Within an hour of the first attack, five other groups of attack helicopters had destroyed their targets, reducing the number of anti-ship railgun positions along the coast from thirty to just six (only sacrificing seven helicopters for their efforts). Those six railgun sites would be targeted by a small contingent of PLA Special Forces, which had been offloaded at the Port of LA. The JDF needed to destroy all the gun batteries before fleets and transports started their seaborne approach to LA and San Diego. The next twelve hours were going to be critical to the success of the seaborne invasion.
This Is a Test
The Los Angeles police department was the first to arrive at the scene. As they were unsure of what they would meet there, they decided to send in a SWAT team in full tactical gear. The receptionist at the desk, a man in his mid-twenties with spiked hair and trendy clothing, had possibly never seen a gun except on TV; he screamed like a four-year-old girl when they entered the building. One of the SWAT guys put his finger to his lips as if to say. “Shhh,” and then walked over to him.
“Sir, have any soldiers entered the building before us?” asked the officer.
The man fanned himself for a second, then stammered, “Uh, uh, no. You guys are the only ones with guns here.”
“Ok, look, we advise you to evacuate the building as quickly and as orderly as possible. Please put your protocol in effect for a fire or a bomb threat so that everyone will leave with the least amount of panic. Advise everyone to take back streets and not freeways and find a safe spot to shelter in place. They might need to stay indoors for a few days.”
The man was now sweating profusely. He grabbed a swig from a bottle of water. “What in the world is going on?” he screeched.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I honestly don’t have time to explain. I need to know which floor the Emergency Alert System broadcasts from.”
“Uh, uh, the fifth floor.”
“Thank you,” he replied. The officer waved over a couple of security guards to loop them in on evacuating the building, and then he joined his colleagues, who had already hopped the turnstiles for security badge entrance. They knew that during a fire or bomb threat protocol, everyone would be headed down the stairs, so they all piled into two elevators and headed up to the 5th Floor.
As the elevators continued upwards, they could hear the speaker overhead forcefully announce, “Attention! There has been a bomb threat. Please proceed to the stairs and exit as orderly as possible. You are advised to proceed by back roads to the nearest safe location and shelter in place. This is not a drill!”
One of the guys in the elevator chuckled, “That must have been one of the security guards, because I don’t think that dude at the front desk could have managed that.”
They all laughed for a second. Then the elevator beeped for the fifth floor, and they all went right back to game face.
The doors were opening slowly for some reason. They could hear two men arguing. “There is no way this is real. It is never real! I’m taking the elevator.”
“I’m telling you, I’ve been here fifteen years and I’ve never heard them announce it that way—”
At the sight of the SWAT team, both men looked at each other and quickly spoke at the same time, “Let’s take the stairs.” They were gone before you could blink.
The officers made their way down the hall. One young woman, who had been carrying a very large armful of scripts, panicked when she saw the SWAT team headed towards her and created a paper waterfall all over the floor. She turned and ran.
The SWAT team continued advancing, and finally located the room marked “Emergency Alert System.”
Several team members stationed themselves by the door, grabbing desks and other furniture to give them some cover if needed. A few more SWAT members picked strategic places along the hall to defend their position. Only three of them went inside.
“Ok, Rita, where’s those instructions?” asked Ben, one of her colleagues.
Pulling papers out of her pocket, Rita replied, “I’ve got it right here.”
The three of them started to get to work changing settings on the various equipment. A knob here, a switch there — a few minutes later, everything was ready. They started to record their message.
“This is not a test. Los Angeles is under attack by foreign armies. Go indoors and stay inside until further notice—”
Gun shots were fired down the hall. They paused the recording and grabbed their guns.
“We’ve got hostiles!” shouted one of the guys outside. “They keep coming! Get ready for a party!”
Rita and her two colleagues took cover behind a desk. The noises outside got louder and louder. First there was a crescendo of flying bullets. Then someone from the SWAT team must have thrown a grenade, because there was a very loud explosion down the hall. Then there was a very loud hissing sound. Rita got as low as she could to peer underneath the legs of the desk. A large cloud of smoke was crawling along the floor toward her.
“Cover your mouths!” she cried.
As the gas continued to advance into the recording studio, all three of them suddenly started coughing and sneezing. Everything burned. “My eyes!” yelled Ben, wiping frantically at tears streaming down his face.
All the other noises suddenly stopped, and what was left was a chorus of coughing and groans of agony. A team of Japanese soldiers with gas masks walked into the room, completely unaffected by the tear gas in the air. The SWAT team members were too incapacitated to fight back, so they lifted their hands in surrender. The JDF zip-tied their arms behind their back and moved them downstairs — they were prisoners of war now. The soldiers broke the windows open and waited for the smoke to dissipate. They had their own message to record.
Convergence
The Japanese were anxiously awaiting the arrival of Major Cruse’s group, Angels’ Flight, made up of F-41 Archangels. They could have a fighting chance against them, but it would all depend on the Americans playing into their little ruse. Most stealth fighter planes do not engage their radar, because doing so would make them visible to other planes in the area; instead, they usually utilize the services of Navy ships with high-powered radar or dedicated planes that fly above to send verbal messages to them when an enemy is spotted (commonly referred to as AWACs). The JDF needed the Americans to believe that they would be functioning as their AWACs in order to get them to share their GPS locations and make them an easy target.
Katoshi Abe, one of the JDF radar officers, established connection with Major Cruse in an effort to finalize this plan. “Angels’ Flight, this is Aries Five. We are going to be your airborne radar and controller. Please acknowledge.”
“Aries Five, this is Major Cruse, Angels’ Flight. We acknowledge; can you please send us a view of the region?” Without their radar on, Major Cruse and his flight really had no idea of what was in the area.