“Normally, that is true,” Vermullen replied. “But we don’t have enough mines to cover a broad area and must concentrate them where they will do the most good.” He tapped the last ring of densely packed DFPs inside the minefield that surrounded the mission itself. “This is Alpha Ring, our last line of defense, that your Sergeant Malone created. The minefield provides a cover for Alpha Ring.”
Toby’s face turned gray and he felt sick. “If anything makes the case for evil, it’s land mines.”
“This evil will keep us alive,” Vermullen said. “We’ll plot where each one is and dig them up later. We’ve done this before.”
Malaby had a question. “How do we get our troops through the mine field to Alpha Ring if we have to pull back?
Mercier answered . “You are very observant, Colonel. Some of the mines that we captured at Bentiu, over a hundred, are armed by remote control.” He sketched in four narrow corridors through the minefield. “We mark these corridors with stakes for everyone to see and place the remote-controlled mines in the corridors. We will arm the mines after we have withdrawn into Alpha Ring.”
“But some of our people might be trapped on the wrong side,” Dick Lane said.
“It is the best of many bad options,” Vermullen replied.
“What about mortar and artillery fire?” Allston’s Facilities commander asked.
Vermullen answered. “Without a counter-battery radar, that is a problem. We can suppress close-in mortar fire with ours and our best defense is to dig as many DFPs as we can to rapidly concentrate our men while still protecting them. Reverend Person, I am hoping you can help with this.”
The coppery taste of bile flooded Toby’s mouth. “I didn’t come to Africa to kill people.” He paced the floor. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“I know,” Allston said.
Toby jerked his head yes, finally accepting the inevitability of what he had to do. “I’ll have everyone I can here in the morning. “ He walked from the room and disappeared into the night.
The reserved and quiet major who headed logistics spoke. “Is there any way we can make the SA more predictable? I was thinking, what if we take out Waleed now? before the SA hooks up with him. That way, they would have to come across the Nile. I hear most of his men have deserted.”
“A preemptive attack?” Allston replied. “I don’t see how.”
“Let me work on it,” Vermullen said. He had a few scores he wanted to settle with the Sudanese major.
E-Ring
Brigadier General Yvonne Richards was in a state of shock when the phone call came in and it was not a conversation she was ready for. Suddenly, her career was on the chopping block. “Yes, Mr. Speaker, I’m reviewing the CD you sent over as we speak.” The Speaker of the House was adamant about what he wanted done. “Yes, sir, I’ll get right on it.” She was thankful for the abrupt click ending the conversation. There was no doubt he wanted a blood sacrifice and had banged the phone down with force. She placed the CD in a leather folder and considered her next move. The reality was that she was out of options. She called Fitzgerald’s secretary and said that she had a communication from the Speaker of the House and had to see the general immediately.
Twenty minutes later, she was standing in front of Fitzgerald as the CD played out on his computer. “Why does it always hit the fan on Friday afternoon?” he asked. It was an occurrence that happened all too often in the Pentagon. “Have you downloaded this?” She assured him she had. “We need to preempt.” The implication was clear; he expected the Speaker to break it to the media when it could do the most harm and they had to be ready when that happened. He hit the direct dial button to the JAG, Lieutenant General Forney. “Aaron, meet me in the Chairman’s office ASAP.”
He listened for a moment, his lips compressed into a tight line. The JAG was scheduled to deliver the keynote address to the annual American Bar Association convention in three hours. “Cancel or send your deputy,” Fitzgerald said. He punched off the number and called the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “General, I have a situation that requires your immediate attention.” Although they were old friends, formality conveyed urgency and Misner reacted accordingly. Fitzgerald dropped the phone in its cradle, ejected the CD, and handed it to her. “I’ll let you brief the Chairman.” For a moment, he thought Richards was going to throw up.
Richards followed a half step behind as Fitzgerald quick marched to Misner’s office where Forney was waiting. They were ushered directly into the Chairman’s office. “This is your baby,” Fitzgerald told Richards.
She gulped hard, and inserted the CD into a player. The three men watched in silence as the short scene played out. “The Speaker expects a court-martial,” she told them.
“I really needed this,” Misner replied. “Aaron, appoint your best legal beagle to head an Article 32 investigation.” An Article 32 investigation under the Uniform Code of Military Justice was the military’s equivalent of a pretrial investigation and the first step leading to a court-martial. “I don’t see how we can avoid a court-martial on this, so play it by the book. No mistakes and no cover-ups. And no leaks. Fitz, lay on airlift and get the lucky lawyer there ASAP. I’ll brief the Secretary. Any questions?”
“Sir,” Forney said, “the best man I have is a reservist, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Sutherland. Hank was an extremely successful deputy district attorney and now teaches law at the University of California at Berkeley.”
“Since Berkeley is the Speaker’s hometown, that should set well,” Misner replied. He hated the part of his job that required him to play games, but there was no avoiding it. The reality was that appearances trumped logic and reason in the give and take of Washington politics and mattered more than substance.
“It will take a few days to get him there,” Forney added.
Misner’s fingers drummed a tattoo on the table. The Speaker would interpret any delay on their part as stonewalling or a cover up. “Anybody else you can send?”
“No one half as good,” the JAG replied.
Fitzgerald had a solution. “We need to preserve the evidence. I suggest we send an officer, preferably flag ranked, to start the investigation and then turn it over to Sutherland when he gets there.”
“Someone who is familiar with the situation,” Forney said. The three generals turned and looked at Richards.
TWENTY
Mission Awana
Allston’s small staff clustered around his table in the Ops Center for their morning meeting. They were a cohesive team, and because the 4440th was small and well-integrated unit, they were extremely efficient. The meeting didn’t take long and they were almost finished when the radio squawked; a Dumbo was inbound with a code six on board. Malaby was worried. “Can a C-17 land on the mission’s runway?” Allston assured her it could although turning around might get dicey. “A code six is all we need,” she added.
“I’m betting it’s the US consul general for the Sudan,” Dick Lane said.
“It might be a brigadier general,” Malone said.
Allston cut off the speculation. “It’s a chance to get some of our folks out of here,” he told them. “Who have you got that wants to get out of Dodge?” He went quickly around the table. Malaby had fourteen maintenance personnel, Logistics two, and Facilities six who wanted to leave. Malone shook his head, a satisfied look on his face, as none of the security cops wanted out. “What about the aircrews?” Allston asked Lane.
“No one wants to leave,” the ops officer said, “but with only four Herks, I only need twenty-four bodies to make up six crews. I can send sixteen home.”