by James Rosone
Acting President Powers was starting to formulate a response in his head, but he still had so many questions. “General Tibbets, I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around how the most powerful military on earth was caught so thoroughly by surprise. What in the world happened?”
General Tibbets sighed involuntarily. He obviously wasn’t happy about the inquiry.
“Mr. Vice President, there are several reasons why this happened. Probably the most important reason is that, unlike previous enemies we’ve fought, this enemy got the first punch in. Per Sachs’s guidance, we were going to hit the UN force on January 13th, once we had fully deployed a couple more combat brigades near our northern border. My guess—and this is only an assumption right now—is that someone in the military chain or the intelligence community who knew when we were going to carry out our attack tipped Senator Tate’s camp off or told one of their former colleagues who’d defected. In either case, the enemy knew we were going to carry out a preemptive strike, so rather than wait for it, they hit us with their own.”
Powers felt a rage billowing up inside him unlike any he had ever experienced before. He clenched his fists “How did the Navy get caught by surprise like they did?” he demanded.
“Sir, given how the events played out today, this plan to install Senator Tate has obviously been in the works for a very long time,” General Tibbets explained. “There just isn’t any other explanation. With regard to the Navy, it’s simple. They had two things going for them. First, the Chinese apparently created a fleet of merchant raiders, similar to what the Germans did during World War II. We’ve gone over the satellite intelligence and videos from numerous reconnaissance drones and figured out how they did it. Let me share a video with you while I walk you through it.”
A short video began to play on the screen, and Tibbets narrated while it played. “OK, sir, so we see here what appears to be a Kenyan-flagged freighter. On the deck of the ship is a single layer of cargo containers, which appear innocuous enough. Then, as you can see, half of the cargo containers on the deck slide to the side, like they’re attached to a platform or something…and now we can see the string of vertical-launch missile pods. In less than one minute, the ship fires off fifty land-attack cruise missiles. Once the smoke clears, the UAV captures the cargo containers moving back over the top of the VLS system. And again, the ship appears like any of the tens of thousands of cargo ships that dot the earth’s oceans.”
With his mouth agape, the Vice President couldn’t believe what he had just seen.
“That, Mr. Vice President, is how the Navy and the rest of us were caught flatfooted. It wasn’t neglect or arrogance on our part. The enemy had apparently created a completely new weapon we hadn’t seen or thought of yet and ruthlessly deployed it against us. As we speak, we’re having the Coast Guard and the rest of DHS work with the NSA to try and figure out who owned the ships that attacked us and who owns those companies. These were Chinese-made CJ-10 cruise missiles, so we know these ships were operated by the Chinese Navy. What we’re trying to do now is track down any shell companies that could have been carrying out these attacks so we can use that information to try and track down any additional freighters that may have been converted into merchant raiders.”
Rubbing his face out of frustration and tiredness, the acting President looked at the general. “So, what are we doing to respond to this attack on our country and the government?”
“We have a couple of options: the first is political, the second is military. Let me go over the military first, as I think that’s the more important action we need to address.” When Tibbets saw that Powers didn’t object, he continued. “With the ground war now underway, the UN force is going to burn through a lot of war stocks. They’re moving their fleet in the North Atlantic to engage our Navy and attempt to break the blockade.
“What I’d like to propose is a cruise missile attack by our submarines against the EU’s major port facilities in Canada, Europe and China. This will seriously degrade their ability to support their own naval operations and provide any logistical support to their forces in Canada. My goal is to starve the enemy of supplies. Within two weeks, they’ll start to run critically short of munitions, fuel, and food. At that point, it won’t matter how much ground they’ll have captured, they won’t be able to hold it, and we’ll begin to roll them up and push them back across the border.”
The VP nodded in approval. “You said the other option was a political one—what do you propose?” he asked.
“Since this UN force just tried to decapitate our government, I propose we hit them back and try to do the same thing,” Tibbets suggested.
Powers couldn’t believe it had all come down to this—a tit-for-tat attack on each other’s political and military leaders. Had it not been for the death of more than two hundred congressional leaders early in the day, the very idea would have repulsed him, but the pundits and talking heads on TV and the American people at large were screaming for blood. They wanted him to retaliate.
“Fine, General,” he consented, crossing his arms. “You may proceed. But make sure you hammer them mercilessly. I want a strong political message sent to them. Make sure it hurts. If these nations want to wage war against us, then I want them to know that while the battles may be taking place in America, that doesn’t mean we can’t or won’t hit them back in their home countries.”
With the decision made, it was now only a matter of time until their response was felt around the world.
*******
North Sea
For the past twelve hours, the crew of the USS North Dakota, a Virginia-class attack submarine, prowled the North Sea as they shifted to get into position to carry out the first offensive military action of the war against the nations that had attacked their homeland.
Walking into the communications room, Captain John Barry asked a simple question. “Any additional updates to our orders?”
He was still uncertain about the orders they’d received, but they had been verified and authenticated, so he had to implement them. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t check in every few hours to see if they had been canceled or modified.
The two enlisted personnel and one officer manning the communications room turned and looked back at him. “No change to our orders, sir,” replied the lieutenant. He handed the captain a folded piece of paper. “We did get a brief SITREP from back home that you should take a look at.”
Captain Barry took the note. Seeing the concern on his LT’s face, he remarked, “I take it you already read it.”
They all nodded and shared some grim looks. “It’s pretty bad, sir,” said one of the petty officers.
Captain Barry unfolded the paper. As he read its contents, his heart sank. Then his anger grew. He shook his head in disgust.
Seeing the captain’s reactions, one of the petty officers commented, “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I felt.”
“The freaking Pentagon and Capitol Building?” the captain blurted out, speaking to himself more than anyone else.
“Read the rest of it,” said the communications officer grimly.
He looked back down at the message. He felt his fist tighten as he read.
The lieutenant in the room couldn’t contain himself. “I can’t believe they bombed Washington and killed the President. I mean—what the hell were they thinking? Do they really think we’re going to take that sitting down?” He smacked his hand on a nearby table.
“Now I understand our orders,” said Captain Barry. “It’s retaliation.”
He paced back and forth for a moment as he thought. “OK, guys, I need to get things ready. We’re nearly to our launch point. Keep me apprised of any changes in our orders or anything new that comes across the wires. Oh, and this should go without saying, but keep this information private for the time being. I’ll make an announcement to the crew following the launch. Right now, I want them focused on our task at hand, not what happened back home. All right, guys?�
�� The captain had asked it as a question, but it was really meant as an order.
Seeing their nods, he closed their door and headed back to the control room. When Captain Barry entered the room filled with computers and highly trained men of war, he saw his XO waiting for him.
“Sir, we’ve reached our launch point. We’re ready to begin the launch procedures when you’re ready.”
Captain Barry nodded, then turned to his weapons officer. “Let’s get this going, then,” he ordered. “We have a lot of missiles to launch, and I want to do our best to get the hell out of Dodge. God only knows who else is out there waiting for us to make a peep.”
He felt a bit nervous about the possibility of a German or French sub lurking about. They all knew a German sub had sunk the Truman after slipping past the lead two subs escorting it out to sea. Captain Barry was a bit anxious that his own submarine’s technology might not be as advanced as he’d once thought.
During the next ten minutes, the crew of the North Dakota launched their twelve Tomahawk cruise missiles at targets in Paris, Brussels, Germany and the Netherlands. Their sister ship, the John Warner, also joined the fray to send a message to the UN European partners.
When the missiles had launched, Barry let out a sigh of relief. Under his breath, he muttered, “If you want to invade America, attack our capital, and kill our President, we can do the same right back at you, and hit you a lot harder.”
The Vice President’s Operation Payback was now in full swing. Soon the Europeans would be reminded of American might and global reach.
*******
40,000 Feet Above Beijing
Aboard the Spirit of America B-2 bomber, Lieutenant Colonel Joe Beckman checked their position one more time to make sure they were still on course. Starting about four hours ago, they’d been experiencing some navigational problems. It had all made sense when they’d received a message alerting them to the possibility of Chinese or Russian interference with the military’s GPS system. Fortunately, they had a few other ways to make sure they made it to the target and could guide their bombs to their destination.
As they ran through the final checks on their bomb, his copilot, Reggie, asked, “You really think the President’s dead?”
“I don’t know. It sounds like he is. We’ll probably never know for sure. Even if they can get inside the bunker, I heard the bomb pretty much incinerated everyone in it.”
There was a moment of silence. “So, you think they’ll get our message after we drop these bombs?” Reggie asked.
Turning to look at his copilot, Colonel Beckman replied, “Does it matter? We’re about to drop ten bunker-buster bombs on the civilian and military leadership of China.”
They rode in silence for another five minutes before their targeting computer told them they were nearly to the drop zone. As they approached the point of no return, they readied their bombs and prepared to unleash America’s response to the attack on their government.
Beckman saw that they’d reached the drop zone and signaled to his partner to release the bombs. Reggie hit the button that opened the bomb bay doors, and one by one, the ten 5,000-pound GBU-28 bombs fell toward the earth below. They would gain speed with each passing second of free fall until they impacted against a variety of military and government targets across the city of Beijing.
Their sister bomber, the Spirit of Texas, also released their ten bombs, adding to the shock and awe the government of China was about to receive. Unlike previous bombing campaigns against countries like Iraq and Afghanistan, this bombing raid was taking place in broad daylight. With their bombs released, the two bombers turned and headed back for home and the waiting refueling tankers off the coast.
*******
28,000 Feet Above Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Major Clay Williams of the 11th Bomb Squadron looked at the map and saw they were nearly to their launch point. Looking to his right, under the wing, he saw the two pods of three AGM-158 JASSM-ER or extended range joint air-to-surface standoff missiles, ready to be released.
This was their second bombing mission of the new war. Their first mission had been to deliver a series of cruise missiles aimed at the Canadian ports being used to offload equipment and supplies from Europe. This next round of missiles was being aimed at the Canadian airbases across the province of Ontario. Their squadron was going to hammer the bases at Kingston, Borden, and North Bay and the Trenton facility, as well as the smaller bases nearby at Canadian Forces Detachment Mountain View and Canadian Forces Station Alert. This would effectively cripple the UN’s forward air bases closest to the US border.
The bulky B-52H bomber rattled a bit from some turbulence as they flew into another bank of gray clouds. Looking out the windows, Major Williams saw water molecules forming on the window and hit the windshield wipers.
“Systems check,” he announced over the internal communications system.
A flash of lightning off in the distance nearly caused him to jump out of his seat. For a brief second, he thought it was an enemy missile or tracer fire from a fighter plane. He took a couple of deep breaths as he waited for his crew members to go through their checks.
A second later, the weapons officer replied, “All weapons show green. We’re ready for weapons release.”
Captain Tim Lee, his copilot, looked nervously at him before returning his gaze to the sky around them. “This storm might be more dangerous than we thought,” he commented.
Major Williams nodded, then turned to look at his copilot. “Just keep watching the radars, Lee, and make sure nothing unusual shows up. We’re almost ready to head back home and get out of this soup we’re flying in.”
His copilot turned to look at him. “I keep envisioning an F-35 popping up out of nowhere and jumping us,” Lee said.
Major Williams shook his head. “After this mission’s done, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that.”
“I sure hope you’re right. I still can’t believe four of our bombers got nailed by a single F-35 yesterday.”
“It’s war, Lee—we’re going to take losses. We aren’t fighting the Taliban or the Iraqis; this is a modern air force that knows what it’s doing. Why do you think we’re using the ER version of the JASSM this time? It will give more distance between us and the front line. Just stay focused on your tasks and I’ll get us home,” he explained confidently.
Another minute went by before their weapons officer came over the intercom. “We’ve reached the launch point. Unless you say otherwise, sir, I’m going to begin releasing our weapons.”
He smiled. About time, he thought.
“Begin weapons release. I want to get us out of here.”
Seconds later, the ground-attack cruise missiles dropped from their wings and internal bomb bay.
As each missile was released, its small wings immediately popped out just as the engine ignited. Then it would race on its journey to its preprogrammed target.
In the span of a couple of minutes, Major Williams’s B-52H bomber released twenty missiles. The eleven remaining bombers in their squadron also released their own JASSM-ERs, adding to the volley of death being hurled at the UN peacekeeping force. It was time to bring the hammer down.
*******
The four bombers of Zebra Flight were doing their best to evade the many Russian and Chinese surface-to-air missile systems, not to mention some former NATO-allied SAMs for good measure, like the venerable Patriot III system. If two squadrons of F-16 Vipers and F-22s hadn’t flown ahead of them—along with a massive cruise missile attack against the enemy air defense systems—they probably wouldn’t have made it this far into Canadian airspace, especially given how heavily the Russians and Chinese had saturated the area with SAMs.
As it was, their warning systems were almost continually going off. New threats would be identified, and then as their countermeasures kicked in or the SAM site was attacked, that threat would disappear.
The pilot, Major Banks, or “Bang-Bang” to his friends,
banked hard to the right, hugging the side of another forested area, using the trees and ground clutter for cover.
“How did we get stuck being the ones who’d have to overfly the damn runway?” asked First Lieutenant Rick “Ricky” Porter, for the third time. Apparently he hadn’t been satisfied with the first two answers that had been given to him.
Major Banks groaned. Why did my previous offensive weapons officer have to go and get appendicitis the week before a war started? he asked himself. Ricky had been temporarily assigned to the plane until his other crew member was healthy enough, and he was getting on Banks’s last nerve.
“Just do your job, Ricky, and get the weapons ready,” Banks retorted. “We’re nearly to the target. When we come around this next bend, I’m going to slow down a bit as we rise up to 2,000 feet to give us enough room to drop the bombs. Make sure to yell out when they’ve all been released because I’m going to light up the afterburners to get us the hell out of there once you’ve released them all.”
Ricky grumbled to himself but began to get the weapons ready. He was really green, and he’d only finished offensive weapons officer training a month ago. He hadn’t been assigned to a crew yet. Under normal circumstances, he would have flown with a crew on a series of training missions to gain a better understanding of the types of missions he’d be flying, but sadly, that wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt.
Their squadron had flown a mission last night, mostly doing this same mission over Ontario, but their bird had been taken out of the mission at the last minute because of a mechanical error. Having missed out on the first mission, Major Banks had been eager to get in on the action. When their squadron commander had asked for two volunteers to carry out the riskiest part of the mission, the cratering of the runways, Major Banks had volunteered. He’d figured the other guys had already flown one dangerous mission without him, and it was only fair that his crew fly one of the riskier missions this time. Of course, he hadn’t told the rest of his crew that—he’d tell them after the mission was complete.