“That’s bullshit, George. The members of the media still put the country’s well-being first, it’s just a matter of opinion as to what’s best for the country.”
“No, the evidence says otherwise,” George angrily responded. “The problem with the post-9/11 press was they were still in the Watergate mode instead of wartime mode. Reporters for the New York Times and the Washington Post still looked back at Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein as their heroes, and they wanted to be just like them. They just didn’t adapt to changing circumstances. They didn’t understand the seriousness of the problem. They didn’t believe that when President Bush said we were in a war, we really were. They just didn’t get it.”
“I disagree, but even if you’re right, you can’t allow the executive branch to run amok. If you do, they will turn the country into a police state, and then the terrorists have won. They’ve achieved their goal of taking away our freedoms.”
This kind of thinking really irritated George, and it was one of the main reasons he disliked Lannis so much. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lannis. I may agree that the executive branch needs some checks and balances, but what makes you think the goal of the terrorists is to take away our freedoms? They don’t want to take away our freedoms; they want to kill us! Just look at the freedoms we had already lost before the DC attack. We couldn’t go to a football game without being frisked and searched with a metal detector. The same was true if we wanted to go to the courthouse or into a school. Look at what we had to go through just to get on an airplane back then, even before today’s restrictions were imposed. We had already lost a lot of freedoms, and it didn’t slow down the terrorists one bit. The goal of the terrorists is not to take away our freedoms.”
“You’re on a roll, boss, keep it up!” urged Buffalo.
George continued, “And their goal is not to get the U.S. out of the Middle East and away from their oil supplies either, so don’t even go there, Lannis. Ever since President Thornton took over, our country’s policies have been largely isolationist. I remember back when Bush-the-Younger was president, the Democrats in Congress were whining and calling for us to bring home our troops from Iraq before the job was finished. Well, after the Washington attack, Thornton pulled all our troops out of the Middle East, Europe, and Korea. That was pretty shortsighted and naive.”
“I think it was good policy.”
“Yeah, well you would. How long have you been an intelligence officer, Lannis?”
“About five years.”
“Five years? You’ve been in the navy at least ten years; what the hell did you do before that?”
“I was a surface warfare officer.”
“A SWO? You were a line officer — why did you switch to Intel?”
“It was getting more and more engineering-intensive. They sent us back for a refresher at Surface Warfare Office School. I’m not an engineer.”
“So what does that mean? You washed out of SWOS or something?”
“Something like that.”
“Something like that? Either you did or you didn’t. Which one is it?”
“Okay, I did.”
George laughed. “I’ve never heard of anyone washing out of SWOS. I mean that’s where people go when they wash out of submarine school or flight training!”
“Yeah, well there you go, George, bad-mouthing surface warfare officers when you don’t know a thing about the rigors of SWOS,” retorted Lannis.
George looked at Buffalo for some support, but the only thing he got in return was a look and a shrug that seemed to say, “He’s right, you know.”
“Okay, okay. I apologize to all the SWOs out there. You’re right — I don’t know anything about it. And now that I think about it, I’m sure surface ships have become just as complex as submarines. But that doesn’t mean I have to apologize to you, because you washed out. I don’t know whether you barely washed out or were a total bumpkin.”
“Well I can tell you I barely washed out, and when I went to Intelligence Officer School, I was first in my class. We all have our strengths, George. We just have to find where to apply them.”
There was silence for a minute as they continued to drive toward the naval base. George hated it when Lannis was right! Finally, George broke the silence. “You’re right, Lannis. I was off base with those comments. I’m sure you’re a fine intel officer or you wouldn’t have been selected for the SUBLANT Staff.”
“Thanks.”
“I just wonder why you’re such an idiot when it comes to politics and national security!”
They all laughed.
“Very funny, George,” said Lannis.
They drove in silence for several minutes as it grew lighter outside and Buffalo enjoyed the last of his coffee. Finally, Lannis broke the silence.
“So George, you think President Thornton’s isolationist policies are all wrong? It seems to me the radical Muslims just want to get us out of their neighborhood. What’s wrong with that?”
Much to Buffalo’s relief, George ignored Lannis and continued to drive in silence.
Still trying to provoke George, Lannis continued, “Why don’t we just let them have their Middle Eastern deserts? Sure there’s oil there, but we need to develop other energy sources anyway. Everyone knows the world’s oil supplies can’t last forever.”
“Traffic seems heavier than normal today,” said George.
Lannis chuckled to himself, then made one last attempt to get George to respond. “Okay, George, so what would you do?”
George looked at Lannis in the rearview mirror. Fat chance he would tell this little weasel what he would do! Considering his response carefully, George said, “I don’t know for sure, Lannis, but what I do know is this: You cannot defeat fanaticism with moderation, and that’s what the West is trying to do.”
Chapter 7
Nearing Naval Station Norfolk, there was a longer than normal backup for security at the main gate.
“What’s this about?” George asked. “Did either of you guys hear anything about extra security today?”
“No,” they responded in unison.
“Maybe it’s a reaction to the Paris bombing,” ventured Lannis.
“Great. With this delay we’ll really be scrambling to get the briefing together on time,” said George.
Fifteen minutes later, upon finally reaching the gate, George didn’t bother asking the marine guards what the problem was. These guys were grunts. They knew only one thing: They were told to check everybody’s ID and to search the trunk of every car. And that’s exactly what they were doing. George had learned long ago that even if the marines knew what they were looking for, they weren’t going to tell you, so don’t bother asking.
“Thank you, sir,” said the marine corporal, handing back their military ID cards and sharply saluting.
George saluted the marine and drove through the gate. Once clear of the gate and the guards, George headed straight for SUBLANT Headquarters. The twenty-mile-per-hour speed limit on the base was really irritating when he was late, and today it seemed to take an eternity to reach the two-story, redbrick building with a mock-up of a Polaris ballistic missile beside the building extending thirty feet into the air. George parked in the designated area for staff members on the perimeter of the headquarters building. It was usually a pleasant walk to the front entrance, but not when you were fifteen minutes late to prepare the admiral’s briefing.