Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 03 (58 page)

           
But he suddenly realized that wasn’t
right. Miller was dead. The voice on the radio didn’t sound American—it sounded
too smooth, too practiced. It had to be Chinese! The Chinese were trying to
coaX the Navy rescue bird into landing. No downed aircrewman would ever do
that—a downed aircrewman’s responsibility was to first get himself located,
then follow instructions from the rescue bird. He was not supposed to issue
orders.

           
Bowman’s radio was set to the Guard
channel. On the PRC-23D radio, there was a four-position rotary dial: full
clockwise, toward the side with the antenna, was Guard, one click
counterclockwise was Off, one more click was Rescue One, and one more was
Rescue Two. With trembling fingers, Bowman depressed the rotary dial and
twisted the knob once to the Off position; then, with a tremendous effort,
twisted the dial to Rescue One and depressed a rubber switch on the side of the
unit. . . .

           
The DF readout on radio number one
was moving slightly south. “Few more miles,” Collins said to his copilot, “and
we can plot out his position ...”

           
Suddenly, radio number two came
alive with a distinctive
Piiinng!
Piiinng! Piiinng! Piiinng!
tone. The DF readout on the second channel
pointed directly east. “I got a tone on Rescue One!” Collins shouted. “Coming from
the area we just left!”

           
“That guy on Guard must be an
eavesdropper,” the copilot said.

           
“I almost fell for it, too. Follow
the DF steer from Rescue One.” Collins switched from Guard channel to Rescue
One. “Bullet on Rescue One, I copy your tone. Give me a tone when we fly
overhead.”

           
They were about sixty seconds on the
new heading toward the east when Collins said, “I think I have something down
there. PJs, stand by.” In the rear of the MV-22 tilt-rotor aircraft were four
pararescue jumpers, or PJs, two sitting on the port and starboard cargo doors,
wearing rappelling gear.

           
Collins tracked the warm spot below
him with the FLIR.

           
Just before the object was directly
beneath them, they heard another series of tones on Rescue One. The copilot
flew past the spot, but Collins continued to track the warm spot and hit a
button on the AN/AYK-14 mission computer, which would store the latitude and
longitude of the spot they flew over.

           
“Bullet, this is Able Zero-Seven,
authenticate Victor-Kilo. Victor-Kilo.” No response. “Bullet, this is Able, I
say again, authenticate Victor-Kilo. Over.”

           
“We’re coming up on bingo fuel,” the
copilot said, “and the Chinese are bound to bring reinforcements. We can’t stay
. . .”

           
“Once more, then we’re outta here,”
Collins said. On Rescue One, he said, “Bullet, I say again . . .”

           
“Bullet. .. authenticates .. . Poppa
Zero ... Poppa-Zero . . .”

           
“He didn’t give the whole response,”
the copilot said.

           
“Close enough for me,” Collins said.

           
“But you don’t know . . .”

           
“I’m taking the chance. I’ve got the
aircraft.” Collins took the controls, gave them a shake to verify transfer of
control, then banked sharply to the left and lined up on the object he was
tracking on the FLIR. When he was pointing at it, he moved a switch on the
power quadrant, which rotated the twin rotor nacelles on the wingtips of the
MV-22 vertically and transformed the Sea Hammer aircraft from an airplane to a
helicopter. He maneuvered the big cargo-plane-tumed- helicopter into a hover,
then translated slightly sideways until he found a clearing beneath the
airplane. On interphone, he said, “PJs, our boy’s off the nose, about thirty
yards. No complete ID, but I don’t see a weapon and he’s alone. Out.”

           
Using their rappelling gear, the PJs
edged off the Sea Hammer and slid to the ground. Unslinging their rifles, they
took a bearing from the MV-22 and proceeded toward the subject. A few cautious
minutes later, they found Bowman.

           
“Able, this is PJ One, I got him.
Looks like one of our boys.” The rescue technician quickly searched Bowman for
hidden explosives or booby traps as the second PJ stood a safe distance away,
guarding the area. “Move in position.” Collins edged the Sea Hammer aircraft
forward, and the crewmen in the cargo hold lowered a rescue hoist with a forest-penetrator
device down to the men on the ground. He unfolded the petal-like seats on the
forest penetrator, lifted Bowman up, and secured him into the seat. Bowman had
enough strength to wrap his arms around the rescue device and do as he was
told.

           
“Samar... Samar. Don’t forget
Samar...” Bowman told the PJ. It was hard to hear over the roar of the MV-22
overhead, but the first PJ caught a snippet of Bowman’s words.

           
“He seems to be saying Sammy
something,” the PJ said on a helmet radio to Collins. “There might be someone
else nearby.”

           
“We don’t have time to search for
anybody else,” Collins’ copilot said. “We’re past bingo already.”

           
Collins was using the FLIR scanner
to search the area around the rescue site. Suddenly he stopped. “I got someone
else,” he said. “Thirty yards to the right. He’s not moving. Check it out.
Hoist Robby on board.” The first PJ on the ground climbed onto another seat on
the forest penetrator, strapped himself on, then pushed Bowman’s head down and
wrapped his arms around him as the cargo hold crew hoisted them up through the
foliage. The second PJ began moving toward the second object, taking directions
from Collins, using the gradually brightening morning skies to find cover until
he was close enough.

           
The crew in the cargo hold of the
MV-22 dragged Bowman inside and wrapped him in a blanket. One PJ shined a
flashlight in his face, then compared the face to a sheet of ID-card
photographs of downed crewmen from the
Saratoga.
“He matches,” the PJ shouted on interphone. “Bowman. Bullet Seven’s pilot.”

           
Collins let out a sigh of relief.
“Dammit, I don’t believe it. We got one. The other guy might be his RIO.”

           
The second PJ on the ground reached
the body. “He looks like a Filipino . . . wait. He’s wearing general’s stars.
No name tag, but he’s got two stars on his collar.”

           
Collins maneuvered closer to his
ground crewman. “General’s stars ... a general? Named Sammy? Sammy . . .
Samar?
Holy shit, that might be General
Samar, the fucking Vice President! Get him on board! Hurry!”

Aboard the USS RANGER, in the
Philippine
Sea

Monday, 3 October 1994, 0600
hours
Manila
time

           
The Philippine national anthem
played in the background. The television transmission showed a sign written in
English, Tagalog, and Chinese, telling the viewer to stand by for an important
message from the Philippine government. After two minutes, the scene dissolved,
to be replaced by the grim face of Second Vice President General Jose Trujiilo
Samar. Most of his hair was burned off, and one eye was swollen shut—he had refused
to wear any bandages, however, because he was afraid his countrymen might not
recognize him, and because he wanted all the world to see what the Chinese
military had done to him. He was wearing his uniform, freshly cleaned and
starched, which hid a tightly wrapped separated shoulder and bums across most
of his upper torso.

           
“My fellow Filipinos and all others
who can hear my voice. I am Jose Samar, Second Vice President of the Republic
of the Philippines. I am speaking to you from a control room aboard the
American aircraft carrier USS
Ranger,
which
is en route to Guam after being viciously attacked by Chinese warplanes three
days ago. This message is being broadcast to you at six o’clock
A.M.
on the third of October, Manila
time, via Philippine TV channels two and three, on the Voice of America, the
British Broadcasting Channel shortwave channel seventeen, and on other
international radio and television channels.

           
“As you can see, I am injured but
alive. I was rescued on the second of October from the island of Mindanao by
American Marines shortly after being attacked and nearly killed by patrols from
the People’s Republic of China. The Chinese patrols killed several of my
militiamen while we were engaged in rescue operations, trying to save the life of
an American Navy pilot shot down by Chinese fighter planes several days ago.

           
“I am speaking to you today to tell
you that, as the governor of the Commonwealth of Mindanao and Second Vice
President of the Republic of the Philippines, that the People’s Republic of
China is engaged in a full-scale military invasion of my country. Do not be
deceived by stories of cooperation with the Philippine government. The Chinese
are believed to have murdered President Arturo Mikaso. Chinese warships have
taken the Commonwealth cities of Puerto Princesa, Zamboanga, Cotabato, and
Cagayan de Oro, and they are preparing to launch an all-out assault on the
Commonwealth of Mindanao capital city of Davao. The Chinese are not liberators,
nor are they assisting any legitimate Philippine government officials. They are
invaders.
They are moving large-scale
military forces into my country with the intent of permanently occupying and
annexing the Philippines. The Chinese invaders have attacked and killed
Philippine citizens and have also attacked unarmed American reconnaissance
planes.

           
“I am hereby urging all nations to
impose economic and political sanctions on the People’s Republic of China for
their illegal invasion, and to do everything in their power to help remove all
Chinese military forces from my country. As Second Vice President and the only
legitimate government leader of the Philippines, I hereby proclaim all
incursions into the Philippines by the People’s Republic of China to be
illegal, and I formally order the People’s Republic of China to remove all
personnel, warships, and aircraft from our territories immediately.

           
“My authority may be challenged by
the Communist government in Manila, led by the murderer Daniel Teguina. Teguina
has called me a traitor and a rebel, but it was he who conspired to assassinate
President Mikaso, allow the Chinese Army to invade the country, and take power
for himself behind the brutal arm of the Red Chinese. His allegations are
unfounded, but only the Supreme Court and the Parliament of the Republic of the
Philippines can decide our guilt or innocence.

           
“But in the Commonwealth of Mindanao
my authority is absolute, and I am still in command despite my injuries. My
militia forces have denied the Chinese complete access to Cotabato Airport, we have
continually routed them from the Cabagan, Davao, and Pulangi river valleys, and
we have prepared a strong defense and a few surprises for them in Davao if they
try to invade us there. This will be the greatest battle in Philippine history
since World War Two. But we cannot hold off the Chinese hordes alone.

           
“I am therefore formally requesting
military and economic assistance from the government of the United States in
helping me to repel the Chinese invaders. I hereby authorize the American
government full overflight, landing rights, and sailing rights into all
Philippine and Commonwealth territories, and hereby grant full authority to
conduct military, security, safety, and other operations in my country. I also
authorize the President of the United States and his designated
representatives, civil and military, to act with full presidential authority in
the Commonwealth of Mindanao, including full authority for all defense matters,
and I order my state militia to obey all orders of the President of the United
States or his theater commanders as if those orders were my own. If I die of my
injuries or am killed by hostile forces, my orders here stated will remain in
force until my state is returned to peace, with all foreign powers removed.

           
“I hope that all loyal Filipinos
hear my words. These are my standing orders to all loyal Filipinos:

           
“All active, reserve, national
guard, inactive reserve, and former militia members under the age of sixty are
ordered to active duty immediately. Report only to a district or city militia
commander; do not report to a federal, National People’s Party, or New People’s
Army official, or to anyone you do not know personally. If it is not possible
to contact a militia commander, attempt to travel to Davao and report to a militia
outpost.

           
“To all other citizens of Mindanao:
Do not report for work. Do not surrender your weapons to anyone under any
circumstances; keep them hidden. Report movements of Chinese or New People’s
Army troops, or anyone you suspect of aiding or informing to the Chinese or
NPA, to a militia member known to you. My militiamen will attempt to contact
all residents of Davao, Samal, Panabo, Santo Tomas, and other towns on the
Davao Gulf and take your women and children out of any known battle areas.