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last thought gave Lewis a sudden chill. Until that moment, he hadn’t thought of war. His mind had been so busy trying to sort out what to do and whom to call that the reason for their being federalized wasn’t given a second thought.
He looked around at the people in the armory moving about, going in and out of offices or talking on phones. They were all familiar to Lewis.
Not only had he been in the Guard with most of them for years, he had grown up with some of them and did business with many of them daily. At a glance, there seemed to be no difference from any night at the armory when the staff gathered for a short meeting or a weekend drill. But this was different. This wasn’t going to be a short meeting or a drill. They were going to war.
That thought kept swimming around in his head as he went into his office and sat down at his desk. While millions of Americans were fleeing cities across the nation to enjoy the
Memorial Day weekend, the 3rd Battalion, 354th Infantry, was going to war.
Moscow, USSR 0355 Hours, 25 May (0055 Hours, 25 May, GMT ) A small convoy of four long black Zil limousines raced through the deserted streets in the early-morning light. The General Secretary of the Communist
Party and the Foreign Minister, both fresh from the military airfield, were riding in the third car today. They, as well as other selected Party officials, had been “out of place,” visiting other countries or at locations other than their normal duty positions. The General Secretary, having completed a visit to Finland, had been en route to a meeting with the
President of France when his aircraft was rerouted over East Germany back to
Moscow. The Foreign Minister had been in Vienna, conferring with representatives of Israel on the matter of emigration of Soviet Jews.
He had left the Soviet Embassy in Vienna without notice and been whisked away on waiting Aeroflot liner. The two men had arrived at the military airfield outside Moscow within minutes of each other, satisfied that their part in the deception plan had been a success.
The General Secretary reclined in the backseat, his eyes closed but still awake. He was resting from his trip and preparing himself for the ordeal he knew they would all have to face shortly. It was important that he be able to portray the sincere, friendly image the Western news media had come to love, when he announced before the cameras that the Soviet Union had been forced to take military action to stabilize its southern borders. He knew that his story would not hold with those who knew the truth. It was not they whom he was interested in. It was the uninformed, the timid and those who favored
“peace in our time,” at any cost, that he wanted to sway. He had complete confidence that he could do so as he had done in the past.
Across from him, the Foreign Minister was less confident. He fidgeted with the hand loop hanging on the side of the limousine as he looked out the window with a blank stare. Hours of debate that had often degenerated into screaming matches had led to nought. The
Foreign Minister knew they were making a serious error. Years of diplomacy were about to be washed away in an ill conceived military adventure of dubious value. He still could not understand how stupid and blind the other members of the Politburo were. They were opening Pandora’s box, and only he saw it.
The General Secretary opened his eyes slightly and looked at the Foreign
Minister. “You still do not believe we can succeed, do you?”
The Foreign Minister turned his blank stare to the General Secretary.
“Succeed? It all depends on what you consider to be a success. If we want to own a few thousand more square kilometers of sand and rock, we will succeed. If our goal is, as you say, to fulfill our national destiny and seize a warm-water port, we will succeed. If it is our goal to put a stranglehold on the West’s oil supply, we will succeed.
But I ask you,
Comrade, will the price be
He looked around at the people in the armory moving about, going in and out of offices or talking on phones. They were all familiar to Lewis.
Not only had he been in the Guard with most of them for years, he had grown up with some of them and did business with many of them daily. At a glance, there seemed to be no difference from any night at the armory when the staff gathered for a short meeting or a weekend drill. But this was different. This wasn’t going to be a short meeting or a drill. They were going to war.
That thought kept swimming around in his head as he went into his office and sat down at his desk. While millions of Americans were fleeing cities across the nation to enjoy the
Memorial Day weekend, the 3rd Battalion, 354th Infantry, was going to war.
Moscow, USSR 0355 Hours, 25 May (0055 Hours, 25 May, GMT ) A small convoy of four long black Zil limousines raced through the deserted streets in the early-morning light. The General Secretary of the Communist
Party and the Foreign Minister, both fresh from the military airfield, were riding in the third car today. They, as well as other selected Party officials, had been “out of place,” visiting other countries or at locations other than their normal duty positions. The General Secretary, having completed a visit to Finland, had been en route to a meeting with the
President of France when his aircraft was rerouted over East Germany back to
Moscow. The Foreign Minister had been in Vienna, conferring with representatives of Israel on the matter of emigration of Soviet Jews.
He had left the Soviet Embassy in Vienna without notice and been whisked away on waiting Aeroflot liner. The two men had arrived at the military airfield outside Moscow within minutes of each other, satisfied that their part in the deception plan had been a success.
The General Secretary reclined in the backseat, his eyes closed but still awake. He was resting from his trip and preparing himself for the ordeal he knew they would all have to face shortly. It was important that he be able to portray the sincere, friendly image the Western news media had come to love, when he announced before the cameras that the Soviet Union had been forced to take military action to stabilize its southern borders. He knew that his story would not hold with those who knew the truth. It was not they whom he was interested in. It was the uninformed, the timid and those who favored
“peace in our time,” at any cost, that he wanted to sway. He had complete confidence that he could do so as he had done in the past.
Across from him, the Foreign Minister was less confident. He fidgeted with the hand loop hanging on the side of the limousine as he looked out the window with a blank stare. Hours of debate that had often degenerated into screaming matches had led to nought. The
Foreign Minister knew they were making a serious error. Years of diplomacy were about to be washed away in an ill conceived military adventure of dubious value. He still could not understand how stupid and blind the other members of the Politburo were. They were opening Pandora’s box, and only he saw it.
The General Secretary opened his eyes slightly and looked at the Foreign
Minister. “You still do not believe we can succeed, do you?”
The Foreign Minister turned his blank stare to the General Secretary.
“Succeed? It all depends on what you consider to be a success. If we want to own a few thousand more square kilometers of sand and rock, we will succeed. If our goal is, as you say, to fulfill our national destiny and seize a warm-water port, we will succeed. If it is our goal to put a stranglehold on the West’s oil supply, we will succeed.
But I ask you,
Comrade, will the price be
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