Marine generals Misha and Raquel saluted. Their service Alphas flapped in the breeze and their stars twinkled like the fenders of 1950’s American cars. Their hands seemed slower, more pronounced as they drew them to their brows. They then shook hands.
“The timetable for Iran is finally winding down, Mish,’” Raquel said to her friend. They had met in Tehran while the fighting had simmered as well. Straight from Delaware, Misha had taken a plane to the war-ravaged country in the early morning. Once she landed and saw Raquel, she knew that it was time to get busy.
“Between us, did you know that we have close to seventy-eight years of experience in the Corps? We’re women. Women Marines. WM’s whatever you want to call us. But we’re showing little girls and young ladies that it is okay to walk into a boy’s club and hold sway,” Misha said.
Raquel nodded. “I see this every day. That look in a subordinate's eyes. Usually men. Sometimes females. That disdain. That contempt. Is it because I’m a black woman or because I’m at least four ranks above you or all of these things?”
“Yes. I see that you’re a ‘baby general,’ now. You’ve been in this country longer than any other officer of any other branch. Your work has been phenomenal.”
“Thanks, Mish’. Now how the hell do we go about this withdrawal in a way that only satisfies America?”
“I had my staff write up a Constitution of Iran. At first it looked like another draft of their current one. That was corrected. We’re now looking at a fresh way for Iran to exist on the world stage.”
Misha and Raquel simply found a quiet room with no cameras or microphones.
“I know that you’ve already alerted media outlets,” Raquel said.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Oh. I must’ve been mistaken. Pardon me.”
“It’s alright Roxie. The news will soon know of our plan to rearrange the entire socio-political structure of this country. While minimal blood has been shed on our side, it is still important to not lose sight of the bigger goal in this fight.”
“We’ve got to take them to the point that they wouldn’t even wish that something like “Death to America” could ever be something to utter. Now, of course, they will have the freedom to say it but with their devastating loss, they won’t even want to think about it.”
“Like Saudi Arabia.”
“Precisely. We’re going to wrap up that war in the coming months. They pretended to be our friends, and our past leaders played right into their vicious game.”
“So, what now with both countries?”
“What we do is continue to punish them without remorse. Take the fight to the civilians even if you don’t kill them. Leave them homeless, tired, weak, and poor. That should start at the ‘richest’ of the citizens. Once we have captured their minds, wrecked their souls, we will have them in our palms. That will break their morale and send them to any solution. That solution is our sterling constitution.”
Raquel withdrew an e-cigarette and pushed the vapor into the air like some goddess of nicotine perched on a cloud. “I’ve been saying this for the past few months. I got word from you. I encouraged my troops to set ablaze towns and villages and allow the air support to drop enough bombs on targets that civilians depend on the most. That created a frenzy in these Tehranian streets. I liked it. There were people waving towels, waving blankets, shouting with their hands up trying to run from the devastation. I want to thank you for those commands.”
“You used the proper method of war. The reason why I believe in the total war theory, without sacrifice, or the scorched earth theory is because it shows the enemy that we’re not in any way their ally or their friend. We’re your adversary. We must crush you by nearly whatever means that will demolish your will to win,” Misha said.
Raquel sipped from an energy drink. She smiled and said, “There’s no substitute than to leave the enemy without any chance at forming in their minds a pathway to victory.”
Misha and Raquel just sat under the light in the room like two business executives. Because that’s who they were.