Текст книги "The Battle for New York"

Автор книги: T. I. Wade

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

Three hours later, the radio operator got into contact with Osan. They were flying low, at less than 1,000 feet to stay out of any North Korean coastal radar systems and again, they were guided in with flares, before their infrared scanners found the operating runway lights.

There were heavy, pulsating bursts of light through the thin snow on the horizon to the north, and it looked like there was military conflict around Seoul, 40 miles north of the Air Force base they were flying into. The pilots could very faintly see large lights, which meant that large buildings must be on fire.

They landed in an inch of snow and the weather was beginning to close in around this part of Asia. They couldn’t waste any time getting over to China.

Osan was a large base that included the 51st Fighter Wing and the 7th Air Force. The base had two generals and five colonels who were waiting for him with fuel tanker and generators as they drew up to the hangar. Refueling would only take 30 minutes, due to the short haul from Misawa, and the general asked about ‘Easy Girl’. To his relief, she was ready and operational, had a full crew and just needed to be topped off and armed. She was in a hangar and the brass gave orders to have her brought out and for her crew to get ready. General Allen asked for two back-up pilots and they were found. The only working jeep and one old troop transporter were started up, and his armaments crew drove out to the underground bunker to load all the ammunition they needed.

“Gentlemen,” Pete Allen spoke to a two-star general, a one-star general, three colonels and seven majors as they all stood about the aircraft. “I need a sitrep about the fighting to the north, and in return I can fill you in on our worldwide problems. I will need some coffee and whatever you have to eat, as will my men. We have been flying now for 24 hours. I want to get out of here within two hours—my AC-130 weapons chief will fill your guys in on what we need.”

They went into a large and relatively warm conference room. Several men had obviously been sleeping in here, and the room was immediately cleared for the meeting.

“Okay, so tell me what happened here at Osan,” the general asked Base Commander General Hal Whitelaw.

“I assume you know everything went dark here at 1400 hours on January 1st,“ replied General Whitelaw.

“Actually, midnight East Coast time was what the perpetrators were aiming for,” General Allen replied. “It was dark, freezing and we believe that at least 10 million North Americans are already dead or dying.” The men around the table looked at him, many with their mouths open and white faces.

“We had the usual 20 defense fighters and five armed bombers up, as well as eight C-17s on their way to Misawa,” continued General Whitelaw. “We had three Stratotankers about 300 miles out in different directions, and we lost the lot. Not one aircraft made it back to base. Even the two Apache helicopters patrolling 30 miles north of here just disappeared as the radar went down and all of our millions of electrical components just stopped working. We are sitting here with 400 pieces of junk that used to be called aircraft, and one Vietnam-era AC-130 gunship, two old operational F-4 Falcons, and three Vietnam-era Bell helicopters. How did this happen, Pete, and when is somebody going to turn the power on again?”

“Never guys—or not for a long time. All the Chinese-made electronic gadgets and parts worldwide—billions of them, trillions of them, I don’t know how many—were all built to fail and there are no spares or replacements until we set up new manufacturing facilities. These parts were made by the same company—Zedong Electronics.”

For half an hour the general told them everything he knew. He was tired, unshaven, and had bags under his eyes, but after tonight he would have a little more time to sleep.

“So you all now know as much as I do. My next stop is to attack the Zedong headquarters. Hopefully my actions will turn off their lights, too. We don’t believe the Chinese or Russian governments are involved, since Beijing is as dark as the United States is, as well as all of Russia. I’m hoping to get to both capitals in the next 24 hours and let both governments know that it wasn’t us.

“To see for myself, we travelled as far west as we dared on the way down here from Misawa. There were lights visible on the coast of North Korea. We have seen them on our screens back in the United States. On the simple screens that we have gotten operational again, we have seen lights in Shanghai, Pakistan, north of Kabul, parts of North Africa, Syria and all of Iran. Everybody who we are in a conflict with has lights on, and we don’t. The engineers traveling with me are showing your techs how to set up satellite communications by bouncing off the same satellites the enemy is using. They don’t know we are doing it, however, and I’m just hoping that when I blow their headquarters into little pieces around midnight tonight that we all don’t lose communications.”

“Hal, since you are so close to the fighting, I will give you the cell phone I had reserved for Ramstein. I left the other one I had in Misawa, so you guys now have worldwide communications, even with the president who got one just like it several hours ago. Here is a list of numbers to call, and the list of numbers will be updated and phoned through to you every 12 hours as new phones are handed out. We have just short of 200 phones, and these are our entire world communications until further notice. Just remember, these might all become useless in a few hours when we hit their building in downtown Nanjing.”

General Whitelaw explained Osan’s current situation to him. Apart from several 105 mm howitzers, a hundred or so rocket launchers, a dozen machine guns, and 4,000 fully armed men, there was little they could do against a full-on attack on the base by North Korea. The enemy outgunned the base by far, if all their modern equipment was still working.

“My mission tonight, gentlemen,” continued General Allen, “is to take out their headquarters and show them that we, the United States of America are not defeated. I believe the whole Chinese Air Force could be grounded, just like ours. Maybe they are in control of sections of it, but I’m 100 percent sure that they do not expect a blue-water attack from us. I’m going in to flatten Zedong Electronics headquarters and then fly on to Beijing to try and land at the international airport there. ‘Easy Girl’ still has the old flare system we used in Vietnam, the one that lights up landing zones for the Hueys so they can take in troops. The other two don’t have the flare system, but have their infrared fire-control systems still operational so each gunship has a definite purpose in my operation. I believe that with the flares we can pinpoint Beijing International Airport and get in if there is not too much snow.”

“Since the weather report you gave me earlier said it has been sunny but cold since December 30th, the runway in Beijing should be clear enough for our 130s to get in. I will also communicate with the president as soon as we are over Chinese soil, and if I’m attacked and our aircraft are destroyed, three older but fully operational atomic missiles will be launched from our only working site in South Dakota. One is for the capital of North Korea, one for Shanghai, and one for Beijing. Three more are ready to defend the United States, or can be directed into Iran if need be. Pakistan, we believe can still retaliate, but we don’t expect trouble from their government.

An hour later, the meeting was done and it was time to leave. During the meeting, the loading of ammunition was underway with every available man filling the magazines of all three gunships. They had 400 rounds of 40mm for the three rapid-fire Bofors guns; their only protection from enemy aircraft.

Since Easy Girl had been in Asia for several years and mostly used as air cover for naval exercises, she had not received the 105mm howitzer modification. She did, however, have the older gunship gun installation—two sets of twin 20mm Gatling guns. These could put out heavy fire, and with the 105mm’s installed on Ghost Rider and Blue Moon, they had enough firepower to flatten a building, any building!

The Korean tally was 300 projectiles, which were loaded into the aircraft for the two howitzers—200 HE projectiles and 100 concrete piercing projectiles.

The gunships usually carried 100 105mm rounds each, but the grand total of 200 rounds per gunship, or 20 minutes of nonstop firing was a lot of explosive power for one building. It had to be enough, and General Allen chose the firing set-up command to be one concrete-piercing round and followed by two HE rounds, each filled with 5 pounds of TNT. His idea was to blow the building down from the roof, floor-by-floor, blowing holes through the concrete. The concrete piercing rounds would make craters through the floors of the buildings one-by-one and then they could send in the HE after that.

Twenty-thousand rounds for the four 20mm Gatling guns were loaded into Easy Girl—four times more than usual—as well as 100 rounds for her 40mm Bofors anti-aircraft cannon. Ten-thousand rounds were placed in the other two gunships, and 150 Bofors rounds were loaded into each for aircraft protection.

It had been dark for an hour when General Allen called Carlos. Carlos had just finished setting up the satellite equipment at McGuire. He had flown in and gotten four hours of sleep while Lee Wang got the equipment organized and started placing all the computers and the one satellite dish into their perfect configuration, which took a couple of hours. Lee then worked on connecting everything together and woke Carlos to continue. They were an hour from receiving their first new digital world photos when the general phoned.

“Carlos? Allen Key.”

“Hi, Pete,” replied Carlos. “We need another hour before I can get a picture. We have our picture of the United States on screen now, but I need time to set up the codes to reach into their satellite feed and receive their pictures. What is the weather like where you are?”

“Not good, Carlos. Light snow and it’s getting worse. Visibility is about 2,000 feet and closing in. I need to know if this storm is big enough to affect the area I need to get to, and from there I want to go north into their capital city, or with this storm will I have to return to Japan, or return to my last port of call? I’d hate to be lost up there without a place to go, but I must leave now and I want to attack as close to their midnight as possible. That will represent one week and 13 hours since their attack on us. I’m in trouble if this is a full-scale storm, but we have Mother Goose filled to the brim with fuel, and at worst she can give us 600 extra miles of flying time.

“Carlos, we have grown to three gunships so we now have four transponders. I have no option but to leave here ASAP and I want to try and get into the attack zone without transponders. We have Mrs. Wang, who has enjoyed her trip so far and I intend to get her back safely. I have a new phone number for you. The call sign is Whitelaw-base Osan-South Korea,” and the general gave the number to Carlos to redistribute.

“I’m leaving our meeting here and will call you again in 30 minutes once I get into Ghost Rider.” He did, and they talked again as the general got seated and checks were done, doors closed, and the four aircraft were made ready for flight again.

“Lee would like to say a few words with his wife. Is that possible?” asked Carlos when Pete called him back.

“As long as they speak in English so that I can understand, I’m happy to allow them to speak. Just explain to him that we need this to succeed as much as possible and all our safety depends on you guys getting us out of here. There were a lot of lights to our north as we came in earlier, and there are a lot of good soldiers being killed down there. We think that our men have about a week here before we will have to defend the base itself.”

“Pete, Lee has worked harder than I have in the last few hours and much of your safety has depended on his knowledge of their systems,” Carlos replied. “I’ll get him on the phone,” and he handed the phone to Lee.

“Harrow, Mr. Pete,” Lee said on the phone.

“Good evening to you, Lee,” replied the general.

“We are ready to go, sir,” stated the pilot.

“Let’s get out of here,” Pete replied to the pilot.

“Lee, here is your wife,” and he called Mrs. Wang forward to speak to her husband.

They spoke in rapid English for several minutes as the aircraft taxied to the southern end of the runway for take-off. Pete understood everything being said and he smiled as he heard Mrs. Wang going over the map of Nanjing that Lee was reminding her about. They completed their conversation as the engines began their take-off roar, and she handed the phone back, bowed, smiled, and nimbly ran back to her seat for take-off.

Within five minutes, the four aircraft were in the air and flying level at 900 feet above ground. They were able to do this with the infrared systems aboard the three gunships tracking their altitude, and the tanker cruised along behind them watching their directional changes with her radar on short-range mode. A direct route to Nanjing was fixed and they were in a loose formation with several hundred yards between each aircraft.

The general knew that with all the world’s satellite directional systems out of commission, the only real way left to find other aircraft in the night’s sky was by radar and heat scanners. They were far too close to a country that might have fully operational aircraft, but the radar screens were empty in all directions. Their flight to the coast of China over the Yellow Sea would take two hours, and many of the crew got more than an hour’s sleep, including General Allen himself.

He was awakened when the pilot told him that the radar screen showed them to be 100 miles off the China coast. The snow was gone and the stars could be seen peeking through intermittent clouds. There was a sliver of a moon that made the water sparkle beneath them.

They were coming in to the mainland 50 miles north of Shanghai in case there were Chinese fighters in the urban areas. They were very low, still skimming the waves at 500 feet. The four aircraft planned to intersect the coast; rise up to 1,000 feet just like allied bombers did over Europe during the Second World War, and meet up with the river that would take them directly into downtown Nanjing. Once they reached the second of three bridges across the river, the idea was to be at 2,000 feet, and hopefully flares would light up the area and give Mrs. Wang a chance to guide the gunships towards the headquarters building.

The flares would last for seven to eight minutes and the general wanted them dropped directly over the building. The three gunships would still be in the dark sky several hundred yards away from the building, flying in circles at 3,000 feet.

General Allen gave orders to test the guns, and all the weapons aboard the three gunships were fired to make sure everything was ready. The general asked the co-pilot to surrender his seat to him and asked Mrs. Wang to come forward and sit just behind and in between the pilots.

They reached the river and only had 60 miles to go. The city in front of them blazed over the horizon and looked weird. It was still all lit up as the pilots lowered the air speed to 200 miles an hour, which wouldn’t throw out so much noise from the engines, and the dozen crew members in each gunship got down to their tasks of readying the aircraft for battle stations.

The air around them glowed as they flew over the lighted city of Nanjing. Mrs. Wang pointed out the faintly lit silhouette of the first bridge a few miles ahead.

“We need to go through the dead center of the bridge,” the crewmember on the infrared scanner said. “Pilots, climb to 2,500 feet to be safe.” They flew over the bridge and the river began a long turn to the southwest. The aircraft followed the turn and a second bridge appeared out of the blackness several seconds later. Mrs. Wang tapped the general on the shoulder and made a motion for them to fly over the bridge and then turn south.

“Fly over the bridge and then turn 40 degrees south over the southern river bank. I want 130 knots, pilots. I don’t want to miss this building,” he ordered over the radio.

She tapped him on the shoulder again and pointed to a small river inlet going south, just past the bridge.

“Follow that smaller river inlet going south,” he ordered.

She then tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to two large buildings, a taller building next to a smaller building on the right side of the inlet only 100 yards in front of them.

“Drop flares now! Our target is the largest building right underneath us. Turn slowly to starboard. Howitzer gunners, I want the armor-piercing to go right into the middle of the roof structure and then the HE right after them. Fire now!”

As the flares lit up the sky, the two 105mm guns opened up together and began pouring heavy projectiles into the building at the rate of ten rounds per minute. “Easy Girl and all 20mm cannon gunners, use all you have on the taller building. I think the second building is also part of the complex, I can see a sky bridge linking both buildings. Rake it up and down and then transfer backwards and forwards between the taller and shorter buildings!”

“Fire!” shouted the crew each time a round was fired out of each howitzer, and they shouted it ten times a minute for the next three minutes. The flares were not necessary anymore, as the building lit up the sky and several cars and vehicles exploded around the perimeter of the building.

“Howitzers, fire 20 rounds each into the shorter building’s roof and work your way down the walls,” ordered the General flying slowly in Ghost Rider, only 600 feet above and several hundred yards away from the building.

“Fire!” went the gunners as projectiles from the two howitzers and bursts of tracer from the four Gatling guns sprayed several thousand rounds per minute.

The building was dancing like a person with its feet on hot coals, and suddenly the smaller building collapsed within itself. The larger building, now a third lower than it was, again became the target of the two big guns.

“Howitzers pour your remaining rounds into the last building! I don’t want to see pieces bigger than a quarter. All 20mm guns hold your fire and give me an ammo report.”

“Fire!….fire!…. fire!…. fire!…. fire!” continued the gunner as projectile after projectile went into the building, reducing its size by three or four floors per minute. One gunship could have flattened the building, but two just decimated it.

Within 12 minutes, the buildings’ remains were strewn over a wide area and there was just thick smoke where the tall 30-story building had once stood.

“Gunners, pour another 60 seconds worth into whatever you see remaining around the building and then we are out of here. All 20mm cannons, fire into the smoke to make sure nothing has survived,” and everything opened up, literally flattening the smoke and everything in it.

“All gunners hold your fire! Pilots, set a course for Beijing at 3,000 feet. Scanners, give me any information you see down there.”

It was hard to get any scans. The flames were so intense that nobody could look at the area without having to shield their eyes. The scanners showed intense heat and nothing standing, and then the lights in the entire city and surrounding area suddenly went dark. Apart from the massive fire, the area below them was as dark as night.

“Ammo report, gunners,” the general reminded them. After several minutes the reports came in—two thousand rounds of 20mm ammo, full magazines of 40mm ammo, and only 18 rounds of 105mm ammo left between the two gunships. One team had been a fraction quicker than the other and had fired off two more projectiles.

Now it was time to see if they would survive getting out of China. General Allen looked at his watch. It was exactly midnight China time, and the sky was still clear. The general looked back to see tears in Mrs. Wang’s eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked her.

“Because those people killed so many, many others, and that makes me sad,” she replied.

*****

The chairman and his 15 comrades had watched the lone 747-400ER aircraft take off from Shanghai Pudong International Airport with much fanfare at 9:00am that morning. There was a military band playing, the Red Guards stood at attention and faced the departing aircraft, and at the moment the chairman felt like it was all coming together. There was nothing that could stop him now.

Comrade Feng, back on the 29th floor of the Zedong Electronics building was not too sure. He was the most senior man in the building now, his superiors were at sea and he was now in charge of relaying all information.

He had tried Comrade Wang’s phone and twice now, Wang hadn’t answered it. He also had the chairman’s satellite phone number, but if he called the chairman, and he was in a bad mood, the chances were that he would be in extremely deep trouble. Nobody phoned the chairman for just any insignificant reason.

It was 4:00 in the afternoon when he saw several transponder reports over the sea around Japan and Korea for the second time. He had been scanning the screens since he had seen three transponders in the middle of the vast ocean, miles from anywhere several hours earlier. Where were they were coming from? He could only surmise that they were Chinese or North Korean aircraft checking out something. There was no other air force that could fly aircraft into that area. The first transponder distance had even been too far for Chinese aircraft to reach without in-flight refueling. They had to be North Korean.

The second one confirmed his thoughts, because this time they flew close to South Korea and were only 50 or so miles offshore. His orders were to tell Comrade Wang about any transponder movements anywhere, and for the third time he called Wang’s number.

Comrade Mo Wang was sitting in the bus after a leisurely lunch in downtown Shanghai, about to arrive at the docks for the second time that day to board the ships. The flotilla of ten ships was due to leave Shanghai harbor at 6:00, an hour from then.

His cell phone buzzed for a second and then stopped. It had done this a couple of times that afternoon, and this time he had a chance to take it out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and was surprised to see that the weirdly lit up screen had nothing but dashes across it—not what he had expected. “It must have been damaged when I dropped it,” he thought to himself, as the bus pulled up to the wharf next to the aircraft carrier towering up above them and blocking out the sun. He would have to wait until he got to his room before he could get the spare phone out of his luggage.

He didn’t have time, however, because just then the chairman told all the men that there would be drinks and celebration as the ships left Shanghai and he expected all of them to be with him as they began their journey to invade and capture the other half of the world.

They entered the carrier through a large cargo door in its side and the captain of the ship escorted them up several flights of stairs to the flight deck. They followed the uniformed men, impeccability dressed in navy white, as they walked across the outside flight deck where several fighters were standing. They walked past them across the wide runway and over to the port side of the ship. It was so high that they felt as if they were on the roof of a massive building.

The view of Shanghai and the harbor was fantastic once the group reached the port side. They could hear orders being shouted and the grinding of steel chains, as well as new rumblings beneath their feet. It was an hour yet before darkness would creep into the area, and the sun was just getting low over the buildings of the city.

“Isn’t it a wonderful feeling to be so high and know that the whole world is at your feet, Comrade Wang?” the chairman asked Wang. Wang hadn’t noticed that the chairman had sidled up to him, as he had been deep in thought. “I get the sense that something is troubling you, Comrade.”

“Something does not feel right, you are correct in sensing my feelings, Comrade Chairman,” replied Wang. “I’ve have this knot in my stomach for a day or two now that something out there is not as it seems. I should have had more phone calls from my men telling me of great victories, but I get somebody different on the phone every time I call. I know this young man Bo Lee Tang, he is a good man and dependable, but I cannot get over the sound of his voice. It didn’t sound like him, yet he could prove everything I asked him, to make sure it actually was him, and not an imposter. Comrade Deng should have called twice today, but I haven’t gotten a call. The squads clearing the runway in New York were meant to contact me directly, as well as contacting Comrade Fung back at headquarters. Yet, I do not receive a phone call but Comrade Feng does. Comrade Chairman, these are our elite troops. It is part of their training to do as ordered.”

“I understand your need for discipline and information at all times. That is the making of a great leader,” replied Chairman Chunqiao. “But today is a day of glory. This is the only aircraft carrier in the world. Look at her magnificence. Look at her power, Comrade Wang. We are invincible only because we defeated our enemy before we even attacked. The rules of war are to defeat your enemy before you go into battle, and we have done that, Comrade. Yes, there will be problems arising out of the fires and the ashes of the enemy’s defeat, but without their Army, their Navy, and their Air Force, America is a small mouse and we are a large cat. Who is going to win, Comrade? Who is going to win?”

The ship slowly grumbled and vibrated underneath them. Several tugs slowly moved and guided her to the large entrance to the docks, and beyond that, the open river and then the ocean. A dozen or so sailors began to distribute glasses of champagne to the 16 dignitaries, and they could faintly hear the band still playing across the harbor. The whole mass of shipping began an orderly move towards open water.

Alarms sounded and dozens of soldiers in dress uniform ran out of doors everywhere, and within two minutes thousands of them lined the complete flight deck of the aircraft carrier, one arm length apart except for where the Politburo was standing. Fanfares sounded out of horns on the ships as they glided by thousands of soldiers waving their goodbyes.

As the sun set, the Shi Lang left the protection of the harbor, the tugs disengaged, and she and the four smaller warships left for open water to allow the massive container ships enough room to get out of the harbor behind them.

Once they reached the sea, and at ten knots, the naval ships aimed for Panama and sailed at reduced speed so that the container ships could catch up with them and get into formation.

By the time night covered the area the five container ships had left the river and were only a couple of miles behind. Within three hours, the flotilla was only a mile apart and the coast of Shanghai disappeared off the short-range radar screens in the dark night behind them.

Once the VIPs had gone back inside the aircraft carrier’s tower, they moved to the bridge to watch the whole flotilla coming together. Night lights began flashing from the others around them as the sea worsened and the radar screen showed the ten ships getting into formation for their pass 200 miles south of the Hawaiian Islands in two days time.

Dinner for the Politburo was served at 9:00 pm in the main dining room on a large table. By this time, several bottles of champagne had been drunk and the group was in a festive mood. They had still not been allowed to visit their rooms and Wang was desperate to get his replacement phone and call Feng to get updates.

The chairman’s control consul with the five red buttons had been placed in the middle of the table, directly in front of the his place at the head of the table, and the first course of the meal was served to the rowdy group. The chairman had placed his own satellite phone next to the display and none of the men had ever heard it go off, ever.

It was three hours later, and after the main course that Wang managed to leave the room and, with an escort who knew the ship, retrieve the extra phone from his stateroom. It took five minutes to turn on and he watched in horror as several messages arrived on the screen, all from Comrade Feng, the latest only an hour ago.

Comrade Wang climbed back up to the flight-deck with his escort to get perfect communications and he dialed Feng’s number—the red number written on all phones. A new phone, it took several seconds to patch itself through. Finally, at 11:15 pm he finally got a hold of Comrade Feng, who was in his office on the 18th floor of the smaller headquarters building.

“Feng, I apologize that I have not been in contact with you,” said Wang into the mouthpiece, “but I dropped my old phone earlier this afternoon and it took me several hours to realize that it was broken.”

“Comrade Wang, I don’t know where to start. We have had battles everywhere,” replied Feng, totally stressed and frustrated.

“Did the aircraft land, Feng?”

“Yes, Comrade, they are on the ground. They landed in America an hour ago. Twelve hours ago, I tried to call the termination squads at JFK, and the man who spoke was totally drunk. He shouted at me and told not to disturb him and I couldn’t understand why they had been drinking. That’s why I wanted to call you.”

“The men clearing the runway were drunk?” asked Wang, his mouth open and again his face was white with worry.

“The men were totally drunk! Next Comrade, Comrade Deng was attacked by two old World War II military aircraft. They were hit with machine guns and rockets in Alabama,” continued Comrade Feng.