by Dale Brown
"Yes indeed-a dead crew and a smoking hole in the desert," Patrick said. The smiles and whispered comments vanished, replaced by angry glares. He looked around and added, "Good to see you're taking the accident and the corrective action seriously."
"Of course we are. But you can't just order men to forget about the deaths of their friends and fellow crew members, General," Rebecca answered. "It takes time. Please understand-this unit has been through a lot lately. We all deal with grief differently."
"I see. Well, I can help you through some of your turmoil a little, Colonel. I came here to administer a requalification check."
Furness frowned in confusion. "Yes, sir," she said formally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "We can set up an orientation flight for you. Major Seaver isn't currently qualified to fly the B-l, but ..."
"I know that. I will administer his requalification checkout. Emergency procedures check in the sim tomorrow, then a flight ASAP."
"I see," Furness said, again noncommittally. "I would prefer that his requal ride be done by someone in the Nevada Guard. I would also like to know your qualifications, sir. Are you qualified to fly the Bone?"
"Doesn't matter now, does it, Colonel?" Patrick replied.
Furness looked furious but held her anger in check. "Very good, sir. Well, this ought to be fun." She slapped her hands together in mock excitement. "Well then, we've got a lot of work to do. Why don't we get you set up in a hotel, schedule a meeting to review Seaver's paperwork and fitness reports, and-"
"You don't seem to understand, Colonel," Patrick interjected. "I'm not here just to give Seaver his flight check, and I think we'll all be too busy to worry about hotel rooms."
"Then what the hell are you . . , pardon me, sir, but what are you here for, then?"
Patrick reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope. Furness saw the code "A-72" on it. Her eyes bugged out and her breath caught in her throat. He handed her the envelope. "You've just been notified, Colonel, that your squadron has seventy-two hours to put bombs on target and then deploy to a remote operations base to begin simulated long-range bombardment operations. Your unit's predeployment evaluation has just begun. The clock is ticking, and as of right now, I am keeping score."
"What?" Furness exploded. She grabbed the envelope and tore it open. Sure enough, it was a standard Air Force warning-order message, stamped "Confidential," directing an air strike against simulated targets in the Nellis bombing ranges in southern Nevada. The strike would be followed by a deployment of not more than two weeks to an undisclosed location to conduct night and day bombing operations from a bare-base location. "This has got to be a joke!" the squadron commander shouted. "I don't know you! I can't generate seven Bones on your say-so only!"
At that moment, John Long's cell phone beeped. He answered it immediately, listened, then closed it up. "Boss, the airfield operations manager just got a fax from Bretoff's office, notifying them that intensive Air Guard operations will commence this afternoon."
"That message was supposed to be secret," McLanahan said. He shrugged. "You've got a good intelligence operation here, Colonel, I'll give you that." It was common courtesy for evaluators to give a "heads-up" to certain folks, such as local air traffic control facilities, before an exercise kicked off. It was also common for air traffic control facility managers to slip a heads-up call to the military guys when an exercise was about to commence, even though the information was supposed to be kept under wraps to enhance the shock and surprise element of the exercise.
"Also, Reno Approach Control reports a KC-135 twenty miles out, call sign 'Blitz Nine-Nine,' " Long went on. The "99" suffix was a common one used by evaluation teams. "RAPCON says he's parking at Mercury Air for two weeks and is requesting COMSEC procedures in effect for the Air Guard." That, too, was typical of the kickoff of an exercise. From now on, under COMSEC, or communications security procedures, all movements of Air National Guard aircraft except for safety-of-flight concerns were not to be reported on open radio or phone lines.
Furness looked at McLanahan with a combination of irritation and surprise, then eased up. The predeployment exercise was usually conducted at another B-1B bomber base, usually with the unit flying out and beginning there-but nothing in the regs said it couldn't start right at home base with a no-notice deployment generation exercise and Furness, like most good fliers, hated surprises.
But she also loved challenges, loved excitement, loved action. Exercises involving recalls, generations, en route bombing, and deployments were right there beside actual combat on the list of things that made Rebecca Furness's blood race. McLanahan saw the fire ignite in her eyes. He was pleased.
"Long Dong, initiate a squadron recall," Furness ordered. "Get Dutch and Clock's sorties back on the ground on the double. The battle staff meets in fifteen minutes with their checklists open and ready to go, and I will personally kick the ass of the man or woman who is not in their seat ready to go by the time I get there. Notify Creashawn on the secure line, have them start a recall, and get ready to move live weapons for the entire fleet on my orders." Creashawn Arsenal was the large weapons storage facility near Naval Air Station Fallon where live weapons for the B-ls were stored. "Then call Bretoff secure and inform him I'm generating my fleet for combat operations. Reference General McLanahan's written orders and his own verbal orders."
As Long got on his cell phone to initiate the recall, Furness turned to McLanahan, a mischievous smile on her lips and a malevolent glow in her eyes. She looked him up and down, then said, "McLanahan. I once heard of a McLanahan from a friend of mine, the chief of staff of the Lithuanian Army. He told some pretty extraordinary stories about him. Any relation, sir?"
"Maybe."
"Interesting." Furness grinned. "This McLanahan was in charge of some pretty cosmic stuff, real Buck Rogers high-tech gear, made for bombers." There was no response. She nodded, then asked, "You ready for this, General McLanahan? We move pretty fast around here."
"I'll be with you the entire way," Patrick said. "When the sorties launch, I want to be manifested with Seaver as copilot. He'll be number two in your flight."
Furness glared at McLanahan in surprise. "I can't do that, sir," she said. "I'm not going to put an unqualified person in the right seat during a live weapons mission. It's unsafe." She looked at him warily. "Or are you going to pull rank on this too?"
"Yes, I was," Patrick said, "but I'll make you a deal: I'll fly in the copilot's seat with Seaver in the sim. If you don't think I know my shit well enough, you can kick me out. Deal?"
"Deal," Furness said. "Have fun flying in the DSO's seat, sir."
"Don't bet on it, Colonel," Patrick said with a smile. He glanced over at John Long and added, "Put Colonel Long in my OSO's seat."
"Whatever you want, sir," Furness responded. Then she shouted to the rest of the squadron members, "Get your asses moving, you grunts! That's the last time I want to see any of you hogs standing around with your thumbs up your asses! Now move!"
THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE, WASHINGTON, D.C.
THAT SAME TIME
It's good of you to come, Minister Kang," the President of the United States said. He shook hands warmly with Minister of Foreign Affairs Kang Nomyong of the Republic of Korea. With him in the Oval Office were Vice President Ellen Christine Whiting, Secretary of Defense Arthur Chastain, and White House Chief of Staff Jerrod Hale. Official White House photographers took photos of the handshakes; no reporters were present.
"Mr. President, Madam Vice President, Secretary Chastain, Mr. Hale, may I please introduce the South
Korean minister of defense, retired general Kim Kunmo," Minister Kang said in broken but very understandable English. General Kim bowed deeply, then shook hands with each American. His Korean translator was also introduced, and all were led to seats around the coffee table in the Oval Office. As refreshments were served, the photographers snapped a few more shots of the leaders making small talk, then departed. The visitors looked around
the famous White House Oval Office, as wide-eyed and awed as any congressman's constituent on a "photo opportunity" visit. Jerrod Hale remained standing in his usual place behind and to the right of the President.
"This is an unexpected but certainly welcome visit, gentlemen," President Martindale began politely. "We all knew that you were both in our country visiting military installations and preparing to address the United Nations. I'm glad we have this chance to get together." The Koreans bowed in thanks.
Unexpected, yes-welcome, no, the President thought. Nearing the end of a tumultuous first term in the White House, following two terms as Vice President, the fifty-one-year-old divorced Texan, a former state attorney general, U.S, senator, and secretary of defense, was in the midst of the greatest fight of his long political life. He was knowledgeable in foreign and military affairs, but it seemed that almost every foreign policy decision he had made in recent years, especially those involving his military forces, had cost him dearly at home. And having Asian political and military leaders pop in on him at the White House was never good news.
"We thank you most profoundly for the honor of meeting with you in person, Mr. President," Minister Kang said formally. Kang was pudgy, with thick glasses and greased-back straight black hair. He was a sharp contrast to General Kim's wiry body, chiseled face, and cold, steady eyes. Nonetheless, despite Kang's disarming features, Martindale knew he was an expert strategist and businessman, the former head of one of the most powerful oceangoing shipping companies in the world.
As impressive as Kang's background was, General Kim's was even more so. He had risen through the ranks from conscript to chairman of the chiefs of staff of the South Korean military. He had survived innumerable purges, dismissals, and outright assassination attempts, only to emerge stronger and wiser after every encounter with his foes. Kevin Martindale stared into Kim's eyes and saw the general staring unabashedly right back at him, unblinking, challenging.
What was it like, Martindale asked himself, to live in a country like South Korea? The entire peninsula had been a pawn in an Asian chess match spanning many centuries. Like so many other world hot spots today Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Germany, Africa, Israel, the Balkans-his country was spawned out of the ashes of war, trampled, blood-soaked land divided up between conquering invaders. But because the lines drawn on a map rarely take into account the social and cultural differences of a nation, the warring never ended for countries like South Korea. Kim's country had known either foreign occupation or political and societal schizophrenia for centuries. What was that like? It sounded like an unending civil war.
Martindale noticed Kim give him a subtle smile and a nod before resuming his unblinking stare. It was as if he knew what Martindale was thinking and was thanking him for trying to understand. Although the President did not show it, Kim gave him the creeps. There was a war raging in that man's head as well as in his homeland, the President decided.
Jerrod Hale noted Kim's defiant gaze. He shifted his position slightly. It had the desired effect: it caught Kim's attention. "I hope you're finding your tour of our military installations informative, General Kim," Hale said when Kim looked at him, his voice neutral, neither friendly nor challenging. The translator passed along Hale's words; Kim bowed deeply in response but remained silent. The two men looked at each other unblinkingly. But Jerrod Hale, a former Los Angeles County prosecutor and police commissioner and a longtime political ramrod, took intimidation from no one. As he stood by the most powerful man in the Western world, in the most prized hall of power on earth, General Kim respectfully averted his eyes." Mr. President, I wanted to personally deliver to you some very disturbing and alarming evidence that we recently acquired," Minister Kang said. He withdrew a folder from a briefcase. "I apologize if these pictures offend your sensibilities, Mr. President. I only offer them because of the enormous gravity of the situation they portend."
Martindale studied them, his eyes narrowing in shock, then wordlessly passed them along to Vice President Whiting. She swallowed a gasp when she saw the photograph of the mangled, emaciated corpse of the North Korean fighter pilot. "Please explain, Minister Kang," Martindale said.
"This starving, near-frozen man was at the controls of a North Korean attack jet that was shot down over South Korea," Kang responded. "He was en route to Seoul."
"An attack jet?" Secretary Chastain asked.
"A fighter-bomber on a one-way suicide mission, carrying two gravity bombs," General Kim said-via the translator. "Two nuclear bombs."
Whiting's mouth opened in surprise; Chastain and the President exchanged shocked expressions. "My God!" the President gasped. "Were they live weapons? Fully functional? What yield?"
"Older but fully functioning weapons of Chinese design, in perhaps the six-hundred-kiloton-yield range," Kang replied. He handed Chastain a folder. "Here is an analysis of the weapons, as conducted by our military intelligence division. It is in effect a standard Chinese medium-range ballistic missile reentry vehicle warhead, modified for gravity bomb use. A rather dated design, not very efficient or reliable. Discarded many decades ago by Communist China because of a lack of safety features, large design, and heavy carriage weight."
"Were the weapons destroyed when you shot down the aircraft?" Chastain asked.
"No."
"Then you recovered them?" Kang nodded. "Were they intact?"
"Yes, sir," Kang replied. "The weapons have filled in many vital pieces of a giant puzzle that our intelligence agencies have been investigating for years. We have suspected the presence of nuclear weapons in the North, but now, after examining the components of the bombs, we have pinpointed the locations of several bases and facilities that manufacture these and other weapons of mass destruction.
"What we now know, Mr. President, is that the Communists have nine key bases, mostly in the north close to the Chinese border and in the central part of the country," Kang went on. "They not only manufacture and stockpile nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, but they are also staging bases for air and rocket attacks using these weapons against targets in the South, against Japan, and against American bases as far away as Alaska. The evidence is incontrovertible."
"Jesus," the President murmured. He turned to Hale.
"Jerrod, get Admiral Balboa and Director Plank over here immediately." Hale was dialing his staff before the President finished the order.
"We would like to examine these weapons as soon as possible and assist in destroying them," Secretary Chastain said. "We would also like to examine your intelligence material, allow us to update our own records, and verify your data with our own intelligence assets."
The President noted that, after the translation, General Kim seemed agitated, as if barely controlling his rising anger. Minister Kang hesitated uneasily for a moment, glancing at Kim nervously, then replied, "I have provided all the pertinent information on the incident and the weapons in that file, Mr. President."
"Does that mean you don't want to let us see those weapons, Minister?" Martindale asked.
Again, Kang squirmed uneasily. "Mr. President, we will of course gladly provide you and your intelligence staff with anything you request." Hearing the translator's version, General Kim seemed irritated at the equivocal statement, but he said nothing. Kang went on: "But I have been instructed to beg you for your advice and assistance in dealing with the threat from the communists in the North once and for all. The threat to our peace and security is real, and it is at the breaking point. My government feels it must act."
"Act? How? In what way? What do you want us to do?"
Kang took a deep breath, then said, "Mr. President, we plan to invade North Korea and destroy all of the bases identified as attack staging locations. We want the attack to begin immediately, within the next two or three days."
"What?" Martindale exclaimed. "You want to attack North Korea? That's insane!"
"Mr. President, the inevitable fact is that one of two things will happen," Kang explained. "Either North K
orea will be emboldened or provoked into attacking my country, or it will collapse under the sheer weight of its corrupt, bankrupt, and morally wasted system of government. A revolution or coup is impossible; President Kim is far more ruthless than his father. The North will not shed communism like East Germany because it is more isolated politically, geographically, and socioeconomically than the European Communist nations."
"It will also not shed communism because of the influence of China," the President interjected, "and that's a major reason why any military attack against North Korea will result in disaster-China will certainly come to North Korea's aid. At best, an attack will ignite another war on the Korean peninsula. At worst, it could start a global nuclear war."
"If I may speak frankly, sir," Kang said, referring to recent events all too vivid in the President's memory, "the world's opinion was that an attack by any nation against an American aircraft carrier, or against such a strategically important territory as the island of Guam, would be immediately met by a full thermonuclear retaliation. Yet this did not happen ..."
"We don't know the Independence was attacked by China," Secretary of Defense Arthur Chastain retorted, almost apologetically. "It could've been any number of terrorist groups . . ." But then he fell silent. The follow-up to that was obvious: there was no doubt about who had attacked Taiwan or Guam.
The President held up a hand. "Arthur, no need to try to come to my defense," he said. "Yes, I suppose I had every right to order a full nuclear retaliation against China. I suppose if I had, few would have said I acted rashly or without sufficient provocation. Our nuclear forces had been fully mobilized, and the location of China's ICBMs and nuclear bomber fleet was pinpointed. And it is true that we've spent trillions of dollars developing a force to deter such an attack, but when deterrence failed, I did not use those forces."
The President leaned forward, looked Kang in the eye, and said, "The world might very well believe ours is a hollow force, that if we can't protect our own forces and won't avenge an attack against a vital territory, we certainly won't come to the aid of a foreign ally. Is that what South Korea believes now, Minister Kang? Do you feel that the United States won't protect you? Do you believe we're so impotent?” Before Kang could respond, Martindale glanced at General Kim and got his answer: absolutely. Kim clearly believed that the United States would not risk war with China if North Korea invaded the South.