That was exactly what Foch had in mind as he opened the plastic-guarded safety cover on the command destruct panel. Foch, Kaddiri, Masters, and the ground safety officers at the White Sands range could command the ALARM booster to self-destruct at any time; now that the booster was flying, Masters had very little authority over its disposition — he could not override a “Destruct” command. “I told you this might happen, Doctor Masters,” Foch said. “The booster was obviously shaken off course by the strong, high-altitude winds, and it sustained some damage and can’t correct its course enough.”
But Masters sat back and, to everyone’s surprise, put his feet up on the control console. “Ten seconds to second-stage burnout,” he said, sipping his soda. “Sit back, relax. It’ll stay in the groove long enough.”
“The decision doesn’t rest with you this time, Masters,” Foch fumed. “The command’ll come from White Sands or the Air Force Space Tracking Center. White Sands will initiate the destruct sequence. If their command doesn’t work, I initiate mine.”
“Well, well…” Masters laughed, pointing to the computer monitor. Foch turned to look. “Second-stage burnout, and Roosevelt-One is still on course.” They studied the readouts for a few more moments. The booster, headed into a polar orbit over Canada, was picked up by Alaskan radar sites as it continued its climb to its orbit altitude. Soon its orbital insertion would be picked up by space-tracking radars at San Miguel Air Force Station in the Philippines, and the NIRTSats would begin their work.
After a while, Masters turned to Foch with a smug expression. “Minor course corrections being made, but it’s right on course. Expect third-stage ignition in four minutes.” He took another big sip of soda, then punctuated his victory with a loud burp. “I’d get your finger away from that destruct button if I were you, Colonel. The Navy wouldn’t appreciate you blowing up a perfectly good booster.”
One of the first major uses of Masters’ new NIRTSat constellation of real-time position and communications reporting capability for Air Force aircraft was a few days later — and it was the most inauspicious. It was the day the last of the United States Air Force’s aircraft departed the Philippines as the Americans turned over their military bases to full Filipino control. The satellites would control the last of the American fighters and tankers as they withdrew from the Philippines to bases in Japan and Guam.
Headquarters of the U.S. Air Force’s Thirteenth Air Force at Clark Air Base, sixty-five miles north of Manila, was in a magnificent white six-story stucco building, at the end of a long grassy mall between the NCO and officers’ family-housing areas. Both sides of the mall along the Weston and Wirt Davis avenues had once been lined with flags of the numerous military units of several nations that had liberated the Philippines from Japan during World War II, standing as a monument to those who had died defending this island nation against the Axis. Now the sixty poles were vacant except for the three flagpoles at the head of the mall opposite the headquarters building — the flags of the Philippines, the United States, and the U.S. Air Force.
From his vantage point on the review stand in front of the headquarters building, Major General Richard Stone noticed that someone had lowered the American flag down several feet from the top of its staff — it almost appeared to be at half staff. Perhaps it should be so.
Stone’s aide, Colonel Michael Krieg, stepped over to his boss and handed him a Teletype report. “Latest on that skirmish near the Spratlys, sir,” Krieg said. “The Chinese are still claiming they were attacked by heavy antiship weapons. Twenty-seven Filipinos dead, six Americans, and five missing.”
“Christ,” Stone sighed. He had watched the repercussions build over the last week since the skirmish. “Do the Chinese expect anyone to believe that? Why the hell would an oil company have any antiship missiles on an oil-exploration platform?”
“They did have machine guns, sir. Twenty-millimeter. World War Two vintage American Mk 4. Pretty good operating condition, too — before the Chinese melted it with a Fei Lung-7.”
“Idiots,” Stone muttered. “Opening up on a warship like that. So what are the Chinese doing now?”
“Laying low,” Krieg replied. “Only occasional incursions in the Spratly Island neutral zone. President Mikaso’s government is being very understanding about it so far. Vice President Samar issued a statement calling for reparations from the Chinese.”
“Lots of luck.”
“Vice President Teguina called for an investigation — not of the Chinese, but of Mikaso’s government,” Krieg added.
“Of Mikaso’s government? Not the Chinese? ’Course — that’s typical,” Stone said. “Whatever it takes to distance himself from Mikaso… just as he’s always done. Anything for a headline.”
“The little bastard’s got balls, that’s for sure.”
Major General Stone grunted. “You can say that again — Teguina loves to stir things up. Now, what do we have out there keeping an eye on things?”
Krieg looked at his boss with a look of pure concern. “In two hours — nothing.”
“What?”
“Message from CINCPAC.” CINCPAC was the acronym for Commander in Chief Pacific Command, the U.S. military organization responsible for all military activities from the West Coast of the United States to Africa. “He wants no combat aircraft or vessels near the area until they can get a reading from the Chinese. Strictly hands off.”
“Well, what did we have out there?” Stone grumbled, irritated at CINCPAC’s order.
“A couple F-16s from here checking it out, maybe a P-3 subchaser diverted to Zamboanga Airport or Bangoy Airport near Davao — er, sorry, they call it Samar International Airport now — to take some pictures. Apparently the Chinese feel our presence is threatening. CINCPAC agreed. No more flights within fifty miles.”
“A fitting end to a perfectly lousy day,” Stone said, straightening his uniform and heading toward the reviewing stand for the ceremony.
Major General Richard “Rat” Stone was the commander of the now disbanded Thirteenth Air Force — the principal American air defense, air support, and logistics support organization in the Republic of the Philippines. General Stone — whose nickname was short for “Rat Killer” after a strafing run in his F-4 along the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Vietnam had killed dozens of rats with 20-millimeter cannon fire — commanded the twenty different organizations from five major operating commands at Clark Air Base.
Principal of all the organizations on his base was the Third Tactical Fighter Wing, composed of F-16 fighter-bombers and F-4G “Advanced Wild Weasel” electronic warfare and defense suppression fighters; and the 6200th Tactical Fighter Training Group, who operated the various tactical training ranges and fighter weapons schools in the Philippines and who ran the seven annual “Cope Thunder” combat exercises to train American and allied pilots from all over the Pacific. The Third Tactical Fighter Wing, whose planes had the distinctive “PN” letters on the tail plus either the black “Peugeots” of the Third Tactical Fighter Squadron or the “Pair-O-Dice” of the Ninetieth Tactical Fighter Squadron, flew air-to-air and air-to-ground strike missions in support of American interests from Australia to Japan and from India to Hawaii.
Clark Air Base had also been home to a very large Military Airlift Command contingent of C-130 Hercules transports, C-9 Nightingale flying hospitals, C-12 Huron light transport shuttles, and HH-53 Super Jolly and HH-3 Jolly Green Giant rescue and special-operations helicopters. The 374th Tactical Airlift Wing shuttled supplies and personnel all across the South Pacific and would, in wartime, deliver troops and supplies behind enemy lines. The Ninth Aeromedical Evacuation Squadron, the Twentieth Aeromedical Airlift Squadron, and the Thirty-first Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron all provided medical airlift support and would fly rescue missions over land or water to recover downed aircrews — these were the organizations that first welcomed the American prisoners of war from Vietnam in 1972. Clark also housed the 353rd Special Operations Wing, whose MC-130E Combat Talon aircrews trained to fly psychological warfare, covert resupply, and other “black” missions all across the Pacific.