“I am not in control of what is happening,” replied Wang. “The chairman is giving the orders.”
“Should I know his name?” asked Carlos. “Is he important enough for me to know his name? Don’t tell me it is Mao Zee Tung? I won’t believe you, Mr. Wang.”
“His name is Chairman Wang Chunqiao, son of Comrade Chunqiao from the Zedong days of ‘The Group of Four’. Chairman Chunqiao is President and CEO of Zedong Electronics, and my boss,” replied Wang, now not knowing what to do.
“I’m sorry, but his name doesn’t ring a bell. I suggest you hand him your phone when we are finished and tell him to call me when he’s ready to be terminated,” Carlos was having way too much fun. “By the way, this conversation is being recorded and will be sent to the President of the United States, who will decide when to end your attack once and for all,” Carlos continued, winking at Lee. He now had control of the man at the other end, if he didn’t hang up. “Or, we could play back this recording to your Comrade Chairman when we meet with him in a few days. We are ready and looking forward to the introduction. We have been moving hundreds of thousands of troops into your arrival area for days now.”
“What can I do to help you get rid of this madman?” asked Mo Wang, honestly.
“Not much,” replied Carlos, smiling for the first time that day. “Your friend Lee Wang is sitting right next to me and he said not to trust you.”
Suddenly the communication turned into rapid Chinese, Mo Wang talking excitedly to Lee Wang since he realized the phone was on speaker phone.
“I’m very sorry Mr. Mo Wang, but I don’t speak Chinese anymore,” replied Lee sincerely. “I’m an American citizen and you have attacked my country. Not only that, but you tried to kill my family. I am looking forward to being there when the president, a very nice man actually and far better than you and your organization, will press the button to end your life. If you wish to speak with me, you had better continue in English—my Chinese is very bad.”
“Mo Wang, call off your hit squads,” added Carlos angrily. “We are ready for them in New York, Washington, Los Angeles and every city you care to mention. Tell them to disappear and never be heard from or seen again. Tell your chairman that we are ready for him. My buddies are excited about getting into battle with their aircraft, tanks, guns, submarines, ships, helicopters, and believe you me, Mr. Wang, they all itching to get into the action first. Just send the 20 remaining aircraft you have over to us. We want to get our troops back and if not for those aircraft, you would all be dead by now. Oh! By the way, I look forward to meeting you personally in a few days. Look for me. I’ll be one of hundreds of flying fighters, and when we meet, you will hang by the neck until dead, right next to your chairman. Bon voyage, Mr. Wang!” and he hung up.
Carlos put the phone down, his anger dissipating now. At least if the chairman were told of the conversation, or if he was actually listening in and it was a ploy, they wouldn’t be so certain of their survival.
“I don’t think you made Mr. Mo Wang very happy,” suggested Lee, smiling.
“I hope not,” replied Carlos.
*****
It was a fantastic sight, and it certainly raised the morale of everybody there, when on the 11th day, four fully laden 747s flew into each New York airport, disgorging 500 fully armed troops from each aircraft fresh in from Turkey with their gear.
Newark’s cleared runway was ready as the four jumbo jets lined up for their final approaches, coming in from Incirlik Air Force Base. Two thousand troops per airport was the goal General Allen had hoped would be realized. Now they had an even better chance of winning the war, and 11 more flights, or nearly 80,000 troops, could arrive before attack day.
The 747 transporter had arrived several hours earlier, flying in from Alaska. Her electrical component cargo had already been unloaded at McGuire, and she had been refueled to carry a full load of food into JFK.
Using the airport’s fuel generators as back-up and running with new parts, and the central fuel-pumping terminal using the largest airport generator and several smaller military ones all tied together, fuel was once again retrievable from the central aviation fuel location in New Jersey. Now, all three airports could fill the 12 thirsty jets with 64,000 gallons of fuel each and get them airborne with fresh crews five hours after landing. The transporter would need five hours just to be loaded with food and the refueling queue would be back in the air by the time she needed fuel—this time at JFK.
Two thousand new soldiers to feed per airport per day was a big deal, and all three of the airports had brought in cooks and field kitchens so that supplies of any fresh food could be served instead of MREs, at least until it was used up.
Colonel Patterson had received his new insignia, as had Major Wong who had flown the transporter most of the way from Elmendorf in Alaska, after getting some sleep during the 7-hour flight from Shanghai to Alaska. Patterson got a shock that his promotion had already been patched through to the base commander at McGuire, as well as orders from the general that he was to lead the attack in New York.
Everyone had heard about the death of General Allen. After the call to Mo Wang, Carlos had phoned all the numbers necessary to tell them the news about the general’s death. The president had ordered that the nuclear explosions in China be kept from everyone else for the time being.
The remaining incoming troops would be flown into Teterboro, now the busiest airport with C-130s and helicopters going in every few minutes. Once the transporter began airlifting into Teterboro, the C-130 transporters were to go out to the bases and move in troops and any vehicles or guns that could fit into their holds.
Here at Teterboro, General Allen had planned to house 60,000 troops within the first ten days, with the 747s bringing in 6,000 new troops per day. The other three airports were ramping up for another round of 2,000 troops during the second week, and then Newark was to be supplied with as many troops as possible who could walk into the harbor area around New York once they were airlifted into Newark, which was the closet airport to the harbor area.
The airports were up and running, and the 200 Chinese and 200 American engineers were being trucked into New York Harbor daily to repair all electrical cranes, machines or lines for whatever was needed. The Chinese electricians had a master plan and the American engineers just went along with it.
The two remaining gunships and HC-130 tankers arrived back a day later, minus Ghost Rider. They were all refueled, and would wait for the memorial service to be held later that afternoon at McGuire for the 14 lost aircrew, including General Allen, who had been aboard the lost aircraft. Carlos had gotten a lift back to Preston’s farm to pick up his P-51, and all the people at Preston’s farm had flown up in Baby Huey and Lady Dandy to attend the service.
There weren’t many people left at the farm. Even Will Smart risked his life, choosing the helicopter over Lady Dandy. He sat on the floor of the helicopter, holding his kids’ hands as they and the president’s kids sat with him. The President and First Lady were comfortable in the upholstered chairs that had been reinstalled to make Baby Huey into Air Force One again. With Will’s eyes tightly shut, Baby Huey took off in a northerly direction towards McGuire under Buck’s steady hand.