crossroads out.”
The General gave a gusty sigh that set his beard shivering. “But a crossroads gave me good communications and allowed us to move quickly in multiple directions.”
“And that’s what made it a good target General. You must learn to look at a map and see what the enemy will see. If it looks good to you for a reason, it will make a good target for the enemy by that same logic. Information isn’t quite a weapon in its own right but it’s an invaluable force multiplier. That applies both ways, you have to think of what the enemy knows and make allowances for it.”
“So a good defensive position is a bad defensive position because it is obviously a good position.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly right. And don’t worry too much about roads, our cross-country mobility is good enough so we can do without them.”
General Robert E Lee sighed again, gently this time. “Did I do anything right in this exercise?”
Oates looked at the print out again. “To be honest Sir, no. Your frontal attack was walking right into a fire trap and your flanking move was far too close to the main body. It was going to swing across the Opfor front, not into their flank. You were thinking in horse cavalry terms and didn’t allow for how much more ground a modern cavalry unit covers or the ranges its weaponry can cover. For us, four hundred yards is close range. And, Sir, you must remember artillery fire. As long as a forward observer has a line of sight, they can bring intense fire on your positions. That observer can be an unmanned aircraft just as easily as a traditional observer. Frankly Sir.” Oates bit her lip, wondered whether to sugarcoat the judgement and decided not to. “You’d have got the entire regiment wiped out. Again.”
Another gentle sigh. “For the fifth time I believe. Please do not take my mistakes personally Captain, you are an excellent teacher.”
Lee reached out and put his hand on Oates’s arm. She pulled it away quickly, flushing slightly as she did so. She dropped her voice so they would not be overheard. “General, a quiet word on etiquette. If you are going to touch a woman like that, reach out and put your hand over her arm without touching. She will see and if your touch is welcome, she’ll leave her arm where it is. If she doesn’t want to be touched, and there could be any number of reasons why, she’ll move it. Just a word to the wise.”
“In my day, an inappropriate gesture towards a young woman would have been the responsibility of her father, brother or husband to answer. I suppose it was only to be expected that an Army that has women soldiers would expect them to guard their own honor.”
“Your gesture was neither inappropriate nor unwelcome Sir. Just unexpected.” And in your day, I would be up against a whipping post having my back flayed raw for speaking to you like that. Oates shook herself slightly, it was difficult for her to keep remembering the cause for which this kind and gentlemanly officer had fought so hard. She couldn’t help herself, the question just burst out. “Meaning no disrespect Sir, but how could you? How could you have fought so well for a cause like that?”
Lee looked at her, startled. “Captain, we are all products of our time. What seemed to be normal and reasonable back then is only now obvious for the foul thing that it was. I regarded Virginia as my home and I fought for my home.” Lee held his hand up to forestall any immediate answer. “I am not saying that the states rights argument is anything other than a feeble excuse. If the truth is of any meaning at all, the only states right that was in dispute was that of owning slaves. But Virginia with all its faults was my home. I just did not recognize, then, the gaping ugliness that laid at its heart. Today, looking at fine citizens and soldiers such as yourself and your fellow neg… African-Americans, I can see just how wrong I was. But, before Hell was overrun, I was trapped in the opinions and beliefs of my time. For that, for allowing my sense of duty to overcome my sense of what was right, I spent a century and a half rolling a massive boulder around in Hell. Now, all I can do is to ask your forgiveness.”
Oates smiled, silently accepting the apology. “We can run another exercise this afternoon if you wish. An advance-to-contact perhaps?”
“Like Gettysburg?” Lee halted for a second. “I suppose there is no word of my old warhorse Longstreet?”
“No Sir. I am afraid not.”
Lee sighed yet again. The truth was he felt lonely in this clean, aseptic and oh-so-deadly army. He had a hunch he would have preferred to start his military career again as an enlisted man than as a General. He doubted if life for a rifleman had changed that much. “I would enjoy that Captain, but I fear it is impossible. I have an appointment with General Petraeus this afternoon at two.”
“Very good sir. Tomorrow morning then. If you would excuse me?”
Oates left and Lee leaned back in his seat, looking at the master display and trying to imagine what his battles would have been like if he’d had this equipment then. Oddly, he thought, at least half of them would never have been fought at all. Then he heard voices raised in the next room, seeping through the partition.
“Oatsy, you can’t talk to Massa Robert like that.”
“Somebody’s got to Jimbo.” It was clearly his tutor speaking. “If he gets command of this regiment now, we’ll all be dead thirty minutes into the action. You’ve seen those exercise playbacks. He hasn’t got a clue how modern units communicate or move let alone fight. He’s a real nice man, but everything we take for granted, senses of space, time, distance and what they imply, they just aren’t there. To us, in our heads, twenty miles is a trip to the store. To him, in his head, it’s a long, hard day’s journey.”
The voices faded away and Lee was left staring at the master display. The silver disks that held the records of his previous exercises were in a storage rack and he put the oldest one on, just as Oates had showed him. What he had done looked reasonable to him but it ended the same way as it always did, his regiment dying in a chaos of blood and fire. Oates was right, he just didn’t understand. By the time he had finished running through his records, it was time for his meeting and his mind was made up.
General Petraeus’s Office, HEA Headquarters, Hell
“General Robert E Lee, to see General Petraeus.”
“Yes Sir. Please step right in.” The sergeant opened the door for him.
Lee stepped inside and came to attention. “General Petraeus, Sir, I would like to withdraw my request for a combat command. I would still wish to serve my country and my flag in any other way you might find appropriate.”
Petraeus looked up. “Sit down Robert. What made you come to this conclusion?”
“Sir, for a week, I have been attempting to understand how your army works. With the aid of a very skilled and patient tutor. Sir, I regret to say I have failed completely. I am not fit to command and I must recognize that as a fact. One day, perhaps, but not now.”
“Captain Oates taught you properly?” Petraeus was inwardly relieved. The thought of Robert E Lee commanding a modern unit was a political nightmare.
“She did sir and her patience with me was apparently inexhaustible. She is a fine officer Sir, and deserves your interest. The fault is mine. I do not know what I need to know, nor do I know yet what I need to learn.”
Petraeus nodded. “Robert, I do have another command for you if you want it, one for which you may be very well qualified. All the histories speak of your concern for your men, the lengths you went to for them and the loyalty you inspired in them. Every day now we are pulling victims out of the Hell Pit. Some of them are ex-American soldiers from various eras. Whatever the time they came from, and whatever side they fought on in the previous unpleasantness, they are now our responsibility. Many are deeply traumatized by their fate, others feel alone and unwanted in an era that is vastly different from any they knew. Yet, they are still our people. We are setting up a convalescent home for them, a refuge if you like. It needs a man like you, Robert, to run it. A man who can inspire loyalty and affection while still maintaining a strict discipline. That posting is yours if you wish it.”
“To care for our veterans, soldiers from every era in our history.” Lee was entranced by the idea. “Sir, I do not just wish it, I desire it with all my heart.”
“Then the position is yours. You may start tomorrow.”
Lee saluted and left. Behind him, Petraeus smiled down at the paper in front of him. It was a politely-worded but firm report from Captain Ledasha Oates that stated in her opinion Robert E Lee was unfit to hold a combat command at his existing level of knowledge and some other posting should be found for him. It wasn’t often that political and operational needs converged, but it was nice when they did. Then he transferred his attention back to his large-screen monitors and asked himself the questions that had been on his mind ever since the invasion coordinates had come in. This is my plan, this is how we will carry out the invasion. Now, what can go wrong and if it does, how do we cope with it? What is out there that we don’t know about? Who will I be fighting when we arrive
