A Cure for Cancer
Page 14
“Now, gentlemen.” He sat down at the head of the table. “I hope Frank’s filled you in on the basics, uh?”
“I think they’re in the picture,” said Frank.
“Great. But I’d like to briefly reiterate the ideology behind all this again for you. See, we’ve been sent over here because we heard you need some help with a few of your problems. And we didn’t just say we’d help—we put our money where our mouths were.
“And we sent you the guys to help you out. Well, I guess you needed more guys, and you got ’em. You got ’em without even having to ask. And you’re welcome. We know the trouble you have and that’s what we’re here to put a stop to. We know what the Israelis are up to and we think we can maybe give ’em something to think about—so they’ll damn well stop what they’re up to before they do something really foolish.
“We know that your armies, your intelligence outfits and your civilian communities are riddled through and through with fifth columnists—with traitors—and we’re doing something about that, too. When action’s called for—we’re the guys to call.”
He put his teeth together and smiled. “Let me just read something I got from back home the other day.” From his tunic pocket he took a clipping which he carefully unfolded and spread before him on the table. Then he began to read in a quiet but declamatory tone:
“Let’s start looking at the situation in which we and the rest of the free-world forces involved find ourselves. It is not complex, not obscure, not hard for anyone to understand.
“We are losing the war.
“So many of the people on our side are being killed that the rest of them are thinking about quitting.
“That definition of losing, incidentally, is not only my own. It was taught to me by Admiral Bull Halsey before I covered the battle for Iwo Jima, the first time I saw mortal combat. The actions in the Rhine Valley now are no less obscene or exalting or decisive than were those in the gray sands cradling Mount Suribachi twenty-five years ago.
“Even the hideous casualty totals are in the same magnitude, though they have taken days instead of years to inflict; the fighting in Europe between the forces of our side and those who would bury us has cost more than 100,000 lives. Of the dead, only several hundred have been Americans.
“Of those, seven were men beside whom I had walked or parachute-jumped or river-forded or shared a stint of guard duty on a sandbagged emplacement at some place whose name we could not pronounce till we got there.
“Almost all US casualties are from the small group of Americans serving in active combat. Most US uniformed personnel do not actively risk their lives. Out of every five or six sent overseas, only one is exposed to actual daily fighting while the others serve in supporting roles. So those three millions of our men now in Europe add only several thousand to the active European armed forces which, including militia, now total more than twelve million.
“Those few exposed Americans, though, have accomplished something by their sheer character that no other Americans have been able to do in more than a decade. They have forced a major enemy to change tactics as a response to what they are doing.
“This is in utter contrast to what happen to free-world forces in Hungary and Algeria and Cuba and Formosa and Laos, where our side did all the second-guessing and did not once win.
“The fighting in Europe marks the first time that our side in the eyes of the enemy has been applying a system of force so effectively that the other side considers we must be halted at all cost lest we start winning the war.
“What we have been doing right, of course, is to provide some superb leadership to the tough European fighting man.
“I have watched the working of the practice during fourteen months in the field with nine different combatant forces. The enemy fear it so greatly that killing Americans now is their priority tactical objective.
“The erstwhile ranking target used to be any European community leader; in September, almost a thousand mayors and provincial representatives were assassinated or abducted.
“Somehow, this fact seems not to have become known to most Americans and they impatiently ask what defect of will in the European people prevents formation of a stable democratic government.
“The facts as I saw them in the region where most Europeans live, the suburbs and the countryside, were not mysterious at all; there just haven’t been enough surviving politicians, thanks to enemy raiding and the attendant atrocities.
“But beginning this fall, enemy tacticians issued orders that were a little different from their previous ones. And shorter, too. Get the Americans.
“These orders are not being disobeyed. Out of forty-two American mentors attached to European combat units, who happened to be billeted in one headquarters in the heart of Bavaria’s most strategic area, nineteen were killed or wounded in two months. I know: I too was quartered there then, and the count is my own, not that of any public information officer back in Bonn.
“By the grisly economy of war, this change in enemy targeting is the ultimate stamp of effectiveness on what we at home have been taught cynically and incorrectly to call the ‘advisor system’ of military aid to Europe.
“Obviously, it is more than that. ‘Advisors’ do not become prime enemy targets.
“I submit with great pride that these Americans are not only advising; they are not just fighting in self-defense: without any trappings of command—indeed, without even a shadow of command authority—they are leading.
“They are leading foreign troops simply because that’s the way the troops want it. Why? Because each of these men, in the European troops’ opinion, is the best soldier around and hence the leader most likely to bring them through victorious. And to put it bluntly, bring them back alive.
“In short, though the US seems to have hidden its virtue, the details of the honorable course it has taken in Europe, the Europeans know and salute it when the chips are down.
“Why ‘honorable’? Consider our defense treaty; it pledges to supply Europe whatever she lacks to win over communism. When it developed that in fact military leadership was a prime lack, we began delivering just what we’d promised.
“Well, then, why is there still a question about the outcome? Why aren’t we winning?
“In my judgment, simply because we haven’t sent enough of this leadership.”
* * *
The general paused, looked up and spoke softly. “Well, gentlemen—that’s the kind of support you’re getting from the folks back home where I come from. I’ll skip most of the rest—but I’ll read you the last bit:
“All of which puts the determination of tomorrow’s history where I have every confidence it best belongs: squarely into the hands of the people of the United States.
“It is for each of us to decide what we want to do and to give the government we have elected freely some clear evidence of our will to win, lose or draw.
“After all, it is not that administrative abstraction we call a government that will bear the final bloody consequence if we chose badly.
“It is us and our sons and daughters.”
General Cumberland looked reverently at the clipping as he folded it carefully and when he glanced up his eyes were chips of blue steel.
“That’s how we feel. You know you can rely on us. The only way to win a war is to fight it. The road ahead will not be smooth and offer easy traveling. But the road map we’re using today is a heck of a lot better than it has been. In the words of Patrick Henry as he stood before the Richmond Convention and delivered his famous address—‘They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in each house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction?’—of course we will not! The United States will accept a decent negotiated peace in Europe. But it will not go, umbrella in hand, like Neville Chamberlain,
to the aggressor, and let him write the settlement on his own expansionist terms. There can be no complaint about US Marines being sent to Europe, except that they might have been sent sooner. For years the Europeans—with token assistance from the United States—have been trying to defend themselves against raids, murder by stealth, sabotage and subversion. The results have been a mounting loss of American and European lives—no progress at all in ridding the continent of the invaders. Now the Europeans and the US have taken to offensive strikes of their own… hitting where it hurts! And that’s the way it’s going to be, gentlemen, until the last enemy is destroyed and Europe can settle down to building the continent she wants in the way she wants to, without fear of attack from without or within. There’s a wave back there and it’s coming in fast—and that wave is American strength, gentlemen. American strength, American manhood, American know-how, American guts; American money, American dynamism, American bullets, American guns, American tanks, American planes, American freedom, American efficiency…”
Frank took notes and the European commanders stared in faint surprise at the C-in-C. Those nearest the door were already leaving and the others were rising from their chairs.
“American love, American humor, American health, American beauty, American virility…”
The last general quietly closed the door behind him and General Cumberland raised his head at the sound.
“Have they deserted us, Frank?”
“I think they got the picture, general. I think their confidence is won.”
“I hope so, Frank. I tried to raise their morale. It sometimes seems to be the hardest job. They’re all fairies, of course. Decadence is a terrible thing to witness. But maybe if we improve their conditions—give them a chance…”
“They’ll pull through.”
“God willing, Frank.”
3. IT’S KLM’S 50TH ANNIVERSARY. WE THOUGHT YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE A FEW HAPPY MOMENTS
When Frank came back Jerry was still looking at General Cumberland whose lips moved as he scribbled rapidly in a notebook.
Frank stood beside Jerry and watched for a while. Then he turned the general off.
“It’s rotten for him, really.” Jerry was sympathetic.
“He takes it well. The responsibility.” Frank crossed to the window and peered in the direction of St James’s Park. “Sometimes it seems there’ll never be an end to it, Jerry. Or a beginning, in one sense, I suppose. There’s so much to do—and so little time.”
“True.”
“I hope you’re not brooding on our differences any more. After all, if brothers can’t fall out occasionally, who can?”
“It all depends, a bit, on your position, Frank.”
Frank shrugged and spread his thin hands. “You know me, Jerry. It’s easy for you.”
“It is easier. You’ve got the heat death to contend with. I’ve always granted you that, Frank.”
“After all, what is a memory?”
“Perhaps nothing more than a hologram.”
“Exactly. Remember that dream of mine when we were young? A hologram on every billboard. A billboard the length of every street. A grid of streets that covered the globe…” Frank shrugged. “But it didn’t prove to be as simple as that, did it, Jerry?”
“That’s the difference between you and me. Where’s my machine?”
“It’s a question of cycles, I suppose.”
“Or anarchic equilibrium.” Jerry rested his hand on his vibragun. “Come along, Frank.”
“You’d never get out, Jerry. And you’d lose a lot of potential friends.”
“I don’t need friends.”
“You don’t need enemies, either. I only want to strike a bargain with you. It could make us both rich—and extremely powerful. You’ve got to look to the future, old man.”
“I’m not too happy about these artificial divisions, Frank. I want to look at it all at once. I don’t like the way you and your allies slice up time.”
“Somebody’s got to do the dirty work.”
Jerry drew his gun. Frank drew his gun.
* * *
Jerry sighed. “There doesn’t seem a lot of point. Couldn’t you just tell me where the machine is?”
“You tell me what it is, then.”
“It’s a simple diffusion device,” lied Jerry. “A randomiser. Nothing complicated.”
“It replicates conditions in the Shifter, is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Well, it wouldn’t suit me, Jerry. I’ve never had much sympathy for that sort of thing. You know me—live and let live—but it wouldn’t…”
Jerry raised his gun.
“Well, it wouldn’t! Christ—there are much better ways of having fun.”
“Where’s the machine?”
“Derry and Toms Famous Roof Garden.”
“Thanks,” said Jerry and waited until Frank had put his gun back. “Let me know something I can do for you.” He holstered his own vibragun.
“Nothing at this stage,” Frank said, riding swiftly into the new situation. “You haven’t got much of a chance of getting to that machine or of getting out of London alive. But if you should manage both things, then it’s quite likely I’ll be in a difficult position and you’ll owe me a favour, won’t you?”
“You’ve mellowed, Frank.”
“I’m coming apart, Jerry. I’m desperate.”
“It seems to be doing you good.” Jerry grinned. “You’re more mature.”
Frank sniffed. “Call it what you like. I call it caution. You have to look after yourself when you get into my condition.”
“Well, let’s hope I make it to Derry and Toms.”
Frank glanced at his watch. “You just might, if they don’t get around to that sector right away. I’m off to Milton Keynes in a few minutes. That’s our new base. The general thinks it’s cleaner. No population, you see. They never had a chance to fill it.”
“Sure. Well, don’t take any wooden nickels.”
“Not from you, Jerry.”
“I’ll be off, then.”
Jerry opened the door and the swords clashed under his nose.
“Let him through,” said Frank in a peculiar voice.
* * *
Jerry closed the door and looked up and down the corridor. He frowned as he contemplated the rigid guards and then came to a decision.
It was just as well to be on the safe side, to give himself some sort of edge. Frank was so shitty.
“If you ask me,” he said quietly, “he’s not what he seems to be. He’s all bits and fucking pieces.”
He trod the soft carpets. The sunlight poured through the big window at the far end of the corridor and through it Jerry could see the green and gold of the quiet autumn trees.
It looked a nice day for a picnic.
CUT TWO
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1. SCREAM AND DIE, EUROPEAN COMMIE HOMOS, IN YANK ‘CLEANSE AND BURN’ OFFENSIVE
It wasn’t far to Derry & Toms, but the napalm was coming on heavy as Jerry drove west to the sound of Ronald Boy
le’s recorded voice booming in even tones from loudspeakers mounted in every flying thing.
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
The day was grey; the sunlight blocked by the planes whose steady roar echoed through the city.
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
The napalm sheets kept falling.
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
Jerry waited impatiently at Knightsbridge for the lights to change. Several buildings, including the recently rebuilt barracks of the Royal Horse Guards, were beginning to burn.
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
BURN OUT THE CANCER
He decided to go through the park and turned right. As he did so the first B52s came in low, streaming clouds of defoliant and making a thick fog that reduced visibility to a few feet.
Jerry slowed down and switched to his own air supply, turned his most powerful lamps into the swirling white mist, and kept going. He could see just far enough ahead to avoid hitting any large obstacles. Derry & Toms was in Sector D-7 and this was Sector G-6. Depending on their sweep, he had a little time before they started on D-7.
He was, as ever, impressed by the efficiency of the strike. By tomorrow, London should be completely Triple A Clean. His brother, with his liking for systems and his knowledge of London, had probably had a lot to do with the planning.
As the mist thinned a little he looked up, recognising the hazy silhouettes of a squadron of General Dynamics F-111As lumbering across the sky followed by McDonnell F-4B Phantom IIs, F-4C Phantom IIs, RF-4 Phantom IIs, F-101B Voodoos, F-101C Voodoos, Republic F-105 Thunderchiefs, Ling-Temco-Vought (Chance Vought) F-8U Crusaders, Convair F-106 Delta Darts, Lockheed F-104 Starfighters, Convair F-102 Delta Daggars, Northrop F-5A Freedom Fighters, Ling-Temco-Vought A-7A Corsair IIs, North American F-100 Super Sabres, North American FJ Furies, Douglas F-6A Skyrays, Grumman F-11A Tigers, McDonnell M-3B Demons, Northrop F-89 Scorpions, North American F-86D Sabres and, very much behind the others, Republic F-84F Thunderstreaks doing their best to keep up.