Chapter 161: A Rock and a Hard Place

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

It was 3:00 AM when the Secret Service came to wake me. I came to with an agent standing by the side of our bed, gently nudging my right shoulder. I was spooned up behind my wife, who wasn’t wearing anything (things had gotten vigorous that evening!) Thankfully she had pulled the sheets up around her shoulders. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening, and then I groggily looked around. The light in the bedroom was on, and the agent who had been standing post outside the Residence floor was standing next to me. “What the hell?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s a problem,” he replied.

“Huh? What?” I rolled over and looked up at him.

Marilyn mumbled something and then rolled over. Seeing the light on, she opened her eyes and asked, “Carl, what ... WHO ARE YOU?” She scrambled down even further under the covers.

“Mister President, you need to come with us. There’s a problem. There’s a call from the Pentagon,” repeated the agent, who began trying to help me out of bed.

I sat upright and rubbed my eyes. “You couldn’t call?”

“You slept through it, sir.”

“Christ on a crutch. Okay, give me a second.” I rubbed my eyes again, and then rolled upright. “Go back to sleep, Marilyn. I’ll handle this.”

I stood up and headed into the bathroom. At least I had my briefs on. I took a leak and grabbed a pair of khakis and my bathrobe. When I came out, the agent had retreated to the living room. “What’s going on?” I demanded.

“They need you in the Situation Room, sir. They wouldn’t say why, but they really want to see you ASAP!”. He answered.

“This better be good!” I muttered, instantly realizing that whatever the reason was, I sure didn’t want it to be good! That would mean something had gone very wrong somewhere in the world.

He followed me down the elevator and to the Situation Room. I remember hearing that Johnson had gone down there at night in his pajamas to run the Viet Nam War. I hoped it wasn’t a precedent. I thought it might be, though. There is normally a flow and banter to conversations in the room, and now the air was icy and tense. An Army light bird was running the night shift. “You guys want me for something?” I asked.

He took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. It’s Iraq. They have made their move. Heavy bombardment and an attack against Peshmerga positions both east and west of Kirkuk.” I grunted and nodded. They had been surging back and forth for the last two weeks, feigning an attack and then backing down. Classic strategy, get your enemy used to your operational tactics, and then when he gets used to them, the next time you don’t back down. You move forward. “Sir, they are using chemical weapons.”

I stopped and stared at the lieutenant colonel, and then glanced around the room. The others were nodding somberly at this. “Seriously? They used gas? Is this confirmed?”

A major piped up from the corner. “Yes, sir, we are getting aerial confirmation from drones near Kirkuk, and it’s worse than that.”

“Talk to me, Major.”

“They have hit at least two A-teams working with the Peshmerga. We had confirmation from a commo sergeant in one of them, and both are off the air. They are using mustard gas, and it’s pretty ugly,” he continued.

I expelled my breath softly. “Ohhhhh ... shit!” Every eye in the room was on me. “All right, give me fifteen minutes to take a quick shower and dress. When I get back, I want a briefing. Start calling in the entire National Security Council and tell the Joint Chiefs that we will begin operations shortly. Tell them to take the safeties off because we will be going in hot and hard.”

Everybody seemed to stand taller as I said that. I headed back upstairs, to find a worried Marilyn in a bathrobe. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. It’s Iraq. You should go back to bed.”

“Just like that? What are you doing?” she pressed.

I stopped in the bathroom door and faced her, trying to smile. “I have to take a shower and get dressed. I’ll just be downstairs. Don’t worry. We’re fine and the kids are fine. I just need to be Presidential for a while.” I turned back and stripped off my robe and pants. I didn’t need my wife to worry that I was getting our country involved in a war where people were using weapons of mass destruction.

That’s what it was, of course. Mustard gas was a chemical weapon, part of the unholy trinity of nuclear weapons, chemical weapons, and biological weapons. For years our country had active programs in all three areas, but we had renounced chemical and biological weapons for quite some time. Personally, with my previous life experience as a chemist, nerve gas and the other gasses just scared the living hell out of me. A thimbleful of Sarin was enough to kill everybody in a small town or city, and we and the Russians didn’t have just thimblefuls, we had warehouses of this stuff spread around the world! The U.S. had been destroying it, as had Russia, but there was still some around.

Mustard gas was a blister agent, and dated back to World War I. It was nasty shit, and exposure can cause huge pus-filled painful blisters on any exposed skin. It can also cause blindness and, if inhaled, can totally fuck up your lungs. Even better, if it doesn’t kill you, it can cause cancer. The only good thing about mustard gas is that it isn’t incredibly lethal, unless you are breathing the shit straight. It mostly incapacitates the enemy, and overloads whatever medical support they have. It is persistent, so normally you can’t enter the area for days or weeks after an application. Civilians, especially children and the elderly, are much more susceptible to mustard gas. Casualties would be very, very high.

More to the point, when the United States forswore using chemical or biological weaponry, part of the evil bargain was that we classed them with nuclear weapons and proclaimed them equally evil. If you used them, we would retaliate with nukes. This was the first time since the First World War that anybody had used chemical weapons on American troops, and as sure as death and taxes, there would be calls for me to nuke Baghdad.

It was closer to twenty minutes before I made it out of the bathroom, and while I had shaved, I was only wearing khakis and a sport shirt and some loafers. Marilyn was still up and had a glass of juice ready. I was tempted to tell her I would get something downstairs, but she was too worried. I smiled and drank my juice, and then gave her a big hug. “It will be fine. You should go back to bed. I’ll talk to you later.” With that I headed back out again.

I arrived back in the Situation Room and was still the only member of the NSC which had arrived, but that was only because I happened to live on the premises. I was promptly informed that everyone had been contacted and was either enroute, or not available. Eric Shinseki was currently in Tel Aviv, meeting with Ehud Olmert, the new Prime Minister. Ariel Sharon had suffered an almost mortal stroke in January and was now pretty much a vegetable.

I sat down at the end of the table, facing the big display screen. “Are there any changes? Are we sure they are using chemical weapons?” I asked.

Lieutenant Colonel Parker was still there and was cueing up a map of northern Iraq. “Yes, sir. There is no question about it. We managed to get through to one of the A-teams, and the exec confirmed it. They took both high explosive and chemical rounds, and he confirmed the presence of mustard gas. Casualties have mostly been from the HE, but mustard gas can take up to 24 hours to show the symptoms. Still, he confirmed that gas rounds landed, and the characteristic smell is present, and that skin blistering is beginning.”

I nodded. I picked up the phone and reached the switchboard. “I need to speak to the Prime Minister of Israel as soon as possible. If he’s in a meeting, ask somebody to break in. If that doesn’t work, get the Ambassador or General Shinseki to break down the doors over there. Thank you.” I hung up the phone. It was doubtful that the Prime Minister wouldn’t take my call, but he might have been occupied or something.

Vice President McCain was the first person to arrive, followed closely by Frank Stouffer. “What’s going on, Carl? Is it Iraq?”

I nodded. “Yes, and they are using mustard gas,” I answered.

John’s eyes opened wide at that, though Frank didn’t really react. He might not realize just how nasty the stuff was, and how bad a situation this was. Before John had a chance to ask me anything further, Condi Rice came in, dressed about as informally as the rest of us were. “Mister President?” she started, just as the phone in front of me rang.

I looked at the light bird. “Colonel, drag them down there and tell them what you’ve told me so far. I have to take this.” The colonel motioned them to the other end of the room, and I picked up the phone. I stuck my left index finger in my left ear to drown out the babble around me and held the phone up to my right ear. “Hello?”

“Mister President, this is Ehud Olmert speaking. You asked to speak to me?”

“Thank you for taking my call, Mister Prime Minister. I apologize, I truly do, but this is very important.”

“Of course. How can Israel help you, sir?”

“Mister Prime Minister,”, I started. “As I am sure General Shinseki has informed you, the United States intends to help defend the Kurds against an Iraqi attack. That attack has just begun, and it is our intention to respond. The response will begin within a matter of hours. Now, the last time the international community went to war with Iraq, in 1991, Hussein responded by firing missiles at your nation. We are very worried that he might do the same at this time, and I must inform you, sir, that he has already used poison gas against both Kurdish and American troops and civilians.”

I could hear him inhale sharply at that. Israel is a small country, roughly the size of New Jersey, but with a bit smaller population. Unfortunately for them, everybody in the Middle East hated them and wanted them exterminated, and everybody had some sort of weaponry that could reach them. Only the fact that they had an overwhelming conventional weaponry superiority, plus nuclear weapons, kept their enemies at bay. When Hussein fired his Scud missiles at them in 1991, the intention was to draw them into the fray, and thus break up the Coalition. If he fired chemical rockets at the Israelis, there was a very good chance that Baghdad would disappear in a nuclear fireball.

After a second, he responded, “That is a most serious claim, Mister President. Are you sure on this?”

“We already have battlefield reports, sir. I am sure that with your extensive intelligence sources, you will be able to verify this in very short order.”

“If this is true, Mister President, it is a most grave and serious matter,” he said slowly.

In diplo-speak, the phrasing used by diplomats, the word ‘grave’ is used only in the most dangerous and serious of circumstances. If one nation tells another that there will be grave repercussions to an action, it means there will be a war.

“That is why I am calling you. My nation realizes that yours is uncomfortably close to Iraq, and that there may be an attempt to draw yours into this affair. It is our sincerest hope that you refrain from any such response,” I told him.

“What is your current intention, sir?”

“We will be beginning a military response shortly, certainly by the end of the day. We intend to bring the full weight of our military to bear to defend an ally, just as we would do with any other ally in the area.” ‘ Just like we would do with you’ was left unsaid.

“And if Hussein were to repeat his past history by launching missiles at Israel,” he pushed.

“While we certainly would understand Israel’s desire to respond, I have to be honest and say that it might not be helpful. On previous occasions you have held off on retaliation, and that worked best for everybody.”

“That will be very dependent on Saddam Hussein’s actions, and the type of attack he makes, if he makes one at all. Now I will be honest, Mister President. If chemical weapons are unleashed on my nation, we will be making a response, and it will be overwhelming and appropriate.”

I sighed mentally. “I appreciate your candor, sir. Let us hope that this does not occur. I am sure I will be speaking to you frequently soon. I am sorry I have not been able to visit and meet you prior to this. National Security Adviser Shinseki is in your country now, and I wish that he stay there as my personal representative, along with our Ambassador. Is this satisfactory?” I asked.

“Of course.”

We finished with some very brief pleasantries and hung up. I knew that Olmert was going to get the Israel security apparatus in high gear in a matter of seconds. With any luck, I would be able to talk to Shinseki at some point.

By now we had also gathered in Paul O’Neill, my soon-to-be-retiring Treasury Secretary, and Tom Ridge, the Defense Secretary. General Pace was in Europe, at a NATO conference, and was on the speakerphone, as was Eric Shinseki. Richard Clarke was one of the last to arrive. I looked around the room. “Has everybody here got the gist of what has happened? Eric, have you had a chance to talk to the Prime Minister yet?”

“He’s on my list right after we hang up. The Israelis are not going to be amused,” came from the speakerphone.

“When I talked to him, he basically implied that if the Iraqis lob chemical weapons at them, they will nuke Iraq to cinders,” I responded. Around me I heard a few quiet gasps, but not many. This was not an unexpected response.

“That would be in line with their public statements, sir. I think it would be quite likely,” he answered.

“Eric, try to keep them calm. If they do that, this thing gets out of hand quickly.”

“Understood, sir.” I heard some fumbling around, and he continued, “Mister President, I just received a request to meet with the Prime Minister.”

“Okay, Eric. You go see him, and then call me back. Thanks.” There was a click and that connection broke, followed by a comment from the switchboard the line was disconnected.

I looked at the others, now seated around the table. “Colonel, think you can do this in ten minutes?”

He nodded affirmatively. “Yes sir!” With that he threw the map of northern Iraq up on the screen, focusing in on Kirkuk and the border between the Arabs and the Kurds. It was neither a straight line, nor a defined line, but more a fuzzy area where both types might live side by side, harmoniously or not. For the next ten minutes he showed where the Kurdish Peshmerga had units, where the American adviser groups were, and where the Iraqi Republican Guard was attacking. It looked a lot like a pincer movement designed to surround and isolate Kirkuk and kill any civilians or soldiers in the pocket. He also threw up onto the map locations where there were known and suspected chemical attacks.

You don’t normally use chemicals on areas you plan to move through. For trained and prepared troops, chemical warfare is quite survivable, but it is very unpleasant. The pace of combat slows to a crawl because everybody is moving around in chemical resistant suits and gas masks, and everything needs constant decontamination with lots of water and other chemicals. Most of the time you use chemicals as an area denial weapon, to keep the other side from moving through the area. It is also very effective if you plan a genocidal extinction of your enemy. Both uses seemed to be at work here. If the Iraqis managed to surround Kirkuk, they could move in and kill the Kurds at their leisure. Casualties would be massive and one-sided. From there, they could move forward, deeper into Kurdistan, probably towards Erbil, and repeat the process.

I looked around the table. Every eye was on me. “Does anybody here have any reason that we should not be making a response to this? Before I give an order, tell me right now if I am going to screw this up completely. I know we have discussed this, but chemical weapons will throw a real kink into this. If they hit Israel with them, Iraq will go up in a mushroom cloud, and we get into a real disaster then!”

I looked around the table. John McCain simply said, “Go!” Across from him, the youngest guy in the room, my Chief of Staff Frank Stouffer, simply nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. Richard Clarke also nodded and gave an approval, as did Tom Ridge and Paul O’Neill.

Condi Rice interjected, “Before we do this, sir, we need to get Turkey on board. I know we have already discussed this with them, and they have told us they will go along, but we will need to formally make the request and tell them about the chemical weapons.”

I shrugged. “Okay, good point. Here’s what we’ll do. Condi, you get in touch with Erdogan and give him the latest. Tell him we are going to attack from the south regardless, but we really need to go in from the north. Promise him your first-born male child if you have to but get him on board. The same will go with Eric and the Israelis, to keep them from jumping in. Call them, too, and get the Ambassador in the loop. General, I am going to go upstairs and get dressed and get something to eat. By the time I am done, I will have some answers and will travel to the Pentagon. Make some phone calls and tell everybody to get ready. Also, call an emergency meeting of NATO, or whatever you can manage over there, and inform them. I would dearly love NATO support. Condi, the same goes for the U.N. I hereby am ordering the 82^nd into action. Tell the Navy and the Air Force to prepare for an immediate ‘Execute’ order. Frank, get the Congressional and Senate leadership to my office this afternoon. Also, get Will to set up a national broadcast tonight. I need to tell the country I just put us at war and tell Matt and Marc to see me about a speech. John, I want you out of Washington for the moment, just in case these idiots want to try something here. I want you safe.”

Around the table, I heard a chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’

I stood up and the meeting was over. I touched the Vice President on the arm and said, “I might be overreacting, but just in case, get on Air Force Two and go somewhere. Before this is over, I imagine I will be using you as a personal ambassador. Either way, you will be in the loop.” It was standard procedure to separate the President and the Vice President in a crisis; I had been part of that on 9-11.