Phase Three would then come into play. Farmers would be expected to grow fast, ready-to-eat food as soon as they could plant and grow. Then the whole distribution system would be reversed. Supplies from the farms would be then transported back to the Air Force bases for consumption and further redistribution. By this time, all the mobile Army or civilian vehicles would be commandeered to collect produce from the farms and redistribute.
Phase Four would be new canning and bottling plants set up at all the airports to allow food storage to begin for the next winter. Once that happened, the system would be self-sustaining and should grow to where the survivors are fed and would be able to give back by working in the production system. Only then could a dollar or a whole new currency be worth something again.
Preston had even gone ahead and designed Phases Five and Six, the retooling of all the engineering in the country to try and get the natural gas supplies up and running since they had only enough fuel to maybe last the country until the end of the summer. This is when the two older men got excited and flew back to California. One day every electrical company in the country would be reactivated, given electricity, and retooled to replace the billions of defunct parts that read “Made in China.”
Grandpa Roebels and Michael were excited to start work on that plan back in California. Their farm was luckily untouched and their first job was collecting several electrical engineers they knew who lived around them. Their idea was to get Silicone Valley up and running again within the next 12 months.
The meeting of the day on Preston’s farm was coming to an end by late that morning. The team—the First Family, the Smarts, Mike Mallory, John, Pam, Joe, David, Buck, Barbara, Ling, Martie, and Preston—was very happy with their accomplishments. The plan was in draft form, and Martie was printing off copies of the Presidential Order to be sent out.
The team was ready to fly into Seymour Johnson in every available aircraft to get the first load of food when the call came in from Carlos to Buck.
“Good morning to the farming community,” Carlos greeted them over the old radio, now in the hangar so it wouldn’t wake the First Family at all hours.
“Are you still alive up there, Carlos?” Preston stated into the radio mic.
“I would be more alive if I could get some sleep and see Sally for more than five minutes at a time! We are all working 20-hour shifts up here. We are allowed to use our radios again. Anyway, orders from Pete are for Buck to go down to Camp Lejeune and pick up 30 complete parachute sets. We need them up here at Mr. McGuire’s place ASAP, and I mean ASAP. We have an aircraft waiting for them. Martie, please ask the Commander-in-Chief to give you the order on letterhead. And guys, they are urgently needed so don’t dilly-dally getting up here. Full cruise power, please.” Martie’s letters from the President were almost all printed out, so Buck and Barbara got up, stretched, and headed out to start pre-flight checks.
“Are you winning the war for us?” Preston asked Carlos.
“Boy! It’s moving fast up here. The only time anybody gets any rest up here is if you are lucky enough to go out on a flight as a passenger,” replied Carlos. “But, we have a fantastic plan, and you guys are going to love it. Unfortunately, it’s hush-hush at the moment.”
“Even hush-hush for me?” asked the president himself, smiling as he asked the question.
“Only because I can’t say anything over the radio, sir, but the plan, if it works, will help us get our troops back quicker,” responded Carlos.
“Any plan to help our guys get back automatically has my approval,” replied the president.
“That’s what Pete said you would say, sir,” replied Carlos. “Anyway, all the big Mamas will be up here working hard until further notice. You guys down there must do the best you can. And, by the way, you only have a week. Pete wants every available aircraft up here in seven day’s time—everything with guns that is.”
“We have the presidential letters for the food distribution, Carlos. Can you see that they are distributed when aircraft go out to any Alpha Foxtrot bases in the country? We have 50 copies for you,” said Preston, changing the topic.
“Send them up with Buck and I’ll get them out on every available flight,” replied Carlos.
Martie ran out to Lady Dandy, her engines starting up, and delivered all the necessary papers. Buck and Barbara quickly headed out for the Marine base in a southern direction. That left only four useable aircraft on the apron for transporting food—the FedEx Cargomaster, the 210, and the two Cessna 172s. Baby Huey was up at McGuire working her butt off, and the tanker had already left for McGuire earlier that morning, again on Pete Allen’s orders. Preston had quickly made sure that his underground fuel tanks were topped up from the local airport, since he had been given three hours advance notice.
Will Smart was happy to be in control of all the communications at the farm. Everyone had a job to do, but due to his fear of flying, he was still excused from flight duties. His wife wasn’t afraid, however, and she was planning to fly down to Seymour Johnson with the pilot team. The four kids were happy as a group, and their job was to make sure the guards around the airfield all had food and fruit juice.
With the farm and the presidential family under the protection of the Secret Service and Air Force, the four aircraft took off for their first day of food distribution with Will and the First Lady sitting next to the radio with the use of a satellite phone. The flight team would be joined at the air base by Lady Dandy when she got back in a couple of hours.
The plan for the day was to get food out to four airports, find a suitable hangar, begin storage, and speak to the locals. If they could reach four airports a day, a small amount of people in the southern United States could be fed before they had to travel north. They flew into Seymour Johnson, where the base commander had pallets of the military meals waiting to be packed inside the small aircraft.
“We are still checking our stocks,” said Colonel Mondale, as he shook everyone’s hand and invited them in for a special FSR (First Strike Rations) cold lunch while the supplies they were going to distribute were packed up, and they waited for Lady Dandy. “We have two warehouses full of all types of field supplies, but so far we have 1,850,000 cases of food rations in stock. I know that Fort Bragg will have much the same and the Marines should have even more. I’m thinking that we have around 6 million cases of food here in North Carolina. Each case is between nine and twelve meals. The FSRs, or First Strike Rations as we call them, are lighter for your smaller aircraft. A case holds nine meals for an adult, weighs 23 lbs., and does not have the unnecessary extras like the food heaters. These have a shorter shelf life and I suggest you get them out first. The MREs, or Meal-Ready-to-Eat packs, are heavier and should be left here until you can use the C-130s to transport them into the civilian airfields.”
“How many cases of food do you think are in the whole country?” asked Preston, realizing the mammoth task ahead of them.
“Well, we always hold enough stock for at least 90 days for our troops in the field. I don’t know that exact number—only a couple of brass at the Pentagon know, or did know—but since we have more than one million men and women over there, I’d say we have around 100 million cases of food.”
Preston looked at the group and thought for a few moments. “So, if spring is 12 weeks away, and we need to give farmers at least the same amount of time to produce fresh food, that means we have enough food to last about 30 million people, one tenth of the country’s population.”