Текст книги "The Battle for New York"

Автор книги: T. I. Wade

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“Count us in,” the captain and John said at the same time. “We have a badly injured lady with three small kids and the young girl with Pam, who we believe was raped in New York. Do you have enough room in the 210 to take them with you? The rest of us can sleep here tonight, and get to RDU by midday tomorrow, and then wait for you.”

“Get your wounded aboard, Captain. I have four spare seats and a couple of the children can share a seat. Little Beth here would be glad for the company,” Martie replied, saying her goodbyes and walking back to the aircraft.

They hurried and Pam helped the young girl, the injured mother, and her three kids squeeze into the six-seater aircraft. Martie took off just minutes later, waggled her wings, and disappeared to the north, climbing hard to hide in the sky and sneak a peek at the other convoy further south.

*****

The White House hadn’t changed. The streets were quiet, and people stayed away from the sacred building. Everyone knew that if they got too close, they were likely to get trouble from the guards in return. Nobody in the White House rose early since there was nothing to do except wait. The president had never been so bored in his life.

A hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast was finally delivered to the two men in the Oval Office. The Colombian ambassador and the president sat on the couch and enjoyed their first decent breakfast since New Year’s Eve. The president’s family stayed out of the area while their father worked, and went about as usual except without any modern electrical gadgets. The two kids drew, wrote stories, and did some homework that had not been completed before Christmas. The family had spent Christmas in Hawaii and returned on the last day of the year.

General Allen had promised the president that he would be back as soon as he could and an anxious president had forced him to say that he would return before lunch. He wasn’t able to keep his promise, due to circumstances beyond his control, but it made the president even more edgy. The general was currently taking off from Andrews AFB and heading to the White House with Buck piloting the Baby Huey, the overnight hours had not gone as he had planned.

At 1:00 am in Salt Lake City, the truck and trailer were sent up the mountain to get Carlos and Lee Wang as Buck was getting ready to take to the air in Lady Dandy.

Buck also inspected the cargo going into one of the C-130s as he inspected Lady Dandy for take-off. There were three television trucks advertising a local television station. One was being loaded into the C-130 and the other two were by the hangar doors waiting for Carlos to return. Several computers were also being loaded into both the C-130 and Lady Dandy with several old television sets. Buck then realized that Carlos must have satellite communication capability and that these were to give them more options than just the ham radios. It was so simple, yet it could work if they could bounce communications between these trucks via satellite.

Buck left the apron for the end of the runway as two more dark aircraft came in to land. The first C-130 looked like Jerry, but the second one took his breath away and he immediately wanted to fly it. It was a real AC-130 Gunship and, yes, it did have the 105mm howitzer sticking out of the side. He shouted “Yippee” with excitement and got on the radio.

“Pete, this is Buck. Is that YOU flying the second bird?”

“Now how did you guess that, Buck?” Pete replied. “I’m too tired to fly, so I’m acting as engineer and half asleep in the back. You get your lady friend home. There are strong tail winds up there. There’s a big storm on its way and we were blown south of our flight plan by 20 miles. It’s crappy flying without a GPS. It looks like you will get one hell of a tail wind because this stuff is cold and coming directly in from the north. How long is your estimated flying time?”

“Ten hours,” replied Buck, turning onto the runway and letting the engines warm up.

“You’ll do it in nine. Fly at high cruise. We have a busy day ahead. Yours is the only whirly-bird still operational at the moment and I need it to get up north. Radio Preston when you get close enough and tell him to fuel up Baby Huey and clear out her insides, I need three or four comfortable chairs in her before we take-off, and a nice rug and center table. She will be picking up the boss from you-know-where. Also, keep it a secret. Everything we have is going into the East Coast this morning and I already have a special passenger on board. We are going to need every bit of room around his airstrip. I hope to get there before you do, but I have to wait for our buddy, Carlos, and fill these babies up. I’ll get the base to try and give Preston a call as well. Travel safe. It’s getting nasty out there.”

“Roger that,” replied Buck.

“What does he mean by ‘the boss’?” asked Barbara.

“Our little Baby Huey is going to be ‘Air Force One’ for the 11 miles from The White House to Andrews,” replied Buck with a chuckle.

Carlos was still awake, as was Lee, when the men arrived a little before 2:00 am. Both men heard the snowplow arrive, and they were ready. They had worked most of the night and had three large pieces of equipment that had to be handled with care ready to be packed aboard the plow.

“There are two men staying behind to guard,” the sergeant told Carlos. “They have just unloaded 20 gallons of gas and the rest of the guard detail will return on the plow once you guys head down the mountain in the transporter. The ‘boss’ has ordered you, sir, to be at Hill by 3:00 am at the latest. There is a bad storm coming in and he’s flying in from Edwards ahead of it.”

The sergeant was quickly shown what to do to keep everything on and as warm as possible. The telescope was set, and Carlos explained that although it was inside the building, it was in its own case and walled-in from the working area by thick Perspex. The snow wouldn’t do anything to it, and they could stay warm in the observatory. Carlos showed them the heaters and electricity switches, and told the men that the telescope with its antennae must be kept powered up at all costs. They nodded enjoying the toasty 50 degree inside temperature.

Then it was time to leave. It was bitterly cold on the plow, and Carlos was half frozen by the time they reached the truck—its lights still on, the engine running, their three large packs were quickly moved to the truck. They got into the warm cab and the driver pressed his foot on the clutch, slipping it into gear and jerking forward, leaving the others to take the snow plow back to the observatory.

It was pretty slow and slippery going back down the hill, but the driver was good and they made it back to base at exactly 3:00 am. Carlos was surprised to see four C-130s parked on the apron, their engines starting up as he arrived. “Lee, you are coming with me? How long will it take to get your wife and daughter packed up?” Carlos asked.

“It won’t take them long to get ready,” Lee replied and ran off to tell them they were leaving.

“Good morning, Carlos,” greeted Pete Allen, walking up to the tired astronomer. “We can sleep enroute. The men found and packed what you asked for. It’s packed in Tom. Sally is back at Andrews resting. We can fly together in Jerry, talk, and catch up on the way.”

“We need to wait for Lee Wang,” Carlos stalled. “It is imperative Lee comes with us, Pete. He and I think that we can find out who is behind this, and he might even be able to deactivate their satellites.”

“That’s worth waiting for,” Pete responded, and it was only five minutes later when Lee and his family returned from a room behind the Officers’ Mess and followed Pete’s instructions to follow him and get aboard Jerry. Carlos and Pete were far too exhausted to even think of flying themselves.

Carlos walked up the ramp into Jerry and got a tired hello from Jennifer who was resting on a foam mattress in the rear. A few familiar faces also looked at the new visitors. Maggie and the kids were there and she seemed to be half asleep next to a man that he assumed was her husband, and who was totally out cold. Carlos had never met him before, but he knew about Will’s phobia of flying and winked at Maggie.

“Hi, Carlos,” she smiled sweetly, sitting on the floor of the aircraft holding her husband’s head in her lap. “Will is under heavy sedation. I told the doctor at Edwards that if he was conscious he would not get on the plane, so the Doc gave him a double dose of whatever it was—a damn hurricane wouldn’t wake him up. I hear you have been busy!”

“Yep,” he replied. “I need some of that sleep medication Will was given, though. I’m very tired. Oh, this is my buddy, Lee Wang, his wife Lin, and their daughter Ling.” The newcomers were quickly acquainted and they all opened side seats next to Jennifer to sit down for take-off.

“You also look done in, Jennifer,” Carlos remarked as he seat belted himself in next to her.

“Lots of hours, Carlos,” she replied.

The pilots weren’t messing around. They taxied to the end of the runway at an alarming speed, completed their final checks on the way, and went straight into their take-off runs as each one reached the end of the runway. These guys were certainly in a hurry.

All four C-130s climbed into the dark, cold sky—dawn still many hours away—and General Allen came back to see everybody.

“Do we have satellite connection, Carlos?” he asked.

“Yes, we have a simple connection. Navistar P will soon be stationery over Utah. For how long, I don’t know. It depends on how good you guys made her, but she’s flying well up there. The re-positioning will still take a couple of days. It’s still dark, but with dawn an hour out over the eastern seaboard, I believe that our U.S. visual on screen is both coastlines plus 300 miles of ocean either side in a day or two. I could have made her go further out, but it would have taken weeks to align her even further, and I didn’t think it was necessary. With any shipping, 300 miles is at least a full 24-hour warning.” Pete looked at Carlos.

“We have a television truck on board Tom, and several of the computers you wanted and a couple of old television sets in storage. Are we going to see the satellite broadcast on them?”

“I believe so,” Carlos replied tiredly. “I also think we can set up a communication feed to the other bases. Lee and I are working on trying to mate the radio feed into the television trucks. Or, I was actually thinking we could use the old simple commercial Hughes Satellite Internet systems around the country to communicate to every base and the White House. It will take a few weeks to get that far, but I need your guys all over the country to go out and find the Hughes two-way satellite systems and we can go from there.”

Carlos then changed the subject, hardly taking a breath. “Two of those other C-130s flying with us look very different than the others.”

“Good eyes, as usual,” replied the general. “This is my secret project for my favorite air base museum at Hill AFB. The first one is one of the original Vietnam-era AC-130 Gunships. I have had people working on her for over a year now at Edwards. She is the same model as Tom and Jerry, but over the years has been made as original as she was back in ‘Nam. I reckon she has cost as much as an F-22, but she still has her added 105mm howitzer, fuel drop tanks and air-refueling intact. We were going to take them off next year. Most importantly, however, she has been refitted with all her original electrical gauges and flight systems. That’s why she can still fly but also still has the latest fire power– the same as the more modern 130 Gunships that are now all grounded permanently.

“Ghost Rider and one other, Easy Girl, have the only 105mm howitzers still flying, as well as the full load of 20mm and 40mm cannons. Ghost Rider actually went down twice in ‘Nam, but was repaired and survived. Her older sister had the call sign ‘First Lady,’ and was put out to pasture years ago in one of our museums. This gal has upgraded engines, and no modern electronics, or she wouldn’t be flying. Her underbelly is thin armor and that 105 mm howitzer makes your teeth rattle when it goes off. Ghost Rider is my real baby, and she is the only one of three old, secret Gunships still flying. I lovingly put her back together and later today she will serve as ‘Air Force One’—a real promotion for this old girl!”

“The president is moving?” Carlos asked.

“He wants to come and visit you guys,” the general continued. “The guy just wants to get out of Dodge and see the world, and I don’t blame him. Now let’s get some sleep. It looks like we all need it. Will Smart will be wide awake later when he realizes that he has flown across country and missed it all. I’m dying to see his face!” He smiled, grabbing a foam mattress from a pile and a few blankets and lay down. He was asleep in seconds, and the rest weren’t far behind him.

*****

Preston was up early, about an hour after everyone got to sleep in Jerry almost 1,300 miles to his west. Oliver and his new pal, Spot the puppy, were by his side. Preston couldn’t sleep and was beginning to worry about the possible incoming attack. They had such sketchy news about everything. It was a clear, but still dark morning. The temperature was 32 degrees and he wanted to walk. The Air Force guys had worked all night on the perimeter fence and it wouldn’t be long before the runway would be receiving visitors.

He had heard over the radio, from Edwards and now Hill, that aircraft were coming his way. He knew that Lady Dandy was airborne out of Salt Lake City, and that C-130s were headed into Salt Lake to refuel. They were all expected around lunch time. A radio operator had answered when Preston called and spoke for the first time to Hill Air Force Base relaying the weird instructions from the general. Pretty interesting instructions, but he felt something exciting was about to happen.

Baby Huey was predictably parked behind the fuel tanks, out of the way of the fixed-wing aircraft. She couldn’t just taxi forward and get fueled up, so Buck had lifted her up and landed her on the dirt where the fuel line could easily reach her. Preston hotwired the pump and began to fill her tanks. She was off to Washington as soon as Buck got in. Poor Buck would be having a very long day. It took nearly 15 minutes as the slow pumps, not made for large deliveries of fuel, pumped just under 200 gallons into the helicopter—she was thirsty.

After turning off the pump, he went to look for a rug to place on the floor of Baby Huey’s belly along with a couple of easy chairs. He went to the lounge and moved the wooden coffee table and the round rug underneath it out to the helicopter. The rug had been a present from Martie’s grandfather and was an oval copy of the American flag. Preston placed both in the rear of the helicopter. The six-foot rug fit well and covered much of the metal floor. He walked into the hangar and took the new set of EZ-Boys from the downstairs room. Nobody was upstairs. Carlos, Buck, and Barbara were on their way from Salt Lake City, both Sally and Jennifer were still flying, and the Smarts were in California.

Martie had washed all the bedding in their 20-year old washing machine the previous evening, which, with the old gas dryer, were the only electrical machines still working at the farm. The new washing machine he had purchased a couple of years ago was dead, and he was thankful that he had just put the old one out in the barn.

Preston moved each chair on a small four-wheeled trailer he often pulled around the farm behind his green lawn tractor, and then went back to get the two-seater couch—the smallest of three Martie had purchased for the party. The other two were double the size and wouldn’t fit. The radio operator had stated that they would need a minimum of three chairs.

He was done, and the inside rear of the helicopter looked like a small, comfortable lounge. He locked the side door behind the couch from the outside so nobody could get in or fall out of that side since the people on the couch would have no parachutes if the door was opened in flight. She was ready.

Then he thought about drinks. He went back and unplugged the small bar refrigerator he had used before Martie shopped for the fly-in. It was still cold, and would be colder still if he left it outside for a couple of hours. He placed it in the rear of Baby Huey, and filled it with cans of soda, Gatorade, and beer from the stocks purchased from the closed-down gas station. He placed a tray of potato chip bags on a rubber mat on top of the fridge, but then he took them out and refilled the black wooden tray with dozens of packets of Southwest peanuts and pretzels. He hoped their guests would see the humor in it. He put a box of Jerky on top of the bags. He was quite impressed with his accomplishments.

“Looks like a mini Oval Office,” laughed Martie, sneaking up behind him and giving him a good morning hug. “Pete Allen will think he’s the president sitting in here.”

“Just following orders, love,” Preston replied. “Buck is flying her out later this morning.”

“I just got off the radio with Jennifer,” Martie reported. “Actually, she relayed our conversation through Hill’s new radio. She said that both Tom and Jerry are coming in with a few others and a surprise. They have Will Smart on board with Maggie and the kids. Will has been completely sedated since Edwards, is sleeping like a baby, and doesn’t even know that he is flying across the country.”

“That will certainly screw up his internal time clock,” laughed Preston. “He’s going to suffer badly from jetlag, poor guy. It will be fun to see his reaction when he wakes up.”

“I’ll do up the beds before they get here, in case they need to let him sleep,” Martie answered. “Let’s go walk around and see what the soldiers have done.”

With Oliver and the happy puppy in tow, and with little Beth still asleep, they walked down the runway towards the guard tower.

“Good morning, sir,” came a voice from 30 feet up. “We have been working all night and I think we are about done.”

The walkers said good morning back and continued down the driveway and around the corner, their progress being forwarded by radio. The gate was now a mass of barbed wire, and nobody could get through it without armor.

“Good morning, sir. ma’am,” the tired sergeant in charge nodded to them as they walked up. “Those dogs never stop playing. I wish I had as much energy.”

“Good morning, Sergeant,” replied the walkers in unison. “It looks like we are now secure from the road. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir! We have put down over 300 yards of triple-lined wire, and the whole stretch can be seen from the fire tower. We wanted to put some trip wires down, but then thought that the dogs could walk into them, so we wanted to ask your permission first. Then, I had an idea last night about the possible attack we might be getting. If we lure the attack away from the perimeter—say on the dirt road just as you turn off the highway—and put up a barrier across the dirt road about 200 yards in from the asphalt—we can stop them before they reach the gate of the property.”

“Sounds good,” replied Preston. “A sort of ambush zone?”

“Correct, sir, basic military tactics,” replied the sergeant. “I was going to ask Mr. David if we could place his armored cars at the other end of the dirt road several yards into the forest on the other side of the road. They could be camouflaged under brush and cut off the escape route once the attackers realize it’s a trap.”

“It sounds good. I’m sure David would enjoy the action. Those machine guns will rip anything civilian to shreds in seconds. I’ve seen them in action,” replied Preston.

“There is enough brush along where your fence goes and we can position a dozen or so men down the road to ambush whoever arrives and help the guards at the barrier and the tower,” the sergeant added. “We currently have 32 fully-operational soldiers on site, and that should be enough.”

“Unfortunately, I need a couple of your soldiers to set up a guard post at RDU airport this morning,” added Preston. “There is a ton of stuff there—food, and gasoline in the large fuel tanks—and I think we are going to need everything we can get our hands on. I will ask General Allen to set up a permanent 24/7 guard at the main gates and I was even going to ask Joe for the use of one of his jeeps to patrol the airport’s perimeter.”

“Not a problem, sir,” the sergeant replied. “I’m sure a C-130 will fly into a base later today and they can always bring back more troops. The general said that there was little chance of an attack today. It will take at least a day for them to find us and ready themselves, but from midnight tonight we should be prepared for action. We are nearly done here The men are going to rest this morning, get six hours of sleep and then we will get back at it. I will forward my ideas about the ambush to the general when he arrives. It will only take a couple of hours to take fresh troops into RDU from Seymour Johnson, and I don’t need to send any men from here. They already know the layout of the land and that is real valuable right now.” Preston agreed, and he and Martie said their goodbyes and walked back to the house.

“It’s a pretty good plan,” Preston stated to Martie. “I think it is going to work. We don’t know how many are coming, but I’m sure it’s not thousands of fighters—probably less than 100, if any come at all, and they won’t be expecting our fancy armored reception.”

“I want to help,” replied Martie. “I think I could spend some time in the 210 cruising up the north/south or west/east highways looking for movement. These bad guys will have to drive from the north, wherever they are and I’m sure they will come south from Washington, I-95, or east along US 64 or possibly I-40. I can’t see why they would come north from Florida or Georgia. There isn’t any reason for them to be there. Also, I-40 must be closed around Asheville. I’m sure that winter weather is making for potentially dangerous driving over the Blue Ridge Mountains.”

“They could already be here, but I don’t think so,” added Preston, throwing a stick for Oliver. “It’s only been a day since our transponders could have been noticed, and since they are all now silent they can’t see any new activity from here. They might not even come at all. But I think you’re right. If they do come, I think the I-95 corridor is the best bet. We are short on pilots until everybody gets back, and I want to secure RDU as soon as possible today. So you might as well take your new toy up and cruise around. Don’t you want to take your Mustang?”

“I was thinking about that, but she’s far too fast and noisy. I was thinking about refueling one of the 172s, but then I realized that it would take me too long to get back in a 172 if I saw something. I can power down the 210 to minimum cruise altitude, say around 130 miles an hour, stay up for five hours with the fuel reduction, and then scream back to get help if I see something,” Martie explained. “Little Beth is falling in love with flying and I can take her with me. It’s keeping her mind off her mother. I know you miss me, but with Maggie’s kids coming in, they’ll be able to take her under their wing and keep her occupied.” She snuggled up to him as they reached the house, and he told her to make breakfast and he’d refuel the 210 for her.

Most of the troops slept in that morning and were only awakened by Lady Dandy coming in. Several minutes earlier, Buck had gotten on the radio to Preston to get landing details. Buck already knew that with the powerful tailwind they had enjoyed for the first several hours of the flight that he would need to come in from the south. The temperature had risen to 45 degrees and Buck told him that Tom and Jerry were now only 50 minutes behind him and were also planning to land at Preston’s airfield. Buck told Preston that he needed Lady Dandy to be well out of the way and that he would park her on the other side of the hangar next to Baby Huey.

That prompted a question, but Preston kept silent and just gave Lady Dandy the wind speed and temperature. “Why are you parking her so far away?” Preston finally asked as Buck and Barbara jumped out after landing and positioning Lady Dandy off the runway.

“A few surprises are coming in,” smiled Buck. “Carlos has some old gear with them. Can you order up some help to unload? Our cargo is a few antiquated computers and television sets. I need to freshen up because Barbara and I are heading straight out to Andrews in Baby Huey. Thank God it’s only an hour each way! Barbara flew most of the way and I slept for five hours to stay fresh for the next leg. I’ll be taking off before mid-day and hope to be back by dark, Preston.”

The DC-3 was unloaded and Martie fixed everybody a brunch of slightly old sandwiches and bagels full of ham and cream cheese, all commandeered from the deli at the airport the day before. “I hope we can get fresh stuff like this every day,” she smiled at Preston, knowing that it would all be gone soon. She had a couple of bread makers in the kitchen—one worked and one didn’t—but she would need bread-making ingredients pretty soon or she would run out. A couple of loaves of bread would certainly not go far with the increasing crowd at the Strong Ranch.

Buck and Barbara took off for Andrews after brunch, and Barbara was hoping to get some sleep on the way to the city. She got out as Buck was about to start Baby Huey and retrieved a foam mattress from the hangar. Buck and Barbara had just disappeared over the horizon to the north when Jennifer came over the intercom, and Preston gave her the wind speed and temperature. She could be heard faintly taking to other pilots, describing the landing techniques for the airfield. Preston could hear several voices he didn’t recognize and knew there were a lot more arriving than he had expected.

“Be gentle with my little runway, guys,” pleaded Preston into the radio. “And Jennifer, the lights are removed, the trees have been sort-of flattened by the dozer on the south-end for 40 or so more yards, and you can come in about 30 feet lower and begin your flare-out earlier.”

“Roger that,” replied Jennifer.

The drone of several heavy aircraft engines could be heard off to the west as they flew further south of the runway to turn in northeast for the landing. Then he saw them—a line of four C-130s—stretching on the horizon for what seemed like miles. Jennifer came in first, followed by what looked like Tom or Jerry—it was hard to tell the difference. They each landed and taxied onto the apron area to get out of the way. The third one came in and looked a little different but the fourth one took his breath away. It was a Gunship—an old 130, just like the other three, but as a pilot he knew about these super birds and recognized that this one had all three of the modern guns sticking out of the side. The engines had a much deeper rumble to them, and it took the whole runway to get her down once the third airplane had moved onto the dirt at the end of the runway, giving the gunship enough room to use the whole field. They all taxied back, and the third C-130 parked over the fuel tanks while the gunship sat on the runway idling.

General Allen was already out, the troops standing in a line at attention for the occasion. The sergeant spoke about his ideas, the general nodded to him, and Preston got to them as they finished.

“The sergeant here told us about your need to place a guard detachment at RDU, and I think it’s a good idea. Actually, one of the 130s is going to head down to Seymour Johnson. They can pick up a guard detachment and gear, and fly into RDU in about two hours. Which gate do you think would be best to set up a guard base?”

“I would recommend the gate by the private terminal,” replied Preston, raising his voice over the noise of the engines. I think we need to make our presence very obvious to anybody spying on the airport. I’ll go up there earlier with one of Joe’s jeeps, or even the Saracen, so your men can use it to patrol the perimeter.”

“Sounds good,” agreed the general. “I like the sergeant’s idea of creating an ambush zone on the road outside your entrance. I’ve given him the go-ahead to set it up and there will be two more companies of 100 men each, ferried in here this afternoon. Captain Watkins will do two trips in from Pope to get them here. The extra troops will only be here for a day or so before they need to head up to the White House, but while they’re here they can set up and dig the mortar positions around the tarmac as well as sandbag machine-gun placements. I want sandbags on the insides of your gate, and they can sandbag an area on the road as protection from any attack. We will put up a professional and defensible barrier to stop traffic if need be. It’s a surprise, but we need to have this place under lock-down until this threat is over.”

“I agree,” replied Preston. “Martie is going up in the 210 in an hour to be our spotter plane. She’s going south for 50 miles and then north for a hundred miles to see if anything is moving on the I-95 corridor. I’m going up in my FedEx special and head out on US 64 for 100 miles, and then going to meet Joe and David who are driving to the airport. I can show your guys the lay of the land when they get there.”

“I’ll be back by 4:30 at the latest. Like Ghost Rider?” Pete Allen winked at Preston as he turned and pointed to the gunship. Preston nodded with a grin of his own. Martie returned and gave the general a cooler full of lunches for him and his crew.

“Everybody has their orders,” the general began to wrap things up. “By the way, that is an HC-130 sitting over your fuel tanks. She is an in-flight fuel tanker—your fuel tanker for the time being, with a full crew at your disposal until I need her. That represents a big ‘thank you’ from me. She can pump fuel in and out of rocks if you need her to, and she can siphon all the fuel out of the RDU’s main tanks and pump yours full. She can fly across the country non-stop. Her range is 4,250 miles. Her crew of three is directly under your command and her military call-sign is ‘Mother Goose.’ It’s still painted on her side from Vietnam.”