Home Run 2

"Tornado 012,
your Target is British Caledonian Flight 1503"

Copyright Joe Vialls, February 2002

Original Link: 
http://www.stormtronic.co.uk/9-11/vialls-homerun2.htm

The main point of this report is to take you up for a flight in a high performance fighter jet, tasked with intercepting a “rogue” aircraft apparently off track and threatening a major city. We really need to do this now, because disinformation about the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center is rapidly spiraling out of control. Months ago rumors started circulating that the United States Air Force failed to intercept the doomed commercial airliners, which was largely correct information. Unfortunately, from there on it was all downhill and a pack of lies.

The first Chinese whisper to echo around the Internet claimed that air force pilots had been ordered not to fly. There is not a scrap of evidence to corroborate this deliberate slur on members of the American military, all of whom are related to men, women, and children just like those who perished on September 11 in the World Trade Center and The Pentagon. Fighter pilots are warm-blooded human beings just like you, and they would have protected America if they could. For reasons you will shortly learn about first-hand, it proved an impossible task.

Weeks later, the second Chinese whisper claimed that the entire USAF structure had been ordered to “stand down”, deliberately inferring that the middle levels of the military command structure were involved in this spreading conspiracy. Once again not a scrap of evidence, but who cares about that? For those wishing to turn the American public against its own military defense forces, trivia such as evidence and the truth have no meaning.
The third and most recent Chinese whisper, is a claim by Carol Valentine that rather than being hijacked by the civilian DARPA controlled “Home Run”, the attack aircraft were actually remotely controlled from NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) on the direct orders of USAF General Richard B. Myers. According to Ms Valentine, General Myers ordered his subordinates to track and locate four suitable American airliners full of American passengers, and they allegedly complied. Next, General Myer’s subordinates apparently incriminated themselves still further by obeying his next unlawful command, to radio-lock onto the four aircraft and direct them to their respective targets.
No weeping at NORAD in Cheyenne Mountain apparently, or concern that Mom or Grandma might be on one of the jets. Oh no, apparently Myer’s robotic junior officers cheerfully jumped to it with a will, and sent hundreds of American passengers crashing into thousands more Americans on the ground in New York and Washington. Then for good measure, Myer’s subordinates, by this time giggling insanely one presumes, grounded every serviceable combat jet in North America.

Like heck they did… As with most outrageous flights of fancy, this one fails to explain how the entire USAF chain of command was corrupted, and Myer’s outraged staff forced to remain silent in the face of massive American death and destruction. Proving a little knowledge can be a very dangerous thing, Ms Valentine trashes a claim by the Washington Post, which says that military jets were scrambled but could not get to the Washington area in time:

“That's a dumb lie, even for the Washington Post. Andrews Air Force Base, home of Air Force One, is just 10 miles from Washington D.C. How long would it take for Andrews jets, capable of flying at 1,200 mph plus, to get over Washington D.C./Pentagon airspace?”

Hmm. We will see exactly how long in just a minute. So strap on your “G” suit and don your flight coveralls, because we are about to get airborne on an air defense mission. Not in an American aircraft, because that would be distasteful in the wake of the September 11 attack. For our simulation today we will borrow a British Tornado interceptor, and try to defend London against a rogue airliner off-track from Manchester in northern England. The term “we” is not used in the Royal sense, but only to denote that the rear seat on this flight is reserved strictly for you. Just me and you in a fighter made for two.

This is peacetime, when most home-based western combat aircraft normally carry only “drill” (dummy) missiles on their wing pylons, and have no live cannon shells in the ammo trays. Damn, we just bumped into our first irritating time delay! Though unarmed interceptors can quickly be used to check out the status of off-course aircraft like Payne Stewart’s Lear Jet, they are effectively useless against hostile targets. We keep them unarmed for a very good reason. On a scale of one to ten, listing the types of accidents all air forces try to avoid, jettisoning live Sidewinder missiles down the chimney of City Hall probably rates as number one or two.

Each western country keeps a handful of interceptors armed in case of a surprise attack, and bases them at the outer extremities of its national sovereign territory, from where the attack will come. Though the Official Secrets Act prohibits me from stating exactly how many armed aircraft are available in Britain or America in peacetime, rest assured the figure is exceedingly small. Any reasonable and intelligent person can deduce from this, that aircraft based close to major cities like London and Washington, DC, will not be armed at all in peacetime.

Unfortunately, today the armed British Tornados are on patrol in the north and running low on fuel. Our own aircraft is not armed, so we will have to stand around twiddling our thumbs until sufficient missiles and cannon shells are taken out of the bomb dump on the far side of the airfield, then transported to the Tornado dispersal area. Why do we keep the bomb dump over there, so far away? Anyone who saw the recent bomb dump explosion in Nigeria that killed more than 1,000 people, will already know the answer.

It is a very slow process. Only a madman races around the airfield perimeter track when towing a stack of live missiles with high-explosive warheads, and bins of high explosive cannon shells. Remember here also, that the ground crew first have to remove the dummy missiles from the Tornado before they can fit the live ones.

Eventually our Tornado is armed, its safety breaks and systems fully tested. Already nearly an hour has elapsed this Tuesday morning but we can’t rush off just yet, we have to check everything is safely on the mountings. Because we have no idea what magnitude the threat presents, we have festooned the Tornado with all of its optional extras. Hung under the belly are four Sky Flash radar guided air-to-air missiles, good for launching at 20 miles or more. On the wing pylons, four Sidewinder AIM-9L heat seeking air-to-air missiles which are good for launching at about 2 miles range, though not much further.

Finally, in the belly of the beast, 180 rounds of high-explosive ammunition for the single Mauser BK 27-millimeter cannon. If all else fails, we will need to get close to the target to use the Mauser, ideally within 600 yards for a clean kill. At that range, two 10-round bursts of the nine ounce high-explosive shells should be enough to bring down anything with wings, leaving plenty of ammo for alternate targets. We check all missiles are tight on their mountings.

As we climb into the Tornado cockpit, strap in and start the engines, we reflect quickly on the fate of KL 007, the Korean Boeing 747 shot down at night over Sakhalin Island in Russia, back in 1983. Those Russian interceptors were all armed to the teeth, right? Wrong! The three Mig-23 jets sent up to have a look were all carrying dummy missiles and had no cannon shells, meaning they were unable to fire tracer shells across the nose of the hulking black aircraft, the international night time aviation code for “follow me or else”.
On the ground far below, Major Gennady Osipovich sprinted for the armed duty interceptor, strapped in, and rapidly got airborne. His Sukhoi 15 climbed like a rocket, and after closing carefully onto his target by radar, Osipovich fired bursts of tracer in front of its black outline, which he could barely see because there was no moon. Then he received his orders from the ground, fell back behind the target and fired two Anab air-to-air missiles.

The rest is history. But how strange to find out nearly twenty years later, that only one in four of the Russian interceptors was armed, despite being located right out there on the border, and next to one of the most sensitive military installations in the entire Soviet Union! There is a lesson here for those who wish to imply that USAF personnel at Andrews AFB, near Washington, were guilty of treason on September 11, 2001.

“Tower, this is Tornado 012, request entry Runway 23”

“Tornado 012 clear for entry and take off Runway 23. Wind 255 at 15 knots”

“012”

With throttles fully forward through the afterburner gates, the Tornado lights its tail and hurtles down the runway, pinning us back in our seats as nearly 40,000 pounds of jet thrust kick in. The runway markers turn into a blur and seconds later we are airborne, the wheels retracting into the undercarriage bays as we bank hard left and climb like a bullet, changing radio frequencies to Ground Control Interception (GCI) as we go. The brutal “G” force is trying to drain the blood from our heads to our toes, but our “G” suits squeeze gently around our legs and lower torso, enabling us to stay fully conscious and alert during the process.

“Sandman, Sandman, this is Tornado 012 climbing through 30,000 on 095 magnetic”

“Roger 012, good morning, we have you on radar. Turn right heading 198 and continue climb to 45,000. We have an unusual target for you today”

“012, what do you mean by ‘unusual’ Sandman? over”

“A civilian heavy has crashed into the City of London, and another one has gone off-course from Manchester. At present the second aircraft is on track for London, and we think it possible there is a plan to crash this aircraft into the House of Commons”

“012, How do we know this, Sandman. Has this second aircraft called mayday, or squawked ident with his IFF transponder?”

“Negative 012, we are operating on ground intelligence only. On approach to London I will put you in a holding pattern to conserve fuel, while the Ministry of Defence decides what to do with your target”

“Identify target”

“Tornado 012, your target is British Caledonian Flight 1503”

“Sandman, have you gone nuts?”

“Negative 012, remember who is the controller here. Maintain radio silence until I provide you with your next course to steer”

“012”

Despite the air conditioning we have both started sweating into our oxygen masks and flight coveralls. This is a complete nightmare. From the very beginning of flight training school, we have been told time and time again that civilian airliners are sacrosanct. Combat aircraft and civilian airliners do not mix. Not ever. Get too close to an invisible airway in the sky and it’s an automatic Court of Inquiry. Fly so close to an airliner that the crew can read your ident numbers, and that means the end of your career. I repeat, time and time again, the end of your career. The same rules apply in all other western nations.
Our breath rasps noisily through our oxygen masks as our brains try to come to grips with the magnitude of the situation. We are subsonic again now with our swing-wings fully forward, conserving fuel as we circle slowly and look down on Greater London far below. Apart from a single pall of black smoke rising up from the banking complex in the City, everything else looks so normal. Then mild paranoia slowly starts to take over.

How can we be sure it is the real Sandman we have been talking to? Is this a cunning enemy plot to make us shoot down an airliner full of our own citizens? How can we verify these are correct orders? If only we had the American system where they carry cards with codes on them, which have to be matched from the ground before you can open fire. No, that’s wrong, only the armed nuclear bombers carried those, and that was years ago. No matter what we think our brains are still numb. How could this happen, and why me, why me?

“012, this is Sandman”

“012”

“Target is tracking in from the east, currently over Southend-on-Sea heading west at an altitude of 16,000 feet, and descending. Tell your rear to get a lock with his radar. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill. Engage and destroy the target”

“012 arming weapons”

Reactions are automatic. Throttles through the gates, afterburners alight as the wings start swinging back to the supersonic position. Roll inverted and pull through, heading east to get behind the target. The Tornado slips through the sound barrier as a numbed finger reaches out and selects the first pair of Sidewinder heat seeking missiles on the weapons panel. The Sidewinders come alive and start their low murmuring in the headphones. Reassuring in a real life combat situation, but disconcerting now.
A sickening swoop and then throttles back, air brakes out, wings fully forward to the subsonic position. Speed matched with the airliner as we level out alongside. Passengers waving at us idiotically from the windows. Throttles back through the gate and we accelerate diagonally across its nose, waggling our wings, the international aviation daylight code for “follow me or else”. No response. So we buzz the giant airliner again, this time only just missing its nose. He must have seen us, but still no response.
We fall back behind the target. At five miles range, the murmuring in the headphones is starting to get louder as the Sidewinders catch their first faint whiff of a hot target. We stalk the target, getting closer all the time, and the murmur in our headphones turns to a clamor. The Sidewinders have locked onto the target and want to be let off the leash. Safety off, gently touch the unsheathed trigger with a gloved hand.

No, dammit, no! The target is less than two miles ahead, resplendent in its shiny white, blue and yellow colors. A giant lumbering beast of a plane incapable of taking evasive action, stuffed full of unsuspecting British citizens. While the Sidewinders continue to clamor in the background, a mixture of sorrow and pity takes over. Sorrow for the passengers and crew we have been instructed to kill without warning, and pity for ourselves at the prospect of spending the rest of our lives in prison for carrying out the order.

The thought process has only taken about two seconds, but it is enough to distract us from the target ahead. Now both aircraft are flying over the densely populated East End of London. Poorer people than in the West End to be sure, and perhaps not as important as the politicians in the House of Commons, but who are we to choose who must die? In those little houses and apartments below us are men and women who survived thousands of tons of bombs during World War Two, and lost many thousands of relatives. They just got on with their lives and hardly ever complained, but they don’t need any more of it now.
The bottom line is that if the target crashes anywhere in London, its three hundred ton mass travelling at 200 knots will kill thousands of people regardless of whether we fire or not. We know it, and are utterly powerless to prevent it. Feeling is starting to come back to the finger that such a short time ago selected the deadly Sidewinders. As if by itself, the same finger reaches out and deselects the weapons. Throttles through the gates for the last time. Tail alight in an soaring climb to the north.

“Sandman, this is Tornado 012. Breaking away, weapons safe, returning to base”

“This is Sandman, continue the interception 012, destroy the target, destroy the target”

“Negative Sandman, returning to base, changing to approach frequency. Good day”

Flaps down, wheels down, line up on the centerline and ease the throttles back to the stops as the runway threshold rushes up underneath the wheels. A faint squeak as the rubber touches the tarmac, and then still soaked with sweat, we turn off the runway and and taxi back to dispersal. Cockpit canopies up, oxygen masks and helmets off, shut down the engines. We sit motionless for a moment or two gathering our thoughts, and eventually all is completely still. There is a only a faint ticking from the jet pipe metal as it cools down and contracts, and in the distance a blackbird sings.

We are both dejected at this stage, because disobeying a crucial direct order will probably result in both of us being drummed out of the service. But as we return to the crew room we can see the operations officer waving his hands excitedly, rushing out to tell us that our target has just made a perfect landing at London Airport Heathrow! Apparently he suffered a major electrical failure after takeoff from Manchester, which also knocked out his radios, and decided to divert to the main servicing hangars at Heathrow.

The Captain of the airliner followed procedure exactly, flying out over the North Sea to dump some of his heavy fuel load for safety purposes, before making a long sweeping right-hand turn in over the Thames Estuary. We are told that immediately after landing, the Captain filed an official near-miss report, outraged that “some crazy people in a Tornado buzzed us over the East End of London”.

So was Sandman responsible for almost getting 259 people killed? No, not really. To issue a kill order like that, Sandman would need direct authority from the Chief of the Defence Forces. Nor does it stop there. In turn, and in order to protect his own backside, CDF would have first obtained political authority from the Prime Minister at 10 Downing Street. So in reality, 259 people were sentenced to death by a panicky politician in a grey suit.

On orders from very similar panicky grey-suited politicians, Americans in general are now far more at risk than they were before the attack on September 11, 2001. For the first time in history, air defense fighters now roam the skies over populated areas armed with live missiles and cannon shells. Regardless of whether or not Home Run is used to hijack any more of the 600+ vulnerable airliners in American airspace, a new dimension of danger has been added. Live missiles can be [and sometimes are] jettisoned from the pylons by mistake, and an accidentally launched Mach 3 heat seeker will, I repeat will, find a target to kill somewhere in the crowded skies over New York or Washington.

Critically of course, the American fighters can do nothing more constructive than watch. As with our simulated incident over London, regardless of whether or not the pilots shoot down one of their own airliners over an urban area, thousands of people will die anyway if the jet is really on its way to an urban target. There has never been a viable defense strategy against unarmed airliners flying their own national colors, and there never will be. Anyone who believes there is a viable strategy in place, has clearly been overwhelmed by ignorant politicians and members of the mainstream media.

Authors like Carol Valentine can write what they want, though I must say that in this case she misquoted and misrepresented me. In her article Ms Valentine writes: “In a nutshell, Mr. Vialls says that technology that allows air traffic controllers on the ground to assume remote control of aircraft had been secretly installed in US commercial passenger jets.” No, I did not say that. Air traffic controllers would not have the faintest idea how to remotely control an aircraft of any kind. Instead, what I actually said was “specialist ground controllers” and “Home Run controllers”. There is a world of difference between these statements.

There have also been claims that I have refused to reveal “sources” or “proof” of the classified Home Run system, which is not true. In my first report I carefully stated that “two American multinationals collaborated with the Defense Advanced Projects Agency (DARPA) on a project designed to facilitate the remote recovery of hijacked American aircraft.” This should have acted like a homing beacon for any serious researcher. DARPA has a web site that can be accessed by anyone on the Internet, and within that web site is a search engine. A judicious advanced search of the DARPA web site should yield, as they say, “something of interest”.

Finally, there is former German Defense Minister Andreas Von Buelow, who is frequently available for questions at meetings around Germany. Because of national security Von Buelow is most unlikely to comment directly, but he might respond to the following question: “Can you deny that during the mid-nineties, Lufthansa removed and replaced the flight control computers on certain American aircraft in its fleet for security reasons?”
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