Read Online Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I by R A Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R A Peters
Tags: thriller, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Military, War & Military, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Political, Conspiracies, Men's Adventure, Terrorism, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Spies & Politics, Assassinations, Pulp
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about you, Picky. Even throughout all this you can keep a sense of humor. Well, call him whatever you want, but they’ll call you the People’s Champion. If we can convince a few of the Justices to ‘flee’ as well, the opposition’s public support will collapse lick split. Take a look at the polls, man! The Supreme Court’s opinion ratings are higher than the president’s and Congress’s numbers combined! Which horse are you going to back?”
The attorney general hated to admit it, even to himself, but that was a damn good point. What a huge chance he had here. They both forgot the fact that this wonderful opportunity was made possible only through the unwilling sacrifice of so many lives. Well, they didn’t completely forget. It was just that their egos were so large as to assume they could fully manage the situation and prevent any further bloodshed, while somehow still orchestrating victory.
Like so many “great men” throughout history, they were terribly wrong.
Camp Blanding, Florida
24 January: 0530
Lt. Colonel Anderson had never held a council of war in his entire career. Nonetheless, he felt it was the noble thing to do. Straight out of Xenophon’s playbook. Despite a 200-year plus legacy of defending democracy, voting was a rather un-Army tradition. He naturally assumed the council would be a mere formality that could add a touch of romantic flair to the history books.
It was soon obvious why democracy is nicer in theory than practice. When he put the simple yes or no question to the assembled captains, first sergeants and lieutenants of what was left of 2-6 Infantry, he received votes for four different courses of action. Despite the situation, he marveled at how the “party affiliations” lined up by ranks.
The captains were willing to throw in the towel. The young, unbloodied lieutenants wanted an Alamo-style last stand and the first sergeants wanted to try a breakout. His normally conservative XO held the minority opinion to join, in his words, the “rebels” and march on Washington. He was less than half-joking.
Fifty minutes of arguing only solidified their positions. As for the opinion of the junior enlisted men, out vigilantly maintaining the perimeter, no one asked or cared. They kept their ideas in heated, but pointless debate amongst themselves.
The first rays of dawn slithered through the pines when the colonel finally noticed something strange. “Where is the Sergeant Major? What’s he doing that’s more important than this?”
The Headquarters Company captain looked thoroughly puzzled. “He’s with the scout platoon, sir.”
“Ok…and where the hell is my scout platoon?”
“They’re out probing the enemy’s cordon for weaknesses, sir. The Sergeant Major said you ordered…ah, shit!” It wasn’t a cuss of anger, but one of hope.
The colonel knew the rest of the story even before his personal phone vibrated. The ammo dump was the only place Brown wanted to go all night. On a whim, he put the phone on speaker.
“Hey sir, damn good job! Keep buying us a little more time. Maybe 15 minutes and we’ll be back.”
“Sergeant Major, what in God’s name do you hope to accomplish? The situation is untenable!”
“It’s amazing how easy it is to infiltrate these amateurs’ lines at night, sir. Especially when you wear the same uniform and speak the same language. You know, we’re probably overcomplicating things. Bet we could march the whole damn battalion right out under their noses! He haw!
“Anyway, Santa Claus is a comin’. Got us about three dozen AT-4 rocket launchers, six Javelin missiles and even a TOW missile launcher! We didn’t get enough vehicles for everybody–didn’t want to draw too much attention. Just enough to get us and our goodies back there.”
“Hold where you’re at, Sergeant Major. We’re surrendering, effective immediately. There’s no honor left in this anymore, and I’m sick and tired of this damn debating!”
“What the
The attorney general hated to admit it, even to himself, but that was a damn good point. What a huge chance he had here. They both forgot the fact that this wonderful opportunity was made possible only through the unwilling sacrifice of so many lives. Well, they didn’t completely forget. It was just that their egos were so large as to assume they could fully manage the situation and prevent any further bloodshed, while somehow still orchestrating victory.
Like so many “great men” throughout history, they were terribly wrong.
Camp Blanding, Florida
24 January: 0530
Lt. Colonel Anderson had never held a council of war in his entire career. Nonetheless, he felt it was the noble thing to do. Straight out of Xenophon’s playbook. Despite a 200-year plus legacy of defending democracy, voting was a rather un-Army tradition. He naturally assumed the council would be a mere formality that could add a touch of romantic flair to the history books.
It was soon obvious why democracy is nicer in theory than practice. When he put the simple yes or no question to the assembled captains, first sergeants and lieutenants of what was left of 2-6 Infantry, he received votes for four different courses of action. Despite the situation, he marveled at how the “party affiliations” lined up by ranks.
The captains were willing to throw in the towel. The young, unbloodied lieutenants wanted an Alamo-style last stand and the first sergeants wanted to try a breakout. His normally conservative XO held the minority opinion to join, in his words, the “rebels” and march on Washington. He was less than half-joking.
Fifty minutes of arguing only solidified their positions. As for the opinion of the junior enlisted men, out vigilantly maintaining the perimeter, no one asked or cared. They kept their ideas in heated, but pointless debate amongst themselves.
The first rays of dawn slithered through the pines when the colonel finally noticed something strange. “Where is the Sergeant Major? What’s he doing that’s more important than this?”
The Headquarters Company captain looked thoroughly puzzled. “He’s with the scout platoon, sir.”
“Ok…and where the hell is my scout platoon?”
“They’re out probing the enemy’s cordon for weaknesses, sir. The Sergeant Major said you ordered…ah, shit!” It wasn’t a cuss of anger, but one of hope.
The colonel knew the rest of the story even before his personal phone vibrated. The ammo dump was the only place Brown wanted to go all night. On a whim, he put the phone on speaker.
“Hey sir, damn good job! Keep buying us a little more time. Maybe 15 minutes and we’ll be back.”
“Sergeant Major, what in God’s name do you hope to accomplish? The situation is untenable!”
“It’s amazing how easy it is to infiltrate these amateurs’ lines at night, sir. Especially when you wear the same uniform and speak the same language. You know, we’re probably overcomplicating things. Bet we could march the whole damn battalion right out under their noses! He haw!
“Anyway, Santa Claus is a comin’. Got us about three dozen AT-4 rocket launchers, six Javelin missiles and even a TOW missile launcher! We didn’t get enough vehicles for everybody–didn’t want to draw too much attention. Just enough to get us and our goodies back there.”
“Hold where you’re at, Sergeant Major. We’re surrendering, effective immediately. There’s no honor left in this anymore, and I’m sick and tired of this damn debating!”
“What the
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