“Hardly an army,” Mike pointed out, glancing at the ambassador again. He should have been briefed on what this meeting was about beforehand but he felt a general trend. “They will constitute about a company in size and be designed for small-unit operations. Just a mountain militia.”
“A remarkably well-armed and equipped mountain militia,” General Umarov interjected. “When the request came through to expedite the end-user license we, of course, complied. We are as worried about conditions in east Georgia as the Russians. But when the actual lists started arriving we became… somewhat concerned. Your simple mountain militia will be better equipped than the Presidential Commandoes.”
“I discovered when I was a SEAL that good equipment helps,” Mike said. “It’s not everything, though; you have to have good training. And, I’m sorry to point out, they’re probably going to be better trained than your commandoes as well.” He didn’t have to look to know that the ambassador had just winced. “I don’t think that it would be fit to do less and they’re going to need that training to do what they’ll have to do to suppress the Chechens.
“However,” he added, as the general opened his mouth, “they are, as I said, less than a company. And they are training for open field, small unit actions. I know that there is always a fear that a particular group will… oh, become the tail that wags the dog as we say in the United States. The Keldara are going to be training in a way that makes that fundamentally unlikely.”
“Explain,” the president said, holding up a hand to cut off the general’s retort.
“There are, essentially, three types of forces in the world,” Mike said, picking his words carefully. “Field forces, regime protection forces and show forces. Show forces are very good at parading. They are trained to look good, pretty much period. Some excellent combat units are also good at showing off, don’t get me wrong. The Rhodesian Selous Scouts were bloody peacocks and marched better than the Coldstream Guards. But show forces are only there for show.
“Next, there are regime protection forces,” Mike said, trying not to look at the Chief of Staff of the Georgian army. “Regime protection forces are, essentially, very large police forces. They are trained to suppress resistance to the regime, to break up riots, to ferret out guerillas and so forth. They’re, really, peacekeeping forces in countries where peace is shaky. Due to the nature of their training, they’re very good at coups. They’re used to moving to specific places in cities and, for example, taking over broadcast stations or buildings that are important to a coup.
“Last, there are field armies. Field armies are designed to meet other forces on the field of battle and defeat them. That can be small unit or large unit, but that is their training. They may march well and they may be able to occasionally be used to keep the peace, but they’re not fundamentally trained for either. Field armies are designed to destroy other forces and when used in a coup tend to break much more than they should. They also make various mistakes, like firing into crowds indiscriminately, that make the succeeding regime, even if the coup is successful, very unpopular. The vast majority of the American army is field forces. The only units that are not are Civil Affairs and MPs.”
“I see,” the president said, nodding. “And what type of training are the Keldara getting?”
“Field force training,” Mike said, definitely. “They’re also being trained for open field combat, not urbanized combat. The Keldara, frankly, would be bloody useless in a coup. And given their training and the fact that they’re only a company, trying to stage a coup would be insane. I take it, now, that that is the subject of this discussion?”
“One of them,” the president admitted. “And I wanted to see what you were like.”
“And what am I like?” Mike asked, suddenly weary. He missed his boat in the Keys.
“Blunt,” the president said, laughing. “As I was warned. Not the diplomat at all. This is good. A person as blunt as you would, yes, be very bad at staging a coup. What do you think of the Georgian army?”
“I haven’t seen much of it,” Mike said. “From what I have seen, it’s trained as a regime protection force and not very well trained at that. It’s underpaid, so all the troops are on the take, which means anything can slip through your checkpoints with a little cash. The officers don’t understand leadership; all they understand is discipline and that badly. And for a little extra money you could have gotten much better equipment; the boots, especially, are horrible.”
“I see,” the president said, his face frozen.
“Yes, I am blunt,” Mike replied. “And you asked. If you don’t want to know the answer, don’t ask me the question. Now, do I get to train my Keldara so I can do something about the Chechens in the area or do you want me to pack up and leave?”
“Oh, I think you can train your Keldara,” the president said. “If for no other reason than the fact that if they’re going to be as well trained as you say, if there is a coup, I’ll have somewhere to run.”
“Great,” Mike said. “And you can feel free. I’ll make sure you get somewhere safe. But if we can cut this short, it’d be great. I’ve got another meeting pending and it’s going to be even tougher than this one.”
“Tougher?” General Umarov asked. If he was upset at Mike’s bluntness, or his opinion of the Georgian Army, it didn’t show. In fact, he had a twinkle in his eye.
“The Keldara can be rather stuck in their ways,” Mike admitted.
Mike sat at the head of the kitchen table as the elders filed in. He had “asked” Captain Tyurin to pick them up, since for the time being he was the only one in the valley with the wheels and Mike wasn’t about to have Father Kulcyanov walk up the hill.
He waited in silence as the Six Fathers took seats and then hooked his feet on a convenient rung under the table and tilted his chair back.
“In case anyone’s interested,” he said, “Irina is doing fine. She, Lydia and her mother are in a hotel in Tbilisi. It will be a few more days before she can be driven back safely. With that out of the way, go ahead and say the rest.”
“Kildar,” Father Mahona said after a series of looks were exchanged. “You have to understand that among the Keldara, if a woman has been alone with a man she is considered… not eligible for marriage.”
“Spoiled goods,” Mike said, nodding. “Unclean. Fit only to be sent to town. She’s your daughter, and I assume we’re discussing Lydia, here, but I understand she’s promised to Oleg Kulcyanov,” Mike said, looking over at the old man. “What does the Family of Kulcyanov say?”
“Lydia is a good woman,” Father Kulcyanov replied after a moment. “And Oleg cares for her very much. But there is the problem of…”
“Of a medical emergency,” Mike said, dropping his chair to land hard and leaning forward. “Okay, I screwed up. I was in full American mode. In the U.S., there would have been no thought of this. I needed to get Irina to the hospital or she would have died…”
“The money…” Father Shaynav said.
“NO!” Mike shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “I said there would be NO debt for medical treatment! You touch on MY honor with this! As to Lydia,” Mike continued, more calmly, “nothing happened. Not in the car, not in the hotel. Think about this, Oleg is going to be one of the leaders of the militia. I will have him at my back with a gun in his hand. How stupid would I have to be to fool around with his woman? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”