Behind it was another ridge, the highest point – about sixteen hundred feet – lying to the east, the top of it sloping gently westwards. They couldn’t go round it, so they’d have to fly over it, which would probably bring them within the coverage envelope of the Chiha-ri radars, but there wasn’t any alternative.
Dick Long aimed for the lowest point, pulled his aircraft up and over the ridge with a bare hundred feet clearance, then dropped down into the valley beyond. Richter was right behind him, and according to his INGPS at the crest of the ridge they were one and a third miles from the waypoint the Hawkeye crew had given them, and a little under three miles from their target.
‘I’m picking up C-band radar, probably Flat Face. That means SA-3 Goa SAMs.’ Even over the radio, the tension in Long’s voice was palpable. ‘Watch out for the I/D-band Low Blow fire-control radar, but Zeus should handle it.’
‘I admire your confidence,’ Richter said, increasing speed to close up on the other Harrier as the valley widened below them.
Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea
In the concrete bunker that served as the control position for the SA-3 anti-aircraft missile system, one of the radar operators suddenly called out.
‘Two contacts bearing one eight seven degrees range four point six kilometres. Low level, high speed, heading north. Contact now lost.’
‘Report all further contacts. Weapons free.’
The two SA-3 turrets on the south side of the Chiha-ri base hummed to life, the launcher swinging the needle-nosed missiles to point south. Once the current location and height of the intruders had been established, and the Low Blow fire-control radar had computed their track, the missiles could be fired.
Cobra formation, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
The Harriers were less than two hundred feet apart as they roared over the waypoint and swept into the next valley. Richter glanced down at the neat rows of buildings laid out in a grid pattern, almost like the suburbs of a small American town, then he focused ahead again.
‘Zeus is jamming I/D-band frequencies,’ Dick Long reported. ‘I see the missile site. I’ll go left; you go right.’
‘Roger.’ Richter eased the control column slightly to the right to increase the separation between the aircraft, and glanced ahead at the launch pads. From just over two miles away he could clearly see at least three Scud missiles standing erect on their TELs. The other thing he could see was that the pads were too far apart for an explosion on one missile to have any effect on another.
‘We’ll have to use the CRVs as well,’ he said.
‘Affirmative, but fire the Mavericks first. They’re more certain kills.’
Richter clicked an acknowledgement and checked the Multi-Purpose Crystal Display. He aimed the screen boresight – a large cross – at the centre of the closest Scud missile and selected his starboard-wing Maverick. Immediately the missile boresight – a smaller cross – appeared on the MPCD and within seconds the two crosses aligned, showing that the electro-optical guidance system was detecting sufficient contrast at the point of aim for weapon release. The Harrier twitched slightly as the Maverick accelerated away, its solid-fuel motor propelling it in seconds to a speed of over seven hundred miles an hour.
The Maverick is a ‘fire-and-forget’ missile, so immediately Richter aligned the screen boresight with the second Scud.
Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea
The Zeus was doing its job well. Every radar screen in the SA-3 control bunker was flooded with spikes, effectively blinding the operators. Without radar guidance, the SAM system was powerless to intercept the attacking aircraft.
But the North Korean troops manning two anti-aircraft gun emplacements on the south side of the missile base didn’t need radar for their weapons to function. They could see their targets and immediately began pumping high-explosive shells across the valley towards the incoming Harriers.
Cobra Two, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
As Richter aligned the boresights, the first anti-aircraft shells detonated about a hundred yards in front of, and slightly above, his Harrier. The sudden puffs of black seemed alarmingly close, and he inadvertently twitched at the very instant he released the second Maverick.
‘Keep low,’ Long radioed. ‘They probably can’t depress the barrels below the horizontal.’
Richter was already uncomfortably close to the valley floor, but obediently pushed the control column further forward. As he did so, his first Maverick exploded on contact with the Scud he’d targeted, and at almost the same moment Long’s missile impacted with a Scud on the left-hand side of the site.
Two down, four to go.
MiG-25 Foxbat, callsign Zero Six, over North Korea
Fifteen miles north of Chiha-ri, Gennadi Malakov slowed his Foxbat down to subsonic speed. If he stayed at Mach 2, the aircraft would overshoot the base and he’d probably never even see the British fighters, far less be able to engage them.
‘Radiate, and arm weapons,’ Malakov ordered, switched on his Saphir radar and prepared his four R-40T infrared-guided missiles.
Cobra Two, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Ten seconds after the first two explosions, Richter’s second Maverick flew harmlessly past its target and impacted a rocky outcrop just beyond the pad, the detonation impressive but totally ineffective.
‘Bugger.’ The Maverick has about an eighty-five-per-cent kill probability, but because of the anti-aircraft fire he wasn’t certain that he’d got a proper lock-on with the weapon.
Long’s second missile scored a direct hit, but that still left three Scuds waiting on the launch pads.
Richter pulled his Harrier round hard to the left, selected the port-wing CRV7 rocket pod and immediately reversed direction. His S-shaped turn brought his aircraft around so that he was pointing almost directly at the second Scud on its TEL. The CRV7 Operational Pod contains nineteen unguided rockets, and has a range of only just over two miles, so he needed to be absolutely sure of his target.
He ignored the anti-aircraft fire, getting steadily closer as the North Korean gunners tracked him, and he stabilized the aircraft. He waited until he was perhaps a mile from the Scud, checked his aim carefully and fired the entire pod. Then he pulled the Harrier into a right turn and pointed it down towards the valley floor, heading north to start a second attack run from that direction.
The CRV7s spread out as they approached the target, something like a blast from a shotgun. Most missed, but six smashed into the TEL. More importantly, three hit the Scud itself, spearing through the thin aluminium skin of the missile and spraying liquid fuel across the concrete, fuel that almost immediately ignited. In seconds, the launch pad was an inferno.
Four of the Scuds were destroyed, but that still left two missiles intact.
Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea
Inside the Chiha-ri command bunker it was noisy chaos. Orders were being shouted and ignored, men were standing staring at their telemetry screens, telephones were ringing but nobody was answering them, and through the armoured-glass windows leaping flames were clearly visible as the remains of the four destroyed Scuds were consumed by their own fuel.
But there were still two missiles left. The commanding officer, unable to make himself heard over the cacophony, drew his pistol and fired two rounds into the wooden floor. Immediately the noise stopped.
‘Do your jobs,’ he screamed. ‘Launch the missiles.’
And with frequent fearful glances through the windows, the technicians bent to their tasks.
MiG-25 Foxbat, callsign Zero Six, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Malakov could see the Chiha-ri site from five miles away – the four raging fires were obvious, plumes of thick black smoke rising into the air above them. But what he couldn’t see was any sign of the attacking aircraft. Perhaps, he wondered, they’d already made their escape, but if they had they wouldn’t get far. He’d make sure their pilots never left North Korea alive.
Cobra Two, over Chiha-ri, N
orth Korea
‘We’ve got company,’ Dick Long said. ‘I’m detecting Fox Fire radar from the north, which means the ‘bats are about to join the party, and we’ve got exactly one Sidewinder between us. This is probably going to get quite exciting.’
‘Roger that. Break. Alpha Three, what’s the range of those bandits?’
‘Inside six miles, now subsonic and in descent.’
Richter was just north of the firing complex, in a left turn to line up on one of the two remaining Scuds. He glanced to his right and could clearly see some half a dozen aircraft heading directly towards him.
‘Visual the bandits,’ he called, then turned his attention back to the matter in hand. His Harrier had only a single Sidewinder remaining, so engaging the MiG-25s in air-to-air combat would be a very uneven match. But destroying the Scuds had a much higher priority than his personal survival, and he still had one CRV7 pod.
MiG-25 Foxbat, callsign Zero Six, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
‘Zero Six, Chunghwa. Eight high-speed contacts approaching from bearing zero eight zero. Range twenty miles, low level. Possibly American. Combat Group Two is heading to intercept, present range fifty-three miles.’
‘Acknowledged. Zero Six will deal with the aircraft attacking Chihari. Remainder of the Combat Group, break off immediately and engage the Americans.’
Malakov glanced to his left and saw the other MiG-25s turning and accelerating away from him. That made the contest more even: he could handle the two Harriers himself, once he found them.
And then he saw two fast-moving contacts on his radar, about five miles ahead. Obviously the attacking aircraft were so low that they’d been lost in the ground clutter, or behind some of the surrounding hills.
But now he had them.
Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea
In the command bunker, the countdown for the first of the remaining two Scuds was down to the last couple of seconds, and the missile was still standing unscathed on the TEL. The commanding officer alternated his gaze between the digital clock that showed the countdown progress and the view of the missile through the window.
As the clock reached zero, he saw what he’d been fearing: one of the attacking aircraft was sweeping in from the north, heading directly towards the launch pad.
Then two things happened simultaneously. The missile’s engine ignited with a roar, and the Scud lifted smoothly off the launcher and accelerated into the sky. And a ripple of flame appeared below the right-hand wing of the grey-painted swept-wing aircraft. An instant later several rockets smashed into the now-redundant TEL and the concrete launch pad, but none touched the Scud.
Cobra Two, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
In his GR9, Richter knew the moment he fired the CRV7s that he was too late. Even as the rockets streaked towards the launch pad, he could see the Scud climbing away. They’d failed to stop the launch – or more accurately, he had failed to stop the launch when he missed the second Scud with his Maverick. If that missile had hit, he’d have fired his CRV7s at least one minute earlier, when the Scud was still sitting in its TEL.
His remaining Sidewinder was of no use against the missile, because it almost certainly wouldn’t be fast enough to catch it: he guessed the Scud was already about three thousand feet off the ground, probably travelling at close to Mach 2 and still accelerating. The ‘winder had a maximum speed of Mach 2.5, and a fairly short range. The mathematics of an intercept were compelling and unarguable.
There was, he assessed, just one thing he could do that might work. It was a hell of a risk, but it was the only possible way he could think of that might bring down the Scud. He glanced to the north, but could only see one incoming Foxbat. Presumably the others had spread out or climbed to high level. But one should be enough.
He opened the throttle fully and pulled the Harrier into a high-speed climb.
MiG-25 Foxbat, callsign Zero Six, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Gennadi Malakov checked his instruments and ensured that the first of his four R-40T infrared-homing missiles had locked on to the British aircraft that was now climbing steeply above the Chiha-ri launch site.
‘Excellent,’ he murmured, and released the weapon. Then he turned his attention back to the Saphir radar, looking for the second target. This really was just too easy.
Cobra Two, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
‘Paul! Get to low level. You’ve an Acrid heading straight for you.’ ‘Copied,’ Richter responded, concentrating on following the Scud in its climb. ‘It’s behind me so I can’t see it. Can you call ranges.’
‘For fuck’s sake, you can’t outrun it. It’s a Mach four missile.’
‘I’m not going to try. Just call when it’s about a mile behind me.’
Cobra One, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Dick Long suddenly guessed what Richter might be intending. He turned his aircraft so that he could see his wingman more clearly and, more crucially, track the massive Acrid missile that was closing on the Harrier at over four times the speed of sound.
Long just hoped Richter knew what he was doing.
Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea
In the Chiha-ri command bunker, the digital countdown for the last Scud passed five seconds to go, and the missile was still untouched on the pad. Two out of six launches wouldn’t please Pyongyang, the commanding officer knew, but in the circumstances it was a far better result than he had realistically expected. He looked out of the armoured window towards the TEL and nodded in satisfaction as, with a roar and sudden burst of flame, the last Scud leapt away from the launcher.
Cobra One, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
‘Estimate two miles, Paul. Standby. Oh, shit. The last Scud’s just been launched.’
‘Copied.’
‘Stand by for one mile point. Five, four, three, two, one. One mile now, now, now. Get the fuck out of there.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monday
MiG-25 Foxbat, callsign Zero Six, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Gennadi Malakov’s attention was directed almost entirely towards locating and obtaining a missile lock on the second Harrier. He was confident that his R-40T would destroy the first aircraft within seconds, as the idiot Englishman was actually making it easier for the infrared-guided missile to kill him, because he was climbing almost straight up. If he’d dived down to low level there would have been a chance, albeit a small one, that he could have got away.
Then he spotted his second target. The Harrier was in a gentle climb on the far side of the missile base. Malakov pointed his MiG-25 directly towards it, selected his second R-40T and waited for the seeker head to lock on.
Chiha-ri missile base, North Korea
Only after the last Scud had lifted off its TEL did the commanding officer finally answer the direct line from Chunghwa.
‘We’ve launched two missiles,’ he reported, ‘but the attacking aircraft destroyed the other four.’
The brief silence from the Air Command headquarters spoke volumes. ‘We will discuss your failure to obey the simplest of orders later, Colonel. Now, order your anti-aircraft guns and missile batteries to cease firing. We are sending in fighters to locate and destroy the British intruders.’
Cobra Two, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Richter had done a very rough calculation in his head. If the Acrid was travelling at Mach 4, that meant it was covering over half a mile every second. So from the one-mile distance, and with the Harrier flying at around four hundred miles an hour, the missile would hit him between two and three seconds later. It was, he knew, going to be very tight.
He waited for a quick count of two after Dick Long’s call, then acted. He slammed the nozzles into the fully-downward landing position, then chopped the throttle back. It felt as if he’d been kicked in the arse by an angry elephant, and the grey haze of g-loc swam in front of his eyes for a second or two before the ‘speed jeans’ began squeezing the blood back up towards his brain.
The effe
ct on the Harrier was immediate. The aircraft had been climbing almost vertically: the change in nozzle angle stopped the climb and kicked the aircraft onto its back. When Richter cut the power, the GR9 completed the loop and began falling nose-first back towards the ground.
And that was exactly what he had intended. The violent manoeuvre punched his aircraft away from the flight-path of the Acrid. Cutting the power and instantly changing the Harrier’s direction of flight as he’d done – a manoeuvre no other aircraft was capable of performing – virtually eliminated its infrared signature. But he’d had to leave it until the last possible moment, so that the Acrid wouldn’t be able to lock on to him again. As the Harrier started descending, Richter looked ahead, down towards the ground, and saw the missile powering past him.
The moment the target’s infrared return vanished, the missile’s seeker head began trying to reacquire the heat source. It didn’t detect the Harrier, but right in front of it was the massive exhaust bloom from the Scud missile, half a mile ahead. The Acrid’s computer is a fairly basic device, and its target discrimination isn’t particularly sensitive, so it immediately began tracking the new contact.
The Scud was still accelerating, but the Acrid was travelling at close to its maximum speed of Mach 4.5, and overhauled it rapidly. Less than three seconds after Richter kicked his Harrier into a dive, the seventy-kilogram high-explosive fragmentation warhead of the Acrid hit the rear of the Scud and detonated.
The result was spectacular. The remaining fuel in the Scud’s tanks exploded in a massive fireball, blowing debris in all directions.
MiG-25 Foxbat, callsign Zero Six, over Chiha-ri, North Korea
Malakov didn’t see the Acrid destroy the Scud. Though aware of the explosion, he assumed it was just his missile bringing down the British aircraft. He was now waiting for his second R-40T to lock on to the other Harrier but, unlike the first one, this pilot wasn’t making it easy. He’d stopped his climb almost as soon as Malakov identified him, presumably because his ECM fit had warned him he was being irradiated, and went back to low level where the Saphir radar was finding it hard to detect him.
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