JDEC vice commander Brig. Gen. William W. Burgess, USAF, was livid. He was using a backup communications channel to assure his Russian counterpart that the 90th Space Wing at F. E. Warren Air Force Base was not launching ICBMs from Nebraska, Colorado, and Wyoming.
The reassurances had to be cross-pollinated between the North American Aerospace Defense Command, Moscow, and the U.S. Air Force Space Command located at Peterson AFB, Colorado.
Once things stabilized to the point that no one was shouting, General Burgess turned to his director of operations, Capt. Clay McMasters, U.S. Navy.
Burgess spoke in a quiet voice. "This whole thing goes back to insufficient attention to four major policy concerns."
"A big one was Taiwan," McMasters said.
"And the others were American missile defense, our nuclear diplomacy with Russia, and the Chinese nuclear modernization."
"Yes — exactly," McMasters said. "All of them are tied together, and we took a laissez-faire approach that has backed us into a corner."
"Any bets on where the missiles will land?"
"No, sir — I've blocked it out of my mind."
Burgess studied the data displayed on his computer-generated screen. Both sides were supposed to be able to monitor each other's information, but things were scrambled to the point of being useless.
McMasters looked at his boss. "Thank God we have our Russian counterparts at NORAD and Space Command."
Burgess sighed. "True, but we have some major work to do on this program. It's a piece of junk garbage."
Located deep inside the hundred-million-year-old Cheyenne Mountain near Colorado Springs, Colorado, NORAD is charged with the missions of aerospace warning and aerospace control for North America. Aerospace warning includes validating an attack against North America by aircraft, missiles, or space vehicles.
Canadian general Derek Bancroft, the commander in chief of NORAD, was responsible to both the president of the United States and the prime minister of Canada. As CINCNORAD his duties included providing integrated tactical warning and assessment of an aerospace attack on North America to the governments of Canada and the United States.
This would be a day General Bancroft and his deputy commander, U.S. Air Force lieutenant general Kurtis Wentworth, would not forget.
Because of the deadly clash with China, NORAD, like many other military commands, was on high alert. The first indications of a missile launch from inside Manchuria, China, were quickly verified by reconnaissance aircraft and space-based assets.
However, the information had been sabotaged before it could be displayed in Moscow. Someone had hacked into the Joint Data Exchange Center and displayed erroneous information. The Russian officers inside NORAD had calmed down and were busy monitoring every aspect of the operation.
Although Bancroft and Wentworth had anticipated a possible retaliatory strike on the United States, the actual authentication of the missile attack was still a shock for both of them.
"It's validated," the barrel-chested Wentworth said to his boss while the first missile was still accelerating.
General Bancroft impatiently waited to receive the first indication of a probable impact point and then picked up the phone to contact President Macklin.
Bancroft tried to steady his nerves while the seconds passed, but he couldn't take his eyes off the status displays.
When the president came on the line, CINCNORAD spoke with sadness in his voice. "Mr. President, General Bancroft at NORAD. We have an authenticated missile launch from a location in Manchuria."
He saw Wentworth hold up two fingers. "Our information indicates the first missile is targeted at Hawaii."
The serious-minded Canadian officer glanced at the status displays. "No, sir, we can't verify whether it's a conventional warhead or a nuke — we have a second launch and it appears to be targeted at Alaska."
The president drummed his fingers on the conference table while General Bancroft updated him on the inbound ballistic missiles. When CINCNORAD paused to talk to his deputy commander, Cord Macklin looked at his advisers.
"Four in all, two headed for Alaska and two tracking toward Hawaii."
"What about the time?" Hartwell Prost asked.
The president glanced at his wristwatch. "As of now, approximately twenty-nine minutes to Hawaii — less to Alaska. Warnings have gone out to all military commands in the targeted areas and to the appropriate civilian authorities."
General Chalmers was on another phone talking to the senior officer at the secret experimental missile defense site in Alaska, and to his colleague on Kwajalein Atoll in the Marshall Islands. Chalmers cupped the phone in his hand and turned toward Macklin. "They're ready — going to do the best they can with what they have."
The president looked at Pete Adair and Les Chalmers. "Our response needs to be equal but measured — even if these are nukes."
The scientist and engineers, both military and civilian, were working at a feverish pace at the national missile defense test site. They had two exoatmospheric kill vehicles ready to launch, but they wouldn't have time to ready a third interceptor.
On Kwajalein Atoll they had only one EKV ready for immediate launch. It would be aimed at the first East Wind en route to Hawaii.
The kill vehicles were quickly launched and the nerve-racking waiting games began. As the technicians proclaimed, the challenge was akin to hitting a bullet with a bullet.
Guided by experimental radar units and space-based sensors, the EKVs zeroed in on their prey. Once free of its booster rocket, the ungainly-looking 120-pound assortment of thrusters, star-sighting telescopes, mirrors, antennae, liquid propellant tanks, and batteries closed on the enemy ICBMs at incredible speeds.
The men and women at the test sites prayed as they watched the clock and monitored the EKVs. The control rooms were totally silent. The gravity of the situation had sunk in.
The scene was the same at NORAD and at the White House. The waiting was painful and the results weren't guaranteed. With only a limited missile defense system in place, they all knew at least one ICBM would penetrate the barrier and reach the Hawaiian Islands.
The residents of the island chain were extremely fortunate. The EKV interceptor launched from the Kwajalein test site shattered the first ICBM into a million fragments. The second East Wind missile, which developed a minor malfunction in the inertial guidance system, flew directly over Honolulu and exploded in the Kaiwi Channel between the islands of Oahu and Molokai.
The tremendous explosion created an intense light flash, a sudden wave of superheated air, and an earsplitting roar. The shock wave echoed across the water and slammed into the southeastern side of Oahu and the western side of Molokai. A ball of fire rose rapidly, followed by a huge mushroom cloud that billowed to more than sixty thousand feet. The trade winds carried most of the fallout away from the islands.
The horrendous explosion boiled the ocean water for a radius of nine hundred yards, created a ten-foot tidal wave, and vaporized or heavily damaged several private boats, killing sixty-three people and injuring more than two hundred others in the area. Although the aftereffects were minimal compared to what could have happened had the nuclear missile landed in the middle of Honolulu, the message was clear; Hawaii had dodged a major disaster.
The leading DF-31 survived a close encounter with the first kill vehicle, but the second EKV destroyed the trailing East Wind ICBM. Aimed at Elmendorf Air Force Base, the home for the Eleventh Air Force, 3d Wing, and other commands, the first missile impacted ninety miles north of Elmendorf near the Talkeetna Ranger Station.