by T I WADE
“Oh boy, sir!” Clint exclaimed. “I always wanted to get close to a Mustang and now there are two right in front of me! A P-51C and a P-51D. Am I right, sir?” he asked.
“Only if you tell me which one is the “D” version, Clint,” Preston replied smiling.
“That one, sir! The one that Ms. Martie got out of, the one with the bobble canopy!” answered Clint, his eyes about to pop out of his head.
Don’t let Preston bully you, young man,” interjected Martie, coming up to join them. “You are right and I’m at least seven miles an hour faster than him, and since I weigh fifty pounds less than he does, at least another 3 miles an hour on top of that.”
“Wow!” replied the boy. The short pilot steps still remained next to the Mustangs and both Martie and Preston assisted him into the cockpits, still warm from the just completed flight. He had tears in his eyes as they helped him sit in the second cockpit and Preston could see how much their little gesture impacted the boy. Sally, not about to be outdone, joined the group and asked Clint if he wanted to sit in the A-37.
“I hear that you might join the family, young Clint,” stated a stern-voiced Sally standing on the ladder next to the cockpit, and whose tone was belied by his big wet eyes when he looked up at her from the cockpit seat. She continued, “If that’s the case you’d better find my Tweety Bird better than these Mustangs. I can outfly them, outshoot them and run rings around them anytime I want.”
“You only have a hundred mile an hour top speed, ma’am, half the range and one Minigun versus four .30 caliber…?” he answered, looking at Preston, standing below the aircraft on the apron, for approval.
“.50 caliber…they’ve been upgraded,” added Preston.
“Four .50 caliber machine guns,” continued Clint, prompted by Preston.
“That’s my boy,” replied Sally smiling. “I like your spunk. I think somebody could make a pilot out of you yet, or at least a tail gunner if you don’t have wings.”
The base commander arrived to introduce himself. Sally, still in uniform, saluted as he drove up and he acknowledged that accommodations had been set up for them and they were welcome to stay as long as they wanted. The Officers’ Mess still had good fresh food and a good drinks supply.
Clint was happy and asked Peter Powers to push him as tractors wheeled the four aircraft into empty hangars. Carlos promised Clint a flight the next day and Lee Wang was quick to say that Clint could fly in his seat and that he would sit in the third seat where the gun controller/flight engineer sat.
Over dinner at the Officers’ Mess Carlos’ phone rang again and this time after he answered he handed the phone to the base commander. Carlos brought a second phone for the base commander and would give it to him after the call. The colonel left the table to talk to General Patterson, his commander, as the rest enjoyed the company of each other.
Preston could see the physical likeness of her mother in Sally, and in the way she presented herself like her father, kind, smiling and always direct and to the point. Clint was asked about his legs, and was keen to tell the newcomers that with only one more operation he would walk normally again and then he would be able to learn to fly. It was the only wish left to him in the whole world apart from finding his parents, which he knew was not likely. Sally suggested he was still a little young at ten years old, but, interrupting, her father asked her if she remembered when she was ten, and that shut her up. He told the table that the only sentence out of her mouth was, “When can I learn to fly!”
Peter also told the table about their drive south into Phoenix, how they had met Clint, and the constant gunfire the night they stayed in the protective camp.
“Do you want to return home?” asked Carlos.
“Certainly,” replied Peter. “We have a powerful neighborhood commitment to each other, we’re armed to the teeth, and unless Sally’s mother wants out, I’ll stay. There’s good hunting in the forests and plenty of water around us. I suppose life could get bad, but until then I would like to stay.”
“Is there a spare phone, Carlos?” asked Sally. “I won’t ever ask for anything again if you give one to my parents so that we can keep in touch if they need help.”
“Don’t you believe a word Sally says about not asking for anything, young man,” Peter replied, smiling at his future son-in-law. “She told me that one every year until she got her private pilot’s license.”
“I’m sure I’m going to have to put up with it from now on,” replied Carlos, grinning at Sally and taking her hand. “I think Lee might have a spare phone in his suitcase. Am I right, Lee?”
Lee nodded and Sally jumped with joy.
“The next round’s on me!” she shouted out to the bartender. He nodded and began to pour drinks.
The base commander returned and sat down. “The general has stated that everybody at this table has clearance, so I can tell you what we have here. Carlos, we have one helicopter, a Bell, and one fixed-wing trainer flyable at this moment. Other than that we couldn’t defend ourselves with anything more unless we built paper airplanes and threw them at any attackers,” he stated glumly. “Everything we have here, even Captain Powers’ F-16 is useless junk. Such beautiful aircraft,” he stated sadly.
“Everything?” asked Sally. “What about the Marines? Don’t they have something flying?”
“They had even more modern aircraft than we did. Everything except the base weather balloons are scrap metal. Even my jeep doesn’t work anymore and I’m using the old guard duty jeep.”
“I do have some good news for you, Colonel,” stated Carlos. “You are going to get two of the operational F-4s and the first unmanned drones as they are reconfigured for flight, for border patrol. You do have unmanned pilot facilities here don’t you?”
“Yes, at both the Air Force base and the Marine Station,” he replied.
“Also, Colonel, we are retrofitting C-130s into AC-130 Gunships for the U.S. Air Force and the Colombian Air Force over the next several months and I believe you will be getting two of the new American ones, with the air base in Tucson assigned to patrol the border.”
“And, General Carlos, how do you know all this and I don’t?” asked Sally, giving him a stern look.
“I suppose my rank and, I’m on a need-to-know basis only, Captain Powers,” joked Carlos and the table laughed.
“I’m calling you General Carlos from now on. What are you, General, a One Star or Two Star General?” retorted Sally, not to be outdone.
“As I said, Captain Powers, it’s on a need-to-know basis only,” smiled Carlos, unperturbed by this cheeky captain. The table was enjoying the cabaret. The easy banter between Carlos and Sally always made the mood lighter and the enjoyable evening lasted until late.
A flight briefing was called by the base commander for 09:00 hours the next morning and, over eggs and bacon, he briefed the pilots and several other air force personnel dressed in civilian clothes with General Patterson’s directives for them.
“You men are to stay here for a day or two. The general wants us to fly as far south into Mexico as we can, range allowing. Carlos, you are technically under the employment of the Air Force, so is Captain Powers, but Preston, Martie and Maggie, you are civilians so I cannot give you orders, or allow you into a foreign country’s airspace. Of course, Preston, you and Martie are free to do what you want, but I suggest you don’t fly into Mexico. If something happens and you have an engine failure, we cannot come and get you. Both Carlos and Captain Powers have two engines.
“OK, here is the mission: Carlos, fly into Mexico from here, south to the City of Guadalajara direct distance is 1,320 miles. Turn east and at 5,000 feet fly across country to Pachuca, Mexico. Then aim for the east coast of Mexico and then head northwards directly into Laughlin Air Force Base in Texas. Total distance is 1,940 miles and a cruising altitude of 5,000 feet should give you 200 miles of reserve fuel. It’s a long flight and you will have two other pilots aboard, a flight engineer and two machine gunners for protect
ion. To save weight you will only have 10,000 rounds of ammo, but both gunners will be equipped with shoulder rocket launchers and mortars in case you have to go down and need to defend yourself. Under no circumstances will you fire upon anybody or any military aircraft while in Mexican territory, other than in self- defense. You will leave tomorrow morning, thirty minutes before dawn and that should get you into Laughlin just before dusk. There is a C-130 available in Tucson for extraction if necessary, but you will have to find the nearest airport or runway. We have had no contact with the Mexican military or police since New Year’s Eve. Your aircraft has Colombian military paint so you could be anybody to them if they have aircraft. All your crew will be Spanish-speaking and you will fly in civilian clothes with no American ID, not even dog tags. You will overnight in Texas and then fly back in the morning. All communications into the U.S. will be by satellite phone. Any questions?”
“Do we know of any possible Mexican aircraft flying?” Carlos asked.
“They do have 10 old 1980s Northrop F-5s still operating out of Santa Lucia in Estado de México. You will be flying easterly and 50 miles to the north of their air base and we are hoping that you can get radar and radio communications with them in Santa Lucia. General Patterson wants to see what aircraft, if any, comes up to greet you and also if there are any large crowd movements towards the north. You will be flying in a Colombian aircraft, one of Mexico’s best allies. You are to act as if you are a Colombian reconnaissance aircraft out of the United States trying to find out information. Your pilots will have all the Mexican radio frequencies and your mission is communications. If they invite you to land at Santa Lucia, I want you to go in and make friends with the Mexican Air Force on behalf of Colombia and the United States. Find out what condition they are in and ask if we can send a U.S. Air Force representative to them to discuss the defense of our two countries. Do not stay longer than an hour. If you do land in Mexico, give them basic world information, a satellite phone to communicate with General Patterson, and find out their flying strength. Then head back to Laughlin, refuel and get back here for a briefing. Then you are free to become a civilian again. Any questions, Carlos?”
He had none.
“Captain Powers, I want you to take off in an hour with one of my Air Force pilots in the right seat and fly southeast down the coastline of the Sea of Cortez and then across to Hermosillo, Mexico at 2,500 feet. You will then head north to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson to refuel. There are no Mexican air bases for you to worry about on your first leg. Your second leg will be from Tucson down to Chihuahua, Mexico where the Mexican Santa Gertrudas Air Force Base is located; to our knowledge they only have Pilatus PC-7s stationed there. Your copilot, a Spanish-speaking Air Force pilot/spotter will try and contact the base and offer dialogue from the Colombian and U.S. Air Forces. Your Super Tweet also has Colombian paint so if anybody wants to sniff you out, they can, but under no circumstance will you land. Once you reach Chihuahua, you are to return to Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico and stay the night. Tomorrow you will head south east out of Holloman as far south as Monclova, Mexico, then over Laredo and into Laughlin in Texas where you will refuel. Around 15:00 hours, head south to meet up with Carlos coming north; you should have radio contact with him within 30 minutes of takeoff. You are to escort him back to Laughlin where you will both stay overnight and then return here the following day. Your mission is to look out for civilian movement in a northerly direction. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Sorry, Maggie, I cannot allow you to fly this mission either.”
Preston and Martie were free to do what they wanted, but that would leave Maggie waiting for a flight, so they decided to stay until Carlos and Sally returned. They planned to all fly up to the wine farm in California together before Sally left on her first leg. Clint also looked forlorn at not being allowed to join Carlos in his flight, but perked up when Sally suggested to her parents that they all fly up to the farm with Carlos when he returned.
They all agreed, even Sally’s mother who hated flying, was keen to have some wine in the Napa Valley. Carlos was going to be her son-in-law, so who better than he to fly her around; and now, driving was far more dangerous.
Chapter 9
Mo Wang – Honduras
The villa was luxurious and relaxing for Mo Wang. For the first time in his life he enjoyed doing nothing but thinking, working on a suntan and learning to swim. He could doggie-paddle but the villa’s pool was pretty long so he tried to copy the teenagers who were all strong, competent swimmers. It took the girls a couple of days to accept him, begin to talk to him and teach him to swim.
Virginie, Beatrice’s daughter was the first to want to talk. On his fourth day at the villa, a hot and humid day with one of the daily tropical rain showers soon to begin, she approached his sun lounger and looked at him with her bright green eyes. He had never seen such beautiful eyes in his life. In China he had seen only brown eyes. This young girl looked like a brown snake about to strike and he was enthralled by her striking face.
“Monsieur Mo,” she began coyly, her deeply sun-tanned body, long, light brown hair and very skimpy leopard-skin bikini still dripping from the pool. “Thank you for looking after us and giving us all food to eat. All the girls were getting very hungry when we left for the ferry journey.”
“That was my pleasure, Virginie,” he replied, taking in the lovely sight. He had never been near girls like this in China.
“I’m sorry that my English is not so good and I don’t speak any Chinese.”
“And I don’t speak any French, and my English is about as bad as yours, so we are about the same in communications,” joked Mo, getting a small smile from her.
“I wanted to ask you if it is truly as bad out there as you say,” she asked. The twins had headed off to the pool’s shower, not ready to join any conversations yet.
Virginie’s mother, Beatrice, was coming down the stairs. She noticed that her daughter was speaking to Mo, walked over, and pulled up a lounger to listen.
“Your daughter has asked me if it is as bad in the world as I say it is, Beatrice,” Mo said to the older lady as she sat down.
“Virginie, I don’t know how bad it is in the whole world, but I do know that civilization, all the modern electrical gadgets we use every day in modern civilization are now useless. When did you last use your cell phone?” he asked the young girl.
“Early in the afternoon before New Year’s Eve, I wanted to wish my grandmother in France Happy New Year.”
“Have you tried it since?” Mo asked.
“We all have, the twins have tried to reach their boyfriends in New York and their father, but their phones are completely dead. They tried mine and it didn’t work either.”
“You turn on the television and radio system in the villa a dozen times a day I’ve noticed,” Mo added. She nodded and replied that it was always the same. Nothing. “That is exactly how all modern electrical instruments of communications are working all over the world.”
“Then how do we have electricity? The taxi works, but nothing else,” Virginie asked, confused. Just then it started to rain and large tropical drops began to hit the concrete around the pool so they moved to the loungers under the gazebo on the other side of the pool.
From this vantage point Mo could see the pool and the beach, and watch a small fishing boat as it headed past the island towards the Honduras mainland three hours sailing away.
“The company responsible for this world destruction was named Zedong Electronics,” started Mo as they sat down. Marie De Bonnet joined them, running easily down the last stairs as the rain began to fall in earnest. She also pulled up a lounger to listen. “It was based close to where I lived in Shanghai. They started their mission to destroy all electronics in the early 1980s. I bet that your cell phone and all the other girls’ phones were made by Zedong Electronics, or had parts made by Zedong Electronics in them.”
“Who was Zedong Electro
nics?” asked Virginie, and Mo spent an hour telling them what he knew: How the last members of the Chinese Communist Party under Mao Tse Tung started the company shortly after they lost power. How he was recruited, first as an engineer and then as a recruiting officer And finally, how they manipulated the world’s electronic parts and instruments to terminate with a radio frequency at exactly midnight Eastern Time on last New Year’s Eve. It was a thirty-year plan, he explained, and the idea was to attack and invade the United States of America and take over the country as their new headquarters.”
“Why did they hurt the rest of the world, and why France if they wanted America?” was the young girl’s next question.
“Simple,” replied Mo. “They couldn’t control where the parts went, and if the Europeans got involved with their attack on America they might have had the power to stop it. They even made sure that my home country, China, and also Russia would not get involved with their domination of the United States. China, Russia and every other country in the world is in the exact same condition we are.”
Virginie thought about what he had just said while Marie asked a question.
“So, Monsieur Engineer, what still works and what doesn’t in this world?”
“Marie, the only electronic equipment that still works was either manufactured before 1982 to 1985, or does not have any modern, or updated electronics made with any parts from Zedong Electronics. It’s as simple as that!” was his reply. “The minivan taxi is a 1984 Japanese model; it has carburetors but not a computerized engine-management system. The German lady has a new Mercedes which is entirely controlled by computers; it will never work again; the entire insides of the vehicle cannot be rebuilt using old parts, and nothing will fit. The electrical grid here on the island must have older electronic generators, pre-1985, and I think they must be backups for the more modern system, since we only get eight hours of electricity a day. We’ve had constant electricity here because I found the villa’s backup generator behind the empty car garages. I also found a few extra cans of gasoline down in the dock cabin, enough for about week. There is a lot more fuel down there but it is diesel for the boat.”