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«Didn't the Iowa lose one in an accident?» asked Mike, rubbing his chin and thinking about having a battleship broadside at his beck and call.
«Yes,» said General Taylor. «But they are building a new breech at Granite City Steel in St. Louis. It'll be ready in about ten months.»
«However, for those cities which ca
«If you mean fighting their way out through the investing Posleen, sir,» interrupted Mike, «I don't see any. Are we talking about light infantry, sir?» He hid a yawn and took a deep breath to drive some oxygen into his flagging brain.
«Some, but with enough transport organic to the division to move the whole thing. Basically a motorized infantry regiment. Most will actually be mechanized infantry, Armor or Armored Cav. The tanks and AFVs will be positioned in forward revetments or ready to sally and the troops will be in bunkers. If they have to retreat or sally there will be trucks and other transports to move the entire force and any civilians who've stayed behind. In one sortie.»
«Okay, let me give you a situation and a city, sir,» said O'Neal, rubbing his chin in thought, flogging his brain. «Let me see if I understand this plan. Let's talk about . . . Sacramento.»
«Good choice,» said General Horner, leaning back.
«Okay, sir.» Mike tapped his AID. «Map menu.» He tapped the icons on the hologram until he had the map he wanted and yawned again. «It looks like about a two-hour drive from Sacramento to Placerville, where, I would guess, the first of the mountain defenses would be placed. How am I so far?»
«About right,» said General Horner after a moment's thought.
«Okay, sirs. That means about six to ten hours of battle to reach the first defense lines,» Mike said, taking another pull on the cigar. He looked at the ceiling and flicked an ash.
«About that,» agreed Taylor from the bar.
«Through a Posleen swarm,» said Mike, still contemplating the ceiling.
«Yes,» the generals chorused.
«Nope,» said Mike, shaking his head definitively. «Sirs.»
«Really?» asked General Taylor, handing out the drinks.
«Really, sir. Look at Diess or Barwhon. Remember that French armored division on Barwhon that got caught out of prepared positions during a movement?»
«Right, Third Armored Cav,» said General Taylor.
«Troisieme Armore Chevalier,» Mike corrected. «They lasted, what? thirty minutes?»
«There had just been a landing, Mike,» pointed out General Horner, «the Posleen numbers were at their maximum.»
«We have to assume an outside influence to force the evacuation, sir,» O'Neal pointed out and took a sip of the bourbon. He raised an eyebrow at the quality of the sourmash. It had been in an unlabeled decanter, but it was a nice Kentucky distillery, probably an «estate» brand. Obviously being High Commander had a few perks even in these days of universal rationing.
«Okay, I'll give you that,» admitted the CONARC. «Now, assume MI support for the retreat and reconfigured roadways to maximize terrain cover. How much MI support would you want to evacuate the remains of a corps out of Sacramento?»
«Oh. You're talking about covering three or four divisions?»
«Yes, or five. I think Sacramento is detailed for five divisions.»
«Jesus, sir.» Mike shook his head. «I don't think you could lead five of the current standing divisions to a whorehouse on a Sunday morning much less through five hours of battle with the Posleen in open field combat.»
General Horner looked at Taylor and raised an eyebrow. «You wa
General Taylor smiled and shook his head. «We hope to get that under control, Captain.»
Mike snorted. «Better you than me, General. Which particular magic wand are you pla
«Mike,» said Horner, warningly.
«No,» said General Taylor, holding up a hand. «He's right. Things on the ground are totally fucked-up. Every fucking report we get from the IGs says the same thing.» He turned to the frowning and bleary-eyed captain. It was always hard to tell if O'Neal was pissed off or not, however, because the frown was plastered on his face at all times. «There's no magic wand. We're getting more and more rejuvs in the pipeline. As we get people into their positions, most of the major problems will correct themselves. When there are officers and NCOs available to lead and be held responsible the directives that are already in place will start to take effect.
«We've got the better part of a year to fix things. And most of the divisions, especially the really bad ones, will be fighting in fixed positions. So even if they crack in places it should be controllable. But we do have one trick left.»
«Mike,» interjected Horner, «remember back when we were with GalTech we discussed who was going to be called up in what order?»
«Sure,» said Mike, thinking back. «Combat background perso
«Well.» General Taylor nodded, with an understanding smile. «That was the plan. But somewhere along the line the plan and the process went astray.»
«One of my 'computer geeks,' « said Horner, with a wry aside to General Taylor, «finally got a look at the algorithm the perso
«Oh, shit,» said Mike, with a chuckle. Although good soldiers generally came out fine on the Army's evaluations, the reports tended to miss the difference between a good leader and a «Lifer.» The original plan had been to call up warriors as the first wave, setting a tone for the forces to follow. That had obviously not happened.
«So,» said General Taylor, «we've had the software rewritten . . .»
«By my people,» General Horner interjected.
«Right,» continued Taylor. «From now on combat experience will have a high multiplier along with medals for valor. We're calling it 'The Old Soldier' program.»
«Oh, hell,» said Mike with a grim chuckle. «No modifier for age, right?» Most of the files that a program like that would spit out would have been formed in the caldrons of World War II, Korea and Vietnam. Old soldiers indeed.
«Right,» said Horner. «The program has been in place for a couple of weeks getting the bugs out, but the really big call-up will be during the conference.»
There was an unexpected bark of laughter from Taylor. Both of the officers looked at him in puzzlement. Then Horner realized what he was thinking about and frowned in humor.
«What?» said Mike. The fact that something had discomfited his former mentor was obvious even through his fatigue.
«There were . . .» said General Horner, carefully.
«A few bugs,» completed Taylor with a laugh. «His computer super geeks forgot that there are certain persons who, shall we say, are unavailable for recall.» The senior commander laughed again, uproariously. «Oh, Jesus, the look on his face!»
Horner frowned. Hard. A sure sign he was about to burst out laughing. «The computer was searching for high-ranking officers who were still alive and had combat experience. We felt that if there were bugs, it would be better to make the mistake with senior officers than junior. The program had been deliberately set to ignore whether their experience was as the rank they 'retired' at.»
«Although in one case it wouldn't have mattered,» pointed out Taylor helpfully.
«I still don't get it,» said Mike, looking from face to face.
«Mike,» said Horner, with a slight snort of his own. «You do realize that Commander in Chief is a rank, don't you?»