Freeman apart. In official press conferences, even a casual observer could tell that Freeman appeared hamstrung by inaction; after his retirement, he’d become almost a recluse. When he emerged from his Billings, Montana, ranch to address a graduation or conference—he’d rarely done press interviews after his Pentagon days—many ‘in the nation, including Martindale, eagerly wanted to hear what he had to say.
And it was that way right now. Philip Freeman’s abrupt silence meant that he had a plan, and Martindale couldn’t wait to hear it—but first there was much to do. “I don’t hear a firm consensus here, folks, so why don’t we put this on the back burner for a short while. I want everybody to gather some more data. We have to know for sure what we’re dealing with. Anything more for me?” They tossed around more ideas and issues, then the meeting broke up. “A word with you for a see, Phil,” the President said. When everyone else except Vice President Ellen Whiting had departed, the President motioned them both to a chair at the coffee table, and they sat informally.
“Talk to me, Phil,” the President ordered. “What’s on your mind?”
“The Iranians could do it, sir,” Freeman said. “Do what?”
“Close off the Persian Gulf. They’ve got the advantage of substantial land-based air assets, a pretty good air defense network to protect against cruise-missile attack, and a million-man standing army battle-hardened and ready to fight—plus they’ve got a beefed-up navy, including an aircraft carrier battle group that has the potential to mount a pretty good attack on the Lincoln carrier group. The intangibles are a pretty sophisticated chemical and biological warfare capability and possibly an advanced nuclear weapons program, far more better network of regional and world allies, including China, North Korea, nd possibly many Muslim nations such as Syria, Libya, Pakistan, even Turkey—all of whom could make lots of trouble for us elsewhere in the world, possibly opening up a ‘second front,’ if you will.”
“So this could turn into another Desert Storm-type conflict very easily?”
“Yes, but our response would be far more difficult,” Freeman said.
“And not only for the reasons I’ve cited before. Imagine no sea access to the Persian Gulf—all military supplies flown in or sent via road or rail from the Red Sea. Saudi bases and oil fields under attack by Iranian bombers. There would be no direct land invasion of Iran—all amphibious or airborne assaults, similar to D-Day operation—and Iran is three times larger and hillier than Iraq, so the war would probably be longer and much more difficult.”
“We’re looking at an air war, then,” the President said. “A total air war.”
“Possibly a total bomber war right from the start,” Freeman agreed, “until we got control of the skies, got the carrier battle groups close enough to safely start bombing missions, and secured forward bases in Saudi and Turkey.
If Saudi Arabia or Turkey are denied us, the closest bomber staging base might be Diego Garcia, several hundred miles away—and the Iranians can even hold Diego Garcia at risk with their long-range bombers.”
“Jesus,” the President muttered, shaking his head. He held up his hands, as if imploring God for an answer. “Why is this happening?” he asked. “Why does Iran want to do this?”
“I’m praying they don’t want to do this, sir,” Freeman replied.
“I believe General Buzhazi, the commander of all Iranian military forces and commander of their Revolutionary Guards, is calling the shots now. He was embarrassed by the GCC’s attack on Abu Musa and probably frustrated by Nateq-Nouri’s moderate anti-military stance, so he’s got the ear of the reactionary clerics. But the mullahs don’t have the power they did in the eighties. If Nateq-Nouri can retain control of the government, this thing can blow over, just like Jeffrey said. But if Buzhazi takes charge—a coup, martial law—we’re in for a tough time.”
“There are a lot of pretty big ‘ifs’ in there, General,” Whiting interjected. “Any rash action on our part to counter the Iranian threat could make a lot of these ‘ifs’ come true, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Let’s be careful what we’re forecasting.”
The President nodded his understanding, then paused to consider Freeman’s and Whiting’s words. “So what are your recommendations?”
“Arthur can make specific military recommendations from the Joint Chiefs, sir,” Freeman said, “but I see two things we need to do immediately: move readiness of the bomber fleet up a notch or two, and get some more eyes and maybe some hitting power in the area.
I recommend the following: stand up Strategic Command and give them some assets to put on alert in case we need to respond immediately.”
“That’s precisely what I’m afraid will escalate this thing, General!” Whiting interjected.
“Wait a minute, Ellen,” the President said, “I’ll buy that recommendation, as long as it’s done quietly and carefully.”
Strategic Command was responsible for planning and fighting a nuclear conflict. Normally, it had no weapons, only computers and analysts—it took an Executive Order to give it the bombers, subs, and missiles from other military commands. Except for simulations, Strategic Command had never “gained” any weapon systems in its six- year history. That was about to change Talk it over with Defense. Not too much, and all done very quietly—a few bombers, a few subs, perhaps a few Peacekeeper missiles. Bring them up slowly, separately, so it doesn’t look like a mobilization, preferably tied into scheduled exercises.”
“Agreed,” Freeman said.
“As for your other recommendation … you have something specific in mind,” the President surmised. “Spill it.”
“It has to do with certain operations in your old administration, sir,” Freeman said warily. The President shifted uncomfortably but nodded, allowing Freeman to go on. “Time after time—over Russia, in the Philippines and the South China Sea, over Belarus and Lithuania, Central America, even over the United States—something happened. An invasion force was neutralized, a heavily protected base or enemy stronghold was mysteriously smashed. I know our regular military guys didn’t do it; our allies say they didn’t do it. I have an idea who did, but I tried to talk to some of the key players several weeks ago, and they weren’t talking. You have some very loyal friends out there, sir.”
“I heard you had been asking questions,” Martindale said. He turned away, then stood up and began to pace the Oval Office. He stopped and stared at one of the rounded walls, his hands behind his back. “Bill Stuart … Danahall … O’Day … Wilbur Curtis … oh, God, Marshall Brent, my old teacher …” He fell silent, then turned toward his advisers. “Hell, I feel guilty because I haven’t thought about them more, haven’t had time to pick their brains and have them give me their wisdom and imagination”
“Mr. President, you used these people because they were the best, because they knew how much your administration wanted peace but wanted to stop aggression. You wanted to control the escalation of the conflict, because any other response could have led to World War Three.”
“World War Three … shit, Brad Elliott … HAWC … Old Dog …” The President turned, a wry smile creeping across his face.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then appeared embarrassed to be doing so. “Just thinking about that old warhorse and what he might be up to makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
You have any idea how much sleep that bastard cost me, worrying about what might happen if one of his cockamamie ideas blew up in our faces? Christ, I’m sure he took ten years off my backside.
You thought of this several weeks ago, before the crisis?”
“A fight with Iran has been looming for many years, since Desert Storm and Iran’s military buildup after the war, sir,” Freeman said. He saw the President nod in silent agreement. “We had to be ready if Iran, or North Korea, or China struck.”
“You two have lost me,” Ellen Christine Whiting interjected. “I know General Curtis, and General Elliott when he was with Border Security, and I’m familiar with most everyone you’ve mentioned in the old administration, and Marshall Brent, of course—he was the greatest, the reincarnation of Abraham Lincoln himself—but I’ve never heard of HAWC or this Old Dog. And what’s all this got to do with Iran?”
“Ellen, back in the midst of the Cold War and the turmoil in the Soviet Union and China, we didn’t want to do anything to upset the superpowers, our allies, or the American people,” the President explained. “We had a military research unit called HAWC-hell, I don’t even remember what it stood for, probably some string of military-sounding words just so the acronym came out cool and tough—commanded by Brad Elliott, way before his stint with the Border Security Force. He had a small to medium budget, buried so deeply in the Air Force budget that I think everyone mistook it for a warehouse or a military band or something. It was always getting slashed, and that
