Fatal Terrain

by Dale Brown

  was in the command post, so he went over to the command

  post communications center and dialed the number.

  "Samson. Go."

  Roma's mouth went instantly dry. "General Samson? This

  is Joe Roma, returning your page."

  "Paisan! How the hell are you?" Terrill Samson asked ex-

  citedly. Their times together at the Strategic Warfare Center

  had always been relaxed and informal, more like a college

  campus or pro sports team rather than a strict military unit.

  And Terrill Samson had been like a pro football coach-un-

  relenting and harsh at practices, demanding and disciplined

  during the missions, but not afraid to share a cigar and a

  pitcher of beer or two after a successful game.

  "I'm doing fine, sir."

  "Got your message," Samson said. "I'm sure you've got

  to be knee-deep in the generation out there, right?"

  "That's an understatement, sir," Roma said.

  "You pulling a line?"

  "Sortie one," Roma replied. "The other lines are coming

  up slow but sure. "

  "I thought you were the S-01 crew IOSO." The S-01 crew

  Instructor Offensive Systems Officer was the number one

  bombardier of the best, most experienced crew on the base-

  that slot belonged to Joe Roma.

  "They put me with E-05," Roma said. "Great crew, but

  they got no experience with SIOP stuff. Hardly anyone does

  around here-the maintainers, logistics, crewdogs, even some

  of the commanders."

  "That's why we got you old warhorses pulling crews, pai-

  san," Samson said. "Something else on your mind, Joe? I'm

  a little busy.

  308 DALE BROWN

  FATAL TER RAI N 309

  "Yeah," Roma said, his mind reeling after what had to be

  the understatement of the century. He hesitated a moment, un-

  sure whether or not he should bring this up, then decided, what

  the hell: "General, what in hell are we doing loading nukes?

  I'm not criticizing you or my orders, and you know I'll do the

  job, but what's out there that we can't blow up with a GATS/

  GAM or conventional cruise missile?"

  "Do I have to explain the whole concept of nuclear deter-

  rence to you, paisan?" Samson asked, with only a hint of

  humor in his voice. "Just do everything by the book and you

  guys will be fine."

  "Sure, we'll be fine, sir," Roma said. "But the whole con-

  cept of using forty kilotons to destroy an entire city is silly,

  when all we need to do to stop the enemy is blow up a com-

  mand post or comm center or runway. If the nukes did some-

  thing that conventional bombs couldn't do, I could understand

  what's going. on, but the nukes ... well, hell, sir, you know

  what I'm talking about. We discussed this lots of times at the

  SWC.11

  "You're preaching to the choir here, my friend," Samson

  said. "Tell me something I don't know."

  "Give me a few hours and I'll put together a few B- I sorties

  that stop C inese a( in ir trac Oma sai con-

  fidently. "Load us up with some GBUs and some real defense-

  suppression stuff and tell us what the targets are, General-

  me and the boys will take them out for you. We don't need

  the nukes. "

  "The word came down from CINCSTRATCOM, not me,"

  Samson said, referring to Admiral Henry T. Danforth, com-

  mander in chief of U. Strategic Command. "The admiral

  said he wanted the bombers to go formal to the big dance."

  "Does he really intend to use the nukes, sir?" Roma asked.

  "Hell, Joe, you know that all we need to do is prove to the

  bad guys that we might use them, demonstrate our resolve, and

  we've won," Samson said. "The boss thinks that generating

  the bombers and sticking them back on alert will show the

  Chinese and everyone else that we mean business."

  It was the old Cold War schtick, Roma thought, and frankly,

  he thought he'd never hear the "party line" from Terrill Sam-

  son. Samson's basic philosophy was very simple: give him an

  objective, and he'll find a way to do it. Even if the White

  House had given Samson a vague order like "Stop China,"

  Samson would have found a way to do it-and without using

  nuclear weapons, which Roma knew Samson thought were

  barbaric at best and murderous at worst. "Loading nukes on

  the Beaks and Bones isn't going to convince anyone of any-

  thing, sir, and you know it," Roma argued.

  "The word came from on high, paisan," Samson said.

  "Too late to argue about it. They tell me Jump'-yada, yada,

  yada, you know the rest."

  "Pardon me for speaking out, sir, but if you want to send

  the Chinese a message-if you think, like I do, that the Chi-

  nese or some radical Japanese planted a backpack nuke on the

  Independence-then blasting through Chinese air defenses and

  destroying a couple missile bases will do the trick. They know

  full well that we won't start a nuclear war, and we know that

  the Chinese don't have the force structure to wage a nuclear

  war or stage a massive invasion."

  "Joe, I agree with you, but you've got to remember that the

  Independence and three other ships were blown up by a nu-

  clear weapon, and we lost sLx thousand troops," Samson said

  pointedly. "The Joint Chiefs think it was the Chinese, and if

  it was, it'll be the second time in a month they've attacked

  American forces and the second time they used nuclear weap-

  ons. They're obviously trying to force the U. out of Asia,

  and the President is not going to allow that. We're lining up

  other options, but the President and Secretary of Defense def-

  initely wanted the nuclear forces back on alert until we find

  out what bases we have available to us overseas and whether

  or not we can use the carriers."

  "Sir, I understand that the President wants revenge," Roma

  said, "but no one out here on the line thinks he's going to use

  nukes on anybody. It's an exercise in futility." He paused,

  then: "General Samson, the recent skirmish against Iran, the

  attacks on the targets inside Iran and on that carrier-that was

  a stealth bomber attack, wasn't it? You planned those attacks,

  didn't you?" Samson didn't answer right away, so Roma went

  on: "If so, sir, let's do it again. Pick the targets in China that

  are the greatest threat to us or our allies, then send in the B-

  Is and B-2s. We'll loudly kick ass for you, I guarantee it."

  There was what felt like a long, uncomfortable pause; then

  Samson said distractedly, "Stand by one, Joe," and the line

  went quiet. Roma wished this conversation had never taken

  place-he was embarrassing himself in front of his mentor and

  310 DALE BROWN

  superior officer. It sounded as if Joe Roma was squeamish

  about the possibility of using nuclear weapons, or going to

  war, which he definitely wasn't. He also felt that perhaps he

  was being perceived as taking advantage of his access and

  friendship with Terrill Samson to voice his opinion, which he

  certainly didn't need right now.

  Suddenly, the line opened up again: "Paisan, yo
u're on the

  line right now with another fellow bomber puke. Joe Roma,

  say hello to Colonel Tony Jamieson, pilot type and ops group

  commander at Whiteman. Tiger Jamieson, meet Phone Colonel

  Joe Roma, navigator type, Stan-Eval chief at Ellsworth." The

  two aviators exchanged confused "hellos."

  "You are not going to believe this, guys, but you both called

  me out of the clear blue sky, with no invitation or prompting

  from me or anyone, within five minutes of one another-and

  you both suggested the exact same damn thing," Samson said,

  with obvious pride in his voice. "We're busy loading nukes

  on both the Bones and Beaks, and two of the best heavy driv-

  ers in the business call to tell me I'm making a big mistake.

  Maybe I am.

  "You asked about the attacks on Iran, Joe-Tony Jamieson

  was the AC on all of them, including the five-thousand-mile

  trek across Chinese, Indian, and Pakistani airspace."

  "You flew those missions, Colonel?" Roma asked incred-

  ulously. "I want to hear about all of the missions, sir. It's

  exactly the kind of thing we've been preaching for years-the

  power of the long-range bombers, especially the B-2."

  "The Bone would have no problem doing exactly what I

  did, Roma," Jamieson said. "We can cruise through Chinese

  airspace in anything we want-they don't have the gear to

  detect us, let alone shoot us down' We damn well proved we

  can hit any target anywhere in the world, son-only problem

  is, the mission was classified, and when some little snippet of

  information leaks out, the President gets hammered for it. But

  yes, we sure as shit did it."

  "Who was your mission commander, sir?" Roma asked.

  "I'd like to talk with him, too."

  "You better ask the general about him, " Jamieson said,

  with a definite edge of sarcastic humor in his voice. "I don't

  think I'm at liberty to discuss him. He was a good @tick, knew

  his shit cold, but he scared the bejeezus out of me every time

  I stepped into the Beak with him."

  FATAL TERRAIN 311

  "Jamieson's MC was a guy named McLanahan, Joe."

  "I knew a guy named McLanahan who won all those Fair-

  child Trophies in Bomb Comp a few years ago," Roma said.

  "Kinda hard to forget that name. He won two Bomb Comps

  while flying B-52s, back when B- Is were the hot new jets to

  beat. "

  "He's the one," Samson said. "He's been working with me

  on another project, since the White House started getting all

  the heat about the B-2 raids over Iran. He flies a modified B-52

  bomber that is unlike anything you have ever seen. When they

  grounded the B-2s, I talked the White House into sending a

  few of these modified B-52s over the Formosa Strait to keep

  an eye on the Chinese. The plan blew up in my face, although

  McLanahan's BUFFs did okay."

  "Sounds to me like the brass effectively grounded all the

  heavy bombers, sir," Jamieson observed. "Loading the fleet

  up with nukes means they won't be flying if war breaks out

  with the PRC.-

  "Looks that way, Tiger," Samson said.

  "So now the brass doesn't believe anything you say, and

  so if you went back to them and tried to convince them to quit

  using nukes and plan some long-range strikes with conven-

  tional munitions, they probably won't listen to you," Jamieson

  added bluntly. "So where does that leave us?"

  "I don't know if my opinion means squat in the Pentagon

  or the White House anymore," Samson said resolutely, "but

  I'm going to try to put a halt to this nuclear nonsense and get

  back to the business we've been in for forty years now-

  carrying big-time heavy iron to the enemy. I want you two to

  put together some attack sorties for us so I can go back to the

  Pentagon and give them some alternatives."

  "Now you're talking, General," Jamieson said happily.

  "'We can get on the network and have some Bone and Beak

  sorties drawn up right away."

  . "Absolutely," Roma said excitedly. "I'll pull some pre-

  planned packages off the shelf and update them with the cur-

  rent intel-and I know, if the plans are approved, that we can

  generate some non-nuclear planes a hell of a lot faster than

  the nuclear ones."

  "That's for damned sure," Jamieson agreed.

  "Then get to it, boys," Samson said. "Make us proud!"

  312 DALE BROWN

  OVER THE FORMOSA STRAIT, NEAR JUIDONGSHAN,

  FUJIAN PROVINCE, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

  SUNDAY, 22 JUNE 1997, 0245 HOURS LOCAL

  (SATURDAY, 21 JUNE, 1345 HOURS ET)

  The Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force radar con-

  trollers aboard the Ilyushin-76 Candid, an ex-Russian airborne

  radar plane, spotted the first rebel attack formation just minutes

  after the aircraft launched from bases at Taichung and Tainan

  on the island of Formosa. "Attention, attention," the control-

  ler called out excitedly, "enemy aircraft attack formation de-

  tected, one hundred twenty miles east of Juidongshan."

  The operations officer stepped back to the radar controller's

  console and studied the display. Unfortunately, it was not a

  sophisticated display like what the American E-2 or E-3 Air-

  bome Warning and Control System plane had-the targets ap-

  peared as raw radar data blips with simple numeric electronic

  identification tags attached, with no altitude readouts; speed,

  bearing, and distance were computed by centering a cursor

  over the target using mechanical X- and Y-axis cranks and

  reading the information off the meters. As the formation got

  closer to the mainland, however, the blips started to break into

  pieces-now there were at least four blips, which meant any-

  where from four to sixteen attackers.

  "Comm, report enemy aircraft contact to Eastern Fleet

  headquarters," the ops officer ordered-

  "Yes, sir," the communications officer responded. They

  had no satellite communications link; all long-range commu-

  nications had to be done by shortwave, so it took a lot of time.

  Finally: "Eastern Fleet headquarters acknowledges contact and

  replies, 'continue patrol as ordered.' End of message."

  ,'Very well," the operations officer said.

  There was a slight pause, during which the ops officer could

  see several heads turn in his direction in some confusion. Fi-

  nally, the senior controller asked, "Sir, would you like us to

  vector in air defense units on the attackers? We have units of

  the 112th Air Anny, two flights of J-8 fighters, four planes per

  flight, within intercept range." There was a very long, uncom-

  fortable pause. The senior controller repeated, "Sir, the rebel

  attackers will be over our airspace in less than five minutes.

  What are your orders?"

  FATAL T ER RAI N 313

  "Have one flight 'of J-8s stay behind to guard this aircraft,"

  the ops officer finally responded. "You may send any avail-

  able J-6 fighter units- to intercept. "

  "But the J-6s are not certified for night intercepts."

  "That is why they ha
ve you to guide them," the ops officer

  responded. "The J-8s stay with us. Send any J-6s you feel

  have the nerve to fight the Nationalists."

  "Yes, sirl" the controller replied. He assigned the task of

  guarding the 11-76 to one of his best intercept officers, then

  ordered another controller to call up two flights of J-6 fighters

  from Fuzhou to intercept the attackers. "Sir, we count at least

  four flights of attackers," the senior controller reported. "If

  the rebels follow their standard attack plan, that means at least

  sixteen hostiles. Shall we call for more defenders?"

  "Negative," the ops officer replied. "You will protect this

  radar plane with all air assets available to you. Do not let any

  rebel fighters near this plane."

  "But, sir, if this is a complete attack formation-uh, sir,

  sixteen bombers would cripple Juidongshan."

  "You have your orders, senior controller," the operations

  officer said. "Not one enemy fighter gets within fifty miles of

  this plane, or I will have your stars. See to it." The senior

  controller had no choice but to comply.

  Without a threat from Chinese air defense fighters, the Tai-

  wanese attack went off without a hitch. It was a full strike

  package, with all sixteen Republic of China Air Force F-16s

  equipped with Falcon Eye imaging infrared targeting and at-

  tack sensors and loaded with attack munitions. First to go in

  were four F-16s carrying four CBU-87 cluster bombs each,

  targeting the Chinese CSS-N-2 Silkworm coastal anti-ship

  missile installations and air defense missile and artillery sites-

  these were easy, prey for the cluster bombs. The Mk 7 cluster

  bomb dispensers carried a variety of anti-personnel, anti-

  armor, and anti-vehicle bomblets, scattering destruction over a

  very wide area of the naval base with good precision and dev-

  astating results.

  While the first wave of F- l6s pulled off to assume a combat

  air patrol over the target area, using their wingtip-mounted

  Sidewinder missiles and internal 20-millimeter cannon, the

  second wave of eight F-16s moved in with four Mk 84 high-

  drag general-purpose bombs, targeting the submarine mainte-