Sky Masters pm-2

by Dale Brown

  “The First-what? What the hell is that?” the President asked with irritation. “The First Air Battle Wing is the new Rapid Deployment Force air combat group, sir, ” Curtis explained. “According to the current strategic force operations plan under DEFCON Three, the First Air Battle Wing is formed upon alert notification and deployed to one of three locations-Loring Air Force Base in Maine, Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, or Andersen on Guam. From these three operating locations, the Air Battle Force can strike at any spot on the globe within twelve hours.”

  “Who’s in this Air Battle Wing?” “The wing is a collection of strike aircraft, mostly heavy bombers-B-52s, B-1Bs, F-111G, and F-15E bombers-plus tankers, fighters, and cargo planes, ” Curtis replied. “The Air Battle Force has its own fighter escorts, its own reconnaissance and intelligence aircraft, and its own defense-suppression aircraft-it’s a single self-contained combat unit that can operate from remote areas over long distances on very short notice. It-“

  “Let me get this straight, ” the President said, an exasperated edge in his voice. “You want to send in two aircraft carrier battle groups-that’s over twelve thousand men if I’m not mistaken-plus two thousand Marines, plus all these B-52s and other combat aircraft?” He said the words “B-fifty-two” as if he were uttering a curse. “Do you know something about this operation I don’t?”

  “Sir, the Joint Chiefs feel it’s vital to act quickly, decisively, and with enough firepower into the area very quickly. The carriers can’t get into the area for several days-” “Enough, General, ” the President said. “I am not going to send all those men and all that firepower into that area without first knowing what I might get myself into. You can understand that, right?” He did not wait for a response. “You said it would take a couple of days to get a couple of naval units into the area? Fine. I’ll buy that. “I’ll authorize two carrier battle groups-not three-to head toward the area where the explosion was detected. They are to take no military action unless I specifically authorize it. Those ships are authorized to protect themselves to the fullest extent. I’ll also authorize a small patrol to investigate-no more than three surface ships. Deploy radar aircraft as you see fit. But I don’t want any massive armada steaming off the Philippine coast-they’ll think it’s a damned invasion. “As for the Air Battle thing, that’s out of the question, ” the President continued. “I know the Air Force has been trying to downplay the nuclear role of the B-52 and show the world that the mere presence of the thing doesn’t constitute the end of the world-I believe they call it ‘desensitization’-but we’re not going to provoke the goddamned Chinese into a full-scale conflict. God only knows where it would lead “Yes, sir, I understand, ” Curtis replied. “And another thing, ” the President added. “I’m allowing you to deploy these two groups against my better judgment. Frankly I’d prefer only one group. “One last request, ” Curtis added quickly. “Yes?” The President sighed. “I realize you don’t want the Air Battle Force involved yet, but I would like permission to deploy the STRATFOR-“

  “The what?” Curtis knew that the President knew what he was talking about. “The Strategic Force. The advance team for the Air Battle Force. I’d like to deploy them for reconnaissance operations in the area.”

  “And what would you do with the STRATFOR if you got it?” the President asked warily. “We’d conduct long-range reconnaissance and probe missions from Guam, using E-3C radar planes, RC-135 reconnaissance planes, and EC- 135 communications planes-General Tyler of SAC has a team standing by ready to go. The STRATFOR also takes officers and engineers from the Air Battle Force to help set up support facilities-this is especially important now that we have aircraft like the B-2 bomber in inventory.” The President mulled this over. “Uh huh. And then what? What’d be next?” Curtis pressed on. “Then, if the situation warranted, and you, of course, felt the time was appropriate, we’d deploy the First Air Battle Wing. This is important because they’d be an integrated force of bombers, fighters, and support aircraft to protect the naval forces and clear a path for further operations.” The President looked indecisive and exasperated. He turned to Defense Secretary Tom Preston. “What is it exactly that you want to do, Thomas?”

  “Just what General Curtis is recommending: send in the STRATFOR to Guam. SAC will back it up with the Pacific Tanker Task Force, which will provide air refueling support for the deployment.”

  “Uh huh.” The President nodded, still not entirely convinced, but leaning toward a yes. “Oh… and, Mr. President?” General Curtis said. “CINCSAC is recommending, and I agree, for Major General Richard Stone to be the STRATFOR commander-he’s an ex-SAC division commander and was the former base commander at Clark. He knows the Philippines like the back of his hand. General Stone will make his recommendations to Pacific Air Forces and Pacific Command on the type of response neces sary and they make recommendations to you. Once approval is granted from you through Pacific Command, the STRATFOR will form the Air Battle Force.” The President paused for a few moments, then nodded his head. “All right, General-I have my doubts, but let’s do it. Send in the two carrier groups only, put the Marines on standby, and send out the STRATFOR to Guam to help check things out. We’ll wait on whether to send your Air Battle Force until we find out what in hell the Chinese are up to. Got all that?”

  “Yes, sir, I understand, ” Curtis replied, and quickly added, “There are a few more items-” President Lloyd Taylor had had enough, but he said, “Yes, General, make it quick…”

  “CINCPAC has requested an increased ‘safe zone’ around his fleet assets in the region . “Sink~ho?”

  “Sorry, sir… Admiral Stoval. Commander in Chief, Pacific Forces. He’ll be in overall charge of operations in the South China Sea; he is asking permission to order the fleet that is sent down there to engage unidentified or hostile vessels or aircraft out to a range of two hundred miles instead of the usual one hundred miles.”

  “Why does he need that?” President Taylor grumbled. “Sir, if it was a Fei Lung-9 missile that was launched from a Chinese ship, the missile has a range in excess of one hundred miles and is supersonic, which makes the task of shooting it down very difficult. With a nuclear warhead, the kill radius of the missile is that much greater. The commanders in the area will want to keep all unidentified aircraft as far away as possible from their ships and to provide air cover for the reconnaissance planes, ” Curtis said. “They all operate no closer than two hundred miles from Philippine waters… “Air cover? I said no air operations!” the President snapped. “This would be for the STRATFOR reconnaissance jets, sir, ” Curtis explained. “Those jets-the AWACS, the EC-135, and the RC-135 are unarmed recon planes. We have to provide air cover for them if they’re operating so close to the Chinese forces “I thou, ght you said this would be a simple operation, General. “Sir, for safety’s sake, each STRATFOR aircraft should have a minimum of eight fighters with it at all times. “Eight fighters!” the President exploded. “And how many aircraft will you send from the STRATFOR?”

  “Four, sir, ” Curtis replied. “You want thirty-six aircraft involved in a ‘simple’ reconnaissance mission? That’s out of the question. If I saw that many planes near my ships, I know I’d be angry. Good God, man, don’t you get it? I’m trying to avoid a fucking war! We’re sending in all this force and we don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

  “Our aircraft need that kind of protection “Do it with less, ” the President ordered. “If you can’t protect the reconnaissance aircraft with two fighters each, you can’t send them in-we’ll rely on satellite data to gather intelligence information instead.” Curtis paused for a moment, then said, “I’ll confer with General Falmouth…”

  “Yes, yes, fine, ” the President said, waving his hand as if dismissing a bothersome insect. “Do what you want, just make sure you cover those planes with two jets each. I don’t care how you do it.”

  “Of course, sir.” “And, Curtis?” the President added, pointing his index finger at
the General. “If this thing blows up in our face… if this puts my ass in a sling? Guess what? Your ass is going to be in a sling.” And with that, Curtis was dismissed. Other aides and staffers were already being buzzed into the Situation Room before Curtis reached the door. Curtis’ aide, Colonel Andrew Wyatt, met the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the corridor next to the Marines guard desk. He fell in beside Curtis as they headed for the elevator. “Well, how’d it go?”

  “Don’t ask, ” Curtis said as Wyatt punched the elevator call button. “That bad?” Wyatt asked. Curtis said nothing. Instead he was too busy thinking about what was going on halfway around the world. … BUENAVISTA HOSPITAL, ULUGAN BAY, PALAWAN PROVINCE THE PHILIPPINES MONDAY, 26 SEPTEMBER 1994, 2109 HOURS LOCAL Admiral Yin Po L’un awoke to find himself lying on a very soft bed under clean white sheets. Through blurred eyes, he saw several nurses-Filipino nurses, he soon realized-surrounding his bed. One of them, after realizing that he was awake, ran off out of sight. “Who… who are you?” Yin asked in Chinese. The nurses looked at each other, then turned back toward him and shook their heads, replying something in English that obviously meant they did not understand him. But a nurse bent forward to wipe sweat and mucus from his face and eyes, and he was able to see -several Filipino soldiers marching into the room, with M- 16 rifles slung on their shoulders. So. He was a prisoner of the wretched Philippine Army, or worse, the damned Americans. Even though he saw no American-looking faces, he assumed he would be turned over to them soon. Presently, a physician in a white lab coat appeared before him, along with, to his great surprise, the senior ship’s doctor from the Hong Lung, a Vietnamese immigrant named Commander Tran Phu Ko. Finally, a man who appeared to be an officer stood at the foot of the bed, bowing slightly at the neck when he noticed Yin looking at him. Commander Tran bowed to Admiral Yin. “Thank the gods you are well, Comrade Admiral.” Yin struggled to rise to a sitting position, and Tran helped him. “Report, Doctor. Who are these men? What is the status of the ship? What of the crew?”

  “The men are well, Admiral, ” Tran replied. “Many casual ties, but we can speak of that later. The ship is damaged but safe. It is secured in Ulugan Bay, not far from here. Several other ships of our task force are there as well.” Ulugan Bay. Palawan Province, the Philippines. So they were prisoners. . Tran motioned toward the officer at the foot of the bed. “This is General Robert Munoz di Silva, commander of the provincial defense force, ” he said. “He is our . . . host. He speaks no Chinese. I know English, sir; I can interpret for you.”

  “Ask him then if we are his prisoners, ” Yin said, “and what sort of treatment my crew and myself can expect from them.” Tran looked puzzled, then relieved. “No, sir, you do not understand…”

  “Ask him, ” Yin ordered. Tran was about to speak once again, but, at a stern glance from Yin, bowed and relayed the question in broken, hesitant English. But obviously General di Silva understood, because the pig-faced bastard threw back his head and laughed out loud, right in Admiral Yin’s face! Then, to Yin’s complete surprise, the Philippine General walked over to Yin and kissed him on both cheeks! Yin stared at the man, flabbergasted, while General di Silva babbled on enthusiastically about something or other. Yin shook his head warily. They must have given him morphine. Or worse. Something was wrong here. Dr. Tran read his thoughts: “You do not understand, Comrade Admiral. We are not prisoners of General di Silva-we are their liberators and allies.”

  “What?” Yin asked, sitting up straight. “What are you saying? Their liberators? But-“

  “According to General di Silva, he no longer considers his force to be part of the Philippine military, ” Tran said. “He and his men have been secretly opposed to the capitalist proAmerican government in Manila for over forty years. They’ve been waiting for such an opportunity to strike out at the puppet of the Americans. He is asking for our help in supporting his movement and assisting him and his fellow Communists in severing ties with the rest of the Philippines and establishing a pro-Communist state here on Palawan.” With that, they watched in complete surprise as di Silva stripped off his blue and gold epaulets of the Philippine Integrated National Police and tossed them over his shoulder. A few of the nurses and doctors who had filled the room looked ashen at the demonstration, but most of the others were smiling broadly, some even applauding. But Admiral Yin couldn’t believe his eyes. Although he knew a potential enemy would go to extreme lengths to confuse a prisoner into cooperating or giving up information, this di Silva seemed sincere. Could they have drugged him? Was this all some kind of grand hoax . . . ? “Doctor, ask him what is happening. Ask him if we have been drugged. Tell him I wish to be released immediately and reunited with my crew.” Commander Tran had to raise his voice a bit over the impromptu celebration there in the room, but eventually he communicated the Admiral’s question and received a reply: “Sir, he says he is empowered to release all of us and our vessels if we so desire, ” the physician translated, “but he wishes to say that the revolution has begun and that you are the catalyst for constructive change in Palawan, and perhaps all the Philippines, for all true Communists. He is prepared to offer us protection until we are well enough to function, then he pledges that his loyal forces will rally behind us to free Palawan and create a powerful, respected Communist nation.” Di Silva spoke again, and Tran added, “General di Silva is putting you in command of his provincial defense force, sir. You may order him and his men to do as you please. But he asks that you accept the challenge. It would be a dishonor for you and the Republic of China not to… Admiral Yin Po L’un’s head was reeling in confusion. This… this was too strange. It had to be a trick of some kind. But what? This charade was different than any other kind of interrogation or con scheme he’d ever heard of-it didn’t make sense. At least to him. A foreign militia commander laying down his weapons before a prisoner, then asking the prisoner to take over? It was absurd. Yin sat back in the bed, trying to absorb it all. Maybe they had given him drugs and weren’t admitting to it. But what would be the purpose of this. . . acting? For a moment everyone in the room simply stared at him. As if waiting for his word… He wanted to shake his head, to think clearly. And yet he was thinking clearly. And this proposition was bizarre. He took a deep breath. His head hurt, but otherwise he seemed fine. Maybe a bruise or two, but nothing seemed seriously out of joint or injured. So if he was okay. Then was this real? What if it was? This di Silva character didn’t look insane-perhaps he was who he said he was, and he really meant what he said. If so… what an opportunity! To occupy a strategic province of the Philippines without firing a shot-the horrible effects of the nuclear detonation notwithstanding-was the decadeslong goal of the People’s Republic of China. It was even better if the Chinese were invited to occupy the islands! It would forever end the domination of the United States in the Pacific; China would have complete strategic control of the South China Sea and most of the eastern Pacific. The Russians, the Japanese, the Indonesians, the Vietnamese, even the Americans-they would all have to step aside. And Admiral Yin Po L’un would be a hero. But it was crazy. Absolutely crazy. This popinjay who called himself a general had to be insane-wasn’t the entire country filled with so-called revolutionaries, peasants who would carry the revolution’s flag long enough to get a better-looking woman or a few extra dollars before heading off into the jungle? It would be an insult to throw in with this character. “Tell him I wish to have my officers taken to the Hong Lung immediately, ” Admiral Yin ordered at Tran. “I request that the men be returned to their ships as soon as possible. Tell him we fully support his revolution, but my first responsibility is to the members of my flotilla. Humor him. Tell him anything as long as we are freed and helped back to the ship.” Tran nodded and began to speak with di Silva, slowly at first, but soon he was rambling on and on, his speech becoming less formal and more flowery-he really seemed to be laying it on thicker and thicker, and di Silva was eating it up. A few mo ments later, with di Silva wearing a firm but rather dejecte
d expression, the two men were bowing deeply and smiling to each other. “General di Silva says he admires your sense of duty, ” Tran reported with a sense of relief. “He has agreed to help us back to the ship and organize the surviving officers.” Yin put on his best smile and extended a hand, and di Silva accepted as if Yin had just offered him the Crown Jewels. “Tell him he should be held up as a shining example of the great leaders of Communism-and any other drivel you think he will be impressed by, ” Yin said impatiently. “Then ask him to bring the senior officers in here immediately so that I can organize-” There was a sudden flurry of voices coming from the hallway, and a wave of people pushed their way into Yin’s room. Several of them had small automatic weapons and wore earpieces-Secret Service agents, most likely, or Presidential Guards, Yin thought. Well, the Chinese Admiral thought, he was right all along; his room was bugged, and as soon as the Philippine intelligence agents realized that he was not going to cooperate and try to enlist the aid of the Philippine General in trying to escape or overthrow the country, he was going to be captured like any other enemy of the state and hauled away to prison. … The wall of onlookers and guards parted suddenly, revealing a tall, young, handsome man with fair features, a thin dark mustache, and carefully coiffured dark hair. Doctors and nurses were staring at him as if they were looking at a god from Heaven, while the security guards were now gently pushing them away. General di Silva spoke at length to the man, who seemed to be very good friends with him. The man then stepped up to Yin’s bed, his hands crossed before him, smiled pleasantly at Commander Tran, then said in rather good Chinese, “Welcome, Admiral.” Yin was clearly impressed. “Thank you, sir. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”