The room was full of whispers and small groups talking to each other. General St. Claire was hesitant to speak. I looked at him and asked, “Can we do this?” in a sarcastic tone.
He answered, “Of course we can, but the logistics are a nightmare. There will be collateral damage. You need to rethink this idea.”
The General and I had been on the same page for the most part, until now. But he just challenged my authority, and I didn’t like it. I turned to him with a clenched jaw, and gave him one of those serious glares I used to give referees who made bad calls in the basketball games I used to coach.
“I don’t have to rethink a damn thing, and you need to figure out the best way to accomplish my plan,” I vehemently stated.
The room fell silent as all eyes focused on the General as he contemplated his response. He was starting to breathe faster and the glare from his eyes was a menacing one. “Maybe you don’t remember who put you in this position,” says General St Claire.
“Maybe YOU don’t realize that my position allows me to replace anyone who doesn’t follow my orders,” I answer.
You couldn’t cut the tension in the room with a machete.
General St Claire stood up facing me and proclaims, “You can fire me anytime you want, that’s true, or even better, I’ll just hand you my resignation. I don’t like this idea of invading Mexico.”
All eyes were on me.
“Calm down, General, I don’t want to fire you or accept your resignation. I want you to understand the plausible deniability in this plan,” I profess.
“Ok, talk me into this crazy scheme,” said an irritated General St Claire.
I begin, “In the US we have legal agreements between states that allow law officers to pursue criminals across state lines. We are going to garrison troops along our southern border and pursue drug smugglers back across that border to their base of operation and destroy it. That’s the way we sell it to the public, and they will buy it. The President in Mexico will make a public statement to that effect. The entire operation will seem warranted and the drug smuggling problem solved.”
The General spoke up, “None of what you just said answers the question of collateral damage. The deaths of innocents will come back to haunt you. A mission like this one is at high risk for collateral damage.”
“Not if we do it right,” I said. “I have some ideas I want to run by you.” I told the group to get preliminary plans together and meet in the war room in the pentagon in two days at 0400. I knew they thought that was early, but there would be no distractions or interruptions.
“And don’t any of you think the General and myself can’t have some disagreement at times, and not accomplish our goals. There may be a day I actually see things his way, and I will change my mind,” I wryly said while cracking a little smile. The General had to smile and probably realized I was determined to see this through. He had cooled off now, and everyone left the room except for us.
“I’m not used to that, Commander Marsh, and I apologize for my disrespect,” he said.
“Think nothing of it General, but I need to apologize to you. I would never fire you, or for that matter, EVER accept your resignation. You got me into this and we are finishing this together. You just have to trust me on this one. I know human nature, and I think the Mexican President will want the same thing we want; an end to the drug trade between our countries. Any collateral damage is regrettable and will be avoided to the best of our ability. But remember, public opinion is important to politicians, not me. I’m not running for office. I want to complete my vision for this country, and turn everything back over to the people. Help me do this.”
Chapter 14
THE MEXICO PLAN
In preparation for my called meeting at the Pentagon, I brought in our ambassador to Mexico, Herbert F. James. He was a temperamental man, and one would think that would not be good for the type of job held. But he got along with President Ortiz of Mexico. I needed to ask him about the President’s interests and family. I needed to know how to break the ice with him when we met. Ambassador James couldn’t know I was travelling to see President Ortiz, so I just made it seem like I wanted the information to help in trade negotiations. He told me he loved golf and soccer. Well, one out of two ain’t bad. I can talk about golf all day, but soccer isn’t in my vocabulary. I thought I’d take him a couple of dozen Titleist Pro V1x balls and hope for the best.
Later that same day I received another report from Colonel Stollings. He had communicated with the wardens about my concerns and apprehensions over the possibility of prison riots during our operation. All of them have made the appropriate changes to make sure this does not take place.
“They wanted to thank you for thinking this through, personally, and not just delegating it to someone and forgetting all about it,” the Colonel reports. This makes me feel good about this operation and it’s one less thing to distract me from my next operation in Mexico. Colonel Stollings left a disc with me with TV interviews from people related to donor recipients or rehab participants. I found a computer and played the disc. I saw this:
Various people on various American street corners, were talking into reporters’ microphones (OS) about the new state of the union. One reporter asked an elderly lady, “What do you think of Adam Marsh?”
She answered, “Oh, I think he’s just wonderful! Without the new organ program, I would have had a rotten kidney inside of me.”
Another reporter from a different network asked the same question. A little boy answered, “My daddy has a new heart because of Adam Marsh!”
Another reporter inquired about an addict entering one of the prisons.
A middle-aged woman spoke, “My brother was addicted to heroin. But now that Adam Marsh has started building a wall on the southern border, he can’t find any heroin anywhere. The wall, plus the addition of troops to protect the contractors, has slowed down the illegal border crossings and the drug flow.”
The reporter asked, “Has he considered going into a shelter to kick the habit?”
The woman answered, “Oh, well, fortunately, he has plenty of family, and we’re taking good care of him at home. But we do think it’s so wonderful those prison shelters are available to those in need.”
Asked about Adam Marsh, a middle-aged man replied, “I don’t care for the man.”
The reporter continues to push, “You mean you don’t care for him or you don’t care for his policies?”
The man retorts. “Policies? Ha! What policies? You call starving families a policy?”
The reporter continued to push, “With the new organ donation and shelter programs, we’ve seen life expectancies increase drastically, and the homeless population drop to a historical low. How do you feel about that?”
The man sternly says, “Get that thing out of my face.”
I don’t think he likes me! People like him would never like me. I was not in a popularity contest, but I was glad 56% of the people liked my policies. I went back to the oval office and I ran into General St. Claire. I told him where I had been and he wanted to see the disc, so I retraced my steps. He watched my disc as I was standing next to him. He handed me another disc to watch later. We watched the middle aged man from the previous scene on television.
I spoke up. “There’s a lot of that out there, General.”
General St. Claire, responded, “No idea in human history has ever been unanimously approved of, sir. Unless you count things like eating, drinking, and sleeping—and I even know folks who have trouble with those.”
I looked at the General and said, “Well, you can put me into the ‘sleeping’ category. This job ain’t for kids.”
The General patted my shoulder and then said, “Your approval ratings are strong as steel, sir. Precisely as I expected before we approached you, if I say so myself.”
I smiled a bit. I asked, “Did you expect me to have so little fun?”
The General smiled widely and replied, “You’re taking on
a massive burden. It’ll reshape your soul, that’s for sure.” He leaned in as he continued “For the better, no doubt about it.”
The General exited. I turned back to the computer screen to look at the disc the General had given me. On it was an attractive Latino woman. A reporter asked if she was a citizen.
The Latino woman answered, “I studied hard to get my citizenship. I understand people wanting to cross the border illegally, but Commander Marsh has done a good thing, in my opinion.”
I nodded.
The reporter asked, “Do you have any friends or relatives that had to leave?”
The woman replied, “Plenty, yeah. Plenty of both. But most of them didn’t complain. They have plans to come back. They’re going to study and try again.”
The reporter and I spoke at the same time, “I hope they do.”
I made it back to the oval office and finished my notes for the 0400 meeting. If I could pull this off, I would be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The night was short leading up to 0400, but I was wide-awake as I entered the black SUV to ride over to the Pentagon war room. Security walked me in and closed the door behind me. Everyone was there, and General St. Claire stood at a high-tech table, the surface of which was graced with half a dozen glowing green digital maps. The General was surrounded by a diverse assortment of leading military personnel. And beside him was Mr. Black, a man in a (fittingly) black suit.
General St. Claire started, “Gentlemen, for the sake of initiating operation cartel strike with maximum efficiency and success, I’d like to introduce Mr. Black.
Mr. Black stepped toward the map tables. He said, “Gentlemen.”
One lieutenant spoke up, “Your real name, I take it?” The others laugh, but not the General.
General St. Claire continued, “Mr. Black is with the CIA. He’s here to share information his branch has spent years collecting. Let’s take him seriously.” So the men stop smiling. Mr. Black minded the maps.
Mr. Black began, “What’s interesting about the major cartels, we’ve come to learn, is that all their strongholds are located along Mexico’s northern border . . .”
The men eyed the maps as Mr. Black pointed to them with a silver pen.
Mr. Black continued, “They’re just like any other major industry in that regard: They remain close to the supply line. In this case, that means getting their products into our states. So if we strike here—and here—and here, we can cripple the drug supply for many years to come. And hopefully the Mexican authorities will never let these cartels rise again.”
“I love the way you think, Mr. Black, but I feel like I’m in a scene from Reservoir Dogs,” I said laughing. Everyone gets the joke and laughter fills the room. Even General St. Claire had to chuckle a little. I continued, “I trust everyone in this room with my life and the personnel you choose to carry out this mission must be extremely discreet. There can be no leaks prior to launch. The reason surprise is so important relates to the amount of drugs and money we expect to find if they don’t have time to move them. I will be traveling to Mexico City in a few days to essentially ask permission from President Ortiz to put this operation into motion. I usually ask forgiveness instead of permission on most scenarios, but I don’t want a response from the Mexican authorities when we launch. Hopefully, President Ortiz will get a call that night and he will give the order to stand down. If all goes well with our meeting, I want to launch in 10 days. Go ahead and start staging some equipment along the points on the border. Everyone will think it has something to do with construction of the wall. We will not go in to take prisoners, but lock down any who surrender. We need information on the whereabouts of their tunnels underneath our border walls or fencing. I hope when we arrive, they will send the women and children out. They will be given that chance, but in the end I want the place leveled. I’m leaving for the border to talk with the contractors building the wall and on to Mexico City. I leave it to you General St. Claire.”
Security took me back to the White House to pack my things. The meeting went well and we were on our way to solving one of our country’s biggest problems. Jerry met me at the door to the Oval Office and asked what was going on. I told him, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He looked at me, wide-eyed and responded, “Never mind,” and then laughed.
Then I told him, “I’m going to the border; you hold down the fort while I’m gone. I’ll name you vice-commander for a few days.”
He looked at me real serious-like and asked, “Really? Me?” I just shook my head and said, “Uh… no.” I got him again; he’s so gullible.
Chapter 15
ON THE BORDER
The ride to the airfield took longer than usual. Even with an escort, traffic was terrible and I was impatient. I wanted to get this trip behind me and it was taking too long to even get started. I was going in Air Force One. It was all a little overwhelming. I didn’t have to wait long to take off. We were given top priority. Rank has its privileges! A couple of hours later, I was standing in El Paso, TX. I was taken to a secure location to meet with five contractors involved with building the wall. I stepped into the room already filled with security and the contractors. As expected, the floor was muddy from recent rains, and the boot tracks from the troops and contractors. The portable tables and folding chairs reminded me of my teaching days in the lunchroom.
I took my seat at the head of one of the long tables.
“Hello, gentlemen,” I announced. “I’m Adam Marsh, a housing contractor, turned author, turned Commander-in-Chief. If you work hard you can achieve great things in this country, so there’s still hope for you guys. One of you could become President someday and you can brag that you built the wall, or at least part of it.”
All five contractors laughed but one spoke up and said, “That might be true, but I wouldn’t have your job; it’s much too hard!”
Another one spoke up, “It might be a hard job, but you are magnificent at it!”
I thanked them and got down to business. Each one of them had been given GPS coordinates to build between. They were to use identical wall panels, anchor them, and connect to the two contractors building toward them, or one in the case of the end. I was looking for a report and the possible problems they were experiencing or could face in the future. One of the contractors spoke up, “The biggest problem is transportation. The terrain makes it tough to get the panels on time. The manufacturers of the panels are working around the clock to keep up with us.”
“I hope I can help with that,” I said. “Here is the phone number of Major Jim Stone. He will arrange transport of panels by cargo plane to the nearest airport. From there, cargo helicopters will deliver the panels where you need them. This will speed things up. Unless Major Stone runs out of gas, or in this case fuel, you will be able to pick up the pace. Have any of you spoken to the other contractors? You know there are 45 more doing the same thing you’re doing.”
A couple of them said they had heard from some of the others that their problems were much the same. Another contractor spoke up, “The design you picked is working great. The water runs right through the slats and the wall doesn’t require any drain tile. The top of the wall is round and has the clips to attach razor wire. You would have to be a fool to try and scale it.”
“That was the whole purpose,” I responded.
The meeting was a success, and I left after I told them to get back to work and thanked them for their attention to detail. I got back in the black SUV and headed to a meeting with the troops stationed on the border to protect my contractors and assist our border guards. After that, we flew to Brownsville and I was taken to the border to meet with the military. It was a mixture of National Guard and regulars. Recently they were rushed by a caravan attempting to climb over the wall and were forced to use tear gas to push them back. I was about to change our response!
Wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and cowboy boots, I marched before a group of soldiers, all o
f whom were standing in a straight line. I stopped marching, faced the guards head on, and spoke, “Put some signs on the other side of the border saying ‘Violators will be shot if they try to cross.’ If they rush you again or throw rocks, you are hereby permitted to fire lethal shots at any illegal male adult person whom you spot crossing the border.”
The men froze, then stirred a little, and then traded astonished looks. After a long moment, one guard spoke up, “But, um, sir? If I may . . .”
I said, “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Sir,” he said, “what do I do with the body?”
“Leave it for the Mexican authorities. I will tell the Mexican President what is going to happen. He will inform his people to put signs up along the roads and pass the word by mouth: no more illegal crossings. He will be responsible for putting it on the TV for everyone to hear. This should have been done years ago. We have gone soft and been taken advantage of for too long. After the word gets out, border crossing will be reduced drastically.”
Guard 2 asked, “Speaking of word getting out, what about the press?”
“What about them? They’ll report on it, I’m sure. That’s what I want them to do. That will help get the point across.
Guard 2 responds, “Well, um . . . What will you say then?
“They were warned and chose to call my bluff. I don’t bluff.” I stepped up to the guard, and put a friendly hand on his shoulder and said, “Just concentrate on avoiding women and children.”
The (New) American Way Page 9