Aboard an Air Force E-3C AWACS Radar Plane
Over Eastern Pennsylvania
The mission crew commander aboard the Airborne Warning and Control System radar plane, Major Scott Milford, diligently continued to scan all five of the vital sectors assigned to him — Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Washington, D.C. — but he always came back to check out Executive One Foxtrot.
The modified Boeing 747, Air Force designation VC- 25A, commonly referred to as Air Force One (but actually only called that when the President of the United States was on board; its call sign tonight was Executive-One-Foxtrot, meaning that a member of the President’s family or some other very high-ranking White House official was on board), had been assigned a standard FAA air traffic control transponder code, and everything appeared to be normal. It was flying Jet Route 77, an often-used high-altitude corridor used by flights from New England to transition routes into the Philadelphia and Baltimore areas. Usually the VC-25 A was cleared direct airport-to-airport, even if it would bust through dense or restricted airspace, but since the President was not on board, the crew was apparently taking it easy and following published flight routes to avoid totally messing up the air traffic control situation all over the eastern seaboard. The White House had learned from the Los Angeles haircut incident, when the President tied up air traffic at Los Angeles International Airport for an hour by having Air Force One block a taxiway while he was getting a $200 haircut from a famous Hollywood stylist, how sensitive the public was to the Chief Executive stomping on common people while using the privileges of the office.
The senior director on Milford’s crew, Captain Maureen Tate, turned and saw her MC scowling into his radarscope. “Still bugged about that VC-25 flight, sir?” she asked with a trace of amusement in her eyes.
“It’s not the VC, it’s the whole White House policy jerking us around,” Milford complained. “We set up this whole complex air defense system, and we get blamed when it fails, but when the President wants to go on the campaign trail, he dismantles the whole thing overnight. Now the White House is taking one of its heavies right through our airspace, and we didn’t hear word one from anybody until twenty minutes ago.”
“That’s FAA’s fault, not the White House’s fault,” Tate said. “We checked — they got the flight plan and the Alert Notification. The Northeast Air Defense Sector scrambled those two F-16s from Otis, too, and they got a visual — it’s a VC-25 all right.” It was standard procedure for Air Force One to get a military fighter escort anytime it was in or near hostile airspace, and these days, with Cazaux on the loose, the airspace over the United States was definitely considered hostile. But the fighters’ standard operating procedure was not to come closer than three miles — close enough for a big plane like a 747—and there was to be no escort after sundown unless requested, so the fighters from the little base on Cape Cod had gone home shortly after the intercept. They probably got some dynamite pictures.
“I guess I’m bugged because usually we hear from Air Combat Command or the 89th before they launch a VC- 25,” Milford said. It was not standard or required procedure, but during most special operations and especially during an emergency situation such as this, the Support Missions Operations Center (SMOC) of the 89th Air Wing, the Air Force unit that flew the VIP jets from Andrews Air Force Base, usually notifies Air Combat Command and the Airborne Warning and Control Squadrons that they were going to fly a SAM (Special Air Mission) through their area. It was a simple “heads-up” that was encouraged to expedite VIP traffic. Milford saw Tate’s little amused grin, and added, “And I’m bugged I didn’t get my invitation to the President’s barbecue, either.”
“Situation normal, all fucked up,” Tate offered. “Want to call and raise some hell with Andrews? I can contact the SMOC.” Milford hesitated for a moment, not wanting to bug the VC-25’s crew unnecessarily, but Tate took his hesitation to mean yes. “Comm, this is the SD, get the 89th SMOC on button four for me, okay?”
“Copy,” the communications officer responded. A second later he responded, “SMOC on button four, SD. Call sign ‘Midnight.’ ”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, who’s that?” Milford asked. He had flipped over to the Washington, D.C., sector radar display, where a large electronic arrow was pointing at a low-flying, fast-moving radar target flying right through the middle of D.C., just a few miles from the Capitol. “Jesus, who is that? Who gave him clearance to fly down there?”
“Washington Approach has him, sir,” Tate reported after checking with the Comm section. “It’s an F-16 from Atlantic City, Devil Zero-Three. Looks like he’s on a Beltway tour.”
“Who gave him that?”
“Washington Approach cleared him, sir,” Tate responded. “National Tower is talking with him too. He’s VFR.”
“I don’t believe it, I just don’t believe it,” Milford said angrily. “Two days ago we were ready to blow planes like that out of the sky twenty, thirty miles away — now we’re letting them fly practically up to the front door of the White House. And he’s not even under a proper flight plan! What are we doing up here if ATC keeps on clearing guys to cruise around anywhere they want? Are we supposed to be able to stop this guy if he turns out to be a terrorist?”
Milford switched his comm panel to Washington Approach’s direct phone line. The reply came: “Washington Approach, Poole.”
“Mr. Poole, this is Major Milford, aboard Leather Niner- Zero, the radar plane assigned to your sector,” Milford responded. “You’ve got a Devil-03 flying VFR through the center of National’s Class B airspace — I’d like him out of there as soon as possible.”
“Any particular reason, Major?”
“Any particular reason…? Sir, we’re in the middle of an air defense emergency/” Milford shouted, trying to keep his composure on the landline. “The FAA may have taken down the special flight restrictions and approach funnels; but we’re still responsible for stopping possible terrorist aircraft from entering Class B airspace. It really complicates our job having unauthorized VFR traffic flying through the middle of one of the most vital airspaces in the country. Is that good enough for you, Mr. Poole, or do I need to talk with the TRACON supervisor?”.
“All right, all right, Major, I get the point,” the controller responded, clearly exasperated at the threat but not wanting to make waves. “How about we give him present position direct Nottingham direct Atlantic City International, and no more Beltway tours unless we coordinate with you first?” “That sounds fine, Mr. Poole, thank you,” Milford said. “Leather-90 out.” He punched off the phone line, stripped off his headset, and wearily rubbed his eyes and face. “Man, what is it with these controllers?” he murmured. “It seems like every one of them believes it’s not going to happen to them, so they treat everything like situation-normal. I’m sick and tired of FAA controllers giving these pilots anything they ask for, and then us getting blamed when the pilot turns out to be a terrorist… look, there’s another VFR flight, busting the Class B airspace.” Milford pointed at a new target just marked as UNKNOWN by the Surveillance section. It was a slow-moving target flying northwest toward Washington Executive Field or Potomac Airport, traveling less than two miles per minute — a light plane doing some sightseeing. “We ought to blow that guy away just as a warning.”