INVASION USA (Book 2) - The Battle For New York (33 page)

Preston asked the farmer on the tractor if he could pull a few vehicles off the highway—three would be enough—so that anybody could land closer to the burned out wrecks on the other side of the bridge, and the farmer went about his mission with excitement.

An hour later Preston was sitting in the Army base commander’s office telling him the whole story. He had seen a straight piece of road inside the barracks. The 800 yards of two-lane tarmac road was clear, with no electrical wires, and he had gingerly put the P-38 down with several yards to spare on both sides.

The Army was pretty worried about an old aircraft landing in their private area, but it did have U.S. Air Force markings on it. For an hour, Preston told Colonel Peter Grady everything that had happened and that they were expecting an attack by the enemy in New York in about two weeks. The president was currently in North Carolina and was expected to start a food distribution program in a couple of days.

“What do you have that’s operational, Colonel,” Preston asked.

“We have 12 old transporters, and another ten loaned to the area’s National Guard that we can go and pick up,” he replied. “Apart from three old jeeps we use around here and a couple of fuel tankers from the 1980s, we have tried to start everything, and that’s all that works.”

“What sort of weapons and troops do you have?” was Preston’s next question.

“We have five old artillery pieces operational, training equipment from the 1970s. They are big boys, the older M198 155mm howitzers. They can fire two rounds per minute sustained, and we have 75 HE extended range 155mm projectiles in our armory. They have a range of up to 18 miles and the HE can put a good dent in anything out there that’s made of steel. Then, Mr. Strong we have ten of the older 105mm howitzers and those have a range of seven miles. We have 500 armor piercing projectiles stored for those. We have eight operational 5-ton howitzer transporters from the 1960s that still work and can pull those 155mm howitzers. We have another three flatbed trucks, which can carry the 100-lb. projectiles. Since we only have 75, we can fill the flatbeds up with the lighter 105mm projectiles that weigh just less than 50 pounds. As far as troops are concerned, we have 1,500 troops on alert and we need several companies of them to guard our base here. If we got a platoon of 30 troops into our 22 usable troop transporters each that would be 660 men with ten of the trucks pulling the 105mm howitzers. We could fill one of the jeeps with rations for a couple of days and head over to our nearest base just outside Atlanta for more rations. I know for sure that the colonel there has one or two more howitzers and I’m sure a couple of old trucks to pull them with.”

“Could your fuel tankers get you to each Army base between here and New York?” Preston asked.

“I think so. We might need the Air Force to drop us a bit of fuel, but if I stopped and picked up troops at each Army base between here and Fort Bragg, I reckon I would have three times as many vehicles, howitzers, and projectiles and we could have a convoy miles long by the time we reached New York.”

“Well, on behalf of the President of the United States of America, I have a letter enabling me to commandeer anything I think will help us defend the United States of America,” stated Preston pulling the letter out of his flight jacket.

“And what is your rank, Mr. Strong, if I may ask?” replied Colonel Grady checking the letter, direct from the White House.

“I’m of equal rank to General Allen, head of the U.S. Air Force, so that makes me a four-star general, Colonel.”

“Well General Strong, that’s good enough for me, sir. I can have my soldiers ready and out of our gates in six to eight hours. I aim to make four stops at other Army bases close to our route to increase our convoy before we reach Fort Bragg. I think that I can reach Fort Bragg in 48 to 60 hours, depending on how long the bases take to get their men ready.”

“Tell them to head north up I-95. You can clear the way, and with less traffic, they should catch up with you. Also remember, Colonel, its cold up there. Take every luxury you can to keep warm and all the food you can carry. You can stay at my place on your way up. The address is on this piece of paper. I will give you this letter dated four days ago from the president, and this is your authority to commandeer everything you can on your way to my location. Once you get close to Fort Bragg, use our frequency. I’ve also written it on this letter, and if you need supplies I will try and get a C-130 to land close to you. I suggest that you move a bulldozer or two out right now to start clearing a route for your men. The highways are congested with over-turned tractor trailers.”

“I forgot that we have an old tractor trailer carrying a bulldozer,” added the colonel. “The tractor itself has an armored front and steel fender to clear a pathway and the dozer can be pulled off to clear larger trucks. I’ll get them kitted up and out within the hour.”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Preston walked outside and hitched a ride with the colonel in one of the old jeeps back to his P-38, which was being guarded by a couple of armed soldiers. They shook hands, and Preston started the aircraft, much to the delight of the dozen military onlookers. He taxied as far down the road as he could, turned around, and completed his final checks. It was a well-paved piece of asphalt about 200 feet shorter than his airfield. Luckily, there were no buildings to get over at the end, only a 4-foot high fence surrounding a sports field.

Just to make sure, he gunned both engines before releasing the brakes and sped down the road, past the onlookers halfway down, and left the road 100 feet before the fence. He pulled the stick back hard and went high and fast to get out of the building area before turning his aircraft back towards I-20 East and bringing his engine revs down a notch.

He landed back on the road 20 minutes later where the famer had cleared enough space to get pretty close to the burned-out vehicles. He had only been away two hours, and already the fires were out and there were several soldiers carrying dead bodies and equipment as he turned the aircraft around and closed down the engines. He got a situation report from a Marine lieutenant and was handed three unharmed satellite cell phones.

The lieutenant went through the list of injured. They had one dead soldier and three slightly wounded men. On the enemy’s side there were nine injured. The two medics had done their best, but seven of them had already died. Two were still alive, but they were not sure they would make it through the rest of the day.

So, his final count was two still alive, 143 bodies and 51 sets of Chinese boots. His men had done a full sweep and had found several more dead bodies, but nobody alive. There were 50 vehicles, of which two still worked but had flat tires. Thirty-three were blackened remains, and 17 had given up a little merchandise here and there. There was very little equipment that wasn’t damaged. The farmer on the tractor came up and smiled, his job done. Preston was about to thank him when he heard the unmistakable sound of a C-130 coming in.

It came from the east at 500 feet and very low. Preston asked for a radio and called up to the aircraft as it flew overhead.

“Hi, Preston, Jennifer here. I’ve come to take some boys up north. Buck and Mike are two hours behind me and I have a doctor and three medics on board. I’ve got to head up north to help with a big fight up there.”

“There is enough room to land here. A kind farmer has cleared 700 yards on both sides of the highway for us, and I suggest you come in on the other side of the P-38. Over.”

She did, and let the engines shut down before getting out and coming over. She was introduced to the excited old farmer and then the tired Marines, who were excited that they were going with her to New York. Tired or not, they certainly didn’t want to miss any action. They would need every soldier up there.

There was a problem with the dead enemy bodies here though. The farmer spoke up and told them that he and the townsfolk had enough old equipment to dig a mass grave and that a communal grave just off the road was as good a place as any.

Preston told Jennifer about his luck with the Army base and the movement of troops beginning in a few hours from Anniston. He asked the farmer if he could give the two confiscated phones to Colonel Grady, who would be coming through in seven to ten hours, if he left written instructions for how the phone should be used. The farmer replied that they would dig the communal hole and then wait for the Army to show up.

A quick note was written, including Preston’s new cell phone number and General Allen’s, which he got from Jennifer. He then wrote down the instructions on how to use the phone, to always state the two words ‘Allen Key’ when starting to speak, and explaining why not to answer if the red number called. Both phones were from the batch the lieutenant had given him and still had full battery life. A charger had been found unharmed in one of the trucks and Preston also left that for the Army commander. It had a vehicle-lighter attachment and the phone could be charged while driving. He told the colonel to call General Allen when he got it and provide him with a sitrep.

The men were piling up all the workable weapons in the C-130. The two injured Chinese were also loaded, the new medics looking after them as well as the injured Americans. The dead American soldier was lifted into the C-130 with the remaining troops.

Jennifer took off to the west 15 minutes later and Preston waited for her to climb away. He waved goodbye to the nice old farmer, who saluted him as he gunned the engines for departure.

“With Americans like that, this country will certainly survive,”
he thought to himself, and as he flew over the bridge spanning the highway, he felt good and had hope for the future for the first time in several days.

He beat Jennifer in by 30 minutes after telling Buck and Mike to turn back. They were half an hour out from the farm when they turned back and reached the airstrip together. Preston had radioed Martie earlier, and she was just taking off from Robins Air Force Base and on her way home—she was an hour out and had enough fuel.

It was 4:00 pm and an hour before dark, when Martie came in and Jennifer went out, saying “Hi” as they passed each other in flight. The wind was coming from the south, and Preston noticed that landing was from the north for the first time this year. He hoped the winds were the winds of change. Somehow, he knew that this day had been a real victory for the United States. Now it was all up to General Allen. Hopefully, he would cut off the head of the “serpent” in the next 24 hours. America had certainly just cut off the tail.

‘Z’ Day 7 – China Attacked

At the exact moment that Preston was thinking about General Allen, the general had been in Japan for 20 minutes. Carlos, before he packed up to leave, had guided General Patterson and his aircraft into an overcast Japan. Luckily, the overcast conditions were only ranging about 20 miles offshore, but during the night Carlos had changed the three aircraft’s course three times as they flew over the ocean for the second half of their 12-hour flight. Carlos and Lee needed to be set up at McGuire within four hours to help guide General Allen and Lee’s wife into mainland China.

The first half of the trip had been easy. They had followed the Alaskan islands in a southwest direction from Anchorage, with the Bering Sea on the left and the Pacific Ocean on the right. They had passed over Atukan and Unalaska four hours into the flight, the infrared scanners and the antiquated but working 100-mile radar systems onboard the gunships giving them eerie views of the islands 29,000 feet below them. After five hours, they needed to head away from the land as it began to stretch in a west-northwest direction and towards Russia. For the next several hours, they needed Carlos to guide them.

All the way through the flight, General Allen, with his cell phone permanently on charge from the flight deck, made and received calls. For the first few hours, it was Major Patterson giving him sitreps, and by the time they left the last islands on their radar and infrared scanners behind, the fight was over and it sounded like they had their first prize—an intercontinental aircraft to ferry troops back to the States. He had given orders to get it checked out, refueled, and ready to meet him either in Ramstein, Germany, or at their main Air Force base in Turkey. General Allen wanted to move troops away from all front lines immediately and get them into safer areas.

He managed a couple of hours of sleep before they were scheduled to call Carlos again and get their latest position in relation to a line they had drawn on a map. He called Carlos at the appointed time, got all the aircrafts’ transponders switched on for several seconds, and within minutes Carlos was telling them that they were over 100 miles off their line to the south. They changed flight direction, and everyone not doing anything went back to sleep.

It was weird, flying over pure blackness and having only one person in the world to talk to, several thousand miles away, who could give them accurate information on where they were.

Two hours later, they did the same and this time they were only 20 miles off course. The winds from the north must have must have lessened. At this point, seven hours into the flight, they decided to add 1,500 gallons into each gunship from the tanker. It took an nearly an hour to get both aircraft refueled, and half the fuel was used during the refueling period, but it got them 275 miles closer to their targets. Once this fuel was used up, they started small electrical gravity feed pump motors that pumped the stored fuel from the soft bladders in their holds into the fuselage fuel tanks, which in turn pumped any excess up and into the wing tanks. That took another hour, and by the time they were finished, they expected to land in just three more hours.

Two hours later, they phoned Carlos and got a third location report. This time it looked like they were 40 miles north of their line into Misawa Air Force Base and 400 miles away from Japan. The area around the base was also overcast, and it could be snowing. They were 100 miles behind schedule and it was going to be tight on fuel.