History, Politics And Current Affairs

Jotun wrote: ↑Tue Mar 12, 2024 4:17 pm

Wolfman wrote: ↑Mon Mar 11, 2024 3:19 pm Things are getting even more interesting, and it’s nice to see the Lieutenant eat a little humble pie in front of the team admitting that he screwed up.

Personal note: My father was in the German Navy from 1963 to 1975 and was the youngest OR-7/OR-8 (Hauptbootsmann) in the navy, a rank he attained after ten years. Back then, that was about as rare as hen‘s teeth.
When I started my defection to officer country, he took me aside and told me never to let rank go to my head, to listen to the NCOs and to admit mistakes and if necessary apologize, if needed personally and in private. And leave a bit of distance between myself and the troops even while being approachable. Best advice I ever got.
The mere concept of looking down on others based of rank is alien to me and I never understood that kind of behavior.

Jotun, that's good advice for everyone.

16 October 2010
Special Reconnaissance Team IDAHO
Great Divide Basin, Wyoming

Barnes asked, "You sure?"

Fowler came up silently, barely visible in the dim moonlight.

Mantell said, "I've picked up scent from a few animals crossing our track ahead of us. They wouldn't do that if they had a choice, they'd move away from us, further left. There's other people out here, to our left, and they're paralleling us."

The wind shifted fractionally, and she caught a scent.

"And at least one's in freshly washed clothes. too, Like in the past 24 hours."

Barnes said, "Great. Amateur night on the high desert."

"Definitely amateur night. Not our target, but they're unknown randos wandering around a patrol box."

Fowler nodded. "All right. Hunting party?"

Barnes said, "Don't think so, sir. They'd be hunkered down for the night. Not trying to maintain surveillance on us."

Mantell looked at the map, note the terrain and said, "I'd like to try something."

Barnes asked, "What's your idea?"

"Have Thibodeaux do a stalk about one hundred yards east, there's a rock outcrop he can get behind. Once behind it, he gets into an overwatch position with his night scope, and reports."

Fowler looked at Barnes, who nodded fractionally.

Fowler said into his headset, "Thibodeaux, east 100, get in terrain, report."

Thibodeaux's response was to break squelch twice.

They waited. After about five minutes, Thibodeaux said, "I've got four adult males, azimuth 280. Boonie hats and BDUs, all MARPAT, MP5SDs and M16s, nothing heavier, they're all staring at you guys."

Mantell looked at Barnes, who looked at Fowler.

"Sergeant Barnes, you got any ideas?"

"Have Thibodeaux pop a flare from behind cover, sir."

Fowler nodded. "Thibodeaux, get down behind cover, and pop a flare to the west."

"Hoo-ah, sir."

Seconds later, a streak of light erupted from behind the rocky outcrop, then blossomed into a harsh, blue-white glare in the sky.

Fowler called, "United States Air Force! Show yourselves, hands up!"

The four men stood upright with their hands up.

Team IDAHO secured the strangers' weapons and patted them down. Mantell took the apparent leader.

"Hey, that's a little fresh for a first date, honey--OW!"

Mantell found a wallet and went through it.

"Torgersen, Jonathan. Casper, Wyoming address per his driver's license." She shined an LED flashlight in Torgersen's face, then said, "Picture matches the face." She went to the next ID slot. "Second Lieutenant Torgersen, United States Marine Corps Reserve." She handed the wallet to Barnes and gestured theatrically with her left hand, while covering Torgersen with her GAU-16/A Nightwraith. "You're a long way from the Halls of Montezuma or the Shores of Tripoli. Mind explaining what the hell you're doing in a posted Midgetman patrol box, sir?"

"We're doing a training mission . . . "

* * *

Two MH-60G Pave Hawks arrived. Torgersen's team would be dropped off at Creston Annex; after that, they were the Marine Corps' responsibility as far as the Air Force was concerned. The second MH-60G lifted them into another part of the patrol box; this time, they stayed still for two hours, waiting for the remaining wildlife to settle down, then headed toward the "main road" in the region.

Mantell sighed. Maybe this time around won't be a complete cluster.

* * *

16 October 2010
VOQ, Hill Air Force Base

Mantell stepped into his room.

Debs looked up from her book and said, "You look like you got shot at and missed, and then got shit at and hit."

"Feel like it, too. I intend to grab a shower and then collapse in bed."

"Sounds like a plan, honestly."

After the shower, Josh got under the covers. Debs snuggled next to him and said quietly, "Josh, my love . . . I know you're worried about what might be coming. I'm worried, too. But I'm also worried about Josh. He needs to take proper care of himself. You've got not just your family, but the men and women of your squadron to care for. You won't do them any good knocking yourself completely senseless before the main event. Tomorrow is Sunday. I seem to recall you quoting Stonewall Jackson to Zach about the Sabbath not only being written in Scripture, but in the constitutions of horses and men."

Josh chuckled. "Yeah, I did."

"All right, Doctor Debs says no work tomorrow. Let's rest. You need to relax . . . and I need to spend time with the man in my life."

Josh said, "Mm-hmm" and dozed off.

* * *

Debs watched her husband's face relax and smiled. She kissed his forehead, turned off the light, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

17 October 2010
Special Reconnaissance Team IDAHO
Great Divide Basin, Wyoming

The sun slowly illuminated the landscape below the outcrop they were using as an hide site and observation post.

Mantell focused her binoculars on a patch of ground just off of the gravel road and smiled.

Fowler said, "See something interesting?"

"See where those ruts just kind of stop, about two hundred yards west of us?"

Fowler looked through his binoculars. "Okay, got it."

"Look just south, maybe twenty feet."

"I don't get--wait a second." He turned his head minutely to the right, then said, "Two small rock piles, about a mobile launcher's length apart . . . that's a pretty hard slab, lots of red . . . basalt, you think?"

"Maybe, sir. Thing is, those rock two piles aren't natural. Let's assume the black hats are at least as smart as us, sir. If they've been running route recon--"

Fowler said, "Then they've spotted them, as well."

Barnes said, "Good guess, sir."

Mantell frowned.

Barnes asked, "Something bothering you, Sergeant Mantell?"

"I wonder if we can use it to flush out anyone trailing the nearest convoy, Sergeant."

Barnes said, "Houdini said that what the eye sees, the mind believes."

Fowler nodded. "Show the black hats one thing, and then change it up once you're out of sight. Well, let's call it in."

* * *

SAC Headquarters
Little Rock Air Force Base
Little Rock, AR

The gold phone rang next to Colonel Pete Frazier's elbow. The call was marked TSEC-INMARSAT.

"SAC HQ, Brigadier General Frazier."

"DROPKICK, this is BARBELL DANCER, how copy?"

Frazier grabbed the binder marked "Barbell Dancer" and flipped it open. He fished out the first authenticator card. "BARBELL DANCER, this is DROPKICK, fivers, authenticate November Seven Delta."

"DROPKICK, I authenticate Niner Whiskey Alfa."

Frazier crossed out the authenticator. "Very well, what can we do for you this morning?"

Fowler read off their coordinates, then said, "We have a visual on a presurveyed launch point, and we want to use it to help delouse any missile convoys operating in this area. Recommend vectoring a convoy toward this site under a dash-on-warning drill."

Frazier said, "Wait one." He hit mute on the phone, then called, "SAC Actual to command post ASAP, launch the primary alert Quickstrike bird at Ellsworth, vector to Creston Annex, coordinates to follow, their signal is BUSTER."

Frazier then took the phone off mute. "Copy your last. We are launching an alert bird from Ellsworth, will need a nine-line from you if any trade shows up. Is this a good number to reach you?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, you stand by, we're spinning things up now."

* * *

Fowler muted the phone and looked at Barnes and Mantell. "Why am I getting nervous?"

Barnes said, "Because we aren't driving this bus anymore. SAC is, and peace is their profession. War is just their hobby, sir."

Those Marines are in some trouble..... Now, if they hadn't been caught, different story.

Matt Wiser wrote: ↑Sat Mar 16, 2024 7:31 am Those Marines are in some trouble..... Now, if they hadn't been caught, different story.

But they were caught, Matt. Worse than that, they were caught because they were stupid…

Wolfman wrote: ↑Sat Mar 16, 2024 2:36 pm

Matt Wiser wrote: ↑Sat Mar 16, 2024 7:31 am Those Marines are in some trouble..... Now, if they hadn't been caught, different story.

But they were caught, Matt. Worse than that, they were caught because they were stupid…

Did someone in USMC get the same idea that Josh had about needing to figure out to track mobile missiles? In this case, blood will flow uphill.

Sounds like it. ITTL, the Commandant will not be happy about this…

Wolfman wrote: ↑Sun Mar 17, 2024 12:20 am Sounds like it. ITTL, the Commandant will not be happy about this…

If the Commandant isn't happy, nobody will be happy.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Sun Mar 17, 2024 12:52 am

Wolfman wrote: ↑Sun Mar 17, 2024 12:20 am Sounds like it. ITTL, the Commandant will not be happy about this…

If the Commandant isn't happy, nobody will be happy.

Correction: nobody in the Marine Corps will be happy.

Wolfman wrote: ↑Sun Mar 17, 2024 1:12 am

jemhouston wrote: ↑Sun Mar 17, 2024 12:52 am

Wolfman wrote: ↑Sun Mar 17, 2024 12:20 am Sounds like it. ITTL, the Commandant will not be happy about this…

If the Commandant isn't happy, nobody will be happy.

Correction: nobody in the Marine Corps will be happy.

If he's ticked off enough, he'll find a way to make the other services unhappy.

Wolfman wrote: ↑Sat Mar 16, 2024 2:36 pm

Matt Wiser wrote: ↑Sat Mar 16, 2024 7:31 am Those Marines are in some trouble..... Now, if they hadn't been caught, different story.

But they were caught, Matt. Worse than that, they were caught because they were stupid…

On the flip side, better they were caught in peacetime by people who dented their pride, not sent them home in a box.

They caught a 2nd Lt. it’s entirely possible he thought he was in a different state, doing something else.

17 October 2010
Great Divide Basin, WY

Kathy Mantell stared at the hole in the ground where five men and three ATVs used to be. Even at over 1,000 yards, the concussion from the 8 2,000 pound bombs had stunned everyone on the team.

A woman's voice came over the radio. "BARBELL DANCER, this is QUICKSTRIKE 51, request BDA, over."

Fowler said, "QUICKSTRIKE, this is BARBELL DANCER. BDA as follows: Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"

"BARBELL DANCER, QUICKSTRIKE, I need a bit more than that."

Fowler said, "QUICKSTRIKE, BARBELL DANCER, your bombs landed in target area. There is now a very large hole in the ground where the targets used to be, and there's nothing left of the targets. As in, nothing at all. The FBI and AFOSI are going to be extremely unhappy with all of us, over."

"Well, we'll score that one as a kill. QUICKSTRIKE is RTB, out."

Fowler said, "BARBELL DANCER, out."

He made sure the radio was not set on VOX, then said, "Goddamnit."

Mantell watched him visibly work to contain his temper.

"All right, people, I need you all to take notes on what just happened. We're going to get relieved from this assignment as soon as I call in what just happened, and I want us ready to answer questions. Don't compare notes or discuss among yourselves, just write down your best and recollections of what we did and what the B-1 did."

* * *

18 October 2010
366th Fighter Wing
Mountain Home Air Force Base
Mountain Home, Idaho

Colonel Lisa Eichhorn said, "Josh, you didn't have to go all-out. But you do clean up very nice."

Josh was in Combo Ones with the trousers bloused into spit-shined jump boots and full ribbons.

"Thanks, Goalie. I always spruce up before I start giving briefings. And I have a feeling I'm going to be taking a road trip soon."

They went into the briefing room. Present were a woman with short-cut blonde hair, a man of similar age, and a big, raw-boned guy who looked like he'd be more at home on a horse than in a cockpit, all in flight suits.

Matt Wiser was there in business suit and shirt, but no tie; Kelly Ray was there in her BCSO uniform. Neither of them looked particularly happy to be there.

Neither of them is actively drilling, and they got called in at the last minute--looks like Kelly was on patrol. And they're still upset about the unscheduled combat hop. Hoo boy.

"Colonel Mantell, this is Lt. Colonel Don Van Loan, commander of the 389th Fighter Squadron, Lt. Colonel Kara Thrace, commander of the 390th Fighter Squadron, and Major Tom Shipley, executive officer of the 391st Fighter Squadron, and of course you know Guru and Kelly. Everyone, this is Colonel Joshua Mantell, commander of the 11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron."

Josh shook hands with all three of the squadron leaders.

Mantell opened his briefcase and pulled out a secure laptop and a file folder.

"All right, first, we're going to go over what happened Friday night, and put together an ask from TAC and AFSOC HQ."

Mantell briefed the events of Friday, with further input from Matt and Kelly.

"The next morning, we recovered an intact FGM-148E Javelin missile, a severely damaged one--the EOD tech believed that one of the bomblets actually hit the launch container--and two Stinger missiles."

Guru exploded. "Where the hell did they get those? Somebody could have shot one of those at us if they had been on the ball, and some Stingers have a habit of ignoring flares."

Mantell said, "That's why I wanted you to load AAQ-24 pods as well--the laser was designed to thoroughly saturate any IR-band seeker, including Stinger. My big worry was that they might've had Starstreak. The -24's a passive laser homer, all the laser emitter would do is grab the thing's attention."

Guru said, "Josh, I'm not pissed at you, but it's convenient."

Mantell said, "Hey, this should've been codenamed Operation SPANISH INQUISITION, because I sure as hell didn't have a combat mission on my Friday night bingo card, either."

There was a polite round of laughter.

Kelly said, "Forgive me for going into cop mode, but there are some important questions that need answering. How did those weasels get this far north? Who's supporting them with food, etc.? And where the hell did they get their hardware? I know the border's not as porous as it was prewar, but still..."

Mantell nodded. "Very good questions indeed, and I think a mutual acquaintance of ours might be able to give the FBI a few clues and pointers."

Kelly was puzzled for a second, and then realization hit her. "Ah, Adam Lodge, got it. That said . . . I need to pass something on to the Sheriff, because they could come through Bannock County. The other deputies will need to know what to BOLO for."

Josh was quiet for a moment, then said, "Kelly . . . I know some of BCSO's finest were grunts in the war, and they know what to do if they think enemy LRRPs are in the area. Tap them to conduct professional training on the subject. That said . . . if any of your people even THINK that there's a whisper of a hint of a breath of these guys being in their vicinity, my professional advice is to break contact immediately, U-turn away and hit the lights and siren like you're on an emergency call if necessary."

Kelly nodded. "Boise SWAT might not agree with that idea. They cover most of southern Idaho. The SWAT boss thinks his people are no-kidding operators."

Josh said, "If he takes his team up against these guys, he'd better make sure he brings a good supply of body bags. Hell, I wouldn't like taking my people up against them unless I've done what I can to stack the deck."

Eichhorn said, "That's because you're a professional--you never give the other guy an even break. So, what can we do for you?"

"AFSOC wants a QRF. I think Mountain Home is perfectly positioned to cover the major Midgetman bases . . . "

Josh went through his slides, briefing the concept.

Eichhorn said, "It's doable. But will SAC go for it?"

"After yesterday's antics out on the Creston Annex box . . . AFSOC doesn't care. We have orders from General Falkner that, under no circumstances, are we to ever call SAC about this stuff ever again until he's satisfied they've got this sorted out."

He went over to Goalie with the classified folder.

"That's the AAR. I'm thoroughly PO'd. Partially because SAC was extremely stupid, and partly because of the unit involved."

Eichhorn read the contents, then said, "Well, that makes sense." She passed it to Van Loan, who merely rolled his eyes. Thrace said quietly, "Jesus Christ." Shipley took one look, then said, "Well, that was that, I guess."

Guru looked at it, then looked at Josh. "Seriously?"

Josh nodded, and Guru handed the folder to Kelly Ray.

She looked at it, then looked sharply at Josh. "IDAHO? That's Kathy's team, isn't it?"

Josh nodded. "And SAC dropped 16,000 pounds of bombs in one supersonic pass about 1,000 yards away. Didn't warn them, either. I've seen ARC LIGHT go in, and Rule One is everyone's at least a mile away, even with PGMs, because that much KABOOM in one spot can rupture eardrums or inflict pulmonary barotrauma if it's too close. And with JDAMs, if they go stupid, they can go way off target, far more than unguided bombs ever will."

Eichhorn sighed. "Peacetime military. A lot of really hard lessons have been unlearned because it's been 21 years since we've done this stuff. Which brings me to intelligence. What does your intel officer think is going to happen with Baja statehood?"

"Don't have one. I fired him because he was toeing the company line, and that's absolutely useless in my job. I'm hoping his eventual replacement is a bit smarter."

Eichhorn nodded. "I see. Well, my guy isn't toeing the company line. He thinks something's going to happen."

Josh said, "I agree. They're going to do something. Most likely, it will be something very stupid."

Eichhorn said, "The Mexicans will likely throw a monkey wrench into all of our plans come New Year's."

Josh noticed that Guru was nodding in agreement.

Josh said, "You know, I reread Toland's The Rising Sun last year. I'm seeing some disturbing parallels here and there between the situation in 1941 and the present. Everyone's expecting something to happen, but I don't think anyone is expecting what's going to happen."

Kara asked, "What do you think is going to happen?"

Josh's voice was quiet.

"SANDLINE."

The old wartime code word got everyone's attention. SANDLINE had been the planning name for what would've been either a fall 1989 or a 1990 spring and summer offensive into northern Mexico. Having Baja go up in revolt and request American protection, followed immediately the surrender of the Soviet forces in the Brownsville Pocket, had jolted the leaders of the Mexican government and helped them get religion.

Unfortunately, most of them were dead or "retired." The new generation was claiming that the revolution had been betrayed by cowards.

Thrace nodded. "You really think it's going to go down that way?

Josh said, "Once the ceasefire is broken, it's game on. We're not going to let Mexico lob missiles at us and then do nothing." He sighed. "25 years ago, we failed to deliver the one product any legitimate government must deliver: protection from foreign invasion. Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Wyoming, and Colorado remember that, and it's led to a very complicated and often strained relationship between those statehouses and Philadelphia."

Everyone looked around the table at each other, then nodded.

Van Loan said, "Point taken. So, what happens after SANDLINE?"

Josh sighed. "I don't know. All I know is that, if the Mexican government is that stupid, the rules are going to change. Damned if I know what the new rules will be beyond the Pottery Barn Rule, though."

Shipley asked, "What's the Pottery Barn Rule?"

"You break it, you buy it." Josh said, "If we occupy northern Mexico, we're going to have to sweep up the broken crockery, swab the floors, take out the garbage, and generally make the place at least sort of livable. Just like we did with Baja."

SANDLINE, BUCCANEER FURY (Cuba) and the unnamed Anglo-American-Canadian offensive planned for Spring '90 in the Northern Theater (that was meant to grab Calgary and Edmonton, and take the southern terminus of the Alaska Highway. Then pen up the remaining Soviets and North Koreans against the Rockies and force them to surrender). All three joined SEA LION, OLYMPIC, and CORONET in history's "What-ifs".

I can see this timeline's version of the board having heated arguments over those what-ifs.

Speaking of which what is Adam Lodge up to these days? Does he wear a white suit?

No kill like overkill. SAC is going to have some explaining to do.

clancyphile wrote: ↑Tue Mar 19, 2024 11:36 am No kill like overkill. SAC is going to have some explaining to do.

And to a very unhappy Papa Bear, at that…

jemhouston wrote: ↑Tue Mar 19, 2024 10:09 am I can see this timeline's version of the board having heated arguments over those what-ifs.

Speaking of which what is Adam Lodge up to these days? Does he wear a white suit?

He's Mister Mom. In this timeline, he and Sophie have seven kids, ranging from 20 to 11 years old.

Wolfman wrote: ↑Tue Mar 19, 2024 12:59 pm

clancyphile wrote: ↑Tue Mar 19, 2024 11:36 am No kill like overkill. SAC is going to have some explaining to do.

And to a very unhappy Papa Bear, at that…

More than one. SAC Actual, SAC IG, actually the entire alphabet

jemhouston wrote: ↑Wed Mar 20, 2024 10:28 pm

Wolfman wrote: ↑Tue Mar 19, 2024 12:59 pm

clancyphile wrote: ↑Tue Mar 19, 2024 11:36 am No kill like overkill. SAC is going to have some explaining to do.

And to a very unhappy Papa Bear, at that…

More than one. SAC Actual, SAC IG, actually the entire alphabet

I think SAC had better start praying for mercy, because the above named people will have none…

After all, to err is human; to forgive is not SAC policy…

18 October 2010
FBI Field Office
Salt Lake City, UT

The receptionist blinked as Mantell stepped into the lobby of the FBI's Salt Lake City field office.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Colonel Joshua Mantell, United States Air Force Reserve, and I need to speak to Special Agent Ezra Young, please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Special Agent Robert Grossman with AFOSI at Hill should have set--"

A medium-height man in a gray suit stepped into the lobby from a cipher-locked door. "Helen, if a Colonel Mantell shows up--"

He stopped dead in his tracks, then asked, "Colonel Mantell, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. I'm guessing you're Special Agent Young."

* * *

"All right, Colonel, you have the floor."

"I would imagine that you're looking for the support network for these guys."

"Good guess, but I'm not at liberty to discuss specifics."

"I understand. I'm here to suggest you reach out to a subject matter expert I happen to know."

Mantell opened his briefcase and handed over a file folder.

Young took the file and opened it, read it briefly, then looked at Mantell. "Colonel, I admit I'm not an expert on the Air Force. My less important question is, what does 'DATA MASKED' mean?"

Mantell said, "It means that his assignment was classified."

Young nodded. "All right. And I'm assuming that the nature of that classified assignment was such that, 20 years after he was honorably discharged, the Air Force has reason to keep an active file on him, including his name, address, current employment--he's a homemaker?"

"His wife is in the Reserves, sir. She's also the CEO of AthenaSoft."

"And the Air Force still running continuing background investigations on him?"

Mantell said, "The nature of his wartime duties requires that--in part for his protection, and the protection of his family."

"And those duties were?"

"What little I actually know of them, I'm not allowed to talk about in any detail. That said, he would be a subject matter expert on, for instance, supporting a clandestine operation on hostile or not especially friendly territory. I recommend sending your investigators up to talk to him, and when they do so, they should ask him hypothetical questions."

Young raised an eyebrow. "Hypothetical questions?"

"Something along the lines of 'Given these circumstances, how would you do, blah blah blah.' If you ask for specific operational stuff he did, he's going to tell your people to leave, and he might not be especially polite about how he tells them to depart."

"How dangerous is he? I mean, from a standpoint of my agents' safety."

"He's extremely safe for your agents if they don't do anything stupid, sir."

"Stupid being?" Young made a "please, more" gesture.

"Threatening his children would be the top of the list."

"My people won't do that."

"Then he might offer them some really delicious refreshments that are absolutely irresistible. He's a very gracious host. Homemade pastries, fresh coffee, that sort of thing."

Young chuckled. "I'm sure my people will survive."

* * *

Mantell got back to the office to see Major Jorgensen holding up a green-sheet printout, indicating an OP-IMMEDIATE message had just arrived.

"What we got?"

Jorgensen handed him the message. Josh read it, then said, "Officer's call, my conference room in fifteen minutes."

* * *

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. First order of business: I have been directed by 26th Special Operations Wing Actual that all leave is restricted to within fifty miles of Hill unless it's an emergency--as in immediate relative passing, that sort of thing. Bases in the border strip--and high priority units such as the Blackhorse--are now at THREATCON BRAVO-PLUS. Second: Philly just put everyone west of the Mississippi on notice to be ready to execute OPLAN 3400-09 on receipt of orders from the National Command Authorities. For those of us who are old school, that's the old SANDLINE template. Mexico City may be assuming that we'll do nothing if they decide to play stupid games; but we all know that Philadelphia is going to pass out the stupid prizes, so we need to know our parts in the script. Ops, you have the floor."

Major Michael Watanabe stood up and said, "OPLAN 3400 is the umbrella plan. Our primary employment will likely be under OPLAN 3422, Theater Missile Defense, Southwestern United States. Per the plan, we will be deploying to Barzanian Air Force Base, near Fort Stockton."

Josh forced himself to not react. The base had been built after the war as Fort Stockton AFB, and had been named for Kathy in 1999--one of General Samuel Lodge's last acts as Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence had been to ram that through.

He heard Kathy's voice. It's all right, sireli.

Watanabe clicked the slide. A map of Mexico immediately southwest of the Upper Rio Grande appeared. "From Barzanian AFB, the Blackhorse will, on direction from the National Command Authorities, deploy special reconnaissance teams into Chihuahua, Mexico. Specific team deployment locations will be based on intelligence regarding movement of Mexican theater missile assets. In general, we will be the eyes of the hammer. Our specific targets include integrated air defense systems, telecommunication networks, and, of course, theater missiles."

Watanabe clicked the remote, and an oblique aerial reconnaissance photo appeared, showing a telecommunications tower with unusual antennas. It appeared similar to a cell phone tower, except that the antennas were horizontal troughs, with linear feedhorns placed at the focus of each antenna.

"We've taken to calling this MARIACHI WAVE. Per studies from AT&T, we believe that this is a low-probability of intercept network, operating in the 3G spectrum . . . "

* * *

"Mexican missiles include homegrown SCUD derivatives, including what looks like a knockoff of the Iraqi al-Tammuz missile, with an estimated range of 800 nautical miles . . . "

* * *

Mantell sat back in the chair at the head of the table.

Well, I guess it's time to be the man you raised me to be, Dad.

"Team leaders, you're going to build rapid deployment packages for known and suspected missile operating areas to 100 miles from the border trace running from El Paso to Presidio. Coordinate your work through Major Watanabe. Ops, I want a concept of operations for a direct action raid somewhere along that strip, to a depth of 200 miles. My instincts tell me that there's a missile base, and that we're going to get tasked. Exec, I'm putting you to work to find that main missile base until we get a new intel officer. I'm sure it's there per their doctrine, all we have to do is figure out how they hid it. Logistics, make sure we have our full wartime loadout of ammo and other consumable items, and then get us enough to train with on top of that. Embarkation officer, get us living out of the deployment boxes, ready to load up. EMO, I need our signals intercept and network penetration gear at 100%. Everyone in this room: make sure you know the job of the person above you and the person below, and that goes for everyone who reports to you as well. In the worst case, we will be going in under fire, and people will die. Mission first, people always. The best way to take care of your airmen is to give them the best possible training."

He stood up, and everyone in the room snapped to attention.

"Turn to on your assigned taskings. Dismissed!"