Cavanaugh inched closer to the physician’s assistant, speaking quietly. “Chief, it sounds like we’ve got an epidemic in the city.”
“You told me that, sir.” The physician’s assistant turned away from the battalion commander and the corpse to glare at the soldier Bratty had called on. “Prusinski, speak up. Unless you want everybody to know why you came crawling into my office last month.”
“We weren’t doing anything,” the specialist said. “Just washing up a little. He just washed his face and brushed his teeth. And I’m, like, washing my feet with this hose they got in there, and I look up, and he’s like somebody’s sticking a knife in him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“DeSantis brushed his fucking teeth? In rag water? From the tap?”
Specialist Prusinski nodded.
“Jesus Christ,” Chief Culver said. Then he turned to Cavanaugh. “It isn’t any kind of plague, sir. It’s worse. The water supply’s been poisoned.”
“Trouble in Nazareth, sir,” Mike Andretti told Harris as soon as the general walked in for the morning go-round.
That woke Harris up. Helped by the piercing smell of insecticide recently sprayed.
“What kind of trouble? Talk to me.”
“Looks like, before they left, the Jihadis poisoned the water supply. Big-time. The rags have been drinking it. And there’s a soldier down in 1-18.”
“Jesus.”
“General Scott’s got his PSYOP folks and the Civil Affairs straphangers running some loudspeakers into Nazareth. To warn the population. Meanwhile, Pat Cavanaugh’s using locals as town criers. We’re pushing up engineers to turn off the system.”
“How bad is it?”
“Still unclear, sir. Hundreds dead, at least. Cavanaugh believes there’s more of them in the houses. Corpses, I mean. Probably a lot more to come, before the word gets to everybody.”
“They poisoned the water supply. On their own people. They knew we wouldn’t drink it. And they did that to their own kind.” Harris shook his head in reluctant awe of the level of ferocity that took. Maybe old Sim was right: An enemy who would do that couldn’t just be defeated but had to be eradicated. Immediately, Harris crushed the thought. But he understood why Montfort’s arguments were so seductive.
“Sir… The Jihadis wanted those people dead.”
“Yeah, got it, Mike. But they wanted
“Yes, sir. 1st Cav’s got Golani Junction. Raised the flag over the ruins of the old McDonald’s.”
“Blue casualties?”
“Don’t sound bad, sir. General Stramara’s fighting smart. And the J’s aren’t. They’re just throwing bodies into the mix now. Tough fighting, but they don’t have quite the edge some of their units were showing last night. And we’re whacking them. General Stramara’s Deuce thinks al-Ghazi’s pulling his best units off line. Maybe forming a counterattack force.”
“Val?” Harris turned to his G-2.
“We’ve got some drone imagery. Pretty patchy, but it looks like al-Ghazi’s preparing a second line of defense. On the ridge just west of the Sea of Galilee. And running north.”
“Doesn’t make sense. If we — or the MOBIC forces — pushed them off that high ground above Tiberias, they’d have no line of retreat. Just that one road following the lake. It’d be a shooting gallery.”
“Yes, sir. But they’re digging in up there anyway.”
“Well, file that one under ‘What the fuck?’ See if your folks can figure out the logic behind it. Al-Ghazi’s just not that dumb.”
“Yes, sir. But al-Mahdi might have ordered him to do it.”
Harris folded his arms. Bucking himself up against the not-enough-sleep hangover. “Al-Mahdi’s not that stupid, either. There’s got to me more to it, Val.”
“We’ll stay on it, sir.”
“Any more
“Ship got hit last night by stealth drones. Crew got off, but it was a catastrophic loss. Lot of 155 mike-mike ammunition on board. And some haulers.”
“Shit. What else?”
“Two electromagnetic-pulse mines confirmed down in General Scott’s First Brigade sector.”
“So the Jihadis did have some, after all.” Harris glanced at his G-2, then returned his attention to the G-3. “Which units got hit?”
“2-34 Armor took both mines.”
“How bad?”
“Two combined-arms companies without any working electronics.”
“The shielding didn’t work at all?”
“Powerful mines, sir.”
“I want to know, immediately, if we run into any more of them. It’s hard enough to communicate as it is.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What else?”
“The MOBIC elements pushing up the west bank of the Jordan linked up with General Scott’s forward Cav elements at 0445. They’re flowing in behind our front lines now. Preparing for the forward passage of lines and reentry into battle. At which point they assume responsibility for the attack in sector.”
“Got it. Any more static from HOLCOM?”
“No, sir.”
“The MOBIC outfits have an LD time yet?”
