Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I (5 page)

22 January: 2100

“Mr. President, you should see this.” An aide cranked the volume up on the TV as the president wearily slumped into his chair.

“
…are graphic and not suited for all viewers.
The fearsome silhouette of a soldier in the shadow of something burning screams at the camera:
‘Drop it, mother (
beep
) or I’ll drop you!’
The scene cuts to civilians running from the sound of machine gun fire. An orange tracer round catches a fleeing young woman in the back. The scene cuts out with a grunt from off-screen and the camera falling to the ground. It comes back briefly to show a bloodstained lens and a close up of some grinning soldier hovering over the dying cameraman. An extremely sadistic looking grin in the dim firelight.

“The previous video was obtained by our local NBKR affiliate in Gainesville, Florida. The video-taker bravely gave his life to bring us the truth of what Governor Robert Rhett is doing in Florida. We cannot, as of yet, confirm whether the governor personally gave the order for his soldiers to open fire on unarmed demonstrators or if his men were just following his general order to ‘shut down the Federal Government.’ The only thing that’s certain…”

The president was on his feet instantly. “His soldiers? His men?!” He slammed his fist on the side table. “He doesn’t have an army! That’s all part of The Army!”

Several staffers visibly shrunk away from this rare display of aggression from their usually mild-mannered, ex-law professor boss. “Get me Governor Rhett on the phone, now! No more excuses. No more games. I’ve put up with a lot of crap from that blowhard and his party for eight years, but he’s gone too far now. This political grandstanding is getting out of hand. I want to know exactly what he really wants.” A young aide jumped at the chance to get out of the suddenly quiet Oval Office.

The Commander in Chief stabbed a finger at the tight-lipped four-star general sitting speechless on the sofa. “General, since the federalization order, those guardsmen are under your command. What ideas do you have to stop this nonsense?”

Before the general could answer, the president’s chief of staff chimed in. “Obviously, the federalization order is not enough. It makes us look weak and highlights our slackening support. We need a show of force. We must get some Regular Army types on the ground there ASAP. We need to get out ahead of this thing or the press will eat us alive.”

The general waved his hand dismissively. “If this is a political battle, then why am I here?” No one seemed to hear him.

The president scratched his prematurely graying head for a moment. Another aide, one of his political research people, jumped in. “It’s not without precedent, sir. Eisenhower did the same thing in Arkansas back during desegregation. Their governor called out the Guard simply over black kids going to school. He had huge popular support, before Ike put his foot down and sent in Regular Army troops. That strong reaction changed the whole moral character of the desegregation effort. With a quick, bloodless military deployment he accomplished what the Courts couldn’t.”

The president stared around the Oval Office at the portraits of his predecessors. He paused between Washington and Lincoln, trying to remember who came in between. “Eisenhower, hmm…now there’s a president not easily forgotten.”

His longtime chief-of-staff knew he had the president hooked. Loading his most reasonable voice, he zeroed in for the kill.

“Every minute this pompous ass defies Federal authority makes you look weaker. The Senate is pressing ahead with the impeachment. That’s sure no stunt. Every day brings more desertions to Dimone’s wing of the party. Even with the sudden House backing, you survived the last floor vote by only one ballot. Strong leadership now is the only chance you have to ensure your legacy.” The president didn’t hear his muttered comment afterward. “Not to mention saving my career in the bargain.”

The general stiffly sitting on that strange green sofa wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, but even he had fun. “Gentlemen, excuse me, but are you really suggesting we invade Florida? Tell me, how many tanks should I send into Disney World? Come to think of it, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard. I bet we already have a thousand marines in South Beach partying it up right now.”

The chief of staff crossed his arms and tried his best, which lasted all of five seconds, to stare the general down. “No one’s talking about invading anywhere. Just a show of force. We’re upping the political ante to the point where the governor can’t play anymore.”

No one thought it was possible, but the general narrowed his eyes even further. “Once you have armed men facing other armed men, it’s no longer politics. This is an extremely dangerous game you’re suggesting. It’s too easy to spiral out of control. I mean, didn’t you just see the news?”

The young assistant came back in without knocking. “Sir, Governor Rhett’s office claims he suffered a stroke and is in the hospital. He’s supposedly in critical condition. We managed to track down the lieutenant governor, but, well…he’s, um…he’s on line one, sir. It’s probably best if you talk to him directly.” The president raised an eyebrow even as he reached for the phone. “Well, at least we can finally talk to someone.”

“Hello, Mr.…? I’m sorry? I didn’t get that. You’re breaking… Where are you calling from? What are you doing in China while all this is going on!?” The president shook his head. “Well, how soon can you get back to Florida? Who’s running things in the meantime?” Another staffer wrote a quick note for the president.

“Wait…no, he’s not out of the hospital yet. Fine, I’ll play along. Here’s what we know. He’s had a stroke and is out of commission for the foreseeable future…Governor. Now, I want to know how we can turn this craziness off. I’m sure the ex-governor kept you in the dark about many–pardon me?” His amused exasperation turned suddenly darker.

“No, that’s exactly why you need to get back as soon as possible. How can you not be interested in…now wait one God damn minute! I’m not impeached! I’m still your president, you son of a–hello? Hello!”

No one wanted to be the first to speak. Not even the chief of staff. Strange, because the president was the type of leader who liked to let his subordinates duke it out. He usually weighed in only after ideas survived the first contact with their opposition. That’s when he’d step in and, in the words of a predecessor, “be the Decider in Chief.”

An advantage of this “never proposing anything” leadership style is that your staff can mercilessly dissect bad proposals without fear of offending the head honcho. The key to getting recognized in this environment was having great ideas. There wasn’t any ass to kiss. The boss never voiced an opinion until after your thoughts were already clear.

It was a sign of his stress and worry that the president stopped staring out the window and made up his mind. He didn’t propose anything or attempt to provoke any further debate. He made his decision.

“People, I understand exactly what we need to do.” Striking that election-winning stance and intelligent grin, he realized how presidential he appeared in front of that famous Oval Office desk. Shame there were no cameras around for this.

“My staff will work with Congress and find some legal grounds for direct intervention. General Jacobi, your mission is clear. I want federal troops occupying the major Florida National Guard bases by tonight. We will remove any chance for them to commit additional atrocities. I don’t want to see any fighting and under no circumstances any bloodshed, but we must have our men on the ground physically controlling the situation inside of 12 hours.”

The general thought only a politician could consider that order “clear.” Still, he said the same thing every senior American officer ever said to their civilian leadership when given one of these impossible missions.

“Yes, sir.”

24 January: 0200

“Who’s your source again, Major?”

“My wife’s cousin, sir.”

The Florida Air National Guard wing commander still had humor left to smile. “We really don’t have time for this.” He swiveled his chair back around to his cappuccino and the day’s emails.

The fighter pilot standing at rigid attention behind him wasn’t about to back down so easily. “I know it sounds weak, sir, but he’s a senior maintenance technician at Fort Bragg. He wasn’t just passionate when we talked; he was exact. Five C-130’s, escorted by eight F-22’s, would make up the first wave. Their goal is the big base at Camp Blanding. A second flight will hit Tallahassee two hours later because they didn’t have enough transports available immediately. A third flight will–”

“Hold it! Take a breath, Major. Between you and me, I don’t care either for that asshole in Washington, but it’ll all get worked out in the courts before too long. Now, go on back to your duty station. We need to stay alert for real threats, not fantasy. Contrary to the rumors, I can assure you the president is not trying to take over the country.”

The commander stood up and clapped the young pilot on the shoulder, while doing his best not to chuckle. “And he’s sure as hell not going to invade Florida.”

“But sir, I-”

“Son, you’re trying my patience. Since the government shutdown, we have enough baseless rumors flying around and making everyone jumpy. Now, not another word about this. You’re dismissed.”

A nervous radar operator chimed in before the pilot left. “Sir, we’ve got a large flight inbound coming over southern Georgia. Five C-130 transports, plus intermittent contact with eight smaller, much stealthier craft.”

Hairs prickled on the National Guard wing leader’s neck, but he didn’t give over so promptly to paranoia. “Call Moody Air Force base in Georgia and find out what’s going on. I want the name of who screwed up and didn’t send us the flight plan.”

Another officer tapped the radar screen with a satellite phone. “I’ve been trying, sir. I’ve called every Air Force base in 500 miles. No answer. Same over the radio. Equipment’s working fine; just no one wants to talk to us.”

“Check the gear again and keep trying!” The wing leader snatched his phone so fast he didn’t noticed his overpriced coffee falling from the desk and sloshing over his pants. He dialed the personal numbers of several senior officers up north.

None answered.

Another tech ripped her headset off and bounced out of her chair. “Sir, the FAA just declared a no-fly zone in a 50 mile radius around Camp Blanding. No other details.”

All eyes were on their commander. He alone had the authority to launch air defense craft. Did anyone above him? Tapping his useless phone against his leg, he glanced down at the last two emails he received, within seconds of each other. One direct from the Pentagon announcing his troops were now under federal authority and must ignore their local chain of command. The next one came from the governor’s office, citing endless legalese why he should follow the chain of command and ignore Washington.

Shit, he wasn’t a lawyer. He was a simple soldier. On the television in the corner of the room, the president and Florida’s attorney general, now acting governor, held dueling press conferences, both calling each other madmen. He had to make some type of decision. With that much firepower bearing down on them, even doing nothing was doing something. Regardless what action he took, or failed to take, he’d still be picking a side.

Not one known for hesitation, libertarians usually aren’t, the wing commander made a call. He knew full well where his responsibilities lay, even if loyalty was becoming a fuzzier subject. The craziest order of his life, but someone had to do something.

“Ok, we’ve identified possible bandits. Scramble the alert flight. Intercept, try to divert, harass if necessary, but they will not go weapons hot unless they get a direct order from me. No exceptions. Not even in self-defense.”