Chapter Thirteen: Oklahoma
Planner and Bates exited with large bags from their Chevrolet Suburban limo on the runway of Tinker Air Force base. Early morning and high cloud allowed the temperature to be comfortable, hardly any warmer than their air-conditioned SUV limo. Flat in all directions with the smoky mountains in the distance, the most dominant item in their immediate landscape was the rear view of a four-engined, jumbo jet. The jet looked just like a Boeing 747, the big hump at the front was the characteristic feature of the 747 air frame. That hump was a second story to the plane occupied by the flight crew and, if it were a civilian aircraft, the first class passengers. The plane was all white except for a blue stripe down the fuselage; there were no other markings.
Greeting them was Colonel Purple, easily identifiable by the uniform and purple colored badge on his chest covering the usual military name tag.
“Sir!” saluted Purple.
“Colonel,” greeted Planner warmly, shaking his hand.
Purple took one of their bags and lead them past an armed security guard standing on the runway, over to the jumbo jet.
“I hope you were not delayed too long at security,” said Purple.
“It took an hour. Full bag search,” stated Bates sardonically.
“That’s privileged treatment. Most people have it worse. The security is tight around here. It’s because of this plane. The E4-B National Emergency Airborne Command Post113, or as we call it, the Knee-Cap,” stated Purple proudly.
“I thought it was called the Doomsday Plane,” said Planner.
“Yes, in the newspapers,” said Purple. “Not a bad name for it, all things considered. It’s hardened against EMP, the electro-magnetic pulse that nuclear bombs emit. Most aircrafts’ electronics, come a nuclear war would be fried by EMP, by the Knee-Cap would still be flying.”
“Are we going straight onboard? I thought we’d be briefed beforehand,” said Planner.
“Straight onboard. No need to use any other facility. This aircraft has everything you’ll need. Plus it’s the most secure office conferencing facilities this side of the Cheyenne Mountains,” boasted Purple.
Purple led Planner and Bates up a rear set of stairs on the port side.
Once inside, Purple started a tour of the aircraft. “The mission crew use this rear door. There’s a forward door for V.I.Ps, but that’s rarely used, even by the Secretary of Defense.”
“How many people does it carry?” asked Bates.
“The E4-B can carry over one hundred crew members, although generally we fly with about 50. So this section is the galley; help-yourself-service mainly although there are stewards too. There’s bathrooms back there. Shower facilities, which are essential; Exercises can last a week with no touchdown. We run out of food after that!”
“A week!?” exclaimed Bates.
“In flight refuelled?” asked Planner.
“Naturally. It takes two KC-135 tankers to top up its tanks. And they’re needed every 12 hours,” said Purple, leading them through to corridor running the length of the starboard side. Purple lead Planner and Bates into the first large room, the Rest Area. Purple drops the bag he was carrying into a luggage rack and invited Planner and Bates to do the same. The room had about 40 seats arranged like an airliner on one side and bunks on the far side.
“This is the rest room. In-flight entertainment, just like an airliner. But over here, for a good night’s sleep, bunk beds!”
He then led them into the next room, small with sound-dampening insulation, where 8 people could sit in cramped conditions surrounded by electronics. A mid-twenties officer was sitting in one of the seats. He had a browny-yellow badge.
He stood to attention as they entered and salutes, “Sir!”
“This is Captain Ochre, in charge of communications,” said Purple returning the salute. “This is the Communication Room: telephony and radio. All channelled by satellite communication through the bump on the roof. Then it goes out to aircraft, ground, even to submarines. Not just voice but video and data. We collect data from AWACS, satellites, U2s, radar, well everywhere really. Even CNN.”
Bates and Planner shook Ochre’s hand.
Purple led Planner and Bates along the corridor into the next room, the Command Room. In the middle of the area, were six groups of desks for four people each with four computer screens. There were another 4 computer screens on the back wall, 28 positions in all. There were 3 uniformed men relaxing in the room, with Magenta, Orange and Blue tags. They stood and saluted. Purple saluted back without introducing them.
“This is the main command room, tactical display, computers… There’s an E4-B ready 24 hours a day, 365 days a year,” said Purple to Planner and Bates. “There’s four of them and usually permanently manned, just like a ship!”
“Why is it permanently manned?” asked Bates.
Purple said in hushed tones, “The computer systems are rated Top Secret, containing every military plan and option available. We need to stop any possibility of tampering. Basically they contain the DoD’s crown jewels. So there is always someone onboard except during major overhauls.”
Resuming his tour voice, Purple said, pointing at different work stations, “Flight monitoring, over here. Comms monitoring here. The drone team will be here. And the ground contact team over there. The area in the middle, this is where I expect you’ll be sitting during the Big Event.”
“Really?” Bates seemed surprised.
“Well, we’re planning on imitating four aircraft. We’re going to be busy,” said Planner.
“Can’t we do most of that from the ground?” said Bates.
Purple spoke paternally to Bates, “I don’t suppose you appreciate the number of plane spotters and amateur radio hams out there that would hone in on any fake transmissions emanating from a single spot. All our spoofing has to come from the air if you want any form of credibility.”
Bates pulled a face. Purple spun on his heels and left the room.
Planner said to Bates, “Welcome to Spoof-Central.”
* * * *
Purple led Planner and Bates into the E4-B’s empty Briefing Room.
Purple announced, “Large conference room and briefing room. You can squeeze forty people in here. You may need to, for this op.”
Through a door at the back, they entered the smaller conference room, which was only slightly smaller but designed for about 8 people in some comfort. On the walls, there are lockers containing equipment, mission plans, and a variety of other luxuries.
“This is the strategic conference room. This will be our office for most of this week. Forward of this is accommodation for Secretary of Defense, or the President, but the President generally prefers to fly on Air-Force-One. In any case, it’s off limits to us mere mortals. Above us, on the second floor, are the pilots, engineers and navigators. They actually have been sealed off. They won’t know a thing about the actual mission; they just fly the plane along a planned route. They have their own beds and canteen up there.”
“Below us,” Purple banged his feet, “are stores and the MJU-32 anti-aircraft missile defences. We don’t go down there either. That’s about it. Or rather, as much as I know.”
“Phew. I suspect this costs quite a few tax dollars,” observed Bates.
“$250 million. Plus running costs… about $80million a year. For each one,” said Purple.
“And Air Force One? That’s another aircraft type?” asked Bates.
“Oh yes. There are actually two Air Force Ones, Boeing 747-VC-25s114. The four E4-Bs look similar, 747 airframes, but they have different functions. Similar costs though,” said Purple.
“Thanks very much, Colonel,” said Planner. “That’s been most enlightening.”
Purple smiled and walked over to a locker and opened it via a combination lock, “Ok. That’s enough of the guided tour. Let’s look at the flight plans and perhaps this afternoon we can start the exercise?”