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Authors: Richard Herman
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Parachute Regiment based in Corsica. “He is brave and unflinching in combat and has been wounded three times. He is the most highly decorated officer on active duty in the French Army. His men revere him and say they would follow him into hell. The French government appears to have given him wide discretionary powers to use force that far exceeds anything the UN will allow. Given his record and disposition, we expect him to use those powers regardless of what the UN Mission tells him.”
Fitzgerald’s fingers beat a tattoo on the table. He had to make a phone call and find out what the French were up to. Fortunately, he still had a channel to the Ministry of Defense in Paris. “Thank you, Major,” he said, dismissing the intelligence officer. Richards caught Jill’s attention and glanced at the door, signifying she wanted to talk after the briefing. Jill placed the remote control on the podium and went outside to wait in the hall.
“General Fitzgerald,” Richards said as she stood. “My office received a complaint from the United Nations Relief and Peacekeeping Mission Southern Sudan in regards to an unauthorized landing made by Lieutenant Colonel Allston on” – she checked her notes – “Thursday, January 7. He landed at Abyei, a village in the disputed border area, and in violation of the Mission’s standing directives.” She paused for effect.
“That’s the village where we lost a C-130,” Fitzgerald said. “And?”
“Our personnel cannot flout the UN’s established procedures, and my office will have to respond.”
“Respond to what?”
Richards’ mental warnings were in full alarm. She had pushed the wrong button, and while Fitzgerald had never fired a flag ranked officer before, at least six had found themselves looking at career-ending assignments when their tour at the Pentagon ended. She quickly consulted her notes and went into a recovery mode. “It happened on the day he arrived at Malakal and was on a local area checkout flight. The aircraft experienced an unsafe door warning light and he landed to check it out.”
“It’s too bad your UN compatriots have no clue as to what constitutes flight safety,” Fitzgerald replied.
“However,” Richards said, “he just happened to have the accident investigation team on board, which had not received permission from the UN to examine the crash site. Once on the ground, Colonel Allston arranged for the team to survey the crash site, again, without clearance from the UN.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Fitzgerald asked. In his world, the information gained was critical to continuing operations and Allston was protecting his aircrews.
“In itself, no,” she answered. “However, the incident may prove to be counterproductive in the long run to our mission in the Sudan.”
“Do you think so?” Fitzgerald replied.
“Of course, that remains to be seen,” she said, conceding the argument.
Fitzgerald wasn’t finished. “In your response, remind your UN counterparts that we lost five personnel and one aircraft supporting their mission, and that flying safety must remain paramount if we are to continue operations.”
“Yes, sir.” She sat down, careful to conceal her anger and frustration. Seven minutes later, the meeting was over and she hurried out of the conference room. Jill was waiting for her. “Walk with me, Major,” Richards said. “You did very well in there today. Unfortunately, I didn’t. But I think I made my point. Your prediction about the discovery of oil was brilliant, but I would appreciate a heads up in the future.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will if I can.” They walked in silence for a few moments.
“I hope you will forgive me,” Richards said, “but there is, ah, a personal matter we need to discuss. A few of my counterparts in there are, well, lecherous old bastards. They couldn’t take their eyes off your breasts.”
Jill blushed. She was very sensitive about her breast size. “Sorry, ma’am. This
Fitzgerald’s fingers beat a tattoo on the table. He had to make a phone call and find out what the French were up to. Fortunately, he still had a channel to the Ministry of Defense in Paris. “Thank you, Major,” he said, dismissing the intelligence officer. Richards caught Jill’s attention and glanced at the door, signifying she wanted to talk after the briefing. Jill placed the remote control on the podium and went outside to wait in the hall.
“General Fitzgerald,” Richards said as she stood. “My office received a complaint from the United Nations Relief and Peacekeeping Mission Southern Sudan in regards to an unauthorized landing made by Lieutenant Colonel Allston on” – she checked her notes – “Thursday, January 7. He landed at Abyei, a village in the disputed border area, and in violation of the Mission’s standing directives.” She paused for effect.
“That’s the village where we lost a C-130,” Fitzgerald said. “And?”
“Our personnel cannot flout the UN’s established procedures, and my office will have to respond.”
“Respond to what?”
Richards’ mental warnings were in full alarm. She had pushed the wrong button, and while Fitzgerald had never fired a flag ranked officer before, at least six had found themselves looking at career-ending assignments when their tour at the Pentagon ended. She quickly consulted her notes and went into a recovery mode. “It happened on the day he arrived at Malakal and was on a local area checkout flight. The aircraft experienced an unsafe door warning light and he landed to check it out.”
“It’s too bad your UN compatriots have no clue as to what constitutes flight safety,” Fitzgerald replied.
“However,” Richards said, “he just happened to have the accident investigation team on board, which had not received permission from the UN to examine the crash site. Once on the ground, Colonel Allston arranged for the team to survey the crash site, again, without clearance from the UN.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Fitzgerald asked. In his world, the information gained was critical to continuing operations and Allston was protecting his aircrews.
“In itself, no,” she answered. “However, the incident may prove to be counterproductive in the long run to our mission in the Sudan.”
“Do you think so?” Fitzgerald replied.
“Of course, that remains to be seen,” she said, conceding the argument.
Fitzgerald wasn’t finished. “In your response, remind your UN counterparts that we lost five personnel and one aircraft supporting their mission, and that flying safety must remain paramount if we are to continue operations.”
“Yes, sir.” She sat down, careful to conceal her anger and frustration. Seven minutes later, the meeting was over and she hurried out of the conference room. Jill was waiting for her. “Walk with me, Major,” Richards said. “You did very well in there today. Unfortunately, I didn’t. But I think I made my point. Your prediction about the discovery of oil was brilliant, but I would appreciate a heads up in the future.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will if I can.” They walked in silence for a few moments.
“I hope you will forgive me,” Richards said, “but there is, ah, a personal matter we need to discuss. A few of my counterparts in there are, well, lecherous old bastards. They couldn’t take their eyes off your breasts.”
Jill blushed. She was very sensitive about her breast size. “Sorry, ma’am. This
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