"Roger, Major," Hunter heard Crunch's reply. The Ace Wrecking Company's two F-4s would break off with half the attacking PAAC force and go after the Circle infantry now moving toward the ridges near the Western Forces' defense line. Hunter would take the remaining fighters and go after the approaching Yaks.
As the air armada neatly split in two, a curious calm settled over the stalled enemy column. Just as the sky was filled with jets a moment before, now it was empty. Quiet. Almost serene. A few wisps of smoke rose above the wrecked vehicles. The PAAC attack had been swift, sharp, accurate. Like a long wound delivered, the column was bleeding. But the worst was yet to come…
Captain Bull Dozer adjusted his electronic binoculars. He had been warned by radio that the first elements of the approaching Circle Army would be coming into view shortly. Looking out over the Western Forces' defense line, the Marine could see nothing but the ridgeline two miles away. But then, slowly, surely, he saw small groups of soldiers appear on top of the ridge. Within two minute's time, the enemy soldiers were swarming over the ridgeline like an army of ants.
He calmly reached for his radiophone and called up and down the Western Forces' defense line. "Get ready…"
A push of another button and he was talking to the Denver Air Station air controllers. "Enemy troops within sight," he radioed. "Entering buffer zone now. No SAMs…"
Dozer heard the thunder less than a minute later. Over the top of the hills to their rear came six B-52 Stratofortresses that had been loitering nearby. Now they were flying so low, Dozer could read small lettering on their bellies. The SAM-vulnerable big bombers could only be expected to make one ground-hugging bombing run, then scoot. Dozer knew the napalm bombs they were carrying would further reduce the number of enemy soldiers who would reach the defense line. But, judging by the thousands of enemy troops he saw through the scope, the quick B-52 strike would only serve as a delaying action.
As the Stratofortresses roared over The Circle troops and started dropping their bombs, Dozer was on the phone to his officers up and down the line. The biggest job of the veteran 7th Cavalry Marines was keeping the many volunteer troops on the flank from panicking. Luckily the all-important center line was made up of professional Pacific American soldiers.
All of the Western Forces.soldiers could see the great wallops of flame rise above the plain before them, incinerating the lead element of the approaching Circle troops. Suddenly, a shoulder-launched SA-7 flashed up from.the mass of enemy soldiers, catching one of the B-52s on its port wing. The big airplane immediately flipped over and plowed into the swarm of enemy soldiers, exploding with a force that shook the ground like an earthquake.
Still The Circle troops kept coming…
Their work done, the B-52s cleared the area, just as Crunch's Delta Two group appeared from the east. The fighter jets immediately pounced on the front of the enemy column which was now spreading out into walking lines nearly two miles across.
It was an odd way to attack a trenchline. The Circle soldiers looked more like an advancing army of British redcoats than anything else-throwbacks to the set-piece battles of the American Revolutionary War.
One by one, the attacking PAAC jets swooped in on The Circle troops, dropping napalm and anti-personnel bombs then roaring away. But still the enemy troops kept coming…
Dozer grabbed his radiophone and was instantly in touch to the artillery commander a half mile behind his line. He yelled one word: "Fire!" On his command, thirty howitzers opened up. The Western Forces troops in the trench watched as the big shells streaked over their heads and slammed into the plain around the advancing Circle troops. For awhile the front of the enemy lines were obscured by smoke and flame. But then, one by one, then by the thousands, surviving Circle troops emerged from the smoke.
Crunch's aircraft appeared again, this time sweeping in in pairs and raking the enemy with cannon fire. More soldiers were hit, ripped up by the cannon shells. Yet still The Circle soldiers kept advancing.
"This is incredible," Dozer told one of his officers nearby. "These guys just don't know how to retreat…"
There was something very peculiar about how the advancing Circle lines were acting. They were now just a half mile away from the Western Forces trenches, yet they were still walking, and very slowly. Dozer had told the soldiers in his line to hold their fire until his command. But strangely the enemy was doing the same. Except for the one SA-7 that brought down the B-52, not another shot had been fired by the advancing Circle soldiers.
Dozer zoomed in on the approaching line with his electronic scope. Faces of the soldiers were now becoming clear. He focused the high-power spyglasses, keying in on several Circle soldiers at the front of the advancing line.
"Jesus Christ…" he whispered. "They're… just kids!"
What Dozer saw was a line of teenagers. Most were not wearing helmets or boots or anything expected of ground soldiers. Many of them weren't even carrying arms! But the Marine captain immediately saw The Circle troops were carrying something more sinister.
Wrapped neatly around the waist of some of the soldiers were strings of sticks of TNT.
"Oh God," Dozer said. "Hunter was right. They're coming at us with human bombs…"
General Jones looked at the console of the ultra-sophisticated B-1 bomber. In its center was a flat black panel containing five red lights. Right now only one of the lights was blinking.
Jones had just lifted off in Ghost Rider 1, the lead ship of the Eureka B-1s.
As he circled the Denver Air Station, he saw the other four B-1s taxi and take off in cool precision. The small armada banded up and then turned to the southeast. "Won't be long now," Jones thought. "Then we'll finally know whether it was all worth it or not…"
Ten minutes out of Denver, the B-1s formed up into a diamond pattern. Jones was at the lead point, with Ghost Rider 2 and 3 taking the sides and Ghost Rider 4 in the rear. Ghost Rider 5 took up its position in the middle of the formation. As soon as Jones was sure each of the airplanes was in place, he leveled the flight off at 20,000 feet, and threw a series of switches on his control board.
These signals were instantly transmitted to Ghost Rider 5, which carried the bulk of the formation's electronic gear. At the speed of light, the fifth aircraft's computer started printing out computations, calculations relating airspeed to altitude, engine exhaust heat to fuel consumption, bomb load to the rotation of the earth. Slowly but surely, every aspect of the five airplanes' radar "signatures" was identified by the super-computer, and then, carefully masked electronically.
Jones saw one of the red lights on his black panel blink once then stay on.
"Ghost Rider 2, on lock," he heard J. J. Toomey, the second bomber's pilot say.
A few seconds later, another of the red lights blinked on, followed by the radio calclass="underline" "Ghost Rider 3, locked."
Jones checked his location. They were ten minutes from target.
"Ghost 4, on lock," he heard a pilot call while the fourth red light blinked on.
His aircraft would be next. He closed up the formation slightly, giving the tons of electronics on Ghost Rider 5 every advantage.
Suddenly the red light on his control panel that had been blinking, stopped.
It was now burning a bright, constant red. He was in.
"Ghost 1, locked," he called into his microphone. Thirty seconds later, the fifth and last red light came on. He heard the message he'd been waiting for a few seconds later:
"Ghost 5, locked on, sir."
"Verify, Ghost 5," Jones radioed.
"Verified, sir," the pilot of Ghost Rider 5 called back. "We are now 'in system.' "
Jones smiled. They were invisible…