Sweetness in the Dark (43 page)

“You guys who flew Desert Storm know the drill. Tonight the F-117’s go in and take down the Air Defense Systems. With the satellites back up, cruise missiles will take out the Command and Control Centers. Then we hit them with the Predators and the Global Hawks,” the Commander said. “At day break, the Eagles and the Falcons go in,” referring to the F-15 and F-16s.

“When do the ‘Hog’ drivers take a turn?” an A-10 pilot asked.

“You boys will have your fun as soon as the Red Air Force is neutered. Then give them hell. Remember, these bastards thought they could get away with grabbing the West Coast when we were down on the mat. Remind them who they’re dealing with,” the commander emphasized.

* * *

General Ed Gale sat that night in his headquarters and watched the large display. With the satellites up and running the day before, he had real-time information being fed into his hardened computers. The display said it all.

Ed watched as the green blips of an F-117 flew in from Nellis Air Force Base and maneuvered around the hot zones of the Chinese SAM sites. The radars for the surface-to-air missiles were switching on and off trying to avoid sending a signal long enough for acquisition by the Americans.

It was useless. The American forces had experienced such tactics over Iraq when they had crushed Saddam Hussein’s Iraq Air Force. The F-117 opened its bomb bay doors and released two Hellfire missile from its internal bomb bay.

The display registered the missiles’ flight to where a Chinese radar had just recently shown its location. The signal never turned on again. Two more missiles were released and another SAM site disappeared.

All the time the F-117s were loitering over California, computer images of the Chinese air defenses were being beamed back to an Airborne Control Center. A Boeing 707 passenger jet, converted into an electronic warfare center, gathered all the information. Soon, orders were being issued directly to the cruise missiles both in Nevada and out at sea.

Admiral Bud Lanciani’s Battle Group was off the Northern California Coast receiving the intel updates. The cruiser U.S.S.
Virginia
loaded coordinates into the missile computers. As the F-117s were leaving the area, the cruise missiles blasted out of their tubes into the night sky.

The glare of the launch soon faded as the small jet engines settled into a steady low altitude flight toward their target. Arriving from both the east and the west, the Chinese only had seconds of warning as the warheads ripped the targets apart.

The Americans had done their work on interviewing every refugee that had escaped the Chinese held areas. Information on where Command Centers were located had been gathered. When the day approached to launch the attack, Special Forces had been inserted ahead of time into California to confirm the Chinese main bases.

These same forces were now located nearby to offer laser guidance to munitions arriving by air. The drones were the third prong of the attack. Again, Hellfire missiles aboard the UAVs found their targets as pilots sitting at consoles in Nevada guided their charges to their targets.

“Well, that should certainly blind the bastards,” General Gale said.

“Good enough to get the Wild Weasels to work,” the Air Force liaison officer said. He referred to the electronic warfare planes that lead the attack planes into battle. Their job was to identify and disrupt any remaining air defense assets while the attack planes took them out. “The Navy have their EA-6s ready to lead their Super Hornets attack planes, Sir.”

“As a former A-6 pilot flying off carriers, those EW guys are a godsend,” Ed said.

Shortly after the drone attacks were finished, the display lit up as the fighters and bombers all registered on the display. The Americans were throwing an air armada at the Chinese.

“And we have good IFF protocol going?” Ed asked. “We don’t need the Air Force flyboys shooting down the Navy today.”

“Friend or Foe ID is up and running, Sir.” With our AWAC planes and the Navy’s Hawkeye planes aloft, they can handle the traffic. In Iraq we had multiple nations flying sorties and we had three times the planes flying. I’m afraid we still haven’t recovered fully from P-Day, Sir,” the Air Force officer said.

“As long as it’s enough to clear the skies. My men are antsy to get to our uninvited guests,” Ed said.

“I expect four days of air sorties will do the trick. The Chinese have nowhere to run, unlike the Iraqis who flew their planes into Iran. And no one is coming to their rescue, as long as the Navy does its job.”

The Air Force liaison was right on the money. Ed watched all four days as attack after attack was launched on the Chinese. He walked outside at times to watch planes flying out of Redding to the north cross over his position heading south. He didn’t envy the forces underneath such attacks. The punishment must be brutal.
But they asked for it
, he thought.

On the fourth day, as he went over the next day’s opening of the ground phase with his commanders, the radio operator brought him news. A Chinese attack sub had penetrated the defensive screen of the Enterprise Battle Group and had launched a torpedo attack. He rushed to the radio and called up the admiral.

“Admiral, what’s the situation? How bad?” Ed asked.

“We’re still operational, General, but we lost the U.S.S.
Perry
with heavy casualties,” Admiral Lanciani reported.

Ed remembered the
U.S.S. Perry
was a frigate. It had been named after Oliver Hazard Perry, hero of the Battle of Lake Erie.

The admiral continued, “We’re investigating how the Chinese got so close, but the torpedo was aimed for the
Enterprise
. The commander of the ‘Perry’ put his ship in harms way and took the hit. It got blown out of the water, breaking it’s back. It quickly sank in two pieces”

“And the crew?”

“We rescued twelve - out of a crew of one hundred and twenty,” Bud answered. “And three of the survivors are bad. Don’t know if they’ll make it. But the Chinese paid. We took out the sub. Actually two of them. Seems that one was a decoy that allowed the other to creep in. We’ll change our search patterns. You can be sure it won’t happen again.”

Ed signed off.
Over one hundred good men killed
, he thought. He knew Bud Lanciani. He would push his sailors hard so that the sacrifice that the
Perry
had made to protect the U.S.S.
Enterprise
would not be in vain. And Bud would make sure that a mix-up like that didn’t happen again.

That night Ed couldn’t sleep. He paced his tent for an hour and finally decided to check on his troops. Ed knew they would also be anxious to get started. Picking up his bodyguards, he walked over to a nearby unit. In spite of the early morning hour, everyone was awake.

“Colonel, the men seem anxious to go. Any problems?” Ed asked Colonel Schmol. Schmol had been with the general since leaving Missoula. As Commander of Task Force Delta, he had fought across the State of Washington and was ready to take his Montana and Idaho volunteers into battle.

“No problems, Sir. The men are more than ready. They’re just gripping that the Air Force won’t leave anything for them,” Schmol answered.

“I can assure them that the Chinese will provide a lively reception.”

“They better. I haven’t hung around here this whole time for them to roll over like those pussies up in Seattle.” Ed recognized the voice. It was Sergeant Wilder, of the motorcycle scouts.

“Sergeant. Happy to see you and your men still with us. Haven’t let the Regular Army troops scare you off, eh?” Ed asked.

“Shi-, I mean shoot, General. Those ‘Mean Green’ clowns didn’t scare me in Vietnam, I’m sure not going to let them get in my way here,” Wilder retorted. “Besides, I hear through the grapevine that Commander Z and that bitch woman of his are back at it in the Bay area. After what they did to those poor people in Seattle, I want to personally get my hands on them.”

“Well, Sergeant, we need to first suppress the enemy before personal vendettas can be accommodated,” Ed admonished. “I, too, want to bring to justice the criminals that preyed upon the populace.”

“Roger that, Sir. Kill the Chinese before I go after the thugs,” the sergeant offered. “I do believe I have the order right now.”

Ed slapped the sergeant on the back. He knew he was only half kidding. But Wilder represented the majority of his troops in the field. They wanted justice served for their country against the invaders, and for their lost family and friends against the native criminals.

As Commanding General of Army Group North, Ed had two infantry divisions and two armored divisions under his command, but that was only the Regular Army troops. He also had about a Brigade-sized unit of volunteers.

The area around Reno, designated Army Group East, had four Infantry Divisions, one of which was mechanized. Down in Arizona, Army Group South had two infantry and two armored divisions. Only Ed’s group still contained citizen soldiers that had volunteered after ‘the Pulse’. The other commanders had sent their volunteers home.

Luckily, the National Command had transported these dismissed volunteers back east. They were beginning operations to bring stability to the Northeast. Soon the entire former continental United State would be secure. The eastern provinces of Canada could ask for assistance once New England was secure. The western provinces were already secure and part of the UAS.

But Ed realized that he would have to make a concerted effort to make sure all of his troops handled themselves professionally. The Chinese had shown their propensity to double deal. If the troops lost discipline, things could get ugly.

Ed lingered in the area watching the volunteers mount up for the coming attack. He turned and hurried back to his command center. As he walked into the tent, he noticed all the blips on the big screen.

”We’re getting lively out there, Sir,” Ed’s adjutant said.

Ed sat down and waited. His commanders knew their jobs. Although he hadn’t known them long, the experience most of them had received in Afghanistan and Iraq would come through now. After all, they were fighting to free Americans now.

Richmond, Virginia

Paul sat and shook as the C-130 flew east through the unsettled fall weather. He was ready for the President to get more comfortable transport. They were riding with the Attorney General and the Treasury Secretary back to Richmond to meet with the Defense Secretary.

The Volunteer Army from around the country was rapidly moving up the East Coast and bringing security to what was left of the Northeast. Reports had been coming in to the national capital in Cheyenne of what the troops were finding.

The President had decided to let the new Senate, House and National Council stay in Cheyenne. They needed time to settle into their new roles of setting policies for the Union of American States.

One of their first orders of business concerned setting the policy for new states to join the twenty seven that had passed the new constitution. The states that had been liberated from the chaos and those states now being liberated still did not have functional state governments. Security was being provided by troops from the UAS.

But a trip to Richmond by the President and part of his cabinet would allow him to catch up on two critical issues. The plane circled around trying to avoid the severe weather over Virginia. The big cargo plane bounced and swayed as the violent thermals inside the clouds threw the plane. Paul lowered his head and breathed hard to keep his stomach down.

Just when he thought he could hold on no longer, a severe thump and bounce announced their arrival. The propellers raced to slow the plane as it careened down the runway. Paul was thrown sideways as the plane finally slowed and then turned to taxi to the hanger.

The pilot shut down the engines and stepped into the main cargo bay.

“Sorry about that, Mr. President. We did our best avoiding the big ones,” the Air Force pilot offered.

“Colonel, it took me back to my time in the Navy, landing on carriers. Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing, I think the old adage goes,” the President replied.

“Yes, Sir, we’ll do better on the return flight,” the pilot said.

“I know you will. And thank you for a good job getting us here,” the President said.

Paul wasn’t so sure. He looked across the cargo bay and saw that Amanda was feeling the effects of the flight worse than he was. The men gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Paul stood up and walked over to Amanda. He placed his hand on her head.

“Paul, coming?”

“Right there, Mr. President.”

“Take your time. We’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“Ohhhh, I barely hung on to lunch on that one. Just let me die right here,” Amanda said.

“Take your time. Nothing happens ‘til tomorrow.”

“Having trouble?” the C-130 crew member asked. “That was a rough one.”

“We’ll be alright. Just let us be for a few minutes till she gets her stomach reattached.”

“No problem. We’re here ‘til the President needs us,” the crew member said. “I’ll get out of here and leave you folks alone.”

The pilot had returned to the cockpit to do the after-flight check with the co-pilot, and the crew had exited the plane. Amanda and Paul were alone in the big cargo bay. Paul sat down next to Amanda and put his arm around her.

“These are the days I wonder why I’m not back in Boise enjoying a nice fall hike in the Front Range,” Amanda mumbled.

“Because the country needs us right now. We have to get things started right for the nation to have a chance at returning to the great country it once was,” Paul said.

“I know, I know. But will we someday get to settle down at home and enjoy simpler things?” Amanda asked.

What was she saying
? Paul thought. Their relationship had been accelerated by the initial chaos following ‘the Pulse’. Ever since, they had gone from one emergency to another as their life together revolved around the survival of the country. Now Amanda talked about normalcy.
Was she saying that she wanted them to be together after all of this?
Paul wondered.