I was within a few days of telling the whole bunch to kiss my ever-expanding ass! The folks in Congress were convinced that there were no more threats around the world except the Gomers and, thanks to me, there were no more Gomers. A winning scenario if ever there was one, at least to most of the members of Congress that weren’t from States that had been heavily impacted by the invasion. The States devastated by the invasion, on the other hand, were a little friendlier and far more supportive of the concept that the bad guys could return. They knew that the situation could be repeated, that they were vulnerable, and that the military re-building could be vital in rebuilding their States. After all, a Montana Class Battleship would put people back to work in the ship yards, which was a boon to the economy, and would get people back to work near the coast, which would repopulate the most devastated areas.
President Blanchard was having to fight for even the simple things, and I was doing my best to make things work on a ludicrous budget. The Army was still in Khaki, not as a fashion statement, but because the government was refusing to expend any additional funding for silly things like uniforms. (We were keeping places like Wrangler and Dickies in business by buying in bulk from existing stocks). I knew it was a matter of priorities, and the expansion of various key weapon systems and the recruitment of talented personnel to operate them were far more important to the overall mission than the appearance of the average trooper. Still, keeping people convinced that a larger, better trained military was important was tough since it was clear that the Russians and the Chinese were no longer really global threats. Even the classic terrorist had bigger things to be concerned about these days, so the threat was more about starvation and keeping people employed, than it was to project a force with any sort of global capability. I understood it and was learning to live with it, at least to a point. Still, I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.
President Blanchard knew all of this, and so did I, but the President was better at doing the balancing act. From my perspective, the Gomers weren’t really gone, they were probably just on break, and the longer it took to get ready for their return, the harder it was going to be to get rid of them the next time. I still remembered how lucky we were the first time, and I was very concerned about whatever it was on the back side of the moon. Did they still have a base and personnel that close to us? Was it a refueling point? Was it a staging point for later operations? I was having daily battles with Congressmen, trying to justify why we needed to keep the passages around the Moon mined, and why we needed to maintain stockpiles of various munitions. My frustration was carrying over even to my eggheads. Dr. Clarkson was highly upset, often for the same reasons, because he watched the last Gomer Mountain ship pull out. Like me, there was no doubt in his mind that they would return and that, when they did, they would probably be a whole lot smarter about it.