Free Countdown: M Day by Tom Kratman

volunteer, you can forget all this revolutionary, egalitarian bullshit. The Army’s a hierarchy and that is not going to change. It’s harsh, and it’s hard, and that’s not going to change, either.
    “That said, you’ll eat pretty well. Moreover, you’ll live clean except when in the field, and you’ll stay as clean as possible even there.
    “And you’ll work like mules …no, that’s not right. A mule or a horse will give up and die when a good man or woman is still trying. You’ll work harder than slaves.
    “If you’re willing, I’ll be here still when you finish your nightly patrols. Come see me.”

    Walking the broken pavement, under a set of streetlights of which perhaps one in seven worked, Lily was even more subdued than usual.
    “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Carlos asked. “Joining, I mean.”
    “Yes,” she replied. “Aren’t you?”
    He hadn’t been. Even so, he answered, “Yes, of course.” Never do to be behind a woman in defense of the country, he thought, particularly one so cute .
    “My question, though,” Carlos continued, “is, ‘why now?’ What’s different that Hugo wants to bring the Army up to strength again after cutting it by fifty percent? I read the papers, Lily, and we are in trouble as a country. And we’re going to stay in trouble until and unless the world economy turns around and the price of oil goes up again. So why start spending money on the military?”
    “Maybe Hugo thinks the gringos will attack us while we’re weak and their own need for oil is low,” she replied.
    That made him shrug. “It’s possible,” he agreed. “But I’ve got a cousin in the Gringo Marine Corps, and he tells his mother that they’re in bad shape, too. Nothing like when they knocked over some of the Arabs. No money, either, and old equipment, too.”
    “You mean you don’t think they could pull off an invasion?” she asked, stopping for the moment.
    “Way above my skill set,” he said, though he continued his walk. She joined him after he’d gone no more than a few paces.
    “But I’d suppose they could. If they were going to, though, they’d be bringing their own armed forces up to par. And that, they’re not doing.”
    “If not the gringos, maybe Hugo’s worried about Colombia or Brazil,” she offered, not unreasonably. “Or, more likely, about the residue of the oligarchs right here at home.”
    “That’s all possible,” Carlos conceded. Contemplatively, he added, “The Colombians are our brothers in everything but name; I’d rather not fight them if I didn’t have to. The Brazilians? Eh,” he shrugged, “why not? As for the oligarchs; I’d pay for my own ammunition, if I could afford it.”
    “I feel about the same way,” Lily agreed. “But if we sign up, I somehow doubt we’ll get much choice.”
    “ We, ” Carlos wondered. I didn’t realize we were a package deal. Still, she is awfully cute and …so …maybe …“we.”
    “Then we’ll talk to Captain Larralde when we finish our patrol?”

    Miraflores Palace, Caracas, Venezuela

    In a continuously guarded private office, small and cramped, one which few advisors—and those only the closest—were allowed into, Chavez studied the antique map on his wall. In a way, the map was the reason none but his closest followers were allowed into the office and cameras never , and most especially not the cameras of the media, left or right. For them, there were other rooms, other offices.
    The internationalist left always sees what it wants to see, Hugo thought disparagingly, looking at the map’s grand scheme. And refuses to see what doesn’t fit what it wants to see. I take control of some industry, nationalize a few assets owned by foreigners, clamp down a bit on the press, mouth the words of socialism, shunt a very little support to various left wing guerilla movements, and even follow through on a couple of socialism’s tenets, and they see in me another Fidel, only with more