' The Longest Night ' & ' Crossing the Rubicon ': The Original Map Illustrated and Uncut Final Volume (Armageddon's Song) (31 page)

“Okay, we’ll play a little game of general knowledge, and I’ll start with an easy one.” He could hear at least one person’s teeth chattering already.

“In 1858 the first recognised Aussie Rules match was played, between Melbourne Grammar and Scotch College.” He
paused a moment before asking the question, knowing they were all trying to remember their sports trivia, such as what the score had been and who had scored what.

“Who umpired?”

“Tom Willis!” said Stephanie instantly, and felt rather than saw the men staring at her. “I’ve got six brothers guys, whaddya expect?”

“Correct…you choose the next question Steph.”

“Thank you sir, and in payment for that ‘Boy’ question, answer this…how many tampons are in a pale pink box of Lil-Lets?”

There was laughter from Chloe but silence from the men.

“It’s going to be a long night.” Someone grumbled.

Lightning flashed, and just for a split second Reg saw a dorsal fin.

Mao
carrier group, Indian Ocean, West of Australia: 0005hrs, same day:

Vice Admiral Putchev watched the clouds flashing with internal electrical activity overhead and listened to the lonely wind. The fleet was running blacked-out as usual, and each vessel an undefined dark mass against the ocean. He could almost imagine he was the only human left, but he knew there were probably other solitary figures on the other ships doing exactly the same as he was.

The beat of helicopter rotors sounded for the second time in the last half hour. Was it the same two aircraft returning or had the earlier machines merely relieved these two?

He sensed he was no longer alone, and another came to stand beside him at the rail.

“It is going to be a stormy night Admiral, and not just with the weather.” Captain Hong said after a minute or two.

“How so?”

“The American stealth bombers have attacked our ICBM silos, and my country has launched in reprisal.” The captain
explained. “It has prompted our planned attacks upon New Zealand and Australia to begin earlier than I would have desired, if it had been up to me. But I am just the bus driver around here.”

This venture, the invasion, was a Chinese effort with support from Russia; as such the PLAN Admiral and the commander of the Third Army’s 1
st
Corps paid only lip service to the Russian contingent. Putchev was the advisor on carrier operations but the more the Chinese sailors mastered its intricacies the less important the Russians had become to them and their hosts became more and more distant.

It was always going to be a difficult marriage. The Cold War between East and West had seen more Russian and Chinese dead in border skirmishes at each other’s hands, than by NATO. As such, the Russian surface vessels all had large armed ‘Liaison Staffs’ from the People’s Liberation Army Navy on board so the Chinese Admiral could sleep soundly without fear of his allies turning on him.

Trust was not easily fostered after decades of enmity. 

Only Captain Hong, the
Mao’s
skipper, had made any effort to form a friendship. But as he had said, his role was merely the daily running and the functions of the aircraft carrier.

Karl Putchev felt the deck shift beneath his feet and the throb of the engines increase. The long, slow, almost leisurely cruise due south was at an end.

“You’ve launched ICBMs?”

“We must go below Admiral; the fleet will shortly begin to prepare for NATOs response.” He moved towards the nearest hatch. “And there is also a bothersome noise in the engine room I would like your advice on.”

The engine room was the only place on board that they could really be sure that no listening device could be effectively employed.

Making their way down through the lower decks they maintained a professional chatter until standing beside a piece of machinery tucked away in a corner.

“My understanding is that the strike only found success here, in Australia, and that the city of Sydney has been destroyed…moreover, chemical weapon are to be deployed against targets on land, and this may have already begun.”

Vice Admiral Putchev felt a dread coldness at the news.

“What word of your own armies in Europe, my friend?”

A cynical smile appeared on Karl Putchev’s face.

“We have forced some river or other and NATO is in full flight.”

“What, again?” Captain Hong said, in mock surprise. “That’s every day this month, isn’t it?” 

RAAF Pearce, nr Perth: Western Australia:

0007hrs.

It was warm and sunny, far too nice to be in school on a day like today. The heavy old wall clock ticked away hypnotically as Nikki and the rest of Miss Goldmeyer’s second grade class cast longing looks out of the window.

After a long and bitter winter the spring was here at last.

Chalk scratched upon the slate blackboard as Miss Goldmeyer hurried to write out their assignment before the lunchtime bell sounded its gentle chimes.

   “NBC RED ONE!…STATION SCRAMBLE!...NBC RED ONE!...STATION SCRAMBLE!”

Miss Goldmeyer placed down her chalk and turned to face the room full of six year olds.

   “Girls, quickly and quietly now, open your desks, put away your books and man your aircraft!”

With a jolt Nikki came awake, the klaxon screaming in between the tannoy's order for a general scramble, to get all serviceable aircraft off the ground and warning of a suspected incoming nuclear, biological or chemical weapon attack.

   “NBC RED ONE!…STATION SCRAMBLE!...NBC RED ONE!...STATION SCRAMBLE!”

Candice was fighting with the zipper on her sleeping bag as Nikki rolled free of hers, tugging hard she released her RIO and grabbed her helmet before sprinted for the door.

   In the corridor she was shocked to see two armed personnel, ‘Adgies’, Air Defence Guards in full nuclear biological and chemical warfare suits with respirators and helmets, looking like bipedal insects with torches gesturing at them to go left, not right, down the central corridor of the accommodation block. Panting she burst through the doors at the far end to see an open back four ton truck, its canvas removed and with its tailgate down just starting to pull away, it was almost full. Aircrew from a half dozen different nationalities were stood holding on to the tubular frame meant to support the missing canvas roof and sides.

1 Squadron RAAFs flight of F/A 18Fs attached to Pearce tore down the runway in pairs, a perfect minimum interval take-off, and Nikki found the need to scream at the top of her voice in order to be heard over the Super Hornets.

   “WAIT!”

The truck did not stop but the driver was keeping the speed right down as he watched them in his wing mirror, and the two USN aviators sprinted after it.

Hands reached down, Nikki tossed her helmet into one helpful pair of hands and grasped another, being hauled physically aboard where Candice joined her a moment later.

Someone pounded on the truck cabs roof and the driver floored the accelerator.

Several of the other passengers were pulling on NBC suits one handed, hanging onto the trucks roof frame with the other; others were in various stages of donning theirs. Neither Nikki nor Candice had been issued that item. Theirs was in the stores aboard the Nimitz awaiting their collection, and their signature for them of course.

An already suited RAAF squadron leader had a mobile pressed to one ear and his other arm looped around the roof frame with the palm pressed hard against the other ear, trying to listen.

   “Is this a drill?” Candice asked.

   “Hell no.” a voice answered. “The bastards nuked Sydney.”

   “But our ship is there!” She blurted.

   “Not anymore it’s not, darlin’.”

   “Fuck!” exploded Nikki angrily. “That’s the second time.”

Someone shone a penlight at the name-tag on her flight suit.

   “Oh, you’re that Pelham!” another faceless voice said, with a little bit of awe.

   “No such thing as too many veterans in the ranks, welcome aboard Lieutenant Commander.” said another.

The truck held Australians, New Zealanders, Taiwanese, Singaporeans, Filipinos, Japanese and Americans. Nikki was unique in being the only American present to have seen air combat in World War Three, but the Asiatic crews on the truck had all lost that particular cherry.

The Anzacs still had that bitter-sweet, and terrifying experience to come.

   The truck went onto two wheels as it made the turn towards the dispersal, the driver working the gears but barely coming off the gas as he applied the clutch. The tailgate rose and fell with a crash, bouncing open and closed, dangerously unrestrained, the locking pins and chains whipping against the paintwork. No one was going to risk broken fingers and other bodily harm by capturing the tailgate, so a clear space existed where the whipping chains held sway, the crewmen and women pressing together defensively back towards the cab.

   “Brace! Brace!”

The driver made no attempt to slow for the speed ramp but steered so that the front wheels took it square together. First the front wheels left the tarmac and then the rear axle, Candice screamed as the truck became briefly airborne before slamming down hard on the front axle and bouncing wildly.

   “God, but it’ll be a relief to get off this truck and back into combat!” Nikki said with feeling and the laughter erupted, a nervous release for some of the other passengers.

   They were not the only vehicle delivering pilots to the flight lines and Nikki could even see crew on push bikes pedalling furiously.

Shouted conversations were taking place around Nikki during the breakneck ride, but these were drowned out by Pratt & Whitney turbofans and General Electric turbojets.

   The first aircraft to release their parking brakes were Australia’s last pair of F111Cs, leaving their camouflage net ‘hangars’ and taxiing at high speed, anti-shipping ordnance in the shape of four AGM-84 Harpoons each carried on under-wing pylons. Right behind the F111s were a trio of Republic of Singapore F5 Tigers with a mixed AA and anti-radiation load-out.

   As soon as he could be heard the Australian squadron leader shouted for attention, putting away the mobile phone he had been pressing to his ear.

   “Listen up, we’re doing this one on the hoof so I’ll keep it simple. RV for everyone is 100 miles due West at Angels fifteen. ‘Magpie Zero Seven’ is the call-sign for AWACS on this and they are working on an anti-shipping strike so keep your ears to your radio but no speaking unless first spoken to. Radio silence people, let’s not give the bastards advance warning we are on the way!”

No writing was required and no questions were asked.

   “Any Navy here?”

Only Nikki and Candice qualified there.

   “Can you Elephant Walk?”

   “Yessir, I flew Tornados on attachment with the RAF in Germany.” Nikki replied, but Candice looked blank.

The squadron leader nodded, satisfied and address everyone present.

   “Once again, observe radio silence until you are called by Magpie Zero Seven.” He paused for emphasis. “Watch the Marshals', keep it tight and we’ll all get off the ground and get a shot at payback!”

   As the truck reached the dispersed aircraft it slowed but did not stop and aircrew dropped over its sides, rolling as they hit the ground only to rise and sprint to their charges.

Nikki leaped out, landing and rolling before running the remaining distance. She couldn't find the damn entrance under the camouflage netting at first and was cursing as it was hauled up by rope from inside.

However long she had been asleep had been enough time for the ground crew to fuel and arm their Tomcat. Two AIM-7
Sparrows, four AIM-9 Sidewinders and a pair of AIM-54 Phoenix sat on the pylons, a drop tank added to the loadout.

   “What’s an Elephant Walk, sir?” shouted Candice to the Australian squadron leader as they both landed on the grass and arose.

   “About fifty miles a day, lieutenant.”

   The ground crew, suited up already in the charcoal impregnated trousers and smocks but without gas-masks on, had already started up their F14 and the crew chief held up for her the weapons safety pins that had been removed. The aircraft was hers and ready for combat. Nikki was lowering herself into her seat as Candice climbed the ladder.

   Candice fumbled with straps.

   “Relax Ma’am.” A technician shouted and deftly connected radio jacks, oxygen and her flight-suits air bladders.

   “First time?” he asked, meaning her first for real mission with war shots.

She nodded.

   “You’ll do just fine ma’am!” he yelled over the engine noise.

A ground marshal’s illuminated wands signalled them forwards urgently and a moment later Nikki got the thumbs up that all personnel and equipment were now clear.