uneasy waiting game at worst, a powder keg rolling toward an open
flame.
“You have long-range missiles in Cuba aimed at the United States,”
Wexler continued. “Don’t think we’ll tolerate this.”
“If your missile strikes are as accurate and powerful as you believe,
then there are no more missiles in Cuba,” the Cuban ambassador shot
back bitterly. “But I think such is not the case. Here,” he
continued, passing out enlarged photographs to the rest of the
representatives, “this is what you hit. Armed men in painted faces
coming ashore your country at night. Is that what we want from the
United States?”
“And this is the reason!” Ambassador Wexler began passing around
photos other own. They lacked the dramatic intensity of the Cuban’s,
but they made a point. Even the representatives from the less
sophisticated countries knew enough to identify the boxy structures
captured in the satellite photo. “How many of you feel safe with these
on Cuban soil?”
The meeting degenerated into charge and countercharge, with both sides
claiming victory at the end of the argument.
Really, it had been less a diplomatic effort than a barroom brawl.
As Wexler strode back toward her office, her entourage of aides and
advisors trailing behind her, she thought back to the photograph the
Cuban representative had flashed, and felt her anger grow again. There
was a name for that sort of conduct, the media surprising military
forces during the course of their operations in search of a story.
They called it the First Amendment. She called it treason.
TEN Sunday, 30 June 0700 Local (+5 GMT) The Pentagon The Joint Chiefs
of Staff gathered in the Tank, the strategic planning area into which
every intelligence and tactical source provided direct feed. From the
Tank, they could watch live satellite transmissions, tap into the
database of any ship via high-frequency link, talk to the most remote
two-man patrol in Bosnia.
The furnishings, luxurious by Department of Defense standards, couldn’t
disguise the tension hanging in the air.
People moved quickly, rapping out orders and requests for information,
studying green automated tactical displays, trying to anticipate what
one piece of information their bosses would want. As the chiefs
convened, the operational pace crescendoed to near panic.
The chiefs gathered at the round table, helped themselves to coffee or
tea or their beverage of choice. A small refrigerator remained fully
stocked. They exchanged pleasantries, trying to ward off the
inevitable.
Even if they’d been inclined to, the fact that this was an election
year made it almost impossible for the President to fail to act. Their
only option at this point was providing the President with a range of
alternatives the military thought they could win.
“Sunday. Why does it always happen on the weekend?” the Air Force
chief of staff grumbled. He stirred two sugars into the heavy mug of
black coffee. “What, no latte again?”
“I don’t suppose we could persuade all of our enemies to plan their
operations around our schedule?” The chief of naval operations was
generally the most irreverent of the group, capable of finding a wry or
sardonic side to almost every issue. Had his advice not always been so
damnably well thought out, the others would have been tempted to ignore
him.
“The Cubans aren’t our enemies,” the chairman snapped.
“Could’ve fooled that pilot,” the CNO responded.
“And this isn’t a war, is it?” said the Army chief of staff, finally
speaking up. “Could get a lot of people killed, though, couldn’t it?
If we have to go in on the land, that is.”
“Look, let’s put the bickering aside for a minute,” the chairman
ordered. “We can posture all we want to, but you know we’re going
in.
We have to.” He scanned the table, saw the agreement on each
face reluctant on the Army’s part, eager on the Air Force’s, and
decidedly neutral on the Navy’s.
“Any guidance from the boss?” Navy asked.
The chairman shook his head. “He wants options. That’s what we’ll
give him. Right now, I’m leaning toward using the Arsenal ship.” The
expressions on the faces around him mirrored the political maneuvering
that continually went on between all the services. The Air Force chief