“You sound a little jealous to me…”
“Yeah? Well, maybe I am. It’s clear Lannis’s part of the briefing is the admiral’s favorite, and I have to admit, I find that really irritating. Surely Admiral Yates can see through that brown-nosed apple polisher!”
“Whoa, you sound more than a little jealous!”
“Lannis is a real smack, that’s for sure!” George continued, using the vernacular he had learned years ago at the Academy — smack, of course, being a lightly veiled reference to an ass kisser. “Some people get ahead by ass-kissing. I’ve always preferred to distinguish myself through hard work and superior performance.”
Petty Officer Harris could see this conversation was going downhill fast and opted to say nothing. After a few awkward moments of silence, George continued with the briefing preparations.
“Ok, I’m pretty sure Intel is not going to have any answers about where, when, or how al-Qaeda plans to get this weapon or weapons into the U.S.,” he said. “For our part, we’ll concentrate on a plan to increase the number of submarine patrols off the coast. We’ll maximize the number by accelerating some maintenance activities and getting as many attack boats on station as we can muster. And depending on Intel’s threat assessment, we may also throw out the question of whether the admiral would consider using some boomers in the attack role.”
“Well, wait a minute,” Petty Office Harris responded. “I thought attack submarines were designed for the mission of seeking out and destroying enemy submarines and enemy ships. Their crews are trained to do that either independently or in coordinated hunter/killer groups. Right?”
“Yes.”
“And isn’t the mission of boomers to stay hidden for sixty days or more while always being ready to launch their ballistic missiles at a moment’s notice?”
“Yes.”
“Well, can the boomers do both at the same time?”
“Probably not,” George responded. “It would mean giving up some strategic assets until this crisis is over.”
“Sounds like a risky thing to suggest to Admiral Yates,” ventured Petty Office Harris. “He probably won’t like the idea of pulling strategic assets out of their patrol areas. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, I know. The guy’s a dinosaur. He still has a coldwar mentality while the threat to our security has totally changed. I realize there has always been a well-defined line between strategic assets that would be used in a nuclear war and tactical assets that would be used in lesser conflicts, and it’s almost unheard of to use strategic assets to perform a tactical mission. But if the threat changes, and you have an asset out there that can help eliminate the new threat, why would you refuse to even consider using it just because of some artificial designation as strategic rather than tactical?”
“Now don’t go trying to use logic on him — admirals aren’t known for that, you know!”
George laughed and repeated one of his stock phrases, “What good are boomers on patrol against a band of terrorist thugs with a nuke?” He continued, “We might as well put the boomers to good use in the attack role. After all, boomers have sonars and torpedoes, too, you know.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“Okay, one more thing,” said George, realizing he didn’t need to convince Petty Officer Harris. “Add another slide related to joint operations. Let’s list the names, telephone numbers, and e-mail addresses of points of contact for coordinators in the coast guard and the air force. We want to show the admiral we have a joint plan to intercept anything coming into the country, be it under the surface, on the surface, or in the air. Got it?”
“Aye-aye, sir.” Leona turned and started for the door.
“And keep that great memory of yours for numbers working during the briefing. I want to lay out the current disposition of forces when we get back to the office.”
As she hurried out the door, she glanced back. “Yes, sir — as always!”
Leona Harris had an unusual ability, which George had found to be very useful. She could look at a map or chart during the briefing and afterward remember the minutest details of the numbers and positions of all of the ships and submarines depicted. Her memory had made George look like a genius more than once!
George knew Admiral Yates was not going to be happy about this briefing. But who was? At least Ops would fare better than Intel, because at least Ops had a plan to do something. And since it was widely accepted that the Washington DC nuke had been delivered by submarine, putting additional attack boats and boomers on patrol seemed like a wise thing to do. The only thing Lannis will be able to do is say, “We don’t know, sir,” and “I’ll try to find out, sir.” The admiral will rake him over the coals! George thought.
Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
Chapter 8
Around 0745, as George worked on his notes for the briefing, Petty Officer Humphrey stuck his head in the doorway and said, “Excuse me, Commander Adams.”
George looked up nervously from his notes, the rush to get the briefing ready starting to wear on him. “Yes, Hump, what is it?”
“The briefing has been delayed until 0900, sir. Admiral Yates is on a conference call with the CNO and the Atlantic and Pacific fleet commanders.”
George breathed a sigh of relief as the impending deadline was delayed. There would be plenty of time now to get his notes in order. “Okay. Thanks.”
As Petty Officer Humphrey made his way down the hall to other offices, Buffalo appeared in George’s doorway. “Story of our lives — hurry up and wait! I could have slept an extra hour this morning,” he joked. “So where’s Sparkle Eyes? You don’t get any help this morning?”
George got a pained look on his face. “She’s getting some of my slides ready for the briefing. And would you stop calling her that?”
“Hey, don’t be so touchy. She’s just the Ops yeoman, you know. It’s not like I’m insulting your sister or something. Besides, it’s a complement. She does have rather captivating eyes!”
George leaned back in his chair and stretched, then jumped up. “Let’s go get some coffee,” he suggested, changing the subject. The two of them walked down the hall to the coffee machine where Lannis, also taking advantage of the delay, had just prepared a fresh pot. The relief of having an extra hour to prepare the briefing put George in the mood to continue his verbal sparring with Lannis.
“Well, well, well,” said George as they approached Lannis. “It’s our isolationist intel officer brewing up a pot of imported coffee!”
Lannis laughed as he poured cups for himself, George, and Buffalo. “I have no problem trading with Latin America. It’s the Middle East I want to stay away from. And the last I heard, we don’t import a great deal of Middle Eastern coffee!”
George snickered. “Hey look, for the last five years, the country has followed President Thornton’s isolationist policy and even initiated a serious program to develop alternative energy sources — not to protect the environment, but because the politicians thought if we freed ourselves from dependence on foreign oil, we wouldn’t have to deal with the Middle East any longer. Hell, ever since the DC attack we’ve been hunkering down here with this bunker mentality, and as we’ve learned this morning, the terrorists are still threatening us. And they’re still blowing up unarmed civilians.”
“So you think their only goal is to kill us?” asked Lannis skeptically.
“To me, their real goal is simple — they want to spread their venomous version of Islam to every corner of the globe. They won’t be satisfied until every Western democracy has been turned into a radical Islamic state. They want to see the equivalent of the Taliban controlling the U.S. and all of Europe. It wouldn’t be so bad if they just proselytized. However, using mass murder to achieve their Islamic state is wrong. They attacked the U.S. with a weapon of mass destruction, and someday, somehow, someone is going to see they reap the consequences.”