History, Politics And Current Affairs

Wolfman wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 3:42 am It is when he’s also beheaded…

That can occur at various points in the proceeding, including post-mortem, depending upon how . . . irritated . . . Authorities are with you.

11 July 1988
HQ 7th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Williams AFB

Ishizake led Canyon into the planning cell. "And here we have Chief Warrant Officer Joshua Mantell--"

Jeanna smiled. "We know each other socially."

"Outstanding. Josh is what passes for Task Force ACHERNAR theater plans guy. Chief, Major Canyon is going to be our theater logistics officer."

"Wonderful. Welcome aboard." Josh held out his hand, and Jeanna shook it.

Josh said, "Of course, I'm still upset that we had to rename everything. We used to have cool code names--the compartment was codenamed AGILE DANCER, and we were Task Force COBALT THUNDER. And having a cool code name is all-important to the success of the mission."

Jeanna nodded. "Agreed."

Ishizake chuckled. "Yeah, having a compartment codenamed LINK ACORN is kind of lame. But we do what we can with what we have. Chief, brief her in on the current state of play."

"Yes, sir."

Ishizake stepped out. Jeanna looked at Josh. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm . . . holding up. One day at a time."

She nodded. "You ever need to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks. That means a lot. How are you and Debs doing? I've been out of pocket between debriefing and a couple weeks' bereavement leave."

"We're doing . . . well, we're doing. Mom & Dad visited last week, and . . . well, they accept her, and accept my direction. Debs . . . her folks disowned her."

"My Dad always said love is blind, crazy, and stupid. They'll probably come around eventually."

Jeanna sighed. "Maybe." She then said, "So, this is a theater operation, but you have a Major running logistics instead of a three-star and a Chief Warrant Officer, of all things, as theater plans. So, where's the action going to be?"

"Baja."

"We're invading Baja?"

"If we were, we'd have three-star logistics and plans guys, and not us mooks."

Jeanna nodded. "Point taken." She frowned. "So just what are we doing?"

"We're going to help the locals overthrow the commies, and when they ask for help, we'll roll in. And we're going to have our hands full with things like getting sanitation working, medical, food, water, and then some basis of commerce."

"They're going to secede from Mexico?"

"We're still trying to figure that out."

Jeanna rolled her eyes. "Wonderful."

* * *

Mantell entered the room and passed out briefing packets, then sat down. Everyone had a plate in front of them. Mantell bowed his head briefly--more of an acknowledgement of the deity than an actual prayer--then looked up as everyone started eating.

Today's offering was a turkey club on sourdough, onion rings, and an apple; there were carafes of coffee on the table.

Conversation was light; Ishizake had a strict policy of not talking shop over food.

Once lunch was finished, Ishizake nodded to Josh.

Josh got up and went to the podium.

"Good afternoon, and this is the present situation report in Baja. By 'present situation' I am referring to overall trends. Due to the present need to operate under radio silence, we're only able to get reports after our teams exfiltrate.

"One thing that was noticed is that military communications traffic is rather light, even when we launch artillery raids out of San Diego and Imperial Counties. However, traffic identified as coming from internal security services, such as DFS and PSE, is consistently high. On several occasions, our teams had to relocate to stay out of the way of counter-guerrilla sweeps, or guerrilla raids. Analysis by DIA headquarters concludes that there is an active insurgency, but the activity is on the lower edge of Phase 2 insurgency. The Mexican government is holding the lid on--but they are paying a tremendous price for doing so. Unless someone lands directly on top of a garrison when they eject, we routinely recover downed pilots within two weeks, and often within one in Baja proper--the two-week window inclides Baja California del Sur. Government forces either move by daylight, or at night only with heavy escort.

Ishizake was taking notes. "Any ideas on how to move the needle in our favor?"

"Well, sir, we could strike some DFS and PSE targets."

ACHERNAR's JAG representative, Lieutenant Daniel Kaffee, USN, frowned.

"Internal security forces are a withhold south of the prewar border per current rules of engagement."

Kaffee, please quit embarrassing the Navy.

Mantell said, "The working assumption is that, at some point, either we close down ACHERNAR, sign NDAs until we can claim 30% disability for carpal tunnel syndrome incurred in the line of duty, and the US doesn't bother doing this, or the mission goes ahead, at which point the Romeos will be modified. Sir."

Ishizake gave Mantell a warning look.

Easy, Mantell. Let's try to not get fired on your first day back in the office.

Kaffee nodded and continued making notes.

* * *

Ishizake signaled Mantell to his office, and Mantell stepped in.

"Shut the door, please."

Mantell closed the door, and Ishizake laughed. "Jesus, Mantell, that was damn well done. I'm getting a little disappointed with Kaffee. I'll have a chat with him."

His face softened, and he asked, "Other than being tired of idiots, how are you holding up?"

"One day at a time."

"Yeah, I suppose that's how it goes." He paused, then asked, "You're the one with insight to our sponsor. How's he holding up?"

"I don't know, sir. All I know is that Kathy was the closest thing he ever had to a daughter. He has to be taking it hard."

Ishizake sighed. "Jesus. He was quiet, head bent in thought, for a long moment.

"Look, Mantell, we've all sacrificed, but you . . . you've saved the day so many times, but at what cost? Your parents . . . Kathy . . . your platoon at Lubbock . . . "

Roberta . . . Amanda . . .

"If I hadn't . . . the cost would have been my soul, sir."

* * *

Doubletree Suites
Phoenix, AZ

Mantell was sitting on the couch, staring at the wall.

There was a knock at the door. He got up and opened it.

It was Helen. "Josh, I made a pot of chili and some cornbread. Would you like to join us for dinner?"

Behind her smile, Josh could sense her worry.

He smelled a brief hint of Kathy's perfume. It's OK, sireli.

He smiled back. "I'd like that."

I ran into a LT. Kaffee during the post-war Tier II trials — he was assigned as defence counsel for a pair of ALA jokers who were accused of murdering a third for ratting them out to PSD for ‘lack of Revolutionary zeal’. (IIRC, these two basically joined up for three hots and a cot, while the stukach was a True Believer; in the end, it turned out their commanding Colonel ordered them to administer a blanket-party to the little rodent, partly to protect his own connections with the local black-market.) The Kaffee I remember was kind of flaky and self-impressed, but holy shit did he deliver the goods when it went to court — if memory serves, he finagled the Colonel into admitting his involvement in open court, which got both his clients acquitted on everything but voluntarily joining the ALA, and they walked with time-served.

If it’s the same bloke I remember, he’ll come around — he just needs the right stimulus to get his head in the game. Hopefully Ishizake’s ‘chat’ will do the job.

If that doesn't, too bad he's in the slot he's in, I'd send him to a Marine unit in contact.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 11:18 am If that doesn't, too bad he's in the slot he's in, I'd send him to a Marine unit in contact.

In contact, in Canada.

Wolfman wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 2:55 pm

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 11:18 am If that doesn't, too bad he's in the slot he's in, I'd send him to a Marine unit in contact.

In contact, in Canada.

Is this before or after the Kola raid?

Good question.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 4:54 pm

Wolfman wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 2:55 pm

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 11:18 am If that doesn't, too bad he's in the slot he's in, I'd send him to a Marine unit in contact.

In contact, in Canada.

Is this before or after the Kola raid?

Kola was '87. This is '88, GULF HAMMER is ongoing.

In that case, Marine Raider unit hitting Alaska and occupied Canada.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Thu Mar 09, 2023 7:52 pm In that case, Marine Raider unit hitting Alaska and occupied Canada.

Works for me!

12 July 1988
HQ 7th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Williams AFB, AZ

There was a knock on the doorway to Mantell's office.

He looked up from the forces study and saw Kaffee.

"Chief, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mantell stood up and said, "Yes, sir. Come on in."

Kaffee closed the door behind him.

"Colonel Ishizake had a chat with me, and I understand you're also a tad disappointed."

Mantell said, "Sir, I'm a Navy brat. My father was a Captain, surface line."

Kaffee sighed. "Would you believe that's what I originally wanted?"

"Sir?"

"I graduated Harvard Law in '85. On Day One, I was clerking in the District Court of Minnesota and preparing for the bar exam. So, I went down to join the Navy, told them I wanted to drive ships. Hey, rich man's kid from Boston, son of an influential US Attorney, I didn't want to be in Dad's shadow, and I knew a lot of guys my age were going to be going to war and facing death. I wasn't going to hide behind my Harvard law degree. But the Navy saw the Harvard JD, and then they saw Dad become the Honorable Mr. Kaffee, Representative from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, 7th District, and they ordered me to pass the bar. Not just take the bar exam, but pass. So now, I'm a lawyer, with little practical experience of law and none whatsoever of the military or war. And I wasn't planning on specializing in the sort of lawyering we do in the Navy--I was going to do in-house counsel at a major corporation, start small, learn from those above me, develop my skills and knowledge."

Mantell nodded. "I understand, sir. Look, on Day One, I was an aircraft maintenance administration clerk. I maintained aircraft logs and records, prepared correspondence, maintain the mainetance department's admin files, et cetera. Even wrote some computer programs for automating some of the important jobs. Then I became an infantryman--every Marine is a rifleman--before the Air Force decided I had skills they wanted and recruited me to be a Special Reconnaissance Operator."

"Somehow, I have a problem envisioning you as a mild-mannered clerk."

"Never said I was mild-mannered. I could be just as rowdy and stupid as any other Lance Corporal, sir."

Kaffee chuckled. "I see. Listen, one thing that became clear is that I'm anything but clear on the mission here."

"All right, sir. First, a little history. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ring a bell, by any chance?"

"It ended the Mexican-American War, Mexico ceded a great deal of territory in what is now the Western United States."

"Yes, sir. There is a minor little footnote on that. The California boundary is defined as a straight line from the junction of the Gila and Colorado Rivers west to a point one nautical league south of the Port of San Diego. But that wasn't the original draft. We originally wanted everything down to Cabo San Lucas, and conceded Baja California during negotiations."

"Right."

"All right, sir. Now, we go to geography. Suppose you want to go to Baja California from Sonora, the next eastern province. What are your options, sir?"

Kaffee looked at the map. "Well, there's flying, and taking a ship from . . . Hermosillo? And there's this road . . . that's right next to the border."

"And that we are cheerfully bombing the shit out of, sir. Meanwhile, the Navy and the Air Force are making it very dangerous to sail the Sea of Cortez, and cheerfully bombing airfields. But the main point is that the one landward connection is Highway 2."

Kaffee stared at the map. "OK, so that means we've pretty much cut off their trade."

"Yes, sir. Not that there was much to begin with."

"Chief, I'm not quite tracking."

"The trade routes run north-south, sir."

Kaffee laid a finger on the map down by Cabo San Lucas, then said, "OK, I think I get it. East-west, you have to get it on a boat, get it off, get it on a truck, and then drive. It's more steps, more things to go wrong--what if the longshoremen or the truckers go on strike, or a ship grounds in the harbor and closes it?"

"Yes, sir. And Baja's natural trade partner is . . . ?"

Kaffee smiled. "California."

"Sir, going to TJ was a rite of passage for San Diego kids until the civil war heated up in the early '80s. They made a real effort to bomb places in TJ and Tecate because that was where a lot of foreign exchange entered the country."

"So the revolution pissed off a lot of people in Baja."

"Yes, sir. And then the security forces smacked them around. Because they understood, better than we did--"

"That the flag follows trade--I remember that much from my history classes at Fordham--and that they'd feel more loyalty to the guy who came down and spent money, gave them a place of work or even a chance to own a business, as opposed to the guys who smashed their economy flatter than a pool table and threw them into the local gulag. Okay. But why not just send a few divisions down to Baja?"

"Well, sir, the first problem is that we don't have those divisions to spare."

"Kind of a big problem."

"Yes, sir. The second is the optics. On the international front, it looks like we're just taking a shot at Mexico now that they're down. Which we are, of course. But we don't want to say it out loud. And Americans don't want to go looking for more trouble. We just want to rebuild. So we wait for the invite. Baja wants out, and we're the only available landing pad that gets gringos heading down to drink beer, eat street tacos, stay in hotels, and dance the night away like it was before the war. And Americans will be happy to go to a Baja California that wants to be part of the States."

"This is getting awfully political."

"Yes, sir. And we're working on intuition more than actual fact. Now, as for bombing regime security forces, I'm thinking that those buildings are chock full of telecommunications equipment--moreso than in actual telephone company buildings down there."

Kaffee's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to get around the rules of engagement?"

"Perish the thought, sir. I'm not trying to target regime security forces. But there's a metric fuckton of telephone switches and radio sets in those buildings, and Cee-cubed is a legitimate wartime target."

"And what happens when we blow up DFS and PSE guys?"

"I believe there's a legal concept known as 'assumption of known risk,' sir. Maybe their successors will figure out that they shouldn't stand so close to radio sets we might want to blow up. Those things are bomb magnets, sir."

Kaffee looked at the map, then at Mantell, and said, "You know, Chief, in law it's not so much what the law says, it's what you can get away with. I don't know what we can get away with."

"Sir, the presumption is that we're going to get told to do this. Our resource sponsor is getting a lot of pressure to find a low-cost way to kick Mexico in the balls for their support of the invasion."

"And this is the lowest cost option."

"Honestly, sir? Net positive for the economy."

Kaffee looked at the map again and said, "All right. I'll write up a request for modified rules of engagement aimed at--you said C cube?"

"Cee-cubed, sir. Command, Control, and Communications."

"All right. We're hitting known Cee-cubed facilities, that's our story and we're sticking to it. We put the target numbers in, and run it up the flagpole. Maybe someone will salute."

A lot of Texans of all stripes took the Mexican part of the invasion as personal affront. We wanted payback.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Fri Mar 10, 2023 11:22 am A lot of Texans of all stripes took the Mexican part of the invasion as personal affront. We wanted payback.

Amen!

It's only illegal if the proper paperwork isn't filed.

Why was the internal security forces off limits any way?

jemhouston wrote: ↑Fri Mar 10, 2023 3:20 pm It's only illegal if the proper paperwork isn't filed.

Why was the internal security forces off limits any way?

Will be explained in a forthcoming chapter.

Thank you

jemhouston wrote: ↑Fri Mar 10, 2023 3:20 pm Why was the internal security forces off limits any way?

I think I can make an educated guess, but for courtesy’s sake, I’ll keep my laughing-gear shut and let Poohbah develop his plot and narrative at his own pace.
[makes private bet]

It should be pointed out that there is a Soviet/Cuban Garrison in Baja-mainly around Mexicali. A Soviet Independent MRR, A Soviet Independent Tank Regiment (really a brigade in all but name), an artillery group, an independent tank battalion, plus a Cuban Mechanized Division at 55% strength. Along with not just the usual supporting elements, but a mixed helo regiment (Mi-8s and -24s), a mixed fighter regiment (MiG-23s and Su-17Ms), along with a Cuban helo squadron and a MiG-21bis (Fishbed-J) squadron.

Their job is to keep the Americans on the California side of the border entertained, remind the Mexicans in this part of Baja who is really in charge, and stamp out any "Armed Counterrevolutionaries) wherever found.

Matt Wiser wrote: ↑Sat Mar 11, 2023 3:28 am It should be pointed out that there is a Soviet/Cuban Garrison in Baja-mainly around Mexicali. A Soviet Independent MRR, A Soviet Independent Tank Regiment (really a brigade in all but name), an artillery group, an independent tank battalion, plus a Cuban Mechanized Division at 55% strength. Along with not just the usual supporting elements, but a mixed helo regiment (Mi-8s and -24s), a mixed fighter regiment (MiG-23s and Su-17Ms), along with a Cuban helo squadron and a MiG-21bis (Fishbed-J) squadron.

Their job is to keep the Americans on the California side of the border entertained, remind the Mexicans in this part of Baja who is really in charge, and stamp out any "Armed Counterrevolutionaries) wherever found.

I believe you mean there are targets in Mexicali

10 August 1988
7th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Williams AFB, AZ

Mantell stood up from the stereoscopic viewer and said, "Gotta love it. Dug in south of Mexicali proper, but unlike us, they didn't evacuate the place."

He walked over to the whiteboard, and drew NATO symbology quickly. "OK, they have heavily fortified blockhouses right at the border trace, and the main fortification belt on the south side of Mexicali. The front blockhouses provide hard cover for a string of observation posts, likely manned by trained forward observers. The mission is twofold: their internal security mission is to be the Berlin Wall of Mexico, while their military mission is to force us to dismount in Calexico, and then we have to fight our way through the fortifications. Once we get through those, we get a city fight, and then we get another round of fortifications.

Ishizake nodded. "Breach the border, then an urban fight, every bit as bad as Lubbock or DFW. And lots of friendly civilians caught in the crossfire. Followed up by another fortification line to breach."

Zens said, "Tecate and TJ the same?"

"Yes and no. Yes, there's a border fortification sector, and lots of hostages. But it's manned by the People's Defense Force. Mexicali is our best bet to get into Baja--once you've punched through, you're in open terrain down the east coast. Ivan's commanders can read a map, too. They put a blocking force into place--call it a division worth of Soviet and Cuban troops, dug in like an Alabama tick. In comparison, Tecate is in the one flat spot, everything south is mountains, and one one two-lane highway passes through that area."

Zens nodded. "One mortar team could interdict that highway."

"What about Tijuana?"

"Sir, have you had a chance to look over this month's issue of Military Review?"

"That piece on 'Megacities?' I see what you're getting at. But Tijuana's small."

"It's small, but extremely dense and mountainous in one go, sir."

Ishizake made a face as if he'd bitten into an atabrine tablet.

"Gotcha."

Zens frowned. "That is looking like an unsolvable problem. We try to force our way in, we'll kill civilians--the people we're supposedly liberating--by the thousands. But we have to go in when called."

Mantell nodded. "I have some ideas. Don't try to kick in the front door: jimmy the kitchen window instead. There's an absolutely beautiful beach for the Marines to assault over in Ensenada, and you're practically on top of the headquarters compound of the 2nd Motorized Cavalry Regiment when you do. Just north, there's an airfield ready to drop in some Combat Controllers, and next thing you know, Beto es tu tio.

Zens blinked. "Huh?"

Ishizake chuckled. "Bob's your uncle."

"Ah."

"We could grab TJ airport with a company of Rangers, air freight engineering vehicles in, and breach the border fortification zone before anyone in TJ realizes we've moved. But it has to be after we get the invite. Which means we need a full-blown insurgency . . . and we need the DF to be stupid."

14 August 1988
Doubletree Suites

Josh chopped the onions extra fine, then slid them into the bowl with the diced peaches, dijon mustard, apple cider, basil, and rosemary, sprinkled a little salt and pepper, and gave it a quick stir.

The timer beeped, and Josh turned to the stove, grabbed the skillet, and moved the pan-fried chicken cutlets to a platter, covering them with some foil. He then poured a little more oil into the skillet, and dumped the contents of the bowl into the skillet, stirring liberally.

10 minutes later, the peaches were soft, and he returned the chicken to the skillet, spooning the peach glaze over the cutlets.

He turned to the fridge and got out a bowl of potato salad he'd made earlier, then grabbed the skillet and pushed the contents onto the platter.

He carried the potato salad and the chicken to the dining table, where Helen, Roberta, Jeanna, and Debs were seated, sipping vodkaritas.

He went back to the kitchen area and quickly washed his hands, then sat down at the head of the table.

Jeanna smiled. "Sunday dinner. All we gotta do is say grace."

Josh smiled. "Great idea."

Josh extended his hands; once everyone's hands were joined, Josh said, "God, thank you for the blessings of friendship and for the bounty of our land before us. Bless this food for the nourishment of our bodies; bless our conversation with love and joy. Amen."

The four women said, "Amen!"

Debs poured Josh a vodkarita from the pitcher. Josh savored the cool drink and the breeze blowing from the balcony door to the open front door.

The food was passed around and served, and everyone tucked in.

Roberta said, "Wow, this is pretty good."

The conversation was light, focused on things like music, letters from family or friends, who was dating whom, and so on. Josh enjoyed the byplay, mentioned that he'd gotten a letter from his brother--he was getting a Flight 2 Los Angeles boat.

Roberta smiled brightly. "That's good news!"

Mantell nodded.

He remembered talking with his brother during a brief leave in San Diego to bury their parents.

Josh . . . a lot of guys are promoted in peacetime because they looked sharp, laughed at the Squadron Commodore's jokes, had their 3M paperwork perfect, wrote thoughtful pieces for the Proceedings or the Naval War College Review . . . and then they went to pieces during their first approach to a target with warshots loaded. You can deal with a junior sailor panicking, but not the skipper.

Debs looked at Josh. "You OK?"

"Just remembering the last time I talked face-to-face with him. He had an eventful Day One. The skipper went to pieces and had to be sedated."

Helen asked, "What's he like?"

"Annapolis grad, went into submarines, met his wife while he was Gold Crew on a boomer out of Holy Loch."

"Gold crew?"

"Ballistic missile subs--the Navy calls them boomers--have two crews, Blue and Gold. They take turns."

Jeanna asked, "So how'd he meet her?"

"She was a cop, responding to a disturbance at a bar known as an A-ganger dive."

Debs asked, "A-Ganger?"

"Machinist mates who don't work on the nuclear propulsion side. Usually profane and rowdy--and back when they met, the Navy was having serious problems. So, he's on shore patrol, and they roll up to the fight in progress call just in time to see her get thrown through the front window. The Chief Master-at-Arms--they're the Navy's police--said, 'Maybe you oughta see if she's all right, sir,' which is Chief-speak for 'Inside that bar is no place for an officer and a gentleman.' So, he gave basic first aid, sent her a get-well card with a book--the desk sergeant at the police station told him she liked to read--went out for 90 days on patrol, and when he came back, they started dating and got married."

Roberta said, "I met her in '84. Smokin' hot woman, apparently the Mantell menfolk attract the best-looking babes."

All four women looked at Josh, and he blushed.

Helen laughed. "Oh, he's so cute when he blushes."

Jeanna said, "I noticed."

"Ladies, I thought all four of you were in committed relationships--"

Helen said, "Yes, we're all crazy."

There was general laughter.

There was a polite tap on the open door. Major Jacobs, the 7th's XO, called, "Chief Mantell?"

Mantell said, "Excuse me, ladies." He got up went to the door."

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening." Jacobs glanced inside, then said, "Good to see you being social."

"Repaying some kindness I've gotten.

"Gotcha. Food smells good, by the way. You cook it?"

"Yes, sir. Peach glazed chicken."

"Well, when you get back, can you bring me a copy of the recipe?"

"Get back from where, sir?"

"Philly. There's a joint committee there that's probably looking at the RamDyne mess. Be at Sky Harbor, Flying Tigers' gate, no later than 0630, your flight leaves at 0730. Uniform of the day is Combo One."

"Understood, sir."

"Okay, now that I've ruined your week . . . well, enjoy the rest of your dinner."

"Thank you, sir."

Jacobs headed off, and Mantell went back to the table.

"Well, ladies, looks like I'm TDY this week, so let's just enjoy the rest of this evening, shall we?"

* * *

16 August 1988
Penn Center Building
Philadelphia, PA

Congress had taken over several buildings in Philadelphia for administrative office and committee spaces. Some committee rooms were fitted out with cameras to give CSPAN.

This wasn't one of them.

General Lodge was waiting at the witness table. He motioned Mantell over.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning. Sorry about this mess, but they specifically requested your attendance. This is a joint House/Senate Committee, the Joint Committee on the Prosecution of the War. They take testimony and make recommendations. Now, the President may decide to ignore their recommendations, or follow them in part, or follow them in toto. No matter what happens, it's always collegial and respectful, and that includes relations with the President. The Office of the President usually reviews their report, and they draft their own report to indicate what the President is doing, and to respond to major points or open questions. If called to testify, tell them the pure, straight truth. Don't shade it, don't leave anything you remember out. Bad news: it's about our current project, not RamDyne."

Well, damn.

* * *

Senator Nancy Kassebaum of Kansas tapped the gavel twice and said, "This meeting is called to order. The Joint Committee on the Prosecution of the War has requested testimony from Major General Samuel Lodge, United States Air Force, and Chief Warrant Officer Joshua Mantell, United States Air Force. Are these gentlemen present?" She paused briefly, then said, "The Sergeant-at-Arms has nodded affirmative. Let us proceed. This meeting was recognized by Senator Clinton of Arkansas, and the chair recognizes the lady from Arkansas at this time."

Senator Clinton said, "Thank you, Madam Chairwoman. I would like to begin with General Lodge, please. Will the witnesses please stand to be sworn in?"

Lodge and Mantell stood and raised their right hands.

The Sergeant-at-Arms asked, "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

"Please be seated."

Clinton asked, "General Lodge, could you summarize the effort that was begun under compartment PALANTIR GREEN, please?"

"Madam Senator, PALANTIR GREEN was a directive from the Oval Office, looking for ways to aggressively punish Mexico in particular for providing the platform for WARPAC forces to invade the United States. This was a clean sheet of paper tasking--nothing was off-limits, we were expected to look at the complete range of options across all domains of warfare, from large-scale land-based operations, to irregular warfare, to maritime and aerospace operations. We spent a good deal of effort spitballing ideas--what was sent out to various commands as a data call was a fraction of the ideas we examined and rejected."

Clinton said, "I see. So, in the irregular warfare domain, you contacted . . . ?"

"Special Operations Command, and the Joint Special Operations Command. They canvassed their subordinate commands--Army Special Operations Command, Naval Special Warfare, and Air Force Special Operations Command . . . "

* * *

Clinton looked at Mantell and asked, "Is it Warrant Officer Mantell?"

"That works, Madam Senator."

She held up a document. Mantell recognized it as a copy of Potential for Influencing or Utilizing Present Insurgency on the Baja Peninsula.

"Are you the author of this document?"

"Yes, Madam Senator."

"If you could walk the Committee through your thinking, it would help enormously. I'm sensing there's something in this document, but I'm not sure I have the right background to understand your argument."

"Madam Senator, I was born, and mostly raised, in San Diego. Traveling to Baja was a rite of passage for young men and women in San Diego and Imperial Counties until the Mexican People's Liberation Front started attacking bars and clubs in Tijuana, Tecate, and Mexicali in the early 1980s. This was done to help cripple the Mexican economy by starving it of foreign exchange."

Clinton nodded, and Mantell sensed she was getting interested.

* * *

"The chair recognizes the gentleman from Ohio."

Representative Louis Stokes said, "Warrant Officer Mantell, I am curious about how you came to these conclusions. Now, I'm not saying you're right or wrong. I am saying that you came to a very different conclusion than I--or a lot of other people--might have. Now, you seem to be a well-educated young man." He looked at Mantell with an expectant expression.

"Congressman, my formal education consists of high school. However, my whole family, myself included, reads a great deal. My father was the first Mantell in America to go to college--and that was Annapolis, sir. But my grandfather read widely about a great many things--when we went to Minnesota to bury him in 1979, his to-read stack was about a dozen library books and included Chinese history, the Eastern Front in World War II, the great New Madrid Earthquake, and a host of other subjects.

"When I started the assignment, I had a vague intuition, but no facts in hand to support it or to tell me I was wrong, so the first thing I did was start going through the intelligence shop files. It turns out nobody had read them--we just had a big pile of publications, but nobody had had time to sit down and go through them until I got told to figure out what was happening in Baja, sir."

Stokes blinked in surprise. "Nobody had read them?"

"No, sir. One Air Force leader said recently on a conference call that we're starving for knowledge, but drowning in information."

Stokes wrote quickly on his notepad. "I'm saving that. It says something important about our society. Please continue."

"Well, sir, what I learned was spread across about a dozen publications, ranging from the Combat Search and Rescue Bulletin to EPW interrogations conducted at Cathedral Valley, Utah. There is an extremely active ratline network for downed aircrew along the entire peninsula, and it is entirely 100% local. We usually recover aircrew in less than a week in the northern end of Baja, two weeks down south. And that wasn't being passed to higher headquarters for analysis--everyone at the squadron and wing level assumed that AFSOC or NAVSPECWAR was responsible for those ratlines. About the only time aircrew get captured is if they land right on top of an enemy garrison, sir."

* * *

"The chair recognizes the gentleman from Maine."

Senator Bill Cohen said, "Warrant Officer Mantell, are you aware that Mexican internal security forces are currently a withhold target set?"

"Yes, sir."

"And yet you nominated a PSE complex as a . . . C-three target. Could you explain that?"

"Yes, sir. C-3, or C-cubed, stands for command, control, and communications. The PSE facility in question is immediately adjacent to an SA-2 battery, and its telecommunications equipment can be used to pass battle data to the SAM site. Disabling that C-cubed node is militarily justifiable."

Cohen nodded. "I understand. Now, this would also kill a fair number of PSE personnel."

Mantell said, "If they're in the building, absolutely. Standing close to a radio set is dangerous, sir."

There was a ripple of amusement across the committee. Cohen smiled, and said, "Especially if we're trying to blow it up. Fair point." Cohen said, "Now, there is a reason for the withhold. Are you familiar with the People's Santerist Liberation Front?"

"No, sir. That organization has not come up in my area study."

Cohen's expression turned pensive, and then he said, "Just a moment, please."

He huddled with a staffer, then produced a document, which he handed to a committee clerk, who then passed it to Mantell. "If you could review that document, please?"

Mantell looked at it. It was an intelligence report from III Corps in Central Texas, collating several incidents experienced during the fight for Dallas and Fort Worth, including encounters with . . .

"Ah, Senator . . . this is . . . rather unusual. I have not heard of any such group operating in Baja."

And I thank God for that. Voodoo-Marxism? Is this what a society collapsing looks like? Everyone just goes fucking bonkers?

General Lodge held out his hand, and Mantell handed him the document.

Lodge read it, and said, "Senator, the DIA is familiar with this organization. They're active in Durango, Chihuahua, and Coahuila; we believe it was spread by some of the more recent Cuban draftees to arrive in Mexico. The Cuban division in Baja is understrength and is not receiving replacements; they've been in place since late 1984."

Cohen nodded. "And your assessment of the PSLF in those regions?"

"In Central Texas, they're extremely dangerous because of their use of hallucinogens and methamphetamine before going into battle, and the fact that some of their sponsors are former narcotraficantes who bought offices in the revolutionary government, and those sponsors are currently at odds with the local security infrastructure. The PSE and DSF are barely able to contain them, and further stress on internal security infrastructure could cause a rupture within Mexico that could lead to unpredictable results. We further believe that normal commerce, if restored at this time, or at any point in the near future, will resume the flow of illegal narcotics across the Rio Grande."

Mantell felt his stomach sinking.

That's why internal security's a withhold; the druggies will inevitably start smuggling drugs again if it's gone.

"The chair recognizes the gentleman from Indiana."

"Representative Lee Hamilton, General. I notice that you specified 'across the Rio Grande.' Does that same situation apply in Baja California?"

"Yes, sir, but the root cause there is because the present government on the Baja Peninsula is currently run by the former Arellano drug cartel."

Hamilton turned to Senator Claiborne Pell and spoke quietly. The two men shared a chuckle, then turned back to their microphones.

"So, if we were to support an insurgency in Baja, we'd also clean up a drug cartel? Do I have that straight, General?"

"Generally, sir, yes. "

Hamilton laughed. "So this looks like a win-win-win. We get Baja, Mexico loses Baja, and we get rid of a bunch of drug dealers in one go? I'm thinking we might want to modify the rules of engagement over Baja.

What?

Mantell figured his best bet was to say nothing.

* * *

Mantell ducked into the restroom and leaned against the wall, working to get his pulse and his nerves under control.

Lodge barged in, and Mantell stood to attention.

"Nice work, Chief."

"Sir, I almost--"

"You weren't even close to messing up. You knew nothing about the PSLF because they're not your problem. And you got the romeos modified. You did well. Let's grab lunch. We need to talk."

* * *

Over a cup of soup and half of a sandwich apiece, Lodge came to the point.

"Chief, I'm going to give you the same talk I gave Sophie. You need to consider staying. I'm hoping you'll go to college on the Air Force's dime, and consider staying in, at least as a drilling reservist. I think you'd make a fine commissioned officer. Your father not making flag rank was, in my opinion, a travesty of justice. He got me to step up my game so that I could become a general, and he got me to read extensively on maritime power. I think you could outdo him. I know he'd be proud of what you've become so far."

Mantell sighed. "It's not as if I have any better prospects at the moment, sir."

"You think Gadarene would appreciate the self-pity?"

"No, sir, she wouldn't. Losing her still hurts, though."

Lodge nodded. "And it hurts me, too. She was the daughter I never had. But I want you to understand something; you gave her, during those few months you had together, something that had eluded her almost her entire life. You made her happy. God knows she deserved it."

Mantell nodded.

"Something you need to understand about being a general: those of us with stars on our shoulders have a certain . . . proprietary interest, shall we say, in preserving the Air Force as an institution. And the Air Force isn't planes on the flight line, missiles in silos, et cetera. It's people. Back in World War II, a German officer sent to surrender demanded to see an American general's credentials. The general pointed to his soldiers and said, 'These are my credentials.' Airmen are our credentials. You're one of the best we've yet recruited. AIrmen will follow you anywhere because they understand that you're a true believer in the principles of leadership, in right and wrong, and in the ideals of America. You don't half-ass anything. I hand you a job, it gets done with panache and style. That committee hearing got called because you threw them a curveball . . . but there was an internal logic that no one could really argue with. Part of the problem was that none of them are from Southern California, and you used that experience to find the information you really needed. I asked them to grill you, because I wanted to see how you'd handle it. Representative Stokes said you were like a doctoral candidate doing an oral defense of his thesis, and he could tell you'd done your homework. His closing words to me were, 'He is a fine young man.' Coming from him, that's high praise."

"Well, sir, if the Air Force is willing to send me to college, I'll give it my best shot."

Lodge smiled and said, "You're probably going to blow the curve. All right. Back to work. While you're here, I've got some operational stuff for you to review and critique. On the bounce, Chief."

"Yes, sir."