Soldiers and Marines Saga, page 31
We all rushed for the weapons we kept in the side closet “just in case.” Franz beat me to the door to the administrative office, and took a fast look. “Scheise,” he shouted, as he jerked his head back, ran the bolt of the German machine pistol he’d grabbed out of the closet, and then dove headfirst through the door.
I flipped on the surveillance cameras, and loudspeaker systems, as I grabbed my MAT-49. For a split second I watched as our technicians and mechanics rushed to the rifle racks that held their personal weapons, and the Marine guards poured out of the double wide trailer in Warehouse Two, where they slept when they were off duty. At least one of the Marines was buck-naked, except for the M16 he was carrying.
“No drill,” I shouted into the mike, “we’re being hit.”
“Medic,” Franz shouted, as I literally dove through the door, and landed next to him. “We are having wounded.”
Charlie was down on the floor; blood was pouring out of his ear and pooling on the floor.
“Where are they,” I shouted, as Eddie dove through the door, and landed next to me. We were all searching with our weapons, but all we could see was Phyllis, one of Charlie’s two assistants, the one who keeps the motorcycle lists, cowering under her desk.
“Must be a sniper,” Eddie shouted.
I rolled over to Charlie and took a look. “Shit. He’s gone.”
“Where’d they go, Phyllis? What’d you see?” She shook her head, and began sobbing.
A couple of frantic minutes later there was a pounding on the outside entrance door to the reception area, and a call from outside.
“This is Adelson, we’re coming in.”
“Okay,” I shouted back. “We’re on the floor. Don’t shoot.”
The door was kicked open, and two Marines, pointing M-16s came in cautiously, and low, around one of the door jams, and into the room. Then another Marine, wearing only his jockey shorts peered cautiously around the door, and also stepped in.
Everyone looked at everyone else. Adelson, the Marine guards’ gunnery sergeant, a big muscular thirty-something year old guy with tattoos, and a whitewall haircut, and three tours in Vietnam, saw Charlie and the pool of blood.
“Aw shit” he whispered, then he jumped back away from the window, and shouted “Snipers. Take cover.” …. “Anybody see anything?”
“All clear out here, Gunny,” came a muffled reply from outside a few seconds later.
We waited, listened for a while, and then slowly, and carefully, Franz and I got to our feet. I knelt down to check Charlie again, and then made a quick reach up to grab the office loudspeaker mike off of one of the desks before sinking back to the floor.
“Anyone who has seen anything suspicious sound off, and fire a shot in into the air or into the ceiling above you. Just one.” There was long silence.
After a while I shouted into the mike a little less anxiously.
“Okay. Everybody maintain your positions, but don’t fire unless you are fired on. Repeat. Do not fire unless you are fired on. We’re gonna start a search, and people will be moving around. Sergeant Manly and Mr. Adkins report to the office.”
Just then the door to the office restroom opened, and every weapon instantly swung around towards a terrified Elaine Adkins, Charlie’s other assistant, who was peering out with an extremely anxious look on her face.
Two minutes later, an intensive search was underway, and the reception area was filling up with people standing around talking excitedly to everyone else. It was increasingly obvious that there was no sniper, and Charlie may not have been shot. There was no visible wound, just a puddle of blood that had poured out of his right ear.
Oh Charlie. I’m so sorry.
“Gunny, please have two of your men take my car, and drive Mrs. Manly home. She’s still huddled in her chair with Elaine Atkins trying to comfort her. And tell them to stay with her until her husband gets there.”
It was an unnecessary order. Within seconds, Sergeant Manly himself ran wild-eyed into the office from the warehouse where he’d been working. He tenderly picked her up, and carried her out. She’s a tiny thing. The Adkins were right behind him.
We had an emergency number posted for the French fire, police, and ambulance services. I sighed, and shook my head helplessly as I called it.
The intensive search that followed turned up nothing. Before the French fire brigade, police, and ambulance arrived I had everyone put their weapons away out of sight.
******
The next day, I paraded the men in one of the empty warehouses. It was the first time I’d ever paraded them, but I thought it was both appropriate and necessary. It just didn’t seem right to say nothing to them about what had happened.
“I want to thank you all for responding the way you did when Mr. Caine died. No one knew it at the time, but it turns out he died of natural causes, a massive stroke which caused severe bleeding. It looked like he’d been shot in the head. He wasn’t; he had a stroke, and popped a blood vessel. Shit happens.”
Then, after a pause, I spoke to the men.
“I’d known Charlie Caine for years. We met in Korea during the war. I was there when Charlie repeatedly volunteered to go out on night patrols into no man’s land, to attack the enemy up close and personal. He was a brave man, and a fine American.
“What you may not know is that Charlie was instrumental in getting this operation started, and organized; more instrumental, in fact, than anyone else, including me. The Detachment was his baby, and he was proud of it, and all of us.
“I don’t know when, or where, Charlie’s funeral will be, but there’s sure to be some kind of service, and anyone who wants to attend can do so.
“There’s one last thing you should know; Charlie personally approved, and signed off on, each and every man here, every single one of us. And you all proved yourselves worthy of his selecting you as someone who could be trusted. Charlie would be very pleased at how you performed. And he would have been especially proud of Private Edsall and Corporal Martinez. I was watching on the monitor as they rushed out to fight, wearing nothing but their M16s. That’s exactly what a good Marine should do when an enemy attacks, and they did it. Thank you both. And thank you all.”
I gave them a salute as I shouted. “Dismissed.”
******
Charlie had no immediate family; the army was truly his home. So the funeral, and burial, was held at Suresness, at Ann’s request, and everyone in the detachment, absolutely everyone, was there. The embassy provided Marines to guard the Detachment so our Marines could attend, and they all did, every single man.
Charlie apparently had a deeper relationship with Ann than anyone knew. Now, each month, she’ll visit her son, and her best friend.
It was one of the saddest and memorable days of my life. My friend Charlie was gone forever, and we were as ready for the coming war as we could be.
-End of Book Two-
**********
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Book Three
War Breaks Out
Chapter One
Somber was the only way to describe the mood of the people attending the early afternoon National Security Council meeting. Communications intercepts and satellite surveillance confirm the Warsaw Pact armies have again extended their current annual maneuvers and are moving more of their divisions and independent brigades towards the West German border.
Moscow’s explanation for the troop movements was unbelievable nonsense—the Russians and their allies were merely responding to the threat of a NATO attack. Their intelligence services, so Moscow claimed, had uncovered a West German plot to invade East Germany and bring it back under West German control.
“Okay,” said the President as he sat down and looked at the head of the CIA.
“What’s your take on Moscow’s latest moves?”
“I’m worried Mr. President. It increasingly looks like the Warsaw Pact is going to attack Germany.”
“And the Chiefs, General Spelling?”
“We agree. It looks bad, Mr. President.”
The tired-looking President rubbed his eyes, shook his head in dismay, and began telling his advisors what he knew.
“The Germans and French are constantly calling. Schultz is scared out of his wits and so is Marceau. What’s really worrisome is that Schultz says his generals are telling him there is a good chance we’ll lose unless NATO’s leadership changes—and he’s obviously been talking to the French because Marceau told me exactly the same thing a couple of hours ago. He said France won’t rejoin NATO unless it gets a new commander, someone his generals have confidence in.”
“Did they say who they want, Mr. President?”
“They both mentioned the same man. One of our guys, a brigadier named Roberts. Both of them told me he’s the man their generals want at NATO if there is a war. Schultz said his generals are absolutely adamant that Roberts be appointed even though he’s so junior.”
“I know Chris Roberts, Mr. President,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs volunteered, “I know him quite well, actually. He’s in Europe and he knows Europe. He’d be perfect for the job, absolutely perfect.”
“Isn’t he a bit junior for such a command?”
“No Sir, he’s not. We may have guys with more rank but right now the ability to get the job done so we win is more important.”
Then the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, an army general named Dick Spelling, paused and leaned forward.
“The Germans and French are absolutely right, Mr. President. NATO needs someone new if we’re to have any hope of preventing a war, or winning it if it comes. Roberts is far and away the best general we’ve got if there’s going to be a shooting war.”
Then, after another pause to look pointedly at the Air Force Chief of Staff, Spelling continued.
“Yes, we need someone new—and it’s got to be someone like Roberts; we don’t need another four star bureaucrat who is totally unqualified for the job but gets it because it is the Air Force’s turn to hold the appointment.”
An agitated Air Force Chief of Staff leaned forward in his chair and blew a fuse. “Goddamnit, Dick, that’s not fair…”
“Stop it. Both of you. This isn’t the time for service rivalries. We need the French in NATO and that’s that. Get me some information on this Roberts fellow and get him here, and fast. We’ll reconvene as soon as he arrives.”
******
I was at home with Dorothy and the kids when the call came in from Dick Spelling. Dorothy was rocking Susan and I was just finishing my third reading, one right after another, of a Dr. Seuss book to little Chris. We almost have it memorized. It’s a little after three in the afternoon in Washington and bedtime for kids in France.
I don’t get the appeal of the gibberish about green eggs, but little Chris loves it and that’s good enough for me.”
Sixty hectic minutes later and I was standing alone on the tarmac outside the small Riems airport terminal as an F-16 trainer with two seats came in low and fast from Rhine Main to pick me up.
It took me a couple of minutes to struggle into the flight suit the passenger literally threw at me as he jumped out to help me suit up. But I somehow got it on over my uniform and then there was an ear-shattering combat scramble takeoff using the F-16’s afterburners.
I was still being pressed back in my seat as a voice came over my headset as we roared up to gain altitude.
“I’m Ken Dawkins, General. Can you tell me what’s up, Sir? I’ve been in the air force twenty-four years and this is the first time I’ve ever been told to keep my foot to the floor all the way to Andrews.”
“I have no idea, Colonel. It’s probably some kind of an exercise.”
Actually, I have a pretty good idea what is happening, and why, but I’m not about to mention it. I’m so pumped with adrenaline and excitement that for a moment as we taxied for takeoff I actually started trembling. Get a grip on yourself, goddamn it. Tighten up.
******
Our arrival was even more dramatic—straight in with chase cars rushing alongside the plane until it stopped rolling. A couple of big guys wearing civilian suits literally grabbed me by my elbows and pulled me into a run towards into a waiting Marine chopper whose blades were already starting to spool up.
My jump suit came off in the chopper and I was still trying to straighten my uniform and clutching my briefcase as we landed on the White House lawn. One of the suits wanted to carry it for me but I declined—I’ve got the family jewels in there and no one, and I mean no one, gets to touch them.
Darkness was just beginning to fall and the White House was already all lit up. It’s beautiful.
It was a damn good thing I peed in the relief tube during the flight was my only thought as the helicopter door opened and I stepped down on to the White House grass. Dick Spelling greeted me with a worried look on his face and a couple of guys in civilian clothes wearing ear plugs and dark glasses. Once again someone tried to take the briefcase and once again I waved them off.
Dick gave me a quick briefing as we briskly walked to the door. There’s going to be a war and he’d told the President a little bit about me and what I’ve been doing at the Detachment to get us ready for a war with the Russians.
“He’s looking at you to possibly take over NATO from that moron Tompkins.”
******
It was only the second time I’d ever been in the White House and I’d never seen it all lit up at night. It gave me goose bumps when I saw it out of the helicopter window as we came in to land.
Everybody in the room stared at me intently as I walked in behind Dick. I didn’t have a clue as to the proper protocol but I certainly did recognize the President. So I came to a stop and popped to attention.
“General Roberts reporting as ordered, Sir.”
That seemed to break the ice.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, General,” the President said as he stood and extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you. Please take a seat. … I presume you know why you’re here?”
“Yes Sir, I believe I do. You want to prevent a war with the Russians and their Warsaw Pact allies… and win it if it comes.”
“That’s it in a nutshell.” Then he stared at me intently, very intently. “Some people think we need a new NATO commander. What do you think?”
“General Tompkins is a fine man, Sir. He’d be perfect for the job if he hadn’t already been holding it for the past three years. Unfortunately we’ll neither be able to stop the war nor win it if he remains in command.”
He’s not a fine man and everyone knows it. He’s an indecisive handwringing bureaucrat and would be an absolute disaster as a combat commander. But there’s nothing to be gained by saying it.
“Why is that, General?”
“The Russians have been studying General Tompkins for years, Mr. President. They’re pretty sure they know how he thinks and how he’ll respond to each move they might make and what initiatives he might launch.”
If he does anything at all except hold staff meetings and pose for pictures.
“You really think we’ll lose if General Tompkins stays in command?”
“Yes sir, Mr. President, I regret to say I do. There’s also much more likely to be a war if General Tompkins stays in command and we’re almost certain to lose it if he does.”
“Are you saying there might not be a war if he’s replaced?” The President made a “gimme” motion with the fingers of both hands for me to explain.
“Yes Sir… Uh, Mr. President. As I’m sure you know, Sir, the Soviet Union is run by a committee of men representing powerful interests. They have their Hawks and Doves just as we do.
"Right now the Hawks are probably saying they are absolutely certain to win a conventional war against NATO and the Doves don’t have any uncertainty to point to in order to counter the Hawks’ claims. If we can raise enough uncertainty in their minds about the outcome, they may back off.”
Good. Several people in the room are nodding in agreement.
“Yes. We’re trying to negotiate our way out of this mess. We’re pushing all the levers we have. But we’re running out of time. Do you think we can get that time by changing NATO commanders?”
“No Sir, probably not. But it might work so it’s worth a try. Changing NATO’s Commander so it’s someone they don’t know much about will, at least, give Moscow’s decision makers pause to think. At this point the most important thing to keep in mind is that we’re almost certain to lose the war if there is no change.”
“You really think we’ll lose if Tompkins stays in command? You seem to be pretty sure of that, General.”
“No Sir, I’m not sure. No one can know with any certainty about the outcome of any battle or war. But for years it’s been my job to study our NATO allies and the Russians and their Warsaw Pact allies – to find their weaknesses… and then quietly, without NATO or Moscow finding out, get everything ready to instantly plug NATO’s gaps and exploit theirs.”
“Instantly plug the gaps? What do you mean when you say instantly plug the gaps? Give me an example.”
“Yes Sir. Well, uh, for example Sir, there are seventy-two important railroad and highway bridges in East Germany and the other Warsaw Pact countries. Whether those bridges survive or not will heavily determine who wins the war.
“Here’s the thing Mr. President—the Russians and East Germans have a lot of troops and armor west of the bridges near the German border. More than we have, that’s for sure. But their subsequent reinforcements and supplies, the supplies and reinforcements they absolutely must have if they are to win the war, will have to come over those bridges.
