by Adam Yoshida
“Mr. President,” he said, “I think you’ll want to take this call.”
“I think that we need a position before I talk to the Egyptian President…” said Rickover.
“No, Mr. President - it’s Prime Minister Blunt calling,” replied Skelton.
That got the attention of everyone around the table. The position of the British Government, along with most of Europe, was that the Washington government was the legitimate one and, therefore, they refused to have any dealings with Rickover or any of his officials.
“I’ll take the call,” said Rickover. Skelton handed him the phone.
“Mr. President,” began the Prime Minister, “please don’t interpret my calling - or my form of address to you - as a change of policy on the part of the British Government or any of the rest of Europe or the world, but I think that at a time such as this having petty disputes about titles is rather a waste of time.”
“I would agree, Prime Minister. What occasions this call?” asked Rickover.
“We have become aware of the present situation that exists in Egypt, Mr. President, and we wanted to ensure that options exist that can see the present dispute ended without blood being shed on either side.”
“Who is this, “we”, Prime Minister?”
“Britain and other powers interested in peace, Mr. President.”
“What is your proposal?”
“Given that passage through the Suez Canal is blocked - and it would appear that your force is threatened by the Russian Navy and certain elements of the joint forces of the European Union - I believe that the best solution is for a cease fire to be offered in place. Your forces will be permitted to return to port facilities without being attacked and, indeed, the threatening forces will withdraw beyond the range of their weapons.”
“Even if - and I do not concede this point right now - we’re blocked through the Suez route, Prime Minister, we could still fight our way through the Mediterranean.”
“Perhaps, Mr. President. Perhaps not. But the loss of life would be terrific on both sides and, furthermore, your force would be in no position to make its way across the Atlantic and fight on the other side. It would be a futile and, indeed, criminally immoral gesture.”
“What you propose is practically a surrender, Prime Minister.”
“Not at all, Mr. President. I think that the international community recognizes that you and the forces that you command have altered the facts on the ground in America quite irrevocably, and we are prepared to facilitate negotiations on that basis.”
“What sort of negotiations, Prime Minister?”
“For a compromise peace of some sort. Perhaps towards some new Constitutional arrangements. Perhaps one that recognizes that the segments of your country have drifted so far apart - exacerbated by this war - that there can be no true reconciliation.”
“You’re proposing that I essentially abandon a large part of the Navy and Army in the Middle East and that we negotiate an end of the United States. Am I correct in my understanding?”
“I am proposing,” replied the Prime Minister, speaking slowly as he sought to maintain his composure, “that you recognize that the facts on the ground cannot be changed by more killing.”
“I am not prepared to accept that,” said the President sharply.
“Well,” said the Prime Minister, “the choice rests in your hands now, sir. I am reliably informed that the forces arrayed against your task force have no intention of firing unless they are fired upon first. What happens next is up to you. But know this: we can have peace and we can have it today.”
“Goodbye, Prime Minister,” said Rickover.
“Good day, Mr. President,” said Blunt.
The Acting President looked down at the table for five long seconds after the call disconnected. When his eyes rose up they met those of the Secretary of Defense.
“Get me the football,” he ordered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pitiless as the Sun
200th Infantry Division, Wellton, Arizona
“No one survived here, General,” the Lieutenant who had found himself in command of a company during the furious battle to displace the shattered remnants of the 14th Division reported.
“They fought to the last man?” asked General Jackson as he eyed the mass graves already being dug by construction equipment that the Arizona State Guard had brought in from somewhere.
“Well, none of them survived the end of the battle,” replied the Lieutenant carefully.
Jackson’s eyes met that of the Lieutenant for a moment. The Army of the United States soldiers had held up better than any of their pre-battle intelligence had suggested, perhaps anticipating - given where they had been recruited from - their fate. Still, even if many of them were criminals, Jackson had to concede that they had died rather bravely and - perhaps - had not fully deserved their final fate.
But we all know, he thought, that these things are bound to happen in war, especially in civil wars.
“Good work, Captain,” said Jackson simply.
Former Second Lieutenant, now Captain, Jake Hunter took the General’s hand. Whatever else it was, Arizona was certainly a long Goddamned way from Iowa. Hunter looked over at the ditch - the former trench thad had become a mass grave for many of the survivors of the 14th Division. He felt no pity towards them. It was an odd feeling. He knew that, objectively, he ought to be considered guilty of a great moral wrong, but he just did not feel it to be so. The men who would rest forever in that trench had betrayed their country and, for that crime, they had deserved to die. It wasn’t just Bryan and the crew in Washington who had made this mess. The fighting would have been over in an hour if they hadn’t been willing to take up arms in an unjust cause.
General Jackson had moved forward and was continuing to inspect the wreckage of the 14th Division’s works. Hunter wondered if he should walk with him, but thought the better of it, deciding instead to stand near the ditch and watch as the General paced in this distance.
This state of affairs had lingered for the better part of a minute, the men unsure whether they were to remain in place or move, when another officer - this one wearing the insignia of a Colonel - came sprinting across the scene towards where the General was walking.
“General!” shouted the Colonel, “General!”
Jackson turned to face the man.
“What is it, Colonel Dunford?” he asked.
“General Jackson,” reported Colonel Dunford, “there’s a large enemy force advancing on our position.
“I thought that the nearest AUS troops were hours away,” said Jackson.
“They are, General,” replied Dunford, “these forces are coming from the south. Almost two whole divisions. It’s the Mexicans. Mexico has entered the war in support of the Loyalists.”
The Situation Room, The White House
“Mr. President,” reported the Secretary of State, “at 8AM this morning, the Mexican Foreign Ministry announced that, in view of the deteriorating security situation in the Southwestern United States and the fact that this crisis was having very serious effects upon the civil situation in Mexico, that their government had acceded to the request of the United States that the units of the Mexican Army deployed along the border provide their support to the U.S. Armed Forces.”
“Very good,” purred President Bryan, “and how has that played out so far?”
General Hall stood at the front of the room in front of a map of the Southwestern United States.
“Mr. President,” said Hall, “it appears that the Mexican Army managed to catch the Rebel forces there almost wholly by surprise. The Rebel forces had just overrun the AUS Division that was holding Wellton and were not at all prepared for an attack. Furthermore, as the taking of Wellton had required a maximum-effort air attack on the part of the Rebels, their air units were not able to provide close air support. The Mexicans were able to block Interstate 8 altogether, preventing the rapid movement of Rebel troops to reinforc
e. The Rebel 200th Division, which had been serving as the main assault force, was forced to withdraw in disorder to the west. They are now - or rather what remains of the Division - fortified at Yuma. Additional Army of the United States forces are moving to keep them there.”
“Ok,” replied the President, “what else have we got going on?”
“The Rebels managed to pull off something wild in New York City,” reported Secretary Ransom, “they landed a force in Manhattan - somehow - and they’re trying to cut it off. We’re trying to reroute forces to take it back, but that might take some time. We’re pretty thin in the Northeast.”
“The Egyptians have announced that they’re closing the Suez Canal to the passage of the Rebel fleet,” added the Secretary of State, “and there’s a Russian-European task force bearing down upon the Rebel forces that are now penned in in the Mediterranean. The CIA thinks that they’ll surrender before they fight but, even if the fight and win, they’ll take serious losses and be unable to force their way through the rest of the way to the Atlantic.”
“That’s good,” said the President, “if we can keep the Rebels pinned down in the Atlantic and in the Middle East, then they’re going to lose all momentum.”
Temporary Seat of the Government of the United States, Colorado Springs, Colorado
“Those motherfuckers,” said Acting President Rickover as the map of the Southwest updated to reflect the intervention of the Mexican Army in Arizona, “…those motherfuckers are going to pay.”
“Which particular motherfuckers, Mr. President?” asked the Secretary of Defense.
The President tapped the table in front of him.
“All of them,” he said calmly, turning to face the big board.
“Can the 200th Division hold their own?” asked Rickover.
“Yes, Mr. President, for the time being,” replied General Monroe.
“And we’re repositioning forces to relieve them and open the road back up?”
“It’ll be a heck of a fight,” said Preston, “but, yes, we’re doing just that.”
“Ok,” said the Acting President, “then let’s focus on one particular set of motherfuckers at a time. Is the flight out of Diego Garcia on schedule?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” replied Preston.
Rickover checked his wrist.
“By my watch it should be over the target area in a few minutes. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” said Monroe.
“Well then,” said Rickover, “let us get the Egyptian President on the line. Shall we?”
“Mr. President,” interjected the Secretary of State, breaking a long silence, “I must - one last time - register my profound objections to this particular course of action. This is reckless beyond belief and could have terrible consequences.”
“Your objections have been noted for the record, Mr. Secretary,” said the Acting President, “as has the fact that I don’t care. Get the Egyptian President on the phone.”
“Mr. President…” said the Secretary of State. Rickover took a long look at him, his eyes unblinking. The man stopped and picked up the phone on the desk in front of him.
The Acting President sat down and leaned back in his chair. General Monroe walked over to him and said quietly.
“Roulette is over the target and waiting for further orders, Mr. President,” said Monroe. Rickover nodded.
The Secretary of State looked at Rickover across the table.
“President Fawzi is on Line 1,” he said.
Rickover picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.
“Mr. President, it is good to finally speak to you directly,” he began.
“Likewise, Mr. President, it is also good to speak with you. However, I must warn you that, while I am not wholly unsympathetic towards you personally, I am not able to modify my present position.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. President,” said Rickover, “because the United States Government is prepared to modify its position.”
“Well, to begin with, sir, I should hasten to add that I am not speaking to you as the President of the government of the United States - I am speaking to you as the leader of a belligerent faction in the American Civil War,” said the Egyptian President.
“Call me and my government whatever you’d like, sir,” replied Rickover, “do you wish to hear my proposal?”
“As I have already stated, Egypt’s position is not open to modification, but go ahead.”
“Very well,” said Rickover, “the government of the United States demands that the government of Egypt not only open the Suez Canal to the passage of our forces, but that the Egyptian military provides us with all necessary security along the Canal to ensure that we are not subjected to an attack or disrupted during our transit.”
“Sir, you’re being absurd. I have already explained that, for reasons of state, we are unable to permit your passage under any circumstances whatsoever. Now you increase your demands?”
The Acting President, keeping the receiver pressed to his ear, made a gesture with his right arm, sending it up into the air in a ballistic arc that terminated when the hand crashed into the table near his left. He then raised both hands up into the air spreading them outwards as the rose. On the President’s gesture, the Secretary of Defense issued a few quick commands into his own phone.
“Ali, Ali,” said Rickover, interrupting the Egyptian President, “I’m going to ask you to stay on the line.”
“Sir? I must say, that you are behaving in an incredibly disrespectful manner. I don’t see why I should continue this call,” said the Egyptian President.
“You can speak to my supervisor later,” said Rickover, “but you’re going to want to stay on the line Ali. In a few seconds you’re going to get a call from Aswan - or from someone who just got a call from Aswan. I’m not sure how these things work over there, I’ll hold.”
The President leaned back and set his feet down upon the table.
“I’m on hold,” he said to the rest of the people at the table. After a few moments, the Egyptian President came back on the line, his voice filled with a mix of rage and fear.
“You dropped a nuclear bomb!?!?” shouted the President, “on the Aswan Dam?!?!? Are you insane?!?!?!”
“Don’t fret, Ali,” said Rickover, “it was a single bomb. And the yield was dialled all the way down to just eighty kilotons. Every engineer I talked to said that, unless your people and the Soviets were even shittier at building dams than we think, a blast on the scale wouldn’t do all that much damage.”
“If that dam breaks, you’ll kill twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy… maybe even eighty million people,” the Egyptian President said frantically, “for the sake of your political quarrels, would you make yourself and your country the greatest mass murderers in history?”
The Acting President leaned in towards the table.
“To save my country, and to save liberty, Mr. President, I will burn the entire Earth to cinders if I have to. But I don’t want to. Accept my demands.”
“Surely there must be some compromise to be made here, Mr. President. Egypt has a long history and we…”
As the Egyptian President continued to speak, the Acting President made another gesture, pointing two fingers towards the Secretary of Defense. Preston again picked up his phone and spoke.
“We just dropped another bomb on the dam, Mr. President,” said Rickover, “I believe that one was dialled up to five hundred kilotons. Now, we don’t know how many bombs it’s going to take before the dam breaks and kills every Goddamned person in your fucking country, but now we know that it’s more than one and, from what I’m seeing in our live feeds over here, it’s more than two. We haven’t even gotten up to the maximum yield of these weapons yet, Mr. President. And some of the ones we have are designed to penetrate the Earth and then explode with 1.2 Megatons of explosive force. What do you think that they will do to your dam?”
The Egyptian President began to cry softly.
“You… Don’t… Understand… I’m not only under pressure from your side…”
The President gestured again. The Secretary of Defense spoke again. The feed from the orbiting drone showed another massive explosion, this one temporarily enveloping the dam and making the image impossible to decipher.
“And…” said Rickover, “it looks like you folks built the thing well enough to survive three blasts. Shall we see what happens with a fourth?”
“They…” wept the Egyptian President, “…they have pictures.”
“Well, Mr. President,” replied Rickover, “you’re just going to have to decide whether or not keeping whatever all of that’s about private is worth the lives of pretty much your entire country.”
Rickover looked at his watch.
“Now, I have a rather busy day today. I believe that the next bomb is one of the earth penetrators. We didn’t use these first because we thought that one of them would be enough to do the dam. What do you think it’ll do after three previous nuclear blasts?”
“How does killing my country help you? It won’t open the Canal,” said the Egyptian President, sniffling away.
“We’ll just have to take our chances,” replied Rickover, “so long as we steer clear of the resultant wave, I imagine that most of your countrymen will be too busy responding to the death of… Well, everyone, to worry about closing the Canal off.”
“What will I say?” said the Egyptian President.
“I don’f fucking care,” said Rickover, “if the pictures or whatever whoever has over you are that bad, I advise you to open the Canal and then go shoot yourself before they come out. But I am telling you, so help me God, that you’d better agree to our demands right fucking now.”
“Ok,” said the Egyptian President flatly after a long silence.
“Good,” replied Rickover, “now I’m going to keep a bomber or two in orbit - they’re B-2s, so you can damned well forget about detecting them or shooting them down - and if I see anything other than total cooperation from your country, then I’m going to order them to fire on the dam until their bomb bays are Goddamned empty. Do you understand me?”
