We Need Republicans

MARCH 24TH, 2009
8:55 PM
THE PENTAGON
ARLINGTON, VA

Major Dundee and Sergeant Harriman arrived at the Pentagon in full dress uniform. He had only been in the Pentagon one time, early in his career. He couldn't help but feel satisfaction as all the junior officers and grunts snapped to attention as he walked past. But he soon realized he'd be the one standing at attention.

The twosome entered a small, sparase office. A pretty young secretary, Lieutenant Fanning, greeted. "The Secretary will be with you in a moment, sir."

Groggy and Anna sat across from her, absently leafing through back-issues of VFW and Life.

Thoughts hurtled through Groggy's mind as he waited. After all he'd done to argue for this war, to argue that Russia was a threat, wasn't he obligated a commission fighting the Russian Army? Or would his past escapades catch up wtih him? He sat perfectly still, but his leg shook like a leaf. He knew this might well be the most important day of his life. Sergeant Harriman seemed a bit more calm as she leafed through a back-issue of Glamour magazine, giggling at the stupid celebrity.

Finally, the door opened. Groggy and Anna snapped to attention as a tall Colonel, his chest festooned with medals, opened the door. "The Secretary will see you now, gentlemen," he said curtly, before exiting. A Sergeant held the door open.

Groggy stood up. He looked at Anna, expressing worry. Anna just nodded stoically as he stepped forward into the room, then sat down to mock Jessica Simpson as the door closed behind her commanding officer.

* * *

Secretary of Defense Robert Gates sat at his desk. Standing next to him, however, was Rahm Emanuel - the President's Chief of Staff.

Gates was in a difficult position - he was a hold-over from the Bush Administration, bound by duty and love of country to serve in a Democratic administration he didn't much care for. The issue of war with Russia was not a pressing one to him - after all, as head of the CIA he had been much blamed for failing to properly see the collapse of the Soviet Union, and his semi-derogatory comments towards NATO allies in Afghanistan had won him few friends. It would be clear that the US would be "going alone" against Russia, in an old school showdown of the Great Powers, rather than forming any sort of coalition.

Gates did not know what Clinton and Emanuel were up to, but he didn't really care to know. As a Republican in a Democratic administration, he was essentially emasculated, and his appointment symbolic of Obama's proclaimed bipartisanship and commitment to "change". Presumably, the President - or Secretary Clinton - had sent this foul-mouthed stooge to keep him in line. His position in this meeting couldn't have been made more clear.

The Major entered and saluted the Secretary, who immediately looked up from his desk and smiled, acknowledging the salute with a friendly nod.

"Major Groggy Dundee," Gates said. "At ease. It's been the better part of two years since you've led any troops into action," he said. "You gave us quite a headache with France."

"That wasn't my intention, sir," Dundee said quietly.

"Well, whatever your intention was, it worked," Gates replied, a hint of disgust in his voice. "You came out a hero for recklessly invading a sovereign nation without a hint of authority or legality, at least among a certain group of individuals."

Groggy wasn't sure he liked where this was leading, but remained at attention. He stole a glance at Emanuel, a gargoyle on the wall, unmoving, unblinking, unspeaking.

"And yet, one has to admire your improvisional skills, quick thinking, and evident tactical ability," Gates commented tersely, with a hint of reluctance.

Groggy was pleasantly surprised. "Thank you, sir."

The Secretary raised his hand and continued. "We've been reading some of the articles you've been writing on foreign policy of late, Major - and we've kept a very watchful eye on them."

Groggy watched as the Secretary produced a newspaper clipping from a file folder.

"The President has the backbone of a Twinkie," Gates read, disapproval tempering his reading.

"One of my better statements, sir." Groggy couldn't hold back a smile.

"It is my opinion that Russia's latest actions in Georgia are tantamount to a declaration of war," Gates continued reading. "Their position of military bases in the New World and hostile stance towards the expansion of NATO, along with the increasingly thuggish actions of Putin and his regime, indicate that sooner or later, we will have to confront the Russian bear on its own terms."

"I'm glad you're an admirer of my work, Mister Secretary," Groggy said, his sarcasm and impatience leaking through his military facade.

The Secretary looked up gravely. "Very strong stuff," Gates said disapprovingly. "It's this sort of thinking that creates an atmosphere for war."

Groggy wanted to get right to the point, but that would be too insolent, too sardonic, even for him to take. He remained at attention and shut his mouth, waiting for the Secretary to bring him around to it.

"You realize these writings run counter to the administration's policy on Russia?" Gates said.

"Sir, I was not aware of what the administration's position on Russia was," Groggy said, looking at Emanuel, who had yet to speak.

Gates glowered at him. "War is sadly becoming more and more likely," he said wistfully. "And while you may write op. eds, others" - he pulled out a copy of the New York Spin with a screaming headline of atrocities on Palacios - "pass this sort of thing off as news. And after the Hamilton incident, the massacre of American tourists, it seems unlikely war will be averted."

"Why did you wish to see me, sir?" Groggy couldn't stand this any more.

The Secretary breathed in deeply and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. He offered the Major a cigarette, but the Major declined. Groggy watched as the Secretary lit a cigarette and took a long, nervous drag.

"As you know, Major," Gates began, "our military forces are stretched to the breaking point. We have most of our active combat units either deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan, or on rotational relief duty in Germany and Europe. Even so, we may have to confront Russia on its own turf, if Putin decides to get tough in Eastern Europe."

Dundee was now interested.

"This is all a contingency, mind you," Gates continued, "but it may be a necessity if events don't go the way we like. Suffice it to say, with the current state of our military we're not in shape to fight a major war against a major power - unless of course we fall back on our nuclear arsenal."

"The President thinks it's a good idea to create a select group of units," Emanuel cut in. "Volunteer regiments seperate from already existing combat units and National Guard forces. You'll be utilized, in the event of war, for operations within the Western Hemisphere."

"You're being offered commission as Colonel of one of said regiments," Gates cut in. "You'll probably never see combat, provided of course there IS combat, but you'll exist as an alternative - a reserve force, if you will - in case things should come to such an eventuality."

Groggy Dundee's head was spinning wildly. At first, he was flattered - then disappointed. He wouldn't be getting a field command in America's most important war since World War II - if, of course, there was to BE a war. But it was a command - a Colonelcy. A promotion. And if there was a war to be had, there's no way in hell he'd be missing it.

"You're being given relatively free rein to recruit," the Secretary continued. "You proved quite adept at your... improvisational recruitment in your Mexican adventure. See if you can get something like that together again."

Groggy puzzled the meaning of all this. He was not in a position to be making demands, certainly not with the Secretary of Defense sitting across from him, watching his trousers for any sign of nerve-induced urine flow, and certainly not with the measly command he was being given. But still, it WAS a free hand... and being given a free hand meant, of course, that there would be no stopping the juggernaut of Grogginess which would inevitably result. Groggy would be taking on the Russian bear, at the head of a hand-picked regiment!

But his egotistical and excited thoughts had to be sublimated by protocol, at least to an extent.

"You wouldn't be trying to get a critic of the Obama Administration - a well-paid, widely-read critic - out of your hair and into a worthless position, would you?" Groggy asked suspiciously, if somewhat facetiously.

"Well, Major, we need Republicans in this war too," Emanuel said, smiling.

Groggy pondered this for a moment. "Very smart, sir." His brain started to kick into gear, taking stock of the situation.

"I accept your generous offer, gentlemen," Groggy replied. He hesitated a moment before launching into his next tirade, but regretted it for not a moment.

"I want complete control over the regiment," Groggy began, dictating terms with a fierce ambivalence to rank. "I want power to recruit men, whoever the hell I want, I want authority to appoint my subordinate officers. I want my adjutant, Sergeant Harriman, to be promoted Captain and to serve as my chief-of-staff. And I'd like Captain Joseph Starbuck to be made my Lieutenant Colonel. And-" - Groggy was most pointed about this - "I want full armanents and proper uniforms for my men. Should we be needed for combat," he added, his voice reflecting amusement.

Gates listened, smiling broadly. "I'm sure we could arrange all of that - provided you can raise the men," he said quietly. "You'll be promoted as soon as we can twist the arms of a few Congressmen, but Rahm will take care of that." All three men smiled.

"Well, should I wait for war to be declared, or should I begin immediately?" Groggy asked. His two hosts couldn't see it, but he was now trembling with eager.

"Wars aren't declared anymore, Major - haven't you heard?" Emanuel said.

At this comment, Groggy smiled broadly, allowing his eagerness to shine through. A chance at redemption! Of even greater glory and excitement than before! But now, he was acting in service of his country, not just himself.

"Dismissed, Major," the Secretary said, not getting up from his desk.

Groggy snapped into a salute. "Sir," he said stiffly, then marched out of the room triumphantly. The Sergeant closed

"What have we just done?" Gates asked Emanuel.

"We declared war on Russia," the Chief of Staff said. "Excuse me, Mr. Secretary." He exited the room briskly, leaving the beleaguered old Republican at his desk alone.

* * *

In the outer office, Sergeant Harriman was on the verge of sleeping when her commanding officer burst out of the office, a huge grin on his face. She snapped to attention, realizing what this meant.

"We've just been given a promotion," he said, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "Captain Harriman," he added, gazing fondly at his old friend.

"Woot, sir!" the Sergeant replied, returning his grin.

"Mexico all over again," the Major said excitedly no. "No, Mexico times ten. Mexico with a purpose! Are you up for recruitment of another extraordinary legion of cut-throats, brigands, louts, and the scum of the Internet?"

"You know I am, sir," Sergeant Harriman replied.

"Well, let's not waste any time," the Major said, rubbing his hands eagerly. "We've phone calls to make, IM's to send..."

He was cut short when Mr. Emanuel emerged from the room. He smiled uncomfortably, then dropped a piece of paper conspicuously at the Major's feet. The Major picked it up, but before he could address the Chief of Staff, he was vanished. The Secretary's secretary was engrossed in paperwork.

Groggy picked up the piece of paper and read it over. And over. And over. And with each new reading, his excitement grew. He gave it to Sergeant Harriman.

"Send this to Brit Hume," he said to the Sergeant excitedly. Then, practically pulling her out of the room, a huge grin on his face, Major Groggy Dundee exited the office, ready for his next adventure.