World War III

"He will be here accompanied by other key Chinese leaders to sign his nation's unconditional surrender, the key terms of which include internationally inspected total disarmament of China. China will also immediately vacate disputed areas---to include Tibet and Hong Kong. We currently control all Chinese air space and with help from China's neighbors—and our armed forces---have totally blockaded the Chinese mainland. American military aircraft are currently visible from the ground in the capital city of Beijing and are fully prepared to retaliate with everything at our disposal if there is even a hint of hostile intent."

Hal paused, uncharacteristically and took a sip of water. "I regret to inform the American people that almost 100 brave American fighting men and women made the ultimate sacrifice in this encounter. The losses include air crews, special forces and Navy ship borne personnel. God bless these brave souls, God bless their families and loved ones." Hal's countenance grew grimmer, almost menacing as he continued.

"God help any man or any nation who doubts for a second this great country's resolve and ability to stand by our friends and allies. It should serve as a simple lesson to all and is perfectly embodied in the old Marine Corps adage: 'We're your best friend or your worst enemy. You decide.' Good night and God Bless the United States of America."

The speech ended and those watching it, regardless of which channel they were watching, were again presented with the typical panel of talking heads. On Fox News, Mort started to make one of his normally inane comments. Brit cut him off.

"Mort! Shut up. We need to take a break now, not only to digest what we've just heard but to allow one of the most stunning speeches every given by a president to sink in."

In the hours and days that followed there were many questions at every level. The disloyal opposition grumblers slinked back into their holes. The President and the Secretary of Defense made it very clear: no, we're not going to release any tactical and few strategic details of this military operation. The tools and techniques used represented the most heavily guarded secrets of the country's military capability. Some in Congress wanted an investigation which would certainly result in the leaking of critical military strategies and technologies. That call died quickly. Faced with overwhelming polls indicating that the American people did not want their precious national security secrets splashed all over the media, the press lost interest in the story.

A few details, more rumor than detail in actuality, did slip out. There were reports of highly classified special aircraft, airborne battleships, which had been the deciding factor in the quick defeat of the Chinese forces. The favorite X plane name, "Aurora" was bandied around. Such stories were dismissed by the more rational as science fiction. The SECDEF scoffed and assured the press that the US military certainly didn't own such planes.

Those special planes were very much scientific fact. The military didn't own them; they rented them from the company that Hal Franks had founded---for a dollar a year each. There were twelve of them, almost identical in appearance to the new presidential plane plus four other smaller aircraft, roughly 737 sized that had originally been prototypes. They were hybrid fuel aircraft which could operate on normal jet fuel but also had the capacity to manufacture and utilize pure Hydrogen. Several were in the process of being converted to a pure fusion technology.

They were the stealthiest planes every built, included an active armor capability which was essentially an early stage shield. They were armed to the teeth, not only with conventional weapons systems but with pulse energy weapons of unbelievable power and accuracy. Those that had been converted to fusion power could not only fly to the edge of space but beyond. By the time the need for their services again arose, all had been converted to the newer fuel source and engine design. One fact never leaked out; it was known only by a handful of military leaders. Hal Franks had personally led the battle from the air over hostile territory.

The last vestiges of the islamo-fascist cults had been driven from the rest of the world into sub Sahara Africa. Unfortunately it was there that they joined forces with a patron, a megalomaniac Marxist strongman who had for several year been building his military forces while stealing the new found economic fruits of his neighbors. He now had nukes---twelve of them it was thought. He also had an EMP weapon that could render modern electronics useless. He had an army of nearly a million tribal fanatics. He had chemical and biological weapons. He was now blackmailing his richer neighbors and the world.

Hal Franks had called the world to battle; the greatest coalition in history representing virtually every nation in the world---including North Korea and China---stood at his side. All knew that the US would bear the brunt of the military burden; they always did. As was expected, the press and pundits predicted a blood bath and the ensuing quagmire in Africa.

Hal Franks knew that was a possible outcome; he also knew that if the daring plan which he and a tiny handful of military leaders had created worked, the war would be over in a matter of weeks---and the nuclear threat would cease to exist by morning.

Ground forces were arrayed along the rogue nation's borders awaiting the results of this night's missions which, if successful, would be followed by a blistering air and artillery assault. Hal knew in his heart that the enemy below consisted of fanatics who would die rather than give up. Other world leaders understood the reality, though none would speak of it. Defeating this enemy would not suffice; they would have to be annihilated---killed.

The sixteen special aircraft of Hal's design were thought to be immune to Electro Magnetic Pulse as were a small handful of the most advanced US aircraft. Everyone else had to be kept far enough away to provide safety until the EMP was disabled, destroyed or detonated.

The plan was actually simple. Highly trained Special Forces teams had been covertly inserted at the locations of the enemy's nuclear missiles. Similar teams would sever fiber optic communications networks which would hopefully deny the enemy a clear picture of what was happening. If they failed in their attempt to disarm the missiles, Hal's special air armada would take out the weapons from the air. The latter method was not the preferred one; once the fireworks began, the rogue nation's leader would certainly unleash the EMP weapon and his chem-bio on his neighbors, potentially killing millions. The coalition did not have a fix on the location of the EMP weapon. The plan was to entice him to expose or even use it prematurely since the conventional air war could not begin until that threat was removed.

All of the Special Ops teams had miraculously accomplished their assignments and encountered minimal resistance. Most had either been extracted or were exfiltrating to other locations to provide battlefield intel or to be extracted.

The twenty man team on the ground below Hal Frank had succeeded but enroute to their extraction point had been ambushed and were now surrounded by a crack enemy battalion of at least 600 fighters. Hal was irritated that intelligence had missed them but evidently they had been extremely well camouflaged. All communication to and from the capital was now cut off completely so it was thought that the rogue nation's leader did not yet know the full extent of the coalition's success.

This enemy battalion had to be eliminated quickly; more important those twenty men on the ground, many already wounded and one critically so needed to be extracted---now. All of the other special aircraft were committed to other potential targets to include chemical and biological weapons and airfield and rocket or artillery positions and could not be spared. Only one such aircraft lacked an assigned target grid and at that moment, the President of the United States was sitting in its command seat.

"Bob!" Hal Franks said to the man in the other seat as he initiated a rapid decent from over 70,000 feet. "Take weapons, I have the aircraft."

Bob knew better than to argue, plus he knew that the right man was at the controls and that his own personal expertise was in deploying the devastating array of weapons systems at his finger tips...after all, he had essential designed them. He had already alerted the crew, which included medical personnel, to strap in for a rough ride.

"Vanguard 26 this is Eagle six---talk to me!"

"We're in deep shit. One critical, numerous additional WIA but still effective. These fuckers are all over us." Came the radio reply from the young officer on the ground. Hal had previously checked the roster of the men on the ground and was pretty sure he was speaking to a young Marine Captain named Josh.

Hal checked his rate of decent, knowing full well from the building G forces that it was very high—higher than any normal aircraft could have survived. His quick mind did the necessary calculations. Bob had already read his mind.

"Ordinance on target in three---I say again three---minutes."

"Josh?"

"Roger?"

Three minutes---less than three minutes. Are you reasonably dug in?"

"Roger that."

I'll give you a heads up at twenty seconds; it's going to be danger close—damned close. Head down, eyes closed and ears covered. We've got a lock on your twenty transponders---don't move. Are you good to go?"

"Wilco." Came the one word reply from the young Marine on the ground.

"I'm launching." Bob said, indicating that he had released the first salvo of high speed air to ground missiles that could accelerate toward a ground target far quicker than the large aircraft could. They were still too high for the absurdly accurate pulse weapon to be used.

"Twenty seconds Josh...ten...five...duck!"

The conventional missile warheads exploded in a series of perfectly concentric circles around the ground team's position as indicated on the IR display in the cockpit. Hal prayed that they had been close enough but not too close.

"Talk to me Josh!"

"A little shrapnel over our heads but were still here. The artillery had stopped but we've still got bad guys within ten to twenty yards. That was a hell of a show!"

"Standby." Hal said turning to Bob.

"I can take out those guys with the pulse systems---safely---at 20,000, maybe another minute. They're too damned close for anything else"

"Josh, we can take out your bad guys very precisely in another fifty seconds. How's your critical? Are you near him?"

"Not good sir; he's right next to me...my senior NCO...I don't think he's going to make it."

"If he's conscious, put him on! What's his name?"

"Joe Wilson, Gunny Joe Wilson."

A rasping, cracking voice, obviously near death came on the radio, still a proud Marine even as death appeared inevitable.

"Wilson." Was all Hal heard; it was barely above a whisper.

"Gunny, this is Hal Franks. I'm a minute away from hauling your skinny ass out of there and taking you home. We have doctors---a damned OR--- on board. Do not fucking die on me---that's an order! Damn it son, stay with me! Are you good to go Marine?"

"I'm damned sure working on it sir...Semper Fi!" Came the reply in a far more robust tone than before.

"Ooh rah! Get their heads down gunny...your going to fucking love this light show.!"

Almost simultaneously Bob engaged the remaining enemy forces with a weapon accurate enough to slice bread, even from altitude. It was a silent weapon that left little more than a pile of crematory ashes where a human form had once stood. Within seconds it was all but over. Josh came back on the radio as Bob announced that another of the special aircraft had diverted to provide cover for the extraction as required---leaving a critical target exposed which had Hal very concerned. The second aircraft was quickly engaging and destroying enemy locations along the anticipated extraction route with deadly precision.

"We are no longer in enemy contact...shit! I watched a guy 20 feet away from me just incinerate...nothing left...just ashes...I could feel the heat!"

Hal made a quick circle over the location at low altitude in hopes of attracting any enemy fire that might have survived; there was none.

"Josh! Fifty meters to your North. My instruments say it's pretty flat---do you see it the same way?"

"Roger that."

"Okay Josh, I'll be on the ground right about there in twenty seconds; I'll turn my tail to you and take you on board through the rear ramp. Get your wounded loaded and get ready to move."

The craft landed and quickly dropped the cargo ramp. The crew chief and his people took charge, quickly performing triage and getting the men strapped in for the rough flight they knew would follow. The critically wounded Gunny was immediately moved to the fully equipped Operating Room on board. The man who attended him was not just any doctor; he was one of the top cardiologists in the world and a member of the US Senate. Other medical personnel attended to the other wounds, none of which were life or limb threatening.

As Hal tightened his harness and prepared for the rapid accent, a voice crackled in his head set.

"Hal, this is Tom. I need five minutes here to get this guy stabilized, clamp some major bleeders and give him a decent chance."

"Roger that Tom; we'll hold. Let me know when you're comfortable."

Hal alerted the cover aircraft that they would hold on the ground to stabilize the critically wounded Marine. Enemy jet fighters were inbound and less than seven minutes out. Hal unstrapped and left the command seat to walk back to the main compartment. There was a mixture of surprise and awe as the young military men recognized him. He took less than three minutes to check on as many as he could, finally getting to Josh, the young Marine Captain.

"Nicely done Captain, damned fine job! Semper Fi!"

"Ooh Rah, Mr. President." The young officer exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he thought about what had happened. A lot of people have assumed the title of Commander in Chief, he mused, this guy is the only one in history that's ever deserved it---earned it.

"I need to get back to work, son. It's time to get the hell out of here." And with that Hal quickly returned to the flight deck.

Tom had always been punctual. "Hal, he's going to make it. Let's get out of here!"

"We're going to have to engage these fighters Hal---and there's a bunch of them. Let's get this show on the road." Came the call from the cover aircraft commander.

"We're coming out right now Paul."

The large aircraft lifted off the ground, hovered very briefly and then accelerated as no conventional aircraft could have done. They were soon passing Mach two in a vertical climb desperately seeking the safe environs at an altitude that normal planes---and most missiles--- could not attain. Unfortunately they were putting out a lot of heat and a sonic signature and were far from stealthy.

"Splash four!" Paul shouted over the radio. "Four more to go. You're still thirty seconds from being out of their missile range. Shit! They salvoed everything they had at you. At least three of them are a clear threat! The rest of the bogies are down but you've got missiles inbound!"

"Talk to me Bob."

Bob responded, obviously engrossed in taking out the remaining threats. "Got one, Hal...there goes another. Climb this fucking beast, damn it! I can't get a lock on the last one---it's very different than the others. All the others are well out of range with pending motor burn out."

Hal could not see the inbound missile below and behind him but he saw it on his threat screen. He punched off canisters of chaff and IR decoys. The throttles were locked tightly in the full power position. The missile was moving slightly faster than the airplane. It would only be a matter of time. There wasn't time to level out and try to outrun it straight and level. He'd chosen the altitude option as a means of escape and was now having second thoughts. Then, miraculously, the missile ran out of gas and veered slowly away from its target.

"That was too damned close. I didn't think there was anything out there that could come close to taking us out. We need to find out what the hell that thing was when this is all over." Hal remarked.

"Roger that, Hal." Bob responded.

Leveling out back at 70,000 feet the two pilots turned to each other and spoke almost at the same instant. "Where are we going to take 'em?"

Bob spoke first. "Let's ask Tom what that kid needs. We've got a hospital ship off the coast but we'd never fit. We could hover and use the winch but the heat from a long hover with this beast would probably damage the ship. We've got a fully equipped and staffed permanent US Army hospital about 1,000 miles north---which isn't that far considering are typical hyper-sonic cruise. Anything closer than that---two hundred miles west---will be more oriented toward immediate and short term trauma care." The doctor soon joined them in the three way communications.

"Guys, this kid has some potential spinal cord damage; with quick surgery, treatment and rehabilitation he'll walk again. We've got all of his leakers plugged but he also has tendon and ligament damage which isn't going to improve without reconstructive surgery. He needs to go to a real hospital. I vote for north; Hal, I know it's going to take you a bit out of the loop for an hour or so but it's the best thing for my patient."

"North it is Tom." Hal replied, already in a turn to the North and preparing to accelerate once they were on course. Soon they were rocketing toward the designated hospital location at a hair under Mach 5. Including slowing down, descending and landing, they would be on the ground in less than thirty minutes. He quickly called the combatant commander to bring him up to date and to get an update on the war. Currently things had gotten very quiet on that front.

Until the EMP device showed itself or an attempt was made to launch chemical and biological weapons, the coalition was assessing their position and preparing for the next phase of the battle. Hal would be in radio contact but away from the battle zone for at least an hour. He had good people under him and hoped that a request to release allied nuclear weapons would not come while he was away---or ever for that matter. Turning the aircraft controls over to Bob, Hal walked back to check on their patient.

The young gunny was awake. Hal took his hand. "You're a damned fine Marine son and you know how to follow orders. You've got a tough road ahead of you---but you're going to make it and you're going to be back marching on a parade deck and humping the dunes at Pendleton before you know it."

The young NCO smiled and then drifted off to sleep to allow his body to begin the repair process. Hal took a few more minutes to check on the rest of the passengers and then returned to his seat. Bob was in a somewhat heated radio exchange with some idiot night duty officer at the Army hospital now less than fifteen minutes away.

"I'm not getting anywhere with this moron, Hal, you want to give it your best shot?" Bob said with disgust dripping from his words.

"This is a secure net---to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" There was a short pause.

"This is Major Johnson, the Assistant Administrative Director, who's this?" The man responded with more than a bit of hubris.

"Well, Major, I'm betting that somewhere nearby you can see a row of pictures of the people in your chain of command. I'm the guy on the far, far right---your military right! My name's Hal, Hal Franks, maybe you've heard of me. Now let me tell you what is about to happen. In a little over ten minutes this aircraft---Air Force One for all practical purposes---is going to be on short final to your landing zone. If there is anything in my way on that landing zone I will incinerate it. I will then land with one critically injured Marine and a bunch of other real American fighting men who are pretty banged up. You do not have much time to get an OR prepped and get your top people scrubbed out to take care of this boy. Failure to do so is not an option for you. Is there any part of this directive from your Commander-in-Chief that you don't understand?"