a pen from a coffee table. Satellite photos of Camp Zonta were scattered across the table. He circled the large building in the center of one photo and wrote "1915 hours" in the circle.
"The enemy will be there at that time," Hanley said. "All of them in one place."
Rosecrans picked up the photo and studied it.
"My contact also strongly recommends we lead with an airstrike."
The colonel stared at him.
"I'm not kidding," Hanley said.
"I'm sure your contact means well, but we can't do an airstrike. It's not feasible."
"We bomb terrorists in foreign countries. Why can't we bomb terrorists here?"
Rosecrans took a deep breath. "In theory, and I want to emphasize the word theory, it's the right approach. That area has very few civilians, so there is almost no risk of unintended casualties. The target is a plain wooden structure. A single, five hundred pound bomb would demolish it and kill everybody inside. There are no air defenses to worry about. The plane doesn't even have to be stealthy. An air strike would dramatically reduce the danger to our men while incurring relatively little risk. In theory."
"I'm glad you agree," Hanley said.
"But there are serious practical concerns. We're talking about Wisconsin, not Afghanistan. An airstrike against a domestic target would need approval from the highest levels, maybe even the White House. You won't get that in—" Rosecrans checked his watch. "—eight hours."
The colonel was right. At least Hanley could tell Xavier he had tried.
"But I have an alternative."
Hanley perked up.
"A well executed mortar attack is almost as effective as an airstrike," Rosecrans said. "You can find mortars in any military depot. Many of my men have the necessary training. A battery of mortars will reduce the target to kindling in less than a minute. Most importantly, they don't require special approval. They're considered an ordinary infantry weapon."
"That's a brilliant idea." Hanley smiled. "We'll need a spotter though."
"We'll put a man in a helicopter."
"OK." Hanley nodded. "That's the first part of the plan. Now let's talk about the second part. Our men will have to enter the camp to arrest any survivors. I think we should just drive right in using the road. We'll show up after the barrage ends and hit the enemy hard."
Rosecrans was silent for a moment. Hanley studied the photos on the table.
There was only one road leading to Camp Zonta. It curved past a farm, wriggled through a patch of thick forest, and terminated at the central building. To reach the camp any other way would require hiking through woods laden with booby traps. The road passed over a small hill, which provided natural cover.
To Hanley, the most obvious strategy was hiding his men behind the hill during the mortar barrage. Then he would send them forward all at once. The distance between the hill and the central building was about 400 meters. It would take less than a minute by car.
"It's a good idea," Rosecrans said, "but the enemy could have the road barricaded. We'll need an armored vehicle to bust through."
"A tank?"
"A real tank may not be necessary, but something big and tough."
"Very well," Hanley said. "It sounds like we have several tasks to accomplish. The entire Unit has to go to Camp Zonta and get into attack formation. We need mortars, and we need an armored assault vehicle. All in less than eight hours. Can we do it?"
Rosecrans nodded. "Easily."
"Let's go." Hanley stood up.
* * *
Marina looked over at Sampson and Torngasoak. Both men were walking around and apparently healed, but neither appeared happy. Even Sampson, who had won the fight, stared at the floor with a thoughtful expression. If Smythe and Odelia hadn't intervened with their miraculous powers, both combatants would've died.
Ethel walked into the hall where the tournament was taking place. Everybody else rushed to get into their original position, except for Torngasoak. He stayed in the back with the staff.
"Jennifer, of Oklahoma
"The enemy will be there at that time," Hanley said. "All of them in one place."
Rosecrans picked up the photo and studied it.
"My contact also strongly recommends we lead with an airstrike."
The colonel stared at him.
"I'm not kidding," Hanley said.
"I'm sure your contact means well, but we can't do an airstrike. It's not feasible."
"We bomb terrorists in foreign countries. Why can't we bomb terrorists here?"
Rosecrans took a deep breath. "In theory, and I want to emphasize the word theory, it's the right approach. That area has very few civilians, so there is almost no risk of unintended casualties. The target is a plain wooden structure. A single, five hundred pound bomb would demolish it and kill everybody inside. There are no air defenses to worry about. The plane doesn't even have to be stealthy. An air strike would dramatically reduce the danger to our men while incurring relatively little risk. In theory."
"I'm glad you agree," Hanley said.
"But there are serious practical concerns. We're talking about Wisconsin, not Afghanistan. An airstrike against a domestic target would need approval from the highest levels, maybe even the White House. You won't get that in—" Rosecrans checked his watch. "—eight hours."
The colonel was right. At least Hanley could tell Xavier he had tried.
"But I have an alternative."
Hanley perked up.
"A well executed mortar attack is almost as effective as an airstrike," Rosecrans said. "You can find mortars in any military depot. Many of my men have the necessary training. A battery of mortars will reduce the target to kindling in less than a minute. Most importantly, they don't require special approval. They're considered an ordinary infantry weapon."
"That's a brilliant idea." Hanley smiled. "We'll need a spotter though."
"We'll put a man in a helicopter."
"OK." Hanley nodded. "That's the first part of the plan. Now let's talk about the second part. Our men will have to enter the camp to arrest any survivors. I think we should just drive right in using the road. We'll show up after the barrage ends and hit the enemy hard."
Rosecrans was silent for a moment. Hanley studied the photos on the table.
There was only one road leading to Camp Zonta. It curved past a farm, wriggled through a patch of thick forest, and terminated at the central building. To reach the camp any other way would require hiking through woods laden with booby traps. The road passed over a small hill, which provided natural cover.
To Hanley, the most obvious strategy was hiding his men behind the hill during the mortar barrage. Then he would send them forward all at once. The distance between the hill and the central building was about 400 meters. It would take less than a minute by car.
"It's a good idea," Rosecrans said, "but the enemy could have the road barricaded. We'll need an armored vehicle to bust through."
"A tank?"
"A real tank may not be necessary, but something big and tough."
"Very well," Hanley said. "It sounds like we have several tasks to accomplish. The entire Unit has to go to Camp Zonta and get into attack formation. We need mortars, and we need an armored assault vehicle. All in less than eight hours. Can we do it?"
Rosecrans nodded. "Easily."
"Let's go." Hanley stood up.
* * *
Marina looked over at Sampson and Torngasoak. Both men were walking around and apparently healed, but neither appeared happy. Even Sampson, who had won the fight, stared at the floor with a thoughtful expression. If Smythe and Odelia hadn't intervened with their miraculous powers, both combatants would've died.
Ethel walked into the hall where the tournament was taking place. Everybody else rushed to get into their original position, except for Torngasoak. He stayed in the back with the staff.
"Jennifer, of Oklahoma
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