by T I WADE
“I’ve worked it out that a week’s nonstop flying will get me around the world and I hope that you guys are not communists by the time I get back. Mother Goose can get fuel out of a rock and we will have transponders on and communications to keep me informed throughout the journey.
“Everyone, I want it known to all active personnel, that if the insurgents arrive in this country on civilian aircraft, I want every jet they fly in on commandeered without damage. Those jets can be turned around in hours and we have dozens of out-of-work Stratotanker and Galaxy pilots at McGuire that can fly these birds into Turkey, Korea, Iraq, and hopefully Kabul to get our troops out—800 per aircraft. I’m hoping we can get them safely back on U.S. soil, or at the least, into Europe and then shipped back to the United States. The attackers can only come in on big aircraft and big ships. We know that some aircraft are incoming from somewhere tomorrow. My plan is to have our attack forces closer to New York’s JFK, but where?” he thought.
“Teterboro Airport in New Jersey,” suggested both Buck and Mike Mallory, who both knew New York well.
“Of course,” nodded the general. “Thanks guys. What are the distances?” Buck nodded to the Southwest captain to continue.
“La Guardia is the closest, about 12 miles. I’d say Newark is about the same but to the south, and JFK is the furthest at about 20 miles.”
“Let’s set up our main base of attack there, then. I want at least 10,000 men in the area within two weeks, which, we understand is when their big attack will commence. Many soldiers can walk in from McGuire if necessary. It would only take them a day, but we must do it undercover. I don’t want them to get wind of our movements. I’ll try and get relayed from Andrews into McGuire when I leave here and give Billy Johnson his orders.”
The general looked back over at the communications team. “Carlos, work on scrambling their communications, and get Lee Wang’s help to figure out their plan of action. I’m going to assume any electronic parts will be coming in with their engineers to repair the airports and harbors, and our own Air Force engineers can wear their clothes if necessary, even go undercover and complete the Chinese mission. I believe that we must keep control of our three airports, have troops in the surrounding terminals, and be ready for the big one. If they want to repair the harbor cranes, then they are bringing in troops by sea.
“On my way out of here, I will send a plane into Norfolk and tell Vice Admiral Rogers to get whatever he has floating up to New York harbor, stay in the Long Island Sound, and prepare for an attack. Questions?” There were none.
“Ok, recap. Captain Mallory, John, Pam, Barbara, Maggie and Will Smart—commandeer whatever you need to start supplying the local population with food after the attack. I’ll get you a C-130 down here as soon as I can. Remember, Lady Dandy can carry some weight. Move outwards as fast as you can and send word to civilians in the surrounding states. Go as far north as those farmers you met in Maryland and then work across. I’ll leave the planning up to you.”
“Preston, Carlos, Martie, Buck, and Lee—you are all heading up to McGuire once the fight here is finished. We need your firepower. Lee, does your wife know the building in Nanjing?”
“Yes, very well,” Lee replied.
“Will she be able to show it to me from the air, maybe at night?” The general rephrased his question.
“If the lights of Nanjing are on, then she can point out the building by looking for the bridge across the river.”
“Good. Lee, I‘m sorry to tell you this, but I must take her with me. Carlos needs you here. At least as the military always promises, she will see the world and arrive back safely, I hope, in one week.”
“I will tell her to go and prepare for a long journey,” Lee replied and headed over to the house.
“Mr. President, I think McGuire Air Force Base, or down here at Preston’s airstrip will be your best places to work,” the general advised.
“I would like to stay here,” replied the president, “as long as I’m free to go out on flights and help with logistics. I would like my family brought down as well, if you don’t mind, general.”
“I can get them over to Andrews and then down here on one of the 130s coming south,” replied General Allen. “It might take a day or two.”
“Good luck everybody! Stay in radio contact with no transponder usage unless you want them to see it. I’ll sort out their headquarters and, Preston, I will tell General Billy Johnson that as far as I’m concerned each one of you is a general in the Air Force, same as him, and that he must listen to you and your plans until I get back. Carlos, keep me posted. I’m out of here.” Pete saluted the president, smiled at the team in front of them as they heard incoming aircraft engines, and walked out of the hangar to see where Mrs. Wang was.
Chapter 7
JFK – New York
The snow was done. It finally disappeared off the New England coast and the sun rose at dawn on the sixth day and stayed like that—icy cold but sunny. The sun could not warm the frozen air, which in some very northern places was as low as minus 40, but it did lift the temperature several degrees. Cities were quiet, their streets under several feet of snow. The central United States was the worst hit—some towns nearly buried up to their rain gutters. Most of Canada was a frozen blanket of snow, and the only places where any movement could be seen were along the warmer West Coast. The only movement in the northern United States was ravens, crows and small animals scurrying about without any human interference and digging for any meat that was not yet frozen solid.
New York was a barren land of white, with frozen skyscrapers heavily laden with snow. The streets had banks of snow-blown snow as high as second story windows, in some areas, and there was little or no movement. There was movement at JFK on the morning of the sixth day, however, and there had been for several hours.
Nine hours earlier, and just before midnight on January 5th, four US helicopters had come in low over the icy waters of the Atlantic and in nearly white-out conditions, they carefully touched down on the roof of the nearest terminal building to Runway 31 Left—the longest runway at JFK.
They had unloaded men and gear and taken off immediately, hugging the ground and disappearing out to sea the way they had come in, over Rockaway Community Park, frozen under three feet of snow. They returned three more times, every two hours until a very late dawn slowly breathed light into the dispersing storm clouds, and for the fourth and last time the helicopters dipped down close to the ground and with a strong tail wind dove out to sea to be lost from sight over the dark grey waters of the Atlantic.
By then, the storm was gone and the sun’s rays began to light up the sky. A total of 180 Special Forces soldiers from Andrews, via McGuire had landed on the terminal roof. In total, they had four shoulder-rocket launchers with a dozen rounds for each, four heavy machine guns, cases of grenades, and hundreds of rounds of ammunition, and they now owned the desolate airport terminal. The men had quickly found entry into the terminal via a walkway entrance. The inside of the terminal was as cold as the outside, just without the wind chill, and they took out maps and searched for places to hide.
Their orders were to lay low, expect activity, and monitor it. They had four radios between them, which gave them radio communications into McGuire which now had direct communication by cell phone to General Allen, who was now in Tacoma, Washington.
One group of men planned to have ringside seats for Runway 31 Left, and took up residence in a small stranded commuter jet, parked right next to the runway. They had an excellent view of the surrounding area. With 40 seats, a toilet in the back, the windows drawn, and a couple of small gas heaters warming up the inside, it became a home away from home for 30 of the troops. They locked the aircraft’s doors and made sure that there was no light peeking out from inside, opened the flight attendant areas to access food, checked their own rations, and waited.
A second aircraft, a slightly larger McDonald Douglas M-90 commercial airliner parked at the closest gate ov
erlooking the runway, became home for another 40 troops. With two toilets and a fully readied snack service waiting for passengers who would never arrive, the men closed it down, took watches, heated the interior of the aircraft, locked the doors, and waited.
Another 60 troops got the cold terminal closest to the Van Wyck Expressway—the direction in which the visitors were expected to arrive.
An empty Boeing 777 stood right in the middle of the taxiway. It had been turning out of the terminal to reach the taxiway when its engines and electronics must have shut down. A single ladder was standing by the front door to the aircraft, and when troops walked up it and tried to open the door, the door easily opened. Inside, the aircraft was empty, and looked like the passengers had left in a disciplined exit. All hand luggage was gone and the overhead bins empty and open. The aircraft was in a perfect place to view the surrounding area, especially from the cockpit, had several toilets, lots of snacks and drinks, and the window blinds were already drawn.
The inside warmed up and an interesting “inflight meal” was served.
The last group wasn’t so lucky and took turns nearly freezing to death on the roof of the terminal for an hour at a time, after finding a storage room close to a restaurant and a bar where they could warm up between shifts. They closed down the area so that they wouldn’t be seen if someone walked through the terminal, and radioed in to report that they were in position.
It didn’t take long for the visitors to arrive. The cold in-flight meal was just about over in the Boeing 777 when the lookout in the cockpit stated that he saw several vehicles approaching—a couple of old Suburban’s behind an even older Ford 4x4 truck working hard to get down the Van Wyck Expressway. The truck had to be pushed and manhandled until it finally got down the exit ramp closest to the terminals. The invaders cut a hole in a hedge, then the high security fence, and drove through the holes onto the aircraft area.
“We have visitors,” the radio from the 777 quietly sent the message. “Seven vehicles and about two dozen armed men have gotten out and are waiting for something. They are Chinese or Asian, mean-looking critters, have carbines and a couple of shoulder launchers. I can see three shoulder launchers. Over.”
“Keep them visual,” an order was whispered into the radio from Air Force Major Joe Patterson, the commander of the group in the terminal.
“I see some bulldozers coming into view from the airport warehouse area. There are three I can see at the moment. One is beginning to clear the expressway and the other two are heading out towards the runway clearing the area in front of the men. It looks like they are preparing for aircraft to arrive. It will take the Charlies most of the day and tonight to clear that runway out there,” reported a Lieutenant in the 777.
For three hours they watched as the bulldozers cleared an area right next to them. A couple of men were opening the fuel openings in the apron cement right next to the 777. An electrical generator on wheels was being pulled into sight behind one of the trucks and they could hear the motor starting up and then shutting down. It was a big one—the type of generator used to pump fuel into large aircraft. It had “Air China” written all over it. Pipes and connections were offloaded from a fuel truck and stacked neatly by the building out of the way. The third bulldozer slowly came back into view followed by a dozen other vehicles, mostly an assortment of 30-year old trucks and cars. One white Cadillac had what looked like red blood down the side of it. The road was now passable and the radio squawked on.
“How many men are out there?” the Major asked.
“I see about 30 so far,” answered the Lieutenant in the 777. “The new vehicles are being parked in a line and three or four more coming into view. Each is been driven by one man. A fourth bulldozer has come into view pulling a second “Air China” generator and the man is being given orders. It looks like he is being told to start clearing a second parking area. The first area is complete by the looks of it as a road is now being made out to the runway itself. The finished clearing could fit a large 747.”
“Roger that. It looks like you guys have the front row seats. We are going to move to the closest terminal next to you guys and will let you know when we are ready. The incoming aircraft are going to have to use stairs if they are parking over there. I want to see if we can find some more and bring them forward so that they leave yours alone. Check out a bottom exit to your aircraft in case they move your stairs and don’t drink the first-class liquor, boys,” the major said with a smile on his face. “Pack it up and we’ll take it back to base. We must not be seen until we have their aircraft in the hands of our pilots, who are waiting here with me. Their incoming pilots might want to freshen up, powder their noses and use these bathrooms, and we will take them out in here. We are going to collect their clothes. Hopefully our guys are short enough to fit into their clothing.”
“The way they are clearing all that snow, we will have enough packed snow to use for defensive positions. They are obviously not considering that anyone will attack them and are walking around as if they own the place. I’m sure they won’t miss a couple of their guys. And remember men, the brass reckons the aircraft are not due in until dawn tomorrow morning. Out.”
Over the rest of the day, the major worked out what the visitors would do if they had access to the terminal. First, he made sure the door was ready to be opened, and then he studied the closest store, a clothing store full of warm clothing.
“Yes,” he thought to himself. “The pilots going back won’t resist getting a few presents for themselves and their girlfriends,” and he formed a plan of action and broke the lock of the door. There was no electricity, and the concourse was dark, but they would come in here for warmth. He saw the bar on the other side. He broke that lock, too, opened the steel mesh doors on top of the counter, and then arranged cases of beer in a pile so that they couldn’t miss them—what man could resist a mountain of cold beers ready for them? He opened a couple of cases and put six cold bottles on the table and poured three down a sink to make it look like somebody had already been there when the airport closed down. He lay one on its side and let one break on the floor.
The action on the runway went on and on throughout the day. It was one of the longest civilian runways in the United States. They only had three bulldozers working on the runway itself and the snow was a couple of feet deep. It took each dozer about an hour to clear a narrow line from one end of the runway to the other.
Another old truck came out and men started throwing salt onto the parking areas. They even got an aircraft weather-spray truck pulled in close by the fourth dozer. It didn’t work, but they were obviously expecting whoever was coming in by air to have everything they needed, and they might need a spray down before take-off if bad weather came in again.
Night fell and the lights on the bulldozers showed that they were still working out there. They were halfway done, and it was going to be a very cold night. The salt truck had gone out several times and they had done a good job. One of the major’s men in white snow gear had sneaked out to inspect the runway. It was quite dry and they had about three hours of work left to go.
The major had allowed many of his men to sleep part of the day, and he had talked with two of his Chinese-American Air Force pilots who spoke fluent Mandarin, and together they had worked out a plan. Quite a few of the Chinese had come into the terminal a couple of hours earlier and helped themselves to food and the beer placed for them. The major and his guys had gone on high alert when they heard voices in the terminal for the first time. They were over 100 feet away from the door and a couple of soldiers had crawled down the dark terminal floor and found two men sitting at the main table of the bar drinking cold bottles of beer.
They hadn’t finished their brews before their necks were broken and they were dragged back to the storage area where Major Patterson and his team of pilots were holed up.
An hour later, six more men came in looking for the other two, whispering their names, an interpreter told the major
. Two came down to the dark area where the troops were waiting. One American soldier made a grunt on the opposite side of the concourse and the two flashlights held by the Chinese men quickly swung around towards the sound. That was their last move before being terminated from behind by strong hands. The other four had found the beer, the demise of many men, and bottles were opened.
It wasn’t long, however, before the first two were missed. The crew in the store shouted for them, and one of the Chinese-American pilots impersonated them with a cloth over his face to hide his voice, and told them that they had found some good chocolate and American candy. One of the four men, carrying a shoulder missile launcher, swaggered over to the dark area of the concourse shouting that beer was better than chocolate and then he, too, went eerily quiet.
It took several more minutes, but the last three went the same way as the rest, sitting around the darkened terminal with flashlights and the moon, their only source of light. The eight dead men were relieved of their clothing and it was given to the shortest soldiers in the group. The two Chinese-American pilots were now as mean looking as the guys outside.
Going through the pockets and jackets, they had found two satellite phones as well as lots of small things, and now they had communications with the outside world. The major had been told to update the general whenever a phone became available, so he called the general and was connected just like he would have been on his regular cell phone a few weeks earlier. There was no answer on the other side until the major stated “Allen Key” into the phone.
“Name and location?” General Allen requested into the phone curtly.
