Battle Born

“So where do we find them? Where are they? In your sandbox, Earthmover! You got ’em! And no one can touch them! Now everyone is howling at me, at Balboa, at the SECDEF. Everyone wants some butts, Terrill! And I look like the biggest dipshit in the universe because I authorized all this and I didn’t know what the hell was going on! Hell, everyone was saying those B-1s were hijacked by North Korean terrorists in retaliation for the South taking over their country, and that seemed like the best possible scenario! Now, what in the hell is going on out there?”

“Sir, we’re moving ahead with Coronet Tiger and deployment of Lancelot,” Samson said. “General McLanahan has been working closely with the Air National Guard unit from Reno, and he’s determined that they’re best suited for Coronet Tiger. When the Korea incident occurred, and since we had operational control of the Nevada B-1s, I decided we should implement the plan ahead of schedule. Since General McLanahan already had the bombers near our base, I authorized him to bring them on in to begin the conversion process, as previously planned.”

“The ‘best suited’? Are you crazy, Terrill? They almost rammed two F-15 fighters — not once, but twice. Then they almost rammed each other! They’re nuts! They’re crazy! And so are you and McLanahan if you think you’re going to use them!” He paused, and Samson could hear swearing on the other end of the phone. “Terrill, you can’t tell me that you knew and approved of all this. I know you too well. You’re not like Brad Elliott. You would have come to me first. McLanahan did all this, didn’t he?”

“I tried to contact you earlier, sir, but with the Korea thing erupting, the networks were a jumble,” Samson lied. “And General McLanahan has a lot of initiative, and I give him a lot of authority and responsibility around here, but he doesn’t do anything unless I give him approval. The B-1s’ arrival was coordinated well in advance…”

“Don’t bullshit me, Earthmover,” Hayes interjected. He paused again, then went on: “Don’t touch those bombers until I tell you to, Terrill. Don’t even gas them up. Discontinue all test flights and weapons trials. You, McLanahan, and the Nevada Air Guard crews will probably face disciplinary action for what you’ve done today. I can’t help that. Coronet Tiger and the Lancelot project might be all that keeps you two off the unemployment lines — or out of Leavenworth.”

“Sir, with all that’s going on in Korea right now, General McLanahan and I feel our program might be the best option if China starts—”

“You obviously didn’t hear what I said, General Samson,” Hayes cut in angrily. “Cut the Air National Guard guys back to their unit and stand down, now, or drop your stars in the mailbox on your way out of town.”

ELLIOTT AIR FORCE BASE, GROOM LAKE, NEVADA

THE NEXT MORNING

As before, the only item on the news when the members of the 111th Bomb Squadron woke up the next morning was events in Korea. They hardly noticed what they had for breakfast or how long the coffee had been standing — every one of them was glued to the TV sets, which as in their own unit were tuned to CNN.

The news of the creation of the independent United Republic of Korea rippled around the world faster than a meteor, and as the sun rose on various parts of the globe, world leaders one by one endorsed and welcomed it. Even close North Korean allies, such as Russia, Iraq, Iran, and Libya, seemed to at least accede that the people might be better off. Revolutionary ideas, they said, might be better spread throughout a united, independent Korea rather than a divided peninsula with lots of foreign troops stationed on either side.

The People’s Republic of China was the one glaring holdout. The president of the former Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-il, had set up a government-in-exile in Beijing, and Chinese President Jiang Zemin had warmly welcomed him. China had not committed any troops when South Korean planes started flying over North Korea — in fact, China had not even mobilized troops. But despite the televised appearance of a Chinese government functionary at the announcement, no one believed China would support a united, independent Korea that was not Communist, and they did not.

The world was holding its breath, afraid to move too fast or even blink for fear of touching off a global thermonuclear exchange. But it really did appear as if this was going to work: a Korea that was one nation again for the first time in nearly fifty years, and free from foreign troops on its soil for the first time in almost one hundred years.

Breakfast was served in the bottom-floor dayroom of the dormitory in which the 111th Aces High men and women were billeted. It resembled a standard Air Force base’s transient lodging facility — except for the security. Like every building they could see, it was surrounded by tall barbed-wire fences and ringed by security cameras. They decided it was very much like being in prison.

Breakfast was “continental”—rolls, toast, cold cereal, juices, and coffee, wheeled in a tall stainless-steel warming cart, along with the Las Vegas newspaper and USA Today. Like the TV, the papers focused on the Korea situation.

Except for occasional comments about a TV or newspaper item, there was almost no talk. Then John Long and Rinc Seaver reached for the copy of USA Today at the same time. “You’ve got it, Long Dong,” Rinc said.

“No. Go ahead.”

“I can wait.”

“Jesus Christ, Seaver, you irritate the hell out of me every time I talk to you,” Long snapped. “Take the damn paper, I said.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“Hey, how about I order you to shut your fucking mouth, asshole?”

“What is it with you, Colonel?” Rinc asked angrily. “You can’t give me one goddamn break. I do a good job for you, I bust my nuts to be the best, and all I get is grief.”

“Everyone gets what they deserve, Seaver,” John Long said. “Maybe you get grief because you deserve it. Maybe you just rub most folks the wrong way. That’s why everyone hates your fucking guts.”

“No one asked you, Long.”

“Hey, Major Jerkoff, you watch who you’re talking to!” Long retorted. “Act like an aviator instead of teacher’s ass-kissing pet…”

“I got an ass for you to kiss, Long, right here.”

“Maybe you ought to be kissing a little less butt with your buddy the general and concentrate on doing your job,” Long said. “You almost killed us yesterday on the range. I’m surprised you didn’t punch out again, Seaver.”

The other members of Aces High were startled; this was the first they had heard of the incident. “The general probably had to fight to keep your hands off the handles.”

“You’re the ass-kisser, Long,” Seaver said. “You got your nose so far up Furness’s ass that she needs to fart for you to breathe.”

Long lunged at Seaver in a rage so violent that it stunned. Long got in one good shot at Seaver’s face and drew blood from a cut on the lip before Seaver fought him off.

“Knock it off!” Furness shouted. Someone tried to grab Long’s arms from behind, but he shrugged them off and went at Seaver again. This time it was Furness who got in his way. “I said knock it off, John!” she shouted again.

“I’m gonna kick that asshole’s butt but good!” Long yelled. “He damned near kills his crew again, and he has the nerve to mouth off at you and me?”

“Room, ten-hut!” someone called out. Everyone automatically snapped to attention as Patrick McLanahan and Hal Briggs entered the dayroom.

Patrick looked at Seaver’s cut lip, then at Long, and finally at Furness. “What the hell is going on in here, Colonel?” he asked.

“Hangar flying, sir,” Furness replied.

“Don’t shit around with me, Colonel!” Patrick snapped. “I’m asking you again, what the hell is going on in here?”

“We are having a critique of our first day on the ranges, sir,” Furness replied. “Our discussions sometimes get a little heated.”

“How did the major’s lip get cut?”

“I cut myself shaving, sir,” Rinc replied.

“Is that right?” Patrick walked over to Seaver and looked him in the face. Seaver kept his eyes straight ahead.