World War III

Whether he recognized Hal's voice or responded to his tone, the officer at the hospital answered appropriately. "Consider it done, Mr. President."

"Thank you Major. Get cracking! Have you assistant standby to transcribe the medical conditions of our patients from our doctor. Out."

Bob laughed. "So that's why you make the big bucks!" The two old friends chuckled together.

Fortunately the landing zone was large and clear of vehicles or other aircraft when they arrived. Hal went back to shake each man's hand as they exited, exchanged salutes without conversation with the hospital commander standing at rigid attention nearby and returned to the flight deck as Bob prepared for takeoff. Soon they were rocketing back to the battle zone.

The combatant commander had decided to up the ante and start taking out the known chemical and biological locations utilizing not only Hal's dollar a year leased planes but other Air Force assets that were relatively shielded against EMP. Hundreds of unmanned drones were in the air in an attempt to convince the enemy that the air armada was over his territory. There were literally hundred of allied aircraft staged on carriers and on land in friendly countries ready to go in and destroy the land forces as soon as it was safe.

The coalition knew enough about the EMP weapon to know that it had a brief charging phase of perhaps five minutes during which it would be detectable and might possibly be able to be destroyed.

Hal and his four star in charge discussed their options. In spite of the awesome power of the special aircraft, if the enemy decided to launch all of their chem-bio in a single hail Mary, it would be virtually impossible to catch them all without help due to the sheer numbers. They got a break; the weapon charging cycle was detected and the location verified. A quick decision had to be made. Hal spoke first.

"If we destroy it he'll know immediately. If he believes all is lost he's likely to order a total salvo of his remaining dirty weapons...millions could die in the surrounding countries. My folks are all EMP shielded; get your bombers well clear just in case they're not as well shielded. We'll go high---damned high---just in case this baby is more powerful than we think it is. I vote for letting him detonate and then launching everything we have immediately after---what do you think?"

"I've been leaning that way, Hal. Let's go with our gut."

As Hal ordered his fleet to climb to the edge of space, the clock ticked down. The Air Force turned and hit their after burners to put the maximum distance between them and the pulse.

It was the largest Electro Magnetic Pulse ever recorded and was measured at every point on the globe, reeking havoc with electronic devices for hundreds of miles. All coalition military electronics were shut down a minute prior to the anticipated detonation in an attempt to mitigate the damage. Within a matter of minutes it appeared that while there had been minor damage to some equipment, none of it would preclude continuing the operations.

Hal gave the order. "Let's rock and roll, General."

Hal's fleet of aircraft descended quickly and began engaging known chemical or biological sites as well as identified anti-aircraft missile batteries. The B2s, B3s and Joint Strike fighters turned back toward there predetermined targets while a fleet of US Air Force F22s and F24s took to the sky to provide combat air patrols against enemy fighters. The largest air armada every assembled took to the air from every compass point.

The enemy had amassed the largest, most well equipped and most sophisticated military force in history---thanks in no small measure to European and Asian nations who sold the evil dictator their top of the line equipment. That was damned well going to change when this was over, Hal thought to himself.

There were losses, as was expected but thankfully they were far fewer than even the best estimates. The dictator had made the mistake of challenging the entire world and virtually the entire world had united to deny him his prize. By the end of the first day the coalition had established absolute air supremacy.

It was time to regroup, refuel and rearm and proceed to the next phase---softening up the land forces in preparation for the ultimate invasion. Hal had landed at his combatant commander's forward command center and was being briefed on the situation. He was reading over the casualty lists, pleased that it was shorter than he had expected, saddened that even one person had died. The chemical, biological and nuclear threat had been eliminated but there was still a modern million man army to be dealt with. This was not a time for a policy of containment; the enemy needed to be engaged and destroyed---annihilated. The country needed to be turned back over to a legitimate civilian authority. The last vestiges of Al Quaida and its brethren had to be erased from the face of the earth.

The Western press had little real idea of what was occurring but to most it became clear that the nuclear, chemical and biological threat had been removed. Some on the anti-war left were already condemning Hal Franks and the imperialist United States and urging a 'dialogue' which would end hostilities along with a policy of, 'containment'. A small group was standing arm in arm in front of the White House singing, "All we are saying, is give peace a chance". There was even a, 'no blood for oil' crowd---in spite of the fact that the country in question had no oil reserves. Then, of course there were the, 'land war in Africa quagmire' pundits on many cable outlets.

One cable military expert, who also reviewed wine when there wasn't a war to talk about, issued dire predictions of the hundreds of thousand of allied deaths which would certainly occur if the coalition attempted to invade the fortified stronghold. His prognostications on the war effort were, as usual wrong...every bit as wrong as most of his wine reviews generally were. Why do they bring back the same pundits who are never right? How do these guys keep their jobs? Hal mused.

The softening up operation, primarily from the air but assisted by artillery from the borders, was set in motion. It was far more akin to the first Gulf War, Desert Storm, than the Iraqi Freedom campaign which followed a decade later. Command and control assets were taking out across the country.

The enemy was arranged into five armies, a pentagon, well dug in and prepared to defend the border to the death. For seven days---day and night---allied forces hammered the enemy in an attempt to decimate his forces before the land invasion stepped off. At the end of the week, the air assault ceased as the coalition leaders met to examine the results and plan the next phase. "The coalition is, bogged down" the shrill US media declared.

The next part of the plan was brilliantly conceived and if properly executed would trap the enemy forces like rats in a bucket. As the assembled leaders looked at the real time imagery, it became clear that the enemy leader was doing exactly what the coalition had hoped. He was moving his reserves away from the center of the country toward the borders in order to strengthen his forces in preparation for the land invasion. The middle of the country---the capital city---was now lightly defended. Unbeknownst to the enemy leader it was also now infested with thousands of friendly special ops led insurgents ready to secure key strategic locations as soon as they received the signal.

Once the capital was reasonably secure they would be reinforced by regular troops---exiles from their own country who would be airlifted in. Following that a reinforced corps sized element of coalition troops---a hundred thousand strong---would airlift into the capital's three main air facilities in what would be the largest and quickest airlift of manpower in history utilizing military and commercial aircraft from all over the world. The corps would break out a small rear guard and attack each of the five enemy armies from the rear in force---not all at once but in sequence---driving them into the jaws of the million plus coalition troops massed on the borders while air assets secured their flanks. They would attack the weakest armies first, leaving the special guard army---the best trained and most fanatical fighters---until the very last.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we're ready to send the signal. Are there any objections?" Hal spoke; all in attendance agreed. The signal was transmitted.

The formerly exiled covert insurgents came out of hiding and executed their assigned missions. They fought bravely in the battle to reclaim their nation. Many died and many were wounded but in the end, they secured the required targets and were quickly reinforced by many more of their own countrymen and their neighbors who had trained hard for this day. The battle for the capital was fierce, bloody and costly on both sides. Seven days from the transmission of the signal the city was more or less in friendly hands and the air facilities were secure.

Years later many would look back on this war and comment that it had done more to reduce African tribalism than any event in history as the people of the dark continent shook off their traditional ethnic animosities and united to destroy a common evil. The carnage was almost unspeakable. As a continent chose to unite and fight for its freedom collectively for the first time in history, the African forces surged to the front and willingly assumed the most hazardous war burdens.

American fighting men and women died as did forces from almost every country on earth but in the end it was the African peoples who gave the most and gained the most. Thirty days after it had begun, it was over. The Marxist leader, not unlike a certain German dictator bent on world domination, chose to take his own life to avoid capture.

The entire country was secure and coalition forces were rapidly loading up and leaving to return home. The million man army of the evil dictator no longer existed; the estimated body counts indicated that few---if any---had escaped. The Al Quaida elements had also ceased to exist and, unlike in previous encounters, there was ample proof of their virtual eradication. The American educated former crown prince had taken charge of the government, assembled a parliament, reestablished the constitution and had scheduled elections.

Hal Franks had shuttled back and forth from the war zone to Washington to personally keep the American people informed. It soon became very clear that Hal Franks---their President---had been no arm chair quarterback. The usual suspects reared their ugly heads; the perpetually annoying congressman from Michigan with the squeaky voice called for an investigation...as he always did.

Hal Franks neither wanted nor needed glory. His Secretary of Defense disagreed. As Hal was opening the letter of resignation of his beloved SECDEF, the daily pentagon briefing was just starting on CSPAN3. The cable news outlets quickly broke in to cover the briefing. At least one of the networks continued their regularly scheduled programming of morning soap operas.

The letter was short and to the point.

"You may not like what I'm going to do at 10:00 AM this morning. If you are pissed, so be it. In that case, please accept my resignation."

The SECDEF and the Chairman of the Joints Chief came to the front of the room accompanied by twenty young soldiers, airman, Marines and Seals to include one very special young gunny still in a wheel chair. He would walk---even run---again, but he had a lot of rehab ahead of him. The SECDEF spoke first.

"I'm going to play a tape of a series of radio transmissions. We've done some filtering so that it is amazing clear and we patched together cockpit voice recording with the radio transmissions. Give a listen. Then these brave folks have a few words for you."

"We need some help here, Jack---a strike package and an extraction team---now!"

"The fast movers are eight minutes out the helos almost thirty, Hal, ah, Mr. President"

"They'll be dead or worse in five. We're going in; we're switching to Tac two."

"Mr. President..."

"Bob! "Take weapons, I have the aircraft."

"Vanguard 26 this is Eagle six---talk to me!"

"We're in deep shit. One critical, numerous additional WIA but still effective. These fuckers are all over us."

"Ordinance on target in three---I say again three minutes."

"Josh?"

"Roger?"

Three minutes---less than three minutes. Are you reasonably dug in?"

"Roger that."

I'll give you a heads up at twenty seconds; it's going to be danger close—damned close. Head down, eyes closed and ears covered. We've got a lock on your twenty transponders---don't move. Are you good to go?"

"Wilco."

"I'm launching."

"Twenty seconds Josh...ten...five...duck!"

"Talk to me Josh!"

"A little shrapnel over our heads but were still here. The artillery had stopped but we still got bad guys within ten to twenty yards."

"Standby."

"I can take out those guys with the pulse systems---safely---at 20,000, maybe another minute. They're too damned close for anything else"

"Josh, we can take out your bad guys very precisely in another fifty seconds. How's your critical? Are you near him?"

"Not good sir; he's right next to me...my senior NCO...I don't think he's going to make it."

"If he's conscious, put him on! What's his name?"

"Joe Wilson, Gunny Joe Wilson."

"Wilson."

"Gunny, this is Hal Franks. I'm a minute away from hauling your skinny ass out of there and taking you home. We have doctors---a damned OR--- on board. Do not fucking die on me---that's an order! Damn it son, stay with me! Are you good to go Marine?"

"I'm damned sure working on it sir...Semper Fi!"

"Ooh rah! Get their heads down gunny...your going to fucking love this light show.!"

"We are no longer in enemy contact...shit! I watched a guy 20 feet away from me just incinerate...nothing left...just ashes...I could feel the heat!"

"Josh! Fifty meters to your North. My instruments say it's pretty flat---do you see it the same way?"

"Roger that."

"Okay Josh, I'll be on the ground right about there in twenty seconds; I'll turn my tail to you and take you on board through the rear ramp. Get your wounded loaded and get ready to move."

"Hal, this is Tom. I need five minutes here to get this guy stabilized, clamp some major bleeders and give him a decent chance."

"Roger that Tom; we'll hold. Let me know when you're comfortable."

"Hal, he's going to make it. Let's get out of here!"

"We're going to have to engage these fighters Hal---and there's a bunch of them. Let's get this show on the road."

"We're coming out right now Paul."

"Splash four! Four more to go. You're still thirty seconds from being out of their missile range. Shit! They salvoed everything they had at you. At least three of them are a clear threat! The rest of the bogies are down but you've got missiles inbound!"

"Talk to me Bob."

"Got one, Hal...there goes another. Climb this fucking beast, dammit! I can't get a lock on the last one...it's different...All the others are well out of range with pending motor burn out."

"That was too damned close. I didn't think there was anything out there that could come close to taking us out. We need to find out what the hell that thing was when this is all over."

"Roger that, Hal."

"Where are we going to take 'em?"

"Let's ask Tom what that kid needs. We've got a hospital ship off the coast...but we'd never fit We've got a fully equipped and staffed permanent US Army hospital about 1,000 miles North---which isn't that far considering our typical hyper-sonic cruise. Anything closer than that---two hundred miles West---will be more oriented toward immediate and short term trauma care."

"Guys, this guy has some potential spinal cord damage; with quick surgery and treatment and rehabilitation he'll walk again. We've got all of his leakers plugged but he also has tendon and ligament damage which isn't going to improve without reconstructive surgery. He needs to go to a real hospital. I vote for north; Hal, I know it's going to take you a bit out of the loop for an hour or so but it's the best thing for my patient."

"North it is Tom."

"I'm not getting anywhere with this moron, Hal, you want to give it your best shot?"

"This is a secure net---to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"This is Major Johnson, the Assistant Administrative Director, who's this?"

"Well, Major, I'm betting that somewhere nearby you can see a row of pictures of the people in your chain of command. I'm the guy on the far, far right. My name's Hal, Hal Franks, maybe you've heard of me. Now let me tell you what is about to happen. In a little over ten minutes this aircraft---Air Force One for all practical purposes---is going to be on short final to your landing zone. If there is anything in my way on that landing zone I will incinerate it. I will then land with one critically injured Marine and a bunch of other real American fighting men who are pretty banged up. You do not have much time to get an OR prepped and get your top people scrubbed out to take care of this boy. Failure to do so is not an option for you. Is there any part of this directive from your Commander-in-Chief that you don't understand?"

"Consider it done, Mr. President."

"Thank you Major. Get cracking! Have you assistant standby to transcribe the medical conditions of our patients from our doctor. Out."

"So that's why you make the big bucks!"

As the tape ended---a tape that would be played over and over on the news for days to come---the collective Pentagon Press Corps was speechless.

The SECDEF spoke. "The President at this very moment is certainly not happy with me. I had my resignation in writing handed to him just before we started. He had expressly told me not to share this tape. I chose to disobey that order. You might also note that the doctor on the tape, Tom, is the Senate Majority Leader. The American people have a right to know what kind of leaders they chose to represent them in the last two elections. And now, these brave folks will be glad to answer some questions."

Two of the questions brought the most interesting answers.

"Captain, did you know you were talking to the President?"

"No, not really; I didn't really have time to check my signal operating procedures and cross check his call sign. The voice was very familiar but it wasn't logical. When gunny Wilson handed me back the radio he said, 'the President needs to talk to you' and I thought he was just hallucinating. He kept mumbling something about Hal Franks was coming down to take us all home. I thought he'd lost it until the President walked back from the cockpit and checked on my guys. He got to me and said, 'Nicely done Captain, damned fine job! Semper Fi!' and all I could think to say was, 'ooh rah'. It was the proudest moment of my life, proud to be a Marine, proud to be an American. I'd follow him to hell if he asked me to...and I know he'd bring me home safely...or die trying."

The other significant question was asked of Gunnery Sergeant Joe Wilson. It was a little bit stupid in its phrasing.

Sergeant Wilson, how important was it to you that the President was the one who helped save your life?"

"Well, first sir, the traditional address is gunny or Gunnery Sergeant Wilson." And with that, the young Marine NCO lifted himself to his feet and continued. "And I knew all along who I was frigging talking to---he introduced himself. I take orders pretty seriously...I'm a career Marine. When the Commander in Chief orders me not to die I'll be damned if I'm going to let him down. There are some words that I think about every day---and will every day for the rest of my life. 'I'm a minute away from hauling your skinny ass out of there and taking you home. Are you good to go Marine?'"