INVASION USA (Book 1) - The End of Modern Civilization

by T I WADE

  Sally went through her drills, brought the aircraft’s speed and height down to the trained 1,000 feet, let her landing gear down, and then her flaps slowly until they were extended to full flap, making them look like large barn doors to anybody on the ground. She needed to be at exactly 20% over stall speed for what C-130 pilots called a “maximum effort landing.” Her glide slope had to be at 6%, which was twice as fast as any normal aircraft, and she came in steep and fast, a growing crowd watching on the ground. By this time, everybody was outside on the apron.

  “I’m sure she touched the trees with her wheels,” breathed Martie in wonderment. It was certainly a sight to behold. Once over the trees, she dropped faster and then flared the front of the aircraft up by pulling back on the stick and floated for what seemed like a second before her rear wheels touched down very hard, spewing up dirt as they hit the ground with a loud smack a few feet before the beginning of the asphalt. The front wheel dropped quickly and immediately. Sally put the four howling propellers into reverse-thrust and the ground shook slightly as she passed the onlookers and the apron still at speed. Preston could hear the squealing of the tires on his tarmac as she applied the brakes hard, but that was enough and she slowed and turned left off the end of the runway at a normal taxi speed. Preston noticed that he was sweating on his upper lip, as was Carlos. Carlos’ serious face looked like he had helped little Sally down mentally all by himself.

  “A piece of cake, Jennifer,” they heard Sally encourage on her radio. “Just routine, kiss the trees and you will be home and dry.” Jennifer came in and everything seemed the same as before—the same height, speed, and glide slop. She kissed the top of the last trees with her undercarriage, flared out, and floated for a split second longer than Sally before her tires hit the asphalt and blue smoke erupted from the tires. Her nose came down quickly and like Sally, she hit the reverse-propeller thrust and brakes, passing the onlookers like an express train. She applied her brakes a little harder than Sally and Preston could see little blossoms of smoke coming off the tires, but she stopped with about 20 feet to spare and still on the runway.

  Sally maneuvered her aircraft around the second C-130 that was still on the runway. She was on blowing up grass and dirt and the wing tips passed within ten feet of each other. Then she back-tracked the large Air Force transporter down the runway, with Jennifer’s aircraft turning around to follow.

  There was applause from the onlookers as the two massive aircraft drew up on the runway, then stopped as they came abreast of the apron and Sally asked Preston for parking suggestions.

  “The best place is either side of the barn on the west side of the runway, Sally,” he replied over his handheld radio, and they watched Sally go behind the barn and slowly work her way around it. There was just enough room for the C-130 to pass behind the barn and the tip of the outside wing slid over the first line of crepe myrtle bushes, just high enough to pass over, and the propellers missed the swaying crepe myrtles by just a couple of inches. Preston guided the aircraft with the batons one at a time, and within a few minutes both aircraft were parked, making the old barn look rather small in the middle as the eight giant turboprops slowly came to a halt. There was an eerie silence after the tremendous noise these two large aircraft had produced in such a small airfield.

  “Bloody hell, Sally!” barked Preston as Sally came up and ran into his arms. “You scared me and all the wildlife for a hundred miles around!”

  “What fly-in is a fly-in without an Air Force visit, darling Preston? And these were the smallest two we could find that would fit on your little runway.”

  The rest of the group walked over the runway and came up to greet them—Martie and Michael helping the older man across. “Hi friends, Romans and pilots,” greeted Sally. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Captain Sally Powers of the United States Air Force and this is my wing-woman, Captain Jennifer Watkins.” The men watched as both girls removed their flight helmets and Sally’s beautiful long red hair fell out while Jennifer’s pitch black hair, a little shorter, did the same. Preston noticed that Jennifer was as beautiful to behold as Sally was—black hair and piercing green eyes—and he glanced over at Carlos to see his friend’s reaction. Carlos was awestruck.

  Martie came up and introduced her father and Grandfather before giving Sally her special bear hug for old friends. “What took you so long?” she asked.

  “A little weather and these old birds don’t fly as fast as my usual ride,” replied Sally. “I did my toenails over three times before we even got into North Carolina.”

  Preston introduced the newest members of the fly-in and noticed that David held Jennifer’s hand a little longer and she did not pull her hand away—just smiled as sweetly as a lioness in a corner would. Sally hugged everyone around, giving a boyish-looking Carlos a long hug, and Barbara was then introduced as Buck’s co-pilot and Joe and David as the ground protection around the airport perimeter. Other than that, everyone had met each other before and were old friends.

  “How did my new girl fly?” Sally asked Michael, as they all walked back to the hangar together, and Michael told her that it was time for him to trade in the Beechcraft and get a faster turboprop—it was so nice to fly.

  Preston had turned on the large hangar warming fans on that morning for the first time, and the large hangar door was closed. It took a lot of power to warm the whole inside hangar, and he hadn’t turned them on for a couple of years since they could not run on the smaller generator engine. This year, and since there were so many people and he had the large diesel engine running 24 hours a day, he had warmed the whole hangar to a crispy 78 degrees. Before they went inside, however, Sally and Jennifer were given a tour of the three aircraft standing outside.

  Jennifer had not yet seen Sally’s new purchase and was impressed. She also enjoyed the tour of the Huey and got Buck to promise to let her fly Lady Dandy soon. He agreed. What really made Jennifer drop her helmet was the display inside the hangar.

  “If this doesn’t look like I’ve gone back in time to World War II, then I must be dreaming,” she said in awe, not even realizing that her helmet lay on the ground beside her. “Three P-51s and a Lightning all in one hangar! Dang it, Sally, why didn’t you tell me about these!”

  “We all are getting surprises today, Captain Watkins,” replied Sally smiling at her friend. “I told you that coming with me would be worthwhile.” One aircraft at a time, the girls climbed in and sat in the cockpits while their owners explained the details.

  “Martie!” exclaimed Jennifer, sitting in Martie’s P-51. “You must be the luckiest girl alive. I want to be your friend forever.”

  “OK, Sally, tell me about the Air Force allowing you to take two of its C-130s and being allowed to join our fly-in on a civilian airstrip,” inquired Preston. “I know that’s not the norm, and all C-130s are flown with two pilots and an engineer, not just a little girl who loves to fly. Are you going to jail when you get back?”

  “Of course not, Preston,” laughed Sally, sitting in the P-38 while Jennifer, sitting in the P-51D across the hangar, was busy chatting to Martie. She nodded to Carlos who was standing on the ground below Preston and listening. “These two are ‘Tom’ and ‘Jerry’. My 130 was Jerry. Jennifer flew Tom. They are the oldest Air Force C-130s, built way back in their first year of production, 1956, and were recently rebuilt back to their original fittings with all the modern stuff taken out. We were asked by Carlos’ buddy, General Allen, to fly them across to Pope Field. Jerry is going to be mothballed and put on display at Pope where the C-130 pilot school is. Remember, I spent six months at Pope. Tom is to be mothballed and put on display at Seymour Johnson.”

  “Martie and I had lunch last week with Colonel Mondale down at Seymour Johnson,” shared Preston. “He wanted to see the P-38 and Martie flew in with her P-51.”

  “I’m supposed to hand Tom over to Colonel Mondale once we fly out of here on January 2nd. The General gave us special leave and allowed Jennifer and I to fl
y them single-seat. I’m just glad he didn’t know where we were putting them down. After F-16 training, we could put these birds down on a quarter.”

  Preston was impressed and thanked her for making the fly-in so much more scary and enjoyable at the same time. “If you forgive me for putting black stripes on your runway,” added Sally smiling her sweetest smile at him. “I’ll let you right-seat with me and help me fly her over to Seymour. That is, if you forgive me?” Of course he did, and he gave her another hug as she stood up.

  Once everyone had reassembled the large downstairs room, where the bed had been moved into the hangar and out of the way, several bottles of California bubbly were opened and Preston gave his welcome speech.

  Martie loudly ‘clinked’ her glass a couple of times with a spoon and turned the music off to allow her man to speak. “First of all, after last year’s fly-in, this one is going down in the record books!” Preston announced, raising his glass of bubbly to the 11 men and women standing in front of him. “We are now all together. Are we missing anybody, or do we have anybody else invited to fly-in, or anybody who could drive-in that we don’t know about?” Carlos raised his hand.

  “Yes, sorry to tell you only now, Preston and the group, but I invited a friend of mine who will be attending our New Year’s Eve party.”

  “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Carlos?” questioned Sally in a flirty manner with everyone smiling at her candor.

  “You didn’t?” exclaimed Carlos, getting back on her. “Well, to tell you the truth, Captain Powers, and I don’t know why certain members of the United States Air Force should care whether I had a girlfriend or not, but no, my guest is not female,” replied Carlos in a sarcastic tone. “And its looks like Grandpa Von Roebels, Michael, Joe, David and I are the only available men here on base, so you single girls better make your choices on future husbands, or forever hold your yokes, I mean jokes.”

  The oldest man raised his glass to Carlos in salute for being remembered. He was 91 after all, and definitely single. Carlos continued. “I just heard a few hours ago that an old friend of my father’s would like to join us for our party for the New Year. He is a pilot and will be flying in on the last day of the year, weather permitting,” added Carlos.

  “Great, Carlos,” applauded Preston sarcastically. “Joe, I knew we would fill up all five bedrooms before the end of the year.”

  “Preston, old buddy, you will enjoy his company. He is a great pilot,” added Carlos, slapping his friend on the back.

  “Uh hum!” interrupted Martie. “Preston, remember that Maggie Smart and the kids might make it, but we don’t know for sure yet. Now, you were going to give us a speech and officially open the fly-in, not complain about the guest list.”

  “Ah ja…sorry Fraulein Martie,” joked Preston in his best German accent and winked at her grandfather. “Since we have now heard from friend Carlos here that more guests are arriving, we will officially welcome them when they land. Martie, keep a few bottles of bubbly hidden away from the troops for our new arrivals.”

  “Preston, we have two dozen cases of bubbly thanks to the several extra cases my father added to our collection. I don’t think we will run dry,” replied Martie, getting much laughter.

  “Oh, get on with it, Preston!” shouted Sally. “We could get old standing here!”

  “Captain Powers, I outrank you on this base so mind your military mouth,” Preston replied. “I now declare this fly-in open!” There was a one-clap of hands. “Now for the rules and there are only two.”

  “Oh! The usual rules here on base—no fun and no naughty business!” stated Martie, smiling sweetly at Preston.

  “Coming from the guru of the hit show ‘Real Fun in the Bathtub,’ Martie ‘The Water’s Getting Cold’ Roebels herself!” replied Preston, holding his hand out in her. There were shouts, laughter, cat calls and wolf whistles from the audience.

  “Back to business, the two rules are: no drinking and flying, and no aircraft take-offs without first filing flight plans with the tower, which is me. Listen friends, I am the tower and I will have no accidents at my airport… on my watch!” he mimicked an old line from President Bush and there was more laughter. “And don’t wreck the bedrooms, or I’ll have Joe’s boys after you, and they are a mean lot. Thank you for listening.” There was applause and Martie took his place.

  “Food and drink is my concern,” she began. “We have enough of everything to last us several months, even though we are here together for less than ten days. Thanks to Joe and Preston, nobody has to leave base for anything. We ladies will take turns with meals while the men will clean up and keep us oiled and gassed up with drinks while we cook. If you get hungry, help yourself. If you get thirsty…” and she paused and everybody replied: “Help yourself!”

  The party started in earnest and it was only the day before Christmas.

  Chapter 12

  Salt Lake City – December

  Lee Wang was worried. He had just said goodbye to his best friend Carlos that morning when he received a phone call from another friend he hadn’t seen or heard from since training on Chongming Island nearly 30 years earlier. His cell phone rang about an hour after Carlos had left, and Carlos was his only American friend who he thought he could trust to ask for help.

  “Mao Jong, why are you calling me, and how did you get my number?” Lee Wang stated rapidly in Chinese into the phone while looking around to see if anybody was listening to him.

  “Lee Wang, I live on your old street three doors down from your first house in Cupertino where you lived many years ago. I found out from your neighbor, Mo Sing, that you are in Utah. Remember, you called him a couple of years ago saying that you were on your way to a secret observatory in Utah and you wanted to know if anybody had received any mail for you from the boss?”

  “Yes, I remember that call,” Lee Wang replied, still confused.

  “Well, Mo Sing saw your caller ID on his cell phone and wrote it down to remember. When I moved in, I asked him who he had seen from the island and he mentioned you. I asked him for your contact number and he gave it to me. I wanted to phone you, but then remembered the rules about communicating with each other and the penalty of being returned to China, so I didn’t until today.”

  “So?” questioned Lee.

  “Mo Sing and his wife and two sons are all dead, so is your old Chinese neighbor, Dong Tung and his whole family,” continued Mao Jong in rapid Chinese. “They all died in a fire last night when three houses burned down. The police think the fire was too powerful to be an accident and told reporters that they suspect somebody is starting fires.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear this bad news about our friends,” replied Lee. “But I don’t understand what this has to do with me?”

  “They are not the first,” replied Mao Jong, Lee hearing the worry in his voice. “I have heard from others that a dozen people who live here in America and were trained in Chongming Island have died in accidents in the last month alone. Two are friends I trained with and lived in San Diego. Do you remember Ju Ma?”

  “Yes.”

  “He also died last week in Washington, D.C. in a house fire, and it was on the news yesterday that the four dead bodies had been shot first through the head, execution style. Also another person I know was killed in Seattle nearly a week ago, again a house fire and three dead bodies with gunshots in the head. The police still don’t know that they were also Chinese people, but I knew him on Chongming Island. He was my neighbor and we had communicated. Now they are looking for me. I got rid of the cell phone I had used to talk to my friend in Seattle, and yesterday morning after I had left for work my wife saw a car drive by our house slowly with four Chinese men in it. Late last night, we left through the back door with all our valuable possessions. I waited until dawn in a safe area, went to my bank, withdrew all our money, paid cash for Greyhound tickets and we are now staying in a motel in Las Vegas. Lee Wang, they know where you live and I think you could be next.”


  “What should I do?” He asked his friend.

  “If they know where you live, they will know where you work. Get somewhere safe. Go somewhere where there is American Army or police. Stay away from your home and your work. Keep your cell phone and I will try and call you again. I’m calling from a call box so they cannot trace this call, but I know your number and they might make me give it to them if they catch me. Be careful, friend Lee, be careful.”

  There was a click as the caller ended the call. Lee Wang immediately called home, his face now white with worry. His wife Lin answered and he shed a sigh of relief and he quickly told his wife the story from Mao Jong.

  “What should I do?” she asked him, worried. “We are both here in the house. Shall we leave?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Lin, get everything we have of value that you and Ling can carry. Draw the blinds and check to see if any Chinese in vehicles are driving past the house. If you see them, use the binoculars in my study and see if you can get the model and license number. When you think it’s safe, and there are no cars in the street, go out the back door and climb over the fence to the Moore’s house behind us. The trees will hide you. They should not be home, but don’t stop there. Be careful and get across their road to our friends, Pat and Mark, on the other side. Pat will be home, so get inside her house without being seen. Also before you go, take the checkbook out of the old car and take it with you. We will need some money. Close down the house so that it is very dark inside and stuff the beds full of pillows and blankets to look like we are sleeping in the beds. Do Ling’s bed too. I’m sure that they know she is visiting.”

  “Do I hide there?” she asked, scared. “Yes, wait for me. I will

  get a car from somewhere and come and pick you up. Now hurry and get out!” Lee ordered, putting away his phone, looking up and straight into the female face of a coworker. She was American, so he was not worried about her.