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Henderson Field
Sand Island, Midway Island Atoll
February 14th
1006 Local Time
MSgt Gary Graves wiped the sweat from his forehead as he picked up the last panel for the engine bay of the two seat F-15D in front of him. He was part of the six-man maintenance crew that had been dropped off to repair the disabled aircraft.
“Hey Joe, can you hand me that speed handle?” he asked as TSgt Joe Cortez stood next to their tool cart. Cortez picked up the curved handle and handed it to Graves. The crusty old Master Sergeant quickly spun the wrench, securing the fasteners in the composite panel to seal off the left engine bay of the F-15.
“That should do it,” Graves said as he tossed the speed handle back onto the tool cart. “Now we just need to run it up and check it.”
The F-15D had been part of a six-aircraft ferry flight from Kadena AFB in Japan to Hawaii. Their squadron of F-15s was en route to Honolulu to train with the Hawaii Air National Guard F-22s when the pilot of the F-15D reported an oil pressure warning light and low oil pressure.
A third of the way between Japan and Hawaii, Henderson Field on Sand Island in the Midway Atoll was the most suitable divert. Although no longer open to visitors since budget cuts removed the last of the remaining wildlife refuge personnel in 2014, Midway was home to a seventy-eight-hundred-foot asphalt runway suitable for distressed airliners and aircraft crossing the Pacific.
The atoll had once been home to a Naval Air Station and its neighboring island, Eastern Island, had been the site of the famous Battle of Midway during World War II. The twelve-hundred-acre airport now served only as a trans-Pacific divert option. It contained visiting officer quarters, jet fuel, and supplies for diverting aircraft, as well as three full-time firefighters and two airfield workers to keep the runway in good repair.
Graves and his small team had arrived the day prior shortly after the pilot landed. They had off-loaded the spare parts and tools and the C-17 Globemaster transport aircraft they had been on had continued on to Hawaii. Their ride home was scheduled to pick them up the next night to avoid the dense population of Albatross birds present between November and June.
Graves turned to see Major Davis entering the hangar behind him. He had wrapped the top of his flight suit around his waist, exposing his tan t-shirt. Davis handed bottles of water to each of the three men standing around the aircraft. “I thought you guys might be thirsty,” he said.
“Thanks, Major,” Graves said as he accepted the water and wiped the sweat from his brow. His Airmen Battle Uniform blouse was draped over the toolbox and his tan t-shirt was soaked with sweat. “All we need to do is run it up and you should be good to go.”
“What was the problem?” Davis asked, looking over the aircraft.
“Just a sensor,” Graves said. “Easy fix.”
“Nice job, fellas,” Davis replied. “The KC-10 should be here around 20:00 tomorrow to pick you guys up and drag me the rest of the way to Hawaii.”
As Graves started to make a joke about riding in the backseat on the way to Hawaii, they heard a large aircraft flying overhead. The three men rushed to the door of the hangar to see a large cargo aircraft enter a downwind to land on the northeast-facing runway.
“Looks like a C-17,” Cortez said, noting the T-tail and high wing design of the aircraft.
“Well, they’re not here to get us,” Graves said.
“Might be another diverting aircraft,” Davis said as they watched the large aircraft make a tight turn to line up for its final approach.
The large transport rolled out on final and touched down firmly in the first five hundred feet of the runway, sending a cloud of white smoke up behind it. The thrust reversers made a deafening howl as the aircraft slowed to make the first turn off.
The three men were joined by SrA Jones, SSgt Munez, and TSgt Smith, who were carrying the Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) they had retrieved from the field’s supply locker.
“We found lunch,” Jones said. “Who are they?”
Davis shrugged as they watched the cargo aircraft come to a stop. They watched the aft cargo door drop as fifty or more men wearing black emerged. They quickly set up a defensive perimeter around the aircraft with their rifles up and ready.
“Holy shit!” Davis shouted over the engine noise.
Eight dark-colored vehicles resembling U.S. Army Humvees emerged from the ramp. As the last one cleared, the commandos formed back up and out of the way of the aircraft as it made a sharp one hundred eighty degree turn back toward the runway.
“Get back in the hangar!” Davis ordered as he realized what was happening.
They took off in a sprint toward the hangar where they had been working on the F-15. Jones and his group dropped their MREs and took off following.
“Help me close this door!” Davis ordered. Graves and Smith took up positions with Davis to push the door closed as they all scrambled back into the hangar.
“What’s going on?” Jones asked frantically. “Who are they?”
“I have no idea!” Davis replied. “But they’re not with us.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Graves asked desperately. “We’re unarmed!”
Davis stood with his back against the hangar door for a moment as he contemplated what to do next.
“We get to our rooms at the OIC house and we call for help using the satellite phone,” Davis said finally. The walls rattled as the big cargo aircraft powered up to take off.
“Out the back door!” Davis shouted, pointing to the rear exit door of the hangar before grabbing his ABU blouse. “Let’s move!”
* * *
Deng Fang stepped off the Chinese Y-20 transport aircraft as the last Dongfeng EQ2050 Humvee cleared the ramp onto the taxiway. He checked his watch as he stepped into the grass next to the taxiway. Everything was on schedule.
The Y-20 powered up its engines and spun around on the taxiway. His lieutenant joined him as he watched the lumbering aircraft back-taxi to the end of the runway for takeoff. They were likely on a one-way mission.
His lieutenant waited patiently for Fang as they watched the Y-20 reach the end of the runway, turn around, and power up. The large aircraft seemed to defy the laws of physics as it rotated and lifted off the runway.
“Sir, one of our men reported seeing six individuals running toward that hangar,” he said, pointing at a large hangar off in the distance. It was the only decent-looking hangar among the mostly rundown hangars that still stood, a relic from the days when Midway Island was a Naval Air Facility during the Cold War.
“Find them,” Fang said. “Kill them and any others you find.”
His lieutenant motioned for two men near one of the Humvees to go after the group. Fang shook his head and pointed at the man. “No,” he said. “Do it personally.”
“Yes, sir,” his subordinate replied sharply. Fang could not ask for a more intelligent and competent subordinate than Xu Xiang. Although he was fairly young, he was tactically proficient and highly motivated.
Fang stopped at a nearby Humvee as he watched Xiang assemble a four-man team and speed off toward the hangar. Xiang’s Humvee stopped in front of the hangar. The four-man team led by Xiang exited the vehicle stacked up on the nearby door with the speed and precision of the elite military unit they were. Seconds later, the team breached the door and entered.
Fang smiled and stroked his black and gray beard as he watched them disappear into the hangar. Although he wasn’t fond of facial hair, it had been a requirement for him and all of his men for this mission. Every detail, no matter how small, had been covered in depth.
He took his position in the passenger seat of the armored Chinese Humvee and nodded at the driver. As they took off toward the building cluster they had identified for their command center, Fang’s radio crackled to life.
“Sir, they appear to have escaped on foot,” Xiang said over the radio. “I am tracking them through the tree line.”
“Bring their bodies to me,” Fang ordered.
Xiang acknowledged. Fang knew that Xiang would handle it with sufficient time to prepare for the mission. They were on a compressed timeline as part of the plan. Fang knew they had little room for error, but that’s why he had been chosen to lead the mission.
Fang’s convoy followed the decaying road from the tarmac to the abandoned industrial complex near the harbor. The three Humvees with roof-mounted machine guns pulled up in front of the large abandoned building.
As Fang exited and surveyed the area, his men worked hastily carrying hardened cases out of the Humvee to set up their equipment inside the building. They would need to have the satellite uplink secured and ready within the hour to ensure adequate timing. Fang checked his watch a final time as he entered the musty building. Three hours.
He smiled as he heard the crack of gunfire in the opposite direction of Xiang and his men. Their intelligence sources had only indicated a half dozen people still working on the island. His men were already making quick work of them, and he was sure the six men fleeing the hangar would put up minimal resistance as well. The real fight was yet to come.