from their respective governments to the United States. They had been brought together through a most unusual agreement and sent north to the land of the yanquis on a mission of extreme sensitivity and confidentiality.
The three South American diplomats were given a covert but warm welcome to Washington upon their arrival and provided with quarters at a safe house in Georgetown. Now, after cooling their heels for forty hours, they sat in sullen silence at one end of a large conference table located in an out-of-the-way State Department meeting room. The trio, a trifle irritated, waited impatiently for their American contact to appear.
These gentlemen were specialists in the complicated environment of international diplomacy. They participated in clandestine segments of unique proceedings few insiders knew about. Their duties required them to perform their surreptitious tasks in the strictest secrecy, and that particular day's activities were no exception. The subject to be discussed could absolutely not be revealed to the outside world, particularly to the populations of the emissaries' home countries. Revelations of the conference would cause untold embarrassment to all concerned, not to mention instigating the bloodiest revolution in the history of Latin America.
In short, it would make a bad situation worse.
The door to the room opened, and the South Americans snapped their eyes over in that direction. Carl Joplin, PhD, an American undersecretary of state walked in with a friendly smile, taking a seat at the head of the table. The African-American superdiplomat displayed a warm smile. 'Good morning, gentlemen. Or should I say, Buenos dias, caballeros?'
The three visitors smiled slightly in a subdued manner of greeting.
'I was most surprised to hear from all three of you at the same time,' Joplin said. 'It is hard to imagine what sort of crisis would have brought Argentina, Chile and Bolivia together in what appears to be a common cause.'
'Then you realize that only the gravest of circumstances would have brought about this event that you find so electrifying,' Ludendorff of Chile said.
'Frankly,' Joplin said, 'I must admit that at this moment I am more than just a little apprehensive. Your grim demeanors do nothing to allay my uneasiness.' He leaned back in his chair. 'I believe it is obvious that since I know nothing of your mission, I am unable to officially open this diplomatic session in which no agenda has been introduced.' He smiled again. 'Would one of you gentleman kindly do the honors?'
The Argentine Bonicelli spoke up in the realization that he and his two companions would have to start the ball rolling. 'It begins with a fascist Spanish Army officer by the name of Jose Maria de Castillo y Plato.'
'Ah!' Joplin exclaimed. 'The Far Right enters the picture, hey? I am very familiar with el coronel Castillo and his service in the notorious Spanish Foreign Legion. His dossier also emphasizes a rather malevolent political background. Thus, it appears you are having problems with neo-Nazis in your particular necks of the woods. Is this the case?'
'Not neo-Nazis in the conventional interpretation of the term,' Sanchez of Bolivia said. 'In this case it -is Falangists, Dr. Joplin. Castillo is from an old, established and extremely wealthy industrial family. His kinsmen are dedicated followers of traditional Spanish right-wing philosophies that strongly purport the reestablishment of a dictatorship in that country. We believe this potential regime would be even more draconian than that of el generalisimo Francisco Franco.'
'A moment please,' Joplin said. 'As I recall the Falange was the political party that ran Spain under Franco:'
'The same,' Ludendorff said. 'And since Castillo cannot realize his dream in Spain, he has chosen South America as the locale to establish a new fascist country. To be more precise, he wishes to do this in an area where Argentina, Bolivia and Paraguay come together. We are not in the least appreciative of this dubious honor.'
'I am confused,' Joplin said. 'I see a representative from Chile here, but nobody from Paraguay.'
'Paraguay is not involved,' the Bolivian Sanchez said. 'The war we had with them precludes any hope of cooperation between our two nations' armed forces:'
'You are speaking, of course, of the Gran Chaco War, Senor Sanchez,' Joplin said. 'But all that happened between 1928 and 1935. Don't tell me that there is still bitterness about a conflict that occurred over three-quarters of a century.
'I assure you such animosity is alive and well to this day,' Sanchez said. 'At any rate, Colonel Castillo believes Chile has more strategic importance, because of its availability to the Andes mountains and the Pacific Ocean to the west. Consequently, he is ignoring Paraguay.'
'Argentina,' Bonicelli interjected, 'offers access to the Atlantic Ocean, and thus is included in Castillo's ambitions.'
Joplin shrugged. 'Please, gentlemen, this is all pretty far-fetched, is it not? The whole concept is preposterous.'
Sanchez shook his head. 'I beg to strongly disagree, sir! Castillo has taken dissident officers and noncommissioned officers of the armed forces of the three countries into his movement. They have looted entire garrisons to get the materiel and weaponry they need. They are now well-equipped, armed and have begun making raids against isolated military posts in the area. These Falangistas have hidden camps in the Gran Chaco. As you know, that is an isolated section of South America abounding with swamps and grasslands. There are no roads or rail transportation. Rivers offer the most efficient means of travel. Thus the populations living there are under the Falangists' command and control:'
'I would think,' Joplin said, 'that if you sent the armies of your nations against these rebels, you could easily crush them.'
Ludendorff looked at his two companions, then turned a sad expression on Joplin. 'The Latin American military has always been fond of political adventuring. Consequently, we do not know who to trust in our armed forces. We require outsiders to rid us of this problem.'
'To be more precise:' Bonicelli said, 'the situation requires fuerzas especiales--special forces--to defeat the Falangistas.'
'Let's speak plainly, gentlemen:' Joplin said. 'You are requesting American military assistance in battling and destroying these fascist revolutionaries, are you not?
'Precisely,' Ludendorff said.
'Then we should get to the specifics and requirements of the situation,' Joplin insisted. 'Without a detailed analysis of our adversaries, I cannot forward your request to my government.'
'As of the moment,' Ludendorff said, 'the Falangists are no more than a detachment or two.'
'A detachment is an ambiguous military term,' Joplin said. 'It is impossible to determine the makeup of such an organization.'
Sanchez sighed. 'We do not know their exact numbers, Dr. Joplin. But they have the potential of growing stronger macho mcis fuerte!'
'I see,' Joplin said, 'In that case, I must insist that you pass on to me all the intelligence you have on these fascists. I cannot possibly bring this matter up with the American secretary of state with no more than sketchy details.'
All three South Americans reached under the table for their briefcases crammed with data. Now they could get down to business.
Chapter 1
THE FOULED ANCHOR TAVERN CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
20 NOVEMBER
2130 HOURS LOCAL
SCPO Buford Dawkins turned off Orange Avenue and into the bar's parking lot. He whipped into a space, braked and cut the engine. His companion, CPO Matt Gunnarson, glanced over at him from the front passenger seat. 'Looks like some Thanksgiving and Christmas plans are gonna go completely to hell, huh?'
'Yeah,' Dawkins said. 'There'll be at least a dozen leaves canceled.'
'Well,' Matt commented dryly, 'it's like they say in the Russian Navy: toughski shitski.'
'Tell me about it,' Dawkins grumbled.
The two veteran sailors got out of the Accord to stride across the lot toward the entrance to the tavern. Dawkins led the way inside with Matt right on his heels. The Fouled Anchor was a SEAL hangout, and the noisy crowd inside was passing the evening in the riotous good spirits of being with their own kind. The deep camarader young men getting happily and carelessly drunk had developed through the sharing of ideals, commitment and
