INVASION USA (Book 2) - The Battle For New York (20 page)

They had already been moved to one side and the convoy continued into the airport itself.

The captain headed for the private terminal entrance and found the gate he had been told to look for, guarded in plain sight by U.S. Air Force guards. As he stopped in front of the gate and switched off the faithful truck’s engine he also saw a FedEx Cargomaster taxiing towards the guard tent. They had reached their first official destination.

*****

Breakfast was being served in the White House. The president had left Seymour Johnson at 7:00 am and arrived at Andrews at 8:30. Buck had fired up the Huey, and the general was already getting Ghost Rider refueled to continue on his base tour. Buck had taken off with the president, the ambassador, Manuel, their three bodyguards, and cases of food supplies for the Colombian Embassy.

Everyone apart from Buck and the president were getting off at the embassy, and helpful hands, shocked at seeing the U.S. President aboard the chopper, unloaded the several cases once they landed inside the embassy grounds. The Colombians asked Buck to fly in more supplies when he had a chance, and that for now they would protect their building.

Once everyone said their goodbyes and the president shook hands with many of the embassy staff, Buck rose off the grounds with the president in the front right seat and flew on to the White House. Both Buck and the president had a good chance to view the blackened mess that the capital city had become.

“I count about a dozen large areas where aircraft must have gone down,”
Buck stated as he flew over the damaged Pentagon, and the untouched Capitol building.

“I think that we need to discuss when you can pick me up again,”
answered the president, over the intercom.
“I want to get the official letters printed for Preston, Manuel, and you as my private pilot, and you might as well have breakfast with me while they are typed up. I’m sure we must have a typewriter somewhere at the White House.”

“Picking you up, Mr. President is not a problem. It will take me about 90 minutes to get to the White House from Preston’s airfield and 90 minutes to get back. I can do it without having to refuel. I’m sure you will get permanent communications soon, as the general is getting a military radio sent in with an old jeep later today. They are also looking for other vehicles to commandeer. You will be patched into Andrews and then you will be able to communicate to Raleigh, Hill, and Edwards.”

There was an inch of new snow on the White House lawn when Buck readied to land, and an icy wind howled out of the northwest, making it pretty tough to get the Huey down in a gentle and disciplined way. The Secret Service was happy to have the president back but the bodyguards stared in disbelief when they saw him exit the Huey with no security detail.

By this time, the kitchen was running, a large section of the downstairs had electricity, and the rooms were warm. It was good to sit down in a hospitable White House and have breakfast.

They chatted for a couple of hours. Buck was introduced to the First Lady and the children, while the president was making some decisions about his next moves.

“I would like to go down and help with the food distribution project, and I’m sure my wife and girls would enjoy getting out of here,” he explained. His family nodded in agreement. “Will and Maggie Smart’s kids would give them other children to mix with, and I know my wife would love to get involved. There is no reason for me to sit here and do nothing, it will drive me crazy,” he added.

The president called for one of the office staff and dictated the necessary letters he wanted, and asked if they could be typed out on official White House letterhead. The staffer replied that a Commodore computer had been located with a working printer, and they were working on refilling it with ink. He would have the paper work within the hour.

“You know what Buck? It’s time I became a real leader again and gave orders myself. What is the weather like?”

“Certainly a bad storm to our north,” replied Buck. “I would say that going further north in the next few hours is not good. It seems that the more severe conditions are north of here and Washington seems to be on the edge of it.”

“Do you think you can fly into Dover Air Force Base in Delaware?”

“It’s about 100 miles due East of Andrews. I would think that the weather is no worse than here,” answered Buck.

“Good, get on your helicopter radio and find out where General Allen is. I believe he will be headed into Dover pretty soon. If he is, tell him to wait for us and organize some fuel. I want to talk to him.” Buck did as he was told and picked up a faint Ghost Rider transmission on the radio. The general was on his way to Dover from Langley Air Force Base in Virginia and confirmed that he would be available for the president.

The letters were going to take some time, so Buck, the president and two Secret Service agents climbed into the Baby Huey. It took several minutes to get her airborne, and with the president in the right seat again and the agents sitting in the comfortable chairs in the back, they aimed for Dover.

Thirty minutes later, with a strong tail-wind, Baby Huey landed close to Ghost Rider, which was already being refueled by a small, antiquated 3,000 gallon fuel tanker truck. It would take a long time to refuel the larger aircraft.

The general gave orders to refuel the helicopter first, and Buck was invited into the meeting with General Allen, the president and the Base Commander, General Ward. General Allen introduced everybody. “Mr. President, you wanted a meeting?” the general asked. They sat down, and cokes and fruit juice were brought in.

“I want to get involved with the food program and see what I can do out there. I’m not going to sit in the White House like a scared cat and do nothing. While you are organizing the country through our air bases, I would like to work with the guys down in North Carolina and get a distribution network operational.”

“I was hoping you would say that, sir,” the general responded with a smile on his face. “It would get rid of the need for protocol and you having to authorize everything I do, plus it would solve the need for that extra radio or satellite-phone system.”

“Yes, I was thinking about that, too,” the president responded. “If we are expecting a full-scale invasion in the near future, it doesn’t make sense to have the Commander-in-Chief sitting virtually unprotected in the White House like a sitting duck. They should have to work very hard to find me, don’t you think?”

“Totally agree,” answered General Allen. “Mike Ward, what do we have operational here? I’m hoping your oldest C-130, a C model I believe, could still be flyable and I’m sure you must have a helicopter or two in storage?”

“We are checking through the older models now, Pete,” the other general responded. “Every older aircraft is currently undergoing tests. We lost 17 aircraft on flight missions over New Year’s Eve, and I did not think to check the old stock until yesterday when we received your C-130 and the pilot’s message from Andrews. We are servicing one C-130C’s engines. She’s flyable but several of her electronic components are toast. We have servicemen currently working on bypassing them. We have another C-130A that is flyable, Pete—an old HC-130 tanker which could be operational by tomorrow and we are working on two Vietnam-era Bell helicopters right now.”

“I want the HC-130’s tanker engines fully inspected within 12 hours,” Pete Allen ordered. “Get all the maintenance men on her you can and get her to Hill AFB in Salt Lake in 18 hours. Get the helicopters and the other C-130 flown down to Andrews as soon as possible. I’m leaving ASAP and need the tanker. I’m flying to Japan with Ghost Rider. Also, Mike, please check the refueling rigs and make sure that her refueling line is compatible with Ghost Rider. I’m going to need the tanker to pump fuel into Ghost Rider over the Bering Sea.”

“You are taking these old birds over to Asia?” asked General Ward in shock.

“That’s right, Mike. I want two of the best and most experienced crews in that tanker and two more of your most experienced crews in Ghost Rider. I’ve done my homework. Ghost Rider has a range of 2,200 miles. I‘m going into Hill to refuel, then I’m heading up to McChord Air Force Base in Tacoma, Washington. I believe they have a couple of old C-130s over there as well. Then I’ll fly into Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage—that’s well within range from McChord. McChord might have a couple of old operational helicopters as well, but I haven’t been up there for a while. Elmendorf in Alaska should have cleared runways—they usually clear them 24/7 since they have so much snow.”

“So will Misawa Air Force Base in Japan where they should have bulldozers still working and something flyable. It’s a 3,200 mile flight into Misawa from Elmendorf. From Misawa, I plan to refuel and fly into our bases at either Osan or Kunshan in South Korea. The distance is only 900 miles from Misawa. The HC-130 tanker has a 4,500 mile range. If you take out 1,000 miles of fuel for Ghost Rider, that will give her 3,500 miles, and if I put a soft 1,000 gallon fuel-bladder into Ghost Rider, and there are several bladders at Elmendorf, both aircraft should make it into Japan. I believe that there is a still-operational AC-130 gunship at either Kunshan or Osan. Buck, by the way, I want to take Mr. Lee Wang with me on my mission. He needs to be at Hill AFB in 36 hours. Somebody will have to get him there by then.”

“Why the rush to Asia, Pete?” asked the president.

“Carlos believes that if we take out their satellite communication station on the other side, we could take over complete control of all their operational satellite hardware. If we capture or kill their mercenary squads over here and relieve them of their cell phones, we could be in control of global communications again, plus I will get the chance to blow their headquarters off the face of the earth. I want to take one of the captured cell phones with me, since I heard from Carlos on my way in, that they have captured several American satellite phones. That could give me direct satellite contact with you, Mr. President. Carlos is going to get as many of the systems working as he can. I will take one with me on my flight, since he thinks that by using the aircraft’s transponder for short intervals and using the aircraft as a massive antenna for the satellite phone, he can satellite-guide me across the Bering Strait into Japan, and then on to my target. I can also warn you, Mr. President, about any attack on our aircraft by Chinese fighters when I get there. If that happens, you can act accordingly with a missile strike.”

“How many cell phones did they capture?” asked Buck.

“They have three fully-operational and three broken ones. Carlos said that he and Lee Wang can repair the three broken ones. There were ten in total and they have four for spare parts,” the general replied. “Why?”

“Any extra spare parts could be built into the dead ones you Air Force guys use,” suggested Buck. “I know Carlos has a satellite phone. I bet he hasn’t thought of replacing the electronic parts in his phone. I’ll tell him when I get down there later today.”

“Good point, Buck,” smiled the general. “My plan is still in the making, but if I survive over Nanjing, Mr. President, I want to fly into Beijing and find out the truth—whether or not the Chinese government has anything to do with this catastrophe. Then I want to fly up to Moscow. I’m sure I can refuel in both cities, and if the Chinese Government is friendly, they can fuel us up and get me to the Russian border. Or I can go via India since there must be tons of unused jet fuel at all the world’s commercial airports. If I take my own tanker, I can refuel anywhere. If I come up against opposition forces, I can relay the information back to you.”

“That’s one hell of a trip in old C-130s,” stated General Ward, no so optimistic. “You are going to need a lot of luck to find little Japan in the middle of nowhere, on low fuel reserves and without modern navigation. How long are you expecting to fly around the world, Pete?”

“Only ten days, Mike,” laughed General Allen. “I want to get from Moscow, through to our base in Turkey. My biggest challenge at the moment is getting our troops back to the States—a million men and women. Lady Luck is going to have to show her face. I believe that we must try to thwart any attack on our mainland by the opposition as soon as we can—by either Zedong Electronics or the Chinese or Russian governments. I don’t know how they plan to do it, but they will need fully working naval ships and aircraft carriers to get to us, and when they do, we must try and capture what we can, fill them up with gas, and send them over to the Middle East to bring back our troops.”

“South Korea should be okay, and our troops should survive in Europe, but with no back-up vehicles or protection in the Middle East and Africa, those guys have only a few weeks or months at most. I can’t do much here against the weather at the moment. You guys can start a food distribution system with a civilian air force and workforce, but over there I must find massive ships to bring back our men and women. First, I want to know who we are dealing with, and I believe that any attack on the United States will be caught by Carlos and Navistar P in time to prepare. I’m hoping I can get back in time to see the action—I will be returning via our base on the Azores, just within range of Andrews.”

*****

The boardroom on the 30th floor was busy. On Z-Day 4, the full membership of 16 men was in their seats. Once again, it was time for reports. The room had only one other man waiting to speak—the chief technical officer from the satellite communications department, one floor below. The chairman rose and gestured for silence.

“Before I get to my latest report, Comrades, I would like our specialist from downstairs, as well as Comrade Wang to give their reports on our first major attack on foreign soil.” He pointed to the technical officer.

“Comrades,” the gentleman started. “Comrade Wang and I have been in contact with our termination squads in America. It took a couple of hours, as it seems the battle was long and hard. We lost communications with them for over three hours. From the communications side, we are now up and running again and I will let you know of any news. Comrade Wang has the rest of the report.” He bowed and left the room.