“Do you have the blue Air Force book of personnel call signs, radio operator?”

“Roger that, Allen Key, pulling it off the shelf now. What page are you on?”

“Page 1, and look for Allen Key,” replied the general smiling. Alaska was a different world.

“Shit! Shit! Roger, Allen Key. The only aircraft we have operational here is an old 130, ‘Blue Moon, and a couple of helicopters from before I was born, sir,” the radio operator replied.

“Why is Blue Moon with you?”

“She was incoming from Osan via Misawa with a tanker about six months ago when her outer-right engine went down. It’s taken a year to get her reconditioned engine up here and fitted. They finished just before Christmas and she’s waiting for orders.”

“Confirm she is still fully equipped. Over.” asked the General.

“Affirmative, she’s bristling with whatever you want Allen Key.”

“How is your heating situation on base?” was Allen’s next question.

“We have a dozen logging companies around here, enough gas for our gas heaters for about a month, and enough wood for the indoor fireplaces for forever. MRE food stocks are down to three to four months, tons of salmon, and we are doing okay, Allen Key.”

“How are the locals doing?”

“I’d hate to see what’s happening stateside, but we are ready for such emergencies up here,” the radio operator replied. “All civilian houses have some form of wood burning back-up, we can never run out of wood, and we can always eat the polar bears when we get hungry. Hell, I’ve had grilled salmon five nights in a row and would love a burger right now. We have about a ton of frozen salmon on base if you want some.”

“Please give orders to fuel up Blue Moon for me,” continued the general. “Make sure her tanks are filled to the extreme max. She will be coming with me. Also make sure there are two sets of pilots ready to fly her. We are about an hour out and need fuel ourselves.”

“Roger. Runway 34 clear and dry, wind from the north five to ten, temperature minus 21. Radio me and I’ll get the lights on for you. Do you want a welcoming committee, Allen Key?”

“I’ll radio in for high flares when we are closer. Actually, young man, get about two dozen salmon on that grill of yours and I’ll swap you for a couple of cases of frozen burgers, rolls, and cheese so that you can have your cheeseburgers. Out.”

They went in directly from the south onto Runway 34. They were still 20 miles off course to the east when the flares went off and could be faintly seen on the dark horizon through the left cockpit windows.

The weather was cold and brittle as the door opened, and they were surrounded by thick-coated personnel to refuel both aircraft. Blue Moon, three months younger than Ghost Rider, was in the same shape, with the same guns. She was expected to be on show at Andrews and hopefully at the Washington Aerospace Museum, if the funding for the new Air Force museum building complex ever went through.

At least five of the aircraft he had currently flying had been destined for this new complex—to have a display of still-operational Vietnam War-era aircraft. General Allen had been waiting for government funding for three years, but it had never been granted. The display would have been great. He had designed a showing of two F-4s attacking ground units, a third F4 on the ground being rearmed and refueled, and two Hueys being refueled by the HC-130 tanker, which was now flying with him, and Ghost Rider and Blue Moon being air refueled by Mother Goose also at the same time.

A squad of 30 soldiers was in formation as a welcoming guard, and he introduced himself to them as well as the radio operator— a young airman that was six foot ten inches tall and weighed in at a muscular 300 pounds.

“You say the base commander has gone fishing?” the general asked the airman.

“We are looking at all possible ways to feed the 1,200 personnel on base, sir,” the airman replied. “We have food supplies for a couple of months, or until we are resupplied, but it looks like this outage is everywhere. We’ve had no traffic in or out for six days, sir. Is this problem country-wide, sir?”

“World-wide, son,” replied the General. “You guys are on your own until we can get supplies up to you, which will be closer to spring. So tell the colonel that he may go fishing as much as he wants, but he needs to have this base on lockdown until further notice. We believe the Chinese are to blame for this electrical meltdown, and I will know more in a couple of days. I have a satellite cell phone for you with the number for Colonel Mondale at Edwards AFB, who will be your only contact until further notice. You are to call him with a sitrep every 24 hours starting two days from now. Unfortunately, Edwards hasn’t received their cell phone yet. I’ll give you my number in case you need to contact someone before then, and if you see the red number that is listed on the back of the phone come up on the screen, do not answer it under any conditions. That number is the enemy, and they are going to want to speak Chinese and ask you where you got the phone from, understand?” The airman nodded.

“Does Blue Moon still have her fuel bladder?” General Allen asked the tech sergeant who had come up to give him a report.

“Yes, sir. She has both her 1,250 gallon bladders from her flight in here,” he replied, saluting. “We have filled her tanks and both bladders for you. She cannot take any cargo or ammo, she would be overweight, and her bladders will give you 1,000 miles at low cruise each. With your tanker being refueled now, General, she has a range of over 4,400 miles and can deliver 3,000 gallons of fuel. You will need 2,500 gallons to get Ghost Rider into Misawa and you’ll have 500 gallons spare, or 45 minutes of extra flying time. Since both aircraft can be refueled at the same time, your engineer can also pump out another 500 gallons from the tanker’s own tanks in yours and increase your fuel reserves to 1,000 gallons.”

“You are exactly correct with your numbers, Sergeant, well done, and we need that extra fuel. We must allow an extra degree or two for wind diversion during our flight,” replied the general. “We will fully arm ourselves once we reach Osan or Kunshan in Korea tomorrow afternoon.”

“One more thing, General,” said the sergeant. “If you don’t have GPS or any modern directional systems aboard, how are you going to find land?”

“We have the infrared locators in the gunships to view islands below us, and as long as the weather is clear, we have a friend back stateside who can give us limited directions. Other than that, Sergeant, we are going to need a lot of flying expertise, and maybe every gallon of gas you pump into us.”

General Allen handed the phone and battery charger to the airman and asked for his dinner of grilled salmon. They ate large portions of salmon and mashed potatoes in the Officers Mess while the aircraft were still being refueled. He also told the ground crew to unload the pallet in the rear of Ghost Rider that contained the hamburgers and frozen rolls and ordered the personnel to load up a pallet of frozen salmon in case the Air Force personnel in Japan needed supplies.

Two hours later, the three aircraft, heavily laden with fuel, took off on their 3,100 mile nonstop trip to Misawa Air Force Base in northern Japan, 12 hours away.

Chapter 11

JFK – Major Joe Patterson

The sun was just rising off the East Coast of the United States as the two specks in the distant horizon slowly grew larger and larger. The first aircraft came in, and Major Patterson saw that it was a modern 747-400ER. It came in slowly, and the Chinese-American pilot, Captain Wong, gave the incoming pilot the information he needed to land. As it touched down, 20 Air Force men and the two Chinese American pilots all wearing the recently acquired clothing and radios went out to show that they had control of the landing area.