The first refueled 747s, already under the control of the new pilots, were beginning to start up their aircraft and move the rears of their engines around so they faced the exits, and made the last of the troops move even faster to get out of the noise and wind blowing behind the massive engines.

Much like the operation at Shanghai Pudong Airport, as the first aircraft began moving, all the refueling stopped. The equipment was pulled away and the remaining aircraft began a rapid deployment to the end of the runway for take-off as fast as possible.

At Newark, it took 30 more minutes for the larger number of troops to get out of the apron area. The most forward troops were already yards from the middle of the Newark Bay Bridge as the jet engines started. Shots and muffles could be heard by Major Wong in a couple of the aircraft and the stairs were quickly pulled back from the last aircraft where it sounded like a fire fight was taking place inside. The refueling hoses were immediately hauled away, and somehow a small puddle of fuel ignited underneath one of the aircraft. The men refueling the aircraft must have lost some as they hurriedly dragged the equipment away, and suddenly the whole undercarriage area broke into flames.

“Get the other aircraft out of here,” shouted Colonel Patterson in the control tower over his radio. “Fuel fire on the apron!”

Three other aircraft were still pretty close to the one on fire, and several men ran forward with fire extinguishers. A couple of dead men fell down the stairs and now heavy rifle fire could be heard from inside the aircraft. Slowly, the other aircraft got moving and the sound of rifle fire was drowned out as jet engines screamed everywhere moving fast to get onto the taxiway. The first 747 was already trundling down the runway at take-off speed and about to get into the air when there was an almighty explosion and the whole 747 in front of the terminal, with dozens of men aboard, suddenly blew up.

It had taken on very little fuel, but the thousand or more gallons of exploding jet fuel in her wings was enough to create a shock wave that broke all the windows in the terminals several hundred feet away. The first 747 was far enough away down the long runway to not be in harm’s way, but the closest 747 less than 100 yards away was sprayed with flying debris.

Colonel Patterson shouted at the pilots to check their controls as the aircraft still trundled away from the blazing inferno. What was left of the last large aircraft and the massive cloud of smoke from the fire blinded the whole area above the apron.

“All troops in the areas around the roads, our surprise is over,” shouted Colonel Patterson into his radio. “You may fire at will if you feel it necessary. November Bravo (Newark Bay) Bridge area, how many Charlies do you have on the bridge ambush area? Men manning the return roads back into the airports, make sure no Charlies get back onto the runways to the aircraft. We still have the majority of the aircraft on the ground and need 15 minutes to clear the runways. Over.”

“This is Rear Command on the November Bravo Bridge, we have about 1,000 on the bridge and tons more that haven’t got here yet. They have seen the explosion and several officers are discussing what to do. We have not yet opened fire. Over.”

“Exit Road, November Airport Command here. We still have men passing us by, most are on the road and they are still moving forward. I see a couple of men speaking into radios. Nobody has yet opened fire. Over.”

“Okay, guys, wait one. I’ll get back to you,” continued the colonel. “All November Airport Terminal soldiers, make your way to the airport exit points. Try not to be seen and await further orders. Juliet Foxtrot Kilo Airport, what is your current situation? Over.”

“Juliet Command to Papa Bear. Our Charlies must have seen the plume of smoke from your position. The airport is clear, two aircraft in the air and six to go. We need ten minutes, we are closing down the Van Wyck Highway from the terminal area and will move forward. Over.”

“Roger that. Everybody hear that. Try and stay hidden until…” and suddenly the area between the airport and the bridge suddenly erupted as thousands of guns all began firing. “All groups! Fire at will! The war is started. All fighter aircraft get in here, hit the largest most open groups and keep your hits on the highways only, remember we have friendlies everywhere!” Colonel Patterson had to shout into the radio since he could hardly hear himself speak.

Preston had already taken off ten minutes earlier, and was approaching the New York area. He could see a couple of the 747s already airborne and heard Major Wong now checking with each aircraft to see if they had control of it. Over his two radios, he also heard the F-4s taking off from McGuire 20 miles behind him as well as the three P-51s already heading out to sea just in front of the two AC-130 gunships. Everybody was in the air, and Preston was still climbing through 10,000 feet when he saw plumes of smoke already coming from the Newark Bay Bridge area.

“Air Cover to Ground Control. Where do you need me first? Over.”

“Rear Bridge Command to Air Cover. We have a large group of Charlies who haven’t reached the bridge yet and have set up a defensive perimeter. They are on the north side of the road leading up to the bridge area. I suggest you come in over the main steel skeleton atop the bridge and fire down the highway. Over.”

“Confirm you have no friendlies on the actual roadway. Over.”

“Roger that. We have no friendlies on asphalt. Over.”

“Coming in,” replied Preston, testing his guns. This time he would not be an amateur. He dove in near vertical over the dock area and the P-38 rapidly gained speed. He aimed for the bridge and the steel skeleton structure over the center area. Preston wanted to use the four 50-caliber machine guns first, since they would do the most damage, and he noticed blackened areas of the actual roadway where there could only be masses of people lying down on the asphalt. They were hiding the white center lines of the traffic lanes from view.

At 400 miles an hour, he pulled out of his dive and for several seconds poured a thousand rounds into an area about a mile long on the north side of the road. He pulled up and went vertical, his stomach feeling like he was on a roller coaster, and then he let the right wing drop down and again he went into a steep dive, taking the Hispano cannon off safety as he neared the bridge, this time coming in from the Jersey side. He aimed for the southern side and blew bits and pieces of roadway up all the way to the skeleton structure where he released the trigger. He couldn’t have much ammo left.

“We are coming to join you,” shouted Martie into her microphone as she saw Preston rise in front of them three or four miles ahead. All the 747 aircraft except three had already turned towards McGuire, and the F-4s were harassing the last three of the Airbuses to turn back. Something had gone wrong, and the Chinese pilots were heading out of the area with little fuel and at maximum power.

“Go in two by two,” answered Preston. “Each of you pick a side of the road and strafe the area south of the bridge skeleton for about a mile.”

“Roger that,” replied Carlos. “Come on, Martie, let’s go and get some retaliation for all the people these bastards have killed!” The two P-51s went in, and Preston’s came up to join him and circle, waiting for further instructions.

“Air Cover, this is the Turnpike Command. We have a retreat of Charlies trying to get back to the airport. We are not holding them. Can you come in from the south and help clear the road for us? You can’t miss them; it is like a crowd coming out of a ball game.”

“Air Cover, this is US1 Jersey Command. We have hundreds of Charlies still heading towards the fight. They are getting onto the highway from the main exit roads out of the airport and we would like you guys to go in before we start a ground assault. Over.”