by Dale Brown
“What about the others?” Carter asked. “The south group got hit real bad, ” Kellerman summarized. “One of the B-2s and a B-52 from Castle got shot down…” “Our B-2? Cobb and McLanahan?”
“Cobb and McLanahan made it through OK. It was a Whiteman bird. One other 509th Black Knight from the north group aborted when they lost an engine; all the other planes from the north group made it. “The other five B-52s from the south group look like they took out that destroyer to their east and a few patrol boats, so they might make it through. There’s another destroyer battle group coming in from the west-that might be a problem when the strike package egresses to the south. No other reports: everyone else appears to be heading in on schedule. Kane on the EB-52 escorting the east number-two strike group got two Chinese fighters.”
“Search radar at eleven o’clock, ” Atkins reported. “Golfband search . . . Sea Eagle 3-D air-search radar, Luda-class destroyer. GCI signals, possibly more fighters coming in from the northwest.”
“That destroyer’s at forty miles, and he’s got five escorts with him, ” Kellerman added, checking her updated ISAR radar display. “We’ll be going in about sixty seconds ahead of the south B-52s. We’re within TACIT RAINBOW range, EW. Line em up and let’s get those suckers.” BANGOY STRAIT, NEAR DAVAO, MINDANAO, THE PHILIPPINES SAME TIME It was the largest assembly of Chinese warships since the Korean Conflict, all concentrated within ten miles of the city of Davao-and they were ready to begin their assault. The assault group was split into two groups, each led by a People’s Liberation Army Navy destroyer. North of Samar International Airport in Bangoy Bay was the destroyer Dalian, with six patrol boats as escorts, in overall command of five ex-United States LST- I -class tank-landing ships, each with two hundred and fifty People’s Liberation Army Marines, ten light tanks, and twenty armored personnel carriers; and four Yukan- class landing ships, each with over four hundred Marines and one thousand tons of cargo and equipment. Each amphibious assault ship had several smaller landing craft that would each drop thirty Marine engineers ashore to clear wires or traps and soften up beach defenses; then the landing ships themselves would drive to shore, beach themselves, and disgorge their fighting men in massive waves. Helicopters from the Yukan-class ships would then begin to drop Marines and artillery pieces nearby, and the whole company would fan out across the countryside, secure the coastal inlands north of the airport, then drive south. The main attack force was four miles south of Davao, in Davao Gulf itself. Led by the destroyer Yinchuan, its amphibious assault force had ten LST-I-class tank-landing ships and eight Yukan-class landing ships, plus numerous smaller landing craft, minesweepers, and support ships. This group had the responsibility of securing the highlands west of Davao, encircling the city itself, and then linking up with the northern group to help secure the airport. By 0135 hours, two hours ahead of schedule, the two Ludaclass destroyers had moved to within eight miles of the landing area and opened up with their I 30-millimeter cannons, peppering the beach and treelines near the intended landing zones with one round every second per vessel. The rounds were of all different types-most were standard shells weighing fifty pounds and carrying eight pounds of high-explosives, but some were shells that carried infrared sensors that horned in on heat sources such as vehicles or machine gun nests, incendiary warheads that spattered napalm to set buildings or heavy brush afire, or bomblets that spread out over a wide area to increase the destruction of each shell. Helicopters with infrared spotting scopes were used to spot targets for some of the guns, but mostly the Chinese were content to bombard the area without regard to specific targets. The destroyer Yinchuan turned a few of its rounds on the area surrounding Samar International Airport, hoping to scatter some of the defenders that were certainly waiting for the Chinese to come ashore. After twenty minutes of continuous bombardment, the Chinese assault ships began launching wave after wave of small landing craft with Marine engineers and security guards to clear a way for the assault ships to beach themselves. The gunfire from the destroyers became much more selective, targeting and hitting a few large-caliber shore-gun emplacements to provide covering fire for the landing craft. While raking the shore with 37- and 25-millimeter gunfire, the landing craft dropped some frogmen overboard to search for water traps or mines, while the others went ashore to begin hunting for minefields and to suppress heavy gun emplacements on shore. Except for a few widely scattered mines, they encountered almost no resistance. It took the first waves of landing craft less than ten minutes to reach the beach. After twenty-five minutes of bombardment, each 1 30-millimeter gun on the destroyers had expended one-third of the rated life for its barrels, so the heavy shelling ceased and the search began for attacks against the landing craft. They found a few snipers and encountered light resistance from hit-and run grenade attacks, but the Chinese Marines sustained only a few casualties. “Sir, report from Rear Admiral Yanlai, ” Captain Sun Ji Guoming, the chief of staff for Admiral Yin Po L’un’s flag staff, said. “The amphibious assault has gone better than he expected. The first landing craft are ashore with few casualties; the second wave will land in a few minutes. No heavy resistance is being encountered from Samar’s forces.” A tremendous weight seemed to be lifted from Admiral Yin’s shoulders. Ever since Captain Sun and a few of his other advisers had recommended against Marine landing until the American Air Battle Force was dealt with, he had been worried that his decision to proceed with the assault was a bad one-now it seemed to be remarkably prescient. “Does Admiral Yanlai have any suggestions?”
“No, sir, ” Sun replied. “He is proceeding with the planned operation.”
“The plan supposed Samar’s usual stiff guerrilla resistance to the landing forces, ” Yin said. “Samar has obviously fled. It is time to step up the attack-with the American force nearby, it is essential. Order Admiral Yanlai to land the LSTs and troop-landing ships after the second wave of Marines ashore.” The flag staff turned toward Yin in complete shock, and Captain Sun could not help but blink at his commanding officer in surprise. “But. . . sir, in only two landing-craft waves, we have less than three hundred troops ashore, and most of those are lightly armed engineers and Marines. They don’t have the equipment or strength to conduct a thorough search and destroy operation. In daylight hours they can hardly proceed faster than a half-mile inland-at night they may be on the beach for hours, easily until daylight. They have not even begun to probe the area for resistance. It would be madn- I beg your pardon, sir, in my opinion it would be unwise to send in the large landing ships until we can be sure the area is free of resistance.” Captain Sun sustained Yin’s furious glare with uneasy fear. He had come very close to total insubordination by calling Yin’s order “madness, ” and only Sun’s long-standing relation ship with Yin, as well as the fact that they were in the middle of a war, prevented hiln from being dismissed right then and there. “As you were, Captain, ” Yin growled. “Our plans and normal operating procedures are based on the level of resistance and the greatest threat facing our forces. The resistance so far is low, and the threat from American bombers is very high. Those ships are vulnerable. The more men we can get off those ships and safely on land, the better. Order the landing ships ashore immediately.” By using a Mode Two interrogator, which broadcast a short, coded signal to other American aircraft in the area commanding the other aircraft’s beacons to emit a short identification signal in reply, Patrick McLanahan could discover where other aircraft in the strike force were located and display it on the God’s-eye view on his Super Multi Function Display-in turn, this would be transmitted to the EB-52C escorts in the other strike packages so they could update their situational displays. The data would also be transmitted via NIRTSat communications satellites to the Joint Task Force commander on Guam and to the National Military Command Center at the Pentagon. The Mode Two told a horrifying story-they had already lost one B-52 and one B-2, and they were still hundreds of miles from the Chinese amphibious assault force. McLanahan found his throat dry and his foreh
ead hot and moist, and he found he could not control the slight trembling in his fingers-the trembling of real fear. He felt alone up here, and he felt as if every enemy vessel on that SMFD could see him and was waiting to kill him. After spending weeks with these men at the Strategic Warfare Center-swapping stories, techniques, and complaints; mission planning and debriefing until late at night at the 0-Club or at the Black Hills Saloon until being tossed out; and learning how to fight as a unit instead of as lone penetrators-it was as if a bit of his own soul had disappeared with each missing icon on that screen. They were dead, quickly and suddenly-and the toughest part of the mission was still ahead. The faces of the crew dogs that manned the missing bombers floated unbidden before his eyes, and burning drips of sweat that rolled into his eyes couldn’t blur those horrible images. Patrick had seen combat, had seen men close to him die, but this was harder than he ever imagined. All those faces, all those names-this morning they were all together, and now they were never coming back. Just like that… “What do you got, Patrick?” McLanahan shook himself out of reverie and focused his eyes past the ghostly faces he saw in the SMFD and concentrated again on the situation. The faces did not haunt himthey seemed to help him, seemed to encourage him to continue… “Patrick.. Patrick looked over at Cobb and nodded. “I’m all right, Henry…” Cobb had glanced at his partner briefly, waiting to see if he would get back into the fight, before resuming his usual stone-still stance. The faces had moved away from the SMFD-they felt as if they were looking over his shoulder now, marveling at the technology McLanahan commanded and waiting for him to continue the fight-and that made him feel much better. “We are twenty miles from the coastline near Kiaponga, ” Patrick said. “The B-52s behind us are joining up with Carter’s EB-52. There’s a destroyer battle group in the mouth of the Davao Gulf, and I think Carter and his B-52s from the south group are going after it. The number-two east strike group will follow-they’re all intact with all six B-52s.”
“Where are the Tomahawks?” Cobb asked. McLanahan touched an icon on his SMFD, and several blinking objects and a short data list appeared on the God’s-eye view. The Tomahawk cruise missiles could be interrogated just like a manned aircraft. “About ten miles ahead of the B-52s and not far behind us. We’ll go feet-dry, turn west, and let the Tomahawks go past us as they head inland; when they get ahead of us, we’ll head north and proceed to our targets.” McLanahan studied the display for a moment, then ceased his Mode-2 interrogations-even though the Mode-2 signals were encoded and transmitted in very short bursts, the enemy could still track an aircraft from them. “Looks like about half the Tomahawks are still with us.”
“Good, ” Cobb said. “I’d just as soon let those puppies beat the bushes for us. ABOARD THE DESTROYER HONG LUNG The grease-board plotting technician drew a line from a frigate icon near the mouth of Davao Gulf to near the tiny village of Kiaponga. Out of all the other dots, circles, icons, and lines on the board, that one line commanded Admiral Yin’s attention. “What is that?” he asked. “Sir, frigate Xiamen reports a weak UHF signal along this bearing, ” the situation officer replied. “Several microburst transmissions. Computer projection calling it a possible aircraft, airspeed eight hundred kilometers per hour, heading northwest.” Yin seemed to be transfixed by this line. “Any primary radar target? Altitude readout?”
“No, sir.” “Do they have an analysis of the signal itself?”
“Not yet, sir.” Captain Sun was completely perplexed-a destroyer and a frigate were coming under attack, but Yin was wondering about a microburst radio transmission. “Sir, Jinan is under attack by antiship missiles again-he cannot hold out much longer. We must assist him. I recommend ordering him to withdraw to the west so we can provide surface-to-air missile coverage for him. And we should head farther to the northeast to provide similar coverage for Xiamen-he is tracking numerous Tomahawk cruise missiles heading in his direction as well as the B-52 bombers… “I want to know what that signal was, Captain.”
“Very well, sir, ” Sun replied. “And as for Jinan and Xiamen… ?”
“Steer Hong Lung northeast to cover Davao Gulf as much as possible, but/inan will hold its position, ” Yin said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “They have almost as much fire power as we do, and they have more escorts. I will not allow my ship commanders to start running all over the Celebes Sea at the first sign of trouble. I also want a report on our fighter coverage-I have not seen one fighter on that board since the first group of J-7s and Q-5s were engaged.” A few moments later a new manual plotting technician took over on the vertical-plot greaseboard, and he began filling in icons for a group of fighters just west of Mount Apo. “Sir, fighter groups fourteen, with six total Jianjiji-7 fighters, and composite fighter-attack group two, with three Qiangjiji-5 fighters and three A-5K fighter-bombers, are thirty-seven kilometers west of Mount Apo, ” Captain Sun reported. “They will be on station over Davao Gulf in three minutes.” Yin slammed a fist down on the table before him and hissed, “That is not good enough! We’re supposed to have a hundred fighters available to us on this operation, and there are only twelve? I had better see two more groups airborne immediately. I want all available J-7 and Q-5 fighters airborne immediately to attack the inbound bombers. “It will be done immediately, sir… but I must remind you that it leaves no Q-5 fighters available for close air support for our Marines, ” Sun said. “The Q-5 and the A-5 are the only planes we have that can aerial refuel. Also, few of these aircraft are equipped for night combat “We will have no Marines to provide close air support for if we do not stop these bombers!” Yin shouted. “Launch all available fighters now! And I want two fighters dispatched to search along the projected trackline of that microburst transmission. I want nothing to get past our defenses and strike our Marines… nothing!” The updated NIRTSat data feed came in just as Cobb and McLanahan’s B-2 crossed the coastline south of Kiaponga. Cobb had reactivated the terrain-comparison COLA computer, and they were snaking just two hundred feet above the lush coastal hills and valleys of the Sarangani Peninsula of southern Mindanao. On his Super Multi Function Display, McLanahan could see the updated positions of three Tomahawk cruise missiles that were to go in ahead of his B-2 Black Knight bomber; the computer used the missile’s last reported heading and speed, along with a knowledge of the missile’s pre-programmed flight plan, to estimate the missile’s position. “We’ll be ready for a turn in about sixty seconds, ” McLanahan told Cobb. The aircraft commander clicked his mike in response. The terrain sloped up steeply from the eastern cliffs facing the Celebes Sea in the Glan River Valley; the valley was at least six miles wide and did not rise as steeply on the west side. “Stay on the west slope of the coastal hills, on the ‘military crest, ’” McLanahan said. “It’s not the best place to be, but it’s better than getting trapped down in the valley. The hills should shield us from the warships off the coast as well.” Another double click in response as Cobb banked the B-2 gently right and began flying north-northeast along the western side of the coastal hills, not flying too high but not diving too deeply into the valley. McLanahan expanded his SMFD out to sixty miles’ range. At the top of the north-up display was their primary target, the radar site on Mount Apo. A yellow-colored dome surrounded the point, representing the range of the Chinese radar site operating there-that was their target. The edge of the yellow dome did not quite touch the B-2 icon-not because they were out of the radar’s range, but because the energy levels being recorded from the radar were less than those required to get a radar return off the stealth bomber. From that radar site the Chinese could vector in fighters against every American bomber in the strike package. McLanahan immediately designated the top of the mountain as the target for two SLAM missiles, programming in evasive turnpoints and data-link activation points and checking the Global Position System satellite signal for good navigational data feed to the missiles. He had to program in a terminal “pop-up” maneuver for the missiles in order to hit the radar domes from above rather than from
the side. The one deficiency with the SLAM missile system over land was that the aircraft that was to steer the missile onto its target needed to have a clear line-of-sight radio signal between the two-that meant climbing away from the radar-clutter sanctu ary of the terrain, which could expose the launch aircraft to enemy radar. The navigation-missile control computer interface would advise Cobb and McLanahan when it was time to climb, based on the bomber’s altitude and the signal strength-usually it commanded a climb in time to establish a clear signal sixty seconds before missile impact. Fortunately the B-2’s low radar cross-section made it less vulnerable to enemy radar than other SLAM-capable launch aircraft. “Missile programmed, Henry, ready for launch Just as he said those words, two red-colored triangles appeared at the top of the display, with yellow arcs extending from the apex of the triangles out toward the B-2’s icon at the bottom of the scope-again, the arcs did not quite touch the icon, probably because of the B-2’s stealth characteristics. “Fighters at ten o’clock, forty miles, ” McLanahan said. “Two. . . now showing six, at least six, heading this way. I don’t think they see us yet “Fighter group fourteen, your targets are at thirty nautical miles, twelve o’clock, airspeed four-fifty, altitude less than one hundred meters, ” the radar controller on Mount Apo reported. “Suspected cruise missiles heading northwest. Recommend right break and spacing for single intercept. Composite group two, your bandits are at eleven o’clock, twenty-seven miles. Groups fourteen and two, your flight leaders are directed to depart your formations for special patrols designated Group Delta. Delta, come right to heading one-six-eight, take one-thousand-meters altitude and switch to controller frequency gold. Acknowledge.” Two fighters broke out of the pack of fighter-bombers and headed southeast: a JS-7 fighter and an A-5K fighter-bomber. The A-5K was the upgraded version of the Q-5 good-weather attack plane, with sophisticated Aeritalia-made avionics that gave it an all-weather bombing capability, including a lowlight TV camera and laser rangefinder. “Group Delta, unidentified bogey possible at low altitude, estimated position at your twelve o’clock position, forty nautical miles. Report identification and pursue. Over.” The two enemy aircraft triangles did not appear right away, and when they did appear their radar arcs immediately swept across the B-2 icon. “Two fighters separated from the rest of the pack, ” McLanahan shouted. “Twelve o’clock. X-band search radars. They might have spotted us.” The B-2 had just left the protective cover of the coastal hills of the Sarangani Peninsula and was now racing across the Buayan River valley, a flat, fertile area about forty miles southwest of Davao. The lone peak of Mount Apo was the only significant terrain around for fifty miles-it was the worst moment to be caught by fighters. To the east, ten miles southwest of Davao, the icons of several warships were just visible. “We’ve got a little rolling terrain about twenty miles to the west, and nothing but Davao Gulf and another destroyer off to the east, ” McLanahan said. “Otherwise it’s flat, flat, flat. The fighters are at our twelve o’clock… getting a range estimate now of twenty-two miles. They’ll be in missile range soon. “We go west then, ” Cobb said. He banked his B-2 hard to the left, scurrying across the wide valley for the relative safety of a hilly ridge. “Fifteen minutes until we reach that ridge . . . about two minutes, ” McLanahan reported. “Bandits one o’clock, fifteen minutes…” At that moment one of the yellow arcs representing the enemy’s radar swept across the B-2 icon, and the yellow instantly turned to red as the radar locked on. “Shit, shit, shit, they got us. . The heads-up display on the Chinese JS-7 first locked onto the air target briefly, and the attack radar quickly computed the target’s altitude, heading, airspeed, and closure rate-but it was the A-5K’s low-light TV sensor that first caught a glimpse of the enemy. The sensor’s contrast-tracking function immediately locked onto the warm object and began to track it . . And, as the target made a slight turn to the west, there was no mistaking its identity-the pilot of the A-5K saw the distinctive boomerang profile of an American B-2 bomber. “A stealth bomber! Stealth bomber!” the A-5 pilot shouted excitedly on the command radio. “Very low, heading west.. .” He was so excited that he forgot to give a proper report. . And he also forgot he was in formation with another airplane. The two Chinese planes almost collided as the AS pilot turned westward to try to keep the fast-flying bomber within his low-light TV’s field of view. “Kong Yun One-Seven, hold your position!” the JS-7 pilot shouted. “Formation coming right to intercept. Control, this is Delta, we have an American B-2 stealth bomber on radar, turning to intercept at this time. But as they did, extremely heavy jamming from the B-2 continually broke radar-lock-the massive energy even put the Cyrano-IV radar in “Reset” twice. “Kong Yun OneSeven, ” the JS-7 pilot asked of the A-5K pilot, “do you still have him on your TV sensor?” “Affirmative, Jian, Zero-Niner.”
