INVASION USA (Book 2) - The Battle For New York (14 page)

“I also have a feeling that something is wrong on the East Coast,” the chairman agreed. “Something is not right. Send all the squads in the continental United States in the direction of Washington, D.C. They will take at least three days to get there. Make sure they travel on different roads and in convoys of no more than five or ten vehicles. Travel during the day only, and do not terminate anybody in the farming regions. We are going to need those American farmers to produce food for our new country. I want a complete report as soon as the squads have terminated everybody at this airfield, or whatever it is. It could even be empty of people at this point. Why would anybody stay if there is no fuel to fly anything? Destroy it anyway. Tell the squads to go in fast and terminate everything they see, and then repot back immediately. Understand, Comrade Wang?”

“Yes, Comrade Chairman,” and Mo Wang left, noticing that the old man was getting tired and irritable. He needed to come back with good news.

*****

The president was waiting, as patient as a man could be with his country in the middle of a meltdown. It was with a sense of satisfaction that they finally heard the rotors of the Huey coming to get them. “About time,” he grumbled to the ambassador as they got up to leave. The president had a small overnight bag packed, and his wife and kids came downstairs to say goodbye. He gave them all a big hug and headed out to the garden.

“I don’t think you should be leaving the White House, Mr. President,” his chief bodyguard commented, worried about losing his control of the protection of the president.

“I understand your concern and I take full responsibility for my actions. I have a letter on my desk relieving you of your responsibility to me, but I want you to protect my wife and children in my place. I will be back here as soon as possible and then you are back in control, understand?” The man nodded. A direct order from the president was an order he couldn’t refuse.

General Allen came out to meet him and guided the president and the Colombian ambassador to the stairs the Marines had placed next to the door of the Huey. It wasn’t a perfect set of stairs, but it did its job. Buck rose vertically, turned the helicopter around and slowly climbed out of the White House garden as gently as possible. “It’s pretty neat in here,” the president remarked at the Huey’s interior.

“Thank Preston Strong when you get in tonight, Mr. President,” laughed the general. “Has Philippe been driving you crazy?”

“Not really. It’s been better to have someone around to help me keep what little sanity I have left. What’s the game plan, Pete?”

“I have your new bird ready and refueled at Andrews as we speak. We are changing planes and heading straight to North Carolina in about an hour. I’m leaving the helicopter at Andrews for your return flight. We should arrive in North Carolina just before dark. It’s time to introduce you to what we have, and then I have arranged for the best room at the Officers’ Mess at Seymour Johnson for you to sleep tonight. Unfortunately, we are anticipating some trouble in North Carolina tomorrow and do not want you there when or if it happens. I want to have you back at the White House by mid-day.”

The arriving storm was getting fiercer, and Buck had to concentrate to put Baby Huey and its valuable cargo down close to the gunship. The president and group departed and a dozen Air Force personnel grabbed everything out of the Huey—chairs and carpet, small fridge, and snacks— and moved them into the rear area of the AC-130, turning it into a more cozy area while the president had a hot cup of coffee in the Officers’ Mess.

A half hour later, they all strapped themselves into the uncomfortable side-seats for take-off, as it was going to be bumpy until they reached cruising altitude. Once the ride smoothed out, however, the three older men moved out into the more comfortable chairs.

*****

Preston was about to leave RDU. They had had a busy afternoon. As soon as the three C-130s left, he had organized Joe and David to take both armored cars and a jeep over to the airport for the guard unit to use for patrols.

He flew in with the FedEx Cargomaster and did a sweep of the entire area, including flying over the two burnt-out vehicles from the day before. They hadn’t moved, but when he saw three vehicles driving around to the east of the airport on the 540 beltline he flew low to inspect. What he saw was potential trouble-makers—several men aiming their rifles at him as he flew over at 500 feet. He radioed the information to Joe and warned him. Joe and David returned that they were spoiling for a fight but that currently it was all quiet and they were just getting onto the beltline.

Preston flew in to land, and after disembarking, he inspected the gate they had used for their entrances. It was still locked. He listened to see if he could hear any aircraft engines and all he heard was the odd rifle shot here and there. The wind was picking up, and he smelled a storm on the way. Preston waited a couple of minutes and then heard engines from different directions at the same time. A C-130 cruised overhead, and he radioed Jennifer to come in from the east. He hadn’t heard the aircraft in advance because of the noisy armored car engine that arrived with the tractor trailer, and he unlocked the gate.

Joe reported that they saw several cars headed away from the airport once the C-130 came overhead, and that they had had clear passage all the way in. Preston told Joe and his boys to take the emptied truck around to the other terminal and start loading anything they thought would be needed at the farm, and that they had 90 minutes.

The C-130 came in and parked on the apron close to the gate and shut its engines down. At least 30 soldiers exited and immediately started unloading their gear. A lieutenant came up to greet Preston, who asked if half a dozen men could get in the back of the Cargomaster and help them pack up some stuff. The lieutenant whistled when he saw the armored Saracen that his troops would be using.

“Pretty cool,” he smiled at Preston. “It looks like a pretty cool ride. I hope we see some action with her!” Preston grinned back as he took the lieutenant on a brief tour of the area.

“So, this is the main gate?” the lieutenant asked as they checked the lock again. Preston explained that the terminal must be protected, as well as the fuel tanks, and if needed, he and his troops could move to a better location if they found one. He also suggested that troops try to talk to visitors before engaging them physically, since there could be friendly people driving around looking for food. He spent five minutes with the lieutenant explaining what they had seen on the streets, and told him that he was under the direct orders of General Allen. By that time, Jennifer walked up and told him that Mother Goose was on her way and that the crew was requested to test the civilian tanks here. “Also, Martie says ’Hi’,” Jennifer added. “She called in to say she is currently flying south at 9,000 feet down I-95 and is doing just fine.”

Preston got back in the Cargomaster and started her up before taking six men around to the tractor-trailer’s location by the door into the second terminal. Joe, David, and all his boys were already carrying cases to the rear of the trailer. With 14 strong men, they filled the trailer up with case upon case of food—two whole pallets of still-frozen bread rolls out of a large walk-in freezer, hot dog rolls and sausages, hamburgers, and steaks, as well as ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper, boxes of frozen vegetables, and cases of mashed potatoes. In one of the cases, there was a complete mobile bar with three beer taps and several dozen kegs.

As a team, they used the gas-powered forklift which Jennifer had flown in from the farm to move the entire unit down an empty walk-way into the truck, and then packed two dozen full beer kegs and every case of alcohol out of the restaurant.

It took 30 minutes and all 14 men sweating, but the area was cleaned out and empty. Preston even took the bar stools and dining tables to place in his hangar area as a cafeteria. One of the soldiers asked if he wanted a gas oven and grill top, and Preston replied that if he could undo everything, he would take the whole kitchen. Three of the soldiers got to work and had everything on the truck in 15 minutes.

The next restaurant had even more stuff, and again, anything that moved in the airport terminal was used to transport goods to the walkway where Joe had backed up the truck. At each location, a two-week supply of food products was left for the soldiers. A second bar area was emptied of anything to sit on and tables to eat from. The bar was emptied of alcohol as well more bread, pizza dough, and anything that looked like it would last longer than a couple of days.

Within 90 minutes, the trailer was full and the kitchen equipment, parts of it ready for transportation, were being moved and loaded with the forklift. Preston remembered that Jennifer had an empty aircraft and asked one of the men to tell her to taxi it over.

It took another 20 minutes, but a second gas grill and dozens of 100 lb. propane tanks were stacked into the C-130. Joe and his team were already leaving, the full tractor trailer truck sandwiched between the two armored cars. Jennifer came running over to Preston.

“Martie just called back,” Jennifer stated breathing hard. “She has a few injured people aboard, about 30 minutes out. She found a convoy of survivors and told me to tell the guards that two Southwest pilots, their crew, and about 60 passengers will be arriving here tomorrow around mid-day via ground vehicle. We are to let them in. They will use General Allen’s name. And Preston, it’s time to leave.” With that, she told one of the men to run over to the lieutenant who was still erecting his tents, and give him the new information.

The few remaining men closed everything down and Preston and Jennifer climbed aboard their respective aircraft, noticing that Mother Goose was also starting up.

Within 15 minutes, RDU was cleared of all visiting aircraft.

Martie was still several minutes out when Jennifer arrived at the Strong airport, followed by Mother Goose, and Preston a mile or two out, circling above Joe and waiting for Martie. She was already in view and she came straight in from the south as Preston closed in and began to circle his farm. He saw that sandbags and a barrier were already in place and that the tractor trailer could just squeeze through the defensive wall that closed off the dirt road south of his entrance gate. The whole farm was starting to look like a military installation.

While they were away, Sally had returned from Andrews with more troops and equipment from facilities along the East Coast. There were new sandbagged mortar placements around the perimeter protecting the area nearer the lake. A second hospital tent was up next to the old barn and the whole airfield looked like something out of M.A.S.H. Then he heard General Allen’s voice say over the radio that “Alpha Foxtrot One” was ten minutes out and needed landing conditions.

“Pete, this is Preston. I’m above our airfield and it’s busy down there right now. Don’t rush. I need to get down first. The wind looks like 15 to 20 knots from the northeast and straight down the runway, temperature about 40 degrees. Did you say ‘Alpha Foxtrot One’?”

“Roger, Preston. You get down there and organize a place for Ghost Rider on the apron by the hangar. Get a red carpet if you have one. All Air Force pilots, get your birds off the apron area and park on the other side of the runway in a line next to the barn,”
Preston heard the general say.

Preston went down like a rocket and landed quickly in the growing storm and parked in the first available empty space where Baby Huey was now stationed. He quickly turned off the aircraft and jumped out to organize a reception squad from the remaining troops on the tarmac—the president was incoming. They quickly ran to find the parts of their uniforms that were missing and Preston changed direction and crossed the runway just behind Sally’s third C-130 that was taxiing off onto the grass. He got blown about, but was more interested in checking on Martie. Martie was helping dress the wound of an older lady with a new woman Preston hadn’t seen before helping her. This extremely good-looking new arrival was dressed in a dirty flight attendant’s uniform and she had a young girl, a teenager sitting very close to her. Little Beth was trying to talk to the teenager, who looked scared and very unsure of herself.

“Martie, I need you in the hangar. We have a V.I.P. coming in,” Preston said to Martie.

“Preston, this is Pam. Pam, I’d like you to meet Preston,” she said quickly as she finished the bandaging.

“Pam Wallace, Preston,” the newcomer replied, shaking his hand. “Martie, you go on. I want the girls to get to know each other better, and this injured lady here has offered to look after them. She’s a school teacher and our younger additions will be better off with her for the time being. I think we have serious work to do. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes, okay?”

Martie gave little Beth a hug and told her to make friends with the older girl and that the older lady would look after them while she was at work. Beth seemed to understand, and left Martie’s side for the first time since she had arrived, allowing Martie to follow Preston. Preston noted that the first medical tent was already quite warm, with heat generated by several gas heaters.

They had already connected the hospital electricity to his generator, but he didn’t have time to check it right now. He and Martie ran across the tarmac just in time to see the fourth C-130, about three or four miles out over the lake, just a few moments away from turning into its final approach. The sergeant was also preparing himself for the reception. He was the senior military person on base, apart from the new doctor.

“Do we have a red carpet?” Preston asked Martie.

“No,” she replied. “The only moveable carpet we own you already sent somewhere into Washington this morning. By the way, I saw what we were looking for. There are ten trucks with about 30 to 40 guys, and they should be turning off I-95 in about 30 minutes to an hour.”

“You did?” he suddenly stopped and looked at her. They were right in the middle of the runway, but the news stopped him short and he just looked at her for a second. The roar of the incoming plane shook him out of his surprise. “Let’s get off here! You tell the general that as soon as you can!”