August 5, 1942
“The time is midnight in New Orleans, Louisiana. I am General Malcolm Little, broadcasting over the transmitters of Radio Dixie across the continent of North America.”
“I am the voice of free Negroes across the continent. This is Radio Free Africa.”
“Across our continent, Negroes are rising against the tyranny of Franklin Roosevelt. In Baltimore, in the streets where I once fought, Negroes used the cover of darkness to destroy three barges of military supplies headed down the coast to American occupation forces. In Louisville, Negroes armed with nothing but clubs surprised an annihilated two American squads, seizing their weapons and escaping. And most importantly, in Vicksburg, Negroes with knives and shotguns, nothing more, descended upon an American depot late at night, overwhelmed at least a company of soldiers, and set afire a gasoline transfer station before leaving with the Americans’ weapons.”
“We fight with little more than sinews and bones, muscles and pride. We are heirs to kingdoms lost, and we fight as princes and nobles against these arrogant Americans who have worked so many of our brothers and sisters to their early deaths in their factories. Those days are over. This is the hour of rebellion. We have a homeland in America. When the United States is defeated, we shall assemble here, where we have rights to own the land and work the port, where we can create our own territory within a friendly nation. Here, my people, the Confederate States Whites are standing beside Negroes in defiance. Let me tell you a story from just yesterday.”
“The Americans seem determined to stop me from leading you. Yesterday we endured a strike by at least two hundred medium and heavy bombers against New Orleans. Damage to the city was heavy, and over a thousand of our Negro brothers and sisters were murdered by the Americans, killed helpless in their homes and on the streets.”
“But our transmitter is undamaged.”
“And more importantly, the Americans learned what our anti-aircraft guns can do. My Negro family, the Negro Army has fighting men, tanks, and howitzers, but the big anti-aircraft guns are manned by White men serving under me in the Negro Army. These White men, fighting by our side, under Negro command, took down at least thirty-seven big bombers in one afternoon. Think of that! Think of their courage! Think of their skill! And think, most of all, of how the world has changed—White men under Negro command accomplished that victory. Brave White men, courageous White men, skilled White men, risking their lives under Negro command to defend this Negro homeland. My people, the world has changed. President Long, and all of his military, have accepted us as equal co-belligerents. Think of that—today, for the first time, we stand as equals, with a land of our own. This moment must be seized! This opportunity for our people must be captured and defended before it passes from this world.”
“But with that direction, with that call to action, a caution for our brothers North of the Border. In Gary, Indiana, three proud brothers sabotaged a foundry. They did well. Cauldrons of molten iron were spilled across the facility. The factory is ruined.”
“But those men are dead. They had no place to run. Their attack was not coordinated. Friends, brothers and sisters, remember this—if you are within the United States, the time is not now. Hide your weapons. Fool your oppressors. Just go about your business. But listen here, every night. The moment will come when we can support you. At that instant, you must strike with all of your might, in defense of our dream…in defense of a land of our own.”
“This is Radio Free Africa. Now music, followed by interviews of Negroes who survived the bombing of New Orleans.”
Tribal music segued over the few last words of his voice.
General Little killed the microphone. “How did I do?” he asked Admiral Spruance.
“Impressive, as always, and you didn’t even hint that the radar fire control of the Virginia made that bomber slaughter possible,” answered Raymond Spruance. “Well done.”
“I try,” said General Little.
“And you usually succeed. Let’s get to bed, Malcolm. The bombers will be back later today.”
“Raymond,” corrected Admiral Spruance.
“Yes, Admiral, Raymond. Pardon, but it’s hard with you.”
Admiral Spruance smiled. “Thank you, General Little. Let’s go to bed.”
August 5, 1942
The knock on the open doorway between the outer and inner offices was so soft as to be almost inaudible.
“Come,” said Vice Admiral Alden.
Chief Nurse Hanes stepped into the inner office, still in her perfectly starched Massachusetts General Hospital Nurses’ Whites. “Chief Nurse Hanes, reporting for duty, Admiral,” she said, softly but clearly.
“Very well. You remember Commander Adams, of course?” asked Vice Admiral Alden.
“I do, Sir,” she said, nodding deferentially. “My apologies for yesterday.”
“Very well,” said Commander Adams.
“And Admiral, my profound apologies. I had forgotten my military training, and my words were out of line.”
“Very well. Have a seat, Chief Nurse Hanes. How did you sleep your first night?”
“I didn’t, Admiral. Chief McGuire and I were up all night together.”
“I know. Did you learn anything?”
“Admiral, I’d thought that I was reporting to an officer training command as a nurse, probably to treat venereal diseases with discretion. I had to be professional and stern, but with discretion. I knew where the War College was. I ignored the ‘Condemned’ sign and walked into the wrong doorway and almost died. Then I came up the other stairwell, walked into your office, and almost died again. I request that you forgive me. I had no idea what I was walking into. I apologize for everything.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe. Commander Adams?”
“Chief Nurse Hanes, excepting our addressing the admiral, most of us are on a first-name basis here. May I call you Catherine?”
“Kate, Sir. Actually, most people call me ‘Nurse Hanes,’ but Kate, to a few.”
“Well, my mother,” she admitted.
“And?” inquired Thomas B. Adams.
She looked down and exhaled. “Commander, we make choices in our lives. I did well as a yeoman fresh out of high school from 1916 to 1919, serving for the Fleet Admiral here in Newport. They needed the best, and I was the best. After that, I had four choices: being a secretary, being a nurse, being a schoolteacher, or being a wife. Back then I was reasonably good-looking, but none of the officers impressed me. I detested the thought of serving such men as a secretary, and the thought of dealing with children appalled me. I chose to be a nurse in the field where I would have the greatest authority, and where I would have to deal with the fewest men. I embraced my career.”
“So, you have no friends?”
“I have found friends a burden, always wanting favors.”
“And at the hospital, the other nurses call you…”
“Nurse Hanes. I am supervisory to all other nurses in my department. A first-name basis would be inappropriate.”
“Of course. And the doctors?”
“They call me Nurse Hanes. They call other nurses by their first names, but, again, it is truly inappropriate for the professional relationship. There are times that I have more professional experience or better insight and I have to correct a doctor.”
“I am sure,” said Vice Admiral Alden.
“But,” continued Commander Adams, “Your mother calls you ‘Kate,’ but everybody else in this world calls you ‘Nurse Hanes.’”
“Ah. Who else calls you ‘Kate’?”
“Aha! So you have a new friend?”
“It would take me a very long time to make a friend.”
“Of course,” interjected Vice Admiral Alden.
“But, may we all call you ‘Kate,’” asked Commander Adams.
“Of course, Sir!” answered Chief Nurse Hanes.
“Good. I hope that it would make you feel at home.”
“No, Sir, it would make me uncomfortable or worse. Roberta is a Chief and I am a Chief. Perhaps we can be friends. But for professional purposes, I really feel that I am most comfortable being called Chief Nurse Hanes. Sir.”
Vice Admiral Alden and Commander Adams looked at each other. “Very well,” said Commander Adams.
“Do you know why you were chosen to be here?” asked John Alden.
“Because you needed a professional to care for Lieutenant Jewell, Sir.”
“Yes, but, why you?” continued Vice Admiral Alden.
“Why not me?” asked Chief Nurse Hanes. “It had to be somebody. I was drafted.”
“Thomas?” said John Alden, as a direction, not a question.
“Chief Nurse Hanes, we needed three things from you. First, we needed the best care possible for Lieutenant Jewell. Can you accomplish that? We know you’re the best at childbirth, but are you the best at pregnancy?”
“Of course! I’ve examined her already. What do you need to know?”
“We want to know the least possible,” said John Alden, “While knowing what we need to know regarding mission. Can she continue her job safely?”
“Of course!” said Chief Nurse Hanes. “She’ll be fine. But she authorized me to tell you that I think that she’s carrying twins.”
“Twins!” exclaimed Thomas B. Adams.
“How do you know so soon?” asked John Alden.
“I know, Sir,” said Chief Nurse Hanes. “You know your profession. I know mine.”
“I…very well,” said John Alden. “Thomas?”
“Second, we needed somebody who could review message traffic rapidly. We get hundreds, or sometimes thousands, of messages each day. We have a three-tier system of deciding which messages get to Vice Admiral Alden. Ideally, I am the middle rung. Right now, I am the first two rungs. The task is wearing me out.”
“Commander, I was going to comment,” began Chief Nurse Hanes.
“And third, any medical professional would comment,” said Vice Admiral Alden. “A medical doctor could overrule my authority and throw Commander Adams out of our command for medical reasons. You, Chief Nurse Hanes, cannot.”
“I see. Commander Adams, you realize that you should be in a hospital?”
“I rather believe that I should be dead by now, Chief Nurse Hanes,” replied Thomas B. Adams.
“No, Sir, you are far too much of an +*+%*!% to die,” she replied, straight-faced.
John Alden laughed. “Thomas, you have a gift for picking talent,” he said.
“Thank you, Admiral. Chief Nurse Hanes, we needed three things, but you’re here for four reasons. One is offering our isolated staff general medical care equivalent to that which might be offered by a doctor. The second is your experience as an excellent yeoman, and your ability to screen message traffic. The third is your ability to care for Lieutenant Jewell appropriately. She is, unfortunately, irreplaceable to our nation at this time. But fourth, Chief Nurse Hanes, you can see it in my eyes—I’m dying. Your job is to keep me alive as long as possible.”
“Yes, Sir. I can do all of that. But regarding your personal health, as long as you maintain your attitude, you’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye out. But Lieutenant Jewell shouldn’t be here at all while pregnant. And Admiral Alden, one important thing?”
“Yes, Chief Nurse Hanes?”
“If you do not fumigate that staircase, you will die, but before that, Lieutenant Jewell’s babies will die. For God’s sake, get your head straight, Admiral. Seal the unit and fumigate it. You know war. I know medicine. Do what I say.”
“Admiral, Chief Nurse Hanes is here for a reason. I recommend that we follow her suggestion.”
“It sounded like direction to me, Thomas.”
“Well, yes, Admiral. But who survives on this team?”
John Alden smiled. “We fumigate,” he said. “After the meeting, Chief Nurse Hanes, we shall work out how to arrange that. But you win—you are right—and you were correct to persist in an area of your expertise. Continue to be assertive where you know best. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Admiral. Shall I depart?”
“No, Chief Nurse Hanes. We’re about to have a planning meeting, where we discuss options on an issue of national significance. By tradition and practice, everybody is included, regardless of role.”
“Isn’t that inefficient? If I have an issue with a pregnant woman, I decide. If I have an issue beyond my expertise, I ask a medical doctor within an appropriate specialty. But I don’t collect janitors and clerks to ask their ideas. I am a nurse, and, modesty aside, a very good nurse. I know my field. I trust that you, Admiral, know your field well enough to make all necessary decisions.”
“Well, thank you, Chief Nurse Hanes, and, as a Commanding Officer of a warship, I did that,” said Vice Admiral Alden. “But this is different. You’ll see. Keep quiet if you choose, but if you see something we’re missing, by all means, speak up. We function here as a team.”
Chief McGuire knocked on the open door between the outer and inner offices. “Admiral, the staff is here and ready.”
“Please, bring them in. Chief Nurse Hanes, have you met Lieutenant Wilkinson?”
“We have met in passing. Chief Nurse Hanes, thank you for joining us,” said Edna Wilkinson.
“You’re welcome,” replied Chief Nurse Hanes.
“And this is Petty Officer John Chiang,” said John Alden.
“A boy?” asked Chief Nurse Hanes. “My God, he’s pre-pubescent! Isn’t it a war crime to have him here?”
“No, Chief, but thank you for asking, and it is a pleasure to meet you. I was assigned here as a cook, which is legal under both Geneva and the Hague. I have been reassigned as a simulation analyst. But unlike everybody else here, I do not carry a firearm,” replied Petty Officer Chiang, politely.
“And now Major O’Brien is the cook? Why?”
August growled. “Stay,” said Major O’Brien. “Good dog.” He scratched August’s ear. The Doberman leaned into the attention, but continued to growl, almost, but not quite, sub audibly.
“Because Petty Officer Chiang is the only one of us good enough at math to learn what Channah has developed,” said Thomas B. Adams. “She was a math major at Wellesley who took most of her courses in her major at Harvard. She’s among the best in the world at math, and she’s unique in her ability to use math for military simulation, having built upon the work of Noah Watson. John Chiang could never have designed or created what she has, but he can learn what she’s done. I can’t. You can’t. None of us can. He was reassigned.”
“Just get a mathematician. Harvard has plenty. NEIT has more. You can put anybody in uniform. You did it to me.”
“You don’t seem to be wearing a military uniform, Kate,” said Chief McGuire.
“I chose the uniform of my nursing school,” said Chief Nurse Hanes, rather haughtily.
“Choice of uniform is rather rare in our military,” commented Edna Wilkinson.
“I rather believe it appropriate,” said Chief Nurse Hanes.
“And welcome aboard. I accept your choice,” said Vice Admiral Alden. “But keep on mind that you, and not some other nurse, are here for a reason. When we had a chance to throw you off to prison—or to kill you—we didn’t, because we need you, exactly who you are. I am the Commanding Admiral here. I need all of you, each one of you,” he continued, looking around the inner office, “Exactly as you are. Chief Nurse Hanes, you are here for a reason. Please understand, we don’t just welcome any mathematician.”
“Well, thank you, but there must be some genius mathematician.”
“There is! His name is John Chiang. If you look at his life, he has spent every moment preparing for a niche role right here. We are very lucky to have him,” replied John Alden.
“How can a child be best for this role?” demanded Chief Nurse Hanes.
“Courage and military knowledge,” said Major O’Brien.
“He’s really good at calculus, faster than I am,” said Lieutenant Jewell.
“Faultless etiquette, much better than yours, Kate,” said Chief McGuire.
“Adapting seamlessly to this very unique situation,” said Edna Wilkinson.
“Years of service to the Royal Family, always succeeding in roles for which he was far too young, under the utmost scrutiny,” added Thomas B. Adams.
“And I just think that he’s best, and it’s my call,” said John Alden.
“Thank you, Admiral,” said Petty Officer Chiang, nodding respectfully.
“Kate?” asked Chief McGuire.
“I apologize,” said Chief Nurse Hanes. “I was wrong. Petty Officer Chiang, it is an honor and a privilege to meet you, and I look forward to serving beside you as fellow professionals.”
“Thank you, Chief Nurse Hanes. The honor and privilege are mine. But, please, welcome aboard. I hope to be, in time, your friend.”
The staff, excepting Chief Nurse Hanes, smiled.
“Then seats, everybody,” said John Alden. “Chief Nurse Hanes, take that chair,” he gestured.
“Thank you, Admiral,” she replied. Nobody told her that she was taking Samson’s chair.
August growled again. “August, no, bad,” said Major O’Brien.
“Is he vicious?” asked Chief Nurse Hanes.
“No, but he has killed,” replied Edna Wilkinson, calmly, smoothing her khaki shorts as if they were her skirt after sitting.
“August, no.” said Major O’Brien, batting his nose with two fingers. “It is all right. Sit,” he said, beginning the command raising two fingers, “and down. Good boy,” he finished, sweeping his fingers to the floor.
August sat and lay down. That done, he cast an evil eye at Chief Nurse Hanes, a stranger sitting in the wrong chair. He grumbled, almost too low to hear.
“Team, are we set?” asked Vice Admiral Alden.
“Yes, Sir, I believe so,” said Chief McGuire.
John Alden looked out at his team.
“Very well. The King has tasked me to create a plan for the assassination of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Ideas?”
Chief Nurse Hanes stood. “I am not cleared for this,” she said, preparing to leave.
“Sit down,” said Commander Adams. “You were cleared to the ‘Most Secret’ level before your arrival here. Had you failed the security research, you would not be here.”
“I…” protested Chief Nurse Hanes.
“Take your seat and join us,” invited John Alden. “This is now your job. You’re also our nurse, but everybody sits in on these sessions. I am sorry, you did not choose this, but your choices are participation or imprisonment for the duration of hostilities. I’d rather you join us.”
Chief Nurse Hanes grimaced. “A kind invitation, Admiral. I accept.”
“Wonderful! Thank you. Have a seat. Team, ideas?”
“This is my job,” said Major O’Brien. “Our job,” he added, touching August’s still alert head.
“We already knew that,” said Lieutenant Jewell.
“Well, yes,” added Lieutenant Wilkinson.
“But the ‘Here to There’ and ‘How to Do It’ are still issues, Major,” added Petty Officer Chiang. “How would you get to Chicago, Sir?”
“The United States has near-complete air supremacy west of the Appalachians,” added Edna Wilkinson.
“I’ll drive,” said Major O’Brien. “I’ve driven in the United States before in this war.”
“From where?” asked Channah Jewell.
“Quebec worked last time. Let’s try it again.”
“Let’s not,” said Thomas B. Adams. “Your killing the ferrymen got the United States thinking, and Quebec is under serious diplomatic pressure. We should try to avoid that path again.”
“Yes, Sir,” said George O’Brien. “Sorry.”
“Edna saw that coming,” said John Alden.
“Yes, Admiral,” she uttered in a remarkably bitter voice.
“What?” asked Chief Nurse Hanes.
“You are cleared. Do you wish to know?” asked Thomas B. Adams.
“Of course!” she spoke, indignantly.
“George and the last two members of the Iroquois tribe destroyed a huge American coal-to-gasoline plant buried in the Pennsylvania mountains. They got the explosives there by driving. The only way to do that was through Quebec. They made it through Quebec and into occupied Canada before discovering inspections on all of the bridges. They hijacked a ferry across Lake Erie and murdered its crew. Then they refueled without gasoline ration coupons from northwest Ohio to south-central Pennsylvania by murdering gas station attendants. Finally, they murdered the civilian workers at the plant, along with the military guards, before blowing up the plant and breaking the entire mountain. The Iroquois died in action. George survived. He fought his way from Pennsylvania to South Carolina to find an officer who knew him, and we flew him back to Newport, along with August.”
“Most of that was against International Law, wasn’t it?” asked Chief Nurse Hanes. “I’m not an expert, but I remember something from the Great War.”
“It was,” said George O’Brien, calmly. “I never took a life unnecessarily. I took many contrary to rules of war. The rules get pretty fuzzy in the course of combat, and sometimes civilians must be killed.”
“Easy, boy. Good boy, August,” said Major O’Brien.
“Good boy?” queried Chief Nurse Hanes.
“He protects me from threats. If he doesn’t trust you, we’ll kill you. As you now know, it’s nothing new for me.”
“Admiral!” screamed Chief Nurse Hanes.
“Prison?” asked Vice Admiral Alden. “Thank you for your visit. Your medical care was necessary and appreciated. If you like, I’ll send you to solitary confinement for the duration. You know too much to just go home.”
“This is unfair!” screamed Chief Nurse Hanes.
“Life is unfair,” said Commander Adams.
“And you are far more blessed than you choose to believe,” continued Lieutenant Wilkinson. “I’m inclined to trust August here, Kate. You’re not a team player. Shut your mouth, start to listen, and try to understand the sacrifices. My patience wears thin. Join our team.”
“All right. I am sorry. Please, forgive me,” said Chief Nurse Hanes.
August turned his head to the nurse. After listening, he gave a “Boof,” no growl, and turned his head back to John Alden.
“Your harshest critic seems to urge that we accept your apology, Chief Nurse Hanes. Please, Kate, try to understand the situation here.”
“Yes, Sir, Admiral.”
“Very well. Petty Officer Chiang, where were we?”
“Admiral, we were discussing how to get Major O’Brien to Chicago.”
“Right, thank you. We have underestimated your contributions. You are battlefield advanced to Chief Petty Officer retroactive to the date of the latest American attack upon this building.”
“That…is…very kind, Admiral. I believe that your decision would make me the youngest Chief Petty Officer in the history of our Navy.”
“Correct, Chief Chiang,” said Lieutenant Wilkinson. “I did a bit of research when you first reported. In the days of sail, there were petty officers younger than you were. But the youngest Chief Petty Officer was fourteen, almost fifteen. Congratulations.”
“And, by record, before we proceed, let it be recognized that Chief Nurse Hanes is now the junior member of our command, save August,” spoke John Alden.
“August?” asked Chief Nurse Hanes, not exactly happy.
“August is a private in the Royal Army, drawing pay and benefits as if he were a human soldier,” said George O’Brien.
“Chief Nurse Hanes, do you see that dog collar?” asked Channah Jewell. “That’s the Revere Cross. The official citation included two separate occasions of valor, each deserving of the Revere Cross, neither including his close combat in Newport that would have, by itself, been worthy of the award. August is a hero, and we all love him, yes, for that heroism, but mostly for his loyalty and kindness. The King made him a soldier when he heard of the dog, explicitly for the chance to reward him with the Revere Cross. The only soldier in this war with a record rivaling August’s is George O’Brien, and he could never have crossed from Texas to Virginia the way August did to find him again.”
“Kate,” said Chief McGuire, softly.
“Yes,” said Chief Nurse Hanes.
“Remember I told you that everybody here is here for a reason?”
Chief Nurse Hanes exhaled. “You are right. My apologies. Let us continue.”
“We were discussing the best way to travel to Chicago. Major O’Brien recommended a truck, without dissention. He suggested travel via Quebec, with which Commander Adams dissented due to highest-level intelligence regarding issues with our previous use of that route. We were left determining a route,” said Chief Chiang.
“Concur,” said Chief McGuire, checking her notes.
“And the best way is not Quebec. Ideas?” asked Vice Admiral Alden.
“North Georgia,” said Channah Jewell.
“Yes!” agreed Chief Chiang.
“Why, John?” asked Vice Admiral Alden.
“Lieutenant Jewell and I have been modeling this, Admiral. This is perfect! The Northern Georgia front is porous. The Americans try to interdict supplies coming north from Georgia into Tennessee to support the Scots-Irish militias in the Appalachians, but most of the trucks get through. Major O’Brien would have little problem.”
“George?” asked John Alden.
“Yes,” said Major O’Brien. “I could do it. I’d need a driver so I could fight if needed, but I could do it.”
“Think on that driver,” ordered John Alden. “George drives up from Georgia. We get to choose the vehicle. What do we choose?”
“Pick-up truck,” said George. “All the farmers drive pick-up trucks. It wouldn’t stand out at all, especially with two men and a dog.”
“And you could just carry gas cans in the back,” added Edna.
“Along with assorted junk and a few special weapons,” said John.
“Junk hides weapons,” added Thomas.
“But how would you get to Chicago?” asked Channah.
“Let’s look at a map,” said George. “The best route has got to be from Tennessee…how are the roads from Chattanooga to Nashville, then north?”
“Defended,” said John Chiang.
“We hold, more or less, the central pass through the Appalachians,” said Channah. “Chattanooga to Knoxville to Bristol to Roanoke to Lynchburg, then up the Shenandoah Valley more or less day by day. Everything west of Chattanooga to Bristol is heavily defended. It would be nearly impossible to pass through the lines.”
“George, you went through Lynchburg on your way south, right?” asked John Alden.
“Yes, Sir, Admiral.”
“Do you remember the roads?”
“The few I took, yes, pretty well. We needed gasoline, as I recall. I remember the bridge into Lynchburg pretty well.”
“What about heading north to Lynchburg and then veering east of the mountains, and crossing through either southern Pennsylvania or the pass once owned by the Chesapeake Republic?” asked John Alden. “If the Americans are ignoring rural traffic on a certain stretch of front, let’s take advantage of that.”
George O’Brien paused. “That’s a lot of gasoline for a pick-up truck,” he said, “But it might work.”
“We could give you different license tags for each stage of your anticipated journey,” said Edna.
“And if it were mostly gas cans in the back, I think it would work,” said George O’Brien.
“So, what would be your plan for Chicago?” asked John Alden.
“When we get there? I’d need two weapons, a scope-mounted Boys Rifle and a Thompson submachinegun with several drum magazines, as well as my pistol and some grenades. I expect, from what I know, that FDR takes the sun next to the Presidential Mansion daily. If that is true, I can easily find a spot from which to kill him. If he seems not to do that, August and I can infiltrate the Presidential Mansion. They’re not prepared for a man-dog team. I expect that we would penetrate and accomplish our mission.”
“That is both inelegant and stupid,” said Chief Nurse Hanes.
“And welcome to our team,” said John Alden. “Your better idea?”
“In a word, cholera,” said Chief Nurse Hanes. “Let me explain. I don’t know the exact structure of the Chicago water system, but most cities are fed from a single purification and chlorination point. Go in at night, kill the two or three workers, disable the purification and chlorination, and introduce cholera. Kill day shift as it arrives before it can report anything. Depart. Those missing night shift workers’ families will eventually raise a fuss. By then the city will have consumed cholera microorganisms for twelve hours, including an entire morning. The entire metropolitan area will be suffering horrible diarrhea. Then you go in with your dog and your gun, Major. Nobody will be able to fight you—and I would truly rather that you survive.”
“Unthinkable,” said Commander Adams. “I like it.”
“The collateral casualties would be numbered in the hundreds of thousands,” said Lieutenant Wilkinson.
“Yes. I had thought that this was what you did here,” said Chief Nurse Hanes.
“It is,” said Channah Jewell. “But you seem to have a gift for…cruelty.”
“I had thought that victory was necessary,” said Chief Nurse Hanes.
“And you are correct,” said John Alden. “Kate, despite a difficult start, I believe that you belong here with us. Team, refine the plan. Thank you. Dismissed.”