Defcon One (1989) (2 page)

I'll be in CIC in five minutes.

Linnemeyer juggled the phone, almost dropping it, as he transferred the receiver to his left ear, the ear not so damaged by years of jet engine noise. How far out are the Russian aircraft?

Sir, the bogies are... Stevens leaned over to see the latest plot,

one hundred eighty at zero-two-two, descending from three-three-zer

Move it, Frank! Linnemeyer brusquely concluded the conversation, slamming the phone receiver down and reaching for his work khakis.

I've got a tally, Karns radioed to Hershberger and Kavanaugh.

Stingray was also monitoring the frequency.

The F-14s had broken out of the overcast, rain-filled clouds into a bright blue sky blazing with early morning sunlight. Karns could see the Russian aircraft seven miles ahead.

Looks as if Ivan is angling slightly away from the carrier, Carns said as the Tomcats rapidly closed the distance between the Soviet and American aircraft.

I've got the lead, Karns radioed Hershberger as he resumed command of the flight.

Rodney, replied Gunfighter Two, deliberately foregoing t he traditional Roger.

Two, you fall in behind the shooters and we'll take the leavies, Karns instructed his wingman.

Good plan. Frog, responded Hershberger, apprehension straining his voice. I'm glad we've got 'em surrounded.

Gunfighter Two gently moved to a position behind and to the left of the Soviet fighters. Hershberger never took his eyes off the Migs as his thumb caressed the control stick firing button Just like in the movies, Kavanaugh said over the ICS to the pilot of Gunfighter Two.

These Russkies are stubborn, Karns reported to the Eisenhower's Combat Information Center .

Stevens paused, frowning. Gunfighter, Tango Pox, say again. The CIC officer, noticing his palms were wet, waited for a reply from the CAP pilots.

Ahh, we joined on the inside and they keep turning into us. It's barely discernable, a degree or two at a time, Karnsp replied as he quickly looked over at the Soviet aircraft. This isn't their normal style. With four shooters tagging along, this could turn into a real furball.

The F-14 flown by Karns and Bonicelli inched closer to the huge, menacing bombers as Karns felt a warm, damp sensation spreading across his forehead under the padded helmet liner.

Bone, I think these guys are serious, the pilot said to his radar intercept officer.

No shit!

Okay, Gunfighters, check switches safe, Karns radios his wingman.

Can't afford a screw up and trigger an international flap.

Yeah, Bonicelli replied over the intercom, let alone get our asses smoked.

Two's safe, responded Hershberger as he slowly drifted back and forth behind the four Mig-29 fighters, NATO code named Fulcrum.

The Russians had begun deployment of the Mach 2 Mikoyan Gurevich-29 advanced fighters in 1985 and by 1990 the Fulcrum along with the newest Mig-31 Foxhound, were formidable opponents for the American pilots and their fighter-interceptors.

The new generation Russian fighters, and their highly trained pilots, were a serious concern at Top Gun and Red Flag' fighter weapons schools.

TUPOLEV Tu-26 BACKFIRE BOMBER Col. Istvan I. Torgovnik nervously watched the American fighter plane off his left wing as he deftly used his flight controls to swing the Backfire bomber slowly toward the American Fleet.

Ah, Comrade Colonel, you appear tentative. We must remember our orders from Air Marshal Khatchadovrian. The small man with the large, scraggly mustache leaned closer to the pilot as he spoke.

Do not worry. The inept Americans will not interfere, boasted Maj.Fulvio Fedorovich Vladyka, the political officer assigned to this sensitive mission.

An assumption, Fulvio Fedorovich, replied the command pilot. We have never tested the Americans in this manner. We cannot guess their response.

Torgovnik watched the major out of the corner of his eye, testing his own convictions. The political officer did not respond.

This action. Comrade Major, is not within our defined operating

doctrine. In addition, continued Torgovnik, thinking a bout the

implications of his actions as reported by this insubordinate and

thoroughly disgusting zampolit, I have the responsibility for our six

aircraft and these superior aircrews to link

You will remember.

Comrade Colonel, it is I who have responsibility for the success of this mission. You will obey the orders to probe the American defensive reactions.

Torgovnik inwardly flinched, despising Vladyka for talking down to him in front of his crew. The offensive little political officer went on in his deriding manner.

Besides, Comrade Colonel, this operation, if successfully conducted, could see you achieve general officer status. Perhaps your own car and a dacha near your operational sector.

; Yes, Fulvio Fedorovich, I realize the significance of this risk, replied Torgovnik, thinking about the onerous situation that would develop if he was deemed responsible for botching the operation.

Besides, Torgovnik smiled, when I am a general officer, I will crush this impudent bastard.

Captain Linnemeyer rushed into CIC, slightly disheveled, and requested a cup of coffee.

What's the current status? the captain asked the distraught CIC officer.

The CAP has rendezvoused with the Soviet aircraft. They are approaching the one hundred-ten-mile mark, sir, responded Stevens.

The Ready Two CAP is airborne, closing on ... should be joining Cap One in two minutes, he added nervously. Also, sir, we have a tanker airborne and a spare Viking on the number one cat. Two more Fourteens are ready.

Stevens paused to look at his status boards. The escort ships are closing in, sir. No sub activity detected at this time.

Sounds good, Linnemeyer replied, sipping the scalding coffee, while he observed that all hands were at their respective battle stations.

The CO, a qualified naval aviator, had come up the hard way. A former enlisted man, Linnemeyer left the Navy after his initial hitch and returned to college. After graduating sumnu cum laude from Northwestern University, the short, wiry, twenty five-year-old placed his hard-earned business degree on the shelf and returned to the Navy.

Rear Adm. Donald S. G. Mckenna, the task force commander embarked aboard the Ike, had been awakened by the general quarters alarm and was now in Flag Plot. A steady stream of information was being digested by the carrier's skipper and Mckenna.

Ivan is setting a new precedent, Admiral Mckenna said to Captain Linnemeyer as a steward knocked quietly on the door, then entered the spacious staff cabin reserved for the battle group commander.

Greg, they are obviously trying to provoke us, test our defenses and reactions. I'll get off a Flash Message to the commander -in-chief of the Atlantic Fleet and the NATO commander.

We don't have a lot of time.

The admiral paused, waiting for a response.

You agree, Greg?

Yes, sir, replied the skipper of the Dee, but we'd better show some resolve if they break fifty miles.

I concur. How do you think CINCLANT will respond? the admiral asked.

Order us to fire a warning shot. Shoot a missile in front of the lead bomber at fifty nautical miles, and, if they don't break off by thirty, to blow their asses out of the sky, Linnemeyer responded in a dry, matter-of-fact statement, void of any emotion.

I hope so. We simply can not, should not, knuckle under to those arrogant bastards. Alert CIC, the admiral directed as he reached for the phone to send an instant Flash Message to his superiors.

The Russian Tu-26 Backfire bombers continued to turn into the carrier slowly, a degree at a time. The tension was beginning to have an impact in the cockpits of Gunfighter One and Two.

If the Soviet bombers, or their escort fighters, made any overt move, the Fox-Fourteen jockeys had no recourse. They had to wait for confirmation to destroy the invading aircraft, and, as the pilots knew, the order to kill could arrive too late.

This was not a routine, unescorted, flyover by a lone Bear bomber.

This was an entirely new approach. A potential disaster in need of revised rules.

Gunfighter One was experiencing difficulty maintaining position on the Russian bombers. The flight of eight aircraft, bouncing around in turbulent air, had descended through a dense cloud cover. The weather conditions made formation flying difficult.

Let's spread out a little, Karns radioed.

Two, replied Hershberger, as he drifted back another twenty yards behind the Migs.

They're closing on our landing platform, Karns said to his RIO, and I don't like it.

I read you, responded Bonicelli. That water looks colder every time I think about this gaggle.

The backseater looked closely at the Russian bomber. Let's move in a little closer and I'll 'moon' the bastards.

Right, Karns replied with a laugh. Why don't you snap a few photos for our State Department people. This should be a real icebreaker on the cocktail circuit.

Karns gently banked his Tomcat into the Soviet aircraft as Bonicelli shot a dozen pictures of the menacing warplanes approaching the American battle group.

Mckenna turned to the Ike's skipper. Greg, who is the pilot in Gunfighter One?

Lieutenant Commander Doug Karns, sir. One of our best pilots and very experienced. He is the XO of One-forty-two and a fighter weapons grad, replied Linnemeyer.

Very good, Admiral Mckenna responded. A Top Gun alumnus from the Ghost riders.

We may have to place him in an awkward position, Greg, the admiral continued as he glanced down at the activity on the busy flight deck.

' Comrade Colonel, now is the time to execute our penetration of the American fleet, Major Vladyka urged from the cramped seat behind the command pilot.

Yes, I agree, Fulvio Fedorovich, Colonel Torgovnik replied tentatively. We are inside one hundred kilometers from the carrier battle group. We must commit if this operation is to be successful.

Torgovnik tried to sound and appear very much the party man and professional soldier to the political officer seated next to his ear, but the command pilot was confused about the sudden change in Soviet military doctrine. Kremlin policy, under glasnost and perestroika, asserted that military posture would be defensive in character.

Force levels had been maintained at a reasonable sufficiency.

Why, Torgovnik thought, after the shocking change in party leadership, were they probing the Americans? Was it simply pokazuka, confronting U.S. forces for show?

The Soviet bomber pilot looked at his solemn copilot, then keyed his microphone. Prepare to alter course.

As Karns concentrated on maintaining position on the Soviet bombers.

Animals One and Two, the Ready Two CAP, joined on Hershberger's F14D:

Gunfighter lead. Animal Flight is aboard and the Texaco is airborne, two-three-zero for one-ten, angels two-six. We have a full bag. Looks like you have 'em cornered, Capt.

Vince Cangemi, United States Marine Corps, checked in with Karns .

Cangemi, an exchange pilot, was spending a tour in a Navy fighter squadron, ostensibly to show the squids how to fly.

He was flying lead in a second flight of Tomcats. The Marine fighter pilot, who normally flew the potent F/A-18 Hornet, enjoyed flying the big Grumman Tomcat. The F-14 had been a new challenge for him.

Rog, Animal. Glad the cavalry could make it, Karns chuckled, recognizing the call sign of Cangemi. Thought you 'jar-heads' were s'posed to be the first to fight.

The marine started to respond, then changed his mind as he focused on the Soviet aircraft.

Back off about three hundred yards and confirm guns off, switches safe, Karns instructed the Animals.

That's affirm, off and safe, Cangemi answered.

Two, Lt. Tom Chaffee, USN, responded.

At that precise moment, the Russian bombers abruptly turned into the American fighters, forcing Karns to spiral inward or risk collision.

Reacting with remarkable dexterity, Karns simultaneously rolled his fighter away from the bombers and radioed CIC.

Tango Fox, Tango Fox, Gunfighter One! These crazy sonsabitches are makin' a run at the battle group, Karns shouted into his mask microphone. I need permission to fire! Repeat, I need permission to splash 'em.

Roger, Gunfighter. Stand by, the distant voice responded .through Karns's padded earphones.

Karns waited uncomfortably for a response to his urgent request, visualizing the odd group of individuals in the decisionmaking process.

Guess the operator put us on ignore, Bonicelli said over the intercom, breathing more rapidly than normal.

Gunfighter, Tango Fox, the staccato voice blurted. You have permission to fire a warning shot at fifty TIME. I repeat, you have permission to fire a Sidewinder in front of the bombers.

If the Russians break thirty miles, shoot 'em down. Do you copy?