June 22, 1941 - London, England
"How can I go on with this?" Hogan demanded, his dark eyes snapping with the anger that his voice barely hinted at. "Nothing that I could do would even come close to doing enough to help these people, even if we were allowed to do more than watch. How can you expect us to continue in this position?"
"You are a soldier, Hogan," General Brecker answered patiently. He had been expecting a confrontation like this from Hogan since they had first arrived in England. "We don't expect you to do anything except what you're ordered to do."
"But you haven't given me any orders except to watch and learn!" Hogan exploded. Well, in normal terms it wouldn't have been anything more than slight raising of his voice. But for a military officer, talking to his superior, it was tantamount to a temper tantrum.
Brecker continued to sit stoically behind his desk, his hands resting neatly on the files before him. It was better for Hogan to get this off his chest, and then get on with their work.
Hogan stared at the general, his righteous anger building behind his calm façade. "I watch the planes go up," he continued, "and not come back. I watch the civilians sleeping every night in the Underground while their homes are pounded down to rubble I watch the ships limp back to the harbours, their crews exhausted and known that they've still got no choice but to go out again. I watch the soldiers marching over the countryside, trying to convince the Germans that we could fight off an invasion."
"We all watch these things, but the important question is: what do we learn?"
"I learn that we're hiding behind the fat that so far nothing has happened to us. I learn what the American people don't know, that this isn't just some trivial little thing that will be over by Christmas. I learn that this is going to be a fight to the death."
"But why don't the America people know this?" Brecker asked, knowing that it was the only way that Hogan would continue to answer. His sense of duty wouldn't let him rail at a senior officer unless it was invited.
"They don't know because they can't see it," Hogan sighed. "They can't understand because they're not under siege. Because they live a sheltered existence behind their Neutrality Act and their normal everyday lives. Because they haven't been told the things that we've watched."
"And that is exactly why we have to watch those things, Hogan," the general said, leaning forward in his chair. "We have to bear witness for the American people. You don't think that I would much rather be marching alongside those soldiers or flying in formation with those pilots? But it's not our time to fight. Not yet."
"General, we're soldiers," Hogan replied. "We're trained to fight, not to stand idly on the sidelines and watch while others are led like lambs away to the slaughter." He was tensed, ready to fly into action the second that he had permission to.
"Our time will come, Hogan," Brecker reassured Hogan. "And when it does, the United States is going to need people, who have already seen to open their eyes. And they're going to need people, like you, to lead the charge against the enemy."
Hogan nodded, once, crisply. He wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he would accept it. He didn't have much other choice. It was his duty to accept the answers without argument.
Brecker continued, "I guarantee you, Hogan, that once the time has come for us to fight, there will be nothing to hold you back."
"And you, sir?" Hogan asked.
Brecker shook his head sadly. "Someone has to make sure that the others see what we know to be so. I've got to take those things to the American people. But you, you take those things and make them your fight."
"What do you mean, general?" Hogan inquired, inclining his head quizzically.
"Fight not because it's what you've been ordered to do, but because of those airmen who didn't come back; or because of those civilians who stay resolved when resolve is the only thing that they've got left; or because of those sailors who make trip after horrible trip just to keep this island alive; or because of the futile efforts of those soldiers. Take those and make them your reasons for fighting."
"But when is the time finally going to come for us to fight? When it's finally politically convenient for the President to act? Or when it's too late to save this island?"
"I don't know, Hogan," Brecker sighed. "But something will come to push the American people over the edge. And then the world will sit up and take notice. And that's when we'll fight, when there's nothing less that can stop us." Brecker swivelled a little in his chair, his voice fading away to an inaudible murmur.
"Sorry, what was that, sir?"
"I said, 'And heaven help anyone who stands in our way'."
"How can I go on with this?" Hogan demanded, his dark eyes snapping with the anger that his voice barely hinted at. "Nothing that I could do would even come close to doing enough to help these people, even if we were allowed to do more than watch. How can you expect us to continue in this position?"
"You are a soldier, Hogan," General Brecker answered patiently. He had been expecting a confrontation like this from Hogan since they had first arrived in England. "We don't expect you to do anything except what you're ordered to do."
"But you haven't given me any orders except to watch and learn!" Hogan exploded. Well, in normal terms it wouldn't have been anything more than slight raising of his voice. But for a military officer, talking to his superior, it was tantamount to a temper tantrum.
Brecker continued to sit stoically behind his desk, his hands resting neatly on the files before him. It was better for Hogan to get this off his chest, and then get on with their work.
Hogan stared at the general, his righteous anger building behind his calm façade. "I watch the planes go up," he continued, "and not come back. I watch the civilians sleeping every night in the Underground while their homes are pounded down to rubble I watch the ships limp back to the harbours, their crews exhausted and known that they've still got no choice but to go out again. I watch the soldiers marching over the countryside, trying to convince the Germans that we could fight off an invasion."
"We all watch these things, but the important question is: what do we learn?"
"I learn that we're hiding behind the fat that so far nothing has happened to us. I learn what the American people don't know, that this isn't just some trivial little thing that will be over by Christmas. I learn that this is going to be a fight to the death."
"But why don't the America people know this?" Brecker asked, knowing that it was the only way that Hogan would continue to answer. His sense of duty wouldn't let him rail at a senior officer unless it was invited.
"They don't know because they can't see it," Hogan sighed. "They can't understand because they're not under siege. Because they live a sheltered existence behind their Neutrality Act and their normal everyday lives. Because they haven't been told the things that we've watched."
"And that is exactly why we have to watch those things, Hogan," the general said, leaning forward in his chair. "We have to bear witness for the American people. You don't think that I would much rather be marching alongside those soldiers or flying in formation with those pilots? But it's not our time to fight. Not yet."
"General, we're soldiers," Hogan replied. "We're trained to fight, not to stand idly on the sidelines and watch while others are led like lambs away to the slaughter." He was tensed, ready to fly into action the second that he had permission to.
"Our time will come, Hogan," Brecker reassured Hogan. "And when it does, the United States is going to need people, who have already seen to open their eyes. And they're going to need people, like you, to lead the charge against the enemy."
Hogan nodded, once, crisply. He wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he would accept it. He didn't have much other choice. It was his duty to accept the answers without argument.
Brecker continued, "I guarantee you, Hogan, that once the time has come for us to fight, there will be nothing to hold you back."
"And you, sir?" Hogan asked.
Brecker shook his head sadly. "Someone has to make sure that the others see what we know to be so. I've got to take those things to the American people. But you, you take those things and make them your fight."
"What do you mean, general?" Hogan inquired, inclining his head quizzically.
"Fight not because it's what you've been ordered to do, but because of those airmen who didn't come back; or because of those civilians who stay resolved when resolve is the only thing that they've got left; or because of those sailors who make trip after horrible trip just to keep this island alive; or because of the futile efforts of those soldiers. Take those and make them your reasons for fighting."
"But when is the time finally going to come for us to fight? When it's finally politically convenient for the President to act? Or when it's too late to save this island?"
"I don't know, Hogan," Brecker sighed. "But something will come to push the American people over the edge. And then the world will sit up and take notice. And that's when we'll fight, when there's nothing less that can stop us." Brecker swivelled a little in his chair, his voice fading away to an inaudible murmur.
"Sorry, what was that, sir?"
"I said, 'And heaven help anyone who stands in our way'."