9 Days Falling, Volume I k-5

by John A. Schettler

  An hour later Musudan II fired as planned.

  Reed was still in the situation room when it happened, now permanent staff there to keep his well educated iron in the fires of the heated debate. He was stewing because General Lane had given him that ‘I told ya so’ smirk when THAAD took down the first missile without any trouble.

  “Have a little faith, Mister Reed,” he had admonished. “We know what we’re doing here.”

  “Right,” said Reed. “Well don’t be surprised if this one explodes at apogee.”

  “It’s not ever going to get there,” said Lane, cool and unruffled. “We have a few more surprises in store for Mister Kim Jong-Un.”

  The B-1s on Kadena were not the only bones the Air Force had dug up from the boneyards. They had pulled something out of the hangers at 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group, Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Tucson, Arizona. It was called YAL-1, formerly known as the Airborne Laser Project, a prototype aircraft from a program cancelled years ago because of its expense. The Air Force had been secretly preparing to test it in a live scenario like this, secretly moving it into the Pacific. It was up early that morning from Kadena, escorted by a pair of F-22 Raptors.

  The US intelligence was so good that they even intercepted the North Korean signal ordering the second missile fired. When it roared to life, its hot exhaust tail red with fire as it rose from the launch site to break through the thin cloud layer above, YAL-1 was waiting in ambush in the skies above Japan. It was orbiting at an altitude of 45,000 feet in a typical ‘racetrack’ pattern, a specially modified jumbo jet, the 747-400F.

  Infrared sensors on the plane had already detected the launch and were ready to respond as the Musudan missile clawed its way into the sky in its initial boost phase. A low-power targeting and tracking laser was already locking onto the missile as fast computers calculated its trajectory. Concave mirrors pivoted to align the directed energy laser on the target. Turbo-pumps howled at the rear of the plane and blasted a stream of hydrogen peroxide and iodine through metal nozzles, the fuel needed to power the enormous chemical oxygen laser designated COIL. Just as the Musudan missile began its initial boost, a million watts of lethal energy lanced out from the nose of the 747 and crossed the distance of a little over 500 kilometers at the speed of light. They would paint the target with an invisible high energy beam that literally cooked the fuel in the first stage and the resulting increase in internal pressure caused it to explode. General Lane was going to notch his belt once again that morning, satisfied that he had put this upstart hothead Reed in his place once and for all.

  “Now then,” he leaned forward when the news of a successful kill came through, steepling his fingertips in satisfaction. “Let’s get the B-2s up from Anderson and let the WaveRiders take out the rest of their launch facilities while we do the Chinese. Any objections?”

  No one said anything.

  Chapter 15

  Captain Vladimir Karpov considered his tactical situation and the tentative contract he had negotiated with the Americans as he sat in the Captain’s chair aboard Kirov. It wasn’t signed yet, nothing more than a verbal agreement, a thin understanding he had negotiated with the commander of the nearest American Carrier Strike Group off the coast of Japan to the south. The Americans were justifiably edgy about the sortie of the entire Red Banner Pacific Fleet. So Karpov had decided to “pull a Volsky” and make direct radio contact with his adversary on CVBG Five. They had bandied about with boasts, insults, and veiled warnings to each other for some time, then got down to the subtle business at hand.

  “You have your orders. I have mine.” He had told the American Captain Tanner. “You’re here to keep an eye on me. I’m here to keep an eye on you. It’s that simple. We’ve been at it for eighty years, and this is no different. But things do tend to get a little out of hand when this much metal puts to sea.”

  The Americans wanted him to stay north of 43 degrees, which he was more than happy to do. At the same time he had advised Tanner that any hint of a strike package heading his way would be answered with missiles, a shoot first and ask questions later policy given the circumstances. The conversation had finished with that agreement in place, tentative as it was.

  “I think we understand one another,” Tanner had radioed. “You just remember those 43 degrees. Yes, I’ll chase a few gulls down here. It’s a favorite pastime for a carrier Captain. But I hear the birds up north are pretty sparse.”

  It was a subtle way of telling Karpov the Americans had no intention of pressing the issue. Both sides were clearly ‘showing the flag’ and the muscle behind it, but neither Captain wanted this to go any further than it had to.

  “Haven’t seen so much as a seagull this morning,” Karpov replied. “And I have also heard the waters south of 43 degrees are a still polluted by that old reactor at Fukujima. Yes, Captain Tanner. I think we do understand one another. I suppose we can only hope that our respective governments can come to a similar understanding. Enjoy your coffee. Karpov out.”

  The problem was always those respective governments, thought Karpov. They were the old Greybacks who hovered over maps and projected their greed and desire in thickly worded pronouncements. The United Nations was their forum and great theater in times of high crisis like this. The Chinese had stolen the show when one of their Generals stormed in and brazenly stated that a nuclear exchange was not only contemplated but apparently acceptable if the Americans wanted to try and stop them from forcibly integrating Taiwan with the mainland. His cold logic of war was as stark and simple as possible—you’ll kill us, we’ll kill you, and when the radiated dust settles we’ll have survivors equivalent to your entire current population, and you will be gone. That was war’s grizzly bottom line.

  Karpov was doing the same math in his mind that day as he sized up the enemy carrier battlegroups heading his way, ticking off ship names, classes and capabilities in his mind, and working out his battle plan if it came to that. In the end one side or another would still have ships afloat and claim the victory, but the odds looked fairly steep for his Red Banner Pacific Fleet. CVBG Washington was enough to contend with, but he would soon be up against two American Carrier Strike Groups, as CVBG Nimitz was also heading west from Hawaii.

  Nikolin interrupted his reverie with a communication from Naval Headquarters at Fokino. It was a plainly coded message, decrypted and printed on screen and teletype as it arrived, and it sent a rising pulse of adrenaline churning in Karpov’s stomach when he read it: SSN Tigr sunk by hostile action in the Gulf Of Mexico. PLAN forces have attacked Taiwan. Stand Ready. Hostilities imminent.”

  Hostilities were already well underway, he thought. The Chinese… He shook his head. So it finally came down to missiles and manpower. That was sure to pull in the Americans and everyone else, present company included. Apparently there had also been a shooting incident off the US Coast. Tigr was an improved Akula class boat, and a good one. What was it doing in the Gulf of Mexico? That was one hell of a place to put on the patrol schedule given the present situation there. Then the other news concerning the hurricane and the major damage to the oil platforms began to filter through this latest comm-signal, and he wondered what had really happened in the oil dark waters of the Gulf.

  Suppose our Tigr had something to do with the catastrophic collapse and sinking of that big British Petroleum platform? What would have possessed the Americans to simply fire on a Russian sub if it were not up to some very real mischief there in the Gulf Of Mexico?

  The Greybacks, he thought. They pulled something out of their fedoras and this is what it came to in the end. Tigr was blown to pieces and sixty-five men were dead in the wreckage at the bottom of the sea.

  “What are our friends doing on the Washington, Rodenko,” he asked his radar man. The Americans were too far away to appear on the ship’s organic radar systems, but Volsky had naval air assets up from Vladivostok, a pair of A-50U Shmel long range radar planes 300 kilometers south of his position in the border
zone known as the AEW line. Both sides had Airborne Early Warning assets deployed there, and the Russian planes had company in the zone with an E-6 Hawkeye off the Washington, and a larger E-3 Sentry AWACS plane from airfields in Japan. Rodenko was also receiving satellite data from space where Russian spy birds watched with their high resolution cameras and infrared sensors.

  “The American carrier is heating up, sir,” said Rodenko. “I’ve seen this before. It looks like they’re spotting for launch—at least two squadrons. If this is so I should have radar return feeds from the A-50s soon for confirmation.”

  Karpov expected this. Tanner would have to put something in the air. The only question was whether or not those planes would be chasing seagulls or Russian ships. “Is the battlegroup still heading north?”

  “Yes, sir. They are about 200 kilometers south of the AEW line now, course 005 degrees. They can launch any time, and they’re definitely spotting now.”

  Karpov did not like the sound of that. The American strike squadrons would have a combat radius of about 770 kilometers. Their standoff Harpoons could then fire at a range of 125 kilometers. They were already in strike range, some 600 kilometers to the south and his longest range cruise missile aboard Kirov was the P-900, which maxed out at 400 kilometers. He had two other fleet assets present with a longer reach. The Varyag was carrying the P-1000 Vulkan missile, built in the days when the design theory called for big missiles, with heavy warheads and long range. The newer inventory of supersonic missiles on Kirov today relied more on sheer speed and agility to defeat the enemy defenses, but Karpov now wished he had a big stick with a longer reach. Varyag was a powerful long range threat. The fleet carrier Admiral Kuznetsov also carried eight P-700 Shipwreck missiles with a 625 kilometer range.

  If he wanted to be able to begin offensive operations he had to do it with those two ships or the limited strike wing aboard the Admiral Kuznetsov, or else take his surface action group south at high speed so Kirov could close the range. The two sides were closing on one another at about 25 to 30 knots each. This meant the range was diminishing by a hundred kilometers per hour. In another two hours he might get his flagship into missile range, but he had another option, though he was waiting on a signal from Fokino before he acted.

  As for his adversary, the Americans had at least four strike squadrons on that carrier with at least twelve planes each. That could theoretically bring 48 planes with Harpoon anti-ship missiles, but the math wasn’t that simple. In WWII each strike plane of the Japanese carriers had the simple job of carrying a single torpedo or one or two dumb bombs to the target. Everything was different in modern warfare, because defeating the enemy electronics suite was also a necessary part of the attack. If you could jam or suppress their radars you could then inhibit the otherwise fearsome SAM missile defense modern ships were capable of projecting. Karpov knew the American planes would be arrayed with a wide range of assigned duties if an attack came in, and he had studied the tactics well. Know thine enemy…

  AWACS coverage would be provided by the carrier itself and land based assets already in place on the AEW line. Two groups of four fighters would be equipped for target combat air patrol, (TARCAP) and fighter escort duty. At least one or two planes would be standoff jammers flying the FA-18G Growler, and two F/A-18E/Fs would be equipped for mid air refueling operations. Two groups of 4 strike aircraft each would be equipped for SEAD duty, the Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses. These would carry HARM anti-radiation missiles to seek out the Russian radars and hopefully get some hits. These twenty planes were just the strike asset support group.

  The meat of the package would come in three groups of four F/A-18's equipped for long range ASUW, Anti Surface Warfare duty. They would carry at least two 360 gallon external fuel tanks at this range and a weapons load out of 2 x AIM-9 Sidewinders, 2 x AIM-120s and 4 x AGM-84 Harpoons. It was these last twelve planes he really had to worry about, and the 48 Harpoons they were carrying. So the math produced the same sum, though it got there by a different method. It was a deadly dance in the skies that required careful choreography. The difficulty was in coordinating the time on target for the Harpoons to be within seconds of the HARM attack on the his radar sets. It would not be easy in the heat of combat.

  Karpov thought back to those early days in the North Atlantic where the British carriers would throw groups to ten or twenty old by-plane Swordfish and Fulmar fighters at him, and then again to the more sophisticated attacks mounted by the Japanese with waves upwards of ninety planes sent in from a full carrier division. Those attacks seemed so primitive and foolhardy to him now, and it was only Kirov’s dwindling SAM inventory that allowed any of those planes to have even the slightest chance of harming the Russian ship seriously.

  The attack forming to his south, however, was another matter entirely, several orders of magnitude above the threat posed by Admiral Hara’s brave Japanese pilots of WWII. That said, Karpov did not think it would be enough. The support group and strike assets in the attack he imagined would probably use three of the four squadrons on this American carrier. They would need to hold back that fourth squadron for defensive CAP over their task force and other contingencies. While a potent threat, the Captain did not think the Americans would seriously hurt his task force with this single carrier. If Captain Tanner was a wise man he would wait for the Nimitz group and then coordinate a joint attack, double or nothing.

  He did not underestimate the skill of his opponent, but what Karpov did not know was that Tanner was now constrained by the urgency carried in that last FLASH emergency message traffic he had received. The American Captain had orders to find, attack and sink the battlecruiser Kirov, and another way to double down on his strike package bid that day. The Nimitz was coming for backup, but CVBG Washington was the cop on the beat at the moment, and if Tanner was ready to rumble he could strike at once.

  This was the inherent advantage the Americans possessed, thought Karpov, the option of the first blow. Well I have some bad news for them. That option is mine as well. We have other assets in theater just for this contingency.

  Rodenko soon reported planes in the air over the US carrier group, and trouble heading north with bad intent. Then came a sudden, distant rumble, a vibration in the air, and all Karpov could think about was that first deep vibrato when Orel blew up in the North Atlantic and sent them all careening through time to 1941. He could see the wide-eyed looks from Nikolin and Pavlov over on navigation with that same thought in mind as well, but Rodenko was quick with his report.

  “It’s that damn volcano again,” he said coolly. “Another eruption, and it looks like a big one this time.”

  Karpov took his field glasses and observed the distant outline of Iturup Island behind them where the volcano named “the Demon” was awakening. The thought he had about it earlier came to mind again, and his eyes narrowed with a demonic expression of his own. He grinned to recall how he had described himself as the devil to the American Captain. Perhaps there was some mischief in the air with this restless mountain behind him that he could use to good advantage.

  “Rodenko, what’s the prevailing wind direction right now?”

  “Almost due south, sir.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Aboard CVBG Washington Captain Tanner had finished consultation with his CAG, the Carrier Air Group Commander, and was watching the last of the Diamondbacks take off to form up for the attack. The Dambusters were spotted and ready to join them in the number three hole. The Royal Maces were already aloft and he would hold his last squadron, the Eagles in the cleanup spot. Karpov’s math was a little off that day. All SEAD and support craft aside, he had anticipated twelve strike planes with four harpoons each in the core attack, but there would be twice that number. Tanner had thirty-six planes between the three squadrons and he was using them all. And his support group was going to turn over all escort and TARCAP duty to some friends arriving from nearby airfields on Japan.

  The 35th Fighter Wing with 13th and 14th Fighter Squadrons
were operating out of Misawa AFB. The Wing’s insignia was quite appropriate that day, a fist clutching a crimson dagger with the motto “Attack To Defend.” The fighting 35th would stand in for the lack of a second carrier strike group, and both squadrons were on the tarmacs and ready for takeoff. The snarling black Panthers of the 13th Fighter Squadron were up first, quickly followed by the Samurai Lightning of the 14th Squadron. Both groups specialized in air superiority missions, and they would take that duty well in hand to allow Tanner to load out more of his Superhornets for the strike mission.

  This would free up eight more planes for surface warfare strike load outs, and along with his reserve of four planes he was now going to have 24 FA-18 Superhornets up and angry instead of twelve. The ‘bugs,’ as they were called, would be just a little thicker in the sky that morning. This would give him ninety-six harpoons in the strike, twice what Karpov expected.

  The land based planes were F-16C Fighting Falcons that day, though the pilots had taken to calling their rides “Vipers” instead. The twelve planes of the 13th would take off after the Russian AEW assets, and then form up to accompany one arm of Tanner’s naval strike groups.

  The Samurai Lightning of the 14th would stand an air superiority watch over Hokkaido in case the Russians threw anything at Tanner’s group from their airfields around Vladivostok. The Captain was watching the last of the Dambusters taxi and launch when he got the same news from his weather man that Karpov had just received.