by Oliver North
SECTION 6. CLASSIFIED INFORMATION.
(1) The President shall designate all information pertaining to the provisions of this Act the highest level of National Security classification.
(2) The names and duties of those serving on the aforementioned Threat Mitigation Commission and the Special Unit shall remain classified Top Secret.
(3) The President shall provide a quarterly report to the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence regarding the activities of the aforementioned Threat Mitigation Commission and the Special Unit. Said reports to be designated the highest level of National Security classification.
When everyone in the room was again looking at him, the President said, “Notwithstanding deep reservations and very serious concerns about this bill, I have decided to sign it.”
Hearing this, Helen Luce slumped back in her seat and audibly sighed. No one else in the room moved. The President continued, “I believe that this is not a wise course of action to pursue. However, after praying about it and listening to wise counsel, I've decided that this may be the only option we have open to us at this point. If any of you feel that such action is inconsistent with your moral or ethical beliefs and think that you must choose to resign, now, or privately later, I'll understand.”
There was a long moment of silence. When Helen Luce finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Mr. President, if you sign this bill, we will forever lose any moral authority we have as a nation.”
“Helen, I know. That may well turn out to be true. But if I veto it or don't sign it—it'll still become law. And in the ensuing fight over the bill we could cease to be a nation. As all of you have seen in the news, Washington is not the only city where Americans did not come to work today. The fear of a nuclear device going off in any one of our major metropolitan areas may not be reasonable, but it's still very real.”
“May I ask who urged you to sign this, Mr. President?” the Secretary of State persisted. “We don't have to stoop to the level of these savages in order to prevail against them. I recall when this came up after 9/11, Dan, you were opposed,” she said, looking directly at the Defense Secretary. “So were you, Mr. Vice President,” she said, gazing at the man who had been in the House chamber for the secret vote. “And so were you, Jeb. You were all against assassinations. Who now thinks this is a good idea?” When she finished she had tears in her eyes.
Again there was a moment of silence and then the Vice President spoke very quietly. “Helen … none of us thinks it's a good idea. But as the President said, it's a necessary one. When I was coming back down from the Hill this morning, I jotted down all the reasons why I was going to recommend that the President veto this bill.”
The VP removed a folded sheet of paper from inside his coat pocket. It was covered with his handwriting. “But then I looked up and saw the empty streets and it suddenly occurred to me, who of us wouldn't have assassinated Adolf Hitler—before he could murder millions of people. If Josef Stalin had been dispatched in the 1920s, tens of millions would have been spared. How do you measure ‘moral high ground’ in a situation like that? Would assassinating either of them have been anymore immoral than letting them do what they did? That's what changed my mind.”
There was a brief silence as the people in the room grappled with the possible consequences of implementing the bill. The Secretary of State took a deep breath, looked at the President, and brought the matter back into focus. “What else do you want from us, Mr. President?”
“I'd like your suggestions as to who might serve on this Commission that the Congress has called for. I'll get with Dan separately to determine how we're to form this Special Unit. I'd appreciate you sending me your suggestions by mid-afternoon. I'll make the calls myself so that the names won't leak out quite as quickly as other things do in this town.”
Everyone nodded—even Helen Luce. The President then took a pen out of his pocket and signed his name to the bottom of the bill.
2nd Force Reconnaissance Company, FMF
_______________________________________
Camp Lejeune, NC
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
1230 Hours Local
Sgt. Maj. Amos Skillings reached into an open cardboard case labeled “Meals Ready to Eat,” grabbed a brown plastic pouch without looking at its contents, and deftly sliced it open with his Kabar knife. The well-muscled sergeant major had just led his Recon Marines on a three-mile race through the swampy terrain on the banks of the New River. As he sat down with a bottle of water and prepared to eat from the combat rations pack, his black skin was glistening with sweat.
“Hey, Sergeant Major,” a Marine corporal called to him. “You didn't even read what was on the label. Don't you want to pick out something good?”
“You mean the Corps would give us something that wasn't good?”
The forty-nine Marines and four Navy medical corpsmen taking a meal break from their Special Ops training laughed and continued their good-natured chatter while they ate. It was always a bit of a risk, kidding their legendary sergeant major. They held him in awe, but not just because he was a highly decorated warrior, now at the top of the enlisted ranks. The troops also knew that Skillings was the best shot in 2nd Recon Battalion, that he always “maxed” the monthly physical fitness test, had made more parachute jumps than anyone around, and could still beat every one of them on the rugged Recon obstacle course. And yet, by way of contrast, many of them also knew him as the leader of the “Thursday Night Bible Study” in the Recon Battalion recreation room.
All of the Marines had seen Skillings in his service dress uniform with his five rows of ribbons—topped by the gold “parachute wings” worn by SEALs, Recon Marines, and few others. Though Skillings himself never talked about his personal heroism, the younger NCOs would often tell tales of Sergeant Skillings' daring in 1990 when the Iraqis invaded tiny Kuwait and how he had received his first Silver Star and Purple Heart. And even the newest Marines in the battalion knew how in 2003, then-First Sergeant Skillings, though badly wounded, had saved Col. Peter Newman, his Regimental Commander, during Operation Iraqi Freedom—resulting in a second Silver Star and Purple Heart. But almost no one knew the real story behind the Bronze Star with Combat “V” that the Sergeant Major wore on his blouse. When one of his young Marines would ask about it, Skillings would simply reply, “It was for a little gunfight near the Iraqi border.” He never bothered to explain that the “little gunfight” was actually a bloodbath on the Syrian side of the Iraqi border in March of 1998, or that he was then a Gunnery Sergeant on a covert mission with then-Lt. Col. Peter J. Newman.
As one of the most decorated Marines in the Corps, many assumed that Skillings was a “natural” for eventual selection as Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps—the top enlisted spot in the small, elite force. He not only had more “combat time” than many Marines would ever have, but had also proven himself to be more than capable of serving in high-level staff assignments. He had somehow made time to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree in Management from the University of Maryland Extension School and had twice worked for Gen. George Grisham—one of the most revered officers in the Corps.
Skillings had never married. At thirty-nine, nearly twice the age of the Marines around him, the sergeant major had come to the simple acceptance that he was never going to find “the right woman.” Behind his back, some jealous detractors called him “the black monk” or said that he was “married to the Corps.” But even his most cynical critics had to admit that Sgt. Maj. Amos Skillings was the one man they would want beside them in a gunfight. And everyone who had ever served with him knew that he would also take a bullet for them, without thinking twice.
The Marines and Corpsmen of 1st Platoon, 2nd Force Reconnaissance Company that Skillings was training with were all “Special Ops Warriors”—designated as “Marine Detachment Two” for the U.S. Special Operations Command. SOCOM Det-2 was in the midst of preparing for a se
ven-month deployment to Afghanistan in January 2008. There, they would “work” the mountainous border region with Pakistan where the remnant of Osama bin Laden's Al Qaeda terrorist network was still making mischief.
Despite Sunday's attack on Saudi Arabia, they had gone to “the field” as scheduled early Monday morning for what was supposed to be a five-day training exercise. This was all part of a three-month pre-deployment training cycle that would take them from the coastal lowlands of Camp Lejeune to the high desert at Twenty-nine Palms, California, and eventually to the icy cold mountains of Fort Drum, New York.
At 0300 on Monday morning the Marines and their faithful Corpsmen had dutifully reported to the parachute loft at the Marine Corps Air Station New River. There, they strapped on their chutes and before dawn had dropped into a gridiron-sized DZ at the east end of Camp Lejeune.
At 1525 on Monday afternoon, Capt. Andy Christopher, the Det-2 Commander, and Sergeant Major Skillings had both received the same “Flash” message on their D-DACTs:
FLASH
SECRET
151525ZOCT07
FM: C.O. 2nd FORCE RECON, FMF
TO: DET 2 C.O.; 2nd FORCE RECON ECHO NINE
SUBJ: NUKE WARN
NCA INFORMS TAC NUKE DETONATED IN SE SAUDI ARABIA.
1. NO KNOWN U.S. CASUALTIES.
2. ORIGIN OF NUKE UNK.
3. ALL U.S. FORCES OCONUS REPORT DEFCON ONE.
4. ALL U.S. FORCES CONUS REPORT DEFCON TWO.
5. DET 2 BE PREP TO RET ONSLOW BEACH ON 4 HRS. NOTICE.
BT
After receiving the message, Captain Christopher, his XO, the three team-leader lieutenants, and Sergeant Major Skillings had huddled briefly. They then pulled the rest of troops together, briefed them on what little they knew, and continued to carry out the training schedule. For the next twenty hours they had continued to scramble through the thick brush—trying to avoid detection by one of the 2nd Marine Division's Infantry Battalions, while calling in simulated fire missions on their “opponents.”
Now, as Skillings and the rest of the Marines were finishing their hastily eaten rations, his little D-DACT vibrated in the cargo pocket of his digital camouflage trousers—a silent alert that he had received a message.
He pulled out the small, rugged green device that served as a combination computer, GPS, and data communications system, marveling at the technology. At a mere thirty-one ounces, the Dismounted Data Automated Communications Terminal system allowed a combat leader to send and receive encrypted messages in total silence—literally around the globe. With a D-DACT—or the vehicle mounted M-DACT—a small unit leader in combat could receive images from satellites or UAVs, call in air or artillery strikes, and instantly mark his position for casualty evacuation or reinforcements.
Skillings looked at the screen and saw that he had received another message from Recon Battalion HQ:
FLASH
SECRET
161745ZOCT07
FM: C.O. 2nd FORCE RECON, FMF
TO: DET 2 C.O.; 2nd FORCE RECON ECHO NINE
SUBJ: EMERGENCY RECALL
1. EFFECTIVE 1800 LOCAL, SOCOM AIR ALERT TETHER FOR DET TWO REDUCED TO ONE HOUR.
2. DET TWO RET IMMEDIATELY TO ONSLOW BEACH VIA MOTOR-T ASSETS EN ROUTE YOUR LOC.
3. ON ARRIVAL ONSLOW BEACH, RETAIN MOTOR-T ASSETS TO XPORT DET TWO PAX & UNIT FLY-AWAY MOUNT OUT TO HANGAR FOUR, MCAS NEW RIVER NLT 1700 LOCAL.
4. USAF TO PROVIDE TWO C-17 A/C AT MCAS NEW RIVER FOR ONWARD DEPLOYMENT OF DET TWO PAX & EQUIP.
5. FLY-AWAY MOUNTOUT LIMIT: 56 PAX W/ T/E WEAPS & AMMO, FOUR HUMVEE MK-16 AND 5,300 CUFT EQUIP/ SPARES, DESERT PREP.
6. REPORT MSN CAPABLE THIS HQ ON ARRIVAL MCAS NEW RIVER.
7. CHOP TO SOCOM ON ORDER.
8. ADCON REMAINS 2nd FORCE RECON CO., FMF.
9. COMM SOP XT21A & EMCON EFF IMMEDIATELY.
BT
After reading the message through quickly, Sergeant Major Skillings pushed the red button labeled ACK on his D-DACT—sending a microburst transmission via satellite back to the Recon Battalion to acknowledge that he had received the message. He then pushed the button labeled SAVE, and the message on the screen disappeared from the screen into the tiny computer's digital memory.
He shoved the D-DACT back into his cargo pocket as Capt. Andy Christopher walked up and said, “Well, Sergeant Major, looks like training just got cancelled for the real thing.”
“Yes, sir,” Skillings replied, “but they've all seen action before. They're ready. I wonder where SOCOM is sending you. The message didn't say.”
“No, it didn't,” the captain replied. “Did you notice something else? The message specified fifty-six passengers—but there's only forty-nine Marines and four Corpsmen in this Det. Who are the extra three who will be going along for the ride?”
“Don't know, sir,” Skillings replied with a smile. “But if you're going to get into a gunfight, sure wish I was going to be one of'em.”
Captain Christopher—a veteran of a tour of duty in Iraq and another in Afghanistan—looked at Skillings and said, “So do I, Sergeant Major, so do I.”
From the hardball tarmac road a quarter mile through the woods came the sound of trucks slowing and braking to a halt. The captain turned to Skillings and said, “That must be our ride back to Onslow Beach. Better get 'em up and moving, Sergeant Major.”
“Aye aye, sir!” Skillings said. Then turning to the Marines resting in the thicket, he bellowed, “Listen up, ladies! Contrary to Marine Corps policy, training has been cancelled in lieu of a war. SOCOM wants your sorry butts on Air Alert at New River by 1800 tonight. We're headed back to the barracks at Onslow Beach. When we get there you will grab your fly-away kits, put the tops on your mount-out boxes, draw ammo, load it all on the trucks, clean your weapons, shower, put on a clean set of ‘desert digitals,’ and be ready for inspection with all personal combat gear, desert side out, on the Company street at 1645, ready to roll. Any questions?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major,” said a young corporal. “Where are we going?”
“Well now, son, if they had wanted you to know that they would have told me and I would have told you,” Skillings said with a laconic grin. “But no matter where you go, remember that there is no greater friend and no worse enemy than a U.S. Marine. When you get to wherever you are going, just tell the first guy you meet to choose one or the other. Now, if there are no other questions, mount up! Get your gear and get your rear. Put 'em both in those ‘six-bys’ out on the road. Let's go!”
The Oval Office
_______________________________________
The White House, Washington, DC
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
2130 Hours Local
By nine-fifteen that evening they had their Commission on Threat Mitigation required by the “Top Secret” bill that the President had signed into law at noon. The essential elements of the bill had of course leaked to the press by 3:00 p.m. Media speculation began immediately as to who would serve on what they called the “Assassination Commission.”
Defense Secretary Dan Powers, the Vice President, National Security Advisor Jeb Stuart, Secretary of State Helen Luce, and the President had been calling potential Commission members since 1:00 p.m. They automatically eliminated anyone who called in to volunteer their services—and it had taken the personal intervention of the President in each case to convince the five who finally agreed to serve.
Chief Justice Anthony Scironi had reluctantly accepted the post of Chairman. At sixty-eight he was one of the youngest on the panel. The rest, as required by the law, were all former high-level officials of previous administrations: James Cook, now seventy, had been Secretary of State; Russell Bates, once the Director of Central Intelligence, was seventy-four; and seventy-six-year-old Gen. Conrad Vassar, once Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, was the oldest. The youngest member of the new Commission was former FBI director Gerald Donahue. They all agreed to serve a one-year term on the Commission for Threat Mitigation—with the
proviso that their names not be revealed during their lifetimes or that of their children.
The National Security Advisor arranged for Gulfstream jets from the 89th Special Air Squadron at Andrews—the same Air Force unit that flies and maintains Air Force One—to bring the four from around the country to meet privately with the President on Wednesday. In an effort to lighten the heavy atmosphere, the Vice President suggested that the meeting be held at an “undisclosed location” in hopes that the identities of the candidates could be protected. They agreed on Camp David.
As the two cabinet secretaries and the National Security Advisor were preparing to depart for home, the Vice President said, “I know it's been a long and tumultuous day, but we haven't given any thought to who is going to head up this ‘Special Unit’ called for in the legislation.”
“Yes, sir, I have,” said Dan Powers. “I believe it has to be a military man. Someone who is experienced, disciplined, has proven himself to be level-headed in combat, and knows how to follow orders.”
“Why not someone from the CIA, the clandestine service?” asked Jeb Stuart.
“Because anyone who really knows how to be a covert operative—from the days when the Agency had a clandestine service—would be as old as our Commission members or older,” Powers retorted. “We haven't had any real spies out there since the '60s or '70s—and most of them were ‘holdovers’ from World War II or Korea.”
The SecDef had been complaining about the poor quality of human intelligence collection at the CIA for years and as far as he was concerned, the Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act, signed by the President on 17 December 2004, and the creation of the DNI had made things worse instead of better. “The only real spy left at Langley is old Bill Goode—and he's the Deputy Director of Operations. He might make a good ‘advisor’ to this ‘Special Unit,’ but he's too old to run it.”