long do you figure we have before anyone realizes we’re offline?”
Vince replied, “Good point, Major. We have to do a com check every two hours with the adjacent DYE sites. We’re due for one in forty minutes. They’ll start wondering when we missed that window. But they won’t send anything up this way from Sonde for hours. By that time whatever this thing is will be on top of us.”
Boop had to make a command decision, “Okay, you’re sure this thing is for real. It ain’t a radar glitch?”
“It’s a real bogie, Major. I checked both primary and secondary scopes. However, if they’re jamming our UHF radios and tropo, why not jam the radar?” Dan asked.
“Simple,” Dave said, “They want us to know they are coming.”
“That makes about as much sense as anything, I guess,” Vince replied.
Vince asked Dan if there was any commercial traffic overhead. This was the great circle route from Europe to Chicago and planes flew over Greenland all the time. “The last track was a DC-10 out of Copenhagen for Chicago about an hour ago. He’s long gone. We usually have a daily track of something coming out of Brussels for Chicago. It might show up in an hour or so.”
Vince added, “The radios are out, but it’s a clear day today. We’ve got plenty of flares. We can flag somebody down.” Boop replied emphatically, “That plane will be 25,000 feet over our heads. He’d never see a flare pop. However, we could get their attention with a fire. We’ve got plenty of diesel fuel up here. There’s plenty of trash, pallets, and plastic to burn to make dark smoke. That should show up on the icecap from 35,000 feet.”
Dave then busted all their chops by pointing out the obvious, “Excuse me, but what are they going to do if they do see the smoke? We’re talking about a passenger jet. He’s not going to come buzzing down here for a look see. He’ll try to get a hold of us and the radios will be out. He’ll simply report that fact along with the smoke and fly along his merry way. It’s impossible for him to land and pick us up. He can’t save the day by rolling in on the bogie for a strafing run and drop napalm like John Wayne. Bottom line is, what’s the point?”
Boop and Vince agreed and acknowledged that panic mode was creeping in. “We can’t run. We can’t hide. We can’t even yell for help. How about we play dead? Assuming that thing has radar and can see us, let’s hop in the Raven, take off to the north and let them ping us good. It’ll look like we’re heading for DYE-4. They don’t know our fuel situation. We can then circle back low level and come up from the south and let the DYE site mask our approach. One of two things will happen. They’ll either turn to the east to follow us or they’ll continue on their current track. Everyone is speculating that this thing is here because of what we dragged up to your front door. Maybe they’ll take it and leave.”
Right in the middle of all this beautiful logic, Glenn burst into the room. “Major, we’ve got a problem with the aircraft. Number two and four are starting to overheat. We’re down to less than an hour’s worth of fuel at this rate.”
Boop pounded the console and responded in the pilots’ universal language, “Shit. Okay, get the bird moving; taxi her back to the south side of the complex. Maybe they haven’t pinged us yet. When they do, maybe they’ll lose it in the ground clutter. Stay close to the complex. Once you are on the south side, get the nose pointed directly to the complex and tuck her in as tight as you can. Maybe we can hide her both visually and from their search radar until they are on top of us.” Dan spoke up, “No sign of them pinging us yet.”
“Dan, did you tell anyone else on this site we got a radar target?” Vince asked. “No, after I checked the secondary scope in the equipment room, I got a hold of you right away.” Vince turned to Boop and asked, “How about your crew, Major? Think they’ve told anyone?” Boop replied, “No, they’ve been too busy worrying about the aircraft. No time for small talk.” Vince responded, “Okay, let’s keep it that way. No use letting panic spread throughout the site. I’ll be having enough trouble keeping from crapping my own pants. Let’s all take a step back and figure this thing out.”
Dave had an idea and tossed it out for discussion, “We have only enough fuel on board for us to fly halfway to DYE-2 or DYE-4. How about we load up the snowcats then fly out to the maximum range and then take the tracked vehicles the final distance. They have a range of seventy-five miles or so, more if we strap diesel fuel drums to the roof.”
Major Boop again pounded his fist on the console and this time without the profanity. “Dave, you may have hit on a possible way out. Diesel fuel is the answer. We can burn diesel in the C-130. They have no aviation fuel stored here, too volatile to have around. Fumes don’t evaporate up here. However, we can burn diesel fuel in an emergency. I’d classify this as an emergency. The engines won’t operate at peak efficiency, but it just might get us airborne. We can stay low and slow and just hop the drifts. I think DYE-4 is our best bet. It’s all downhill to the east.” Vince’s face lit up, “Yes. We can pump the diesel into your wing tanks.”
Boop scrambled to grab the handheld, “Change of plans, Carl, we’re not going to hide our head in the snow like some arctic ostrich. We’re going to be sensible and make a strategic retreat.” Carl came back on the radio, “Does that mean you figured out how to get us the hell out of here, Major?”
“No, our good Captain up here figured it out. We’re about to fill her up with diesel, good buddy.” Carl understood, “I’ll pull her up to the pump.” Boop replied, “Negative, continue around to the south side, no time to jerry rig the pumps and plumbing from the bunkers. We’ll drop a hose to you from the generator room. There’s a few thousand gallons in the day tank stored there.” Carl responded, “Roger, I’ll nose her in as close as I can.”
The C-130 made a big sweeping turn around the south side of the huge complex. Vince, Dave and Rick ran off toward the generator room. The site had six huge twelve cylinder White Superior diesel generators. The generators burned a tremendous amount of diesel and there was a huge emergency storage tank at the back of the generator room for day use. Boop figured they’d need about a hundred feet of hose to make it to the plane. The most likely source would be fire hose. Boop ran to the fire hose cabinet. There was only about fifty feet in this one. Dave ran up to the next level and pulled another fifty foot section. He dragged the heavy hose down the stairwell. He nearly tripped over Olga coming up the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked. “We’ve got to refuel a C-130. Come help me.” She gave him a quizzical look but grabbed up some of the hose and followed him into the Generator Room.
Vince grabbed the Generator Room technician by the shoulder and startled him. It was noisy in the room and he was wearing ear protection so he didn’t hear him coming up behind him. He pulled him inside his small office and started to explain the situation to him. A minute later the technician was pillaging through some storage bins and smiled as he held up a short piece of pipe. He ran over and grabbed the end of the fire hose and spun it on the threads. He grabbed the other fire hose and attached the two pieces together. Vince grabbed a wrench and broke out a window behind the storage bins. He snaked one end of the hose down to Glenn waiting below. The other end was being plumbed onto the day tank.
Vince got on the handheld, “Carl, don’t contaminate the fuel in the wing tanks with this diesel. Keep it separate. Put it in the empty under wing tanks. We may need the good juice once we’re out over the east coast. I’d prefer to burn the good stuff over the mountains.” Carl acknowledged.
Glenn had gotten under the wing and was now in position to run the hose into the pylon tanks. Vince turned the valve on the day tank and diesel began to flow.
Boop grabbed Vince and yelled into his left
