make it.”
The President nodded, then picked up a briefing folder. “I read your recommendations about this ‘Operation Rampart’ project, Sergeant Major. Lots of tough love in here.” He saw Jefferson’s eyes narrow, and the piercing glare made him decidedly uncomfortable. “Something on your mind, Ray? Let’s hear it.”
“I’d appreciate it, sir, if you tell me flat out what you think of my plan,” Jefferson said. “‘Tough love’ doesn’t tell me a thing.”
“That’s out of line, Jefferson,” Kinsly snapped.
The President raised a hand toward his Chief of Staff, then tossed the folder back on his desk. “I’ve gotta learn to be more direct with you, Sergeant Major,” he said. He motioned to the memo. “Let me get this straight, Ray: you want to put an entire Army division on the border?”
“I proposed forming a task force which would be about division-sized—about twenty thousand troops, including Army and Air Force aviation reconnaissance, logistics, and communications support assets, sir,” Jefferson explained. “I recommend Reserves or National Guard units instead of active-duty forces, each working in their own home state—it might give them a little added incentive to do a better job.”
“And you expect them to completely seal off the southern border?” Kinsly asked.
“It wouldn’t be one hundred percent, Mr. Kinsly, but it would be a hell of a lot better than what we have now.” He turned to the President. “Sir, the military as you know is legally prohibited from performing law enforcement duties, but they can assist law enforcement, and already do on a regular basis. Let’s step up surveillance along the borders and see if the level of illegal border crossings is on the increase, then interdict some of these migrants and find out who they are—migrant workers, illegal immigrants, or in fact terrorists. That’s the real question we’re facing here, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean, Ray?”
“I mean, if those Border Patrol agents were gunned down by a few stoned, desperate, or rambunctious migrant farmworkers with itchy trigger fingers, nothing more will be done about it,” Jefferson said. “But if on the other hand it was some kind of terror group infiltrating through our southern borders, and they retaliated to prevent being discovered or captured, we should retaliate with everything we got.
“If you want to secure the borders and try to prevent what happened last night, sir, let’s do it,” Jefferson went on resolutely. “In my opinion the Border Patrol is not up to the task—in fact, the entire Customs and Border Protection Service is not equipped to secure the borders. They’re a law enforcement unit, not a security one. I’m sure they’ve upgraded their weapons and tactics over the years, but in my mind they’re still the guys on horseback and in pickup trucks cruising the desert looking for Chicanos sneaking into America. The military knows surveillance and reconnaissance the best—let them do their jobs.”
“Putting the military in a law enforcement function is against the law, Sergeant Major.”
“This tasking is not a violation of the Posse Comitatus Act,” Jefferson responded. “I still believe we should be working to repeal Posse Comitatus, but in case it’s not repealed this operation would not violate it. The military would serve a surveillance and interdiction role only, the same as they do with antidrug smuggling operations—the Border Patrol, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, FBI, customs, or state or local law enforcement would make the arrests and conduct the investigations. We can start immediately and have it completed in less than six months.”
“Six months?”
“Secure a mostly open three-thousand-mile border of the United States from illegal entry by groups of persons or undeclared, unidentified vehicles? Yes, sir,” Jefferson said. “It’ll take manpower and technology, but most importantly it’ll take
The President nodded, then picked up a briefing folder. “I read your recommendations about this ‘Operation Rampart’ project, Sergeant Major. Lots of tough love in here.” He saw Jefferson’s eyes narrow, and the piercing glare made him decidedly uncomfortable. “Something on your mind, Ray? Let’s hear it.”
“I’d appreciate it, sir, if you tell me flat out what you think of my plan,” Jefferson said. “‘Tough love’ doesn’t tell me a thing.”
“That’s out of line, Jefferson,” Kinsly snapped.
The President raised a hand toward his Chief of Staff, then tossed the folder back on his desk. “I’ve gotta learn to be more direct with you, Sergeant Major,” he said. He motioned to the memo. “Let me get this straight, Ray: you want to put an entire Army division on the border?”
“I proposed forming a task force which would be about division-sized—about twenty thousand troops, including Army and Air Force aviation reconnaissance, logistics, and communications support assets, sir,” Jefferson explained. “I recommend Reserves or National Guard units instead of active-duty forces, each working in their own home state—it might give them a little added incentive to do a better job.”
“And you expect them to completely seal off the southern border?” Kinsly asked.
“It wouldn’t be one hundred percent, Mr. Kinsly, but it would be a hell of a lot better than what we have now.” He turned to the President. “Sir, the military as you know is legally prohibited from performing law enforcement duties, but they can assist law enforcement, and already do on a regular basis. Let’s step up surveillance along the borders and see if the level of illegal border crossings is on the increase, then interdict some of these migrants and find out who they are—migrant workers, illegal immigrants, or in fact terrorists. That’s the real question we’re facing here, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean, Ray?”
“I mean, if those Border Patrol agents were gunned down by a few stoned, desperate, or rambunctious migrant farmworkers with itchy trigger fingers, nothing more will be done about it,” Jefferson said. “But if on the other hand it was some kind of terror group infiltrating through our southern borders, and they retaliated to prevent being discovered or captured, we should retaliate with everything we got.
“If you want to secure the borders and try to prevent what happened last night, sir, let’s do it,” Jefferson went on resolutely. “In my opinion the Border Patrol is not up to the task—in fact, the entire Customs and Border Protection Service is not equipped to secure the borders. They’re a law enforcement unit, not a security one. I’m sure they’ve upgraded their weapons and tactics over the years, but in my mind they’re still the guys on horseback and in pickup trucks cruising the desert looking for Chicanos sneaking into America. The military knows surveillance and reconnaissance the best—let them do their jobs.”
“Putting the military in a law enforcement function is against the law, Sergeant Major.”
“This tasking is not a violation of the Posse Comitatus Act,” Jefferson responded. “I still believe we should be working to repeal Posse Comitatus, but in case it’s not repealed this operation would not violate it. The military would serve a surveillance and interdiction role only, the same as they do with antidrug smuggling operations—the Border Patrol, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, FBI, customs, or state or local law enforcement would make the arrests and conduct the investigations. We can start immediately and have it completed in less than six months.”
“Six months?”
“Secure a mostly open three-thousand-mile border of the United States from illegal entry by groups of persons or undeclared, unidentified vehicles? Yes, sir,” Jefferson said. “It’ll take manpower and technology, but most importantly it’ll take
Similar Books
