Plan of Attack

“Bandits, seven o’clock high, six K!” their tail gunner shouted over the intercom.

“No RWR contact,” the electronic warfare officer said. “He must be using a night-attack system, or night- vision goggles.” They heard the chatter and felt the heavy vibration as the Tu-95’s big twin twenty-three-millimeter tail cannons opened fire. Moments later they heard the roar of powerful jet engines overhead as the Hornets sped past. Like a shark that brushes up against its prey to taste it before attacking, the crew knew that the Hornets’ first pass was an identification run — they’d close in for the kill on the next pass.

“AWACS radar back up,” the EWO reported. “Our first missile must’ve missed.”

“Nail that bastard, EWO!” Leborov shouted.

“No fire-control solution yet.”

“Bandit, five o’clock, seven K,” the gunner reported. “Coming in fast…six K, five K…”

“Fire-control solution resolved and entered!” the EWO shouted. “I got it! Stay wings-level! Bomb doors coming open!” Seconds later they launched their second Kh-31 missile. The two pilots watched as the missile seemed to shoot straight up in front of them, and they heard the sonic boom as it broke the sound barrier. “AWACS radar down… — 31 is going active… — 31 is homing, it’s locked on!” The pilots were surprised when, in another instant, they saw a tremendous flash of light off in the distance, and a large streak of fire slowly tumbled across the night sky, with burning pieces of debris breaking off and fluttering to Earth.

“You got it!” Borodev shouted. “You got the AWACS! Good shoo—”

At that moment they heard the tail guns firing again. “Bandit five o’clock four K!” the tail gunner screamed. They couldn’t maneuver while the Kh-31 was being launched, and so they were sitting ducks for the Canadian Hornet. Seconds later the Tupolev-95 rumbled and vibrated as several huge sledgehammer- like blows rippled across its fuselage and wings. One engine on the left wing surged and bucked, yawing the bomber violently from side to side as Leborov fought for control. “Second bandit is at seven o’clock high, six K…. He’s coming down…five…four….” The tail guns opened fire again — and then abruptly stopped. It seemed there was a moment of eerie silence.

And then more hammer blows pelted the bomber. A flash of light illuminated the cabin. “Fire, fire, fire, engine number four!” Borodev screamed. As Leborov pulled the appropriate prop lever to FEATHER, brought the throttle to idle, and pulled the condition lever to SHUT DOWN, Borodev pulled the emergency fire T-handle, shut off fuel to the number-four engine, and isolated its electrical, pneumatic, and hydraulic systems.

“The number-two -90 is still reporting okay,” the bombardier said. “I can see the fire on number four — it’s still on fire! I’m preparing to jettison the number-two missile.”

“No!” Leborov shouted. “We didn’t come all this way just to jettison the missiles!”

“Joey, if that missile cooks off, it’ll blow us into a billion pieces,” Borodev said.

“Then launch the bastard instead!”

“We’re still forty minutes from our launch point.”

“Forget the planned launch point!” Leborov shouted. “Replan the missiles for closer targets.”

“But…how can we…I mean, which ones?”

“Get on the damned radio and coordinate retargeting with the rest of the formation,” Leborov said. “We’ve been discovered — I think we can break radio silence now. Then radio to the other formations and have them retarget as well. You’re the formation leader — you tell them what targets to hit. Hurry! Navigator, help him.”

“Ack-acknowledged.” The bombardier switched radio channels and immediately began issuing orders to the other planes. Each bomber’s attack computers had been programmed with the same set of target coordinates, so it was a simple matter to look up the targets farther north within range and reprogram the computer. Finally the bombardier radioed the second flight of Tu-95 bombers that they were changing their targets and taking their target sets, so the second formation could reprogram their computers for targets farther south.

It was very quiet in the cockpit for several long moments, but suddenly the pilots saw a large red RYADAM light illuminate on their forward eyebrow panel. “I have a SAFE IN RANGE light, bombardier.”

“Acknowledged. Consent switches.”

“Bandit, eight o’clock high, seven K…”

“Consent! Launch the damn missiles!”

The RYADAM light began to blink. “Missiles counting down…Start a slow climb, pilot, wings-level….”

“Six K…five K…”

The RYADAM light went to steady as the tail started violently swaying from side to side. “Hold the nose steady, pilot!”

“I think we’re losing the number-three engine,” Borodev said. “Oil pressure is surging…losing control of prop pitch on the number-six propeller…. Should I shut it down?”

“No. I’ll hold it.” Leborov took a crushing grip on the control wheel, and he was practically lifting himself off the seat as his feet danced on the rudder pedals to keep the tail following the nose.

The RYADAM light began to blink once more — the first missile was counting down again. Suddenly the light flashed brightly. “Missile one away!” the bombardier shouted. There was nothing for what seemed like a very long time — and then there was an earsplitting roar that seemed a thousand times louder than the Kh-31’s rocket-motor ignition, and the first Kh-90 missile fired ahead, then started a steep climb and fast acceleration, disappearing quickly into the night sky. “Missile two counting down…”

Just then they heard the gunner yell something — and then an instant later the number-one engine blew apart in a dramatic shower of fire. An AIM-9L Sidewinder missile launched from one of the Canadian CF-18 Hornets had found its mark.

“Fire, fire, fire on engine number one!” Leborov shouted as he pulled prop, throttle, and condition levers. “Shut down number one!” He glanced at the RYADAM light — it was steady, the missile holding its launch countdown until the proper aircraft flight parameters were met. Leborov struggled to keep the plane steady, but it seemed to be swaying, yawing, and turning in every direction at once.

“Number one isn’t shutting down!” Borodev shouted.

“What?”

“Fuel control must’ve been cut — I can’t shut off fuel to the engine. It’s still burning. I can’t isolate hydraulics or bleed air either.”

The cabin started to fill with smoke, getting heavier and heavier by the second. “Crew, bail out, bail out, bail out!” Leborov ordered.

“I’ll take it, Joey,” Borodev said, grasping the control wheel.

“Negative. Blow the hatch and get the hell out.”

“I told you before, Joey — I’m staying here, in Canada,” Borodev said, a smile on his face. “You have someone to go home to, remember? You’re a family man now. I’m staying.”

“Yuri…”

“I have the airplane,” Borodev said. He jabbed a thumb aft. “Get going, Commander.”

Leborov could see that he wasn’t going to change his copilot’s mind, so he quickly unstrapped, pressed the ESCAPE button, then patted Borodev on the shoulder. “Thank you, Yuri,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll see you on the ground, Joey. Get going. I’ve got work to do.” Borodev started concentrating on keeping the plane steady so that the last remaining missile could continue its countdown.

Caution lights illuminated on the forward instrument panel as both the bombardier and gunner blew their escape hatches. The flight engineer, navigator, and electronic-warfare officer were already on the lower deck. The lower entry hatch was open and the escape slide rail extended. They attached their parachute slide rings to the rail, faced aft, put one hand on the emergency parachute D-ring, one hand on the rail, and dropped through the hatch. The escape slide rail kept the crew members from getting caught in the bomber’s slipstream and sucked back into the fuselage. At the end of the rail, a mechanism pulled the automatic parachute-activation knob, which used a barometric device to control parachute opening — since they were at very low altitude, the pilot chute came out immediately, followed by the main chute less than a second later.

Leborov was the last man under a parachute. At first he couldn’t believe how quiet it was. He could hear a faint humming sound, probably his Tupolev-95 flying away, but he thought it must be very far away, because he