by FX Holden
“Roger CCT, turning to heading One Two Three, twenty thousand,” her flight leader, Flight Lieutenant ‘Red’ Burgundy had confirmed, wheeling their three F-35 Panthers onto an intercept heading and pushing their airspeed above Mach 1. “Can you patch through data on the enemy flight CCT?” The Turkish F-16s couldn’t send data on the threat they were facing directly to the Australian F-35s, but the Combat Controller could, if it had picked them up on radar.
“Negative Virtue leader, we have no fix on the hostile aircraft. Reports of two to four bogeys, fast movers. Turkish pilots report air to air missiles fired. One F-16 retiring, damaged, three still engaged,” the CCT replied.
Bunny pulled up her tactical situation display, seeing the Peace Eagle, two other Coalition flights, the position of the Turkish flight about forty miles away but sure enough, no enemy aircraft symbols. Stealth? How else could it be that the Peace Eagle couldn’t pick them up less than a hundred miles away?
“Virtue flight, Virtue leader. Sending in the BATS. Roll out, pilots,” Red drawled.
Bunny was flying about two hundred yards off his starboard wing, and banked right immediately, increasing her separation to ten miles. Close enough to be able to assist if one of their flight needed help, but giving them a forty mile wide front over which the three aircraft could search for the hostile aircraft on infrared (IR) and electro-optical Distributed Aperture Sensors (DAS). If missiles were flying, the range at which the Panther’s DAS could pick them up would be even greater.
Her paired Boeing Airpower Teaming System Loyal Wingman drone, or ‘BATS’, had been in trail mode, and following along dutifully behind her. But as she broke away, now under the control of her flight leader, it joined with the other two BATS and moved ahead of them, spearing directly toward the intercept as the F-35 formation moved to bracket the estimated location of the hostile aircraft.
If the question was ‘how are 5th gen stealth aircraft going to fight each other when they can’t see each other?’ BATS was the answer. By teaming an unmanned 4th gen combat drone with a 5th gen stealth fighter like the F-35, you could flush the enemy out, force him to engage, and when he did, he was no longer invisible ... he was dead.
It didn’t matter that the BATS drone was easily seen, targeted and attacked - unlike its piloted master it was expendable. And it couldn’t be ignored. It had a high teen percentage chance of detecting a stealth fighter inside a 20-mile range. At longer ranges it could be used as a firing platform, launching an attack based on data from other aircraft or radar sources. And if a hostile aircraft was forced to defend itself or chose to attack it, the minute it launched its missile, the F-35s behind the BATS had a vector on their enemy.
And BATS hunted in packs. You might shoot down one, but if you didn’t kill them all, the chances were you would be on the receiving end of a volley of advanced short range CUDA missiles either from the remaining BATS or the F-35 pilots holding their leash.
Which was why in every instance where Coalition F-35s had moved into a sector and deployed BATS, the Russian Su-34 and Mig-35 fighters had bugged out.
“Turkish F-16 flight Delta Four Niner, this Coalition Virtue flight of three F-35s with BATS support, closing on your position. Report status please,” Red said on the Coalition comms channel, in a tone much calmer than Bunny could have mustered.
“Virtue flight, we are under air attack!” the Turkish commander replied. “One aircraft damaged. Active targeting radar identified and missiles fired. We are low and out of energy, circling over Kobani, please assist!”
“Delta leader, do you have an ID on the hostile aircraft?” Red asked.
“Negative Virtue, we can’t see the bastards!” the Turkish pilot exclaimed. “Dammit. Another aircraft down, aircraft down, withdrawing to Diyarbakir!”
What? They were only forty miles away. She could clearly see the three, now two Turkish aircraft circling above Kobani. But still no hostiles on IR or DAS! Not even a missile track?
“Unidentified aircraft over Turkish airspace near Kobani,” Red said, opening a channel on the international Guard radio frequency. “This is the commander Coalition fighter force in your area. Please identify yourself or withdraw. You may be fired on if you do not comply. I repeat UI aircraft, you may be fired on if you do not comply.”
They wouldn’t respond, Bunny knew that from previous engagements. They never did.
“Eyes on DAS,” Red warned. “Putting BATS in active search mode. Arm CUDAs and prepare to engage on my order.”
Bunny tapped her weapons screen and her CUDA air to air missile loadout turned green, ready to fire. Her thumb hovered over the firing button on her stick. Thirty miles away, the three BATS lit up their phased array radars. If there were hostile aircraft in the area, even stealth, they should be able to pick them up as they closed range. On the flip side, the wildly radiating BATS would be like a string of strobe lights in the sky, lighting up the enemy threat alert systems as they bored in on the hostile aircraft.
Would the hostiles flee or fight, that was the question? She bet they’d run, as usual. Two Turkish fighters down, job done for the day, why would they hang around?
A chime sounded in her helmet and Bunny’s eyes flicked from the quarter of sky she had been checking, to her tac screen as Red’s suddenly terse voice broke in. “BATS 1, target lock! Stay cool people.”
Bunny saw a new aircraft icon flashing, twenty-five miles out of Kobani. The label underneath it was one she hadn’t seen over Syria before.
Su-57! She bloody knew it. After two years of fielding fourth gen Su-34 and Mig-35 fighters, Russia had finally brought its big guns to the fight.
And this guy showed no sign he was running away. Bunny watched the icon for the Russian aircraft spin, turning to face the threat from the BATS now all converging on it, their phased array radars locked onto it. Did he know what he was facing? The BATS used the same phased array radar system as an F-35, so there was some debate about whether the Russian threat warning software could tell the difference between a manned or unmanned American aircraft.
But this guy had balls. He was boring in on the BATS even though he must have had targeting radar warnings ringing in his ears and was looking at data that showed he was outnumbered three to one.
Unless he wasn’t.
Bondarev processed the information his screens were feeding him at the speed of thought, and even that was barely fast enough.
The Coalition fighters had got a radar lock on Tchakov.
Bonddarev had an electro-optical lock on three of the hostile aircraft, but his combat AI could not classify them. The radar was showing AN/APG-81 radar signatures but the aircraft carrying them were not stealth optimised. Possibly upgraded Turkish F-16s, but his instincts told him he was looking at Coalition BATS. They had not launched missiles. They were no doubt just trying to spook Rap into running.
Which, for today at least, gave the Russian flight a massive advantage. Tchakov’s aircraft had been identified, but Bondarev remained hidden, twenty miles away and 10,000 feet above the Coalition aircraft.
“Siniy Two, Siniy leader, engage the three hostiles. I will stand off and support.”
“Roger Siniy leader, engaging,” Tchakov said.
Rap should be able to deal with the drones. Bondarev was looking for the F-35 Panthers he knew would be hiding behind them.
Bunny’s right hand tightened on her stick. Their three-plane formation had split about thirty miles out from Kobani, Red and his wingman moving south of the target, Bunny alone to the north, as the BATS drones closed on the hostile unit from the east. She was seeing no new electronic signatures on her sensors, and could only hope the Russians had all their focus on the incoming BATS and hadn’t picked up the Australian F-35s yet.
Later, she could replay what happened in slow motion in her head, but in the air north of Kobani it took just seconds.
“Missiles fired. BATS2 down!” Red called. “Target still locked. BATS1 Fox 2, BATS 3 Fox 2 … hostile down! BATS evad
ing…”
Bunny blinked, trying to make sense of her tac display. The Russian fighter had launched on the three BATS! She’d never seen that kind of aggression before. The other two BATS had reacted instantly based on their programmed rules of engagement, and fired at the Russian as soon as they were fired on themselves. Two missiles had been directed at the Sukhoi from just ten miles distant and from radically different points of the compass. He may have been able to spoof one of them - apparently he couldn’t spoof both. The Russian fighter had been hit.
Bondarev cursed as he saw Tchakov’s Felon signal it was going down.
“I’ve lost control, punching out!” Rap called. The next second his emergency beacon started flashing on Bondarev’s screen. Bondarev checked his location. They were east of Kobani, over Syrian held territory. If he lived through the ejection and landing, he’d probably make it back. That was tomorrow’s problem.
Bondarev still had a position on the remaining two hostile aircraft, sure now they were drones, by the fact they had evaded Tchakov’s missiles. Few human piloted aircraft could outmaneuver a K-77M missile fired at that range. Bondarev gave up any idea of trying to smoke out the lurking F-35s. He had already claimed one Turkish F-16 destroyed and one damaged, plus one BATS, for the loss of one Su-57. He needed some additional quick kills to justify the loss of Tchakov’s aircraft, followed by an even quicker tactical withdrawal.
After engaging the Turkish fighters earlier, he still had five K-77Ms in his weapons bay, and launched them all at the remaining two BATS.
“Missile launches!” Bunny called, seeing missile tracks detected by one of the remaining BATS flash on her screen. A second Sukhoi had engaged the BATS and given away his position. He was well north of Kobani at 30,000 feet, but within range of her CUDA missiles. “I have an imputed target. Permission to fire?”
Before Red could respond, the BATS fired again. Each carried four CUDA missiles and they had already fired one each. Now they volleyed another CUDA each at the new target, before they disappeared from Bunny’s screen with a frightening finality. Both were down!
Bunny watched as the BATS’ missiles speared toward the origin of the missiles that had been launched against them, then cursed as they ran on without registering a hit.
But she still had a vector on a probable target, and missiles armed and ready to fire.
“Virtue 3 requesting permission to fire!” she repeated.
“Negative Virtue 3,” Red directed. “Virtue flight, turn to heading zero niner zero and reform in sector lima three two. CCT, Virtue flight is withdrawing to lima three two, requesting additional Coalition support at rally point in case of follow-up attack.”
What? They were bugging out? Bunny’s AI had calculated a firing solution for her CUDAs and even though she didn’t have a lock on the new hostile aircraft, she could launch in sensor seeking mode and the missiles would guide themselves to the intercept point and look for the target on radar, infrared and optical, much as the BATS had. She had a solid chance of a kill!
Grinding her teeth she swung her Panther around and pointed it east again.
When she got to the ground after the patrol she didn’t wait for her ground crew to clamber up on her machine and help her out. She ripped off her helmet, unfastened her harness and jumped out of the cockpit before the small automatic ladder that dropped out of a side panel under the cockpit had even finished extending, and landed with a thump on the tarmac. She doubled over to Red’s aircraft and was waiting for him when he climbed down himself.
She’d been too angry to confront him while they were still airborne, and had bottled it up all the way back to base, but it came flooding out now. “What the hell kind of call was that? Turks lost one damaged, one destroyed. We lost three BATS, but we took one Russian down. I had a firing solution on a second but you pulled us out?!”
“Easy Bunny,” Red warned, holding both hands out to keep her away. He was taller than her, but his height wouldn’t help him if she crash tackled him, which she looked like she was about to do. “Cool the hell down.”
“We were fired on!” Bunny continued, not ‘cooling down’ in the least. “We were entitled to engage under standing ROE. And you bloody bolted.” She sounded as disgusted as she felt.
“You are out of order, Flight Officer O’Hare,” Red warned again, more formally this time. “You can raise your concerns in the mission debrief. Now step aside.”
Bunny had stood her ground, glaring at him. Realizing she wasn’t going anywhere, he moved to one side himself and walked past her, as a half dozen airmen approached the aircraft. She turned, hands on hips, watching him walk away.
As she’d walked into the mission debrief she’d been advised by Red she was being put on report and confined to quarters. So she’d kept her mouth shut all through it, even when Red had delivered his BS mission summary to their CO.
“We got a target ID from BATS 2 on a Russian Su-57. The Russian engaged the BATS with missiles. Bats 2 was destroyed. BATS 1 and 3 responded with counterfire and destroyed the Su-57. BATS 1 and 3 were then attacked by a second Su-57 and destroyed. By that time the remaining Turkish F-16s had been able to withdraw under cover of our fighter screen, and I judged that we were at risk of an escalating engagement with Russian forces. I chose to de-escalate by withdrawing. Turkish and Coalition forces in the air incurred no further losses.” He’d made it sound like a victory, not the rout it was.
De-escalate? You bloody ran away, mate, Bunny thought to herself. But she kept her mouth zipped and only answered questions when asked. She hadn’t waited for their CO to wrap up though. Without being dismissed, she had stomped out of the debrief and back to her quarters. She was already on report, what more could they do?
It wasn’t the first time she’d been placed on report and it wouldn’t be the last. She knew she’d be given a night confined to barracks to cool off, and be flying again tomorrow. It wasn’t like 3 Squadron had an oversupply of pilots, with three currently down with diarrhea. O’Hare’s stomach was just fine. She quite liked Turkish food. And Turkish beer. And the heat. She even enjoyed the ‘call to prayer’ that wafted out over the loudspeakers at the base five times a day.
But as she lay on her bunk, watching a six-inch spider in the corner of the room devour a bright orange cockroach, she was in a foul mood.
She felt like she was the only one who could see that the Turkish-Syrian conflict had just moved to a new and deadly phase. Russia had put its newest, most lethal fighter aircraft on the front line. It had just gone head to head against a Coalition BATS-supported F-35 combat air patrol, without hesitating. The attack on the Turkish F-16s may even have been intended to pull the RAAF Panthers into a fight and send the Coalition a message. Yes, the BATS had done exactly what they were intended to do, and allowed the RAAF pilots to fix and fire on the Russian stealth fighters. They had knocked down one, and she might have knocked down a second if she’d been allowed to take the shot. Russia had claimed nothing but a brace of easily-replaced unmanned drones. Call it a draw, if you were being generous to both sides.
But Bunny knew in her bones there would be worse to come. Ten dollars would get you one, they started seeing Russian attacks on Coalition forces all across the front line; on the ground, and in the air now. The ‘limited conflict’ in Syria was about to turn into a war.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes for a moment, and fell instantly to sleep.
Royal Air Force Flying Officer, Anaximenes ‘Meany’ Papastopoulos, had never been to war.
But his great-grandfather on his Welsh mother’s side had.
His great grandad, Flight Lieutenant Dai Jones, had flown Bristol Beaufighters with RAF 255 Squadron in Algeria in 1942. His own grandfather had given Meany a 1:48 scale model of a Beaufighter when he turned ten and helped him build and paint it. Meany had been entranced by it. The midnight black fuselage, two massive 1600 horsepower Hercules engines, four nose-mounted 20mm cannons, plus wing and fuselage-mounted torpedoes and bombs for tearing
apart tanks, ships and submarines.
‘Whispering Death,’ the Axis forces had called it. As he had proudly set it on the bookshelf over his bed, Meany had resolved there and then that when he grew up he was going to be a fighter pilot like his great grandad.
As he climbed up onto the wing of the bat-like RAF Tempest at Turkey’s Incirlik Air Base, he thought back to that day, running his hand across the aircraft nickname painted in flowing letters under his cockpit: ‘Whispering Death.’ He wondered what his great-grandfather would have thought about – or whether he could ever possibly have imagined – the aircraft Meany was about to fly.
Dai Jones’s nickname had been ‘Sonny,’ after Sonny Stitt, the famous jazz saxophone player of the time. Meany also had a fantastic re-colorized photo of his great-grandfather playing saxophone in a tasseled red fez in one of the bars and cafés of the Casbah in Algiers. Sonny might have recognized his Tempest for what it was – a multi-role aircraft like the Beaufighter, suited to air-to-ground or air-to-air operations. He might have asked Meany where the hell the aircraft’s weapons were, since no visible ordnance disturbed the lines of its sleek black 5th-gen stealth airframe. But the missiles inside the modular weapons bay would have looked vaguely familiar, similar in shape and form to the eight 130 lb. RP-3 rockets his Beaufighter used to carry over Algeria. Except that Meany’s weapons were two ASRAAM ‘lock-on after launch’ air-air missiles which used phased-array multispectral seekers to home on their targets from twenty miles out and two Meteor radar-guided data-linked homing missiles which could be launched at a range of 60 miles, taking their guidance from their own radar or any Coalition unit with a target lock, whether on the ground, sea or in the air.
