Red Phoenix (39 page)

The two jets flashed over the ground, and Tony saw cluster bombs fall from their wings just before the area erupted in dust and smoke. As the F-16s turned away, a smoke trail came from off to Tony’s right and streaked toward Saber’s aircraft.

“Saber, SAM, break right!” Tony called, and increased his own right bank. He fought against the sudden extra weight on his chest, looking for the source of missiles. There it was. A wheeled vehicle with a boxy shape on top—that had to be the launcher. He hit a button on his stick and saw
CANNON
appear on the Falcon’s HUD.

“Hooter, I’m going for the launcher.”

“Rog.”

Christ, a mobile SAM launcher. It hadn’t been there in the prestrike photos. There might be others. Hooter would follow him in and make sure that there weren’t any other surprises waiting for them.

Tony locked his radar on the vehicle and a small square immediately appeared on his HUD, centered on the launcher. A circle also appeared, showing where the computer thought his bullets would hit. He came left a little and pulled up slightly.

As he closed, the aspect of the launcher on top of the vehicle changed, and he realized it was pointing at him.

The aiming circle moved over the box and he fired, just as a puff of smoke appeared in the launcher box, followed by a streak of flame, heading straight toward him. The F-16 shuddered as its cannon fired, and Tony saw the launcher obscured by dust and smoke. He rolled violently, popping a string of flares, extremely conscious of the ground just below him.

He looked back and Hooter was gone.

There he was. Off to the right and back, Hooter had seen another
launcher. He was firing, a plume of white smoke streaming back from the nose of the plane. Hooter’s bullets didn’t kick up smoke and dust. Instead, the vehicle fireballed. Tony pulled in behind his wingman and told him to take the lead.

“All units, this is Bookmark. Rebound, out.”

That was it. The main group was going in to make its run on the HARTs. Tony called, “Diamonds, join on me.”

They would take station on the edge of the area and fend off any fighters until the strike group got away. He switched his radio to the Phantoms’ frequency, so that he could monitor the progress of the raid. The instant the Phantoms cleared, his Falcons would be out.

“All units, this is Stingray. Multiple bogies bearing three zero zero Bull’s-Eye twenty miles, level fifty, out.”

Goddamnit. The AWACS had spotted incoming NK aircraft. It looked like Diamond flight wouldn’t get time to form up. “Bull’s-Eye” was a map reference that allowed them to radio locations in the clear without revealing their own position. “Multiple” meant more than four, and “level fifty” meant five thousand feet. Twenty miles meant they had to move fast.

Tony gave a new order. “Diamonds, engage by pairs, out.” He snapped on his radar and selected a missile. The first job was to “sort” the enemy fighters—find them, figure out how many there were, and what they were up to.

As Tony and Hooter swung their F-16s around to the right bearing, their radar scopes lit up with contacts. Tony did a fast count and then made a radio call. “Bookmark, Diamond Lead. Twelve inbound, I’ll keep them off you.”

“This is Bookmark. Roger out.” The South Korean sounded unperturbed. Tough guy.

Tony’s HUD had selected a target rapidly coming into range. He slid out from directly behind Hooter but stayed back so he could cover his “leader’s” rear.

As they closed, he listened to the incoming Phantom strike. The South Korean pilots all spoke English and used it on frequency. There were sixteen F-4s, attacking the gun sites in pairs.

“Bookmark, this is Dragon Lead. Targets at ten o’clock.”

“Roger. Watch the Triple-A to the right.”

Tony checked his panel. Their radar warning receivers hadn’t lit up so they were probably up against IR homing missiles. That was fine with him. An infrared missile locked onto its target’s heat and closed in and exploded. But the Russian-built missiles the NKs used had to lock onto the hot tailpipe of a jet before they could home in. The A1M-9L Sidewinders his Falcon carried were more sensitive and could attack from any angle, including the front. Advantage to Tony, he thought.

The
SHOOT
prompt came on and he fired, seeing a missile flare off Hooter’s rail as well. The enemy fighters were close enough to see now, round bodies and thin wings—MiG-21 Fishbeds. His target had seen the inbound missile and started a hard turn to the left, trying desperately to evade it. At first the Sidewinder looked as if it wasn’t going to follow, but then it veered sharply, passed over the enemy plane, and exploded. The MiG-21 broke in half and the pieces spun away.

Hooter’s shot had hit as well. His target appeared intact, but Tony saw it fall away with an empty cockpit. The pilot had ejected.

Tony concentrated on following Hooter. The Falcons and MiGs were really mixing it up now, forming a “furball” of maneuvering aircraft five miles across and ten thousand feet high. The air was filled with white missile smoke trails, gray-black explosions, and a few parachutes.

The Phantom strike was still in progress. But he couldn’t tell how well it was going. He heard things like “Three and four going in” and “Break left!” but that didn’t tell him if the bombs were hitting the target. One thing, though. There were other mobile SAM launchers in the area. The pair he and Hooter had hit had jumped the gun. Most had waited for the Phantoms to show up before firing.

Tony felt frustrated. He was supposed to be package commander, managing the overall situation, not just playing aerial cowboy with a bunch of MiGs. He decided to let Hooter look for targets. He called on the package frequency, “Any Garnets unengaged?”

The answer came back quickly. “Garnet One and Two are clear.” He recognized Dish’s voice.

“Roger, Dish, backstop the Phantoms. Engage any leakers.”

Two clicks of the microphone switch answered him. Tony felt a little better. Eight Falcons could keep a squadron of MiGs busy, but some would slip through. Dish and Ivan would stay between the furball and the strike group.

Tony followed Hooter as he extended, pulling away from the mass of whirling aircraft. “Saint, I’m going hard right and try to lock up with a nine lima.”

Tony clicked his mike switch twice and slid from behind and right into trail. If Hooter was going to do hard maneuvering, Tony wanted to be out of the way. They came around and went into a gentle climb. Hooter’s voice came over the circuit. “I’ve got one up high. Fox Two.”

The missile left Hooter’s wingtip as he spoke, guiding on a glint several thousand feet up, about a mile away. Tony saw the Sidewinder’s smoke trail as it merged with the glint and exploded. The contact disappeared from his scope.

“All units, Rivet. Floggers enroute your area. Out.”

Wonderful, Tony thought. He looked over at the dogfighting aircraft, now
breaking up. He’d been following the radio chatter subconsciously, and they must have killed six or seven bandits, with at least one F-16 hit and unaccounted for. That was bad enough, but they’d also used up most of their missiles, and the MiG-23 Flogger carried long-range, radar-guided missiles. This was not the time to tangle with them. “Stingray, this is Diamond Lead. We are fully engaged, request Topaz engage new inbounds, over.” Topaz was the high-altitude F-15 Eagle flight.

Stingray’s voice was unsympathetic. “Topaz is busy, too. You’re on your own, Diamond.” Terrific.

He followed Hooter through a barrel roll. He was doing his best to stay behind his wingman, watch his back, and monitor the package frequency. The sky was still full of airplanes, and half of Hooter’s violent maneuvering could be considered collision avoidance.

Tony heard a particularly urgent call. “Viceroy, break left!” He snapped his head around and saw a missile in flight, a red streak that suddenly joined with an F-16. The Falcon fireballed, and bits of airplane flew out of the red-and-black cloud. There wasn’t any chute. Oh, God. A picture of Viceroy’s wife flashed into Tony’s brain as he pulled hard left away from the smoke cloud. Concentrate. Concentrate.

“Diamond Lead, is your IFF on? Over.” It sounded like Stingray’s voice. Tony knew his IFF was turned off. The “Identification Friend or Foe” was a device that sent out coded radar pulses that showed up on a radar controller’s screen. It was standard procedure to turn it on near a friendly base, but an IFF was always turned off in Indian country, to avoid sending out radar pulses that would reveal location and identity to an enemy.

The controller repeated his message. “Diamond Lead, this is Stingray. Ensure your package has IFF on. Authentication echo sierra. Over.”

“Diamond Lead, roger out.” Tony shook his head and flipped a switch on his panel. “All Diamonds and Garnets, this is Diamond Lead. Turn on your IFF. Out.”

He clicked the microphone switch again. “Diamonds, join on me, we’re heading north.” They successfully disengaged from the dogfight, and Hooter waggled his wings and slid off to the right. Tony pulled up to take the lead position. He checked his left and saw Saber sliding into the number three slot. Tony and Saber each had one missile left. Their only hope was to stay low and hide until they could mix it up with the incoming Floggers.

The MiG-23 was a totally different beast from its older brother, the MiG-21. It wasn’t very maneuverable, but it had a decent radar, and its radar-guided missiles gave it a distinct edge at long range. It was fast, too, especially on the deck.

Tony decided to check on the other half of his group. “Garnet Lead, what’s your status?”

“Engaged with a few bandits, one wounded bird. Fuel state near bingo. Over.”

Yeah. Tony knew his own group was near the edge, too. Think positive. “Roger, Garnet. Position your group to the north. Catch what we miss. Out.”

Tony set his radar for maximum range scan, and sure enough, there they were. He counted ten bandits, thirty miles out and high up, maybe ten thousand feet. His radar warning receiver was lit up, too, with a solid wedge white from the radar strobes of the oncoming fighters.

One more thing to do before the clash. “Stingray, this is Diamond Lead. Request tanker support, over.” And probably towing services, too, Tony added mentally.

“Stingray, roger out.”

The range was down to twenty miles, and Tony lost more altitude. They were getting close enough for the Floggers’ radar to pick them up, but he hoped that by staying low, in the ground clutter, they…

A white trail appeared out ahead of his planes, suddenly snapping down out of the cloud cover overhead. It was a long way off, near where the enemy fighters should be. There was a second, and then smoke trails started to appear too quickly to be counted. What the hell? He looked at his scope. There were only four MiG-23s left now. Those had to be missile trails, but from what? Nothing else showed on his radar scope. The trails seemed to come from the east.

The Floggers were turning left, heading toward the unknown source of the missiles. Tony knew they hadn’t seen his flight, and he called, “Diamonds, full throttle!”

He went to full military power himself. Screw the fuel. He selected a target and called on the mission frequency. “Stingray, incoming bandit count is now four.Diamonds engaging.”

“Roger, Diamonds, Navy Thunder flight, F-16s engaging. Check missile fire, over.”

A strange voice acknowledged the call. The Navy? Our Navy? Jesus, those must be Tomcats from a carrier off the coast. With their Phoenix missiles, they could hit a fighter eighty miles away. No wonder he hadn’t seen the launching aircraft.

Their fortuitous appearance was allowing Tony to execute a beautiful bushwhack. He was sure every one of those NK pilots was heads-down in the cockpit, trying to find the shooters on his radar screen.

“Saber, take the left-hand bird, I’ve got the outside right.” Tony didn’t wait for acknowledgment but fired. The Sidewinder headed straight for a MiG-23’s hot tailpipe and blew the back end of the aircraft off. The rest spun down out of control. He didn’t see a chute. Chalk one up for Viceroy.

Saber’s missile had also guided, and there were only two contacts left.
They were splitting up, diving for the deck, afterburners lit up. They were heading north. Tony watched them go, bright flame flaring aft. The Diamonds’ fuel state wasn’t up to a high-speed chase.

Besides, the Phantoms had done their work. The last F-4s were just making their attacks. He ordered the Diamonds to disengage, and with the Garnets, they trailed the Phantoms out of the area. They didn’t have enough fuel to cover the poststrike reconnaissance aircraft. The spyboys would just have to take their chances.

The egress route was west of the target, but close enough for Tony to see a cloud of gray dust and black smoke hanging over the area. There was another blotch, off to his right, on a hillside. As he got closer, he could see the remains of a Phantom that had slammed into the ground. He couldn’t see if the canopy was in place.

As his flight passed the wreck, Bookmark called. “Diamond Lead, we have two wounded birds. Request close escort, over.” It looked as if they weren’t finished.

The F-16s tanked on the south side of the DMZ, and Tony counted noses. Owl was missing, his wingman losing sight of him during the big dogfight with the Fishbeds. Dish’s own wingman, Ivan, had taken a piece of flak in his left wing. He was still airworthy but had to reduce speed or the vibration would shake him apart. Viceroy was gone, too.

Two for fifteen or so. He guessed that was an acceptable loss ratio. It didn’t feel like it though. In silence the F-16s joined on the limping Phantoms and turned for home.

KUNSAN AIRBASE, SOUTH KOREA

The ops office was quiet now. The day’s last missions had been flown. Fourteen hours of grueling planning, preparation, and flying—all mixed in with desperate minutes of high-g combat. By rights, Tony should be asleep, worn down by responsibility and exertion. But he couldn’t sleep.

He was too worried about Anne. He’d been able to push her face out of his thoughts in the air, but his fears for her had come back as soon as he was on the ground. She was still in Seoul, and the North Koreans were pushing hard to take the city. Combined Forces HQ said they were still about two days away, but NK heavy guns had been shelling Seoul from Day One. The worst of it was, he couldn’t do anything to help her.