Mr. Rosner's variation of Iron Mountain is called the Ranch in Idaho, and what had once been intended as a bird sanctuary is now a catacomb for the ""shriving of elite souls"" of the paramilitary -- a refuge for three- or four-star generals, admirals and colonels who have lost some of their brass buttons, lake Intelligence's General Daniell who did not know he talked in his sleep, until it was too late. Rosner, a genuinely amusing writer, is able to quizzically tease material which might be a bobbytrap in lesser hands and manages to keep his reader attentive and bemused at the same time. For there are unfortunate misdemeanors at the Ranch -- even under the unorthodox supervision of a Bulgarian psychiatrist -- medals are stolen; cigars are -- well -- watered; and there's an attempt to rape the only woman there, Susan, who serves as nurse but is actually the wife of a young lawyer hoping to achieve permanent personal security during his two-year stint. Susan doesn't take it. . . lying down. No doubt this may be somewhat advanced for your common reader but Rosner manages to convert his war gamesmanship into a send-up undershot with the kind of humor which veers between nonsense and wit.