INVASION USA (Book 2) - The Battle For New York (42 page)

“I would like to report to you what is happening in my country and what I’ve seen so far around the world,” General Allen continued. “I would also like my four aircraft refueled, because I must head back to the U.S. Air Force base in South Korea via Beijing. I believe that my report will take half an hour and I would like a reasonable report on your country’s devastation so that I can give a report back to my president. I have a crew of 48 and one lady aboard, who could do with a cold or hot meal and some water or liquid other than vodka, if you have some. We have been flying non-stop now for two days.”

The men smiled slightly at the mention of vodka, and he was asked to follow them. They walked into a fully lit terminal. The building had been blacked out from the inside, and all the curtains drawn. It was a small military terminal in a warehouse building, extremely luxurious, with thick leather chairs and a bar and food counter to one side. The member of the Russian government who seemed to be in charge, explained to the general that the visitors could use this facility and they should use it during refueling. All his men and the lady could sit in the warmth and eat what they wanted. The Russian official then barked out orders to one of the men in Russian, who marched off to tell the American crew. The general halted him for a second, asking the soldier, in fluent Russian, to allow his own men to refuel the four aircraft. The man nodded and many eyebrows were lifted by the government officials with the use of his perfect Russian.

General Allen was served a warm and tasty meal and the choice of coke, coffee or bottled water, as they all sat down in a private lounge and waited for his report.

He asked three questions in English before he started his report. Was the whole of Russia without power? Was the country’s communications affected internally as well as externally? And had this catastrophe had anything to do with the Russian government, or any Russian electrical companies inside or outside Russia?

“To answer your first question, General Allen,” responded the man, also in his perfect English, who looked like the most influential person in the crowd. “More of Russia is having electricity problems than we would like. The answer to your second question is that we have very little communications internally and no communications externally—that is, until you arrived out of nowhere on our radar screens five hours ago. Thirdly, we do not believe that any Russian electrical companies are involved with this crisis. Also I personally do not believe that any departments of the Russian government are involved, as many of the department heads are here in this building tonight. Now, please tell us what is going on.”

General Allen did, not relaying any secure information that wasn’t necessary, just as his Russian counterpart was doing. He told the story of Zedong Electronics as told to him by Lee Wang. He explained the power outages around the world and the blackness of the entire planet from space.

The general also explained how they had got an old project satellite back into operation and found the three Chinese satellites which did not belong to the Chinese Government. He explained the cell phones, lied that only a dozen or so were useable and he could offer them three phones on the next flight. This would give the Russian government communications with the United States as well as China.

It took an hour, and the food was good, especially the caviar. A case of good French champagne was opened and glasses passed around to the 20-odd men in attendance. General Allen fielded dozens of questions and answered in a way that would preserve world peace as well as secure his interests in getting U.S. military troops back home. The Boeing aircraft were not mentioned, but the attack on the buildings in Nanjing was.

The champagne went to his head slightly and made him realize how tired and old he was. At 60 years old, he wasn’t meant to be running around the world like a teenager. Three hours after landing, however, the snow began to fall slightly outside and they were ready to go.

His four aircraft would be escorted to Omsk in southern Siberia— Russia’s second-largest city 1,400 miles southeast of Moscow and 2,200 miles from Beijing. Here, the three Russian fighters would be at their furthest range and the American aircraft could land and refuel at a Russian Air Force base there. He had told the group that if his aircraft could use that same base as a stop between China and Russia, he could install a radio beacon there for future trips.

They laughed and told him that Russia had a lot of old working electrical devices of all types. Nothing was ever thrown away in Russia, and all Russian aircraft already had a full system of radio beacons and their frequencies went all the way in and out of Russia in all directions. All that was needed were the several military AM radio frequencies and as long as all aircraft were entering Russia on peaceful missions, they now had the “Right” to fly through or into any major city any time they wanted. He was told to tell the Chinese that they would be offered the same opportunities.

Everyone shook hands with General Allen, The most senior man telling him the President of the United States was welcome to visit at any time, by special order from the Prime Minister of Russia himself. The three satellite phones were also welcomed and would be used wisely since they did not have a satellite communication system anymore either.

The benefits of flying with an escort, as well as the new radio beacon frequencies coming out of the military base in Omsk, gave all the crew, except the eight fresh pilots flying the aircraft, four hours of hard-earned sleep. Even the responsibility of monitoring the only satellite phone on board was given to them and General Allen slept as well as the other crew members until touchdown in a snowy Omsk four hours and twenty minutes later.

The nasty weather was also heading south and the general was escorted out of Russian airspace several hours later, saying goodbye to their escort who reported back that they had orders to wait for the American’s return to Omsk. The freshly refueled C-130s headed on a direct course to the base in Osan, 2,800 miles east of them.

His current Ghost Rider pilot told the general that the phone had rung twice while he was sleeping and a Chinese voice had tried to communicate. The pilot had done what everybody had been told to do when answering a call—listen for the Allen Key password from the caller before uttering any communication. The general checked in with Carlos and found out that his phone had also rung once from this unknown caller, and the general told Carlos to get someone to call up all the numbers on the American list and remind the ones answering the phones to keep quiet until the password was given.

Carlos relayed the information to the general that Mother Goose was inbound to Osan, heading over the northern route, and that her estimated time of arrival was six hours and forty-five minutes. They had hit bad weather and were having to make a 30-minute detour flight around a large storm. It was beginning to blanket most of Russia, and the general should expect to have the same problem in three or four hours. Osan was still open and should continue to be long enough to get both flights in and then out to Shanghai.

“How many people did we get aboard, Carlos?” General Allen asked.

“Twelve pilots, Pete
,” Carlos replied.
“There isn’t a non-pilot aboard except for the ten cowboys from Lejeune. In total, we have 22 people on the flight manifest with full fuel and parachute gear for 30. You will have to pick up more men on your next stop to use all the silk. I’m sure you can find one or two of them who are able to jump, or fly at their next stop.”

General Allen agreed, saying there should be enough to choose from in Osan, and he wanted the flight’s phone number so that he could talk. He immediately called Mother Goose and found them flying in pretty lousy weather, but now actually thinking they had a decent tailwind and that they could get back on schedule.

The flight commander, a sleepy Major Joe Patterson who was a multi-use pilot himself, told him that they were supposed to check in with Carlos in an hour. Ghost Rider was still working on the several radio frequencies they had received from the Russian military. These radio frequencies were expected to work well into China. Pete Allen gave all the Russian beacon frequencies to the pilots of the tanker, and after several minutes Patterson told him that they had new fixes on three very faint radio beacons—enough to plot their exact position by intersecting the three beacon locations to their aircraft’s position. They came back, thanking him and telling him that they did have a tailwind, were 110 miles off course but 160 miles closer to Osan than they thought, and that they could make it in with 40 minutes of fuel to spare.

General Allen called Carlos back. “Carlos, did you know that you could be out of a job as the world’s only air traffic controller pretty soon?” he laughed into the phone.

“Thank God for that!”
Carlos replied.
“Being out of a job will give me a chance to fly instead of watch the world’s weather for you all.”

All the flight personnel who were not flying managed to get another four hours more sleep before the bad weather and turbulence made it almost impossible. The general was pretty refreshed after seven good hours, however, and decided to shave, with a bowl and a bottle of water serving as his shaving equipment.

The C-130s were strong aircraft, and the elements battering the aircraft outside were not much of a concern. The luxury of very faint radio beacons still obtainable at 29,000 feet were also helping all the aircraft stay on course, and three hours after the general shaved, they landed at Osan in snowy conditions on a freshly cleared white runway—one hour after Mother Goose had arrived direct from McGuire AFB. It was the morning of the ninth day—cold, blustery, and snowy.

All of the men on the mission who had done nothing but sleep in some cozy bit of space on the airplane were rested and ready for action. Major Patterson had already rounded up another ten experienced C-17 and Stratotanker pilots at Osan, and 30 men were going over the parachute gear, preparing it for use and familiarizing themselves with the best the Marines had. One of the flown in radio beacons was already being set up close to the southern end of Osan’s longest runway, and would be operational by take-off.

General Allen immediately held a meeting with all soldiers, pilots, and crew.

“Ok, guys, I want to hear your plan,” said the general, “but first I want Mother Goose to head up to Misawa in Japan ASAP and get the second radio beacon operational. I will personally deliver the third one to Beijing once our operation at Shanghai Pudong International Airport is over.

“OK! I want the 30 parachutes dropped in low by Blue Moon and Easy Girl, with fifteen men per aircraft plus a pallet of arms. They will go in just before dawn, and the final decision on your landing site is perfect. The open land between the ocean and the west side of the airport should be far enough away for the snow to blanket any aircraft sounds.

“Captain Wong? Well done at JFK. This one is going to be just as easy, as long as we don’t end up with troops blocking the runways with trucks, or whatever they have that can stop the Air China aircraft from taking off. We cannot win a war against the larger numbers of troops they must have stationed there, but remember complete surprise is on our side. Now, tell me exactly how you did it at JFK, and what is your plan for getting into the aircraft here?”

Major Patterson and Captain Wong spent an hour telling General Allen what had happened at JFK, as well as the plan they had formulated on their flight over the North Pole at 31,000 feet. It was very risky, but the element of surprise and the way the Chinese engineers and soldiers had reacted to hearing of the Supreme Commander’s surprise visit, it certainly could be done again. Hopefully, nobody knew where the Supreme Commander was at the moment, but it didn’t matter, and to the men they were going to encounter, he was most probably God!

Mother Goose left two hours later, refueled, and headed on her way to Japan, then over to Hawaii, and back to McGuire. She had done her job. Now it was up to the men she had brought in to increase the size of the U.S. Air Force, commercially.

The snow came and went, winds moving it around, and toward nightfall it began to fall in earnest. The bulldozers worked to keep the runway clear. Only an inch or two had fallen when Blue Moon, Easy Girl, and the second HC-130 tanker were fully fueled and the two gunships, each carrying 15 men each took off two hours before dawn.

The flight was 90 minutes into Shanghai, and the general would only take off in Ghost Rider once the men were on the ground. He needed to conserve fuel. He wouldn’t have the backup of a tanker anymore, and Beijing was a straight flight line this time with the aid of the Russian radio beacons.

This time, the satellite phones would be the main communication tool—smaller and lighter than radios—and the men were dressed in the same clothing taken off the termination squads in New York.

Both gunships were able to guide themselves into the area accurately with their infrared scanners. Mrs. Wang had been transferred into Blue Moon and once the men were down, they were to refuel from the tanker and all head into Omsk, 2,850 miles away.

From Omsk, they would fly into Moscow and deliver the three promised cell phones, and then head for Turkey, which was the meeting point for all the U.S. aircraft heading back to the States. General Allen would be the last in, once he had delivered the radio beacon into Beijing, refueled, and then flown into Omsk for more fuel. He would also then head south into Turkey.

The pilots reported reasonable snowfall over the area and it didn’t take them long to find the mapped out LZ (landing zone) several hundred yards southwest of the airport. Snow wasn’t falling and the clouds were scattered. The dark of night just before dawn was not a problem for the scanners aboard the gunship. Both aircrafts’ speed was slowed as much as possible to reduce engine noise. The pilots reduced altitude down to 900 feet and the jumpers only had seconds before they landed.

All Marines were experienced at this and they had gone over the drills several times with the less-experienced pilots—teaching them low-level static-line parachute tactics. The tanker stayed aloft at 20,000 feet. She couldn’t help in any way, and she waited patiently for the two gunships to rejoin her. The rear door of the AC-130s opened, and the jump lights turned from red to green. Fifteen men ran out the back two at a time on each side of both aircraft in three second intervals. Their parachute’s ripcords were pulled by the static lines inside the aircraft as they jumped. The last man ran out on one side and seconds later a large case of carefully packed AK-47s and ammunition was pushed out on the other side of the both aircraft by two men. Its larger parachute’s ripcord was also pulled as it left the aircraft.