9th Bomb Squadron (7th Bomb Wing)
Andersen Air Force Base, Guam
Lt. Colonel Massey stretched luxuriously. The tropical air of Guam was a bit humid but positively balmy by central Texas standards. The ground crew, which had been flown out from Dyess a few days earlier, had swarmed the plane as soon as it landed. Massey and his crew had taken the opportunity to get some shut-eye. The continual operations over the last few weeks had left aircrews worn out to the point where they could sleep almost anywhere.
“Sergeant, how we lookin’?”
“Looking good Colonel. Ready to turn and burn.”
“Glad to hear it. We are on plus fifteen alert.”
“Yeah, the CP called a few hours back to let us know. Do you really think the ChiComs will attack here? This is American soil!”
“Well, considering that we just beat the shit out of one of ‘their’ islands, you have to think it’s possible.”
“Hope you’re wrong about that, sir.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Just then the Giant Voice system blared to life all over the base. “Incoming raid warning. All units, scramble! All units, scramble, scramble, scramble!”
Massey ran for the crew ladder. Shit! I hate being right! “Get that start cart going NOW!”
“Yes sir!! On it!”
Massey ran up the ladder and into the cockpit, the other three members of the crew right behind. Normally, starting up a B-1 was a well-choreographed dance with dozens of checklists. Today it wasn’t going to be like that.
“Clear Left! Starting Number 1!”
“Clear Right!”
“Starting number 3!”
“Mas! Slow the fuck down! I don’t have my switches set!” The co-pilot was frantically throwing switches and ensuring the plane was ready to fly.
“Go faster! Starting 2! Starting 4!”
As the engines wound up, internal power came on and systems came online.
“Talk to me Billy, what do you have?”
“Mas, sat com is out across the board. I have the CP on UHF telling us to get the hell out of dodge.”
“OK. Get the rest of the squadron to form up on us, we are bugging out, right now.”
“Mas, the GPS is out.”
“What? Reset it.”
“No Mas, it’s not getting a signal. No GPS.”
“We are third in line, rolling. Where the fuck are we going?”
“Japan.”
“Tell me you have navigation.”
“On it. Just get this thing in the air.”
Slowly, so slowly, the aircraft that were scattered around the huge base began to move. Smaller tactical aircraft first, then bombers and finally a few tankers. Massey got the bomber onto the runway and gunned the engines. Seconds later the afterburners lit, pushing everyone back in their seats.
Then all hell broke loose. Counter missiles began to fire. Short range Patriot interceptors began to fire off by the dozens. Oh shit, that means they’re close. Massey had a moment to wonder what had happened to the THAAD battery. The thought was interrupted by massive explosions which could be seen for miles as Chinese DF-26 missiles began to impact. Not a hugely accurate missile, it was sufficient to the task. At least a dozen aircraft were caught on the ground and destroyed.
“All aircraft within Guam ADIZ, enemy attack is underway, divert to your primary. Tactical aircraft, tanker plan Zulu is now in effect. Repeat, all aircraft, divert.”
As the B-1 continued to climb, they could see other aircraft desperately seeking altitude. The B-1 had the range to make it to another airfield or reach tanker support coming down from Japan but other smaller aircraft weren’t so lucky. They would have to mate up with surviving tankers, divert to local fields or they would crash into the ocean when they ran out of fuel.
“Raid warning. Raid warning. Four zero vampires inbound Guam. Raid warning, raid warning, four zero vampires inbound Guam. Bearing three one zero, ten minutes current speed.”
“Holy shit Mas, is Guam closed for business?”
“It is today Billy.”