Lady Dandy was now the main troop transporter, and with the FedEx Cargomaster, was ready to help the ground troops near Heflin, Alabama just after dawn. Preston decided to fly the P-38 this time, its Hispano cannon was able to put a lot more power down on the enemy if need be. Carlos was totally exhausted, unable to fly, and needed sleep. They had tried to control incoming and outgoing communication all night, but had been unable to do so. The satellites were not, and they realized would never be controlled by anybody other than their Chinese controllers. Carlos hoped that they were in the Headquarters building, hopefully about to be destroyed by the AC-130 gunships under the command of General Allen in about 24 hours time.

Preston’s airstrip was busy two hours before dawn. First, Buck and Barbara flying Lady Dandy climbed into the dark sky, then Mike Mallory in the turboprop Cargomaster ten minutes later. The 172s took off an hour after Lady Dandy to arrive at their closer destinations at dawn, and then the 210. Lastly, Martie in her Mustang and finally Preston in his P-38 took off 70 minutes behind Lady Dandy.

Martie and Preston climbed quickly and reached a cruising altitude of 15,000 feet within 15 minutes. At a fast cruise of 370 miles an hour, they covered ground rapidly and arrived over Atlanta as the sun was coming over the horizon.

“Good morning, ground gentlemen. Your flying back-up is ten minutes out. What do you need from us? Over.”

“Good morning, flyboys,” was the reply from the ground troops. “We had a skirmish with some guys wanting to continue east just after midnight, and hit three more of their vehicles coming along the highway. Since then, we have seen nothing. Our guys inspected the three vehicles—they will not move again—and found two of those fancy cell phones you guys so desperately want. There were nine dead or nearly-dead Charlies and I think you should land about two to three miles behind the first road attack you guys did yesterday, form a sweep line along the road, and work your way inwards, towards us. We can do the same and you can coordinate us from the air. I suggest that you guys head west for 20 miles and see if any Charlie are retreating in that direction. Over.”

“Roger that,” replied Preston. “Buck, Mike, do you copy?”

“We copy,” replied Buck. “I suggest one of you check the road and look for 800 yards of open space so that our aircraft can get down, and you circle above the spot while we go in. Over.”

“Okay,” replied Preston. “Martie, follow me and let’s find a suitable landing strip,” and they headed over the battle ground. There were still wisps of black smoke rising here and there since there had been no wind the previous night. The smoke hung in the low-lying areas, making it difficult to see. They found a big enough flat piece of clear road just east of the exit to Heflin on the southern strip of road. The landing area was out of view from the bridge, between the bridge and the first attack and the only piece of straight road around. It would be safe for a landing, and there were only a couple of vehicles on the east-bound side and a rolled-over tractor trailer. The clearing had at least 800 yards of clean asphalt before it started curving slightly, and any pilot with a slowing aircraft could negotiate the slight bend if need be. They would have to fly in from the west to make it work, however.

“Mike, do you see the bridge underneath where I am? Over.” Preston asked.

“Roger, I have the bridge visual,” Mike Mallory replied from the Cargomaster, now over the area.

“I suggest that with your shorter landing distance, you go in on the southern side of the highway just before the bend to the bridge and get your guys out. I’m worried that there might be trouble under the bridge. The bend will cover you and then Lady Dandy can go in. Mike, Lady Dandy will need all the available space, and pilots, stay on the ground if it looks safe. I recommend you guys go in and clear the bridge first. Martie, you are back-up if need be.”

Mike went in while Preston flew off along the highway further to the west, searching for any vehicles moving along the highway. He heard the Cargomaster go in over the radio and then Lady Dandy landed and both aircraft stayed on the ground, saving fuel.

Ground fire erupted from under the bridge several seconds later, as Preston turned to fly back. It was only two guys with one vehicle, he heard over the radio, and the men on the ground soon had the situation secure with a machine gun taking out the enemy from an easy 400 yards. Martie hadn’t needed to get involved, but circled at 5,000 feet just in case.

Preston turned again and flew for another ten minutes, not seeing a single vehicle moving. He decided that 50 miles was far enough, and returned at low cruise to the two aircraft on the ground.

The men who had just gone in were already in a line across both highways and across the fences and into the woods on the southern side and working their way eastwards and towards the first attack area. Preston spoke into his radio.

“We have a line up and walking along both highways westwards of you and walking in your direction ground control. They cleared a bridge, found two injured guys and a broken vehicle. Over.”

“Roger that. We have a line up and will do the same, walking towards them,” came the reply. “We see a straight piece of road for about 100 yards and then it curves to the right. What is ahead of us? Over.”

“You have 100 yards before the road curves to the right for another 400 yards, then it curves to the left and the main attack was in the middle of this straight piece, which is about 1,800 yards long and full of smoking vehicles. By the time you get to this stretch, you should be able see our guys coming the other way. One of us will stay up here until you meet up. Then we need to… hold on. Martie, is that a tractor coming up to the highway bridge from Heflin?”

“Roger, he’s being stopped by our troops,” replied Martie, now lower and circling at 2,000 feet.

“He’s a farmer from the area, asking if he can help,” the troop leader reported over their radio.

“Get a situation report from him and ask him if he has any friends with aircraft in the area. They could fly into their local Air Force base and get supplies.

He also told Martie to go in and land and conserve fuel, but be ready for take-off.

For an hour, Preston flew over the two lines of men slowly converging on each other. The eastern group had just arrived on the final straight part when they got fired upon from the south side woods, a mile to the west of where the aircraft were waiting. He noticed three vehicles in the trees as far in as they could go, and he relayed a message to the ground troops. He pulled his P-38 away and went north at full power, climbing rapidly to 8,000 feet. Preston turned, fired several rounds with the cannon, and swept back into the area where he had seen the vehicles. He let go with the Hispano cannon a mile out and he watched as the large cannon rounds danced across the grass and into the area where the vehicles were hidden. A massive explosion rose up to meet him as he straightened out and radioed the guys on the ground to go in.

He watched as the line of Marines ran into the smoking area, began a firefight, and dispatched the last of the Chinese hit squads.

That was the end of Mr. Deng and his group. Preston flew around for another 15 minutes and saw that the second group of soldiers had already reached the site and searched for anybody alive in the carnage.

Just before he went in to land where the other three aircraft were waiting for him, he counted 43 stationary vehicles that he could see, and one under the bridge that made 44.

It was weird standing in the middle of a U.S. Interstate, with two World War II aircraft, a FedEx aircraft, and a DC-3 while chatting with a farmer sitting on a tractor older than the aircraft themselves. The farmer was about 70, born during the Second World War, and had been given the 1930s tractor by his father. It was the only thing left on his farm, which still worked, and he explained to Martie, Buck, Mike, and Preston that he could run his farm with it for the next century, or at least his sons could. Preston asked him about airports and military bases and the farmer told him that the closest Army base was Anniston Army Base due west. It had a lot of ammunition dumps and supplies. As far as airports, he thought the town with the same name would have the closest one.