Leon Grayston leaned back in his chair, sunlight squeezing through the gaps of his office's hickory shades.
A cigarette hung loosely from his lower lip.
Reading over the top secret memo again, he put it back its envelope finished up his cig.
He would have tossed the memo into the trash if it wasn't for it's top secret instructions.
Leon was in a bind. On one hand the assignment that had just been handed to him was insane, flawed, and poorly conceived on every level. On the other hand it was his duty to serve his country when it called upon him, and the operation he had just been assigned to put together was endorsed and insisted upon by the president himself.
He picked up the memo again.
"Operation ST. FORC" it said across the top in bold letters.
"ST. FORC, CROFTS backwards" he thought to himself.
"Yeah, that's cleaver Joe" he said to himself, referring to Joseph McCormick, the AIA's Director.
He was basically being asked to train 1,800 Inglo-Scotian refuges in the DSA as soldiers and then have them invade their homeland.
It was pure insanity. Most of the refugees were civilians, having no military experience what so ever. Any anti-Crofts Inglo-Scotians with military experience were either killed during the civil war or hung for treason following the Commonwealth's consolidation of power.
Leon was being asked to build an army from scratch and then pit them against one of the world's military powers. If he had a choice he would have turned down the assignment.
Realistically though, that wasn't an option. This was something big, something the higher-ups had high hopes for. This wasn't something that he could scuff at.
His president was calling, and he had always been told to answer that call when it came.
