what he thought. "I urge you in the strongest terms to rec-
ommend to the NCA and the Joint Chiefs to abandon the nu-
clear generation and adopt this non-nuclear attack strategy my I
I
staff and I have drawn up. More lives and more.time will be
wasted if you don't."
The Battle Staff Room was quiet, deathly quiet. Danforth
sat motionless, a finger on his lips, expressionless. After a few
long moments, he sat up and waved to Samson with the back
of his hand. "Thank you, General Samson," Danforth said.
"That will be all."
11 Yes, sir." Samson picked up his papers, left the podium,
and headed back to his seat in the Battle Staff Room.
"I said, that will be all, General," Danforth repeated. Sam-
son stopped, confused. "What I mean, General," Danforth
said angrily, "is that you are relieved of duty."
"What!" Samson exclaimed; then, quickly regaining his
composure, he asked, "I beg your pardon, Admiral?"
"You have failed to carry out your orders to generate the
bomber fleet to wartime readiness as directed by the National
Command Authority and this command; instead, you have
wasted our time by advocating a posture that runs completely
counter to orders that originate from the commander in chief
himself," Danforth said. "Further, you don't seem to have any
desire to follow my orders, and you have insulted and dis-
graced your fellow commanders in this room by your flagrant
disregard for your superior officers and their lawful directives.
You are relieved of command of CTF Three and are ordered
to report back to Barksdale Air Force Base immediately to
await further disciplinary action. Have your deputy report to
me ASAP. Get out of my command center."
Stunned, Terrill Samson turned and headed for the door. He
had to wait several long moments for the safelike blast door
to be opened by security guards, and he could feel the stares
of his colleagues on the back of his head-it was a very un-
comfortable period of time until he could be escorted out. He
had been fired. For the first time in his long and distinguished
military career, he had been fired. Even worse, his command-
FATAL TER RAI N 341
ing officer had said he had "failed--and that was the worst
slap in the face of all.
ANDERSEN AIR FORCE BASE HOSPITAL, GUAM
SUNDAY, 22 JUNE 1997, 0745 HOURS LOCAL
(SATURDAY, 21 JUNE, 1845 HOURS ET)
It was no great surprise when Patrick McLanahan entered Brad
Elliott's hospital room fifteen minutes before official visiting
hours began and found his friend and former commanding
officer on the phone. He looked a little embarrassed when he
saw McLanahan's disapproval. "Get back to me on that right
away," he told his caller, his voice slightly nasal from the
oxygen cannula. "Don't worry about the time-call me back
as soon as you get the info." He hung up.
"You're obviously doing much better, Brad," Patrick said
disapprovingly. "The nurses said you ordered the phone
turned on ten minutes after you woke up last night."
"Don't start nagging me," Elliott said with a scowl. "I'm
feeling just fine."
"You need rest, Brad, not more work," Patrick said. "You
have a secretary and a staff back in Eaker, remember that.
Have them take some of the jobs you want done. Or just call
me or Wendy-she'll do whatever you want done."
I 'Okay. I I
Obviously, he hadn't heard a word Patrick said. He gave
him a knowing, sarcastic smile and added, "The nurse said
you're doing good. The clot-busting medication is working-
no surgery, not even angioplasty. But she said you're up at all
hours of the day and night making phone calls and watching
the news on TV. This has got to stop or you'll never heal."
"All right, all right, I will," Elliott said.
"What are you up to, anyway, Brad?"
"I'm trying to get hold of Samson and Vic Hayes, see what
in hell the fleet is doing." He nodded toward the two TV sets
installed in his room, one tuned to CNN and the other to the
Armed Forces News Service, which broadcast news and di-
rectives to all military units worldwide. "The news said Tai-
wan attacked the mainland, but then all hell seemed to break
342 DALE BROWN
loose and there hasn't been a damn thing since. What do you
got?"
"The attack's been verified," Patrick responded. "The Chi-
nese got it on video again and showed it on several interna-
tional news networks-Taiwanese F-16 Falcons, bombing and
strafing the shit out of Juidongshan Naval Base. Successful hit,
from what the news said. Maybe a couple subs, headquarters
building, a POL farm, air defense sites. They report lots of
casualties, but we haven't seen any on TV."
"Shit hot," Elliott exclaimed happily. "The ROCs have the
right idea. Now I just wish we'd get into the game." He no-
ticed Patrick's downcast expression. "You heard something
else? What?"
"There was another ROC attack last night on the amphib-
ious attack staging bases near Xiamen," McLanahan replied.
"Much larger strike package-perhaps the remainder of Tai-
wan's F-16 fleet."
Great! I didn't hear anything about it in the news. They
kick ass too?"
"Not exactly," Patrick said. "Satellite radiation sensors in-
dicate the attack formations were hit by surface-to-air missiles
with nuclear warheads. Five detonations were detected, all in
the twenty- to fifty-kiloton range, about twenty miles east of
Xiamen over Quemoy Island. No survivors."
"What!" Elliott exploded. "The Chinese used SAMS with
nuclear warheads?"
'Fraid so," McLanahan said. "No statement yet from the
Chinese government."
"They'll probably say that the Taiwanese fighters were
carrying nuclear weapons and they accidentally went off," El-
liott said disgustedly. "If that doesn't work, they'll admit that
their SAMS had nuclear warheads on them but they were pro-
voked into using nuclear weapons because a thousand crazed
Taiwanese attack planes were bearing down on them, assisted
by an American stealth bomber, or some crap like that. The
damned thing is, the world press will believe them." Elliott
fell silent for a moment; then: "I wonder what in hell Samson
and the Chiefs are doing now? We should at least be lining
up some strikes against Chinese ICBM or medium-range bal-
listic missile sites, especially the nuclear sites."
"Might be too late," McLanahan said. "China retaliated
against the Taiwan attack-they attacked with nuclear-armed
FATAL T ERR AI N 343
air-launched cruise missiles and medium-range ballistic MIS-
siles. Taiwan got blasted all to hell. They're not a smoking
hole in the Pacific, but their big air bases got creamed."
"I don't believe it!" Elliott exclaimed. A cold chill ran up
and down his spine. He remembered the nuclear scares of the
ast thirty year
s, but it had never come to an all-out nuclear
exchange ... until now. "No wonder I can't get anything out
of anybody. What else, Muck? What else happened?"
"Looks like someone popped off a couple ballistic missiles
over North and South Korea," McLanahan went on. "Wonsan
in the North got hit. "
"With a goddamn nuke?"
"Yep," McLanahan said. "Looks like we're one radio call
from starting a new war in Korea-and this one might go
nuclear or biochemical right away."
"Oh, shit, this is incredible!" Elliott cursed. "We've got to
get in the ball game, Muck! We've got to talk with Hayes or
Samson. All I see is this stuff on the news about ballistic
missile subs put out to sea-I haven't heard squat about the
bombers."
"Samson put them on alert," Patrick said.
"Well, no shit," Elliott said. "But why in hell hasn't he
deployed them here?"
"They're on SIOP ground alert, Brad," Patrick replied.
"Samson's not at Barksdale-the President ordered STRAT-
COM to stand up the Combined Task Forces. Samson's at
Offutt.
"SIOP alert? What beanbrain activated the SIOPT' Elliott
thundered. "The Chinese know we're not going to use nuclear
weapons on anyone, especially not a third world country like
the People's Republic of China! We should have launched
non-nuclear strikes against the Chinese sub and missile bases
by now, knocked out their nuclear warfighting capability. The
bombers should have been over their targets hours ago. We
don't need nukes to send the Chinese to the bargaining table.
What in hell is Earthmover doing at Offutt, anyway? We could
have this thing over with by now."
"Brad, relax," Patrick said.."Things are quiet right now.
Everybody's backed off to neutral comers."
"Oh, sure-after they nuke Taiwan into another dimen-
sion!" Elliott retorted. "How long do you think that'll last?
Not long-probably just long enough for everybody to load
344 DALE BROWN
up their artillery shells and gravity bombs with nuclear or
chemical warheads.
"I'll call Samson at Offutt and get him to stop with the
nukes, put conventional cruise missiles on the bombers, and
start laying down the law to the Chinese before someone starts
another nuclear exchange. With the Megafortresses already
here, we can take care of the radar sites and long-range stra-
tegic defenses, if Balboa or Allen haven't already sent the EA-
6 Prowlers in." 'Me EA-6 Prowlers were the combined Navy
and Air Force medium-range and carrier-based anti-radar
planes, able to jam and attack enemy radar and air defense
sites. "Maybe I can get some charts and draw up a flight plan
so you can have it in the computers ready to go in case we
get the word to-"
"We're grounded, if you remember, Brad," Patrick said.
"We've been doing nothing but getting the damaged bird
ready to go and packing up all our equipment before the Navy
or the federal marshals seize it. We'll be ready to depart in a
couple days."
"No one is going to seize anything, Muck," Elliott said.
"Balboa was just blowing gas."
"They've got marshals surrounding the hangars and our
headquarters, backed up by Navy SPs,- Wendy McLanahan
said, as she entered the room just then. She gave Elliott a
welcoming kiss. "Nice to see you up and around ... but the
nurse says-"
"Who said you two could talk to my blabberinouth nurse,
anywayT I
"Never mind that-you need the rest, not more work,"
Wendy admonished him.
"What about the Megafortresses?"
"Balboa's for real, Brad," Patrick said. "We'd probably
have been flown back to Washington to appear in federal court
already, except for the Independence disaster-air traffic has
been shut down completely over the Pacific."
Elliott sighed wearily, looking as if all the moisture had
been sucked out of his body. Stuck in bed, grounded, facing
legal action, and having his prized Megafortresses shut down
and one step out of the Boneyard was almost too much for
him to handle. He had been calling everyone he knew back in
the States, gathering information, asking for favors, trying to
find some avenue he could pursue to get the chairman of the
FATAL TERRAIN 345
Joint Chiefs of Staff off his back and get the Megafortresses
flying again, but no one returned his calls. With this hew dis-
aster in the Pacific, George Balboa had all the power and in-
fluence now. "Dammit, I need to talk with Samson soonest."
"I brought bad news, then," Wendy McLanahan said.
"Terrill Samson called from Offutt. He's been relieved of duty
as commander of Combined Task Force Three."
"Oh, shit," Patrick exclaimed. "How did that happen?"
"One word-CINCSTRATCOM. Henry Danforth," Elliott
said. "He's a younger but stupider clone of George Balboa.
He doesn't know how to handle the heavy bomber fleet and
doesn't trust Samson or anyone else to run the fleet for him,
because he's afraid the Air Force would kick ass and over-
shadow the carriers and Navy air."
leasing some of the B- Is and B-2s for conventional missions,
Wendy said. "I guess the argument got too personal."
"He probably asked for Major-General Collier to replace
him, Samson's vice at Barksdale," Elliott guessed. "Collier's
a good guy, but he hasn't run a wing in almost ten years.
Samson's the bomber guy. I think we're aced out completely."
"At least Earthmover was in there trying to get STRAT-
COM steered in the right direction," Patrick McLanahan said.
"The bombers don't belong in the nuclear mission now-
probably not ever-If the shit really hits the fan and we have
to go nuclear, the subs and ICBMs are the best weapons
then-we should be using the bombers for non-nuclear strikes
deep into China. But with the B-52s retired and the B-Is and
B-2s stuck on nuclear alert, there's no long-range aircraft to
be used for non-nuclear strikes."
"So we're out of it," Elliott summarized with an exasper-
ated sigh. "We busted our nuts and risked our necks out here
for nothing. Man, what else could go wrong today?"
Just then, a gentleman with a dark suit and tie--definitely
the last outfit one would expect to see on the tropical island
of Guam in late June-walked into Elliott's room. "Mr. and
Mrs. McLanahan? General Elliott?"
"Wrong room," Elliott said immediately. "Get out."
"I'm McLanahan," Patrick said.
The man immediately placed an envelope into his hands,
then walked over. and did the same to Wendy and Brad Elliott.
"Order to appear," the man said.
346 DALE BROWN
1
"What in hell is this?"
"Federal court in Washington, five days from now," the
guy said. "Have a nice evening." He walked out.
"Balboa's for real, all right," Patrick McLanahan said as
he opened the summons. "The list of charges against us is two
friggin' pages long."
"I'll get these over to the Sky Masters attorneys and get the
paperwork started on this," Wendy said, taking the summons
and giving Elliott a kiss on the cheek and her husband a kiss
on the lips. "Don't you boys worry about this. Brad, get some
sleep, please."
"I will, babe," Elliott said, giving her a reassuring smile.
She left McLanahan and Elliott alone. The ex-three-star gen-
eral nodded toward the door. "Shit. I always thought I'd buy
the farm in the cockpit of a B-52 after just saving the world
from thermonuclear meltdown. Instead, I'll go down in a fuck-
ing federal courtroom with a bunch of lawyers sucking my
guts out through my ass with a straw."
"I know how you feel, Brad," McLanahan said. He took a
chair beside his fhend's bed, folded his hands on his knees,
and stared at the floor, looking as if he were at confession or
praying. "I'm sorry about what I said the other day,
Brad......
"Forget it, Muck."
"I'm serious. I'm really sorry." He paused, then went on
in a quiet voice. "You know, all I wanted to do was fly. All
I ever wanted to be was a flyer. Jon Masters is great, and he's
fun and exciting to work with, -and the money is great, and
it's good to be working with Wendy in a low-stress environ-
ment, but the truth is, I don't want to be a corporate executive
weenie. Wendy likes that stuff, but I'm strangling to death.
Jon fixates on the bottom line, the profits and the publicity and
the prestige he gets when he goes for another big defense
contract. I don't look at it that way."
"I know you don't," Elliott said with a satisfied smile. "I
know you, Patrick. Ever since the day I first met you, I was
inside your head. I had you pegged." He chuckled as he re-
membered the day, so long ago and so far away. "You with
your flight suit unzipped, no scarf, your boots looking like you
polished them with a Brillo pad. You'd just won your second
Fairchild Trophy. You were hell on wheels, the hottest hand
in the Air Force, Top Bomb. Any other crewdog would have