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1521 hours GMT. USS Kitty Hawk, the North Arabian Gulf.
It had been a long day for Lieutenant Lucy Porter and she was barely still awake after the long flight to Baghdad and back. So instead of her usual fruit juice she filled up a mug with some coffee that had been sitting on the percolator in the ready room of VA-115. Taking a swig of the strong coffee she took her seat and waited for the debriefing to begin.
“…Planning for a small party, and the whole neighbourhood showed up.” Porter heard the voice of Lt. Commander Wiser say. She sat bolt upright, realising that she had dozed off for a minute.
“You can say that again, X.O.” Commander Compton replied. “Okay, boys and girls time to wake up, we’ve got a little treat for you before we start the debrief proper courtesy of our friends in the fourth estate – roll the film.”
Both Compton and Wiser took their seats as the news footage of the POW parade in Baghdad started to play.
“Where did we get this from?” Wiser asked.
“CNN…hey look there’s, Lisa. She’s alive, X.O and that’s what counts.” Compton replied.
“Yeh, but look at the long pyjamas.” Wiser pointed out. “Long sleeves hide the rope burns-the Iraqis wouldn't like those on TV; who is that she’s shackled to by the way, Dean?”
“Some kid called, Lynch, I think, X.O.” Lieutenant (j.g) Cramer replied. “PFC in the army if I remember correctly; she’s probably from that maintenance company that was overrun on day one.”
“Okay, here comes the good bit.” Compton commented.
The camera suddenly panned away from the prisoners as the sound of explosions rolled across the parade ground. The camera man moved his mount just quick enough to catch several fireballs, followed by dirty black pillars of smoke, rising quickly into the air.
“That will be Al-Rashid.” Wiser said.
“Probably us and our wingman.” Porter added from the back of the room.
The camera caught several more explosions before some fast movement caught the cameraman’s eye. He missed the first flight of Hornets as they screamed over the parade ground, but he did catch the flight of Intruders following close behind.
“Looks like someone is a TV star, Matt.” Compton said wistfully as he watched the Intruders waggle their wings as they flew overhead; he had recognised the markings of VA-115 and knew who had been leading that element.
The camera panned back down not only showing the POWs lying on the ground but also the Iraqi dictator, apoplectic with rage, tearing into two Iraqi Air Force generals, showing them being hustled away just before the first USAF Eagles and Vipers arrived.
“I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes.” Compton said.
“They’re probably already six feet under, Skipper.” Wiser replied. “Oh, here comes the air farce, late as usual.”
There were chuckles from around the room as the aviators watched the last of the footage.
“Okay, folks, that’s the end of the fun for today.” Compton said, getting to his feet. “Let’s get the debrief going, but before we do I’d better let you know that CAG has agreed to allow the embeds to sit in once we’ve discussed all the secret stuff and the gun camera footage is ready.”
This last revelation provoked groans from all those who heard it. The media were still less than popular amongst the naval aviation community.
1524 hours. RAF Mildenhall, Suffolk.
Brigadier General Ryan Crierie, the American Base Commander, checked his watch again. The aircraft he was waiting for was now over two hours late, it had already missed its rendezvous with its tanker, which did not bode well.
“Habu One Zero, this is Home Plate, report your position. Over.” The portable radio sitting on the wall repeated its futile call; Crierie switched it off, there was no point listening to the controller calling to the void any more.
“Looks like she’s down then, Sir.” Wing Commander David Mitchell, the RAF Station Commander, observed rather redundantly. “I’ll alert Search and Rescue in case she’s come down in the North Sea.”
“Thank you, David.” Crierie replied. “I don’t think there’s much point though; one of your Sentries, or ground radar stations would have seen her if she had come down close to the UK.
“I need to make a phone call to Offutt.” He said, not relishing the task.
Crierie turned away planning to make his call from the secure com-centre. He didn’t want there to be any chance that the Soviets might listen in on this one.
Mitchell watched the American general go before turning back to the sky. He raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes and willed the dark shape of Habu One Zero to appear in his field of view.
1530 hours. ‘Heavy fighting continues on the Golan’ – Reuters.
Intense fighting continued today on the Golan Heights between the Israeli and Syrian armies. Artillery and tank fire has been heard echoing up and down the entire length of the Cease-fire line, though both sides have so far refused to comment on what operations may be underway.
In a press-conference in Tel Aviv the Israeli Defence Minister denied that IDF forces had crossed into UNDOF administered territory in order to engage the Syrian Army. The Israeli Army, he said, would only do so if provoked by the Syrians. However UNDOF observers have reported seeing both Israeli and Syrian tanks within the buffer zone.
1531 hours. ‘Signal from COMAUSTARMGRP to SACEUR’.
‘From: Commander Austrian Army Group.
To: Supreme Allied Commander Europe.
‘Innsbruck now under long-range Soviet missile and artillery fire; government now en-route to Milan, Italy. Do not believe that I can hold my current position for more than forty-eight hours and that Innsbruck will fall unless immediate reinforcements arrive.
‘Units of Italian 4th Alpini Corps already in action, but so far they have only been able to slow the enemy advance rather than bring it to a halt. Urgent I know how soon additional Italian, Spanish and Portuguese Army formations will arrive.
‘Should I be forced to pull-back I will withdraw towards the Brenner Pass.’
1542 hours. ‘Signal from SHAPE to COMAUSTARMGRP’.
‘From: Supreme Allied Commander Europe.
To: Commander Austrian Army Group.
‘It is vital that you hold your current position if at all possible. The Taurinense and Tridentina Alpini Brigades will arrive in your AOR within 48 hours, additional corps assets will arrive within 72 hours. The Spanish 4th Urgell and 5th Navarra Mountain Divisions are currently in the process of landing in northern Italy and will begin deployment within 72 hours. The Portuguese 1st Independent Mixed Brigade is currently deploying by sea and will not reach Italy for another five to seven days.
‘I have directed COM 4 and 5ATAF to give you as much additional air support as can be spared.’
1545 hours. H.Q SAC, Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska.
General Kozlowski was still in his green flight-suit as he made his way down into his hardened headquarters. He had been taking his turn aboard the ‘Looking Glass’ airborne command post, which had landed back at Offutt a few minutes ago; barely had CINCSAC stepped onto the concrete when he had been given a message to report urgently to the Command Post.
Once he was past the inner blast door Kozlowski lit up his trademark cigar, as usual daring anyone to tell him to put it out.
“No smoking in the Command Post, Sir, sorry.” A young, female skycop, who had recently been posted into Offutt, and had not met the Commander-in-Chief before, told him.
Kozlowski took the cigar out of his mouth and looked at her for a moment. It was the first time that someone had stood up to him over this issue.
“Quite right, Airman.” He told her. “And never be frightened to point out regulations to someone, no matter how senior they are. Rules exist for a reason.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Brigadier General Sheppard, who had been watching the exchange, smiled as Kozlowski stubbed out his cigar and dropped it into a waste bin.
“I don’t know what you’re smiling at, Shep.” CINCSAC said sharply. “Neither you, nor anyone else in here has been brave enough to tackle me on my cigars before her.
“Now what is so damned important that you had me hot foot it across here from the ‘Looking Glass’ bird?”
Sheppard’s smile disappeared from his face as he remembered the phone call he had taken from the senior USAF officer at RAF Mildenhall a short time ago.
“It looks like we’ve lost Habu One Zero somewhere between her target and base. RAF Mildenhall reported a full loss of communications at 1320 Zulu; the controllers continued to attempt contact until 1525 at which point Brigadier General Crierie declared her lost and contacted us.”
“Jesus.” Kozlowski said under his breath. “Do we have any idea of what happened yet?”
“Not yet, Sir.” Sheppard replied. “She last made contact with Mildenhall at 1250 Zulu and didn’t report any problems at that point, which was just before she began the run over her secondary target.”
Kozlowski walked rapidly to his office, intending to have the rest of this conversation sitting down. He sat down in his high-backed leather chair and seriously considered lighting up another cigar.
“So we really don’t know whether some Voyska PVO fighter pilot, or SAM gunner got lucky, or she hit mechanical trouble.” He observed, staring at a painting depicting aircraft that SAC had operated over the years that hung on one wall of his office, he eyes coming to rest on the aircraft type they were discussing. “The Habu is an old jet, Shep; I’m surprised that we haven’t lost more aircraft over the years. They’re well overdue for replacement, only budget problems have prevented the replacement from entering service.”
“You’ve seen the replacement, Sir?” Sheppard asked, wondering if his boss had indeed seen the fabled ‘Aurora’, or ‘Blackswift’.
Kozlowski smiled and chuckled.
“If I told you that, Shep, I’d have to kill you. However I can tell you that Aviation Leak has gotten it totally wrong.
“I will also say that the Soviets would have no ability to see, never mind shoot down the replacement for the Habu. We’re certainly going to have to review our procedures before sending out any more birds.”
“It’s not been a good couple of days for our reconnaissance forces, Sir.” Sheppard. “We lost a Dragon Lady over the Sea of Okhotsk, a Global Hawk off the Kola yesterday and a DarkStar off Sevastopol in the early hours of this morning.”
“I couldn’t give a *** about the UAVs…no that’s not right.” Kozlowski corrected himself. “I do care about them, they cost a *** load of money and are excellent platforms, but I care a whole less about them than the Habu and Dragon Lady.
“The UAVs have no mother’s I have to write letters to, unlike the three brave men we’ve just lost.”
1550 hours. Charlottenburg, West Berlin.
Colonel General Yazov leaned against his UAZ jeep as he waited for the Allied delegation to arrive. He checked his watch, but no, they were not late.
Yazov looked towards the enemy front-line; this sector was apparently held by a company from the British 1st Battalion The Gloucestershire Regiment, the ‘Glorious Glosters’ of Korea fame. Well they had certainly fought as hard as their illustrious predecessors. He had a feeling that every member of that company were probably pointing their weapons at him right now, so feeling a little nervous he decided to light a cigarette.
“This must be the delegation now, Comrade General.”
Yazov stood up, smooth down his uniform, dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot. He wanted to look as smart as he could in front of the Allied generals.
He looked towards the British lines and saw a single Land Rover approach and park in No Man’s Land. Two men got out and stood by the bonnet.
“Well let’s go and get this started.” Yazov said to his aide.
*
Major General Mallinson also subconsciously smoothed down his uniform. Unlike Yazov, however, he was in DPMs and wearing the beret and cap badge of his old regiment, the 13th/18th Royal Hussars (Queen Mary’s Own). He wanted to give his Soviet counterpart a business like impression.
“Looks like the Soviet general is on his way, Sir.” Mallinson’s ADC observed.
“Time to get this unpleasant business over and done with, Tim.” Mallinson replied.
The two British officers started to walk towards their Soviet counterparts until the four men were standing only about a meter apart.
“You are Colonel General Yazov?” Mallinson asked.
“Yes, you are Major General Mallinson?”
“I am.”
“Then it is a pleasure to meet you, General.” Yazov replied, giving the British general a smart salute. “I had understood that the American and French garrison commanders were supposed to be here too.”
“They were unable to make this meeting, General Yazov.” Mallinson told him, returning the salute. “Tell me, General, would you bring all of your senior commanders to one place if you thought you might have to continue hostilities?”
“No, General Mallinson, I suppose I would not.” Yazov conceded. “One other thing, why did you not accept my earlier request that you surrender?”
“Would you surrender while you still had the ability to resist, General?”
Yazov thought for a moment before shaking his head.
“No, General Mallinson, I would not have. Every day you fought on kept our troops here and away from where they are needed more.”
Mallinson looked over the shoulders of Yazov and noticed a collection of civilians, some holding cameras, standing just inside the Soviet lines. He grimaced; he had not joined the British Army to end up in photographs reminiscent of those of Lt. General Percival at Singapore in 1942.
Yazov noticed Mallinson’s discomfiture.
“I am afraid that they are the members of the neutral press.” He said. “I have invited them here to record events for posterity and so that the world can see that we will treat our prisoners with care and respect, as the Geneva Convention demands.
“We are not barbarians, General, like some countries I could mention.”
1600 hours. ‘Obama and McCain hailed as heroes’ – The Washington Post.
‘More information about the Soviet attack on the Capitol Building has come out today. It was previously believed that Senators Barrack Obama and John McCain were killed during the evacuation of the Capitol when it was hit by cruise missiles. Now witnesses have come forward to state that both senators were observed outside the building several minutes before it was hit. These same witnesses have also stated that shortly after the explosion McCain and Obama re-entered the now burning and badly damaged building to search for survivors.
‘Both men led out several dozen survivors and despite the best efforts of Capitol Police and fire-fighters returned to rescue more survivors. On this occasion Senator McCain did not come out and Senator Obama again entered the Capitol building to search for him. Shortly after he did so part of the dome and a large part off the rest of the building collapsed, at which point it is believed that both senators were probably killed.
‘The President has led tributes to both men, calling them ‘true American heroes’.’
1610 hours. RAF Brize Norton, Oxfordshire.
“Okay, start number one.” Captain Fulton told her co-pilot.
“Roger, starting number one.”
The big Pratt & Whitney engine burst into life and began to roar. Fulton and her co-pilot continued the check-list, staring the three remaining engines and making sure that the CC-177s other systems were operational.
The authorisation to launch the mission to rescue the Canadian Airborne Regiment had finally come through. The CC-130s and CC-177s that Air Command had forward deployed to RAF Brize Norton were now getting ready to take off; to assist two RAF Globemasters and a pair of NATO C-17s had also been assigned to the mission.
“Hotel One three, Quebec, you are clear to taxi, please hold at the threshold.”
“Roger that, tower.” Fulton replied.
Fulton’s co-pilot released the brakes while she eased the throttles forward carefully. The CC-177 began to move forward, following the taxiway towards the runway threshold.
“Hotel One three, Quebec, you are clear to depart.” The tower radioed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, tower.”
*
Forty-five minutes later Fulton’s aircraft was part of a formation of Canadian, British and NATO transport aircraft approaching the coast of Jutland, staying low to try and avoid any attention from Soviet fighter aircraft. There was a major effort by 2 ATAF to provide escort fighters, including some CF-118 Hornets temporarily transferred from 4 ATAF, but it was thought better to try to avoid a fight if possible.
“You get your will sorted out, Becca?” The co-pilot suddenly remarked as he doubled checked some navigational calculations.
“Yes.” Fulton said immediately without thinking. “What made you ask that, Paul?” She asked a moment later.
“I think it was maybe when you called this a ‘suicide mission’. I mean if Soviet fighters get amongst us it’ll be murder.”
“I’d be more worried about what happens when we reach Jutland and land.” Fulton replied. “Our fighter escort can protect us very effectively while we are in the air, but once we’re on the ground we’ll be a target for artillery, they can’t very easily protect us from that.”
1630 hours. Harrow Weald, London.
‘At 1630 hours, 28th April the London Fire Brigade declared that the ‘Major Incident’ at Harrow Weald to be over and downgraded it to an ordinary incident. Most of the major fires started by the Soviet thermobaric bomb had by now been extinguished and it was considered safe enough for the Prime Minister, London Mayor and members of the media to visit ‘Ground Zero’.
‘While some people mark this point as being the end of the incident that would not be quite correct. While the major conflagration had been put out there were still numerous local fires that would keep the remaining fire-fighters very busy for the next forty-eight hours.’ – Extract from ‘Makes Pumps One Hundred – The story of the Harrow Weald Fire, London Fire Brigade’s most challenging incident’ by Callaghan, Michael (London 2010).
*
Group Manager Newton stepped out of the rear of the Command Support Unit. She was tired of looking at the plasma screen inside still showing aerial footage of the fires her fire-fighters were still dealing with and needed a break. There was still a strong smell of burning in the air and it appeared to be raining grey snow.
As the situation had improved Newton had been able to release some of the fire crews, including the RAF and Defence Fire & Rescue Service personnel, to return to their stations. There were still, however, about fifty appliances still on duty and because of damage to the local fire hydrants Newton had been forced to retain several High Volume Pumps.
“It’s been a long day, Carole.” Chief Superintendent Marshall, her police counterpart in the borough of Harrow, commented handing Newton a steaming mug of coffee.
“It sure has, Stephen.” She replied, before taking a long sip of the coffee. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this; must be the worst fire since the Blitz in the Last War.”
“You know we caught one of the crew of the bomber that caused this; had to save him from being lynched.” Marshall told her as he drank his own mug of coffee.
“I’m not surprised.” The senior fire-fighter replied. “I’m sure that there were a lot of angry people wanting to speak to him.”
*
“Well thanks for all of your help, Sub.” Watch Manager Coleman said to Sub-Officer Watson as the DF&RS and RAF fire-fighters packed up their equipment. “It’s been greatly appreciated…watch that bus, it’s about to flare up again!” He suddenly yelled to a group of LFB fire-fighters in Harrow Weald bus station.
There was a loud ‘whoosh’ as the partially burned out bus burst into flames. Fortunately Coleman’s fire-fighters were quick off the mark, turning two hoses on to it.
“Are you sure you can manage without us?” Sub-Officer Watson asked.
“Don’t worry, Sub, we’ve got a handle on this one, and thanks again.”
“Glad we could help, Sir.” Watson replied. “Right you lot, get the last of that gear stowed, we’ve got proper work to do.”
Coleman watched as the military fire-fighters loaded the last of their equipment onto their Volvo appliance and finished rolling up the hoses that had been connected to the two Green Goddess pumps, which were no longer needed as a High Volume Pump now in operation. He shook his head, he never thought he would have been glad to see a Green Goddess, but they had proven invaluable, especially when the HVP they were now using had gotten stuck in traffic.
Another ‘whoosh’ shook Coleman out of his train of thought. Another fire had flared up again.
“Get a hose on that now!” He ordered.
It was going to be another long day.
***
_________________
Every man thinks meanly of himself for never having been to sea nor having been a soldier.
- Dr. Samuel Johnson, 10th April, 1778.
Last edited by JNiemczyk1 on Thu Oct 08, 2009 1:05 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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