"That could usually be done," Donald said.
"Do you need the crew chief?" McCoy asked. "If he weighs 180, that's twenty-five gallons of gas."
"Crew chiefs are handy if the bird breaks," Donald said. "And they have other in-flight duties."
"Essential, yes or no?" McCoy pressed.
"Desirable, not absolutely essential."
“And the second pilot? That's another twenty-five gallons of gas."
"Same answer. There is also the possibility that pilots take hits, and a spare pilot is a nice thing to have."
“Desirable, but not absolutely essential?" McCoy pressed again.
"Right."
"You can fly one of these?" McCoy asked.
"Yes. I was the assistant project officer on this aircraft."
"Can you fly it without help?"
"If necessary. Why do you ask? If I can ask that."
"I'd like to see what you can see from the pilot's seat. I don't think anybody can see very much looking out the side door."
Donald nodded but didn't say anything.
"Do you have another pilot who can fly one of these things by himself?"
"They all can."
"Are these things fueled up and ready to go?"
"I had them topped off yesterday afternoon."
"When you flew them here, did you fly over Inchon?"
"I really don't know what route they took. I'll have to ask one of the pilots who did fly in here."
"What's going on, Kil—Major?" Zimmerman asked.
"I just had one of my famous inspirations," McCoy said. "Major, would you ask one of the pilots who flew over Inchon if he would join us?"
"Sure," Donald said, walked to the nearest H-19, and returned with a young-looking captain.
"This is Captain Schneider, Major," Donald said.
McCoy shook his hand, then asked, "When you flew here yesterday, Captain, did you fly over Inchon?"
"Yes, sir."
"There's supposed to be an Army vehicle depot there. Did you see it?"
"I saw a motor park of all kinds of vehicles, sir."
"Was there someplace in this motor park where you could land one of these aircraft?"
"I'd have to make a couple of passes over it to make sure there's no telephone or power lines, but yes, sir, there was plenty of room to land the H-19s."
"Okay. This is what I'm thinking. We need vehicles. We need them," he said, pointing to Dunston, Zimmerman, Jennings, and then himself. "And you need them. And the Marines need them. The original plan was to go there and dazzle whoever's in charge with our CIA identification and orders. We're authorized vehicles, but we get hung up in the bureaucracy. It just occurred to me that if we flew in there in these helos, showed them our orders, and said we needed the vehicles right now, they'd be double dazzled and we'd be out the gate before they had time to think things over—and try to get permission from somebody who would need three days to make a decision."
Major Donald and Captain Schneider smiled.
"How many vehicles are you going to need to support the helicopters and your men?" McCoy said. "Make a list right now. You, too, Dunwood."
"Aye, aye, sir," Dunwood said.
"If you had a tank truck, or tank trailers, could you get AvGas somewhere?" McCoy asked.
"From the Air Force," Donald said. "I don't know if there's a tank park at Inchon or not."
"Make sure you have tank trucks, or plenty of trailers, on your list," McCoy said.
"Yes, sir," Major Donald said.
"On the helos, I want enough men to drive what vehicles we're going to take, plus enough to manhandle the food and whatever else we're going to draw from the Quartermaster Depot," McCoy said.
[SIX]
After the H-19s were pushed outside the hangar, Major McCoy managed with some difficulty to climb into the cockpit of one, and then—with some assistance from Major Donald—to strap himself into the copilot's seat.
Donald then handed him a headset and a microphone, and showed him how to press the microphone button to talk, and the switch that allowed selection of TRANSMIT and INTERCOM.
"Got it?" Donald's voice came through the earphones.
McCoy checked to make sure the switch was set on INTERCOM and then pressed the microphone button.
"Got it," he said.
Donald put his face to the open cockpit window.
"Wind it up, Schneider," he called to the other H-19.
A moment later, there came the whine of the engine cranking, a cloud of blue smoke, and a lot of vibration.
For the first time, McCoy realized that he and Donald were practically sitting on the engine.
The rotor blades began to turn very slowly, and then ever faster, over them. And produced more vibration.
He looked around Donald at the other helicopter and saw Zimmerman, who looked as uncomfortable as he felt, sitting beside Captain Schneider.
Donald checked a baffling array of instruments on the control panel and exercised the controls. McCoy had no idea what Donald was doing.
After about a minute, Donald's voice came over the earphones.
"You about ready, Schneider?"
"Anytime, sir," Schneider's metallic voice replied.
"K-16, Army 4003," Donald's voice said.
"Go ahead, Army 4003,' a new voice responded.
"Army 4003, a flight of two H-19 helicopters, on the tarmac in front of the hangar across from base ops. Request takeoff permission for a low-level flight on a departure heading of 250 degrees."
"4003, where are you going?"
"K-16, Inchon. We will not exceed 1,000 feet en route."
"4003, understand departure heading 250 degrees, destination Inchon, flight level under 1,000. Be advised that there are multiengine aircraft in the pattern making an approach to runway 27. The altimeter is two niner niner. The winds are negligible. K-16 clears 4003 for immediate takeoff on a departure heading of 250 degrees. Advise when clear of the field."
"Roger, K-16. Army 4003 lifting off at this time."
Donald did something to the controls. The sound of the engine changed. There was more vibration. The tail of the helicopter seemed to rise, and then they were moving very slowly across the tarmac, just a few feet off the ground. The helicopter turned at the edge of the hangar, seemed to both accelerate and rise a few more feet off the ground.
Then, when it had passed over the airport boundary, it turned and climbed to about 500 feet.
Jesus Christ, Major Kenneth R. McCoy thought, you can see just about everything from up here! This noisy goddamn machine is really going to be useful!
[SEVEN]
Haneda Airfield
Tokyo, Japan
O9OS 3O September 195O
Captain Paul R. Jernigan, who would command Trans-Global Airways Flight 908—City of Los Angeles—Lockheed Constellation Service from Tokyo to San Francisco with fuel stops at Wake Island and Honolulu, had no idea at all that he would be carrying Fleming Pickering until he looked out the window and saw him approaching the aircraft.
He pushed himself out of the seat, told his copilot and the flight engineer that "Jesus Christ, Pickering himself is getting on!" and then left the cockpit so that he could personally welcome aboard the man who owned the airline.
"Welcome aboard, sir," he said. "My name is Jernigan."
"Thank you, Captain," Pickering said, offering his hand. "This is another kind of captain, George Hart. My name is Pickering."
"Yes, sir. I know. It's a pleasure to have you aboard, gentlemen."
The senior stewardess who had been counting heads in the rear of the airplane saw the captain standing by the door and came quickly forward and saw who it was.
"We heard you were coming with us, Commodore," she said. "Welcome aboard. We have you in 1A, the window seat, and 1B."