The Devil's Footprint (69 page)

"The
stuff was developed for use in
Afghanistan
.
 
Bombs and rockets weren't doing the job,
especially after the Stingers made low flying unhealthy.
 
The idea of Xyclax Gamma 18 was that you
would drop in from a high-flying aircraft, airburst it at a thousand feet or
so, and it would render a whole area uninhabitable.
 
Lots of nerve agents kill you.
 
What
makes
this
variety so lethal is its dispersion capability and its shelf life.
 
Xyclax Gamma 18 remains toxic for
years."

"Was it
used?" said Gannon.

"Apparently,"
said Jaeger, "but not for long.
 
Under lab conditions with positive air pressure and everyone in special
suits, it was safe enough.
 
When they tried
it in the field, they discovered that the dispersion capability was all too
effective.
 
Dispersion depends largely on
particle size.
 
The smaller the nerve
agent particle, the larger the area you can cover.
 
In this case, the particles were so small the
Russians found the material went right through the standard Soviet NBC
suit.
 
A bunch of dying Afghans was
followed by some serious Spetnatz casualties as they moved up to see what had
happened.
 
There was talk of getting new
suits and trying it a second time, but then Gorbachev and
glasnost
came along.
 
Xyclax
Gamma 18 was quietly forgotten about until private enterprise hit and the
enterprise manager realized that he had a product with real market value."

Gannon looked
somber.
 
"Will our suits work?"
he said.

Jaeger shook
his head.
 
"Standard Army NBC suites
may help, but not for long.
 
You need the
kind of gear they have in
Fort
Dietrich
for this, and
it's not the kind of clothing you can fight in."

It struck
Gannon that this was the kind of mission that should best be left to the air
force alone.
 
His paratroops were trained
to fight a real human enemy.
 
To have his
young men jumping into some lethal mist was a thought that revolted him.

Carlson had
been thinking the same thoughts.
 
But
then again, he was a soldier, and surely the National Command Authority had
considered all these questions.
 
Or had
they?
 
Unchecked, politicians had a habit
of committing the military without really thinking through all the
implications.

Fitzduane
broke the mood.
 
"Binary?" he
said.
 
"If I was Quintana and had a
mercenary force of debatable caliber, I'd store the components separately if I
wanted to sleep nights.
 
Otherwise, a
bottle of tequila too many, and the Devil's Hangover wouldn't come into
it."

Jaeger
smiled.
 
"Quoting Rheiman," he
said, "even Oshima is scared stiff of the stuff.
 
They tested a sample before it was shipped
in, so they saw what it could do.
 
They
keep the secondary in a deep bunker in the supergun valley and the primary in
the command complex of Madoa airfield.
 
No chance of mixing them up or some entrepreneur staging a coup.
 
The one exception to that may well be the
supergun.
 
If that is being held ready to
fire, then we think it's likely — certainly possible — to have both primary and
secondary loaded."

"Why
wouldn't they load one of the components at the last minute?" said
Gannon.
 
"That would seem
safer."

"It's
possible," said Jaeger, "but loading the supergun is not like
inserting a shotgun round.
 
This is a big
weapon.
 
Charging it takes hours.
 
So if they want to keep it as a deterrent
ready to roll, it
will
be loaded.

"It
wasn't loaded when we were there," said Fitzduane slowly.
 
Then he looked across at the latest satellite
pictures.
 
The Devil's Footprint seemed
to be getting stronger by the hour.
 
Oshima was driving her people.
 
She expected to be attacked.
 
She
was bright enough to know she could not win against a full assault.
 
So what would she do?
 
"But I concur with Dr. Jaeger."

"If a
single missile charged with Xyclax Gamma 18 airbursts over Washington, D.C.,
said General Gannon, "what kind of effect would that have?"

"So much
would depend on weather conditions," said Jaeger.
 
"Rheiman says they were promised between
fifteen thousand and seventy-five thousand fatalities.
 
And decontaminating the area could take
years.
 
Of course, if it airbursts
undetected over a major water supply, given that the effects are not immediate,
hundreds of thousands, if not millions, could die.

"The
fatalities could exceed those of a conventional nuclear detonation."

*
         
*
         
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*

The meeting
concluded.

General Gannon
caught Fitzduane's eye and indicated that he would like to talk to him alone.

They left the
SCIF and headed out of the division headquarters.
 
The flag-lowering ceremony was just starting,
and they stood at attention while it was completed.
 
Then they walked on.

Dusk was
falling.
 
Fort
Bragg
was still a hive of activity.
 
It would
stay that way until the C130s were wheels up from Pope Air Base.
 
Then there would just be the waiting.
 
Sons, lovers, friends, and husbands would be
gone.
 
The post would feel empty.
 
There would be no certainty all would return.

"Colonel
Fitzduane, I understand you are not a regular soldier," said Gannon.
 
"It's a pity.
 
You seem well suited to the calling of arms.
 
You seem... to understand" — he smiled —
"perhaps too well."

Fitzduane
laughed.
 
"I'm not too good at
following orders," he said, "or making the compromises you have to
make.
 
I find it hard to salute a man I
don't respect merely because he has rank.
 
I find it hard to do one thing because my masters require it when my
common sense tells me to do something else.
 
I am not overly fond of large structures.
 
I can admire — greatly admire — a unit such
as the 82
^nd
Airborne, but I cannot suspend my sense critique."

Gannon eyed
Fitzduane contemplatively.
 
Then he
laughed.
 
"What am I going to do
with you, Colonel Fitzduane?
 
The 82
^nd
is — well — the 82
^nd
, and we have our own ways of doing things.
 
We will evolve, but I doubt we will
change.
 
As to you, I'm told you have
seen more of combat in more countries than all the Joint Chiefs put together,
so I will allow you your sense critique.
 
But what to do?"

"Let me
work with Colonel Carlson until the planning is completed," said
Fitzduane.
 
"Then give me a small
unit when we jump.
 
Troopers
who have initiative.
 
A leader who has some dash."

"You're
describing most of my men," said Gannon.
 
He was silent, but then a smile crossed his lips.

"But one
unit in particular comes to mind?" said Fitzduane.

Gannon
grinned.
 
"The Scout Platoon
attached to the First Brigade," he said.
 
"You may have met your match, Colonel.
 
Under Lieutenant Brock, they're the nearest
thing to a private army the 82
^nd
has."

"What do
they normally do, General?" said Fitzduane.
 
"
Scout
covers a multitude."

"They do
anything," said Gannon.
 
"They
scout, they snipe, they kill armor, they play with mines, they HALO.
 
They even have their own pair of tanks and
work with their own helicopters.
 
They're
terrifying young men."

He looked
straight at Fitzduane.
 
"You'll
wonder why I tolerate them."

"Every
unit needs a few mavericks, General," said Fitzduane.

"Indeed,"
said Gannon.
 
He gave a signal and his
Humvee rumbled up.
 
He got in.
 
"I guess one more won't hurt."

Fitzduane
breathed the cool air of the evening and then headed back to the SCIF.

Carlson was
studying the satellite imagery intently.
 
He looked up.
 
"The General
fire you?"

"He said
he needs every swinging dick he can get, Zachariah," said Fitzduane,
"seeing as how they all go limp in this sweat lodge."

"He likes
your haircut," said Carlson.
 
He
tapped the satellite photo.
 
"Listen
up," he said.
 
"Fuck the armor.
 
I've been counting their earthmoving
equipment."

"And?"
said Fitzduane.

"They've
got too goddamned much of it," said Carlson.
 
"I think there's more to Madoa Air Base
than we can see.
 
Someone with a mole
mentality has been screwing around with the environment."

"So what
we see isn't all we're going to get," said Fitzduane.

"That's
what I figure," said Carlson.
 
"Unless the base commander just likes collecting tracked
iron."

"Infrared?"
said Fitzduane.

Carlson
nodded.
 
"That'll show if earth has
been disturbed.
 
But what if they've
built under existing structures?"

"If
they've got a bunker complex underneath," said Fitzduane, "why
haven't they kept their bulldozers out of sight as well?
 
Answer:
 
because who would suspect some innocent earthmoving equipment and
..."

"...something
else is in the space," said Carlson.
 
"But what?
 
There are plenty of track imprints, but they could be bulldozers.
 
God, I hate surprises when I'm dangling from
the risers.
 
It's bad enough jumping out
of an aircraft with your face painted green and black without some steel
behemoth emerging from below ground and blowing your shit away.
 
That kind of thing can depress you."

"What if
we turned all this surprise stuff around?" said Fitzduane.
 
"We don't sneak up.
 
We announce ourselves.
 
We show ours and encourage them to show
theirs."

"A blast
of trumpets before we attack?" said Carlson.
 
"With something more
substantial hidden away."

"It
worked pretty well in
Jericho
,"
said Fitzduane.

"Let's
get the Air Force in on this," said Carlson.
 
"They have things that moles do not
like.
 
And they're Devious — with a
capital
D
.
 
Or so they say in the Pentagon."

"What
are
the Army?" said Fitzduane.

"The Navy
are
Defiant," said Carlson.
 
"They can afford to be when they're out
at sea snug in their carrier groups."

"The Army?"

"The Army
are
Dumb," said Carlson.
 
"We're too honest, and that's why the
other services get so much of the pie.
 
But in this situation we need Devious — and maybe a few dozen penetrator
bombs."

Six hours
later, the shape of the plan had been established and now it was down to the
planning staff to hammer out the endless details.
 
No one in the 82
^nd
seemed to need
sleep.

Fitzduane
headed away to get some rest.
 
If General
Gannon was right, he was going to need it before he met First Brigade's Scout
Platoon.

When Carlson
had heard that Fitzduane was jumping in with the Scouts, he had smiled.
 
"The Devil's Footprint is going to be
the least of your worries, Hugo.
 
These
people are crazy.
 
Good
— outstandingly good — but absolutely wacko."

*
         
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*
         
*
         
*

General Gannon
toured the post, checking on every aspect of the division's preparations.
 
In any military operation every facet was
interdependent, but never more so than in the 82
^nd
.

The Airborne
picked up their entire house and flew.
 
If you forgot something you could not radio supply and request that they
send it up the line.
 
You brought
everything — everything — with you or you did without.
 
Sure, you could get resupplied with
essentials from the air, but by the time that resource cut in the really
critical time was normally over.
 
The
essence of airborne assault was speed and shock value — sudden overwhelming
force appearing from nowhere anywhere on earth.