The jeep sped off to a pair of F-104s waiting nearby. The two planes were already warmed up and ready to go. The MP passed the box to a monkey who gave it to one of the pilots. Immediately the two Starfighters taxied out onto the runway and began their take-off roll.
"They've been waiting to scramble with that box for the past three days,"
Jones told Hunter as they watched the scene. "It will be in Eureka within three hours."
The recovery mission was now complete. But there would be no time for celebration. No round of welcome back drinks.
"Sorry for sneaking in unannounced," Hunter said, his voice slightly distant.
"I was down to two pounds of fuel when I touched down. I had to cut off everything, lights, radio, radar, everything except the flight controls."
Jones scratched his wiffle haircut. He looked at Hunter. He looked different.
He could tell his pilot was burning inside. "Is this what I think it is?"
"Yes," Hunter confirmed. "It's a Stealth fighter. A warlord in Manhattan named Calypso got a hold of it somehow. He was about to… well, trade it… to Viktor, when I upset their plans."
"Viktor himself? Sounds interesting," Jones said.
"I'll tell you all about it sometime," Hunter said soberly, choosing his words very carefully. "But it will have to keep for now."
Jones looked at him again. This man, his friend, had changed. Something, almost imperceptible, yet very obvious had come over him. He looked different.
"Hey, Hawk," Jones told him. "Grab some chow and shut eye. You'll need it."
"Chow, yes," Hunter said. "Sleep, no. I've got a lot of work to do, and this airplane is going to come in handy."
For the first time in what seemed like years, Hunter chowed down, showered and climbed into a fresh flightsuit. A few hours later, he was sitting in the operations room at the air station. The usual group of PA AC principals was there, gathered around an enormous map of the mid-American continent. Jones laid out the strategy for the crucial days ahead.
Western Forces recon teams had located three major concentrations of Circle troops making their way toward the Badlands. One army, dubbed the Northern Group, was made up of two divisions or 30,000 men. It had been gradually moving across the north central states, and was now on the border of old Minnesota and Wisconsin.
"This army is probably going to link up with the northern part of the SAM line in the Dakotas," Jones told them.
The Circle's Southern Group, made up of three divisions, or 45,000 men, had swept through the southern states and now was encamped in northern Louisiana.
"These guys are getting a lot of heavy equipment and supplies from New Orleans," Jones continued. "They've got a major concentration at Shreveport, and it's a good guess they're going to get into Oklahoma or possibly invade Texas when the time is right."
The third and largest Circle Army group — this one containing as many as 105,000 men in seven divisions — had formed up near occupied Football City and would soon embark across Missouri, heading for central Kansas and Nebraska.
"This has been their plan all along," Jones said, moving colored indicators representing the enemy troop movements. "Link up with the Russians, use the SAMs as an umbrella and just keeping on coming until they meet some opposition. And we, gentlemen, are the only opposition that they can meet."
He pointed to the area around the Dakotas.
"We've got to rely on the Canadians to deal with this Northern Group," he said. "The idea will be to isolate them in Minnesota. Fitzie's ADF F-105s will help out there."
He shifted his attention to the southern part of the map. "The Texans and the exiled Football City troops will take charge of stopping this Southern Group.
The key here is to grease New Orleans. That port had been lousy with Russian subs for weeks now. The Texans have one hell of a bunch of F-4s down there, so that will be their job. St. Louie's F-20s will support the action near Shreveport."
Jones paused and turned his attention to the center of the map. Then he said soberly: "Gentlemen, I'd be less than honest if I didn't say we've got the toughest job facing us.
"I've got to figure that this middle group will move right through the Badlands in Kansas and southern Nebraska. They're the ones we need to worry about. They're more than three times as large as the other two groups, so they represent their major thrust. They've got the most transport — trucks, railroad, boats.
"So they're very mobile. And they're heading right for us."
He turned his attention to the markers representing the middle positions of the democratic forces. "Here are our lines," he said, indicating a long stretch that roughly coincided with the borders of Colorado and Kansas-Nebraska. "This is where we've got to meet them. We're digging in. All of our ground troops will be in this trenchline in the next two days. And, frankly, we'll be lucky if we get sixty thousand men in place."
Jones turned and addressed the group directly. "They've got us by about two-to-one as things stand now," he said earnestly. "If they break through, they'll be unstoppable."
There was a deadly silence in the room,
"So what are we going to do?" Jones asked. "Well, three things…
"First, you're all familiar with the so-called "Land-Air Battle" strategy.
Anyone who fought in Europe knows it well. This will be our plan of action.
We've got to hit their supply lines, their lines of communications and their means of transportation. Fitzie's got to do it in Minnesota. St. Louie and the Texans have to do it in Louisiana. And we've got to do it in Kansas and south Nebraska.
"We've got to break through the SAM line using the holes we've punched in it before they seal them up. We've got to take out every bridge, highway and railroad line in Missouri. We've got to isolate those troops from their reserves and their supply lines.
"Second, once we've done that, we go after the troops themselves. Bomb the shit out of them wherever they are. And we can't be timid. Napalm, antipersonnel stuff. Whatever it takes. And anyone we miss in Missouri, we catch on the roads and rivers in Kansas and south Nebraska. The harder we hit them and the longer we delay them, the better our chances in the trenches will be."
"As for strategic bombing…" Jones produced a large photo of the Soviets' castle-like main base, with the still smoking nuke station nearby. "This was taken just a couple of hours ago, right after we went over. We lost five airplanes and crews to accomplish this, but I have to say it was worth the price. You can see both targets were hit hard.
"We have to assume they're now trying to operate without electricity, which, if anything, will screw up their radio communications. Plus we're banking on some of their top people being stationed at their HQ when we hit it. Also, I wouldn't want to buy any property real soon near that bombed out nuke station.
It'll be hot there for a while."
Once again, there was a stark silence in the room.
Then Dozer spoke up: "You said we have to do three things, General."
Jones nodded. "That's right. Missions one and two — hitting their lines of communications and blasting their troop concentrations — these things we can do.
"But we have to do one more thing — and it may be the hardest mission of all."
He paused, looking several of the principals straight in the eye. "We've got to remember that Viktor — wherever he is — assembled The Circle Army the same way Hitler assembled his. By deceit, propaganda and hero-worship. First he gathered together all of the riff-raff, leftovers, anyone who could aim a gun.
Then he 'recruited' some young blood. Teenagers. Filled them with a bunch of bullshit and pointed them in the direction of the front. From what we hear from Fitzie's spies, a lot of these soldiers are really young kids, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen years old. They're heavily indoctrinated. Brainwashed.