The War After Armageddon

The G-3 smiled. “The ‘fog of war’ might have something to say about that, sir.”

“To hell with the fog of war. War’s clear. It’s peace that’s foggy. And one more thing, Mike. Before I get back to Val and we wrap things up: Make sure the MPs understand that their number-one mission is protecting the landlines we lay. We haven’t seen a flurry of roadside bombs yet. Largely due to the element of surprise, I suspect. But, frankly, I’m not that worried about their stay-behinds planting shaped charges and the like. Oh, it’ll happen. But I want the MPs focused on preserving our communications. The Jihadis are smart enough to realize that our wires and cables are more important to us than a handful of vehicles. And — just by the way — I’d be wary of booby traps if I were an MP inspecting a break in a fiber-optic line. Did they get all their Signal Corps attachments, by the way?”

“Yes, sir. The MPs are fully task-organized.”

“Okay, Mike. Val, you’re on again. Talk to me. Anything new from your man in Nazareth?”

“No, sir. I would’ve reported it to you. Nothing since last night. I was expecting an update today, but his channel’s been quiet.”

“One brave sonofabitch. Not a job I’d want. SF?”

“Yes, sir. And a Foreign Area Officer.”

“Well, let’s hope we get to pin a medal on him. While he’s still breathing. But listen up. If his reporting’s accurate… if they’re pushing refugees into Nazareth from the rear area… there’s obviously a purpose. Only the purpose isn’t obvious. What do you think, Two?”

“Sir… I can’t be sure. It strikes me that they may be planning to hold on to the city by generating images of suffering refugees… getting the world involved. We’ve got the media ban in effect on our side — except for the MOBIC-approved correspondents — but the Jihadis have been working the media for fifty years. And the world media love them. When L.A. and Vegas went down, a couple million people may have died, but a thousand journalists made their bones off the hysteria. And you saw how quickly they bought into the idea that we’d nuked our own cities.”

“It wouldn’t have surprised me if Sim Montfort and his crowd had nuked Las Vegas. ‘Sin City’ and all that.” Harris smiled. “I didn’t say that, of course. All right. So what indicators should we be watching, Val? In addition to anything we hear from your man in the sacred carpentry shop?”

“I’d watch the rations, sir. We should be seeing supply trucks going in with those buses. If they mean to feed those refugees and not just stage-manage a humanitarian disaster.”

“Three? Any ideas?”

“Val may be right. Or they may be planning to just kill them — and blame us. Humanitarian disaster, plus. Great images for America-haters everywhere.”

Harris turned to his aide, something he found himself doing more often these days. Probably the damned loneliness, he told himself. The only human being he could really talk to was his wife. And she was far away and a low priority on the comms account.

“John, how about you? Any ideas why they’d be packing Nazareth with their brethren from deep in the heart of wherever?”

The aide choose his words carefully. As he always did. “Well, sir… while you all were talking… I was thinking, ‘What if the Jihadis want us to kill them? What if they’re counting on it?’ I mean, Col o nel Danczuk’s source said he thought they were all from the Arab intelligentsia. What if the Jihadis want us to solve a problem for them?”

Harris’s eyebrows tightened toward his nose. Which happened only on the rare occasions when he was truly surprised.

The aide slipped back in his chair, as if retreating. “Just a thought, sir.”

TACTICAL COMMAND POST, 1-18 INFANTRY,

WESTERN APPROACHES TO THE JEZREEL VALLEY

Lieutenant Col o nel Pat Cavanaugh was tired of sitting on his ass trying to make sense of broken transmissions while two of his companies were in the fight, another was getting ready to go in, and a fourth was licking its wounds.

“Give me a yell if anything comes in,” he told his operations officer. And he stepped outside his command track. The enlisted men assigned to the battalion’s tactical command post had almost finished erecting the ghost netting over the vehicles. Cavanaugh pitched in. It wasn’t the kind of work a battalion commander was supposed to do, but he needed to use his muscles. Just for a few minutes.

The Jihadis were recovering from their initial surprise. He could feel it. No matter what the S-2 said. Despite the artillery barrage from Hell, antitank snipers were still popping up around Megiddo, appearing amid the rubble just long enough to launch a vampire ATGM and keep the highway intersection closed. Alpha Company had taken a nasty hit when it went in too fast, and now Jake Walker and Charlie Company had the lead, with Bravo in support. Trying to root out the Jihadi “martyrs,” so the corps could move forward.