The War After Armageddon

“Militarily, of course, Tiberias is worthless to you. A dead end, except for the road that follows the lake. But your faith, like mine, is a powerful matter. And you will accompany this attack yourself? To stand where your Christ is said to have stood when he delivered his great admonition? Only, this time, with cameras to record the event? My friend, I almost expect you to walk on the waters of the Sea of Galilee. Surely, that would impress your audience at home.”

“You understand the importance of symbols as well as I do. Baghdad matters more than Damascus, for example.”

“I did not mean to be insulting. There are times when my attempts at humor in English have an awkward inflection. Forgive me.”

“Your last defensive positions facing my main attack will be on the ridge just west of the Sea of Galilee. That has to look like a serious fight. For the holy sites.” Montfort stretched across the table and pulled the bowl of dates within reach. Hoping a sugar high would get him through the rest of the meeting. And back to his headquarters.

“It will be up to your MOBIC forces, as well, to give the appearance of a great battle,” al-Mahdi said. “You must make it appear that you have employed overwhelming force. For my part, you will permit me to place some of my poorer units on this Galilee ridge for you to use as targets. I must preserve my elite units and formations. For the future.”

“Leave me the expendables. As long as it looks like a fight. To liberate the key Christian sites surrounding the Sea of Galilee. And don’t worry about overwhelming force. I’m going to mass so much combat power that you won’t have any explaining to do to anyone.” The dates were delicious. The taste carried him back to his days as a ju nior officer in Iraq. Montfort took another.

“Insh’ Allah, it will be exactly as you wish. A great show.”

“And the uprising in Baghdad? Is that on schedule?”

“If all goes as planned this day and this night on the battlefield, my supporters will rise tomorrow. Then I will be forced to withdraw beyond Damaskus, to march east to save the caliphate from anarchy. And you will help me with this great task.”

“Just give us the targets, and the Air Force will turn them into rubble.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the dates. They’re the best in the world, you know. But one mustn’t eat too many. Your flight back down the wadi might be unsettling. And you must be fit for tomorrow, so you can stand where your ‘Savior’ stood.”

“I have the constitution of a horse.”

“Not a purebred Arabian, I suppose. But you know, General Montfort, the notion of your Jesus Christ as your ‘Savior’ has always confused me, given your doctrine that ‘God helps those who help themselves’.”

“That isn’t doctrine. It’s just a saying.”

“But isn’t it your doctrine, General Montfort? Your personal doctrine? You suspect me of being an idle phi los o pher, but I know that I lack the quality of mind to be a theologian. There are so many contradictions, both in our Holy Koran and in your Bible. It’s much easier to be a general.” Al-Mahdi smiled with one side of his mouth. “But you are yourself a scholar. I know this. I have read your dissertation from Harvard University: ‘Case Studies in Governance Challenges After Successful Coups.’ Really, it’s full of profound insights. Especially into Muslims and our errors. I learned a great deal from it.” Suddenly, his smile, ever close to a sneer, became almost shy. “But I don’t suppose you have ever read

my book? It has been printed in the French language, but not, I regret, in English.”

“Sorry. I haven’t read it.”

Al-Mahdi waved it away as of no concern. “Perhaps, when all this is done, I will provide an English translation for you. I think you would find it of interest.”

“What’s it about?”

“How Arabs turned defeat into victory in the late twelfth century. Of course, I wrote it as a younger man, and young men fail to appreciate the complexity of Allah’s creation.”

“We all make mistakes when we’re young.”

“Did you? Really? I find it difficult to imagine you as a young man, to begin with. You possess a gravity a fellow can only envy, General Montfort.”

Montfort returned his counterpart’s smile. “It’s not gravity at the moment. It’s exhaustion.”

“Then I am doubly in your debt for your willingness to make this journey to accommodate me.” The emir-general stood up. “You need to return to your troops. To prepare your offensive. Do you really intend to move into the attack so quickly? After your long advance up the Jordan Valley? Won’t you need more time? To refuel, to rearm. To catch your breath, as they say.”

“Not if you live up to your part of the bargain.”

“If you’ll permit me the observation, I’m concerned that you may be impatient. Neither of us can afford problems. We must remain methodical. Perhaps al-Ghazi’s units could hold Harris for another night, and your attack could commence tomorrow? I’m willing to make that sacrifice, should you deem it necessary to guarantee against failure.”