by M C Drake
Johnson and Miller did not know what to say, they felt a dark fog shroud their minds. They subconsciously lowered his weapon.
“Thank you.”
The two men in black escorted an elderly, well-dressed gentleman into the hanger. They typed an access code into the door, which then clicked unlocked, they disappeared inside.
The two guards just stood there unable to think clearly, it was like they were in a dream, a dream that they were about to be rudely awoken from.
Senior Master Sergeant Warren ‘Rabbit’ Hall ran towards the two men, he shouted at them as he got closer but they were unable to respond.
“Bollocks!” Hall said as he stood in front of the two dazed men. ‘I did not get to them in time.’ He thought.
Hall relieved the two men of their weapons then slowly sat them down on the boiling tarmac. Two men jogged towards Hall.
“You two escort these men to their quarters and make sure they stay there until they have recovered. Get their replacements here ASAP.” Hall barked.
“Yes, Sir.” They shouted and slowly got the two incapacitated guards to their feet. It took a good ten minutes to get them to walk all the way to their sleeping quarters.
Warren Hall stood guard until the replacements turned up; he then warned them about the two men in black.
“Those two men are allowed access to whatever they want; if they ask you for something you will comply with it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.” They barked in unison.
But Airman 1st Class Tom ‘Looney’ Cox was a curious son of a bitch and just could not help himself.
“Sir.”
“What a surprise, Looney what is it?”
“Who are they? I have seen them once before, and they seem to be in command?”
“You ask too many questions boy… All I know is the Commander is scared of them, they must have connections in powerful places as they appear to be civilians but they are clearly in charge. Just do as they ask.”
Cox saluted, “Sir?”
Hall raised his eyebrow, “What is it?”
“They sure are ugly sir.”
Chester and Cox could not contain their laughter. Hall smiled as he turned to march away.
Die Glocke
The elderly gentleman was escorted down the lift to the second floor. A security badge scanner barred the men from entering. The first man in black placed his hand on the scanner and the door opened with a beep; despite the fact the man did not have a security badge.
The three men peered through the open door that revealed a crowded laboratory, filled with busy looking scientists wearing light green suits. The scientist barely glanced up from their various tasks.
The elderly man who had been hiding behind the two men in black stepped into the open for the first time. He looked around sheepishly until his gaze locked onto the golden acorn that was housed in the middle of the room.
“Die Glocke…” He muttered to himself in German.
“So you do know what this is then Mr. Ames?”
A paper thin smile flashed across the elderly man’s face.
"Yes I know what this is." He said as he surveyed the area, he noticed broken sledgehammer heads, splintered drill bits and a broken jackhammer that littered the floor around the device.
With a look of horror on his face he turned to face the men in black. “I see your people have no clue about this device and have tried to force it open.” He laughed a nervous laugh.
The elderly man turned to face an engineer who had just lite a blowtorch.
“Fools.” He shouted so loudly that the engineer jumped.
The room fell silent.
Authority and confidence suddenly oozed from the sixty-four-year-old. "Stay away from that device with that crude tool, you will achieve nothing."
The engineer backed away.
The men in black approached the man.
“So what do we have here Ames?”
"Bloody yanks, this is Die Glocke, the Bell! We found the device buried deep in the side of a mountain in the fatherland." Ames laughed. "This device was going to be our war-winning weapon until it disappeared in 1944."
The men in black faces remained expressionless, the men chimed in unison. “So how do we access that potential?”
The smile faded from the old man’s face. “I’m not sure about the details…”
He was cut off, “You haven’t been much use to us Herr Kammler since we sent that submarine to rescue you from Germany in 1945.”
Kammler’s gaze dropped to the floor before they flashed up to meet the men in blacks gaze, his features hardened and the old flames of defiance flickered in through his grey eyes.
“Look here you bureaucratic puppets the device was under the direct supervision of the brilliant scientist Walther Gerlach and the deadly Jakob Sporrenberg. Gerlach disappeared at the same time as the device; we do not know what happened to him…”
“And the Polish executed Sporrenberg in 1952.” The Men in black interrupted.
Kammler nodded. “What I do know is that the device was housed in a metal frame and coated in ceramic tiles, this is what gave it the distinctive bell shape. Then a great deal of electricity was pumped through the device and the room had to keep a certain level of electrical charge.” Kammler paused for breath, “The device would then produce what we called Xerum 525 better known as red mercury which was exceptionally toxic. You best tell your men to wear protective suits.”
The men in black smiled, which made Kammler feel uncomfortable.
“Ok Kammler, you may have proved your worth. I want you to note all of this down and then supervise the project.”
Kammler folded his arms across his chest. “Ok but under one condition.”
The men in black stood silent.
"I want some of the German scientists from Operation Paperclip."
The men in black smiled again.
“Ok, but von Braun is off limits.”
The smile faded from Kammler’s face but he nodded an agreement.
The man in black went to leave.
“We will arrange with the staff here for you to be well looked after. We will be back for updates on your work…And Kammler any funny business and you will be on trial for war crimes.”
Kammler saluted.
The men in black gave their orders to the scientists and then left.
Kammler wished he had taken his cyanide pill back in 1945 before those freaks had gotten to him.
Anti-War Movement
It was an almost cloudless day in the sun-filled skies over North Vietnam; this was a blessing for the crews of the four F4 Phantoms of Victor flight that prowled the skies. The large two seater fighters trailed a plume of black smoke as the powerful twin J79 engines burned through their fuel supply.
Victor flight was tasked with intercepting North Vietnamese MiG’s and to protect their fellow Phantoms on their bombing run. The mission was so far going to plan as the Phantoms successful hit their targets.
The radio crackled in the flight leader’s ear. “MiG’s in the air, somewhere below you.”
The flight leader dived to have a look, his wingman followed him.
“Freddy, do you see them?”
Negative Dan, Keep your eyes peeled.
The radio from command gave a more ominous warning. “MiG’s two miles out, to your South, Weapons cleared.”
‘Shit.' Flight Leader Dan Campbell thought they're on our six.
Dan and his wingman immediately pulled up their phantoms and went inverted then rolled to level out; they had turned 180 degrees and were now heading straight towards the enemy.
The first sleek, silver, delta-winged MiG streaked passed some; one thousand feet passed Dan's Phantom. Dan looked over and could see his adversary clearly.
“Shit, Dan, that’s a MiG 21!”
“Making history here Freddy!”
“Let’s get after him!” Freddy said excitedly, this was the first time a Phantom had been in c
ombat with a MiG 21.
“No stay with me Freddy, we haven’t seen his wingman yet!”
The MiG’s had set a trap and were hoping the Phantoms would take the bait and follow the first plane, and then the second MiG could slip in behind them.
The second MiG showed his hand and streaked passed at 500 mph. This MiG was different, it wore dark camouflage paint, and it was not the brilliant silver of the first plane.
The Phantoms Inverted and turned quickly to get on the MiG’s tail but the two MiG’s did something unexpected. The First powered Skyward in a slight left turn, while the second MiG pulled hard right on a collision course with the two American fighters.
“What the hell are they doing?” Freddy called out.
It was peculiar as pilots generally preferred left-hand traffic, as it was much easier on the body to move the controls left when under the constraints of G-force.
"Blue bandit, going vertical on your two o'clock Jr, he's all yours," Dan called out.
“Roger that, we see him, Victor three taking the lead.”
Brooklyn Jnr was in Victor four and stayed close on his friend's wing, "Get him Pete, I've got your back."
The Silver Dart shaped MiG leveled out as soon as he caught sight of the two large Phantoms streaking down on him.
The Camouflaged MiG misjudged the skill of flight leader Dan Campbell, who in a wide corkscrew roll was trying desperately to keep his airspeed low enough to stay on his adversary's tail.
Dan in Victor one managed to get into the kill zone behind the MiG, the growl of the locked on Sidewinder missile reverberated in his ear. The bulky Phantom was in perfect sidewinder range, about 1500 feet behind the scrambling MiG.
Dan squeezed the trigger, nothing happened.
"Damn it," Dan shouted as the AIM-9 sidewinder failed to release from the underside of the aircraft.
Dan squeezed the trigger again, this time the solid rocket motor ignites and the sidewinder stormed forward, the missile went inside the circle of the turning aircraft.
"It's gone stupid," Dan shouted the AIM-9 sidewinders guidance system must have failed.
“Stay on him Dan, we’ve got him.”
The AIM-9 lock-on system was still growling in Dan's ear, he squeezed the trigger again and the third missile roared forward, it dipped inside the circle and for a second Dan thought this one had failed as well.
Suddenly the sidewinder turned back to the right and spiraled in behind the desperate MiG, the missile turned just behind the Russian made fighter and went straight up the tailpipe, a millisecond later the warhead exploded and the MiG separated in the middle with a brilliant, bright fireball.
“Ye-ha we got him!” Freddy shouted.
"Confirmed MiG kill," Dan confirmed to base.
There was no time to celebrate though as Dan’s radar operator spotted a silver glint closing in behind the two F4’s.
“Blue bandit in firing position on our 6.” He said calmly.
The two American pilots reacted instinctively and turn into each other, trying to throw off the MiG's attack. The MiG fired an AA-2 ‘Atoll’ air to air missile that homed in on Freddy’s Phantom. The Atoll got in close, but fortunately detonated just behind the American’s plane, shockwaves resonated through the aircraft but the big beast shook off the insult.
The MiG reverses and punches out of there. Hit and run tactics were a particular favorite of the Vietnamese air force.
“Shall we go after him?” Freddy asked.
"No we haven't got the fuel for it," Dan said correctly.
Victor three and four we working their Phantoms hard as the tried to get in behind the second MiG. While the Phantoms had the advantage in brute power and speed, the MiG had the advantage in maneuverability; the Communist pilot knew this and went into a wide left turn.
The Americans did not bite, instead Pete in Victor three initiated a barrel roll and tried to come down behind the MiG in a slow loop. The Phantoms tried hard to keep their airspeed low enough to stay on the tricky MiG's six.
While all this was going on Brooklyn’s radio operator William Morgan Morris or ‘Moose’ as he was more affectionately known, was trying his hardest to get a radar lock with the AIM-7 Sparrow missiles. The AIM-7 is a medium range homing missile, but against small fast targets it needed a strong radarlock to be effective.
“I can’t get a lock on Jr.” A clearly frustrated Moose said.
Victor three was at the end of his third barrel roll and was leveling out at the end of the loop, the AIM-9 lock on was growling heavy in his ear. Pete squeezed the trigger, the missile streaked out to the right and just carried on straight, it detonated far off to the MiG’s right. Pete squeezed the trigger again but this time the sidewinders motor did not even ignite; the missile fell like a brick.
"Negative Pete, that one was a dud," Jnr shouted.
Pete was getting angry now and squeezed the trigger hard, his third missile followed the lead of its brother and plummeted towards the earth.
“Negative again Pete.”
“God damn it, Mitch can you get a Sparrow lock on?”
Mitch shook his head, not at this range.”
“Bank left Pete, I have the shot!” Brooklyn said assertively.
Victor three moved out the way to let Brooklyn through.
“Get him Jnr.”
The familiar growl of the AIM-9 lock on calmed Brooklyn's nerves, he completed a barrel roll and when he leveled out at the bottom of the loop he squeezed the trigger. The missile streak straight and true but detonated short of the Soviet fighter.
Brooklyn was calm and squeezed the trigger again gently, the second missile also flew true but this time it carried on going and slammed into the right wing of the MiG, it detonated and ripped the wing clean off of the fuselage. The MiG pilot ejected from the crippled aircraft and a few seconds later his chute opened.
The two Americans maneuvered their aircraft passed the vanquished foe, Brooklyn saw the dark black flight suit of the Vietnamese pilot, and he could clearly see the pilots head track his aircraft as it sped passed.
“Second blue bandit destroyed.” Pete declared, before adding “We have a new MiG killer.”
"Good work Jnr!" Flight leader Dan added, "Let's go home."
The four Phantoms returned to their aircraft carrier. They had a quick debriefing and then were given the evening off for their good work.
Brooklyn Jnr finished packing away his flight suit when the black and white photos of him and his parents caught his eye. He smiled to himself as he brushed his fingertips over his smiling fathers face.
‘You would have been proud of me today dad bagged my first bad guy didn't I. I did it right like you always did.' Brooklyn Jnr nodded then gave a fist bump to the photo like he did at the end of every mission.
Brooklyn took a pad of paper and a pen then strolled out towards the canteen, he had decided it was time to write to his mom and to his girl Pamela, it was well overdue. Brooklyn had been in Vietnam for over four months now but had only written once.
Mitch’s familiar voice rang out from behind Brooklyn, “I wouldn’t bother Jnr, I expect Pam has found someone much better looking than you by now son.”
Brooklyn smiled but carried on walking. He could hear Mitch’s footsteps echoing through the narrow hall as he ran to catch up. Mitch threw his arm over Brooklyn's shoulder.
"Want my help lover boy, I'm in a good mood today and am more than willing to teach your dumb ass to write?"
Brooklyn just shook his head, “I’d tell you to fuck off with yourself but we all know you’d enjoy that too much.”
They both laughed as the entered the quiet canteen.
Brooklyn sat next to his fellow squad mates as they chatted away excitedly about the day's action. Pete's hands were everywhere as he relived the combat, whereas Dan sat calmly eating, he had seen this all before and was not that interested in dissecting their tactics. They all congratulated Brooklyn on becoming the squadrons latest MiG killer and as the
y all left one by one until Brooklyn was the last one remaining in the almost deserted canteen. He felt a genuine sense of pride over his accomplishment as he set about writing to his two favorite women in his life.
Brooklyn had just finished the letter to his mom when something on the tiny 17-inch TV screen caught his eye.
‘Anti War protesters march through Central Park, bringing the normally peaceful area to a standstill’ was the headline the scrolled across the bottom of the news broadcast. A news lady in a tight suit spoke quickly but Brooklyn could not hear a word she said as there was no volume control but the images burned in his mind.
There were thousands of protesters, many young students who in their casual jeans, sported huge placards one of which said ‘I don't give a damn for Uncle Sam I ain't going to Vietnam' and then the camera cut to another one ‘Resist the draft- Students for a Libertarian society.' Then the camera panned around to see hundreds of people carrying balloons with various slogans written across them.
Brooklyn Jnr felt angry and betrayed, he did not know why the American public had turned so much against the war. He was proud of his actions and that of his comrades and he did not understand how people could be so against the achievements of his close-knit military family. Brooklyn was young and his anger got the better of him, he slammed his fists on the table and screwed up the letter he had written for his mother, he angrily scribbled down a joint letter for his mom and for Pam.
Little Green man
Edward Wheeler stopped his large truck at the gates of Wright Patterson Air Force base like he had done a handful of times before. He waited as the guards went over his paperwork. The guard tutted then mumbled to himself, "More ceramic tiles."
“Seriously?” The second armed guard asked, “I thought the deliveries of this shit had finished.”
"I guess not." The first guard said and then handed the paperwork back to Edward, "It all checks out, open the gates." He ordered.
Edward had done this journey from the local factory some five times now, he smiled to himself at how slack the security had got since his first trip. The first time he was escorted through the base by two military jeeps; this time he had to make his own way to Hanger 27.