by Harold Coyle
Dixon moaned. "I was hoping to avoid getting into that tonight."
Yost shrugged. "You'll have to admit, sir, getting one of your own men killed and losing control of your unit in the middle of a battle does make Ellerbee look like a problem."
"David, I agree. But we don't know what happened. We have only the stories of two battalion commanders, both of whom are tired, in the middle of a combat zone, and neither of whom was there, making judgments. I refuse to make any changes or to relieve an officer without at least a cursory investigation." Dixon paused as he thought. "The situation down there has stabilized, so there is little likelihood that 3rd of the 3rd will be engaged in a serious fight for a while. Contact both commanders involved and inform them that I have no intention of changing the task organization or relieving anyone at this time. Ellerbee will stay exactly where he is, doing his job, until I can personally look into this matter with a clear head and with all the facts in hand. Clear?"
"Loud and clear, sir."
Taking a deep breath, Dixon looked around the command post one more time. "David, Colonel Vorishnov and I have been on the road most of the day. We're going to get some sleep. Unless something exciting happens, no one's to disturb me until at least oh five hundred."
Duncan stood and turned to Yost. "I'll inform the duty NCO, sir, and then take the colonels to their quarters."
Satisfied that all was in order and that his presence was not required, Dixon began to gather up his gear and put his parka on. "I hope, for the sergeant major's sake, we don't have to make a major trek to find my bed. I'm beat." Turning to Vorishnov, Dixon winked. "It's hell getting old, isn't it."
Vorishnov smiled. "I wouldn't know, Colonel Dixon."
Caught off guard by Vorishnov's subtle humor, Dixon shook his head. "God, it's time for me to leave." Turning and walking toward the exit, Dixon, followed by a smiling Vorishnov, mumbled, for the amusement of the staff still on duty, "I get no respect, no respect at all."
Shown into Congressman Lewis's office, Jan Fields-Dixon was greeted with a warm smile and a handshake. "It's been too long, Jan. That's why I asked the President to invade another country. Seems that's the only way to get you to come and see me."
Taken aback by Lewis's warm smile and relaxed manner, Jan returned his smile and took a seat. For a moment she just stared at him, almost as if she expected something to suddenly change. When he became conscious of her staring, Lewis blinked his eyes. "What? What did I do wrong?"
Caught off guard again and suddenly aware of her staring, Jan shook her head and laughed. "Oh, gee, Ed, I'm sorry. It's just that I expected something entirely different. Your mood, that is."
Lewis chuckled as he grabbed the arms of his chair and leaned back. "You and my wife, Amanda, must have been talking again. Every time she hears something on the news, she calls me to tell me to calm down."
"Well, Ed, I must admit that you do have a reputation for shouting first, loudest, and longest whenever the administration, as you are so fond of saying, oversteps the bounds of logic and sanity."
Again Lewis chuckled. "Well, of course. It is a reputation well earned and, if I may say so, to my benefit."
Jan cocked her head and looked at Lewis questioningly.
With a devilish grin that he used to disarm opponents and put friends at ease, Lewis let Jan ponder his statement for a moment before he spoke. "You see, Jan, it's all a trick. In the beginning it wasn't. When I first came to Hell on the Potomac, I truly did get myself worked up and upset every time the administration or my fellow congressmen did something I thought was dumb. Hell, for the first year I was in a constant state of righteous rage. Then, shortly after the Mexico affair, I saw the light."
"Ed, don't tell me you were born again."
Lewis laughed. "No, nothing as dramatic as that, although I imagine that would be good for a few votes back home in Tennessee. No, after thinking about how close we came in Mexico to the end, I remembered an Arab saying we used all the time in the Persian Gulf."
Jan pointed, holding back her excitement. "Don't tell me. Don't tell me. Let me think about it for a moment. Something about Allah and hands off, or something like that. Scott says it every time he wants to get out of doing something."
"Inshallah, it is God's will."
"That's it. What is it with you guys? Did they brainwash you over there and stencil that saying on the inside of your head?"
"No, nothing like that, I think. Anyway, as I was saying, after Mexico I thought a lot about what I was doing here in Washington, both as a representative for the people of Tennessee and for myself. To tell you the truth, Jan, I really didn't like what I was doing either."
The sudden reference to Scotty caused Jan to pause. He was there in the thick of it. Though the Army had not announced yet what units had been involved in the operation, in her heart Jan knew Scotty was there. Like the good worker who was rewarded by being given more work, Scott Dixon's superiors had a habit of throwing him into the breach whenever there was a nasty and difficult job to do. That his brigade was the one selected to provide the ground force was merely an accident of geography and the sector Scott's brigade had as part of the peacekeeping effort in Slovakia would never wash with Jan. While Scotty referred to his constant overuse as "No rest for the wicked," Jan always responded by claiming that the Army was good at beating dead horses. That she had used the analogy of the dead horse caused her a sudden pang of regret, one that Ed Lewis noticed. Seeing that the congressman was staring at her while she reflected on her accidental indiscretion, Jan forced herself to return to the matter at hand. With a forced smile, Jan picked up where she had left off. "So you were born again."
Looking up at the ceiling, Lewis thought about Jan's sudden change in mood and her statement before answering. He knew what was going on in her mind and for a moment thought about offering her some comfort or reassurance. But since she had chosen to press on with the interview, Lewis decided to follow along and not press the personal issues. There might be a time, after he knew more about the situation, when he might need to do so, but this was not it. "I guess in a way you could say that." When Lewis looked back at her, he did so with a serious, reflective look. "It was more of an awakening. I suddenly realized that I was in my mid-forties. That I had two children in college with one about to be commissioned in the Army. That I had a wife who loved me and cared for me that I had lived with but had not talked to, I mean really talked to, in years. I suddenly realized that I was becoming like everyone else in this town, a self-centered, government-inspected, grade-A cynic."
Jan was touched by the confidence that Lewis was showing by telling her this. Ordinarily, politicians didn't discuss their feelings in such an open and casual manner with a member of the media. But Ed Lewis and Jan Fields-Dixon had a relationship, a bond of friendship, that was important to both of them. After barely escaping with their lives from a brush with terrorists during the second Mexican Revolution, the two had developed a close friendship that neither let the business of news and politics interfere with. So as they spoke in the quiet privacy of Lewis's office before starting the interview, it was as friends. "Sounds like midlife crisis to me, Ed."
"Perhaps, Jan, that is what it was. All I know is that I realized that I was impaling myself on every crisis and every stupid issue, often to no effect, without thinking about what it was costing me or my family. So I told myself, 'Self, this is dumb!' That is when I remembered the old Arab saying and finally understood what it meant" Sitting up, leaning across the desk, Lewis looked at Jan, wide-eyed and smiling. "Now, before I jump into the fray, I ask myself, 'Can I make a difference now, or should I wait? And when I do, what can I do to help?' "
"With age, Ed, comes wisdom?"
He nodded. "Something like that. Now I don't think you came down here with a camera crew just to listen to an almost old man wax philosophical about the meaning of life. What do you want to discuss in the interview?"
Opening a notebook that she had on her lap, Jan went over
some of the questions she had intended to ask, in no particular order, explaining that she had no clear idea yet what she would emphasize. Therefore she intended to skip around with questions until they hit upon something that they could develop into a coherent and intelligent on-camera discussion. Lewis, in full agreement, listened to Jan's questions, making short comments as the mood struck him, or giving her a thumbs-down when she hit him with one that he really didn't want to answer. This continued for several minutes until Jan asked him about Germany. Like a bull tweaked by a cattle prod, Lewis jerked and sat upright Pointing his finger, his eyes narrowed. "There's going to be trouble with them. Mark my words, Jan. Big trouble."
Lewis's strong reaction to a subject that Jan was interested in exploring excited her. Lowering her notebook to her lap, Jan asked Lewis to explain.
"Well, in the first place, the administration has really screwed up how they've handled the Germans from the beginning. I get the impression that Soares and the rest of his crew at the State Department haven't woken up to the fact that the Germany we are dealing with today is not the same Germany we tried to play big brother to in the fifties. After fifty years of atoning for the sins of their fathers and living in the shadow of the Iron Curtain, the new Germans feel that it is time that they assumed their rightful place in the world as the leaders of Central Europe."
Lewis eased back a bit in his chair and toned down his comments, but kept on the subject of Germany. "Now I don't think we need to worry about anything as dramatic as the Fourth Reich or something like that. Still—"
"Then, Ed, you feel that the Germans will do more than they already have?"
"I don't see how they can't. They are a proud, sometimes downright arrogant people who pride themselves on their independence and culture. They defeated the Romans and survived the Thirty Years' War that left their entire country devastated and one third of their population dead. In modern history, Napoleon couldn't crush them, and they've come back from the brink of oblivion after suffering the worst military defeat in history in 1945. While we've been busy elsewhere dealing with other problems, the Germans have been pulling themselves together, working to overcome years of internal strife and the stigma of the Holocaust. They are ready, Jan, to leap back to the forefront of world politics, with a vengeance."
"What do you think they will do?"
Lewis shook his head. "God, I wish I knew. I doubt that they will allow us to violate the nuclear-free-Germany treaty with nothing more than a harsh public reprimand, which by the way is what Soares is trying to convince the President is exactly what the Germans will do. No, Jan, our friend the Rat has no idea what he is dealing with." Lewis paused, looking down at his desktop for a moment. In his mind's eye, he could see the image of Soares with his pinched ratlike face that had earned him his nickname. The man, Lewis thought, was worse than an idiot. He was an idiot in an important position, which made him, in Lewis's eyes, a dangerous idiot.
Looking up at Jan, Lewis continued. "To answer your question, I don't know for sure what the Germans will do. Unfortunately, no one here in Washington does either. The Germans are, as Elmer Fudd likes to say, 'being very, very quiet' " Lewis paused, thought for a moment, then continued. "Whatever it is, it will be both forceful and something that we cannot easily ignore."
For the first time, Jan became concerned, and her voice showed it. "Military action? Do you think the Germans will take some kind of military action?"
Again Lewis shrugged. "Maybe. But who knows. What I do know is that it is never a good sign when two nations who have their horns locked together over an issue stop talking to each other. Why Ruff has chosen now, of all times, to refuse to be reasonable, as he always has been in the past, is beyond me. This, coupled with Ruff's statements to his own press and his failure to respond to our State Department's communiqués, baffles me the most"
For a moment, both Lewis and Jan sat there in silence. Finally Lewis leaned forward and placed both hands, folded, on his desk as he flashed the best smile he could manage. "Now, I don't mean to rush you, but I do have one more appointment this evening, and Amanda is expecting me home by seven for dinner."
Jan looked at her watch. "Yeah, time is sort of slipping away. I'd like to get this on the air by tonight. Okay, Ed, get yourself ready, and I'll get the crew in here to shoot"
Like all members of the German Army's 1st Parachute Division, the young soldiers of Number 2 Company, 26th Parachute Brigade considered themselves the best of the best. This, of course, was due to the efforts of their officers and sergeants, all professionals who were forever vigilant, watching, checking, and ready to correct even the slightest infraction of the regulations or slackness. They took their duties seriously. Which was probably why on the night of this operation the soldiers of Number 2 Company were so involved in their company commander's final inspection that no one noticed their brigade commander, Colonel Johann Haas, for several minutes.
As was his way, Haas had come forward alone to watch the final preparations and see his men across the line of departure when it was time. Known as the phantom, Haas made it a practice to move about in the night during exercises in the field checking on his men and ensuring that all was in order. On this night, the first time that his unit would be called on to execute the tasks it had trained long and hard for, Haas was everywhere.
When one of the sergeants noticed Haas, he passed the word to his company commander. When the word reached the young commander, he paused, men continued to complete the inspection of the weapon he held. Finished, he returned the weapon to its owner and left to present himself to Haas.
In the moonlight that filtered through the pine trees and fell on Haas and the company commander, it was difficult to tell the difference between the two men. Except for the fact that the company commander wore his helmet while Haas, despite the cold, wore his maroon beret, the two men were dressed and armed identically. Even the close-cropped hair and stern no-nonsense expression that masked both men's faces as they spoke looked alike. This was due in a large part to the habit young commanders had of emulating their senior commanders. Commanders throughout history have always provided the role model for their subordinates. Those subordinates were expected to watch and learn so that one day they could assume positions of greater authority when their commander either moved on to other assignments during peacetime or, in time of war, became a casualty. The commander, as part of his duty, was held responsible for providing the best possible example in everything he did, in thought, word, and deed. This, however, was more difficult than one would imagine, as Haas was finding out that night He especially had difficulty controlling his thoughts.
The shock of seeing the Chancellor's own military aide, Colonel Hans Rasper, at the headquarters of the 26th Parachute Brigade bearing sealed orders for Haas could not match his shock when he saw what those orders were. For the longest time, as Kasper spoke, Haas could not help but wonder if this was not some kind of test, a hypothetical drill to test his loyalty or the readiness of his unit to respond to unplanned emergencies. Even after he convinced himself that Kasper was serious, that this was real, Haas still had difficulty accepting it. Still, he did not allow those doubts to interfere with the performance of his duties. The orders all appeared to be authentic. The verification, which Kasper offered, checked out. All was in order. So Haas hid his personal fears and doubts behind his commander's mask and prepared his unit to execute their assigned duties as ordered.
In those few moments before midnight, with less than two minutes to go before those orders became a reality, Haas still was unable to quiet the apprehensions he felt. Though attired alike, the thoughts that ran through the minds of the two commanders facing each other were worlds apart. The company commander's mind was cluttered with all the very real and necessary practical matters that need to be considered when hurling over one hundred men into combat. Enemy dispositions and weapons, tactics and maneuvers necessary to overcome or neutralize them, the effectiveness and readiness of his own weapon
s, coordination for support of his unit by other elements involved in the assault, as well as numerous other considerations were of paramount concern to the company commander.
Haas, however, saw beyond the immediate operation. As a graduate of the famous Kriegsakademie and an officer impatiently awaiting his reassignment to General Staff duty, Haas could not easily push aside the possible worldwide political effects of what his unit was about to do. The other European powers, especially the French and Poles, would react. And the Americans, with forces actually deployed throughout Germany, would not simply roll over and accept the German action, no matter how just or reasonable their demands. The Americans, he knew, viewed international law as an instrument to be applied when it served them, and ignored when it didn't.
Then there was his friendship with the Americans themselves. Even as he stood there listening to his company commander review his preparations to assault an American installation, Haas wore the American airborne wings he had been awarded after three grueling weeks of training in the hot Georgia sun. Many of his fondest memories as a soldier were of when he served side by side with the people he had now been ordered to attack, an attack he still felt was wrong.
But what was he to do? That, in the end, was the great dilemma that tore at his mind. According to the Bundeswehr's own interpretation of an officer's duty, Haas was obligated to conduct himself in accordance with his conscience. If given an order that he felt was morally wrong, it was not only his right but his duty to refuse to obey it. When the Bundeswehr was formed in 1955, the old Prussian tradition of moral choice when deciding right from wrong became a critical piece of an officer's selection and training. Throughout his military education, the July 20th plotters who had attempted to assassinate Hitler were used as examples of officers who refused to go against their conscience. As he stood mere half listening to his subordinate, the words of one instructor kept ringing in Haas's ears, almost as if they had just been spoken. "While loyalty to your nation is, and should always be, uppermost in your mind, you must never forget that morality and conscience must be your final guide, the decisive element when deciding right from wrong."