bricks, and we don't want to be here when they do!'
She looked up as Tomcats screeched overhead, their thunder deafening as they headed south.
Colonel Wu watched as five of the blips on his radar converged, moving south toward U Feng. Those would be the Americans… and it was easy to guess at their target. The radar returns from Dao's Q-5 attack Squadron were also clear, now passing some five miles south of U Feng as they readied for their bombing run.
It was too late to help the bombers, but a tactical opportunity was opening up for a decisive blow against the Yankee fighters.
'This is Dragon Leader,' he radioed. 'All Dragons on me. I'm going in!'
He lined up his J-7 on the American formation and cut in his afterburner.
While they were concentrating on the bombers, he would strike from behind.
Tombstone saw U Feng flash beneath his Tomcat, but he was more interested in the jungle-hopping aircraft five miles ahead.
'I've got them, Tombstone!' Dixie called. 'Bearing one-eight-three.
They're crossing in front of us, right to left.'
'Let's get a lock on 'em,' Tombstone said. They had one Sparrow left.
He let the F-14's AWG-9 radar pick out one of the planes in the tight enemy formation, transferred the lock to the Sparrow, and pressed the trigger. 'Fox one!'
'Fox one, fox one!' Batman echoed.
'I'm in,' Garrison called. 'With one for Price Tag. Fox one!'
Group Commander Dao Zhu Qingtong saw the That staging area first, a broad clearing several miles ahead. As he drew closer, he could see the RTAF helos, dozens of them, arrayed in orderly ranks with their rotors turning.
He flipped the arming switches for his payload and opened his bomb bay doors. Each Q-5 carried four Chinese FAB-250 general-purpose bombs in its internal bay, plus four more on wing and fuselage pylons. Eighty bombs…
each weighing two hundred fifty kilograms… that helicopter assembly area was about to become a slaughter pen.
There was a flash to Dao's left. He snapped his head around in time to see Aircraft 70816 crumple like paper in a blaze of white flame, as fragments splashed across the sky. Two tons of high explosives detonated in a shattering secondary blast that rocked Dao's aircraft wildly, forcing him to grip the stick with both hands.
They were under attack! The Q-5 had no passive warning receivers, and the attack was literally coming in out of the blue. Another plane exploded… and a third.
'Break off! Break off!' Dao shouted into his radio. Duty to the People and to the Party was well and good… but death in support of a minor military rebellion in this barbarous jungle country held no appeal for the pilot. People and Party could be better served by intact aircraft… and living pilots.
The seven surviving Q-5s swung toward the northeast, still flying at treetop level as they raced for home at Mach 1.
Unfortunately, the Sparrow missiles already launched could not tell that Dao had broken off the engagement. Two more planes died in fiery eruptions.
Dao Zhu Qingtong never felt the blast which killed him.
At better than Mach 1, Wu's J-7 closed with the American planes from behind. He'd already targeted the one he assumed was the leader.
The other MiGs of Dragon were scattered, but closing. If Wu could take out the enemy leader, he might be able to break their formation.
'Watch it, Stoney,' Dixie warned. 'Bandit coming' onto our six!'
'Right.' His last Sparrow gone and one Sidewinder in reserve, Tombstone knew he would not be effective against the Q-5s ahead. But he could run interference for the rest of the pack.
'Batman!' he called. 'Stay on the bogies! I'll block this clown.'
'Copy, Tombstone. Be careful.'
'Rog.' He pulled the Tomcat up, breaking clear of the F-14 formation.
The MiG closed.
'Still coming,' Dixie said. 'He's dropping onto our six, range two miles.'
Tombstone glanced back over his shoulder. 'I see him. Hang on and we'll take him for a ride.'
He put the F-14 into a left turn, waiting for the MiG to follow him into the break. Once the enemy pilot was committed, he slammed the stick back to the right, at the same time pulling back on the throttles and cutting in the flaps. The maneuver, a split-S, was designed to force the pursuing plane to overshoot.
'No good, Stoney!' Dixie said. 'He's still back there!'
Tombstone brought the stick back left again, waited for the MiG to commit… then boosted to full military power and pulled into a climb, rolling inverted at the top of a short climb, then dropping toward where the bandit should have overshot.
'No good again! He's still coming'!'
Damn! This guy was too good.
'He's got lock!' Dixie called. 'He's going for launch!'
Tombstone heard the tone of a radar lock. He went into another climb and kept pushing. 'Hit the chaff, Dixie!' he yelled.
'Launch! Launch!'
'Keep punching out chaff!' He held the Tomcat's climb, then dropped into inverted level flight. 'Where is it?'
'Still coming! There it goes!'
He saw the missile pass astern of the Tomcat, a white streak scratched vertically into the sky. He caught only a glimpse of the missile itself, a pencil balanced on orange flame. Quickly, Tombstone pulled a half roll, then started climbing again. The MiG was still climbing, sticking to his six with a grim and deadly determination.
'Keep an eye on him, Dixie,' Tombstone said. He eased the throttles back, cutting power. The Tomcat slowed, still climbing. At one hundred fifty knots the wings slid forward and the plane began shimmying, threatening a stall.
'Gettin' close, Tombstone! Range one thousand.'
'A little more…'
'Shit, I think he's going' for guns, Stoney!'
'A little more…'
The Tomcat hung at the peak of the climb. The port engine coughed and the stall warning light flared. Tombstone let the Tomcat fall onto its side, kicking in rudders and flaps as the F-14 fell sideways, then slid into a tight vertical reverse.
The MiG pilot was good… no question there. But Tombstone was capitalizing on the advantages in maneuverability the F-14 had over the MiG-21. His pursuer couldn't match that turn in a MiG-21, not without stalling out or falling out of control.
The Tomcat was plunging earthward now. Tombstone watched the MiG swell until it filled his HUD. He flashed past head to head, picking up speed rapidly. In that frozen-instant of passage, Tombstone saw the MiG climbing past him, the number 612 prominent in red on the nose.
The MiG that had eluded him earlier… and downed Price and Zig-Zag.
