by Doug Ball
The General was smoking like an old steam engine.
“Stayed low and the craft went high,” was the response.
“Damn!” the General didn’t often cuss and now he had twice. “Tell the Stinger crews to open fire when in range. The crews up high will probably have better luck due to the cold water behind the target.”
Tan walked in just in time to hear the lines about the Stingers. “What’s with cold background?”
“Stinger is a heat seeker. Hot engine stands out like a spotlight when it has a cold background. Stinger will chase the sun if the shooter is not careful.” He shoved his cigar back in his mouth and puffed away at it.
“Oh.”
Usafi was laughing without sound as he watched the bridge get larger on the screen. It was time to decide, over the bridge and dive, or under the bridge and straight in at the water line. Either would bring the drone to a collision. The collision would detonate the warhead no matter what angle it hit or where it hit. He had one shot and was confident it would be a good one.
Tan looked around. There must be something he could do, something he was forgetting. Everybody was waiting. The clock on the wall of the command center in the office of the marina, loudly ticked off the seconds until the target was dead or the dam was gone. Each man was thinking his own thoughts concerning the family’s safety, their next move, what it would be like to watch a dam fail, all those things, and more.
Tank knew there was nothing he could do here. He ran out the door with Abdul following, “Where we goin’, Boss?”
“To the dam. I am not going to sit here and watch this episode of my life go by without making every effort to save my new home and a bunch of other people’s homes.” He picked up speed. His leg began to hurt and got worse with every step he ran until he reached the Stinger crew on the south end of the bridge.
“What’s your chances? Can you kill it?”
“If I can see it, I can kill it. It’s not in sight yet. It’s out there toward that ridge across the lake.”
Abdul huffed and puffed as he stood watching and listening. “There’s something there. A round light spot with lines coming out the sides.”
“Where?”
Abdul pointed. “Right over that chopper .”
“Man, you got the eyes of a hawk if you can see anything out there. I can just make out the chopper only cuz I watched it fly across there and can still see the exhaust trail.”
Tan looked around for binoculars. No one had a pair here. A man in the north end crew was scanning with a pair, but that wasn’t going to do Tan any good. Abdul grabbed his ball cap before the wind took it away.
The radio crackled, “Seven minutes. Target seven miles out, traveling about 60 miles an hour. Optical scans report target is drone, light blue, pusher prop.”
One of the stinger crew with a radio asked, “High approach or low?”
“Wait.”
Everyone was straining their eyes searching one sector of the sky.
“HQ – we have a second target coming in from the west along river from Apache Lake. Request instructions.”
“Another target. What is it?” the General shouted through the smoke from the cigar until he chewed the end off his cigar, the cigar fell, he caught it bare handed .
“Damn, that’s hot.” yelled the General, licking his hand.
The wind outside was beginning to gust from all directions at once, it seemed. “The cliffs and river channel make strange things happen with the breezes here,” said the marina manager
“Target appears to be an occupied small plane. The pilot just waved at us as we tried to wave him off.”
The General listened, thinking, until, “Put a couple of tracers across his bow or prop, whatever.”
The sound of firing could be heard on the bridge. Men turned around at the new threat. The radio finally cracked, “Tell the General the pilot did not like having a string of tracers pass his windshield. He flipped me off, but he turned away and is currently gaining altitude to the south.”
“Radar has him.”
The General looked at the radioman, “Track that plane. Where are we with our target number 1 over the lake?”
Radar came through the loudspeaker, “Target aircraft is now increasing speed as it dives. 1500 feet above water. Dive speed passing 75 miles per hour. Estimate three minutes until…” the transmission ended.
“What’s going on, Radar.”
“Until what, HQ?”
“The end.”
“Three minutes until the end, then.”
The General’s cigar was glowing bright, lighting up the sweat on his forehead. He yelled, “I want all data link jammers on line and pointed at target number 1.”
Jammer sites all reported, “Up and jamming.”
North end bridge crew caught first sight of the drone. “Drone sighted. Estimate 3,000 meters. Sighting weapon.”
The tension in HQ and all other stations increased. The wind was picking up enough to cause dust to blow off the surrounding mountains.
“Launch site sighted. No bad guys to be found. Lieutenant and Sergeant are down, need medics. Will load and extract casualties. Four man unit will remain and search for bad guy. Out.”
“Medics waiting. Ambulance warming up.”
“Radar – report range.”
“One mile.”
The Stinger on the North end of the bridge launched. South end spotter finally saw the incoming drone and lined his shooter up. South end Stinger flew. Something flared up from one of the fishing boats. The North end shot headed for the fishing boat and then tried to come back for the drone. In making the turn, it found the sun and away it went.
The south end shot was hot straight and normal. Everybody watching just knew the drone was dead until it wasn’t. The shot flew right on by the drone without detonating.
A stinger launch from the north cliffs was released. All eyes followed as it rolled in on the drone which was now so low on the water it was obvious it would pass under the bridge if not taken out.
Usafi looked at the screen intensely as the gap between water and bridge grew. He watched as one Stinger flew for the sky and a second flew by. Wishing he had a rear view camera, he decided it would not matter. The drone either made it or it was destroyed. There was always tomorrow, but he hoped not.
He caught a flare from the cliff to the right.
Tan ordered all weapons free. No one looked around to see if it was a Guard man who gave the order. Weapons came to shoulders and M4’s opened up. A big 50 on the cliff even chimed in twice before it quit because the bridge got in the way. Abdul stood there mesmerized.
Tan pulled out his weapon from the shoulder holster. It was the Guadalcanal commemorative. He prayed as he waited.
“What you saying, Boss?”
“Just praying.”
“That’s always good, says my Mama.”
“Sure can’t hurt.”
The data link scanners could find no data links to jam. Little did they know this target was being flown with a system you can buy in a hobby shop and did not use a data link similar to the military drone guidance.
Usafi watched the screen as tracers, stingers, and a boat went by without touching the drone. He smiled. All he had to do now was get the drone between the bridge and the water safely. It was only a matter of a second or two before it would hit the bridge. The object after that point was to lift the drone higher to increase the down angle of attack into the water just feet before the bridge itself.
Usafi laughed as he watched the guns firing away with round after round missing. Bright flashes from the guns made the bridge look like it had been strung with twinkle lights of various sizes.
One man in the middle caught his eye. He was huge, black and huge. Who was he? Why was he the only man not shooting something at the drone? Even the man next to him had fired, only one round from a pistol, but he had fired.
The vision of the big black man held him mesmerized just long enough for th
e drone to rise slightly and, as Usafi refocused on the mission and tried to bring the nose of the drone down, the tip of the rudder nicked the bottom of the bridge. He quickly got the wobble out of the flight and settled the drone a little too low. The drone skimmed on the smooth water as it hit the wind lull caused by the dam blocking the wind. He tried to lift the nose a bit and the prop dug into the water, pulling the nose back down allowing the drone to skim to the dam.
16
As the drone got close to the bridge, Tan fired one round and noticed no change in the flight of the drone. Abdul yelled something that he could not understand as the drone committed to the gap under the bridge and slugs from the many guns rang on the steel of the bridge.
Abdul pulled Tan back and pointed to the other side of the bridge. They ran. Tan got to the other side to see the drone doing a strange dance on the water. He emptied the .45 as fast as he could pull the trigger.
He didn’t know it but his second round hit the gas tank and his fourth stopped the engine very suddenly. The drone exploded.
Usafi said, “Allah be praised,” in a muted voice as the screen went blank. He shut off the box so no signal could be tracked and reached for the small bottle of wine and block of cheese he had stashed in the spider hole a month ago. Other than the cheese being a bit dry, his day was made.
Shrapnel, flame, heat, compressed air, and noise all hit Tan, Abdul, and all the others on the bridge. Some fell, some were knocked down. Some cried and others laughed.
Roosevelt Dam was hidden.
The water was totally disturbed.
No one on the bridge could tell if the terrorist had succeeded.
Abdul was bleeding onto Tan’s face. Rachel stumbled around checking for injuries. Rachel rolled Abdul off Tan who still held the Guadalcanal Commemorative in his right hand. Abdul groaned, put his hands under him, and pushed up. He continued to move until he was standing.
Tan grabbed Abdul’s pants leg and pulled himself up as Rachel wiped his face with a cloth. Abdul rubbed his head and came away with blood and a piece of metal. “Think this thing stung me a bit. How’s the dam?”
No one could tell.
They waited.
The water below the bridge moved rapidly toward the dam trying to fill the hole made by the explosion.
They waited.
It seemed like long minutes as they waited for the wind to blow the smoke away.
Tan’s radio squawked. “This is Vineyard Mountain radar. The dam appears to be breached. Water is running down the face of the dam and splashing into the river below.”
An audible groan came from the collective mouths on the bridge and all the other troop locations along the waterway. Men who were close to water level moved toward higher ground as fast as they could go, leaving everything they did not need for climbing behind. Many of the groans turned quickly into cries of anguish as the idea that they had failed hit them, failed themselves, failed a few million people, and failed Arizona.
In Phoenix the dispatcher monitoring the radio links for the Governor and other authorities heard the report and tears ran down her cheeks as she reported to the supervisor. The supervisor calmly walked to the phone, picked it up, and dialed.
“Governor’s office.”
“The bomb hit the bridge. It appears to be breached.”
“Oh, goody.” The Governor sat the phone in its cradle and screamed. As the bodyguards entered the room, she picked up the phone again and dialed. Josie and three body guards watched as she calmly ordered the Department of Emergency Management Incident Command Center to carry out the plans set in place to evacuate Phoenix, Tempe, Mesa, Avondale, and all other communities and county areas which were expected to be flooded.
The Whatever Plan went into action. The evacuation began in earnest.
Tan just stood in the middle of the bridge, gold engraved gun hanging at his right side barely grasped by his limp hand. The sense of failure was so intense he could not talk.
No one talked. Cried, yes. Groaned, yes. Fell to their knees, yes. But, no one talked.
The radio squawked again. “Wait. The smoke and spray is clearing and it looks like all we were seeing was the spray from the bomb coming over the top of the dam. The flow down the face is slowing drastically. It is, it is, it’s still in one piece. There is no flow through the dam that we can see.
Still no one talked.
They cheered. They danced. They cussed. They high fived and slapped backs. They hugged and jumped up and down.
The General tossed what was left of the cigar to the ground and smashed it with his boot, grinding slowly until only tobacco dust remained. “Okay, let’s summarize. Lt. Williams and Decker on the way to the hospital in Phoenix with my chopper. Four troops still searching for our terrorist way over yonder. A truck with ten more troops is headed that way to reinforce them. All our spotters being picked up by choppers number 2 and 3.
“Do we have a chopper number 4 still?”
“Yes, General. It will be arriving the parking lot here in ten minutes.”
“Great.
“Do we have the video of this fiasco?”
“I have four, General. Which one do you want first?”
“How about the dancing girls from the last Guard Ball? No, let’s try the one aimed at the dam from the north end. That was done in fast framing so we’d see slow motion, was it not?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Alright folks, gather round the wide screen over here and let’s see what happened.”
The General waited for everyone in the room to focus on the wide screen on the high stand. “Okay, roll the video.”
After a short delay, the screen filled with dam on the right, water on the bottom, and bridge to the left. A raven moved slowly from the bridge upward to the sky. Tan and Abdul were next, first their heads and it appeared they grew up out of the bridge.
The pointed end of the drone appeared. Tan could be seen as he brought his .45 to bear on the drone in super slow motion. More of the drone appeared. Tan’s gun belched flame twice. Many swore later they saw the second round go from Tan’s gun to the middle of the fuselage and exit into the water below. The drone was wobbling up and down like a teeter-totter just an inch or two at a time. Another flash was seen.
Other rounds from other guns made little splashes in the water, but appeared to hit the target.
Tan’s beautiful .45 poofed again as the drone skimmed the water, throwing spray out behind. Then it happened. Flames appeared at the rear of the drone. The propeller stopped. The drone twisted. The rear of the drone separated from the shaped-charge warhead. The rear of the craft was engulfed in flame and blew to pieces.
The warhead skimmed the water again for three or four feet before tumbling into the water side of the dam three feet above the water line. The bomb exploded. The stainless steel core could be seen going straight up. The scene ended in a deluge, the deluged turned to flame and smoke, and then water again.
Everyone watched until the water reached the camera and flooded out the filming.
“Damn!”
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“Damn strong. That’s what that pretty pile of rock and concrete is.”
A new picture came up on the screen. It was the water side of the dam with wisps of smoke and drops of water lazing around. The dam had a black area that had not been there in the ‘before’ pictures. In the middle of it a small crack, with chunks missing surrounding it, could be seen.
The General shouted, “Get the damn engineers out there to look at that.”
“Already there and working, General.”
“You guys work quick when I yell, don’t ya?”
“No, General, we try to work ahead of you.”
The room filled with laughter, including the General’s.
At Sky Harbor International Airport, plane crews and passengers moved rapidly to their aircraft. Anyone not needed at the airport had been sent home. Within minutes a flight actually left the runway thirty minutes earlier than t
he advertised time. Other planes followed at as close an interval as possible and still be safe.
In the surrounding communities, city transit and yellow school buses filled to capacity headed for high ground. Other forms of transport followed the parade of the buses mingled with private vehicles filled with families and their possessions, towing boats, travel trailers, and utility trailers. A Phoenix PD officer reported a big diesel truck pulling a utility trailer, hitched to a travel trailer, hitched to a boat loaded with dog kennels.
Law Enforcement and other directors of traffic marveled at the calmness of the folks moving toward high ground at the speed of a crippled turtle.
“General, we got another chopper?” Tan yelled.
“Why?”
“I want to go get that bastard. Your boys are there, but they’ll need local law enforcement, me, to make an arrest. That damn clown has made a fool of me and this state too damn long. I want him and I want him bad.”
The General smiled, “Boys and girls, get the man a ride.”
“On the way, General. You can hear it incoming now.”
Tan and Abdul left the chopper next to the open box trailer, car, and utility trailer Adam Usafi had left behind. Two of the four troops were seen trotting toward the chopper as it lifted off without waiting.
“General radioed that we were under your orders, Sir. What now?”
“Got anything?”
“No. Tracks all over the place. The ones we are looking for look like,” he looked around the trailer, “that one right there.” He pointed.
A simple sneaker pattern impressed into the dirt just did not meet with Tan’s expectations. If he was doing this as the bad guy, he would have had tough boots on and a get away vehicle close by. “Radio the chopper and ask them to do a quick search out as far out as a mile for a vehicle that might be stashed for a getaway.”
“We already did that. Negative results.”