Patrick waited for several moments; then: “According to my watch, we’ve got twenty minutes of fuel left before we need to head back to Reno. That’s how long you’ve got to think about my offer. Ask any questions, talk it over with your crews or with the colonel. Then give me an answer. Once we get back to Reno, the decision will be made for you.”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Furness radioed. “I’m still the commander of Aces High, and I make the decisions.”
“Not this time, Colonel,” Patrick said. “This decision affects each aviator personally. It’s not a squadron decision.”
“They’re in my planes — it’s my decision, General.”
“I said, no it’s not, Colonel,” Patrick snapped. “Each man and woman makes this decision on their own.”
“You don’t know shit about command, do you, General?” Furness said. “Listen up, hogs. The general’s right on one count: we blew it today. We all know the rules of engagement exist so the fighter pukes can have a chance of bagging us. We all know they’re bullshit. But we get paid to follow the rules, and we broke them because protecting our guys and doing the job means more than following some desk jockey’s safety rules. The pud-pounders have been looking for an excuse to shut down Aces High, and it looks like we gave them an excuse this morning. Fuck it. Our mission was BOTOTCHA, not playing by some stinking nice-nice rules. We put bombs on target and came out alive. We did our job.”
“I don’t know what game the general’s playing,” Rinc Seaver broke in, “but I got a peek at his super-secret project. It looks pretty cosmic, and it looks like it’s exactly up our alley. If we go back to Reno, we’ll probably be sucking wind. If we stay together and keep pushing forward, we might get a chance to do some pretty cool shit. We’re going for it. Everyone copy?”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Colonel Furness is not being entirely straight with you guys,” Patrick said. “I don’t know what will happen to your unit if you return. Like I said, my guess is that the two pilots involved in the ‘airshow’ incident will be forced to retire or reassigned. Your unit will probably continue on…”
“And I don’t think the general’s been entirely straight with us either,” said Seaver. “The general has a hidden agenda: he wants our planes more than he wants us. We’ve been ordered back to Reno. If we land someplace else, we’ve violated a direct lawful order. We could all get shit-canned on the spot. But the general will end up with our planes, which is probably all he’s wanted ever since he showed up in town. Tell me I’m wrong, General McLanahan.”
“You’re wrong,” Patrick said. “My underlying agenda involves finding the best crews and the best planes for a new attack mission. I think you’re it. But my primary reason for coming to Reno was to conduct your predeployment inspection. Your showboating and the conflict in Korea has just sped up my timetable. It’s your hotdogging that’s put this unit in jeopardy, Major, not my agenda.”
“Thanks for the clarification, General — I think it agrees with what I just said,” Furness said. “We’ll leave it up to the crewdogs. Okay, hogs. Talk among yourselves, then report back and tell me if you’re in with me or out. If you want out, fine. No hard feelings.”
“Two’s in,” Rinc said immediately.
“Three’s in.”
“Four’s in.”
“That good enough for you, General?” Furness asked, a sharp edge to her voice.
“I guess it’ll have to be,” Patrick said. “Welcome aboard, guys and gals. Welcome to hell. Listen up carefully:
“We’re going to break out of this anchor and shoot an ILS approach at an undisclosed and uncharted military airfield. I have no doubt you’ll figure out which one I’m talking about shortly. As you might guess, security there is extraordinarily tight. Overflying the base is not allowed at any time no matter what the circumstances. We need to do this precisely so the security forces on the ground don’t encounter any surprises, because they have only one response to surprise aircraft overflying their location — they’ll destroy it. Plain and simple. They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again. Any aircraft, any person aboard — dead, if they don’t follow procedures. We are expected, so we’re not a total surprise for them, but this hasn’t been coordinated in advance, so all the security forces will be high-strung.
“Once we break out of this anchor, I want everyone three miles in trail and stacked up five hundred feet, and nowhere else, unless I give other instructions. It’s VMC today, clear and a million, so we shouldn’t have any formation problems. But if you lose contact with the aircraft in front of you once we enter the area, you must stay on the assigned heading and altitude — don’t make any turns unless directed by the security controller, and don’t do the normal lost-wingman procedures.”
“What area is he talking about, Rodeo?” Rebecca asked.
“I’m talking about the area we’re about to fly into,” Patrick replied. “You’ll find out soon enough. Remember what I said — you follow the controller’s instructions exactly, or they’ll blow you out of the sky. These guys are ultraserious.
“Once we’re lined up and on the approach, you’ll set one hundred ten point eight in the ILS and set an inbound course that I’ll give to you later,” Patrick went on. “That’ll be your approach for landing. It’ll be a four-degree glideslope. Four degrees. That’s way steeper than normal, so watch your power and sink rate — we’ll start up high and go down fast. Once you’re established on the localizer and glideslope, you have to stay on it. If you need to go around or deviate for any reason, or if your ILS goes tits-up, you have to announce what you will do and get approval. If you say something and then do something else, or if you don’t announce it first, you’ll get shot down.
“Important: do not raise your landing gear if you need to miss the approach. Flying anywhere near this base in a configuration that looks like you may be able to drop a bomb will be considered a hostile act. If you lose more than two engines and you can’t do a go-around with your gear down, crash-land on the dry lake bed. Bottom line: don’t make any sudden moves. The troops defending our destination have real itchy trigger fingers.
“Couple more important things: Os, do not activate the attack radar once you’re inside the area. In fact, everyone, shut ’em down right now and leave them off — not in ‘standby,’ in ‘off.’ If you radiate, they’ll think you’re on a bomb run and blow your shit away. We maintain distance on the approach by air-to-air DME, not radar. DSOs, same with the ECM gear. If you turn on anything, accidentally jam a radio or radar, drop a flare or chaff bundle, or do anything to make it look like you’re hostile, they’ll shoot with everything they got, immediately and with no warning. Shut ’em down now. All the way off. Questions or comments.” This time there were none. “Report to me when you’ve shut down the ORS and ECM gear.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Good. Make sure your weapons are safe and locked, but if you can’t get a good safe and lock, don’t worry about it.
“Now, when we arrive at the base, you’ll be directed where to taxi. They will leave no doubt where you should go. It’s hard to see the taxiways, so follow the leader carefully. Stay as close to the plane in front of you as you safely can. Do your before-engine shutdown checklists while taxiing — you’ll have lots of time to do it. I’ll guide you through the things I want you to do. Don’t acknowledge any transmissions unless it’s an emergency or unless you really get confused, and I’ll warn you now, try not to get confused while you’re down there.”