by Dale Brown
“As you were, General,” Venti warned.
“Excuse me, sir, but you’re talking about putting a half dozen air-defense fighters on airborne alert over Canada, plus recalling a bunch more—on McLanahan’s say-so? With all due respect, sir, I’d prefer a little more reliable confirmation myself.”
“You’ve got all the confirmation you need, General,” Venti said. He looked at Goff, who nodded and made an entry into an electronic notebook. “Make it happen.”
“Roger, sir,” Muskoka said, and he could be seen in the videoconference screen lifting a phone to his ear and giving the orders.
“General Shepard, what’s the status of your sensors and radars?”
“Operational and ready to respond, sir.” U.S. Air Force General Randall Shepard was the commander of the North American Aerospace Defense Command, in charge of monitoring and defending against a missile or bomber attack on North America; he was also “dual-hatted” as the commander of U.S. Northern Command, in charge of defending against military or terrorist attacks on the United States. “The long-range radars of the North Warning System are currently operational, with a few maintenance exceptions, which should not impact the system’s effectiveness. The long-range radars have a range in excess of two hundred miles, depending on terrain and atmospheric conditions. The short-range radars can be activated within a relatively brief period of time, depending on local conditions.
“All NORAD-gained fighter-interceptor units are fully operational: four F-16Cs on alert at Eielson, four F-15Cs at Elmendorf, and four CF-18s on alert at Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada—plus the Klamath Falls and Fresno units,” Shepard went on. “I believe each wing can generate one or two more aircraft in a matter of hours, and they can generate their entire force in about two days.”
“Only twelve fighters available for all of western North America?” Goff asked incredulously.
“Sixteen, including the continental U.S. fighters,” Shepard said. “We’re at full authorized manning, sir. We have just enough funding to field the units we have out there right now. The southern-U.S. and drug-interdiction duties get all the funding, and have for many years.” He looked at Patrick McLanahan’s image on the video teleconference screen and added, “I still find it hard to believe we’re under a Russian bomber threat, but be that as it may, we can respond to any threat.”
“What about OTH-B?” Goff asked.
Shepard at first appeared to be confused, then pained, before replying, ‘Sir, I think the staff or General McLanahan is in possession of outdated information. We operate only one OTH-B array, out of Bangor, Maine, which is dedicated only to atmospheric sampling and experiments as directed by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration or on request by the Department of Homeland Security—which, by the way, has never put in a request to use it. The West Coast OTH-B system is in warm storage, and the Alaskan system was canceled about fourteen years ago and was never even completed.”
“Can the West Coast system be reactivated, General?” Goff asked.
“Yes, sir—but it would take about two weeks to calibrate it and certify its accuracy and reliability,” Shepard replied. “Even then it might not be reliable enough to give you the information you want. The AWACS planes are your best bet, sir. You get them airborne, and we can plug them into the network right away and have wall-to-wall coverage. The AWACS information is merged into North Warning and all the other ground-radar facilities, and it forms a very complete three-dimensional picture.”
“The AWACS are on the way, General Shepard,” Venti said. He turned to Goff and said, “Sir, I request that NORAD direct Eielson, Elmendorf, and Cold Lake to generate NORAD-dedicated Bravo-force alert sorties as quickly as possible.”
“Agreed,” Secretary Goff responded. The “Bravo” alert sorties were additional crews and fighters readied for duty behind the frontline planes and crews; unfortunately, it usually took several hours to prepare them for action.
“On the way, sir,” Shepard said immediately, picking up a phone. General Muskoka made a note and handed it offscreen to his deputy. NORAD usually requested support from Air Combat Command for additional planes for the fighter-interceptor alert mission, so he wanted his fighter units ready to get the call and start lining up birds.
“General Houser, what other support can you provide for this operation?” Venti asked.
“Sir, the best support Space Command can offer, other than the systems already mentioned, is the Defense Support Program constellation,” Houser replied. “The DSP satellites are designed to detect the ‘hot dots’ from ballistic-missile launches but can be tuned to detect smaller heat sources, such as bomber exhausts, traveling across the cold ocean or polar icecaps. It’ll take away from their primary function of ballistic-missile launch warning, and as such I recommend against retuning DSP. Once we get the AWACS planes airborne, sir, I think we’ll have all the coverage we need.
“Unfortunately, HAVE GAZE and SLOW WALKER are committed to operations in Central Asia, and it’ll take several days to focus them in on any specific area of northern Alaska or Canada.” HAVE GAZE and SLOW WALKER were infrared satellites and sensors designed to detect and track small missiles and aircraft. But unlike DSP satellites, in which just three satellites could cover the entire globe, the other two satellites had to be focused on a specific area to be effective. “DSP and AWACS are the best options we have without degrading our strategic surveillance.”
“I agree,” General Shepard said. “If the Russians really are gearing up for some sort of offensive, NORAD relies on DSP for the first indication of ballistic missile launch, both land-and sea-based. All our other ballistic-missile launch-warning systems are limited because they require the missiles to cross the relative horizon—that reduces launch-warning time anywhere from two to eight minutes. Only DSP gives us instantaneous launch warning.”
“Very well—we won’t reconfigure DSP,” Goff said. He was ready for the meeting to be over with. “All right, we have AWACS planes on the way from Eielson, plus the alert fighters, plus fighters on the way from the CONUS bases, and we’re firing up the North Warning radars. Anything else we’re overlooking?” No response. “In that case…”
“Sir, I’d suggest dispersing the bomber and fighter fleet to alternate-generation bases or to civil airfields,” Patrick McLanahan interjected. “If the Russians do attack, I believe they wouldn’t go after civilian targets, only military ones. Military aircraft would therefore be safer at civil airfields.”
“General McLanahan, I’ve agreed to the increased surveillance measures because I think that’s a prudent step and because we have much of that infrastructure already in place,” Secretary Goff said irritably. “But I’m not going to agree to any more moves that would disrupt day-today operations or create increased anxiety among our people, our allies, or the Russians until I get more information.” He paused, looking around the conference table. “Anything else?”
“Yes, sir,” General Muskoka of Air Combat Command chimed in. He looked uncomfortable but pressed on: “General Luger of the Air Battle Force submitted a mission plan to me that could supply you with the information you need. His proposal is to send a small armed recon force into Yakutsk, Russia, to ascertain the exact level of tanker-aircraft activity there. According to the satellite images, Yakutsk is turning into some kind of major Russian tanker base all of a sudden. General Luger feels that we may only be seeing a small portion of the aircraft there.”
“That damned Air Battle Force outfit is not an intelligence organization,” Houser retorted.
“Pardon the fuck out of me, Houser,” Muskoka said, “but I’m not here to listen to your opinions about my operations forces!”
“Knock it off, both of you,” Venti warned.
But Muskoka wasn’t nearly done shooting back at Houser. “This is what I’m telling you, Houser: Dave Luger’s Air Battle Force ground team is in the Aleutians, and they’re in position and ready to do a sneak-and-peek operation to Yakutsk,” he went
on. “Now, unlike McLanahan, I trust Luger.” Patrick’s face remained stoic despite the direct indictment, but if Muskoka noticed Patrick’s lack of reaction, he made no indication of it. “If it was McLanahan, he’d already be in Yakutsk by now raising all kinds of hell. Luger pushed his men to the limit of his authority and stopped, and I commend him for it. The question I put forth to the secretary and the Chiefs is simple: Do you want Luger’s boys to go forward or not?”
“What’s your recommendation, General Muskoka?” Secretary Goff asked.
“Luger’s Tin Men are the only assets we have in that entire region prepared to get us the information we need,” Muskoka replied. “His plan is simple, it involves only a few aircraft and men, and it has a fairly good chance of succeeding. In about two hours, we can get the scoop on Yakutsk. I recommend you authorize them to proceed. They might appreciate a Marine Force Recon or Army Special Forces team standing by to back them up.”
“I’ve got a unit ready to go,” offered the commandant of the Marines Corps, General Paul Hooks, after quickly studying a report handed to him by an aide. “Bravo Company, First Battalion, Fourth Marines, Eleventh Marine Expeditionary Unit–Special Operations Capable, is right now at Fort Greely, Alaska, finishing up a joint-forces exercise with the U.S. Air Force. We should be able to back up your guys.”
“Hold it, hold it,” Goff said, raising his hands. “I’m not authorizing an armed incursion into Russia at this time—I don’t care how good they are. Tell General Luger to stand by and wait for my word. I don’t want to aggravate the situation any more than we already have. Anything else?” Goff asked. Before anyone could reply, he said, “I wish you all could be in the room when I give this to the president—maybe you’d have a better understanding of the consternation you cause when communications break down and personalities and emotions get in the way of clearheaded thinking. General Houser, General McLanahan, stay with me. Everyone else, thank you.”
When the others had logged off the secure connection, Goff went on, “General McLanahan, General Houser has requested that you be relieved of command of the Nine-sixty-sixth Information Warfare Wing, pending the results of a court-martial. I think you’re familiar with the charges. As is traditional in these cases, I’m offering you the opportunity to resign your commission in lieu of standing for court-martial.”
“With respect, sir, I object to the offer,” Houser said. “I request that McLanahan be bound over for trial.”
“Your objection is overruled,” Goff said. “General McLanahan?”
“Sir, before I respond to these charges, I have one last report to make to you and to General Houser concerning this air-defense situation—”
“There is no ‘air-defense situation,’ McLanahan!” Houser snapped.
Patrick held the classified folder up to the camera. “May I, sir?”
Goff sighed, then nodded. “Make it quick, General.”
“Sir, I ran a scenario through the Strike Assessment Catalog computers using the latest intelligence data coupled with the information we now know of deployment of Russian strategic forces in Siberia,” Patrick said.
“What scenario?”
“The possibility of success of a Russian bomber attack on the United States of America,” Patrick replied.
“Give me a break, McLanahan!” Houser cried.
“It is the absolute latest information available,” Patrick went on. “To make it even more conservative, I accelerated defensive time frames in our favor by fifty percent and decreased the size of the Russian forces by fifty percent. The results were the same: The United States can be successfully attacked from the air by Russian strategic air-breathing forces, and about half of all American nuclear-capable forces, especially land-based missiles and bombers, would be destroyed.”
“That’s nonsense!” Houser retorted.
“Sir, my report is done, and I conclude that not only is this attack feasible but it is imminent,” Patrick said. “The Russians are modifying their bombers for intercontinental missions, repositioning their strike and support forces, and preparing some sort of coordinated attack using long-range aircraft. I believe that their objective is to destroy a good percentage of our land-based nuclear-deterrent forces. This attack could commence at any time. Our only hope of surviving it is to get as many armed interceptors and surveillance aircraft airborne as quickly as possible and to keep them airborne until we determine exactly what the Russians’ intentions are.”
“McLanahan, you have gone too far this time!”
“Hold it, General Houser,” Robert Goff said. “General McLanahan, I’ve let you have your say, which is more than I should have done, but I think your past record gives you the right to be heard. I know you to sometimes overstep your authority, but I believe you do it for good and true reasons—in your own mind, at least. I don’t see any reason to sound the alarm based on a computerized tarot-card reading, but I’m going to do my due diligence here and give you much more of the benefit of the doubt than I think you deserve at this particular time.
“I want you to upchannel that report right away. I want to let everyone take a look at it and offer opinions.”
“Sir, I don’t think there’s time for that—”
“Too bad, General,” Goff said heatedly. “That’s a direct result of your attitude and the way you conduct yourself and your units. You’ve stepped out of line so much that no one trusts you. You created this mind-set, Patrick—not myself, not General Houser, not General Samson, not the president.
“General Houser, I want McLanahan’s report evaluated and passed along as expeditiously as possible from your office. I already know how you feel about McLanahan’s analysis—put it in writing, then send the report on up the chain to my office. No holdups. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s the best I’m going to do for you now, Patrick,” Goff said, “so that report had better be able to stand on its own, because I don’t think you’ll be around to argue or defend it. Charges and specifications have been brought against you. Because of your rank and outstanding service to your country and to the Air Force, it is within my authority to set aside these charges and avoid a court-martial in exchange for voluntary separation from military duty, to avoid any embarrassment to yourself and your family as well as to the service. How do you respond?”
“I will not resign my commission, sir,” Patrick responded. Houser looked shocked, before breaking out into a satisfied grin. “I do request that I be allowed to travel to see my family instead of being confined to quarters, since my family is in Sacramento and did not accompany me to San Antonio.”
“General Houser?”
“No objection, sir,” Houser replied.
“Very well,” Goff said. “General McLanahan, you are hereby relieved of duty. The charges and specifications filed against you by General Houser remain; however, you retain all the privileges of your rank and are free to move about freely within the United States on your own recognizance. You will submit yourself to any hearings or proceedings as directed by the court-martial’s presiding officer. That is all.”
The video teleconference ended. Houser stood, then snatched the report from Patrick’s hand. “I’ll read it over, then give it to General Samson while we’re on our way to Offutt to meet with STRATCOM, Air Combat Command, and NORAD,” he said. “But I don’t give it a snowball’s chance in hell of seeing the light of day. This is a childish tactic to discredit me and General Samson and focus attention on yourself. Everyone’s going to see this report for what it is: a worthless, pointless piece of crap.
“You can fly your little plane back to Sacramento and take a little vacation. Enjoy yourself—because you’ll be in prison before you know it. It was nice to know you, Muck. Too bad Brad Elliott twisted your brain into knots. See ya around, nav.”
Over the Beaufort Sea, 450 Miles Northwest
of Barrow, Alaska
A short time later
Start countermeasures point, c
rew,” the crew navigator of the lead Tupolev-95 Bear bomber announced.
“Acknowledged,” the electronic-warfare officer responded. “My jammers are still in standby mode. All frequencies are clear. I expect to start picking up the North Warning long-range radars in twenty minutes,” the EWO added.
Josef Leborov, the aircraft commander, shook his head in surprise and checked his watch and flight plan just to be sure what he heard was correct. It seemed like only minutes ago that the EWO had first given a status report. “Acknowledged,” he responded. “Crew, station check. Prepare for ingress procedures.” He took a last sip and secured his canteen in his flight bag, hoping like hell he’d have another chance to drink from it. He flipped to the “Start Countermeasures” page in his checklist. “SCM check, Yuri,” he ordered.
The checklist was long. It directed them to extinguish all external lights; turn off transponders and any other radios that automatically transmitted a signal, such as the formation distance-measuring equipment and air-refueling rendezvous beacons; make sure radio switches were configured so no one would accidentally transmit on an outside frequency; turn down all interior instrument and cabin lights; and reduce cabin pressurization so any piercing of the fuselage would not produce an explosive decompression. Even the smallest, tiniest lights still left on in the cockpit seemed like searchlights in the ink-black sky, and he found himself checking each light switch two and three times, then finally pulling the circuit breakers to make sure he could not accidentally turn them on. He had done this checklist so many times in training missions and simulators, but it took on a whole new level of importance now.
He had no sooner finished the checklist a few minutes later when he heard a buzzing sound in his headset, and sweat spontaneously popped onto his forehead and the back of his neck, chilling him instantly. “Threat warning, India-Juliett band!” the EWO shouted. “F-16 Falcon interceptor!”
