placed his hand on the child’s neck.
“Ma’am,” he said to the woman cradling her. “We need to move her.”
The woman held on to the girl. She followed the EMT toward the open rear doors of the ambulance, carrying her daughter. At the ambulance, she turned to Dewey.
“How can I ever thank you?”
“You just did,” said Dewey. “I was wondering. What’s her name?”
“Nicola.”
She climbed into the ambulance. A police officer shut the doors behind her. The ambulance ripped across the gravel and sped away from Chasvur, its red lights disappearing into the black rain.
10
U.S. ARMY WAR COLLEGE
STRATEGIC STUDIES INSTITUTE
CARLISLE BARRACKS
CARLISLE, PENNSYLVANIA
In a small office on the second floor of the historic brick building that housed the Strategic Studies Institute, or SSI, Karl Chelmsford sat staring at the computer screen in front of him. Around him, the office was a cluttered mess; three walls were lined with bookshelves, the two chairs in front of the desk were stacked high with papers and folders. The floor was covered with small stacks of books and files. Behind him, a large window looked out on the neatly manicured green lawns of Carlisle Barracks. Chelmsford, with his bifocaled glasses just a few inches from the computer screen, was mesmerized by what he was reading.
Chelmsford turned and moved to a filing cabinet behind his desk. He rifled through it, looking for a particular brown accordion manila folder. The folder, more than three inches thick, was the product of more than seven years of research. He had a copy on his computer, but Chelmsford always liked to read a hard copy of his work before anyone else saw it. After what he just read on the OCONUS DMS, the top secret communications system within the Pentagon which he had access to, he knew this file would soon be read by a wider group of people than ever before.
The title of the working paper: “Tipping Point Kashmir: India-Pakistan War Scenarios in a Post-Nuclear Age Framework.”
Chelmsford, at the age of thirty-seven, was a tenured professor at Johns Hopkins University. He had two Ph.D.s. The first was from Columbia, where his thesis concerned the creation of a divided Kashmir, its history, and the reasons why overwhelmingly Muslim Kashmir opted in 1947 to ally itself not to Muslim Pakistan, but to the Hindu-dominated India, a chain of events that led inexorably to the near-constant state of trouble and conflict between the two countries for more than half a century. Chelmsford’s other Ph.D. was from MIT, where his thesis concerned the three wars between India and Pakistan and the possible implications of the next war between them, a war that would, for the first time, involve two nuclear-armed countries.
It was this thesis which brought him to the attention of General Tim Lindsay, who invited him to join the faculty of the U.S. Army War College. The War College, designed to educate U.S. military leaders, comprised military and CIA officials, as well as academics. SSI’s main mission was to predict future combat scenarios and wars, so that policy makers could better understand decisions as they were being made in the heat of battle. Since then, Chelmsford had split his time between teaching at the Johns Hopkins School of International Affairs, and modeling and updating different scenarios for a future war involving India and Pakistan.
When General Lindsay was appointed U.S. secretary of state, Chelmsford had sent him a bottle of Silver Oak and a note. Chelmsford had written:
General Lindsay,
My congratulations on your
appointment. I have no doubt
that you will be a truly great
secretary of state. Please
don’t take this the wrong
way, but I sincerely hope
we never have reason to talk
once you are in office,
other than as friends.
Sincerely,
Professor Karl Chelmsford
Now, as Chelmsford pulled the thick folder from the filing cabinet, he knew that war between India and Pakistan was now inevitable. He had read
“Ma’am,” he said to the woman cradling her. “We need to move her.”
The woman held on to the girl. She followed the EMT toward the open rear doors of the ambulance, carrying her daughter. At the ambulance, she turned to Dewey.
“How can I ever thank you?”
“You just did,” said Dewey. “I was wondering. What’s her name?”
“Nicola.”
She climbed into the ambulance. A police officer shut the doors behind her. The ambulance ripped across the gravel and sped away from Chasvur, its red lights disappearing into the black rain.
10
U.S. ARMY WAR COLLEGE
STRATEGIC STUDIES INSTITUTE
CARLISLE BARRACKS
CARLISLE, PENNSYLVANIA
In a small office on the second floor of the historic brick building that housed the Strategic Studies Institute, or SSI, Karl Chelmsford sat staring at the computer screen in front of him. Around him, the office was a cluttered mess; three walls were lined with bookshelves, the two chairs in front of the desk were stacked high with papers and folders. The floor was covered with small stacks of books and files. Behind him, a large window looked out on the neatly manicured green lawns of Carlisle Barracks. Chelmsford, with his bifocaled glasses just a few inches from the computer screen, was mesmerized by what he was reading.
Chelmsford turned and moved to a filing cabinet behind his desk. He rifled through it, looking for a particular brown accordion manila folder. The folder, more than three inches thick, was the product of more than seven years of research. He had a copy on his computer, but Chelmsford always liked to read a hard copy of his work before anyone else saw it. After what he just read on the OCONUS DMS, the top secret communications system within the Pentagon which he had access to, he knew this file would soon be read by a wider group of people than ever before.
The title of the working paper: “Tipping Point Kashmir: India-Pakistan War Scenarios in a Post-Nuclear Age Framework.”
Chelmsford, at the age of thirty-seven, was a tenured professor at Johns Hopkins University. He had two Ph.D.s. The first was from Columbia, where his thesis concerned the creation of a divided Kashmir, its history, and the reasons why overwhelmingly Muslim Kashmir opted in 1947 to ally itself not to Muslim Pakistan, but to the Hindu-dominated India, a chain of events that led inexorably to the near-constant state of trouble and conflict between the two countries for more than half a century. Chelmsford’s other Ph.D. was from MIT, where his thesis concerned the three wars between India and Pakistan and the possible implications of the next war between them, a war that would, for the first time, involve two nuclear-armed countries.
It was this thesis which brought him to the attention of General Tim Lindsay, who invited him to join the faculty of the U.S. Army War College. The War College, designed to educate U.S. military leaders, comprised military and CIA officials, as well as academics. SSI’s main mission was to predict future combat scenarios and wars, so that policy makers could better understand decisions as they were being made in the heat of battle. Since then, Chelmsford had split his time between teaching at the Johns Hopkins School of International Affairs, and modeling and updating different scenarios for a future war involving India and Pakistan.
When General Lindsay was appointed U.S. secretary of state, Chelmsford had sent him a bottle of Silver Oak and a note. Chelmsford had written:
General Lindsay,
My congratulations on your
appointment. I have no doubt
that you will be a truly great
secretary of state. Please
don’t take this the wrong
way, but I sincerely hope
we never have reason to talk
once you are in office,
other than as friends.
Sincerely,
Professor Karl Chelmsford
Now, as Chelmsford pulled the thick folder from the filing cabinet, he knew that war between India and Pakistan was now inevitable. He had read
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