The real reunion came when Patrick and Wendy McLanahan emerged and greeted Hal Briggs. These three had first been together years earlier in the original Megafortress project started by Brad Elliott, when Patrick and Wendy had been selected by Elliott to help design and test- fly the first Megafortress, a modified B-52 nicknamed “Old Dog.” That test program started ten years earlier had suddenly become an operational mission when Elliott and his crew of engineers and flyers had flown the Old Dog over the Soviet Union to destroy a groand-based laser site that had been shooting down American satellites, and threatening an intercontinental nuclear war between the superpowers. The bastardized mission had been a success, and the ragtag test crew had become the centerpiece of the Air Forces most highly classified installation, the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, nicknamed Dreamland.
“I never thanked you for helping my ass over Iran, Patrick,” Hal Briggs said. “I knew you were up there doing shit, I knew it! I heard the Iranians launching every SAM and triple-A projectile they had, and I knew it was either a raid by every bomber in the fleet, or a couple Screamers launched by Patrick McLanahan. Thank you for saving my narrow ass, brother.”
“My distinct pleasure,” Patrick said. He shook hands with Wohl. “Good to see you, Gunny. Great work taking over this airfield. I don’t think the Marines will ever know what hit them.”
“It was no problem, sir,” Wohl responded. He motioned to his Humvee, and two of Wohls commandos brought out Commander Willis. “I thought you should explain things to the commander.” Wohl ripped the piece of duct tape off the Navy commanders face, leaving a cherry- red mark on either side of the angry officer’s face.
“I will see you thrown in prison for the rest of your life, McLanahan! ” Willis shouted. “This is a complete outrage! You are nothing but a criminal and a traitor!”
“I’m taking what belongs to me, Eldon,” Patrick said. “We’re going to keep you and your men nice and safe and out of the way. I’m sure you’ll be found shortly after we’ve departed.”
“Where the hell do you think you’re going to go, McLanahan?” Willis spat angrily. “Where do you think you’re going to hide five fucking B-52 bombers? You might as well give yourselves up now. Or maybe you can just defect to Russia or China or wherever the hell you’re headed, you lousy stinking traitors! ”
“I’m not going to defect, Eldon — we’re going to fight,” Patrick said. He nodded to Wohl, who nodded to his men, who wrapped another long piece of duct tape over Willis’s mouth. “Get him out of here, Gunny,” McLanahan said.
“With pleasure, sir,” Wohl said humorlessly.
Patrick turned to Hal Briggs. “The rest of the flight crews were taken off the island and sent back to the States,” Patrick said, “so we’ve only got enough flight crews for one plane. We’re going to load all the weapons we can on Jon Masters’s DC-10 launch plane, and upload all the defensive weaponry we can on the bombers themselves. We’re short on maintenance crews too, so we’ve got to do a lot of the loading and preflight stuff ourselves, so we can use all the help your guys can give us. After the Redtail Hawk mission, I figured your troops are somewhat familiar with loading air-to-mud stuff on bombers.”
“You got it, Patrick,” Briggs said, rubbing his hands together with sheer excitement. “Man, this is great! Do I get to go flying this time?”
“We’re way short on crew members, so we can use all the help we can get.”
“In that case, I brought along someone who might help,” Briggs said. He motioned to his Humvee, and a single man stepped out. It was hard to see his face in the glare of the headlights…
… but Patrick McLanahan knew who it was the minute he stepped out of the vehicle, even without seeing his face, and the brotherly embrace they shared in the glare of the Humvee’s headlights was genuine and tearful. “My God, Dave, it’s really you, it’s really fucking you” Patrick breathed, his voice choked with emotion. Wendy, Briggs, and Brad Elliott joined the two, and they all clustered around one another like a close-knit family reunited after many painful years.
David Luger and Patrick McLanahan had once formed the Air Force’s most effective bombing team ever. Because of their skill, knowledge, expertise, and seamless teamwork, they had both been selected by Brad Elliott for the secret “Old Dog” project. When the test project had suddenly turned into an operational mission, together Patrick, Luger, Wendy, Brad Elliott, and two more crew members, now dead, had successfully attacked and destroyed the Soviet anti-satellite laser site.
But the crew had been forced to land their battle-damaged plane on an abandoned Soviet airfield in eastern Siberia. The crew had managed to steal enough fuel to depart the base, but in the battle that ensued after they refueled the EB-52, Dave Luger had left the bomber to draw fire from the Red Army soldiers that had arrived. His heroic actions had allowed the Megafortress and the rest of the crew to escape, but he had been severely wounded and left behind in the frozen wastes.
Luger had been feared dead and was nearly forgotten until Paul White and members of Madcap Magician, performing a daring rescue inside a secret Soviet research facility in the Baltic republic of Lithuania, had discovered Luger inside the same facility — White had been a simulator instructor and designer with David and Patrick McLanahan at Ford Air Force Base in California, and he’d recognized Luger instantly White had contacted Brad Elliott, who’d combined forces with Madcap Magician and Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Chris Wohl and mounted a covert rescue mission. David Luger had been returned safely to the United States, but had had to be placed in security isolation because he had been declared dead, and his sudden reappearance would have caused questions about the then-classified “Old Dog” project.
Patrick McLanahan’s longtime partner David Luger returned the embrace, crying like a child and pounding Patrick’s back with joy. “Hal told me you were going flying, and that it might be illegal, so we decided to go all the way and spring me out of security isolation,” Luger said in his familiar Texas drawl. “He filled me in on the way. I guess we’re not so classified after all, are we?”
Patrick was still not believing his partner and best friend was standing in front of him. “God, Dave, I still can’t believe this,” Patrick gasped. “Man, a whole lot of shit has happened since I saw you last. I never thought either one of us would make it. ”
“Well, we made it, and I’m ready to do some flying and serve up a heapin’ helpin’ of whup-ass,” Luger said excitedly. “And Fve been studying, too.”
“Studying? The Megafortress?”
“Damn right, bro,” Luger said. “Ever since the Redtail Hawk rescue, and after finding out you guys were still together and still flying Megafortresses, I’ve been studying up on everything you’ve been doing. Hal and Paul and John Ormack and Angelina Pereira, before they died, were secretly giving me EB-52 tech orders for months, the latest stuff. I haven’t seen a Screamer or a JSOW or a Wolverine, but I know how to load, program, and launch them and all the weapons we can carry on a Megafortress. I can sit in any seat and run the systems, and I could even fly the beast with a little help. So just tell me where in the hell we’re going and I’ll help you get us there! ”