Even as the deputy governor of California, and later governor after her predecessor’s accidental assassination in Florida, Salazar held zero tolerance for failure from her subordinates. She could afford to be so petty back then. Four months leading an entire country tempered her anger. For all his mediocrity, this functionary was at least loyal. That made him worth his weight in gold in this new political arena. She faked nonchalance and sat down.
“Don’t worry about it.” She took a long draught and wagged a finger at someone else.
“Now, General Stewart, even you have to admit that unpatriotic reporter had a point. We sure don’t hold the initiative in this fight. Ah, ah. Spare me your old excuses about needing time to build up our military. I don’t care if you are making great progress. This is the 21st century. Perception is the most potent weapon out there. Every day we spend prepping and consolidating our position is perceived by the masses as one wasted. At the rate you’re going, by the time our new army is ready for action it will be too late. Battlefield victories mean nothing if we’ve already lost the war of public opinion!”
That same press secretary was the first to kiss her ass. “That’s absolutely right, ma’am! It’ll be just like Vietnam after the Tet offensive. The US Army’s spectacular success in beating the Vietcong came too late to make a difference. After those initial images of communist guerillas in the Saigon embassy’s atrium, the American people had already written the war off as unwinnable. Didn’t matter how many of the enemy we eventually killed. Regardless of how the battles turn out, modern wars are won or lost on TV.”
General Stewart was that rare breed of senior military officer that did not possess the gift of gab. He tried hard not to be just another politician in uniform. This wasn’t the first time his inability to articulate military necessity into political sense left him looking like a fool. While fumbling for a response, a balding, wild-eyed man spoke up for him.
“You’re dead right, as usual, Ms. President. So let us finally seize the initiative and put an end to this war before it really heats up. Operation Mongoose is 100 % ready to launch. You already approved it once; let’s not delay any longer.”
General Stewart was on surer footing shooting down crazy ideas. “Mr. Esterline, that insane mission was canceled for good reason. Look what happened the last time a foreign power intervened in our war. Those fanatics in Washington simply nuked the Chinese invasion fleet heading for Alaska! The Cubans are scared. Rightly so, I might add. Without their support this Hail Mary plan, this uprising-in-Florida scheme, must remain a fantasy.” Finally, a win. General Stewart crossed his arms and stared down the spook across the table.
The fledging new government didn’t have an official intelligence service yet. The few professional spies and analysts that “came over” were obviously a little suspect. The best they could scrounge up was this possibly unhinged freelancer. You couldn’t tell by his Italian suit and receding hairline, but the ex-Green Beret and disgraced CIA strategist had trained and advised paramilitary forces in a half-dozen exotic locales over his 30-year career. His reputation as a master of proxy warfare was never in doubt. Only his sanity was questionable.
“Ms. President, as I’ve outlined in detail in that report on your desk, the technical aspects of the operation are all ready to go. We have close to 2,000 self-exiled Florida National Guardsmen sitting in Cuba. We’ve already rearmed them and they’re pumped-up to go home. While Cuba will denounce the attack officially, we’ve spread around a lot of money in the right hands. My Cuban partners have promised landing ships, armed naval escorts and even limited close air support. All we need to do is liaison with the resistance fighters already in place. Low risk, high payoff.”
Someone snickered. “I bet the Chinese thought the same thing up in Alaska.”
Esterline sprang from his chair and bounded around the room with his usual intensity. All the while tossing around classified reports like religious pamphlets. “Ah, what did the barbarians expect? Trying to storm the gates. No, no. Ma’am, I plan to raise a fresh army for you inside the very walls of Rome! Once we raise our banners over Miami, millions will flock to our cause. The flood of righteousness will swamp Caesar’s legions!”
General Stewart rubbed his temples. “Theatrics aside, I think you drastically overestimate our popularity with the local population. Since most of the fighting back in March was confined to the rural northern part of Florida, relatively few people in the south have a direct reason to hate the Feds. Especially in Miami. The resistance movement there is mainly former National Guardsmen trying to continue the fight as guerillas. There’s no populist dimension to it! The regular people don’t care. Where will this ‘new army’ come from?”
Esterline wasn’t annoyed, just surprised that this poor man couldn’t see the big picture. “General, if the masses had such faith in the emperor, why does he feel it necessary to hold new elections?”
One of Salazar’s most trusted advisors, his firm had bankrolled her political career for years, interrupted.
“Maria, he does make a good point. This term-extension vote the dictator insists on holding demonstrates a lot of weakness. Why would he push ahead with this showmanship if he felt strong in his position? I say let’s take advantage of his indecisiveness and insecurity.”
Everyone waited for the boss lady to make a decision. “Ok. The pretender president has given us an opportunity. Let’s seize it. Hit them in Florida. Esterline, you’re completely in charge of the operation. However, we won’t launch a diversionary attack along the border. I wasn’t elected to start a bloodbath. If all goes well down south and Washington’s power base collapses, then we’ll exploit that success with an invasion. We won’t risk any of our people before Florida is liberated.”
General Stewart looked aghast. “Ma’am, I don’t endorse this plan, but aren’t we putting the cart before the horse? The only slim hope of success they’d have in Florida is if we distract the enemy along the border. A few thousand lightly armed fighters rising up against the entire US military won’t last long.”
Salazar shrugged and moved on to chat with more interesting advisors. Chiefly about how to finance this hideously expensive military buildup. “I don’t care about the details, General. Tell your concerns to Mr. Esterline.”
Assault Group Leader Sophie Kampbell hesitated at the door to her own home, keys shaking in her hand. She hadn’t seen her father since joining the shadowy “Freedom Brigades” months ago. Her old man wasn’t exactly pleased the last time they talked. Unlike every other neighbor on the block, no flag waved out front of her childhood home. Neither USA nor URA colors. She shook doubt out of her mind. You can go toe-to-toe with a US Special Forces team and recapture a bunch of nuclear weapons, but get all fluttery over a shouting match with your dad? “Nut up, girl!” she muttered her favorite military saying and pushed the door open.
In typical Fourth of July tradition, the tangy promise of barbecue filled the air inside. Some famous parade marched across the TV. War or not, some things never change. A tide of homesickness slammed into Sophie. She dropped her duffel bag on the couch and rounded the kitchen corner. Through the open back patio door, she spotted her father “tending” a burning grill. He ignored the small slab of ribs over-smoking and listlessly sipped a beer. Sophie fought back the pain in her gut when she saw an old family photo in his lap, her deceased grinning mother in the middle.