The international military distress frequency was standardized at 243 megahertz, and was a good way to talk to a military aircraft if you didn’t know which frequencies he’d be using. Meeting his deputy’s eyes, Tamir tapped his headset with one finger, and Okun switched him over.
“Israeli aircraft, this is United States Navy carrier air group commander. Turn around and return to base. If you continue to approach Iranian airspace, we will fire on you.”
Tamir quickly hit the channel selector switch on his headset. “David, this is Yuri. Do not acknowledge. Do not respond to the American transmission. Confirm by voice.”
Colonel Zohar responded, “I heard the transmission, Yuri. I will not respond.” Zohar managed to sound like answering the Americans was the last thing he’d do. “Interrogative, over.”
“Stand by.”
“General!” It was Dvir, watching the Iranian air defenses. “The Kolchuga array near Bushehr is picking up the American radars. They’re still trying to sort out the picture, but there’s a lot of traffic between the operators and southern sector headquarters.”
The Kolchuga was one of the few modern sensors in Iran’s air defense network. Designed by the Russians, Iran had bought the system from Ukraine after the collapse of the Soviet Union. It used broadband ground-based receiving stations to detect and quickly triangulate the position of planes using radar. Kolchuga could actually detect planes much farther out than radar, because the signal from a radar antenna continued to be detectable long after it was too weak to send an echo back to the plane that transmitted it.
That cut it. With the Iranians’ attention attracted to this part of the sky, the raid’s chances of catching the Iranians by surprise had just dropped from excellent to nil.
Tamir grimaced. “Ari, watch for changes in their radar status. Yoni, sit on Southern Command headquarters. Tell me if they start talking…”
“Yuri, the American is still calling for them to turn around. Distance is down to one hundred miles.” Colonel Okun sounded worried. Did he think the Americans would really shoot?
“I’m going to push them, Epher. They may be posturing. Being so openly against us may get them points with the Muslim world.”
Switching voice channels back to the raid leader, he said, “David, energize your radars and lock up the Americans.” There’s no point in being quiet now.
“General, I’m getting jamming signals.” The intercept officer pointed to strobes on the screen. “It’s affecting communications as well as the radars. We’ve lost the data link to the raid. The Americans are jamming that, too.”
Tamir turned to the communications officer. “Get me a channel on military distress!”
Zohar didn’t need the general’s order to energize his radar. Without the data link, the raid was blind, and he couldn’t afford that now.
The American was still talking on 243 megahertz. “Israeli raid commander, this is U.S. Navy carrier group commander. You must abort your attack. I am under direct orders from my president to open fire if you do not turn around. Please acknowledge.”
“David, I’m having trouble getting a lock.” Daniel’s voice on the intercom cut though the American’s voice. “The jamming knocks me off every time I try to track one of them. And detection range is way down as well.”
“Stands to reason, Daniel. The Americans sold us these radars. We’re lucky we can see anything at all. We’ll be in range for heat-seekers soon.” Zohar wondered how long they would continue to jam. Would the Americans stop if he could get the raid past them into Iran? Would they really shoot?
“Israeli commander, what’s your fuel margin? Can you afford to fight us and still attack your primary? We won’t let you divert to Iraq afterward. Any Israeli plane that lands there will be permanently impounded.”
That was bad news. Zohar had told all four squadrons that in spite of the deal with the Saudis, if they were damaged, to head for a U.S. air base in Iraq first, either Baghdad or Tallil. Better chance of getting both the plane and pilot back than with the Saudis, he’d thought.
The descent to low altitude had been forgotten. There was no point, now. In less than fifteen minutes they’d be across the gulf and into Iranian airspace. Zohar tried to buy time. “Why are you doing this?”
“Greetings to the Israeli Air Force. The time for explanations is long past. I have my orders.”
General Tamir listened to the dialogue but said nothing. Revealing his presence wouldn’t help. “Dvir, what can you do about the American jamming?
The lieutenant shook his head. “We’re not set up to hack the U.S. network. Even if we were, we’d have to abandon our intrusion into the Iranian air defenses.”
Tamir looked at the main display at the front of the cabin. Going around wasn’t an option. The American fighters lay between the Iranian coast and the strikers. They’d just shift the barrier left or right, with the range closing all the time.
He was confident of their ability to fight their way to the target against an alerted enemy, but he had never imagined fighting the Americans first. One of his staff had been tasked with figuring the odds. It was not a simple task. “Give me what you’ve got, Lev.”
The major shook his head. “It’s the multiple shots at close range. Even with good countermeasures, you need to see the missile coming at you to use them properly. We could lose twenty aircraft, maybe more. They’d lose less, because of the jamming, but still fifteen at least.”
The communications offer reported, “General, Tel Aviv is calling. It’s Minister Lavon.”
While Zohar had been talking, his back-seater had been working with the radar to find targets and set up Python shots. The Python was a good missile, bigger and longer-ranged than the American AIM-9X, and its seeker was just as smart. Normally, the first salvo in an air battle would be at long range with AMRAAMs, but American jamming had taken away that option. Instead, they’d start with Pythons. When they got closer, in the dogfight, they’d burn through the jamming and use the AMRAAMs in boresight mode.
Of course, the Americans would do the same thing with their AMRAAMs, and they weren’t being jammed.
“Israeli commander, our radars won’t give you any warning of when you’re locked up, so I’ll tell you you’re locked up, and you’ll just have to believe me.”
“You’re going to lose a lot of airplanes and pilots,” Zohar said angrily.
The American’s voice was calm, as if this were merely an exercise. “Your losses will be just as bad. Will your tactics work with a half-assed strike, an alerted enemy, and no fuel reserves? You will lose people to no purpose! Turn around.”
“Our purpose is clear.”
Daniel’s voice cut in again. “One minute to Python range for the lead aircraft.”
Zohar said, “If you shoot, the Iranians win.”
“So they tell me,” the American voice answered. “And if you shoot, you won’t either. Now you have to decide the best way to cut your losses.”
Frustrated, fuming, Zohar was about to give the order to engage when Tamir sent the abort order. “David, this is Yuri. Abort. I repeat, abort. Confirm by voice.”
Resigned, defeated, and still in a state of shock, Zohar responded, “Yuri, this is David. Confirm abort order. Returning to base.” The Iranians would still be there tomorrow.
