//------------------------------//
// 12. The Strictest of Deadlines 
// Story: Nation Shall Speak Peace Unto Nation 
// by Dan The Man 
//------------------------------//

	 

	11. – RAAF Base Pearce, Western Australia

 
(It is 2 o’clock pm. The airfield of the generally quaint training base of the RAAF is bustling with aviational engineers, flight controllers and equipment-carrying soldiers as several jets and heavy transport helicopters and lightweight search planes are tugged onto the hamoc. About three dozen Marines assembled at the hangars, checking and stocking up their equipment kits one last time. A Land Rover convoy rolls onto the asphalt, and half a dozen orderlies and officers hop out, and run up to a designated spot at the foot of the flight control tower. 
Inside the tower, navigational officers sit at their RADAR screens, enviously checking the panels for any signs of Flight 18-50-37, which was manned by three personell and which they knew had transported ten members of a UN-assembled diplomatic mission out into the sea. 
Behind the navigators, Group Captain Andy White drains his thermos can of coffee. He feels duped. His airfield has been literally overrun. All he ever was told was “Winter Dew”. That was the codename for this mission. 
Nothing more had he been told. Not about those guys below, and not about Area H#12. Never had he been told anything about Area H#12. It was his men that patrolled this area, but were nevertheless ordered to report directly to a representative of the Brass back in Canberra (also known as “Mordor”). He, on the other hand, was merely told something about possible “Violent Compass Variations” and Electromagnetic Radiation Occurences” that occurred from time to time in that restricted area, and those justifications usually kept him at bay; he was no scientist. 
But from 5 am in the same morning, his stance had changed all the more. All those diplomats; calls for compliance from above the command chain... 
And now, at 2 pm, the Brass had returned in a hurry; they brought along a couple dozen soldiers in full battle armour. “Deadlines” had been crossed by Flight 18-50-37. They should have returned at 9 am. They didn’t. Now they came back being all worried. White was growing sick and tired; he had to ask them. He had a right to know; it was his machinery, after all)
 
·White: *to his subordinate* I’m going down there, Morrison. *hands him the thermos flask*Hold on to this.
·Morrison: God speed. But they won’t say nothin’.
·White: *sarcastically* Right!
 
(He heads down the winding-stairs in a rush; he doesn’t want to miss the officers. He opens the glass terminal doors to see his superior, Vice Marshal Edmond McIntyre, another Group Captain, a Major, a Brigadier, an American Brigadier General and a British Rear Admiral pinning a big, yet rudimental map against one of the buildings’ outer walls. As he opens the door, the noise of a dozen plane turbines and lorry motors fills his ears, and the typical, grey dust blinds him and fills his nostrils. He is quick to approach the group with his back to the tarmac)
 
·White: *shouting over all the noise* Vice Marshal McIntyre, sir!
·Mcintyre: Good afternoon, White! *to the others* This is Group Captain Andy White, the commander of Pearce Base! *to White* I hope you know Group Captain Benson!
·White: Of course, sir! Afternoon, Benson!
·Benson: Afternoon, White!
·McIntyre: Our guests are Rear Admiral Sir Paul Wetherby of the RN and Brigadier General Arnold Menendez of the USMC!
·White: Afternoon, Sirs!
·McIntyre: And these are Major Atkinson of SASR and Brigadier Cartwright of the IRR!
·Atkinson and Cartwright: Afternoon, sir!
·White: *pretty impressed about the high-ranking figures* Afternoon!
·McIntyre: What is the matter, White?! Is it important?!
·White: I have a question, sir; Are you the Commander-In-Chief of Operation “Winter Dew”?!
·McIntyre: *beat* Yes, White. Why?! Is there a call for me?!
·White: No! Sir, can I speak with you tete-a-tete?!
·McIntyre: *turning to his staff* Excuse me! *to White* Of course, White! But make it quick, please! 
·White: *motions for the doors* Inside, sir?!
·McIntyre: *slowly letting go of the map so the others could hold on to it* Yes!…
 
(Both re-enter the tower, and White quickly comes to the point once the glass doors shut behind them)
 
·White: Sir, it is about Operation “Winter Dew”. And about the ‘deadline’ and the fact that my machines have been brought out of their hangars without a formal statement…
·McIntyre: White, calm down. OAAA. I am in a hurry. I take the full the responsibility, right? You will have a formal statement in by Monday, I’ll vouch on that. *looks back at the door with the intent to get out of there*
·White: Sir, I require complete insight into the details of “Winter Dew”.
·McIntyre: *appeasingly* White. Do not worry about any of this. This is all going according to Mordor. You don’t even have to move a toe. I can say in the name of Air Chief Marshal Hunter that you are not liable.
·White: It isn’t about that, sir! The chain of command at my base has been circumvented for some twenty months, sir. Six of my units have been actively patrolling in that Area H#12, and I have not once been reported to. I have let it slide up to today. Then that diplomatic mission arrived today at 4 am in the morning. Without my prior knowledge, they boarded a Chinook and were flown over the coastline. I was there today, sir. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known at all! And now… *looks outside* SASR, sir? Pardon my language, but am I missing out on something?
·McIntyre:  *eyeing around with a slightly embarrassed attitude* Let me be honest woth you, White. Yes, you are missing out of something. But here’s the thing; it is classified as “NATO Secret”. I hope you know what this means. I am not allowed to talk about it.
·White: “NATO Secret”, I see. So the NATO is involved in it.
·McIntyre: Exactly. It is big.
·White: Then what are my planes are needed for? This is a practice airfield.
·McIntyre: You were the closest.
·White: Right. What aircraft have you commandeered here?
·McIntyre: Lets see… *looks out the doors once more* Four Chinooks, 5 Pilatus PCs,  3 BAe Hawks, eight Lockheed Orions and 2 Boeing F/A Hornets. It’s a high-priority SAR situation covering more than 3000 hectares. That is all I’m going to say.
·White: *in serious disbelief* I am sorry? There is an officer of the SASR standing on my tarmac. You take four Chinook helicopters to deploy dozens of heavily armed soldiers. You require Hornets, Orions and and Hawks? This… has nothing to do with SAR anymore. You have deployed enough men to invade Monaco, sir!
·McIntyre: *negatively surprised by White’s audacity* I will not repeat myself, White. This operation is “NATO Secret”. It involves SAR; there are countless important persons’ lives at peril, and it is our duty to preserve them.
·White: *points outside, with the ocean in the background* There is nothing out there, sir! Five thousand miles of sea, nothing more! Where do those marines plan to land? The Antarctic Isles? Or is it maybe Area H#12?
·McIntyre: Oh shut up White! Quit shouting around. If you are really that interested in seeing your men in action *digs in his pocket*, this is where they are going. *he shows White a small, blurry sattelite photograph, depicting a european countryside, with farms, acres, beside some rows of reannaisance-like housing and a giant structure at the foot of a mountain. That structure strangely resembled a castle or a stronghold, or maybe a palace*
·White: *sarcastically* We take over Neuschwanstein?
·McIntyre: *unable to follow White* No… but this is our possible destination. We do not know how the habitants would react to an SAR mission intruding their airspace. The soldiers only serve the purpose of preventation.
·White: Where was this picture made? This is clearly mainland. And the countryside looks a lot like… I don’t know… Bosnia to me.
·McIntyre: *quickly packs away the photograph* I have already shown you too much, White. *sighs* What should I do with you? *thinks* Should I take you in protective custody until this assignment is accomplished?
·White: *with a faint smirk* I will then have to name the source of this information, sir.
·McIntyre: Right… I might have to ask you to accompany the men until further notice.
 
(There is a small pause of consideration and excitement)
 
·White: *giddily* Would that be possible, sir? Is it legal?
·McIntyre: Of course not, White. You should feel lucky I have told you anything. I usually don’t play the exposition fairy, you know.
·White: Certainly. Thank you, sir.
·McIntyre: Let us just say that you… assume an observational position, *smiling* seeing how your aircraft are involved.
·White: Yes, sir.
·McIntyre: *checks his watch* We will set out at 1450 hours, which is in… 42 minutes. Be there, White. You are now on alert and in action.
·White: Of course, sir!
 
(As McIntyre makes his way out onto the crowded tarmac again, White quickly motions to his locker in the other facility as outside, the first soldiers enter the still grounded helicopters and drain their flight medicines)

(Concluding Music Cue)