Joe was slumped over the control yoke. The smell of burnt wires and singed hair filled the cockpit. Dan was shocked to see smoke. Fire, in a new state-of-art-aircraft — with him onboard, what rotten luck. The aircraft nosed gently down and to the right. The copilot was frantically reading his instrument panel and pushing buttons.
Dan unstrapped himself from the jump seat and squeezed Joe’s shoulder. No response. Dan worked his way around to Joe’s seat and hit the release on his seat belt and shoulder harness. The copilot noticed Dan’s effort and yelled, “We’ve been struck by lightning! Somehow it arced into the aircraft’s intercom system. I think Colonel Giannini’s been electrocuted!” The copilot rapidly flipped switches, never breaking stride while he yelled.
“Oh shit!” The copilot had looked up and momentarily froze. Dan reflexively looked up too, not really sure he wanted to see what caused the copilot’s discomfort. In the distance, about a half a mile ahead, the lead C-17 and the KC-135 tanker aircraft were in trouble. The aircraft must have somehow collided during refueling. The C-17 was pitching up steeply. The KC-135 was missing its refueling boom and its tail section looked severely damaged. They rapidly closed on the stalling C-17. Dan saw a gaping hole just behind the cockpit. The wounded cargo jet began to keel over to the left. The copilot banked sharply to the right. Trailing bits of debris, the C-17 was going down.
“Atlas One, Atlas One, this is Warrior Two, over.” The copilot used the flight’s fixed call signs to try and raise the first aircraft.
His voice got more desperate, “Atlas, One, Atlas One, Atlas One, this is Warrior Two, do you copy, over.”
A warning indicator on the copilot’s instrument panel began flashing red. All thought of the other aircraft vanished and the copilot went back to contending with his stricken aircraft.
Dan grabbed Joe from under his arms, lifting and dragging him from the cockpit. He laid him out on the deck and felt for a pulse. None. Dan checked for breathing. None.
“Oh dear God,” Dan said quietly. He wondered why the loadmaster wasn’t helping, looked up and saw him limp and unconscious in his seat, his headset still on.
Dan had to try to save these men, but he’d need help to do so. He sprang up and ran out into the cargo hold, yelling for help. He had 15 troops with him in the aircraft. All but two were fast asleep. Those two immediately responded, unstrapped themselves and ran to their Commander, steadying themselves with whatever hand holds they could find along the way. “Perez, Green, the loadmaster has probably been hit by lightning. Check his vitals and begin CPR if needed.” The slight young Private Perez and the well-muscled and much older Sergeant First Class Green knew what to do without explanation.
Training took over for Dan. He put one hand on Joe’s forehead and the other on his chin, tilting the head back to open a better breathing passage. He quickly pulled opened Joe’s mouth, looking to see if Joe had swallowed his tongue. Everything okay. He placed one hand on top of the other on the unconscious man’s chest and began heart massage. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He pressed 15 times. Then down, pinching Joe’s nose shut with one hand while placing his mouth fully over Joe’s. Blow out, then let him exhale. Blow out, then let him exhale. Blow out, then let him exhale. Dan was going to quickly check for a pulse when he saw Joe’s body shudder underneath him. Joe’s chest heaved and he took a gulp of air on his own. “Thanks God,” Dan said under his breath. Dan saw his men working to revive the loadmaster.
Dan carefully watched the pilot’s breathing. It was now shallow, but steady. He looked at Perez and Green. Perez was doing the mouth-to-mouth. Green the heart massage. He slid over to the loadmaster and tried to find a pulse. Nothing. “Keep on it guys!” Dan looked around for something to keep the pilot warm and to elevate his feet to get more blood to the brain. He made his way back to his still sleeping 13 men and raided a couple of soft, warm camouflage poncho liners from Jones and Gutierrez who began to protest then fell into a confused silence when they saw it was their battalion commander who was taking their warmth from them.
While he was back among his men Dan barked, “Everyone, get up! Get up! We have an in-flight emergency. The crew thinks we’ve been hit by lightning. I want everyone alert!”
Dan went back to attend to Joe, checking for a pulse on the loadmaster on his way. Still nothing. He covered the pilot and made him as comfortable as possible. It had been about two minutes since the lightning strike. “Come on guys, keep trying!” Colonel Alexander exhorted his men.
Dan searched his memory. He seemed to remember one of his men was a private pilot. He bolted back to the cargo and passenger hold. “Blackwell! Don’t you have a pilot’s license?”
Staff Sergeant Blackwell spoke up, “Yes sir. Multi-engine instrument rating, sir!”
“Get up to the cockpit and see if our copilot could use any help. And Blackwell, let me know what’s going on when you can.”
“On the way sir!”
Dan thought about the situation. They were cruising at 28,000 feet. There were some high clouds above them. Joe discussed a typhoon far to the south, but certainly they weren’t upon that weather system yet. He had heard stories about clear sky lightning, but how did that explain the other C-17 apparently spinning out of control? He glanced at his watch. He had a inexpensive but reliable battery-driven Timex with both analog and digital function. The digital LED readout was blank. The watch’s second hand was motionless. He thought of the transmission from the Belleau Wood and Okinawa Control. A deep chill gripped his neck and arms—could they really have done it? Did the Chinese attack Taiwan using nuclear weapons? Certainly it could explain the electrical damage in the aircraft as well as the other C-17s misfortune. If so, where were the flash and the shock? Dan thought of his family back in California and hoped that he’d see them again. The idea of dying of radiation sickness wasn’t especially appealing — literally retching your guts out. Still, he felt okay.
He walked past Joe’s gently breathing chest. Green and Perez were still working on the lifeless loadmaster. Speculation turned suddenly to military certainty. They were in the middle of a war whether they wanted to be or not.
He tapped the copilot’s left shoulder. Not turning, the Air Force major said, “Yes?”
“If you want it, I found some help for you. Sergeant Blackwell here is a pilot with an instrument rating. He could at least keep an eye out for you.”
“Right.”
“Major, I know what happened to us. Somewhere, someone, probably the Chinese, exploded a nuclear device. We were hit by EMP.”
“Colonel, we lost an engine, we have no nav systems, all our comms are down. Go away.” The copilot began to fray at the edges.
Dan paused. Now was not the time to confront an overloaded pilot. “What are you going to do, Major?”
“I’m going to set this bird down at the nearest airport I can see.” As he said this, he pointed down and to the right at about two o’clock, “Right there!”