Lieutenant Miller peered up through the jungle canopy as the six Tomcats thundered into the sky. There was a thump, followed by a slithering hiss, and a line of white smoke scrawled its way across the blue. Someone on the ground had just loosed a SA-7 Grail… but far too late. The Navy planes were already nearly out of sight by the time the missile was loosed.
Miller noted the launcher's position in his mind. Part of the close-in perimeter defenses, no doubt.
Lieutenant Miller lay on his belly at the edge of the clearing, studying the compound through his binoculars, taking care not to turn the lenses toward the sun and give away their position with a flash. The Marines had moved silently to this location. staying off the trails, slipping like shadows among the trees. Security elements were posted, guarding flanks and rear.
They were directly on the U Feng perimeter now, looking into the camp across a cleared fire zone a hundred meters wide. Behind barbed wire and sandbags, the enemy camp was in an uproar. Large groups of armed men were running among the barracks, apparently deploying along the perimeter defenses to the south. A pair of tracked SA-6 chassis were parked by one end of the runway, each mounting three Gainfuls side by side, probing the sky.
Miller cursed. Those Gainfuls meant big problems. They'd have to be taken out before the Thais could assault the camp, or they'd play hell with the That-American grab for air superiority. The leader of that flock of Tomcats that had just gone over had played it smart, Miller decided, coming so the Gainfuls couldn't nail them with their Long Track radars. As he watched, though, a missile on one of the launchers spat flame, and a billowing white cloud of smoke engulfed the vehicle. The missile rose into the air, an ungainly, finned pencil shape balancing atop a column of fire.
He looked up. The Tomcats were almost out of sight already but the SAM radars would have them locked in hard.
A second missile slid clear of the launch rail with a hissing roar.
God, Miller thought. This can't go on much longer. Someone would have to take out those SAMs, or this whole operation would be blown.
He turned his attention back to the compound. The word was that the prisoners were being held in a shed or small building close to the fuel tanks.
He could see the tanks, not far from his present position, but there were several buildings which could be the one the Karen scouts had meant.
Damn! Which one?
'Stand by to break, people,' Tombstone ordered. The Tomcats were climbing now, the enemy just coming into visual range. He could see the mingled contrails of dog-fighting aircraft two miles ahead and ten thousand feet above. 'On my mark… break!'
The tight cluster of F-14s opened like the blossoming of a flower, a maneuver called the bomb burst at Top Gun school. Three pairs of sleek gray aircraft separated from one another, the pairs themselves slipping apart as the formation went from welded wing to loose deuce.
'Eagle Leader, Eagle Two!' Batman called. 'We're being painted by Straight Flush. They're trying for a lock!'
Tombstone rolled his Tomcat into an inverted position so he could see the ground. There could be hundreds of SAMs lurking down there. 'Keep your eyes open, Batman,' he said. 'I don't- SAM launch! SAM launch on your six!'
Batman turned in his seat as Tombstone yelled the warning. He searched the jungle behind them, saw the telephone pole shape rising from the direction of U Feng. 'Launch! Launch!' he called.
'Oh, shit,' Ramrod added from the back seat. 'He's locked onto us, Batman! He's got a lock!'
Batman heard the warbling chirp of the Gainful's Straight Flush radar. A warning light labeled SAM flashed red next to his HUD.
The Gainful climbed above the treetops, accelerating at a sky-burning twenty Gs. Then the solid booster burned out. Looking back again, Batman saw the spent booster falling away. The missile was now moving toward him at Mach 1.5. With the booster gone, the rocket converted to a ramjet, gulping air through four ducts as it continued to accelerate. Top speed for the SA-6, Batman knew, was Mach 2.8, well above the best the Tomcat could do.
Batman brought the F-14 into a sharp turn. 'I'm breaking, Eagle Leader,' he said. 'I need some maneuvering room.'
Roger that,' Tombstone replied. 'Get clear.'
He held the break, grunting against the increasing G forces. 'Keep it coming,' he said, more to the aircraft than to Ramrod or anyone else. 'Keep it coming. His compass reading dropped as he turned through a full 180 degrees, until he was heading straight toward the oncoming SA.M. He couldn't outrun the thing, but having seen its launch, he had a chance to outsmart it.
He checked his altitude. Six thousand feet… that was going to make it damned tight. The missile was angling over now, flying almost on the same level as Batman's aircraft. Still hurtling toward the SAM, Batman rolled the Tomcat right until he was canopy down, then brought the stick back and headed for the ground.
The Gs built as Batman held the inverted dive. 'Good night… Ramrod!'
he grunted against the crushing pressure. There was no answer from the backseat, and Batman knew his RIO was either unconscious, or too busy breathing to reply. He stabbed the chaff release again and again, scattering false targets in the F-14's wake.
Green jungle filled the forward half of his canopy as his altimeter spooled rapidly toward zero. The G-pressure was gone now, replaced by the dropping-elevator sensation of free fall. He chanced a look over his shoulder, saw the SAM arrowing toward the ground now, hard on his tail and getting closer. His first chaff release hadn't fooled it, and it was now a race to see whether the plunging Tomcat would be destroyed first by the missile or the up-rushing ground. Now…!
He pulled back on the stick, watching the ground swoop away beneath the Tomcat. The G-forces returned with a vengeance, crushing his chest, dragging at the skin of his face, on his guts. He slammed the throttles full forward past the detents and into afterburner. The Tomcat's twin engines shrieked fury as he started to climb again, leaving the ground behind. The plane was shuddering with the terrible stress. A number on his HUD showed that he was pushing nine Gs, and he was aware of blackness closing in at the periphery of his vision, a sure sign that he was about to lose consciousness.
Then the F-14 shrieked into clear sky. He looked back and saw a boiling mushroom of white smoke where the SAM had smashed into the jungle.
Made it! Batman let out a long, unsteady breath. That one had been a hell of a lot closer than he really wanted to admit.
Tombstone kept his heading dead on for the approaching MiGs. 'This is Eagle Three!' Garrison called over the radio. 'They've locked on to me!'
'Say again, Eagle Three.'
'Tracking lock! Tracking lock ? correction, launch! I have missile launch!'
'Eagle Six confirms. Bandit launch.'
'Looks like they want to play,' Tombstone said. He shifted frequencies.
'Victor Four Delta. Victor Four Delta, this is Eagle Leader. We have SAM and air-to-air launches on American planes. Engaging.'
That answered any question about the ROES. The bad guys had fired first, and the Navy was responding with appropriate action.
At least, that was how the official after-action reports would read.
Somehow the follow-up reports never managed to carry the exultation of air-to-air combat. Or the terror. 'Break left, Army!' Taggart called.
