tc.redstormrising-第49部分

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〃Fighter　weather；〃　agreed　Lieutenant　Colonel　Bill　Jeffers；　mander　of　the　57th　Fighter　Interceptor　squadron；　the　〃Black　Knights；〃　most　of　whose　F…15　Eagle　interceptors　were　sitting　in　the　open　a　bare　hundred　yards　away。　The　pilots　were　in　those　fighters；　waiting。　They'd　been　waiting　for　ninety　minutes　now。　Two　hours　before；　they'd　been　warned　of　a　large　number　of　Soviet　aircraft　taking　off　from　their　tactical　air　bases　on　the　Kola　Peninsula；　destination　unknown。
Keflavik　was　always　a　busy　place；　but　for　the　last　week　it　had　been　a　madhouse。　The　airport　was　a　bination　Navy　and　Air　Force　base　and　a　busy　international　airport　at　which　many　airliners　stopped　to　refuel。
The　past　week　had　seen　this　traffic　supplemented　by　grim　tactical　fighters　transiting　from　the　United　States　and　Canada　to　Europe；　cargo　aircraft　transporting　overloads　of　critical　equipment；　and　airliners　returning　to　America　crowded　with　pale　tourists　and　dependents　of　the　military　men　who　were　now　on　the　battle　line。　The　same　had　happened　to　Keflavik。　Three　thousand　wives　and　children　had　been　evacuated。　The　base　facility　was　cleared　for　action。　If　the　Soviets　kicked　off　the　war　that　seemed　to　be　springing　from　the　ground　like　a　new　volcano；　Keflavik　was　as　ready　as　it　could　be。
〃With　your　permission；　Colonel；　I　want　to　check　a　few　things　at　the　tower。　This　forecast　is　pretty　solid；　for　the　next　twelve　hours　anyway。〃
〃Jet　stream？〃　Colonel　Jeffers　looked　up　from　the　yard…square　chart　of　isobars　and　wind…trees。
〃Same　place　it's　been　all　week；　sir；　no　sign　at　all　of　a　change。〃
〃Okay；　go　ahead。〃
Edwards　put　on　his　cap　and　walked　out　the　door。　He　wore　a　thin　blue　officer's　jacket　over　his　Marine…style　fatigues；　pleased　that　the　Air　Force　was　still　pretty　casual　about　dress　codes。　His　jeep　held　the　rest　of　his　〃battle　gear；〃　a　。38　revolver　and　pistol　belt；　and　the　field　jacket　that　went　with　the　camouflage　gear　everybody　had　been　issued　three　days　before。　They'd　thought　of　everything；　Edwards　reflected　as　he　started　up　the　jeep　for　the　quarter…mile　drive　to　the　tower。　Even　the　flak　jacket。
Keflavik　had　to　get　hit；　Edwards　reminded　himself。　Everybody　knew　it；　prepared　for　it；　and　then　tried　not　to　think　about　it。　This　most　isolated　of　all　NATO　outposts　on　the　western　coast　of　Iceland　was　the　barred　gate　to　the　North　Atlantic。　If　Ivan　wanted　to　fight　a　naval　war；　Iceland　had　to　be　neutralized。　From　Keflavik's　four　runways　flew　eighteen　Eagle　interceptors；　nine　sub…hunting　P…3C　Orions；　and　deadliest　of　all；　three　E…3A　AWACS　birds；　the　eyes　of　the　fighters。　Two　were　operating　now；　one　was　circling　twenty　miles　northeast　of　Cape　Fontur；　the　other　directly　over　Ritstain；　150　miles　north　of　Keflavik。　This　was　most　unusual。　With　only　three　AWACS　birds　available；　keeping　one　constantly　in　the　air　was　difficult　enough。　The　mander　of　the　Iceland　defense　forces　was　taking　all　of　this　very　seriously。　Edwards　shrugged。　If　there　really　were　Backfires　bearing　down　on　them；　there　was　nothing　else　for　him　to　do。　He　was　the　brand…new　squadron　meteorological　officer；　and　he'd　just　given　his　weather　report。
Edwards　parked　his　jeep　in　an　officer's　slot　next　to　the　tower　and　decided　to　take　his　。38　with　him。　The　lot　was　not　fenced；　and　there　was　no　telling　if　someone　might　want　to　〃borrow〃　his　handgun。　The　base　was　crawling　with　a　pany　of　Marines　and　another　of　Air　Force　police；　all　looking　very　nasty　with　their　M…16　rifles　and　web　belts　festooned　with　grenades。　He　hoped　they'd　be　careful　with　those。　Late　the　next　day；　a　whole　Marine　Amphibious　Unit　was　due　to　arrive　to　beef　up　base　security；　something　that　should　have　been　done　a　week　earlier　but　had　been　delayed；　partly　because　of　the　Icelandic　sensitivity　regarding　large　numbers　of　armed　foreigners；　but　mainly　due　to　the　unreal　speed　with　which　this　crisis　had　developed。　He　trotted　up　the　outside　stairs　and　found　the　tower's　control　room　crowded　with　eight　people　rather　than　the　usual　five。
〃Hi；　Jerry；〃　he　said　to　the　boss；　Navy　lieutenant　Jerry　Simon。　The　Icelandic　civilian　controllers　who　usually　worked　here　were　nowhere　to　be　seen。　Well；　Edwards　thought；　there's　no　civilian　traffic　for　them　to　control。
〃Morning；　Mike；〃　was　the　response。　The　ongoing　joke　at　Keflavik。　It　was　0315　hours　local　time。　Morning。　The　sun　was　already　up；　glaring　in　at　them　from　the　northeast　through　roll…down　shades　inside　of　the　tilted　glass　windows。
〃Let's　have　an　attitude　check！〃　Edwards　said　as　he　walked　over　to　his　meteorological　instruments。
〃I　hate　this　fucking　place！〃　the　tower　crew　answered　at　once。
〃Let's　have　a　positive　attitude　check。〃
〃I　positively　hate　this　fucking　place！〃
〃Let's　have　a　negative　attitude　check。〃
〃I　don't　like　this　fucking　place！〃
〃Let's　have　a　short　attitude　check。〃
〃Fuckit！〃　Everyone　had　a　good　laugh。　They　needed　it。
〃Nice　to　see　that　we're　all　maintaining　our　equilibrium；〃　Edwards　observed。　The　short；　scrawny　officer　had　bee　instantly　popular　on　his　arrival　two　months　earlier。　A　native　of　Eastpoint；　Maine；　and　a　graduate　of　the　Air　Force　Academy；　his　glasses　prevented　him　from　flying。　His　diminutive　size…five…six　and　a　hundred　twenty　pounds…was　not　designed　to　mand　respect；　but　his　infectious　grin；　ready　supply　of　jokes；　and　recognized　expertise　at　making　sense　of　the　confused　North　Atlantic　weather　patterns　had　bined　to　make　him　an　acceptable　panion　for　anyone　at　Keflavik。　Everyone　thought　he　would　make　one　hell　of　a　TV　weatherman　one　day。
〃MAC　Flight　Five…Two…Zero；　roger。　Roll　her　out；　Big　Guy；　we　need　the　room；〃　said　a　tired　controller。　A　few　hundred　yards　away；　a　C…5A　Galaxy　cargo　plane　began　to　accelerate　down　runway　one…eight。　Edwards　took　a　pair　of　binoculars　to　watch。　It　was　hard　to　get　used　to　the　fact　that　something　so　monstrous　could　actually　fly。
〃Any　word　from　anywhere？〃　Simon　asked　Edwards。
〃Nope；　nothing　since　the　Norwegian　report。　Lots　of　activity　at　Kola。　You　know；　I　picked　a　hell　of　a　time　to　e　here　to　work；〃　Mike　replied。　He　went　back　to　checking　the　calibration　of　his　digital　barometer。
It　had　started　six　weeks　before。　The　Soviet　Naval　and　Long…Range　Aviation　groups　based　at　a　half…dozen　airfields　around　Severomorsk　had　exercised　almost　continuously；　flying　attack…profile　missions　that　could　have　been　directed　at　nearly　anyone　or　anything。　Then　two　weeks　before；　the　activity　had　been　cut　way　back。　That　was　the　ominous　part：　first　they　drilled　all　their　flight　crews　to　perfection　and　then　they　went　to　a　standdown　maintenance　period　to　make　sure　that　every　bird　and　every　instrument　was　also　fully　operational　。　。　。　What　were　they　doing　now？　An　attack　against　Bodo　in　Norway？　Or　Iceland　maybe？　Another　exercise？　There　was　no　telling。
Edwards　lifted　a　clipboard　to　sign　off　for　having　checked　his　tower　instruments　that　day。　He　could　have　left　it　to　his　enlisted　technicians；　but　they　were　backstopping　the　aircraft　techs　with　the　fighter　squadron；　and　he　could　handle　it　for　them。　Besides；　it　gave　him　an　excuse　to　visit　the　tower　and…
〃Mr。　Simon；〃　the　senior　enlisted　controller　said　rapidly。　〃I　just　copied　a　Flash　from　Sentry　One：　Warning　Red。　Many　bandits　inbound；　sir。　Approaching　from　due　north　to　northeast…Sentry　Two　is　checking　in　。　。　。　they　got　'em；　too。　Jesus。　Sounds　like　forty　to　fifty　bandits；　sir。〃　Edwards　noted　that　the　inbounds　were　being　called　Bandits　instead　of　the　usual　Zombies。
〃Anything　friendly　ing　in？〃
〃Sir；　we　got　a　MAC　C…141　twenty　minutes　out；　eight　more　behind　it　at　five…minute　intervals；　all　inbound　from　Dover。〃
〃Tell　them　to　turn　back；　and　get　an　acknowledgment！　Keflavik　is　closed　to　all　inbounds　until　further　notice。〃　Simon　turned　to　his　telemunications　man。　〃Tell　Air…Ops　to　radio　SACLANT　that　we're　under　attack；　and　to　get　the　word　out。　I…〃
Klaxons；　erupted　all　around　them。　Below；　in　the　early…morning　shadows；　ground　crewmen　pulled　red…flagged　safety　pins　off　the　waiting　interceptors。　Edwards　saw　a　pilot　drain　a　Styrofoam　cup　and　begin　to　strap　himself　in　tight。　The　starter　carts　next　to　each　fighter　belched　black　smoke　as　they　generated　power　to　turn　the　engines。
〃Tower；　this　is　Hunter　Leader。　We're　scrambling。　Clear　those　runways；　boy！〃
Simon　took　the　microphone。　〃Roger；　Hunter　Leader；　the　runways　are　yours。　Scatter　Plan　Alpha。　Go　for　it！　Out。〃
Below；　canopies　were　ing