Mack Maloney - Wingman 04, page 29
With each pop! of the gun, Yaz, Shane and the others found their nerves causing them to jump up-quite involuntarily. They all were frustrated. They were trained soldiers. They could put an end to these brutal executions. True, it would be a temporary end and the retributions that followed would be even harsher. But it was hard to sit with that logic as one brave civilian after another was summarily shot in the head.
It was the fifth man who really got to them. Just a 394
second before the gun was put to his temple, he cried out: “God bless America!” Then the trigger was pulled and he crumpled to the ground, a long stream of blood spurting from his head.
“That does it for me …” Shane said suddenly. He was instantly back on the radio, sending another urgent message to Boiling. He talked directly to Hunter, who had just returned from his wild chopper ride. The Wingman coolly listened to Shane’s predicament, got his exact location, then signed off by saying: “Help is on the way.”
Shane quickly told the others.
“This is the choice,” he whispered. “We step in now. Stop this bloodshed. But we all know they’ll eventually get us and we know what they’ll do to us.”
Another shot rang out, muffling the cries of another civilian victim.
“I’m in …” one of the Rangers said.
“Me, too …” came two more replies. Then two more, and two more.
Soon, all of the Rangers were committed. Shane turned to Yaz. “You back out,”
he told him. “This is our job, not yours. You’ll be more valuable here, when we’re … gone and when the reinforcements arrive.”
“No way,” Yaz said firmly. “I’m with you whether you like it or not.”
Shane smiled and clasped his hand. “Way to go, Navy,” he said.
Two more civilians were shot while they quickly devised a plan. Then they went into action …
The Circle officer had turned over the grisly duty of shooting the innocent people to his subordinates and now he was standing calmly by a tree as the tenth victim of the 45 condemned men was about to die.
Suddenly the officer felt an odd, cool feeling in his 395
stomach. He looking down to see a small knife was sticking into his mid-section just above his belt buckle.
“What the fuck …“he muttered in astonishment. But that was all he could say. The knife was treated with an instant-acting poison. He felt a swell of fluid travel up his windpipe and into his mouth. He coughed out a spew of blood then keeled over and died.
Three more Circle onlookers quickly met the same fate, victims of dartguns carried as standard equipment by the Rangers. Seeing their comrades falling around them, the other Circle soldiers stopped the executions and looked around in panic, searching for an explanation.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers went wild and began spraying the crowd with gunfire. Shane was nearest to the man and he hit him hard with a running block. In an instant, the Rangers materialized out of the crowd and began disposing of the Circle soldiers in the immediate area, taking up their guns and shooting those that were too far away to be dispatched by a knife.
“Get down!” Shane was yelling at the civilians. “We’re friends! Get down!”
Many people scrambled for safety or just lay unmoving on the ground. Some cheered. Some were crying.
Within a half minute a full fledged firefight had erupted. All of the Rangers now had guns and they were firing at Circle soldiers hurrying to the scene.
The American soldiers formed a loose circle of protective fire and shot at any black Circle uniform they saw. The Circle soldiers unleashed a fusillade of machine-gun fire back at the ring of Americans, cutting down two or three with each volley.
Yaz was right in the thick of it, firing a captured M-16 with all the intensity of a man who knew he was soon to be killed.
This is it, he thought to himself. This is what it’s like 396
to die for your country …
Suddenly, it was over. All the shooting stopped. It was as if the 22 surviving Rangers had all run out of ammunition at once.
The Circle soldiers, now some 200 strong, tightened the ring around the UA undercover men. The Circle officer now in charge walked up to Shane.
“You are spies!” he screamed at him.
Shane looked the man directly in the eye and said: “We are Americans.”
The officer turned red with anger. “Shoot them!” he commanded his troops.
“Shoot all of them, then shoot everyone in this park. This will be a lesson to everyone else.”
Like the civilians before them, the 22 Rangers were herded over to the nearby wall. Yaz could see the splats of blood against the concrete from the first set of executions.
“You are all fools,” the officer said to them as they were prodded into a long grim Jine. “Your country is dead.”
What happened next went by so quickly, Yaz thought he was dreaming.
A man-ordinary-looking, in his early fifties-suddenly appeared next to the officer. And with one mighty swing, he caved in the Circle commander’s face with a baseball bat.
In a matter of seconds, the area was swarming with men-ordinary citizens-wielding baseball bats and slugging every Circle soldier in sight.
Yaz was astonished. He quickly turned back toward the fire piles and saw that there was a rush of people near the huge tower of baseball bats. Ordinary citizens were grabbing the sluggers and heading for the nearest Circle soldier.
“I can’t believe this …” Yaz said.
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“lean …“Shane replied. “Now let’s help them… Rangers! Let’s go!”
The next thing Yaz knew he was running. Running through the crowd of citizens, hopping over the clumped battered and bleeding bodies of the Circle guards. It was a full scale riot in a matter of 30 seconds-as if all the pent-up frustrations of all the citizens had suddenly burst forth in a volcano of defiance.
Yaz picked up an AK-47 and drilled two Circle guards who were attempting to flee the park area. Then he was running again, heading for a M-60 tank nearby.
Already it was swarming with civilians, some being shot off, but others managing to club and subdue the crew members.
“We’re soldiers!” Shane was yelling. “Let us take the tank …”
The civilians allowed Shane and three of the Rangers to get inside the tank.
Yaz found himself on top, manning the M-60’s machine-gun.
“Jesus Christ!” he thought as he saw more civilians arming themselves with the bats-hundreds of them.
But even as he felt the jolts of pride run through him he saw not hundreds but thousands of Circle troops closing in on them from all directions.
Suddenly, Yaz knew how Custer must have felt…
Shane himself was working the tank’s big gun and his first shot hit an on-rushing Circle APC head-on. Gunfire crackled all around Yaz as he tried to pick out Circle targets-soldiers, officers, vehicles-and open up with the tank’s big 50-caliber MG.
But the more he fired, the more Circle soldiers seemed to appear. They were coming at them from all directions. Some stayed back and simply fired their weapons into the park, others were ordered to wade in and do battle with the raging bat-wielding civilians. They were outnumbered, outgunned and they knew 398
it-but that didn’t stop them from fighting.
Just then, Yaz heard two sounds. One was a high-pitched scream, the other a dull, thunderous roar. He looked up and saw first one, then two, then a half dozen large airplanes flying overhead. White puffs were flying out of their rear ends.
“Good God,” he whispered. “Paratroopers …”
He reached down and literally dragged Shane up through the turret. Unable to speak in the excitement, he simply pointed up. Shane shaded his eyes, and then he too saw the descending chutists.
“Jesus, they’re dropping the PAAC Airborne right on top of all this!” he said, as both of them ducked a stream of bullets that went whizzing by. “This has got to be Hunter’s idea …”
His thought was confirmed when the high-pitched sound grew louder and louder.
“Look!” one of the other Rangers cried out over the cacophony of shouting and gunfire. He was pointing to the southeast. Yaz twirled around just in time to see the arrowhead shaped airplane screech overhead just behind him …
“It’s him!” Yaz heard himself yelling.
Shane slipped back down into the tank and prepared to fire the next shot.
“The party’s just beginning!” he yelled back up to Yaz.
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CHAPTER 72
Few people had seen the massive C-5 streak high over the city just 30 minutes before. But in the hold of the big cargo plane turned gunship was Hunter’s Cranked Arrow F-16. No sooner had he landed from his helicopter flag display and talked to Shane about the deteriorating situation, than he was strapped into the already-armed up F-16XL and streaking off toward the growing battle over in DC.
But Hunter had arrived over a very confusing situation …
The civilian uprising was spreading out from Lafayette Park, past the White House grounds and into the Elipse. The flow of the crowds were punctuated by the flash of the Circle’s heavy weapons being used against the brave citizens.
Everywhere he could see explosions going off. Fires, smoke, muzzle flashes . .
.
Descending into the midst of this was the PAAC Airborne Battalion, many of them firing their weapons even before they hit the ground. The original plans to march the paratroopers over to the scene had
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been quickly scrapped following the second call from Shane. Both Hunter and Jones knew the civilians would be massacred by the Circle troops if something was not done. The flames of the civilian uprising had been lit by Hunter’s fly-by with the flag. Now the men of the United American Army had to support the civilians no matter what the costs. So after a quick conference with Dozer and the other paratroop commanders, a vote was taken on whether to drop the chutists right into the fray.
It was unanimous …
Now Hunter was prowling the skies right above the ever-widening battle, looking for two things: first of all, targets of opportunity that he could blast away with the dozen Maverick laser-guided bombs under his cranked wings.
But secondly, he was on the lookout for the mysterious gold APC …
Dozer led the first contingent of paratroopers to land. He immediately set up a radio and command post right in the center of Lafayette Park.
“Hey Hawk, this looks like one big barroom brawl!” Dozer yelled up to him over the radio link. There were hundreds of small fights going on all around him.
Civilians battering Circle soldiers with bats and fists, the soldiers firing back wildly at any- -thing that moved.
“Well, I’m glad you’re in your element,” Hunter replied, flying directly over the park. “Let’s see if I can do some street-sweeping.”
That’s when he went to work.
The uprising had now spilled out onto the blocks adjacent to Lafayette Park.
Alerted to the trouble, a large column of Circle armored vehicles was making its way down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the site of 401
the fighting. If they were successful in reaching the park, the citizens’
uprising-and the paratroopers support for it-would be over before it started.
“Looks like someone wants to crash this party,” Dozer radioed Hunter as he spotted the advancing column through the smoke and gunpowder haze.
“I see them,” Hunter replied, flipping the F-16XL over and going into a vertical translation.
Within seconds, he had the F-16XL down to treetop level and racing dead center above Pennsylvania. He quickly flipped a series of switches, then took a deep breath and fired his first Maverick weapon. He felt the corresponding jolt as the missile, guided by a special-dual sighting laser device in the jet’s nose, ran its course unerringly to the lead tank. It impacted on the M-60’s turret with a tremendous booming explosion. The tank’s gun came twisting off as the tracked vehicle was lifted some six feet in the air. When the wreckage came down, it formed an immediate roadblock in the already-litter-strewn street.
“Just as advertised …” Hunter mused as he looped the jet over and lined up on the now stalled column. As the terrified Circle soldiers dove for cover, Hunter opened up with his Vulcan Six-Pack, riddling two APCs and another tank with the heavy caliber, armor piercing shells. Another loop and another strafing run racked up two more tanks and an armored truck. He put the jet into another 360 and came back for a third time, blasting an additional APC
and two troop trucks. By his fourth pass, the surviving enemy commanders had had enough, quickly jamming their vehicles into reverse and beating a hasty retreat.
Hunter yanked back on the control stick and punched into his mike button.
“I think we’ve rained sufficiently on that parade,”
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he told Dozer.
Just then he got a call from the flight commander of the last three paratroop-laden C-141s heading toward the battle area.
“We’re getting a threat warning near our drop zone,” the pilot told Hunter.
“Could you do us the favor?”
Hunter acknowledged the call and immediately did a shallow loop which leveled him off just above the Elipse. He saw a few squads of Circle soldiers attempting to set up a SAM unit just off Constitution Avenue, their intended targets being the approaching C-141s that had just taken off and were flying very low. Two Mavericks later, the SAM site was reduced to a heap of smoldering metal and all its operators blasted into cinders.
Now, as he streaked low over the Washington Monument, he recognized a new threat-a large contingent of Circle troops was withdrawing in toward the tower of books. He saw several gasoline trucks also moving in that direction.
He immediately punched in his radio microphone button. “Ground commander, this is F-16, come in …” he called to Dozer, somewhere on the ground.
“I read you, Hawk,” Dozer called back.
Hunter adjusted his radio tuner slightly. “What’s your position now, Bull?”
There was a nasty burst of static, then Dozer came back on the line. “We’re moving out of the park,” the Marine captain reported, his transmission punctuated by the sound of gunfire in the background. “We’ve linked up with Shane and Yaz and the boys. TheyVe even got a couple of tanks waiting for us.
we’ve covered them with white shirts and things so you’ll know who the good guys are …”
Hunter came in low right over the park. “I see your 403
vehicles,” he reported. “But it looks pretty wild down there. What’s your situation?”
Another burst of static jumped from the radio. “Things are getting very crazy here,” Dozer shouted back. “We’re trying to get the civvies organized, but a lot of them are taking off at anything that faintly resembles a Circle soldier.”
“Well, we’ve got a problem over at the Monument,” Hunter told him. “It looks like we might have a bunch of firebugs heading for the book tower …”
“I’m not surprised to hear that,” Dozer yelled back, his voice almost drowned out by the sounds of the ground combat. “Some Circle bastards already lit the piles of stuff closest to us. We’ve stopped some of the fires, but not all of them. That black smoke you see down here is about ten thousand tennis rackets going up!”
Hunter shrugged off that report. He hated tennis.
“Do you think they’re going to torch the books now?” Dozer asked him.
Hunter came in low over the book tower, temporarily scattering the Circle troops in the area. “I would say that’s affirmative,” he told Dozer. “They’re moving up their gasoline trucks …”
“Well, we’d better break out of here and get the hell over there,” Dozer called back. “Can you run some interference?”
“Follow me …” Hunter replied.
By this time, the fighting had spread all throughout the parks near the long reflecting pool up to the Lincoln Memorial. The civilian bands, some of them taking on the recently arrived paratroopers as their leaders, were locked in vicious hand-to-hand combat with the startled, disorganized Circle defenders.
Some of the civilians had liberated the pile of hockey sticks that were ready to be burned and were swinging
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them with even more wild abandon than their bat-wielding compadres. Some golf clubs too were being used as weapons-the putters and short irons proved most effective-but a Circle Army squad had managed to torch the largest piles of clubs and they were now raging away.
Some of the civilians had taken to putting on jerseys from the pile of sports uniforms. Others were utilizing the headgear found in the unburned piles of football and baseball helmets. Still many of the civilians were being ruthlessly gunned down by the Circle / soldiers. But when they caught a disproportionate number of the enemy, the civilians were in turn killing their former captors, picking up their weapons and moving on.
Hunter flew low over one such civilian group-some 200 strong-who had commandeered several Circle trucks and were now moving on several enemy machine gun nests located in the old Executive Office Building right next to the White House. This group was paving the way for Dozer’s larger force which was trying to battle its way toward the book tower. Hunter sighted the target, switched one of his Mavericks to “hot” and let the missile fly. The resulting explosion took out the enemy gun-along with half the front of the old building.
“Goddamn, those Mavs are powerful,” Hunter said, shaking his head in amazement.
Just then, he received an urgent call from Jones back at Boiling.
“Hawk, we’ve just intercepted a message from the Circle high command,” the general told him.
“Let’s have it,” Hunter replied.
“They’re up to their old tricks, Hawk,” Jones told him. “Tactical Defense, again. They’ve ordered the bulk of their forces to withdraw up toward Silver 405
Springs in Maryland. They’re heading toward Baltimore, I would guess …”
