Moving at a steady pace on Highway 101, the Mexican military caravan was getting closer to the U. S — Mexican border. Most of the soldiers were asleep as the first light of day began to engulf the line of olive-drab cargo trucks. There was little traffic going north and practically no vehicles traveling south. The highway crossing the Rio Grande at Brownsville, Texas, had been closed for hours.
Some of the Mexican soldiers were beginning to wake up and stretch their arms and legs. Others who had been awake for a while smoked cigarettes and discussed how far their senior officers and their government were going to take the military charade. Even though it embarrassed some of the veteran soldiers, they figured the Americans were laughing out loud.
In reality, few people north of the border even knew the Mexican convoy was approaching the border of Texas. Certainly, no one was laughing at the Pentagon or in the White House Situation Room.
While the Mexican soldiers were discussing what was going to happen when they reached the border, a black dot appeared in the eastern sky. It rapidly grew larger as it hugged the terrain with its wings in full sweep. There was no sound, no warning.
Flying faster than sound travels, the "Bone" could drop 7 tons of 500-pound bombs in a concentrated path of destruction. Before anyone on the ground would even know what happened, the B-1B could lay waste to a large concentration of troops and their equipment.
That was the bombers mission: to rain astonishing destruction and then disappear in the blink of an eye. The psychological impact of not being able to see or hear death coming had a debilitating effect on infantry soldiers.
Making a slight course correction a mile from the caravan, the aircraft commander intended to pass directly in front of the lead cargo truck. All four General Electric turbofans were in full afterburner, each generating over 30,700 pounds of thrust.
The driver and the colonel in the first truck never saw the bomber coming. They never heard anything. A huge, dark object flashed past the hood, startling them. A second later, the quiet of the early morning was shattered by an explosive sonic boom that cracked the trucks windshield in three places. The eardrum-splitting roar of the four afterburners topped the aerial demonstration as the B-1B steeply climbed and turned north.
The copilot of the bomber keyed his radio and spoke to the orbiting AWACS. "Adios, partner."
"Good job."
On the highway, chaos ensued as the army vehicles lurched to a stop in accordion fashion. No one remained asleep, not in the convoy or anywhere within a twelve-mile radius. Shock and fear permeated the ranks. They had never seen anything that even vaguely resembled the weapon that had just shocked them. While the officers huddled, the soldiers stopped traffic in both directions. The troops not on traffic detail gathered in small groups and speculated about their march toward the U. S. border.
Watching the scene through the eyes of Global Hawk, President Macklin was growing impatient. "I dont think we should let the shock wear off. Show them another example of why they don t want to pursue this machismo madness."
SecDef nodded.
"Off alongside the road," the president suggested. "Give them an opportunity to wake up and start thinking straight before we have to destroy the damn highway."
General Chalmers gave the order. It was immediately transmitted to the orbiting AC-130 gunship.
The aircraft commander of the Hercules had the convoy in visual contact. After carefully adjusting the power, he set up a left-hand orbit around the caravan of army vehicles. The object lesson began at the edge of the highway approximately 100 yards from the lead truck.
A combination of unbelievable firepower, accurately concentrated in one small area by the onboard fire-control radar system, dug a hole six feet deep in a matter of seconds. The thunderous noise and total devastation stunned the people on the ground.
The soldiers on traffic detail lost control as the myriad civilian drivers frantically made U-turns, some bumping into each other, and roared off in the direction they had come from.
Within seconds the frightened officers made a decision while the Spectre gunship continued to orbit overhead. Forget what the generals and politicians were going to say. Continuing northbound would be suicidal. The convoy would return to their quarters near Mexico City.
While the caravan was reorganizing, the AC-130 gunship departed the area and returned to its holding pattern. The spare B-1B bomber was granted permission to make a low supersonic pass over the convoy and then return to Dyess AFB. It was a final warning for those who might harbor second thoughts.
After the aircraft shattered everyone's nerves and tortured their eardrums, the bomber pulled up in a steep climbing turn to the north. Still in afterburner, the number-three engine exploded. The pilots went through the procedures to shut it down and extinguish the fire, but the number-four engine soon began to show indications of trouble.
Major Jared Townsen, the aircraft commander and mission commander, slowed the airplane to 300 knots and broadcast a Mayday radio call. Two F-16s from a nearby combat air patrol rendezvoused with the stricken bomber and reported a long trail of fire emitting from the right engines.
As the aircraft began suffering multiple malfunctions, Townsen was having problems controlling the plane. He tried to salvage the situation and find a suitable airport, but the B-1B finally pitched up and rolled to the right. As hard as he tried, Townsen could not arrest the roll. He ordered the crew to eject and all four crew members exited the bomber.
The sleek aircraft crashed in a field six miles south of Reynosa, Mexico, across the border from McAllen, Texas. Once the crew was on the ground, the F-16s flew cover for the men until an air force HH-60G Pave Hawk rescue helicopter arrived.
Although the final demonstration proved costly, the end result was worth the price. A potentially deadly conflict on the border was avoided and there were now scores of true believers in the Mexican Army They would be spreading the word to their cohorts. Provoking the world's only superpower was not a sound idea.
When news of the armys humiliating confrontation with the Americans was made public in Mexico City it provoked more demonstrations and riots. The U. S. Marines at the embattled embassy had been ordered to hold their fire unless the perimeter of the grounds was breached.
Later, when a story broke about the army shooting down the American supersonic bomber, the crowds began cheering and chanting. Less than an hour later, the radio stations and television outlets were reporting that two American warplanes had been shot down. The news fueled more celebrating and flag waving. The Mexican military had indeed acquitted themselves well.
Acting on General Chalmers's orders, the lead AC-130 gunship reduced the crashed B-1B to rubble. There was nothing left to give anyone a single clue about its offensive and defensive capabilities.
Relieved by the turn of events, Chalmers faced the president, the only other person in the Situation Room. "The flight crew has been checked. No broken bones, just bruises, minor cuts, and abrasions."
"That's definitely good to hear." Macklin was filled with relief over the outcome of the standoff, but he didn't want to show any elation. "Do they have any idea what happened? Missile, maybe?"
"The pilots believe they might have ingested some birds just as they pulled up. At any rate, the crew is on their way back to Dyess, and I'm headed to the Pentagon."
The president rose to shake hands with Chalmers. "Great job, Les. Thanks for coming through for me."
Chalmers finally cracked a smile. "The folks flying the airplanes deserve the real credit."