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

by T I WADE

Another ten pallets of equipment arrived on the two forklifts and were placed in the terminal, soldiers moving the pallets out of the way once the driver’s backs were turned. They made a hole in the furniture mountain and placed the pallets in a secure place away from the ambush zone. Pallet after pallet was dropped onto the runway area and the forklifts moved them into the second, unused terminal next to theirs. Meanwhile, another six tankers had been located and were being driven and pushed into place by the dozers.

  One of the army commanders walked up to Captain Wong and started gesturing with his hands. Wong angrily gestured back, whispered in the man’s ear, and then the man smiled and walked back to his troops a happy man.

  The major inside the terminal called General Allen. “Allen Key,” he stated on the phone.

  “Well, Patterson, how are things going?” replied the general.

  “You wouldn’t believe it, sir, but Captain Wong, one of our Chinese-American pilots, told the visitors that the Zedong Electronics’ Supreme Commander had secretly flown in an hour ago, and I went out in captured clothes and a fancy long coat I had picked up in the shop here with my face covered, and I inspected their flipping guard.”

  “Sounds like your man needs a commendation, Patterson. What is the scoop on the aircraft?”

  “Two 747-400ERs, and one is a transporter. Shall we take her? My assumption is that she could return again with a belly full of electrical goods that we could desperately need on her next trip. They have off-loaded 62 pallets of electrical parts and goods so far, sir.”

  “A hard decision,” replied the general. “If we just take one, we have to make it look like an accident out at sea. If we take both of them, then we just commandeer them and fly them into McGuire once we have released some of the fuel load. I’m three hours out of Elmendorf, bound for Misawa in Northern Japan. I think your idea is best. Hopefully, we can get another load out of her when she returns.”

  “Is that your final decision, Allen Key?” the major asked. “They are about to complete refueling.”

  “Yes, let the transporter go, but don’t get on the aircraft yourself. I don’t want the crew to think their Supreme Commander just went down into the drink. Good luck, lad. Call me when you are done and I will call up McGuire for you and get the troops airborne. Two hundred soldiers, you say? Their flight time is about 20 minutes and I’ll tell them to go into your location low, three minutes after the second jumbo jet is airborne.”

  The major quickly got his men together and told them what he was going to do with the engineers—they would take them prisoner as they walked through the closed black curtain on the walkway into the terminal.

  He told two of the men to make sure that a distance was put between each man somehow. He got one group of three of his pilots together and told them to follow him out to the aircraft.

  The last tankers were in place and the major walked towards the aircraft with the American pilots, dressed in captured clothing in tow. Captain Wong had headed out a minute or so earlier and was waiting for the major’s move. He signaled his accomplice, Captain Chong to come over to him and they both ran over and bowed to the Supreme Commander. The American troops, who were dressed in the captured clothing of the termination squads, and were standing around guarding the engineers working the refueling, immediately stood at attention while carefully watching for problems, their guns at the ready. The three men at the bottom of the stairs stopped and talked.

  “Captain Chong, you are taking over this baby,” Patterson explained, pointing at the passenger 747. “We will get you in control. Your plan is to complain about some sort of minor fuel problem about an hour out from the coast. Lose height, and tell the transporter to carry on. After an hour of messing around at low altitude, fake a sea accident—scream or something. Once you are out of radar sight of the second aircraft and their pilots who think you have ditched, head for McGuire at below 500 feet and put her down there as soon as your fuel is down to a safe landing weight. Captain Wong, you will be with me. Tell the engineers when the aircraft engines start up to get ready to meet me. Tell them I’ve decided not to go on this aircraft, but will fly back in my own jet. I want to separate the engineers from the troops before our guys arrive.”

  Captain Wong bowed to him, and then the Supreme Commander arrogantly walked straight up the aft stairs of the aircraft and the two Chinese air crews, six men bowed as he entered. The major bowed slightly back and with a lot of waving his hand, he motioned them to return to the front of the aircraft in front of him. Four of the American pilots, fully armed, followed him to the beginning of the first class compartment where they were told to wait. The Supreme Commander walked with Captain Wong to the flight deck to inspect it. Captain Wong ordered the co-pilot and flight engineer to get out the Commander’s way—he wanted to sit in the right co-pilot’s seat. He asked them to follow him and together they walked back to the rear curtain of the first class compartment where both were hit over the head and bound with the rope brought for the occasion.

  In the meantime, Captain Wong doubled back to the cockpit for the two pilots of the second crew—the crew captain and the backup pilot—and they too were asked to follow him and ended up in the same toilet, all bound and out for at least a couple of hours.

  The aircraft’s new crew, in the recently exchanged uniforms of the Chinese crew, took their seats once the remaining Chinese pilots were dealt with.

  “Remember, a good disappearing act, guys,” Patterson warned. “They don’t have enough fuel to come and look for you for too long, and don’t let them see you go down. Maybe go out for an hour or even more, get fuel trouble, disappear towards the sea and get back into McGuire or even Andrews. We need this aircraft, boys. Good luck, and remember to check on the bad guys in the back every few minutes.”

  The Supreme Commander walked out of the massive aircraft as the fuel lines were being disconnected from the wings, and now it was up to him to secure the area. He walked back and straight up to the steps of the terminal they had been using. Captain Wong told the engineers to start making their way to the stairs when their jobs were done, as there were gifts and a big surprise for them.

  Many were already waiting around and one by one they slowly picked up a suitcase unloaded shortly after they had landed, and made their way to the Supreme Commander who was waiting for them with a couple of guards as well as Captain Wong at the bottom of the entrance to the walkway.

  “Ask for their names and degrees one at a time,” the major suggested to Wong, as he heard the first engines of both jets begin to whine. One by one, the engineers came up the short flight of stairs, bowed and introduced themselves, and received a grunt from the Supreme Commander, and then walked up the walkway and inside the terminal through the black curtain.

  By the time the first aircraft was moving away and everybody turned around to protect themselves from the blowing debris behind it, 40 engineers had been dealt with. The Supreme Commander went in through the curtain and with his radio called up the incoming American troops, still several miles out, while the others were being blown around by the engines outside.

  “Patterson, Juliet Foxtrot Kilo. Aircraft are about five minutes from take-off. Wind is from the west at ten miles an hour and they are heading out in a westerly direction. You guys can get in here as soon as the second one is off the ground. All their troops are at the entrance to the Van Wyck Expressway, on the west side and we will have all the engineers separated and safe here in the terminal. Our guys are dressed in white snow gear and on the snow mounds around the staging area and will open fire once you guys come in. We are in first front terminal from the east. The enemy is wearing green camouflage. I repeat our men are in white gear, and Charlies are in green camouflage. Did you copy? Over.”

  “Roger that,” repeated a lone voice. “Friendlies in white, Charlies in green. We are about nine minutes out and will have the airport visual in three. We will land choppers in close and you guys can give us covering fire while the big Mama’s come in
from the east and unload on the runway in front of you. Our troops will join your guys on the snow mounds. Out.”

  The “Supreme Commander” handed the radio over to his lieutenant who would call in any changes, and he returned outside to greet the rest of the engineers.

  It took until both aircraft reached the end of the runway and the first one was beginning its take-off run before he thought he could see black, minute shapes low over the sea and a couple of miles out—right behind the two 747s. He wasn’t certain, but he continued with the last of the engineers. The commandeered aircraft thundered past 100 yards away and thirty seconds later slowly climbed into the air a mile to the west. He looked towards the east, and this time the black shapes were very visible to a sharp eye, several feet above the horizon.

  He had only seven or eight men to go when he heard the second aircraft’s engines go into a scream and he continued to bow to each man without looking towards the noise. It was working out perfectly, and he only had three men to go when the aircraft passed them and there was gunshot from the soldiers in the two formation groups by the Expressway, and everyone looked up. The second 747 left the ground, as Captain Wong pushed the last three Chinese engineers and the major into the terminal, screaming in Chinese to take cover as all hell broke loose outside. The last of the engineers were all pushed through the curtain and out of sight of the altercation outside. “Okay, guys, are we secure in here?” Patterson shouted as he got out of his clothes and allowed the last Chinese engineers who had not been knocked unconscious yet see who he really was. Those three engineers had 60 weapons trained on them, and nobody moved.

  Then Major Patterson heard the rotors of the first chopper as it came in just behind the edge of the terminal and out of the line of a potential firefight with the enemy. They unloaded fast as Major Patterson, with his lieutenant and radio, headed for the roof via a ladder on the opposite side of the terminal.

  He climbed up onto the snowy roof, with the ensuing firefight in view below him, just in time to see the second C-130 touch down and pull up behind the first one to empty its troops. The Chinese soldiers, professional and battle-hardened, were spanning out trying to get around the gunfire from the snow mounds. The major noticed a third C-130 at about 700 feet and half a mile away circling over the ocean—either directing the attack, or ready with medics, or both.

  The second helicopter came in behind the terminal to block off any possible enemy retreat, and any further advancement into the airport area, and 180 soldiers raced out of the back of two C-130s, charging forward and firing heavily into the opposition’s area to protect the 130s as they continued down the runway.

  Both aircraft nearly went vertical as they took off seconds later, exactly where the second 747 had left the ground, and out of range of any deadly fire.

  The other two helicopters circled around and dropped a platoon of thirty men along the Van Wyck Expressway to cut off any retreat. A rocket flew close by one of the helicopters as it rose into the air but the rocket missed and went on its way, exploding in a building several hundred yards away. The second chopper hugged the ground as they left the scene empty.

  The Chinese soldiers were cornered, but fought back bravely. They were well-armed and had several different types of weapons, but were not prepared for this sudden attack. Hand grenades flew from both sides and ground missiles flew out from the line of trucks they had set up as protection. Several of the charging men from the runway went down as they ran for the mounds of snow, with the stationery vehicles only a hundred yards away.

  For several minutes, the firing was intense from both sides, with over 400 carbines firing at each other and several hand grenades and rockets going in both directions. Suddenly, three small mortars could be heard from behind the snow mounds as mortar bombs flew into the air and started to blow the cars to pieces. Nine rounds went in, as well as dozens of hand grenades and several shoulder rockets began to blow the rest of the vehicles, and the opposition’s cover, to pieces.

  Then silence began to envelop the area as the American troops were told to hold their fire by their commanders. A white piece of material became viewable waving above the middle truck that was about to burst into flames. Slowly, several men climbed out of the vehicles, moved forward, and dropped their weapons. The major headed off the roof, told Captain Wong to get all the engineers together, unconscious or not, and frisk them for weapons or phones while he went outside.

  The air was full of smoke as he left the terminal. Using his radio, he told his men to stand down, stay on the mounds, and keep the surrendering soldiers covered. The third C-130 came in landing well down the runway and stayed at a safe distance ready to be called forward.

  Dozens of American troops were moving into the attack area, with several of them ready to fire at the growing crowd of injured and bloody men, who 15 minutes earlier had stood in formation not knowing that their lives were held in the balance for the battle.

  A truck’s gas tank suddenly exploded, spewing bodies in all directions, and flames engulfed the two trucks either side. Orders were given by Major Patterson, and several of his men ran for the bulldozers to make sure that the trucks were separated and pushed further away from the terminals.

  After a couple of minutes, Captain Wong shouted to the Chinese soldiers to go back and pull any wounded out of the mess of vehicles, and several men went back and began shouting for survivors. Another five bodies were pulled out and Major Patterson counted only 37 Chinese soldiers alive and or wounded out of the 200, which had arrived. A U.S. Air Force Senior First Sergeant who had been co coordinating the attack from the C-130s radioed Major Patterson and asked for orders.

  “Tell your men to keep the captives under guard, pull them to one side, check them for weapons, be careful, and can I assume that the C-130 has medics?”

  “Roger that,” was the reply.

  “Get the medics in here. I want an injury count in ten minutes once we have the area safe and the men checked for weapons. Our injured go into the aircraft first, followed by theirs. I want a report from the Expressway and behind the terminals. Did we lose any?”

  “Negative on the Expressway,” was the reply over the radio. “We were charged by about 20 Charlies, but none made it. We are clearing the area and coming towards you. Over.”

  “I want 202 bodies or injured men in Charlie camouflage. I counted them before the fight and we are not leaving here until we have 202 accounted for,” ordered Patterson.

  “We had several try and make it around the building, but they are dead and we are checking every hole anybody can climb into for any Charlie. Over,” added another soldier.

  They started with their own wounded, and there were three dead Americans and 29 wounded—several seriously. The C-130 had over 20 medical personnel ready, and the wounded were quickly transferred to the aircraft. The second C-130 was empty and ready to take on more wounded. There were only three lucky Chinese soldiers who did not have a wound of any sort, and they were frisked and put to work carrying their own wounded into the aircraft as the first 130 made its way down the taxiway.

  “Get all the wounded and dead back to McGuire,” Major Patterson ordered the flight personnel. He could not speak over the radio to McGuire from the ground, since the base was too far away, but the aircraft’s radio operators could from the air.

  “C-130s—return ASAP for the engineers and the pallets of electronics we have here. It’s going to take at least ten flights in and out to carry the pallets, and we need this airport on lockdown by sunset. Also, ask the base commander at McGuire and Andrews to wake up all their engineering personnel. We need all the help we can to audit the inventory when the equipment arrives at McGuire. My troops will keep the airport under control until every Charlie is accounted for.”

  The task was gruesome. A group of medics, under the control of two doctors, tried to piece bits of body to other bits of body. Many of the bodies were whole—the ones who had died from gunfire—but the unfortunates who had a mortar or
shoulder rocket land close, or even hit by them, were nothing more than a pair of smoking boots.

  Empty boots were placed in a line, some with parts in them and some without, and counted.

  A complete search of the surrounding area was underway. A couple of hiding Chinese soldiers had been found, ferreted out, and marched over to help carry the wounded.

  Twenty minutes later, the second C-130 took off with the first 30 wounded Chinese lying on stretchers. The third C-130 took off half an hour later with 90 dead bodies.

  The first C-130 was already coming in to land several minutes after the third one had departed, and several more medical personnel exited with stretchers to carry the rest of the dead. This time, a forklift came out with a pallet of body bags, and the soldiers began to place a dead body, sometimes in several pieces, into each bag.

  Within two hours of the beginning of the attack, 202 pairs of boots on and not on bodies were counted. The piles of non-recognizable parts were placed in body bags and placed in the next C-130.

  The airport was safe, the battle was over, and all that remained was for the engineers and pallets to be flown out.

  Major Patterson called General Allen. It had been three hours since his last call. He described the success of the mission to the General and reported he thought that there was a smaller pallet of around 120 boxes of satellite phones.

  “Get a cell phone into the hands of as many Air Force base commanders in the country as you can, Patterson. This is your next mission. Use all available flying aircraft, from jets to helicopters for the next 48 hours only. You must have as many bases covered as possible by midnight on January 7th. Spread the aircraft usage around the country wisely. Double the air crews on all aircraft, which can get into the southern areas like Texas. Remember, Elmendorf in Alaska and Edwards in California already have phone contact. Start at McGuire, Andrews, and Bolling Air Force bases, work outwards, giving only one phone to base commanders. I want a unit each at Seymour Johnson and Pope ASAP. Give one to the commanders at Fort Bragg and Camp Lejeune. I need one ASAP to Vice Admiral Rogers at the naval base in Norfolk. Get one to the president in North Carolina. I have two spare units and I will leave one in Japan and one at Osan in Korea.