police. The short, fat man called out, “Ees Force Wolpereen?”
“No,” Lewis said, “this is Cougar, moving up Interstate Seventy-five from the Rockwood-Gibraltar area. We’ll be seeing Wolverine in a few moments now.”
Another voice: “May I ask how we are receiving these pictures? They do not appear to be coming by helicopter.”
“That is correct. Although we have a great deal of airpower—I believe you can see some fighter-bomber strikes in the background there—we prefer to use handheld cameras for this sort of coverage, since they permit us to contact individuals directly. I believe an officer sitting on the roof of a truck is taking this.”
“Would it be possible for us to talk to one of the soldiers involved?”
“I’ll see if I can’t arrange it.”
The picture abruptly changed to show a burning building that might have been an apartment house. “This is Wolverine: the skirmish line preceding the main force, which I believe is just now jumping off.”
A soldier with an assault rifle dashed past, followed by two dungareed sailors carrying carbines. Abruptly the burning apartment house wobbled and fell away to a street lined with buildings with sandbagged windows, then sky, then the face of General Virdon, who said, “It appears our operator has bought it, sir. We’ll have another one for you in a few seconds.”
Lewis said, “We quite understand.”
Peters, trying to make it appear that he was relaying a question from one of the people near him, asked, “Can you tell us the composition of Force Wolverine, General?”
“Certainly.” Virdon leaned forward to glance at a note on his desk before answering, and Peters wondered suddenly where he was—if he was within a hundred miles of the battle. “Wolverine comprises elements of the Thirty-first Airborne, strengthened with naval detachments from the Great Lakes Training Station and armored units of the Wisconsin National Guard—the name, as you may have guessed, has been chosen to honor these last.”
In Peters’s ear Donovan said, “Belongs to ——[he named a mining company] and we’re getting them on loan. Lou set it up.”
A tall black man said, “I represent the National Trade Bureau of the Empire of Ethiopia. May I ask a question?”
Lewis said, “Certainly. It isn’t necessary, however, for anyone to identify themselves.”
“I wish to ask my question of General Virdon.”
On the colossal screen the general nodded.
“Would you tell us your prior military experience, sir?”
Solomos, who had reappeared from somewhere, said to Peters, “A very nice party. I enjoy it. But what do you think of the attack as far as this?”
Peters said, “If we win in Detroit it will be the key to opening up the Midwest and splitting the radicals.” It was what he had heard Lewis tell a Swiss banker earlier that day.
“No doubt. But will you win?”
“We have to win,” Peters said, and found that he had surprised himself. As quickly as he could he added, “The odds are too heavily weighed in our favor. Suppose, for example, Mr. Solomos, that your company was going to open up a new territory, or introduce a new product. You would observe your competitors: not just how much advertising they are doing, but how much they are capable of doing—and how many salesmen they have, how good those salesmen are, any special advantages they may have, like high customer loyalty in this particular area. When you’ve learned all those things you’re in a position to calculate just how much it will take to knock them out of the top spot quickly, and decide whether or not you can do it. If you go in at all, you go in with about double the top ad budget they can afford, free samples, coupon offers, and the pick of your sales force—on special bonus incentives. You don’t go in until you’ve asked yourself,
“Bravo,” Solomos said. “Magnificent. You say all that very well. But they have more men than you.”
“Ours are better armed and have air support and tanks, and I doubt that they really have more people—at least not many. A great part of the population of Detroit is still loyal to free enterprise, or just doesn’t want to get involved.”
“But that was interesting to me,” Solomos continued, “about the selling. What if the product you sell is not better?”
“Actually,” Peters said, “that hardly matters, unless it’s really pretty bad. We—I mean United Services—always try to have the best, and in fact we spend a lot on that sort of thing: R and D, and quality control. But mostly we do it because it energizes the sales force.”
The Ethiopian was saying to General Virdon, “Then you have not ever actually fought—you yourself fought.”
“What matters in combat is organization and fire support—the total fire-power that can be directed at the enemy. We learned that in Vietnam. If you can blow up enough jungle you can kill anybody. . . . Now, Mr. Lewis— sir?”
“Yes?”
“Your guests mentioned that they would like to talk directly to one of the enlisted men taking part in this operation. We have that set up now, sir.”
“Fine.”
A young man appeared. He was handsome in a boyishly appealing way and wore neatly pressed fatigues with a PFC’s stripe. To the audience he said, “Private Hale reporting, sir.” His forehead was abundantly beaded with sweat, and Peters wondered if it was really that hot in Detroit. After a moment Hale wiped it off.
