Protect & Survive Miami: End of Watch
- Thread starter wolverinethad
- Start date
@wolverinethad, I guessed Jan survives because, for one thing, I really don't see the main character (one of them, anyway) getting killed off before the Exchange (heck, only one Protect and Survive spinoff has had a main character die in the Exchange, and that was the NYC one)...
Just waiting for more, of course, and continue with the news updates in your chapter; they're really good...
Just waiting for more, of course, and continue with the news updates in your chapter; they're really good...
Chapter 37
Chapter 37
February 19, 1984
1637 hours
Miami, Florida
As mentioned before, the F-106A Delta Dart was not loaded with the best armament, but it did have an airframe that harkened to the golden age of aeronautics design, and more importantly, Mach 2.3 speed and a large combat radius. The remaining Delta Darts took lead while the Phantoms from the training wing moved back, circling over Miami. The Darts were guided by an old Lockheed EC-121J, one of a dozen that were retrieved from the boneyard in Yuma, Arizona as things steadily went bad the previous fall, and were reactivated through the tireless efforts of Lockheed technicians, who installed avionics and radar packages. Testing had only finished weeks ago, and the coastal states expected to face the biggest threat from Soviet airplanes received them for their Air National Guard. Florida and Alaska each got two, and the remaining eight were divided between California, Washington, Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and Maine.
The EC-121J was a modification of the venerable Constellation, a prop-driven plane that lacked the flying ceiling of the E-3s, let alone the speed, but it was something, and something was better than nothing when facing front-line bombers and fighters of the Soviet Air Force. It was flying out of Miami International Airport, a deliberate move to protect it by keeping it further inshore. Two of the Phantoms were covering it, learning the lesson from the Sentry being forced down. The Darts formed up in two lines, reducing their signature by making it look as if there were less of them than the 16 in the air. It required a lot of skill to hold in position the way they were, but the Air Guard had gotten an awful lot of drilling in since the Cubans had paid the state a visit before the Orange Bowl. The detachment's commander, a major, hoped his trick would work.
The Soviet fighters were out ahead of the Blinders, searching out as best as their mid-line radars would work. They lacked command and control on this mission, because the Tu-95 Bears that had been converted from strategic bombers to reconnaissance and airborne radar platforms didn't have the speed to effectively keep up, and they were so vulnerable to modern fighters that sending them ahead would be useless. The MiGs were relying upon their own built-in radar, therefore, which did as much to give away their position as it did find what it was facing.
"Look here, comrades," the Soviet escort flight leader said, "they've got two, maybe four fighters back here. We need to press our advantage now before they move reinforcements in. Move to afterburners in three....two....one!" The MiGs shot ahead, thinking they had numerical superiority with a total of seven fighters to four. The Lockheed Warning Star saw this, and radioed a warning to the Darts. Major Frank Stern, the commander, toggled his acknowledgement. "This is Gator-Six, hold tight, Gator flights, prepare to separate in five....four....three....two....one...separate!" The Darts suddenly broke out left and right, and the four planes the MiGs had seen became the sixteen that had been there all along.
"Yoptel-mopsel! (Goddammit)" The Soviet flight leader swore. "Comrades, work in pairs, I'll go solo. Try and get these Amerikantsi bastards. Fire R-27s now!" The R-27, also known as the AA-10 Alamo, was a new long-range missile the Soviets had introduced to frontline status a year ago. Clearly, they'd been at work churning them out, because the Americans had no knowledge that they'd been deployed in enough quantity to make it to Cuba. Several Darts worked to maneuver clear of the radar-homers, while Stern led the rest charging in, firing off their Falcon missiles. One of the Darts fleeing the Alamo missiles didn't make it, its pilot ejecting over the city of Homestead, and another didn't get the chance to eject, accidentally turning into the missile itself and being obliterated. Stern and his pilots reduced the escorts to three after the first salvo, and now Stern led a half-dozen of the Darts to pursue the Blinders. They were already somewhat late, in that one of the three had already deposited his payload over Homestead Air Force Base and turned back, while the other two pressed on for Miami. One was targeting the airport, the other was going after city infrastructure downtown. The goal the Soviets had was to knock out the frontline air defenses of the United States, which would open the way for more bombing, and, more ominously, nuclear bombing, some of which was quietly in Cuba, having been ferried by an Ilyushin Il-26 transport and KGB escorts. The remaining Badgers and Blinders would both be able to go after shorter-range targets around the Gulf of Mexico. All of this depended on the mission succeeding.
Stern was not about to let that happen. He saw the fires at Homestead AFB, and shook it off, chasing the two Blinders with his escorts. They'd gotten a head start, and the Darts only had about two-three minutes to catch them. Stern ordered the three on his left to go after the Blinder headed towards Miami International, and he took the other three after the one headed for downtown. The sirens continued to wail in the city below. The Blinder's pilot saw the fat targets, the blacked out skyscrapers in the gathering darkness, and he opened the bomb bay doors...
Stern saw the target change on his targeting radar. "Gator-Six has lock. Fox-Two!" The second pair of Falcons dropped off the rails of the weapons bay and sped towards the Blinder. The pilot released the first bomb early from its connector as he heard the lock-on signal of the Falcons before closing the doors and beginning evasive maneuvers out towards Virginia Key. The Blinder beat the first Falcon, and was moving to turn back in towards downtown Miami when the second Falcon struck its target on the left-side engine (the Blinder's engines straddled the tail), and the resulting explosion damaged the right-side engine, causing the Blinder to begin a corkscrew. The crew was high enough to bail out, floating towards Coconut Grove, but the pilots weren't able to eject as the corkscrew grew worse and the plane slammed into St. Peter Paul Church off SW 12th Avenue, sending the church into flames. The bomb, meanwhile, had landed in an inconvenient, yet relatively fortuitous spot, falling onto the start of the Rickenbacker Causeway. The explosion caused substantial parts of the bridge to fall into the river, effectively closing it. The Keys had already been evacuated, but now there would be no escape for anybody who'd chosen to stay in the northern Keys. Nobody knew it, but it would be a moot point within 48 hours anyway.
The other Blinder didn't have a chance to get close enough to Miami International before it was brought down by a flurry of Falcons, exploding over the Biltmore's golf course. There were no survivors from the second Blinder.
Major Stern gathered his fighters and they landed at the airport. Stern was upset he wasn't able to get his shot off sooner, but was consoled by the fact that much larger targets weren't struck. The moment his wheels were chocked, he shot out of the cockpit, headed to the terminal doubling as a command center to find out how bad Homestead was.
*****
In the operations center, Simmons, Klima, and company breathed a massive sigh of relief. The EBS all-clear was given, and Klima's first action was to pick up the phone and tell Rosa he was safe. The happiness she felt turned to anger in a heartbeat, and when it was over, Klima almost wished the phone lines had been severed by the bombers. While Jan dealt with his marital issues, Simmons conferred with Chief Harms in Coral Gables, and decided to ask Governor Graham to send Guardsmen out to find the Soviet bomber crew that ejected, a request that was rapidly agreed to.
For the people of Miami, the fear that much of the nation would be feeling soon had come very early to them. It was not the way anyone would choose to live the final days of their lives.
February 19, 1984
1637 hours
Miami, Florida
As mentioned before, the F-106A Delta Dart was not loaded with the best armament, but it did have an airframe that harkened to the golden age of aeronautics design, and more importantly, Mach 2.3 speed and a large combat radius. The remaining Delta Darts took lead while the Phantoms from the training wing moved back, circling over Miami. The Darts were guided by an old Lockheed EC-121J, one of a dozen that were retrieved from the boneyard in Yuma, Arizona as things steadily went bad the previous fall, and were reactivated through the tireless efforts of Lockheed technicians, who installed avionics and radar packages. Testing had only finished weeks ago, and the coastal states expected to face the biggest threat from Soviet airplanes received them for their Air National Guard. Florida and Alaska each got two, and the remaining eight were divided between California, Washington, Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and Maine.
The EC-121J was a modification of the venerable Constellation, a prop-driven plane that lacked the flying ceiling of the E-3s, let alone the speed, but it was something, and something was better than nothing when facing front-line bombers and fighters of the Soviet Air Force. It was flying out of Miami International Airport, a deliberate move to protect it by keeping it further inshore. Two of the Phantoms were covering it, learning the lesson from the Sentry being forced down. The Darts formed up in two lines, reducing their signature by making it look as if there were less of them than the 16 in the air. It required a lot of skill to hold in position the way they were, but the Air Guard had gotten an awful lot of drilling in since the Cubans had paid the state a visit before the Orange Bowl. The detachment's commander, a major, hoped his trick would work.
The Soviet fighters were out ahead of the Blinders, searching out as best as their mid-line radars would work. They lacked command and control on this mission, because the Tu-95 Bears that had been converted from strategic bombers to reconnaissance and airborne radar platforms didn't have the speed to effectively keep up, and they were so vulnerable to modern fighters that sending them ahead would be useless. The MiGs were relying upon their own built-in radar, therefore, which did as much to give away their position as it did find what it was facing.
"Look here, comrades," the Soviet escort flight leader said, "they've got two, maybe four fighters back here. We need to press our advantage now before they move reinforcements in. Move to afterburners in three....two....one!" The MiGs shot ahead, thinking they had numerical superiority with a total of seven fighters to four. The Lockheed Warning Star saw this, and radioed a warning to the Darts. Major Frank Stern, the commander, toggled his acknowledgement. "This is Gator-Six, hold tight, Gator flights, prepare to separate in five....four....three....two....one...separate!" The Darts suddenly broke out left and right, and the four planes the MiGs had seen became the sixteen that had been there all along.
"Yoptel-mopsel! (Goddammit)" The Soviet flight leader swore. "Comrades, work in pairs, I'll go solo. Try and get these Amerikantsi bastards. Fire R-27s now!" The R-27, also known as the AA-10 Alamo, was a new long-range missile the Soviets had introduced to frontline status a year ago. Clearly, they'd been at work churning them out, because the Americans had no knowledge that they'd been deployed in enough quantity to make it to Cuba. Several Darts worked to maneuver clear of the radar-homers, while Stern led the rest charging in, firing off their Falcon missiles. One of the Darts fleeing the Alamo missiles didn't make it, its pilot ejecting over the city of Homestead, and another didn't get the chance to eject, accidentally turning into the missile itself and being obliterated. Stern and his pilots reduced the escorts to three after the first salvo, and now Stern led a half-dozen of the Darts to pursue the Blinders. They were already somewhat late, in that one of the three had already deposited his payload over Homestead Air Force Base and turned back, while the other two pressed on for Miami. One was targeting the airport, the other was going after city infrastructure downtown. The goal the Soviets had was to knock out the frontline air defenses of the United States, which would open the way for more bombing, and, more ominously, nuclear bombing, some of which was quietly in Cuba, having been ferried by an Ilyushin Il-26 transport and KGB escorts. The remaining Badgers and Blinders would both be able to go after shorter-range targets around the Gulf of Mexico. All of this depended on the mission succeeding.
Stern was not about to let that happen. He saw the fires at Homestead AFB, and shook it off, chasing the two Blinders with his escorts. They'd gotten a head start, and the Darts only had about two-three minutes to catch them. Stern ordered the three on his left to go after the Blinder headed towards Miami International, and he took the other three after the one headed for downtown. The sirens continued to wail in the city below. The Blinder's pilot saw the fat targets, the blacked out skyscrapers in the gathering darkness, and he opened the bomb bay doors...
Stern saw the target change on his targeting radar. "Gator-Six has lock. Fox-Two!" The second pair of Falcons dropped off the rails of the weapons bay and sped towards the Blinder. The pilot released the first bomb early from its connector as he heard the lock-on signal of the Falcons before closing the doors and beginning evasive maneuvers out towards Virginia Key. The Blinder beat the first Falcon, and was moving to turn back in towards downtown Miami when the second Falcon struck its target on the left-side engine (the Blinder's engines straddled the tail), and the resulting explosion damaged the right-side engine, causing the Blinder to begin a corkscrew. The crew was high enough to bail out, floating towards Coconut Grove, but the pilots weren't able to eject as the corkscrew grew worse and the plane slammed into St. Peter Paul Church off SW 12th Avenue, sending the church into flames. The bomb, meanwhile, had landed in an inconvenient, yet relatively fortuitous spot, falling onto the start of the Rickenbacker Causeway. The explosion caused substantial parts of the bridge to fall into the river, effectively closing it. The Keys had already been evacuated, but now there would be no escape for anybody who'd chosen to stay in the northern Keys. Nobody knew it, but it would be a moot point within 48 hours anyway.
The other Blinder didn't have a chance to get close enough to Miami International before it was brought down by a flurry of Falcons, exploding over the Biltmore's golf course. There were no survivors from the second Blinder.
Major Stern gathered his fighters and they landed at the airport. Stern was upset he wasn't able to get his shot off sooner, but was consoled by the fact that much larger targets weren't struck. The moment his wheels were chocked, he shot out of the cockpit, headed to the terminal doubling as a command center to find out how bad Homestead was.
*****
In the operations center, Simmons, Klima, and company breathed a massive sigh of relief. The EBS all-clear was given, and Klima's first action was to pick up the phone and tell Rosa he was safe. The happiness she felt turned to anger in a heartbeat, and when it was over, Klima almost wished the phone lines had been severed by the bombers. While Jan dealt with his marital issues, Simmons conferred with Chief Harms in Coral Gables, and decided to ask Governor Graham to send Guardsmen out to find the Soviet bomber crew that ejected, a request that was rapidly agreed to.
For the people of Miami, the fear that much of the nation would be feeling soon had come very early to them. It was not the way anyone would choose to live the final days of their lives.
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Good update. I really can understand Rosa's being upset; Jan's in a likely nuclear target zone and she wants him to get out (and I'm sharing that feeling). At least Miami didn't suffer much conventional damage. This time. (Again, though, it'll be a moot point in around 48 hours or so.)
And I like that there's the specter of nuclear doom hanging over everyone's heads; it reminds me of a bad hurricane about to come over the horizon to hit Florida (although what'll happen to Florida ITTL will make the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 look like an afternoon thunderstorm)...
Wonder what the state leadership is up to ITTL? (I'm just waiting for Bundy's inevitable bad end; if you can have a woman be one of his executioners, that'd be poetic justice (1))...
Hope they have a postwar plan for broadcasting information (obviously, that would be limited initially; look at Land of Flatwater and The Last Game stories for ideas on this)...
Anyway, waiting for more and, if I can, I will nominate or second this story to be nominated for a Turtledove...
(1) There's a long-standing rumor (never confirmed by the Florida Department of Corrections), stated on TVTropes.org, that the person who pulled the switch on Bundy was a woman with her hair parted down the middle, who were Bundy's favorite choice of victims (while he was sentenced to death under Governor Graham, he was executed under Governor Martinez, Graham's successor).
And I like that there's the specter of nuclear doom hanging over everyone's heads; it reminds me of a bad hurricane about to come over the horizon to hit Florida (although what'll happen to Florida ITTL will make the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 look like an afternoon thunderstorm)...
Wonder what the state leadership is up to ITTL? (I'm just waiting for Bundy's inevitable bad end; if you can have a woman be one of his executioners, that'd be poetic justice (1))...
Hope they have a postwar plan for broadcasting information (obviously, that would be limited initially; look at Land of Flatwater and The Last Game stories for ideas on this)...
Anyway, waiting for more and, if I can, I will nominate or second this story to be nominated for a Turtledove...
(1) There's a long-standing rumor (never confirmed by the Florida Department of Corrections), stated on TVTropes.org, that the person who pulled the switch on Bundy was a woman with her hair parted down the middle, who were Bundy's favorite choice of victims (while he was sentenced to death under Governor Graham, he was executed under Governor Martinez, Graham's successor).
Thank you for the very high praise. That's one of the beautiful parts of writing about Florida...there's so much conventional warfare stuff going on that wouldn't have made it into other stories, but is going to affect Florida in a major way. Outside of Alaska, Florida is the most exposed, and that exposure (along with the reticence of the Pentagon to expand the conflict zone) brought real consequences. The next chapter will cover the aftermath and demand for a response.
Chapter 38
Chapter 38
February 19-20, 1984
2300 hours-0800 hours
Miami, Florida
"From Channel 10 WPLG, this is Eyewitness News, with Ann Bishop, Mike Schneider, Don Noe, Chuck Dowdle, and the Eyewitness News team."
"I'm Mike Schneider. Tonight: Terror in Miami-Dade, as the second day of World War III brings the first attack on the continental United States since the War of 1812. A Soviet bomber was able to penetrate United States Air Force defenses and bombed the Rickenbacker Causeway bridge, severing all land ties to the northern Keys. That bomber was shot down after releasing its bomb and crashed into the Saint Peter Paul Catholic Church in southwest Miami, setting the church ablaze, along with several neighboring homes. A second bomber, headed for Miami International Airport, was hit with several missiles fired by Florida Air National Guard fighter jets, exploding over the Biltmore Golf Course. Residents of high-rises throughout the city have been scrambling to move into shelters or leave the city, despite the urgent pleas of state and national officials to stay. The fear amongst those officials is that crowded roads will make it impossible for rescue efforts to take place should another attack occur.
For more on this story, we go to Jon Scott near the site of the Rickenbacker Causeway bomb. Jon, what can you tell us tonight?"
"Mike, I'm standing here on the roof of Building A of the Brickell Place Condominiums. This is about as close as we can get right now, as police and National Guardsmen have sealed off the area. We have heard reports of casualties and, from what we can see, it appears there has been at least a partial collapse of the Brickell Biscayne condo tower, and there is smoke billowing from that direction. The attack happened at dusk, and with people sheltering, nobody was looking topside at buildings. If the tower has partially or fully collapsed, that would mean the potential loss of dozens of lives. So much is unknown right now because of the fluidity of the situation. We don't know how many people might've evacuated from these condos and the city prior to the start of the war, and nobody is answering questions. The only thing we know for certain is what you told our viewers: the Causeway Bridge was severely damaged, and I can see every window to the west is cracked or shattered, depending on if residents taped their windows. We used to say after major hurricanes around here that it looked like a war zone in certain neighborhoods after the storm. Tonight, Mike, Miami truly is a war zone. Back to you."
"Thank you, Jon, for that report. Ann?"
"The second bomber that was shot down over the Biltmore Golf Course had no survivors, according to a police official at the scene. The fire took some time to contain, but at this hour has been put out, and Guardsmen are at that scene as well, combing the wreckage along with officials from the local National Transportation Safety Board office, who have experience in dealing with air crash scenes. They are....excuse me, I've got some new information coming through my earpiece. Okay, let's go back to Jon Scott on Brickell Avenue."
"Ann, I've just spoken with a police official who did not want to identify himself. He said that they believe crew from the Soviet bomber that crashed into the church survived. There were reportedly several parachutes that came out of the bomber before it spun and dived into Saint Peter Paul Church. I am only speculating, but this may well account for the silence of officials and the wide cordon. The official said they don't believe the crew is capable of doing any damage, but they have obvious value in possible knowledge about future Soviet plans on Florida. I expect that if this man spoke with me about the search that it is very likely that a media briefing may be held in the next couple of hours. We will, of course, cover that if it happens, along with any other news from this area."
"Thank you, Jon. In West Germany, CNN reports NATO is falling back in multiple areas as Soviet and Warsaw Pact forces have been able to use their numerical advantages to press through the Fulda Gap, and further northwards as well near Kassel. Reinforcements continue to pour into West Germany from America, as reserve divisions are flying over as fast as possible in hopes of stemming the tide..."
*****
The Soviet crew that had parachuted out of the first Blinder was comprised of a praporschik, or warrant officer (typically a specialist of some sort), a junior sergeant, and an Air Force captain, the bomber's navigator. They were profoundly grateful that it was the relatively warm climate of Miami that they were hiding in at the moment, and not the cold forests or plains of West Germany. The most frightening part they'd experienced so far had been the crossing of U.S. 41, but they'd done so more easily than expected (the roads were so quiet, they all thought) and were now under a tree in the courtyard of a school. The navigator's map was not at a detailed enough level to where they could pinpoint what street they were on, but U.S. 41 was a major road, so they knew they were well north of their target. They had seen a grocery store that was closed. The sergeant had suggested breaking into it for food, an idea that the praporschik had merely laughed at in the most dismissive way possible. "Young man, do you think there will be any food in there? The Americans were in a panic before we attacked. That store is closed because they have nothing to sell. No capitalist would willingly close their shops unless they had nothing, because they worship money so very much."
The men took two-hour naps in turn, one asleep, two awake. As the hours wore on, the desire for food grew in the men. The school had a spigot in the courtyard, from which the men eagerly drank water, but the body needs food, and they'd jumped out of a bomber falling to the earth with no time to grab any rations stored aboard. Rain started to fall around 3 am, driving the men into an alcove to avoid being drenched. By sunrise, the idea of breaking into the small grocery store didn't seem like such a bad idea. The rain and clouds were keeping visibility down, and the captain decided it was worth the chance. The Soviets carried 9mm Makarov pistols, which, if used, would mean things had gone badly wrong in a hurry. They proceeded slowly, moving through back yards and alleys, not wanting to draw the attention of homeowners and apartment dwellers. Four blocks and 20 minutes later, they arrived at the corner grocery they'd passed the night before. The praproschik went to work on the lock while the sergeant and captain covered him. Lacking proper tools, he failed at the effort, and instructed the other two to cover their ears as he carefully aimed and shot the padlock off the security gates. The men knew there'd be no way the sound was missed, and so hurried inside. Contrary to their belief, there was some useful food items, such as candy bars and beef jerky (people focused so much on boxed and canned goods that some perfectly good items were left untouched), which went into the pockets of their flight suits. The drink section was pretty well cleaned out, except for a bottle of orange juice, which the sergeant held in his hands.
Leaving the store, the men heard sirens, which they knew had to be trouble of some sort. They darted into an alley, and moved alongside apartments, guns drawn now. As the captain peeked around a corner, he saw a police car go screaming by in the street. Then another, and then a military jeep. Think, comrade, do not blunder about. You are on enemy territory, and they are hunting you. As a navigator and pilot, he'd been through training on what to do if he were shot down. He pulled the men tight and told them he was taking point, with the praproschik in the rear. Crouching now, he darted across the street into the next alley. They were in an apartment block, it looked like. The other two followed the captain, moving one at a time across the street. Collecting themselves, they moved further down the alley until they hit a crossway, where the alley met parking spaces. The captain glanced to his left and noticed a middle-aged Hispanic woman taking out a bag of trash...
Before the other two could react, the captain moved towards the lady, gun drawn. As she threw her trash in the dumpster, he wrapped his left hand around her mouth while his right hand gently pushed the gun into her ribs. The woman's eyes widened in shock and fear. "Mis amigos y yo necesitamos un lugar para estar. Coopera y no te haremos daño. Llévanos a tu apartamento. (My friends and I need a place to stay. Cooperate and we will not harm you. Take us to your apartment.)" The captain had learned Spanish during his months in Cuba, as part of a language program designed to facilitate better communication between the Cubans and Soviets should they end up fighting together. He turned and used his right hand to gesture his fellow airmen over. The four walked back to the woman's apartment, which was empty, except for two cats. That was good. They could relax now.
February 19-20, 1984
2300 hours-0800 hours
Miami, Florida
"From Channel 10 WPLG, this is Eyewitness News, with Ann Bishop, Mike Schneider, Don Noe, Chuck Dowdle, and the Eyewitness News team."
"I'm Mike Schneider. Tonight: Terror in Miami-Dade, as the second day of World War III brings the first attack on the continental United States since the War of 1812. A Soviet bomber was able to penetrate United States Air Force defenses and bombed the Rickenbacker Causeway bridge, severing all land ties to the northern Keys. That bomber was shot down after releasing its bomb and crashed into the Saint Peter Paul Catholic Church in southwest Miami, setting the church ablaze, along with several neighboring homes. A second bomber, headed for Miami International Airport, was hit with several missiles fired by Florida Air National Guard fighter jets, exploding over the Biltmore Golf Course. Residents of high-rises throughout the city have been scrambling to move into shelters or leave the city, despite the urgent pleas of state and national officials to stay. The fear amongst those officials is that crowded roads will make it impossible for rescue efforts to take place should another attack occur.
For more on this story, we go to Jon Scott near the site of the Rickenbacker Causeway bomb. Jon, what can you tell us tonight?"
"Mike, I'm standing here on the roof of Building A of the Brickell Place Condominiums. This is about as close as we can get right now, as police and National Guardsmen have sealed off the area. We have heard reports of casualties and, from what we can see, it appears there has been at least a partial collapse of the Brickell Biscayne condo tower, and there is smoke billowing from that direction. The attack happened at dusk, and with people sheltering, nobody was looking topside at buildings. If the tower has partially or fully collapsed, that would mean the potential loss of dozens of lives. So much is unknown right now because of the fluidity of the situation. We don't know how many people might've evacuated from these condos and the city prior to the start of the war, and nobody is answering questions. The only thing we know for certain is what you told our viewers: the Causeway Bridge was severely damaged, and I can see every window to the west is cracked or shattered, depending on if residents taped their windows. We used to say after major hurricanes around here that it looked like a war zone in certain neighborhoods after the storm. Tonight, Mike, Miami truly is a war zone. Back to you."
"Thank you, Jon, for that report. Ann?"
"The second bomber that was shot down over the Biltmore Golf Course had no survivors, according to a police official at the scene. The fire took some time to contain, but at this hour has been put out, and Guardsmen are at that scene as well, combing the wreckage along with officials from the local National Transportation Safety Board office, who have experience in dealing with air crash scenes. They are....excuse me, I've got some new information coming through my earpiece. Okay, let's go back to Jon Scott on Brickell Avenue."
"Ann, I've just spoken with a police official who did not want to identify himself. He said that they believe crew from the Soviet bomber that crashed into the church survived. There were reportedly several parachutes that came out of the bomber before it spun and dived into Saint Peter Paul Church. I am only speculating, but this may well account for the silence of officials and the wide cordon. The official said they don't believe the crew is capable of doing any damage, but they have obvious value in possible knowledge about future Soviet plans on Florida. I expect that if this man spoke with me about the search that it is very likely that a media briefing may be held in the next couple of hours. We will, of course, cover that if it happens, along with any other news from this area."
"Thank you, Jon. In West Germany, CNN reports NATO is falling back in multiple areas as Soviet and Warsaw Pact forces have been able to use their numerical advantages to press through the Fulda Gap, and further northwards as well near Kassel. Reinforcements continue to pour into West Germany from America, as reserve divisions are flying over as fast as possible in hopes of stemming the tide..."
*****
The Soviet crew that had parachuted out of the first Blinder was comprised of a praporschik, or warrant officer (typically a specialist of some sort), a junior sergeant, and an Air Force captain, the bomber's navigator. They were profoundly grateful that it was the relatively warm climate of Miami that they were hiding in at the moment, and not the cold forests or plains of West Germany. The most frightening part they'd experienced so far had been the crossing of U.S. 41, but they'd done so more easily than expected (the roads were so quiet, they all thought) and were now under a tree in the courtyard of a school. The navigator's map was not at a detailed enough level to where they could pinpoint what street they were on, but U.S. 41 was a major road, so they knew they were well north of their target. They had seen a grocery store that was closed. The sergeant had suggested breaking into it for food, an idea that the praporschik had merely laughed at in the most dismissive way possible. "Young man, do you think there will be any food in there? The Americans were in a panic before we attacked. That store is closed because they have nothing to sell. No capitalist would willingly close their shops unless they had nothing, because they worship money so very much."
The men took two-hour naps in turn, one asleep, two awake. As the hours wore on, the desire for food grew in the men. The school had a spigot in the courtyard, from which the men eagerly drank water, but the body needs food, and they'd jumped out of a bomber falling to the earth with no time to grab any rations stored aboard. Rain started to fall around 3 am, driving the men into an alcove to avoid being drenched. By sunrise, the idea of breaking into the small grocery store didn't seem like such a bad idea. The rain and clouds were keeping visibility down, and the captain decided it was worth the chance. The Soviets carried 9mm Makarov pistols, which, if used, would mean things had gone badly wrong in a hurry. They proceeded slowly, moving through back yards and alleys, not wanting to draw the attention of homeowners and apartment dwellers. Four blocks and 20 minutes later, they arrived at the corner grocery they'd passed the night before. The praproschik went to work on the lock while the sergeant and captain covered him. Lacking proper tools, he failed at the effort, and instructed the other two to cover their ears as he carefully aimed and shot the padlock off the security gates. The men knew there'd be no way the sound was missed, and so hurried inside. Contrary to their belief, there was some useful food items, such as candy bars and beef jerky (people focused so much on boxed and canned goods that some perfectly good items were left untouched), which went into the pockets of their flight suits. The drink section was pretty well cleaned out, except for a bottle of orange juice, which the sergeant held in his hands.
Leaving the store, the men heard sirens, which they knew had to be trouble of some sort. They darted into an alley, and moved alongside apartments, guns drawn now. As the captain peeked around a corner, he saw a police car go screaming by in the street. Then another, and then a military jeep. Think, comrade, do not blunder about. You are on enemy territory, and they are hunting you. As a navigator and pilot, he'd been through training on what to do if he were shot down. He pulled the men tight and told them he was taking point, with the praproschik in the rear. Crouching now, he darted across the street into the next alley. They were in an apartment block, it looked like. The other two followed the captain, moving one at a time across the street. Collecting themselves, they moved further down the alley until they hit a crossway, where the alley met parking spaces. The captain glanced to his left and noticed a middle-aged Hispanic woman taking out a bag of trash...
Before the other two could react, the captain moved towards the lady, gun drawn. As she threw her trash in the dumpster, he wrapped his left hand around her mouth while his right hand gently pushed the gun into her ribs. The woman's eyes widened in shock and fear. "Mis amigos y yo necesitamos un lugar para estar. Coopera y no te haremos daño. Llévanos a tu apartamento. (My friends and I need a place to stay. Cooperate and we will not harm you. Take us to your apartment.)" The captain had learned Spanish during his months in Cuba, as part of a language program designed to facilitate better communication between the Cubans and Soviets should they end up fighting together. He turned and used his right hand to gesture his fellow airmen over. The four walked back to the woman's apartment, which was empty, except for two cats. That was good. They could relax now.
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Already working on the next chapter. Wife is out tonight, so I took the laptop to Starbucks. I'm always productive at a Starbucks because I can't get distracted by other things there.
Hi there. I've been lurking on this forum for years now but never joined up. I did so just to commend your writing and encourage you to do more. I love the Protect and Survive timeline and it's spinoffs but this really is great. I really enjoy the the way you develop the aerial combat scenes. Thank you for a great read.
Second this--that, and you're building up the sense of dread nicely. We know what's going to happen, yet it's easy to put yourself in the shoes of someone who doesn't who is still holding out hope that sanity will win out over insanity.
Chapter 39
Chapter 39
February 20, 1984
0913 hours
The Pentagon
Washington, D.C.
Exhaustion was a mild way to describe what Pentagon officials were feeling. Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger was constantly shuttling back and forth between the White House and the Pentagon, barely getting four hours of sleep a night. He'd about reached the point where coffee had become useless for him. The new Deputy SecDef, William Howard Taft IV, was a lawyer and next to useless in the eyes of the military men who were in the National Military Command Center with the senior folks. The Assistant Secretaries, Fred Ikle and Richard Armitage, were old pros, along with Undersecretary for Acquisition, Technology and Logistics Dr. Richard DeLauer, who'd run the Titan program in the Sixties while serving in the Navy (1942-66). After leaving the Navy, he'd gone to TRW and run its Minuteman missile program. A bright, talented scientist and manager, DeLauer, in fact, was probably the most stressed man after Weinberger, because logistics was everything in World War III. How many planes in the air, how many vehicles lost on the ground, where were the latest reinforcements, what was the fuel situation....a man of lesser capabilities would not have been able to do it. His appointment was one of those things that the everyman on the street didn't see or notice, but it was a brilliant move by Weinberger to recruit DeLauer, showcasing his own capabilities as an administrator.
Because of the last three men, Taft's shortcomings weren't the issue they could've been otherwise. That didn't stop the Joint Chiefs and the staff officers from being annoyed by his youthful visage every time he walked into the NMCC. If something happened to Weinberger, a man they respected, who'd served in combat in the Pacific, this...this...damned lawyer short of forty would be in charge of the United States armed forces during a fucking world war! Taft wouldn't even be in the position if Thayer hadn't been such a moron and given inside information to his investor friends about what companies would be getting contracts. Thayer had been a pro, a flying ace in World War II, but he let his friends get the best of him, so he'd resigned and the Pentagon's number two man was an empty barrel.
At the moment, Weinberger was at the White House again, and he'd taken Taft with him, leaving DeLauer in charge. Cap was no dummy. He could see the looks.
The situation in Florida had Air Force chief Charles Gabriel and CNO James Watkins concerned. The fighters defending it and their basing had taken a pounding, and the Air Guardsmen didn't have the means of facing frontline bombers and fighters on a consistent basis, since the Delta Darts lacked the air-to-air missiles they needed. Another Sentry was en route from Tinker Air Force Base, along with two Hawkeyes to serve as additional backup in Key West. Having only a single AWACS up at a time wasn't cutting it. Gabriel, who'd just come home the year before from commanding USAF forces in Europe, wanted to strike back, and do it hard. Navy Secretary John Lehman, a fierce hawk, felt the same way. The best way to do it would be attack jets from the deck of the USS Independence, currently in its holding pattern off the eastern shore of Florida. Clearly, the Soviets weren't trying to come further north, but were instead picking off the exposed bases at the southern end of the state. There were two squadrons of A-6E Intruders on the Independence, capable of carrying 30 Mk82 500-pound bombs, 10 Mk83 1000-pound bombs, or 3 Mk84 2000-pound bombs. DeLauer, as senior man there, directed Watkins and Lehman to draw up a plan as quickly as possible, and he'd have it couriered to the White House. In the meantime, DeLauer called over to the National Reconnaissance Office and had them redirect a satellite over Cuba. They'd need to find the bases the Soviets were using before they sent the Intruders.
*****
0930 hours
Gainesville, Florida
Lt. Colonel Castillo gave the briefing. Homestead had suffered partial runway damage, which was fixed easily enough by the repair crews with gravel and asphalt, but the real damage was the loss of fuel tanks and partial destruction of the air traffic control tower. A temporary tower, typically used at small airfields, was being trucked to Homestead to help normal flight operations resume as soon as possible. Miami International would have to suffice for the moment. Losses weren't too bad, overall, definitely sustainable. Graham interrupted him before he could go further. "Colonel, what about the bomb dropped in Miami? And have we found those Soviet airmen yet?"
"Governor, unfortunately, the Causeway is going to be out of action for a while. It wasn't built to sustain a bomb dropped directly at that juncture. We simply don't have the means to do the repair work even to open one lane onto the bridge. If anyone didn't leave and wants to now, we'd have to ferry them from Key Biscayne or Virginia Key, which in normal settings would be fine, but there could be bombs dropped at any moment. Not as big of a concern as thought by some, but a concern nonetheless. As for the nearby buildings, we confirm casualties of over one hundred people so far, mainly condo residents along the shore there within the blast radius. Flying glass, the partial building collapse, and fire were the causes of those deaths. We continue to have the area cordoned off for everyone's safety, and now, as you know, the high-rise residents are taking off. We can't stop them, unless you want to..." Castillo trailed off as he said that.
"No, Colonel," Graham replied, "we'll let them head towards shelters for the moment. It's Monday morning right now. This is day three of the war. We're facing an economic crisis soon, and there are still close to a million people in Miami alone, not counting the suburbs. What are we looking at? I don't want to say endgame because I certainly do not want to think about that, but how is this going to play out for the next days or even weeks?" The Colonel took a minute to consider that as he rifled through endless Telexes that had come in, mainly from the NMCC. "Well, Governor, it's getting thin on the front lines. We're trying to reinforce, along with our NATO allies, before there's a true breakthrough. The battlefield is both large and small at the same time, in that it stretches north to south a long way, but the east to west distances are short. If we can't shore it up in West Germany, then nukes will fly. Either we'll launch something tactically to stem the tide, or they'll use them to bust a hole open. And, if that doesn't happen, and we keep losing ground, then the French will do it per their policy, which is, in short, 'We will not be occupied ever again.'"
"Colonel, how close are we to that happening?"
"Governor, if we make it until Friday without going nuclear, I would consider it an honest-to-God miracle."
*****
Coral Gables, Florida
Jan Klima was home, sleeping. Major Simmons had ordered him home around midnight for twelve hours, since Klima had been at the ops center constantly for days and barely slept. Jan had taken some Benadryl to sleep, and so it took a few rings for him to pick up the phone. "Hello?" Jan asked, rather groggily. "Hermano, it's Luis. They kicked me out of here, said they needed the space...whole lotta bodies coming in, man. Noticed the news couldn't get close to that bomb strike. How bad was it?" "Unsecure line, Luis. Let's have breakfast and we'll talk then." Klima looked at the clock. 10:10 am. Nine hours. That has to be a record for this entire year so far. The detective stripped off his clothes and went into the shower to shake off the Benadryl-induced sleep. Fifteen minutes later, he was out and dressed. Dress code wasn't an issue now, so on came the jeans and his old combat boots, along with a Miami PD button-down and his department-issued sidearm. Klima went into his closet and pulled out the Remington rifle case, along with a box of ammo. He locked the rifle and ammo inside the case, and threw that in the backseat of his Bronco. Miami was a combat zone now, and Klima was preparing for the worst-case scenario.
Ten minutes later he pulled up into the driveway of Luis' parents, where Luis went after he was discharged. He was out of his rig he'd had in the hospital, with a special brace securing his shoulder and bandages underneath the brace. He was alive, though, and he had some movement of the arm, which meant he had two hands instead of one. God knows what might go down this week. Good thing he has two hands. We might need them. Jan knocked on the door, and Mrs. Cárdenas opened it and let him in. It smells amazing in here. Upon entering the kitchen, Klima saw why. Scrambled eggs, bacon, espresso, fruit....and Luis. Jan took Luis' good hand, then pulled him in for a hug. "Glad you're out, buddy," Jan told him. "Let's sit down and eat." Mr. and Mrs. Cárdenas joined the two detectives at the table and everyone filled their plates with food. Mr. Cárdenas was the first to say something. "Jan, how bad are things? We saw all those people being brought in last night...burns, broken legs, and I saw at least five body bags. I saw the news said there was a bomb near downtown. Are there going to be more?"
Klima took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. "One of the condo buildings by the Causeway caught fire and partially collapsed from the blast. Other condos had their windows all blown out. Not everyone evacuated. Probably half a million left Miami and the closest suburbs before war kicked off, so that's still a million people in this city, and yeah, a bunch were those in their condos. Things aren't looking too great. I don't know if the Pentagon is going to send some backup, but I sure hope so. Honestly, they need to send some bombers after Cuba and I don't know why they haven't yet." That last sentence caused a look to be shared by the Cárdenas family. Jan realized what he'd said and wished he could crawl under the table. "I'm sorry. I stepped in it there. I for--." Mr. Cárdenas cut him off with a raised hand. "Jan, I understand. They're allied with our enemies and attacking us. It's awful and I worry about my cousins, but I understand. Don't beat yourself up too much."
"Thank you, sir. Now, let me switch subjects quickly. Keep those suitcases ready. I have a feeling we're going to be getting the hell out of here very shortly. Luis, why don't you come in to the ops center with me? We could use an extra hand monitoring things and you can meet Major Simmons."
*****
1322 hours
The Pentagon
Back in D.C., DeLauer, Lehman, Watkins, and Gabriel reviewed the plan of attack. The Independence was already steaming south at max speed, with two squadrons of Intruders loaded with Mk83s, a split-purpose squadron of A-7E Corsair IIs (half loaded with Shrike anti-radar missiles and Sidewinders for air-to-air, the other half with AGM-65 Mavericks and Mk32 Zuni rockets for air-to-ground) and a squadron of F-14 Tomcats for fighter escort. The other squadron of Tomcats was kept in a reserve role, and to make room for the second Intruder squadron, the EA-6B Prowlers (the electronic warfare version of the Intruder) were left behind at NAS Jacksonville. This would be an overwhelming airpower mission, with many of the older pilots carrying Vietnam flight experience. This would be a similar situation for those men, flying into a tropical nation likely to have heavy SAM cover. That pendulum swung both ways, though. Just as the Cubans had the advantages of cover, the Americans had experience flying into those situations and had advanced technology developed to deal with it. The targets selected were José Martí International Airport (which often served as a Soviet air base), Santa Clara Air Base (home to the bombers), and San Antonio de los Baños Airfield (which hosted MiG-23 interceptors).
As the four men went over it, General Gabriel stepped out to make a phone call to SAC. Three minutes later, he returned. "Gentlemen, I'd like to add an element to this. If we want to put these things out of business for good, let's get some B-52s involved. I just spoke to CINCSAC, and he's okay with chopping loose a half-dozen B-52s to rain some real hell on these bastards." Undersecretary DeLauer made a note of it, then responded, "I like the idea, but my concern is that it'd be seen as a potential nuclear strike. I will have this sent over to Cap at the White House and we'll let the President decide if he wants to add more firepower or stick with the Intruders and Corsairs, which will deal a pretty solid blow on their own. Either way, we'll move fast. I'm sending a chopper to get it there ASAP." The other men nodded in agreement.
Word came back 45 minutes later after a brief discussion between Weinberger and DeLauer: no B-52s, but instead, the two modified B-1As (given the B-1B's avionics and electronics suite) that SAC had at Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome, New York would fly down and join the mission. Each would carry 24 Mk84 2000-pound bombs, which would deliver one hell of a pounding. One would join the group headed for Havana, the other would go to Santa Clara. If anything happened to the B-1 for Santa Clara, the one earmarked for Havana would divert there, since Santa Clara was the primary target of the mission (as host to the bomber crews). It set back the timetable some, but Operation ROUGH RIDER would link up at 1900 hours and head for Cuban airspace. Lehman smiled. Wonder who told the Old Man about the B-1s? I owe that person a bourbon.
February 20, 1984
0913 hours
The Pentagon
Washington, D.C.
Exhaustion was a mild way to describe what Pentagon officials were feeling. Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger was constantly shuttling back and forth between the White House and the Pentagon, barely getting four hours of sleep a night. He'd about reached the point where coffee had become useless for him. The new Deputy SecDef, William Howard Taft IV, was a lawyer and next to useless in the eyes of the military men who were in the National Military Command Center with the senior folks. The Assistant Secretaries, Fred Ikle and Richard Armitage, were old pros, along with Undersecretary for Acquisition, Technology and Logistics Dr. Richard DeLauer, who'd run the Titan program in the Sixties while serving in the Navy (1942-66). After leaving the Navy, he'd gone to TRW and run its Minuteman missile program. A bright, talented scientist and manager, DeLauer, in fact, was probably the most stressed man after Weinberger, because logistics was everything in World War III. How many planes in the air, how many vehicles lost on the ground, where were the latest reinforcements, what was the fuel situation....a man of lesser capabilities would not have been able to do it. His appointment was one of those things that the everyman on the street didn't see or notice, but it was a brilliant move by Weinberger to recruit DeLauer, showcasing his own capabilities as an administrator.
Because of the last three men, Taft's shortcomings weren't the issue they could've been otherwise. That didn't stop the Joint Chiefs and the staff officers from being annoyed by his youthful visage every time he walked into the NMCC. If something happened to Weinberger, a man they respected, who'd served in combat in the Pacific, this...this...damned lawyer short of forty would be in charge of the United States armed forces during a fucking world war! Taft wouldn't even be in the position if Thayer hadn't been such a moron and given inside information to his investor friends about what companies would be getting contracts. Thayer had been a pro, a flying ace in World War II, but he let his friends get the best of him, so he'd resigned and the Pentagon's number two man was an empty barrel.
At the moment, Weinberger was at the White House again, and he'd taken Taft with him, leaving DeLauer in charge. Cap was no dummy. He could see the looks.
The situation in Florida had Air Force chief Charles Gabriel and CNO James Watkins concerned. The fighters defending it and their basing had taken a pounding, and the Air Guardsmen didn't have the means of facing frontline bombers and fighters on a consistent basis, since the Delta Darts lacked the air-to-air missiles they needed. Another Sentry was en route from Tinker Air Force Base, along with two Hawkeyes to serve as additional backup in Key West. Having only a single AWACS up at a time wasn't cutting it. Gabriel, who'd just come home the year before from commanding USAF forces in Europe, wanted to strike back, and do it hard. Navy Secretary John Lehman, a fierce hawk, felt the same way. The best way to do it would be attack jets from the deck of the USS Independence, currently in its holding pattern off the eastern shore of Florida. Clearly, the Soviets weren't trying to come further north, but were instead picking off the exposed bases at the southern end of the state. There were two squadrons of A-6E Intruders on the Independence, capable of carrying 30 Mk82 500-pound bombs, 10 Mk83 1000-pound bombs, or 3 Mk84 2000-pound bombs. DeLauer, as senior man there, directed Watkins and Lehman to draw up a plan as quickly as possible, and he'd have it couriered to the White House. In the meantime, DeLauer called over to the National Reconnaissance Office and had them redirect a satellite over Cuba. They'd need to find the bases the Soviets were using before they sent the Intruders.
*****
0930 hours
Gainesville, Florida
Lt. Colonel Castillo gave the briefing. Homestead had suffered partial runway damage, which was fixed easily enough by the repair crews with gravel and asphalt, but the real damage was the loss of fuel tanks and partial destruction of the air traffic control tower. A temporary tower, typically used at small airfields, was being trucked to Homestead to help normal flight operations resume as soon as possible. Miami International would have to suffice for the moment. Losses weren't too bad, overall, definitely sustainable. Graham interrupted him before he could go further. "Colonel, what about the bomb dropped in Miami? And have we found those Soviet airmen yet?"
"Governor, unfortunately, the Causeway is going to be out of action for a while. It wasn't built to sustain a bomb dropped directly at that juncture. We simply don't have the means to do the repair work even to open one lane onto the bridge. If anyone didn't leave and wants to now, we'd have to ferry them from Key Biscayne or Virginia Key, which in normal settings would be fine, but there could be bombs dropped at any moment. Not as big of a concern as thought by some, but a concern nonetheless. As for the nearby buildings, we confirm casualties of over one hundred people so far, mainly condo residents along the shore there within the blast radius. Flying glass, the partial building collapse, and fire were the causes of those deaths. We continue to have the area cordoned off for everyone's safety, and now, as you know, the high-rise residents are taking off. We can't stop them, unless you want to..." Castillo trailed off as he said that.
"No, Colonel," Graham replied, "we'll let them head towards shelters for the moment. It's Monday morning right now. This is day three of the war. We're facing an economic crisis soon, and there are still close to a million people in Miami alone, not counting the suburbs. What are we looking at? I don't want to say endgame because I certainly do not want to think about that, but how is this going to play out for the next days or even weeks?" The Colonel took a minute to consider that as he rifled through endless Telexes that had come in, mainly from the NMCC. "Well, Governor, it's getting thin on the front lines. We're trying to reinforce, along with our NATO allies, before there's a true breakthrough. The battlefield is both large and small at the same time, in that it stretches north to south a long way, but the east to west distances are short. If we can't shore it up in West Germany, then nukes will fly. Either we'll launch something tactically to stem the tide, or they'll use them to bust a hole open. And, if that doesn't happen, and we keep losing ground, then the French will do it per their policy, which is, in short, 'We will not be occupied ever again.'"
"Colonel, how close are we to that happening?"
"Governor, if we make it until Friday without going nuclear, I would consider it an honest-to-God miracle."
*****
Coral Gables, Florida
Jan Klima was home, sleeping. Major Simmons had ordered him home around midnight for twelve hours, since Klima had been at the ops center constantly for days and barely slept. Jan had taken some Benadryl to sleep, and so it took a few rings for him to pick up the phone. "Hello?" Jan asked, rather groggily. "Hermano, it's Luis. They kicked me out of here, said they needed the space...whole lotta bodies coming in, man. Noticed the news couldn't get close to that bomb strike. How bad was it?" "Unsecure line, Luis. Let's have breakfast and we'll talk then." Klima looked at the clock. 10:10 am. Nine hours. That has to be a record for this entire year so far. The detective stripped off his clothes and went into the shower to shake off the Benadryl-induced sleep. Fifteen minutes later, he was out and dressed. Dress code wasn't an issue now, so on came the jeans and his old combat boots, along with a Miami PD button-down and his department-issued sidearm. Klima went into his closet and pulled out the Remington rifle case, along with a box of ammo. He locked the rifle and ammo inside the case, and threw that in the backseat of his Bronco. Miami was a combat zone now, and Klima was preparing for the worst-case scenario.
Ten minutes later he pulled up into the driveway of Luis' parents, where Luis went after he was discharged. He was out of his rig he'd had in the hospital, with a special brace securing his shoulder and bandages underneath the brace. He was alive, though, and he had some movement of the arm, which meant he had two hands instead of one. God knows what might go down this week. Good thing he has two hands. We might need them. Jan knocked on the door, and Mrs. Cárdenas opened it and let him in. It smells amazing in here. Upon entering the kitchen, Klima saw why. Scrambled eggs, bacon, espresso, fruit....and Luis. Jan took Luis' good hand, then pulled him in for a hug. "Glad you're out, buddy," Jan told him. "Let's sit down and eat." Mr. and Mrs. Cárdenas joined the two detectives at the table and everyone filled their plates with food. Mr. Cárdenas was the first to say something. "Jan, how bad are things? We saw all those people being brought in last night...burns, broken legs, and I saw at least five body bags. I saw the news said there was a bomb near downtown. Are there going to be more?"
Klima took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. "One of the condo buildings by the Causeway caught fire and partially collapsed from the blast. Other condos had their windows all blown out. Not everyone evacuated. Probably half a million left Miami and the closest suburbs before war kicked off, so that's still a million people in this city, and yeah, a bunch were those in their condos. Things aren't looking too great. I don't know if the Pentagon is going to send some backup, but I sure hope so. Honestly, they need to send some bombers after Cuba and I don't know why they haven't yet." That last sentence caused a look to be shared by the Cárdenas family. Jan realized what he'd said and wished he could crawl under the table. "I'm sorry. I stepped in it there. I for--." Mr. Cárdenas cut him off with a raised hand. "Jan, I understand. They're allied with our enemies and attacking us. It's awful and I worry about my cousins, but I understand. Don't beat yourself up too much."
"Thank you, sir. Now, let me switch subjects quickly. Keep those suitcases ready. I have a feeling we're going to be getting the hell out of here very shortly. Luis, why don't you come in to the ops center with me? We could use an extra hand monitoring things and you can meet Major Simmons."
*****
1322 hours
The Pentagon
Back in D.C., DeLauer, Lehman, Watkins, and Gabriel reviewed the plan of attack. The Independence was already steaming south at max speed, with two squadrons of Intruders loaded with Mk83s, a split-purpose squadron of A-7E Corsair IIs (half loaded with Shrike anti-radar missiles and Sidewinders for air-to-air, the other half with AGM-65 Mavericks and Mk32 Zuni rockets for air-to-ground) and a squadron of F-14 Tomcats for fighter escort. The other squadron of Tomcats was kept in a reserve role, and to make room for the second Intruder squadron, the EA-6B Prowlers (the electronic warfare version of the Intruder) were left behind at NAS Jacksonville. This would be an overwhelming airpower mission, with many of the older pilots carrying Vietnam flight experience. This would be a similar situation for those men, flying into a tropical nation likely to have heavy SAM cover. That pendulum swung both ways, though. Just as the Cubans had the advantages of cover, the Americans had experience flying into those situations and had advanced technology developed to deal with it. The targets selected were José Martí International Airport (which often served as a Soviet air base), Santa Clara Air Base (home to the bombers), and San Antonio de los Baños Airfield (which hosted MiG-23 interceptors).
As the four men went over it, General Gabriel stepped out to make a phone call to SAC. Three minutes later, he returned. "Gentlemen, I'd like to add an element to this. If we want to put these things out of business for good, let's get some B-52s involved. I just spoke to CINCSAC, and he's okay with chopping loose a half-dozen B-52s to rain some real hell on these bastards." Undersecretary DeLauer made a note of it, then responded, "I like the idea, but my concern is that it'd be seen as a potential nuclear strike. I will have this sent over to Cap at the White House and we'll let the President decide if he wants to add more firepower or stick with the Intruders and Corsairs, which will deal a pretty solid blow on their own. Either way, we'll move fast. I'm sending a chopper to get it there ASAP." The other men nodded in agreement.
Word came back 45 minutes later after a brief discussion between Weinberger and DeLauer: no B-52s, but instead, the two modified B-1As (given the B-1B's avionics and electronics suite) that SAC had at Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome, New York would fly down and join the mission. Each would carry 24 Mk84 2000-pound bombs, which would deliver one hell of a pounding. One would join the group headed for Havana, the other would go to Santa Clara. If anything happened to the B-1 for Santa Clara, the one earmarked for Havana would divert there, since Santa Clara was the primary target of the mission (as host to the bomber crews). It set back the timetable some, but Operation ROUGH RIDER would link up at 1900 hours and head for Cuban airspace. Lehman smiled. Wonder who told the Old Man about the B-1s? I owe that person a bourbon.
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Seriously @wolverinethad Good stuff indeed. Since you started getting in the thick of your own spinoff, I've been rereading more of the thicker/more developed P&S canon. Don't know if it's worth bringing up to the discussion thread, but the contributors and bigger fans ought to work on a mass edit for a print/Amazon trilogy. " 'Protect and Survive' Before, During, and After." Might take a couple years to get all smoothed out and edited right, plus encouraging a few new bits. (My father was an OTL Minuteman III launch officer then, bet your ass I owe him a vignette.)
Seriously, this is a huge shot in the arm to a well-established thread. Keep it up!
Seriously, this is a huge shot in the arm to a well-established thread. Keep it up!
Just read the chapter and here are my thoughts (I'm waiting for Dancing With the Stars to start here in on my local ABC affiliate in Texas (1)).
Like the fact that you're including the Pentagon discussions...yup, their contempt for Taft seems in character. Richard Armitage was around for a longer time than I thought (I remember him as the Plame leaker during Dubya's administration). BTW, most of these characters are so screwed it's not even funny (2). Like the plans for the Cuban retaliation; they aren't going to know what hit them...
Castillo and Graham's conversation is realistic. As for greater Miami, I'd write off most of population there; really, where is one going to evacuate a million people at a few hours' notice? It'd be chaos, so my plan would be to just write it off; it's like the state of Illinois writing off the Chicago metro area before the war. Castillo is right about making it to Friday without going nuclear being a miracle (especially since we know what's coming). BTW, I had no idea there were a million people still left in Greater Miami; that'll take a rapid and permanent downturn, methinks...
Luis being kicked out of the hospital also sounds like something the hospitals would do to deal with the casualties from the air attack, who will soon get permanent relief from their pain within 36 hours. Yeah, Jan, I like that you're preparing Luis (and everyone else) to leave on short notice and, in about 21 hours in-story, you'll be getting that kick in the pants.
BTW, one moment I am looking forward to (even though the next chapters are going to be...very dark, methinks, with what's going to occur in 24-48 hours in-story) is Ted Bundy's impending execution. It couldn't happen to someone more deserving...
On a side note, congrats at going over 60k words...
Waiting for more, and keep it up; you'll win a Turtledove, and a nomination is guaranteed, with this reviving the P & S universe...
(1) Corpus Christi, BTW. Yeah, between NAS Corpus Christi, the airport, and the port, 2-year-old me and my parents are very, very dead (unless my mom was smart enough to get the family to my maternal grandparents' farm in Ohio).
(2) If you want to imagine D.C. during the exchange, dip a map of the D.C. area in gasoline, hang it up, set it on fire, and then fire a machine gun on auto into it; it's the same effect...
Like the fact that you're including the Pentagon discussions...yup, their contempt for Taft seems in character. Richard Armitage was around for a longer time than I thought (I remember him as the Plame leaker during Dubya's administration). BTW, most of these characters are so screwed it's not even funny (2). Like the plans for the Cuban retaliation; they aren't going to know what hit them...
Castillo and Graham's conversation is realistic. As for greater Miami, I'd write off most of population there; really, where is one going to evacuate a million people at a few hours' notice? It'd be chaos, so my plan would be to just write it off; it's like the state of Illinois writing off the Chicago metro area before the war. Castillo is right about making it to Friday without going nuclear being a miracle (especially since we know what's coming). BTW, I had no idea there were a million people still left in Greater Miami; that'll take a rapid and permanent downturn, methinks...
Luis being kicked out of the hospital also sounds like something the hospitals would do to deal with the casualties from the air attack, who will soon get permanent relief from their pain within 36 hours. Yeah, Jan, I like that you're preparing Luis (and everyone else) to leave on short notice and, in about 21 hours in-story, you'll be getting that kick in the pants.
BTW, one moment I am looking forward to (even though the next chapters are going to be...very dark, methinks, with what's going to occur in 24-48 hours in-story) is Ted Bundy's impending execution. It couldn't happen to someone more deserving...
On a side note, congrats at going over 60k words...
Waiting for more, and keep it up; you'll win a Turtledove, and a nomination is guaranteed, with this reviving the P & S universe...
(1) Corpus Christi, BTW. Yeah, between NAS Corpus Christi, the airport, and the port, 2-year-old me and my parents are very, very dead (unless my mom was smart enough to get the family to my maternal grandparents' farm in Ohio).
(2) If you want to imagine D.C. during the exchange, dip a map of the D.C. area in gasoline, hang it up, set it on fire, and then fire a machine gun on auto into it; it's the same effect...