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.
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.
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.
‘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.
‘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.
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.
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,
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.
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.
‘Paul! Get to low level. You’ve an Acrid heading straight for you.’ ‘Copied,’ Richter responded, concentrating
