The President's face hardened at the implied insult. «And what about General Olds?»
«Well, if he joggles Arkady's elbow too much I'll send Warrant Kidd up to New York with a direct order to terminate him with prejudice. I am dead serious, Mr. President, pun intended.»
The President leaned back in his chair and considered his senior commander with his hand on his chin, forefinger lightly tapping his cheek. «You're really against the Forward Defense, aren't you.»
«I think it's a Goddamned nightmare, sir.»
The President nodded his head. «Yes, it is, and I appreciate your candor, believe it or not. You maybe got too strong, but that is the vice of your military virtues, General, and I respect those virtues. Now, let me tell you about political fallout, 'splatter' as you call it.» The short politician knew better than to try to overawe the general with physical presence. He simply leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and fixed the officer with a blue, basilisk stare.
«Political fallout occurs when an administration tells the American public that it is going to throw away the most historic cities in our country for military expediency. Political fallout occurs when the politicians ignore the desires of their constituents for whatever reason seems appropriate at the time. Political fallout occurs when politicians get so wrapped up in listening to their own thoughts, ambiguous polls and advisors that they forget to listen to history. And I intend to do none of those things.»
Edwards leaned forward suddenly and tapped the black top of the table. The situation room was absolutely still as he dictated the future of the nation in a few words. «The people in those divisions are American citizens, citizen soldiers. And their families and loved ones are American citizens. And those people sent me a clear and certain mandate to defend the United States with my last breath. And, General, we are going to start right here.»
«Yes, sir,» answered the general gravely.
«Not because of any political expediency, but because the citizens of the United States want us to defend those cities and towns. And if we do not perform the will of the people, we have failed in our mandate.»
«Yes, sir.»
«Are you going to carry out these directives to the best of your ability?»
«Yes, Mr. President,» answered the High Commander, back straight. «I have always carried out my orders, even when I had clear and strong objections. It is my duty.»
«Very well, here is my direction. The United States Ground Forces will defend against Posleen incursions further into northern Virginia. Such defense will take place south of the Potomac, certainly, and all available forces will initially defend in and around the area of Quantico Marine Base. Most of the corps is stationed there so they won't have far to go.
«I will put that in writing and I will address the nation and both read the written directive and present both views as evenly as possible, giving full credence to both views. But in the end, it is my responsibility to call the hard shots. Are you clear on this directive?»
«Yes, sir. What is the primary intent? Beyond the defense of northern Virginia. What is the main target for defense?»
«Don't lose an inch of ground is the idea. The last place to lose is Arlington, but defense is to be as forward as possible given constraints of movement and time. Initial defense by the majority of Tenth Corps will be south of the Occoquan. You are clear on that?»
«Yes, sir, in and around Quantico.»
«Very well, General. Winston Churchill once said 'war is too important an endeavor to leave to generals.' I don't completely agree but I do agree that there is a reason for civilian control of the military and it is for reasons like this, not to prevent coups. Good luck, and may God be with us all, especially those poor souls in Fredericksburg.»
As the general left the Situation Room, the President glanced at the secretary of defense, who was still fuming. «General Taylor doesn't think much of Forward Defense, does he?»
«No, Mister President, he doesn't,» agreed the secretary, with gritted teeth. «I can't believe you let him say those things to you.»
Edwards nodded his head. «He's become quite popular. There has been a noticeable turnaround among the forces under his direction.»
«So,» said the secretary, «what you're saying is we have to put up with his bullshit?»
The President leaned back and gripped the arms of his chair firmly. «What I'm saying is, your friend Olds had better know what he's talking about.»
CHAPTER 40
Fredericksburg, VA, United States of America, Sol III
0614 EDT October 10th, 2004 ad
Another wash of firecrackers slammed into the hill as a barrage of sixteen-inch cluster rounds landed and Tommy picked up his AIW. «Okay, let's go over it one more time.»
«We fire a few shots from here,» said Wendy, tiredly, «then move back to Alesia's.»
«You go first, let me take any of the fire that might come through when we run. I'd trade armor with you, but I don't think you could move fast enough in this.»
«Okay.» She looked at the shoulder-to-knee padding. «I don't think so either. At Alesia's, we set off the claymore in here.» She pointed to the mine set up in the middle of the room pointed at the door. «When they attack Alesia's, we go to the basement, get in the tunnel, pull the safe in front of the hole using the pry bar and set off the claymore in Alesia's when they come through that door.»
«Okay. Good enough.» A burst of fire came from the machine gun post catty-corner across the intersection from their position. A hail of flechette rounds answered the fire and the wall of the building sparkled in ricochets. The M-60 coughed once, twice, then was permanently stilled by a hypervelocity missile. The kinetic explosion sent a shock wave across the street that hammered the breath from their lungs.
«Oh, God,» Wendy coughed on the cloud of dust blasted into the street, pulling the rifle into her shoulder, and placing it on the pillow.
«It's time to dance,» whispered Tommy and snuggled the AIW into his shoulder. He switched to grenade launcher and took up slack on the trigger.
When the first rank of the Posleen phalanx entered the intersection of Charles and George Streets it was met with a storm of fire. Wendy fired a series of laser-aimed bursts that were surprisingly accurate for a beginner while across the street a pair of youth militia fired rapid individual rounds from their vintage M-14s. The real killers, though, were the five 20mm grenade rounds that Tommy Sunday used to fill the intersection with dead Posleen. By walking the fire rapidly from one side of narrow George Street to the other, he created a flesh barrier of dead and wounded centaurs that, for a moment, balked their trailing fellows. Unfortunately, the second rank could see the location of the defensive fire.
A tungsten and steel rain of flechettes hammered the openings through which the two youths were firing and ricochets bounded though the stone-walled room. Tommy dove back and down in a roll away from the windows.
«Move!» he yelled and bounded towards the back door of the shop, forgetting to cover Wendy with his armor.
Wendy lurched towards the door, then stumbled as her right leg refused to support her weight. She looked down and, in the gathering daylight, saw a dark stain on her calf from a ricocheted flechette. She used the Galil to prop herself up and limped towards the door.
Tommy leaned out the door, rifle training left and right as he slid in another clip of grenades. «Come on!» he shouted above the din of fire on either side. When she did not bypass him he looked back in the room. The problem was obvious.
«I can make it,» Wendy cried, stumbling on half-seen furniture as tears of pain clouded her eyes and the world swam in gray.
He looked at her and for a moment time seemed to stand still as his mind raced over alternatives. His hand twitched once towards the Desert Eagle at his side, then in sudden decision he hefted the assault rifle in his left hand and swept her over his right shoulder. As pounding started on the front door of the shop, he sprinted for Alesia's Antiques.