Termite Hill (Vietnam Air War Book 1)

by Tom Wilson

  Ries and Janssen were awfully quiet down there, thought the Bear, like they were in a different world or something. Ries saw him looking at them. He stared back for a moment, then spoke with Janssen.

  "It was easy," said Lyle, still at his side and still mouthing off about killing the site.

  "If it was so fucking easy, how come you were so pasty-faced and out of bullshit for an hour after the mission?" asked the Bear.

  "I was just reflecting on things." Lyle was grinning. "Just call me Super Bear," he said again. "I like the ring of it."

  The ballad was ending sadly. Sammy Small was being marched to the gallows. He saw Molly in the crowd, and he felt so fucking proud, when she shouted right out loud: FUCK 'EM ALL!

  Lyle was talking to the wing munitions officer, a major big enough to throw fear into the Green Bay Packer line who had become an undisputed hero the week before.

  It had started when a 750-pound bomb had refused to release when Capt Toki Takahara tried to pickle it off over the target. Neither would it release when he repeatedly tried to drop it on the way out or in the jettison area east of Takhli. Yet when Toki had landed his Thud, one lug had capriciously released, the fuse wire had been pulled out, and the armed M-117 bomb had skidded along underneath the aircraft in a shower of sparks.

  Toki was lucky that the bomb hadn't been set off, or that the timer did not expire while he braked the aircraft to a halt, decamped over the side, and ran like hell.

  The bomb had a time delay fuse that was impossible for the enemy, or anyone else, to disarm as the timer counted down. The problem—aircraft and armed, enabled, ticking bomb—was left with the munitions officer. He and his EOD team had done the impossible. They had downloaded, then disarmed the bomb by removing the extraction-proof fuse.

  He had considered it interesting. The fighter jocks thought he was brave but crazy. That was okay, because he thought they were just crazy.

  The big munitions officer grabbed Lyle, zipped down the top of his flight suit, and in red ink drew an "SB" on the chest of Lyle's T-shirt.

  Lyle turned toward the room, chest puffed out. "I told you I was Super Bear." He nudged the Bear. "You should call me that from now on, Mal."

  The munitions officer spoke in his gruff voice. "The SB stands for Sloppy Bastard. You were spilling your drink all over me the whole time we were talking."

  The Bear laughed. "Sloppy Bastard?"

  Max Foley was nearby, talking to Pudge, Benny, and Toki Takahara.

  "They announce it in the morning. No one can fly within five miles of Hanoi. Not for no reason, nohow. Another rule straight from the big man at the top."

  "Just fucking wonderful," bitched Pudge Holden. "No one?"

  "Not unless you're in hot pursuit of a MiG," said Max Foley.

  "So what's Hanoi?" asked Toki Takahara. "They mean the center of Hanoi or the edge of Hanoi?"

  Foley looked puzzled. "I think the city limits."

  "How do we tell where the city limits are?" asked Pudge Holden. "It's not like there's big red marks painted on the ground."

  "I've had it with you haole Americans," said Toki Takahara, the nisei from Hawaii. "You've got too many restrictions. I'm joining the other side. I'll fly MiG's and shoot at you guys. If I screw up and get shot down, I'll just wave to the local folks from my parachute and go get another jet to fly."

  The Bear was grousing about the new restriction in his mind when he was surprised to see Les Ries and Dan Janssen making their way toward them through the crowd of pilots.

  "You guys having a tactics conference or something?" asked Ries, smiling.

  Max told him about the new restriction.

  "The restriction doesn't apply to the Weasels," said Les.

  "How's that?" asked Pudge Holden.

  "They say you can overfly Hanoi if you're in hot pursuit. It doesn't specify 'hot pursuit of MiG's.' If a SAM's fired at us, we can go in to take out the SAM site, because that's hot pursuit. I ran that by Colonel Parker, and he said the idea's got merit. I don't intend to ask further, because he might say no."

  "Good thinking," grinned Pudge.

  Ries looked at him thoughtfully. "Congratulations on killing the SAM site."

  Watson beamed and puffed out his chest. "Call me Super Bear."

  "Sloppy Bastard," corrected the Bear.

  "And you, too, Benny, even if I'm a bit late," said Ries. "That was a good kill you got the other day. I was being hardheaded."

  Benny returned Ries's compliment. "I hear you did some good work up there this morning."

  "They're tougher than I've ever seen them. More than thirty SAMs were fired just on this morning's mission." Les appeared tired.

  "You flying tomorrow, Les?" asked Benny.

  "Tomorrow afternoon."

  "We got eighty-eight missions now," said Janssen, speaking to the Bear, "so it won't be long before we're finished."

  Ries and Janssen had been flying every chance they got and their total counters were adding up fast. Headquarters said you could only fly one pack six mission per day, but they got around the restrictions by volunteering to be spare. When another Weasel aborted, they would take off in its place and get another counter. Ries and Janssen would be the first Weasel crew at Takhli to get a hundred missions. Benny and the Bear were a distant second, with sixty-seven missions, and were being delayed further by their work on the tutorial. Tomorrow morning they would start giving their briefing, and when they were finished in two more days, they could go back to regular flying.

  Ries maneuvered Benny away from the others, then motioned for Dan and the Bear to join them.

  "Tomorrow I'm going to try that tactic you and Pudge have been working on," he heard Les say.

  Benny looked unhappy. "It's premature. Why don't you hold off for a few days? Colonel Parker said the Weasels can start flying a few missions down in the lower route packs again. Let's try the tactic down there and iron out the wrinkles before we use it up in pack six."

  "Dan and I've been working on something, and we can't put it off. We think we've got a way to take out their big radar."

  "The Barlock," said Dan.

  "Our receivers aren't built to handle that kind of radar," the Bear interjected.

  "I've been working with the guys in the avionics shop," Dan said. "We've peaked a receiver so it's able to pick up a whisper. We're going to try to home in on the Barlock."

  "But," added Les, "we can't leave the strike force unprotected, so we're going to break up into two elements. The second element will stay with the strike force while we head up north of Hanoi and find the Barlock."

  "Remember when the Bear talked about the gomers moving something fragile?" asked Janssen. "We think it was the Barlock radar and command-and-control equipment."

  "That could be it," mused the Bear.

  "What do you think, Benny?" asked Les Ries.

  "I dunno, Les. That wasn't the way I'd envisioned using the tactic. I was thinking of the two elements supporting one another."

  "One reason we're telling you is we plan to use two-seven-seven."

  "You're using our airplane?"

  Dan Janssen spoke up. "I had the avionics shop check all the birds and their receivers, and yours were in the best condition."

  "I'm even going to use your wingman," said Les. "Tiny Bechler says he's willing."

  "You really think this is going to work?" asked Benny.

  "Won't know unless we try," Les said grimly.

  "Sergeant Tiehl is gonna shit if you hurt our airplane," joked the Bear.

  Les threw a hard look at the Bear, and he realized he wasn't entirely forgiven.

  Ries shifted his stare back to Benny. "If something goes wrong, I want you to take over as head Weasel. Give Colonel Parker the straight word about what's happening with the defenses, tell him what the guys need, all that."

  "Well, thanks, but . . ." Benny looked uncomfortable.

  As Les and Janssen walked off toward the dining room, Benny nodded at the Bear. "What do y
ou think about their idea?"

  "If they've got the receivers peaked sensitive enough, it just might work." The Bear wagged his head then. "But I don't like Ries's talk about getting shot down. They keep that kind of attitude, they'll get hammered for sure."

  "It's just a passing thing. He'll get over it."

  "Maybe," said the Bear.

  26/0945L—People's Army HQ, Hanoi, DRV

  Xuan Nha

  The last air pirates from the west had left.

  Since the activation of Wisdom, twenty-nine American planes had been shot down, almost double the number during comparable previous periods. The Pesky planes had been withdrawn to distant orbits and were no longer effective. Another week and the dummy transmitters would be operating, and there would be no chance at all for the Americans to locate the P-50. Xuan was pleased.

  The after-action report arrived. A rocket battery west of Thanh Hoa had damaged an Intruder. Two other rocket batteries had fired in concert on a Phantom and shot it down. An artillery battery east of Yen Bai reported damaging a Thunder plane. A Phantom from Thailand was downed by a combination rocket/artillery engagement.

  A good morning, but the day's critical gamble was yet to be played out.

  This afternoon his rocket forces would have a reprieve, for Wisdom would be controlling only MiG interceptors and artillery radars. The action, only reluctantly approved by General Tho of the VPAAF, would prove that Wisdom could indeed improve the coordination and control of the MiG forces.

  The interceptors would be directed entirely by Wisdom controllers. The pilots could no longer rove the skies in allotted airspaces, and randomly attack. As of today, they would be placed under the absolute control of Wisdom.

  Wisdom had shown it could control rocket and artillery forces. Now they must show their flexibility by changing the players. This afternoon MiG-17's, MiG-19's, and MiG-21's would be vectored to the attacking force's rear positions, fire their heat-seeking AA-2 missiles, then immediately break away. No dogfighting or even tarrying to watch their victims go down, just clean assassination of the most vulnerable American aircraft.

  It would be vindication for the terrible beating the MiG's had been given by the Phantoms. The controllers would be North Koreans, who had developed absolute control tactics to a fine art. Vietnamese MiG pilots had practiced with them, both in China and during bombing lulls, and claimed they were ready.

  Thao Phong would lead the MiG interceptors from Phuc Yen to engage Thunder planes in the west. Another major who had participated in the January debacle would lead the MiG's from Kien An against the Intruders from the carriers. It was time for vengeance. It was also time to prove what Wisdom could give them, and what the Russians and North Koreans had done for air discipline with the rigid absolute control tactics.

  Xuan Nha would be vulnerable, as Thao Phong had been during the last MiG-only day. It would be regarded as his decision, and his alone.

  In case things went badly, he had instructed one-fourth of the rocket battalions—his best—to remain on alert. In the event of disaster, they would be prepared to come on the air in an instant. He hoped he would not need them, but he held a deep distrust of MiG interceptors and their capabilities.

  His private telephone rang.

  "Good morning, my friend," said Thao Phong. "And how is your sister?"

  They had not talked since Thao Phong's disgrace. He almost retorted in kind to Thao Phong, but reconsidered. Was this a contrived conversation? Were they being monitored?

  "Good morning, comrade Major," he finally replied, trying to sound neutral.

  A pause. "I am flying today."

  "I know that, comrade Major." He felt a tugging in his chest as he realized what he must do. Thao Phong had been a loyal friend.

  "It is my chance to prove many things, Xuan Nha."

  Fool, he thought, the party is listening. "Address me properly, comrade Major Phong," he barked. "You know that the party has instructed us to use the title of 'comrade' at all times." His tone was icy. That should show the party he was faithful to their dictates, that he did not traffic in foolish conversation with those in disgrace.

  "I understand, comrade Colonel."

  The paranoia continued. "That is much better, comrade Major. Today I expect you to do your duty for the glory of the party."

  "And for your sister and mother, comrade Colonel, who have both pleaded with me to exercise my elephant's trunk in their many and sloppy orifices." The line was disconnected.

  Xuan's mind swam with horror as he hung up. Had the party been listening?

  He called for Lieutenant Colonel Wu, but was told by Sgt. Van Ng that his executive officer was busy with other matters and would meet with the comrade colonel later. Sergeant Ng was now Lieutenant Colonel Wu's man, and made no excuses for it. Although he might not have a month earlier, Xuan Nha now understood implicitly.

  Lt Quang Hanh came in. Wisdom was ordering selected rocket sites to shut down and begin major maintenance and overhauls.

  It had begun. The defenses were left to the interceptors and Wisdom. Xuan Nha waited with mounting nervousness, both for Lieutenant Colonel Wu and for the afternoon attack.

  26/1345L—Route Pack Six, North Vietnam

  Les Ries

  They left Takhli with a full-grown gorilla. Thirty-six Thuds loaded with 750-pound bombs to take out the highway overpass across the Red River from Hanoi.

  When they arrived at the dog pecker in the Red River, Les called for the split.

  The second element, led by Shaky Anderson, silently maneuvered southward, and Les and his wingman altered slightly northwest.

  "How's our Weasel gear working, Dan?" he asked over the intercom.

  "It's so damned sensitive I could hear a needle drop down there, but believe it or not, I don't have a single Fansong radar, Les. It's spooky."

  "You're sure your gear's working right?"

  "It tests out great. I'm picking up the Barlock just fine, by the way."

  Les made his radio call. "Eagle lead has negative SAM activity."

  "Eagle three has the same," called Shaky.

  "Makes me wonder," said Dan from the backseat.

  "Yeah, me too."

  "Come left five degrees," said Dan.

  Max Foley

  The first indication that something was amiss came from the Weasels, flying far out in front of the strike force as the boss liked them to, just after Les Ries split up his flight. He heard them call that the SAMs were quiet. They were out there east of the Red River, and the defenses should have been damned active.

  The SAMs had not been silent for a long time, and the sudden change sent up warning flag. The gomers had been firing multiple coveys of missiles every time the strike force came close to the valley, but today they were eerily quiet. He watched his own equipment. Only a periodic beep, and the Bear had told him what that meant. The long-range command-and-control radar was painting him.

  His warning flag stayed up as they continued the ingress. The MiG's had been cautious since the F-4's had cleaned their clocks on the second of January. Was it finally going to be a MiG day again?

  The first verification came from Shaky Anderson, who led the second element of the Weasel flight. There was a confused transmission that no one could understand, then a flurry of yelling and shouting. It was a poor display of flight discipline, but it was easy to be sympathetic once you realized what was going on.

  First the confusion over the radio.

  Shaky Anderson shouted, "This is Eagle three. Eagle four is down! I repeat, Eagle four is down."

  "Ah roger, Eagle lead," called B. J. Parker, who was leading Hawk, the chopper flight, and was next in line behind the Weasels. "Calm down and give us a status report."

  "Eagle four?" Shaky called in a trembling voice.

  Silence.

  "Aww shit, I'm hit."

  Big Eye loudly and repeatedly announced MiG's in several quadrants.

  "Mayday! Eagle three is hit! We just had flameout!" yelled S
haky in his excited voice. Then the squeal of so many emergency beepers at one time that the radio was impossible to listen to until Max shut off emergency Guard channel.

  Shaky and his bear, along with their wingman, had been shot down. MiG's, he bet, although Shaky hadn't said.

  Max called, "Eagle lead, this is Crossfire lead. You got MiG's up there with you?"

  "I don't see MiG's," came Les Ries's steady response, "but I heard Eagle three and four go down south of us."

  Les Ries

  "How you doing back there?" he asked Dan over the intercom.

  "I'm starting to pick up the back lobes."

  Janssen was starting to pick up the command-and-control radar signal even when the antenna was pointed away from them. The Barlock radar van and antenna moved around in a continuous, circular sweep and was only powerful when its six beams swept through them every twenty seconds. Janssen had only the bit of energy leaking out the back of the antenna to work with.

  "It's weak, but I'm picking him up," said Janssen. "Turn left ten more degrees."

  Ries responded, snapping into a quick turn and stabilizing. For the most sensitive of Janssen's receivers to work properly, they had to remain wings-level. They were flying northeast on a heading of 040 degrees.

  "I think it's up in the Chinese buffer zone, Dan."

  "Shit."

  "We're going after the bastard."

  "That's bad about number three and four getting shot down."

  "It's a MiG day. Hope the rest of the guys keep a good lookout."

  "Think we ought to swing back south and protect the strike force?" asked Dan.

  "No. The best possible protection we could give them against MiG's would be to knock out the command-and-control. Let's keep homing in on that sucker as long as we can."

  Les swung his vision off to his right, where Tiny Bechler flew, then looked forward again. He could see Thud Ridge up ahead.

  Max Foley

  "Eagle lead, this is Hawk lead," called B. J. Parker to Ries, "do you have SAM activity yet?"

  "No SAM activity. Watch out for MiG's."

  Max listened with mounting curiosity, then two glints up ahead materialized into a pair of silver MiG-17's. They were co-altitude and went into a cloud. He called them out to the others. "This is Crossfire lead. I think everyone had better be on the lookout for MiG's. I just saw a couple duck into the clouds at my ten o'clock."