Viper Strike c-2, page 31
part #2 of Carrier Series
Tombstone saw Batman ahead, a black speck pursued by four smaller specks, weaving and twisting back and forth, working to shake his pursuers.
Tombstone checked his position, then swung left, positioning himself so that the morning sun was squarely behind his Tomcat. "Eagle Two, Eagle One," he called. "Coming in on your four, right out of the sun. Give 'em a high speed yo-yo!"
"Copy, Tombstone," Batman replied. "Give the word."
"Ready…" Tombstone studied the rapidly swelling MiGs. They showed no sign that they were aware of the Tomcat stooping on them out of the sun's glare. "Do it!"
Batman's plane started to turn left, then pulled up sharply just as three of the four J-7s on his tail were committed to the turn. They shot past him as he went high, inverted, then dropped again, pulling in behind the former hunters.
The fourth MiG had been lagging behind and countered Batman's maneuver, sticking to the American's tail.
But Tombstone had assumed that the tail-end charlie would be the one to cause trouble… and had already locked on with a Sparrow radar homer. "Fox one! Fox one!" The heavy missile slid out from under the Tomcat's wing.
Tombstone was already concentrating on his next target, a J-7 which was now turning sharply across his line of fire, still in a tight break after passing Batman.
"Target lock!" Batman yelled. "Fox two!"
Tombstone locked onto his target and triggered a slim, heat-seeking package of death. The Sidewinder arrowed away.
The Sparrow caught its target behind the cockpit. Eighty-eight pounds of high explosive shredded the MiG's starboard wing. Fuel in the wing tanks ignited.
Seconds later, Batman's AIM-9 made its kill, followed by the flash and billowing debris cloud of Tombstone's Sidewinder. The surviving MiG was already fleeing, throttled up to full afterburner and lunging for the far side of the green line.
Tombstone dropped onto Batman's wing. "Good to have you back," he radioed.
"Good to be back. Watch it! Three more, nine o'clock!"
"Let's take 'em. Break left."
"Eagle Two in!"
The Tomcats stood on their port wings, turning toward the new targets.
The MiGs, aware that they were being stalked, abruptly broke off and fled north.
"This is Eagle Four!" Taggart called suddenly. "I'm in trouble!"
"Eagle Four! Where are you?"
"On the deck! Two bandits on my six. I've taken a hit!"
Tombstone looked down, saw Taggart's 203 aircraft streaming smoke low above the treetops. VF-95's luck had just run dry. The MiGs on his tail were too close to use missiles. Tombstone could see the puffs of smoke from their cannons dotting a pair of long, straight lines behind them.
"Let's go, Batman!"
"With you, Boss."
Tombstone brought his Tomcat over, plunging toward the ground. He let the lead MiG slide into his targeting pipper as he switched his selector switch to radar homing. Target lock! He heard the familiar growl in his headset and fired. A Sparrow homer shooshed toward the enemy plane.
"Fox one! Fox one! I'm on him, Price! Hold on!"
"Hear you… Stoney…" Taggart's voice was straining against the G-forces as he pulled up. The J-7s followed.
Tombstone's Sparrow started to follow… then swerved erratically and slammed into a jungle-covered ridge.
"God damn it…!" Either the Sparrow had accidentally locked onto the ground… or the MiG had decoyed it with chaff. He opened the F-14's throttle wider, closing the gap.
The lead MiG was firing again. Tombstone saw bits of metal flaking away from the twin stabilizers of Taggart's F-14. The smoke from his engine was heavier now. Taggart was still climbing, but his plane was reacting sluggishly. Tombstone dropped down on the two MiGs less than a quarter of a mile behind them.
"Got the one on the right," Batman yelled. "Lock! Fox two!"
"I've got the left!" Tombstone decided to stay with the Sparrow missiles. He had two of them left, and only one heat-seeker. "Fox one!"
The hunted Tomcat seemed to stagger. Tombstone could tell that Taggart was fighting to keep the wounded turkey under control.
"Eagle Four, Eagle Leader," he called. "Punch out, Price!"
"I can hold it, Stoney!" His Tomcat was dropping again, skimming the trees as the MiGs weaved back and forth on his tail.
Taggart's aircraft exploded with stunning suddenness, bursting into flame, then tumbling over and over and over again until the wreckage sheared through the uppermost branches of the forest canopy.
"Tomcat down, Tomcat down!" Batman called. Tombstone could hear pain in his wingman's voice. "Eagle Four down three miles east of Taeng River, five miles south of the green line…"
The MiGs were climbing on full burners. Tombstone's second Sparrow followed, zeroing in on the lead MiG. He could see the number 612 on the MiG's nose. Tombstone found himself willing the missile to detonate.
A miss! Damn! The Sparrow had passed fifty feet behind the jinking MiG, decoyed this time, Tombstone was certain, by a timely burst of chaff.
His attitude and position were wrong to pursue. "Two-oh-one breaking, Batman! Going high!" He pulled the F-14 clear of the trees.
"I'm with you, Stoney," Batman replied. He sounded shaken.
Behind them, black smoke curled into the sky, grave marker for Lieutenant Ronald Taggart and his RIO, Lieutenant Charles Ziegler.
0752 hours, 21 January
U Feng
Their flight was an all-out run away from the shed, past the neatly aligned fuel tanks, and into the open space beyond. The camp was in complete chaos. Pamela could hear the rising whine of the planes she'd seen being started earlier. Once she chanced a look back over her shoulder and saw two heavy-bodied aircraft lifting from the runway with a thundering roar. Other planes seemed to be milling about at one end of the runway, readying for takeoff.
Where were the Navy planes? She could hear a distant rumble of jet aircraft, but outside of wisps and streaks of white high in the sky, she could not see them, couldn't tell if they were engaged in battle or not.
She could see soldiers in the camp, but none were close by, and none appeared to notice the two fugitives. "Run!" Bayerly yelled, and she ran, her legs pumping away. Memories of Hsiao and the warehouse drove her on.
The clearing around U Feng was a hundred yards across, but the ground was soft and broken, making each step treacherous. She quickly found herself slowing. She'd eaten little more than a bowlful of rice in two days, had slept no more than a few hours. In minutes, her lungs were burning with the effort, her breath coming in gasps. She clutched at her side as a stitch hobbled her. She couldn't run much farther.
They were halfway across the clearing when someone saw them. Pamela heard a burst of gunfire behind her, much closer than the rattlings off in the jungle, and something went snap-snap-snap just above her head, making her duck involuntarily. She started to recover… and then her foot turned and she went sprawling to the ground.
"C'mon! C'mon!" Bayerly yelled. He stood above her, breathing hard, the AK-47 raised to his shoulder and pointed back toward the base. "Run!"
But Pamela was on her hands and knees, unable to get up. Her knees, her legs were trembling with the effort which had brought her this far. "I can't…"
"Move, damn you!"
Bayerly's scream was like a physical blow. She found her balance and got her feet under her. Still shaking, she lurched forward.
"Yoot!" a shrill voice yelled behind them. "Yawm pa!"
Bayerly's AK fired, a short burst that assaulted Pamela's ears. She turned in time to see three Thais less than fifty yards away. Two of them staggered and fell with the burst. The third turned and ran back the way he'd come.
She looked back toward the camp. More of those heavy-looking aircraft Bayerly had called Q-5s were climbing into the sky. Her attention was drawn by a loud roar… not the thunder of jet engines but a chattering, propeller sound. Something was rising above the fuel storage tanks.
A helicopter. She recognized the distinctive shape, an American-made Huey, probably, a relic of Vietnam.
And it was skimming low across the fuel tanks, coming directly toward them.
CHAPTER 28
0752 hours, 21 January
Tomcat 201, near the That-Burmese border
Tombstone's oxygen mask was slick with sweat, and he had to keep blinking his eyes to clear them. This ACM encounter had lasted longer than the usual dogfight already and showed no sign of letting up.
"Victor Four Delta, Eagle. Where's Chickenhawk, over?"
"Eagle Leader, Chickenhawk is inbound at primary target, on final approach. ETA two minutes, over. Thunderbird is five minutes behind them."
"Tell 'em to hurry," Tombstone replied. "We can't hold much longer.
"We copy, Eagle. Homeplate advises that the ground attack is under way at U Feng. Hang tight a few more minutes, fellas."
U Feng under attack? That wasn't supposed to go down until after the place was hit by the Hornets and the Intruders. Well, enough had gone wrong already. Maybe the ground assault had gone by the board as well.
"Eagle, Victor Four Delta," Tombstone heard on his radio. "Come in, Eagle."
"Eagle copies, Victor Four Delta. Go ahead."
"We have new targets," the Hawkeye CIC officer said. "Estimate eight to ten bogies, low altitude, originating Mongkoi. They're on a vector that will take them toward Tango LZ."
Tango LZ… the That helicopter staging area.
"Don't see 'em, Stoney," Dixie said. "I think we're too low." The Hawkeye, circling at a much higher altitude and using ECM tricks to look past Snow White's jamming, was in a better position to see what was going on over U Feng than the Tomcats, even though they were much closer.
"Victor Four Delta, Eagle Leader. No joy on your bogies. Vector us in, over."
"Roger, Eagle Leader. Come to one-seven-three. That will put you on the bogies in approximately two minutes."
"Copy that, Victor. Wilco."
"Watch it, Tombstone," his RIO warned. "Check our fuel."
"I see it, Dixie. We can go for a while yet."
"Tombstone… fuel's gonna be a problem! We've got maybe fifteen minutes… assuming you don't go to burner anymore!"
"I said I see it, Dix!" Tombstone put the Tomcat into a gentle roll, searching the sky below as they inverted. The dogfight had scattered the combatants for tens of miles in every direction. Dixie's VDI showed plenty of bogies but they were no longer within close combat range of one another.
Long-range missiles like Sparrow were useless now. No one was squawking IFF; without Identification Friend or Foe, there was no way to tell who was friendly and who the enemy.
Dixie was right, though. They were down to one Sidewinder and one Sparrow left, plus the 675-round drum for his Tomcat's M61A-1 20-mm cannon.
Ten more minutes and they'd be on bingo fuel; fifteen minutes and it would be joker.
But the local sky was clear of MiGs, while large numbers of aircraft were reported taking off from U Feng. If they didn't want to fight their way all the way back to Point Lima, it would be better to catch the newcomers before they got organized.
"Eagle Leader to all Eagles," he radioed. "Muster over U Feng. We're going to investigate those bogies."
"Roger, Eagle Leader," Batman said. The other VF-95 aviators checked in one after another. Five Tomcats began closing the range toward U Feng.
0752 hours, 21 January
U Feng
Pamela watched the Huey dropping toward them, slewing sideways until she could see the RTAF markings on the tail rotor boom, until she could see into the open cargo hatch. There were men there, soldiers… and a professorial-looking man with gray hair and glasses.
Hsiao.
A soldier on the cargo deck next to Hsiao raised his AK to his shoulder.
Pamela couldn't hear the shots, drowned in the thunder of the rotors, but she saw the flicker of muzzle flash against the shadows of the Huey's interior.
Ten feet in front of her, Bayerly staggered and almost fell.
Her paralysis of mind was gone, replaced by raw fear. Hsiao was coming for them, coming for her! She ran to Bayerly, grabbing at his arm. "Come on!" She had to scream to be heard over the helicopter's roar.
He shook her off.
"Please, Made It!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Run! Please!"
He turned, almost reluctantly, and then he was running with her… but he'd only taken a dozen steps before he stopped again. She saw the red stain spreading across his shirt, just beneath his left arm.
"I'll help-"
"No, damn it!" He planted his hand on her shoulder and shoved her roughly toward the treeline. "Get the fuck out of here! I'll hold them here!"
She felt torn between the need to run and the need to stay. She reached out again but he turned away, dropping to one knee and raising the captured AK.
The helicopter was hovering just above the earth less than seventy yards away. Soldiers were jumping out and advancing across the clearing toward them.
Bayerly's assault rifle hammered off a volley. The enemy soldiers dropped to their bellies and started firing back, but Bayerly was not firing at them, she realized.
He was aiming at the helo.
She heard the change in the pitch of the Huey's rotors. It was lifting again, nose high. Bayerly fired again, holding the trigger down and describing a small circle with the muzzle of his weapon, spraying the helo with lead. Smoke burst from the machine's engine, a small puff at first…
and then an expanding, billowing white cloud which was caught by the rotor wash and swirled about. Pamela could hear an ominous clanking mingled with the rotor noise now. The Huey turned sharply, trying to gain altitude, but the pilot seemed to be in trouble.
One spinning rotor blade caught the earth.
The helicopter seemed to leap skyward, nose high, but its tail boom slammed into the ground. There was an explosion. Orange flame engulfed the convulsing machine and the shock wave struck her like a hot slap across her face. Pamela had the impressions of an instant seared into her brain, the sight of a snapped-off rotor blade cart-wheeling across the sky, of men on the ground wreathed in flame as the ammo in their belts cooked off.
She lay face down on the ground for a long time, not remembering falling, not knowing anything but the hell of noise and the piercing stink of aviation fuel. When she looked up, the Huey, still burning, was reduced to a twisted, blackened skeleton. The soldiers who had been on it were dead.
Hsiao… She didn't see him, but he'd been aboard. He must be dead as well.
Bayerly was lying a few yards away, his sightless eyes staring up at her.
A bullet had drilled through his right cheekbone and entered his brain.
She sank to her knees, taking Bayerly's head in her lap. She cradled him for long moments, as the sounds of gunfire, the crump of explosions grew closer.
"Miss? Miss!" A hand touched her shoulder. "He's dead, miss. And we have to go!"
She looked up. Several Marines were there. She'd not even heard their approach.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded.
"You're Miss Drake?"
"Yes…"
"Come on, please, ma'am. This place is about to get dumped on."
She didn't want to leave Bayerly, but strong hands pulled her to her feet and guided her away. "Lieutenant Miller, ma'am," the Marine said. "Marine Recon. We've got to get to cover, fast!"
Blood stained the front of her blouse. Not hers, she realized numbly.
His. "Wha… what?"
"We've got to get under cover. We've got Hornets and Intruders coming down on this place like a ton of bricks, and we don't want to be here when they do!"
She looked up as Tomcats screeched overhead, their thunder deafening as they headed south.
0753 hours, 21 January
MiG 612, near U Feng
Colonel Wu watched as five of the blips on his radar converged, moving south toward U Feng. Those would be the Americans… and it was easy to guess at their target. The radar returns from Dao's Q-5 attack Squadron were also clear, now passing some five miles south of U Feng as they readied for their bombing run.
It was too late to help the bombers, but a tactical opportunity was opening up for a decisive blow against the Yankee fighters.
"This is Dragon Leader," he radioed. "All Dragons on me. I'm going in!"
He lined up his J-7 on the American formation and cut in his afterburner.
While they were concentrating on the bombers, he would strike from behind.
0753 hours, 21 January
Tomcat 201, over U Feng
Tombstone saw U Feng flash beneath his Tomcat, but he was more interested in the jungle-hopping aircraft five miles ahead.
"I've got them, Tombstone!" Dixie called. "Bearing one-eight-three.
They're crossing in front of us, right to left."
"Let's get a lock on 'em," Tombstone said. They had one Sparrow left.
He let the F-14's AWG-9 radar pick out one of the planes in the tight enemy formation, transferred the lock to the Sparrow, and pressed the trigger. "Fox one!"
"Fox one, fox one!" Batman echoed.
"I'm in," Garrison called. "With one for Price Tag. Fox one!"
0753 hours, 21 January
Nanchang Q-5 No. 70813, five miles south of U Feng
Group Commander Dao Zhu Qingtong saw the That staging area first, a broad clearing several miles ahead. As he drew closer, he could see the RTAF helos, dozens of them, arrayed in orderly ranks with their rotors turning.
He flipped the arming switches for his payload and opened his bomb bay doors. Each Q-5 carried four Chinese FAB-250 general-purpose bombs in its internal bay, plus four more on wing and fuselage pylons. Eighty bombs…
each weighing two hundred fifty kilograms… that helicopter assembly area was about to become a slaughter pen.
There was a flash to Dao's left. He snapped his head around in time to see Aircraft 70816 crumple like paper in a blaze of white flame, as fragments splashed across the sky. Two tons of high explosives detonated in a shattering secondary blast that rocked Dao's aircraft wildly, forcing him to grip the stick with both hands.
