by Dale Brown
the unknowns. It took only a few moments for Blanchard and Fruntz to
finish their primary job-safely transmit the reams of radar and sensor
data collected on this short trip. They began yet another
error-checking routine after all the data was transmitted, where the
receiving station on Guam would compute check sums from each line of
data from their transmission, then compare the sums with Blanchard's
information. If it matched, Blanchard would erase the verified data and
repeat the process with another data file. The verification process was
the most timeconsumingsatellite transmissions even at the best of times
were relatively slow and prone to interruptions but it was the safest
way of ensuring that the information had been transmitted and received
without errors before they would risk erasing it . . . and the
information would all be erased before the enemy fighters got within
striking distance. ABOARD THE NAVY F-14A TOMCAT FIGHTER BULLET FOUR This
shit was happening too fast, Lieutenant Greg "Hitman" Povik thought.
Night carrier operations were the absolute worst. Flying combat sorties
was bad enough, but a night cat shot was sheer terror. Strapped into a
sixty-thousand-pound machine, blasted out into the darkness from zero to
one hundred and fifty knots in two seconds. Hard enough to flatten
eyeballs. Hard enough that the brain thinks you're in a steep nose-high
climb, so your tendency is to push the nose down to the water-that will
kill you in one second if you succumb to the feeling. You have no
outside reference, no sign of up or down or sideways, no natural cues.
The ultimate in sensory deprivation, even though you're surrounded by
instruments. So you keep full afterburner and back pressure on the stick
until after the shot, after you've cleared the deck and established a
positive rate of climb. Believe the instruments, because your brain
will kill you if you let it. Positive rate of climb, positive altitude
increase-gear up. Passing one-eighty, flaps and slats up. Passing
two-fifty, wings moving back, turn out and listen up for your wingman.
Everything is still dark, so you stay on the instruments. You hear
radio calls coming from everywhere, from planes hundreds of miles away
and from planes just a few miles away. Slowly, the real poop starts to
filter in: wingman's up, wingman's got you locked on his radar so he can
catch up without the carrier's radar or the E-2 Hawkeye's radar
operators vectoring in. Vector to the tanker-an F-14 sucks a lot of gas
for takeoff, and the good guys are three hundred miles and a
quarter-tank of gas away still. Check the cockpit, get a check from
your RIO-Radar Intercept Officer, Lieutenant JG Bob "Bear" Blevin-check
oxygen and pressurization, check weapons, check everything. Soon the
sounds of the hostile area filtered in. An Air Force reconnaissance
plane is less than a hundred miles from the Philippines, within pissing
distance of Chinese warships. Intelligence says Chinese patrol planes,
with fighter escorts, might be up. They say the Chinese ships might
have antiair missiles and guns and might just shoot first and ask
questions later. Great. With nothing but black surrounding you, you
feel more alone than you've ever felt before-there's nothing but miles
of ocean between you and dry land or deck. Things happen too quickly,
even though the Air Force plane is hundreds of miles away. Blevin makes
radio contact with the KA-6 tanker, and they maneuver to intercept. The
small KA-6 will transfer only a few thousand pounds of fuel, but it's
better to fly overwater with full tanks as much as possible in case of
trouble. Night aerial refueling ranks right up there with night catapult
shots in the anxiety department. Povik has to drive up behind the KA-6
tanker, find a tiny four-foot-diameter lighted basket, and stick a
three-inch nozzle inside it by maneuvering his forty-five-ton air
machine around it. Meanwhile, the KA-6 is turning in a racetrack
pattern so it won't fly too far from the carrier, which makes the hookup
even more difficult. With gentle coaching from Blevin, Povik made the
hookup on the second try, and he managed to stay hooked up and made the
transfer all at once. He maintained visual contact on the tanker while
his wingman made contact and got his gas, and then they got a vector
from their E-2C Hawkeye radar plane controller to the west. No sooner
had they finished refueling, and they were transferred to the Air Force
E-3 AWACS radar plane's controller, who was providing air coverage for
all the planes operating near the Philippines. The Navy guys had
trained a few times with Air Force controllers, but they still used
different terminology and never seemed to shut u~they seemed determined
to read off every number on their radar screens and let the fighter
crews work their own navigation solutions. But after filtering out the
chatter-obviously those AWACS guys were nervous too-Povik and his
wingman in Bullet Five were vectored in to visual range of an Air Force
RC- 135 reconnaissance plane. It looked like a KC-135 tanker, but
without the refueling boom and with lots of odd bumps and antennas all
over it. All that, from cat shot to now, took less than an hour. Now
they had unidentified aircraft bearing down on them. Povik didn't even
have time to get himself comfortably situated, get his heads-up display
set up just right, and tighten his strapsthe fight was starting right
now. "Bullet flight, take spacing and check your lights, " Povik radioed
to his wingman. He turned to check that his wingman was configured
properly-no missing missiles, lights off, nothing funny-looking out
there-before he disappeared into the darkness. Now they were relying on
the Air Force AWACS controller to keep them separated, yet working as a
team as they prosecuted these bandits. "Bullet flight, this is Basket.
Four bandits twelve o'clock, Blue plus twenty, flight lev-er, angels
fifteen. Possible second flight of two bandits, angels ten." The AWACS
controller was trying hard to use Navy terminology for this intercept,
such as "angels" for "thousands of feet" or "port" and "starboard" for
"left" and "right, " but the more excited he got the more he was
stumbling over his tongue. 'Starboard ten for intercept."
"Bullet flight copies." Povik's backseater could just as easily lock
onto the incoming Chinese fighters with his AWG-9 radar, but the radar
emissions could be detected at incredible distances and the longer he
kept his radar off the more they kept the element of surprise. Just then
they heard on the international Guard radio channel: "Unidentified
aircraft at ten thousand meters altitudethis is fighter unit seven." The
accent was heavily Oriental, not Spanish or Filipino-but Chinese. "You
have violated restricted airspace. You will reverse course and drop
your landing gear immediately."
"Bullet flight, additional bandits departing Zamboanga area, " the AWACS
controller radioed on the air frequency. "Number unknown at this time."
"Range from the bandits to Flashlight?" Povik said. "Range Blue plu
s
zero, " the controller replied. Fifty miles. The fight was going to
happen in a matter of seconds. Obviously the Chinese fighters weren't
going to be content with chasing the American planes away-they wanted to
intercept and capture them. "Unknown aircraft, you have violated
restricted airspace, " the warning came again, more insistently this
time. "You are not responding as ordei'ed. Decrease velocity, lower
your landing gear, and follow us or you will be attacked. This is your
final warning!" Povik considered shutting off the Guard channel, but he
might need it later. This guy was getting on his nerves, but he would
shut up very soon once the furball started. "Where's Bullet Two Flight?"
Povik radioed to the AWACS controller. "Departing Shamu at this time,
range to you Blue plus ten." Sixty miles. It would take them too long
to get in on the fight here-they would be in a position to engage just
as the Chinese fighters caught up with the RC-135. That was far, far
too late. Povik had a decision to make right now, but it really wasn't
much of a chore to make it. Their primary mission was to protect the
Air Force recon planes. They had plenty of firepower-all they needed
was time. They needed to get those Chinese fighters turned away from
the Air Force heavies. "Bullet Four's coming left forty-five. Bullet
Five, stay with me. "Two."
"Go ahead and lock 'em up, Bear, " Povik said. They wanted the Chinese
fighters to follow them-it was okay to hit them with the radar now.
Povik executed a hard left turn to a westerly heading and pushed his
throttles up to full military power. "C'mon, you peckerheads, " Povik
cursed to himself at the Chinese fighter pilots. "Do it, do it!"
"Bullet flight, four bandits turning to intercept, now at your two
o'clock position, forty miles. Second flight of bandits confirmed at
angels ten, trailing bandits maintaining heading onefour-zero." The
tactic worked-sort of. Every degree the Chinese fighters turned, and
every five seconds they interrupted their pursuit, meant another two
miles of safety for the RC-135 recon plane. They were obviously going
after the more glamorous prize-owning an RC- 135 was too easy. Downing
a fighter was more macho. But the two extra bandits weren't going to be
distracted-they were heading straight for theRC-135. "Bullet flight, two
bandits peeling off from pursuit, returning to heading one-five-zero to
intercept on Flashlight."
"Dammit!" Povik berated himself. After a few seconds of obvious
confusion, the Chinese fighters decided to break into two groups and go
after the RC-135. Well, at least they got the odds more in their
favor-two-vee-two heading away from their heavies, and two-vee-four
still closing. Another advantage: the farther the Chinese pilots flew
away from their radar ship, the harder their job would be. "Bullet Two
flight, can you get the four inbounds?"
"Affirmative, Hitman, " the pilot of Bullet Two replied, using Povik's
call sign. "Bullet Two flight has a contact on the four southeast-bound
bandits."
"Bullet flight, be advised, Bullet Six flight of two airborne, ETE ten
minutes, " the AWACS controller reported. Two more Tomcats were on the
way. Well, Povik thought grimly, everybody was paired up and the dancing
was going to begin. "Check the gas gauges, Hitman, " Povik's RIO said.
"We got about ten minutes before we gotta start heading back."
"Thanks, Bear, " Povik replied. "Ten minutes max, then we split."
"Bullet Two flight, push Eagle for your controller." Povik switched to
the new pre-planned frequency-as a security precaution, actual
frequencies were never read over the air, no matter how secure the
radios were-checked in his wingman, and checked in with the new AWACS
controller; now the Air Force controller could stop saying "Bullet Two
flight" to differentiate them between the other two Tomcats. "Bullet,
bandits at your three o'clock, thirty miles. Say your bingo."
"Bullet Two bingos in eight mike, " Povik replied. Povik's wingman
reported the same-Povik knew he would do so unless his fuel state was
worse than his own. The gauges actually said ten minutes, but always
subtract two minutes for the wife and kids, he thought. The AWACS
controller, if he was worth a shit, would subtract another two minutes
and start vectoring the Tomcats toward the carrier after six or seven
minutes. If past experience were any indication, the fight would be over
in less than two minutes.. . one way or another. STRATFOR COMMAND POST,
ANDERSEN AFB, GUAM "Message from Basket, sir, " an operator reported.
"They report six enemy fighters, probable Chinese origin, engaging the
F- 14 escorts, three hundred miles northwest of Mandao. Flashlight is
southeast-bound, withdrawing from the area." General Stone was on his
feet and beside the radio operator in a heartbeat; Elliott was behind
him, listening intently. "Tell Flashlight to dump their data buffers
and get the hell out of there. Shamu should stay available for emergency
refueling, and Basket should stay to control the intercepts-but I want
them as far away from the Philippines as possible."
"All units withdrawing from the area at best speed... Basket reports
more fighters airborne from Zamboanga. No visual contact made, but
Basket reports the enemy fighters made a warning-message broadcast
ordering the aircraft to reverse course and follow them. Operators
report the pilots spoke English and sounded Oriental." The operator
flipped a switch and spoke briefly, then reported, "Communications
center confirms a good secure data download via DSCS from Flashlight and
Basket." Stone nodded with a silent sigh of relief. The lives of his
crew members were vitally important, but it was also important to
preserve any data they might have collected up to this point. "Carrier
Ranger is launching two more fighters to assist, " the operator
reported. "Reports of more fighters launching from Zamboanga area.
Ranger is declaring an air-defense emergency with a two-hundred-mile
exclusion zone. "Verify that all aircraft are in international airspace,
" Elliott told Stone. "If any of the aircraft are attacked, we've got a
case for retaliation." Stone nodded. To the radio operator, he said,
"Order Basket to download a radar map of the entire area and then
verbally read off INS and GPS latitude and longitude, then range and
bearing from radio and radar checkpoints to verify position accuracy.
Tell them to repeat the report every sixty seconds until they are clear
of the attackers." As the radio operator relayed the orders, Stone said
to Elliott, "The Chinese not only have attacked Zamboanga, it looks like
they've fortified it and brought fighters in to seal the area. That was
a major defense installation." Elliott referred to a chart of the
Philippines that had been set up in the command post. "From there they
can control access to the southern Philippines." A Navy captain, who was
acting as the Navy liaison to the STRATFOR, said, "That EF4-class
destroyer is definitely the key, sir. Flashlight reported a Rice S
creen
radar system in operation-it's the most sophisticated radar system in
the Chinese fleet, and it's almost as good as an Aegis system but
without the weapon systems. He can control almost the entire Celebes
Sea from that one platform. With shore-based aircraft, he can control
antiair and antisurface forces for hundreds of miles."
"What we need, " Stone said half aloud, as if daring himself to say the
words, "is permission to launch an attack from Ranger on that EF4-class
boat." Elliott and the others in the command post looked at the Air
Force three-star general wordlessly; surprised at his reaction but
silently wishing the same thing. "Unfortunately, that's pretty unlikely,
" Elliott said. "We're lucky Washington authorized this mission-I would
think there's no way they'd approve a preemptive strike on a Chi nese
naval vessel." He paused, then added grimly, "Unless, of course, one of
our recon planes gets shot down ABOARD BULLET FOUR One of the hardest
tasks for a fighter pilot, and the most important skill that every good
pilot possessed, was situational awareness-the ability to
instantaneously paint a picture of the world around him in his mind
without the help of radar planes, fancy electronic displays, or even
backseaters. Luckily Povik had that knack-he had been honing it during
his twelve years as a naval aviator, all of them in carrier-based
fighters. Bullet Two and Three, plus the extra Tomcats launched from
Ranger a few minutes ago, would have to take care of the four Chinese
fighters chasing the reconnaissance plane. That left Bullet Four and
Five to deal with the two bozos that broke off to chase them. Bullet
Five had closed back with Povik, but he was not right on his wing. They
were in a combat-spread position that allowed either Tomcat to assist
the other if they came under attack. It was a purely defensive
position, but it could be quickly switched to an offensive one if
necessary. Unfortunately, a more advantageous offensive stance was not
authorized. Under the ROE, the Rules of Engagement which were carefully
briefed to each pilot by the Carrier Air Group commander, the Tomcat