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The story was much the same at LZ Eagle, where / Buffalo's protectors of peace were digging in. "People coming in now are of pretty low mentality," said Corporal John Fisher, 25, a veteran of almost five years in the reserves. "A couple of guys in this unit can hardly even read. They must have been given the answers to the test so the recruiters in Buffalo could meet their quota."
While enlisted men in the field sought shade from the sun, an assortment of officers ran the war from an air-conditioned control center at Camp Wilson. Actually, the entire war, all its battles and the eventual outcome, had been programmed in advance by computer. But as each situation report came in from field umpires using an experimental "digital message entry system," maps were redrawn, arrows lengthened and air strikes scheduled.
"An aggressor battalion has pushed a company to within three miles of Camp Wilson," said Colonel A.J. Brosco, 43, a criminal lawyer from Providence, R.I. "Give me the file marked confidential," he said to a captain. "Aerial photos taken this morning indicate a SAM location and a rudimentary airfield." "Excuse me, sir," warned a crew-cut major, "we just got a report that something is moving on the left flank. It could be pretty sticky."
Across the room, Lieut. Colonel Richard Dennis was screaming into the telephone. "Goddam!" he fumed as he chewed on a cigar. "This is war! What's the matter?" The "matter" concerned an absent telegrapher in Yuma who had casually "gone to chow," thus preventing Dennis from launching any air strikes. "Doesn't anybody over there take this thing seriously?" he shouted into the field telephone.
Only one man in the camp remained totally calm, and that was Captain Duncan Christie-Miller of Britain's Royal Marines. The English contribution to a two-year, one-for-one exchange program, Christie-Miller spent D-day writing an article on European skiing. "I try to keep out of sight," he said. "Usually, when the press comes about, I take off my beret and insignia. Don't want to let anyone think you chaps are training British soldiers."
On the second day of the invasion, the reserves were reinforced by 4,000 regulars, many of them from Camp Le-jeune's 6th Marines. The war had been made slightly more interesting by the first appearance of 800 "aggressors" —60 of whom had succeeded in capturing two-thirds of Company M. But, like a desert phoenix, Company M had risen with the sun and was ready to move north toward Yermo. "Come on, men," urged Staff Sergeant Greg Anderson, 31, as he climbed aboard his tank. "We're out here to get practice so we can grab the oil."