Shadows of Steel

Samson had almost made it to his sleek white jet when another car pulled up alongside. “General …”

“I don’t need a ride, thanks,” Samson said for the sixth time in that short walk.

“Yes, you do, sir,” the driver said. “Flash priority-red message waiting for you at the command post.”

Just like that, Terrill Swnson’s idyllic day was over. Messages coming into the Eighth Air Force command center all had priorities attached to them, ranging from “routine” on up. Samson didn’t know what was exactly the highest-priority classification, but the highest he had ever seen was a “flash red”—and that was in 1991, when the world thought the Iraqis had launched chemical weapons at Tel Aviv and the Israelis were getting ready to retaliate with nuclear weapons.

Samson threw his gear into the back of the staff car, shot a salute and a “Sorry, guys” to his crew, and hopped into the front seat. Time to get back to the real world …

“Eighth Air Force, General Samson up.”

“Earthmover, Steve Shaw here,” came the reply. General Steve Shaw, Samson’s boss, was the commander of U.S. Air Force’s Air Combat Command, the man in charge of training and equipping all of the Air Force’s nine hundred bombers, fighters, attack, reconnaissance, and battlefield support aircraft and the ‘400,000 men and women who operated and maintained them. “Pack your bags, you’re going TDY.”

Samson, sitting at the commander’s desk of the Battle Staff Room at the Eighth Air Force command post, replied immediately, “Yes, sir. I’m ready right now. I’ve got a T-38 warmed up for me, in fact.”

“We’ve got a C-20 with some crews and equipment that’ll pick you up out there at Barksdale for a briefing at Whiteman.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll be ready,” Samson said excitedly. Whiteman Air Force Base, near Knob Noster, Missouri, was the home of the B-2A Spirit stealth bomber. Although they had been used in very minor roles in other conflicts, the B-2A bombers weren’t scheduled to go fully operational until later on in 1997. What in hell was going on? “Anything else you can tell me, sir?”

“The Iranians look like they’re going to try to close off the Persian Gulf,” Shaw said. “NSA wants a special task force to put together a quick-response team to hit targets in Iran if the balloon goes up—and the President wants bombers.”

“Yes, sir,” Samson said. “I’m ready to do it. Who’s heading this task force?”

“I don’t know,” was Shaw’s cryptic response. “Top secret, NSA stuff. You’ll get the initial briefing materials on the plane.”

“I understand. I’m ready to go, sir,” Samson said.

“Good luck, Earthmover,” Shaw said. “Whoever’s leading this task force, I know they’re getting the best in the business. When it’s over, come on out to Langley and let me know how it went.”

“You got it, sir,” Samson replied. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Eighth Air Force, out.”

There were a million things running through Terrill Samson’s mind the second he hung up that phone. He should call his wife, tell her he’d be out of town (shit, he thought, what a freakin’ understatement!); he should notify his vice commander, notify the wing commanders, notify his staff, notify “Captain Ellis!”

“Sir?” replied the senior controller on duty at the command post.