Invasion USA 3 - The Battle for Survival

by T I WADE

  Still under full power he rose quickly and then banked left to come around to the corner of the airfield where the attack was coming from. He noticed several specks running around on a warehouse roof. “I see the warehouses about half a mile in front of us and there are people on the roofs. I will bank around. I think I can see the mortar position on the closest roof to the airfield. Be ready.”

  “I’m ready for takeoff,” stated Sally.

  “Go, Sally, I’m about ten seconds from giving you covering fire,” he replied and concentrated on bringing the AC-47 into a good aiming position for his gunners. He also saw the Marines and the jeeps firing at the same warehouse a hundred yards in front of it and inside the perimeter fence. He came over and his gunners opened up with 6,000 rounds per minute going into the building’s roof where the mortar was situated. He remembered to bring the power down ten percent as both engines were still at full power and their temperatures were climbing.

  “I think the mortar must have moved,” stated one gunner to Carlos over his internal intercom.

  “Mortar position is moving. Get the aircraft out of there,” he stated to anybody listening on the radio. Jennifer and a second pilot acknowledged.

  “Airborne, low and turning out right,” stated Sally. “What guns does this baby have, Carlos?”

  “I would assume a Minigun and whatever you have under your wings. I think I noticed a couple of racks of rockets and a drop-fuel tank under each wing,”, Carlos responded, coming around the southern side of the runway and seeing movement from most of the aircraft on the ground. The Colombian C-130s were already in a line about to head down the runway.

  “You’re right,” Sally answered.

  “Arm your rockets and put one into the closest warehouse with the silver roof on the northeastern corner of the airfield,” Carlos ordered. “I can’t see you, so be careful.”

  “Roger that. I have you on my antique radar system in here and will stay away from you. I’m coming round now about a mile north of the airfield to do your bidding, lover boy. Arming rockets now!”

  Three seconds later Carlos could see the white tails of two rockets enter the building and the whole end of the warehouse disintegrated.

  “Marine Jeep One to air cover, I see the mortar crew. They are running on the southern side of the warehouses left of the one that you just blew up. We are moving and many of the Colombian troops are heading that way as well.”

  “I think I saw them, Carlos. Continue to fly straight. I’m coming past you on your right and I’ll go in and hit that area with my second rack,” stated Sally, in a much faster aircraft than Carlos had.

  “Gunners,” he stated over the intercom to his crew, “I must fly straight. Aim for the front walls of the warehouse with the black roof and give covering fire.” They did as commanded and he could see the walls being peppered with thousands of rounds as the whole left front side of the building collapsed as the last one had done.

  “First aircraft away,” he heard a Spanish pilot speaking in English, “and banking to the right.

  “Climb to ten thousand feet above ground and wait for the rest,” Carlos ordered the pilot in English.

  “Marine Jeep Two, I see three mortar positions being set up in the field, left of that last building. There are two large trees in the eastern rear corner of the field and it looks like a fourth mortar team is in the back of a small truck heading eastwards along the road behind them. We are heading to the perimeter fence,”

  “I have the trees visual,” replied Carlos.

  “I’m out of rockets,” stated Sally.

  “Sally, head over the road and take out that truck. Use your Minigun to lighten your load, then climb up to ten thousand. Conserve your fuel and wait. Over.”

  “Roger,” replied Sally and the small truck took fire several seconds later as Carlos banked over the perimeter fence and gave his gunners a chance to pepper the trees where the Marines had described. He had shouted to his gunners in Spanish so that they would understand what he wanted from them. He noticed Sally sweep across his nose several hundred feet in front as he brought the slower aircraft around to continue firing.

  “Second aircraft airborne,” stated somebody on the radio.

  “Blue Moon on takeoff,” stated an American pilot.

  “Easy Girl on takeoff to your rear left, Blue Moon. Give me some room,” stated Jennifer. They weren’t messing around.

  Much to his surprise another mortar round landed in the dirt right next to the runway, a hundred yards in front of the two aircraft.

  “Where the hell is that mortar coming from?” asked Carlos.

  “I see it!” shouted an American voice. “Marine Jeep One here, mortar team on top of the second warehouse roof! I just saw somebody stand up with binoculars!”

  “Roger that. I’m on the wrong side of the airfield. Sally, can you get them?”

  “No problem, darling, I’m at four thousand feet and coming round. J

  ust give me a couple of seconds.”

  It felt like an eternity. Jennifer trundled through the falling debris and Carlos could now see several figures on the blackened roof. That was why he hadn’t seen them the first time round. The two jeeps and other Colombian vehicles were training their fire in the direction but the mortar team was back from the lip of the edge of the building.

  “Gunners, I’m coming around. Train your shots onto that second black-roofed building. I know we are half a mile away but it will help slow their mortars down!” he shouted over the intercom in Spanish. He banked right to give them a shot and a second mortar bomb landed further in on the western side of the runway and less than a dozen yards from the rear of Easy Girl now leaving the tarmac. Both aircraft left the ground and banked right in formation and flew below him as he came in at five hundred feet peppering the warehouse. Sally flew over in front of him again, and rose vertically gaining height.

  “I think I felt something hit my aircraft,” she stated.

  “Your gauges?” asked Carlos, also climbing as the third Colombian C-130 left the ground.

  “Seem fine,” she replied, still very calm. “I’m climbing up to ten thousand, I’m out of ammo. Blue Moon and Easy Girl can carry on the dirty work.”

  They swept around much like Carlos had done and began disintegrating the rest of the buildings around the areas Sally had peppered. It was a shock to see how much more firepower they had and how quickly the area was completely flattened.

  Within minutes, the rest of the 130s had all taken off safely and the firing had calmed down.

  “Marine Jeeps One and Two, take your jeeps and wait for me at the southeastern end of the runway. Leave your engines running and prepare to board my aircraft,” ordered Carlos. Suddenly two more mortar bombs straddled the runway, one taking a massive chunk of tarmac out of the side.

  Carlos came in from the western side and put her down nearly halfway down the runway and applied the brakes hard. He heard a third mortar bomb somewhere behind him.

  “Blue Moon here. I think we have located the next mortar team a block back from the perimeter fence. Permission to fire?”

  “You have my permission to fire,” stated General Rodriquez over the radio. “Just try and keep your fire close to your intended target. I’m sure there could still be civilians in the area.”

  Carlos, leaving black rubber as he came to a halt at the runway end, turned the AC-47 around. “Thank you for your accurate shooting,” he said to the twelve men manning the guns. “Please exit and take over the jeeps. Marines, grab your stuff. We are leaving for home.”

  He waited until he was slapped on the shoulder by somebody and gunned the engines for takeoff. This time there were no mortar explosions as he took off, missing the new and only hole in the runway by inches.

  The AC-47 banked as the others had done and once away from the air base, rose to join the others all congregating above him.

  “Let me know when you want a job in my Air Force, Carlos,” stated General Rodriquez o
ver the radio. “It seems that apart from sniper fire, we are over the worst.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t orchestrate that attack so you could steal my aircraft, nephew Carlos?” added Alvarez, the Commandant over the radio.

  “Looks like it,” replied Carlos, “but we lost two good jeeps in the process and I will have to explain that when we get home, Uncle. Sally, how is your Super Tweet? Is she damaged? Shall we give her back?” continued Carlos over the radio.

  “No way, José,” replied Sally. “She is fine and the gauges haven’t moved. She flies like a dream. It’s so nice to have jets again for a change.”

  “Well, if that nephew of mine doesn’t marry you, I want it back. It’s your wedding present, but until then, it still belongs to the Colombian Police Force,” stated the Commandant.

  “My wedding present!” replied Sally. “But the creep hasn’t even asked me yet!”

  “Maybe he will very soon, that is if you can use the in-flight refueling system and don’t have to swim home,” was the commandant’s smiling reply.

  “Roger, I’m checking it out,” replied Sally. “I was trained on it. The nozzle, if it’s original, will fit into our system. Blue Moon, you have the phone. Call up Patterson Key and tell him we need Mother Goose over southern Cuba in about four hours.”

  “That was a quick goodbye,” added the general. “We will clean up here. Let us know when you are returning. I will keep my phone on. Philippe, Manuel, Carlos, fly well and keep me in the loop about our gunship upgrades. That display took out two whole warehouse blocks, very powerful.”

  Carlos rose up to meet the rest of the flight as goodbyes were continued over the radio. Uncle Philippe and his father were aboard Easy Girl, he found out as he got into a loose formation with Easy Girl and Blue Moon on a reduced-power cruise so that his aircraft could keep up.

  Sally, who would be the only one to need refueling, flew on ahead as their slower cruise speed was below her minimum speed.

  The flight took them over the northern border of Colombia and Panama ninety minutes later. Mother Goose was already in radio contact with Sally a hundred miles ahead.

  Five hours later they directly flew over Havana while Sally was being refueled, now a couple of hundred miles behind them over Jamaica. It had taken her thirty anxious minutes getting the antiquated system attached to Mother Goose who had met her over Jamaica, just in case she couldn’t take on fuel and needed to land.

  Thirty minutes later her tanks were full and with Mother Goose at a fast cruise they turned towards MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa.

  The empty C-130s were down to their last reserves of fuel over Cape Coral, Florida when Sally caught up to Carlos and waggled her wings at him as she passed, a hundred miles an hour faster. She left Mother Goose with them and made radio contact for approach into MacDill Air Force Base.

  Chapter 4

  1st Meeting: Andrews – March

  Preston’s satellite phone rang early that morning, the day after he had visited Seymour Johnson. He was sitting in bed with Martie having his morning coffee when Little Beth climbed in with them asking if the two dogs could join them, too.

  “Preston Strong,” he stated answering the phone.

  “Good morning, Preston, sorry to call you so early. General Patterson here. The President asked me to call everyone for a lunch meeting on Monday, March 4th. We are to meet at Andrews Air Force Base and he wants you and Martie are to fly up. Today, Preston, if you have lost track of time, is Saturday, March 2nd.”

  “Thank you, General,” replied Preston. “First of all, congratulations on your latest promotion, you are certainly moving up the ladder quickly. Major last year… then colonel… and general within three months… not bad!”

  “Yes, a bit of a shock to the system! I was rather happy just being a plain old Air Force major; now I run the U.S. military machine.

  “Please tell the President that we will be there. What time are we to arrive?”

  “The President has asked for a 12:30 pm lunch. A thirty-minute landing time before lunch is recommended,” was the reply.

  “Have you heard from Carlos?” Preston asked. Martie asked him to find out if her grandfather and father had been invited. “Also, Martie asks if the invitation is being extended to her family members.”

  “Yes, to both. Carlos arrived safely in Bogotá. I will be phoning California, to Detective Will Smart and Martie’s father and grandfather in an hour or two, once it’s daybreak on the West Coast. By the way, I heard from our base in Yuma late last night. Please forward the news to Captain Sally Powers if you see her before we do here in Washington that her parents are at the Yuma base, safe and waiting for her to visit.”

  Preston and Martie enjoyed an extra couple of lazy hours in bed while Little Beth dressed and went out to play with the dogs. It was still freezing outside and too cold to do any aircraft refueling.

  Later, Martie served an overdue breakfast of freshly baked rolls from her bread machine, butter and marmalade. The nearly forgotten aroma of fresh bread that wafted through the house was enticing enough to bring in Oliver, his sidekick and finally Little Beth to find out what smelled so good.

  At the breakfast two hours later, Preston brought up the topic of food stores. He wanted the Air Force guys to help him as they knew where most of the stuff was packed and postponed their scheduled return to Seymour Johnson for another couple of days.

  “I did a check of what we have in drink stores yesterday before dark,” stated Preston, enjoying his first roll. It was heaven. “Sergeant Perry and his men helped me. Currently we have stored in the hangar 342 cases of beer, 105 cases of all types of liquor, around 300 cases of soda cans and 140 cases of bottled water.” Preston read from a list he had put on the dining table to review over breakfast. “Something that I hadn’t thought of last month was how much dog and cat food we got from that gas station clearance delivery from Joe. We searched the dozens of pallets and found several cases of each. We have large cans of dog food in cases of six, and small cans of cat food in cases of 24, together with a dozen bags of dry food, enough for our animals for the rest of this year. Next year they might have to go out and hunt for their own food. I radioed Joe who said that he also has a pallet of dog food and then some. With his two large Rottweilers, the pallet will last at least six to nine months, so we won’t have hungry animals wanting food for a while.”

  “What happened to checking our own food stocks?” asked Martie.

  “Sorry, the boys and I thought it thirsty work and now we only have 341 and a half cases of beer left!” replied Preston sheepishly.

  Martie looked at him sternly. “OK! OK! I was only pulling your leg. We finished our stocktaking before we leveled half a case!” Martie swiped at him with the dishcloth in her hand. “Carrying on with my list,” continued Preston, smiling and watching Little Beth laugh at their antics, “we have fifty cases of assorted chips and peanuts, and the same amount of candy and chocolates.”

  “I should have checked the list of candy and chocolate with you. If you had asked, I would have helped you, you know!” stated Little Beth, now copying Martie and giving him a stern look.

  “I’m sure we wouldn’t have so much candy in reserve if you had helped, Little Beth,” smiled Preston. “But I will remember next time, young lady. Now, to your favorite, Ms. Martie Roebels, the disgusting corned beef: five cases of six large tins per case.”

  “Now that’s good news, Preston. I think I should make some for dinner,” she replied happily, winking at Little Beth. Preston’s face went white.

  “Why do you do this to me? Last year there were millions of places to get takeout, now there is zero, and you want to make corned beef every week. It’s not fair! Let me continue. I checked the truck freezer Joe gave us. We have used about a quarter of the frozen meat since New Year’s Eve. We’ve got enough frozen meat for about a year, without too many parties or visitors.” He looked up at the ceiling as an idea came to him. “I suddenly have had a brainsto
rm. Do you know what, ladies? You and Little Beth can have your stinky corned beef tonight. The soldiers and the dogs and I have class, and we will grill packs of T-bone steaks on the gas grill outside the hangar and drink the other half of that case to get our stocktaking numbers more even. How’s that?” he asked smirking. “Maybe I’ll even invite Joe and David.”

  As often happened on Preston’s farm, an impulsive idea turned into a party. Joe, David and Joe’s five sons came over, bringing chicken and pork chops to grill. These additions complemented Preston’s steaks so there was enough meat for the six soldiers, Joe and his crowd, Preston, Martie and Little Beth (who decided to give up the idea of corned beef that night), and two very full dogs. The half case of beer and a bottle of bourbon were added and, when they asked for landing instructions over the radio during the middle of the party, Preston told the incoming aircraft from Seymour Johnson to head back to base and return the next day.

  Apart from a week or so of R&R, Sergeant Perry and his men had been guarding the airfield and farm since the beginning, two months earlier; it was fitting to thank them and send them off for their next break at least with a full stomach and a hangover or two.

  Once again, Preston was awakened early the next morning, this time at 07:30 just after the sun has risen over the horizon. It wasn’t the satellite phone but the radio in the lounge blaring out Carlos’s voice.

  “Strong Field, Strong Field, this is the Colombian Air Force. We are incoming. We have coffee and breakfast on board and will be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Hi, Colombian Air Force, this is the California Luftwaffe also incoming to Strong Field. We left earlier than you guys, Carlos, so we expect landing rights first, and I need a pee! We are also fifteen minutes out in a westerly direction,” stated Martie’s father Michael pretty directly.

  “Strong Field, Strong Field, this is Honorable Lee Wang,” stated a familiar voice. “I coming in with Buck, my pilot, my wife and daughter in Lady Dandy from Salt Lake City. We are very hungry and demand priority in landing for breakfast. We are ten minutes out, over or out. I don’t know which one is right.”