The Enemy Cometh

By Douglas V. Gibbs

"General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations."

Such is the call on board a U.S. Navy vessel when it is time to prepare for possible confrontation with an enemy target.

I had just finished one of my underway watches. The watch schedule was four hours on, and four hours off, continuously as long as we were underway.

During the moments of "four hours on," I endured a number of watch stations that included, but was not limited to, sitting outside watching for other vessels on the water and in the sky. I remember one time it was so cold that four layers of clothing, jackets and coats did not warm me up. But, it was a part of the job, and I knew it, so I endured it with a smile, and prepared for my next watch station up on the bridge.

During the moments of four hours off watch I had to go to my work station to get some work done, sleep, eat, and occasionally spend a few relaxing moments writing or reading.

Then the Soviet vessel came into our zone. When General Quarters was called, I had just finished breakfast, and was stretching out on my rack.

Damage Control Central was a small compartment with barely enough room for all of us to fit into it. The hatch was sealed, and all of our communications occurred through the internal phone system through a network of phone talkers.

The Damage Control officer handed me a sheet with codes on it, and I relayed the message to the repair lockers. Word had it that a Soviet vessel was following us, and their weapons systems were pointed toward us.

The Cold War was a war of politicians. They stared each other down, threatening to pull the trigger, but fear of world annihilation kept them from following through.

The Politicians considered the Cold War a cold conflict, but for the military out in the field, the war that was supposed to be devoid of actual conflict was hotter than most wars.

So here we were, out in international waters, with a Soviet warship following us and scooping up every piece of trash we had discharged a few hours ago, on the edge of a hot conflict. Their turrets and guided missile launchers were pointing at us, their sailors waiting for the order to blast the American guided missile destroyer out of the water. Our hearts were pumping. This was for real, and all we could do was let our training guide us to victory, or defeat. . . or we could hope that for once, this little entanglement with the enemy would not result in conflict.

The fact is, whether we wanted confrontation or not, the enemy decided it for us. No amount of negotiation would protect us. If the enemy desired to fight, we had no choice but to fight. That is how war works. The enemy dictates the terms, unless you refuse to let them through superior firepower and training.

The Soviet vessel followed us for thirteen miles. We were traveling so slow, however, it seemed to take hours. Hours of tension filled, blood-pumping adrenalin. Just one torpedo, just one missile, just one spray of shells from their guns - and we would launch into full-throttle conflict.

"All engines stop."

Dead in the Water.

We sat there, rocking violently, posing as either a target, or a warrior ready to strike. If we were boarded, I would run to the armory for my piece as a member of the team designated to do so. But that would not matter if the fight remained between the ships. Just one weapons activation, and the repair lockers would launch into action, and the gunny's would fire back.

Like it, or not, the enemy was out there, and the decision of whether there would be a battle was his to make.

Perhaps they analyzed the firepower we had. Perhaps they figured out that we could blow them out of the water. Peace through strength succeeded again, and the Soviet ship backed down, changed course, and went off into the wide sea yonder.

For now, we were at peace again.

Today, and my memories journey once again through that episode of my life, I wonder if it had been Islam, would we have been so fortunate?

Islam, like other enemies, cannot be negotiated with, and only understands the strength or weaknesses of their opponent. However, the difference is, they do not back down when they figure out the enemy contains strength. They simply adjust, and attack in a different manner.

When I was on my ship I understood that it wasn't the people on the other ship that was the enemy, it was the ideology they were being controlled by. I am sure there were Germans who were moderate enough to not agree with the Nazis, but they didn't do much in the way of stopping the carnage. There are a lot of moderate Muslims, or so I am told, but there is no moderate Islam. The so-called moderates have been silent, and if they exist they do nothing to stop the violence. They were dancing in the streets on September 11, 2001. The ideology is in control, and through Islam the enemy cometh.

We are left with the responsibility of stopping it, or we will be consumed by it.

As much as we would like to avoid conflict, they do not intend to break off contact, they do not intend to turn the ship around, they do not intend to end their pursuit.

They will not stop, they will keep terrorizing us, they will keep planting sleeper cells, building mosques, and incrementally conquering the other lands . . . unless we stop them.

That is the reality.

-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary