The War After Armageddon

“Our blessed nation can’t support two armies,” the brigadier general of the Order had told him. Too well-groomed for a combat zone and wearing a well-pressed uniform with a black cross on the left breast, the MOBIC officer continued, “The Military Order of the Brothers in Christ clearly obviates the need for the U.S. Army. Which, in any case, has been worrying our elected leaders with its recalcitrance on a great many issues — hardly a thing to be tolerated in a democracy. Please hear me out, General Morris. Hear me out, then judge. Now, the Army, you’ll have to admit, hasn’t exactly covered itself in glory in this campaign. The weight of the endeavor and the casualties have been borne by our MOBIC forces, by men who know what they’re fighting for, who believe in something far greater than themselves.”

“You fight smart, casualties are lower,” Morris said.

“But you have to fight,” the MOBIC officer responded. “And if you fight, if you really fight — well, higher casualties are inevitable.”

“Just tell me what you want,” Morris said. Although he already knew where things were going.

“You’re blunt. One expects that from a Marine. Forthrightness. Our Savior was forthright.”

“Jesus Christ spoke in more riddles than an insurance salesman.”

The brigadier ignored the remark. “You know, General Morris, our MOBIC high command has no problem with the Marine Corps. The Corps is… a national treasure. What patriot would want it to disappear? And the Corps is hardly a competitor with us. It’s the Army that continues to drain resources from the soldiers of the Lord. Why should the Marines be tarred with the same brush as the Army? Hasn’t the Corps thrived on its rivalry with the Army over the years? Hasn’t the Corps always done more with less? Fought harder? And had less thanks? Might it not be… wiser… for the Marines to rethink their present loyalties?”

“I once overheard one lieutenant tell another that the reason they call us ‘generals’ is because we only speak in generalities,” Morris told his visitor. “Get to the point. What exactly do you want?”

The MOBIC brigadier looked at him as if calculating just what it would take to get him to sign the contract to buy the used car.

“Send a request to Holy Land Command for your Marines to be subordinated to First MOBIC Corps. Justify the request by stating that the Army’s Third Corps and General Harris misused your Marines, then restrained you from fighting.”

“And what — exactly — do my Marines get in return?”

“I told you. The Military Order of the Brothers in Christ has no quarrel with the Marine Corps. We simply need to put an end to the current duplication and waste of our nation’s resources caused by the continued existence of the Army.”

“That’s still not an answer.”

“If you require more specificity, I’m authorized to tell you that the MOBIC high command is prepared to guarantee that it will do everything in its power to ensure the survival of the Marine Corps.”

“The same assurance that you gave the Air Force, I take it?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about such matters. My focus is on finding a way to preserve the Marine Corps. As I said, the Corps is a national treasure.”

“Then why should preserving it be contingent on lining up with you against the Army? Or on anything?”

“We live in a practical world. A world of finite resources. Everyone needs allies. Your help at present would obligate us to help you later.” The visitor tried to summon a reassuring smile. “I realize the sort of feelings you must have. Military men are loyal to one another. Even across service lines. I know — I used to wear an Army uniform myself, before I decided to better serve my country by bearing arms for the Lord. I don’t expect an immediate answer. I can give you twelve hours. But then we’ll need your answer. And, if you’ll allow me a personal note, I’d be deeply sorry to see a tragic rift develop between the Order and the Corps. When we’re natural allies.”

Morris wanted to grab the overgroomed brigadier by his shining hair and hammer his face into the table. And not just once. But Morris recognized that he had a duty to control himself. And to think, hard, about what he was being offered.

He didn’t believe the man’s elusive promises for an instant. But he also wondered what he did owe to the Corps, under the circumstances, and what his responsibility really was, given the current climate back in Washington.

He already knew his answer, or thought he did. He saw that this was just a downright insulting attempt to drive a wedge between the Army and the Corps, then to defeat both in detail. Nor did he think he could live with himself if he betrayed Harris at a juncture like this.

But it was, nonetheless, his duty to think the offer through, to analyze the situation as dispassionately as he could and to burrow into every nuance, to overcome his personal and professional prejudices to judge what truly was best for the country.

“Twelve hours?” he said.