time the exec had to cope with a forward-quarter air-to-air missile, but his simulator training at Bahrain had prepared him for this moment. With careful timing, he snapped the stick hard back and left, helping with left rudder. His abrupt upward spiral was more than the AIM-9's small wings could duplicate, and the missile exploded beyond lethal range.
Breathing heavily from the effort, Lawrence regained visual contact with the two Falcons. Both broke sharply away, the glow of their afterburners visible in the morning sky. Lawrence turned to try a Sidewinder shot, but got no tone. He heard Badir call 'Snake!' and saw the white wake of the missile, but it could not track at that distance.
The Israelis had made one pass at the field, and though only the first two Kfirs had bombed, they did their job. Lawrence's victim had crashed near the northern boundary and the second evidently had pulled out to avoid its partner's fate. The fight was over in two minutes, and the F-20s began landing by sections under cover of the flight with most fuel remaining.
One hangar was partially destroyed and there were bomb craters in the runway. The latter would be repaired in hours by Saudi workers with access to gravel and steel plating stacked along the edge of the runway. No center hits had been scored on the landing strip itself, but Lawrence's heart sank as he taxied past the smoldering remains of the two grounded Tigersharks. He recalled feeling less grief over pilots who succumbed to carelessness or bad luck.
Only that night, lying in the bunk in his trailer, did it occur to Lawrence that he had achieved a lifelong goal. The Kfir had been his fifth kill in aerial combat-he was a fighter ace. But he could not tell anyone back home about it, and that knowledge robbed him of easy sleep.
The reports were in by noon. All four of the F -20 fields targeted by the Israelis had been hit, but Orange Base and one other got off lightly. The defenders had been late scrambling from New Badanah, and were caught by the F-16 escorts at 9,000 feet. Too involved with the Falcons to intercept the Phantoms, White Squadron's two flights fought at a disadvantage and lost three in exchange for one kill. Overall, the Israelis lost six aircraft to seven F-20s. But two fields were out of commission until major repairs could be made.
Bennett discussed the day's events with Bear Barnes at the new Tiger Force HQ near Ha'il, 'I talked to the British air attache in Riyadh this afternoon,' Bennett said. 'He seems better connected than our embassy people. Looks like the Israelis decided to preempt possible air strikes from Saudi Arabia before taking on the Syrians and Iraqis.'
Bear agreed. 'So they're going to fight after all. I sort of thought the Israelis might pull out of Jordan. I mean, they're overextended. They can't hold all of Jordan, the West Bank, and part of Lebanon, too. So why push a fight now when they still have time to prepare?'
'My guess is, their government just doesn't think it can survive by ceding territory back to the Arabs. That limits their options. I agree with you, Bear. They
Barnes finished his coffee. He wished he had a Coors. 'Word from the rumor mill is that the Arabs are starting a big offensive in a couple of weeks. I wonder if the Israelis got wind of it and that prompted these strikes. Seems logical-they'd want to secure their southern flank.'
Bennett perked up. 'I haven't heard that. Where'd you get it?'
Barnes looked around to make sure no one overheard him. 'I was in Saudi Air Force HQ yesterday-you know, about the ECM gear. Heard two colonels discussing contingency plans with a Brit, apparently showing what big shots they were. One of them hinted at October ninth. Not very good security-'
Bennett felt an electric shock. Claudia. He had not thought of her in the past two days. But hearing the date of her birthday brought back a rush of painful memories.
'Skipper? You all right?' Barnes grasped Bennett's forearm in a powerful hand.
'What? Yeah, Bear, I'm okay.'
'You sort of drifted off the scope there for a minute.'
'I was just thinking.' With alarm, Barnes noted that the CO's left hand trembled visibly. Bennett glanced away, clearly embarrassed. The big Marine squeezed the arm.
Bennett ignored the tacit message. 'Well, I guess we should go over the fadeaway plan again.'
'No need, boss. Devil and the troops have all the details. We sent that stuff by courier to avoid any oral transmission. All we need to do is phone or teletype two words and the plan goes into effect. '
'Devil… I wonder how he's doing up there.'
'Hell, I reckon he's happier than a hog in slop. He bagged himself another one, you know. Probably painted the fifth star on his helmet before the turbine blades stopped turning.'
Bennett regarded his operations officer. ''Tell me something. Do you ever wish you were flying with these kids? Would you rather be in a squadron than running the ops office?'
Barnes leaned back, regarding his digital wristwatch. 'Well, to be honest, no. If I was younger, say, the age I was in Nam, you bet. I was like every other MiG-hungry stud in an F-4. Couldn't wait to tie into some gomer up in Route Pack Six. But now…' He chuckled softly. 'I'm honest enough to admit I'm not the stick I used to be. Can't be helped; age does that to a guy.' He glanced at his boss. 'But I'm not telling you anything you don't know.'
Bennett sympathized with Barnes and admired his honesty. 'We can't all be like Devil. Hell, the Saudis will have to kick him out of the country before he hangs up his helmet. I guess Brad is still strong in the cockpit. He missed Vietnam, you know. Like Tim Ottman-he wanted his shot at combat.'
An ironic smile crossed Bames's face. 'What's that saying you mentioned so often? Be careful what you want; it might come true.'
'I don't mean to be gloomy, but when I think of Ed and the guys like him, I'm reminded of something attributed to Raoul Lufbery. You may have heard of him.
'Yeah, he invented that squirrel-cage maneuver, a defensive circle. What reminded you of him?'
'He's supposed to have said, 'There will be no after-the-war for a fighter pilot.' '
Barnes was intrigued. 'What'd he do after the war?'
'Nothing. He was KIA in 1918.'
The debrief was orderly but intense. The Israeli aircrews had dispassionately reported what they had seen and done over the four Saudi fields, knowing that intelligence evaluation would confirm their estimates. Meanwhile, other pilots were sitting cockpit alert in the refueled, rearmed Kfirs, poised to launch immediately from the camouflaged blast pens and dispersal pads.
Despite the outward calm, the underlying emotion was puzzlement. Even with heavy electronic countermeasures, the strike aircraft had met alerted, airborne interceptors. How had the Saudis reacted so quickly in the face of Israeli jamming and deception? Especially since countermeasures had been instituted on an irregular basis days before to 'desensitize' the defenders.
Lieutenant Colonel David Ran, veteran of the 1973 war, had led his Kfirs against Orange Base. His bombs, and those of his wingman, had cratered the perimeter of the runway and destroyed two grounded F-20s. But he had lost his number three man to a Tigershark and number four had been prevented from bombing.
'I tell you, they knew we were coming,' Ran insisted, speaking to the intelligence officer, bespectacled twenty-six-year-old Captain Danny Peled. ''They were up in force and had enough altitude to intercept with an advantage.'
'Could it have been a standing patrol?' asked Peled.
'No. We only saw two aircraft on the field, and the number of interceptors was too large for a standing combat air patrol. Somehow our jamming must have broken down.'
'We've had no report of that, sir. But there will be a full account in the mission summary.' The report from Hovda would go to Air Force headquarters for compilation with the other units' accounts, after which a summary would be issued.
Ran's wingman handed him a cold glass of lemonade. 'Come on, David. Let's get changed. I think Ari can use some cheering up. He feels badly about not bombing.'
The CO stood silent for a moment. He thought of the old adage:
No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. But damn! The mission should not have met as much
