by T I WADE
“We are about to lose her,” stated the same airman in the C-130, now 300 miles west of Iceland, as the Gulfstream descended down through 2,000 feet a hundred miles east of Iceland and was heading south when it left their radar screen.
“Now it’s wait time. I have a C-130 heading north over Hudson Bay for Cambridge Bay, a couple of hundred miles southwest of Resolute Bay, and if they go through the sea corridor, they should be visible from both aircraft. We know they have radar jamming devices aboard and if they use them, then we will lose radar from the C-130 but the Hurricane Hunter will still have them visual. Also I have an AC-130 gunship heading due north to Cambridge Bay. She will pick them up with infra-red or heat.”
For the next couple of hours the two aircraft were spied on. As Carlos expected, they flew through the large, wide open water lane from eastern Canada to western Canada, now forty-five minutes apart and at 3,000 feet above sea level. To reduce fuel consumption, both aircraft had throttled back to a low cruise of 330 knots. Over Greenland they rose higher to get better economy, but descended down near to sea level once they got closer to the Canadian coast.
South of Resolute Bay, the open-water corridor was close to 250 miles wide and both aircraft stayed 240 miles south of Resolute Bay. Here, the Hurricane Hunter lost them, high cliffs making their electronic systems go fuzzy, but twenty minutes later the aircraft moved into the more open water of the Viscount Melville Sound, and their extremely faint bleeps were picked up again.
It was dark, and dinner was served in the ops room as the lead aircraft left the McClure Strait and rose in altitude to 10,000 feet and headed westwards towards the Beaufort Sea. The second aircraft did the same forty-five minutes later.
“Happy Harry to base, we have lost visual on the first aircraft,” reported the second Hurricane Hunter by satellite phone over southern Alaska three hours later.
“What!” stated General Patterson over the operations room satellite phone still on speaker-phone. “How could that happen? What were the last coordinates?”
“Don’t know, Sir. She suddenly lost altitude. She was flying at 15,000 feet, and I heard a short radio transmission about changing to reserves, and seconds later the first Gulfstream went into a dive and I lost her going through 500 feet. She had just turned southwest and over the Chukchi Sea, fifty miles from the Alaskan shoreline. She was about to fly over the Bering Strait. Pilot thinks she went straight in, sir. He reckons that there was something wrong with her reserves.”
“Roger that,” replied General Patterson. “Head southwest towards Anchorage, the second aircraft should be on your system by now, about 500 miles behind the first one. Tell the pilot to get you into a position so that you can monitor the Bering Strait and south. I want to know if they are heading into Russian airspace, or our own.”
“We are turning southwest, Sir.”
“I think we must have taken out something important,” stated Lee, Mo nodding in agreement.
“Well, they could still be flying below 500 feet, a jet fighter with the right equipment could do so, but with the photos you took of the cockpit interior, Lee, our technicians couldn’t see any modern equipment added to do this.”
The exact same thing happened with the second aircraft an hour later, except that there was a two word radio transmission, “May Day,” and fifty miles further south of the first one, the second Gulfstream disappeared from view.
“I’ve checked out their entire flight distance,” stated General Patterson. The second aircraft has flown 5,290 miles, of which 890 were at less than 5,000 feet, high fuel usage. With maximum reserves, they have less than 500 miles of fuel left. I checked what was pumped into their tanks here at Andrews;, 400 pounds of fuel less than the aircrafts maximum fuel intake. That means that they were empty on arrival, maybe ten to fifteen minutes of safe flight time; if I add that to what they should have now, I reckon 600 miles is the maximum they can fly before going down. They were due west of Norton Sound, and that puts western Alaska and a very small amount of Russian terra-firma into the possibilities. I think Carlos pinpointed it, somewhere in Alaska. Guys, it’s time we headed up to Alaska.”
Chapter 6
Alaska
Both Gulfstreams did make it, unbeknownst to the group back at Andrews. Gulfstream I, short on fuel, headed down to below 500 feet and stayed there for the rest of its flight.
General Patterson hadn’t logged the first aircraft’s mileage and had forgotten that the first one had turned north on the U.S. side of Iceland, allowing for a shorter flight of 500 miles; this allowed the very experienced civilian American pilots to stay low for the final 1,000-mile throttled-back glide into their secret airbase.
Gulfstream II dipped down later as her American pilots worked out distance and fuel usage and stayed under any radar surveillance for the final 600 miles of their flight.
Both aircraft were well in their reserve-fuel capabilities on final approach to the long, wide and American-government owned runway.
The second Gulfstream came in fifty minutes after the first, and just managed to land and taxi towards the hangar; the pilot killed the engines before the jet fumes gave out.
* * *
“Get your aircraft to your refueling base, and then I want a complete high altitude sweep of northern Alaska and 400 miles into western Russia,” General Patterson was telling the pilot of the closest Hurricane Hunter. “Always try and make it look like you are on a food mission, fly straight, and photograph or monitor swaths of country as you go.”
He had already told the second Hurricane Hunter to head towards Elmendorf, several flight hours west of its current position, where both aircraft would now be based.
“What can they look for?” Carlos asked the general.
“I think future aircraft movement is all these two aircraft might pick up. I don’t think those guys can fly anywhere soon but, you never know. A 747 with 300 Marines on board is two hours from taking off for a direct flight to Harbin, in case Bowers wants to return there. I phoned the colonel at Misawa and instructed him to fly radar search missions over northern Japan using anything he has to search for any identified radar transmissions, and I have two AC-130 gunships going into Hill in Salt Lake to meet us and then take us to Elmendorf. Preston, Carlos, Sally, Martie, get ready and please tell Mo Wang we are leaving in twenty minutes. By the way, Sally, you will be my co-pilot for the C-130 flight into Hill. I asked Buck to fly Lady Dandy up to Elmendorf. I want him to act like an old privately-owned Alaskan civilian aircraft. The visitors never saw Buck or Lady Dandy. He is unknown to them, and I want him and Barbara to help check out Alaska for any movement from a civilian’s point of view. The AC-130 gunships will be able to pick up aircraft movement, heat trails, or infra-red signatures from a reasonable distance without causing alarm in the enemy camp. Of course, that depends on what they have in modern electronic surveillance equipment from our friends at Zedong Electronics.”
Two hours later the group was in the air. Sleep was now a necessity and most slept, except for General Patterson and Sally, who would get their sleep in the next leg, from Hill up to Elmendorf.
It was midnight by the time they took off. The 747 was already outbound for China over the polar route and, a second and a third 747 were being loaded with a couple of the Seal Teams and 800 Marines bound for Elmendorf. The 747 transporter would be returning in six hours from Bogotá, unloaded and then reloaded at Andrews with arms and ammo for Majors Wong and Chong. At the same time, the two submarines were about to leave San Diego for their long trip north with the lone destroyer as escort; the three faster, smaller frigates of the Colombian Navy were closing in and about to pass through the Panama Canal to catch up with the U.S. vessels enroute.
Dawn raised its lazy head over the Rockies as the C-130 headed into Hill Air Force Base. Sally, who had caught three hours of sleep while General Patterson piloted the aircraft, brought her into a red-skied landing as the sun’s rays shone through the clouds behind the mountains to their right; dur
ing most of his shift, he had used the satellite phone to send messages around the country. Four of the remaining five F-4s were heading out of Edwards and would be refueled in an hour on their flight up to Elmendorf.
The general wasn’t taking any chances at being caught with insufficient air and ground power, in case there was a formidable enemy. He had the feeling that, if the country thwarted this third attack on its sovereignty, there could be a peaceful life afterwards. Being in the military system for over half of his life, he thought only of attack and defense and most other issues were of very little concern to him. Better to let the experts, people more knowledgeable in food, water and civilian populations, do their jobs. His meeting with Bill Bowers made his skin crawl. It was like seeing a rattler at close range and all the snake was interested in was getting its own way.
He detested this type of American people, only interested in their own agenda and screw the rest of society. In many ways he thought that Zedong Electronics had actually done the United States a favor by ridding the world of much of the greed and modern systems that he felt were polluting the civilians. He had seen it in the Air Force ranks—soldiers texting on their cell phones, instant and social communications giving personnel, who didn’t think that somebody might be listening, opportunities to communicate valuable and often secret information to the enemy, where they were, what they were doing, even down to lousy military food; all this could be downloaded, listened to, or recorded, to give a bigger picture of what the U.S. military machine was doing and their future intentions.
Now that was all gone; the whole world was in turmoil, and the U.S. had the upper hand with all the communication equipment in known hands, and all he needed to do was to win this next game of chess. He wondered if they had any Shaheen II missiles, or worse, a Russian multi-head missile at their disposal. Then it occurred to him. They wouldn’t know that the Chinese satellite system was out of their control, and that if they fired any GP guided missiles towards the mainland, that they could go out of control and head in any direction. It didn’t decrease the harm they could do, as there always would be fallout, but now that there were fewer people in the cities the missiles could be aimed at, if they went wild instead, they could actually kill more Americans. Could Carlos and Lee Wang direct those missiles if they were launched?
The two AC-130s and Mother Goose, the HC-130 tanker, were still being refueled when Sally landed the C-130. They had arrived an hour earlier and would take them nonstop to Elmendorf, being refueled in-flight, if they had bad headwinds.
Thirty minutes later, five of the Z-10 Chinese Attack Helicopters came in. They flew in from Dyess and were the first of three flights on their way to Elmendorf.
“I now regret having these Z-10s painted in U.S. Air Force colors,” stated a tired General Patterson over a breakfast of coffee, toast and scrambled eggs.
There was a newly erected chicken coop just outside the back of the Officers Mess with over 100 chickens; they had been found running wild around the outer areas of the base.
“It was a pretty funny operation to watch from the air,” laughed the base commander. “Several chickens had been seen by low-flying aircraft while coming into land, and we decided to do a jeep roundup. Most of the chickens in and around the desert region around the Great Salt Lake were starving, and the water was not drinkable. I went up in a chopper and had three jeeps filled with men and old soccer netting at the ready. We would see a couple of chickens and the men would surround them as if to capture the enemy. In all, we caught 108 chickens, 43 pigs and 27 head of cattle. For the larger animals, we had horse trailers pulled behind the jeeps. Now we have our own farm on the base, and enough fresh eggs for the Officers Mess. We are trying to breed the chickens and pigs, but still need a rooster and a bull.”
“I just don’t know what this world is coming to,” replied the general. “Now our bases sound like old third-world country bases, with more emphasis on farming than flying.”
“The enlisted men have an interest in having fresh eggs for breakfast. I think one of the spotter jeeps saw a lone rooster over at Dugway, the old proving grounds, a day or so ago. It is great excitement across base right now, and we were wondering where we could get some trackers to track this guy!” added the base commander.
“A couple of good-looking egg layers with lipstick should do the trick,” stated Sally. There was much laughter from the table.
“Don’t laugh, guys,” added the colonel. “Seven of the cows we caught were milk cows, and the milk you are drinking is fresh non-pasteurized farm milk. Good for you, I was told as a kid!”
“Better not tell the authorities in California,” laughed Martie. “That was a criminal offense in California last year, supplying raw milk.”
“That’s one of the good things I was thinking about when we were flying in here earlier,” General Patterson added. “Have you noticed how much better the freshly farmed food tastes?” There was a nod from the table.
“One of the things that worries me with Westbrook and MonteDiablo,” added Preston, “is they want us to go back to the mass-produced, non-natural and tasteless food we had last year.”
“Not on my watch!” added the general.
“I’ll stick to a fish diet once you are finished with my services,” added Mo Wang.
Hill Air Force base was left to its new farming techniques once the gunships left the runway bound for Alaska. With full stomachs, the crew aboard settled down to a long flight. Sally and General Patterson were asleep before the aircraft left the runway.
Martie fell asleep and Preston, Carlos and Mo Wang were left to chat.
“What do you think the general has in store for us this time?” Preston asked Carlos. “With over a million troops back home, why do you think he is taking us civilians across the United States?”
“I suppose he feels less threatened by us,” Carlos replied. “And after watching those politicians vote for anything that could be worth money or a kickback to them, I don’t trust many of the ‘old school’ anymore either.”
“Nobody really noticed my being there,” added Mo. “I did see those company owners having pretty one-sided discussions with some of your American politicians. It seemed that there was much threatening going on. Lee showed me that Mr. Westbrook was pointing his finger at one of the politicians. I don’t know his name, but the poor man’s face was as white as a sheet.”
Preston opened his satellite phone and pressed in a call number. “Mr. President, Preston Strong here.” He listened for a few seconds. “I had a thought a few moments ago. During the time we spent outside the House chamber during the last meeting, Mr. Westbrook and Mr. Bowers seemed to be threatening some members of both the House and the Senate. There were certain members who voted for the acceptance of the plan given by Mr. Bowers. I would suggest that you get those men in and find out what they were threatened with, if they were at all. I’m sure that if a few colonels or generals sat in on the conversations it will encourage those men to share some inside information with you. It might help us with deal with the enemy this side. Yes, Mr. President, we are heading towards the west of the country. I don’t want to tell you anymore, I don’t have the authority, but give the general several hours to rest, he is exhausted, and I’m sure he will back up what I just told you.”
“For the rest of the flight the men discussed fishing and other non-military related topics, like marriage while the girls slept soundly.
Elmendorf Airfield was reached as the sun set. It had been a long flight from the East Coast, twenty hours of flying, and Preston and Mo were discussing whether salmon tasted better than tuna, when they flew over the Alaskan coast.
Mother Goose, carrying only a small amount of reserve fuel, wasn’t needed on this trip, but would become important if search-flights started around the clock.
That night they indeed enjoyed freshly caught salmon. Mo thought it the best salmon he had ever tasted and Preston, Martie and Carlos, who had not spent much time in Alaska, though
t so too. Sally had flown here often, knew several of the soldiers around base, and told her friends how she and Jennifer had always looked forward to a training flight this far north.
General Patterson joined them towards the end of the meal and sat down to a grand dinner.
“Did you speak to the president?” Preston asked, savoring a “Summer Ale” from the local Alaskan Brewing Company, which happened to still be operating with the help of a dozen large Air Force generators.
“Yes, and thank you for the suggestion, Preston. He and I agree that if the politicians were being threatened, then whatever information we can get out of them might give us some insight into the plans our new enemy has. The president has already talked to two of the members of Congress who voted for Bowers and Westbrook; one said that he firmly believed that the two CEOs were on the right track but, the second said that he felt threatened; it was suggested that his family might suffer unfortunate accidents if he didn’t side with Westbrook.”
“Where does his family live?” Carlos asked the general.
“The president didn’t say, but he was from Washington State or Oregon, I believe. I’ll get the information tomorrow. It’s already past midnight on the East Coast.”
“What is going to be our role here?” Martie asked.
“We have a couple of Cessna 210s from the local airfields which we commandeered from their owners for fourteen days. With Lady Dandy, which is on her way and should be here by lunch tomorrow, you guys are going to pose as civilians looking for lost members of your family. For the next several days I want you guys to head out over designated areas of terrain we give you, and slowly go through every airfield across Alaska. You won’t believe it but there are more than 500 airports or airfields in Alaska, of which maybe 60 of them have tarmac runways long enough to take jets, and several of those could have been extended over the last decade to take bigger aircraft.”