The president nodded his agreement.
Grantham asked, “And how many is that?”
“I don’t know yet,” Wynette said. He continued, “There are around twelve thousand fighting soldiers in a division. We’d like the divisions at full strength, if possible. In addition to their weapons, artillery, air support, food, and ammo, we must also move all the support equipment and manpower required to keep the warriors eating, sleeping, and fighting, the planes and choppers flying, the artillery supplied with ammo, and enough extra stuff to provide humanitarian relief. We are doing all we can to get this organized and moving, which is everything humanly possible.”
“So we sit on our asses for eight days and wait,” Al Grantham summed up.
Wynette gestured to the briefer, who went on with his presentation. JCS envisioned beginning air operations against Texas tomorrow. The targets would be all the surrendered military equipment at the military bases. Missions would be flown by B-52s escorted by F-16s during the day and B-1s at night targeting Fort Bliss, the Texas Guard armories, and other military targets. The navy can bring an aircraft carrier around Florida and begin air operations in two days against the military bases around San Antonio and Killeen. “Our goal,” the briefer summed up, “is to attrite their armor and air assets by seventy-five percent by D-Day, which is the day we plan to cross the Texas border.”
“Why not hammer their industry, their refineries, and factories and power plants?”
“Those are legitimate strategic military targets,” Major General Strong said, “but the primary goal of the air campaign must be the destruction of the enemy’s combat power — the opposition we’ll face when we put boots on the ground. After we knock out their combat power and render it impotent, then we can bomb strategic targets.”
“But before we do that,” interjected Wynette, “you must decide how much of an economy you want standing after we take over. If everyone is destitute and starving, the assets to feed them and rebuild Texas must come from the rest of the United States.”
“Just the military targets,” the president said. Then he added, “Unless this invasion gets bogged down. If push comes to shove, we are going to win if we have to flatten every building and kill every cow in Texas.”
“Yes, sir,” General Wynette said.
Barry Soetoro leaned forward in his chair and looked straight into Wynette’s eyes. “I expect you to crush the rebels, General. If you don’t, don’t come back alive.”
It was the second time that the president had told him that, and though Wynette had kissed ass for a lot of years, he was fed up with Barry Soetoro. “Mr. President, if you don’t think I can win, fire me and get a general you think can. The army has plenty of experienced combat leaders for you to pick from.”
“You’re the man I want,” Soetoro shot back. “I know you’ll obey orders.”
“And you think these others might not? What kind of orders wouldn’t they obey?”
Soetoro’s eyes were locked on Martin Wynette. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said.
Wynette was the first to look away.
Back in the air-conditioned Pentagon, Wynette had another bad moment. The staff had framed the loyalty question to the troops as “Are you willing to fight for the United States of America to stamp out a rebellion?” Yes or No.
Last night on television he saw commentators talking about “Barry Soetoro’s army” versus Texas. Wynette thought — and he knew many of his troops thought — there was a huge difference between “Barry Soetoro’s army” and “the United States Army,” and the more commentators talked like that, the more desertions he would have.
The Joint Chiefs assembled in his office. They wanted to know their role in putting down the riots that were raging in the big cities.
“Forget about that for now. That doesn’t seem to be the president’s priority,” Wynette replied. “He seems to think that if he squashes Texas, all his other problems will go away. However, in fifteen minutes Grantham may call and want us to invade Detroit.”
What he didn’t say, although he thought it, was that the president and his staff were fixated on the wrong problem. In his years of service he had served on joint staffs on numerous occasions and knew it was the job of a commander to define the priorities and keep his staff focused on them. Wynette thought Barry Soetoro didn’t understand what his problems were or couldn’t prioritize; if either was the case, he was incompetent. As the general saw it, the primary problem in America just now was that civil authority in much of the nation was about to collapse. It wasn’t just Texas that the president might lose, it was America.
When JR Hays arrived in Austin that afternoon, he headed straight for the capitol and was ushered into the governor’s (now the president’s) office. He waited in a corner while some politicians briefed Jack.
Several thousand people a day were pouring into Texas from other states. Many of these people said their extended families, neighbors, and coworkers were only a day or two behind them. More people were coming, a lot more, and they would need housing and jobs. After the politicians had spent ten minutes discussing how the flood of refugees might be accommodated temporarily, Hays shooed them out and locked the door. He and JR sat in chairs facing each other.
“We’ve had some good luck,” JR said, “because a lot of the people in the army and air force refused to fight for Barry Soetoro. Any commander in that position would have had to surrender. Still, those services are going to find people who will fight for Soetoro, and then the shooting will begin in earnest.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“We can’t sit here waiting for Soetoro to hammer us. I would bet my soul they are plotting to do that right now in Washington. If Soetoro lets us get away with leaving the Union and setting up as an independent nation, other states will do it too, one by one, and eventually he won’t own anything but the federal district in Washington. He can’t let that happen. He has to whip us, and he has to do it as soon as he can assemble the forces to do it with. Every day he doesn’t win is a victory for us. If we can pile up enough little victories, we can win the war.”
Jack Hays nodded. He was delighted JR was thinking about all this, because he hadn’t had time. Politics was his business, not the military.
“We need to seize the initiative and force Soetoro’s military forces to react to us. We need to put them on the defensive, derail their plans. And, if possible, we need to move the fight out of Texas; we want the front line to be somewhere else, not here.”
“So how do you propose to do that?”
JR Hays began explaining his plans.
When he had finished, Jack nodded.
“We’re going to have a lot of civilian problems to deal with,” JR added. “Soon the enemy will target our power plants. Houston and Dallas and the high-rises all over Texas will instantly become uninhabitable. We need to get organized now to take care of what will become a huge humanitarian crisis.”
“Houston and Dallas are using school buses to evacuate all the people stranded at the airports,” the governor mused, “so we have a start, anyway. I’ll get our emergency people involved.”
“In my view, Jack, your number one job is to buck up the people of Texas with your courage and determination to see this through to the end.”
“My courage? How much do you think I have?”
“Enough, or we’re doomed. Leaders must lead. But the more effective you are, the more likely Soetoro will send assassins or commandos to take you out. If they kill you, the backbones of a lot of people will soften. Get some bodyguards, and good ones. Use them.”