Текст книги "The Battle for New York"

Автор книги: T. I. Wade

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

They could still hear the two busy gunship crews over the radios, blasting the enemy forces outside JFK until the gunships were called into Newark to help on a side road teeming with Chinese troops– over 1,000 of them– who were heading into the completely burned out harbor area where Mike Mallory and his crew had spent their first couple of days.

Preston’s Mustang, with its engine now silent, flew in and landed safely on the runway, followed by one fire truck that looked like something out of a 1930s movie. Preston was sure it had somebody ringing its bell.

They followed it in, landed on a second runway, and taxied up to the fuel tankers where Air Force technicians were waiting to supply the aircraft. It would take 30 minutes to get them back into the air and they stayed in their aircraft listening to the battle on the ground.

Twice more that day they went up and fired at pockets of Chinese troops hiding in locations that were hard to get at by ground troops between the harbor and both airports. Most of the action was now centered in the Newark harbor area, and the battle had gone from mass termination to pockets of troops firing at each other, and hundreds of snipers on the roofs taking out the enemy when they saw them. By the time the three tired fighter pilots landed for the third time, the gunships were already down, the newly captured aircraft were gone and already on their way to Baghdad to pick up troops, and Preston wondered how many they had captured, and whether his Mustang’s engine was destroyed.

By nightfall, over 3,000 of the Chinese troops were being held in the terminals at the two airports, and the ten C-130s were taking out the wounded 60-100 stretchers at a time to McGuire where a hospital area in a large warehouse had been made available to process the wounded. There were now only pockets of Chinese troops in and around the harbor area, fighting against American Marines with night sights on their rifles. Since a new and final battle would commence the next day, the thousands of dead enemy bodies were checked for vital signs and satellite phones along the roads, and their numbers counted and hundreds of bodies left to freeze where they lay.

A post-battle meeting was scheduled for 22:00 hours that night at McGuire, and several tired commanders were flown in from the airports with the wounded to give their reports to a central command desk of personnel, who wrote down the events and losses on both sides. By 10:00 pm, the meeting had gathered at McGuire, the C-130s still bringing in wounded American soldiers and commanders who would report to the meeting and then return to move their troops closer in towards the harbor, kill any pockets as their circles tightened, and hopefully take up their new harbor positions by 3:00 am and get some sleep.

A tired and dirty group of over 50 Army, Air Force, and Marine commanders, the three airport commanders, and the dozens of pilots sat down in the 100 chairs set up for the meeting.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” stated a grubby and tired Colonel Patterson. “I believe that today has been a great victory for the forces and civilians of the United States and that we have won the first day. Thanks to a combined effort, we believe that very few enemy soldiers got through to the harbor area and they will certainly be found during our battle tomorrow. At Newark Airport, we managed to capture ten of the eleven aircraft, with one being destroyed by a fuel explosion. We lost a dozen good men on that aircraft as well as four ground crew members, two Chinese engineers, and two American engineers. At JFK, we somehow managed to lose control of three aircraft, all Airbuses. We believe that our squads of men were overwhelmed by troops stationed in certain aircraft as a precautionary measure by the enemy. The rest were overpowered. One lieutenant reported that there were a dozen enemy soldiers on the aircraft he had boarded. His troops killed all of them. They lost three men but managed to capture the aircraft and forced the pilots to land at Andrews. Several others reported that there were only pilots aboard, so either they were meant to be there, or we boarded them before all the troops had exited. Unfortunate, but with the loss of 54 brave men in total, of which seven were Air Force pilots, we managed to increase our growing fleet by sixteen usable aircraft, which are already halfway to Baghdad to pick up troops. By the way, we have the initial group of aircraft scheduled for arrival in Newark at 23:00 hours tonight—another 6,000 troops coming in to help with tomorrow’s battle. To recap, we lost one 747 at Newark and the only Airbus destroyed was fired on by our F-4s after the pilots refused to change course. The two other Airbuses following the lead aircraft quickly turned around. It was a total waste because the Chinese crew only had enough fuel for an hour’s flight time, but our pilots could see armed troops with guns at the heads of both the pilots in the Airbus cockpit. The onboard soldiers must have unfortunately overpowered our guys again. One 747, and a second Airbus 380, have damage from bullet holes through windows and through several of the cockpit flight controls, but they landed safely and are being checked out as we speak. If they can’t fly, we can at least use their working electronics in the dozens of dead 747-400s sitting around here in the United States. Thanks to you, our million troops overseas can be returned to the United States within three months now instead of eight.”

The colonel paused briefly for the applause from the crowd. “I believe that they have lost the ability to fly in more troops, which makes it easier for us from now on. As far as the ground battle is concerned, we got all their men out of the airports, which are safe again. We had our soldiers go in behind them and create havoc once the air cover had done their job. We believe that 12,000 troops landed in 21 aircraft. So far, we have 3,450 wounded and non-wounded enemy prisoners under guard in the two airports, and we are still flying in their wounded to our military hospital set ups here and at Andrews. We have not counted all the bodies since there are still hundreds around side roads and in alleyways, but a search is going on right now. Enemy deaths so far are close to 6,200. We have collected only seven satellite phones, and 103 backpack radios. The commanders believe that at least another 1,500 to 2,000 bodies are not yet counted, which means that we could have between 500 and 1,000 enemy troops wandering around our streets, and I’m sure several of them can communicate with each other. Hopefully they will all be accounted for by dawn.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our losses are substantial. At the airports, as I said, we lost 54 good Air Force men. Newark highways area lost 147 Army soldiers, Newark dock area lost 45 Marines, Van Wyck Expressway is short 41 Army soldiers and ten Marines, Nassau Expressway lost 59 Army soldiers, and the Belt Parkway lost 87 Marines. The total of American fatalities so far, is up to 443 with another 296 wounded, 17 critical. We have one aircraft with several rounds through its engine, which cannot be repaired before tomorrow’s battle. Twenty-four hours from now it should all be over.

“We are expecting ten ships—five container ships and five military vessels. I’m certain that many of the enemy soldiers walking our streets don’t know the whole story and hope the scratchy details from these commanders will not affect the main battle. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. We have reliable information that all the enemy commanders, except one, are aboard the aircraft carrier, and it all depends on how they enter under the Narrows Bridge tomorrow. Folks, our American civilians need that massive amount of food coming in. It could feed cities for months and we must not harm any of those container ships. We will have over a thousand snipers placed around the docks to pick off anybody who shows his head once the five container ships have docked. After that, it is open hunting season on the military vessels, and we have so much ammunition around here that I think we could put the earth out of alignment!” Everyone laughed.

“We have 20 squads of Navy Seals and Marines ready to climb aboard the container ships, and the snipers will back off once they go aboard. Their supreme aircraft carrier fighters can only stay airborne for three to four hours at the most, and when their runway sinks, they either die in freezing water, or land at one of our airports and introduce themselves to one of our welcoming committees. None of our aircraft, except the three F-4s, have any defense against what I believe is approximately 30 of their heavily armed modern J-10 fighters. I’m sure that they will have helicopters somewhere on their ships, and those can easily be taken out by heat-seeking rockets, of which we have hundreds. Once these fighters have used up their rockets and guns, only then can our aircraft take to the skies, but theirs are fast and you will have to shoot well to hit them. At that time, the best we can manage to defend ourselves is to prevent the howitzers on the ground from getting pelted by their fighters.”

For another ten minutes the colonel went on about the three different scenarios possible in New York Harbor. Several questions were asked about ground troops, and he replied that all American ground troops would be converging into the harbor area, making sure that the thousands of troops aboard the ships didn’t reach dry land. A second meeting would be held in two hours time, with the artillery, rocket, and mortar sections on their perimeters for attack, since they had American submarines and warships in the harbor, that did not need friendly fire.

*****

The last meeting of the Politburo was held at the same time in the meeting room of the aircraft carrier, now only 300 miles out of New York Harbor. The room was full with the 15 men, minus Mo Wang, whom nobody had seen for a couple of days, and several of the Red Guard commanders. The captains of the nine other vessels were on video screens piped in from their ships and the fighter aircraft commander was also in attendance. The chairman was on his satellite phone listening in to his panicked commanders on the ground in New York and angrily shouting back into the phone.

“What do you mean that you don’t know where you are!” he shouted to some poor guy on the other end. “Ask an American how to get to the docks! Of course we expected some form of fight, that’s why you are there, you stupid man! I already know that all the aircraft took off and are on their way back to China. Several others have confirmed seeing them leave. Yes, we lost a couple, but that’s war, Major Fu. Now get your men to the harbor area and I’m sure you will find thousands of other men waiting for you who will laugh at you for getting lost. How many men did you say you have with you? 23? How many did you have to start with? 500? Major Fu, may I suggest that they are not dead, just lost like you, and are waiting with the others. I have been told by several commanders that the fighting was sporadic and there were not more than a thousand American soldiers and several old propeller aircraft. I don’t want to listen to any more of your problems, Major Fu. Go and find the harbor and secure it for our arrival tomorrow. Remember, we still have another 4,000 men aboard these ships that will certainly pitch the battle in our favor.” The chairman angrily hung up on the poor man, lost somewhere without lights in a dock area he didn’t know, and surrounded by snipers with night sights. Major Fu wouldn’t see another dawn.

“And we call these troops our finest?” snapped the angry chairman at the crowd listening to his conversation. “What has happened to our youth? Wait until our real crack troops get on American soil tomorrow! I want all American males terminated within 20 city blocks of the harbor area. I don’t need any more problems when I step ashore—just female Americans, happy to see their new leader’s arrival.”

For the rest of the day, the Politburo went over the plans for the invasion of their new country. Several times, the chairman asked one of his aides to get one of the pilots of the 747 aircraft on the phone, but he couldn’t get through. The chairman wanted to get the next load of backup troops in as fast as possible. For the first time in his career, he was slightly worried about his master plan.

The sailors on board the ships prepared for their arrival in New York just after dawn the next morning.

It’s weird that weather often doesn’t play its part in well-thought out plans. It is also likely that bad weather for one person is good weather for another.

At dawn on the morning of January 20th, and after an inch of fresh snow in the New York area overnight, the sun rose behind the thick clouds that had formed along the northern coast of the United States overnight. A light snow was still falling, and thousands of men huddled for warmth in their thick white winter fatigues, brewed warm energy drinks from their ration packs, and cleaned and prepared their weapons.

The incoming ships couldn’t be seen by most of the American forces, but radar from the Coast Guard C-130 circling ten miles off shore and to the west of New York could see the ten blips on her screens perfectly. The ten ships were now stationary, three miles offshore, and Colonel Patterson—receiving a continuous feed in his extremely cold command center on top of the right tower of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and underneath white tents—was totally blinded by the clouds hanging well below his vantage point.

He now depended totally on the C-130’s continuous information, flying at 5,000 feet. If her radar screen could see the ships, the ship’s radar screens could see her. The colonel had placed her ten miles back from shore to make it look like she was just patrolling, and a second and third C-130 were also visible on the ship’s radar over Washington D.C. and Philadelphia, making it look like New York wasn’t the only area with air patrol. He didn’t want the invading forces to think that the United States was totally useless. That wouldn’t look right.

The C-130 ‘bait’ aircraft was 20 miles west of the harbor area and directly over Morrisville Airport in New Jersey. She could easily be attacked with sea-to-air missiles. Colonel Patterson was hoping that she would get their fighters airborne and in either scenario, the attack would take time to reach her and she could sink down and disappear into especially prepared ground cover within seconds of a missile or aircraft being launched. Also, the first missiles would be satellite-guided and Lee Wang was ready to scramble the satellite feeds to disrupt any incoming missiles and make them useless.

The vacant ground in and around the Morrisville Municipal Airport where the C-130 would land once attacked from the aircraft carrier, was filled with all sorts of anti-aircraft weapons pulled in from dozens and dozens of military bases from New Jersey and surrounding states.

Forty M-163 Vulcan anti-aircraft vehicles were ready, placed under trees, and next to hangars on the airfield. Even though they were old and many had been pulled out of museums, their 3,000 rounds per minute were deadly for any aircraft if they found their mark.

Several old Bradley fighting vehicles with cannons and TOW missiles had arrived from the Ohio area, 35 Mutts (jeeps) with TOW missiles and dozens more vehicles—mostly old jeeps with all types of cannons made to be temporary anti-aircraft defense vehicles– waited for targets, any targets, and Colonel Patterson hoped that the one lame duck could be the beginning of an ambush for the more advanced hawks—the hawks that would have to fly in close under the low cloud base to see what was so important below the single aircraft.

Another hundred old, antiquated units, mostly with TOW missiles, had been positioned between the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and around the New York harbor area and could open up on the aircraft if needed. The destroyers and frigates could also fire at the C-130, but that would give their complete element of surprise away to the enemy, and as the slow sun rose and the dark skies became a lighter grey, nothing happened.

Sporadic shooting had been heard throughout the night as snipers around the harbor shot at anything that moved on the streets below. There were few civilians in the area—any people the military had met before the day of the attack had been given a case of military rations per person and told to get out of the area. Dozens of city blocks in New York and New Jersey were covered with snipers on the roofs of every building, and it was two hours before dawn before everything went quiet as the snow began to fall and the snipers moved lower and lower to street-level to make sure nobody was missed.

*****

On the enemy ships out at sea nobody was in a great hurry. Their powerful engines kept them still in the calm water and thousands of men waited for the chairman to give his command to start the day’s action.

He was on deck sniffing the air and looking towards the dark grey shoreline three miles away. The American coastline could just be seen through the tapering snow and, drinking from a large china cup of steaming green tea, he held off the attack hoping that the clouds would lift with the sun’s rays warming the area and giving them more sight. He wanted to watch the action unfold.

For another ten minutes, he drank from his cup, leaning on the balcony of the ship, just looking towards his new country. Several camouflaged military personnel around him waited with their aides wearing backpack radios to communicate his orders. He had been told about the three aircraft on the radar screens and had asked his Air Force commander why the closest American airplane was so far from shore. The commander had replied that either it was air support for ground troops coming into New York to fight, or the airport where the rest of their aircraft were stationed, or it was the Americans’ early-warning system using its radar to search for incoming aircraft or shipping.

“So they already know that we are here, three miles offshore?” the chairman asked and the man confirmed that. “They still have guided missiles that can destroy our aircraft?” he then asked. Again the commander nodded to confirm this.

“But our aircraft’s satellite-guided missiles can attack their aircraft from a much further distance. Also, their aircraft can take off once ours take off, as they will see our aircraft taking off on their radar screens, yes?” was the chairman’s next question as he drank the last sip of tea. He looked around and noticed that the snow had stopped, and even though the temperature was slightly below freezing, the clouds had risen slightly and he could just make out the towers of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, which in an hour or two he would officially rename as the aircraft carrier passed under. The Air Force commander confirmed the chairman’s last question, and then it got serious. “How long can our fighters stay in the air?” he asked.

“Three to four hours depending on fuel usage. Less than one hour if they are in battle conditions,” replied the commander.

“Let’s take our new country, gentlemen,” the chairman ordered. “Admiral, send in the five food ships. I want to know what, or who is going to attack us, and I want to make sure our engineers and our troops are in the harbor area and not American soldiers like our commander said yesterday. I hear no shooting or loud explosions and I believe everything is quiet and ready. I want 12 fighters to take off and go and destroy that pesky fly out there and destroy everything below where that American plane is flying. Get ready to refuel and rearm those aircraft when they return and then get the remainder of the aircraft off the carrier once any enemy contact has been made. I want as much ammunition on deck to resupply the aircraft as quickly as possible. It will be safe on deck once we have the second flight of aircraft in the air to protect us. Tell the first wave to go in low, and as soon as they get halfway to that American aircraft, the first fighter will release their missiles to blow it out of the sky.

“That will be the start of the battle. Get the container ships into the off-loading facilities as quickly as possible. Our ground troops should be ready and our engineers will be there to welcome the container ships. Admiral, since we don’t have tugs to help the ships berth, tell them to be careful and to follow the simple berthing plan we have given them. Make sure that the container ship with the 1,500 Red Special Guards ready to scale down her sides goes in first, just in case.”

Orders were communicated, and ships began to creep forward again inch by inch, as the massive engines powered the great ships forward and the whine of jet engines could be heard several flights below as the chairman looked down to survey the action on the flight deck. He was extremely excited for the first time in his life.

*****

“We see heat spots increasing on the carrier deck, and we are descending to 2,500 feet,” stated the radar engineers in Blue Moon as she hung in the air above Morrisville Airport, the 400 men below ready to fire on any incoming aircraft once the enemy opened fire. “Roger that,” replied Colonel Patterson. “Immediately after the last fighter takes off, get her down onto the ground, into the prepared snow-walled area, get her propellers stopped, and get the white tarps over her. Gentlemen, I believe you will have five minutes once their missiles are scrambled by us and go into space before they come in with guns blazing. All anti-aircraft commanders around Morrisville only—open fire once the first missile is released, or you have visual.”

“All harbor troops, I’ve been told of ship movement, and the five container ships are edging forward. Do not fire on any shipping until ordered. I repeat, no harbor gunfire until my direct order. Please confirm that!” Hundreds of radios replied with their confirmation. “I believe that all five ships will dock on either side of that one Global Terminal area. The snipers will be ordered to fire once the first ships are secure and our guys are safely out of harm’s way. A message to our official welcoming party at the terminal, my old friend Comrade Wong at the terminal—if the war out here hasn’t started and it’s safe for you to do so, go out and wave to the men on the container ships. Get dozens of your large welcoming silver helium balloons into the air and look happy. We want to entice the other ships in ASAP and the balloons will help screw up their aiming systems.”

“We have the first aircraft off the carrier,” reported Blue Moon. “We are going into final approach and will land once they form up and come towards us. Have fun guys, enjoy it! Out.” The aircraft dropped down to 1,500 feet and turned onto very short finals, less than a mile out and literally dropped out of the sky towards the runway. Once down, she would shoot straight into her little hideaway surrounded by snow walls ten feet high and large white tarpaulins would be draped over her. She was no match for the incoming fighters.

One by one the fighters took off. The first aircraft turned right, out to sea and then came over the aircraft carrier at 500 feet as the 12th one left the steel runway and rose up to join them. The rest, 17 aircraft, were already being lifted up to the flight deck from below and being prepared for take-off, as were three helicopters that would go in and survey the harbor for any form of shipping, or a surprise ground attack.

“The American aircraft is landing,” stated the first Chinese fighter pilot on their radio frequency as he noticed the C-130 getting lower and lower on his modern radar screen. “Permission to destroy the aircraft?”

“Permission granted” was the reply, and he toggled the switch and two of the world’s most modern Russian missiles left his aircraft and sped towards Blue Moon, 15 miles ahead.

“Missiles hot,” the forward radar position on the other tower of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge reported to the colonel and Lee Wang. Still at McGuire with all the other pilots and aircraft ready to go, Lee activated the scrambling software he and Carlos had designed a couple of days earlier.

The Chinese fighter pilot was surprised to see his rockets suddenly turn skywards and begin to go vertical, not something he had expected. He ordered his next two aircraft to fire their missiles at the C-130, which was now only 500 feet above the ground. They locked their missiles onto her and four new missiles sped forward, yet also went vertical following the heat ejections of the first rocket motors towards space.

“Missile malfunction,” reported the pilot over the radio. “Changing to heat-seeking missiles, two locked and launched,” he said calmly as his next two shot forward and the C-130 landed. Three seconds later the missiles lost their target as dozens of silver balloons were released from the airfield ten miles ahead and hundreds of already warm military engines were started to mess up the missiles’ telemetry. One of the missiles went into an old truck driving down the road a couple of miles in front and the other into an empty burned-out strip mall where some form of fire must have been smoldering.

“Missile failure,” reported the lead aircraft. “It looks like an airfield where the American aircraft went in and we are starting to get return fire from units on the ground,” as a couple of aircraft easily dodged the Sidewinders aimed at them.

“Go in and destroy the airfield with the rest of your missiles at close range,” was the reply from the Air Force commander as he looked towards the container ships cruising a mile in front of the rest of the stationary naval flotilla. They would be under the bridge in about ten minutes. All was still quiet as he watched his three helicopters take off from below him and turn towards the bridge.

“We have three helos incoming. Keep your heads down—no movement, no firing—and make sure they can’t see you. Look like snow, guys, and bury deep,” ordered the colonel as he saw the helicopters coming towards him.

Now only five miles from the airport, the wing commander in the lead J-10 aircraft ordered his fighters to lock onto targets as suddenly a wall of tracer bullets erupted from near the airfield in front and came towards them, blowing up the aircraft to his left just as he ordered the aircraft to split up and fire at anything that moved below them. Missiles were locked onto the hangars, which had been emptied for the occasion and had coal stoves inside each of them omitting heat. The buildings were like saunas inside. Several missiles left their launchers as dozens of lines of cannon tracer came up to meet them. A couple of the missiles flew straight into the wall of incoming fire and exploded, which rocked the lead aircraft.

The fighters banked to the left and right, some going higher, some diving to get closer to the ground when everybody on the airfields began firing as fast as possible. Two aircraft erupted into balls of flame as they were hit and several of the empty hangars blew up as the missiles reached them.

“Take out anything hot you can find,” ordered the wing commander as his aircraft suddenly shuddered underneath his seat and then watched as his right wing began to fall apart and separate itself from the rest of the aircraft. His ejection seat worked fast and he was out of the aircraft seconds before it began its death dive, exploding just before it hit the ground. His parachute opened several seconds before he hit the roof of a flat building, breaking his right leg on impact and knocking him out.

At the same time, the helicopters came in low over the bridge and Colonel Patterson ordered two groups of five Mutts units armed with a TOW missile on each to be uncovered on the road several hundred yards south and north of the bridge, to take out the three helicopters only half a mile away flying just above his height above the right tower of the bridge. The helicopter pilots would be able to see their deployments pretty soon, as well as the men on the towers from this close a range.

All three of the helicopters immediately tried to dodge the incoming missiles, but this was close range shooting and the TOW missiles followed their movements. Colonel Patterson felt the shock waves of the exploding helicopters as all three blew up less than 300 yards from him.

“Well done, Mutts. Men, run! Get out of there. I’m sure the ships immediately located your jeep positions. Run!” the colonel shouted. He saw dots of light as several of the ship’s guns fired and seconds later both areas where the old jeeps stood exploded into orange balls of flames. “Hold your fire around the harbor!” he ordered, as he trained his binoculars onto the firefight going on 20 miles away at the Morrisville Airport.

*****

“Why did our helicopters explode?” shouted the chairman to his Air Force commander as the two frigates 300 hundred yards away began firing at the shoreline.

“They were hit with missiles from either side of the bridge, but the Americans are now history,” he replied, as they all saw large fireballs climb skyward on both sides of the bridge.

“Don’t hit my bridge, Admiral,” warned the chairman. They watched as the first container ship reached the bridge, was not attacked, and carried on into New York Harbor.

*****

The fighting at the airport was in full force. Most of the hangars were burning and the remaining seven fighters were spending much of their time dodging tracers and incoming missiles from every direction. Another J-10 aircraft exploded and several vehicles on the ground exploded as they were hit by cannon fire.

The men on the ground had fared reasonably well. Missiles went into the empty hangars as planned, destroying one or two guns that were too close. But now that the airfield was on fire, the enemy fighter began to take out the ground fire with what they had left. The cannons on the ground were red hot as rounds were fed into them as fast as they could, and the men behind the sights followed the aircraft a couple of miles out as they turned and came in firing cannons in return. Another two were hit as several more ground units exploded. There were just too many vehicles to aim at.