while they’re still reeling. I need the Dragon Brigade to winkle out the last buggers dug in around Meggido tonight.”
“1-18 Infantry has the mission, sir. Good unit. They’ll do the job.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” Harris continued. “That imagery the Marines downlinked makes Afula look tough. We’d all rather bypass it and come in from behind. Nobody’s crazy about doing a Charge of the Light Brigade down the Jezreel, with the Jihadis up on those heights around Narzareth. But we don’t have the time. And the Afula defense is just mobile systems for the meantime. They haven’t had time to prep the ground, to really dig in. They weren’t expecting customers that far back in the shop, so we’re facing a hasty defense with some pretty good anti-armor equipment. But I don’t see any serious revetments or any concrete being poured.”
“Sir… I understand the mission. But you saw the imagery. It’s like they’ve gathered up every antitank system in their inventory. And then you’ve got the killer-drone problem.”
“Understood, Mike.”
“And you saw the Deuce’s spreadsheet on the EM spectrum.”
The G-2 leapt back in. “Sir, when we plot all the jamming and counterjamming, wideband, pinpoint, you name it, and then layer on the digital predators and spoofers… The spread sheet’s almost all black.”
“It cuts both ways,” Harris said. “If we can’t talk or bring precision fires to bear, neither can they.”
“They’ll be defending. And they’ve got first-rate loophole technology on their antitank systems. Any gaps in our jamming or spoofing, and that’s all she wrote.”
“Mike, we’ve been through it. The mission stands. 1 ID gets all the supporting fires the corps can bring to bear.”
“Afula may still have a lot of civilians down in the cellars,” the G-2 said. “It looked like the Jihadis are forcing the locals to remain in place in the major population centers.”
“Got it. And I’m not looking for a bloodbath. That’s Sim Mont-fort’s line of work. But we can’t worry about collateral damage on this one. A quick win will save plenty of lives later. Afula’s the key to everything else — I’m not sending anybody through those high-radiation valleys to the north if there’s any way to avoid it. And if the Jihadis are going to fight from towns — well, that’s a course of action they’ve forced on us. Just give General Scott everything he wants. But, Mike,” Harris said to his operations officer, “before we get off this tub, make double-ass sure your people understand that the FRAGO goes out to the Big Red One by 1700, with the completed operations order to General Scott not later than 2100. Scottie’s going to need all the time we can give him to pull this together. To say nothing of the brigade and battalion staffs.”
Harris swept his forefinger across his nose, back and forth, once. “They’re still trying to get themselves unscrewed after getting ashore. I’d hate to be a battalion S-4 or BMO out there tonight. And Three? Chop Avi Dorn’s brigade to the Big Red One for this operation. Avi’s bitching about not getting into the fight. Tell General Scott to get Avi’s ass in it.” He thought for a moment. “But not as the main attack. Supporting attack or just a demonstration to the north. Avi’s not going to have a lot of time on the ground to get organized. And we’re not going to be accused of using the Israelis as cannon fodder.”
“Tempting, though,” the G-3 said.
“Mike… I don’t ever want to hear you say anything like that again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harris shook his head. “I
The G-2 looked at him, then looked at each of the others. “Sir… You know it’s more than that. More than just the equipment, I mean.”
Harris waved a paw at the problem. “I know, Val. I know. Look, this is a shitty war. There’s nothing between here and the Himalayas that’s worth a single American soldier’s life to me.” It was his turn to inspect the other faces in turn. “But we’re not fighting for all this crap about taking back the Holy Land. We’re fighting to save the United States Army. And the Marine Corps, for that matter. We’re all that stands between God’s little fascists and control of our country.” He swiveled toward his aide. “John, what’s the exact wording of the oath they take?”
The aide, whose purpose it was to sit, listen, and have things ready before the general knew he wanted them, leaned toward the table. “The part about ‘allegiance to the Military Order of the Brothers in Christ in service to the United States of America,’ sir?”
Harris cocked his fingers like a pistol. “Bingo. You all got that, gentlemen?
“Yes, sir. That’s why we’re working STARK YANKEE.”
“And I wish the hell we didn’t have to. Disgusts me. Everybody spying on everybody. It just goddamned makes me sick. That we’ve all come to this.”
The G-3 said, “Well, the Jihadis—”
“Mike, that’s just an excuse. We’ve done this to ourselves. And I don’t know how we’re all going to get through it.”
“By supporting and defending the Constitution of the United States,” the G-3 said.
“Until they change the Constitution. Which they mean to do. Or maybe they’ll just manage to change our oath. Listen up, all of you. The Army and Marines have to come out of this looking pure, efficient, effective, and indispensible. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but my gut instincts tell me that Sim Montfort’s going to make a big mistake at some point. And we’re going to save the day when he does. Go Army, and Semper Fi.”
The G-3 smiled. “The ‘fog of war’ might have something to say about that, sir.”
“To hell with the fog of war. War’s clear. It’s peace that’s foggy. And one more thing, Mike. Before I get back to Val and we wrap things up: Make sure the MPs understand that their number-one mission is protecting the landlines we lay. We haven’t seen a flurry of roadside bombs yet. Largely due to the element of surprise, I suspect. But, frankly, I’m not that worried about their stay-behinds planting shaped charges and the like. Oh, it’ll happen. But I want the MPs focused on preserving our communications. The Jihadis are smart enough to realize that our wires and cables are more important to us than a handful of vehicles. And — just by the way — I’d be wary of booby traps if I were an MP inspecting a break in a fiber-optic line. Did they get all their Signal Corps attachments, by the way?”
“Yes, sir. The MPs are fully task-organized.”
“Okay, Mike. Val, you’re on again. Talk to me. Anything new from your man in Nazareth?”
“No, sir. I would’ve reported it to you. Nothing since last night. I was expecting an update today, but his channel’s been quiet.”
“One brave sonofabitch. Not a job I’d want. SF?”
“Yes, sir. And a Foreign Area Officer.”
“Well, let’s hope we get to pin a medal on him. While he’s still breathing. But listen up. If his reporting’s accurate… if they’re pushing refugees
“Sir… I can’t be sure. It strikes me that they may be planning to hold on to the city by generating images of suffering refugees… getting the world involved. We’ve got the media ban in effect on our side — except for the MOBIC-approved correspondents — but the Jihadis have been working the media for fifty years. And the world media love them. When L.A. and Vegas went down, a couple million people may have died, but a thousand
