“It will not work, Colonel,” Norm said. “We have to have 120 personnel to cover each and every position, or we risk a collapse in the operation and people getting hurt. We decided early on the last thing we wanted was the spilling of blood.”
“Yes, we did agree, but we have to think positive. Put your people out, hit the American Legions and VFW’s. They’re out there, and we have to find them before February.”
Allen looked over at Norm, both men wondering what else it would take to find additional personnel and still maintain the secrecy of the operation. The whole operation’s success lay in its secrecy, and one bad apple could ruin everything, and people could get killed.
“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” Silas said. “We can discuss this some more tomorrow night. You know we almost never get a moose on the first day, and I could use some shut-eye. This whole getting old bit is for the birds. Next year we use a helicopter.”
“To shoot from or lug the critter out with?” Norm asked.
“Both! Hang those Fish and Wildlife jerks I have to think about my poor back.” Silas checked the ground floor. He then walked outside to make sure the generator had plenty of fuel, while he swatted the enemy and made his way to the outhouse for his late night ritual. He had finally made a decision- next year he’d bring the wife along to do the cooking and keep her side of the bed warm. He was getting too old for this he-man in the woods stuff. He’d leave that for the younger kids. Besides, his old stomach wasn’t handling the moose meat that well anymore. Not just moose meat, but all red meat. He knew pretty soon he was going to be one of those fish, chicken and veggie people and that thought saddened him. To live in Alaska and not enjoy a great moose steak was unthinkable.
Taking the lower bunk in the first bedroom and leaving the top bunk to lay out tomorrow’s hunting ensemble, Allen thought over the operation. He looked at it from every point; from entry to securing the hostages, to blowing the bridges and closing off the runways. The major problem was going to be the one man scenario, some clown trying to play hero and turning the operation into a blood bath and the ADF taking all the blame. They had to watch for that one or two man team that thought they could take on a small army of armed men and women. They also needed to be extremely particular in selecting their hostages; no pregnant women, no old people, no kids under 18, no sick or disabled people. But he knew they’ have the numbers to choose from and the right place to hold them, that part wouldn’t be a problem. The next problem would be getting the word out to the world and making sure the world was listening, and for that they might have to deal with their longtime enemies; Russians, the Chinese and North Koreans. Even the Iranians would help spread the word, but would it come quick enough, before the US can put a strike team together and attack. That was the question that haunted him as he finally drifted off to sl
4 - HITTING THE CLUBS
APARTMENT # 3, FIRST AVENUE AND DUNKEL STREET, FAIRBANKS
2:10 P.M. 25 SEPTEMBER
Clay was fortunate to live within walking distance of a grocery store, several fast food eateries, to include a decent steak joint and an American Legion Post. There was also a Yellow Cab service, which was where he was able to land a job. This was only his second day in his new apartment, having grown extremely weary of paying the city’s high prices for hotel stays, while he waited for something to open up. As usual, the Feds had forgotten to look into the current state of financial affairs in Alaska, which for Fairbanks and Anchorage wasn’t all that stable. Both cities were college towns, and besides that, they both had massive military installations. This meant the students and servicemen, and their family members, who were already struggling with Alaska’s high prices, often had to work two jobs to stay out of the red, grabbed up all the decent employment positions. Even with his exemplary military history and college degree, Clay couldn’t land a job and still stay in the immediate Fairbanks area to fulfill the needs of his undercover assignment.
Clay could’ve taken one of several positions with various interior native corporations, but the jobs meant living out in the villages or in the field. He was offered positions in the oil fields, working security and along the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, but these positions also interfered with what he was in Alaska to accomplish. So, he finally responded to a Yellow Cab Company advertisement in search of drivers. He had to get his Commercial Driver’s License, but he had maintained his Alaska residency and still collected his yearly Alaska Permanent Dividend, which he promptly signed over to various educational charities. He sure didn’t need the money, and he liked to think it was helping someone, the way his parent’s money had helped him.
Once properly licensed and a criminal and driver’s background run and satisfied by the Fairbanks Police Department, Clay spent two nights working with another driver at no pay. He then rented his own cab for the midnight to noon shift for five days a week. He could’ve gotten it for six days a week, but he knew he needed some time off for his undercover work. But it worked out pretty well for him, much better then he expected. As a cab driver, he responded to taxi calls to not only the regular bars and fraternal clubs; such as Elks, Eagles, and Moose, but he was also handling calls for Both American Legion Posts and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. He was getting to know the bartenders and in short time, a lot of the veterans.
On his two days off, he spent one evening at the VFW and one evening at one of the two American Legions. Though he soon realized taxi drivers, especially those starting out, didn’t make a lot of money, he now knew a good tip went a long way in helping these drivers eat their next meal. But so far, he hadn’t made any contact with anyone from the Alaska Defense Force but had made eye contact with several good looking women. Most of these, he found out were married, waiting for their men to return home from overseas assignment, and he avoided these ladies like the bubonic plague.
While Clay was busy trying to catch up on his sleep on Wednesday afternoon, a hot red 1968 Chevrolet Camaro pulled into the main gate at Eielson Air Force Base, 22-miles east of Fairbanks. Rebuilt from the ground up, this cherry of an automobile sounded like a rumbling herd of finally tuned Harley-Davidson hogs and ran with a custom rebuilt 327 under the hood. The leather interior was red and white, and the 4-speed floor shifter was a Hertz with a red cue ball on top. The owner had gone one step further and installed a Bose sound system, with 10-CD changer in the trunk beside the bass woofer. For tires it ran on the rear classic L-50 x15’s, shipped directly from the tire plant at St. Louis, Missouri, giving it that certain racing look and it was fitted with five-spoke Crager Mag Wheels all around. Now this car never saw a day of snow, being parked inside a heated inside storage facility from September 30th through May 15th, but strangely enough, the Security Force Airman First Class who manned the front gate hardly noticed this beautiful muscle car, covered in a minimum of 7 coats of wax, for behind the wheel was his vision of a stunning goddess.
Golden blonde hair cascading down to her hips, she had deeply tanned blemish-free skin and large eyes the color of cobalt blue. The day was still warm, so she was wearing a white halter top to show her tan off and a pair of faded cut off blue jeans. The Senior Airman was at the point of proposing marriage when she broke the spell by asking for a visitor’s pass.
Had the lady had a base sticker on the front bumper of her car, the Security Forces Senior Airman would’ve simply waved her through. Occasionally, they do stop a vehicle now and then to check for proper identification, unless they’re on alert status and then every vehicle was stopped, inspected and ID was required.
“I am sorry, Miss, but you’ll have to pull in over in front of that trailer over there,” He pointed to a 10’ x 14’ size metal sided trailer, “… and ask for a pass in there.”
“Oh, I haven’t met you before. I’m just here to pick up my little brother at Civil Air Patrol.”
“I’d remember you, miss, but you’ll have to go over there for a pass.”
“Okay then,” She said in a flirty voice. “I’ll be seein’
you.”
The Senior Airman stepped out to stop the rest of the traffic from driving by to allow the pretty lady the opportunity to drive across the lanes and pull up in front of the Pass and Registration trailer. The Senior Airman, who was wearing woodland camouflage and a blue beret on his head, was armed with a Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol. He’d been in the service for nearly 4 years and considered reenlisting next January if the Air Force would guarantee he could stay in Alaska for a minimum of another 4 years. He enjoyed working Main Gate, especially when he got to meet such attractive young ladies. He hadn’t noticed a wedding band or engagement ring, not that he was looking for one and hoped she might stop by one her way back out. He watched her climb out of her Camaro, and his heart nearly stopped as she gracefully climbed each of the three steps to the front door of the trailer. Suddenly, he wished he was one of those geeky clerks working inside there today. Only while she was inside did he take notice of her car and his eyes grew even wider.
Normally the main gate at Eielson Air Force Base was a two troop post, but for the next hour, the Senior Airman worked it alone. His partner was at a doctor’s appointment, and they didn’t have enough personnel on duty to handle the second position. But rarely did anything occur on the Main Gate, except for the occasional drunk driver slamming into the concrete bunkers in place in front and behind the wooden gate shack. In the past, there had been protests for different reasons held on the outside of the gate, but it had been some time since the last protest and long before any of the Security Force personnel were currently assigned here.
SSgt Emy Sanders of the Alaska Defense Force and assigned to the Intelligence Section for the newer organized FFAM, leaned against the wooden counter and waited to be noticed by one of the two personnel. One was a women, and one was a man, both in woodland utilities and somewhere in the mid-20 range in years. Emy was playing an act, one she was very good at. 25yrs old, she had already served 4 years with the US Army as a Military Policeman, with one combat tour in Iraq. She dreamed of employment with either the Fairbanks Police Department or Alaska State Troopers, but they were not hiring at the moment. Born in Tanana, she was raised in Nenana and enlisted in US Army in Fairbanks. When she came home, she had joined the Alaska Defense Force because she didn’t want to go back to the sandbox and saw too many National Guardsmen being sent over for a second and even a third tour of duty.
The Colonel knew how well Emy was appreciated by the male soldier and used that as a factor as he prepared for the upcoming operation. Several times Emy had entered Eielson Air Force Base, under the pretense she had come to pick up her little brother, Stephen, who was on base to attend weekly Civil Air Patrol meetings. In fact, Stephen was on base for these meetings, but he had no relationship to Emy and was the grandson of another one of the Colonel’s senior NCOs. While on base, Emy used her cell phone to send out various calls to Major Norm Johnson to make reports. She also photographed key points of the runway, tarmac and flight line activity for the FFAM with her miniature phone. She was never in a restricted area and always appeared to waiting for little brother and in such an obvious vehicle as her eye-catching Camaro. Not something a Soviet or Chinese spy would be driving, which was why it was used.
Emy loved the car and hated that she had to give it up soon. It was time for it to go back into storage to protect it from the cold, ice, and snow. She hoped one day to buy it off its owner, but that was extremely doubtful; her father had spent three years rebuilding it as a special wedding anniversary gift to his wife.
With her Visitor’s Pass in hand and a brief flirtation with the clerical geek behind the counter, Emy waved to the gate guard and drove down Flight Line Avenue. She made it look as if she was on the phone, but in fact, she was taking photographs the entire time. After she picked up Stephen at Building #1121 on the flight line; home to the Civil Air Patrol and Aero Club, she pulled back onto Flight Line Avenue and headed south instead of going right back to the gate. She went all the way down to the Control Tower & Base Operations; Bldgs # 1215/1216 and then turned around in the Base Operations parking lot. This allowed her an opportunity to take additional photographs of the area. After leaving the base, she then proceeded southeast on the Richardson Highway, which happened to run parallel to the south side of the flight line and there were no trees to block her view or from taking additional photographs, which was done all the time by both locals and tourists. This time she used a more professional digital camera with telescoping lens and shot quick photos over her left shoulder. People had been photographing Eielson from the highway for over 40-years. The more classified aircraft were kept from view, where security was tighter, and K-9 units were involved.
There were some who believed Eielson Air Force Base began as an auxiliary field, only for military fliers who were having trouble reaching trying Ladd Army Air Corp Base during the Tanana Valley’s heavy fog. Ladd is now known as Fort Wainwright. There are others though who stick with the Air Force version that simply states the government was looking for an interior landing field that could handle the newer and larger bombers. Whichever the case, the first plan was to build a field 29 miles south of Nenana, but that didn’t work out and extending the runway at Ladd was prevented by Mother Nature; Alaska’s Chena River wouldn’t allow it. So, Eielson was born, which was named after the famous Alaska aviator Ben Eielson.
Over the decades, Eielson had been home to an assortment of aircraft; from prop-driven fighters and bombers to jet tankers and massive reconnaissance birds used to monitor Soviet submarines. F-4 Phantom fighter/bombers were used here as alert birds, launched on two minutes notice to respond and chase Soviet aircraft back out of US air space. As a result, Eielson had become quite more than simply an auxiliary airfield, but a thriving proud member of the Alaskan Air Command and under the Pacific Air Command. Along the way, its personnel had become part of the growing citizenry of Moose Creek, North Pole, Salcha, and Fairbanks.
The 354th Fighter Wing was stationed at Eielson; which included the 354th Fight Wing Staff Agencies, 354th Logistics Group, 35th Medical Group, 354th Operations Group, and 354th Support Group. Eielson also played host to other tenant units; 168th Refueling Wing of the Alaska Air National Guard, Detachment 460 Air Force Technical Applications Center, Arctic Survival School of Detachment 1, 66th Training Squadron, Air Training Command, Detachment 632 of the Office of Special Investigations and 3rd Air Support Operations Squadron, and one of the better-known outfits in Alaska is the Detachment 1, 210th Rescue Squadron, Alaska Air National Guard.
The famous A-10 Thunderbolt, (also known as the Warthog because of its appearance and fierceness) was stationed at Eielson and used by the 355th Fighter Squadron, but recently moved to the lower 48. There was a lot of speculation about the return of the Warthog since it was a primary infantry support bird needed by the army to combat enemy armor. The F-16 Falcon, (or Viper), is used quite effectively by the 18th Fighter Wing.
Standing a very fit 5’7”, Emy was more than happy to get Stephen off her hands. She knew the kid had a childish crush on her and was growing weary of manually adjusting his eyes all the time. Then he’d laugh, and five minutes later, he’d be glaring at her again. She finally told his father, who took the boy aside and sent him to his mother. That would be the end of that. She hoped.
Emy had made a promise to the Colonel, that if the Fairbanks Police or Alaska State Troopers opened up their hiring lists, she would not seek employment with them until the FFAM operation was completed. She knew he needed her and that alone felt pretty cool, but she was getting tired of living at home with mom and dad. Driving the Camaro was over for the season, she wasn’t going back to school, and she couldn’t leave the area because of the needed training for the operation. She had a rifle squad to prepare, and at this point, she wasn’t all that sure they were ready for anything like the planned operation and was doubtful they would be. She knew all the reasons why the operation was necessary and agreed with them, but she still wasn’t as sure as the Colonel if they could
carry this operation off without someone being killed.
Emy’s folks had left Nenana, where her father had worked as a mechanic/welder on the river barge traffic and moved to Fairbanks, where he had taken a job with the Riverboat Discovery Tourism Trade on the Chena River. He was now about to retire, but all along he had remained a staunch member of the Alaskan Independence Party and had been a good friend with the party’s founder, Joe Vogler. Her parents owned a very nice home in the Nenana Subdivision, off behind Airport Way and she had her own room and a second bedroom she used for her various hobbies. She was into military action figures, combat gaming and collecting historic firearms. Her father had presented her with her paternal grandfather’s 45-70 Winchester, and it kicked like a Missouri Mule. She owned a replica of the Colt 1911 she carried in Iraq when she proved she could qualify with it. Most of the female MP’s were forced to carry the 9mm, but she wanted a .45. She owned not one, but two M-4’s and a collection of vintage .38 caliber revolvers of various makes, several lever action Winchesters and Marlins, and two ancient Henry rifles. On the top shelf in her hobby room, she had every military action figure the McFarlane Company put out, well over $2,000 worth and the value was always growing.
Dad and Mom kept hoping she’d bring home a nice young man, but it was always guns, maneuvers, and her toys. He began to wonder if she’d become a lesbian in the army, but his wife had said no, having already covered that subject with her during an embarrassing moment in the kitchen. She said Emy didn’t quit laughing until she split her favorite skirt, spit out a mouthful of tuna fish sandwich, and then ran to her room and laughed some more.
It was after that conversation with her mom that Emy realized it had been a very long time since she’d had a date with a guy. Oh, she had some drinking parties with buddies from the unit or her new ADF friends, but not one single guy dude to sit and maybe hold hands… I need a date!
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