Monique kept at her work. She wished Mariella would shut up.
“At least they are not here in our peaceful country. If they want Venezuela, they can have it.”
“They may be here,” Monique said.
“Here? You think they are here?”
“Maybe—”
“Have you seen soldiers out there, an army to attack us? Is Father all right?”
“Father is fine. The soldier… I’m not so sure.” Monique regretted her slip.
“An American soldier! Here! With Father Dan! More will come. We must tell the sheriff!”
“No, Mariella. Only one, and he is sick. Father is helping him. He is a Good Samaritan, and we must be, too.”
“Trouble will come!”
“Mariella, it will not come if you keep your big mouth shut! Promise me you will not tell! Promise!”
Mariella’s eyes darted about in fear. “Men with guns will come! How can Father do this?”
Monique walked around the counter and grabbed the woman’s arm. “Mariella, you must promise me, and you must trust in God!”
Mariella looked at her and nodded. “I promise,” she whispered, fear still covering her face.
“Good. He will be gone soon. I will see to it.”
As the women resumed their work with their laundry, a man outside the door flicked a cigarette butt into the street. He walked, in no hurry, to the center of town and sat on a bench outside the post office, which was closed for the night. He picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.
CHAPTER 65
Annie awoke as revile sounded. With her strike brief scheduled in six hours, she needed to print the kneeboard cards and check the weather over Caracas. Blade was her assistant strike lead, and Macho and Killer would fly on their wings. The plan was to launch SLAM-ERs off the coast of Caracas and guide them into the targets south of the city. Macho and Killer would deliver the weapons at altitude, and she and Blade would guide them in the end game. The Raiders would also launch weapons from positions over the ABC islands, and divisions from the Hobos and Arrows would act as fighter sweep and defense suppression, respectively. While two EA-18Gs from the Gremlins jammed enemy emitters, a single Condor E-2 would provide the required early warning and command and control. Day launch and pinky recovery in calm seas with a moon. Could be worse.
Coral Sea and Carrier Air Wing SIX had settled into a routine. The combat learning curve had been steep, and routine launch and recovery, formation, radio comm plan and tanking details could be “glossed over” in the brief with no loss of preparation and execution. The aircrews, even nuggets like Macho, were experienced now, allowing more time spent on target area tactics and aimpoint study. And “switchology.” A precision weapon like the SLAM-ER, delivered in a two-plane coordinated attack amid alerted defenses, required a high degree of preflight planning and briefing.
After lunch, Annie met with her team in CVIC. They learned there had been a skirmish during the night along the western fence line at GITMO: a trade of automatic weapons and RPG fire. No Marine casualties, but SOUTHCOM was spooked. They knew TR was not going to give any more help down south as it moved closer to GITMO. Coral Sea got a short break during the transit through the Leeward Islands, but the aviators were gearing themselves up for near 24-hour operations.
Annie’s strike planning team put the finishing touches on the cards and briefing slides, and Annie went through it once, her team offering critique and addressing contingencies. They would be 300 miles from their launch points, and each strike division would have a dedicated Rhino mission tanker for upfront tanking en route and could expect another tanker to drag any low-state fighters back to the ship. This mission was “high-all-the-way,” which allowed the jets to save fuel. Also, they had a “lily pad,” USS Independence, a Littoral Combat Ship hovering off Grenada, cloaked from enemy targeting radars by the island and able to dash and launch a Sierra—a combat SAR was required. With stand-off precision weapons, dedicated tankers, face-to-face briefing with all the players, and a lily pad, if need be, Annie and the team were confident.
The howl of jets launching one deck above them permeated the space as CAG strode into CVIC and walked up to Annie’s planning team. One of the lieutenants saw him and sang out, “Attention on deck!”
They rose to their feet as CAG raised his hands. “Seats, seats. Please continue. How’s it going, XO?”
“Good, sir,” Annie replied as she motioned to the chart. “We’ve got severe clear over the target area, and the jets are loaded. After a bite to eat, we’ll brief it in Ready 5 at noon. Care to join us?”
“I’d like to, but duty calls. How are you going to hit these guys?”
“We’re going to tank en route to a point about 100 miles north of the target. From there, the Hobos, call sign ‘Whisk,’ are going to zorch out in front in a sweep right at Caracas. When they get near the coast, they will then tac-turn west. If the FAV comes up, it will be into the teeth of the Hobos, or they’ll glom onto them as they transit along the coast. We’ll have a clear lane and a back-up plan to deal with any that don’t take the bait.”
Matson nodded his understanding and tacit approval.
“The Firebirds are the easternmost launchers and the Raiders the west. Our targets are the missile launchers, and imagery has them in clearings south of the city. We will run in right up to the edge of their tactical SAM and AAA threat rings and release, egressing hard over the water. Our control birds will then guide them in the end game from a position well behind. By the time the weapons impact, we’ll be near the coast and will run out of there the same way. All this time, the jammers, call sign ‘Jelly,’ will be doing their thing by lobbing HARMs in there to suppress the defenses.”
“What’s your call sign?”
“The SLAM birds are ‘Lumber,’ sir. Gonna lay the wood to ‘em.”
CAG smiled. “Good, because the admiral and SOUTHCOM are watching closely. Gotta knock out the anti-ship threat ASAP so we can get closer. Our Air Force buddies aren’t flying today, and TR is moving closer to GITMO. Going to be an all-Navy show. Your show.”
“We’re ready CAG. We took advantage of the break yesterday, and we’re all up to speed.”
“Looks like it. Well, good hunting down there, and we’ll see you when you get back.”
“Thanks, sir.”
One of the lieutenants again sang out, “Attention on deck!”
“Carry on, please,” CAG said as he walked to the door.
At that moment, Edgar Hernandez focused on the command post screen as his Intelligence Officer briefed him.
“Mí general, the Americans moved one of their carriers, the Coral Sea, through the Dominica Passage last night, and we think it is near Dominica this morning. At that location, their planes are in a position to attack the Bolivarian Republic. However, for some reason their Air Force is not flying today, and their other aircraft carrier, the Roosevelt, is still off Hispanola and moving closer to their illegal prison at Guantanamo Bay. Gunfire along the fence line was exchanged last night and was probably started by the Americans, mí general. They keep one of their aircraft carriers nearby. With this development, we can expect only one to three waves of American attacks from this one carrier off Dominica, allowing our forces a better chance to repel them.”