Larry Bond - Vortex

De Wet nodded slowly in agreement. The South Africa they all knew was dying anyway. Perhaps it was better to rob their enemies of the fruits of victory than to go down to defeat whimpering in despair. He started, suddenly aware that Vorster was speaking directly to him.

“General, I need every engineer you can muster, and a list of every mine we still possess.”

De Wet nodded, turned to his officers, and started issuing the orders needed to prepare South Africa’s economic suicide.

JANUARY 6-HEADQUARTERS, ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE, DURBAN

Lt. Gen. Jerry Craig held two message slips in his hand. One read, Do not believe Vorster has political control or resources to carry out his threat. Recommend continuing offensive operations.

The second telex said, Expert consultants have advised us that Vorster’s claim is credible. Suggest you halt operations and use time to consolidate position until way is found to clear demolitions from mine sites.

One was from CIA, the other from the State Department. The third message he’d received was the one that counted ostensibly a secure voice call from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but actually reflecting the

President’s own opinion. Ten minutes of talk that boiled down to, “We rely on your estimate of the situation and will back whatever judgment you make. ” Well, he would have resented anything else, but it still left him the man on the spot.

Every senior and junior staff officer in the Allied head812

quarters packed the briefing room. Officers of two nationalities and every service filled the chairs and lined the walls. Christ, Craig thought, I don’t know half of these people. And that bothered him. Part of the problem of holding higher level command was that you had to rely on the abilities of men and women you would never know as more than slots filled in on an organization chart.

As more and more officers streamed in, Craig sat, conferring with Skiles and the division commanders. There were always operational matters to discuss, and he was so wrapped up in the 24this supply situation that he almost didn’t feel the tap on his shoulder. Sergeant Major Bourne loomed over him, tall, barrel-chested, and every inch the Marine’s Marine.

“Sir, it’s time.”

Craig glanced at his watch.

“Thank you, Sergeant Major.

He glanced behind him at the packed room and listened to the near-deafening buzz of conversation. He knew what they were talking about. Any headquarters was a rumor mill, and Vorster’s last-ditch threat had provided fertile ground for speculation. Some of the rumors about planned Allied action were entertaining, others were just flat-out wrong.

“Let’s get things rolling.”

Bourne nodded and strode to the front of the room, facing the assembled group. Ignoring the microphone on the podium nearby, he called in a parade-ground bellow, “Attention on deck! “

The voices stopped as if turned off by a light switch, replaced by the momentary thunder of hundreds of boots hitting the floor.

Craig strode up to the podium and turned to scan the erect, silent crowd-a sea of upturned faces.

“Seats, ladies and gentlemen. “

He paused while they settled in again. Then he started, careful to keep his voice hard, incisive, and confident. This was a pep talk more than a briefing. Some commanders forgot that staff morale was sometimes just as important as front line morale. He wasn’t one of them.

“You’ve all heard Vorster’s promise to destroy the mines if we don’t withdraw unconditionally from South Africa. A

threat that he’s made to the Cubans as well.” Craig nodded toward Skiles and the rest of his immediate staff.

“I want you to know that we are taking him seriously, although I admit that can be hard to do at times.”

That prompted a light wave of laughter. Vorster’s nickname at headquarters was Gonzo. Good. Everyone’s attitude had been a little too grim for his liking.

Craig let the laugh die away before continuing. He wanted every man and woman in the room to hear exactly what he had to say next.

“Serious or not, I don’t intend to let this bastard slow us down. We will continue to advance as far and as fast as we can. Right now, our forces have the momentum-to stop now and try to regain that momentum later would cost time and lives I will not waste.”

He studied the faces in front of him. They looked serious and grimly determined. Good.

“Frankly, Vorster’s political situation seems so unstable that we’re not sure he can persuade his own military to go along with this demolition threat. There’s a maxim of warfare that you tend to overestimate an enemy’s capabilities. Well, we don’t want to fall into that trap here.”

Heads nodded around the room.

“Nevertheless, we will be conducting intensive reconnaissance of mines and other important industrial facilities as we move forward. And I want all troop commanders to make sure their people know their NBC procedures from front to back. “

More heads nodded. With warning and the proper equipment, men could live and fight in a radioactive or chemically contaminated environment. But it took constant training and refresher courses to ensure that the warning and the gear would be put to good use.

“Now, there’s no question that ourjob’sjust gotten tougher and more complicated ” He smiled grimly “No question at all. Unfortunately, nobody’s civilized enough these days to fight in straight lines on nice, open battlefields. But we take the enemies we get. And Vorster is what we’ve got.”

Craig spoke flatly.

“One thing’s certain. Vorster and his fanatics are desperate. This latest threat proves that. We have them on the ropes. So let’s keep them off-balance and go in for the knockout.” He’d opted for boxing terminology at the last moment. His

British officers might not have understood the football comparisons that had first popped into his mind.

“Fourth and goal” didn’t mean anything in soccer.

“That is all, ladies and gentlemen. Carry on.”

He nodded to Boume.

“Attention!” The staff rose to their feet as one. As Craig stepped down from the podium, the sergeant major whispered, “Your press conference is set up in the London Room, sir. “

Craig sighed. He begrudged the time, but he had to give the media something to chew on. Reporters abhorred a vacuum more than nature, and if they didn’t have hard information, they’d take the soft stuff. Every rumor and whisper his staff had started would be amplified a hundredfold.

At least when his officers speculated, it was informed speculation.

“Tell them I’ll be there in five minutes, and tell General Skiles I want my immediate staff assembled for a meeting in half an hour.”

Craig looked at Skiles; and the others in his office, sitting, perched on the edges of desks, or standing.

“All right, gentlemen, the troops have been given the gouge, and the press has received a distilled dose of the same. Now what the hell are my options?”

Nobody even considered advising him to halt or slow down. Offensive pressure was more than a military decision. It was an extension of their commander’s personal desire to end this war as quickly as possible.

His J-2, the officer in charge of intelligence, cleared his throat.

“I

don’t know about options exactly, General, but I do have more information from the JCS. They have nuclear and mining engineers talking to each other. Apparently, what Vorster wants to do is possible.”

Craig nodded. That only confirmed his basic assessment. It was always easier to wreck something than to build it, and Vorster had already shown he was an expert at tearing things apart.