Sven Delblanc: No, three megatons, it’s a question of moral principle

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Anti-war essays, poems, short stories and literary excerpts

Scandinavian writers on peace and war

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Sven Delblanc
From Homunculus
Translated by Verne Moberg

“I do think the measure seems a bit drastic,” said Rear Admiral George S. Taylor III. He screwed up his mouth and leaned back in his armchair with a look of controlled indignation. Taylor had that silver-haired appearance that often distinguishes corrupt southern senators. The decorations on his white uniform were like a Flag of the World color plate in a reference book. His tanned, Caesarean face was wrinkled in an expression of dignified disapproval, as if confronted by a breach of etiquette from a subaltern at the mass. “Definitely a far too drastic measure. For that matter you’re just a commander. I could pull rank.”

“But I work for the CIA,” said Commander Hettner.

“That’s true,” Rear Admiral Taylor said thoughtfully. “Well then, full steam ahead. I’ll hit ’em with three megatons.”

“Five megatons.”

“Three megatons,” said Taylor.

“Well, dammit, let’s say three megatons. That’ll have to do for a shitty little town like this. And they’ve got no morals either. Just fags and Socialists, the whole bunch.”

“True, as you say. But actually I’m not permitted to charge ahead without the President’s orders, you know,” Taylor said. “If we only had Barry in the White House….”

“There’s no sense crying over spilt milk,” said Hettner severely. “Just go at ’em boy. Lyndon or Barry, what difference does it make? The CIA’s handling this. Just sock it to ’em. We know for certain that Sebastian’s been in contact with the Swedish Defense Ministry. Under no circumstances may his secret be allowed to fall into the hands of degenerate, socialist, sex maniac crooks. Just lay it on ’em. Five megatons.”

“Three megatons,” said Rear Admiral Taylor, thumping hos forefinger on the tabletop. “Socialists or no socialists, this is a question of moral principle.”

“Well, dammit, all right then, we’ll say three megatons. Just lay it on ’em.”

“Easy, boy, easy,” said Taylor, stroking his fragrant silver hair. “I’m not taking off until tomorrow. And by the way, there was one other thing I happened to think of – what the hell are we going to do about world opinion?”

“You can stick world opinion up your ass,” said Commander Hettner. “I’ve already thought of that. When you go through the Baltic, set your course as close to Russian territorial waters as you reasonably can….”