Standing the Final Watch

by William Alan Webb

  “Thank you, General Angriff.”

  The chewing-out had left some of his audience surly. He held the report papers close and tried to project confidence.

  “Operation Overtime was declared active at 0135 hours four days ago, in turn activating the Seventh United States Cavalry Brigade, Reinforced. This unit is unique in concept, composition and deployment. Although most of its combat components are Army, there is also a Marine recon battalion, Air Force anti-aircraft batteries and forward observers, and a SEAL team, except with nine platoons instead of the usual six. There are also assorted attached specialists from the various branches, including MARSOC Marines and experts on inland rivers from the Coast Guard.

  “I want to begin by outlining the brigade’s order of battle in general terms. I will answer any organizational questions that I can, but for some decisions I simply have no information and would refer you to the office of the CO. For example, this brigade has several regiments, whereas the army organization tables when I went cold had switched to the brigade system for three or more battalions. I cannot answer why we are organized in regiments.”

  Angriff interrupted. “The thinking appears to have been that regiments give more flexibility. A regiment can operate over a large area but only commit two battalions, while keeping a higher headquarters in direct command. With a brigade, if you only needed two battalions for the mission you would have at least one battalion operating outside the direct command of their parent headquarters. This appears to have been foremost in the minds of those who planned this whole shebang.”

  Walling waited to make sure Angriff had finished, then nodded. “Thank you, sir. In terms of combat strength, the Seventh Cavalry has two fully-equipped mechanized infantry regiments, each with two battalions. There is an armored battalion with four platoons of the last production model M1s, the M1A-3B, and it should be noted one of those platoons is designed for conversion to hydrogen fuel cells should that be desired. I note in passing that we possess the technology to build such fuel cells, but the details are outside the scope of this report.

  “Field artillery is completely self-propelled, with two battalions of three batteries. Two of those batteries in each battalion are M109A6 Paladins, with the third being M270A1 MLRSs. All of these batteries contain eight tubes.

  “It seems this concentration on heavy self-propelled guns and rockets was intentional, and that the mortar components of the infantry regiments have a higher-than-usual preponderance of eighty-one and one-hundred-twenty millimeter mortars, at the expense of sixty millimeter tubes. The one-hundred-twenty millimeters are exclusively Soltam K6s.

  “I also want to mention here, without going into detail, that apparently we have a number of EXACTO rounds for not only our infantry weapons, but for tanks, artillery, and perhaps the mini-guns on the helicopter gunships. Those are mentioned in the inventory, but must have been one of the last items loaded, if they exist at all.”

  “Colonel Walling, for those who went cold early in the game, could you give a brief description of what an EXACTO round is?”

  “Certainly, General. EXACTO rounds are self-steering bullets or shells that were developed by DARPA over the course of twenty years. In essence, it turns a shell or bullet into a can’t-miss homing missile. You shoot, you hit.”

  “What kind of quantities are we talking about?” asked the S4, Colonel Schiller.

  “Unknown at this point. Limited, but probably enough for short-term high-priority use. I suppose if we ever fight a pitched battle against a similarly equipped enemy, they could be the deciding factor in that one engagement. But that’s just a guess based on what we see in the manifests.

  “Getting back to the order of battle, for long-range patrols and reconnaissance we have one Army and one Marine recon battalion. The Marine battalion follows standard order of battle, but the Army is a special-purpose unit with a heavy emphasis on firepower, so there is a greater ratio of LAV25s to Humvees. And while it’s not active, I have only just discovered that we have one full regiment of horse cavalry.”

  “What?” Angriff said. “Horse cavalry? With swords and saddles and manure, that kind of horse cavalry?”

  “Yes, sir, although we haven’t found any swords,” Walling said. “More accurately, a regiment of horses are still in Long Sleep. Their cryogenic bays were built next to the cattle and nobody noticed it right away. I found it when matching numbers of livestock. There are over six hundred cavalry horses, and we seem to have all the equipment necessary for them to be ridden, except for riders. There are no personnel assigned to this regiment. I’m not sure where they came from, General. They’re definitely not in our authorized order of battle.”

  “Horses,” Angriff said. “You know, that may not be as crazy as it sounds. Horses don’t need fuel, although they do need feed. Good job finding them, Colonel. This regiment could turn out to be very useful. Please continue.”

  “Thank you, sir. Moving on, our air component is quite strong. The attack helicopter battalion has four squadrons, each with twelve machines and almost twice that number of pilots. Two of the squardrons are armed with the last production model of the Apache AH-64, while the other two have the much larger AH-72 Comanche. The helicopter reconnaissance battalion contains both recon and transport helicopters, and those aircraft will have to do double duty in the event of a large airborne operation.

  “We have one squadron of medical evacuation helicopters as well, flying the UH-72C, with a variety of mission-variable equipment available. I think that I should also mention that we have twenty-four Air Force F-35 pilots on staff, although we have no F-35s or fixed wing aircraft of any type.”

  “Did I hear that right, Colonel?” Angriff said. “We have fighter pilots but no planes? Do we have an explanation?”

  “General, the men were told before they went cold that planes would be awaiting them. They are as surprised as we are that the F-35s are not here.”

  “Can any of them ride horses?”

  The lingering tension from Angriff’s butt-chewing exploded in laughter from most attendees. Bettison was a pointed exception.

  Walling smiled when he answered, grateful for the release the joke had given them. “I don’t know, General, but I’ll be sure to find out.”

  “And I’m just a ground pounder, but even I know the F-35 was a piece of politically motivated crap. Why would they freeze pilots for a plane that’s not any good?”

  “Surplus?” Walling shrugged.

  “That makes as much sense as horse cavalry… thank you, Colonel, please continue.” Angriff leaned forward and perched his chin between thumb and forefinger.

  Despite the joke, he had not overlooked the fact that not one, but two anomalies had cropped up in his command. Horses without riders and pilots without planes did not make sense. The horses he could explain away, since riding is a learned skill and horses could be useful on long-range patrolling.

  But U.S. fighter pilots took years to train at great expense. Siphoning off twenty-four of them for a long-term project without being sure they had planes to fly made no sense. In fact, it was so ridiculous that he knew it did not happen, which meant somewhere out there was a squadron of F-35s waiting to be found.

  Walling rattled his papers, and Angriff returned his attention to the briefing.

  “Regarding other assets, such as energy, logistics, and fuel, I can only say where they are now. Those in charge of each department will have a much better grasp on our situation within a week or two. For now, it appears that we are about three months from the first fresh vegetables, much longer for fruit, and much, much longer for fresh meat or fish. Once the hydroponic farm is operating at full capacity, we should have plenty of produce for the entire base. But for now, it’s LSL-MREs, and at full consumption, three meals per day per person, we have a three-year supply of those.”

  Angriff spoke up again. “Is that a threat?”

  The same people laughed again, not as loud this time, which helped offset the numbing sensa
tion from hearing so many statistics, model numbers, and topics.

  “Some might see it that way, General,” Walling said. “As for fuel, we have enough stabilized gasoline for at least two years full operations, with further stores for five more years in long-term storage, the fuel needing only to be chemically restored.

  “Electrical energy for the entire base is provided in multiple ways. Running beneath this mountain is a large river with a strong current, from which two generators supply enough power for the entire base. This supply is adequate unless there is a higher-than-average demand, such as times of maximum effort, or if we are locked in without access to fresh air and the scrubbers have to run at full capacity.

  “There is an array of solar collectors at the crest of the mountain, with this reserve power stored in the battery room near the top of base. There are wind turbines available for deployment if we have the need. Further, there are two small nuclear power plants, currently online at minimum power, but they can be ramped up to half power within three hours if you decide it’s necessary, and to full power within six hours.

  “Ammunition stores are large. The inventory is ongoing, so I don’t have exact figures for each round or shell size, but with judicious usage we should have enough for years of operations. There are also plans for rapid construction of an organic ammo manufacturing system, modest in scope and size but capable of producing all needed ordnance short of guided missiles. Exact numbers should be available at the next briefing.

  “In the miscellaneous category, we have discovered one hundred twelve large crates containing something called a ‘Self-Sustaining Housing Pod. They were just discovered before this briefing and I don’t have any details about what these are exactly, although we did open one. They look like a giant metal egg, with windows. The men on the spot nicknamed it an eggshell. Colonel Schiller, were you able to discover their purpose?”

  The trim colonel stood, nodding at his fellow officers before responding. “I brought the manual with me,” he said, holding up a thick document. “Their function is straightforward and, I might add, ingenious. Let me read from a description on Army letterhead laid into the manual… ‘this SSHP is a low-energy, portable dwelling that allows users to live anywhere in the world where there is a reasonable supply of sunlight. The approximately twenty-five foot long by twelve foot wide shelter is powered by a one thousand fifty watt wind turbine, a forty-eight square foot array of high-efficiency solar cells, and for good measure, a thirteen thousand five hundred watt-hour battery. The interior living space includes a kitchenette, shower and composting toilet, built-in storage, folding bed, and some all-purpose counter space. This model also includes a rainwater collection and filtration system. Thermal buffering of the skin has been added for additional protection from the elements.’

  “What these allow is for two people to live outside normal logistics zones for a prolonged period, providing there is sufficient sunlight to power the unit and either a ready source of water or enough rainfall to support their needs. It seems the SSHP was made in the USA under license from the Czech firm that invented it. That’s all we know at this point.”

  Angriff shook his head in wonder. “My God, whoever thought of that was a genius. I’d heard such things were being planned, but to see them brought to fruition is brilliant. Thank you, Colonel. On a practical level, as I understand it, then, we could cluster a group of these around an FOB and would have no need for permanent structures, other than perhaps walls and bunkers?”

  “I would think that’s their intended function, General, or even for distant OPs, an early warning network far advanced from other forces,” Colonel Schiller said.

  “Yes,” Angriff said. “Like the picket destroyers around Okinawa. Good idea, Colonel… General Fleming, I suggest you incorporate these into your planning and brainstorm their best uses, including ways in which these eggshells might be transported.”

  “Will do, General.”

  “Is there anything else, Colonel Walling?”

  “Lastly, our personal effects are to be distributed within the next two days. Sir, I’ll need a decision on what to do with the effects of the sixty-eight crew members who did not wake up.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Walling.” Angriff leaned back in his overstuffed swivel chair and surveyed his new command staff. “I think we will hold off on questions until next meeting, when everyone will be more familiar with their own department. Write your questions down and give them to Sergeant Major Schiller beforehand. We’ll use the first part to go through them, so unless there is something urgent, our next meeting will be day after tomorrow.” He stood and stretched, and withdrew a cigar from the inside breast pocket of his jacket.

  “General, may I have a moment?” Bettison said.

  Angriff nodded and stepped away from the cluster of officers in the hallway outside the conference room. “What do you want, Bettison?”

  “I’m your S5, General Angriff. I think we should go over the security concerns and objectives so that I can begin planning.”

  Angriff pointed at him and did not try to hide his distaste. “I don’t know how you weaseled your way into this project and I don’t care. You are not my S5 and you’re not in charge of security for this brigade. Do you understand that? You have no authority until I assign you a duty. Since you’re here, when I find the time I’ll think of something useful for you to do. We all have a part to play in rebuilding the country and I know you have talents we can use. Until then, you are to stand down and stay out of the way.”

  “That is not the case,” Bettison said. “I’m a civilian and I don’t take orders from you, General Angriff. I was appointed by General Steeple and my authority stems from that appointment, not from you. I’m sorry if that disturbs you, but that’s the reality of the situation.”

  “Here’s the reality, Bettison. If you attempt to interfere with this command in any way I will have you arrested. If you attempt to undermine my authority, I will have you shot. Is this clear to you?”

  Bettison’s face burned with anger. “You can’t do this.”

  Angriff leaned in close. “I don’t know why, but you sabotaged the investigation into the death of my family. If I had proof you did it on purpose, I’d shoot you myself, right now. I might do it anyway. As for this brigade, I can do any damned thing I want.”

  “I told Steeple you were the wrong man for the job.”

  “And yet here I am.”

  “This isn’t the end of it.” Bettison jabbed his finger at Angriff’s face. “You don’t know who or what you’re fucking with.”

  “I hope you’re stupid enough to cross me, Bettison. I really do. And if you ever stick your finger in my face again, I’ll rip off your arm and beat you to death with the bloody stump.”

  Section 5

  Chapter 33

  Discretion is the better part of stupidity.

  Nick Angriff

  June 20th, 2000 hours

  Only three people showed up for the meeting, and he was not surprised at which three. None of them had hope of mercy or sanctuary if their identities became known.

  Bettison had expected some officers would back out, but not all. But they had. Many of those missing people had helped conceive and design Project Overtime, long before it became Operation Overtime. But Bettison was determined to see it through. Long-standing plans could still work, regardless of Nick Angriff or Norm Fleming, if they had the guts to see them through.

  But the one thing they not taken into account was the effect of Nick Angriff himself. Bettison had tried to warn Steeple that nobody could control Angriff, and being right gave him no comfort.

  “The son of bitch gives one speech and they all cave like a bunch of little girls,” Bettison said. “For decades I’ve listened to these same spineless idiots tell me how tough they are, how all they want is a chance to do things their way, and now one, one fucking man, has them all shitting in their pants. Damn him.”

  “What do we do now?” the smallest of the
three men said. He spoke with a distinct New England accent. “One of those officers is bound to blab — you know they will — which puts all of us under the gun. I say we get the hell out of here, take our chances on the outside.”

  “No,” Bettison said. “We wouldn’t last a week out there without supplies. Plus Angriff would come looking for us, and they’ve got helicopters. No, if we’re going to survive, it has to be here. Let me think…”

  Bettison went quiet for a few minutes, and then snapped his fingers. “All right, here’s the plan. We’ve still got a lot of support among the brigade’s command staff. They would fall in line if we got rid of Angriff and Fleming—”

  “What about that Tompkins character?”

  “That old man doesn’t pose any threat. Nobody knows him like they do Fleming and Angriff. He can bleat like a sheep, but we’ll kill him and nobody will say a thing. No, it’s just those two we’ve got to take out. So what we’re going to do is this. We’re going to lure them to sub-floor eleven and kill them. The chaos from that will give our supporters the chance to seize command. We can follow the shaft down to the outside if something goes wrong.”

  “That’s insane,” the small man answered. “How do we get Angriff down to SF eleven? The man is not stupid. It’s not like you can invite him to have a drink.”

  “No, but I can invite him to sacrifice himself for his daughter.”

  “That’s not our mission, boss. We can hump it to safety. It’s not that far.”

  “Our mission is whatever I say it is,” Bettison answered, angry at the challenge. “I’m the one who knows our full mission parameters, not you. I haven’t told you this before, but there is no fail built into our future. If we don’t succeed here at Overtime, we don’t get a second chance. We’ll never be part of the elite if we fail here. We’ll forever be stuck below our rightful stations. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die than go back to serving under idiots again.”