THE TEN THOUSAND

by Harold Coyle

  After considering his response for several seconds, Lewis began to speak slowly, carefully choosing his words. "This is, I am sure, a matter that concerns more than the United States. You realize that the other nuclear powers in Western Europe, the French and British, not to mention the Russians to the east, are very concerned about a new nuclear power in Europe." Lewis was about to add "especially a nuclear arsenal controlled by Germany," but decided not to.

  Ruff chuckled, having anticipated Lewis's comments and understanding that the concern was for a nuclear Germany. "The French, with over one fifth of their population clustered around Paris, not to mention all their vital government and business centers, would not risk any rash and precipitous action against us. Even the detonation of two or three devices in the Paris metropolitan area would make the devastation and deaths of both world wars seem trivial in comparison. And the British, with their traditions of de facto recognition of reality and their own problems in controlling the Irish and Scottish minorities within their own island empire, will accept our new position with hardly more than an official protest."

  Determined to show that he was not intimidated and that he, as well as the United States, could not be easily bluffed, Lewis leaned over and tried to take up the attack. "Look, Herr Chancellor, you know as well as I do that those weapons as they sit right now are of no value to you. You didn't even secure the codes necessary to activate the devices. According to our experts, it would take a great deal of effort, not to mention a small amount of luck, to make use of the weapons you have. I do not see what advantage your government hopes to achieve with such a hollow threat."

  If it had been Lewis's intent to upset Ruff's well-orchestrated lecture, then the smile that lit Ruff's face showed that it had not had the desired effect. Shaking his head, Ruff continued to smile. "You think, Herr Congressman, that we are fools. You have been treating us like naughty children for so long that you assume that we cannot think or act on our own behalf. Well, let me assure you that we are not children. And the game that we are now playing out here and out there is no child's game. So that you understand, in terms that even your President can comprehend, we are not only capable of retaining those weapons and using them, but we are more than willing to do so."

  The look on Lewis's face betrayed his shocked disbelief. Ruff, seeing that his words had struck at Lewis's heart like a dagger, gave that dagger a twist. "You see, Herr Congressman, the Ukrainian government has provided us with the necessary codes and information for activating the weapons. As we speak, technical advisors from the Ukrainian Army, an army which you attacked and embarrassed, are working with the Bundeswehr and Luftwaffe to retrofit those devices to suitable delivery platforms. We are, you see, quite prepared and ready to deal with the United States or any nation from a position of strength. The German Revolution of 1989 has reached its logical conclusion. We are, and by every right, a world power. And neither you, your President, nor your tiny Army freezing in the Czech Republic and Slovakia, can change that, without paying a price that is, by any measure, too much."

  When Chancellor Ruff was finished, Congressman Ed Lewis walked out of the Chancellor's office as if in a daze. He didn't even acknowledge Jan Fields-Dixon's presence as she hurried to join him. Only after he had thrown himself into the back seat of their Mercedes limousine and had allowed himself to sink, physically and figuratively, into the seat did his blank, pale expression change. Even then, his new expression was one that betrayed Lewis's sense of despair and hopelessness to Jan. Knowing that in due time Lewis would tell her everything that he was authorized to tell her, and probably more, she left him alone. Whatever had been said in the private meeting between Lewis and Chancellor Ruff had crushed Lewis's hope of a quick and amiable settlement. Reining in her correspondent's curiosity, Jan simply sat, like Lewis, watching the sights of Berlin rush by them as the limousine took them to the American embassy before their return home. She had, after all, been invited along on this trip by Lewis to serve as another set of eyes and ears to help him observe the mood of the German people as well as their elected officials. Though it was not normal for a politician of Lewis's status to entrust such a task to a member of the media, the special bond of friendship and trust that existed between Lewis and Jan, as well as her ability to see things that others missed, made Jan Fields-Dixon an invaluable asset.

  Finally, after traveling awhile in silence, Lewis turned to Jan and exclaimed in a low, almost plaintive voice, "We're going to have to fight these people. I can't see any other way out." Looking out the window at the streets filled with scores of Berliners going about their daily tasks, Lewis repeated his statement, almost to himself. "We're going to have to fight these people." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Again."

  Both Lewis's demeanor and his pained comments shocked Jan like nothing had in a long time. Mistakenly referred to as a pacifist, Lewis had spent his entire political career, ever since resigning his commission in the Tennessee National Guard, fighting anyone who dared advocate the use of military force as a substitute to bankrupt foreign policy or as a solution to an international crisis. The American military was created and maintained, he was fond of saying, to safeguard American security, not to export and impose American principles or to make the world safe for corporate America. The United States, he told his opponents, had no right to impose its views or order on anyone, for whatever reason. Lewis's comment, therefore, was one that Jan was ill prepared for.

  The quiet business-as-usual attitude of the Berliners along their route was absent as the limousine carrying Lewis and Jan pulled up to the entrance of the embassy. Double lines of police, stern-faced and in riot gear, stood posted at both ends of the street and in a semicircle around the embassy's main entrance. Though the throngs of people that faced the police were quiet, content at that moment to merely hold their signs and shuffle about in the slush in an effort to stay warm, Jan could see that both sides stood braced, ready for action. Even inside the embassy compound, the Marine detachment, in battle gear and armed alternately with rifles and shotguns, stood ready to deal with all comers.

  If Lewis noticed any of this, he showed no concern. When the limousine stopped in front of the foyer, Lewis headed into the building, hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat and head bowed. Even when he was inside, he ignored the embassy staff as he headed down the corridors and up the stairs, followed by Jan, to the office he had been using over the past two days. Once there, he went to a chair overlooking the main embassy courtyard, where he sat staring vacantly out the window, without bothering to remove his coat. Seeing that he was, to say the least, uncommunicative, Jan left him to go in search of coffee and something to eat. Food and drink, she thought, might help him overcome his gloom. And if it did nothing for him, at least Jan's search for it gave her something to do with her nervous energy.

  When she returned with a serving tray filled with breakfast pastries, coffeepot, and cups and saucers, Lewis finally began to stir. Whether it was the clanking noise of the cups and plates on the tray that Jan intentionally made or the smell of the fresh-perked coffee that brought Lewis about didn't matter. As she poured a cup for both of them, Lewis stood up, slipped his overcoat off, jammed his hands into his pants pockets, and walked over to Jan. Accepting a cup fixed just the way he liked it from Jan, Lewis watched her as he waited until she had prepared her own cup and stood facing him. Finally ready to speak, he looked Jan in the eye, took a sip of coffee, and smiled. It was, to Jan, a tired, unhappy little smile.

  "You know, Jan, I'm constantly amazed by the way you and Amanda go about through this world each in your own way, but very much the same."

  Struck by this strange comment, Jan wondered if she had missed something. But she knew she hadn't, so she said nothing, allowing Lewis to ramble on between sips of coffee.

  Lewis chuckled. "I can see by your expression you're wondering what in the hell I'm talking about. Well, to tell you the truth, Jan, I'm not sure, at least not right now. You see, both you a
nd Amanda are willing to accept people and things for what they are. Both of you, each in your own way, work with what you have, trying to keep things together and in harmony. Me, I guess I'm no better than every other guy who set out with what he thought were the ideals and principles that were the only true way to everlasting peace and happiness for the whole world, ready to cram them down the throat of everyone that disagreed with him." Lewis paused as he set his cup down and poured himself more coffee. "Well, Jan, it's hard for a man like me to suddenly realize that he doesn't have all the solutions, all the answers. I feel... I feel like Superman must have felt like the first time he was exposed to kryptonite."

  For the first time since leaving the Chancellor's office, Jan spoke. "I take it, Ed, that the Germans are not ready to negotiate?"

  His tone and demeanor betrayed the incredulousness he felt. "Negotiate? That, Jan, is the wrong word. I think the Germans call it Diktat. No, Jan, there doesn't seem to be a man in this city, from Ruff all the way down the line to Interior Minister Fellner, the one who was supposed to be reasonable, interested in negotiating. Instead, all of them, to a man, have a list of grievances and conditions that they insist must be worked out before serious discussions between our two governments can start."

  Caught up now in Lewis's discourse, Jan asked what exactly those conditions were.

  Raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of coffee, Lewis slowly replaced the cup onto the saucer and stared at it for a moment before answering. "Oh, though there are a whole bunch of little bones of contention that vary in importance depending on who you talk to, everything comes down to two really big items that all the Germans seem to agree on."

  "And they are?"

  Lewis, his eyes betraying no emotion, looked at Jan as he spoke. "First, all U.S. military forces must, and I emphasize the word they used, must withdraw from German territory by this July."

  "But we can't simply up and leave in less than six months. They can't be serious. Are they?"

  "Quite, Jan. They have been watching the American political landscape and they realize that few Americans would object to our pulling our troops home as part of an effort to reduce our annual military budget. After all, we have been after the Europeans for years to assume a more active role in their own defense. Here on a silver platter they give us the very thing that many of our fellow countrymen have been demanding."

  He was, Jan realized, right. Chancellor Ruff knew that the Wilson administration would have a hard time justifying the continued retention of American forces in a Europe free from the specter of worldwide Soviet domination. "And the other demand, Ed?"

  With a sigh, Lewis looked down at the floor, then back into Jan's eyes. "There, I'm afraid, they have us again. You see, Chancellor Ruff believes that Germany, in order to maintain its position in the European community as one of the leading states, must be able to stand side by side with the other states as an equal in fact as well as in word."

  "How can we, the United States, help them achieve that? Most of the European community already acknowledge Germany's role in the new Europe."

  "Jan, Ruff wants more than a verbal acknowledgment. He wants the horsepower to back it up. He believes that Germany, in order to be taken seriously, must be allowed to join the most exclusive club that all nations who want a say in shaping this world must belong to. In short, Jan, Germany, or I should say Chancellor Ruff, wants nothing less than for the United States of America to accept her as a nuclear power, free to retain the weapons she already has and develop her own as she sees fit."

  Though she knew that she should have seen it coming, Lewis's articulation of that demand startled Jan. Dark, sinister images flashed through her mind as she stood there in silence trying to grasp the significance of what Lewis had said. Finally able to speak, she looked up at him. "But we can't do that. I mean, we can't agree to any of that."

  Lewis slowly set the cup and saucer he was holding down on the tray, then thrust his hands into his pants pockets. "I know, Jan, I know."

  Both Jan and Lewis were standing there looking down at the floor in silence when a member of the embassy staff knocked and entered the room. She paused, however, when she saw both Jan and Lewis standing motionless around the small table in the center of the room. "Oh, excuse me. I am sorry for interrupting."

  Shaken out of his grim thoughts, Lewis looked up at the staffer. "Oh, no, you weren't interrupting. What can I do for you?"

  "The ambassador was wondering when you would be returning to Washington. You had mentioned last night that you wanted to depart this afternoon after one more round of discussions with Chancellor Ruff. Is that still correct?"

  Lewis thought about that for a moment before answering. "No, there has been a change. Please ask the ambassador if he would be so kind as to make the necessary arrangements for me to go to Prague to meet with the commander of the Tenth Corps."

  While the embassy staffer acknowledged Lewis's request, Jan looked up at Lewis with a quizzical look on her face, but said nothing until the staffer was gone. "What are we going to Prague for?"

  Lewis shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know right now. But we have a few hours to figure that out. Now if you would excuse me, Jan, I need to call the President, pay the ambassador my respects, and pack."

  After crossing over to the north bank of the Uh River, Nancy Kozak ordered her driver to move off the road. Taking up a position from which she could see the northern approach of the bridge she had just crossed, Kozak settled down to wait for the last of her company to cross the river before they continued their withdrawal into Slovakia. She, like the rest of her company, would be glad to see Slovakia again, where they would be able to rest and relax. Their mission as the flank guard for the 1st Brigade's southern flank had been, except for the initial six hours, tedious on one hand while at the same time, due to their exposed position on the brigade's flank, nerve-racking. Once the Ukrainian armored brigade's effort to force a crossing against Kozak's company had been rebuffed and the Air Force had worked it over during the day, the remnants had been content to slip away to the southeast and establish blocking positions north of Uzlovaya. They still, however, were a threat that could not be ignored.

  Nor could Kozak and her tiny command ignore their unusual position as accidental liberators. Without realizing it, Kozak's company, as well as the rest of the brigade, had found itself smack in the middle of the Ruthenian struggle for independence from the Ukraine. Never having heard of Ruthenia, Nancy Kozak, through broken translations provided by the farmer whose home the engineer platoon had occupied, learned that Ruthenians, who held that they were ethnically different from the Ukrainians, made up the bulk of the population around Uzhgorod, the historical capital of Ruthenia. Unhappy with the Ukrainian government's decision to prevent closer ties with their ethnic brethren in Slovakian Ruthenia, the Ukrainian Ruthenians had been agitating for independence. The sudden appearance of American forces fighting the Ukrainians naturally was viewed as an answer to their prayers. That neither Kozak nor any of her soldiers knew of the problem didn't seem to matter to the happy Ruthenians. As the farmer explained, frontline soldiers, regardless of which flag they serve under, are seldom told the real reasons behind their orders. Unprepared for this sudden attention and civil-military problem, Kozak had no idea what to do. After trying to explain that they were not there on behalf of the Ruthenians, she gave up, letting the farmer and all his relatives, and other fanners and villagers from the area who came to visit their "liberators," believe what they wanted. Besides, the Ruthenians, despite their obvious difficulties in making ends meet, were always ready to give Kozak's soldiers fresh bread, sweets, and warm home-cooked meals. Though she felt bad knowing that they were accepting the gifts from the Ruthenians under false pretenses, Kozak saw no way of stopping it. So she let it go and tended to the military matters for which she was trained.

  Not that there was after the seventh of January a great deal to do professionally. After being repulsed in their predawn assault, the Ukrainian
armored brigade, stalled on the south bank of the river, was worked over by the aging but venerable A-10 Warthogs. Coming in low and slow, the A-10s nailed anything that even looked like it was of military value. When the Ruthenian farmer later told Kozak that a number of refugee columns flowing out of Chop had been shot up by accident, Kozak questioned the air liaison officer who had joined her company about it. He shrugged off the concern by flatly stating that there was always the possibility of collateral damage when operating in densely populated areas. When asked by Kozak exactly what he meant by collateral damage, the Air Force captain looked at her as if he didn't believe she had to ask, and then answered in his casual, matter-of-fact manner, "Oh, it's damage to civilian structures or personnel, usually civilians that are in the vicinity of the target but aren't part of the strike's objective." Seeing an expression of disapproval creep across her face, the Air Force captain continued. "You know, when an A-10 comes rolling in at treetop level at over four hundred miles an hour, the pilot doesn't have a whole lot of time to separate the wheat from the chaff. When enemy tanks and refugees are sharing the road, collateral damage is unavoidable." Though she didn't know exactly how to feel about this, Kozak was glad to find out that the Ukrainians had given up their efforts to stay in close proximity and had pulled back from the river in an effort to escape the pounding from the air. There was a price that needed to be paid by someone, she realized, for everything.