by Dale Brown
As much as it galled him to do so, Wu stayed off the radios and remained in formation with the B-1 bomber, occasionally nudging closer and closer to make out any other details of the aircraft and to see if he could scare the pilot away just by flying dangerously close to him. The B-1 pilot didn’t appear fazed at all when the JN-15 moved closer. He was also galled by the fact that the Hollywood JN-20 pilot was going to be allowed to chase the B-1 away, not the JN-15s.
“Ying flight, this is Laoying One-One, tied on radar,” the JN-20 Challenger’s pilot reported. It was the JN-20 squadron’s commander, Hai Jun Zhong Xiao (Commander) Hua Ji, himself—he should have known the boss would take this intercept, Wu thought. “Say status.”
“Eagle One-One, this is Hawk Seven-One flight of two, still in close formation with the American bomber, airspeed accelerating now that the Striker is heading back to the ship,” Wu reported. “The JH-37 crew reported some kind of meaconing and interference and suspect it might be from the bomber’s radar, but we are not experiencing any problems.”
“Acknowledged,” Hua replied. “Switch to the target’s right side and I will come up on the left.”
“Seven-One flight, acknowledged. Hawk flight, lead is switching to the right side.”
“Two.”
The JN-15 pilot pulled off a tiny bit of power, then steered below the bomber. With the big plane above him now, he could clearly see the Sniper targeting pod mounted on an external stores station, the three bomb bays, and the other external stores stations, all empty. When he flew all the way around to the other side, the pilot smoothly put the power back in, then slowly climbed until he was even with the copilot’s window on the right side of the bomber. The bomber’s copilot immediately pulled out a small camera and started snapping pictures.
“Masters Zero-Three, this is Laoying One-One,” Hua radioed on GUARD, “confirm you are not armed and not radiating.”
“I’m not confirming anything, One-One,” Hoffman said. “I didn’t clear any of you jokers in. Someone could get hurt—by accident, of course.”
“Do not make any aggressive moves, Zero-Three,” Commander Hua said. “I have you in sight and will close on your left side.”
“You’re not cleared in, One-One,” Hoffman said irritably. It definitely sounded like he was getting agitated. Maybe he was getting ready to bug out. “Stay clear. I am unarmed and flying in international airspace. You guys don’t own this territory. Líkâi, prick!”
“Zero-Three, you are flying in an area where Chinese military operations are under way,” Hua said, infuriated that the American was using such foul language on an open radio frequency. “It is you who is doing dangerous acts. If you will not depart the area immediately, we have no choice but to shadow you until you do.”
“Suit yourself, bozos,” Hoffman said. “Hope you didn’t fill up your piddle pack already.”
Hua pulled his JN-20 Challenger fighter up to the B-1 bomber, taking digital photos of the aircraft from its left side as he got closer, then maneuvered beside and no more than a few yards away from the bomber. The bomber pilot took a few photos, then gave Hua an obscene finger gesture, putting his thumb between his index and middle finger.
“Why do we not blast this guy with our afterburners, like the American fighters did to our JH-37?” Lieutenant Commander Wu radioed on his command channel. There had been a confrontation between a land-based JH-37 and fighters from the American carrier George H. W. Bush in the south part of the South China Sea, where the U.S. Navy F/A-18 Super Hornet fighters tried to chase the JH-37 away with a tactic called a “handstand”—a Hornet pilot pulled directly above the JH-37, then pulled up steeply and hit its afterburners, pushing the Chinese bomber into an almost uncontrollable dive.
But the maneuver resulted in the release of a supersonic antiship missile that steered directly at the Bush—whether accidental or intentional still had not been revealed. The missile was destroyed just seconds before hitting the supercarrier, but the resulting damage of the exploding missile killed fifteen, injured thirty-seven, and destroyed eight aircraft; the Bush was out of commission for almost two years. Although the incident was almost five years ago, it still left a deep scar for most Chinese sailors and airmen.
“Hey, One-One, back away,” Hoffman radioed a few minutes later. “You’re crowding me. The guy on my right is moving in too close too.”
“Sounds like the American is getting nervous,” Wu radioed.
“Maybe if he gets nervous enough, he will leave,” Hua said. “See how close you can move in.”
“My pleasure,” Wu said, and he expertly maneuvered even closer to the B-1 bomber, rattling the bomber’s right wing with exhaust from his engines. “How do you like that, my friend?”
Just then the B-1 bomber started a gentle right turn until it was heading southwest—away from Taiwan’s air defense identification zone, but in the direction of the Chinese mainland, less than two hundred and fifty miles west.
“Careful, Seven-One,” Hua radioed.
“It is not a problem, One-One,” Wu said. “I can stay with him easily. But he is heading toward the mainland.”
“Not for long,” Hua said. On the GUARD channel he radioed: “Masters Zero-Three, this is Eagle One-One, you are not permitted to come within three hundred kilometers of our coastline. Alter course immediately.”
“I don’t think so, húndàn,” Hoffman replied, adding another expletive. “You guys don’t own this airspace or the ocean. We’re unarmed. Get off my wing.”
“Masters Zero-Three, this is your last warning,” Hua radioed. “If you come within two hundred kilometers of our mainland base, you will be fired on.” He checked his navigation displays—less than two minutes before they broke the two-hundred-kilometer line. On the command channel Hua radioed: “Operations, Eagle One-One, verify, am I cleared to engage the bomber inside the . . . ?”
And at that instant Hua caught a glimpse of a large fast-moving object that zoomed past him, no more than a hundred meters above him. Then a loud crashing BANG! and a violent rush of turbulence surrounded him, and he was forced to peel away from the B-1 bomber so he wouldn’t collide with it. “What was that?” he radioed on his command channel.
“A large aircraft, going supersonic!” one of the JN-15 pilots replied.
Then Hua saw it as it performed a steep climbing left turn: it was another B-1 bomber, its wings swept all the way back, going almost too fast to keep in sight! It was gone in the blink of an eye over his left shoulder. “It is another American B-1 bomber!” he shouted. “A second bomber! Operations, do you copy? Another American B-1 bomber!”
“Eagle One-One, maintain contact with the second bomber!” the controller responded after an agonizingly long silence. “We do not have radar contact! Maintain contact! Hawk Seven-One flight, maintain contact with the first bomber, and do not lose contact! Acknowledge!” All the pilots affirmed their orders.
Hua activated his radar as he started a hard left turn to pursue the second B-1 bomber. “Operations, One-One, lost visual, attempting radar lock,” he radioed. “Request launching the alert-five fighters.”
“Hawk Eight-One flight of two will be airborne in five minutes, One-One.”
Hua swore to himself as he checked his radar display—and realized it was being jammed! “Operations, One-One, I am receiving intense electromagnetic jamming!” he radioed. Usually the JN-20’s superior active electronically scanned array radar was very difficult to jam because it shifted frequencies very quickly, but whatever jammers or radars were on the B-1 were much more powerful and faster than his. “Seven-One flight, say status.”
“The first B-1 bomber is turning away from the mainland and heading north,” Wu responded. “We are turning with him, but we will be at required recovery fuel state in five minutes. We are being . . .” And then the radios completely cut out—not jammed or meaconed, but completely silent.
“Seven-One flight, how do you hear?” Hua radioed. But his radio was silent as well,
and his radar was still being jammed. Without radios or radar he had no way of knowing where the JN-15s were, so they were required to execute lost communications procedures and return to the carrier. Damn the decision of the air wing commander not to use external fuel tanks, Hua thought—any flight farther than two hundred kilometers, when the carrier was farther than two hundred kilometers from a suitable abort base on land, had to have drop tanks. The air wing commander thought the external tanks spoiled the performance of his jets too much . . .
. . . and at that moment he received a “MISSILE LOCK” warning on his radar threat receiver from his seven o’clock position and less than ten kilometers—he was being tracked by an enemy fighter! Hua immediately put in full afterburner, ejected decoy chaff and flares, and executed a hard climbing left turn. Where did the fighter come from? The enemy fighter zoomed past him, just below and to his left, heading north . . . and Hua caught a glimpse of the B-1 bomber! The American bomber had an air-to-air missile?
Hua tightened his left turn and pulled around behind the B-1 bomber. He had no clearance to attack, but his radios were inoperative, and he had just been highlighted by an enemy aircraft, and that was all the provocation he needed to attack. He armed his missiles and cannon. The B-1 had slowed considerably, and it was fairly easy to see him off in the distance. Even if his radar wouldn’t work, his PL-12 missiles could home in on the bomber’s exhaust and . . .
At that moment the jamming abruptly ceased. “Eagle One-One, Eagle One-One, this is Operations, how do you hear?”
“This is One-One, loud and clear now, Operations,” Hu responded. “Jamming has ceased. I have been locked on by enemy radar from the B-1 bomber, and I may have evaded a missile launch. I have radar lock on the second bomber. It is heading north, altitude seven thousand meters, airspeed . . .”
And at that moment the radar locked onto something else—six more targets, approaching from the north at high speed!
“Attention, attention, People’s Liberation Army Navy fighter aircraft, this is Jiàn Four-Seven-Four flight of six, Chung-kuo Kung Chuan, Republic of China Air Force,” a voice over the emergency GUARD channel said in Mandarin. “You have violated the Air Defense Identification Zone of the Republic of China. You are ordered to turn off all emitters, reduce speed, and lower your landing gear. You will be visually identified and escorted to T’ainan Air Base. The use of deadly force has been authorized. Comply immediately!”
Hua felt the almost overwhelming urge to reply with threats of his own, or even lock them all up with his fire control radar—the JN-20’s AESA radar could track twenty targets and attack six simultaneously—but he choked the anger down and mashed the microphone button of his command channel: “Operations, One-One, I have radar contact on six Taiwanese fighters, repeat, six fighters, type unknown, same altitude, airspeed one thousand two hundred,” he radioed. At that speed they had to be fighters, probably American-made F-15s or F-22s. “Request instructions.”
The wait was agonizingly long. When the Taiwanese fighters were about seventy kilometers away, almost within range of radar-guided missiles, Hua heard, “Eagle One-One, Hawk Seven-One flight, yèying, repeat, yèyῑng. Hawk Eight-One flight will be airborne and will provide cover. Acknowledge.”
“One-One acknowledges,” Hua responded. “Seven-One flight, disengage, fly southwest, descend to eight thousand, join on me.” Yèying, or “nightingale,” was the code word to direct airborne aircraft to return to the carrier as quickly as possible. He had to admit it was a good decision, and he turned hard left and headed southwest away from the Taiwanese. He knew the Taiwanese fighters would not pursue him or order him to surrender again, and a glance at his threat warning receiver verified this—the fighters set up two combat patrol orbits, one at five thousand meters’ altitude and the other at ten thousand. Although the JN-15 was equivalent in performance and firepower to the American-made F-15, and the JN-20 was a generation ahead of anything else in the sky, three versus six were not good odds. Hua really wanted to take on the Taiwanese, but it had to be on his terms, not theirs.
HEADQUARTERS, PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY, BEIJING, CHINA
A SHORT TIME LATER
“The report has been verified, sir,” Vice Admiral Zhen Peng, commander of the South Sea Fleet, said by secure telephone. “Both the JH-37 and JN-20 crews reported that their radars and radios had been completely shut down after making contact with the American bombers, and that the American bomber locked onto the JN-20 fighter with an air-to-air missile tracking radar. It is a serious and potentially devastating escalation.”
“We knew about the B-1 bombers on Guam, of course,” Colonel General Zu Kai said in his office at People’s Liberation Army headquarters. “But they appear to have capabilities we did not anticipate.”
“We must do something about them, General,” Zhen said. “Long-range bombers with advanced electronic countermeasures and air-to-air weapons threaten all our air patrols. Our carrier-based fighters roamed over the South Sea freely because the American carrier-based fighters do not challenge us—they either do not launch fighters while they transit, or they keep them close to their carriers. And the B-1 bomber can carry every air-launched weapon in the American inventory, including antiship cruise missiles, torpedoes, and mines. If it can sneak up on our carriers as easy as it sneaked up to our patrol planes and screen itself from our fighters . . .”
“I know, Zhen, I know,” Zu interrupted. “I have been so focused on deploying troops to the western provinces to root out antigovernment rebels, and more troops in the cities to put down riots. I thought things had quieted down in the South Sea. Now this. The Americans are sailing through the South Sea, but not the shipping companies. Something must be done. But what?”
“There is only one solution, sir: destroy the American aircraft on Guam,” Zhen said.
“We tried that once before, remember?”
“Our weapons are a hundred times better than they were back then, sir,” Zhen said. “The American fighters on Guam patrol out only fifteen hundred kilometers or so—that is well short of the maximum range of our nuclear-tipped AS-19 cruise missiles launched by H-6 bombers. Our ballistic missile and cruise missile submarines are better too.”
“A nuclear attack on Guam would certainly trigger a nuclear response,” Zu said. “Nuclear weapons will not be used.”
“Sub- and air-launched conventional cruise missiles can overwhelm Guam’s air defenses and do the job,” Zhen said. “I have also instituted another system that will assist an attack.”
“What are you talking about, Zhen?”
“It is called Nèizài de dírén, sir—‘Enemy Within,’ ” Zhen said. “It is our most ambitious computer hacking project to date, far more extensive and successful than the hacking program against Taiwan.” Zu swallowed nervously—he knew that Zhen would not stop at just one self-initiated spy program.
“Explain.”
“ ‘Enemy Within’ is a project to hack into the computer systems controlling utilities on the island of Guam, sir,” Zhen said. Zu had to struggle to contain his absolute shock and surprise, even on the telephone. “My teams have managed to hack into every municipal computer and server on the island, as well as a number of corporate and personal networks. They are far less protected from hacking and computer virus infection than military computers.”
“What does that accomplish, Zhen?”
“The American air base on Guam gets its power, water, and telephone from the municipal utility company, sir. I can shut down all the utilities to the base instantly, on command. I have been doing it for years. The Americans think it is circuit breakers tripping from lightning, or operator error. The power goes out because I direct it. I can do the same to municipal telephone, radio, satellite, and Internet.”
Zu was absolutely stunned. A navy admiral, under his command, secretly hacking into a foreign utility? “What good does any of that do, Zhen?” Zu asked after shaking himself out of the sudden feeling of dread. “Surely the mi
litary base has backups.”
“Yes, sir, they do, and quite extensive,” Zhen said. “Their Patriot missile batteries, command post high-frequency and satellite communications, and security divisions are completely self-contained and do not rely on municipal power, and individual computers and servers have battery backups. But emergency generators cannot power everything, and in many systems it takes time, from several seconds to several minutes, for backup power to kick on and the systems to reboot and start working again. Even a short period of time can be exploited.” Zu rolled his eyes in exasperation, even though inside he was fairly trembling. “More importantly, sir, their long-range civil radars, computer networks, and normal air-to-ground communications are all powered by the municipal grid. A disruption will not completely blind or deafen them, sir, but we can confuse them long enough.”
“Long enough for what, Zhen?”
“To destroy Andersen Air Force Base, sir,” Zhen said. “Or at least destroy enough aircraft on the ground and cripple the base to make it unusable for their few surviving heavy bombers.”
Zu blinked in surprise. “Are you serious, Zhen?”
“It can be done, sir,” Zhen said. “I have a plan formulated that can do the job.”
“What if it is done, Zhen? After the Americans retaliate, they will just move them somewhere else—Japan, the Philippines, Australia . . .”
“If those countries chose to support them,” Zhen said. “Those countries would know that they would become Chinese military and economic targets. In any case, the American bomber force would be crippled and almost completely wiped out.”
“I do not know if China will continue to be such a great economic power in the world if this damnable recession continues,” Zu said. “If America reacts with a nuclear attack, it could completely destroy our country.”