“We each will remain answerable only to our respective government and command structures, and all joint operations will be formally organized through these channels. In theater, we will be answerable only to the U.N. Special Envoy for the Guinea crisis.”
The only sound was the soft creaking of chairs as the room’s occupants shifted their positions slightly, unobtrusively eyeing one another and considering ramifications.
Macintyre continued, letting his voice harden a little. “This may be a suitable diplomatic solution, gentlemen, but I trust that you will all agree that it’s no damn way to run a military mission. This lack of organization and I’ve got mine, too bad about yours’ mind-set has turned more than one U.N. operation into a bloody fiasco, with the emphasis on ‘bloody.’ You may consider Somalia and Lebanon if you require examples.
“Our respective governments haven’t been able to come to terms with this problem, so now we have to. We are all a long way from London and Paris and Washington, gentlemen. Putting it bluntly, if our respective governments are incapable of developing an official unified command structure for this operation, the players down here might want to consider setting up with an unofficial one. All of the different elements of UNAFIN will be facing a common foe, and you are only going to have each other to rely on.
“You have one other thing you can rely on as well. Formally, I’m here to inspect the NAVSPECFORCE elements committed to the African interdiction operation. Informally, however, I am here to assure all of you that the United States Naval Special Forces Command stands ready to provide whatever support and assistance we can to any of the national military missions involved in this operation. Either across the table or under it, as needed. Just give us the word. Beyond that, it’s going to be your show.”
As each ammunition case was emptied aboard the pinasse, it was cast into the sea. Even the little fuse wrench went overboard after the last of the twenty rounds was armed.
Now a man stood ready at the bow and stem, each with his knife hovering above an anchor line. The captain sat at the tiller, the boat’s engine idling. The gunner knelt beside the mortar, the first shell held poised over the muzzle, while his assistant stood by with the second ready in his hands.
The rain had passed for the moment, and a scattering of stars sweltered down through the broken overcast above the air base. The sandbag and oil drum berms around the headquarters building cut off even the faintest trace of a breeze, and Macintyre stepped out past the sentry post at the main entrance, seeking room to think and to breathe. From the HQ’s secured parking area, the Land Rovers carrying the foreign liaisons pulled away from the headquarters building. Each vehicle headed toward its respective national compound, its headlights tunneling through the humid darkness.
The Admiral didn’t bother to look after them. Following the briefing, he’d spoken briefly, one on one, with the British and French UNAFIN representatives. The responses had been the same: politely worded neutrality toward the concept of a joint command and an adroit buck-passing in the direction of higher echelons. Even among the U.S. personnel, a definite “who needs them” attitude prevailed.
At least inside of NAVSPECFORCE, he could hurl a few lightning bolts at that attitude over the next couple of days. With the foreign missions, however, there wasn’t anything to be done until experience taught the need for a cohesive structure within the U.N. mission.
How many people would have to die before that point was proved?
He’d paced only a few steps out toward the flight line when someone called after him. Christine Rendino overtook him a moment later. “Begging your pardon, sir, but would you mind a little company out here?”
“I wouldn’t mind yours at the moment, Commander.” Macintyre matched his rangy stride to the little intel’s pacing as she came to walk at his side. “I think we have some more to discuss.”
“We do, sir,” she replied. “Admiral, do you want me to keep up with that straight talk we were doing earlier today?”
“At all times, Commander.”
“Then, sir, we have a whole hell of a lot of problems.”
“You noticed too? Which ones did you spot?”
“Attitudes. Bad ones. Point one, we’ve already talked about, Captain Emberly. If he goes out there and tries to overawe the natives, he’s going to get his head blown off. From the way I’m seeing the situation down here, our tech edge might just give us parity against the Union’s superior numbers and home-ground advantage. Beyond that, the Tactical Action Group is going to need a game plan, and a damn good one. If we don’t get our act together, and soon, we are going to get clobbered. And Gutzon Borglum can carve that on a mountain.”
Macintyre scowled in the half-darkness. “I wish to God I didn’t agree with you. Unfortunately, I do. We can’t afford a disaster down here. Congressional support for UNAFIN is weak as it is. Commander Emberly has got to pay attention to the realities of the tactical situation down here. If he can’t handle it, then I’m going to have to find someone that can. I’ll hate having to replace him; he’s done genuinely good work with the seafighter program.”
“Yes, sir. But the fact is that the seafighters now need a real sea fighter. The whole interdiction force does.”
Macintyre gave an acknowledging grunt. “And what did you make out of the rest of that mess?”
“Stinkin’ group dynamics, sir. What we essentially have is a bunch of very capable officers doing their jobs well. What we don’t have is a team, and I doubt if one is going to gel as things stand. You don’t have a single natural-born leader in the whole outfit. That is, someone who can pull these people together and make them listen and follow without the artificial support of an enforced chain of command. And that’s who you’re going to need to pull this U.N.-invoked can of worms together.”
Macintyre paused in his pacing and braced his hands against his hips. “You live up to your reputation, Commander. You are indeed a most insightful young woman. Tell me, do you ever make a mis-call?”
Backlit by the blue dimness of the airfield’s arc lights, she gave a shrug and an ironic grin. “I suppose it could happen someday.”
“Admiral Macintyre,” a voice called. “May I speak to you a moment, sir.”
As if summoned up by the concerns being voiced about him, Captain Emberly emerged from the sandbagged entry way and started across the tarmac toward the Admiral and the intel. “Sir, I’d like the opportunity to explain about the briefing tonight…”
They never had the chance to learn what the TACBOSS wanted to explain. Macintyre heard a sound beyond the turbine whine of the flight line and the diesel roar of the head quarters generator, a soft fluttering whisper just on the edge of comprehension. It was a sound that he had heard only once before, on a fire-and oil-stained beach near the Kuwait-Iraq border. However, it was a sound that, once heard, was never forgotten.
Christine Rendino stood at his right, perhaps six feet away. Reacting with the ancient masculine instinct to protect the female, Macintyre launched himself at her in a headlong dive. The sweep of his arm caught her around the hips, taking her down to the tarmac with him, his bellowed warning drowning out her startled yip.
“INCOMING!”
Shielding Christine’s body as best he could with his own, Macintyre drew in another breath. But before he could yell again, the world blazed glare-white and the steel-hard shock wave of the first shell hit bludgeoned the air from his lungs.
The Union mortarman was good, one of his army’s best. He had four rounds in the air before the first had even impacted. He never looked up as the explosions and fire plumes danced over the U.N. air base. Instead, he focused on feeding the shells into the smoking maw of his weapon. There was no need to aim. They were aligned with the target, and with the base range set, the rolling of the boat in the low waves dispersed their fire along the full length of the flight line.