by Andy Farman
They remounted without further delay and headed north, the small force of five Leopard 1 MBTs, two ASLAV recce vehicles and three platoons of infantry. Mr Edwards reported his findings and a suggestion that was accepted after just a few minutes.
Bateman’s Bay was under heavy bombardment, the supposed precursor to an attempted landing upon Long Beach on the north of the bay and Corrigan’s Beach opposite it on the south side. But Bateman’s Bay was now just a diversion apparently, much to the chagrin of the commander of the Australian 1st Brigade. It is one thing to be outnumbered and out fought, but it is another thing entirely to be outsmarted by an enemy, especially when you have the home advantage.
Port Kembla was receiving comparatively light bombardment around the port area when compared to the weight of fire on the town itself, and the beaches of course.
D Company of 1st/19th Royal New South Wales Regiment joined them with forty men and its mortar section but in all, half a squadron of Leopard 1 MBTs, two thirds of an infantry battalion and a battery of 105 Howitzers had been lost. The enemy were ashore and moving for their next objective.
At Moruya they had accounted for more of the enemy than they had lost themselves but the figures did not add up. Australia’s armed forces had been run down until they were only capable of short term international interventions.
The Tasman Sea.
0425hrs.
The invasion fleet had split into two divisions and turned east, in towards land once night had fallen. The Australian and allied navies and air force had launched a major strike at the northern group containing the carriers. HMAS Sydney and HMAS Darwin had been sunk, along with RSS Vengeance, ROCS Tzu I and the USS Stethem. Nine other allied surface warships were damaged, three seriously, in the Battle of the Tasman Sea, with the newly recommissioned Spruance class destroyer USS Conolly being beached at Cape Howe.
The sheer weight of surface to surface anti-ship missiles and laser guided naval gunfire had overwhelmed the far smaller allied force.
In the invasion fleets core only the aviation support vessel G’doa had been destroyed, hit twice by air launched AGM-84 Harpoon missiles intended for the carrier Mao. Two LSTs had been damaged, one seriously. The Russian assault ship Lubyanka had been hit by one of USS Stethem’s BGM-109 Tomahawks but the missile had passed through the hangar without detonating. Four of the outer screen had been lost and a further four damaged.
In the air battle, eleven of the Mao’s air wing and twelve of Admiral Kuznetsov’s had been lost in the air battle but replacements stationed at the former Benito Ebuen Air Base on the Philippine island of Mactan were already enroute.
The Pearce Wing had sortied out of RAAF Williamtown and three small provincial airports north of Newcastle, NSW, in a coordinated attack upon the invasion fleet. Their wing attacked from the south and the combined RAAF Williamstown, Amberley and Richmond squadrons came in from the north.
The theory had been to divide the enemy air defences, drawing off the carrier wings so they could not interfere with the naval engagement, and penetrate the warship screen to get at the carriers, troop transports and LSTs from the seaward side. The unfortunate matter of the enemy having more than enough surface to air ordnance to go around meant that only the second aim met with any real success.
The carrier aircraft waited for the air defence warships to put the allied aircraft in a defensive stance before attacking, but superior training and experience won over. Most of the allied losses in the air came as the air battle drifted into the engagement range of no fewer than seven enemy warships. Despite their own aircraft being endangered someone had ordered the warships to resume launching air defence missiles, and two enemy aircrew had died at the hands of their comrades, but twelve allied aircraft were destroyed also. The aircraft from RAAF Pearce no longer qualified numerically for the term ‘Wing’.
“Are you okay back there, Candy?”
They had lost a further aircraft from the flight, so the odds were not in their favour with regard to surviving a further two missions.
“That was pretty scary, like a hundred times more than the last time.” her RIO replied, but she had done a damn good job in Nikki’s opinion.
They had battle damage; a bite had been taken out of their port vertical stabiliser by debris. Lt Cmdr. Pelham’s ninth victim had almost taken the Tomcat with it when a burst from the Vulcan cannon had exploded the SU-27 that had itself destroyed Smackdown Zero Three. With depleted defence stores and multiple surface to air missiles tracking them they had disengaged and evaded. Once well clear, 01 and 04 used landing lights to look each other over for any other damage. 04 was okay visually but 01 also had damage from cannon fire in the trailing edge of the starboard wing.
Smackdown flight were supposed to land at Illawarra Regional Airport to refuel and rearm but the area was under attack so Magpie gave them a steer to HMAS Albatross, nine miles inland, south of the town of Nowra.
After thirty minutes a contact appeared on radar at their three o-clock and Magpie identified the aircraft as Belly Dancer Zero One, now the last of the famed Australian F-111C ‘Pigs’, and it was not only damaged but it had declared wounded on board.
Belly Dancer Zero Two was gone, and that aircraft had last been seen heading toward the carriers and their screen at wavetop height. Zero One had attacked the Mao at the same time but her Harpoons had either been destroyed by flank defences or had struck the Chinese carriers auxiliary, the G’doa. There had been no transmissions, no warning, and no clue as to the second F-111C’s fate. Whatever had happened, it had been sudden.
Nikki called up the F-111C, with a knot of dread in her stomach. Despite her best intentions she had developed feelings for the Australian pilot. The Pearce Wing aircrews, particularly the former Nimitz aviators and the crews of the two F-111Cs socialised together, but Nikki stuck to soft drinks, not trusting herself around him if the tequila was flowing. Lt (jg) LaRue, on the other hand had no such inhibitions where the opposite sex was concerned, especially as she had decided that any day could well be her last. The crew of ‘Belly Dancer Zero Two’ Pilot Officer Jack Smith and Flight Lieutenant Russell Doe had both pursued young Candice.
“Belly Dancer this is Smackdown, how is it going over there?”
“G’mornin…it’s been better.” The Mick Dundee persona without any attempt at VP was not a good sign. They were in trouble.
“Smackdown is joining from your nine o-clock.”
“Rog’”
“Put some light on the subject and we’ll do a visual inspection.”
They closed in until the F-111C’s landing lights came on.
“Jesus Christ…!” Candy uttered over the intercom. Even the landing lights were intermittently flickering on and off due to the damage. The electronics were shorting out somewhere in the battered and holed airframe.
The F-111C was in bad shape with numerous hits by cannon fire, and it was flying on just the port engine, and that engine was trailing smoke. A vapour trail was also evident in the lights. The aircraft was losing fuel and height, and from the handling of the aircraft the avionics were damaged, the pilot wounded, or both.
“How are you and Macca doing?”
“Macca is drifting in and out. Its blood loss and shock but I’ve managed to trick his G-suit, so that should help.” The main purpose of aircrew G-suits is to squeeze the legs tightly via inflatable air bladders during high speed manoeuvres. Gravitational forces will force blood down to the wearer’s feet otherwise, therefore the suits help keep a supply of blood to the brain and prevent blackouts. By inflating the suit’s legs for wounded crew, it keeps blood near the core organs where it is needed and not in the legs where it is not as vital to survival.
In order to check the starboard side Nikki passed over and ahead so as not to risk igniting the leaking fuel. There had been a fire in the damaged starboard engine and part of the fuselage was missing, exposing the shutdown Pratt & Whitney turbofan. From experience, Nikki guessed that the fuel leak was as resul
t of a second attack; otherwise the aircraft would be in charred little pieces at the bottom of the sea.
“’Dancer, we won’t cross your six as you are losing fuel and it appears to be coming from your starboard side…” she went on to catalogue all the damage she could see.
“Thirty four miles to Albatross, Dancer, at your current rate of decent you’ll be about in the weeds by then. I recommend you eject the capsule once we are feet-dry.”
“Negative on that as Macca needs medical assistance, and there is an intermittent red light on the ejection system.” The F-111 cockpit was in effect a survival capsule that in theory would parachute the crew down safely and remain sealed for water landings. Before she could respond, the AWAC cut in.
“Belly Dancer, Magpie Zero Two?”
“Go, Magpie.”
“Albatross is closed due to damaged aircraft and trapped crew on both runways, copy?” Had the aircrew not still been in the aircraft in question, the wrecks would have been bulldozed clear to re-open the runways.
“Dancer, copies.”
“Jervis Bay is your only alternative, and it is a designated emergency field with arrester gear on ‘Two Six’. I recommend a straight in approach from the east.” The controller aboard the AWAC continued. “They are alerted and setting up for you.”
It was further to fly but there was nothing more to say, and they carried out a course correction that put the civilian aerodrome on the nose at twenty miles out.
“The good news is that Jervis Bay’s got a bar in its flying club and its open all hours, unofficially of course.” The controller added. “I hope you can have a drink on me, Dancer.”
Despite his best efforts, Gerry couldn’t maintain height and they were at just five hundred feet now. They had to cross the high cliffs of Cape St George and then the nature reserve’s woodland which extended to within a half mile of the threshold.
Nikki directed 04 away to recover at Canberra whilst she and Candy remained in company with the crippled aircraft.
Gerry contacted the aerodromes tower but kept the gear up, even when the breakers at the cliffs base came into view out of the darkness.
Nikki kept the Tomcat on his wing even though the treetops seemed close enough to touch. The F-14 was nose high, its variable geometry wings fully forward at 20° and flaps at 35° to keep pace with the Australian aircraft.
Jervis Bay aerodrome was barely discernable ahead of them. The flare path was lit but at low power, giving the minimum assistance required for the pilot to land. An ambulance and fire truck’s stood ready; although no emergency lights flashed they sat with engines idling and only the vehicle sidelights on.
The aircraft cleared the trees a half mile from the perimeter where the land gave way to low gorse and scrub. There was now nothing between them and the tarmac except a ragged hedge running across the end of the aerodrome. Gerry dropped the gear, struggling to keep a stall at bay and the wings level.
Nikki applied power, drawing away as the F-111C crossed the threshold.
Candy was twisted around and peering back, she saw the aircraft bounce before racing along the tarmac for a few yards, and then the gear collapsed. Australia’s last F-111C slammed onto runway, skidding along on its belly and raising sparks that ignited the leaking fuel.
“NO!”
The cry came not from Candy but from Nikki when the night cloaked aerodrome and surrounding area were suddenly revealed to her as ‘Belly Dancer 01’s’ fuel tanks behind the crew capsule exploded, and the stricken aircraft disintegrated in a ball of fire on the runway.
The Tomcat banked left with its pilot informing the tower she was entering the pattern for Three Three, the second runway. Lt (jg) LaRue half expected them to be diverted to Canberra but they got their clearance.
Barely had the aircraft rolled to a halt and shut down when Nikki left the aircraft without assistance, removing her helmet and unbuckling, dropping to the ground and sprinting away towards the crash site.
The aircraft had been completely destroyed, the scattered wreckage burning furiously. Beyond the crash, in the light of the flames, she saw a stretcher being hurriedly loaded aboard the ambulance and she shouted for it to wait but it drove away rapidly, leaving her beside the runway, panting for breath. Helplessly she watched it depart and then turned back to the burning wreckage, the firelight revealing to her for the first time the collapsed parachutes and ejection capsule sat on the grass on the far side of the tarmac with Flt Lt Gerry Rich beside it being examined by a medic.
She forced herself to walk across to him.
“That was quite a run.” he said. “And anyone but me might think you cared.”
Nikki did not respond to the remark but instead looked towards the flying club, just barely visible beside the hangars.
“Did someone say something about there being a bar here?” she nodded apologetically to the medic because he had not finished and she was just getting started.
“Are all his bits and pieces still intact? I know he doesn’t have much use for his head but it’s not going to fall off and roll away somewhere is it?”
“No Ma’am, but the aches and pains of ejection will start to tell in the next few hours.”
“Thank you.”
Taking Flt Lt Rich by the arm fairly forcefully she marched across the field to the clubhouse where sure enough there were a bunch rubbernecking regulars at the doorway, drinks in hand watching the action on the runway.
“Gangway…make a hole…officer coming through.” Nikki arrived at the bar with a hundred dollar note.
“Four fingers of Tequila, twice, and ten dollars in change…and where is the Ladies Room?”
As the drinks were poured Gerry watched in a kind of bemused wonder as the American aviator palmed the change and disappeared briefly into the women’s washroom before reappearing, muttering about Aussies not knowing what century this was.
Nikki’s next stop, the men’s room, was marked by a hurried exit by a regular, still doing his pants up. When she reappeared Gerry was still stood staring in wonder.
In one go, Nikki downed the glass of spirits and glared accusingly at Gerry until he did the same.
“Now, come with me.”
He did not really have an option as she again proceeded with purpose, holding onto his arm and led him out of the club house and around the back of the hangar. Once there she pressed something into the palm of his hand.
“There was only one left, so make it count.” She began to hurriedly unzip her G-suit as she leant against the hangar wall.
There was enough light left from the fire for him to see the print on the packaging beneath the cellophane.
‘Ribbed for her pleasure.’
It only took a moment to sink in before Gerry Rich was also hurriedly unzipping.
Port Kembla.
Dawn.
With the air and naval attacks defeated the invasion fleet divided, the southern group splitting to sail directly to Bateman’s Bay and Moruya. The bombarding of the beaches and defences went on in earnest before the landings began at Moruya. The general opinion was that the Moruya landings were a diversion, and one easily contained on the two highways that cut through the forest and hills between Bateman’s Bay and the beaches at Moruya.
At Port Kembla though it was a major effort to seize the port and the town, and the defences were being pounded by rocket and naval gunfire.
Heck and the small combat team had left the harbour area below the escarpment once the invasions fleet’s course change and formation had been detected. This had been expected for several days, and the only mystery was why it had taken the Sino-Russian fleet so long to act. The Challengers and Warriors then occupied the positions they had prepared at the rear of 902nd Infantry, and waited.
Despite the Allied victory in Europe, the defenders in Australia were not that much better off. The NATO forces in Europe had suffered near defeat and a frightful attrition, but there were two British, two French and one German Brigade afloat an
d an airlift was bringing infantry in the light role to Australia’s shores. However, no combat aircraft had arrived from either the USA or Europe and the media in Australia had just begun to ask why.
Fortunately, for the moment, the enemy air forces were absent, but from the combat teams location they could see the 902nd receiving a hellish bombardment.
Heck would not have occupied those forward positions until landing craft were sighted, had he been the American CO of course. There was plenty of other better cover, and close enough to the beach for rapid movement between the two.
Heck had listened incredulously on the battalion net as the 902’s CO reacted to the losses of two of his company CPs, by ordering Captain Briant Foulness to bring his Black Horse Cavalry M1A1’s into the forward fighting positions to ‘‘Take the heat off the naval bombardment’’. Two hours later and the PLAN were moving ashore in the face of uncoordinated and greatly weakened defending forces.
Lack of a flexible plan and fall-back options had resulted in crippling losses, during which the CO had suddenly become unresponsive. A fighting withdrawal had begun, and with no orders from Lt Col Taylor all morning Heck had coordinated with Briant, covering the Americans with the Challengers extra-long reaching L30A1 120mm rifled gun.
Six of the Abrams MBTs were still serviceable, one had been destroyed by a direct hit from a naval shell, and two had been recovered under fire by the tank company’s own M88A2 Hercules and Sgt Rebecca Hemmings CRARRV, towing the vehicles to the rear. A further Abrams was seriously damaged by a hit to the engine deck that immobilised the tank, although the crew fought on until ordered to abandon the vehicle and destroy it.
