Fem War II- Chapter 5

Fem War II- Chapter 5

A Chapter by The Grappler
"

First strike against the enemy

"

 

 

Buffy was absolutely in seventh heaven - sitting up on top of that funny tower - control tower they called it - that the nutty Professor and his boffins built on the side of this long train thing pulled and pushed by two engines - old steamers, but revamped so they were nowhere near as smokey as the used to be - and letting the wind blow on her face and pull back her lips.

 

Serena shook her head,

 

“Temple - I swear that dog of yours has to be the world’s greatest pain in the a*s, but she’s great to have around.  Sort of makes it feel a bit like home here.  I suppose she’s settled in now as a mascot or something - at least I noticed the colonel just nodded at her and patted her head as he walked by last night.  Didn’t say anything, and I haven’t heard anything, either.  Reckon old Buffy’s here to stay.”

 

Temple looked away, fighting back the tears that tried hard to grab hold of her, and wiped away the thought of her parents and where they might be.  Buffy was all she had now from those days.  Serena noticed anyway and said gently,

 

“I guess this wind is a bit hard on the eyes, and that smoke there, Temps.  Buffy loves it, though.  Never understood how dogs can love that wind in the face.  We’ll have to keep our eyes open.  If any of those Empire TRACs are around, they might have spotter aircraft up.”

 

“What the hell do we do if they try to bomb us?”, said Temple.

 

“I guess we just shoot back with whatever we’ve got.  Not sure if those old Phalanx systems will work on manual operation very well.  Used to be all automated on radar, but the black box boys didn’t have time to fit up any radar or anything on this thing.  The guys’ll just have to be good with their eyes.”

 

 

 

One mile in front of them, and one mile behind, there was a gun TRAC, a Battle TRAC they called it, armed with field guns and anti-aircraft weapons, no planes.. just guns…..

 

They kept their eyes peeled as the three TRACs raced across the Utah high plain towards the Nevada border. 

 

*     *     *

 

In the Operations Room of the Hornet,  Grappler and Jess took a comfy position against the wall, out of the way, and watched the hive of inactivity.  Boffins were still fooling around with radar sets and the room was quiet, even though people were monitoring boards and keeping an ear on radio communications, passing messages back and forth. 

 

Radio silence.

 

Still - they would all swing into high gear the moment any contact was made - and surely they couldn’t go on forever without contact with Empire forces.  Something had to break soon.. and then they’d see what the Air Force could do.

 

Major Reeves and Colonel Doolittle spotted them and came over for a chat.

 

“Morning, ‘Liza.  Morning, Windblown - see you got a promotion to go with that CAG Hornet job!  Thought you were slated for the Yorktown.”

 

“Sure did, Colonel.  I guess they figured they needed the best for this mission, so Hornet it is for me.  I’m not really much use on this mission - Colonel Doolittle runs the show aircraft wise.”

 

Doolittle shrugged modestly,

 

“Well - it’s just this one job, Windblown.  You’ll have your own group soon, then you can show ‘em how it’s done.   We’re all just doing on the job training here!”

 

Grappler rubbed his chin thoughtfully,

 

“Liza.. I note that your planes are all twin engined.  You sure they’ll get off that deck?”

 

“ Pete - we’ve been training on an airfield and we SHOULD make it in the length.  We COULD stop and set down on a good stretch of highway, but that’d take time, and we don’t want to stop Hornet and leave her open to air attack.  Hornet has to launch and then get out as soon as she can.  So it’s off the deck or nothing this time around!”

 

“Good luck!  And I mean that.”

 

“We’ll make our own luck, Pete.  You know that.”

 

Sergeant Nacirema interrupted,

 

“I hate to break up your back-slapping fest here, but you luck might have run out.  That boy looks like he’s powerful worried about something, and I can hear gunfire from up front of us!  I’ll alert the security teams!”

 

A steady rumble of artillery fire came stronger on the wind as the young Air force officer ran to the group,

 

“Ma’am, Colonel!  The lead Battlewagon reports contact with Empire patrol trucks, they’re exchanging fire right now!  General Sprague would like you in the conn immediately!”

 

They moved, fast…. And arrived out of breath at the control tower….

 

“General Sprague, sir!”  They saluted, and Sprague did a fast hand to hat,

 

“OK - you’ve heard the report and the gunfire.  Our mission is compromised.  We’re not sure if that patrol got off a radio alert, but we can’t be sure, and we can’t take the chance.  Colonel Doolittle - you’re going to have to launch now!”

 

“Damn”, said Liza, “we’re a long way off.  Someone got a calculator?”

 

Her aide stepped up,

 

“Ma’am - I’ve been keeping a running tote on range to target and duration of our aircraft - I can tell you right now that we need  extra fuel to get to Baja.  At least another twenty gallons per plane!  That’s 160 lbs we need to offload!”

 

“Damn, we’ve got nothing we can take off!  No guns no nothing.”

 

Doolittle thought for a moment - no more than twenty seconds.

 

“OK - we’re going with one pilot, no navigator.”

 

She turned to Grappler,

 

“We have a navigator who is also backup pilot, but we’ll do without them now!  Let’s get that fuel on board…. and tell the backups I’m sorry and there’ll be a next time!”

 

*     *     *

 

The gunfire had stopped in front, and the Hornet passed the now stationary battlewagon which was on a layover track section, and continued into the wind and the dawn’s early light, pushing up to full speed.

 

Doolittle waved a hand from the cockpit of her aircraft and then gunned it down the ramp, with all hands praying it would get off the deck.  The seconds passed like hours as the heavily laden little plane staggered along, picking up speed like a snail on valium, and finally flung itself into the air only feet from the front engine, threatening to crash back down onto that engine, but then lifting away into the lightening sky.

 

Cheering broke out from the Hornet’s deck, and then plane after plane took off and headed West, each one with a little more flight deck to use as the one in front of it went..  They did not waste fuel trying to formate on each other, but continued on a lone run, each with its own designated target.

 

As the last one faded into the sky, the Hornet first drew to a stop,  then the engines went into reverse, and, the stationary battlewagon falling in behind them, they hightailed it back to safety while behind them their little aircraft flew on and on into danger.

 

*    *     *

 

 

 

 

 

 



© 2012 The Grappler


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Added on November 28, 2012
Last Updated on November 29, 2012


Author

The Grappler
The Grappler

Forster, Mid North Coast NSW, Australia



About
I am a 69 year old with a gift for words - and I write many things, including some rather oddball political theories. more..

Writing