Albaugh dropped back into his turret and reconnected his helmet. “Dragoon Six, this is Bravo.”
“Go ahead, Bravo.”
“The India-Echo-Foxtrot unit is holding in place two clicks west of Miqdal. There’s no opposition up here. They just stopped. And they won’t respond on the liaison channel.”
“Who reported that?”
“I’m up here myself. Just north of the white-ball in sector. When I get up on my turret, I can see them. They’re just smoking and joking. One company of them, anyway.”
On the other end, there was a pause that amounted to an unspoken obscenity.
“Good copy, Bravo. Stay tied in with them. Maintain visual contact. And let me know immediately if they go boots and saddles again. The Scotsman isn’t going to be happy about this. Out.”
Things were going a little too well for Harris’s peace of mind. Dropping the countermeasures had worked exactly as Scottie’s major had predicted — although an entire company had gotten ahead of the phase line and lost every vehicle it had forward. Otherwise, the losses reported thus far were lighter than the low-end projections. The parasite in the Jihadis’ target-acquisition system had worked perfectly. Scottie’s 1st Brigade was in control of Afula, with lead elements pushing east.
Yet, the general’s expression had hardened almost to grimness. He’d just grilled his G-2 publicly with questions he knew Danczuk couldn’t answer off the cuff. It was Harris’s way of warning the staff not to pop any invisible champagne corks just yet.
“Where’s their armor, Deuce? Where’s that brigade they had tucked in below Mt. Tabor, the mixed outfit with the Egyptian M-1s and captured Merkavas? That was a counterattack force. So why aren’t they counterattacking? Al-Ghazi’s a serious soldier. What’s he up to? Why didn’t we see more drone activity? Why has the jamming fallen off? So we can all listen to the MOBIC Gospel Hour? Christ, Val, they put up just enough of a defense to play pretend. I’m embarrassed that al-Ghazi thinks I’m stupid enough to buy this. And now you tell me they’re pulling back all across the sector? What planet are we on? What’s al-Ghazi got up his sleeve?”
Danczuk had been smoking from both ears as he marched off to scour the universe for answers.
The staff members stayed out of Harris’s way as best they could, heads down over their work or headsets clamped on. Harris was a calm man in adversity, but success made him nervous.
“Sir,” the ops officer sitting on the command net for him said, “General Scott needs to talk to you. ASAP.”
Harris grabbed the headset. As if repossessing it from a deadbeat.
“Talk to me, Scottie.”
“Has anyone up there ordered the India-Echo-Foxtrots to halt their attack?” The 1 ID commander sounded hot. “I’m getting reports that they’re taking the longest piss break in human history.”
“Who’s reporting that?”
“Quarter Cav. They’ve got visual. And the India-Echos won’t respond to the cav’s efforts to contact them. The troop commander down there says they’re just kicking back and playing with themselves.”
“Hold one, Scottie.” Harris turned his head. As if it were on a greased swivel. “Three? You have anything new on Avi Dorn’s brigade? General Scott says they’ve halted in place.”
Mike Andretti gave Harris a deer-in-the-headlights look.
“Almost too good. I’m not sure I like it.”
“That makes two of us. So don’t let your guys get victory-is-ours syndrome just yet.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Out.”
Harris looked at the row of officers and NCOs sitting comms. “Somebody get me General Dorn.
“I’ve got reports of minefields ahead,” Avi Dorn told the corps commander on the land line. “I need to send out dismounted probes.”
“Come on, Avi. Do it with your blade tanks. Shoot out some line charges. What’s the matter with you? Get moving.”
“I can’t order my men into minefields.”
“Avi, what’s up? This isn’t like you. Yesterday, you couldn’t wait to get at the Jihadis. Now you want to break for tea and sympathy. Level with me — are you going to continue the attack, or not?”
“With all due respect, sir… How many soldiers does Israel have left? My brigade and the two brigades with the MOBIC corps… a battalion of paratroopers in reserve. That’s it. I can’t risk nearly a third of what’s left to us by charging blindly into minefields.”
“Who told you there are minefields? We haven’t seen any intel on it.”
“Local sources. We still have some contacts.”
“Then why not share the information?”
“It just came in.”
“Avi, this stinks to high heaven.”
“I have my responsibilities.”
The silence on the other end of the line was easy to read. Dorn pictured Harris fuming, struggling not to burst into obscenities that could not be recalled. He felt sorry for the general, who was a fighter. It all might have been so different. Dorn wished it had been different. But he would’ve made a deal with the dev il if it resurrected Israel from the dust. Even a shrunken, new-beginning Israel.
He
When the general’s voice returned, it was measured and cold with harnessed fury: “Avi, I’m giving you a direct order to resume the attack. Now.”
“Acknowledged,” Dorn said. “My brigade will resume the attack. As soon as we clear any minefields between our current positions and Miqdal.”
Harris hung up.
Harris turned to his G-3. “Mike, get a FRAGO out to the 1st Cav. I want their lead brigade moving within two hours to assume Avi Dorn’s sector and continue the attack.”
“Sir, they’re still unloading their—”
“I don’t care if they have to move out with two Bradleys, one tank, and a three-legged goat, I want them moving. General Stramara’s had it easy up to now. It’s time for the 1st Cav to pick up the pace.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned to the officer and the two NCOs babysitting the primary command-channel comms. “Get me Major General Stramara. On the land line, if it’s up.”
A staff sergeant straightened his back and said, “Yes, sir.” Without meeting Harris’s eyes.
Val Danczuk walked back into the room. His gait struck Harris as odd. Almost as if it wasn’t really the G-2, but a robot or a zombie got up as the Deuce. And it was the first time in his life that Harris had literally seen a human being’s face go white.
“What is it, Val?”
The G-2 stepped close enough for Harris to see that the man’s eyes were lost.
“Talk to me, Deuce.”
“Sir… We’ve got… I’ve just got in two reports. One from Jerusalem. The other’s from Nazareth. From our man on the ground.”
“Jerusalem can wait. I’ve got a fight going on right here. What’s happening in Nazareth?”
Harris was startled to see tears well in the G-2’s eyes.
“Sir…” Col o nel Danczuk told him, “… we need to speak in private.”
Major Nasr wet himself. He couldn’t even rise from the bed to stagger to the cabin in the yard. He struggled to rise, at least to a sitting position. But it was a no-go. The effort of the night before had drained him of all the juice he had left.
