Patrick McLanahan Collection #1

by Dale Brown

  But the 111th Bomb Wing’s aircraft, already deployed to Diego Garcia during the initial conflict in Turkmenistan, offered so much more than just simple surveillance. An unmanned QAL-52 Dragon airborne-laser aircraft could protect as much as 20 million cubic miles of airspace from ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, aircraft, and even some ground targets; the unmanned QB-1C and QB-52 “flying battleships” each provided as much offensive and defensive firepower as a flight of tactical fighters. At Patrick McLanahan’s urging, Central Command vetoed Twelfth Air Force’s plans and ordered Eighth Air Force, in charge of the Air Force’s long-range bombers, to deploy McLanahan’s Air Battle Force to patrol Turkmenistan. The high-tech bombers of the 111th Bomb Wing had acquitted themselves well in the opening conflict with the Russians, and this was seen as a reward for their efforts; besides, they were already in place and knew the tactical situation thoroughly.

  This decision managed to upset both Eighth and Twelfth Air Force commanders, although they had no choice but to accept it. Eighth Air Force had its own fleet of strike aircraft, of course—160 long-range B-1B, B-52, and B-2 bombers and several hundred aerial-refueling tankers, along with a dazzling array of cruise missiles and precision-guided munitions. But they were all back in the States or providing long-range patrol duties with U.S. Navy Surface Action Groups around the world.

  Although administratively part of the Air Reserve Forces—most of the men and women in the Wing were part of the Nevada Air National Guard—the 111th Bomb Wing operationally belonged to Eighth Air Force. But when it came down to it, no one at Eighth Air Force knew how to deploy or fight with the high-tech gadgets at Battle Mountain Air Reserve Base. They had no choice but to place Major General Patrick McLanahan in charge of the operation, reporting directly to Eighth Air Force headquarters.

  The decision to let Patrick’s Air Battle Force patrol Turkmenistan created a much more effective presence there for far less cost than Twelfth Air Force’s planned operation, but the decision did not sit well with many Air Force general officers. No doubt they were all waiting for Patrick and his fleet of robot planes to fail.

  Daren Mace let Patrick stew in silence for several long moments. Daren was a bit older than Patrick, but his Air Force career had not been nearly as successful or dynamic—until he met up with the young two-star general. Now, as operations officer of the 111th Bomb Wing, Daren Mace commanded a growing fleet of the most high-tech warplanes on the planet, the majority of which were created by Patrick McLanahan in the supersecret desert research center at Elliott Air Force Base in Groom Lake, Nevada, commonly known as Dreamland. A few years ago, aerial-warfare expert Mace had made his living flipping slides and making coffee for generals and administrators in the Pentagon. Now those same generals and bean-counting bureaucrats were coming to him asking for answers to America’s tough defense problems.

  “Want to bring that Vampire home,” Daren asked, “and replace it with one without StealthHawks aboard?”

  Patrick looked as if he didn’t hear Mace. He was staring intently at the large, full-color tactical situation display, with the new SA-12 battery in the center. Finally he pointed at the screen on the wall before him. “You see anything wrong with how that SA-12 is deployed, Daren?” he asked.

  Daren studied the display. Something had been nagging at him ever since the surface-to-air missile battery had been detected. The SA-12’s precise position was plotted on the screen, along with a circle representing the maximum effective range of the two-stage solid-propellant Russian 9M82 antiaircraft missile, a larger but almost direct copy of the American Patriot missile. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it there myself,” Daren said a few moments later.

  “Why?”

  “It’s too far south,” Daren replied. “If we were going to fly a strike mission against Russian forces coming from Ashkhabad, we could easily circumnavigate that SA-12.”

  “Which tells you…?”

  “That…maybe the Russians have another SA-12 battery farther north?”

  “Exactly,” Patrick said. “How many batteries can a single SA-12 command post control?”

  “Up to four—almost a hundred missiles total.”

  “We might have two or three more batteries sneaking their way east as we speak.” Patrick pointed at several laser-radar returns well north of the SA-12 battery. “There’s a bunch of newcomers up there, but we haven’t identified them yet—”

  “Because they haven’t broadcast any radar or radio datalink signals,” Daren said. “They could be anything—tanks, SCUDs, SAMs, camels—but if they didn’t flash a radar or broadcast what we think might be a fire-control datalink signal, we left it alone until we had time to give it a closer look.”

  “But the SA-12 could use a hardwired cable datalink, which we couldn’t detect. They could be ready to fire within seconds,” Patrick said. He pointed at the screen on his console. “I count ten vehicles in this area and twelve in this general area here. They could be SA-12 batteries, sitting silent. I wish we had authorization to send some Tin Man recon units into the area.” But that was not going to happen. Part of Patrick’s Air Battle Force, the Tin Men were small commando teams outfitted with electronic battle armor, sophisticated sensor systems, and high-tech infantry weapons. They could move quietly, survive in extremely hostile situations, and reconnoiter large areas far behind enemy lines very quickly. Naturally, the Russians didn’t want them anywhere near their troops. They convinced the United Nations Security Council that the Tin Men were nothing but search-and-destroy squads, not a monitoring team, and so were forbidden to enter the theater of operations at all.

  “I think it might be time to take a look,” Daren said. “Eighth Air Force might squawk if we launch a StealthHawk, but if we move the Vampire bomber in for a closer look…”

  “Do it,” Patrick said.

  Daren smiled and pulled his headset microphone closer to his lips, issuing orders to the technicians in the “virtual cockpit” behind him in the Battle Mountain Battle Management Center. The QB-1C Vampire III bomber normally operated under a preprogrammed flight plan written and uploaded on the ground, which commanded the bomber to patrol a certain area for a certain amount of time, then return for refueling or landing. But it took only moments for the technicians in the ground-based “cockpit” of the big bomber to change the flight plan and radio it to the bomber via secure satellite transmission.

  Moments later Patrick and Daren watched as the unmanned Vampire bomber began moving farther and farther north. It took almost thirty minutes to change the patrol orbit a hundred miles north. “Laser radar transmitting…LADAR identifies the vehicles as transports. No SA-12s.”

  “Get it in closer,” Patrick said. “I want a detailed identification.”

  “Roger.” Daren issued more orders, and they watched as the Vampire bomber moved even closer to the suspect vehicles—now within twenty miles of the unidentified “transports.” “LADAR now classifying some of the vehicles as transporter-erector-launchers,” Daren reported. “We might have something here. What next, General? You want one of the StealthHawks to make a pass now?”

  “Not quite yet,” Patrick responded. He thought for a moment, then, “Open the bomb doors.”

  “That should get their attention,” Daren said. Into his microphone he ordered, “Send to Bobcat Zero-seven: open center bomb-bay doors. Do not launch UCAVs. Repeat, do not launch UCAVs.”

  The QB-1C Vampire III bomber had the radar cross-section smaller than a bird—until one of its three sets of bomb-bay doors were opened. Once that happened, its radar size increased a thousandfold. Radar energy bounced and reflected inside the bomb bay, making the bomber’s apparent size on radar jump exponentially. Seconds after Daren issued the order, they heard a computer voice in their headsets: “Warning, threat radar, SA-12, eleven o’clock, twenty-two miles, surveillance scan…warning, datalink active, SA-12, eleven o’clock, twenty-one miles.”

  “There it is,” Daren remarked. “You were right, sir—they have anot
her SA-12 system farther north. And it’s a lot closer to Mary. They have full radar and antiaircraft-missile coverage of the city now.” He hit his intercom button. “Bobcat Zero-seven, close bomb doors, activate all defensive countermeasures, and get out of there fast.” He knew that the flight-control techs would simply take manual control of the Vampire and fly it directly away from the SA-12, while at the same time reprogramming the flight plan for a low-level evasive dash. “What do you want to do with the SA-12 batteries, General?”

  “Kill them, Colonel,” Patrick said simply, punching up the datalink code for Eighth Air Force headquarters again. “It’s an unidentified hostile threat that is not authorized by United Nations resolution. Destroy it. Command vehicle first, then the radars, and then the missiles. I’ll notify Eighth Air Force of our actions.”

  “Yes, sir,” Daren responded enthusiastically. On the secure command link, he ordered, “Bobcat Zero-seven, this is Bobcat. Designate the SA-12 contacts as hostiles and attack. Repeat, designate all SA-12 contacts as hostile and attack. We think they rolled an entire brigade into the area. If they did, I want them all found, and I want them to die soonest. Order of target priority: command-post vehicle, missile-control radars, scanning radars, and launchers.” The Vampire flight technicians acknowledged the order and hurriedly reprogrammed both the Vampire and its StealthHawks for the attack.

  The Vampire began a fast turn to the east and a rapid descent. The tactical display showed the lethal-range ring of the SA-12 system—as the Vampire descended, the ring was getting smaller, but the bomber was still well within kill range. The display suddenly showed the Vampire’s rate of descent slowing dramatically. Daren was about to ask why when he realized that Bobcat Zero-seven had to almost level off to launch its StealthHawks—the UCAVs could not safely leave the center bomb bay with the bomber in a steep descent. “First StealthHawk away…”

  “Hurry, damn it, hurry,” Patrick breathed.

  “Warning, SA-12 missile guidance radar, six o’clock, thirty miles,” the computer blared. “Warning, missile launch…warning, second missile launch!”

  “Second StealthHawk away…” Moments later the icon representing Bobcat Zero-seven disappeared. “Lost contact with Bobcat Zero-seven,” the flight-control tech reported. “Looks like both SA-12 missiles hit dead on.”

  Daren Mace slammed a fist into a palm and swore loudly. “I don’t want to see anything but smoking holes in the ground where those SA-12s are!” he shouted.

  “Take it easy, Colonel,” Patrick said. On his secure datalink, he spoke, “Fortress, this is Avenger, secure. Priority-alert notification.”

  “Go ahead with your priority-alert notification, Avenger, Fortress is secure.” Patrick could hear the warning tones being sounded in the Eighth Air Force command center as Taylor Viner hit the ALERT button on her console, which sounded a tone in the entire room and would page each of the headquarters’ staff officers.

  “Bobcat Zero-seven has just been shot down by a Russian SA-12 surface-to-air missile. Request permission to return fire with ground-attack UCAVs.”

  “Copy your request, Avenger. Stand by.”

  “General…?” Daren asked. The StealthHawks were beginning their attack runs.

  “Continue,” Patrick said without hesitation. “Nail ’em.”

  Each of the StealthHawk UCAVs carried millimeter-wave radar and infrared sensors that could precisely locate and identify the enemy targets. They received initial target-area instructions from the Vampire bomber, but, once released, they searched for targets on their own. A screen on the “big board” showed the decision-making matrix each StealthHawk employed. It was extraordinary to watch: The BATMAN staff saw the image the StealthHawk was looking at, saw it compare the image to its stored catalog of vehicles and come up with several possibilities. A few seconds later, the StealthHawk would take another “snap-shot” of the target and refine its guess until it came up with only one possibility. Then it selected a weapon that would be most effective in destroying the target: an AGM-211 mini-Maverick missile for the armored SA-12 command vehicle, and CBU-87/103 Combined Effects Munitions mines against the radar arrays and transporter-erector-launchers.

  Two more SA-12 missiles launched moments after they picked up a sector-scan warning, followed by two more from a different set of launchers, but it was obvious the radar didn’t have a solid lock-on. “Four SA-12s in flight…missiles are deviating, the missile-tracking radar has lost contact…back to surveillance-scan mode only…clean misses.” The radar cross-section of each StealthHawk was one one-thousandth the size of the already-stealthy Vampire bomber—the Russian radar had no chance at all of tracking it except at very close range.

  Both StealthHawks bypassed the second SA-12 battery and instead rushed the first group of vehicles detected—the one with the command-post vehicle, the nerve center of the SA-12 system. The Ural-4320 six-by-six was the smallest vehicle in the group, but that didn’t matter to the UCAVs—both launched a single mini-Maverick missile at the correct vehicle. Patrick and Daren watched the attack unfold as the area images from the StealthHawk’s sensors, and then the target images from the mini-Mav’s imaging infrared sensor, showed the missiles closing in. The mission commander had the option of designating another target or correcting the aimpoint, but it wasn’t necessary—the StealthHawks were perfectly accurate. Both missiles plowed dead-center into the command-post vehicle, transforming it into a cloud of fire in seconds.

  Like meat-eating bees buzzing around a picnic table, the StealthHawks continued their work. The first UCAV sent its second mini-Maverick into the nearby 9S15MV surveillance-radar vehicle, which consisted of a large tracked vehicle carrying a massive billboardlike long-range radar. The second UCAV rolled in on another large radar array not far from the command-post vehicle, but Patrick hit his intercom button. “Negative on that target, Zero-seven,” he said. “That’s the sector-scanning radar—it’s only effective against ballistic-missile attack. Put another mini-Mav into that ‘billboard’ radar.” The remote mission commander overrode the StealthHawk’s target choice and instead guided it against the same long-range radar attacked by the first UCAV. Without the command-post vehicle, the SA-12 was lobotomized. Now, without the surveillance radar, it lost its long-range vision.

  The StealthHawks continued their attack by orbiting the two SA-12 batteries, searching for targets for their second weapon—two canisters, each filled with thirty BLU-97 Combined Effects Munitions bomblets that were scattered in a wide oval pattern above a target cluster. Each bomblet was a two-pound high-explosive fragmenting case with an inflatable Ballute parachute tail and a tiny radio altimeter that measured how far aboveground the canister was and set off the explosive at precisely the correct instant. When detonated, each canister shot several thousand steel fragments in all directions out to fifty to sixty feet, strong enough to penetrate automotive steel and light armor. At the same time, a mixture of zirconium in the Cyclotol explosive ignited, creating a fireball hot enough to set off unprotected fuel tanks, detonate ammunition—or kill a human being—for thirty to forty feet away.

  The two StealthHawks could not hope to destroy all of the over 180 remaining SA-12 missiles in the brigade, but their final attacks were still devastating. Each StealthHawk automatically adjusted its altitude and track so as to maximize the kill pattern of its Combined Effects canisters, dropping the canisters so that the scatter pattern of the BLU-97 bomblets hit as many targets as possible. Each run managed to hit at least two SA-12 transporter-erector-launchers or reload-launcher trailers, which created spectacular secondary explosions as the shrapnel ripped open missile casings and fuel tanks and the incendiary fireballs ignited the fuel or explosives within.

  As the StealthHawks continued to orbit the area, they sent back images and radar maps of their handiwork. “Command vehicle, surveillance radar, and most of two entire SA-12 batteries destroyed or heavily damaged, sir,” the StealthHawk flight-control officer reported. “No radar or datalink transmiss
ions detected.”

  “Over thirty missiles destroyed and several more damaged,” Daren said. “Friggin’ unbelievable. We pretty much pulled the plug on this entire brigade.” Left unsaid was the casualty count—each SA-12 battery was manned by almost fifty soldiers, and the command vehicle alone had twelve officers and technicians on board.

  But even after all of their weapons were expended, the StealthHawks were not finished. Because they knew that their Vampire mother ship had been destroyed and they did not have enough fuel to reach friendly territory or rendezvous with another mother ship, they located one last target—both of the UCAVs selected a surviving launcher filled with SA-12 missiles—and dove in on it. Their small, thirty-pound “suicide” warheads ensured that both the target and the UCAVs themselves were destroyed in their final kamikaze attack runs.

  “Direct impacts on two more transporter-erector-launchers,” Daren reported. Patrick was still listening for word from Eighth Air Force headquarters. “Almost two entire SA-12 batteries destroyed, including their command-and-surveillance center.”

  “Pass along to your Bobcat crews, ‘Well done, good shooting,’ Daren,” Patrick said. It was over in less than ten minutes—one QB-1C Vampire bomber and two StealthHawk UCAVs destroyed with no casualties, versus half of a Russian SA-12 brigade with possibly dozens of casualties. Even Patrick was astounded by the power and efficiency of his unmanned aerial-combat warplanes. “Let’s get another Vampire airborne and on patrol, and let’s pinpoint the rest of that SA-12 brigade.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Daren responded eagerly. He left his station beside Patrick to go up the theaterlike Battle Management Center to the Bobcat flight-control center to pass along the general’s congratulations. At the same time, Patrick heard a chime in his headset. He entered his passcode and waited for the secure linkup. “Fortress, Avenger is up and secure.”