“Oh, well, thank you, sir. I’m just glad we managed to turn the tide here.”
“Indeed, and turn the tide we have. Iraq is a brick wall that the enemy will struggle to climb, leaving all those behind it safe to fight on.”
“And we’ll reclaim Iran soon enough, sir, I’m sure of it.”
There was a pause while the general took a drag on the end of his pipe. Once he’d breathed out the smoke, he shifted awkwardly. “Yes, well, that will indeed become a priority at some point, certainly. It’s not the main focus right now, however.”
Tony frowned. They had the enemy retreating. If they stopped pushing now they would lose momentum. Nothing makes men fight harder than recent victories. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”
“You and I are leaving this blasted desert. The human forces have the resources they need to secure the region, but there’s little to be gained by pushing further into Iran. The Americans will remain and keep the line, but the rest of us are falling back to help liberate our own countries. We don’t need to reclaim a bunch of desert. We need to win back our homes. Berlin, Paris, Madrid. London. There’s no point defending the Middle East while our own interests fall to ruin.”
“Our… own interests, sir? Surely our only interests are to survive as a species?”
The general grunted as if he didn’t like what he was hearing. “The bigger picture has been secured. Here, at least. It’s time to look within. Along with our forces still in Turkey, we are one of the largest remaining populations left on Earth. We have thirty-thousand armed men and women. How many people back home could we save with that number? Our countrymen need us. Britain needs us.”
Tony nodded. He understood the sentiment, and would once have agreed. Yet, nations didn’t seem to mean what they used to. He had the last months fighting alongside men and women from every nation on Earth. It had been a while since he’d thought of himself as ‘British’. There was also something else to factor in. “Isn’t there a force already liberating the UK?”
General Thomas took another drag on his pipe, and then blew the smoke into the air. “Yes, yes. General Wickstaff—self-appointed—has led a jolly good counter attack out of Portsmouth, but the lass can only do so much. We, however, can bring home ships, planes, helicopters, bombs, and, most importantly, manpower. We need to get home before the poor lass loses the gains she’s made.”
“With respect, sir, from what I’ve heard, General Wickstaff is an extremely capable leader.”
“Yes, she’s quite the marvel, but nonetheless, she has only made inroads. We need to get back and turn her counter-attack into a full blown offensive. Our home is an island, and there’s a real chance we can rid the enemy completely. Once we have secured the British Isles, we will put our might behind the Americans. The United States are in dire straits by all account, and it will take a combined endeavour to get it under control. You shall be my second-in-command during our initial efforts at home.”
Tony blanched. Second-in-command? What the hell was happening? A few months ago, he’d been an NCO. Now, he was being asked to serve directly beneath the general in charge of one of the largest armies left on the planet. “I don’t know what to say, sir.”
“You don’t have to say anything, it’s not a request. As much as I would love a pool of officers to choose from, I do not have them, so I must promote from within. You are a capable man, Captain Cross, respected by our troops and civilians alike. Our forces will be reluctant to leave this front, but they will gladly follow you home, I am sure of it.”
Once again, Tony bristled at the man’s authoritative tone. Tony could stick up his fingers and disappear into the desert if he felt like it, and probably take a thousand men with him. But much of what the general had said was true. The Middle Eastern front was secure. It might progress no further, for now, but nor was it in any danger of being pushed back. “Okay, sir. When do we move?”
“Three days. We hope to reach Portsmouth within three weeks. The Navy is assembled and waiting off the coast of Lebanon. We shall board there with everything we have and set sail home. By this time next year, we’ll be Morris Dancing on the common.”
“I’d rather be drinking a pint down the pub.”
The general barked with laughter. “Yes! Quite. Okay, Major Cross, you’re dismissed. Report back here at 0800 tomorrow and we shall discuss the logistics. I will attempt to get Major Wickstaff on the wire, too, so we can tell her the good news.”
Tony cleared his throat. “That sounds good, sir. Could I ask something? What will General Wickstaff’s role be once we arrive in Portsmouth?”
General Thomas frowned as if he didn’t understand the question. “To continue to lead of course. She will operate as Colonel while you remain a Major at her disposal.”
“But she’s a general right now. You plan to demote her?”
“The woman appointed herself General. Colonel is still higher than her previous station. Do you have a problem with the proposed command structure, Captain, because I can get another junior office in here hungry for a promotion.”
“No, sir, it’s just… What if General Wickstaff refuses the demotion. She might claim equal authority to yourself.”
The general sneered, not at Tony but at the thought. “If she behaves insubordinately, I’ll have the woman tossed before a Court Martial. Anything else?”
Tony stood up and saluted. “No, sir. Of course, sir, a Court Martial, sir. I shall report back tomorrow as requested.”
General Thomas waved a hand dismissively, so Tony exited the tent. As he marched across the tarmac he began shaking his head. Court Martial? What bloody Court Martial?
There was going to be another war, and this time it wouldn’t involve demons.
58
DAMIEN
