prepared. Pak Je-San’s Foxbat interceptors are fully fuelled and armed, and are waiting for take-off instructions. This is the last point at which we can stop “Golden Dawn”. Do you still wish to proceed?’
The ‘Dear Leader’ hesitated for no more than a few seconds. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You may issue the final orders.’
‘Very well.’
But before he used his other telephone to make the calls that would order the assault to begin, Kim Yong-Su removed the cassette tape from the recorder, labelled it and then stored it away in his personal safe. Only then did he consult the paper in front of him and dial the first of the numbers on the list.
Pak Je-San put down the telephone with a certain sense of relief. Save for the failure of either the Americans or South Koreans to attack the dummy missiles prepared at the east coast bases, his plan had worked exactly as anticipated. So now it was time for the final act.
He made three short telephone calls to the airfields at Kuupri, Nuchonri and Wonsan in turn, then picked up the microphone and broadcast the order he’d been longing to give for the last six months.
Then he walked across to his office window and stared out. He couldn’t see into the tunnelled-out shelters, but already he could hear the rumble as their armoured doors began to slide open, and a couple of minutes later the first of the Foxbats emerged, towed by a tractor. Ten minutes later, the last of the aircraft was pulled onto the hardstanding, and five minutes after that the first MiG-25 roared down the runway and into the air.
And now all Pak Je-San could do was wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
Monday
‘Cobra Lead, November Alpha on Guard. Request you chop back to tactical.’
‘Roger. Cobras, Vipers, stud four, go.’
As soon as all four aircraft had checked in, the AEW Sea King radar operator passed a hostile contact report that was remarkably similar to his previous broadcast issued when the four Harriers had been approaching their targets on the east coast of the peninsula. He had detected multiple contacts taking off from North Korean airfields. The difference this time was that only four air bases were involved, and all the aircraft were climbing to high level.
In all, the bagman reported that he was holding twenty-one contacts on his radar screen. What he didn’t yet know was what those aircraft were intending to do.
Lieutenant Gennadi Malakov levelled his Foxbat at just under thirty-two thousand feet and glanced to his right and slightly behind. His wingman was holding position about two hundred metres away, exactly where he expected him to be.
Malakov was a recruit from the Russian Air Force, lured to North Korea by the promise of financial independence, though the chance to shoot down one – or, better still, several – American aircraft had encouraged his decision to become a mercenary.
He couldn’t see the rest of the formation under his command but he knew they’d be behind and above him. The pilots had been briefed to fly as three groups of seven aircraft, separated by about one thousand feet of altitude, but until the attack order came all twenty-one MiG-25s would operate as a single entity.
When in service with the Russian National Air Defence Force, the MiG-25 functioned as a ‘manned missile’. The interceptor was fitted with Vozdookh and Lazur radio equipment, and these were integrated with the MiG-25’s Polyot inertial navigation system. The combined package allowed ground controllers to vector the aircraft to a target or patrol area automatically. Only when about to carry out the interception did the pilot switch on the massive RP-25M Saphir radar – second only to the MiG-31’s Zaslon in terms of output power, and known in the West as Fox Fire.
In North Korean service, the same philosophy was followed but, lacking the appropriate ground-based equipment, positive control had to be exercised by the radar stations using radio commands.
‘Zero Six formation, Chunghwa. Make your heading zero one zero, speed six hundred kilometres an hour.’ The voice of the controller was clipped and precise.
‘Zero Six.’
The entire formation turned onto a northerly heading and reduced speed to conserve fuel. The course they were following would take them almost as far north as the border with China before they made the turn towards the DMZ, but this was quite deliberate. Pyongyang had specially instructed that the Foxbats were to remain over North Korea, and well north of the DMZ, until after the first attack had been launched. This was simply to ensure that the MiG-25s would be well clear of the blast radius when the three nuclear devices exploded.
‘Captain, sir, JTIDS is showing multiple launches from four North Korean airfields. Twenty… no, twenty-one contacts presently all heading north. This could be a first wave of bombers forming up to head across the DMZ.’
But in seconds the speed and rate of climb now being detected made it clear that the aircraft had to be fighters.
‘Heading north makes no sense, so once they get high enough they’ll turn south. Where are the British aircraft?’
‘Here, sir, over South Korea, due east of Ch’orwon. But won’t the Brits spot them on their radar?’
‘No, mister, they won’t, because some fuck-wit decided the new Harrier would work better without a radar. That means they’re blind up there. OK, contact the Hawkeye,’ Rodgers ordered. ‘Tell him to pull the Hornets out of their holding pattern and aim them towards – wait one – aim them at Kangnung. Keep them clear of territorial waters until we know for sure the gooks are intending to cross the DMZ. Get the Prowlers moving in that direction as well. And tell the Hawkeye to call the Harriers on Guard. Somebody needs to let them know what’s going on.’
Although he’d been expecting it, the sudden clatter of the teleprinter still took the commanding officer by surprise, and he hurried across his office to read the printed characters.
‘You have received the order?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Implement it immediately.’
The CO left the office, almost running down the stairs, and crossed into the missile preparation area. There, as he shouted orders, engines were started on three small but powerful tractors, and the HY-2 cruise missile trailers were towed out of the shelter to their pre-prepared positions. Once in place, the trailers were jacked up, using the tractors’ hydraulic systems, to form rigid platforms for the impending launch. Then the towing vehicles were unhitched and driven off.
The technicians were already waiting, and they plugged the power lines into shielded sockets next to the firing positions. The target coordinates had already been entered, so all that remained was to undertake a comprehensive systems check before the launch itself. This took under five minutes per missile and, less than ten minutes after they’d been towed out of the shelter, all three HY-2s were ready to fire.
The technical crews cleared the pad and retreated to launch control – a concrete bunker some one hundred
