The Lotus Eaters

The model showed the rough curved-tail, tadpole shape of the Isla Real, plus a fair amount of the surrounding water. From each side two strips of blue-painted 'water' leading almost to the island were marked 'Mined.' There were crude wooden ship models on each side of each strip. In addition, arcs were drawn in the blue and marked with artillery calibers: '122mm . . . 152mm . . . 160mm . . . 180mm . . . 180mm ERRB.'

'It isn't my job,' Sitnikov said, 'to worry about the geostrategic endgame. That's your problem. Mine—half of mine, anyway—has been to design the defense of this island and the closure of the Transitway.'

Sitnikov walked to a corner and picked up a very long pointer. When he returned, he set the edge of the pointer on the gap between the naval minefields and the island. 'These minefields, as long as they're not cleared, close the Transitway. Note we left gaps within artillery range so that we can let through whomever we might wish to.' The pointer moved to the wooden ships models. 'We don't need anything too very special to lay the mines. Any old ships will do. They simply need to have the mines on board, a means for hauling them to the top deck, a crew to arm them and push them over the side, and maybe someone to record where they were dropped. The mines will have to be on activation timers. There are four ship models because we think we can lay these barrages in about three days, using four.

'The mines can conceivably be cleared, of course. No obstacle is worth much unless covered by observation and fire.' The pointer began to touch on various turreted fixtures, all around the perimeter of the model. 'These are to be taken from the turrets of the Suvarov Class cruisers you never restored.'

'Those are only six inch guns,' Carrera objected. 'They won't range the extremes of the minefields and any fortifications to cover those extremes, being landbound or close to land, are vulnerable.'

Sitnikov gave an evil grin. 'They don't have to cover them. The things won't even be manned, except for skeleton crews to traverse the turrets and look threatening. Instead,'—the pointer shifted to a set of what were obviously models of ammunition bunkers behind the turrets—'each of these will hold an eighteen centimeter gun which will fire reduced bore, sabot shells, with laser guidance packages, the laser beams doing the painting coming from'—the pointer made a circular motion around the top of Hill 287—'here and a few dozen other likely spots. OZ ran the math and a lengthened 122mm shell, surrounded by a sabot, fired from a 180mm gun will range over eighty kilometers. This will allow coverage of both mine barrages as well as, by the way, any amphib ships or combatants engaged in trying to take the island.'

'Those guns will only unmask, though, for a major push. For individual mineclearers, we'll put in some fixed torpedo firing installations, spaced around the island.' The evil grim returned. 'Mineclearers are notoriously slow.'

Carrera nodded his head up and down, slowly. 'And so to clear the Transitway the enemy would have to clear the mines. To clear the mines he needs to get rid of our guns and torpedoes. To do that he has to clear the island . . .'

'And to do that,' Sitnikov finished, 'he must land. If he lands, he bleeds. He bleeds oceans.'

Carrera noticed several other ship models around the island. 'What are those for?' he asked.

'Those are derelicts,' Sitnikov answered. 'We'll take older freighters and outfit them for fighting positions. Then we'll anchor them, unmanned, around the island, in shallow water, at all the best beaches. We'll make them look as if they're carrying supplies for the defense. Maybe, even, they will. An enemy, if he attacks them will sink them, but in shallow water. If he doesn't attack them, we'll sink them during an attack. Then we can shunt infantry out to take up the fighting positions. They'll make a landing a bloody endeavor.'

Carrera had a sudden image of infantry, wading through the water to get to a beach while an unseen machine gun behind them chopped them down. 'Good thought,' he agreed. 'Best for the people in the derelict ships not to use tracer, though.'

'Well, of course,' Sitnikov said.

'Have you worked up a table of organization and equipment for the defense?' Carrera asked.

'Yes. In broad terms it will take a standard infantry legion—new form, not the old hexagonal counter guerilla organization—reinforced with another infantry tercio, a coastal artillery tercio, a fixed fortified defense tercio, some extra air defense, engineer and other support troops. In all, about twenty-four thousand men. If we have to defend the island from an invasion emanating from the mainland you would have to add quite a bit to that.'

'Doable,' was Carrera's judgment. He thought for a while, then said, 'Leave me here and go round up the commander of the Training Legion. Bring him to me.'

'Any particular reason you want him?'

'Two of them,' Carrera answered. 'It's a good news-bad news kind of thing. First, I'm going to promote him to Legate III. Then, we're going to show him this model, you're going to brief him, I'm going to brief him on how to turn the Eighth Training Legion into the Eighth Infantry Legion, quickly, at need. And then I'm going to send you back to the cadets and stick him with preparing this defense.

'And Sitnikov? Hurry, please. I have to meet Siegel after dinner at the Casa. After that, later this evening, I am meeting with select committees from the new Senate and from the Legislative Assembly.'

Chapter Five

The military mind, and the force those minds create, is innately rapacious, security obsessed, and covetous of power. That said, the civilian political mind is likewise rapacious and covetous of power, and may well be security obsessed. All this can be more or less tolerable. Woe to the state and people, however, that fall under the sway of civilians who are security indifferent . . .

The military mind is rapacious, but that rapacity has limits. It may force life to subordinate itself to the practical needs of war; it will rarely or never, on its own, force life to subordinate itself to mere fantasy or high sounding theory . . .

The need for civilian control over the military is not, in any case, based on any presumption that the civilian mind is, on average, wiser or more creative or more moral than the military mind. Indeed, human history provides no unambiguous evidence to support any such proposition. Rather, the moral imperative of civilian control is based on two related factors. One is that, will they, nil they, civilians will be affected, will suffer, from the decision to go to war. This, if nothing else, entitles them to a say in