“That means that use of nuclear weapons is fully on the table at this time and is being discussed by such persons as are entrusted to their release by the American people,” the secretary replied. “It does not mean the decision has been made. However, the American people are, justly, furious at this action, especially such an action by a member of the UN Security Council. And the President intends to place a war declaration before Congress. When it is passed, and I suspect it will pass with acclaim, our actions are free. We are, thereafter, free to make full war against Syria at a time and place of our choosing.”
“Mr. Secretary, redirect,” the same reporter asked. “Does that mean we intend to force a regime change in Syria?”
“It means that, at a time and place of our choosing, we can engage in any form of war we deem necessary,” the secretary said. “The government of Syria had better think about that carefully. They not only supported this action, they maintain control of the Bekaa Valley, which is a hotbed of terrorism. We have solid evidence of links to Al Qaeda, not guesses, not rumors, solid evidence of links at the highest level. Syria is going to have a breather after this to consider what they want to be in the international community. And if they continue, in any way, shape or form, on the course they have laid in the past, then, yes, we will force regime change in Syria by any means we determine necessary. We will not ask the UN. We will not go begging the French and Germans to support us. We will wage war with every weapon, every weapon, in our arsenal. That is the determination of the National Command Authority. And we’re not lying, bluffing, kidding or considering. That is the decision of the National Command Authority. They seriously screwed up when they thought they could kidnap young American girls and torture, rape and kill them to force us to withdraw. Nothing, nothing could have been more stupid.”
“Mr. Secretary,” the reporter said, frowning. “One of the tenets of fighting unconventional warfare is that the weaker side tries to cause an overreaction from the stronger so as to get sympathy. And Al Qaeda has stated that they are trying to cause an overreaction from the West in order to bring about the Great Jihad. Wouldn’t the use of nuclear weapons be an overreaction?”
The secretary considered the reporter for a moment and then smiled, evilly.
“Tell that to the Mongols.” There was a stirring amongst the group and he waved a hand and walked out.
“What did that mean?” a female reporter asked her more experienced colleague.
“When the Mongols invaded the Persian Empire,” the guy said, frowning slightly, “which stretched through most of the Middle East, they killed four out of five inhabitants in the region. Laid waste to cities, destroyed wells and irrigation so that civilization could not exist. They killed every single resident of Baghdad, for example. The term was ‘they made a desert and called it peace.’ What he just said was that the President is furious enough to nuke the entire region.”
The female reporter thought about that for a moment, thought about the few seconds, all she could watch, of the video of Clarissa McCutcheon being raped and tortured. She thought about beliefs she had held dear, of attitudes she felt were solid in her bones. She thought about what it would be like to be a woman in that room and nodded.
“Good.” She paused and shrugged. “Do you think they can get them out?”
“It’s going to be tough,” the regular Pentagon reporter replied. “I was talking with some sources. Syria’s got a tough air defense network so they can’t just fly in by helicopter. And whatever they’re doing to hold off the Syrians, sooner or later they’ll get overrun. Trying to take down the defenses in a normal manner would be a several-day job. I don’t know how they’re going to get reinforcements into them although my source did say that there was a plan. He didn’t know what it was, but he’d heard it was really crazy.”
“Well, whoever’s going in to help them,” the female reporter said, “I wish I could give them a great big kiss. And I hope they’re okay.”
“Dude,” Roman said over the team link. “This totally sucks. I’m freezing to death. I can tell I’m getting frostbite on my toes. I can barely breathe from this damned ejector. My left arm has gone to sleep from being slammed into this fucking clamp. And I keep thinking what’s going to happen if my hookah accidentally drops free.”
The team was suited up in HALO gear, cold weather gear for high altitudes with an air bottle and mask somewhat like a fighter pilot’s to provide them with oxygen. But the bottles were small and wouldn’t last the entire time of decompression and flight. So to provide oxygen while they were in the bomb bay a large oxygen tank had been installed and tubes run to each of their masks. If the tube accidentally dropped loose, their oxygen bottle would start automatically. But it would only last so long. And there was no way to fix the problem since they were wrapped up like prey in a spider’s web.
The B-2 Spirit bomber used a rotary bomb release system. Bombs were set in a rotary rack, something like a revolver type pistol, instead of being in a general release vertical rack. The beauty of the rotary system was that, instead of having to simply drop the whole stick, specific weapons could be rotated into position for dropping.
The problem was that the rotary system entirely filled the bomb bay. So the only way to carry the SEALs was in the rotary system. Bombs were raised into the system and then grabber clamps closed on them to hold them in place, until small explosive charges drove rams downwards, forcibly ejecting the payload of each position into the violent slipstream of the high-speed aircraft. In the case of the SEALS, a field expedient wrapper was improvised. After donning all their normal equipment, including a complete tactical loadout of weapons and ammunition, a belly slung payload carrying their ruck of demo, medical and commo and their parachute and reserve, the SEALs normally had all the grace of a pregnant hippo as they waddled to the door. Waddling wouldn’t be required this time, since they had first been wrapped in foam rubber and taped to a metal backboard, then lifted into the bomb bay before the bomb clamp was closed on them. As each SEAL was loaded, the rack was rotated and the next was loaded and so forth, just like bombs, but with more protests. So they were held in place, constricted by their equipment, wrapped in foam rubber, taped to a backboard and unable to move, watching their air lines dangling in front of their faces. In this wonderful condition they awaited the moment when the copilot would operate the weapons release, and the ejector mechanism would fire as the clamps released, launching each SEAL.
“Shut up, Roman,” the chief said. “Focus on the mission.”
“I’m trying, Chief,” Roman said. “But I keep focusing on this hookah line. I mean, they could have rigger taped it or something.”
“Charlie Platoon,” the pilot said over the team net. “In-flight advisory. The agent in place, Codename Ghost, has released the girls and they are now holding a position on the lower level anticipating reinforcement. The enemy forces are attempting to force a door in the south wall, which is now your primary target. We’re at altitude and are proceeding to the destination. The Alpha Strike has gone in and are in the process of suppressing defenses. There will be another Spirit up to give you JDAM support on call. They will be monitoring your platoon radio frequency.”
“Thank you, sir,” the OIC said. “This is a nice plane, but we’ll be happy to get out.”
“So I heard,” the pilot said with a chuckle. “We’re going EMCON at this time. Do not transmit on your team net again until you are released. There won’t be a warning. The doors will open and you’ll be launched automatically. I won’t get back to you before the doors open, so good luck.”