Slowly Stahl, still looking at Dixon, began to nod his head. Then he turned to face the mayor. 'It is the right of every German commander to decline an order that, based on his assessment, is not appropriate for the situation that the commander is faced with. This freedom to act according to his judgment, and not blind obedience, is the true Prussian military tradition.' Looking over to Dixon, but still speaking to the mayor, Stahl continued. 'I have been ordered to deter aggression. I intend to order my subordinate commanders to be vigilant and ready to protect the German people and property against any hostile acts, though at this time reports indicate that no hostile acts have been committed in this military region.' Standing up, Stahl looked down at the mayor and smiled. 'The Americans are guilty of conducting road and rail movements throughout this area without proper authority. That, however, is a civil and not a military matter. While the appropriate agencies of our governments address this issue, I urge the civilian and police authorities to cooperate with the Americans to ensure that damage to property and danger to the public is minimized.'
Dixon, who had also risen, maintained his composure as he finished the meeting by offering the attachment of a liaison party to Colonel Stahl's headquarters in order to facilitate communications and resolve any 'difficulties' that might arise while the Tenth Corps was in his area. Stahl, taking Dixon by the arm, agreed as he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the mayor and the other civilian and police officials little choice but to follow the Army's lead.
Carefully unwrapping the last replacement computer circuit board from its protective covering, Sergeant Martin Hofer laid the fragile bundle of microchips on the stand, ready for the maintenance officer's inspection. Finished, he allowed the plastic wrapping to fall to the floor. 'There, Captain Haupt,' Hofer proclaimed with a flourish, 'that is the last of them. There isn't another replacement board in all of Bavaria.'
Looking up from the test equipment he had been fooling with, Captain Karl Haupt looked over at the bench where all the circuit boards that coordinated the fire-control system of the squadron's Tornado fighter-bombers sat, each board perched on its own stand and awaiting his check. 'Thank you, Martin. Now go along and get something to eat.'
Looking at the long line of circuit boards and then at Haupt, Hofer began to protest. 'But if you try to check all of these out yourself, we will never be able to reinstall them in time. I heard that the squadron commander wants to be in the air at first light. Without a functional fire-control system, the squadron's aircraft will be useless.'
Haupt didn't bother looking up as he continued to fiddle with the dials of the test equipment. 'It will not take me long to do what I must do. There is nothing at this moment that you can do to help. Now go along and don't worry about the squadron commander. I will explain my actions to him when I am finished.'
Not understanding why his captain was refusing his help, Hofer nevertheless shrugged and left the room. As he left the maintenance hangar, Hofer noted that the sun had not even begun to appear and already they had put in a full day's work. Pulling the circuit boards at the insistence of Haupt had taken time. Gathering the replacement circuit boards from other Tornado squadrons and the wing maintenance supply depot had taken longer. Putting them back, Hofer knew, would take just as long. Still, he was only a sergeant. Though he didn't understand the need for pulling perfectly good boards out of a system that checked out in the aircraft just to make a visual and detailed electronic bench check, his captain no doubt had a good reason. And if he didn't, then it was the captain's ass and not his that would be splattered on the runway by their commander. Once Hofer was gone, Haupt walked over to the door and locked it. Turning around, he looked at the neat row of circuit boards suspended on little stands and ready to be hooked up to the electronic test unit. Taking a deep breath, Haupt reminded himself that he had his duty to perform and that there was little time. Walking over to a workbench, Haupt opened a tool drawer and reached in, pulling out a ball-peen hammer. Taking the hammer firmly in his right hand, Haupt walked up to the table where the circuit boards sat and began smashing them one at a time with his hammer. Convinced that Chancellor Ruff was wrong and that his actions against the Americans would only lead to misery for the German people, Haupt had decided that morning to do whatever he could to stop Germany from sliding back into the dark abyss. While he knew his actions wouldn't stop those who were determined to destroy his homeland, Haupt hoped that his actions would cause some of his fellow Luftwaffe officers to stop and rethink what they were doing. If nothing else, Haupt knew in his heart that he was right. Whatever became of him, he would have a clear conscience and the knowledge that he had taken a stand.
CHAPTER 11
The more Jan Fields-Dixon scrolled through the endless crop of news stories on her desktop computer monitor, the more confused she became. Like most major news agencies, World News Network subscribed to practically every domestic and foreign news and wire service in the world. The stories from these other news agencies were made available to the correspondents, producers, editors, researchers, and supervisors of World News through its interoffice computer network. Since it represented the most current and accurate information available, the staff of World News Network used that information from other agencies to alert them to developments in the world that they were not aware of, as background or auxiliary information to their own stories, and as a measure of the relative importance a particular news story or view was receiving, allowing them to adjust their own reporting efforts. Other news agencies, as well as the national intelligence agencies and the Department of Defense, tapped into the vast pool of information made available by modern communications for the same reasons.
While all the information available that morning substantiated the claim by the President of the United States, including General Big Al Malin's own statements, Jan knew in her heart that something was wrong with the picture that was being flashed around the world from Germany. While his actions made sense, and the statements released by the Tenth Corps information officer supported those actions, Jan knew that Big Al was incapable of leading an armed insurrection that would be so blindly followed by the officers of the Tenth Corps. She didn't question his ability to lead. She had seen that quality herself in Fort Hood, Texas, when her husband, Scott, was Big Al's operations officer. Scott himself, a person who was not easily impressed, had always spoken of Big Al's dedication to duty and leadership in terms of admiration bordering on awe. So when President Wilson began to paint Big Al as an outlaw and the news media labeled him America's twenty-first-century Benedict Arnold, Jan began to wonder how she and Scott could have been so wrong about Big Al.
That self-doubt, however, slowly began to disappear. At first Jan had started looking for some clue that would explain why a man like Big Al Malin would turn his back on his sworn duty and so endanger his command without the full support of his nation. But instead of finding answers and understanding, Jan just found more questions. Though everything taken in isolation seemed to make sense, when Jan put it together, it didn't come together into a nice neat bundle. With her intimate knowledge of what she often referred to in a half-joking manner as the military mentality as well as personally knowing several of the prime players in Washington and Germany, the story line handed out by the White House and the Department of Defense fell way short. Convinced that she was onto something, but that the raw news stories being dumped out onto her computer screen didn't contain the answer, Jan decided it was time to work her sources. While she left a story about German reaction from the Reuters news agency on the screen, Jan reached over, grabbed her phone, and dialed Ed Lewis's office number from memory.
When Jan was told by a staffer that Lewis was at an important meeting and wouldn't be available until noon, she asked to speak to Lewis's secretary, Terri Allen, rather than Lewis's assistant. Terri, who often knew more about what was going on in Lewis's office than Lewis himself, was the friendly type that got along well with just about everyone. If Jan was going to find out where Lewis was so that she could contact him before she finished preparing her program notes for the day, Terri, and not Lewis's male assistant, would be the person to talk to. After her call was routed to Terri's desk, Jan started the conversation in her usual casual manner. 'Hi, Terri, this is Jan. I hate to bother you at a time like this, but I really need to talk to Ed as soon as possible. Is it possible for you to tell me how I can get ahold of him or transfer my call to where he is?'
Terri, with a hint of a Tennessee back-country accent, sighed. 'Oh, gee, Jan, I'm sorry, dear. I'd love to, but Ed has been at the White House since six this morning, in the War Room, I think. He can call us but we can't seem to call him. The best I can do is to leave a message with the White House switchboard and hope that the Cro-
