Read Don Pendleton - Civil War II for Free Online Page A

the man credit. When the rest of us were laying around moaning and licking our wounds, he's the guy got this Omega Project to turning. He set up the communications links, he made the contacts with the government niggers, he got the towns organized and pulling together toward the common goal. It's been his show from the very beginning. A bunch of whining Johnny-come-latelys aren't going to stand up now and start telling him how to run things."
    The military commander, Warren Hutchings, rolled his eyes heavenward. "He still ain't no damn messiah! And I'm telling you a limited war never did work. Now I learned that in the mudholes of Vietnam. Where'd Abe learn his military stragegy? On what campus of what university in what protest demonstration? Huh?"
    "He knows what he's doing," Smart muttered. "General Bogan is not exactly anybody's damn fool, you know. A man don't get to be boss of the whole damn armed—-" "I don't trust that son of a bitch either!" Hutchings said.
    "He ought to know better. He fought in Vietnam, he fought in Laos, he fought in Thailand, he fought every damned limited war there ever was to fight. Once I'd like to hear about just one unlimited war he ever fought. I'm telling you, Phil, this plan is crazy. When an armed force seizes the initiative, then they've got to hang onto it. Hell, man, you don't break a charge in mid-stride!"
    "Abraham Williams says Phase Two only, and Phase Two only it's going to be," the Mayor said doggedly. "Now are you going to lead the KC forces or aren't you?"
    "I'm leading! I'm leading! But you mark my words, and you remember I said it three times, and I haven't even heard any cock crowing around here yet. Abe Williams ain't no Black Messiah!"
    CHAPTER 6

    The council of war was underway in the only Phase Three area of the nation. Present were Abraham Lincoln Williams, serving as unofficial Chief Executive of Black America, Army Chief of Combat and Commander of the Unified Town Militia; General Jackson T. Bogan, Tactical Air Command Chief; General Hawley Matthews, also representing the Military Airlift Command; Colonel Brownleaf, Troop Commander of the small army garrison at The Presidio in San Francisco and also special adjutant for the California State Guard; Norman Ritter, Intelligence Chief for the Omega Project; a Captain Toney, USN, Tactical Officer for the 12th Naval District; a Colonel Horace, Commanding Officer of the Special Reaction Group at Ford Grd; and a number of junior officers from the several services. Also present was Sam Danniger, a newly commissioned colonel in the black militia and in charge of the Oakland forces.
    The meeting was being conducted in the special war room at Oakland's Warhole, and Abe Williams was presiding.
    "Now listen, I want no goofs," he told the assembled brass. "When I say a limited Phase Three, that's exactly what I mean. How's our timetable, Jackson?"

    "Looks good," the old soldier reported. "Colonel Horace sees no problem with the airlift By the way, I've got Bob Donaldson manning the war room at the Pentagon. He's a sharp boy, and he's going to be right on top of the show throughout the night. We have the dummy wargames board up and running, with the press and all invited to observe. So far no takers, the nation lost interest in wargames several crises ago. But just in case something slips and someone gets the idea that a lot of troops are moving about. . . well, we've got the cover."
    "Fine," Williams said. "Let's run through our timing once lightly. Forgive me if I'm belaboring, but this entire operation hinges on split second timing, complete discipline, and absolute intimacy with the battle order. Colonel Horace—if you will."
    Horace was a man in his mid-fifties with the rock-jawed hardness of the career combat soldier. He stepped up to the chart and tapped a thick finger on the marker at Ford Ord. "In line with the dummy wargames, we're lifting off twenty-two troop copters at 2200 hours, I will be in the lead vehicle with a