by James Rosone
One of the Air Force communications officers poked his head into the briefing room. “Sir, we just reestablished communications with NORAD, the White House, and the Pentagon. We’re patching them through to you right now.”
The communications officer, who looked like he was no more than twenty, withdrew his head from the cramped room and disappeared.
Wilson had just taken a seat and spotted the fresh cup of coffee waiting for him when the large monitor connecting them to the outside world turned on. They immediately saw the split screen showing NORAD, the Pentagon’s NMCC, the PEOC in the bowels of the White House, US Strategic Command out of Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, and US Southern Command out of Doral, Florida.
The President immediately tore into them. “Damn it, General Barrett! How in the hell did we get sucker-punched like this?” he demanded angrily.
General Anita Barrett, Commander of US Northern Command and NORAD, countered, “Mr. President, I don’t have all the answers for you right now, but rest assured we will be looking into all of this in the coming days. Right now, I need to inform you that we are currently carrying out our counterstrike. Task Force Dupre in the Gulf has successfully engaged and sunk the four Chinese warships that fired off the first volley of cruise missiles. The task force’s Tomahawks just hit the launcher sites in Cuba that fired on us. We should have some satellite coverage of the area within the next ten minutes to give us a battle damage assessment of the strike.”
General Barrett continued, “Sir, I also need to inform you that SEAL Team Three is securing the Cuban-Chinese oil platforms in the Straits of Florida. As soon as we issued the attack orders to TF Dupre, we issued the orders for the SEALs to seize the platforms before the Cubans or Chinese could release millions of gallons of crude into the sea. The submarine that delivered the SEALs also carried out a strategic strike against the Cuban and Chinese naval ships at the ports of Mariel and Havana.”
Interrupting her, Admiral Thiel cut in, “Hold up there, General. I get the attack on the oil platforms, but why did we fire on the ports with Tomahawks? These targets are located in some densely packed urban areas. Who gave them the order to attack?”
“That’s a good point, General. Who gave that sub commander the order to hit the ports?” Wilson reinforced the question. Hitting the ports was a huge strategic mistake.
General Barrett looked a little lost for words. She talked to someone off screen before she returned to the discussion. “Um, I need to get with the sub commander. I’m relaying what they told us. We have another emergency to deal with. A ballistic missile attack is currently underway near Taiwan. It appears a barrage of missiles was launched from the ocean east of Taiwan. The missiles are tracking toward three Chinese cities across the straits. The Taipei government is insisting they did not launch an attack on the mainland. It does look like the PLA is attempting to engage the enemy missiles.”
The President was practically apoplectic at this point as he blurted out angrily, “What the hell is going on?! How in the hell has all of this happened in the last forty minutes? We’re supposed to have satellites around the world that monitor this kind of activity, then we have ground-based radars that ring our country and our allies, yet none of them saw any of this happening until it was too late!” The President paused his rant for just a moment before adding, “How long until those missiles begin to impact our bases in the Gulf?”
Looking off screen, General Barrett replied, “Five minutes, Mr. President.”
Wilson felt he needed to step in at this point to help bring some balance. “Mr. President, if I may. I know a lot has happened and we’ve been caught completely flat-footed. There will be time for us to look back on the events that led us to this moment.” He took a deep breath. “Sir, we know that the Chinese have created a super-AI that is responsible for tracking their own people and managing their social credit program. Then we had that defector that began to tell us about Operation Jedi and how it was tracking down all the foreign intelligence operatives around the world—at least before he was killed. Maybe their new super-AI is somehow involved in all of this as well.”
“Blain, are you saying that maybe this Chinese AI has gone rogue?” the President asked incredulously.
“No, not at all, Mr. President. What I’m saying is maybe the Chinese created this AI to do exactly what it’s doing. I think President Yao has allowed the PLA to unleash this AI on America and the West. There’s no other way to explain how they could have defeated so many of the early-warning systems we have in place if there wasn’t a cyber or electronic intrusion by this AI. I mean, look at what they’ve done. They’ve disabled the nation’s cell phone service, taken down the power grid around the targeted air bases, and successfully ghosted our early-warning systems,” Wilson explained.
The room was silent for a moment as everyone absorbed what Wilson had said.
Admiral Thiel was the first to respond. “I think Mr. Wilson might be correct, but we can discuss that at a later point. I need to know how you want us to respond, Mr. President.”
General Pike at the Pentagon cut in, “We’re under attack! The Capitol District is under attack. A barrage of cruise missiles just hit Fort Meade, then another hit Anacostia-Bolling. I was told our local defensive systems around the Pentagon and the Capitol are engaging additional cruise missiles as we speak.”
Before anyone else could speak, General Pike announced, “We’re receiving reports of a cruise missile attack at Naval Submarine Base New London. Oh, damn, we’re getting reports of attacks happening across the entire East Coast, Mr. President. It looks like nearly all our Air, Army, and Navy bases are being hit by cruise missiles.”
Everyone fell silent for a second as they processed what the Pentagon had just told them.
“That can’t be possible,” blurted General Barrett from NORAD. “We aren’t showing any cruise missiles heading toward any of your bases.”
“San Diego and Hawaii are now reporting a massive cruise missile attack against the naval, air, and Marine bases,” General Pike announced.
“We aren’t showing any cruise missiles heading toward our bases!” General Barrett shouted in frustration.
“General Barrett, you need to have your early-warning systems do a hard reboot or figure this out,” Admiral Thiel ordered. “We are deaf and blind right now. We don’t even know if any of those missiles are nuclear.”
Wilson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The military had so many redundant systems in place. Something like this shouldn’t happen. Is their AI able to penetrate all of our systems? he wondered.
“Wait a second. I don’t understand this,” General Barrett said aloud. “We’re talking with the base commander at Dyess, in Texas. Their base should be getting slammed with cruise and ballistic missiles, but he’s telling me nothing’s happening. The base commander at Barksdale is reporting the same—no explosions, no missile impacts.”
“What?!” Admiral Thiel barked angrily. “We ordered a counterstrike against the Chinese Navy and Cuba because they fired first on our bases. Are you now telling us that not only did our early-warning systems not detect the attack currently underway along the East and West Coasts, but now this Chinese first strike wasn’t real? You realize we attacked China and Cuba over this!”
The President then stood up. He motioned for everyone to stay seated as he paced behind the chairs. Finally, he turned to address them all. “Listen. Something clearly went wrong. Our systems must have been hacked—there’s no other explanation for what’s happened. The Chinese knew if certain actions happened, then we would counter those actions, which we have. Whether or not it’s their super-AI that did this doesn’t really matter right now. We got snookered. No way around it. The PLA played us. They were willing to sacrifice a few pawns to make us look like the aggressors, and they succeeded. What we have to figure out right now is how we respond to what’s just happened.
“So, what do we do next? Because right now, our bases on the West and East C
oasts are clearly being hammered, so we need to act. So, what should our next move be?”
Wilson was the first to speak, “I think at this point, Mr. President, you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound. There is no point in denying what happened, and there’s no purpose in delaying our military action now that the enemy is alert to it. We should move forward with Operation Ortsac II. I know many of the ground units aren’t ready, but that doesn’t mean we can’t unleash the Air Force and Navy on them.”
Admiral Thiel nodded. “It pains me to say it, Mr. President, but I believe Wilson is right. The cat’s out of the bag at this point. We need to react swiftly because the Chinese currently do have missiles on Cuba that can and will hit the US. We need to neutralize those threats before they become a real problem for us.”
The President sighed audibly before he turned to his advisors. “Issue the orders. We are a full go for Operation Ortsac II. Take their ability to hurt our country out and let’s prepare to invade as soon as possible. In the meantime, have the Navy hunt down and sink any Chinese warships they can find. Tell our sub force it’s time to go hunting.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Death Dealers
94th Fighter Squadron
Eglin AFB, Florida
The chatter in the mission room was one of excitement, anger, frustration, and anxiety. Major Ian “Racer” Ryan couldn’t believe the situation.
They had just received a surprise FRAGO to get their squadron airborne and ready to support a major bombing campaign that was about to start over Cuba. To say it caught many of them by surprise was an understatement—especially after the early-morning reports of their own base coming under a cruise missile attack, after which word had come down that it was a gremlin in the radar ghosting them and they weren’t under attack after all.
That attack alarm going off at three in the morning had not only startled Ian, it had terrified his wife and their six kids. What had hurt him most was that he had to leave his family and race to the flight line to see if he needed to get his bird airborne. By the time they’d learned the missile attack was a false alarm half an hour later, Ian, along with most of his squadron, had already been in the air. They’d landed shortly afterward. The aircrews worked overtime getting the planes refueled, mechanically ready and kitted out with real wartime combat loads.
Ian had an hour to go home and check on his family before he was told to report back to the squadron ready room to receive his next set of orders. His kids were terrified. Ian told his wife to throw the kids in the van and head to her parents’ house in Tennessee—they’d sort it out when it was safe to return home in a few days.
It was tough saying goodbye to her and their little munchkins, who ranged in ages from nine months to nine years old. They’d hugged and cried as they said their goodbyes.
Ian had a good cry on the way back to the squadron ready room. Once he parked his car, though, he flicked a switch inside his brain and turned those emotions off. It was time to put his war face on and do his part to protect his family and his country.
Like the other pilots hanging out in the ready room waiting for the mission brief, Ian tried to learn anything he could about this crazy situation they found themselves in by perusing the latest headlines on Google. A major who’d just completed a staff officer rotation at the JIOCEUR, or Joint Intelligence Operations Center Europe, had gotten one of his friends there to send them an initial summary. The folks in Germany were six hours ahead of them, so they had already been at work when everything had kicked off.
“Hani, read the bullet points out loud to everyone,” one of the captains said as everyone tried to crowd around him to read his computer screen.
“Sure thing. Everyone, stand back, I’ll give the initial headlines. I’ll print off a couple copies while we wait on the mission brief to start,” Major Hans “Hani” Riggens said. Hani had been assigned to be Ian’s new wingman while he readjusted to being a flyer again. Clearing his throat, Hani announced, “Chinese media is claiming one of their Panamax freighters off the coast of Italy was attacked by the Italian frigate Carlo Bergamini and sunk. No reports of survivors yet. The Italian government is disputing this claim, saying the Carlo Bergamini did not fire on the Chinese freighter.”
“What the hell is going on?” grumbled one of the pilots as he walked into the room. A few others shushed him. They wanted to hear more.
“Chinese state media is reporting the German frigate Rheinland-Pfalz attacked the Chinese frigate Binzhou off the Gulf of Aden near the Somalia coast. The Binzhou and the corvette Weihai returned fire on the German frigate, sinking her. The Chinese Navy has reported thirty-eight casualties on the Binzhou and nine casualties on the Weihai. The German military has denounced the attack from their ship, insisting their ship did not attack the Chinese vessels.”
Before Hani could continue, a loud voice boomed from behind them.
“Ten-hut!” came the voice of the squadron’s XO.
Everyone stood at attention until they were told to take their seats in front of the whiteboard for the mission brief.
Their squadron commander walked in along with a couple of mission briefers—someone from the intel shop, the mission commander, and another from some other section.
“Listen up, people. I will not sit here and try to explain what’s happened over the last four hours. What I do know is this—we’ve been given the go order by POTUS to initiate hostilities against the People’s Liberation Army Air Force, ground forces, and the Cuban military,” the mission commander announced.
“As we speak, B-52s out of the Dakotas are on their way to their launch points. When they reach their lines of control, they’ll wait until we set up our combat air patrol position over Cuba and the Straits of Florida. If the Cubans or Chinese decide they want to go after our bombers, then we’ll be in position waiting for them.
“Shortly after the heavies release their missiles, they’ll return to base to reload and repeat. Once the missiles are inbound, the B-2s will head in and finish off whatever air defense units the heavies missed. Now, what I’m about to tell you is highly classified and shall not leave this room. When we take up station over Cuba, two B-21 Raiders will be joining us.”
Ian heard some of the others murmur and whisper at the mention of the mythical Air Force B-21s.
The mission commander held his hands up to try to stop the chatter. “That’s right. Unicorns do exist, and some of you may actually get a chance to see it,” he said jovially. When everyone had quieted down, he continued, “Aside from providing CAP over the island and protecting the bombers, our secondary mission is to make sure the Raiders reach their targets and slip away. Chances are, none of us will even know it’s in the area, and that’s a good thing. But should they get discovered or run into trouble, the Raiders become our new mission—protect them at all costs.”
Racer raised his hand. “Do we know what their mission is? We could position a pair of fighters in that area to make sure they’re nearby should they run into a problem.”
The mission commander didn’t say anything right away. He seemed to be contemplating what he should tell them. “Tell you what, Racer, you and your wingman stay behind. You will be assigned escort duty for the Raider. I’ll tell you what their target is, but no one else. That’s all I got, people. Let’s get out to the flight line and get airborne. Sunrise is in an hour. This will be a long day, so pace yourselves. Dismissed.”
When everyone had filed out of the room, it was just the mission commander, Racer, and Hani.
“OK, you two, there are two Raiders that’ll be used over Cuba. The one you’re being assigned to protect is going for a decapitation strike. Intel on the ground has a bead on where the Cuban leader and the Chinese military commander are most likely hiding out. Once hostilities started a few hours ago, intel said these individuals headed off to the locations the Raider is going to hit,” the mission commander explained.
“I don’t have the bomber’s exact location or
when it’ll be hitting its targets, but what I can do is tell you roughly where you need to be positioned and ready to assist should you need to. Keep in mind, gentlemen, the Chinese and the Cubans have really fortified this island when it comes to air defense. They’ve already engaged and shot down an F-15E out of Homestead that was scrambled to provide some fighter cover over Southern Florida. Things could get crazy up there.”
The two pilots nodded and then headed off to the van that would take them to the flight line.
*******
Sitting on the parking ramp, Ian waited for his turn to take his place on the taxi ramp. The entire place was clogged with squadron after squadron waiting to get airborne. The night sky over Florida and the Gulf was filling up with aircraft. Soon, it’d be daylight—a complete reversal of when they’d normally launch a mission like this—but Murphy’s Law had struck, and they now had to deal with it. All Ian knew was this was more fighters and bombers in one place than he had ever seen.
The biggest concern Ian had was the SAMs all over Cuba. He’d never personally flown over a battlespace against an adversary that had a legitimate air force or SAM network. This would be a first for him.
He hoped for all their sakes that the stealth bombers and the cruise missile barrage the B-52s were about to unleash were able to lay a good hurt on the SAMs and thin them out a bit.
Ian’s squadron of F-22s would fly ahead of the attack force and take up a combat air patrol position over Cuba. If enemy aircraft rose up to engage the bombers or the other aircraft involved in the initial waves, then it’d be their job to take them out before they even knew what had happened.
