by T I WADE
Everybody who had a part to play at the airports got ready and the aircraft came swooping into the coast of the United States from the orange-colored Eastern horizon one after the other. The engineers, both Chinese and American—the Americans all wearing the well-used clothes of the termination squads long since dead—waited patiently on the runway.
At JFK, they had set up ten refueling generators, each able to pump fuel through one pipe only. Two were normally used, one under each wing to refuel a 747-400 with up to 64,000 gallons, or an Airbus with over 70,000 gallons with a pump and pipe. At least 45 minutes to an hour would be needed for each plane. Since nobody expected the aircraft to fly further than McGuire or Andrews, one pipe would pump in enough for the short trip and only 20 minutes of fuel was needed to be pumped into each wing.
The colonel had reckoned on 20 minutes for the incoming pilots to be disabled and hidden somewhere in the aircraft. He also prayed that apart from the pilots who would stay aboard, none of the Chinese troops on the ground would know anything about refueling aircraft and how long it should take.
Newark only had eight generators ready to pump fuel into the 11 incoming and thirsty aircraft. It wasn’t enough, and nobody had been told where the aircraft were going to land. Lee Wang had monitored satellite calls and only two calls in the last two days had been received from the enemy. One was to ask if everything was going according to plan, from a voice he didn’t know. He told them that the three airports were secure and that they would be ready within 24 hours of the phone call. He had been asked about refueling, with the other end of the call not giving away any information, and he had stated that the pumping systems were operational and ready.
The second call was from the incoming pilots telling them that they expected to be refueled and out of America within the hour. Lee replied that they would do as good a job as possible and that there was food and drinks in the terminals for the pilots. The pilot in charge responded that they were not allowed to leave the aircraft, but they would appreciate food and refreshments being carried aboard. The plan was set and the American pilots got ready with trays of food and tea urns and even wore captured engineer white coats to look as official as possible.
One by one the aircraft gently came in and landed at the two airports. It was a beautiful sight for anybody who loved flying to see the long final approach of lines of majestic aircraft as far as the eye could see. A group of 30 Chinese engineers headed by Major Wong at Newark, and a second group under Major Chong at JFK got ready in the termination squad uniforms to welcome the troops and make it look like they were ready for their arrival.
Over 300 snipers covered the apron area on the roof tops of the terminals, dressed in white camouflage and invisible to the incoming aircraft with white sheets pulled over their rifles and bodies, which blended with the deep snow perfectly.
Men with batons directed the first aircraft into their refueling positions and mobile stairs were towed by old cars and trucks into position by the left side doors facing the terminal, three to an aircraft. As the first engines began to die down, the fuel lines were connected to the empty wings and jet fuel began to flow. Immediately, Chinese troops dressed in green camouflage descended down the stairs and a commander walked up to the majors who waited for them at both airports.
The Chinese commander at Newark spoke rapidly to Major Wong, bringing out a map to discuss the movement of his troops. The major responded, showing him the way out of the airport, then pointed at the map, showed him the direction of the bridge as the first aircraft slowly emptied hundreds of armed men. Wong gave several orders to his squad in Chinese, and they ran forward to assist the American Air Force technicians with the refueling underneath the first eight large aircraft.
Much the same happened at JFK. As soon as the first aircraft stopped disgorging heavily armed troops, the men in white coats were ready to climb the stairs to “feed” the pilots. Once the new pilots, all armed with Tazers on heavy stun and automatic pistols with silencers beneath their white coats, and with tea urns full of extra ammo entered the empty aircraft, the stairs were immediately pulled away to be towed to the next aircraft waiting to disembark. This move was planned to stop any of the Chinese troops from getting back into the aircraft.
The strategy went according to plan at both airports. Once the incoming troops realized that the airports were secure and that there would be no fight there, they relaxed a little as they stretched and slowly got into formation for their march to the harbor. Many had run out to surround the aircraft with a defense perimeter and that had been expected, no American troops were anywhere close to the apron area. Jokes were made by Wong and Chong with the incoming commanders about their ability to secure the airport, and slowly the troops were brought back to line up with the rest in front of the large refueling 747s and Airbuses.
At Newark, and only with 747s to refuel, Major Wong recognized the colonel he had run past in Shanghai’s tower, but with the cold weather they all had their faces covered, apart from their eyes, and all the people waiting for the aircraft on the aprons were mostly the Chinese engineers heavily bundled up with winter clothing.
It didn’t take long for the first companies of hundreds of men to move off towards the airport exits and out of the way. The soldiers in marching formation, sticking out like sore thumbs in green camouflage, started marching to the cleared roadways to get them out of the airport and in the direction of the harbor. By the time all the aircraft were empty 30 minutes later, the first troops were already a quarter of a mile away and still marching in ranks, moving down the allotted and cleared highways, unaware that they were being watched by thousands.
The first refueled 747s, already under the control of the new pilots, were beginning to start up their aircraft and move the rears of their engines around so they faced the exits, and made the last of the troops move even faster to get out of the noise and wind blowing behind the massive engines.
Much like the operation at Shanghai Pudong Airport, as the first aircraft began moving, all the refueling stopped. The equipment was pulled away and the remaining aircraft began a rapid deployment to the end of the runway for take-off as fast as possible.
At Newark, it took 30 more minutes for the larger number of troops to get out of the apron area. The most forward troops were already yards from the middle of the Newark Bay Bridge as the jet engines started. Shots and muffles could be heard by Major Wong in a couple of the aircraft and the stairs were quickly pulled back from the last aircraft where it sounded like a fire fight was taking place inside. The refueling hoses were immediately hauled away, and somehow a small puddle of fuel ignited underneath one of the aircraft. The men refueling the aircraft must have lost some as they hurriedly dragged the equipment away, and suddenly the whole undercarriage area broke into flames.
“Get the other aircraft out of here,” shouted Colonel Patterson in the control tower over his radio. “Fuel fire on the apron!”
Three other aircraft were still pretty close to the one on fire, and several men ran forward with fire extinguishers. A couple of dead men fell down the stairs and now heavy rifle fire could be heard from inside the aircraft. Slowly, the other aircraft got moving and the sound of rifle fire was drowned out as jet engines screamed everywhere moving fast to get onto the taxiway. The first 747 was already trundling down the runway at take-off speed and about to get into the air when there was an almighty explosion and the whole 747 in front of the terminal, with dozens of men aboard, suddenly blew up.
It had taken on very little fuel, but the thousand or more gallons of exploding jet fuel in her wings was enough to create a shock wave that broke all the windows in the terminals several hundred feet away. The first 747 was far enough away down the long runway to not be in harm’s way, but the closest 747 less than 100 yards away was sprayed with flying debris.
Colonel Patterson shouted at the pilots to check their controls as the aircraft still trundled away from the blazing inferno. What was left of the last large
aircraft and the massive cloud of smoke from the fire blinded the whole area above the apron.
“All troops in the areas around the roads, our surprise is over,” shouted Colonel Patterson into his radio. “You may fire at will if you feel it necessary. November Bravo (Newark Bay) Bridge area, how many Charlies do you have on the bridge ambush area? Men manning the return roads back into the airports, make sure no Charlies get back onto the runways to the aircraft. We still have the majority of the aircraft on the ground and need 15 minutes to clear the runways. Over.”
“This is Rear Command on the November Bravo Bridge, we have about 1,000 on the bridge and tons more that haven’t got here yet. They have seen the explosion and several officers are discussing what to do. We have not yet opened fire. Over.”
“Exit Road, November Airport Command here. We still have men passing us by, most are on the road and they are still moving forward. I see a couple of men speaking into radios. Nobody has yet opened fire. Over.”
“Okay, guys, wait one. I’ll get back to you,” continued the colonel. “All November Airport Terminal soldiers, make your way to the airport exit points. Try not to be seen and await further orders. Juliet Foxtrot Kilo Airport, what is your current situation? Over.”
“Juliet Command to Papa Bear. Our Charlies must have seen the plume of smoke from your position. The airport is clear, two aircraft in the air and six to go. We need ten minutes, we are closing down the Van Wyck Highway from the terminal area and will move forward. Over.”
“Roger that. Everybody hear that. Try and stay hidden until…” and suddenly the area between the airport and the bridge suddenly erupted as thousands of guns all began firing. “All groups! Fire at will! The war is started. All fighter aircraft get in here, hit the largest most open groups and keep your hits on the highways only, remember we have friendlies everywhere!” Colonel Patterson had to shout into the radio since he could hardly hear himself speak.
Preston had already taken off ten minutes earlier, and was approaching the New York area. He could see a couple of the 747s already airborne and heard Major Wong now checking with each aircraft to see if they had control of it. Over his two radios, he also heard the F-4s taking off from McGuire 20 miles behind him as well as the three P-51s already heading out to sea just in front of the two AC-130 gunships. Everybody was in the air, and Preston was still climbing through 10,000 feet when he saw plumes of smoke already coming from the Newark Bay Bridge area.
“Air Cover to Ground Control. Where do you need me first? Over.”
“Rear Bridge Command to Air Cover. We have a large group of Charlies who haven’t reached the bridge yet and have set up a defensive perimeter. They are on the north side of the road leading up to the bridge area. I suggest you come in over the main steel skeleton atop the bridge and fire down the highway. Over.”
“Confirm you have no friendlies on the actual roadway. Over.”
“Roger that. We have no friendlies on asphalt. Over.”
“Coming in,” replied Preston, testing his guns. This time he would not be an amateur. He dove in near vertical over the dock area and the P-38 rapidly gained speed. He aimed for the bridge and the steel skeleton structure over the center area. Preston wanted to use the four 50-caliber machine guns first, since they would do the most damage, and he noticed blackened areas of the actual roadway where there could only be masses of people lying down on the asphalt. They were hiding the white center lines of the traffic lanes from view.
At 400 miles an hour, he pulled out of his dive and for several seconds poured a thousand rounds into an area about a mile long on the north side of the road. He pulled up and went vertical, his stomach feeling like he was on a roller coaster, and then he let the right wing drop down and again he went into a steep dive, taking the Hispano cannon off safety as he neared the bridge, this time coming in from the Jersey side. He aimed for the southern side and blew bits and pieces of roadway up all the way to the skeleton structure where he released the trigger. He couldn’t have much ammo left.
“We are coming to join you,” shouted Martie into her microphone as she saw Preston rise in front of them three or four miles ahead. All the 747 aircraft except three had already turned towards McGuire, and the F-4s were harassing the last three of the Airbuses to turn back. Something had gone wrong, and the Chinese pilots were heading out of the area with little fuel and at maximum power.
“Go in two by two,” answered Preston. “Each of you pick a side of the road and strafe the area south of the bridge skeleton for about a mile.”
“Roger that,” replied Carlos. “Come on, Martie, let’s go and get some retaliation for all the people these bastards have killed!” The two P-51s went in, and Preston’s came up to join him and circle, waiting for further instructions.
“Air Cover, this is the Turnpike Command. We have a retreat of Charlies trying to get back to the airport. We are not holding them. Can you come in from the south and help clear the road for us? You can’t miss them; it is like a crowd coming out of a ball game.”
“Air Cover, this is US1 Jersey Command. We have hundreds of Charlies still heading towards the fight. They are getting onto the highway from the main exit roads out of the airport and we would like you guys to go in before we start a ground assault. Over.”
“Roger that,” replied Preston. He and the pilot in his P-51 went straight into the turnpike area and they both strafed a mile of both sides of the road with machine guns until Preston heard the tell-tale clicks that he was out of ammo. He told Carlos and Martie to head to US 1 with their aircraft and hit the area between the entrance to the airport and the roads leading onto I-78.
“November Bravo Bridge Ground Control to Air Cover. Thanks, guys! There are bodies piled up everywhere! We are closing off the bridge and starting our ground assault. Confirm that you know there are friendlies now on the bridge. Over.”
“Roger that, there are friendlies on the Bay Bridge!” stated the four pilots into their radios as they continued to pound US 1 with machine guns and rocket fire. There were large masses of enemy soldiers pinned down by ground fire and now sitting ducks from the air. Over the course of ten minutes, the four old World War II fighter aircraft threw everything they had at the last stretch of road before they had to go back to refuel and rearm.
“We are out, guys, let’s go and refuel,” Preston called to the three Mustangs, and for the first time he saw smoke coming out of his Mustang’s engine exhausts. He told the pilot he had damage and the pilot reported that his oil pressure was dropping and he would nurse her into McGuire. Preston put a mayday call out for assistance at McGuire and they escorted the damaged aircraft back, interrupting the landing pattern of the larger 747 commercial aircraft that were immediately diverted to Andrews further south.
They could still hear the two busy gunship crews over the radios, blasting the enemy forces outside JFK until the gunships were called into Newark to help on a side road teeming with Chinese troops— over 1,000 of them— who were heading into the completely burned out harbor area where Mike Mallory and his crew had spent their first couple of days.
Preston’s Mustang, with its engine now silent, flew in and landed safely on the runway, followed by one fire truck that looked like something out of a 1930s movie. Preston was sure it had somebody ringing its bell.
They followed it in, landed on a second runway, and taxied up to the fuel tankers where Air Force technicians were waiting to supply the aircraft. It would take 30 minutes to get them back into the air and they stayed in their aircraft listening to the battle on the ground.
Twice more that day they went up and fired at pockets of Chinese troops hiding in locations that were hard to get at by ground troops between the harbor and both airports. Most of the action was now centered in the Newark harbor area, and the battle had gone from mass termination to pockets of troops firing at each other, and hundreds of snipers on the roofs taking out the enemy when they saw them. By the time the three tired fighter pilots landed for t
he third time, the gunships were already down, the newly captured aircraft were gone and already on their way to Baghdad to pick up troops, and Preston wondered how many they had captured, and whether his Mustang’s engine was destroyed.
By nightfall, over 3,000 of the Chinese troops were being held in the terminals at the two airports, and the ten C-130s were taking out the wounded 60-100 stretchers at a time to McGuire where a hospital area in a large warehouse had been made available to process the wounded. There were now only pockets of Chinese troops in and around the harbor area, fighting against American Marines with night sights on their rifles. Since a new and final battle would commence the next day, the thousands of dead enemy bodies were checked for vital signs and satellite phones along the roads, and their numbers counted and hundreds of bodies left to freeze where they lay.
A post-battle meeting was scheduled for 22:00 hours that night at McGuire, and several tired commanders were flown in from the airports with the wounded to give their reports to a central command desk of personnel, who wrote down the events and losses on both sides. By 10:00 pm, the meeting had gathered at McGuire, the C-130s still bringing in wounded American soldiers and commanders who would report to the meeting and then return to move their troops closer in towards the harbor, kill any pockets as their circles tightened, and hopefully take up their new harbor positions by 3:00 am and get some sleep.
A tired and dirty group of over 50 Army, Air Force, and Marine commanders, the three airport commanders, and the dozens of pilots sat down in the 100 chairs set up for the meeting.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” stated a grubby and tired Colonel Patterson. “I believe that today has been a great victory for the forces and civilians of the United States and that we have won the first day. Thanks to a combined effort, we believe that very few enemy soldiers got through to the harbor area and they will certainly be found during our battle tomorrow. At Newark Airport, we managed to capture ten of the eleven aircraft, with one being destroyed by a fuel explosion. We lost a dozen good men on that aircraft as well as four ground crew members, two Chinese engineers, and two American engineers. At JFK, we somehow managed to lose control of three aircraft, all Airbuses. We believe that our squads of men were overwhelmed by troops stationed in certain aircraft as a precautionary measure by the enemy. The rest were overpowered. One lieutenant reported that there were a dozen enemy soldiers on the aircraft he had boarded. His troops killed all of them. They lost three men but managed to capture the aircraft and forced the pilots to land at Andrews. Several others reported that there were only pilots aboard, so either they were meant to be there, or we boarded them before all the troops had exited. Unfortunate, but with the loss of 54 brave men in total, of which seven were Air Force pilots, we managed to increase our growing fleet by sixteen usable aircraft, which are already halfway to Baghdad to pick up troops. By the way, we have the initial group of aircraft scheduled for arrival in Newark at 23:00 hours tonight—another 6,000 troops coming in to help with tomorrow’s battle. To recap, we lost one 747 at Newark and the only Airbus destroyed was fired on by our F-4s after the pilots refused to change course. The two other Airbuses following the lead aircraft quickly turned around. It was a total waste because the Chinese crew only had enough fuel for an hour’s flight time, but our pilots could see armed troops with guns at the heads of both the pilots in the Airbus cockpit. The onboard soldiers must have unfortunately overpowered our guys again. One 747, and a second Airbus 380, have damage from bullet holes through windows and through several of the cockpit flight controls, but they landed safely and are being checked out as we speak. If they can’t fly, we can at least use their working electronics in the dozens of dead 747-400s sitting around here in the United States. Thanks to you, our million troops overseas can be returned to the United States within three months now instead of eight.”
