Ghost War (4 page)

Jones could see crates upon crates of every kind of imaginable gear being loaded by a dozen forklifts into the cavernous hold of the JAWS Galaxy, including several tons of weapons and ammunition. With everything from machine pistols, SEMTEX charges, grenade launchers, and mortars, to anti-tank guns, flamethrowers, and small but heavily armed dune buggies, it was obvious the JAWS team was ready for anything.

Hunter and Jones walked down the line to the next C-5. It was the silver bullet plane that would carry the 100-man-strong 104th Battalion of the New Jersey National Guard—the best combat engineers who ever built
or
blew up a bridge. And the gear that was being assembled attested to that fact.

As Jones and Hunter walked past, they saluted lieutenant Colonel Frank Geraci, the 104th’s commanding officer. Another veteran of the recent Pacific campaign, Geraci was supervising the on-loading of bulldozers, pontoon bridge sections, and small cranes, as well as the tools of destruction—cases of TNT and SEMTEX, light and heavy machine guns, mortars, TOWS, and hundreds of small arms. Both Jones and Hunter appreciated the efficiency with which the engineers’ huge plane was being loaded; there was literally no room to spare.

Hunter then brought Jones by the C-5 that belonged to the Football City Special Forces Rangers, now led by Major Donn Kurjan. Known to all by his code name “Lazarus,” Kurjan had been jumped in rank from lieutenant because of the heroic role he played in ending the Fourth Reich’s occupation of America about a year before.

Parked along side the red-and-blue-striped-C-5—which was christened “Football One”—were more than twenty trucks and several already overworked crews handling case after case of weapons. Heavy machine guns, mortars, howitzers, shoulder-launched Stingers, Blowpipes, Javelins, cases of grenades, hundreds of M-16s, and thousands of 5.56-mm rounds were slowly filling up the belly of the huge transport. The men of Football City Special Forces were experts with all of these weapons. Serving primarily as a SWAT-type Rapid Deployment Force, these professionals were trained to go anywhere, at anytime, to get the job done fast and then fight their way out. Their black combat fatigues and black helmeted visors gave them the appearance of space aliens. For many of their enemies, it was the last image they ever saw.

They continued their walk down the flight line.

“Do these look familiar, sir?” Hunter asked Jones.

Before Jones were parked two C-5s with the unlikely names of
Bozo
and
Nozo.
These two customized Galaxys were the result of the unconventional imagination of their close friend, the late, great Mike Fitzgerald, many years before.

The idea was based on something called Puff, the Magic Dragon. During the Vietnam conflict, the U.S. Air Force had mounted Gatling guns, capable of firing 4000 rounds per minute, on the left side windows of C-47 cargo planes, creating a totally new kind of aerial gunship. These cargo-to-combat hybrids were highly successful, especially for long-time loitering over combat sites. Their characteristic long streams of tracer fire made them look like flying, fire-breathing dragons.

What Fitzgerald did was take the “Puff” idea one giant step further. He had armed the C-5.

Nozo
had a complement of no less than twenty-one GE GAU-8/A 30-mm Avenger cannons sticking out of twenty-one hatches located on the left side of the C-5. Each Avenger was capable of firing 4000 rounds per minute, using cannon shells made of depleted uranium, a projectile which spontaneously ignited upon striking its target. And while the outside of the C-5 named
Nozo
bristled with cannon barrels, the inside contained a highly automated, totally computer-driven firing system as well as a remarkable track-feeding system that housed literally miles of belted ammunition.

After seeing the critics put to shame after his idea worked, Fitzgerald pushed it to the max with a second huge gunship, the aptly named “Bozo.” He started with six GE Gatling guns. Then he had mounted five MK-19 automatic grenade launchers, complemented by a single Italian-made AP/AV 700, three-barrel multiple-grenade launcher. After that, he got serious—and a little crazy. First, there was the Soltam 120-mra mobile field gun, which fired IMI illuminating rounds, as well as rocket-assisted charges. Then he added two Royal Ordnance 105 mm field artillery pieces and three German-made Rheinmetal 20 mm converted antiaircraft guns. And as a final
piece de resistance
, Fitz installed a 17-ton West German-made LARS II 110 mm Multiple Rocket Launcher, capable of firing 36 six-foot-long high explosive-filled rockets in less than 20 seconds. A specially fitted “rear-end blast” deflector piped the backfire down and out of the airplane. Even after witnessing the destructive powers of these planes in battle after battle, the sight, sound and carnage that they produced was still quite unbelievable.

And in turn, these two airplanes had been Hunter’s inspiration for this great air fleet now assembling.

Two Bell AH-1 attack helicopters sat nestled inside the next in line C-5, their main rotors disassembled and attached to racks that lined the inside of the hold. This plane, christened “Big Snake,” would be used by the Cobra Brothers, a freelance attack copter outfit with close ties to the United American Armed Forces. Mounted under each of the Cobra gunships was enough firepower to fight a small war—M20/19 rocket launchers, a TAT turret boasting one M-28 minigun and one 40-mm grenade launcher, double racks of QUAD Hellfire missiles, and four M-16 7.62-mm minigun pods. The Cobra Brothers had also rigged under the choppers special platforms to handle Sidewinders, Stingers, and TOW launchers. Besides spare weapons and cases upon cases of ammunition, their C-5 also held a complete maintenance shop with every conceivable spare part to repair combat damage or to adapt the helicopters for specialized missions. Hunter pointed out to Jones the crew in a cherry picker putting the finishing touches on the painting of the Cobra’s fangs, bared for the kill.

“Just the sight of that coming at them would make anyone head for the hills,” Jones remarked.

The general, who had been noting the special function, cargo, or particular mission that each plane they passed was being readied for, was astounded at what Roy From Troy had provided in such a short time. Of course, it hadn’t been cheap. But you get what you pay for, and usually Roy’s merchandise was good quality. The general was also amazed at the level of expertise and imagination of the members of the ground crews who customized, reconfigured or rehabilitated each of these planes for their special purposes. And he was impressed by how hard they all had been working. Everything that Hunter had promised, right down to the last detail, was there.

They continued down the flight line.

The next C-5 had the word “Crunchtime” painted garishly along the length of both sides of its fuselage. Piloted by “Crunch” O’Malley, recently back from another long-range recon mission, the Galaxy was basically a flying freighter carrying any weapon, gun, missile or rocket launcher that had been begged, borrowed, stolen, or that just plain didn’t fit into any of the other C-5’s cargo holds. It also carried extra fuel in special rubber bladders attached to the inside of its cargo hold.

The two Galaxys beyond
Crunchtime
were Football Two and Three. They were exact copies of the red-and-blue-striped Football One, and both as well were under the command of the Football City Special Forces Rangers.

Hunter and Jones then walked by two Galaxys that were surrounded with M-1A1 Abrams tanks, M-3 Bradleys, M-113 APCs, and M-198 155-mm howitzers. Hunter pointed out to the General the operational portholes that were being cut through the sides of the transport to accommodate either the 105-mm guns of the Abrams tanks, the 25-mm cannons and 7.62-mm machine guns of the Bradleys, the 12.7-mm M-2HB Browning machine guns of the APCs, or the big bore 155-mm barrels of the artillery pieces. As Hunter explained, these guns were not only to be used on the ground, but were also to provide covering fire from the air as well.

The general could see that much was still to be done to achieve one hundred percent readiness on these particular airplanes.

“From here on down the flight line, the reconfigurations are still going on,” Hunter said, confirming the general’s observation. “We’ve got nine airplanes close to ready, the rest are in various states of completion.”

The next C-5 was still in the process of being converted into a flying hospital, complete with operating rooms; another was being transformed into an aerial machine shop/maintenance service plane.

“The gear in there and the boys who’ll run it can repair just about anything,” Hunter explained.

Their walking tour continued. The next three transports belonged to the 1st American Airborne, led by Captain Lamont “Catfish” Johnson, a towering black man who formerly played defensive end for the San Diego Chargers of the old NFL and was now commander of this airborne outfit. More than fifteen hundred soldiers of this airborne corps were feverishly working at hundreds of long wooden tables, folding parachutes and cleaning weapons, while over a dozen quartermasters inventoried and oversaw the storing of the tons of materials needed to support that many men. Inside the planes, crews were diligently installing an interior deck that would add a second level to accommodate the paratroopers.

The next three Galaxys, painted in sea-gray camouflage, looked dull by comparison. And there was nothing remarkable going on inside their great hulls.

But the work going underneath those C-5s was what Hunter wanted to show General Jones.

They walked up closer to one of them where a very unusual operation was taking place.

“What the hell is this?” Jones asked.

Two Alpha Jets were being painstakingly attached to the airplane’s underbelly by a ground crew.

The Alpha Jet-E was a small but powerful trainer. It had a maximum speed of 620 mph, and a range of 273 miles. When configured as a fighter, it boasted one 30 mm cannon and could carry Sidewinders. It was the perfect plane for a very unusual mission.

Hunter knew that the long range force being assembled here could not afford the luxury of air cover. So learning from history, he took the idea from the time back in the 1920s, when bi-planes were attached to the underbelly of U.S. Navy blimps. Blimps could stay up almost forever, and their operating range was far greater than any fighter plane built at that time. But in wartime they were vulnerable to attack from enemy aircraft. By bringing their own fighters along, they wouldn’t compromise their long-range capability, and at the same time still benefit from a fighter’s assistance when necessary—just as this modern great air fleet would now.

The Alpha’s crew consisted of two pilots. But instead of having to have to sit the entire downtime in their cockpit, as the pilots under the blimps had to do, the Edwards’ mechanics had come up with an ingenious design. Two flexible, accordionlike loading shoots, attached to the underbelly of the C-5, stretched down to cover the open cockpits of the both Alpha. When the time came, the pilots of the Alphas would simply climb down the flexible internal ladders, close their canopy, and then release the accordion shoots by the gravity switch inside their cockpit. The shoots would then retract back up against the belly of the transport. Then explosive bolts would be set off, breaking the Alphas free of the struts and its mother ship. Docking was a little more tricky. After a system of hooks and clamps were deployed from the belly of the transport, the Alpha would fly under the C-5 and match its cruising speed. Then, much as in the procedure for in-flight refueling, the Alpha would nuzzle into this set of braces and secure itself. After a quick lockup procedure, the accordion shoot would be lowered for the pilots to climb back up into the hold.

Hunter then brought the general past five more Galaxys in various stages of readiness. Three of these C-5s were being converted into aerial refueling planes, each capable of holding almost 26,500 gallons of jet fuel. The other two were being outfitted to carry tons of ammunition; bullets, bombs, rockets, missiles and mortar shells needed for re-supply.

But the tour was not yet over.

They finally came to the last airship on the line. Even though the general had gotten used to the whacky paint jobs on the previous cargo planes, he was not ready for this one.

A painting of a larger-than-life-sized, very attractive, but
very
naked young lady graced the enormous nose of the Galaxy. And how she was posing was exactly the reason this C-5 was named “Triple X.”

Formerly called “The Empire State,” it had once belonged to the New York National Guard.

The general did not say a word. But Hunter quickly brought him around to show him the interior of the airplane. There he pointed out how the work was going on to convert the hold to carry smaller aircraft.

The sound of an approaching fuel truck caught Hunter’s attention and he flagged it down. He and Jones climbed up into the cab and caught a ride back up the half-mile-long flight line to where the white HumVee waited.

Climbing into the Hummer, Hunter and the General then drove out to an isolated part of the runway.

Cutting the engine, Hunter produced a thermos of coffee and two cups.

“Everyone’s done a great job,” Jones said, pouring a splash of cognac from a small flask into their cups. “A
hell
of a job.” The general then stared off in the distance and slowly shook his head.

Hunter had seen that look before; he knew bad news was incoming.

Since the big meeting in San Diego, the United American forces had commenced a twenty-four-hour-a-day satellite monitoring service to both watch and listen all over the South Pacific for further activity of the battleship fleet. The United American’s top intelligence groups were using these photos and recorded radio transmissions in conjunction with computer analysis to attempt to predict a pattern for the enemy fleet. The ships
were
seen from time to time, but not often—and mostly during inclement weather or nighttime. They were sometimes traveling in packs, sometimes in pairs, sometimes alone. Sometimes they lit up the air waves with ship-to-ship chatter. Other times, they were silent for days. So far, the strategy didn’t really make sense.