Post by Ozarks Tom on Sept 8, 2017 19:57:59 GMT
Blackout – Continued
Mexico
- Mike 6 Observation Point
Jose Serna didn’t like the American, oh, he spoke passible Spanish, and treated him with respect, but there was something about the way he carried himself that seemed too much like a cop. If his boss hadn’t ordered him, under threat of dismemberment, he’d have pushed the gringo off the mountain at one of the narrow ledges.
Master Sergeant Hodkins didn’t like the Mexican, besides terrible body odor, rotten breath, and the unmistakable eyes of a murderer, he reminded him of other “allies” in Afghanistan that couldn’t be trusted beyond eyesight. If he hadn’t needed him, he’d have pushed him off the mountain at one of the narrow ledges.
The view from just below the crest of the mountain was perfect, not a cloud in the sky, and the early morning haze had lifted to reveal the busy port four miles distant. Through his long range monocular Hodkins watched as the Chinese continued to come ashore with their tanks and armored personnel carriers. He had to hand it to the Chinks, they’d brought everything they needed to build their own port. From massive gantry cranes for unloading tanks and self- propelled artillery, to reinforced wharfs capable of handling the weight. In Hodkins estimation, in another couple days they’d have enough armor on the ground to move out at least two divisions.
It was the third day huddled into the crevices, and Hodkins had seen the pattern by the second day. What had to be high ranking officers made daily, and many times several trips from the troop encampments to a resort hotel overlooking the bay. They’d arrive at 9 am, and usually leave around noon. Some to return to their troops, others to the docks. That hotel just had to be where the big boys were.
It was 10:30 am when Hodkins picked up the mic of his UHF radio, clicked the transmit button, and calmly said “Bird One, Bird One, this is Mike 6, target confirmed, over.” A half minute later he heard “Mike 6 this is Bird One, roger, out.”
Waiting was the hard part now, if he was right, they’d put a big vacuum in the Chinese chain of command, if he was wrong, well, he didn’t want to think about that.
Over the Mexican Desert
Colonel Jarvis didn’t show the stress, but felt plenty of it. He’d flown in both Gulf wars, Bosnia, and Afghanistan, but now his multi-million dollar airplane wasn’t any more accurate than if he was flying a B-29 in WWII. His B-2 bomber had ground following controls, but without GPS, smart bombs became dumb bombs. The Air Force did away with bomb sights when they were able to program coordinates into the bombs themselves, but without GPS satellites every bomb now was a “dumb” one. On this run he was strictly going in low enough to run the bombs through the target by releasing at an altitude that could blow the tail off his plane if he missed. Flying at 60 feet above the desert, then jumping over ridges, he came to the mountain range next to the coast. His plane automatically gained altitude, then dove back down towards the bay. In his earphones his navigator said “should be right ahead sir.” It wasn’t. Banking hard right, he straightened onto the hotel tower, the tallest building on the bay. Flying at just over 200 feet, at a half mile from the target he ordered “bombs away,” letting loose 4 five thousand pound bombs on a direct line with the tower.
The Chinese, understanding their vulnerability to air strikes had set up their ground to air missiles upon arriving, but there’s no defending against such low level attacks. Banking hard left Jarvis and crew barely climbed back over the mountain ridges, looking back he saw his second plane making its run towards the already slowly crumbling ruin. He quickly keyed his mic and told his wingman “drop towards the docks, the tower is history.” Switching to intercom, he announced to his crew “I don’t know if we killed a bunch of Chinese, but we sure blew the hell out of a hotel.”
The Mountain
Msgt Hodkins watched as the planes topped the ridge and dove towards the target, their appearance nearly as surprising to them as to the Chinese radar men. Even knowing they were coming didn’t lessen the shock of seeing them maneuver so close and low. Seeing three of the four bombs from the first plane hit squarely on target, then the second wipe out the new wharf with its cranes and equipment, he felt for the first time in a long time there might be a chance. Even Jose was excited, slapping Hodkins on the back like a compadre. Hodkins took pictures with his telephoto lens, then announced vamanos, let’s get going. The deceptively decrepit looking Chevy at the base of the mountain had a long drive ahead.
Mexico
- Mike 6 Observation Point
Jose Serna didn’t like the American, oh, he spoke passible Spanish, and treated him with respect, but there was something about the way he carried himself that seemed too much like a cop. If his boss hadn’t ordered him, under threat of dismemberment, he’d have pushed the gringo off the mountain at one of the narrow ledges.
Master Sergeant Hodkins didn’t like the Mexican, besides terrible body odor, rotten breath, and the unmistakable eyes of a murderer, he reminded him of other “allies” in Afghanistan that couldn’t be trusted beyond eyesight. If he hadn’t needed him, he’d have pushed him off the mountain at one of the narrow ledges.
The view from just below the crest of the mountain was perfect, not a cloud in the sky, and the early morning haze had lifted to reveal the busy port four miles distant. Through his long range monocular Hodkins watched as the Chinese continued to come ashore with their tanks and armored personnel carriers. He had to hand it to the Chinks, they’d brought everything they needed to build their own port. From massive gantry cranes for unloading tanks and self- propelled artillery, to reinforced wharfs capable of handling the weight. In Hodkins estimation, in another couple days they’d have enough armor on the ground to move out at least two divisions.
It was the third day huddled into the crevices, and Hodkins had seen the pattern by the second day. What had to be high ranking officers made daily, and many times several trips from the troop encampments to a resort hotel overlooking the bay. They’d arrive at 9 am, and usually leave around noon. Some to return to their troops, others to the docks. That hotel just had to be where the big boys were.
It was 10:30 am when Hodkins picked up the mic of his UHF radio, clicked the transmit button, and calmly said “Bird One, Bird One, this is Mike 6, target confirmed, over.” A half minute later he heard “Mike 6 this is Bird One, roger, out.”
Waiting was the hard part now, if he was right, they’d put a big vacuum in the Chinese chain of command, if he was wrong, well, he didn’t want to think about that.
Over the Mexican Desert
Colonel Jarvis didn’t show the stress, but felt plenty of it. He’d flown in both Gulf wars, Bosnia, and Afghanistan, but now his multi-million dollar airplane wasn’t any more accurate than if he was flying a B-29 in WWII. His B-2 bomber had ground following controls, but without GPS, smart bombs became dumb bombs. The Air Force did away with bomb sights when they were able to program coordinates into the bombs themselves, but without GPS satellites every bomb now was a “dumb” one. On this run he was strictly going in low enough to run the bombs through the target by releasing at an altitude that could blow the tail off his plane if he missed. Flying at 60 feet above the desert, then jumping over ridges, he came to the mountain range next to the coast. His plane automatically gained altitude, then dove back down towards the bay. In his earphones his navigator said “should be right ahead sir.” It wasn’t. Banking hard right, he straightened onto the hotel tower, the tallest building on the bay. Flying at just over 200 feet, at a half mile from the target he ordered “bombs away,” letting loose 4 five thousand pound bombs on a direct line with the tower.
The Chinese, understanding their vulnerability to air strikes had set up their ground to air missiles upon arriving, but there’s no defending against such low level attacks. Banking hard left Jarvis and crew barely climbed back over the mountain ridges, looking back he saw his second plane making its run towards the already slowly crumbling ruin. He quickly keyed his mic and told his wingman “drop towards the docks, the tower is history.” Switching to intercom, he announced to his crew “I don’t know if we killed a bunch of Chinese, but we sure blew the hell out of a hotel.”
The Mountain
Msgt Hodkins watched as the planes topped the ridge and dove towards the target, their appearance nearly as surprising to them as to the Chinese radar men. Even knowing they were coming didn’t lessen the shock of seeing them maneuver so close and low. Seeing three of the four bombs from the first plane hit squarely on target, then the second wipe out the new wharf with its cranes and equipment, he felt for the first time in a long time there might be a chance. Even Jose was excited, slapping Hodkins on the back like a compadre. Hodkins took pictures with his telephoto lens, then announced vamanos, let’s get going. The deceptively decrepit looking Chevy at the base of the mountain had a long drive ahead.
