Detachment Delta by Don Bendell Page B

tell you right now—”
    Pops jumped up, interrupting, saying first, “Sit down, Charlie.”
    â€œYes, sir!”
    Pops went on, “General Rozanski, Sergeant Strongheart is correct. We plan the execution of our own operations, and Sergeant Strongheart and Sergeant Jannat will have the most say-so, as it will be their asses on the line.”
    Rozanski was not used to being spoken to by a colonel like this, even if he was retired. His roommate from West Point was chief of staff of the U.S. Army, too. He was not afraid to play that card, and had before. He would threaten it now, as that usually handled any problems.
    He said, “Well, Colonel, we have spent months upon months and many man-hours putting together this operations order, and we want it followed to the letter to ensure mission success. If you need to get the order from the chief of staff of the army . . .”
    â€œScrew your cousin!” Pops said angrily. “You do not come into this compound, in fact, the chief of staff of the U.S. Army does not come in here, without my blessing. It is not your chair-polishing ass being risked in the most dangerous country in the world for Americans. General, do not come into our compound and try barking orders to my people, especially when you are now a civilian. My operators are the very best in the world at what they do, men and women. We do not lower the bar to allow them into this unit, and we do not lower the bar on our standard of excellence or our operational readiness. Now, if you want to start over, General, and conclude your briefing with the suggested mission, we will coordinate that with the powers that be in MacDill, Langley, DC, or wherever we happen to speak to people, and we will develop our own operational plan for execution of that mission. There is zero compromise on this. Now, would you care, sir, to start over?”
    The general stood in a fury, his fists balled, and suddenly a voice shocked him.
    â€œSit down, General Rozanski,” Kerri Rhodes, the national security advisor to the president barked. “As ordered, and with the colonel’s knowledge, the commander in chief has been listening to this briefing over my scrambled phone, and he wants me to put him on speaker.”
    The beautiful White House executive set her cell phone on the briefing table and said, “Go ahead. Mr. President.”
    The familiar voice came over the expensive cell phone. “Thank you, Kerri. General Rozanski, can you hear me?”
    â€œYes, Mr. President,” Rozanski said meekly.
    The chief executive of the Free World went on. “I want to thank you on behalf of the citizens of the United States for your uniformed service to this nation, and your continued service to this nation as a civilian.”
    Rozanski was shocked. “Well, thank you, Mr. President. It has been my honor.”
    The President went on. “But I want to make myself perfectly clear, you see the old man they call Pops with the short gray hair and ugly face sitting across from you?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œWell, you want to name-drop,” the CINC snapped, “that ugly old man goes golfing with me every time he is in DC, and we have teed off out by the O-Club there at Bragg a couple times. If you ever invoke your cousin’s name to get your way with or ever disrespect that ugly old man again, I will direct him to have Master Sergeant Charlie Strongheart, who is a true American hero and a genuine American badass, stomp you into a puddle of blood and mud. Do I make myself perfectly clear, sir?”
    â€œYes, Mr. President. I am sorry, sir.” Rozanski could barely breathe, he was so upset and embarrassed.
    Charlie felt a hand squeeze his thigh, in a reassuring, not a sexy way. He knew it was Fila’s. He barely looked over, and they gave each other almost imperceptible smiles. Custer did not miss that and gave Charlie a glance of approval, too.
    After a brief few words of