“Hope so, Harry. That’s what they pay us for,” said Hammond before leaning in toward Best, “and thanks for all the support over the last month. It’s been a little tough corralling the four stars to keep on point.”
Best slapped Hammond in the shoulder. “Roger, we all know it’s not the rank, it’s the mission. You were tasked to get the job done and either they are on the team or not. You’ve shown them you could more than do the job. It’s been kind of fun watching them get moved around without them knowing it.”
“Yea, but you were a big help running the interference the first couple of weeks. I appreciate it,” Hammond said sincerely.
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” said Best. “Have a nice trip,” he said as he turned and left the room.
Hammond watched him leave. Harry Best was now on the ‘friend’ list. He couldn’t wait to introduce him to his other friends.
Washington D.C. evenings during the late summer were always hot and muggy. It was 8:30 in the evening and the sun was still on the horizon. The traffic in the city had finally died back some, but the fumes of the day hung in the air. It almost burned the eyes to be outdoors, yet many could be found out walking, getting at least a little exercise and trying to slough off the tensions of the day. Claire Richardson was no different. Getting back to her quarters just a half hour before, she had immediately shed the uniform and donned lighter clothes and some sneakers. She used to run, but age had crept up on her and now running was out of the question. Now, she walked at least a mile a day and worked out in her small home gym. She was proud of the fact that she could still keep up with the younger Marines in most of the physical training. But the knees and hips had begun to weaken, so she simply changed her routine.
As she walked along at a brisk pace, she was surrounded by the sights and sounds of the neighborhoods. Some families were out, with children playing along the narrow yards and in some side alleys. Claire didn’t notice them. She was very concerned. The more the task group had gotten into their mission, the more she was seeing that the United States was ill equipped to take on what was about to happen. War was coming. She could feel it. It was looking like the allies would have to kill the enemy at a rate of about ten to one. Those weren’t good odds. True, we had better equipment and well trained troops, but going up against five million people under arms was something she knew was going to be almost impossible.
Hammond had been right. The group had been able to identify the potential threat and gather all the information on who and what we would fight. We had even figured out what would probably be the first moves. But coming up with a way to even the odds was something that was stumping her, and that was driving her crazy. How do a half a million troops take on 5 million? Better yet, take them on and win. She didn’t like not having the answers.
On the plus side, if anyone could figure it out it would be this group. Hammond had pulled together the perfect team. Yes, it was rough at first, but when everyone saw their unique roll, they lined up. She had admired how Hammond had done it. Then again, leadership was something she valued above all things. She almost chuckled when young Jeffers had come up to tell about his family. The look on Hammond’s face was priceless, yet at the end, he was beaming like a proud father. Jeffers was a smart kid. The few times she had worked with him, she could sense the abilities of the young man; something she had sensed only one time before on a dark, lonely deck of a ship at sea.
She entered the Barracks at 8th and I, and made her way around the old brick buildings. She slowed near a coffee bar that had recently been set up on the grounds. Inside, young Marines were cheering on a young man playing some video game. Entering the bar, she ordered an iced coffee and eased back to watch them play. On the screen the images were almost like what would be seen by an insect, except that it was flying around shooting people. The people on the screen were doing what they could to fight it off, but couldn’t quite reach it. Richardson leaned over to one of the young men watching the game. “What kind of game is this?” she asked.
Without turning his head, he answered, “It’s called Drone Attack,” he said, then let out a whoop when the drone was able to take down what looked like a hugely built soldier.
She watched a while longer as the drone was finally shot down, then the game reset and suddenly there were hundreds of them flying across the sky until it centered on only one drone again. It dropped down through the trees and began shooting at soldiers around the area. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and she stood up straight. Looking around the room, she first wondered how it could be done, but it was already being done both here and in about a million other homes where young people were fighting their war in the video game.
The iced coffee was downed quickly, and despite the knees, she began to run back to her quarters. The question on her mind — what kind of small drones did they have in the inventory?
General Helmut Dortmund stood on the wet ramp waiting for the American officers to arrive. Beside him was General Erik Pol, a representative of the Polish army. Dortmund wasn’t too sure about his task. The Commander of the Joint Allied Forces was making his first trip to Europe, and they were there to greet him. Unfortunately, it was a naval admiral, not a general. But, protocol dictated that they still greet him and help him get acquainted with their situation. The men hope he had his act together.
Dortmund looked at Pol. “Do you know anything about this guy?” he asked.
Pol shrugged his shoulders. “Some sort of naval hero. I understand he received their Medal of Honor. One of my staff told me he commanded ships during their last big war with Korea and was the man who saved a lot of their citizens in Venezuela when Parente stepped in it. He’s only a three star. I can’t imagine some of the allies working with him. The French will almost be insulted,” he said with a slight grin.
Dortmund nodded his head. “I got some of the same information. Evidently, their people must think highly of him to put him in this job. I hope he’s up to it,” he said as he saw the blue and white jet land at the end of the runway and begin making its way toward the ramp where they stood.
The jet taxied onto the ramp and shut down its engines. The door on the side opened and a tall man in a white uniform stepped off the plane, followed by a shorter woman in a green uniform. Both had three stars on their uniforms. Dortmund and Pol stepped forward and made their introductions, then they walked back to a car sitting a few feet away. Some men gathered the baggage and placed it in the trunk before the car sped away.
Inside the car, the group was already getting down to business. “How much do you know about our situation, Admiral?” asked Pol.
“Well, that’s one of the main reasons I came. I want to make sure I know everything I need to know so that we are ready when the Russians cross the border. I brought along some information to share, but I also want to get to know you and you me. We’re probably going to be up to our necks when this starts, and that’s no time to get acquainted,” said Hammond. “That’s also why I brought along General Richardson. When you guys start talking about ground operations, she speaks your language. I’m also figuring she will be helping us out,” he said. “Claire commanded the First Marine Division during the Korean War and she was the main drive up the coast and into Seoul.”
Dortmund’s eyes widened. “I thought I recognized the name. I followed your efforts up the peninsula. Tonight, you and I will have a beer and talk combat,” he said with a smile.
Richardson grinned. “You’re on, General, but I hold the line at two beers. We’ve already had a long day,” she said. “Besides, I want to hear what you have planned, myself. Between the four of us, we might at least scare the Russians to death,” she said. Both Pol and Dortmund sat back and laughed. Already they liked these two. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.