mr. president, as of this moment my planes are ready to carry out the air strikes. all you have to do is give me the word, sir, and my boys will get those red bastards.
but you can begin the strikes, now. the plans call for an eight-day air campaign. it'd light a fire under the army's ass to get in place.
mr. president, i believe it is the only course of action. american is in danger. those missiles are a threat to our bomber bases and the safety of our nuclear deterrent. without our deterrent, there's nothing to keep the enemy from choosing general nuclear war. it's our duty, our responsibility to the american people to take out those missiles and return stability to the strategic situation. the big red dog is digging in our back yard, and we're justified in shooting him.
mr. president, the motto i chose for sac is 'peace is our profession.' god forbid we find ourselves in a nuclear exchange. but if launched, those missiles in cuba would kill a lot of americans. that's why i'm being such a pain in the ass about destroying them. destroying them immediately. hell, even mac agrees.
nothing.
nothing. because the only alternative open to them is one they can't choose.
those goddamn kennedys are going to destroy this country if we don't do something about this.
mr. president, we can get better than ninety percent of them.
son , i want to know just one thing. those bastards shoot so much as a bb gun at you?
frogs, we call 'em. short range tactical nukes. it's possible they've delegated release authority to their local commanders for use against our invasion troops. it'd be standard doctrine. our capability to get all the missiles has eroded during our delay with the quarantine. the good news is that for the moment we know where the frogs are, and we can target them, too. but the longer we wait, the hard it's going to get.
i think that's a good idea, mr. president. it'll be safer for my boys to get those sams on monday when we get the rest of the bastards. i can wait a day and a half.