by Dale Brown
The Turkish warships were in international waters, so aircraft could legally fly very close as long as they did not pose a threat or do anything unsafe, but the Russian jets never approached closer than one or two miles. The Russians sometimes sent Tupolev-95 Bear reconnaissance planes as well during the day, and they approached within a half-mile or so from the Turkish ships if they were in international waters, but always with a couple of Turkish F-16 or F-4E fighters on their wing and tail.
It was a common cat-and-mouse game in the Black Sea—Turkey sent F-4E and RF-5A reconnaissance aircraft over Russian ships in the Black Sea every day as well, and even Romania and Bulgaria, both of whom had very small air and naval forces, had overwater patrols these days. Nevertheless, Captain Inonu did not want to appear relaxed or overconfident, even for a moment. The Russians had been pledging they would cease all hostile activities and back off, but they still sent patrol aircraft close to Turkish ships, and that bothered Inonu. The Russians were not successfully demonstrating peaceful intent.
The Combat Information Center on the Fatih was a large armored room in the center section of the ship, two decks down from the bridge. It contained two radar consoles for the DA-08 air-search radar; two consoles for the navigation and maneuvering radar controllers; two consoles for the STIR (Separate Track and Illumination Radar) and WM-25 fire control directors, which controlled the Sea Sparrow missiles and the 127-millimeter gun; two sonar operators manning the SQS-56 sonar; two operators manning the radar-warning and signal-gathering systems; and two controller consoles for the TV/infrared/laser fire-control tracking systems for the weapons, one for the front half of the ship and one for the aft hemisphere, which could accurately track and compute attack geometry on aircraft and cruise missiles out to a range of five miles without emitting any telltale electronic energy. Two console operators shared a communications technician/assistant. Each system section (weapons, electronic warfare, and radar) had a director, who reported to the combat officer or ship’s captain. Two seamen also manned a lighted manual vertical-plotting board, situated in the center of the compartment in front of the combat officer’s station, on which all of the information from the various sensor operators was integrated into a readable pictorial display.
Captain Inonu sat in the combat officer’s chair, beside the chief of combat operations who would act as his assistant and communications officer. “Report, Lieutenant,” Inonu ordered as he put on a set of headphones and made himself comfortable in the combat officer’s seat.
“The ship is at general quarters, sir. Battle stations manned and ready, weapons final check in progress.”
“Very well. Communications, this is Combat, broadcast on emergency channels for all aircraft to remain outside ten miles of this task force because of night-flying restrictions and close proximity to resupply vessels. I don’t feel like messing around with the Russian Air Force tonight. Radio the contact and our close-approach restriction to task force headquarters at Sariyer.” Inonu clicked on the intercom. “Radar, have you picked up those Russian aircraft yet?”
“Negative, sir,” the chief of the radar plot section replied. “Should be within range in a few minutes if they stay at five thousand feet. Current position from AWACS plane Diamond has them about one hundred ten miles north of our position.” Inonu was ready to acknowledge the call and ask the chief to remind him of the plane’s status when the chief radioed back immediately. “Sir, message from Diamond, inbound aircraft were declared an air defense item of interest. Targets now closing at over six hundred knots on a missile attack profile.”
“Copy,” Inonu said. Dammit, he knew it, he knew this was going to happen. The fucking Russians! “Combat, go passive.” On intercom, he ordered, “Helm, Combat, get the feed from the AWACS plane and put us on the attack forty-five, and make sure we screen the Akar as much as possible. EW, begin radar countermeasures and decoy dispersal. Signal the task force to disperse and begin countermeasure procedures.” On the shipwide intercom, he said, “All hands, this is the captain in Combat. Air defense is tracking inbound Russian aircraft on a possible attack profile. Go to blackout procedures, go passive on all transmitters, initiate radar decoy procedures. Report in by section when passive condition is set.”
“Message from fleet, sir.”
“Later. Status report first, all sections.”
The one hundred and eighty crewmen of the Fatih, along with the thirty-eight crewmen on each of the patrol escorts, configured their ships for combat operations within seconds. All electronic transmissions that might be intercepted and used as a homing beacon were extinguished; the Fatih could aim its Sea Sparrow missiles and the 127-millimeter dual-purpose gun with steering signals from the NATO radar plane until the targets got within firing range. The helmsman would receive positioning cues from radar plot to position the frigate “on the forty-five”—at a 45-degree angle pointing toward the incoming planes—they could freely swivel the cannon, the Sea Sparrow launcher, and the two Sea Zenith close-in cannon mounts both before and after the planes passed by, and also present as small a radar cross-section as possible to the incoming planes in case they launched an attack.
The helmsman would also try to position the ship as much as possible between the Russian planes and the replenishment oiler Akar to protect it from an antiship-missile attack. Although the Akar was liberally armed with six antiaircraft-artillery guns and a Mark 34 fire control radar, its huge size and poor performance underway made it an inviting target. All four Turkish ships carried radar decoys, which were small, boatlike radar reflectors with heat and electronic emitters on board that would act as decoys to radar-guided antiship missiles. As a last-ditch measure, all four vessels could fire chaff rockets to try to decoy a missile away from the ship, and Fatih had two Sea Zenith close-in weapon system mounts, which used four-barreled radar-guided 25-millimeter cannons to try to destroy an incoming missile seconds before impact.
“Position of the inbounds?” Inonu yelled out. He did not need to address his request to anyone in particular—the radar director should know that information or direct his technicians to respond.
“AWACS has the inbounds one hundred miles north, approaching at six hundred knots, altitude now three thousand feet.”
“Very well.” On intercom, Inonu radioed, “Communications, this is Combat, go ahead with instructions from fleet headquarters.”
“Yes, sir. Fleet requests you protect the oiler to the maximum extent possible and detach it as soon as possible,” the communications officer replied.
“That’s it?”
“Message ends, sir.”
Great, Inonu thought. Not even a “good luck” or a “hang tough. “ Shit. “Comm, I want instructions from Fleet on how to handle this hostile, not a wish list. Request instructions.”
Inonu turned to the ship’s combat officer, a young man named Mesut Ecevit, on his first extended patrol in a frigate after commanding a patrol boat for many years. “What am I forgetting, Lieutenant?” Inonu asked. “Decoys, blackout, passive routine—what else should we be doing?”
The young crewman thought briefly, then responded, “We could get the helicopter airborne … perhaps give the bomber crews something in their face to worry about.”
“Good thought, Lieutenant. I knew there was a reason we got you off the patrol boats.” On shipwide intercom, Inonu radioed, “Flight, Combat, launch the patrol helicopter, have him execute full decoy operations—lights, chaff, radio, the works.” His acknowledgment was the warning to all crewmembers that the helicopter was being launched. The AB-121 patrol helicopter, an American UH-1N Huey helicopter modified for maritime patrol duties, could bring a large Sea Eagle surface-search radar aloft, and he would drop chaff and turn on searchlights and broadcast warning messages to the inbound aircraft—suitably separated from the frigate, of course.
The helicopter would also be available for rescue operations—but Inonu didn’t want to think about that.
* * *
General Br
uce Eyers was furious to the point of apoplexy. There, to his amazement, stretched out on the tarmac in front of him, were eighty MiG-23 Flogger-G fighters belonging to the Ukrainian Republic. Half were lined up on the main taxiway of Kayseri Air Base right up to the runway hold line; the other half, the fighters not carrying missiles, were lined up on the taxiways parallel to Kayseri’s smaller parallel runway. Two MiGs were on each runway’s hold line, ready for a formation takeoff, and the rest were lined up staggered behind it with only thirty feet between tailpipe and pitot boom. All but the last twenty aircraft or so had engines running—the rest had small, truck-towed pneumatic start carts parked underneath the fighter’s left wing, ready to shoot high-pressure smoke into the fourth-stage compressor section to start the big Tumansky turbine turning in just a few seconds.
Eyers directed his Turkish driver to park his car right in front of the lead fighter’s nose, and after some hesitation and a lot of consternation, the driver finally complied. Eyers considered running out and ordering the pilot to shut down, cracked the door open, thought better about approaching the MiG with its engine running, and grabbed the car’s UHF radio. “Lead MiG-23 aircraft, both of you, shut down your engines immediately. That’s an order!” There was no response. “I said, shut down your engines! Now!” Still no response.
Eyers forgot about the incredible engine noise, stepped out of the sedan, swaggered up to the lead pilot’s left side about fifty feet in front of the left engine intake, drew his Colt .45 automatic pistol, and fired two shots into the sky. The muzzle flash in the darkness was big and bright, and the message was unmistakable. Eyers then lowered the muzzle and aimed the gun at the MiG-23’s engine intake. A single bullet ricocheting around in the intake would certainly destroy the engine in just a few seconds. Turkish Air Force security vehicles screeched out to the runway hold line, and several soldiers aimed their rifles at Eyers. He ignored them. Eyers raised his left hand, showing five fingers, the gun still aimed at the left engine intake. He then lowered one finger, then another, then another.…
The lead MiG-23’s engine abruptly began to spool down, and the leader’s wingman followed suit. All the rest of the MiG-23s waiting for takeoff kept their engines running, but their path was effectively blocked. Eyers signaled to the lead pilot to open his canopy and step down, and after a few moments, he complied. The canopy swung open a small ladder extended on the left side of the plane, and the pilot stepped onto the runway and walked over to Eyers.
The lead pilot, to no one’s surprise, was Colonel of Aviation Pavlo Tychina.
“What in hell do you think you’re doing, Colonel?” Eyers yelled over the noise of the other fighters lined up ready for takeoff. He made a “kill your engine” signal to the other fighters, but it was doubtful anyone could see him or would obey him if they did. “Who gave you permission to taxi these planes for takeoff?”
“Permission? No permission,” Tychina shouted over the noise. “Air attack in progress. Russian bombers attack Turkish ships. We help fight.”
“How did you know an attack was in progress?”
“We hear on radio.”
“What radio? Who gave you a damned radio?” thundered Eyers, ready to chew nails.
“No one give,” Tychina yelled. “Airplanes has radio. We do listening watch—one plane for each frequency. Easy.” Eyers understood: Tychina had his pilots set up a radio listening watch using the aircraft radios—one for high-frequency single-sideband, one for UHF, one for VHF. With an AWACS plane orbiting at twenty-nine thousand feet and with air defense broadcasts relayed across the country, it would be easy for the Ukrainians to pick up the action.
“You’re saying that no one gave you permission to move these planes?” Eyers roared, all but spitting bullets. “I thought I ordered you to sit tight until NATO decided what to do with you.”
“No. We not wait. Turkey under attack by Russia.”
“I don’t give a shit!” Eyers shouted. “I will throw your ass in prison, you Ukrainian sonofabitch! You get up in that Tonka toy of yours and order them to shut down right now!”
By that time General Sivarek had driven up to the group, and the Turkish security guards moved in. The General surveyed the two lead fighters on the runway hold line and the impressive line of MiG-23 fighters behind them, then looked at Eyers, to the gun still in his hand, and then at Tychina. He returned Tychina’s salute, then strode up to Eyers. “What is happening here, General Eyers?” he demanded, eyes ablaze.
“What the hell does it look like, General?” Eyers snorted. “These kids were ready to blast off—at night, without orders from anyone, without permission, without any way of coordinating with Turkish or NATO air defense.”
“You are aware of the attack underway on the Black Sea near the Bosporus, are you not, General?” Sivarek asked.
“What does this got to do with it? General, you just can’t send a gaggle of Soviet fighters up in the sky, mixing it up with NATO aircraft. Where’s the coordination? Where’s the plan … ?”
“General Eyers …” Sivarek began, then paused and turned to Colonel Tychina. “Colonel, order your aircraft back to parking.”
“Excuse me, please, General,” Tychina said, horrified by the thought, “but we can still act. We must launch now.”
“It is too late,” Sivarek said. “It would take you at least twenty to thirty minutes to arrive on station, and your fighters have burned too much fuel sitting here on the ground. Order them to return to parking.” Tychina had no choice. He saluted Sivarek, ignoring Eyers, turned, and gave the signal to his planes to turn around and head back to parking. A few minutes later, a maintenance truck with a tow bar came along to tow the two lead aircraft.
As they began moving, Eyers turned to Sivarek. “What is going on here, General? You knew about this? You gave permission for these planes to taxi?”
“Standard base-defense response, General Eyers,” Sivarek said. “When under air raid alert condition, attempt to launch as many aircraft as possible.”
“That’s bullshit, General,” Eyers spat. Sivarek’s eyes narrowed, his anger barely under control. “You launch as many friendly aircraft as possible, not Ukrainian aircraft!”
“They are friendly aircraft, General,” Sivarek snapped. “Can you not understand this? They are here to work with NATO, work with Turkey, to fight the Russians.”
“That hasn’t been determined yet, General,” Eyers declared. “NATO hasn’t issued any—”
“No, NATO has not responded to my country’s plea for help,” Sivarek interjected. “A squadron of reconnaissance planes that will not arrive until tomorrow morning, two naval vessels that will not arrive for four days, and an air defense battalion that is half the size we need that may not arrive for a month. Meanwhile, Turkey suffers an attack by Russia.”
“Well, what in hell did you expect these Ukrainians to do?”
“They will fight, General Eyers!” Sivarek exploded over the roar of Tumansky engines as the MiG-23s began to turn around. “They carry only one hundred rounds of 23-millimeter ammunition and a few missiles, and not all have attack radars. They have almost no fuel for multiple engagements once they reach the Black Sea, and some pilots are suffering the effects of radiation poisoning, but they are willing to fight, and die, for a foreign power. Yes, I gave them permission to taxi, and I was awaiting permission from Ankara to allow them to launch and engage the Russian bombers. You have been quite effective at stopping them.”
“Well, you should’ve let me in on your little scheme here, General,” Eyers said. “You gotta get permission from NATO before you—”
“I do not need permission to decide what aircraft taxi on this installation, General Eyers.”
“This is a NATO base, General,” Eyers retorted. “We funded it, we built it, we upgraded it, and we run it.”
“This is Turkey, General!” Sivarek shot back. “This is my country and my responsibility. You and NATO are guests in this country … and not very good ones at that! It
is about time you learn this truth. Captain!” Sivarek’s aide stepped up to his commander and saluted. “Release the Ukrainian weapons and external stores belonging to the Ukrainian Air Force. Then order all maintenance chiefs to begin assisting the Ukrainians in arming their aircraft. Request that Colonel Tychina meet with me and the general staff as soon as possible so that we may discuss the integration of their forces with the Turkish Air Force.”
“You … you can’t do that!” Eyers exploded, all but throwing his hat on the ground in fury and frustration. “Those planes can’t be armed or launched without permission from Brussels! And I don’t want those Ukrainian weapons moved until I get a complete inventory!”
“Your orders mean nothing anymore, General Eyers,” Sivarek said angrily. “Because of you, my country may suffer at the hands of the Russians. I will not allow that to happen again. I will see to it that these Ukrainian aircraft are made ready for air defense and maritime patrol duties immediately, and I will launch them immediately upon receiving permission from my government. You may observe and report your observations to Brussels or to whomever you wish, General, but if you attempt to interfere again you will be placed under house arrest. Captain, order the General’s driver to take the General to my headquarters or to his quarters or wherever he wishes, but move that vehicle off my runway immediately.”
Captain Inonu leaned forward toward the vertical-plot board as the Russian plane icons were erased and moved closer to the center of the board. “Range to inbounds?”
“Ninety miles by AWACS, sir.”