Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06

by Fatal Terrain (v1. 1)

  “Admiral Balboa will call for sending in the carriers,” Freeman said.

  “No way I’m going to send them in now—they’d be sitting ducks for another nuclear attack,” the President said immediately. “I’m not going to send any carriers into the region. We got one carrier in Japan and the other near Pearl Harbor?”

  Freeman nodded. “Both are ready to get under way as soon as ordered. The Independence can be in the area in less than two days. Washington in about four days.”

  “Good,” the President said. “If we need them, I’ll send them in— until then, we put diplomatic pressure on China to back off, and we keep the Megafortresses on station. Now let’s finish up what in hell we’re going to tell the media, before someone else fires another shot at my backside.”

  U.S. PACIFIC COMMAND COMMAND CENTER,PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

  TUESDAY, 3 JUNE 1997, 2031 HOURS LOCAL (4 JUNE, 0131 HOURS ET)

  Now entering the videoconference, the computer-synthesized voice announced, lieutenant general bradley elliott, retired; colonel

  PATRICK MCLANAHAN, RETIRED; MAJOR NANCY CHESHIRE, USAF, ANDERSEN AIR FORCE BASE, GUAM. CLASSIFICATION, TOP SECRET. VOICE AND DATA SERVICES TERMINATED; PLEASE CHECK OPERATIONAL SECURITY AND REENTER security access codes. A moment later: thank you. full videoconference SERVICES ACTIVATED.

  When the large LCD flat-plate monitor came to life, what Lieutenant General Terrill Samson saw came as a welcome relief: Brad Elliott, Patrick McLanahan, and Air Force Major Nancy Cheshire, alive and well. The Sky Masters, Inc., satellite-based teleconference established a secure, real-time voice, video, and datalink between several different offices around the world: from U.S. Pacific Command headquarters at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, where he and Admiral William Allen, commander of U.S. Pacific Command, waited; the Joint Chiefs’ “Gold Room” Conference Center at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C.; all the way to the three aviators in a secure hangar at Andersen Air Force Base on the island of Guam.

  Samson let a long, deep sigh of relief escape his lips. “Good to see you folks,” he said.

  “It’s even better to be seeing you, sir,” Cheshire responded. “Believe me.”

  “I believe you, Major,” Samson said with a wry smile. “I’m very sorry about Lieutenant Vikram. My condolences to all of you.”

  He paused respectfully for a few moments, which gave him a chance to study the three on the videoconference monitor. They all looked exhausted, absolutely bone-tired . . . but Elliott looked worse. Samson knew that Elliott had been hit by pieces of windscreen and the windblast when the Chinese Sukhoi-33 fighters attacked; he could see a bit of evidence of injury, but lots of evidence of something else. Elliott looked whipped, almost ragged; his breathing appeared labored, his lips slightly parted as if he were forced to breathe through his mouth to get more air.

  “What’s happening now, Earthmover?” Elliott said. That voice had the same cockiness in it—it sounded like the old Brad Elliott. He didn’t look so good, but the old fire and steel was still in his voice and definitely still in his mental attitude.

  “We’re waiting for the Pentagon to jump in on the videoconference,” Samson said. “I’d like to ask a few questions before the CNO or JCS comes in.”

  “No one is responsible for Emil’s death or for what happened on this mission but me, sir,” Patrick McLanahan said immediately. It was very obvious that Patrick, as well as the others on camera from Andersen Air Force Base on Guam, had come right from the plane to the videoconference after landing their crippled bomber. All were wearing wrinkled flight suits, and had dark smudges under their eyes; the men had ragged, unshaved faces. “I take full responsibility.”

  “Stand by one, Patrick,” Samson interjected. “I didn’t think I’d need to remind you, since you’ve flown missions like this before, but the reality of the situation is that no one is responsible for what happened, because this incident never happened, do you understand? Lieutenant Vikram died in the course of his military duties—no other explanation is needed or will be offered. If it becomes necessary, the government will pick the most mundane, unexciting, plausible reason for Emil’s death, but it won’t be necessary, because everyone involved, from Vikram’s family to the President of the United States, is legally and morally bound to keep their mouths shut in the name of national security. If they don’t, they will find that the blame will fall on them.

  “This is also a good time to remind you folks that you are volunteers in a completely black, highly classified government program,” Samson went on. “If you screw up, your identities will be erased from all public or government records; if anyone digs to find said records, they’ll find the dead themselves at fault. When you step on board that monster, you cease to exist, and any memories of you will be manipulated by the government that you sacrificed your life to serve. So it does no good to blame yourselves, because no one is going to accuse or indict you—they will either forget you or deny you. Everybody understand?”

  No reply, not even nods, from the three aviators. They all knew that it was a screw job in the worst possible sense: they were going to risk their lives for their country, and the best they could ever hope for is that they would be completely forgotten by that same country, and that no one would ask any questions about their deaths because the reply would trash their reputations. “You also understand,” Samson went on grimly, “that you can excuse yourself from this project at any time, without prejudice or harm to your careers?” Again no response. “I take it that you all understand your rights and all the realities here. Talk to me later if you like.

  “We are going to be joined on this teleconference in a few moments by a few other parties, but first I wanted to find out how you guys are doing. I know it’s hard on you because of the loss of Lieutenant Vikram. I’m very sorry. Please, speak up.” There was no response. Samson gave them a few more moments, then urged them, “You were just involved in a nuclear exchange. You went head-to-head with over fifty armed Chinese warships. You saw hundreds of sailors get killed and injured, some by your hand. Are you guys doing okay?”

  “What do you want us to say, sir?” Nancy Cheshire finally spoke out. “We got Emitter killed, and we got our butts shot up. We stopped the PLAN, I think, but I don’t know if it was worth Emil getting killed. I have a feeling, when we hear from JCS and CINCPAC, that the answer to that will be ‘no.’ ”

  “I’ll give you an answer, Earthmover—we were hung out to dry,” Brad Elliott said angrily. “We were strung out by you, by the Navy, by the White House. You sent us into a no-win situation where the only way we could make a difference, the only way we could use the power we had at our command to do some good, was to disobey orders.”

  “Brad, c’mon,” McLanahan said wearily. “We’re not accusing anyone right now. We knew what we were doing.”

  “Patrick’s right, Brad—you knew the game you were playing long before wheels-up in Blytheville, Arkansas,” Samson said. “You knew you were going to be given a short leash. You knew the brass didn’t support you. You knew the Navy didn^t want you. But you launched anyway. Once over the cover area, you could’ve just obeyed orders and watched Quemoy get incinerated—but you acted. We’re all going to pay for that decision.”

  “We had to do what we did, sir,” Cheshire said. “We couldn’t just sit back and watch.”

  “Guys, I think it was a good decision to defend the Taiwanese ships and attack those Chinese ships—Emil Vikram did not die in vain,” Samson said. “But I think we’re going to get hammered for making it. What’s done is done. I think the Chinese were going to use those nukes over Quemoy anyway, so everything that happened was bound to happen anyway. As far as what happens to you ... well, we suck it up and move on. Hell, I might be submitting my application to Jon Masters before the day’s out.”

  “Wear a nice suit, Earthmover,” Elliott said. “You’re gonna need it.”

  “We’re not done here until I know that Lieutenant Vikram didn’t die for nothing,” McLanahan said.
“Support or not, we’re not leaving the theater until we know the PLAN isn’t going to keep on lobbing nukes at Taiwan or anyone else. There’s still no other U.S. forces nearby that can oppose them—our five Megafortresses are the only heavy strike group that can take on that carrier battle group.”

  “That decision will be made soon, Patrick,” Samson said. “I don’t think you’ll get what you want.”

  “Stop thinking like a staff puke and start thinking like a warrior again, Earthmover,” Brad Elliott said. “You might learn something.”

  “Hey, Brad, you might want to cool your jets a little bit before the brass gets on the bird,” Samson said. “An attitude like that won’t win you any friends right now. ”

  “We expect you to argue our case for us, sir,” McLanahan said. “Keep us in the theater until the President decides what other forces he’s going to send in.”

  “We’re still operational, sir,” Cheshire added. “Tell ’em to send us back in. We’ve proven we can do the job. If a war is going to start, if Quemoy is in danger of being invaded, Taiwan will still need our help.”

  Samson shook his head, silently marveling at this group’s apparent cold-bloodedness. Young stupid heroes, he decided. Flying into combat was all part of a day’s work for them. Hell, McLanahan was probably the most levelheaded one of the group, and he was ready to take another Megafortress back and twist the Chinese dragon’s tail once again. “Your comments are noted, guys. Do what you need to do on the ground to get your damaged plane ready to fly, but CINCPAC wants patrols halted until they get the word from CINCPAC or the Joint Chiefs.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Elliott said sarcastically. “Hmmm. I wonder what they’ll say?”

  “They’ll ask, Brad, ‘Who authorized the launch of those Wolverine missiles?’ ” Samson replied hotly. “They’ll ask, ‘How did Taiwan know our secure UHF synchronizer codes?’ They’ll ask, ‘Was it was really necessary to launch attacks on almost a dozen Chinese warships when it - would’ve been easier and safer for you to do as you were ordered to do, do a one-eighty, and get the hell out?’

  “You guys did a really great job out there,” Samson concluded, with a definite weariness in his voice. “You proved that the heavy bomber, properly loaded with the right high-tech weaponry, can do a variety of missions over vast distances with speed, precision, and stealthiness. But you all know the old maxim: one ‘oh shit’ will erase a hundred ‘attaboys.’ Sorry to say it, but I think you’re going to see the truth in that old saying in just a few moments.”

  It stayed silent until an electronic tone warned the participants that new conferees were linking into the system: now entering the conference, DR. CHI-YANG SHIH, SECRETARY GENERAL, NATIONAL SECURITY COUNCIL, OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT, TAIPEI, REPUBLIC OF CHINA. NOW ENTERING THE CONFERENCE, ARTHUR CHASTAIN, SECRETARY OF DEFENSE, WASHINGTON. CLASSIFICATION, TOP SECRET. ALL CONFEREES NOTE, VOICE AND DATA IS NOW TERMINATED; CHECK OPERATIONAL SECURITY, THEN enter your security code to continue. There was a slight pause as videoconference administrators double-checked security for their rooms and reentered their security codes; then the computer acknowledged, THANK YOU. FULL VIDEOCONFERENCE FEATURES ACTIVATED.

  “General Samson, folks, Dr. Chi-yang Shih asked to join us for a few moments on this videoconference,” Secretary of Defense Chastain began. “Dr. Chi-yang, please go ahead.”

  “Thank you, Secretary Chastain,” Chi-yang Shih said. Dr. Chi-yang was in his late fifties but looked considerably younger. He wore gold- rimmed round spectacles, making his round face appear even rounder, but his tailored suit gave him a definite air of authority. “General Elliott, Colonel McLanahan, Major Cheshire, it is indeed a pleasure to speak to all of you. On behalf of President Lee Teng-hui and my fellow citizens of the Republic of China, I wish to express my deepest heartfelt gratitude from my nation for your work, and our deepest sympathy for your loss of your fellow crew member. Your efforts resulted in saving hundreds of lives on Quemoy Tao. Because of you, the islands defenses are still viable. I promise you, the prayers of millions of my people, and especially the prayers of sixty thousand of your fellow soldiers on Quemoy Tao, will be with you and Lieutenant Vikram tonight and for all time.”

  “Viable? How is that possible, sir?” McLanahan asked. “The explosion . . . ?”

  “Was at an altitude of approximately eight kilometers and at least fifteen kilometers south of the city of Shatou, thanks to you and your fellow airmen,” Chi-yang replied. “It appears that the missiles fired from your aircraft destroyed the Chinese M-ll missiles while in flight, resulting in a partial-yield nuclear explosion, around the order of five to six kilotons. Damage was limited to overpressure and did not include thermal or blast damage, and we feel radiation deaths and casualties will be minimal as well. Unfortunately, the crew of the Km Men was not as fortunate.”

  “My God,” McLanahan muttered. All three airmen finally appeared to relax. They realized how very, very fortunate they and the people on Quemoy were.

  “Communications have been disrupted in the area because of the blast, and there were some casualties, but there was only minor damage to the island’s defense systems,” Chi-yang went on. “In addition, our island garrisons are mostly underground, so our forces are safe. If the Communists attempt an invasion, they will still find a most formidable force opposing them.”

  “With all due respect, sir, that carrier battle group is still dangerous,” Elliott said. “They sank two of your best warships, and they can still mount a deadly invasion force against Quemoy. ”

  “Thanks to your brave efforts, it appears that the Communist fleet has stopped its northward progress and may even be withdrawing from the area,” Chi-yang replied. “It is true, Quemoy has been crippled, but the Communists will not test our resolve. It even appears that the carrier battle group is being recalled all the way to Hong Kong, and that the ground and rocket forces along the Formosa Strait have been stood down. A major catastrophe has been averted because of you, and I again wish to thank you most sincerely. ”

  “Dr. Chi-yang, was the captain of the Km Men ordered to go out there and take on that carrier battle group all by itself?” McLanahan asked.

  Chi-yang paused for a long moment, then sighed, lifted his shoulders, and responded, “Captain Sung’s orders were to make contact with the Communists’ battle group and warn them not to approach Quemoy Tao. We do not know why he opened fire on the battle group—and unfortunately, we may never know. He may have believed that the firepower provided by your aircraft could protect him. It matters little now, because we believe that it was the PLAN’s intention to attack with nuclear weapons in any case—in which case, Captain Sung and his crew will be hailed as national heroes for saving Quemoy Tao. As you will be.

  “Before I terminate this conference, my friends, I must tell you,” Chi- yang went on, his voice choked by emotion now, “that my father was a deputy liaison to General Claire Lee Chennault and the American Volunteer Group, whom you call the Flying Tigers, during the Great War of Liberation with imperial Japan. He assisted many brave American Flying Tiger fighter pilots to survive and fight to keep the Burma Road open in our struggle against the Nipponese empire, before America entered the Great War of Liberation.

  “I am struck by the similarities between that time, sixty years ago, and now. We Nationalists are no longer in control of the mainland, as before, but the aggressors are our own brothers, their minds tainted by the ugly stain of communism. But we and you, our American friends, are still comrades in arms now, just as we were then—even in secret, as it was then. General Samson, General Elliott, Colonel McLanahan, Major Cheshire, you and your fellow aviators are America’s new Flying Tigers, protecting the weak against the menace of imperialism and Communist dictatorship. I am proud to continue my father’s great mission. Thank you again, my young American friends. Call on me whenever you need assistance, and it shall be yours. I am your servant.” The connection from Taiwan terminated with the computerized voice announcing, NOW departing
, DR. CHI-YANG SHIH, TAIPEI, REPUBLIC OF CHINA.

  The videoconference screen was blank as Dr. Chi-yang departed; when security was restored in Washington, Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman Admiral George Balboa was on the hookup from the Pentagon, along with Admiral Frederick Cowen, the chief of naval operations. “Very, very touching,” Balboa began acidly. “You did it again, Brad, you old son of a bitch. You screw up in the worst possible way, ignore orders, start firing missiles all over the damn sky, and you precipitate a damned nuclear attack, and somehow you have world leaders kissing your boots and comparing you to the Flying Tigers. Incredible.”

  “Kinda makes you want to slit your own wrists right now, doesn’t it, George?” Elliott said with his irritating little grin.

  “You will shut your mouth right now, Elliott,” Balboa shouted angrily, pointing at the videoconference camera. “What the ROC government thinks of you right now doesn’t carry one ounce of water with me! You deliberately violated direct orders from me, the National Command Authority, and CINCPAC to hold fire and withdraw. You are more than just a menace, Elliott, you are a disgrace to any American who has ever worn a uniform.”

  “General Elliott had nothing to do with what we did over there, Admiral Balboa,” McLanahan said. “I was the mission commander on that flight, I gave the orders to launch, and I’m responsible for the death of Emil Vikram.”

  “Don’t forget the deaths of five hundred Taiwanese sailors, an estimated three hundred Taiwanese civilians on Quemoy, and dozens of deaths and injuries aboard the Chinese warships,” Balboa interjected. “You’re responsible for all of them! ” McLanahan’s shoulders sank, as if he had just been reminded of a painful event in his life. “You’re going to have to live with all that, Mr. McLanahan. Even though I can absolve myself by reminding myself that I never sanctioned this mission and never thought you should be involved, I too will have to live with the horror of all those lives lost.”