Assault on Alpha Base

by Doug Beason

  Stepping outside, Vikki backed away from the C-130. The crew pulled a camouflaged mesh from the bag.

  Renault bellowed at the troops in the plane. Men poured out to help cover the C-130 with the mesh-like material.

  Ten of the men rolled a hose and pump down to the lake. After the mesh was in place, two men took turns pumping water by cranking on a long lever. As pressure built up, Renault directed the water onto the C-130’s engines. Steam rose as the water hit the hot metal.

  Twenty minutes later the men retired to the trees. Even though the morning air was still chilly, they peeled off their shirts, sweating from the exertion.

  From the van the C-130 resembled a lump of dark wet cloth. Renault explained how the water had cooled the plane enough to prevent infrared hot spots. “If they study their satellite photos close enough, they’ll find us, but the mesh will hide us from a casual look. The water should have cooled it down enough not to warrant an additional high-resolution photograph.”

  Renault went over the plan with Harding and Vikki, hammering out details. When everyone was satisfied, Renault suggested that they try and catch up on some sleep. The night was going to be a long one.

  Harding and Vikki climbed in the back of the Chevy van. Renault’s men spread out to nap under the trees. Within minutes the meadow was deserted. Vikki and Harding could have been alone in the mountains if they didn’t know better. Inside the van, Harding fumbled around the wheel well. He cursed moments later.

  “Where’s the dope?”

  Vikki wordlessly reached for the grass she had hidden.

  Harding quickly rolled a joint, licked the length of it, and lit up. After several hits he leaned back and offered it to her. She shook her head. Harding drew in another breath of marijuana. He studied Vikki before asking, “What’s wrong?”

  Silence. Vikki looked away, then said, “Nothing.”

  Harding allowed her to sit quietly as he toked. “I haven’t seen you this quiet for years.”

  Vikki shrugged. “Just thinking.” About McGriffin? she thought. No, that wasn’t it—even though McGriffin would have never have been so … grating. She brushed back her hair. “After all this time, talking, planning … I just hope we can pull it off.”

  “You covered your part, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And if Britnell is as stupid as you say, we’ve got it made.” He held out the marijuana to her. Again she shook her head.

  Harding frowned and let the smoke curl up from his mouth. “You aren’t falling for that kid, are you?”

  Vikki’s eyes flashed. “I told you—”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Harding leaned back. He shook his head. “I don’t know. You’ve been acting strange lately—preoccupied.”

  “We’re only taking on the largest nuclear weapons repository in the free world, and you expect me not to be preoccupied?” Vikki curled up in one corner of the van, shutting her eyes and using one of the duffel bags thrown in the rear as a pillow. A moment passed. Harding stirred, then she felt a hand on her shoulder. He kissed her cheek.

  “It’s been a long time … ” His hand moved down and cupped her breast.

  She didn’t move. Harding kissed her again. When she didn’t respond, he moved away.

  Vikki waited, tense. Moments later his breathing deepened. She felt the tension drain from her, then started trembling.

  The pressures from the past few weeks seemed to cascade around her. Britnell, Anthony, she thought. It seemed like they’d forgotten she could do anything but have sex. McGriffin had been the only one she could relax with, the only one who hadn’t threatened her.

  And she didn’t even know him.

  As she fell asleep, she felt she didn’t even know herself.

  Chapter 13

  Saturday, 18 June, 1800 local

  Wendover, Nevada

  “Hurry up. Climb inside.” Vikki pulled the moving van that she had rented up to her apartment. Harding waved the group into the back of the van. Ten of Renault’s men, dressed in black jump suits, climbed inside. Each carried a rifle wrapped in blankets. One flicked a cigarette out before pulling himself up. Hours before, they had driven to Vikki’s apartment in the Chevy van, leaving Renault and the rest of the men up in the mountains.

  The men tried to find a place to make themselves comfortable as Harding began to close the door. “All right. Remember—no matter what happens, no one says anything. As soon as I lock you in, no talking until we open you up. Any questions?”

  Harding was met by silence. Vikki and Harding struggled with two twin mattresses, positioning them upright at the rear of the moving van, blocking both entrance and exit. Satisfied that the mattresses would provide a credible cover if the back were inadvertently opened, they shut the door and locked it.

  Harding wiped his hands on his jeans. “Ready?”

  Vikki flipped him the keys. “If you have any trouble, leave the talking to me. The guards know me. And be careful starting out. First gear is tricky.”

  Harding replied by stepping up into the moving van.

  Vikki climbed into the smaller Chevy van. She waited until Harding familiarized himself with the rented moving van before pulling away from the apartment. She shielded her eyes from the sun; it would set in another hour.

  The truck rumbled behind her. The gears crunched as Harding tried switching too fast.

  Vikki adjusted the rearview mirror. That’s all we need, she thought. Calling off the assault because klutzo can’t drive a stick shift.

  As they left Wendover, the boulevard to the base narrowed to a two-lane road. She purposely went slow, allowing cars to pass them. The usual twenty-minute trip expanded to forty minutes, giving her time to go over the plan in her head.

  She had tried to think of everything, but there were too many ifs left unanswered:

  If Britnell wasn’t late meeting her;

  If Renault made the rendezvous on time;

  If the helicopters showed up;

  If Wendover AFB communications were totally cut;

  If they could take out the barracks.

  A sign announcing Wendover AFB jolted her thoughts. Constructed of brick and glass, the guard shack that defended Wendover AFB’s main gate had two lanes of pavement running on either side of it. A series of large, two-foot diameter metal cylinders were flush with the ground, and according to Britnell, could be quickly raised by a piston to act as a barricade to deny access to the base.

  Vikki slowed and flashed her visitor’s pass. A young security policeman stepped from the shack.

  Vikki’s heart froze. She didn’t recognize the airman. The guard waved the car in front of her on, then held up a hand when he failed to spot a base decal on Vikki’s van. Vikki unrolled her window and held out the pass. “How’s it going?”

  The airman’s eyes widened at her smile. “Fine.” He barely looked at the pass and instead looked into her eyes. “Can I help you?”

  Vikki pointed to the yellow pass on the windshield. “Is there a problem?”

  The young man flushed. “No, ma’am. Just didn’t see the pass. Go ahead.”

  Vikki started to roll away. “Thanks. And see you around.”

  “Sure. No problem.” He straightened his ascot and waved her van on past. She was inside the base when he turned to the moving van behind her. Vikki pulled off the side of the road, just past the guard shack, and waited for Harding. The young airman read a sheaf of papers that Harding had thrust at him. After shuffling through the papers, the airman shook his head and pointed back outside the gate.

  “Shit.” Vikki’s breath quickened. The airman and Harding started arguing. She flung open the door. Brushing back her hair, she stepped toward the guard shack. Harding was giving the airman his best rap.

  “I tell you, man, I’m supposed to deliver this shipment to the airman’s barracks. Open your eyes and read: ‘Airman First Class Britnell, 1977th Security Police Squadron, Wendover Air Force Base: partial shipment.’ It can’t get
any clearer than that.”

  “This does not have the transportation officer’s stamp on it, sir. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you on base.”

  Vikki stepped up to the guard. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but—” he stopped as he turned to her. His voice softened. “Excuse me, miss. What do you have to do with this?”

  “Airman Britnell is my boyfriend. This partial shipment is some new furniture he stashed at my place before I moved out here.” She clamped her mouth, hoping she wouldn’t get tripped up in a lie. She looked around. “Come on, ask your partner. He knows me.” She hoped that his partner wasn’t a new security guard as well.

  The airman shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss. I can’t allow this truck on base.” A car honked, impatiently waiting to be saluted onto Wendover. “Excuse me.” The security policemen waved a half-dozen cars past.

  “There must be something you can do.” Another car honked.

  He spoke over his shoulder. “Sorry—”

  “What’s going on, Saunders?” A tech sergeant stepped from the shack, wiping his hands of a sandwich he placed down.

  The young airman turned, still waving cars into the base. “This van wants to get on base, Sergeant. The papers don’t—”

  “Well, hello, Vikki,” interrupted the sergeant. He broke into a smile. “Are you causing this traffic tie-up?”

  Vikki brushed back her hair. Her heart slowed. “Oh, Fred. Am I glad you’re here.” She motioned toward the moving van. “A partial shipment arrived for Britnell—I’m trying to help out. It’s some furniture he bought and I wanted to surprise him.”

  The sergeant shook his head. “No problem. With the way that boy’s straightened up, I’d let you bring a fleet of trucks on base. You’ve been good for him.” He waved Harding on through. “Get going. You’re holding up traffic.”

  “Thanks, Fred.”

  “Take care, Vikki.” The sergeant turned to the young airman. “Carry on, Saunders. This isn’t a mickey mouse Air Training Command base—use a little judgment next time.” He stomped into the guard shack to his sandwich.

  Harding pulled behind Vikki’s van and waited for her to move out. Once the van was on the road, Vikki’s leg started shaking. She drew in a deep breath. “Settle down,” she said to herself, “This is just the beginning.”

  She followed the road to a tee. A sign at the intersection pointed to the right and listed:

  BASE HEADQUARTERS, CBPO/CPO, OFFICERS’ CLUB,

  BX, COMMISSARY, RV PARKING

  The sign pointing left listed both the airmen’s barracks and Alpha Base.

  Vikki wet her lips and made a sudden decision. Turning right, she headed for the RV parking. Harding hesitated at the intersection, then followed her.

  The lot was half filled with Winnebagos, land cruisers, thirty-foot trailers, and an assortment of campers. The gate was open. Vikki pulled in and found a spot between two Winnebagos.

  Harding maneuvered the moving van, squeezing into an open slot. Vikki hopped from the Chevy van. He met her, his face gray. “What the hell are you doing? We’re supposed to park by the barracks and use Britnell as our cover story.”

  “And probably get caught by that airman at the gate,” she retorted. “He wasn’t too thrilled about being countermanded in front of us. What do you think he’ll do when he gets back to the barracks tonight and finds the moving van still there?”

  “We could leave a note that we were waiting for Britnell.”

  Vikki threw up her hands. “And when they find out he’s still got six days to go before he can leave Alpha Base, we’ll be up the creek. Think, Anthony. It would have worked if we hadn’t brought attention to ourselves. We’ve got to throw that plan out the window and start over.” She kicked at the pavement. “No one will think of looking for us here. So we just lay low until we rendezvous with Renault.”

  Harding mulled it over. The color returned to his cheeks. “All right. I guess it doesn’t matter where we park, as long as we don’t get caught.” He looked around, and seeing no movement, said, “Let’s climb in your van. Time to wait it out. We’ve got two hours.”

  “Yeah.” Vikki turned for the Chevy van as Harding opened up the back of the moving van, allowing air to enter, yet keeping the mattress in place so the men would be hidden from view.

  Might as well be in the friggin’ military, she thought. Hurry up and wait.

  Wendover AFB Command Post

  The guard nodded McGriffin past. “Evening, Major.”

  McGriffin broke off his whistle. “Good evening, Farquer. How are you tonight?”

  “Fine, sir, and yourself?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Well, yes it could. I could be going off duty instead of going on.” His thoughts turned to Vikki, and he felt a warm, peaceful sensation. He’d really have to open up with her next time they met, try and overcome this phobia he had about telling her he was in the military.

  “I know what you mean, sir.”

  “Have a good one.”

  “You too, sir.” Airman Farquer palmed open the door to the command post.

  Any tension in the chamber vanished when McGriffin walked in. McGriffin sensed a lifting of spirits, a change in atmosphere from the dour day shift, when the other two officers-of-the-day reigned.

  Chief Zolley appeared at his elbow. As usual, McGriffin didn’t hear the chief master sergeant arrive as Zolley stood at his side.

  “Good evening, Major. Ready for your shift update?”

  “Let’s have it.” McGriffin slipped into his chair overlooking the dimly lit room. He swiveled around and eyed the status board. A series of green lights burned steadily on each display. The miller clock still pointed to 1700. “Anything up, Chief?”

  Zolley handed him a packet marked secret. “Nothing much, sir. All communication links are up. AUTODIN verifies our status, and we’ve got six more days until a shift change at Alpha Base. The only incoming aircraft scheduled are some T-38’s on a cross-country and a C-130 out of Peterson Field.” He shuffled a page. “The 130’s call sign is Merry Zero Three with an ETA of 2300 local.”

  “There’s a reserve unit there.” McGriffin tapped his desk. “I’ve got a classmate stationed at Pete—Moose Monahan. Remind me when they get in, Chief. I want to check them out, see if Moose might be on board.”

  “They’re not remaining overnight, sir. They’ve got wheels up scheduled at 2320.”

  “That’s strange.” McGriffin frowned. “You’d think they’d R.O.N, being so far from home. Those reserve weenies just don’t appreciate remote garden spots.” He cocked his hands behind his head. “What’s going on outside the base?”

  “I’ve included a few messages in the briefing packet that was twixted this afternoon—nothing critical.”

  McGriffin flipped through the packet. “All nice and quiet.” He handed the classified bundle back to Zolley. “Thanks, Chief. It looks like another slow one. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Thanks, sir.” Chief Zolley disappeared as quickly as he had materialized.

  McGriffin leaned back and watched the board for a few minutes. Another quiet evening. That’s all right, he thought. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.

  Once he had gotten used to the routine, McGriffin took advantage of the spare time. It was too early to nap. He trusted the crew, and with his amicable attitude, the best people pushed to get on his shift. It didn’t matter that it was the night shift—the word was out that working under McGriffin was a “good deal.” Or so Zolley had clued him in.

  It would be even better if he had someone to talk to, a peer to shoot the bull with. He never saw the other two officers from the command post—he assumed they just weren’t sociable. Manny Yarnez was a good guy, but Manny’s schedule was nearly as erratic as his. The rest of the chopper pilots all worked during the day, so it was difficult to find a friend. And other than Lieutenant Fellows on Alpha Base, he shied away from the security policemen. They were a different b
reed altogether—more like Marines than Air Force.

  But now that he’d met Vikki, at least he didn’t starve for conversation anymore.

  He reached in his drawer and pulled out a programmed text from Air Command and Staff College: Stability and Structure of Third World Forces. He sighed. As much as he hated it, this was the perfect time to do his professional military education.

  Oh, well. It might be too early to nap now, but once he started reading, it would knock him out better than any sleeping pill.

  Chapter 14

  Saturday, 18 June, 2100 local

  Wendover AFB, Nevada

  Vikki glanced at her watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. She put up her hair, keeping it from getting in the way. She then slipped off the tank top and quickly stretched her arms through the brassiere. Clasping the snap, she pulled on a dark, long-sleeve top. The bra was snug—it had been a while since she’d even considered wearing one—but there was too much at stake tonight to be caught swinging free. She just hoped it wouldn’t cramp her movements.

  A quick glimpse at her watch caused her to move to the front of the van. Harding sat quietly smoking, the cigarette smoke immersing him in a dim purple haze. A single light shone from high above them, starkly illuminating the RV parking lot. Harding didn’t turn as he spoke.

  “Is everything ready?”

  “If Britnell doesn’t screw up, I’ll be at the end of the runway by a quarter after ten.”

  “That doesn’t leave you much time.”

  “It’s enough.”

  This is it … everything we’ve been waiting for. She felt she should be excited, dizzy with what they were about to do. Then why do I feel like crap?

  Harding took a drag from his cigarette. “Good luck.” He opened the passenger door and slipped out, cupping the cigarette so it couldn’t be seen.

  Vikki wiggled to the front. She checked the mirrors, door locks, and finally the gas gauge before rubbing her hands across the wheel. She drew in a breath.