Sea Bird completed his transmission, banked his aircraft, and set a course to the PLAN ships. Distancing himself from the J-7s, the crew of the Poseidon focused their attention on finding their quarry.
* * *
Ninety miles away, the crew of the E-2D Sentry kept tabs on the J-7s until the Chinese reversed course to their base. His mission complete, Raven altered course to the northeast as the rising sun pierced the horizon off their starboard wingtip. He only had a moment to relax before a voice came over his headset.
“Major?”
“Yes, Levinson?”
“Sir, we just picked up three aircraft taking off from Luishing.”
“Luishing’s the PLAN’s airfield on Hainan Island. Wonder what they’re up to?”
“You get an ID?”
“No, sir. They’re at the edge of our range.”
“Okay. Pass on what you have to Kadena.”
Tired from the long mission, he relinquished the yoke to his copilot. “Doug, take us home.”
* * *
USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN CVN-72
SOUTH CHINA SEA
“Admiral?”
Gireaux turned at the sound of his Chief of Staff’s voice. “Yes, Sandy?”
“Sir, we just heard from Sea Bird. They’ve picked up the Chinese. They’ll have them visual in forty-five.”
“Do you have their current position?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s take a look.”
The Strike Group’s and the Chinese’s projected courses at sequential points of time were marked with a series of arcs representing the forward edge of Gireaux’s E-2D’s 350-mile electronic search capability.
From these, he deduced the flying time the Hawkeye would need to acquire and maintain contact with the Chinese flotilla. He then made a quick estimate of the refueling requirement for the F-18s. The fighters were going to be airborne longer than the standard mission cycle from launch to landing.
“Admiral, looks like we’ll make it.”
“So, it appears. Let’s get the birds aloft and line up refueling.”
“My money is on the Chinese splitting their force. They’ll bypass Pagasa and send most of their combatants to chase the Filipinos from Scarborough Reef. They can deploy the remainder of their force to their installation on Mischief Reef.”
“Let’s see if we can change their plans.”
The Hummer, manned by a five-member crew from the Wallbangers of Navy Carrier Airborne Early Warning Squadron, VAW 117, took to the air first. The three tactical data systems operators took little notice when the catapult flung their aircraft off the forward edge of the flight deck as they set up for the mission.
These specialists were now monitoring the computer consoles of their APS-145 antennae array. An integral piece of Sea Shield, the nation’s new missile defense system, the array represented a quantum leap in capability. The electronically steered design provided Gireaux with continuous 360-degree search capability for target tracking. For today’s mission, the system provided the Sun Kings a robust mechanism to monitor mundane objects such as ships and airplanes.
The senior petty officer pressed his intercom button. “Skipper, we’re up and operational.”
Aboard Lincoln, the swirling cloud of steam created by the launch of the E-2D had not yet dissipated before the flight-deck crew sprang into action. Under the critical eye of the catapult officer, two F/A-18F Super Hornets were positioned for takeoff.
The pilot of the starboard fighters completed his pre-launch checklist and gave the plane captain a thumbs-up to start turning the aircraft’s engines. His name and rank stenciled just below the canopy rail identified him. Lieutenant Commander Marc “Diego” Koch, the squadron’s executive officer.
All was ready. The crew disconnected the engine start cart. The catapult officer stood to attention and rendered a crisp return salute.
Koch advanced his throttles, powering them to a full crescendo. Verifying their performance from the digital readouts of his instrument panel, he kicked in his afterburners. A gut-wrenching roar consumed the air.
The catapult officer lunged forward, throwing his left arm downward until it touched the deck. The F-18 leapt off the forward edge of the flight deck driven by the duel forces of the catapult and the twin blue-white cones of fire from its engines. Fifteen seconds later, the second fighter was in the air. The entire choreographed launch sequence for the three planes had taken one-hundred and sixty seconds.
Moments after they were airborne, the Lincoln’s commanding officer secured from EMCOM alpha. The Chinese would soon know his ship was in the area and there was no reason to go in blind.
Koch watched his wing mate, Lieutenant “Pele” McCormick, join up and did a communications check. “Merlin Two. Merlin One. How copy?”
Flashing a thumbs-up to Koch, McCormick responded. “I have you Lima-Charlie, Merlin One.”
“Roger that, Merlin Two. We’ll assume station off the Hummer.”
Koch had been briefed on the rules of engagement in the event of trouble. You could never predict what might happen on a mission such as this, but as the carrier receded in the distance, he felt confident they would only have to be alert for a surface-to-air-missile threat.
Confident there was no way the Chinese could have any aircraft in the area, he nonetheless alerted his Weapon System Operator, seated behind him.
“Wizzoes, let me know if you see or hear anything weird.”
“Anything in particular?”
“No, man. We just don’t want to be surprised.”
“Roger that.”
“You ready to run through the weapon and navigation systems?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
The two aviators completed their systems checks in short order and were talking about the new movies the Osprey delivered when a transmission interrupted.
“Merlin One. Virgil.”
“Merlin One. Go Virgil.”
“Merlin One, we have a contact zero-three-zero. Three bogies. Two closing Sea Bird. One appears to be falling back.”
“Got an ID?”
“Negative, Merlin. No one’s supposed to be out here but us. CIC has requested a Kill Track. I’m refining my beam.”
“Affirm. Keep me posted.”
Several minutes later Virgil provided his update. “Merlin One, we have confirmed two bandits descending through fifteen-thousand closing Sea Bird at four-hundred knots. They’ll have her in their crosshairs in fifteen minutes.”
“Roger that, Virgil. You have Sea Bird?”
“Working it.”
“Copy. Patch me through when you do. We’re calling the carrier.”
“Home Plate, Home Plate. Merlin One. We’ve got two bandits closing Sea Bird at four-hundred knots. They’ll be on them in less than fifteen minutes. There’s a third contact that’s fallen back. Virgil’s raising Sea Bird. We’ll patch the call.”
“Merlin One, Umpire. Join with Sea Bird and provide escort. Stay on your toes.”
“Aye, aye, Umpire. Wilco.”
“Wizzoes, you pick up on the voice?”
“Yeah, the Admiral’s calling the shots.
* * *
“Sandy, we on the same page?” Gireaux asked his Chief of Staff.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get the tanker and Ready-5 in the air. It’s time to let the Chinese know we’re in the neighborhood. Confirm the strike package and place the aircrews on alert in case things turn south.”
“Admiral?”
Gireaux pivoted to face his intelligence officer.
“Sir, those are J-8s. The third is their tanker.”
“What’s your confidence level?”
“High. The PLAN’s 25th Regiment of their 9th Air Division has accepted delivery of the new J-8Ds. These aircraft have air-to-air refueling capability giving them a six-hundred-mile combat radius. Intelligence indicates they began limited extended range intercept exercises this past November.”
“What
else?”
“An hour ago, we were copied to a message from Raven. At the end of their mission they reported three aircraft lifting off from Luishing Airfield. Sir, that’s the 25th Regiment’s base.”
Gireaux didn’t need any more. “Sandy, draft a flash message for my release to Seventh Fleet and please inform the Captain I’d like to have a word with him. We’re going to have a busy day.”
Chapter 17
F/A-18F SUPER HORNET MERLIN ONE
SOUTH CHINA SEA
07:20 WEDNESDAY 26 FEBRUARY
“Merlin One, Virgil.”
“What’s up, Virgil?”
“We’ve got Sea Bird. Figure you’d want to introduce yourselves. We’ll patch you through.”
“Roger that, Virgil. Standing by. Wizzoes, you working the frequencies?”
“On it. The P-8 guys must be feeling the sky’s a bit crowded with all the company.”
“Merlin One, Virgil. You should have them now.”
“Thanks, Virgil,” Koch said. Keep our comms open with Home Plate. Sea Bird, Merlin One. How do you copy?”
“Loud and clear, Merlin One. It’s getting pretty interesting up here.”
“What’s your status?”
“We’ve got a couple of J-8 Finbacks bracketing the aircraft. They want us to follow them.”
“Copy that. What’s their —?”
“Whoa!”
“Sea Bird?”
“Merlin, we just had a near miss. I’ve got turbulent air.”
“Affirmative, Sea Bird. On our way. Wizzoes, bring up Virgil and get a vector for intercept. Home Plate? Are you copying?”
The Carrier Air Group Commander came on the line. “Merlin One. You’ve got a bunch of guys sitting at the edge of their seats. Get those bandits out of there. Umpire is standing by to authorize weapon release if the situation warrants. We’re launching the Ready-5.”
On cue, the flight leader of the two VFA-251 Hornets on standby to launch in five minutes, checked in. “Merlin, Shotgun. How copy?”
“Shotgun, we have you Lima Charlie. Glad to have the Black Aces on board. We’re coordinating the intercept with Virgil.”
“Merlin One,” Sea Bird broke in. “Our sitrep is shitty.”
* * *
Gireaux leaned forward and pressed his hands over his earphones. Damn. “Sandy, the Chinese are desperate. They can’t have much fuel. Let’s hope they don’t do anything stupid.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, sir.”
“We’ll—”
Sea Bird cut Gireaux off. “Tally ho, Merlin. They just went weapons hot. Rolling into evasive maneuvers.”
Koch didn’t wait for guidance. “Pele. Drop your auxiliary tank. Stay with me.”
Two resonating booms sounded as the F-18s broke the sound barrier. Racing toward Sea Bird at six-hundred and seventy knots, the fighters were gulping fuel from their internal tanks.
Virgil needed no reminder the F-18s would need recovery tanking to make it home. The F/A-18E, Sea Wolf, with a refueling pod slung under its port wing was standing by to provide that service.
“Sea Wolf One Three Seven. Virgil.”
“Virgil, Sea Wolf. We’re on heading three-five-five, four-hundred fifty knots, climbing through four-seven-zero-zero feet.”
“Sea Wolf, continue your present course and speed. Level at ten. We’ll direct you to the rendezvous point for Merlin.”
Virgil took control of the airspace and brought the fighter escort up on the net. “Shotgun, Virgil. How copy?”
“Solid copy, Virgil. You going to get us in the action?”
“Affirm. Stay tuned. Same Bat time, same Bat channel.”
“Admiral, Merlin should have a visual on Sea Bird in eight minutes.”
Gireaux nodded affirmation to the CAG and addressed the CIC watch officer. “Commander, do we have any indication those J-8s know we’re closing?”
“No, sir.”
The CAG filled in the details. “Admiral, Virgil is circling outside the effective range of their radars. Merlin is making his approach on the deck. We should surprise them.”
“It’s still a crap shoot,” Gireaux replied. “We’ll know soon enough if Koch can convince the Finbacks to break off.”
A broken transmission from Sea Bird silenced the room. “W..er..aken..its!”
Virgil responded first. His call, much closer to the truth than he could have imagined. “Say again, Sea Bird. You are breaking up.”
A different voice, strained but controlled, answered. “Virgil, we’ve taken rounds. Nobody’s hurt. I’ve got damage outboard the port wing and a fire warning light for number two engine.”
“Roger, Sea Bird,” Virgil affirmed. “Do you have visual on the J-8s?”
Sea Bird scanned the sky before answering. He didn’t see the Chinese jets. What he did see caused his ass to tighten––a silver vapor trail streaming behind his battered left wing.
“Virgil, we’re losing fuel. We may not have enough to make it home. I’m switching tanks to seal it off.”
“Sandy,” Gireaux said, “I’m not willing to take the risk. That’s a long way home over open water for those kids flying a damaged aircraft.”
“The strip on Pagasa may be long enough.”
“We don’t have a choice. Divert them. Eagle Flight can provide escort.”
“Admiral, they’ll have to announce their intentions in the clear and hope the Filipinos are listening.”
“Get’em movin’.”
“Sea Bird, Home Plate. You have a BINGO. Broadcast an in-flight emergency over the international band and divert to the AFP airfield on Pagasa Atoll. Virgil will provide range and bearing.”
“Roger, Home Plate. Affirm, Bingo. Diverting to Pagasa.”
“Virgil? You copy?”
“Lima Charlie, Home Plate.”
“Clear those J-8s out of the area,” Gireaux ordered. To the CAG he ordered, “Get a FLIR in the air. This is no time to be blind with one of those Kilos lurking around. Coordinate the ASW effort with Honolulu and the surface screen. Sandy, get the watch officer at Seventh Fleet on secure.”
Gireaux removed his headset and turned his attention to a bank of monitors. The F-18 carrying an AT-FLIR would soon provide real-time visual to the command center.
“Home Plate. Merlin Lead.”
“Merlin Lead. Home Plate,” Gireaux answered.
Sea Bird recognized the Admiral’s voice, “Umpire, we have Sea Bird.”
“Copy that, Merlin. At my mark, commence your run at four-five- zero feet. Give the bandits a minute, then light them up with your targeting radar. Stay alert. Virgil will direct Sea Bird to decrease her airspeed and make a gradual turning descent to the north. Do you copy?”
“Wilco, Umpire,” Koch replied repeating the orders.
Gireaux contacted the Hummer. “Virgil. Update Sea Bird’s status.”
“Umpire, Sea Bird at two-hundred fifty knots, heading zero-six-zero, altitude four thousand.”
“Virgil. Umpire. Execute.”
“Aye, aye, Umpire.”
Gireaux flexed his fingers. “Merlin Lead, stand by for my order.”
“Wilco.”
“Merlin Lead, Umpire. Execute.” He turned to the CAG. “You have tactical control.”
“Home Plate, Merlin Lead. Confirm we have an execute.”
“Affirmative, Merlin. Go weapons red.”
Koch gave the order to arm their AIM-120 AMRAAM and AIM-9 Sidewinder air-to-air missiles. “Go hot.”
Wizzoes engaged the Fire Inhibit Switch. “Master arm on. Weapons hot.”
“Merlin Two hot,” McCormick said.
“Pele, follow me in,” Koch directed. “I’ll take the guy on the right. You have his wingman.”
“Roger that.”
Koch pointed the F-18’s nose up and confirmed his digital readouts. “Wizzoes, take us in. I’ll level at four-six feet and light’em up.”
“I have them straight in. Three miles.”
Before
he could respond, Koch observed a flash of sunlight off the canopy of one of the Finbacks. The two Chinese jets were breaking left in pursuit of the fleeing patrol plane. He only had an instant to react. “Damn, they’re going after Sea Bird. The lead guy is lining up for another firing run.”
“We’ve too close for the birds,” Pele said.
“Roger that. Change of plans.”
Koch pushed his throttles forward and began his turn to close the Chinese jet. “Pele, I’ll take him. Cover my six. We’re positioning for a deflecting shot.”
Listening to the exchange, Gireaux came up on the net. “Merlin Lead. Umpire. Pop the J-8 with your radar. Fire a warning burst if he doesn’t break off. If he goes weapons hot, take him out.”
“Wilco, Umpire.”
* * *
The Chinese pilot pressed home his attack under orders to cripple the American spy plane. He centered the P-8 in his gun sight and squeezed off a short burst from his cannons. The missile warning tone in his headset went off before he could send another stream of 30mm shells at the fleeing plane. He was being targeted. Undeterred, he fired again. His rounds sliced through the thin skin of the American aircraft.
* * *
Sea Bird’s aircraft shuttered from the impact of the J-8’s cannons. “Merlin, we’re taking fire.”
“Sea Bird. Merlin Lead. I’m on him.”
Koch switched channels. “Umpire, Umpire. The bandits have gone weapons hot.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Engaging now.”
Koch adjusted his angle of attack and focused on his heads-up display. Good. A little more to the center. All right, just a little more. Gotcha. He depressed the trigger of his Vulcan cannon. A stream of high explosive 20mm shells walked along the fuselage of the Finback.
The effect was immediate. The Chinese jet began to smoke and lose altitude. Flames winked from the fatal wound to its engine.
Koch voiced his feelings on the result. “AMF.”
“We splashed the bastard,” Wizzoes added.
Koch called the carrier. “Umpire. Merlin One. We have a confirmed kill. The pilot has blown his canopy and ejected.”
“Merlin—”
McCormick’s voice cut off Gireaux. He had seen the stricken J-8’s wing mate maneuver behind Koch. “Sponge, he’s on you.”
Flash Point Page 10
