Trial by fire: a novel

by Harold Coyle

  Three key considerations would dictate the amount of territory seized by the Americans and its location. The first was the size of force available to the Americans to seize it and hold it. Initially, this task would fall to the regular Army, consisting of twelve divisions, and the Marine Corps with two. Of these, only seven Army and one Marine division could be deployed, since two Army divisions were still in Europe, one was in Korea, and the sole American airborne and air-assault divisions could not be committed by the United States without emasculating its ability to respond to unexpected contingencies outside of Europe, Korea, or Mexico.

  The use of reserve and National Guard units, Guajardo pointed out, would be limited by law as well as readiness.

  Once committed, the American ability to keep its forces in Mexico would limit their effort. Supply lines, called lines of communications or LOCs for short, from the United States, through occupied territories, to the most advanced American unit, would have to be established and kept open. In 1848, Winfield Scott had gambled when he intentionally severed his lines of communications with the sea at Veracruz and marched overland into Mexico City in order to end the war. Unlike that of his modern counterparts, his army consisted only of men, mules, and horses, allowing him to live off the land as he went. That option, given the size and sophistication of the modern American Army, was out of the question. A single M-1A1 tank could consume over 500 gallons of diesel fuel in a day. In comparison, the case of rations consumed by its crew was negligible.

  A division, with over 300 such vehicles, would require 150,000

  gallons a day for its tanks alone. Added to the fuel needed to run the tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled howitzers, helicopters, and supply vehicles were specialized lubricants, spare parts, medical supplies, engineer material, ammunition, water, food, mail, and a host of other items that a modern American army found indispensable. In the end, the needs of the American Army would place a requirement for moving anywhere from 100 to 200 pounds of supplies per soldier in Mexico each and every day he was there.

  The final limiting factor, one few outside the military profession ever considered, was the difficulty the Americans would encounter in controlling, feeding, and administering any local inhabitants that remained in the territory occupied by American forces. Once a territory was occupied, it fell to the occupying force to administer, feed, and care for the people in that territory. Modern conventions and law, as well as moral and ethical codes, demanded that. As all civil-military units in the United States were reserve units, and they were few, the number of populated areas that could be effectively governed and administered by those units, not to mention supplied, was limited. Matamoros alone had close to 400,000

  inhabitants, and Monterrey nearly four million. These populations would need to be supported by the conquering Americans.

  Given an analysis of American capabilities, and assuming that American goals would be limited to the establishment of a security zone, Guajardo estimated that the American limit of advance into Mexico would be north of a line defined by Tampico, Ciudad Victoria, Monterrey, Chihuahua, Hermosillo, and Kimo Bay. Whether or not the cities mentioned would be included in the security zone depended on the American ability to support the population of those cities versus the value of controlling the road and rail networks that converged in them. Though the occupation of Veracruz could not be ruled out, such an action would be inconsistent with the announced limited objectives.

  It was at this point that Barreda took the lead again. Mexico, he pointed out, should allow the United States to define the parameters of the conflict.

  Once the Americans announced their goals, they would be hard pressed to change them unless the Council of 13 did something to justify an escalation or change in goals. The occupation of Veracruz, located on the eastern coast of Mexico well south of the Rio Bravo, would be inconsistent with the stated goal of establishing a security zone to protect the American border. Such inconsistencies, Barreda pointed out, if they occurred, would be useful in driving a wedge between the American president and his supporters. If the council could fuel the political and moral debate that already existed within the United States, support for the war would erode faster and demands for a negotiated settlement would only be a matter of time.

  On the international level, not only would the UN and the Organization of American States be used to apply pressure, but the establishment of a coalition of Central American countries would add to the pressure on the United States. Already, a combined military command, under Mexican control, including forces from Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Honduras, Panama, Colombia, and Venezuela, had been formed. Though the contribution of some of the countries was insignificant, the there formation of such a coalition, Barreda pointed out, could not be ignored by either the United States or the world community. Mexico, by using the rallying cry of oppression by a superpower, would be able to bring pressure to bear from those nations who wished to embarrass the United States or repay real or perceived past transgressions.

  A benefit of this whole process, Barreda emphasized, was that the Council of 13 would, out of necessity, receive recognition as the legal government of Mexico, almost by default. Barreda ended his section by stating, "By casting ourselves in the role of the oppressed, and ensuring our military operations are conducted in accordance with all international accords and protocols governing warfare, the same international system that the United States has so successfully manipulated in the past to achieve her national goals will give us our ultimate victory."

  Childress paused when he read this, noting that the section, "ensuring our military operations are conducted in accordance with all international accords and protocols governing warfare" was underlined, twice. Without any need for explanation, he knew what Alaman had in mind. Sliding the document back into a plain manila envelope, Childress looked up at Delapos. "How sure are you that this is real?"

  Taking a sip of coffee, Delapos glanced about the room before answering Childress. "As I said, the Council of 13 is no longer of one mind. There are those who feel the manipulation of internal American politics is a game that is far too dangerous to become involved in. It is, as one of the members of the council said, like twisting the tail of the bull.

  These same men are also ashamed of what they call a strategy of cowards.

  Rather than surrender Mexican-territory, they demand that every effort be made to defend every inch or perish in the effort. Yes, my friend, this document is real."

  Although Childress had, by now, pretty well figured out what Alaman was now demanding of Delapos, Childress wanted Delapos to tell him.

  Perhaps, Childress hoped, the actual plan was not as outrageous, or as gruesome, as what he was then picturing in his mind. Eager to tell Childress, Delapos explained how he and Alaman saw things happening. "The Americans will, or I mean, have invaded, moving south to secure a line similar to the one defined by Guajardo. The Mexican Army will offer only token resistance to that advance, just enough to appease Mexican ma chismo

  and provide the people with new heroes and martyrs that could be used to rally the nation behind the Council of 13. Once the Americans reach the limit of their advance, a stalemate will settle in, during which the Americans will try to clean out any groups of bandits or criminals within the security zone it occupies, while the Council of 13 applies diplomatic pres sure,

  as well as manipulating antiwar sentiment within the United States, in an effort to force the Americans out. Eventually, Senior Alaman sees negotiations that will end with the United States claiming its goals have been met and withdrawing. The Council of 13, for their part, will be able to claim victory, pointing out that they had prevented the total defeat and occupation of Mexico. In the end, a status quo ante bellum will be rees tablished and relations between the two nations will resume, with the Council of 13 formally recognized, by both the people of Mexico and the world, as the sole and legal government of Mexico.''

  Pausing, Delapos looked
at Childress for a reaction. When he saw that he would not get one from the poker-faced American, he continued. "To prevent this from happening, Senior Alaman intends to move our teams south again, once the American forces reach the limit of their advance.

  Operating from base camps behind Mexican lines, we will conduct raids against isolated outposts and along the extended supply lines that the Americans will have to use. Though we expect the Mexican Army to do the same, those conducted by our forces will be brutal, committing the most vicious and heinous atrocities possible. By doing this, we will cause the Americans to overreact and either retaliate in kind or, even better, modify their limited war aims to include the overthrow of the Council of 13."

  Childress, for his part, remained calm. Delapos, however, was animated by his own dialogue. His face lit by glowing eyes and a smile, he continued, talking faster and faster and waving his right hand as he proceeded. "That such sentiment can be mustered in the United States is possible. Many Americans, after the war in the Persian Gulf, felt that it was a mistake to leave Saddam Hussein in power. The atrocities committed against the Kurdish rebels in the north and Iraqi refugees in the south by a man left in power were a stain that marred an otherwise brilliant feat of American arms. If we can make the Council of 13 appear to be as evil as that Iraqi dictator, the Americans may demand that steps be taken to prevent a repeat of their failure in the Persian Gulf, especially since the victims, this time, would be Americans."

  Finished, Delapos again waited for Childress to respond. In Delapos's eyes, Childress could see both excitement and joy. After having listened in silence, struggling to avoid any emotional response, Childress finally had to say something. Several thoughts ran through his mind. First and foremost was the realization that he was, despite years of self-denial, still an American. The idea of being a man without a country, which had been appealing to him in his youth, was wearing thin as he began to look for a life that held more than just danger, excitement, and adventure. At thirty-five, Childress wanted to make peace, with himself and with a country he had so long ignored.

  Hand in hand with this realization was the impression that, just as he was too much an American, Delapos was too much a Mexican. The same forces of heritage, birth, and experience that made Childress undeniably American made it impossible for Delapos to be anything but a Mexican.

  In his enthusiasm to follow Alaman, a man Delapos had begun referring to as a great Mexican patriot, Delapos was ignoring the stupidity of using mercenaries in an area contested by two standing armies. Cold hard logic told Childress that, regardless of how vast the area of operation and how dispersed the opposing forces were, of how good and secretive the mercenaries were, and of how inept the Mexican Army was, the mercenaries would eventually run out of luck--or, worse, their usefulness to Alaman would end. How easy, Childress knew, it would be for Alamdn to arrange for information regarding the location of his mercenary base camps to fall into the hands of the American CIA or Mexican intelligence. Once this was done, every asset from high-performance bombers to special operations forces would be used to eradicate the mercenary teams, relieving Alaman of the necessity of paying them.

  Despite the reservations he harbored, however, Childress found himself seriously considering going along. Such a risky venture, he knew, would require that Alaman pay top dollar to his mercenaries. It would take little effort to convince him, through Delapos, that all payment had to be in advance. Childress, therefore, saw an opportunity for one last hurrah, one more job that would, if he survived it, let him leave his chosen profession and retire to.his beloved Green Mountains. Though the idea of building his future on the bodies of his fellow countrymen was never far from his mind, Childress was able to keep those thoughts in check. He was, he told himself, just like the American politicians in Washington, D.C., who were enhancing their political careers by sending Americans to fight another war that was, by any measure, wrong, immoral, and unwinnable.

  35 KILOMETERS SOUTH OF NUEVO LAREDO, MEXICO

  1310 hours, 9 September

  t

  With the passing of the scout helicopters, quiet returned to the arroyo.

  That they had once again escaped detection by the Americans both surprised and worried Guajardo. For he knew that, as good as the sensors and optics of the American recon aircraft were, the camouflage and positions of his men were bad. Not that the men, or their leaders, were slack or undisciplined. On the contrary. The morale and spirits of both leaders and led were high, almost euphoric. Though much of the euphoria was nothing more than a thin veil to hide their nervousness, Guajardo could tell there was a true desire to do well in the soldiers he had selected to fight the rearguard actions. No, Guajardo knew, it wasn't really their fault that things were not perfect. It was just that they were not as well trained as they should have been, and lacked the experience that served to both motivate and focus one's efforts in combat.

  To some extent, he blamed himself, for the mechanized cavalry platoon waiting in ambush was from the military zone he had been responsible for before the June 29 revolution. During his tenure as their senior commander, part of his responsibility had been to train and prepare them for this day. That he felt uneasy now, when his soldiers were about to engage in their first battle, was natural. That he also saw only the negatives, and imagined the worst possible outcome, was also natural. His admonishments to subordinates during peacetime training exercises, telling them that perfection in war was an illusion, did not, at that moment, help relieve the anxiety he felt, for he knew that errors cost men their lives and lost battles.

  Yet, despite his reservations, there was nothing, in reality, that he could do. Technically, by all measures, Guajardo had done everything expected of a senior commander. He had formulated his strategy, had it approved by the council, issued the necessary orders to implement it, and done everything that was prudent and within his power to ensure that his subordinates carried it out. Now, all he had to do was have the courage of his convictions and see those plans through. The most difficult part of command, Guajardo was beginning to realize, was letting go, trusting in subordinate commanders and allowing them the freedom to do their jobs.

  Still, there had to be something he could do, some way that he could influence the battle. This very question had, in the past, often nagged Guajardo. Over the years, he had studied how various commanders, both Mexican and foreign, had sought to exercise command and control, to influence their subordinates by thought, word, and deed. At an early age, Guajardo had rejected the manners and techniques used by his fellow Mexican officers. They were, he felt, too self-serving. While some of the battlefield exploits of his ancestors provided stirring accounts and inspiration, they offered little in the way of practical war-winning advice.

  While the story of the young cadet who plunged to his death wrapped in the flag of Mexico at the Battle of Chapultepec on September 13, 1847, made a great and inspiring legend, it scarcely provided a commander with a solution to command and control problems on the modern battlefield.

  At first, Guajardo thought American leadership techniques could provide an answer. Quickly, however, he found that American commanders depended far too much on sophisticated equipment, equipment that Guajardo knew the Mexican Army would never have. In addition, and to his surprise, he found that the practices of many American officers, too, were quite self-serving. In their own way, the "professional" military officers in the United States made just as many decisions based on domestic and international political considerations as did officers in Mexico, although no one would ever admit to such a thing. Finally, the American character, both national and individual, greatly influenced their system. American professional journals and doctrine preached a policy of centralized planning and decentralized execution, in which the subordinates supposedly had great latitude in deciding how to perform assigned tasks. In practice, however, sophisticated communications systems provided very senior commanders, commanders who were conscious of the fact that their careers depe
nded upon the success or failure of their subordinates or who were lacking confidence in those subordinates, the ability to actively intervene in operations in which they had no business. Rather than having freedom to fight their own battles as they saw fit, American commanders, Guajardo found, were hamstrung by demands to submit frequent and detailed reports and were often victimized by recommendations and advice from commanders too far removed from the reality of battle.

  Rejecting the American way of war, Guajardo briefly considered the Soviet technique. In many ways, it was attractive. Its reliance on standardized battle drills and clear, concise doctrine took much of the guesswork out of the decisions of junior commanders. But this, too, was rejected by Guajardo as being too inflexible. The conformity demanded by Soviet techniques was unsuited to the Mexican temperament. It was too mechanical, too cold, too precise. His men, he knew, were men of flesh and blood, men of passions. Such men, Guajardo knew, could never be made into the machines the Soviet techniques required. While one could not build a system using only the example of the Ninos Perdidos of Chapultepec, the occasional display, of passion, courage, and sacrifice, which Mexicans abounded in, and which the Soviet system discounted, was needed to stir a fighting man's blood.

  It was only after many years that Guajardo had realized that he would never find, in a foreign army, an ideal technique that could be grafted onto his army. Instead, he opted for a mix, a hybrid system combining the strengths of his army with suitable techniques and practices from other armies. Of all the armies he studied, the system he followed most closely was the German. Though it was the system that the Americans pretended to follow, Guajardo knew they had lost focus when they diluted it with particular American practices and idiosyncrasies. Guajardo, on the other hand, chose only two features of the German system that he knew he could implement and influence. The first was a small, well-trained staff that created plans, coordinated them, and then provided necessary synchronization when the plans were implemented. The second feature, which Guajardo himself endorsed, was leadership from the front. It was only from the front, Guajardo knew, that officers could see and understand what was happening. A man sitting in a safe, comfortable bunker, miles from danger, could not possibly feel or understand a battle in progress. Only a leader standing shoulder to shoulder with his men could gauge what was possible and what wasn't. Besides, Mexican character responded to such leadership. It, in fact, demanded it. So Guajardo found little difficulty in justifying why he, the senior military commander in Mexico, was standing in a hastily dug position on the forward edge of the battlefield. After all, how could he demand that his subordinates lead from the front if he himself didn't. And it was only by using such excuses that he was able to escape the chaos of the capital and go where he could be with men he understood and do what he was trained to do.