“So it escapes magnetic detection and moves,” Turner added.
“Apparently so,” the colonel said.
“Richard,” Turner said, “we’re returning to Andrews immediately. I know what it will do to the campaign.” She looked at him as he made the phone call. “It may cost me the election.”
“Not necessarily,” Parrish replied. “We change our strategy to ‘Embattled president wages war on ruthless enemy.’ Or something like that.” He warmed to it, proving why he was a consummate politician. “I’ll get Shaw on the line, and we’ll work it with the committee on the flight back. Should have something by the time we land.”
“We need to defuse the casualty issue. Perhaps it’s time for a few reporters to receive a deep-background briefing from a highly placed, unidentified source in the administration.”
“How high?” Parrish asked.
“The highest,” she answered. She looked at Scovill. “I’d like for you to be there.”
“My pleasure, Madam President. Anyone in particular you want me to strangle?”
“Not today,” she answered.
“I have a few candidates,” Parrish said.
By definition, reporters are cynics. They are also firm believers in the axiom that everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. But in their special case they are also permitted their own special truth, and any fact that runs counter to their view of reality is wrong by definition. But what they were hearing now was beyond their special truth and could not be discounted, denied, or damned. It was a view of reality, straight from the top and devoid of the special interpretations they labeled “spin.” All tape recorders were off, no notebooks were out, their pens were still as they listened to the Marine colonel simply repeat all he had told the president during the day. He finished by telling them about the sinking of the two ships and the closing of the Suez Canal. “I’ll tell you this,” Scovill said. “This is the worst job in the Pentagon. I’d much rather be with my unit facing the enemy. The decisions there are simple.”
The president sat down beside Scovill and touched his hand. “This is the first time I’ve seen you display any emotion. I know it’s been hard for you, and I appreciate it.” She turned to her chief of staff. “Richard.”
“Most everything you’ve heard so far,” Parrish began, “will be released within twenty-four hours. Of course, certain items will not, like the mine we recovered. We need to keep that a secret so we can exploit it.” Parrish paused and looked at Turner. She nodded, giving him the go-ahead. “We want to show you a report that is very close-hold for reasons that will become obvious. But before we do, I must have your promise that what you see stays here.”
“Is this more important than the mine?” a reporter asked.
“In a way, yes,” Parrish replied.
The reporter stood. “I’m not going to sell my integrity for a peek at some intelligence report. No thank you very much.” He walked out.
“Anyone else?” Parrish asked. The remaining nine reporters didn’t budge. He passed out a sheet of paper.
“Oh, my God,” one of the reporters whispered. “Are these our real casualties?”
“No,” Parrish answered. “Theirs. This came from a UIF message the National Security Agency intercepted less than twenty-four hours ago. The information it contains is not classified, but the fact that we caught it and were able to decode it is highly classified. We want them to keep using this channel, as it’s one of our best sources of intelligence.”
Now it was Scovill’s turn. “The standard planning factor for the opening phase of a war like this calls for an exchange rate of approximately forty to one in our favor. It doesn’t take fuzzy math to figure out that with a hundred thirty-eight thousand killed alone, the exchange rate is seventy-six to one.”
“Seventy-six and a half to one,” a reporter who was good with numbers said. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe,” the Marine answered. “The UIF planned and trained for a conventional attack, not appreciating the lethal nature of modern warfare or not giving a damn about their soldiers. They bogged down in the desert because we bled them dry and they outran their supply lines. We plan to keep it that way with the air-interdiction campaign. We’re going to cut them off and bomb them until they have two options: surrender or die.”
“Why is this close-hold?” another reporter said. “You should be shouting it from the tallest buildings.”
“Because of the source,” Scovill told him.
Turner stood up. “There’s another reason.” She started to pace. How could she make them understand? “Those are real people, not just numbers on a sheet of paper. For the most part they want the same thing everyone wants — a home, a safe place to raise their children. They hurt and cry like we do, and they only want to get on with their lives. I doubt that many really wanted to fight this war, but they had no choice. We have no quarrel with them, and we’re not fighting for revenge.”
“Madam President,” a reporter said, “how can you say that? I saw the unedited tape of our three soldiers being executed.”
“I saw it, too. I don’t know what motivated them. Considering the way we’ve slaughtered them — and it has been a slaughter, there’s no other word for it — they may still feel the same and will do it again. But we have to look beyond that.” She paused to make her point. “They are not our teachers!” She stood before them, all that she was out there to be seen. “My generals tell me that these numbers are nothing compared to what will happen when we go on the offensive. But this time our casualties will be minimal. Make no mistake, I will give that order if they do not surrender and withdraw.”
Her voice was firm. “We didn’t want a war, and we didn’t provoke it. But even so, no person should be asked to kill others on such a scale. Yet that is exactly what I’ve ordered our men and women to do. But how can I reconcile such killing with everything we stand for without appealing to hate and prejudice? Hate…the most accessible of all human emotions. Is this what we’re all about? Must we sacrifice our humanity to the gods of war?”
She turned and looked out a window. “I think that’s Missouri below us. The heartland of America. B-2 bombers from Whiteman Air Force Base are recovering from missions over Iraq. They’ll be rearmed and launched on more missions. I would much rather be sending the world grain grown in Missouri. This is not what I wanted.” She turned and walked from the cabin.
Without a word, the reporters stood. One by one they handed the sheet of paper they were each holding to Parrish as they filed out. The lone reporter who had walked out of the meeting was waiting for them. “Did I miss much?” he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“Only the best speech Maddy Turner will ever give” came the answer.
Sixteen
The rain slugged down, working its way through Tel’s poncho and sending a rivulet of water down his back. He hoped it was the last rainstorm of the southwest monsoon and that they would have a break until December, with the onset of the northeast monsoon. He joined the officers and senior NCOs gathered under the tightly stretched tarp and shrugged off his poncho, glad to be out of the rain.
“The brigadier and colonel will be here in a few moments,” he announced. He stifled a grin as he listened to the Chinese equivalent of bitching and moaning. If Kamigami was correct, he was hearing exactly what they needed to hear. The First SOS had changed from a highly disciplined, regimented, spit-and-polished outfit to a totally focused collection of aggressive shooters totally committed to battle discipline. But there had been a price — the First was half its former size. Tel made a mental note to ask Kamigami what had happened.