by Dale Brown
"Computing max off load now, Colonel," the co-pilot replied, pulling out his performance manuals, charts, and flight plans.
"Give us enough to land at Anchorage with ten thousand over the high fix," Sands told the co-pilot. "We may need it if runway conditions at Shemya deteriorate. God damn."
Under the close eye of Mason on board the KC-10 and Elliot aboard the Old Dog, it was nearly an hour later when Ashley nodded to the flight engineer, who radioed back to the boompod on the tanker's interphone.
Elliott looked across the cockpit and rechecked the fuel distribution system's indicators. Ormack had taken it off automatic" to avoid putting fuel into the left outboard wing tank in case it sustained any damage when the tip ripped off at Dreamland, and now the system required careful monitoring.
"Showing no flow down here," he radioed to the tanker.
"That's it, Genesis," Ashley asked. "We've got enough to return to Shemya, shoot one approach, go missed approach, and arrive at Anchorage with ten thousand over the fix."
Elliott totaled up the gauges and checked it against the fuel totalizer. It would have to do.
— I'll take a disconnect, Icepack," Ormack said. In the refueling pod Mason gave a short countdown and punched the nozzle out of the Old Dog's receptacle. Ormack reached up and closed the slipway door.
"Descending to two-seven zero," Ormack reported.
"Eddie, I want to thank you for your cooperation," Elliott said as the Old Dog began its descent away from the KC-10 tanker. "I assure you, I'll take full responsibility for any heat you might take."
"I'm counting on that, General," Sands asked. "I guess this makes us even."
"We were always even."
"Maybe… You know I have to file a report about this.
The refueling, the comm jamming, the expended munitions.
Everything.
"Of course. No offense intended, Eddie, but I know you'll file the report in your usual complete, timely, thorough manner.
"Anything else you need, General?" Sands asked, biting out the words.
"A name, Eddie," Elliott asked. "A tanker, a deployment, a large aircraft from Anchorage that passed by within the past twelve hours.
— Sure, why not?" Sands turned to the interphone, asked the co-pilot for the communications kit, then said over the radio, "Might as well set an all-time record for breaking the rules in one glorious day."
""Bag' was a KC-10 fighter drag from Elmendorf to Nellis," Ashley said, checking his classified call sign booklet.
""Crow' was an AWACS from Eielson to Sapporo. "Lantern' was a KC-10 from Elmendorf to Kadena."
"I'm not going to ask why you needed that," Sands said.
"Can we turn around now?How much further toward never never land do we have to follow you?"
"Clear to turn, Eddie-and thanks."
"See you Sands watched as the descending bomber melted into the darkness.
"Genesis is clear," Elliott reported to him- Then, silence.
The lights on the huge aircraft blinked out, and it disappeared completely.
The boom operator looked wearily at Colonel Sands.
"Reynolds, are the radios clear?"
"Negative," the pilot told Sands. "Still heavy jamming.
"Well, he can't jam SATCOM, — Sands replied angrily.
"Transmit a post-refueling report directly to SAC.Label it URGENT.
Report the receiver's call sign, direction of flight, onload, everything. As soon as we're out of range of their jammers, direct command post to make a transcript of the radio transmissions. "Sands stared out the boom window into the inky blackness. "I'll file it in my usual timely, efficient manner,Chr(34)+ you old bastard," Sands muttered.
"And I'll be there to watch you roast on a spit.
"So what's the news?" Elliott asked Ormack. The co-pilot had just got off the interphone with McLanahan, coordinating the distances, altitudes, and fuel flows. Elliott had just finished a five-minute stint on the firefighting oxygen mask and had done a.station check of the cockpit and left and right load central I circuit breaker panels, the two massive walls of circuit breakers and fuses lining the pressure cabin between the ilot's and defensive operator's compartments. He had also checked for fuel leaks around the air refueling valve in the upper deck walkway.
"Want the good news or bad news first?" McLanahan asked him.
"Better give me the bad news first."
"We are some sixty thousand pounds short of fuel," Ormack said.
Elliott had no answer to that one. The enormous quantity involved…
"Eighteen thousand of that, of course, was the left outboard drop tank," Ormack went on. "I Put some fuel in the left inboard drop and left outboard wing tanks during refueling, but there's a serious leak in both those tanks and it's almost goneabout fifteen thousand pounds.
I transferred the rest into the mains to keep from losing it all.
There might also be a small leak in the right outboard tank, which happened when we hit the hangar. Our automatic fuel management system is now out the porthole until the right drop tank and outboards are dry.
That's why we have so much rudder trim in-the right wing is twenty-one tons heavier than the left."
"Sixty thousand pounds short," Elliott muttered. "Two hours' fuel.
Well, what's the good news?"
"I've been looking at the aeronautical charts on board," McLanahan began. "There are some civil aviation airways from Alaska to Japan that cross very close to the Kamchatka peninsula. "Elliott said, as Ormack pulled out his copy of the high-altitude navigation chart from his publications bin. "The Russians can't completely close off their airspace, even their air defense identification zone. But we'd need a flight plan to enter that airway. If we just appear out of nowhere we'll get intercepted for sure.
"But they won't see us Ormack asked, "How can they miss us?That air-way is Wendy Tork said.
only he measured the distance with a pencil about a hundred and twenty miles from their radar."
"Well, Seattle Center couldn't see us at that same distance.
Remember, they only had a secondary beacon target on us, on our transponder. And I'd guess that Seattle's radar is better than a Siberian one. Our fibersteel skin has already proved itselfLos Angeles Center couldn't see us after we launched out of Dreamland, and we were right in the middle of their airspace."
"But we've somehow got to jump into their coastline," Ormack said.
"How do we do that?"
"Dave and I have been doing some wagging on the computer down here," McLanahan said, "and here's what we've come up with… there's an island off the east coast of the Kamchatka peninsula, midway between Kavaznya to the north and the sub pens at Petropavlovsk to the south.
It's pretty big and has an airfield-if I'm not mistaken they've got sub communications gear there.
"Beringa," Dave said, pointing to his high-altitude map.
"They've got a circle around it that looks like surveillance radar only. No high-altitude coverage. "He went back to his work on the computer terminal.
"Beringa island," McLanahan took it up, "is right in a gap in high-altitude radar coverage between Ossora Airfield near Kavaznya and Petropavlovsk. It's also only a few miles off the high-altitude airway between Anchorage and Japan. We can head toward that gap, cut just to the south of surveillance radar coverage at Beringa, and still be at high altitude all the way Once we get inside high-altitude radar coverage, we'll only be about seventeen minutes from the coast. We duck under high altitude radar and then get into the mountains along the spine of the Kamchatka peninsula. If we stay away from Beringa radar, the lowest we'll have to go is about five thousand feet until we get into Kavaznya low-altitude surveillance radar coverage."
"Did you work out the fuel for a plan like that?" Elliott asked.
Yes, " Luger told him, "and it's close. We'd never make it back to Eielson, that's for sure. We'd barely make it back across the Bering Strait, but we'd do it. "I hope, he added to himself.
&nbs
p; Ormack looked at Elliott, who shrugged. "Looks like one of those ice-bound alternates will have to do," he said.
"We do have another problem," Luger said, checking the computer display again. "The computer doesn't have elevation data for any of the Kamchatka peninsula except for about a hundred miles around Kavaznya.
That means that most of the ride up the mountain ranges would be either at safe-clearance attitudes or manual terrain-avoidance. That's a pretty wild ride even for our experienced crew. We're good, but good enough for two hours of manual terrain-following?We have no detailed charts, no terrain elevations. We'd be relying on radar the whole way until the Computer could start driving the boat."
"Well," Elliott said, "now I know why we brought two navigators along.
Do you think you could have come up with all that so fast, John?"
Ormack shook his head. "Not with all the computers in Japan, General." "well, we've got the gas, and now we've got a plan.
Patrick, Dave, how long will it take you to reenter your new flight plan in the computer?"
In reply, the steering bug on the pilot's Attitude-Directional Indicator swung around until it was pointing about twenty degrees left of their present heading. "Steering is good to intercept the airway," Luger asked. "The new flight plan is entered and active."
"Are we clear of Attu airspace?" Elliott asked.
"Affirmative," McLanahan said, checking his chart and the satellite navigator's present position readout. "Attu is off our lour o'clock, just over a hundred miles. We're in international airspace.
"Second-station computer control coming in," Elliott said.
He engaged the autopilot. The Old Dog banked left in response to the new information to the navigation computers, and the ming signals.
Soon the heading bug was centered at the top of the heading indicator case.thin high radar coverage of Ossora Airfield in "We'll be wild about an hour," Luger reported "Good," Elliott said. He forced himself to relax and found that his grip on the yoke was that much tighter.
"If there are any last-minute equipment checks to do, now's the time to do them. If not, try to get some rest. "Ormack looked across at the three-star general beside him, and they exchanged smiles.
"Well, at least try to relax," Elliott corrected himself.
Luger checked the position and heading readouts and marked a fix point on his chart.""Relax,Chr(34)+ he says. Better said to the target-a target in goddamned Russia-and he than done. Less than an hour from low level, about two hours wants us to He glanced over at McLanahan. His partner had his arms wrapped around his body, his head awkwardly lying back on the headrest of his ejection seat. His snoring could be clearly heard over the roar of the Old Dog's eight turbofan engines.
"Amazing," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Absolutely fuckin' amazing."
"Ten minutes from horizon crossing," Luger announced.
McLanahan had just caught Luger's last announcement as he plugged into the defense instructor's interphone cord once again. He handed Wendy and Angelina two cans of water each and a green packet of freeze-dried food. "Leave one can out for now, and stick the rest in the pockets in the liner of your jackets. "He watched as both women unbuckled their parachute harnesses. They were now wearing life preservers, small green pouches on a harness on their waists, and had to unbuckle those to unzip their jackets and stuff the water and food into the jacket pockets.
Angelina's water and food rations stuck out in bulky bulges from her denim jacket. With McLanahan's help she refastened her parachute harness and slipped on the silver firefighting gloves she was using as flight gloves. Wendy had already given Angelina her thermal underwear tops and was drinking hot soup made in the cup downstairs. Angelina, however, still shivered in the chill of the Old Dog's upper cabin "Comfy?" McLanahan said to Angelina. "I hope you ladies don't have to go potty now.
Angelina turned on him. "Are we supposed to eat this stuff in a life raft bobbing in the North Pacific Ocean?What's the int?"
McLanahan looked at Wendy-that scenario had never occurred to her.
He cleared his throat and said quickly, "Nah. Down low level the aircraft shakes around a bit. Things tend to roll around. You don't want to have to unstrap to look for your water. "It was a lame excuse, but Angelina, noticing Wendy's thin-lipped expression, nodded and turned again to her equipment.
Wendy was staring blankly at her threat receiver display. "I wonder if we're kidding ourselves about what we're doing "The thought has crossed my mind," McLanahan asked. "It's impossible to be certain about that.
I think that… well.
you have to listen to your gut I keep seeing Hal Briggs trying to open that fence for us back at Dreamland, I wonder it' he's okay General Elliott came over the interphone. "Patrick, get strapped in. Time, Dave?"
"Two minutes to horizon passage," Luger reported.
McLanahan gave Wendy what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze on the arm, then turned and climbed downstairs back to his seat.
"Horizon passage," Luger announced, marking a fixpoint on the high-altitude airways chart he was using. "Two hundred J!and seventy miles to Kavaznya."
"Scope's clear," Wendy reported quietly, still thinking about what McLanahan had said. Her voice recovered its strength, though, as she brought her attention back to business. "We're still at extreme detection range. With our fibersteel body and anti-radar enhancements they might not get a radar return from us until we're about one hundred miles out. If then."
"Will you be able to tell if they can see us?" Elliott asked.
"I'll be able to see their transmission signal when it comes up," she replied. "I've got an idea from Seattle Center's radar and from the Shemya tanker and the fighters Colonel Sands chased us with what signal strength it takes to get a solid skin on us, so I can tell you when we're getting close to that. I can also see if they search or try to lock onto us with any height-finding or missile-guidance radars.
"And nothing so far?"
"Nothing. Not even search radar. But being so close to the horizon does strange things to electronic transmissions. They could've spotted us even before we crossed the plane of their horizon without my knowing, or they might not see us until we're well above the horizon.
It's hard to predict-radar bounces off the ionosphere in weird ways.
Like I said, they may already have detected us.
Elliott checked the I.F.F controls to make sure they were all off.
"Crew, double-check around your stations to be sure you're not transmitting on anything. Radars, radios, jammers, anything. Switch your wafer switches to INTERPHONE to keep from accidentally talking over the radios."
McLanahan double checked his interphone switches, also checked to make sure the circuit controlling the bomb bay walkway lights were off-if they had to open the bomb doors the walkway lights could easily give the bomber away at night.
"Offensive checks," McLanahan reported.
"How far are we from-" "Search radar at two o'clock," Wendy suddenly called out.
The announcement shook up McLanahan and Luger in the lower offensive crew compartment.
"Here we go," Luger said. He was bundled up with his jacket zipped up to his chin, collars pulled up. He had long ago cleared off his retractable work desk. Only the high-altitude chart remained.
"It feels so weird," McLanahan asked. "They can see us now. It feels a lot different."
"Yeah," Luger said, "Kind of a joy ride-until now."
"Two o'clock?" Elliott asked. "What's at two o'clock?Korf Airfield?
Anadyr?It can't be Ossora or Kavaznya-unless we're off course-they should be at twelve o'clock."
Wendy studied her frequency video. "It's a different frequency than a ground-based radar, and it's stronger than the radar should be so far away."
"Could it be the laser's tracking radar?"
No, this one has a very low frequency-an old system. I think this is an airborne search radar."
"Airborne?" Ormack said in surprise. "Marit
ime reconnaissance or some sort of patrol-" "Or a chance encounter," Elliott asked. "Let's wait to sec what-" He's got us," Wendy announced, studying the frequency shift and listening to the radar's real audio. "Change from a slow scan to lock-on. No height-finder or uplink-just a faster scan."
"Like station-keeping?" McLanahan asked. "Like a mapping radar switched to narrow sector?"
"That would explain it," Wendy asked. "He's transmitting on UHE "Can you get a frequency?" Elliott asked her.
"Only a wide frequency range. High UHE I can't tell if he's getting a response."
Let me try to get him on attack radar," McLanahan said.
"At least confirm if he's airborne.""Go ahead," Elliott asked. "No more than a few seconds, though.
McLanahan adjusted the antenna controls to point his large attack radar at two o'clock, set the range for a hundred miles, then greased the TRANSMIT button. After three full sweeps he turned the radar back to STANDBY "Looks like he's airborne, all right. Two o'clock, sixty miles. With my antenna tilt two degrees below level I'd estimate his altitude at thirty-three thousand feet-" And then came the challenge: "Unknown aircraft, two hundred and forty kilometers northeast of Ostrov Kornmandorskiye, respond. "Followed by another message, which sounded like the same request, this time in Russian.
"That's us," Luger confirmed. "About a hundred and thirty miles northeast of Beringa."
"Sounded like he was on GUARD channel," Ormack said.
monitoring the emergency U.H.F channel. "Do we answer him?"
"You're sure he's tracking us, Wendy?" Elliott asked.
"He can see us, all right, but I don't think he's tracking us.
Just following us with his radar. There's no guidance-type tracking signal."
"How far are we from the Alaska-Japan airway?" Luger checked his chart against the computer's present-position readout. "Just a few minutes ahead-" "Unknown aircraft, please respond. Pazhaloosta."
"Please?" General Elliott smiled. "Sounds like a kid. A polite kid."
Orinack looked at his pilot with surprise. "I didn't know you understood Russian."
"I learned just enough to get my head blown off," Elliott said. He thought for a moment. "If we tried to duck down to low-level now-" "He might lose us if we pushed it over hard enough," Orinack asked. "We might make it."
