Chapter 15: Assessing What Happened

A SCIF, Fort Meade, Maryland
0700 Hours (7:00 AM) EDT (Eastern Daylight Time) Wednesday March 28^th 2018

Appearing uncharacteristically rumpled, Mr. Adams called the meeting to order. He faced many hostile visages, his boss, John Bolton, the President’s National Security Advisor, had to exert some pressure to ensure all necessary organizations had sent a suitable representative. Most everyone here was disgruntled, although that accurately represented their superiors as well. With only a brief preamble, Mr. Adams presented an edited and enhanced video of the battle northeast of Cuauhtémoc.

The video began at 1515 hours ZPT / 1615 hours MDT / 2215 hours GZT, Tuesday the 27^th of March, 2018. The events of the next hour and twenty minutes were truncated to a presentation of less than twenty minutes. Mr. Adams gave a brief explanation of the local variation between the Mountain (Daylight) Time Zone and the Zona Pacifico Time Zone, that were normally synced; but due to the US Congress extending Daylight Savings Time, ZPT was still on “Standard Time” an “hour behind” MDT. Federal bureaucrats were familiar with the hassles of dealing with offices in the four time zones of CONUS. GZT or “Greenwich Zulu” Time (aka UTC) was understood by those who commonly dealt with international matters, or military veterans.

CONUS (Continental United States) UTC: “Universal Coordinated Time”)

The video started with images of the ruins of Cuauhtémoc, and the Mexican Army’s deployment to clear the roadblock and surrounding area on the east edge of the city. It quickly depicted the initial ambush, and the Mexican’s reaction to the unexpected attack. attempts to identify the anti-vehicular weapons were inconclusive; based upon the transcripts of the Mexican Army radio log, rendered in American English. The Mexican counterattack, and the resulting close combat took nearly ten minutes; including enhanced images of the monstrous creatures, especially the fearsome trolls. The cavalry charges, and the Mexican battalion successfully breaking contact to the east concluded the video.

The attendees were agitated, there was quite a bit of murmuring, the Mr. Adams cut short when he stood up and said, “These images confirm that Mexico has been invaded by Aliens.”

Soto voice, the representative from CBP (Customs and Border Patrol) said, “Maybe This will get Congress to Build the Wall.”

“Aliens? Aliens! Why is My Time being wasted with a fantasy of Orcs fighting the Mexican Army? Your Career is Over, if your Boss doesn’t repudiate you and this. This—Farce! That warmonger will be further disgraced.” Mr. Wadsworth Wilson, the representative from the Department of State shouted.

Ms. Velma von Bulow, the CIA analyst asked, “How did we Obtain these images? Who has altered them?”

Calmly, Mr. Adams said, “The data is being obtained by National Technical Means.”

“None of our assets have been re-tasked!” Ms. Helen Ling from the NSA (National Security Agency) insisted.

Mr. Adams said, “That is need to know. For now, very few people have a need to know. Your expertise should be sufficient to perform your duties.”

That statement earned Mr. Adams pervasive hostility, and a paucity of support. The hub-bub continued as he tried to placate the attendees that the videos, and other data, however obtained, was not altered, merely refined in a manner consistent with how similar images from Afghanistan, and elsewhere were ‘cleaned-up’ for viewing by people were not experts at interpreting the raw images and data. A number of short, bitter comments made it clear that most of these experts were dissatisfied with the decisions of Mr. Bolton, and the POTUS.

(POTUS = President of the United States)

Mr. Wilson from the Department of State said, “Inconceivable! Mexico is like the tenth or twelfth most powerful nation on Earth. Even if there was—some—threat—the Mexican Army could easily defeat it!”

Mr. Adams replied, “Mexico is rated Thirty-Fourth in global power rankings, between Switzerland and the Netherlands. Economic potential, petroleum and other natural resources, as well as industrial capacity are a more significant factor than their armed forces. Mexico has negligible naval power. Airpower is minimal, a few obsolescent F-5 Freedom Fighters only used for air shows, and some training aircraft that might also be used in the light attack roll. Most of their Air Force is used for their struggle against the Narco-Terrorist Gangs, and other domestic matters. Surveillance aircraft are mostly just Cessnas, King Aires, or other similar light aircraft. They have transport and cargo aircraft, and helicopters, not nearly as many as they should.”

Mr. Adams continued, “The Mexican Army concentrates most of their combat power in ten maneuver Brigades, near Mexico City. Based throughout the country are some one hundred Regional Battalions, each muster roughly three hundred and fifty soldiers. For more than a hundred years the Mexican Army is focused upon keeping the government in power. They suppressed the Catholics during the Cristero conflict in the nineteen thirties. In the sixties and seventies, they suppressed communists and indigenous agitators and insurgents in what some call the ‘Dirty War’ per capita, barely comparable to similar struggles in Central and South America. In the nineties they put down the Zapatista uprising in fourteen days.”

“Mostly, the Mexican armed forces are kept clear of the conflict against the Drug Lords. They are a deterrence against an escalation, and have been reasonably effective. Although the notorious Los Zetas Cartel was formed by former Mexican Army special forces, they are an exception. Wisely, the Mexican Government has kept most of their military out of the conflict with the drug cartels, so there is little reason to bribe them. A couple of years ago, when they reorganized their Federal Police, they transferred an entire brigade of military police into the civilian federal police. Understand, Mexican Federal Police are a paramilitary force, armed with assault rifles and machineguns. The Mexican Marines are an exception, they are probably the most effective anti-drug force.” Mr. Adams said.

“The soldiers and officers of the Mexican armed forces are not reviled by the populace; however, they are not particularly respected either. It is a generalization, but mostly accurate that the majority of Mexicans are patriotic, or at least nationalistic. Mexican soldiers have pride in their nation, and the army. They are adequately armed and equipped as a light infantry force, with no tanks, few artillery pieces, and some armored cars. Logistically, and in every other way, they are utterly unprepared for operations at the brigade level. Pentagon experts compare the Mexican Army to the US Army in Korea in 1950, and believe they could not sustain such operations for more than a week. For those not aware, in the early stages of the conflict in Korea, the US Army got its Ass Kicked!” Mr. Adams said.

Ms. von Bulow from the CIA said, “I am sure that is all very interesting to some. But what does it matter?”

Nobody else spoke up, so Mr. Adams said, “Military analysists project that if the USA provided significant logistical and intelligence resources, it is possible that the Mexican military could counter this invasion. However, it is extremely unlikely that the Mexican government will respond in a timely manner. Despite a disparity in firepower, numbers have a quality all their own. If wide swaths of Mexican territory are occupied by Alien forces, it could well destabilize at least the north-central region between our shared border and Mexico City. A refugee crisis worse than what Europe is experiencing due to the Syrian Civil War and other Middle East conflicts would erupt on our borders, and deluge Mexico City. Possibly resulting in government collapse.”

Ms. Ling from the NSA shrugged, and said, “I don’t see that any of this is worth re-tasking any satellites.”

Mr. Smith, from the NRO said, “Stop Bull Shitting! Your eggheads can monitor phones, computers, and other methods of communication and data transmission. You have been providing information to the DEA, and others. Whatever is going on, we need to start gathering information from a region we have mostly ignored, except for the drug war. We have been paying some attention to possible infiltration by OTMs, especially potential terrorists. Not nearly enough, in my opinion.”

(NRO: National Reconnaissance Office, DEA: Drug Enforcement Agency, OTM: Other Than Mexicans)

“Orcs don’t have Radios!” Ms. von Bulow the CIA analysist exclaimed.

“Let your Geek Flag fly, Girl!” Agent Walker, from CBP hooted.

Mr. Adams said, “Most of us here were Geeks in school, and in college. Many of us still are. We are supposed to be able to think outside the boxes. That’s why we are here. No Thin Skins. We need to provide options. We can’t afford to be caught with our pants down like we were on September eleventh two thousand and one!”

“Get Serious! This isn’t remotely the threat that OBL and Al Qaeda posed.” Ms. von Bulow insisted.

Ms. Casandra Lopez, the Defense Intelligence Agency analysist said, “I think that upwards of a hundred thousand, whatevers, could cause more chaos than nineteen fanatics with box cutters. Millions of refugees could be just as destabilizing as what happened on 9-11. Too often people like us sit on our hands, play it safe, and the People we are supposed to protect suffer!”

Dr. Melba Lawson, the representative from the Office of Science and Technology Policy was new to the group, but that didn’t stop her from stating, “Nobody is talking about the Elephant in the room, but I figure most of us are concerned about it. Mr. Adams, you keep using the term ‘Alien’ what exactly do you mean.”

Everyone was staring at him, when Mr. Adams said, “I mean Not of this Earth.”

The SCIF exploded with exclamations and profanity. Several people stood up, to shout from a more imposing position. People were waving their arms, somebody swept their laptop off the table, and it crashed onto the floor. Mr. Adams sat there, seeming to ignore the consequences of the bombshell he had detonated in their midst. At least one person tried to get up and walk out, only to discover the SCIF was lockdown and nobody could exit. This sparked another uproar. When the representative of the Department of State started shrieking, the CBP Agent slapped him, then the CIA Analyst slapped the CBP Agent. Finally, Mr. Abraham Lee from Homeland Security whistled loudly; then shouted, “At Ease!”

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Sit down and be quiet.” Mr. Adams said.

He continued, “Is anyone here willing to admit that their department or agency has Failed to detect, or report the presence of these creatures for more than two decades?”

Silence.

Mr. Adams said, “I think we can at least agree that despite some resemblance to the monsters in the tales of J.R.R. Tolkien, and other fiction, there are no credible reports of an army, or at least a horde of such creatures having existed?”

Several people nodded, or in other ways affirmed the statement, no one denied it.

Mr. Adams stated, “They are here, and they are real. Those are Facts. We don’t know where they came from, or how they got here, we must presume they are Aliens. Aliens. Unknown to us. We must find out what they intend to do, and how to prevent, or at least minimize how that negatively effects the USA. Figuring out how they got here, what they are, and where they came from are a much lower priority, except how those matters relate to our priority. Defeating them.”

“What! Nonsense! The USA shouldn’t involve ourselves in another war against unknown forces for unknown reasons, especially in Mexico! They won’t want us in Their Country. Mexico is no longer a signatory to the Rio Pact of 1947. The government of Mexico withdrew in 2002 from the Inter-American Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance. This will be another Vietnam or Iraq!” Mr. Wilson, the representative of the Department of State pontificated.

Mr. Adams said, “Thank you. That’s why you are here. I presumed we had some kind of alliance, like NORAD, or something.”

“So, what do we do?” The representatives from Homeland Security and the DIA said at almost the same time.

Mr. Smith from the NRO said, “If we can’t figure out a way to stabilize Mexico, and we probably can’t, Mexico will collapse. State is correct, direct intervention is off the table. For now. That means Millions of Refugees will stream into the USA. I would too if I were them. International treaties will require us to permit refugees, we must make viable plans to take care of them. Concentration camps will be unacceptable, doing nothing, or releasing them into CONUS would be catastrophic.”

He continued, “I recommend preparing refugee camps, calling them ‘Refugee Havens’ something similar to what Templar did in Malaysia in the 1950’s, research it. I recommend providing refugees biometric IDs, since nothing we are willing to do will fully contain them. This will be the best opportunity to implement mandatory biometric ID for all foreign visitors to the USA. Pro Active is better than reactive. You should plan for major deployments to the border with Mexico, the Gulf Coast, and southern California. Total mobilization of the National Guard and Reserves.”

“Mexico’s economy will collapse, from internal refugees, and other crises. That will affect the petroleum and agricultural markets, at a minimum. Our economy will tumble, if you fail, it will crash. Tens of Millions of refugees, food, medical, and other shortages. Lastly you can’t control the spread of information. Multiple entities are trying to do so. They will be caught, and there will consequences. You should advise against it. You will be ignored. Face it, unless we are blessed with multiple Miracles, we are doomed to Fail. Fail utterly. Plan for the consequences of failure.” Mr. Smith said bleakly.

“YOU’RE NUTS!” In unison was the gist of the cacophony of denial from nearly everyone in the SCIF.

Mr. Smith stood up, and shouted, “You prove my point. We have the information. We face no consequences for suggesting necessary options. Most people here won’t even contemplate practical solutions. Committees with blather, nothing effective will be accomplished, Crises will occur, and most will focus on blame shifting.”

He did not pause, and said, “We knew Japan would attack us in 1941 or 42, not necessarily at Pearl Harbor, it could have been the Philippines, Panama, or Hawaii. We weren’t prepared, and it cost us two additional years of fighting, and at least Two Hundred Thousand Dead Americans, perhaps that many crippled or seriously wounded!”

“Looking at the other attendees, each in turn, he continued, “Everyone knew that war was the only way to end slavery, but would not accept it, until the Successionists seized arsenals and other assets that almost let them win in the first six months! That also cost us more than two years of unnecessary bloodshed and suffering. Of those in both armies, one person in six was killed in fighting, wounded, or died due to sickness. In the 1850’s we had the world’s largest merchant marine, by the end of the war we had lost too much of it, and it would take nearly seventy years to be number one again. Then there is September 11^th we failed to take reasonable precautions. We had the Evidence, but Refused to Look at it!”

Mr. Smith said, “The governments of Iran, China, Russia, Venezuela, Cuba, and France have videos and other information about what is happening in Mexico, and are already plotting how to use it against the USA, if we are forced to react, we will Lose! The British, Israelis, and Brazilians also have been gathering intelligence, for their own reasons they won’t want us to fail. Most of the world will want us to suffer. We can’t afford to do nothing!”

Mr. Wilson replied, “We can’t afford to let your boss, Mr. Bolton, convince the Orange Man, er, the Army and Marines to invade Mexico. Again. You warmongers just want to bomb and invade everywhere! Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Yemen, the rest of the Persian Gulf, China, Cuba, Venezuela, Antarctica, there’s even rumors that your boss is worried about Greenland! No! We have treaties with Mexico. We don’t have overflight rights. We need to begin talks about the possibility of overflights, and the sharing of information-”

“No. Neither you, anyone else in the state department, or anyone else in this room will conduct unauthorized dissemination of top secret information. Not with Mexico. Not with anyone in your agencies that is not read in to this. Am I clear?” Mr. Adams said.

Mr. Adams swept his gaze across the people in the SCIF. He stared for a couple of heartbeats at each individual in the room. Some would not meet his eyes. He was tall, but often stooped, and hunched his shoulders, to avoid drawing attention to his gangly frame; otherwise, he might loom over people nearby, causing them to be uncomfortable. Never an athlete, he was what his colleague, Dr. Shapiro, called a nebbish. Rarely outside, his complexion was sallow, his lanky hair was prematurely graying, his ascetic diet was exacerbated by stress resulting in him losing weight, so that he appeared cadaverous in the dim lighting of the SCIF. Barely out of his twenties, yet he seemed to be well into middle-age. None-the-less, Mr. Adams possessed a je ne sais quoi that people sensed, even if they could not determine why. Perhaps that is why none of the others objected to his edict.

“Very well. We will meet here at ten-hundred hours, Friday, the thirtieth of March. You will be prepared to present the preliminary measures your agencies believe will begin preparing the USA regarding this threat.” Mr. Adams said.

Some of those present nodded, others avoided responding.

In minutes, all but two people had cleared the now unlocked SCIF.

A SCIF, Fort Meade, Maryland
0805 Hours (8:05 AM) EDT Wednesday March 28^th 2018 (5:05 AM ZPT)

“Mr. Adams, would you wait for just a couple of minutes? There is someone I want you to meet,” Mr. Smith said.

“Very well. Dr. Smith, if I may call you that? Since the working group broke up early, I currently have a brief gap in my schedule.” Mr. Adams said.

Dr. Smith replied, “How did you discover I have a PhD? Never mind. You may call me George. Please.”

Less than four minutes had passed when Dr. Smith and his companion entered the SCIF; they ensured the door was secure before he said, “Mr. Adams. May I introduce one of the few people I trust completely.”

Wiry, shorter than average, but stocky, his bronze skin was tanned and weathered. His wavy black hair was thick, noticeably longer than military regulation; hints of gray at his temples, and peppering his beard lent a touch of distinction. Despite his tailored suit, Mr. Adams sensed he was not accustomed to such garb. If Mr. Adams had not been focusing his attention on the stranger, he had an inkling he might not have noticed him. His stoic visage was unnerving. Yet when he smiled, his brown eyes came alive, altering his character, disarming Mr. Adams. His hands were calloused, his grip firm.

“You may call me Cid. May I have ten minutes of your time?” He said; his voice a rich baritone, with an accent that Mr. Adams did not recognize.

Mr. Adams said, “you, and George may call me Quincy. For you gentlemen, I can spare at least ten minutes.”

Cid said, “I have been consulting with George, Master Gunnery Sergeant McLaughlin, and some others about potential personnel for the Hidalgo task Force.”

He paused for a moment, then continued, “I am also aware of the results of the battle east of Cuauhtémoc. There is an opportunity. Circumstances are fleeting, and we must act immediately to take advantage of these circumstances.”

Interrupting, Mr. Adams asked, “what specific circumstances? How do you propose to exploit this opportunity?”

“Mexican authorities are panicking. They have isolated the 25^a Batallon de Infanteria, virtually exiling their only veterans, who have proven to be among their best soldiers, by their performance. They are scheming how to best scapegoat Teniente Coronel Heraldo de Ribera. Foolish. He and his soldiers have performed much better than the other Mexican forces have against the invaders. Its politics, of course. However, their blunder may be turned to our advantage.” Cid said.

Mr. Adams said, “I fail to perceive how such circumstances could be turned to our advantage?”

“I believe Teniente Coronel de Ribera is a Mexican patriot. He may be enraged by his superiors. Disgraced even, yet he remains dedicated to the Mexican people he has sworn to defend. Yet, if we were ease the suffering of his dying, and save the lives of some of his men whom are otherwise doomed to die. We would earn his respect, even, I believe, his loyalty.” Cid said.

Mr. Adams said, “Do we have assets in Mexico that I am not aware of?”

“We could have such assets on the ground shortly after nightfall.” Cid said.

Mr. Adams said, “I have many objections, without even hearing your proposal. I know nearly everyone else in our government would be even more vehemently opposed. I know I am ignorant in these matters. So, succinctly, explain to me why I am wrong.”

“As soon as possible, you are going to have to have Boots on the Ground. Even if you might find suitable personnel who were born in Mexico, they would be extremely unlikely to possess current information about Chihuahua. Utterly improbable that they could know about what has occurred recently in Cuauhtémoc. We could insert some graduates of the ‘Goat Lab’ or whatever they are calling the Special Forces Medical School, now.” Cid said.

Mr. Adams said, “Insert? How? I’m sure the Mexicans would notice a couple of doctors, or medics suddenly in their midst. Not to mention landing a helicopter or two, or even a V-22 Osprey will get their attention. I’m pretty sure we don’t have aircraft with a ‘Whisper Mode’ like in the TV show Airwolf.”

Cid chuckled briefly, then said, “No Quincy, we don’t have any such technology. At least not that I am aware of. But then, technical matters are not my specialty. HAHO. Parachuting using a technique referred to as High Altitude, High Opening; deploying from an MC-130J Commando II, such aircraft are assigned to several units. In particular the Ninth Special Operations Squadron, based at Cannon Air Force Base, New Mexico.”

Cid paused for a moment, looked Quincy in the eyes, and then continued, “Conveniently, that is where you are establishing the Hidalgo task Force. We could have the personnel, medical equipment and supplies, especially that used for treating burns, at Cannon before nightfall. An unclassified urgent request for something could be made by our liaison team in Columbia. A flight path from Cannon Air Force Base to Columbia might just happen to pass over the vicinity of San Andres, Riva Palacio, where the 25^a Batallon de Infanteria is currently located.”

Mr. Adams nodded.

“On the way south, the personnel would insert by parachute. It is extremely unlikely that they would be detected. They would make contact with Teniente Coronel de Ribera. If he agrees to our proposal, the aircraft declares a fictional emergency, and turns back for Cannon, releasing guided parachute containers with the supplies. In the unlikely event that Coronel de Ribera refuses our offer, the personnel E&E. That is Escape and Evade on foot back to CONUS.” Cid said.

Mr. Adams said, “I can imagine quite a lot that could go wrong. I can foresee many unfortunate consequences. I don’t have to be prescient to understand if I don’t green light this immediately, the opportunity will pass, and good men will die. Cid, you and George are the experts. Why do you believe this mad scheme has the slightest chance to succeed?”

“Because I will be leading the team.” Cid said.

George nodded.

“Hell in a Very Small Place. It’s the name of a book I read about the siege of Dien Bien Phu. Courageous men volunteered to parachute in to that cauldron too. Few of them survived.” Mr. Adams stated.

Cid replied, “I read that book too, before I joined the army. I have read it again, several times since.”

“I read it too, when I was in college,” said George, who maybe was, or was not, Dr. Smith.

Quincy stood up, all three shook hands, then departed the SCIF in silence.

2km west of San Andres, Riva Palacio, 45 km ENE of Cuauhtémoc, 55 km West of the city of Chihuahua
0515 Hours (5:15 AM) ZPT Wednesday March 28^th 2018 (Sunrise 0555 Hours)
(dialogue is in Spanish, but written in English; some Spanish in italics)

“Stand to in twenty minutes,” Cabo Gonzales said to Teniente Coronel Heraldo de Ribera CO of the 25^a Batallon de Infanteria.

“Gracias.” Coronel de Ribera muttered.

The steaming mug of coffee was even more welcome. Despite his bandages, and significant, painful burns upon his hands, Cabo Gonzales, Heraldo’s bodyguard and batman had carefully placed the hot mug of coffee atop a nightstand in the room of what had once been the manager of the hacienda. The bed had been transferred to the ranch house, where one of the numerous wounded soldiers of the 25^a Batallon de Infanteria needed it more. At age thirty-five, Heraldo discovered his body was sore in ways and places he never knew before. Sleeping upon on thin foam mat on a hard wood floor was better than laying upon the muddy ground. But not much.

Absently, he took a swallow of life-giving coffee, through the fog that was in his mind, he contemplated the duties of the coming day. His aching body belied the fact that soon after he had crawled into his sleeping bag, he had enjoyed a dreamless sleep. Heraldo feared that the images seared into his brain during his first battle would haunt his nightmares forever. Exhaustion had granted him oblivion. Lucky for him, for he would need his strength, mentally and emotionally, more than physically to cope with the toils of the day.

“You should rest Gillermo,” Teniente Coronel de Ribera said to Cabo Gonzales.

Cabo Gonzales replied, “everyone whom is capable should be on duty when we Stand To.”

“Si,” the Teniente Coronel agreed, knowing what battles to fight, and those he was unlikely to win.

In less than five minutes Teniente Coronel de Ribera had laced his boots, and put his body armor back on. He was out and inspecting the perimeter as the men were occupying their assigned locations, while the officers, and non-commissioned officers were supervising, and accounting for all personnel. There was remarkably little noise or fuss. Surprising, because this was the first time the 25^a Batallon de Infanteria had performed this military drill. Until now it had merely been a theoretical evolution, lectured about, but not executed.

Teniente Coronel de Ribera and his key subordinates had devised a simple defensive perimeter. A circle some two hundred meters out from the buildings. Most of the vehicles of the battalion had been parked before most of the soldiers went to sleep. It was similar to the hasty defensive position they had established at Rally Point Valeroso. Simple plans are not stupid in combat, because even the simplest tasks are often difficult to perform while under fire. He was proud of his men. They had conducted themselves courageously, despite fighting forces that seemed to have emerged from the pits of hell. Enemies even more savage than the pitiless Sicarios and other gangsters that plagued Mexico.

The actions, or more accurately, lack of actions by his superiors shamed Teniente Coronel de Ribera. They had promised MedEvac support. Too many wounded soldiers were dying, and others were in needless pain because no helicopters, nor other medical supplies had been sent. Worse, most of the FLAs (Four Litter Ambulances), HMMWV variants, as well as most of the medical supplies and equipment had been lost or destroyed during the battle. Fortunately, many of the medical personnel survived, however, if they did not get helicopters to bring more supplies, and to evacuate those with the most serious wounds; especially the burns, too many soldiers would die, who might otherwise live.

As he walked to various posts, checking the perimeter, and his men, Teniente Coronel de Ribera was concerned about his men. Morale was strong, despite the horrific battle they had engaged in. Their first taste of combat, and a bitter one at that. The soldiers of the 25^a Batallon de Infanteria displayed determination. Many of the soldiers seemed to be more fiercely determined to avenge their fallen comrades, than were most of the officers. Most of the officers felt they had been betrayed by their superiors at the headquarters of Zona Militar 5^/a.