Текст книги "The Battle for New York"

Автор книги: T. I. Wade

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

Carlos and Lee had been working hard since they had received the equipment from the dead Chinese. They had studied each piece and found all the equipment to be simple satellite communication electronics. Thousands of Americans had the same quality two-way systems with Hughes Internet. The only difference was that both sides could verbally chat to each other.

“Lee, I think we are ready for communication,” said Carlos to a worried-looking Lee Wang. “Remember to keep the cloth of the towel over the phone. It will hide most of your voice tone. Tell them that a platoon of 30 military troops killed your commander and many of the others. Ask for orders. Remember to state that you are in control. You can be nervous; you haven’t been a commander and you are only told stuff on a need-to-know basis. Remember, there were 30 troops, 20-odd pilots with guns, a lot of small airplanes. Other than that, buddy, just wing it. You need to get information from whoever is at the other end. Don’t be scared to ask and act stupid, Lee. It always works.”

They turned on one telephone and waited. It wasn’t 30 seconds before the phone rang—a sound they hadn’t heard in days! Lee Wang made sure that the cloth was covering the mouthpiece and he looked at Carlos. Carlos smiled, gave him the thumbs up, and Lee Wang answered the call.

“Control, this is Bo Lee Tang. Mi Lee is dead. This is Bo Lee Tang, Mi Lee’s Number Two in command,” answered Lee Wang. There was silence at the other end.

“Bo Lee Tang, you said your commander is dead?”

“Correct, Control. It was a bad fight but we won,” Lee Wang continued. Then he heard a voice he recognized from his days in China. It was the floor sweeper—the man who had recruited him. He looked up at Carlos, who was dialing another number on the second phone. Then Carlos remembered that he was holding a telephone and not a radio, and his brain suddenly clicked into gear. Anybody could use the system, and he wondered if the control center in China would notice a second phone being used at the same time. He scrambled through the pile of phone components and found one with a number written on the backside so that the owner wouldn’t forget it. He then found a second one and saw Lee looking at him. Carlos told him to keep going, but Carlos could see that Lee Wang was in shock for some reason. Then Carlos heard a voice on the other end fire off in rapid Chinese.

“Bo Lee Tang, this is Comrade Mo. Get one of the other commanders on the telephone to give me a full report.” Lee Wang looked at Carlos and his face told Carlos that he knew the man on the other end. Carlos whispered for him not to worry, that the cloth should hide his voice. “All commanders are dead. We have 23 dead men, Comrade Wang,” Lee Wang replied nervously.

“Don’t ever mention my name again! Or use my first name. Understand, Bo Lee Tang?” replied the man in Nanjing venomously.

“Sorry, but I need to know who is to be in control here. I will give you my report,” continued Lee, with Carlos showing numbers on his fingers. “We killed 30 American soldiers, 20 American pilots with guns, and all women and children are dead. We had 12 airplanes on fire, but the fires are now over. Two of the airplanes were American Air Force—not jets, but they had propellers, very old airplanes. We have 23 dead, three wounded. End of report.”

“Yes, I saw the small flickering of fires on our satellite screens. Good job, Bo Lee Tang. Wait five minutes and I will call back,” replied Comrade Wang in Nanjing and hung up. Lee put the phone down on the table in front of him and Carlos congratulated Lee for a job well done.

“I’m sure he has to go and get orders for you,” Carlos explained, looking at the back of Lee’s phone. There was its own black number printed in black ink on the back side as well as a second number printed in red ink. He checked the others; they all had it, one black number, different on every phone, and the same red number on each phone, and Carlos sighed with relief. Then he told Lee that he was going to dial a number while they were on the line to see if they got a response.

“I know Comrade Wang,” replied Lee. “He is the man who recruited me right at the very beginning. Remember the floor sweeper I told you about. That is him!”

“Don’t worry,” reassured Carlos. “Remember to act stupid, like you have a head wound or something. He must have recruited hundreds of people. Just don’t panic. We need all the information we can get. Remember, this guy hired you and then was prepared to kill you and your family. I’m going to see if they respond when I call one of these other phones. I will cover it up so that they can’t hear the ring if it goes off.”

Lee’s phone rang again.

“Bo Lee Tang, this is Control. Bo Lee Tang, Control,” stated the first voice over the telephone, and Lee tried to sound breathless.

“I can’t hear you well, we have a bad connection. This is Bo Lee Tang. We are burying our comrades.” Carlos phoned the third working phone from the second working phone, and he could hear the ring under the cloth. He switched the third phone on and spoke a few words of gibberish into it. He made funny sounds for several seconds and then turned both phones off. Lee Wang indicated that he had not received any notification about the phone being used.

Lee Wang ended his call and Carlos grabbed the second phone and dialed the red number. “Ask them if you should continue to bury the dead men and if it matters which phone you use,” instructed Carlos. The call was answered and Carlos listened to Lee speaking Chinese rapidly into the cell phone. Then Carlos ended his call.

“Control said not to phone them again, and that all the phones ring to him with the red number. I asked him if I could phone Deng, and he gave me his number. I asked if Control wanted to hear my conversation and he said that they couldn’t and did not have full control of who was using the telephones, so it wasn’t necessary.”

“Great!” replied Carlos.

“Carlos, I know Comrade Wang had reservations about my voice.” Carlos was looking for a clean piece of paper to write the information down.

“He asked me, or Bo Lee Tang, about the tattoo. He knew Bo was a boxer, and he was a good boxer before Mo Wang recruited him. I watched him fight often. I think we have won the war of hiding my identity, so far,” said Lee, now very relieved.

“Lee, call me on your phone. Talk stupid so that nobody can understand you. I want to see if they come back and complain about you using the phone. Say Zedong Electronics will lose in English or something stupid.” Lee did, and they spoke stupid talk for two minutes, sounding like a bunch of monkeys.

“Okay, let’s write down the Information we’ve collected,” stated Carlos, after they hung up. “First, we have 50 squads coming in from somewhere—where, your friend did not say—but after destroying RDU airport you are to head north, so I think that from the south or west is where this Comrade Deng is coming from. Does that sound correct?”

Lee Wang nodded. “I think a squad is four men in one vehicle. That is what I saw in the SUV when they passed me in Salt Lake City. That means that there are 200 men coming here in about two days and the next fight will be at the Raleigh airport,” replied Lee. “Then I, Bo Lee Tang, must go north in one week, under the command of Comrade Deng, who will take over from me if he survives the fight at the airport. Also, Wang said that engineers and troops were flying into somewhere tomorrow night and that I must report to the airport with Deng and my men. So I am expected somewhere in one week at an airport that is under their control. That is what I understand.”

“So they have airborne troops flying into the United States, but they can’t land without landing lights and the airports need to be cleared of snow. So they must be leaving China tomorrow, flying overnight, and I’m sure landing at dawn. The runways up north will have a lot of snow on them, so somebody has to clear them before any aircraft can go in. That means that other squads must be heading into this airport. I think it can only be one or two northern city airports, since you have been instructed to meet them somewhere big. We need to speak to General Allen immediately!”

Carlos switched on the radio. “We can easily have lookouts in Washington. If they are flying in directly from China, they will either have real big military jets, or real big civilian jets. That’s a 7,000-mile flight,” said Carlos, waiting for the radio to warm up. “Anything else we can put together?”

“Yes,” added Lee. “Comrade Wang said that he was coming several days after we supposedly arrive there, so if he is coming, then so are many others, I think. He said that he would see me and Deng there. And, he said the engineers were fixing three airports and a harbor area for their arrival by air and sea.”

“To bring in more troops,” added Carlos. “I think we know part of their plans now. They are getting three airports and a harbor ready. So that must be a big city with more than one airport. It could only be New York or Washington. All are on the coast with a harbor,” Carlos thought aloud. “Washington doesn’t have a harbor! Only New York has three airports. Boston doesn’t, but both have large harbors for shipping. Yes, they must be coming into New York—JFK Airport, Lee! Time frame—they are leaving China tomorrow, also two days before Deng gets here, then one week later you must be in New York, then Wang is coming in several days after that—two days plus about two week’s time!”

Carlos got responses from all three of the other bases within five seconds. The radio operator knew where the general was, but didn’t want to say. Carlos told him that he needed to speak to the general immediately—or as soon as he was within radio range—he explained to the operator. The radio operator understood.

*****

Preston drew the Cargomaster up by the airport gate and saw the most interesting group of vehicles—even more interesting than the ones they had at the airstrip. He closed the engine down and got out as Lady Dandy switched off, also on the apron. A dozen troops got out, and Pam Wallace brought the slower 172 to a halt next to Preston’s. She jumped out and waved at the onlookers as the gates opened to let them in.

Pam ran up and hugged Captain Mallory and brought him over to meet Preston. They were introduced as was Barbara as she walked over to meet the newcomers.

“Old Michael Mallory—I believe we went to flight school together—Dallas, 1992?”

“Barbara Mclean. Yes, I remember you. You were the hot blonde all the guys were after. Still hot, I see. Where were you flying before all this crap hit the fan?”

“Lear jets for a private company out of Phoenix,” she replied.

“Funny how all pilots seem to know one other,” remarked Preston. “Okay, Captain Mallory. Your escorts, Joe and David, are about three minutes out. They are going to escort you guys back to our airfield. We are loading up supplies here and will be back in about an hour. My hangar is off limits for the moment as we have a couple of guys trying to make some Chinese satellite phones work and they don’t want interference until they have sorted out the communication. The men you saw in that convoy on I-95 are not a threat anymore.”

At that moment, the two armored cars pulled up to the airport gate and stopped. Joe and David got out and came over to meet the newcomers.

“Captain, I’m planning to transfer your civilians to Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro after you arrive at my place,” continued Preston. “They can use the empty housing there. There is lots of it due to so many troops being overseas and the Air Force has plenty of rations for them. Anybody who can fly a plane will stay at my airfield. Joe, David, get these interesting vehicles back to base. We sure could have used that fire engine this morning!” he laughed.

Preston and the soldiers stationed at the airport helped load Lady Dandy with over 100 boxes of food supplies. There were still dozens upon dozens of food and booze cases left after Lady Dandy headed out onto the runway with Barbara in the cockpit. They filled the Cargomaster with more boxes, and a dozen were placed in the rear seat of the 172. Then it was time to look at the few remaining aircraft. Preston took a quick look around. Anything worthwhile was too new or too small. They now needed aircraft to carry supplies, and an old 172 was not much good.

He headed for the Cargomaster. Six of the soldiers had gone with Lady Dandy, so he told the remaining six to get in with him and Pam.

His radio squawked into life as he came in for final approach at his airfield. The hangar door was being opened on Carlos’ orders while Carlos was on the radio desperately trying to reach General Allen.

Preston heard the other bases come online, and Jennifer reported that she was an hour out, arriving from Texas, and would land first at Preston’s field. He noticed the convoy pulling onto the dirt road and driving through the attack zone as he came in low from the southeast. He landed and parked close to Barbara and Pam, whom he had followed in. The 172 had landed first. Pam was a pretty good pilot for a flight attendant.

It was quite a sight once all the vehicles were parked in a line. It looked like they were waiting for Noah’s Ark to arrive; two rat patrol jeeps, two armored cars, two old SWAT team vehicles, one ambulance, the fire engine and odd-looking Studebaker police car at the end. On the other side were the three Mustangs and a plethora of working and nonworking aircraft. There were a lot of people getting out and looking around in amazement. It looked like Disney World.

“Welcome, Captain Mallory! Welcome to my Air Force,” Preston exclaimed, shaking the pilot’s hand.

“Preston, we need a meeting right now,” shouted Carlos as several of the aircraft radios started chattering at once. Preston went over to the Cargomaster and picked up the microphone.

“Preston, this is Buck… Preston, this is Buck… do you read?”

“You are very faint, Buck. I can just hear you,” replied Preston, with Carlos coming over to listen.

“I overheard Carlos’ message 20 minutes ago while I was in the air over the White Cliffs of Dover. I went back down and told Pete that Carlos was having a nervous breakdown and I suggested that we head straight back to you since it’s not very often Carlos gets a bee in his bonnet. Ghost Rider needs to be refueled and Baby Huey has a fresh tank, so Pete is on board with me. We are an hour and ten minutes out from your airfield and I have Baby Huey at maximum cruise. By the way, I‘m Alpha Fox-trotting around the world again, so be prepared. I told Alpha Foxtrot One that there could be a spare room in the house. If not, he’s happy staying at his ranch to the south. Over.”

“Roger that,” replied Preston. “Jennifer is also 55 minutes out, so keep a visual for her.”

“Will do,” replied Buck.

“What was that all about?” Captain Mallory asked. “And call me Mike—everybody else does.” Preston and Carlos both laughed. “New in-flight radio procedures, Mike, not approved by the FAA,” replied Carlos, shaking the captain’s hand. “We talk in a kind of code in case we are being listened to, and we know we are closely monitored. It is now against the law to fly with transponders because the enemy satellites pick them up. That goon-squad that passed you was coming here to take us out. Buck McKinnon, who was just on the radio, has an old Huey helicopter that we call Air Force One when the president is on board—yep, that’s right, the president. Ghost Rider is an AC-130 gunship that belongs to a friend of ours, General Pete Allen, who you will meet soon. Jennifer is Air Force Captain Watkins and she is bringing in a C-130 transporter.” “And the ‘White Cliffs of Dover,’ I assume, is Dover Air Force Base in Delaware,” added Preston. “Any aircraft built before 1980 still flies and General Allen is trying to bring all the older military aircraft together that he can. Most of the stuff is from the Vietnam era, but so far we have three F-4s, eight C-130s, and three helicopters. One of the 130s is a gunship and one or two are in-flight tankers, and we are growing by the day. We also have our own private civilian Air Force here. The P-38 is now fully equipped with air-to-ground rockets and/or 1,000 pound bombs, and the three Mustangs’ rocket additions will be finished tomorrow. The only piece of junk here is unfortunately the general’s private aircraft—the King Air 200—the rest are ready for action.”

“John,” laughed Mike. “It looks like our best flying days are still to come and from now on can I assume my call sign is Mike and he is John? What happens if we have more than one Mike or John?”

“Mike One and Mike Two, I guess. Shit, who cares!” laughed Preston. “Let’s help unload the aircraft and wait for our meeting. If I know my good buddy, Carlos, this is going to be a good one. I’ve never seen him so excited!” and he patted Carlos on the back. “I hear I owe you $500, you naughty boy!” Carlos grinned back but said nothing.

An hour later, Baby Huey came in directly from the north, turned in over the hangar, and came in to land from the south. Captain Jennifer Watkins had arrived five minutes earlier and the majority of the passengers from Captain Mallory’s convoy were getting ready to depart for Seymour Johnson.

This time, there was no honor guard as Baby Huey landed, but a lot more civilians were totally shocked to see the president. The general and Secret Service men exited the plane first and then the president. He shook as many hands as he could, especially the children’s hands. Little Beth gave him a kiss on the cheek and shyly introduced him to her new teenaged “big sister” and all her other friends from New York—especially the ones who also had a puppy like she did.

The president was then ushered into the hangar where Carlos and Lee had already set up a meeting room, and the hangar door was closed. All goodbyes and kisses and thanks had been shared with Mike Mallory, John, and Pam, who were staying behind while all the others from New York were about to be transferred to Seymour Johnson. The other remaining flight attendant was going along to look after the passengers. Jennifer started up and taxied out to the runway for take-off, as the growing team sat down for the next meeting. Martie was the last inside after hugging little Beth, who was also leaving for Seymour Johnson with her new sister, new friends and the retired teacher as her chaperones. It looked to Preston as if he had Martie to himself once again, and he smiled.

“She is going to make a good mother one day when this mess is over,” he thought to himself.

“Please we have little time. I must call this meeting to order,” started Carlos, still a little agitated. “Mr. President, General Allen, we believe that we have about 24 hours before New York is the victim of an invasion of sorts.” THAT got everybody’s attention and they all immediately sat down.

There was silence for 20 minutes as Carlos explained what he and Lee had achieved over the satellite link to China. He also showed an old television screen on a table with a real live picture of the United States, showing the massive winter storm heading northwest and currently over New York and New England. It looked like a Lego-made view of the earth, but he explained that they could now see only very large ships coming in from 300 miles out and the map stretched down to northern South America.

“I believe that within another 24 hours, Lee and I can patch ourselves into the three Chinese satellites and get their digital pictures bounced through our Navistar P. I don’t believe they ever thought to scramble their pictures, because who else would be watching if they terminated the electronics of all the other satellites? This is an important factor, General Allen. If we can see what they are seeing, then we can view China and Russia and see if they have their cities lit up. If they do, then they are the enemy. Whoever the real enemy is out there will light up the night sky. So please do not touch our stolen television truck in Salt Lake City, Utah. We are getting live feed from across the United States and will continue to do so. The pictures are just good enough to see any extremely large ships approaching within 300 miles of either coast, but not Hawaii or Alaska, I’m afraid.

“Pilots! Important! This picture is your only source of weather information, and once other television trucks are set up they can also view the same picture for weather patterns. Hill is already up, so is Edwards, and I believe Andrews will be online by late this evening. General, tell your men at the bases to find the same electronics we found at Hill and they will be able to see the same picture. An unlimited amount of people can view a satellite feed—it’s like satellite television was last year.

“Okay, back to the situation in New York. I have taken the liberty to warn all your bases through our radio link so they can prepare troops for battle. Jennifer—Captain Watkins—is dropping off the civilians at Seymour Johnson and picking up a company of readied troops—92 soldiers plus gear—and transporting them to Andrews. Captain Powers is currently heading to Andrews with another 92 fresh troops from Hill. I believe the Edwards-based C-130 is in the air with her and is loaded with two small bulldozers that can be lifted in by helicopter. They were put aboard by the commander at Hill to help clear the snow off the New York runways. I took the liberty, General Allen, to get things started since you were not in radio contact. I will now hand the operation over to you.”

“Thank you, Carlos,” replied the general. “I appreciate your quick thinking. I would have mobilized what I could if I were in the same position. So, Mr. President, pilots, thanks to Carlos and Mr. Wang, we have a little knowledge about our future. At this point we are transitioning into express mode. Everything has to be done yesterday. I now have six C-130s available to ferry troops into New York starting at midnight tonight, but the runways are blocked with snow. As Carlos explained, they must have men in or near New York who are going in to clear a runway for something big straight out of Shanghai. If that is the case, they must have bulldozers stashed away somewhere. We might as well let them clear the runway for us, but I want troops into JFK in the next couple of hours, before any incoming enemy army soldiers or Chinese termination squads get there.”

He walked over to the radio.

“Andrew, this is Pete. Do you copy? Over.”

“One moment, Pete, I’ll get him for you,” came the response. The base commander arrived a few seconds later.

“Hi, Pete.”

“How are those two whirly birds, Bud?” the general asked.

“Ready for service, Pete. We had two more units come in five minutes ago from our buddy Mr. Dover. That makes four. Ghost Rider will be taking off in an hour and she has Cousin Seymour’s address down yonder.”

“When you get her in the air, tell her to go and see Grandpa Pope (Fort Bragg) instead. He’s waiting to fill her up with men and she must return to Mr. McGuire’s (McGuire AFB) house.”

“Roger that,” the base commander replied.

“I want your four whirly-birds full of bad boys, a radio, and lots of firepower ASAP and sent up to Mr. McGuire’s. Get gassed up at old McGuire’s and then drop them into Juliet Foxtrot Kilo (JFK) by midnight. We are expecting visitors. Tell them to hide and monitor for any incoming. Let any visitors clear the footpaths and then watch for a few more buddies who will fly in and join them. They need to be up in the hunting lodge by the main airstrip before dawn to see the big boys arrive. The friends of the visitors are expected to fly in. ‘Allen Key’ is the code exchange for friendly conversation. Over.”

“Copy that, Pete. Confirm Juliet Foxtrot Kilo, our civilian neighbor to the north?”

“You got it, Buddy. We are expecting visitors sometime tomorrow, but they could arrive early. I recommend a silent entrance into Juliet Foxtrot Kilo from the water; you know the game. Out.” The general put down the microphone and thought out his next problem.

“The only aircraft I know of with a range to get here from China are the numerous civilian Boeing 747-400s long distance models, or the new Airbuses China has purchased in the last five or six years,” he continued, facing the people in the room. “I could not fly into McGuire Air Force Base in Trenton, New Jersey today. They were still struggling to clear the runway with two old snowplows, but I managed to get the base commander, General Billy Johnson, on the radio. Luckily, they had an idea to try everything in the storage depots.”

“They have zero operational aircraft since they were equipped with only the latest C-17s and Stratotankers, but they have a gazillion tons of fuel and he told me that C-130s could get in there by about 8:00 tonight. I’m going to use McGuire Air Force Base as my headquarters for this New York operation. Are there any questions up to this point?” There were none.

“Okay, next I am searching for something we need. Captain Powers completed a tour of four bases today on my behalf—Yuma, Tucson, Phoenix, and Vandenberg in California—and found what I was searching for. I had forgotten where they were. Captain Powers is returning from Hill at this moment and two of our Vietnam-era, fully restored and operational Jolly Green Giants—Sikorsky S-61R helicopters—are an hour or two behind her and will be going in to Hill for refueling in about an hour. I will order them into McGuire once I’m up in the air, and they will have to refuel one more time before they get to the East Coast. Once they arrive, we can airlift the bulldozers into anywhere we want to clear the airstrips. They also have 30 soldiers on board—some of our specially trained Air Force antiterrorist troops from the West Coast. That now gives us seven helicopters in total.”

The General went over to the radio and called the commander at Andrews AFB. “How many companies of soldiers do you have ready for battle?” he asked.

“I can give you five companies; 500 men. They are ready to go at a moment’s notice, Pete. That will leave me two companies to defend the base,” was the reply.

“As soon as you have delivered my first order, start transferring your men up to old McGuire’s place with the choppers and then the bigger girls once they land. Your chopper pilots can report back to you as soon as it’s clear for runway use. I’m sending up everything we have down here to go to Mr. McGuire’s as well. I need 24/7 action. I will get back to you once we have worked out the next plan. Out.”

The general came back to the bar table podium and looked at several world maps he had brought with him. He then looked at Carlos’ television set and thought for a minute, while everybody, including the president, looked on.

“The Commander of McGuire, Billy Johnson, will take over command of the New York operation once I’m finished at this meeting. He has tons of military experience—worked with the Army and Marines as a liaison fighting officer for several years, and he will attack and sterilize any foreign troops arriving on our soil. We are going to base all our military aircraft at McGuire starting tomorrow. Right now, we need to thwart this incoming attack in Raleigh in 48 hours, right Carlos? Lee?” They both confirmed 48 hours.

“They seem to like another potential dawn attack at RDU this time,” Carlos commented.

“We need to get a few radios or communication stations on the incoming highways—I believe I-40 from the west and a site north and south of I-95. David, what range do we have for these radios of yours?” the general asked.

“Thirty to fifty miles,” stated David.

“If they transfer transmissions into my Chapel Hill tower, I’m sure that range could be extended,” added Preston.

“Fifty miles is a good distance,” suggested Pete Allen. “Carlos, back to you.”

“Based on what Lee suggested in his conversation earlier today,” Carlos continued, trying to prioritize the most immediate problems. “It sounds like a group of engineers are being flown into JFK in tomorrow, or the next day, also around dawn. I’m sure that they will be bringing in supplies and troops to protect these engineers. We should expect another couple of hundred people in New York to clear the runways and help prepare before these guys fly in. So, I believe that a maximum force of 500 troops will be enough to overpower our ‘visitors’.”

“Sounds good to me, Carlos,” stated General Allen.

“That means the troops with Sally and Jennifer could come in here, we could fly in another crowd from Pope 30 minutes away, and have 300 men on the ground ready to fight the battle that will start tomorrow. Plus, we have the new firepower of our aircraft. Immediately after the confrontation, we can send the troops up to McGuire. We clean up here, you get the guys up there, try and capture the engineers and supplies, kill the troops….” he thought for a few seconds…. “and capture the aircraft, if possible. Yes! They could help bring our troops home faster. Then we transfer all the soldiers, howitzers, tanks, aircraft and naval vessels we have to New York and we will have two whole weeks to do that.”

“How many men can fit in our smaller civilian aircraft, Preston?” the general asked.

“We can get about 30 in Lady Dandy, 15 in the Cargomaster, 12 in the Pilatus, and six in the 210. That’s over 60 we can put down anywhere we want on any cleared highway and return to get more.”

“Good. That will help, since you guys can put them down anywhere. Once we see them on a clear piece of road, perhaps just after the brow of a hill on the highway would be a good ambush point. You guys can fly in tomorrow and pick up men from Pope and Fort Bragg. You might invite the president to go with you, since he is Commander-in-Chief,” directed the general, looking at the president.

The president smiled and nodded his head in approval, excited.

“Preston, Carlos, you have First Sergeant Perry here,” the general said, nodding at the First Sergeant. “He has shown great leadership and experience in ambushing the first group of insurgents. This time, Perry, do the same type of attack. It could be daylight when they arrive, so set up positions a mile in front of them, and then have our civilian air force blow them to bits. Then take your soldiers in, charge the position, and take no prisoners. Remember, Perry, we need those cell phones, so go for head shots from snipers on prominent positions.”