Tired and still upset over his final meeting with Ruff, Lewis did not appreciate Dixon's attempt at humor, and his tone made that obvious to both Dixon and Big Al. "Colonel, the Germans, at gunpoint, forced their way onto an American military installation and seized nuclear weapons, weapons which, by the way, our nation has worked to control and limit."
Undaunted, Dixon countered. "Of course, one could always look at the flip side of this issue. We did, without prior consent, move nuclear weapons back into Germany in clear violation of the Berlin Accord of two years ago that specifically prohibits the storage of nuclear weapons in or their movement through Germany. We, the main backer of a nuclear-free Central Europe, were the first to break the rules. Seems to me that if this went to a court of law, the Germans would have a strong case."
Lewis replied sharply. "Unfortunately, Colonel, this matter isn't going to be resolved in a court of law. The Germans fully intend to force the United States into a showdown, one in which we either have to back away from or respond with force."
Seeing that the discussion between Lewis and Dixon was beginning to get out of hand, Big Al decided it was time to get back to the reason for the meeting. "Gentlemen, all of this, I'm sure, will make a great story and debate back in Washington. But that is not our concern. Whether we're right or they're right is, for me, unimportant. What is important, Colonel Dixon, is that one of the conditions the Germans are insisting on is that this corps be disarmed prior to its withdrawal from Europe."
Dixon looked at Big Al, then Lewis, and finally back to Big Al. "They, of course, are kidding, aren't they? I mean, even they understand that to do so would be tantamount to unconditional surrender, an insult to the Army and the entire nation."
"I think," Lewis interjected, "that's the idea. Sort of a public emasculation. And if Ruff does it, he'll become a national hero, Germany's twenty-first-century Arminius."
For a moment Dixon tried to place the name Arminius but couldn't. Big Al helped him out. "The Teutoburger Wald."
In an instant Dixon understood. By the year a.d. 9 the Roman Empire had been trying for twenty years unsuccessfully to civilize the Germans east of the Rhine River. During their annual movement from their summer quarters on the Weser River near where modern Münden stands, to winter quarters, the three legions and six cohorts of Quinctilius Varus, the Roman governor of Germany, as well as Roman merchants, bureaucrats, family members and such were attacked by the German tribes. Arminius, a leader of the local German tribes and supposedly a friend of the Romans, led the Germans against the Romans. In a three-day running battle that took place in the then heavily forested Lippe Valley, the German tribes under Arminius wiped out 18,000 Roman soldiers and 12,000 Roman merchants and bureaucrats, leaving a mere hundred Romans to return to Rome to spread the story of German power. That battle not only halted the eastward expansion of the Roman Empire and began its downward spiral, it left Germany free to develop its own culture without the latinizing influence that so dominated other Western European cultures. Known simply as the Battle of Teutoburger Wald, it is held by many as the beginning of German history and nationalism, with the Germans regarding Arminius in the same manner as Americans do George Washington's role in the American Revolution.
After thinking about the analogy for a moment, a now sober Dixon looked at Big Al. "He can't be serious, can he? I mean, even the Germans must realize that this is the twenty-first century."
"They do, Colonel," Lewis took up. "Believe me, they do. Which is why instead of using the wicker shields and javelins Arminius's warriors used against the well-armed and disciplined Roman legionnaires, Chancellor Ruff intends to rely on nukes."
"And the German public is going to buy this line and back him?"
"Ruff seems to think they already have, Colonel. His election to office on a conservative Germany-for-Germans platform has been interpreted by many, including Ruff himself, as a mandate which he has taken seriously. That, coupled with our own diplomatic blunders in the past few days and his decisive actions have made him quite popular with conservatives in Germany, for the moment. You see," Lewis added, "unlike the Americans, who classify the last presidential election as ancient history, the Germans, like most Europeans, have a strong sense of history. We were reminded of this in the early nineties when tiny tribes with flags long forgotten by most people suddenly took advantage of the political upheavals in Central Europe and popped up all over the map of Central and Eastern Europe. This resurgence of tribal nationalism makes the analogy of Arminius more appealing to the Germans, a proud and homogeneous culture with a long history."
"In short," Big Al added, "we're out here on a limb, and Herr Chancellor is hacking away at it like crazy."
Dixon threw his hands out. Knowing that Big Al was using this as a skull session in which he wanted any and all ideas to be thrown out, discussed, and examined as they searched for a solution, Dixon took the lead. "Okay, fine. So we hunker on down here, enjoy a nice pleasant winter vacation in the Czech mountains while things cool down and the politicians settle down to some serious talks."
Shaking his head, Lewis sighed. As the political consciousness of the group, Lewis responded. "I wish, Colonel, it was that easy. When I spoke to the President earlier this afternoon, she informed me that the Czech ambassador had already approached her and has, on behalf of his government, requested that the Tenth Corps leave his country immediately. The Germans, and apparently the Ukrainians, according to the CIA branch chief in Berlin, have already been at work. Seems they have been reminding the Czech and Slovak governments that Germany and Ukraine have borders with them that are considerably longer than their borders with the United States."
Dixon thought about that for a moment before responding.
"Well, nothing like strategic blackmail. What about the Poles? Will the Poles let us pass to the Baltic coast and home?"
"That avenue," Lewis said, "is being explored, but it doesn't look promising. The Polish government is still miffed over the amount of aid that we have poured into Russia at their expense. Besides, not only have the Germans been working on them, but a withdrawal through Poland would be for the Germans a moral victory. I can see him now," Lewis continued, waving his hands about as if he were delivering a speech, "standing on a podium, the new little Hitler, proclaiming to the whole world how the vaunted American war machine had slithered away behind the benevolent protection of the Polish Army rather than face certain defeat at the hands of a unified German Army."
Dixon rolled his eyes. "Oh, what a wicked web we weave. You know, this is sounding more and more like Peyton Place goes to the UN instead of an international crisis." Then looking at Big Al and Lewis in turn, Dixon said, "I take it someone here has a brilliant idea that will magically resolve this whole goat screw."
"Well, Scotty," Big Al declared, "I'm glad you asked. Do you recall the story of Xenophon?"
Both Dixon and Lewis looked over to Big Al. He had the hint of a smile on a face that betrayed no real concern. He's got something in mind, Dixon thought, and he's been setting us up for it. Realizing that Big Al wanted him to act as a lead-in to his plan, Dixon responded. "Yes, of course. The March of the Ten Thousand. Around 400 b.c. a force of ten thousand Greek mercenaries in the service of the King of Persia was betrayed and left high and dry in the center of what is today Iraq. Rather than surrender their arms, as the Persian King demanded in return for their lives, the Greeks closed ranks and marched back to Greece, through Kurdistan, I believe, taking on all comers."