Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 05 (48 page)

 
          
“121,
roger,” Crowley acknowledged. As he waited for Lavoyed to lock on to the Tomcat
in front of him, he held out his right hand in front of his eyes—his hand was
shaking. “Jesus, Shine,” he said on interphone, “the Iranians launched two
missiles at the
Lincoln.
That was a
close call!”

 
          
“Those
were Backfire bombers launching those things, too,” Lavoyed added.
“Intelligence has been speculating that the Iranians bought Backfire bombers
from the Russians for years—I guess it’s true, ’cause they just used one to
launch Kitchen missiles at our carrier. ”

 
          
It
took twenty minutes for the two F-14 Tomcats to join up and maneuver themselves
behind a new KA-6D tanker. The radios were crazy with chatter. The
Lincoln
was launching three extra
flights of F-14s, making six flights of two total; they were also in the
process of launching a third E-2C Hawkeye radar plane to cover the airspace
farther north of the group. The group was transitioning from a peacetime
ForCAP, or Force Combat Air Patrol—which generally extended 100 to 200 miles
from the carrier—to a BarCAP, or Barrier Combat Air Patrol, which would double
that distance. Soon, almost anything that launched from Iran would be
intercepted, and any aircraft that was large enough to carry an AS-4 Kitchen
missile would surely be destroyed long before it got within range. Undoubtedly
the battle-group commander was rearranging the seaborne escorts as well,
spreading his forces out a bit more to get air defense missiles out farther
from the carrier, while keeping one or two guided-missile cruisers or
destroyers in close to provide last-ditch protection for the carrier and its
five thousand crew members.

 
          
Crowley
had just maneuvered his F-14 behind the KA-6D tanker and was setting up for the
run in toward the lighted drogue when suddenly they heard, “All units, all
units, pop-up bogeys bearing zero-two-zero, two-seven-five miles bull’s-eye,
angels twenty, speed six-zero-zero-knots, all Aardvark units, say fuel status
and stand by.” “121 flight’s on the hose, ten-point-one!” Crowley shouted as he
rushed toward the drogue for at least a token on-load. But the harder he tried
to plug the drogue, the worse he did. He finally got the tanker to fly straight
and level for longer than normal so he could plug the drogue; he took a fast
five thousand pounds and cycled off. “121’s clear.”

 
          
“121,
vector to intercept new bogey one, heading zero-five-zero, angels forty,” the
combat controller aboard a different E-2C Hawk- eye ordered. Crowley finally
realized that the new voice was from the new Hawkeye just launched to cover
north of the
Lincoln
carrier
group—sure enough, another Tu-22M Backfire bomber had sneaked in and was now
within 250 miles of the carrier! “Go single ship, 122 will follow in trail.”

 
          
“121
copies,” Crowley responded, banking to the vector heading and again pushing his
throttles up to military power. “Wall- banger, be advised, 121 will be bingo
fuel in two-zero mike, I only got a token on-load. I’m down two Ps.”

 
          
“Copy
that, 121, break, Aardvark-122, top ’em off, you’ll be the only north CAP when
your leader bingos. Say your state.”

 
          
“122
copies, I’m down two Ps also. I’m on the hose.”

 
          
Crowley’s
RIO wasn’t able to lock the second Tupolev-22M until it was within 250 miles
from the carrier and just over 100 miles ahead. “Stand by for Kitchens, home
plate,” Crowley yelled. “Stand by!”

           
But the Tu-22M continued to barrel
in, now traveling at well over the speed of sound. “Wallbanger, 121, do you
want me on the Backfire or do you want me to wait on the Kitchens?”

 
          
“Stand
by, 121 ... ”

 
          
“You
better hurry with an answer, Wallbanger,” Crowley said. He was now within range
to fire on the Backfire bomber itself, but it had not launched a missile.
“Wallbanger, lets hear it!”

 
          
Just
before Crowley was in position to launch, the combat controller aboard the E-2C
Hawkeye responded, “Bandit one turning . .. bandit one now heading
two-seven-five, angels forty, looks like he’s bugging out... 121, home plate
says hold fire and maintain contact.”

 
          
“Copy,
Wallbanger. I will...”

 
          
“Missile
launch!” Matte suddenly shouted. “The Backfires launching missiles! ”

 
          
It
had happened so fast, Crowley didn’t see it happening, and they were expecting
another attack on the carrier, not on anything else. Before anyone could react,
the Backfire bomber had launched four missiles—not at the carrier, but all of
them at the third E-2C Hawkeye radar plane that had just launched from the
Lincoln.

 
          
The
missiles were new Russian Novator KS-172 Pithon “Python” air-to-air missiles,
designed specifically for use against airborne radar planes and
intelligence-gathering aircraft by homing in on their radars and
electromagnetic emissions—they could even home in on the stray electronic
emissions from computer screens leaking through the cockpit or observation
windows. Flying at a speed of Mach two and fired from a distance of well over
two hundred miles, the Pithon missiles were devastating weapons. Even though
the E-2C shut off its radar and took evasive action, the missiles “remembered”
the planes last position and activated its onboard radar when it got within
range. Then it could not miss. All four Pithon missiles plowed into the Hawkeye
s twenty-foot rotodome, stripping it from the fuselage and sending the entire
aircraft spinning into the sea.

 
          
Crowley
could do nothing as the third Wallbanger aircraft abruptly went off the air. He
immediately turned to pursue, even plugging in full afterburner to try to catch
up, but he never got within
Phoenix
missile range of the retreating Backfire bomber, and within minutes was
forced to return to the tanker.

The White House Oval office

25 April 1997
,
1321 hours ET

 
          
“Do
we know that it was an Iranian Backfire bomber?” the President of the United
States asked in a low, bitter voice. “Positive ID . . . ?”

 
          
“We
didn’t get a visual ID, sir,” Philip Freeman replied. Freeman had called the
President out of a Rose Garden bill-signing ceremony, and now they were back in
the Oval Office, with the President scanning a written report on the Gulf of
Oman incident. “But its size was estimated by the radar operators, and based on
the range at which it was detected, it had to be a large aircraft. Combine its
speed and altitude, then add in the flight characteristics of the missiles it
launched—we’re ninety-nine percent sure it was an Iranian Backfire bomber.”

 
          
“What
in
our
inventory could do something
like that?”

 
          
“The
B-1B Lancer bomber has a very similar flight profile,” Freeman replied. “The
F-lll, F-15, F-16, or F-22 fighters could mimic a Backfire’s speed and
performance, but not its range or payload. We have nothing like the AS-4
Kitchen missile—all of our cruise missiles are subsonic.”

 
          
“What
about other countries? What about China?”

 
          
“The
Chinese have a bomber, the B-6D Badger, that possibly could mimic the speed of
the Backfire bomber,” Freeman said. “They have one supersonic anti-ship cruise
missile, but it has a much shorter range than the AS-4 Kitchen missile—forty
miles versus two hundred miles. Iraq and Libya also fly the Backfire bomber,
but none are reported to be in serviceable condition, and neither country is
known to possess any supersonic cruise missiles. Pakistan’s F-16 fighter might
be able to mimic the speed and performance of a Backfire bomber, but it could
not carry any cruise missiles with the performance of an AS-4 missile.

 
          
“Russia
of course still flies the Backfire and its upgraded follow- on supersonic
bomber, the Tu-145 Blackjack. Ukraine owns several Backfire and Blackjack
bombers acquired from Russia, but it is uncertain if they are operational.
Russia also still possesses the AS-4, a few of the AS-6, and the AS-9
supersonic anti-ship cruise missiles.”

 
          
“You’re
saying Russia might have done this?”

 
          
“Extremely
unlikely, sir,” Freeman said, shaking his head. “At best, the Russians keep
twenty-five percent of their supersonic bombers flyable—they were selling off
their Backfire bombers to anyone in the world that might be interested, and
they didn’t squawk too loudly when Ukraine claimed the Blackjack bombers. Given
what’s happened in Iran in the past few days with the establishment of martial
law and the suspension of President Nateq-Nouri by the Ayatollah Khamenei, I
think Iran is the most likely culprit.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Do
you want us to be positive before we go further?”

 
          
“Hell
no, Philip, I’m
damned
positive,” the
President said resolutely. “I don’t need a bomb to fall on me to figure out
that this is Buzhazi’s attempt to scare us away. But you said you’re still
looking for the Backfire bomber base . . . ?”

 
          
“It
should be much easier to find them now, sir,” Freeman said. “The Navy was able
to track the Backfires well inside Iran after their attack, and we’ve had many
more surveillance assets in place looking for them. Jon Masters launched two
constellations of tactical reconnaissance satellites
himself
—just gave us the satellites. Once Space Command picked out
an orbit for them, Masters put them up there. He’s got every airfield in
Iran
capable of landing a Backfire bomber under
constant surveillance.”

 
          
“Good,”
the President said. “I want to meet Masters one of these days, after this is
over. Now,” the President went on, fixing a serious gaze on his National
Security Advisor, “its important to me to hit back without starting a huge,
full-scale war in the Middle East. The allies and the oil companies are already
jumpy enough—oil prices are already spiking. Now, I know it was this
Intelligence Support Agency group that launched those ‘screamer’ missiles, but
I want to start shutting down Iran’s ability to make war, not just harass them.
What have you got?”

 
          
“We’re
already sending Future Flight the entire Disruptor series of weapons,” Freeman
said. “Brad Elliott’s Disruptors don’t just screw with radars and sensors—they
can do a lot of damage as well.”

 
          
“I
never thought I’d be saying this, Philip—it sounds like a bad movie,” the
President said, “but it’s the truth: I want this to look like an accident. When
Masters finds those Backfire bombers, I want them grounded, for good—and I want
it to look like an accident. If that Iranian carrier comes anywhere near the
Lincoln
or any American warship, I want
it on the bottom of the Gulf—and I want it to look like an accident. If Iran
even thinks about popping off any of those long-range Scuds toward Saudi or
Turkey, I want a major military headquarters building in Tehran to grow a large
jagged hole in its middle—and I want it to look like an accident. Can you do
that?”

 
          
“I
understand completely, sir,” Freeman said. “And, yes, I think we can. ”

 
          
“Good.
Keep me advised, day or night, before any operation starts, but you’ve got the
green light,” the President said, straightening his tie and getting ready to
head back to the reception following the Rose Garden bill-signing ceremony.
“Get the forces moving, then brief me as soon as you can; I want to OK each
mission before the B-2A crosses into hostile airspace.

 
          
“This
operation is to be quiet, deniable, and squeaky clean, General, but most of
all, I want Iran to pay for shooting down our aircraft, the sons of
bitches—attacking unarmed support aircraft is the lowest act any military man
can do, and I want Buzhazi to feel it right in his damned
groin.
Get to it, Philip.”

 
          
General
Philip Freeman was almost embarrassed by the enthusiasm he felt as he headed to
the White House Situation Room to issue his orders to the Intelligence Support
Agency. No more "disruptions,” no more "screamers”—the President
wanted Iran’s warmaking machine shut down, piece by piece, and that’s exactly
what was going to happen.