0731 hours, April 28

  “General, wake up, sir.”

  Feeling a light touch on his shoulder, Angriff rolled over in his cot and tried to open his eyes. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Once upon a time, being awakened in the middle of the night would have meant springing from bed and reaching for a weapon. Now when he tried to speak, he yawned instead. “Major Strootman? What is it?”

  “Sir, Colonel Young requested that you join him in the headquarters tent.”

  “Are we under attack?”

  “No, sir.”

  Angriff nodded and swung his legs out of his sleeping bag. When in the field, he’d always slept in his pants and undershirt, but the desert air turned cold at night so he pulled on his well-worn multicam winter weight coat. It was only when he stood up that he noticed the guard at his door. “What’s he doing here?”

  “The colonel will explain, General.”

  Angriff could only see one explanation for having an armed sentry standing at the entrance to his tent — more assassins. When two more armed men fell in on either side during the walk to the regiment’s headquarters, it convinced him that was it. He wished he’d strapped on his pistols.

  “Am I in danger?” he said upon entering the tent and seeing Colonel Young waiting for him. His mind registered that only he and Young occupied the large space, and that Major Strootman and the guards stopped outside and closed the entrance flap.

  “What?” Young’s face scrunched in confusion. “No, sir!”

  “So it’s not assassins?”

  “Beg your pardon, General?”

  “The guard on my tent, the escort over here… if I’m not in danger, then what’s going on, Bob?”

  “Sir, I… I’m not sure how to tell you this.”

  “The only way to tell it is to tell it.”

  “That doesn’t make it easier, General. I just received a phone call from Prime—”

  “Has something happened to my wife, or one of my daughters?”

  “What? Oh, no, sir, nothing like that, it’s… sir, General Steeple has taken command at Overtime and ordered you detained.”

  #

  Angriff’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched involuntarily. It all made sense now, the guards, the escort… he was under house arrest. Despite his rising anger, however, he kept his voice under control. “How do you know this to be true? Did you talk to Steeple yourself?”

  “I did, General. He said to make clear that you are not under arrest, but neither can you be allowed to leave my custody. You are to be treated with the utmost courtesy and respect due to a man of your rank.”

  “My rank? By Congress acting in joint session under emergency conditions, and signed by the president, I’m the highest ranking officer in the United States armed forces. I can’t be removed from command of Overtime unless I’m deemed incompetent, in which case Lieutenant General Fleming takes over.”

  “Sir, please understand my position.”

  �
��Your position is quite clear, Colonel. I am your commanding officer and General Steeple is a traitor who apparently has illegally tried to seize command of the Seventh Cavalry. Therefore your position is to follow my orders to help in ejecting Steeple from that post and bringing him before a court-martial to answer for his crimes.”

  Young held out his hands in a pleading gesture. “General Angriff, sir, I have limited fuel, supplies, and military assets. Resupply is now at the pleasure of General Steeple. Moreover, trying to retake Overtime would likely involve shooting at other elements of the Seventh Cavalry, including air assets, of which I have none.”

  “You’re taking his side in this?”

  “I have no other choice, General. My regiment is my first responsibility.”

  “In that case, I relieve you of your command, Colonel.”

  Dipping his head, Young slowly shook it. “You no longer have that authority, sir.” He looked up and Angriff could see the tears welling in his eyes. “I am so very sorry to have to do this. There’s no officer I respect more than you, General.”

  “Apparently there is,” Angriff said, his molars clenched tight.

  #

  Chapter 45

  It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways.

  Buddha

  Overtime Prime

  0756 hours, April 28

  Steeple could only shake his head in bemusement when he realized that nobody had known it was possible to soundproof the office’s conference room. He returned from his phone call to Colonel Young and could see in Saw’s face that despite his pronouncement of loyalty, doubts remained. With the smooth reflexes of a trained politician, however, he didn’t allow his face to reflect his skepticism. Chain Saw could always be gotten rid of later, if it came to that.

  Meanwhile, he pumped him for as much information as he could get.

  “…so as I said, the construction people have some of the wells near the Verde River nearly functional. We should have oil flowing again very soon.”