Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06

by Fatal Terrain (v1. 1)

  In less than four minutes, the Megafortress sped across the wide, flat Chang Jiang River valley and across to the protective sanctuary of the Ta- Pieh Mountain range, just as another wave of fighters arrived from the neighboring Changsha fighter base to search for the mysterious attacker. The Megafortress continued northwest bound through the mountains for a few minutes, then cut northeast until they were at the extreme northeast end of the Ta-Pieh Mountains. From there, they launched their next attack: two Wolverine antiair defense cruise missiles against the surface- to-air missiles and antiaircraft artillery units defending the bomber base at Wuhan, followed by two Striker missiles.

  As the Striker missiles sped inbound, McLanahan suddenly whooped for joy: “Hey, crew, I think we hit the jackpot! ” He could clearly see two separate parking areas at the huge bomber base at Wuhan—both filled with heavy bombers. One area was reserved for at least forty H-6 bombers, lined up almost wingtip to wingtip; the other parking area had four H-7 bombers, former Russian Tupolev-26 supersonic heavy bombers. “I’m going to program the last two Striker missiles for the base, too—might as well nail the targets as we get ’em. The navy base at Shanghai will have to wait for our next attack opportunity.” McLanahan steered the two Striker missiles already in flight at the H-7 supersonic bombers, planting one Striker in between two bombers so the tremendous blast knocked out both bombers at once, then launched the two remaining Strikers at the H-6 parking ramp. All four H-7 bombers went up in huge clouds of fire, and the Strikers destroyed eight more H-6 bombers and damaged several more.

  As a parting gesture, McLanahan quickly programmed the last two Wolverine missiles to orbit over Wuhan bomber base and attack any targets of opportunity with the anti-vehicle skeets—any H-6 bomber that tried to start engines and taxi clear of the devastated parking ramp for the next forty minutes would be treated to a personalized demonstration of the power of an anti-vehicle skeet shooting molten copper slugs into it from out of the darkness. Another thirteen H-6 bombers, plus a number of fuel, security, and maintenance vehicles, were damaged or destroyed by the skeets launched from the Wolverine cruise missiles.

  As the Chinese air defense fighters from Nanjing and Wuhu air bases converged first on Anqing, then Wuhan, to try to find and destroy the unidentified attacker, the crew of the Megafortress turned southeast through sparsely settled Zhejiang province, going feet-wet directly between the two Chinese naval bases at Wenzhou and Dinghai. Chinese air defense sites were in an uproar over the invasion on the garrisons at Xiamen, which meant that all available naval air fighter units had been sent on patrol to the south to try to stop any more Taiwanese invaders. Like a ghost riding the rising coastal fog, the Megafortress quietly slipped out of Chinese airspace and disappeared over the East China Sea.

  PETERSON AIR FORCE BASE, NEAR COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO

  TUESDAY, 24 JUNE, 1327 HOURS LOCAL (1527 HOURS ET)

  The first detection was from the U.S. Space Commands Pacific Satellite Early Warning System, or SEWS, a large heat-sensing satellite that detected the bright flash of fire from the first 65,000-pound Dong Feng-4 ballistic missile lifting off from its fixed launching pad in east-central China. Since the launch detection was immediately correlated with a known DF-4 launch site, an automatic ICBM launch warning was issued by Space Command to all American, Canadian, and NATO military units throughout the world through the North American Aerospace Defense Command at Cheyenne Mountain. The entire Space Command complex, known as Team 21—the Space Operations missile detection wings, the worldwide communications network, and the crisis management team of the Cheyenne Mountain Strategic Defense Combat Operations Center— were on full alert when the next seven DF-4 missiles were detected moments later.

  The commander of U.S. Space Command was called out of a lunch meeting with some of his visiting wing commanders, and he was quickly escorted to the Air Force Missile Warning and Space Operations Command Center. General Joseph G. Wyle was the new commander of “the Mountain.” A father of three daughters, a former F-4 Phantom fighter WSO (weapons systems officer) turned computer engineer, Wyle was one of the U.S. military’s few “triple hats,” a commander of three major military commands: U.S. Air Force Space Command, in charge of all of the Air Force’s satellites, boosters, land-based missiles, and launch facilities; U.S. Space Command, in charge of all of America’s strategic defense systems, such as surveillance satellites and radars; and the North American Aerospace Defense (NORAD) Command, the joint U.S. and Canadian military team dedicated to detecting, tracking, and identifying all incoming threats against the North American continent. The four-star general had been the deputy “triple hat” commander under General Mike Talbot during the last major international crisis in Asia, when China had first started flexing its blue-water muscles against its neighbors.

  “Still waiting for SEWS confirmation of a Chinese IRBM launch,” the senior controller reported on the commander’s net in the command center.

  “Let’s hear what you do know,” Wyle ordered.

  “SEWS Pacific detected a total of ten missile launches in east-central China,” the senior controller reported. “Subsequent sensor hits showing large rocket plumes rising through the atmosphere, heading east. We have course and speed and approximate missile weight and performance data correlated through SEWS.”

  “So we’re positive that we’re looking at Chinese ballistic missiles?”

  “The latest intelligence data says the Chinese still had DF-4 missiles at all of the ten known launch sites in the area of the current launches— not the longer-range DF-5, not any of the experimental long-range ICBMs, nor any civil or commercial Long March boosters,” one of the intelligence officers reported. “So we can rule out with very good probability that the Chinese are not launching satellites, and that the attack is not against any targets in North America.”

  That basic information saved a lot of time and wasted efforts—and a lot of officers and technicians who were holding their breath finally could breathe. It was well-known to everyone that Peterson Air Force Base would be a likely target for any enemy seeking to wipe out America’s defense network—but these missiles were not heading for the continental United States. “Good,” Wyle said. “Let’s notify the Pentagon and the NCA, but put it out over the non-emergency priority net.”

  “We’ve got a BMEWS confirmation of ten, repeat ten, inbounds powering up through the atmosphere,” another controller reported. Space surveillance radar sites in Alaska, South Korea, and the Philippines called BMEWSs, or Ballistic Missile Early Warning Systems, now started tracking the inbound missiles, and trajectory projections appeared on the large full-color monitors in the operations center; they were backed up by radar satellites called DSSSs, or Defense Surveillance Satellite Systems. The probable target was pinpointed less than a minute from first detection: “Impact area, Guam,” the controller said.

  “Ah, shit—the Chinese launched an attack on Guam,” Wyle muttered. “Get it out on the network—target Guam. Time to impact?”

  “Twelve minutes,” the controller responded.

  “Dammit. I hope the Army toads are on their toes this afternoon.” “Sir, now we have a track update via BMEWS and DSSS,” the controller reported. “We’re showing three of the missiles taking a different trajectory—”

  “Where?” Wyle asked. “South Korea? Japan? Alaska?”

  “No, sir—it’s a flatter trajectory, possibly a satellite insertion profile,” the controller responded. “The three missiles are using power to maintain a two-hundred-and-ninety-mile altitude. They could be ready to insert satellites into orbit.”

  “FOB warheads?” Wyle speculated. He knew the Chinese had FOB, or Fractional Orbital Bombardment technology—the ability to put a nuclear warhead into low Earth orbit, then deorbit it anytime it circled the Earth. The warheads could stay aloft for weeks, virtually untouchable, and could threaten targets all over the globe.

  “Unknown, sir,” the controller said. “We should be able to get an eyebal
l on the payloads when they separate.” Space Command maintained space surveillance telescopes all over the world, which would allow technicians to visually observe and identify a satellite in orbit—the telescopes were powerful enough to read a newspaper fifty miles away!

  As the Chinese missiles reached apogee, their highest point in their ballistic trajectory at almost 400 miles up, the long-range Space Command radars detected the warheads separating from the boosters and beginning their reentry. “We have one missile making an erratic track—looks like it’s breaking up in reentry,” the controller said. Wyle muttered a silent prayer, hoping more would follow suit. “Three boosters are inserting payloads into low Earth orbit, repeat, three payloads entering orbit. We have three boosters MIRVing, repeat, three MIRVing... DSSS now reporting a total of twelve reentry vehicles, repeat, twelve MIRVs inbound, target Guam. BMEWS confirms that track, twelve reentry vehicles inbound, target Guam.”

  “Confirm for me that an air attack alert has been issued to all installations and on civil defense nets on Guam,” General Wyle asked in a low, somber voice.

  “We’ve confirmed it, sir,” a communications officer said. “Full military and civil EBS notification.” Wyle thought about all the times he had heard the Emergency Broadcast System tests on TV and radio and simply ignored the nuisance interruption. Of course, he had been in many places where people paid attention to EBS—during the floods near Beale Air Force Base in Marysville, California; the tornadoes near Omaha, Nebraska; and even on Guam during frequent typhoon warnings in the summer. But civil defense was a thing of the past, and suitable hardened, underground shelters outside of the military bases were rare on Guam. The population of that tiny, sleepy tropical island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was going to take the full force of the Chinese missile attack . . . unless the Patriot missiles could stop them.

  As fast as the information could be beamed out by satellite, the air defense units on the island of Guam were scrambled and activated. Two U.S. Army Patriot surface-to-air missile batteries were stationed on Guam, one on Andersen Air Force Base in the northern part of the island, and one at Agana Naval Air Station in the central part. Each Patriot battery consisted of a command trailer, three large flat “drive-intheater screen” radar arrays, and twelve transporter-erector-launcher trailers, with four missiles per trailer, plus associated electrical power and communications relay trucks. The radars did not mechanically sweep the skies, but they electronically scanned huge sections of airspace up to fifty miles in all directions, so between the two sites the entire island of Guam was covered.

  The phone at his console buzzed, and he picked it up—he knew exactly who it would be. “Wyle.”

  “General Wyle, this is Admiral Balboa,” the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said. “Fm at the White House. The President and the SECDEF are here with me. What’s the situation?”

  “We detected ten missile launches from central China,” Wyle reported. “We’re tracking a total of twelve inbound ballistic vehicles, all heading for Guam. All tracks confirmed. We believe with high confidence that the missiles are Chinese East Wind-4 intermediate-range nuclear ballistic weapons. The reentry warheads are believed to be everything from sixty-kiloton to two-megaton yield.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Balboa muttered. “Any other launch detections anywhere?”

  “None, sir.”

  “Anything headed for us at all?”

  “Three missiles launched from China inserted small payloads into two-hundred-and-ninety-mile orbits, inclined approximately thirty degrees from the equator, sir,” Wyle said, reading information off the large monitors in the command center. “We haven’t identified them yet. Their orbits will take them over the Pacific, within about two hundred miles of the Hawaiian islands, but not over the CONUS. They fly over central China on the backside of their orbits, so they might be weather or communications satellites, or just decoys.”

  “I want those payloads positively identified as soon as possible, General,” Balboa said sternly. “Status of the air defense sites on Guam?”

  “Two Patriot batteries on Guam. Both are on full alert and will be directly tracking the inbounds in about five to six minutes,” Wyle responded.

  “The NCA wants an immediate notification on any other launches,” Balboa ordered.

  “Yes, sir, Fll do it personally,” Wyle said. “Is the NCA going airborne?”

  “Negative, but we’ve got Marine One and Two standing by.”

  “Might be a good idea to get them airborne until we sort this out,” Wyle said. “If any of the inbounds hit, we’ll lose the 720th Space Group on Guam—that cuts out a lot of missile and satellite tracking and control functions in the Pacific. The warning net might go down, or suffer a bottleneck. ”

  ‘Til pass along your recommendation, General,” Balboa said. “We’ll keep you advised.” And the line went dead.

  Everything that could be done was being done. Along with providing land-based nuclear intercontinental missiles to Strategic Command in case of a crisis, Space Command’s primary function was surveillance, detection, tracking, and notification of an attack from space on the United States, its territories, and allies. That function was completed— now it was up to the last line of defense to minimize the damage.

  The Patriot air defense missile batteries first detected the inbound warheads at ninety seconds time-to-impact, but they could not begin firing the first two-missile volleys until thirty seconds time-to-impact. The launches were done completely by computer control, sequencing the launches from both batteries so each salvo would not interfere with another. Every battery fired all of its missiles—that meant that every incoming nuclear warhead had eight Patriot missiles flying up to attack it, launched in four different volleys of two missiles each.

  But despite software and hardware upgrades on the system since its debut as a ballistic-missile killer during the 1991 Persian Gulf War, the Patriot antiair missile system had never been designed to be an anti-ballistic missile weapon. The Patriot had the advantage of its own onboard terminal guidance radar, which meant it was much more responsive and agile and was more capable against fast-moving targets such as inbound ballistic missiles or warheads, and the new Tier 3 PUG (Patriot Upgrade Group) gave the missile a larger warhead and a new high-pressure hydraulic actuator system, so it could move its control surfaces faster to chase higher-speed targets. Nonetheless, it was still a matter of “bullet-on-bullet,” nose-to-nose precision aiming that was still several years from perfection.

  Out of twelve inbound warheads, three survived the onslaught of Patriot missiles. One sixty-kiloton warhead exploded two miles west of Orote Peninsula, a total of eight miles southwest of Agana, just 3,000 feet above the ocean, leveling most of the high-rise oceanfront hotels and condominiums and creating an instant killer typhoon. Another sixty-kiloton warhead was blasted off course by a nearby exploding Patriot missile and was harmlessly fratricided by the preceding nuclear detonation near Agana. Although the blast damage, heat, and overpressure effects were enormous, casualties in the central part of the island would be termed minimal.

  But one two-megaton warhead exploded just one and a half miles north of Andersen Air Force Base at an altitude of less than 3,000 feet— and every aboveground building on the base was wiped away in a blast that was greater than the power of five hundred typhoons. The nearby village of Fafalog completely disappeared in the fireball. Mount Santa Rosa, the verdant green hill overlooking the military airfield, was instantly denuded of all vegetation and then sliced nearly in half. The entire northern one-fifth of the island was immediately set ablaze, which was extinguished only by the 200- foot nuclear-spawned tsunami and typhoon-force winds that ripped into the scarred tropical island.

  “One who is able to change and transform in accord with the enemy and wrest victory is _ termed spiritual!”

  —SUN-TZU,

  The Art of War

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BARKSDALE AIR FORCE BASE, BOSSIER CITY, LOUISIANA<
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  TUESDAY, 24 JUNE 1997, 1431 HOURS LOCAL (1531 HOURS ET)

  SKYBIRD, SKYBIRD, message follows: kilo, three, seven, niner, eight, foxtrot, one ...” the U.S. Strategic Command senior controller said over the command net, reading off a long string of phonetic letters and numbers, then repeating the coded message with the phrase “I say again ...” In the Eighth Air Force command center, two teams of two controllers were copying the message down, then beginning to decode the message separately, then comparing their results with each other; satisfied, they began running the associated checklist. The checklist would instruct them what message to transmit to the bomber forces under their command. Both sets of controllers composed the new message, then quickly verified it with each other.

  Then, while the first set of controllers began reading the new coded message on the command posts UHF and VHF frequency, the second set of controllers copied the message and passed it along to the battle staff operations officer. He in turn decoded the message with another officer, checked their results with the first two sets of controllers—it checked once again. At least four sets of eyes always checked every message and every response to be sure they were accomplishing the proper action. If there was any error anywhere along the line—a nervous or cracking voice, a hesitation, anything—the other controller would slap a piece of paper over the codebook, and the controller reading the message would read, “Stand by,” then start all over again. The stakes were too enormous to leave any ambiguities.

  “Latest EAM verified, sir,” the ops officer reported to the Eighth Air Force battle staff. “DEFCON Two emergency action message.” The entire staff opened up their checklists to the appropriate page, as the ops officer began writing updated date-time groups up on the command timing board. DEFCON, or Defense Condition, Two was a higher state of readiness for all U.S. military forces; for the bomber forces, it placed them at the very highest stages of ground alert, just short of taking off. “Message establishes an ‘A hour only, directing force timing for one hundred percent of the force on cockpit alert status, plus fifty percent of available forces as of A plus six hours to go to dispersal locations,” the ops officer went on. “Bases with missile flight times less than twelve minutes go to repositioned alert; bases with MFTs less than eight minutes go to engines-running repositioned alert. The message directs full Reserve and Guard mobilizations.”