The Secret Service paid close attention to the streets around the White House, and with the current heightened state of security, there was little doubt that they would be on their toes. If it weren’t for the fog, they wouldn’t risk dropping one of the boxes so close to the White House. The driver pulled up to the southeast corner of Fourteenth Street and
Constitution Avenue and put the van in park. The White House was less than two blocks away. Both men pulled their baseball hats down a little tighter and got out to repeat the drill for the last time. This was the fifth and final radar unit. The first two were placed on the other side of the Potomac River in Arlington, Virginia, one to the south and west of the White House and the other directly west. The third radar unit was placed to the north of the White House at the intersection of Rhode Island and Massachusetts. With the final two units in place to the south and east, the trap was completed.
Quantico Marine Air Station is located approximately thirty miles southwest of
Washington, D.C. The air station is divided into two parts: the green side and the white side.
The green side supports the base’s normal Marine aviation squadrons, and the white side supports the special Marine HMX-1 Squadron. The HMX-1 Squadron’s primary function is to provide helicopter transportation for the President and other high-ranking executive-office officials. The squadron’s main bird is the VHO3 helicopter. The VH-3s at HMX-1 are not painted your typical drab green like most military helicopters.
They are painted glossy green on the bottom half and glossy white on top. The
Presidential seal adorns both sides of the aircraft, and inside the cabin are a wet bar, state-of-the-art communications equipment, and plush flight chairs. These are the large helicopters that land on the South Lawn of the White House and transport the President to such places as Andrews Air Force Base and Camp David. The helicopter is typically referred to as Marine One in the same way the President’s 747 is referred to as Air Force
One. At first glance HMX-1 would seem like a cushy assignment for a Marine helicopter pilot—nothing more than an airborne limousine driver. In reality, it is the opposite. They are some of the best pilots the Marine Corps has to offer, and they are trained and tested
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constantly in evasive maneuvers, close-formation flying, and zero-visibility flying. If there is an emergency and the President needs to get somewhere, it doesn’t matter if there’s a blizzard or a torrential downpour. HMX-1 flies under any weather conditions.
The squadron consists of twelve identical VH-3s. Two of the twelve birds and their flight crews are on twenty- four-hour standby at the Anacostia Naval Air Station, just two miles south of the White House. This precaution is a holdover from the cold war.
Standard operating procedure dictates that in the event of an imminent or actual nuclear attack, the President is to be flown on board Marine One, from the White House to
Andrews Air Force Base. From there, he is to board Air Force One and take off. As far as the public is concerned, no President has had to take this apocalyptic journey for reasons other than training. Despite the fall of the Iron Curtain, the drill is still practiced frequently by the Marine Corps and Air Force pilots. All ten of the VH-3s at HMX-1
were to be used in today’s flight operations, and their flight crews were busy checking every inch of the choppers, prepping them for flight.
The two helicopters at Anacostia would stay on standby and be used if any of the ten developed mechanical difficulties. It was just after 8 A.M and the rising sun had burned off most of the fog. Small pockets were left, but only in lowlying areas. The visibility had improved enough that the’ control tower decided to commence the transfer of the
CH-53 Super Stallion helicopters from the New River Air Station to Quantico. A total of forty of the dull green monsters were flying up from Jacksonville, North Carolina-four for each of the VH-3s that would be ferrying the President and his guests from the White
House to Camp David. The doors to the hangar were open, and the roar of helicopters could be heard in the distance. Several of the mechanics walked out of the hangar to look at the approaching beasts. It was a sight they never got tired of. The Super Stallion was a tough-looking chopper.
It had the rare combination of being both powerful and sleek and was one of the most versatile helicopters in the world. The CH-53s rumbled in over the tops of the pine trees in a single-line formation at about 120 knots.
The choppers were spaced in three-hundred-foot intervals, and the column stretched for over two miles. Their large turbine engines were thunderously loud in the cool morning air. One by one they descended onto the tarmac and were met by Marines wearing green fatigues, bright yellow vests, and ear protectors. The ground-crew personnel waved their fluorescent orange sticks and directed each bird into the proper spot. As each chopper was parked, the engines were cut and flight crews scampered under the large frames to secure yellow blocks around the wheels.
The traffic between Georgetown and the Capitol was never good, but in the morning it was almost unbearable. O’Rourke limped along in his Chevy Tahoe, thankful that the height of the truck allowed him to feel a little less claustrophobic. Senator Olson’s recent attempts to form a coalition with the President had Michael worried. O’Rourke desperately wanted to talk to his old boss before he left for Camp David. Grabbing his
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digital phone, the young Congressman punched in the numbers for Erik Olson’s direct line, and a second later the Senator answered. “Hello.”
“Erik, it’s Michael. Are we still on for lunch Monday?”
“Yes, I’ve got you down for eleven forty-five.”
“Good.”
O’Rourke took a deep breath. “Erik, I’m a little troubled by this alliance that you’re helping to form. What exactly do you hope to accomplish this weekend?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you guys going to make any effort to cut the budget, or are you all going to scratch each other’s back and
