Thirty minutes later they scrambled Sally on the radio and told her about the incident on I-20 about ten miles before Heflin, Alabama, and told her to get her boys down to set up a road block at the Alabama-Georgia border. There were about 200 men in 50 vehicles, minus dead and wounded, and the convoy was about three miles from the Georgia border. She acknowledged and both Mustangs rose to 16,000 feet and saw other aircraft heading out 15 minutes before they arrived at the farm. Martie was getting her moment in the sun, and came over the radio to say that she was flying fighter escort for her friend Sally.

“Don’t get too close, Martie,” warned Preston. “They have shoulder rockets and you will not have much time before dusk. If you use your guns, don’t get closer than 1,000 feet. Sally, tell your passengers that we will be coming back just after dawn with back-up and we will be in radio contact before we arrive. The current situation report is that we used everything we had, about a dozen or more vehicles are on fire out of about 50. There are many dead and I’m hoping they can’t move forward. Aim for the smoke, it is easy to see. We messed them up pretty bad. Over.”

“As Martie says, you boys have all the fun. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she comes home. And leave the light on for us, we are going to need it,” replied Sally.

They got a landing report from Maggie and came in from the south and pulled up next to Lady Dandy on the apron. The President and First Family were stretching and waved as they arrived. The mechanics dashed out to inspect the aircraft and both pilots jumped down and shook hands with each other and then told the president about the attack. A few minutes later, Tech Sergeant Matheson came up and told Carlos that he had two small holes in one wing and a tiny piece of metal had done a little damage in the engine. They could have it repaired in about 24 hours.

Meanwhile Sally and Martie headed out at 5,000 feet—Sally with a full load of soldiers, and Martie with full tanks and a full load of weapons. It was only 50 minutes of flying before they saw the plumes of smoke rising ahead of them, and they decided to first take a look from a higher altitude and see what was moving. They climbed up to 7,000 feet and flew about a mile north of the highway. Sally had the co pilot take over the flying as she trained powerful binoculars onto the road below them.

“I see about 50 vehicles,” reported Sally. “There are a dozen or so who have left the road and are under trees about 100 yards to the southeast of the convoy. I think I counted 12 vehicles still burning, another three that are destroyed, and about 14 vehicles about a mile in front of the burning vehicles and slowly heading east. I’ve found what looks like about 800 yards of open road five miles ahead of them and I’m going east and will come in low for a couple of miles and get the ground troops in. Martie, stay up here and tell me if they are getting close to me.”

Sally switched to her internal intercom. Gentlemen, prepare for ground evacuation in five minutes. Over.” She then switched back to the radio. “Martie, I’m landing, turning around, lowering the ramp, and then I’m out of there!”

“Roger that,” replied Martie. “I think you have about ten minutes of daylight left, and I want to hit those vehicles on the move and then see if I can shoot a couple of these rocket things into the group under the trees. Then the boys can clean up for us, right boys?” There was an acknowledgement from the troop commander in the rear of the 130.

“And don’t be nice guys, boys,” added Sally. “They have probably killed a lot of innocent civilians getting those vehicles, and when you come upon bodies, check them for everything—we need their cell phones.”

“Roger,” answered the major in command.

She guided down on low power for several miles behind the landing area, her co-pilot taking fixes of landmarks so that he could tell her the distance from the landing point, and she turned in for final approach at 1,000 feet, then dropped down to 500 feet to stay higher than any electrical lines or cell phone towers.

“I’d say three miles,” her co-pilot stated as she brought the speed back to about 20 miles an hour above landing speed and began her landing checks. “Two miles to target,” continued her co-pilot. Sally was struggling with the sun off to the left of the road, which was affecting her vision.

“The enemy is about three miles in front of your landing area, and I counted 14 vehicles. They seem to have men lying on the roof. I’m going in from the west and will start my run when you tell me you are airborne, Sal.”

“Roger that,” Sally replied. “Just remember we have our own troops down there when you go in. Out.”

“Half a mile to touchdown,” added her co-pilot.

“I have it on visual,” she replied, and she took Tom in on the westbound side of the highway, skimming a few feet over a couple of dead cars standing in the middle of the road.

“I’d say about 1,000 yards of clear road ahead of us,” her co-pilot added. The wheels touched, and Sally worked on slowing the fast moving aircraft as silently as possible. She used up the whole space and hit the brakes hard as she closed to within 50 feet of an upside-down burnt out Volkswagen beetle, next to a low slung sports car, also burnt to the ground and with dead bodies still sitting in it. She turned off the highway as far as she dared, her co-pilot giving her distances to anything the wings could touch, and she slowly turned the large aircraft about and as she got back onto the asphalt, the co-pilot pushed the rear door release.

Immediately, Sally began her take-off checks as the door slowly opened and the full load of troops ran onto the road and around the aircraft to cover her take-off.

“The convoy is about a mile behind you, Sal,” stated Martie. “You’d better get moving so that they don’t see you, and stay as low as possible. I’m at 1,000 feet to the south and going to come in from the west, guys. Keep your men off the road.”

Sally slowly pushed the throttles forward as the door came up and she tip-toed the now empty aircraft out of there as quietly as possible, clearing two stationary cars by a few feet and following the contours of the road as she brought her undercarriage up and kept the engines on as low revs as possible.

“I’m clear,” Sally stated into the radio. “Martie, fire a short burst to get the feel of the guns. They will slow you down slightly and screw up your aim.” Sally, now that the sun was behind her, could see clearly in front of her and kept the aircraft as low as possible until the ground fell away as the road went over a brow. She gained a safe height and kept the revs down for another five miles before pushing in the power slowly, pulling the aircraft up and turning to the north and then to the west to see what was going on behind her.

“I’m going in with the guns on the moving vehicles. I’m about a mile out at 1,000 feet and diving in from the sun,” Martie stated, her excitement coming through the radio, and making Sally smile.

“I got some, I got some!” Martie shouted over the radio several seconds later. “Two trucks are burning and several are trying to get off the road in all directions. I’m coming back in from the north.” Several seconds later she came back on the radio, “I got another one! It just blew up in front of me! I’m turning in at 1,000 feet and going in from the south.”

“Roger that,” replied Sally. “Martie, you should have about six seconds of ammo before they start clicking. When they click, leave the firing button alone—you’ll be out of ammo. You can then arm your rockets.”

“I got the two I was shooting at!” Martie shouted over the radio another 20 seconds later. “One exploded and made the other one catch on fire. I’m heading back west to hit the stationary group hiding under the trees with my rockets. Thanks Sal, I heard the clicking. Over.”