A squad of 30 soldiers was in formation as a welcoming guard, and he introduced himself to them as well as the radio operator— a young airman that was six foot ten inches tall and weighed in at a muscular 300 pounds.
“You say the base commander has gone fishing?” the general asked the airman.
“We are looking at all possible ways to feed the 1,200 personnel on base, sir,” the airman replied. “We have food supplies for a couple of months, or until we are resupplied, but it looks like this outage is everywhere. We’ve had no traffic in or out for six days, sir. Is this problem country-wide, sir?”
“World-wide, son,” replied the General. “You guys are on your own until we can get supplies up to you, which will be closer to spring. So tell the colonel that he may go fishing as much as he wants, but he needs to have this base on lockdown until further notice. We believe the Chinese are to blame for this electrical meltdown, and I will know more in a couple of days. I have a satellite cell phone for you with the number for Colonel Mondale at Edwards AFB, who will be your only contact until further notice. You are to call him with a sitrep every 24 hours starting two days from now. Unfortunately, Edwards hasn’t received their cell phone yet. I’ll give you my number in case you need to contact someone before then, and if you see the red number that is listed on the back of the phone come up on the screen, do not answer it under any conditions. That number is the enemy, and they are going to want to speak Chinese and ask you where you got the phone from, understand?” The airman nodded.
“Does Blue Moon still have her fuel bladder?” General Allen asked the tech sergeant who had come up to give him a report.
“Yes, sir. She has both her 1,250 gallon bladders from her flight in here,” he replied, saluting. “We have filled her tanks and both bladders for you. She cannot take any cargo or ammo, she would be overweight, and her bladders will give you 1,000 miles at low cruise each. With your tanker being refueled now, General, she has a range of over 4,400 miles and can deliver 3,000 gallons of fuel. You will need 2,500 gallons to get Ghost Rider into Misawa and you’ll have 500 gallons spare, or 45 minutes of extra flying time. Since both aircraft can be refueled at the same time, your engineer can also pump out another 500 gallons from the tanker’s own tanks in yours and increase your fuel reserves to 1,000 gallons.”
“You are exactly correct with your numbers, Sergeant, well done, and we need that extra fuel. We must allow an extra degree or two for wind diversion during our flight,” replied the general. “We will fully arm ourselves once we reach Osan or Kunshan in Korea tomorrow afternoon.”
“One more thing, General,” said the sergeant. “If you don’t have GPS or any modern directional systems aboard, how are you going to find land?”
“We have the infrared locators in the gunships to view islands below us, and as long as the weather is clear, we have a friend back stateside who can give us limited directions. Other than that, Sergeant, we are going to need a lot of flying expertise, and maybe every gallon of gas you pump into us.”
General Allen handed the phone and battery charger to the airman and asked for his dinner of grilled salmon. They ate large portions of salmon and mashed potatoes in the Officers Mess while the aircraft were still being refueled. He also told the ground crew to unload the pallet in the rear of Ghost Rider that contained the hamburgers and frozen rolls and ordered the personnel to load up a pallet of frozen salmon in case the Air Force personnel in Japan needed supplies.
Two hours later, the three aircraft, heavily laden with fuel, took off on their 3,100 mile nonstop trip to Misawa Air Force Base in northern Japan, 12 hours away.
Chapter 11
JFK – Major Joe Patterson
The sun was just rising off the East Coast of the United States as the two specks in the distant horizon slowly grew larger and larger. The first aircraft came in, and Major Patterson saw that it was a modern 747-400ER. It came in slowly, and the Chinese-American pilot, Captain Wong, gave the incoming pilot the information he needed to land. As it touched down, 20 Air Force men and the two Chinese American pilots all wearing the recently acquired clothing and radios went out to show that they had control of the landing area.
Captain Chong, the second Chinese-American Air Force pilot had found ground control aircraft-directional batons and guided the big jet to its parking position, while Captain Wong talked the second 747 down onto the runway. The first big jet parked, facing outwards, and its engines began to wind down. The second one completed its landing and came around towards the terminal. There were only two ladders on the terminal waiting for the aircraft. The others had been hidden by the U.S. troops to control the newcomers getting on and off without being noticed.
A ladder was pushed out to the aircraft and the aircraft’s door opened, guns pointing out from the door in every direction. The major could see communication between his men and the visitors, and Captain Wong asked for the second ladder to be placed on a rear door of the first aircraft as well. The major couldn’t understand why until he watched the second aircraft close its engines down and the large jumbo jet nose of a 747-Transporter began to open.
It seemed that everything was in order to the men inside the aircraft. Captains Wong and Chong stated they had everything under control and started being arrogant, even issuing orders to the men coming down the ladders. The American soldiers hidden everywhere watched as about 200 armed soldiers wearing green camouflage uniforms—certainly not correct for the snowy, white conditions—exit the aircraft.
“That was definitely a bad call on the part of the incoming soldiers,” the major thought to himself. The Chinese soldiers took several minutes to exit, walking down the two sets of stairs and forming up underneath the left wing of the first aircraft. To those watching, it looked like there were two companies of 100 men, each with a commander. Then the engineers, all in civilian dress and some in white overalls, began descending the stairs. The two Chinese-American pilots, Wong and Chong, issued orders to the civilians telling them where to find the equipment to refuel both aircraft.
A couple walked up to Captain Wong and asked him something. He shrugged his shoulders and pointed to a dozen large 9,000 gallon jet fuel tanker trailers that the now dead men had pulled closer with the bulldozers earlier. Then Captain Wong, making his Chinese-made rocket launcher more comfortable on his shoulder, looked around and showed the man the skyline for some reason. The major expected that the engineers had asked for the fuel storage tanks. There were none of the noticeable fuel tanks at this airport. The closest million-gallon tanks were in New Jersey.
Fortunately, being Air Force personnel, the American pilots knew what these guys would need to refuel a jet and had tested everything. The men then went over to an underground fuel outlet connection and a discussion ensured. Captain Wong shrugged his shoulders again and pointed at the fuel truck.
Several engineers then walked over to the second 747, using an elaborate system to lower two good-sized forklifts to the ground.
Major Patterson was worried; he wasn’t a small man. At 5 feet 9 inches tall he had dressed in the dead men’s clothing so that he could also be mobile. It was time for him to take a look outside. Two of his men made sure that nothing showed apart from his civilian clothing and he walked up to the entrance and descended the stairs down to the aircraft area.