Chapter 2: The Rescue
May 9th, 1972
A forward air base, somewhere near the Vietnam-Cambodia border…
When the US had built their forward air bases in the early '60's, most of them were essentially just dirt strips. Nothing at all like the shingle runways on Saipan and Tinian, which were built by the SeaBee's in the Pacific campaign. Most of the traffic coming through the forward air bases were helicopters, and the terrain didn't matter to them. For the fighters, however, even in good weather the strips were too short for a fully loaded plane. This necessitated a low fuel load with a mid-air refueling after takeoff, or RATO (rocket assisted take off) pods attached to the craft. For the personnel that were stationed here, they had neither of those luxuries, as their base had been under siege for almost a month with no reinforcements in sight. Cut off, and presumably abandoned, their hope had come to rest on a small group of bomber witches, who had no choice but to defend the base on foot, and rely on their own marksmanship to survive.
The girls defending the base were Major Holly Jones, 2nd Lieutenant Denise Eilers, and Captain Theresa Bolstead. May 9th was just another morning for them, having no awareness of the outside world. The morning mist rose around them, generating the eerie 'fog of war' effect. Major Jones was perched on top of the barracks in the west perimeter, with a sandbag barrier to rest her M60D machine gun on. Her brunette hair was neatly tucked under a helmet, and she was wearing camouflaged fatigues salvaged from the armory. Her jade green eyes peered through a pair of binoculars, as she periodically scanned the horizon. Next to her 7.62mm ammo cans was a PRC-25 backpack radio, which allowed her to communicate with her squad. Normally, Holly would be flying her F-105D Thunderchief units, but they were damaged in an emergency landing, and there weren't any mechanical supplies left on the base.
2nd Lt. Eilers was positioned on the hangar roof, just north of Major Jones. On top of her sandbags rested a 7.62mm M134 rotary machine gun, affectionately named "Puff the Magic Dragon," or "Puff" for short, which provided a wide arc of defensive firepower for the base. Her long blonde hair and bangs were beautiful, golden waves compared to the dirty fatigues she had on. She also had a PRC-25 radio just next to her ammo cans and backpack, as she inspected her ammunition belts for faulty links. The M134 was also carefully inspected, as Denise's blue eyes scanned each nook and cranny. Eilers was one of the few pilots who flew an AC-47 Spooky in the gunship role, which further improved her gun laying abilities. The firepower came at a cost, sacrificing mobility and speed for firepower. The only hindrance greater than her minigun was the large ammo box, which she carried on an ALICE pack frame. She could've been in Thailand by now as planned, but she was stranded on the base by a high velocity rocket that damaged her unit's powerplant.
At the top of the base in the control tower, was Captain Theresa Bolstead, an A-1H Skyraider pilot who stopped for fuel at the base, just before the first attack came. The fluffy black hair was compressed beneath her helmet, and the fatigues did well to conceal her light tan complexion. Her weapon was a 20mm Hispano autocannon, which could penetrate up to 30mm of armor at 100 meters, and had a decent explosive filler for the APHE shells. The price she paid for this power was a slower rate of fire, compared to light machine guns, and lower ammunition capacity. This discouraged her from firing full automatic, as her ammo would be gone in seconds, leaving nothing but a white-hot gun barrel and an empty ammo box. For this reason, she was further restricted to single shot mode, and was acting in a sniper role from the control tower. Her cannon was fitted with a powerful x16 magnification scope, which was designed to compensate for the bullet drop of a 20mm shell.
The only combat capable soldiers left on base were the mortar and artillery crews, of which had very few shells left for bombardment. They were to be the support, if the machine gun nests ran into armored targets. Their guns mostly consisted of the 60mm mortar launcher M2, the 75mm Pack Howitzer M116, a few M72 LAW rockets, and FIM-43 'Redeye' launchers for air defense. The more powerful howitzers had been disabled in the first wave, when a Teki bomb fell on the tarmac, destroying a C-7 'Caribou' transport loaded with ammunition. The resulting fireball damaged the 155mm 'Long Tom' battery, which would've kept the Teki more than 22km away from the base.
Suddenly, Theresa perked up, as she saw something rustling leaves in the tree line. "Bad News to 'Spooky 21,' come in Denise, over."
"Spooky 21 here. You know, you really should change your callsign. You always have me on edge. Over." Denise grumbled, removing a faulty bullet from her ammo belt.
"I can't help it, it's meant to be bad news for the enemy, not for you. Over." Theresa grinned.
"Memphis Belle II here. Quit squawking unless you've got something important, over." Holly ordered.
"My apologies Major, there's a disturbance in the tree line, direct front. Might be the Teki." Theresa reported.
"Eyes up. If you spot anything, I want to know about it immediately. Use your lensatic sighting compass to estimate range, and don't bother with targets that are too far away. Conserve ammo. Got it?" Holly barked, as the two girls confirmed.
Suddenly, a supercharged energy blast flew over the bunkhouse, crashing into the mess hall with a violent explosion. Theresa looked through her scope, and spotted an enemy artillery battery on the ridge, just 15km down the road. In front of them was a column of Teki infantry, with infantry fighting vehicles shielding them.
"Major, I can probably kill the driver in the IFV, that should slow them down so our artillery can smash them." Theresa suggested.
"Take your best shot." Holly ordered. "Meanwhile, I'll fire a few bursts and get them to button down the hatches. Then they'll be relying on their periscopes and vision slits, and they'll be less likely to make an evasive maneuver."
"Requesting an order, ma'am!" Denise inquired anxiously.
"Denise, save your ammo for now. Once the artillery impact is confirmed, strafe anything that tries to duck into the foliage. I don't want any surprises." Holly said, pulling back the primer bolt on her M60D.
Holly's machine gun ripped through the jungle in 3 shot bursts, pinging off the IFV's, as the enemy infantry crowded behind it for cover. Then, Theresa took aim with her Hispano, sending a 20mm APHE bullet through the front of the lead vehicle, killing the driver. The vehicle swerved, ramming into the other lead unit, and brought the infantry to a halt behind the wreckage. Theresa pulled out her sighting compass, and picked up the radio receiver.
"Attention! Requesting artillery support on the designated coordinates!" She said, calling out the coordinates from her map and compass. "Whiskey, Bravo, X-ray, Uniform, Delta, Hotel. How copy?"
"Roger that," The gun commander said. "Standby for ranging shots, will adjust fire for maximum effect."
A distant 'thump' was heard, as the 75mm Pack Howitzers and the mortar teams opened fire, striking the edges of the road. "Confirmed impact of first barrage. Adjust fire 2 degrees right, plus 2 degrees elevation." Theresa called out over the radio.
The howitzer guns adjusted accordingly, and fired again, this time impacting much closer to the entrapped enemy. "Confirmed impact of second barrage. Adjust fire for tight grouping, fire for effect. Let 'em have it!" Theresa cheered.
Now that the correct range and direction was confirmed, the gunnery crews were ready for a full barrage. The loaders scurried about, passing ammunition from the ready racks to the gun breeches. From Theresa's point of view, she watched as the road was engulfed in high explosive fireballs, as the enemy infantry ran for the jungle.
Denise revved up her M134, and the motor began to whine as the 6-barreled monster came to life. With just one pull of the trigger, bullets began flying at an incredible rate, as the gun seemed to spit fire through the air.
Just then, another high-power energy blast went past Theresa, striking the ammo lockers for the artillery crew. There was a tremendous shock wave, and the girls could feel the heat, even from across the runway.
"Well… we're SOL now." Denise muttered, looking over her shoulder.
"Hijo de puta… That was our last lifeline." Theresa gritted her teeth.
"Girls, I don't know what to say. If nothing else, we'll go down fighting to the last bullet." Holly commanded. Suddenly, her ears perked up, as she heard a whining sound in the distance. "Jets."
Just then, a pair of jet powered witches were spotted on the horizon, as wing tips drew contrails through the humid air. "Base tower, this is Airman First Class, Hailey Confer, do you read? Over."
Theresa heard the radio hail on the console, as she opened the door behind her and crawled into the control tower. Through the crackle of the damaged radio, she managed to respond. "This is Captain Theresa Bolstead! I copy, Airman Confer! We have 3 pilots with inoperable flight equipment. Requesting evac!"
"I copy Captain Bolstead. Be advised, you have a C-46 Commando inbound for CASEVAC, pop green smoke and await pickup." Hailey ordered.
"I copy, Airman Confer!" Theresa shouted, as another barrage flew past the control tower. "Verify coordinates, Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot, Delta, Bravo, X-ray, how copy?"
"Good copy, Captain Bolstead." Hailey responded. "Coordinates confirmed."
"Look for green smoke, and enemy ground forces west of our position!" She said, pulling the pin of a smoke grenade and lobbing it into the air. The canister fell on the dusty runway, and a plume of lime green smoke billowed out from the smoke grenade.
The CASEVAC unit was bearing down hard on the airfield, joined by helicopter forces from Bien Hoa Air Base. Two UH-1D Huey Delta's were flanking an ACH-47 Chinook gunship, as they moved in for the evacuation. The two AH-1G Cobra's peeled off to the west, confirming the position of the enemy artillery.
The Chinook touched down on the runway first, and the .50 cal gunner on the loading ramp beckoned the girls to jump on. They grabbed their guns and ran, as the Chinook's own gunners provided covering fire for their retreat. Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw a Willy jeep screaming out of the maintenance hangar, pulling a trailer with their damaged bomber units on it. The driver looked to be a young female mechanic, who was waving her arm frantically in the air as she sped towards them. On the back of the jeep was another mechanic, manning a Browning 1919 .30 caliber mount for covering fire.
The witches ran up the loading ramp, and Holly sprinted up to the pilot's chair. "Hold up, pilot! You need to wait for the mechanics!"
"I don't have time for this BS!" The Chinook pilot groaned. "The artillery hasn't been taken out yet, and we need to get off the ground ASAP!"
Just then, a Teki heavy weapons trooper popped out of the brush, with a portable particle disrupter which could hit as hard as an RPG-7 launcher. A charged energy shot rocketed toward one of the Huey's, which was standing by above the evac site. The shot severed the tail rotor off, as the chopper began spinning out of control, and in the direction of the mechanic's jeep. They swerved, just barely avoiding the burning wreck, as the Huey rotor blades bit into the dirt runway and broke into splinters.
"That's it, we're getting airborne, NOW." The Chinook pilot demanded, pushing up his throttle. The Chinook rose into the air like a massive dragonfly, even as the mechanics were frantically waving their arms and speeding across the runway.
"Pilot, you're relieved of duty!" Holly said, tossing the pilot out of his seat and into the troop bay. He protested, as Holly climbed into the pilot seat and put on a headset. "Any pilot willing to leave his countrymen behind is not fit to serve in the Air Force." She grumbled, before looking over at the frightened copilot. "Do you have a cargo sling?"
Meanwhile the Cobra's were cutting grass with their blades, as they sped down the dirt road towards the enemy artillery. The sky was filled with anti-aircraft lasers and something akin to flak, as the Bell helicopters dodged through falling treetops. When they emerged from the cover of the foliage, a flurry of Hydra-70 rockets flew out of the Cobra's weapon pods, right into the artillery site. A couple of the 70mm rockets hit the energy cells, which were the ammunition for the deadly howitzers. There was a bright blue light, as the cells ignited in a spectacular explosion. For good measure, they sprayed the artillery site with 7,62mm gatling gun fire. The chain reaction began setting off the other howitzers, as the Cobra's turned tail and lifted into the air, heading for the evacuation force.
Meanwhile, Theresa and Denise had momentarily exited the Chinook to attach the net-like sling, which hung from a retractable hook on the bottom of the helicopter frame. The mechanics drove closer to the net, as it rested flat on the ground.
"Who are you girls, anyways?" Denise inquired.
"323rd Combat Engineering Corps, I'm Lauren, and this is Amara." Lauren said. They were both wearing mechanic coveralls, and their faces were obscured by dust and oil. Each of them had a Remington Model 870 shotgun slung over their shoulder, and a toolbelt with various wrenches, a flashlight, a portable welding torch, and a portable rivet gun.
Lauren had coral blue eyes that peered sharply through her dirty blonde hair, which was tied up in a ponytail with a red and white polka dotted hair scrunchie. Amara was a stark contrast, with eyes like sterling silver that could probably reflect moonlight. Her curly black hair matched her skin, revealing her Jamaican origins. She was quiet, but her unyielding grip on the .30 cal hinted at the personality of a fearsome warrior.
Just then, Holly looked out the window, and saw another anti-aircraft launcher poking out of the jungle. She turned on her radio and yelled, "RPG! GET BACK!"
The energy rocket struck the rear engine pods, as the Chinook listed, nose up into the air. The rear rotor blades hit the ground with a terrible crunch, as Theresa and Denise dove out of the way. Holly fired a few .50 caliber rounds through the front window, and bailed out of the doomed gunship. The Chinook rolled away from the girls, as the front rotors scraped the ground and threw metal shards into the air.
"Captain Bolstead!" Hailey called over the radio.
"We're alright, moving to pick up Major Jones now." Theresa said, coughing. "You wouldn't happen to have another transport, would you?"
Another voice joined them on the radio. "This is Captain Norman Wright of Air Transport Command unit #44-78774, callsign 'Tinker Belle.' We are beginning our landing approach now."
Theresa and Denise rushed in to move the burning Chinook, pushing it out of the runway and revealing Holly's small body on the ground. "Holly! C'mon, get up!" Denise shouted.
Holly groaned, struggling to push herself up from the littered runway. Her arms were badly bruised from the impact, and there were several scratches on her cheek from the broken glass. "Nothing broken…" She muttered. "I'm just very pissed off."
She stumbled over, as Theresa and Denise helped her over to the jeep. The C-46 Commando landed on the runway, and taxied up alongside them, as the cargo crew lowered the cargo ramp. The jeep and trailer were secured behind a cargo net, as Theresa and Denise helped the mechanics into their seats. Amara had sustained wounds while leaving the maintenance hangar, and had fashioned a makeshift leg splint from scrap metal: something they hadn't observed until she dismounted the jeep. The 'Tinker Belle' lifted from the forlorn airfield once more, and the cargo sling pulled taut as gravity acted on the jeep's weight. They were joined by the two Cobra's and the remaining Huey Delta, who saluted them as they peeled south to Bien Hoa Air Base.
Osan AFB, South Korea…
When they landed at Osan, Lauren and Amara were loaded onto stretchers, and medical care was administered on the spot, to ease their discomfort. Holly stopped to check on the mechanics. The two were lying on stretchers, and depleted energy 'bullets' were being removed from Amara's leg, as Lauren was receiving basic first aid for her wounds.
"Lauren, Amara." Holly said, kneeling by their stretchers.
"Major Jones." Lauren smiled, attempting to sit up, winced from the pain in her back and lay back down. "We could never thank you enough for staying to save us. Had you not taken command and defended the field, we would surely be left to die there. We owe you our lives."
"We owe you as well." Holly replied. "If not for your dedication, we'd be waiting months for new bomber units to arrive from the US. SAC knows that having witches out of service is a huge blow to morale and productivity, so for that I thank you tremendously."
"You'll need someone to fix them though." Amara pointed out. "If there is one thing we could do to repay you, perhaps we could go with you, and be your mechanics."
Holly was surprised. "You say that, even as you're on a stretcher…" She almost laughed, shaking her head in amazement. "I'll sort it out later. Get these two to the hospital." She ordered the medics. Holly then crossed her arms, and winced in pain, being reminded of her bruises. Theresa and Denise helped her over to the infirmary, as their bomber units were wheeled to the maintenance hangars.
Lt. Gen. Moore was looking out of his office window, observing the group, and shook his head. "Gotta hand it to those girls, they're damn fine soldiers, and pilots. Make sure that you take good care of them, Lt. Col. Morgan."
The red-haired woman sitting across from his desk smiled. "Trust me, they're in good hands. I can't wait to meet all of them."
"There are other pilots who will be showing up tomorrow, when the B-52 fleet touches down. I trust you'll waste no time putting them through their paces." Moore concluded. "Once Combined Task Force 77 has reached Yankee Station, we'll be ready to launch Operation Rolling Thunder."