Dale Brown - Flight Of The Old Dog

by Flight Of The Old Dog [lit]

  "Confirmed," she said.

  McLanahan flipped on a switch marked BEACON on his manual tuning radar control panel, checking that the radar frequency remained on the preset "doghouse" beacon frequenCy range. The tiny dot representing the tanker on his radar changed into a line of six tiny rectangles in a one-two-three dot pattern. "I've got his beacon. "He switched to interplane.

  "One-oh-one, contact your beacon. Beacon to standby."

  The six-dot pattern disappeared. "Go back to operate. II The pattern reappeared.

  "Positive ID, our eleven o'clock, sixty-five miles."

  "Check on air-to-air TACAN, " the pilot aboard Icepack IO 1 acknowledged. The mileage on the air-to-air TACAN receiver.

  the two aircraft, slowh which gave the distance between filed 11 clicked down.

  "What do you hope to find, sir?"Reynolds asked the wing commander alongside him.

  "I don't know," Sands told him, "but I wouldn't want to miss whatever it is."

  "But who are these guys?They don't sound like they're in trouble to me-" sound like they're in trouble, Sands shook his head. "They but not like they've told us. We had to launch-but we don I have to rendezvous with them."

  "Then what-" "I'm up here to investigate, Joe. Gather information.

  But I'd be breaking a dozen rules if I allowed this aircraft to join with an unidentified aircraft. If we'd refused to launch they'c have disappeared forever. No, we'll head toward them. But instead of turning we're going to buzz right past this joker."

  "And then?""And then we'll let them escort them back to the Shemya.

  "The interceptors?Are they up there"" "If I know Falls it's the first thing he did after we took off," Sands said.ey said fifteen minutes."

  "But what about their gas?""It's been fifteen minutes right about now," Sands said checking his watch. "Do those guys sound like they're abou to fall into the ocean?Someone's screwing with us, Joe Nobody does that with me. We'll lead these guys back to the base, then find out what the hell's going on."

  "Inside sixty miles," McLanahan reported, switching his radar back into search-while-track mode.

  "Copy," Elliott asked. "Ready, Wendy?Angelina?"

  "Ready," Angelina said.

  "All set, General," Wendy told him, "but I don't see the other ones yet."

  "Believe me, they're coming," Elliott asked. "Hit 'em wit just a little at first. When he switches over, blot 'em out."

  "Will do.

  "Sixty miles," McLanahan called out to the tanker. Part of his transmission was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal.

  Sands winced and fumbled for his volume control knob "Genesis, you have a loud squeal on your radio," Ashlethe KC-10s co-pilot, called out.

  "Copy," McLanahan replied. His transmission was almo completely blotted out by noise. "Switching radios. "McLanahan waited a few moments, then said, "How do you copy no% Icepack?"

  The noise was almost unbearable. "Genesis, this is Icepack Your radios seem to be malfunctioning. Do you have FM or VHF capability?"

  "Roger," Elliott asked. "Switching to VHF now."interphone he said, "Okay, Wendy. Shut 'em out."

  Wendy smiled and flicked a transmitter switch to MAX carefully checking the frequency video display.

  "This is Icepack on VHF air refueling freq," Ashley saic "How copy?"

  "Too high, General," Wendy said, studying the new VH frequency range on her video display. "Lower. To at least one twenty megahertz." "Icepack, take it over to one-One-two point one-five, Elliott said.

  Sands, aboard the KC-10, looked curiously at Ashley who,i along with Reynolds shared his confusion. Ashley switched frequencies.

  "How do you copy, Genesis?"

  "Loud and clear, Icepack, " Elliott said. Over interphone k.

  said, "Okay, I got him, Wendy. Take 'em all down."

  "Will do, General."

  "Range, Patrick?"

  "Fifty-five miles, General," McLanahan told him. "And I've got additional radar contact at twelve o'clock, eighty miles, fast-moving.

  You were right."

  "He's only following SOP,- Ormack said.

  "He's still a snake," Elliott asked. "He was a snake at the Academy, and he's still one. Patrick, I've got it.

  "Go get 'em, General."

  "Icepack, this is Genesis," Elliott said over the new VHF frequency.

  "Go ahead, Genesis."

  "The name is Elliott, Eddie," the general began, staring into the twilight. "We're at fifty-five miles at your one o'clock.

  You launched without proper authentication, leaving me to believe that you have no intention of rendezvousing with us.

  You're going to turn the opposite direction, or fly past us.

  Either way, it'd be a mistake."

  "Why, General Elliott," Sands said, grinning. "I figured it was you.

  What's a big SAC cheese like you doing in a hell-hole like this?"

  "You're going to make this rendezvous, Colonel-" Or else, were you going to say') We're getting feisty in our old age, aren't we?Well, I've got news for you, sir-we're heading back to Shemya, and we're going to-- "Just watch your one o'clock, Icepack."

  Now listen, Elliott-"

  As Sands was posturing aboard the KC-10 tanker, Wendy ejected four bundles of chaff from the wings of the Megafortress. Angelina locked her airmine radar onto the cloud of metallic tinsel behind them, and when they moved about a mile behind the bomber fired a single airmine rocket at the cloud.

  From the cockpit of the KC-10 Extender tanker it resembled a giant flower-like fireworks display, even at their range. The airmine rocket plowed into the cloud of chaff and exploded mixing thousands of chips of metal into the explosion and fire caused by the exploding rocket.

  The detonation ignited the chaff and the shrapnel from the rocket, creating a fiery cloud that spread rapidly across the evening sky.

  " Turn range is twenty-two, Eddie," Elliott said over interplane.

  "Left turn. Or we'll make another little fireworks display on your tail."

  "Switch radio two back to command post," Sands said sharply. "The fighters'll be on three-eleven. Have them get their asses up here." He stared at the slowly dissipating cloud of fire ahead and clenched his fists. "Screw you," he muttered, "I'm running this show, General."

  As Ashley switched frequencies from VHF and U.H.F range and keyed the microphone, an ear-splitting squeal drowned out his call.

  "He's trying to transmit on three-eleven," Wendy said, studying her emitter video display "We're jamming U.H.F and VHF too," Elliott said to the KC-10."So forget about calling those fighters. We're jamming I.F.F and we'll squeal out HF, too."

  "Thirty-five miles, General," McLanahan said.

  "One more convincer, Eddie," Elliott told him. "I understand you folks have threat-warning receivers now. Well, check it out. "On the interphone he called down. "Lock onto him Patrick. "McLanahan hit his TRACK switch, pressed the ENABLE lever on his tracking handle, and guided a circle cursor over the radar skin-paint of the KC-10 tanker.

  When he released the ENABLE lever the circle remained on the return and a green numeral "one" lighted on McLanahan's TV screen.

  "Got him," McLanahan announced. On board the KC-10 the results were a bit more dramatic. On the threat-warning receiver on the instrument panel between the pilots, Elliott's plane had been showing as an "S," for search radar. The "friendly" symbol on the threat radar video display suddenly changed into a hostile "bat-wing" threat symbol.

  Moments later a red MISSILE ALERT illuminated as the threat receiver's internal computer interpreted the steady "lock-on" signal from the unknown aircraft as a missile tracking signalindicating a missile ready to launch.

  "We gotta get out of here," from Ashley.

  "Easy, co-pilot, easy," from Reynolds.

  "How do we know who he is?"

  The S.O.B. is bluffing," Reynolds asked. "He's a goddamned friendly.

  He won't shoot. Set the I.F.F to EMER.Get on GUARD and call those fighters."

  Sands wa
ited a few moments while Reynolds directed his crew. The anticipated results came a few seconds later.

  "I.F.F's faulted," Ashley asked. "No interrogate indication."

  "Heavy jamming on all emergency frequencies," the flight engineer reported.

  "Okay, okay," Sands asked. "Tie the autopilot back into the rendezvous computer. Make the turn.

  "But we can't-" "Yes, we can. Someone's either playing a very big joke ... or is very serious. It doesn't matter-we're committed," he said, and flipped over to the interplane channel.

  "Okay, Genesis, you convinced us," Sands asked. "Or should I say, General Elliott?Don't worry, we'll make the turn.

  Are we going to have to listen to that missile alert bull all through the refueling?"

  Elliott smiled. "Take it down, Patrick. "McLanahan deselected the TRACK switch and punched in "one" on his keyboard, and his circle cursor went to the "home" position in the upper left corner of the radar scope.

  "Icepack turning left heading two-seven-one," Ashley said nervously on the radio.

  On board the Old Dog, McLanahan watched the radar return carefully for a few moments, then said, "He looks fine, General, normal turn rate, correct direction. He should roll out two miles ahead of us.

  "Good. Get back on long range and get a fix on those fighters. I've got a visual on his lights."

  McLanahan switched from thirty to eighty miles range and immediately a large bright return appeared, just passing the thirty-five-mile range mark.

  "Thirty-five miles, General. Closing fast."

  "Genesis has visual contact," Ormack said. He pointed out the cockpit windows into the growing blackness.

  "So, General," Sands said, "last I heard you were in the Looking Glass unit in Omaha. You're a long way from Nebraska, sir. "He paused, then: "I thought the missile alert stuff was sort of childish, General.

  You wouldn't fire a missile at one of our own. Now let's cut the crap-" "Not now, Eddie," Elliott broke in. "Now, I know you have a code-word that sends those F-15s home. We'll release your fighter frequency so you can tell them they're not needed."left. "Then you also know, General, that I got a word that'll have those trigger-happy jocks blow you into atoms."

  Elliott looked at Ormack. "He's right."

  "Game's over. If I say nothing-or if you keep jamming and I'm not allowed to say anything-those boys come in hellbent for blood and with itchy trigger fingers on real Sidewinders. It may be too late already, sir, what with their interplane frequency being jammed like that. If this is some sort of exercise.it's gone way too far-but I'm not yelling uncle. You are. Right now. What'll it be?"

  "I'll tell you what, Eddie- "Go ahead, General, I've got plenty of gas-and firepower."

  "I've got more than a code-word, Eddie, I've got a story. A story about a certain wing commander at a conference in Omaha. About a certain air division commander's wife. A story about a blond kid in an Italian family "Stop crappin' around, Elliott-" "My mission is no crap, Sands. I may not be doing it by the book but I'm Special Ops. We both get to tell our stories to headquarters when we land. "Elliott quickly switched to interphone. "Patrick. Range to the interceptors?"

  "Twenty-five miles."

  "Well I've got a story about a certain hot-shot one-button in the Philipines that should prove entertaining," Sands hit back.

  "I had dinner with the Secretary two weeks ago, Eddie.

  While you were chipping ice cubes out of your undies I told him that story. He bought me a martini afterwards. Look, we're running out of time, I don't want those fighters any closer. "On interphone he said, "Frequency clear?"

  "Yes, sir," from Wendy. "The interceptors are contacting their command post for engagement authorization" "You're on, Eddie," Elliott said.

  "Cutlass flight, this is Alpha aboard Icepack one-oh-one on channel nine.

  "Copy you loud and clear now, Icepack," the lead pilot of the F-15

  Eagle two-ship formation replied. "We have visual contact on you but not on your receiver. Heavy Milling on all frequencies. Permission to join on your receiver's wing for positive ID."

  "Negative," Sands told him wearily. "Positive ID already established.

  Status is Red Aurora. Red Aurora. Alpha out."

  "Patrick?"

  Fighters are turning," McLanahan reported. "Heading back toward the coast."

  "Shut down U.H.F again, Wendy," Elliott said. His order was instantly confirmed by a loud crackle of static on the radio he was monitoring.

  "That won't be necessary, Genesis," Sands said over the VHF refueling frequency. "We'll play ball, damn you. But the fighters and my command post will just get nervous if they can't talk to us."

  "I'm counting on you, Eddie."

  :"Open a window and we'll shake on it, Genera "Wendy, open up three-eleven again," Elliott asked. "Leave everything else shut down."

  Sands unplugged his interphone and oxygen connections and cleared off to the air refueling pod in the back of the converted DC-10 airliner.

  He strapped himself into the long wide boom operator's bench and stared out the window beneath their feet.

  "What's his ranges" Sands asked the boom operator.

  "Almost two miles. Still can't see him. And it's not even completely dark yet."

  "Genesis, this is Icepack. You guys are either very small, very dark, or both. Turn your lights back on or we'll be up here a long time trying to plug you."

  "Who's in the pod, Eddie?"Elliott asked.

  "Just me and the boomer."

  "No other spectators, Eddie. Deal?"

  "I got a feeling I don't want to see this," Sands muttered over VHE ' Okay, agreed. Let's see what's such a big goddamned deal - " "Lights are coming on."

  The formation lights revealed the size of the unknown receiver, but nothing else. It appeared like a group of stars flying the formation behind the KC-10 tanker.

  "We're also going to need fuselage lights, Genesis," the boomer said.

  "I've got your receptacle light okay but no azimuth or elevation references."

  "Give 'em the fuselage lights, John," Elliott said. He was busy adjusting his seat down and forward for the best position for refueling.

  Roger," from Ormack. Just then the Old Dog began to slide to the right. Ormack pressed on the left rudder pedal and looked anxiously at Elliott.

  "General?You okay?"

  "Sure, I've got it."

  "We're yawing to thexight. Straighten her out. Let up on the ly straightened out.

  right rudder. "The Old Dog slow" "You've got the refueling, John, Elliott said, relaxing his grip on the yoke. His head rested on the headrest on the back of the ejection seat, his chest heaved.

  "But-" "I was testing out the rudders," Elliott told Ormack. "I pushed the right pedal but didn't feel anything happen so I sscd harder. I still can't feel anything... I think I've lost pre my right leg."

  "Goddamn," Ormack said, grabbing the yoke and putting his feet on the rudder pedals. "I've got the aircraft."

  "You've got the aircraft," Elliott responded, shaking the yoke. Ormack gave it a shake to confirm he had control. Elliott slid a hand down his right leg and over the calf. A few hours earlier such an exploration would have caused almost excruciating pain. Now, nothing.

  He could feel his finger pressing on the muscle beneath his knee, but he felt nothing. It was an eerie feeling, like touching a hunk of salami...

  Ormack looked anxiously at the huge KC-10 looming before them, its boom extended, waiting.

  "General," Orinack said firmly, "I'm aborting this mission-" "No." "McLanahan had a point, sir. It's not worth your le 9 "Refuel this aircraft, Colonel," Elliott said finrily. "We're not stopping now."

  "But, General, I-" "I said refuel this bomber. Two men have already sacrificed their lives for this mission. "He grabbed the yoke, gave it an angry shake and put a gloved hand back on the throttle cluster between them. "And if I have to refuel this plane without your help I will. Understand?"

  Ormack slowly nodded. "All right, General,
all right...

  I've got the airplane... but I need a pilot, General. A onehundred percent combat ready pilot. Do I have one?"

  "Well, my right calf is about twenty-five percent, John. But your pilot who also happens to be commander of the Old Dog is one hundred percent. Refuel this plane."