“That is irresponsible,” the French president almost shouted. “You are the superpower of this world. It is up to you to protect other NATO nations!”
O’Bannon’s face turned to an angry scowl. “Irresponsible? Do not place that name upon us. Since the end of the world war, we have done everything we could to maintain our forces and be good allies while we watched each of you reduce your military to bare minimums. As a result, our economy took the hits while yours prospered. We were called upon to send forces all over this globe, while at home, many of you demanded we remove our bases, equipment, and troops. Well, now someone is practically knocking down your doors and here you come looking for us to send help. We have fewer than 50,000 troops in Europe now. Our tanks and planes are back home. Now you want us to bear the burden of sending it all back. You can’t have it both ways, gentlemen. This time, you must pick up the sword. You must make the plans and get ready. Yes, our forces will be there with you, but I will not send anything back over here till you have done your part. We will either do this together, or we don’t do it at all!” he demanded.
The men around the table looked shattered. They had nearly all relied on the United States to take care of their business for the last 80 years. The thought that the United States might not be there chilled them to their core. Prime Minister Nicholson stood at his seat.
“My friends, I do not doubt that our ally, the United States will be with us if this goes as we expect. However, President O’Bannon is correct in what he says. Our combined armies would have a very difficult time, at best, dealing with Russian invasion of Europe. We have all reduced our forces to appalling levels simply because it was expedient. Great Britain came to this conclusion late last year when this all began. Since that time, we too have quietly been increasing our forces and building back up. We know this will take time, but hope that there will be enough time to become much more prepared. I recommend each nation begin this process, so that if and when the day does come, we will be able to stand together and take up our responsibilities to each other, whatever happens.” He sat back down and nodded to O’Bannon, who smiled back.
“It would ruin us,” said the Belgian Prime Minister. “The cost would be staggering.”
“Think how much it would cost if you became a part of Russia,” demanded the Polish President.
“It will be difficult,” said the Spanish Prime Minister, “but I believe it must be done. If we all share the burden, it will be much easier in the long run.”
“France has enough men and equipment. Any more would have a detrimental effect, especially since we do not believe the situation is that serious,” the French President said. He shrugged his shoulders. “However, if it does happen, France will take its place at the front.”
“What is the next step?” asked the President of Denmark.
“Our military leaders are probably already debating these steps. As long as everyone in this room is ready to do their part, we need to listen to what they come up with and then see what each of us needs to do,” said President O’Bannon. “Until then, we go back to our countries and prepare for something we can only pray never happens.”
Admiral Richard Stiles stepped out of his quarters in the Washington Navy Yard and began his daily run. As Vice Chief of Naval Operations, his duties seemed to be endless. Not only did he have responsibilities in Washington, but he was also the Commander, Naval Forces Europe, Commander, Naval Forces Africa, and Commander, Allied Joint Forces Command in Naples. In the last year, he had made trips to Europe almost weekly. As a result, his body clock seemed to always be in a mess. The only time he could take his mind off his work was when he ran.
Stiles had always been a heath nut. He had instilled fitness of mind and body in each command, often leading his people through a daily regimen. He was what they called ‘lean and mean,’ and loved it. Unfortunately, this lifestyle had taken its toll on his family. His wife had left him years ago and his two children almost never visited, simply because he was never available to visit. But the larger holidays would bring at least a few days when his family could be together. If he could arrange the time, he was planning a two week vacation where maybe they could get together for a bit.
Things in his office were a mess. The Middle East still presented headaches; the pirates were coming back along the East African Coast, Russia had been up to no good in Europe and Typhoons in the Pacific had been particularly bad this year. Luckily, the Pacific and the Middle East were not something he had to spend much time on. His latest challenge was to figure out what Russia might do and how we could counter their efforts. Stiles had a reputation of being able to get to the bottom of a problem and come up with a pretty good plan on getting it fixed. He had established a planning group just yesterday and would spend a good month or more working things out.
Usually his runs allowed him to take his mind off his problems, but for the last few days that hadn’t been the case. The headaches were more frequent and his diet of black coffee throughout the day wasn’t helping. He had noticed that he was becoming testier with his subordinates, but if he was under stress, so should they be.
He rounded the corner and began his trek along the waterfront. He noticed some new items added to the Navy History Center Museum. The most interesting was the top of a smokestack that had once been a part of USS Iowa. Struck by a cruise missile, it had sent the stack flying off the ship, only to land on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan. The President had personally ordered it returned home and placed on the Navy Yard grounds. Stiles couldn’t imagine a ship being hit with such force and still surviving.
The old warehouses in the Yard had all been converted into offices. Dim lights could be seen through the tinted windows as people worked late into the evening. He felt a slight pain in his right temple and placed his hand up to rub the spot. Suddenly his legs seemed to lose control and he fell with a thud on the pavement. His last thought, before losing consciousness, was that the headache had seemed to go away.
Sgt. Fred Jackson of the Navy Yard police spotted something lying on the sidewalk and pulled his car over and stopped. He flipped on the lights to warn others and slowly got out of the car. Immediately recognizing Admiral Stiles, he reached down and felt for a pulse. It was rapid and weak, but there. He immediately called in the emergency. The fire department showed up first. The paramedics saw the abrasions on his face and arms and feared he had been assaulted. They began providing emergency care and called the situation in to the hospital. When they checked his reactions, there were none. His eyes were dilated and non-responsive. An ambulance arrived five minutes later, but by then it was too late. Admiral Stiles had died from a massive stroke.
Admiral Perry Johnson was roused from his sleep by one of the communications team. The man handed him the message and turned on the light above his head. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Johnson read the message and let out a sigh. “Is the President awake?” he asked sadly.