“Send them,” the President ordered. “Two more subs, specifically against the task force, plus two reinforcements. Right away.” Arthur Chastain made a note to himself to cut orders. The President paused for a moment, then said, “We need more firepower out there, gents, but we don’t have the time. The Navy is our best bet this time, but they’ll take a few days to get set up.” He paused, then said in a contrite, almost embarrassed voice, “And I want this done quietly. I’m getting hammered by the Democrats and the press on the use of the B-2 bomber against Iran. I can’t use the active duty or Reserve bombers. I don’t even like the idea of sending in aircraft carriers, because to me it forces the conflict to a new, deadly level — and it gives the media and the Democrats more ammunition to use against me.”
The President looked at McLanahan and Masters. “General Samson and Air Force chief of staff General Hayes briefed me on the new Megafortress project — of course, I’m well familiar with the previous Megafortress missions,” the President said. “I understand you have eight planes altogether, but crews and weapons for only five. Correct?” Masters nodded. “We need all you can muster for an armed patrol over the Formosa Strait.”
“You got it,” Masters replied immediately. “When and where do you need them?”
“This isn’t a sales meeting, Dr. Masters,” Philip Freeman interjected sternly. “The President is asking you to provide flight crews and experimental strike aircraft for a secret armed patrol mission. The crews could be in serious danger. You could lose the crews, all the aircraft, and your entire investment, and you’d have no recourse or legal redress to recoup your losses. If your crews are captured, they will be tried as terrorists, spies, or armed aggressors, subject to all Chinese criminal laws, without any support or protection from the U.S. government. Think about it first.”
“Okay,” Masters responded. He fell silent for about two heartbeats, smiled, then said, “When and where do you need them?”
“We thought about it already,” Patrick McLanahan said resolutely, by way of explaining his boss’s weird reply. “I speak for the aircrews, Mr. President, and we are ready to fly. The planes are fueled, armed, and ready to go. We even have our own aerial refueling tanker fleet, and they’ve been sent to Sky Masters, Inc.’s, facilities in Hawaii. We just need secure basing at Andersen Air Force Base on Guam.”
“We can do that,” Freeman said. He turned to the President and said, “There’s one option ready to execute, Mr. President.”
“How would you be able to help out there, Patrick?” the President asked.
“The Megafortresses carry four different standoff weapons: jammers, antiradar, antiair, and anti-ship,” McLanahan explained. “Nothing is activated until there is some sign of hostilities, and then the response is graduated, depending on what the Chinese do. Our plan is to match, never exceed, the PLAN’s level of hostility. We defend ourselves with every weapon we have, but our primary purpose is to defend the assigned area.”
“How would they be employed?” the President asked.
“Two groups of two, plus one ground spare, for the armed surveillance role,” McLanahan replied. “One plane just outside Chinese long- range radar coverage, the other over the assigned defense area. From the refueling track near Okinawa, it’s one hour to the southern tip of Taiwan, near Quemoy Island, so each bomber can stay about four hours on station. Just before the first bomber is scheduled to depart the station to refuel, the other bomber takes its place. The teams rotate every sixteen hours, so the second team gets a full eight hours of crew rest on the ground. If fighting breaks out, we switch into surge mode — we recover, rearm, refuel, and relaunch bombers as fast as we can, at least two at a time.”
“And how long can you possibly keep that up? ” Secretary of Defense Chastain asked. “Aren’t you afraid of exhausting your crews?”
“The limiting factor is the planes, not the crews,” McLanahan answered. “On patrol, it’s all high-altitude cruising time. All combat flying is stressful, but the high-altitude cruise legs will give the crews a little opportunity to decompress. During a combat surge, the crews will only be in actual hostile territory anywhere from ten to twenty minutes maximum — that’s the power we have with standoff weapons. In a combat surge, we anticipate running out of weapons before running out of combat-ready aircraft. Of course, we’re just a covering force, sir — we’d expect support from the Navy and Air Force within three to four days.”
“Pretty optimistic,” Chastain sniffed. “I haven’t heard you give any estimates for combat attrition.”
“Attrition? You mean, how many Megafortresses will we lose?” Masters retorted. “I’ll answer that one, Art — zero. Zip. Nada. The EB-52s will be grounded because of systems failures before China even gets a shot off at one.”
“That’s pretty arrogant of you, Dr. Masters,” Chastain said. “If I’m not mistaken, the PRC got a couple of your EB-52s in the Philippines conflict.”
“The planes we’re using now are a generation more advanced than the ones we used three years ago — the weapons are, too,” Masters said resolutely. “The bad guys won’t touch us. We’re a lot safer than those subs you got shadowing that battle group, I guarantee that”
“All we ask is that you let us act with a great degree of autonomy, once you send us into the area defense ‘basket,’ ” General Samson said. “We can set up real-time datalinks to provide the task force commander with a look at everything we’re looking at, but we’re vulnerable and weak if we can’t act right away.”
“That can’t be helped, General,” Chastain said. “A B-52 bomber loaded to the gills with cruise missiles, taking on a Chinese naval battle group — we’re going to insist on absolute control. ”
“Although we’re using strategic bombers, sir, we’re actually flying a close-air-support-type mission,” Samson explained. “We’re flying close to the enemy, staying out of sight but zooming into lethal range when it’s time to strike, then bugging out of lethal range again. We must be given authority to shoot when it comes time to do so — we can’t loiter within lethal range hoping to be given the order. As Patrick explained, sir, our objective is to match, and never exceed, the level of force used by the enemy — but we need absolute real-time authority to shift our level of response. As good as Dr. Masters’s surveillance and communications gear is, it’s not perfect nor one hundred percent reliable. Our guys must be given authority when to shoot. That’s why we’re here, sir.”
President Martindale shook his head and gave them a weary smile. “Can’t believe we’re considering using a private company to fight our battles for us,” he said. “I feel like I’m hiring mercenaries.”
“Then make us part of the military, sir,” Patrick McLanahan said. Several mouths dropped open in surprise — the President’s, Freeman’s, Samson’s, even Masters’s. “What did you say, Patrick?” Samson finally asked.
“Make us part of the military again,” McLanahan explained. “Recommission the B-52 bombers — but make it a fleet of EB-52 Megafortresses instead. Right now, you have a fleet of eight converted bombers. Dr. Masters and I have identified thirty H-model B-52s in the fleet that are suitable for the conversion. Within two years, maybe less, we can have a wing, two squadrons, of EB-52 Megafortresses flying. They can do any mission you can think of: reconnaissance, drone control, defense suppression, minelaying, strategic or tactical precision attack, heavy bombardment, even air defense and space launch. Reactivate Dyess Air Force Base in Texas as the initial base, or colocate the unit with Jon’s facilities in Arkansas.”