Rourke stood silent, waiting.
Paulson realized the colonel didn’t care to banter, and he determined the man was a bore without balls. No matter, he’d follow orders. “Sir, on behalf of the US Army and Field Marshal Harrison, let me start by offering you our utmost military respect. Today, a peaceful resolution rests in your hands. No more politicians or outside interference. Agreed?”
Rourke considered his reply. The tanker inferred political diplomacy was over, and the ramifications were alarming. But he couldn’t resist standing firm against the arrogant tanker. “Thank you for the respect, but we’re busy here. I’ll pass along the message. Now, if you’ll excuse me, have a good day.”
Paulson smiled, obviously enjoying the back and forth. “Sir, Field Marshal Harrison is offering the opportunity to prevent bloodshed, save lives…”
Rourke didn’t care for the implications or the dialogue and raised his hand. “Please stop.”
Paulson stopped mid-sentence and cocked his head, waiting.
“Colonel Paulson, I have no authority to negotiate with you or the US military. Yes, I command a brigade and the battalion protecting this crossing. In that capacity, my job is to defend the sovereign soil of the ROAS against unauthorized intrusion.” Rourke pointed downward and gestured at an imaginary line. “The ground you are squatting on is mine, sir, not yours. You’ve crossed the border without invitation or authorization. Please turn around, go home, and let’s give the diplomats more time to resolve our differences.”
Paulson’s smile faded. “Sir. I’m here under a flag of truce. As a courtesy and fellow officer in arms, listen to our offer.”
Chapter Seven
RESISTANCE
In ROAS Central Command, General William Story watched and listened to the parley, but only partway. He could hear the voice of Colonel Rourke but not that of the US tank officer. The headset worn by Rourke included audio input dampeners limiting background noise. This came in handy during combat, but the lack of full conversational audio was a nuisance.
The video provided by surveillance drones allowed Command staff to view the action, and on monitors, he could see Rourke standing twenty meters in front of the enemy tank. Behind Rourke, ten meters distant, sat the Humvee, and beyond that lay the point ROAS pillbox.
Monitoring the parley, General Story felt as if he were a quiet witness to history. It was like having a ringside seat at the O.K. Corral or standing next to the US Army General at Bastogne when he told the Germans to fuck off. Shaking off the feeling, he needed to understand why the US tank had pulled forward. Lives depended on the answer.
Lieutenant Colonel Andrea Simpson, aid to General Story, waved at the general seated next to her. “Sir, I’ve got her on the line.”
“Patch her in,” said the general. Maybe now he could get some answers.
Simpson nodded, hit a button on her headset and raised a thumb.
“Madam President are you there?” asked General Story.
“Yes, Bill. I’m in the air headed your way. ETA is less than thirty minutes. Why the urgency?”
“Madam, a short time ago, under a white flag, the enemy sent a military delegation across our border. My brigade commander is meeting now. Events are unfolding fast.” He glanced at the nearest monitor and confirmed the enemy tank still loomed over Colonel Rourke. “I doubt the US military would’ve come forward unless they’ve reached a decision. I believe an attack is imminent. Before doing so, to cover their asses, they’re going to give us an opportunity to withdraw or surrender.”
“Yes. I see. How can I help?”
Frustration mounting, the general rolled his eyes. “Are there any significant changes on the diplomatic front?” There was a pause. He shot a look at Simpson and saw her concentrating on a computer monitor focused on the border parley. With two fingers, he tapped her on the shoulder and raised his eyebrows. In response, Simpson shook her head, lifted a finger letting him know talks continued.
President Julia Ortega came back on the line. “Yes, General, there are recent political developments. That’s why I’m on a vertical-lift heading your way.”
“What developments?” asked the general, impatient.
“Well, I just got off a call with Ambassador Howard. He told me the last round of discussions didn’t end well.”
Whenever the president spoke, the general discerned low aircraft background noise. He imagined her airborne. She should have called him first. Instead, he was in the dark with a massive enemy on his doorstep. Upset, he asked, “How bad?”
Over the background hum, the president replied, “Bad enough, I’m afraid. Despite our best efforts, just a short while ago, Felix Manuel was executed. Poor man.”
Shocked by the news, the general processed the information. It explained what was happening. The enemy was coming! Glancing at the nearest monitor, he saw Rourke pointing at the ground in front of the enemy M1A7 battle tank. He guessed they hadn’t much time.
Determined to protect his troops, Story tried to explain. “Madam President, the execution confirms our worst fears. I suspect the enemy is seeking the surrender or withdrawal of our border crossing battalion. If terms are agreeable, we should accept the inevitable.”
The president, in a calm voice, countered, “General, we’ve already discussed this. We won’t surrender or withdraw. If attacked, our soldiers are to resist, if even for a short while, then they can retreat. Neither of us expects our brave men and woman to die in vain. Understood?”
The general countered. “Madam, an entire armored force of thousands is going to attack our little battalion of a few hundred. Resistance is futile. It serves no purpose. There is no dishonor in retiring when confronted by an overwhelming force.” The general lowered his tone and continued. “Madam, if the enemy is tendering reasonable terms, there’s no good alternative but to accept.”
“No, General Story, you won’t surrender or retreat without a fight. No matter how one-sided the strength or generous the terms. Your job is to resist.”
Stunned by the stubbornness, the general’s anger rose. Face flushing, he replied, “Trust me Madam President, if we stand and fight, the outcome will be decisive and not in our favor. We won’t have time to surrender or withdraw.”
“General, I wasn’t finished.” In a stony voice she continued, “In most circumstances, I won’t override your military knowledge or authority. But as Commander-in-Chief, I’m in charge of our armed forces.” After a pause, in a conciliatory tone she continued, “Negotiate with the enemy for as long you can. But if attacked, you will resist.”
The general tried again. “I’m not sure you understand the overall tactical picture. Even a few minutes of resistance will result in a large loss of ROAS life. I don’t want that on you, Madam President. Instead, I implore you to understand the consequences and allow me to make the military decisions. I’ll try to buy time, but if pressed, and attack is imminent—please let me make the call.”
“You remember Fort Sumter, don’t you, General?” asked the president.