we could help a lot by flying close support with them. Commander Neil said the Thais had lost a lot of their air force already.'
'Close support against what target?' Barnes asked.
'U Feng, for one,' CAG replied. 'We know it's held by rebel forces. The Thais are going to want to take it back, if only to prove they're strong enough to do so. We could fly close air for them, keep those J-7s grounded while they send in their ground forces.'
'We certainly have to provide air support against hostile aircraft,' Admiral Magruder said thoughtfully. 'At least until we know how many MiGs there are at U Feng. I'm concerned, though, that Hsiao might be working for the Chinese. Washington is going to take a dim view of us starting a war with the PRC, especially these days, with all the friendly overtures toward Beijing. Dick? Any suggestions?'
Neil smiled. 'Considering that the Chinese aren't even supposed to be in Thailand or Burma, I'd say we can take any action we feel is justified. If Beijing is in on this mess, they can't very well admit it, can they?'
'Agreed,' the admiral said. 'We'll wait for a definite word on that from Washington, but I tend to believe they'll go along with it. Anything else?'
'We've got the Marines coming in,' Brad Gilmore, Magruder's chief of staff, pointed out. 'We'll rendezvous with MEU-6 later today. They can beef up our position at the American embassy and be on hand to protect Americans in the city.'
'Yeah. They'd be able to help if it turned out we had to evacuate American nationals,' the Exec added.
'Right,' CAG said. 'And if they're having trouble with air, our helicopter assets aboard Chosin and Little Rock could help stretch things, at least until we got the word to move our people. If they need airmobile transport into Bangkok, say, the grunts could provide it.'
Magruder pulled out his notebook again and wrote something in it. 'Good point.' He looked up. 'Anyone else?'
The room was silent. 'Very well. My recommendations to Washington will be as follows.' He looked down at his notebook. 'First, we share intelligence with the That Military staff. In particular, we tell them about Hsiao and Kriangsak and what we've uncovered or guessed about the coup.
'Second, we offer close air support to the Thais, filling in for the losses they've suffered to their air force.' He looked up. 'CAG, start putting together an operational plan for a full alpha strike against U Feng.
Catch those MiGs on the ground and leave nothing but debris for the That army to mop up. Commander Neil will be able to fill you in on what Lieutenant Wayne saw in the way of defenses up there.' Several heads nodded, and there was a scratching of pens on paper as the COs of the carrier's attack squadrons made notes. 'We will also look for ways we can help the Thais against rebel forces in Bangkok and Sattahip.
'Third, we'll coordinate with Admiral Simpson when Chosin and her consorts join us later today. We will recommend landing Marines in Bangkok to provide security for American citizens ashore. We will suggest providing helo transport for loyal That forces.' He looked around the room. 'Does that cover it all?' He waited for a response. There was none. 'Very well. It is now 1110 hours. I want preliminary operational plans on my desk for approval by 1700 hours. That's when I'll pass all of this on to Washington.
Department heads, begin working with your people on the assumption that we'll get a go for an alpha strike… let's have it ready for 0500 tomorrow. I want all available planes armed and ready for launch at that time. I know this means working around the clock, but tell your crews that this is going to be our chance to fight back!' He searched the faces in front of him.
'Where's Commander Murcheson?'
'Here, sir!' A hand went up in the back of the room. Steve Murcheson was the CO for VA-84, the Blue Rangers, one of Jefferson's two A-6 squadrons.
'See me before you start your op plans. I want to talk to you about the mission parameters for a Skipper II strike.' There was a surprised silence.
Then, 'Aye, sir.'
'That's all I have to say. Dismissed.'
Tombstone rose and started for the door. He wanted to find Batman before half the air wing got the same idea.
An alpha strike against U Feng! And a Skipper drop as well. This was going to be one hell of an operation.
It was mid-afternoon when Pamela and Bayerly arrived at U Feng. They were herded off the truck and led to a small shed not far from the fuel storage tanks which were located near the eastern perimeter fence. Lunch was a bowl of rice and assorted bits of meat for them both, more than they'd had to eat in over thirty-six hours.
Pamela noticed that the entire base seemed to be on alert. There were many more soldiers here than there'd been at the rebel camp, and these troops seemed excited, animated, as they talked to one another with gestures and laughter. Through the shed's single small window, she could see the aircraft arrayed underneath the layers of camouflage netting, though she didn't now what kind of planes they were. She also saw something else, a large tracked vehicle of some kind, mounting three large missiles.
She didn't know where they were, couldn't even be sure they were still in Thailand, but the purposeful activity told her this was the heart of Hsiao's plan. So much activity would be impossible to hide from the United States, though. Reconnaissance satellites could be taking pictures of that missile launcher right now.
She wondered what Washington was planning on doing about it.
And in the jungle beyond the U Feng fence, other eyes were noting the activity too, as well as the presence of two white-skinned Westerners.
CHAPTER 22
Tombstone couldn't sleep. Just before midnight he'd gone aloft for some nighttime touch-and-goes on the carrier's flight deck. Every aviator was required to log a certain number of night flybys and traps.
Few enjoyed making deliberate bolters; as one Navy flyer Tombstone had once served with liked to put it, a touch-and-go was like kissing your sister, all the work and risk of setting up the shot, but without the reward of a good, solid trap at the end. For Tombstone, though, the repeated fly-arounds, the drop into the box, the low-speed approach with tailhook raised, the brief jolt as he kissed the deck followed by the full-throttle rush of takeoff were therapeutic. Until that afternoon, he'd not been certain that Jefferson's flight surgeon was going to find him fit for flight duty. The repeated fly-arounds were a way of convincing himself… yes, I'm back!
Afterward, he'd felt too keyed up for sleep, and despite the knowledge that reveille would be sounding early that morning, he made his way down to the VF-97 Ready Room. Chuck 'Slick' Connelly had the Alert Fifteen and was using his time in the ready room to go over his rosters for the next day.
'Hello, Slick.'
VF-97's Executive Officer looked up from the paperwork on his desk.
'Tombstone! How's it hanging'?'
'Fine. Mind if I come in?'
'Grab a chair. Java's hot.'
'Thanks.' Tombstone helped himself to the Ready Room's coffee mess.
Lieutenant Commander Connelly had not been formally named skipper of the War Eagles yet, but as the squadron's XO he'd been running VF-97 since CAG had grounded Bayerly a week before.
'So the Doc gave you a clean bill of health,' Connelly said. 'Glad to hear it.'
'Me too.' He sipped the strong, black coffee to cover what he was feeling. Both he and Batman had nearly been down-checked by Jefferson's senior flight surgeon. Batman because of his three-day bout in the jungle, Tombstone because of what the doctor had termed 'possible psychological trauma.' Tombstone had suffered no serious physical injury, but there was still a very real chance that he'd suffered mental damage, something that
