are many others more qualified than I am. She also wondered about the wisdom of including General McGraw in the meeting. David had been secretive about him. Is that why his shoulders are square today? He’s making crisp decisions just as they others said he did in his first year of office. If true, then McGraw was good.
“Are you ready?” Sims asked.
Anna nodded, although she wasn’t ready. Today, they were going to discuss the Chancellor’s strange offer. It seemed like the wrong group to make political grand strategy with. McGraw and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs were military men through and through. Kleist’s offer was a political decision with hard political ramifications. And yet, in the end, President Sims was a soldier.
Seven years ago, it had been General Sims, the Joint Forces Commander in Alaska during the Chinese invasion. He’d won the Presidency because of his victory seven years ago. The people trusted the man on the white horse, the military savior. They expected miracles from the Joint Forces Commander, General David Sims. As the present war spiraled into even worse defeats, the President had come to view the news more and more often through a strictly martial lens.
Is that wise, or is it short sighted? Anna didn’t know. If America lost militarily, the political wasn’t going to matter anyway. Maybe in the end David knew what he was doing. Maybe this needed to be a soldier’s decision.
“Sit over there,” Sims said. “I want you to take notes.”
Anna sat in a chair to the side, picking up a computer scroll and stylus.
The President straightened his suit jacket and marched to the door. He opened it, speaking softly to his secretary. Then he strode to his desk, sitting behind it.
Thirty seconds later, the door opened as the secretary ushered three men into the Oval Office. The Chairman of the Joints Chiefs of Staff entered first, General Alan. He was gaunt with sunken cheeks, no longer merely thin. He wore black-rimmed glasses and looked exhausted, as if he needed sleep, which he probably did. He was Sino-phobic and therefore disliked Anna.
Max Harold, the Director of Homeland Security, was a walking encyclopedia of knowledge, given to hard logic and little emotion. He was bald with liver spots, wore a rumbled suit and had a distracted air, as if trying to remember where he’d put his car keys. It was an illusion, Anna knew, as the man literally heard and remembered everything. He’d been instrumental in creating hordes of Militia battalions. The Militia came under the jurisdiction of Homeland Security. General Alan had never approved of that, believing the military should control the Militia. It had made the two into opponents.
Anna wondered sometimes if General Alan was right. Was it good to have two militaries in a country? In the field, the Militia took orders from Army commanders, but…
General Tom McGraw entered the Oval Office. Anna’s eyes widened. The man was a giant, and he radiated presence. She’d never seen him in person before this. He wore an immaculate uniform, but without any medals. That was in stark contrast to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Both sides of Alan’s uniform contained rows of medals and ribbons. For some reason, McGraw seemed more genuine because of the lack.
The President stood and came around the desk, shaking each man’s hand, greeting him by name. With the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Sims used his free hand to clasp Alan’s hand. Sims grasped Harold by the elbow as they shook hands, and with McGraw, the President seemed to hang on dearly as the giant bear of a general shook.
The President sat in a rocking chair just as President Kennedy used to do. Being in motion seemed to help Sims think. Alan and Harold sat on the couch, one man at each end, while McGraw eased into a large stuffed chair facing the President. Anna sat to the side of the President and away from the couch.
“You know my personal representative,” Sims said, gesturing to Anna. “She will take notes and add insights as needed.”
Anna felt their stares, and it made her uncomfortable. She particularly felt General Alan’s disapproval of her because of her half-Chinese ancestry.
The President cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, we know the situation with the Chinese and Brazilians. These Noah-like rains have given us breathing space, bogging down the enemy’s relentless advance. It’s made it harder for us to resupply our troops, certainly, but it’s wreaked havoc on the enemy supply lines. Unfortunately the