Moving farther along in the scrub, Urquhart thought about things dispatched: mail, messages, missives, missiles.
Emily was an M.A. in cultural anthropology trained as a Spanish language specialist, so of course the Army stuck her in the Quartermaster Corps sorting letters. Something like a quarter-million pieces in a typical week.
Things dispatched, point-to-point, medium-range, long distance. News and heartfelt wishes, love and cookies. What were the two things Schwarzkopf always asked them? -- how's the chow soldier, you gettin' mail reglar, that's nice. Victory through information.
How bad would it get?