Looking over to the Humvee, Scott returned Atwater’s salute before making for the Humvee with a deliberate pace. When he arrived there, he took the hand mike. Covering the mouthpiece, he looked at the driver. “How about checking with the folks over at that mess truck and seeing if there’s something decent to munch on.”

Knowing when he was being told to piss off, the driver gave Scott a crisp, “Sure thing, sir,” and took off on his fool’s errant.

When he was alone Scott settled into his seat, cocked his helmet over to the side of his head so that he could place the receiver up to his ear. “Dixon here. What’s up, sir?”

Poulengy was already on the phone. “I’ve got some good news for you from Campbell, Scottie,” the senior general stated cheerfully. “Though Dougie isn’t thrilled with parting with two of his precious infantry battalions and the helicopter assets to support them, they’re on their way to you.”

Scott managed a smile. “It’s good to see that even in today’s Army four stars can still prevail.”

“Well, even my folks agreed with your assessment.”

“That’s a first,” Scott shot back.

Ignoring the slur on the Army staff at the Pentagon, Poulengy continued. “It seems the main build-up of National Guard units continues to be around Twin Falls.”

“They hold the center position there. They can either stand fast, and make us come to them or, if one of my brigades gets too far ahead of the other they can sally out of their positions at Twin Falls and whack it,” Dixon stated coolly as he closed his eyes and visualized a map of Idaho in his mind. “Either way I expect they’ll do their best to snipe at us as we move north in the hope of eroding support for military action through the slow, continuous bleeding of the division.”

“My public affairs officers are already having to deal with that,” Poulengy replied. “Our friends in the media are asking the question, ‘what price submission?’ The editorial page in one of the papers here today is calling for the President to give peace a chance.”

Now it was Scott’s chance to moan. “Where, sir, have we heard that one before?”

“Let’s just hope we have no need for a bloody new wall in Washington when this is all over,” Poulengy stated slowly.

That thought brought the subject of his son back to the forefront of Scott’s thoughts. “Any word on the platoon?” he blurted.

Poulengy didn’t need to ask Scott which platoon he was talking about. There was only one that this particular division commander would bother the Chief of Staff of the Army with. “No, Scott,’fraid not. We’ve had a Guardrail aircraft over Boise continuously scanning every possible frequency the unit might be on. So far, nothing.”