As Terrill Samson sat down to start typing out messages, he called for his executive officer. “Get the C-21 fueled up and ready to depart for Andrews. I want every preplanned strike package we’ve got to attack the Chinese ICBM complexes, bomber bases, and radar sites — and I want it all ready to go within the hour. Then contact Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Roma at Ellsworth and Colonel Anthony Jamieson at Whiteman, drag them off alert or wherever they are, and have them standing by with their conventional strike packages. Tell them I’m taking some of their bombers off nuclear alert — and then we’re going to work the way we were meant to go to work!”
The roar of jet engines could be heard far below, creating a constant rumbling and vibration throughout the medical facility. The Taiwanese staff appeared not to notice. They worked with silent efficiency, quickly and quietly loading up medical supplies for the evacuation.
David Luger had just been wheeled into an examination room from the X-ray lab. He was lying on a gurney, a thin sheet concealing all the other bandages on his left leg and arm. The left side of his body looked as if he had been spray-painted with a mixture of black, yellow, and brown paint — it looked like one continuous bruise from his head to ankle, and his left eye was swollen almost completely shut. “I tell ya, I’m okay,” Luger was protesting to the doctor accompanying him. Patrick and Wendy McLanahan, Brad Elliott, and Jon Masters were waiting for him; Patrick’s injuries, not nearly as serious as Luger’s, had already been treated.
“What’s the scoop, Doctor?” McLanahan asked the attending physician, who was carrying Luger’s X rays.
“Severe concussion, as we suspected,” the Taiwanese doctor replied, holding up each pertinent X ray as he spoke. “Slight cranial fracture. Partial hearing loss in the left ear, slight fracture in the left orbit. Cuts and bruises all along the left side of his body where he took the brunt of the explosion. Broken left knee, swollen left ankle and left foot. If I did not know he was hit by an exploding missile, I would say he had been hit by a bus.”
“I’m okay, I said,” Luger protested. “Damn, we kicked some ass, didn’t we?”
“We sure did,” Brad Elliott said, a broad smile on his face. “It was just like the first Old Dog flight. They threw everything but another Kavaznva laser at us, and we fought through it all and bombed the crap out of them! ”
“So let’s gas up and get ready to fly another sortie,” Luger said.
“Not you, Dave,” Patrick said. “You’re grounded. We’ll take the next run ourselves. I can handle both the OSO and DSO’s stuff.”
“This damned headache won’t keep me from at least helping mission- plan for you guys,” Luger said. “We still have to knock out the air defense sites around Shanghai.”
“What I’d like to do is bomb the crap out of the Chinese ICBM silos and launch sites,” Patrick McLanahan said, a definite tone of anger in his voice — very uncharacteristic for his buddy, Luger thought.
“We know where they are — we just need to get in there and nail ’em,” Ton Masters said, his voice as bitter as Patrick’s. “Our guys back at Blytheville launched two more satellite tracks over central China, and we think we’ve pinpointed all the DF-5 and DF-3 silos and launch sites. One more NIRTSat launch and I can have each and even7 one targeted, along with a good number of mobile missile launchers.”
“But we’re low on weapons,” Patrick went on. “We’re down to only two Strikers, two Wolverine missiles, and two Scorpion missiles. The ROC has plenty of fuel, air-to-air missiles, and cluster munitions left over, but our rotary launchers can’t earn7 the cluster bombs.”
“Shit, maybe we can send Hal, Chris Wohl, and Madcap Magician back to Andersen to steal us the rest of our Megafortresses,” Luger said with a grin — and then he noticed that the others did not share in his quip. In fact, everyone looked real funereal all of a sudden. “But why all the focus on the Chinese ICBM sites all of a sudden? I thought we were going after air defense sites.”
“Oh, that’s right — you were being checked out up here when we heard,” Wendy said. “Dave… the Chinese launched a nuclear ICBM attack against Guam.”
“What?”
“Andersen has been destroyed — it was attacked with a two-megaton warhead,” Wendy went on sadly. “Agana and most of the northern half of the island have been severely damaged.”
“Oh, my God,” Luger said in a low, completely horrified tone. “Was it a retaliation against our attack? Did we cause the Chinese to attack with nuclear missiles?”
“The Chinese were committed to using nuclear weapons to attack their enemies long before you came to our assistance, Major Luger,” Brigadier-General Hsiao Jason, commander of the Kai-Shan Military Complex, said as he entered the examination room. He extended a hand to David Luger. “I wanted to thank you for your sacrifice and good work, Major. I am very proud of all of you, and very grateful.”
“We’re not done yet, General,” Elliott said. “We’re going to load up each and every weapon we can and shove them right down China’s damned throat\ ”
“We will — when we get the right opportunity and the right targets, Brad,” McLanahan said. “Right now, we’ve got to finish repairs, then see if we can mount any of the ROC’s cluster munitions on our rotary launchers. Wendy, Brad, can you help General Hsiao’s techs finish the repairs on the DSO’s stuff?” Wendy nodded, gave Dave Luger a kiss to help speed his recovery, and hurried off back to the EB-52.
Patrick turned back to Luger. “Bedrest for you, chum.” He noticed Dave Luger wearing the archetypical “shit-eating grin” on his face, which looked even more funny with half of his face swollen and purple. “What are you grinning at?”
“You, Muck,” Luger said. “Look at you — tossing orders around, and everyone’s jumping, even Brad Elliott. Pretty cool. You’ve taken over this team, whether you know it or not.”
“So I’m like some modern Asian Robin Hood with his merry band of outlaws, huh?” Patrick remarked. “Sticking it to the Chinese and defending Taiwan.”
“I don’t mean just the mystical Zen bombardier, Patrick — you’re turning into the boss man around here,” Luger said seriously. “When we first started flying together, you didn’t want to have anything to do with commanders, not even aircraft commanders. You’d been offered dozens of command positions even before you made the major’s list, and you turned them all down. I don’t know how many more positions you were offered since the Old Dog mission — probably another couple dozen. Everybody knew you and respected your talents, but you weren’t a leader, and you never wanted any leadership positions. Now everybody’s waiting for you to give the word, even Brad.”
“If you’re done busting my chops, Dave, I’m gonna head downstairs and check on our plane.”
“I’m serious, Muck, I really am,” Luger said. “I’m not busting your chops. You’ve really changed. You’re not just a crewdog anymore— you’re a leader, a commander.” He smiled again. “Who woulda thunk it?”.
“Not me,” Patrick said. He gave Luger a thumbs-up and left him in the company of a nurse and a security guard.
Nancy Cheshire met McLanahan on the tarmac. The Taiwanese were busy launching frequent air patrols over Formosa, and the air inside the cavern was thick and heavy with jet exhaust that the ventilators were having trouble keeping clear. “How are we doing on mating the CBUs to the Megafortress, Nance?” Patrick asked.