“Enough. I’m not having this debate again. A quick and dirty war is always preferable to long and ‘clean’ wars. Your ‘righteous war’ doctrine is the same logic that led us into occupying a whole country just to get rid of one despot. If I can avoid fighting a costly battle by persuading a few senior enemy officers to quit, my conscious is clear.”
“But sir, this isn’t Iraq. This is America. These are damn Americans!”
“Exactly my point. There are no winners in a civil war. The best we can do is limit the losses. Now shut up. Either send in the drones or send your replacement in here, General. Dismissed.”
Major General Brice, field commander of the URA’s trapped “Liberation Force,” turned off his battle tracker screen. He needed a break from the depressing video game. “One? That’s it? Twelve transports and only one survived to dump their load? I thought we had a deal with the Texas Air National Guard!”
“We did until yesterday, sir. In the last eight hours, we’ve lost touch with all the sympathetic squadron commanders. Seems Governor Berry is getting serious about protecting their airspace.”
Brice rolled his head and rubbed his neck. “The governor might be behind a desk in Austin and giving speeches, but he isn’t in charge of anything. Guarantee you some Fedefuck general is running the show. We have to assume all Texan forces are compromised then. Even if the troops are with us, Fed officers probably command all their units by now. We need to get another supply flight organized. Maybe they’ll have more luck violating Mexican air space and swinging into the Gulf…”
Even the general didn’t believe his own fantasy.
His second in command tossed down a clipboard. “Does it really matter? Even if every cargo plane made it and dropped their supplies, that’s just not enough. For an army of our size, 1,500 tons of ordinance is a few hours of combat supplies, at maximum.”
No one mentioned how even that poor air bridge was their last connection to home. Some junior intelligence officer interrupted the miserable silence.
“Sir, what do you make of this? I’m not sure if it’s relevant, but the enemy has been beaming out the same transmission since the C-5’s were shot down. They’re broadcasting in the clear. The Feds are just begging us to intercept it.”
General Brice scratched a bump on his face. He’d been using the same worn out razor for a week now. Just like his army, it could still cut, but cost him too much blood with every attempt.
“Looks like some sort of propaganda. What are the Feds doing? Just cycling between a bunch of different random homes. I bet they’re still blasting out that same old surrender message too. Ignore it. This nonsense is the least of our worries.” He turned back to his operations planning staff.
“Ok. We need to rethink our extraction strategy. Let’s take a page from all the deserters and see how many troops we can infiltrate in small groups through enemy lines. Live to fight another day and all that. At this point, I’m happy for every soldier who escapes back to friendly territory. Even if we have to sacrifice the heavy equipment…”
Brice realized no one paid him any attention. He snapped his fingers. “Hello? Am I boring you all?”
Most of his senior staff gaped tight-lipped at the intelligence officer’s monitor. Every five seconds, a new home popped up on screen. All seen through the FLIR scope of some drone or fighter-bomber. Brice raised an eyebrow at all his officers biting their knuckles and fighting back tears.
“Oh Jesus!” Brice’s executive officer collapsed into his chair.
On the black and white feed, a woman and two teenaged children exited the house and drove off in a car. The soulless camera followed them. An all-too familiar targeting reticle hovered over the vehicle. Three words of text on the bottom of the screen kept flashing. Check your email.
Brice folded his arms while his second in command dashed to his laptop. “What the hell’s going on?”
“That’s my wife and kids, sir!”
Brice sat alone at the empty table while all his top officers rushed to their computers. He fought down the creeping tingle of dread. “Fine, let’s play this game. It’s all just PSYOPs bullshit. What do the emails say?”
None of the officers made a sound.
Brice stomped over to the nearest colonel and shoved him out of the way. “Surrender your command in two hours and your family will not be touched?” He opened the attachment and whistled at the scanned copy of a personalized presidential pardon.
“Those stupid, perverted sons of bitches. If the president thinks this stunt will do anything but harden our resolve…”
Some of the officers whispered among themselves, others crumpled into their chairs, heads in their hands. None met his steely gaze.
The XO finally spoke up. “Sir, it’s not like we haven’t discussed the possibility of laying down our arms. I think it’s time for Sacramento to work out a diplomatic solution without us. Further resistance serves no purpose.”
General Brice was in uncharted territory here. He struggled to keep his tone calm and rational. “Ladies and gentlemen, I understand everyone is freaking out, but giving up isn’t going to stop this dictator.”
His right hand man, the most loyal officer he’d ever served with, couldn’t stop his face from twitching. “You don’t have any family, sir. You just don’t get it. Do you think anyone here cares about the rhetoric, politics or any of that shit? At the end of day, we’re only doing this to keep our people safe. If giving up is the only way to ensure that, then… Goddamn it, what do you expect us to do?”
Most of the group bobbed their heads along, even if not dripping enthusiasm. Brice knew full well none of them were cowards. His handpicked command team would do whatever they needed to, once they had a goal in mind.
That’s exactly what spooked the general, but he knew only one way to react to a threat.
“What I expect is for you all to soldier up and do your fucking jobs!”
His command voice fell flat. Not a single senior staffer flinched or looked away from him. Was that even pity on some of their faces? Out of options, Brice doubled down.
“Let’s get back to work. The next person who says a word about ‘surrender,’ or any other defeatism nonsense, will be stripped of their rank and arrested. Our soldiers have sacrificed too much for you all to wimp out now!”
All eyes turned on the executive officer. He dipped his head and gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles burned white.
Complete silence filled the tactical ops center. No one breathed until the XO nodded and straightened his back. He faced his general, standing at parade attention. Brice couldn’t help but notice the junior soldiers around the TOC either stepped behind him or got out of the way.
Not one moved into Brice’s corner.
“Sir, with all due respect, I believe the stress has gotten to you and affected your ability to make sound judgments. Under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, I’m temporarily relieving you of command until the medical staff has cleared you for duty again.” The XO spun around, studying every officer nearby. “Does anyone have a problem with this?”
Busy as he was shoring up support, the brigadier general made the mistake of turning his back on General Brice. When he faced him again, Brice had his Beretta out in a two handed grip. The barrel pointed right at the XO’s heart.
“This isn’t a fucking democracy. We’re not taking a vote.” The CO hollered over his shoulder to the front door of their command center. “MP’s! Get in here. We’ve got a mutiny to suppress!”