“Sir, I feel that your current deployment of the bomber force is a waste of time, money, and manpower, and will do nothing to resolve the situation.” Samson could see Danforth bristling with anger, but decided to quickly press on and say what he thought. “I urge you in the strongest terms to recommend to the NCA and the Joint Chiefs to abandon the nuclear generation and adopt this non-nuclear attack strategy my staff and I have drawn up. More lives and more time will be wasted if you don’t.”
The Battle Staff Room was quiet, deathly quiet. Danforth sat motionless, a finger on his lips, expressionless. After a few long moments, he sat up and waved to Samson with the back of his hand. “Thank you, General Samson,” Danforth said. “That will be all.”
“Yes, sir.” Samson picked up his papers, left the podium, and headed back to his seat in the Battle Staff Room.
“I said, that will be all, General,” Danforth repeated. Samson stopped, confused. “What I mean, General,” Danforth said angrily, “is that you are relieved of duty.”
“What!” Samson exclaimed; then, quickly regaining his composure, he asked, “I beg your pardon, Admiral?”
“You have failed to carry out your orders to generate the bomber fleet to wartime readiness as directed by the National Command Authority and this command; instead, you have wasted our time by advocating a posture that runs completely counter to orders that originate from the commander in chief himself,” Danforth said. “Further, you don’t seem to have any desire to follow my orders, and you have insulted and disgraced your fellow commanders in this room by your flagrant disregard for your superior officers and their lawful directives. You are relieved of command of CTF Three and are ordered to report back to Barksdale Air Force Base immediately to await further disciplinary action. Have your deputy report to me ASAP. Get out of my command center.”
Stunned, Terrill Samson turned and headed for the door. He had to wait several long moments for the safelike blast door to be opened by security guards, and he could feel the stares of his colleagues on the back of his head — it was a very uncomfortable period of time until he could be escorted out. He had been fired. For the first time in his long and distinguished military career, he had been fired. Even worse, his commanding officer had said he had “failed”—and that was the worst slap in the face of all.
It was no great surprise when Patrick McLanahan entered Brad Elliott’s hospital room fifteen minutes before official visiting hours began and found his friend and former commanding officer on the phone. He looked a little embarrassed when he saw McLanahan’s disapproval. “Get back to me on that right away,” he told his caller, his voice slightly nasal from the oxygen cannula. “Don’t worry about the time — call me back as soon as you get the info.” He hung up.
“You’re obviously doing much better, Brad,” Patrick said disapprovingly. “The nurses said you ordered the phone turned on ten minutes after you woke up last night.”
“Don’t start nagging me,” Elliott said with a scowl. “I’m feeling just fine.”
“You need rest, Brad, not more work,” Patrick said. “You have a secretary and a staff back in Eaker, remember that. Have them take some of the jobs you want done. Or just call me or Wendy — she’ll do whatever you want done.”
“Okay.”
Obviously, he hadn’t heard a word Patrick said. He gave him a knowing, sarcastic smile and added, “The nurse said you’re doing good. The clot-busting medication is working — no surgery, not even angioplasty. But she said you’re up at all hours of the day and night making phone calls and watching the news on TV. This has got to stop or you’ll never heal.”
“All right, all right, I will,” Elliott said.
“What are you up to, anyway, Brad?”
“I’m trying to get hold of Samson and Vic Hayes, see what in hell the fleet is doing.” He nodded toward the two TV sets installed in his room, one tuned to CNN and the other to the Armed Forces News Service, which broadcast news and directives to all military units worldwide. “The news said Taiwan attacked the mainland, but then all hell seemed to break loose and there hasn’t been a damn thing since. What do you got?”
“The attack’s been verified,” Patrick responded. “The Chinese got it on video again and showed it on several international news networks — Taiwanese F-16 Falcons, bombing and strafing the shit out of Juidongshan Naval Base. Successful hit, from what the news said. Maybe a couple subs, headquarters building, a POL farm, air defense sites. They report lots of casualties, but we haven’t seen any on TV.”
“Shit hot,” Elliott exclaimed happily. “The ROCs have the right idea. Now I just wish we’d get into the game.” He noticed Patrick’s downcast expression. “You heard something else? What?”
“There was another ROC attack last night on the amphibious attack staging bases near Xiamen,” McLanahan replied. “Much larger strike package — perhaps the remainder of Taiwan’s F-16 fleet.”
“Great! I didn’t hear anything about it in the news. They kick ass too?”
“Not exactly,” Patrick said. “Satellite radiation sensors indicate the attack formations were hit by surface-to-air missiles with nuclear warheads. Five detonations were detected, all in the twenty- to fifty-kiloton range, about twenty miles east of Xiamen over Quemoy Island. No survivors.”
“What!” Elliott exploded. “The Chinese used SAMs with nuclear warheads?”
“ ’Fraid so,” McLanahan said. “No statement yet from the Chinese government.”
“They’ll probably say that the Taiwanese fighters were carrying nuclear weapons and they accidentally went off,” Elliott said disgustedly. “If that doesn’t work, they’ll admit that their SAMs had nuclear warheads on them but they were provoked into using nuclear weapons because a thousand crazed Taiwanese attack planes were bearing down on them, assisted by an American stealth bomber, or some crap like that. The damned thing is, the world press will believe them.” Elliott fell silent for a moment; then: “I wonder what in hell Samson and the Chiefs are doing now? We should at least be lining up some strikes against Chinese ICBM or medium-range ballistic missile sites, especially the nuclear sites.”
“Might be too late,” McLanahan said. “China retaliated against the Taiwan attack — they attacked with nuclear-armed air-launched cruise missiles and medium-range ballistic missiles. Taiwan got blasted all to hell. They’re not a smoking hole in the Pacific, but their big air bases got creamed.”
“I don’t believe it! ” Elliott exclaimed. A cold chill ran up and down his spine. He remembered the nuclear scares of the past thirty years, but it had never come to an all-out nuclear exchange… until now. “No wonder I can’t get anything out of anybody. What else, Muck? What else happened?”
“Looks like someone popped off a couple ballistic missiles over North and South Korea,” McLanahan went on. “Wonsan in the North got hit.” -
“With a goddamn nuke?”
“Yep,” McLanahan said. “Looks like we’re one radio call from starting a new war in Korea — and this one might go nuclear or biochemical right away.”
“Oh, shit, this is incredible! ” Elliott cursed. “We’ve got to get in the ball game, Muck! We’ve got to talk with Hayes or Samson. All I see is this stuff on the news about ballistic missile subs put out to sea — I haven’t heard squat about the bombers.”