“
“Issue an air defense alert to all batteries,” the commander of the air defense sector ordered. “Multiple unidentified aircraft approaching at medium speed. Report when all systems ready. What is the target’s altitude?”
“Altitude is steady at one thousand meters, sir,” the controller reported. “Sir, all batteries report ready to . . .” And at that instant the controller’s digital radar scope seemed to waver and freeze for a few seconds . . .
. . . and when it came back, the screen was
“Shut down, damn you!” the commander shouted. “Transfer intercept to S-300 primary sector engagement control! Alert all radar units to switch to agile frequency mode if they are getting any jamming!”
The first volley of ten AGM-158 Joint Air to Surface Standoff Missiles, two from each XB-1 Excalibur launched simultaneously, took advantage of the jamming and spoofing from the bombers’ SPEAR electronic data intrusion system and plowed into the heart of the Chinese coastal radar network sixty miles southeast of the city of Guangzhou, destroying the large long-range radars and fixed air defense radars and surface-to-air missile emplacements arrayed along the coast.
Still ten minutes from crossing the coast, the formation of XB-1 bombers had fanned out along a sixty-mile front, line abreast, heading in at six hundred miles an hour. They would take turns turning on their AESA radars to update the tactical situation and to look for fighters or other air traffic. They had descended to four hundred feet above the water, high enough to avoid most obstacles like ships but low enough to avoid long-range radars.
Patrick and Brad were in the center of the attacking line, aimed directly at the People’s Liberation Army Navy base at Zhongshan. Brad found himself grasping at the glare shield around the top of the instrument panel at every bump of turbulence or when some light flashed by. He had never gotten airsick before, but he had never flown at almost the speed of sound just four hundred feet above the water either—if they survived this, he thought, I have a lot of cleaning up to do. “You okay, Brad?” Patrick asked.
“I think so,” Brad said weakly. A threat warning appeared on his MFD. “SA-N-12, twelve o’clock, thirty miles.”
“Touch the warning box,” Patrick said. A smaller window opened on the MFD with a diagram of the Excalibur showing the weapons remaining. “Now touch the ‘HARM’ icon, and touch again to confirm. It should give you a request for consent.”
“Yes.”
Patrick reached over to his left instrument panel, opened a red safety cover, and flipped a switch. “Pilot’s consent on.”
Brad did the same on his right instrument panel. “Consent switch up.”
“Hit the ‘ENGAGE’ box, then watch your eyes.” Brad hit the screen, and seconds later there was a tremendous flash of light as a HARM missile shot from its launch rail and sped off into the dark sky. Patrick looked over and saw Brad rubbing his eyes. “I warned you. That missile motor is pretty big. Your eyes should be okay in a minute.” Seconds later, just as his eyes cleared, the “SA-N-12” warning went away. “Good shooting.”
“It’s just like a video game,” Brad said. Another warning sounded. “
“Unreel the decoy,” Patrick said. Brad touched a computer soft key on the screen, which deployed the ALE-50 towed decoy from a canister in the tail. Patrick glanced out the right windscreen. “See that bright light that looks like a really bright star? That’s the SA-11.”
“
“We’re not sure if it’s homing on us—it could be one of the other Excaliburs,” Patrick said. “Watch that spot on the windscreen. If it doesn’t change positions, it’s heading for us.”
“I don’t see it moving . . . it’s gone!”
“The motor burned out. Now it’s coasting in on us. Give me a burst on the AESA.” Brad activated the radar with a nervous touch on the screen. “Left chaff, now,” he said calmly, and as Brad hit the touch screen, Patrick threw the bomber into a tight right turn. Brad thought his head was going to snap off his neck! “Check trackbreakers and SPEAR!”
Brad had to refocus his eyes on the proper MFD. “Trackbreakers active!” he said finally. “SPEAR active!”
“Right chaff,
“It missed us, but it got the decoy,” Brad said. “The ALE-50 is down. Should I send out the other one?”
“Better hold it for our egress,” Patrick said. “Looks like we’re feet-dry.”
“Huh?”
“Back over land,” Patrick said. “One more squeak of AESA.” Brad activated the radar until they got a nice clear radar image that was almost photograph quality, then switched it to standby. “Well, well, looks like we have our first ship at one o’clock. Looks like a big one. Can you make it out on the Sniper?”
Brad activated the Sniper targeting pod and zoomed in on the target. “It’s big, that’s for sure. Can’t tell if it’s a carrier or what.”
“Designate it and let’s see how she sails with a JASSM in her,” Patrick said. Brad touched the image on his screen, selected an AGM-158, and confirmed the selection. The middle bomb doors came open. “Missile away!”
As they flew closer, it was apparent now that the target was not a warship, but a container ship. “You have a few seconds,” Patrick said. “Scan left and right and see if there are any better targets.
Brad swiped his finger on the Sniper image left, which tracked the camera in the same direction. “There!” he shouted. “That
“Designate it,” Patrick said. “It’ll ask if you want another launch or redesignate the missile in the air. Select ‘RE-DESG.’ Good . . . right on time. Switch to the missile seeker.” Brad did, and he got to watch the JASSM plow right into the aircraft hangar opening on the left side of the carrier. “I don’t know if that was the Chinese or Russian carrier,” Patrick said, “but you nailed it.” A tremendous fireball erupted off in the distance, and on the Sniper image it appeared as if the carrier listed almost all the way to the right like a toy boat caught under the faucet in the tub as more explosions erupted.
“Good shooting, Brad,” Sondra radioed. Her Excalibur was ten miles to the south. “We’re releasing on Fushan air base now. Give us a couple seconds before you launch.”
“Roger,” Patrick replied. He saw the brief indication of Sondra’s AESA radar being activated, then the alerts that two JASSMs were in the air. He waited a few seconds, then said, “Clear to release on Fushan, Brad.”
“Roger.” Brad touched the green triangle around Fushan air base, selected and confirmed two JASSMs, and let them fly. At the same moment, Brad saw a blinking box around one of the other Excaliburs. “What does that mean, Dad?” he asked.
Patrick looked, then took a deep breath. “Blinking coffin box—Jacobs got hit,” he said. Patrick threw the Excalibur into a hard right turn. “Get your head back in the game, Muck,” he told himself half aloud. “Two more JASSMs and three HARMs left. Let’s see if we can find where they supposedly moved those DF-21Ds around Huizhou.”
“Fighters inbound!” Brad shouted excitedly. Two airplane icons appeared to their north, both with triangles on their nose indicating the approximate detection range of their radars. “J-15s. They’re heading right for us!”
“Keep on looking for the DF-21s,” Patrick said. “I’ll keep an eye on the fighters.” But it was obvious the fighters were headed right for them. “Their radar isn’t painting us, but they’re still heading in—they must be tracking us with infrared,” he said. He selected both aircraft icons, then selected and confirmed one AIM-9X for each bandit. “Forward bay doors coming open.” Two missiles dropped free of the forward bomb bay and streaked off into space. Both fighters peeled off in different directions after obviously detecting the missile launches.
“Got it, Dad!” Brad shouted. There in the Sniper image on Brad’s MFD were what appeared to be two transporter-erector-launchers, sitting in an open field barely concealed by trees. “I’m going to select them . . .”
“Hold on,” Patrick said. “That looks fishy. They’re just sitting out in the open. Scan around a little.” Brad moved the camera left and right, and, sure enough, several hundred yards farther east there was another set of two launchers, but these appeared to be concealed with camouflage netting, they had more vehicles surrounding them,
