There was an unpleasant scent in the air, and as he drew closer, there was yet another body, not covered, shot in the head. He had seen so many dead like this one, but in this surreal room, the corpse seemed so out of place. John hesitated for a moment, looking down at it and then up at the lone guard stationed at the door telling John that the general was waiting for him, and he went into the room.
Far-more-up-to-date computers and communication gear lined two walls of the room, some of it lit up. The far wall was covered by a dark blue curtain, in front of it a desk, flanking the desk to either side American flags. Parked at an angle were a couple of television cameras that looked to be twenty or more years old, and glassed in to one side a small control booth, apparently to operate the cameras and sound equipment.
Besides Bob and his security detail, there were several civilians in the room as well. One of them Pelligrino, ashen faced but still alive. Standing nervously behind him were two men and a lone woman.
“John, are you all right?” Bob asked.
“Sir?”
“There’s blood all over your jacket.”
John looked down and for the first time realized that he was indeed caked in blood. “It was Grace. The girl with my unit,” John said softly.
“She going to make it?” Bob asked.
John could only shake his head.
Bob looked back at Pelligrino. “Another death I am holding you responsible for.”
It looked like Pelligrino was beyond rattled and just sat in dejected, terrified silence, eyes darting back and forth like those of a hunted rabbit.
“What’s going on here, sir?” John asked.
“Get these four things out of this room and have them wait in the hall,” Bob snapped, and the guards with him shoved the civilians out without any display of civility, leaving Bob and John alone.
Bob leaned back in the old chair, put his feet up on the table, and sighed. “You want the ‘sit-rep’?” Bob asked, motioning for John to pull up a chair.
John sighed and nodded, fishing into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he had taken and pulling one out.
“I thought you quit,” Bob said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
John did not reply as he tossed the pack on the table. Bob reached over, pulled out one as well, and motioned for the lighter.
“Didn’t know you smoked.”
“I didn’t other than the occasional cigar.”
The two sat in silence for a moment, Bob coughing as he exhaled but then nodding. “I can see how you can get hooked on these damn things.
“We’re in the shitter,” Bob finally said. “For that matter, the whole damn world is in the shitter.”
John knew that he was serving as a sounding board and the best thing to do now was to just listen.
“I came in here with eighty people. We’ve taken about twenty casualties.” He paused, looking at John. “I’m sorry about Grace and Lee.”
John could not bring himself to reply.
“All I could worm out of that administrator Pelligrino is that we are in a world of hurt. There are a couple of hundred civilians at the back end of this facility in a highly secured area who are family members of high-value types. ‘Movers behind the movers,’ they call them. Anyhow, the security we faced at first, standard garrison types, you could see that. But there are some definite A-team types holed up in that highly secured area, and if they try to retake us, it could go badly. I was on the phone to someone up there. She wouldn’t identify herself, but I told her she keeps her people in place and there’s no threat. But if they move, all bets are off, and this place turns into a free-fire zone.”
“Do they know how many we really have with us?” John asked.
“I don’t know. If they have access to outside cameras, they could see how many came in with us and do the math. For now, I think I’ve got them convinced I’ve got a full battalion in reserve coming in and if they start a fight, we can hold until that battalion arrives and all hell will come down on them. They’re not pushing, at least for the moment, and if they don’t, we don’t shove.”
John nodded.
“They’ll buy it for a while,” he finally said while Bob took another drag and coughed again but did not toss the cigarette down.
“What else?” John asked, for obviously there was more.
“I had that piece of crap Pelligrino out there get on the phone with Bluemont.”
That momentarily caught John by surprise, but then again, the moment they started to hit this place the alert would have gone to Bluemont, which by land was less than sixty miles away and by helicopter a quick twenty-minute flight.
“And?”
“I’m ordered to surrender my entire command. They’re sending up a battalion by land even as we speak.”
“Air?”
“Assume so.”
“Our choppers?”
“I’ve already ordered them to clear out. They get caught on the ground, we truly are screwed. They’re pulling back to where we landed earlier today. We can stay in touch with the comm team I left up on Little Round Top. That way no transmissions can be locked in on. Our choppers lifted off a few minutes ago. Security teams at the gate are pulling in and securing that huge steel door. Wounded are inside the gate and being tended to.”
John nodded, crushed out his cigarette, and lit another. Bob, coughing, just let his drop and did not bother to try another just yet.
“We caught them by surprise,” John replied. “If they hit back, we’ll be ready and can hold this place against a damn armored brigade. Are there any back doors?”
“I’ve got some of my people talking to the prisoners we took. Hate to say so, but I told my people to be persuasive if need be.”
“What doesn’t happen in front of CNN never happened,” John said softly. It was a bit of advice John remembered being spread among the troops just before going into Iraq. Of course there were rules of engagement with his army. But there was also the fundamental fact that war ultimately was and is the application of brutality, and if it saved the lives of men under one’s command, all bets were off, at least if CNN wasn’t there.
Bob did not reply.
“So what next, sir?” John asked.
Bob pulled another cigarette out of the pack lying on the table and lit it. His feet still up on the table, he exhaled the first puff and watched in silence as the smoke swirled up. “John, at a moment like this, it might seem strange, but I’m going philosophical on you. In fact, you were one of the few I ever served with I could go philosophical with.”
John said nothing, but it was indeed an ultimate compliment.
“Do you remember our oath when we were sworn into the service?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bob continued to stare at the coils of smoke. “‘I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic,’ there’s a bit more, and then it ends with ‘I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.’”
John remained silent.
“I have just been ordered by the person claiming to be the president of the United States, headquartered in Bluemont, to surrender my command and all those serving with me.” He took another drag on his cigarette, gaze unfocused. “You ever take an order from someone you thought was a total ass and the order was dead wrong?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I hope not me.”