by Harold Coyle
Dixon rolled his eyes. "Oh, what a wicked web we weave. You know, this is sounding more and more like Peyton Place goes to the UN instead of an international crisis." Then looking at Big Al and Lewis in turn, Dixon said, "I take it someone here has a brilliant idea that will magically resolve this whole goat screw."
"Well, Scotty," Big Al declared, "I'm glad you asked. Do you recall the story of Xenophon?"
Both Dixon and Lewis looked over to Big Al. He had the hint of a smile on a face that betrayed no real concern. He's got something in mind, Dixon thought, and he's been setting us up for it. Realizing that Big Al wanted him to act as a lead-in to his plan, Dixon responded. "Yes, of course. The March of the Ten Thousand. Around 400 b.c. a force of ten thousand Greek mercenaries in the service of the King of Persia was betrayed and left high and dry in the center of what is today Iraq. Rather than surrender their arms, as the Persian King demanded in return for their lives, the Greeks closed ranks and marched back to Greece, through Kurdistan, I believe, taking on all comers."
Big Al's smile broadened. "Your memory is good, Scotty, almost as good as Congressman Lewis's."
Allowing the compliment to pass over him, Dixon continued to play his role by articulating what he thought Big Al was hinting at. "Let me see if I'm following. What you're proposing, General, is that we tell the Germans to piss off, then we form up and march to Bremerhaven."
"Actually, Scotty, it was the congressman's idea. You see, he wanted to go back to Washington with a military option in his hip pocket."
Looking at Lewis in surprise, Dixon was about to speak when Lewis cut in. "I know what you're thinking, Colonel. Can it be true the great pacifist, champion of diplomatic solutions over military adventures, is in reality a hawk in dove's clothing? Well, I'm afraid that I'm a victim of the thirty-second campaign commercial. I have been and always will be a believer in responsible government and reasonable, intelligent, and responsible policies. That I've opposed the American policy of shoot first and talk later is a matter of record. But there comes a time, such as this, when there is no room for talking, when the long-term dangers justify the risk, that military force is justified."
"That," Dixon countered, "is all well and good. But let's face it. This is the twenty-first century, not 400 B.C. And the country we are talking about tromping through is a highly civilized, densely populated nation that, oh, by the way, is armed with the latest technology, not to mention the odd nuke here and there. We're not talking about the Teutoburger Wald or the March of the Ten Thousand through the mountains of Kurdistan here. What you are proposing, Mr. Congressman, is a head-to-head confrontation between two mechanized armies smack dab in the middle of the most populated corner of Europe." Dixon sat back and shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't really see a viable option here. I'd just as soon ask the people in my brigade to click their heels together and mumble, 'There's no place like home' three times as ask them to participate in such a harebrained operation."
Big Al grinned. "I love the way you get right to the heart of the matter, Scotty. Which is exactly why I asked you to come here and help me draft a concept for the operational plan that Congressman Lewis will carry back to Washington. Since both the congressman and I agree that the Pentagon's Polish option and their idea of flying our personnel out of here and leaving all our heavy equipment behind will be non-contenders, we need to provide the President with something that makes sense."
Looking back and forth between Big Al and Lewis, it began to dawn on Dixon that they were serious. "And you both think that marching the entire corps from one end of Germany to the other in the dead of winter makes sense?"
When Big Al spoke, his voice was quiet, yet firm. "I hope that this proposed bout between the modern German Arminius and me, the American version of Xenophon, can be avoided. That, however, is out of our hands." As Big Al shifted in his seat, Dixon knew that his last comment was mostly for Lewis's benefit. Such a wish was a mere dream that no one, especially the commanding general, should base his plan on. If and when American forces crossed into Germany, there would be a fight. Dixon knew it and he had no doubt that Big Al knew it too. After a moment of silence, Big Al continued. "What is within our power is our ability to give our national leaders our best opinions and a viable option that they can use if all else fails."
Staring down at his coffee cup for several seconds, Dixon thought about everything that had been said. As he did so, the sheer audacity of what Big Al was proposing began to take hold. For a second, the image of Chancellor Ruff attired as an ancient German chieftain in his Leopard II tank, and Big Al wearing the helmet and breastplate of an ancient Greek general mounted atop an M-1A1 Abrams, bearing down on each other on a wide-open stretch of autobahn, flashed through Dixon's mind. The whole idea was so insane, Dixon suddenly realized, that it just might work. Besides, the other alternative, the idea of ordering his soldiers to meekly lay down their weapons and go home like a herd of sheep, was a thought that was so repugnant that he couldn't even dwell on it. Looking up at Big Al, Dixon smiled. "Hey, General! What a wonderful idea. Glad I thought of it. When do we start?"
CHAPTER 9
11 JANUARY
"That's it? That's all the short little bastard had to say? Who in the hell does he think he is?"
From where she sat, Abigail Wilson snapped at Soares. "Pete, I would appreciate it if you let Congressman Lewis finish."
Pete Soares had never gotten used to what he in private referred to as Wilson's "naughty boy" manner of dealing with her own cabinet when they got out of hand. After all, he was, as he told his close friends, a forty-eight-year-old man, one that was very successful and powerful. He didn't need a mother to tell him how to act or talk. Still, in public, he paid heed to Wilson's reprimand. She was, after all, the President, although he never would admit to himself or anyone else that he was her subordinate. Screwing his face in the peculiar fashion that had earned him his nickname, "The Rat" eased back into his chair as Lewis prepared to pick up where he had been when Soares had interrupted.
"What exactly," Lewis shot back at Soares, "would you have him say? As far as he's concerned, he and every soldier in his corps is a political hostage. Lieutenant General Malin is not only a soldier, he is the senior officer in command of a combat command whose very existence is endangered. His insistence that this administration, the very same one that precipitated the crisis, take immediate and decisive action to resolve that crisis in a manner that does not compromise the prestige of the United States or the United States Army is, as far as he's concerned, reasonable."
From across the table, Terry Rothenberg, the Secretary of Defense, shook his head. "He knows better than anyone else that the United States will use nuclear weapons only as a last resort and only if there is a direct threat to this country. While I sympathize with his position, I cannot advise you, Madam President, to take any military action against the German government. None of the other NATO allies, either collectively or individually, would support us. They, like the Germans, view the current crisis as regrettable, but one which is of our own making. And, like the Germans, they believe that the final solution must be arrived at by the Europeans themselves. Though in private the ministers of defense in both France and Britain are quite upset that the Germans are now nuclear capable, they do not feel that seizing them by force is the answer. Even if it means abandoning all of General Malin's heavy equipment and losing face. In the words of Harold Lloyd, the British Minister of Defense, 'You Americans have done quite enough already. We would thank you very much if you would just quietly leave and let us sort this out between ourselves.' "
"Surely," Soares hissed, "that arrogant little shit doesn't think we're simply going to stack arms, stick our tails between our legs, and go home? I mean, the British, of all people, should know that appeasement does not buy peace."
With a glare that could have cut a stone, Wilson got Soares to stop talking. When she was ready, Wilson spoke with a calm, measured voice. "I am inclined, as d
istasteful as it is, to agree with Terry and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Without the political and military support of our European allies, resolution of this crisis through military action is out of the question. As far as I am concerned, it's time we stopped playing John Wayne and started dealing with the rest of the world as intelligent human beings who are no better and no worse than we." Then, looking about the table, she added, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "Who knows? Maybe that will work."
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes in disgust, Soares could only think how big a mistake it had been to allow a woman in the White House. Regardless of what the surveys and political polls said, he knew in his heart that June Cleaver, the nickname Wilson's opponents in her own party had given her, didn't belong in the Oval Office, unless, as Soares had once jokingly said, it was to vacuum. Standing up, Soares collected his notes. "Well, I guess that's it! We knuckle under."
Wilson countered, her voice firm and clear. "Unless things change dramatically in the next day or two, there is no other way out. We tried to ride a hungry tiger and were thrown. Now it's going to eat us all for sure." For a moment she looked about the room. Then, as was her style, she summed up her view of where they stood. "We are, gentlemen, three days into this crisis and, as of yet, we have no viable options. Repeated attempts to establish direct talks between Chancellor Ruff and myself have failed. Instead, he has been repeating dogmatic speeches better suited for the evening news than dealing with us. That, coupled with Chancellor Ruff's unconditional rejection of both the British and the French offers to mediate, is, to me, a clear sign that he personally has no intention for the moment of considering alternatives. Efforts by our respective State departments to establish a basis of talks have been politely ignored. And now, my back-door approach using Senator Lewis has been slammed in my face."
Wilson paused while she allowed her summary of the situation to soak in. "So, gentlemen, we are back at square one. Your job, Terry and Pete, is to go back and, with everything that has transpired over the last three days, reassess where we stand. By eight in the morning, present those new assessments to us and any new options for resolving this crisis that those assessments may point to. And as you do so, please bear in mind that we must, gentlemen, make sure that the tiger we've latched onto doesn't eat too many innocent people. Now, if you both would excuse me, I would like to speak with Ed Lewis in private." Again Wilson paused.
Uneasy about Lewis's role as an official envoy of Wilson to the German Chancellor, Soares was about to protest this private meeting but decided not to bother. If, he thought, she was prepared to throw her political career in the shitter by giving in to the Germans, it was her affair. He didn't need to join her. If anything, the more distance he put between himself and her the better. He had worked to get her there at the urging of the party bosses against his better judgment. It was time, Soares decided, to start looking for a suitable replacement, one whom he could back and who, in turn, would help him further his own career.
When the room had cleared, Lewis sat back and waited for Wilson to speak. "Well, Ed, did we do all right?"
Looking about the room, Lewis paused before he answered. "I trust, Madam President, that we are not being monitored or recorded?"
Wilson shook her head, a little annoyed that he would even ask. "What makes you think that I would allow such a thing?"
A sheepish smile lit across Lewis's face. "Oh, I suppose every time I get involved in anything that's a little covert, I get slightly nervous. It's a throwback to the sixties. You know, Big Brother, J. Edgar Hoover, and the Nixon tapes."
"If we are, then a lot of heads will roll. Now, to the point. Do you in your heart really believe that General Malin can pull this off?"
"As I told you before, Big Al, excuse me, I mean General Malin, and everyone involved in the plan fully understands that this entire enterprise is a series of risks. In fact, from beginning to end, and every step along the way, it is all a series of gambles. We're gambling that the Tenth Corps can break back into Germany without a fight. We're gambling that the Germans, both in Berlin and in the field, will be so confused and thrown off by your apparent acceptance of their demands, followed by General Malin's actions and the ground operations, that they may, at least in the beginning, hesitate and step aside rather than fight. We're gambling that the other European countries buy Malin's role as a renegade commander acting on his own accord, and continue to work with you. We're gambling that General Malin's propaganda machine will erode the support of the Bundeswehr and the German people for Ruff and his government, giving Malin and his soldiers an open road north. And we're gambling that General Malin can get the Tenth Corps to the coast, where it can be resupplied and, if necessary, reinforced for future operations. Yes, we can pull it off, provided everyone involved keeps coming up with a good roll of the dice."
Wilson looked at Lewis intently. "What is the worst-case scenario?"
In a cold, unemotional voice, Lewis answered. "The worst thing that could happen is that the German Army and people rally around Ruff's Deutschland Über Alles cries, stopping the Tenth Corps and wiping it out in the heart of Germany."
"And if we can pull this off, what's the best we can hope for?"
"Big Al and his corps make it to the coast as a fighting force, ready to be withdrawn from the continent or, if the situation dictates, reinforced. This would give back to you a viable military option as well as discrediting Ruff's government. There is the outside possibility, depending on how the Germans themselves view this whole affair as it unfolds, that Ruff's government could be replaced by one willing to hold reasonable negotiations with you."
"I would think that the Germans, and even our allies, would see this 'mad general' ploy in a heartbeat. I mean, after all, the Europeans are past masters at diplomatic duplicity, aren't they?"
Lewis nodded. "That's right. And they still like to think of us as fumbling babes in the woods when it comes to playing diplomatic hardball. Which is why this screwball idea is so good. We're the crazy Americans, cowboys of the free world. Most Europeans agree that anything and everything is possible when dealing with us. But a subtle, intricate plot on a scale such as this, in the eyes of most Europeans, is beyond us."
For several minutes Wilson sat at her desk and looked down at the blank blotter, deep in thought. Finally, without looking up, she spoke, as if she were thinking out loud. "Without going to the Joint Chiefs, I am not militarily astute enough to determine on my own if General Malin and his people can do, from a technical standpoint, what they say they can. I have only your word and his. Nor can I or anyone else accurately predict at this time what Ruff and the German people will do. I can't imagine them simply stepping aside and letting General Malin's corps roll merrily through their country."
Lewis cut in. "As I told you before, Abby, there will be a fight. The best Big Al said that he hopes for is that it doesn't occur until he's within striking distance of the coast and that only a portion of the German Army, for whatever reason, can be brought to bear."
Looking up at Lewis, Wilson thought for a moment before she asked her next question. "And what do I tell the other European leaders? The Germans will no doubt work hard to get them involved on their behalf."
"That's where the renegade general role comes in. After you order Malin to stand down and prepare to fly his people out of the Czech Republic and Slovakia and he refuses, you simply tell Ruff that Big Al's actions are the acts of a madman and request that he allow you, working in cooperation with the German government, an opportunity to resolve the crisis. This stance should throw the German government off balance for a while, forcing them to act with some restraint and remove the specter of escalation without actually removing the threat."
Wilson shook her head. "I don't understand."
"It's all mirrors and smoke at this point. You see, Big Al will be more of a marauding band than a national army that represents our nation or its policy. By condemning his actions and doing all you can from a distance to he
lp the Germans police up this rampaging corps, without actually doing anything, you can help temper the German response. Big Al, your position will go, and not his soldiers, is the criminal. Therefore, you can promise the Germans that if they allow the Tenth Corps through without resisting them, you will pay for any damages and bring the responsible culprit, i.e., General Malin, to justice just as soon as you have him in custody. Big Al, of course, will at some point promise to turn himself over to a representative of the American Department of Justice just as soon as he has gotten his soldiers, whom he is responsible for, and their equipment to the coast."
"And what if," Wilson countered, "Ruff and the Germans don't buy this line of manure?"
"Simple. You point out to Herr Ruff that you cannot sit back and allow the German government to endanger the lives of Big Al's soldiers, who are confused and misguided, simply because their commander is wacky and disobedient. If, you will tell Ruff, the Germans threaten to apply undue force and cause needless American deaths, you, as their commander-in-chief and President, will have no choice but to do everything in your power to help those poor misguided and innocent soldiers." Again there was silence as Wilson considered what she thought was a crazy idea. When she looked up at Lewis, her face showed her skepticism. "Do you really expect the Germans to believe these lies? Do you really think we can fool anyone?"
Pointing to the door, Lewis smiled. "You already have started sowing the seeds of your own deception, Abby. Right now, Soares and Rothenberg are going about preparing the necessary orders and instructions that will, if you don't accept General Malin's plan, fulfill the German demands. There's no doubt that the media, leaky 'official' sources, and German intelligence will pick all of this up. As long as you keep them in the dark, they will be your best cover."