ARMAGEDDON'S SONG (Volume 3) 'Fight Through' (19 page)

The sound of the Rolls Royce engines
passing above them and the roar of
Bao’s
and
Dai’s
23mm automatic cannon’s made Li flinch but his eyes
did not leave the two falling objects, blunt nosed depth charges, not tumbling
but semi stabilised,  oscillating at the finned tails as they fell at an
angle towards their target.

Tracer chased the Atlantique, spent 23mm
shell cases rattled and rang against the metal deck of the submarines bridge.

The first depth charge crashed into the
trees near the south bank of the river some fifty metres beyond the stationary
Bao
but
the second struck the Kilo’s forward casing.

It sounded a lot like two cars colliding,
without the desperate last moment screech of brakes. Black acoustic tiles flew
aloft like crows startled at the sound of a shotgun, and the depth charge
bounced, spinning end over end now, the tail section stabilisers parting
company in the impact, flying off into the darkness.

The dented casing grew larger in Li’s
sight, like a dustbin flung by a petulant giant it arced up and towards the
Juliett.

The air sentry on
Dai’s
bow
fired, engulfing the conning tower in white exhaust gases as the slim missile left
the launch tube. The smoke robbed Li of his view of the approached object.

The depth charge on the river bank blew
with a blinding flash, its 200kg warhead felling two trees and sending wickedly
barbed wooden splinters outwards in all directions, the detonation echoing for
miles around.

The Strela’s success went almost unheard
in comparison. It flew straight and true for the greatest heat source, striking
the starboard engine exhaust. The effect of the small 1.7kg warhead and a
secondary charge detonating the missiles remaining fuel was visual, rather than
audible. A small flash followed by much smoke.

Poseidon Zero Four
instantly lost altitude, the starboard wing dropped,
the wingtip clipping a tree top and it seemed to be all over bar the shouting
for the aircraft and crew.

The port engine roared as its throttle
was pushed through the gate in an effort by the captain and co-pilot to
compensate, to ward off a threatening departure from controlled flight.

They clawed for height, the tree tops so
close, waiting snares to drag them from the air to a fiery end in the jungle
but the prey won the battle as its remaining ordnance load was jettisoned.
Zero Four
bounded up and clear of the tree tops, disappearing into the night towards the
west.

Li coughed and waved a hand ineffectually
as if warding off unwanted cigarette smoke. He stood upright to peer through
the missiles exhaust fumes, to see where the charge would land, and so the
deluge of filthy brown river water, heavily laden with mud struck him from behind.
Bouncing clear over the
Dai
the depth charge had plunged into the river beyond to
lodge in the silted bottom where it went off.

Declaring an emergency
Poseidon Zero Four
shuddered in flight, a vibration increasing by the
moment.

It was missing three feet off its
starboard wingtip, and the propeller was continuing to spin despite the engine
now being shut down and denied fuel. Refusing to be feathered, the rogue
propeller spun on, and at a higher rate than that of the still functional port
engine.
The reduction gearbox had been
damaged and the blades could not be turned into wind to reduce drag.

Fire retardant compound was pumped onto
the engine but as the propellers RPM spun ever higher, the propeller nosecone
glowed red, and the vibration worsened.

A flicker of flame necessitated the fire
handle being pulled again and all the while the aircraft was in a gentle
sweeping turn so as not to overstress the damaged wing.

The captain aimed to bring them back to
Cayenne, it was after
all the
closest airport with a
runway long enough to accommodate them.

Ten minutes on and the propeller was
rotating at 120% of the maximum recommended RPM, and again the fire handle had
to be pulled to extinguish flames.

They were dumping fuel from the port wing
and transferring fuel from the starboard. The risk of the flames reaching the
fuel tanks in the damaged wing was very real indeed.

Over the ocean now and continuing their
left turn, lining up for an approach to runway 26. The captain gave due
consideration to the options available, to attempt a landing or to ditch?

By day the Cayenne fishing fleet could be
seen at its moorings due to the scarcity of fish. There were no civilian boats
abroad that could come to their assistance and the nearest navy vessel was laid
up, the rest were rushing north to do battle.

A ditching rarely had a happy ending
anyway, so he announced to the crew that he was committed to a landing at
Cayenne. They buckled up and a few peered out and down at the dark ocean.
However, it was too dark to see anything unaided. Obligingly the starboard
engine provided some, and the flicker became a tail that could not be
extinguished now, the fire retardant compound having been completely expended.

The second Atlantique,
One Eight
,
could be heard stooging around up above the clouds, and the Legion’s two
helicopters could be heard also, as they raced low towards the town of Kourou,
dropping the two mortar teams at Pont Les Roches, the mouth of the estuary that
the Chinese raiders must pass on their way back to the ocean.

The
Bao
and the
Dai
were underway again, backing down the river to the
estuary where they could at last find room to turn and face their tormentors.

“Radar, one
sweep
only.”

Above them the Atlantiques threat
warnings sounded as the
Dai’s
radar swept across them in return.

“Capitaine… I would advise chaff right
about now…but.”

“But…we have no chaff…”

Unwrapping a stick of spearmint gum,
popped it in his mouth the pilot unlatched the side window, ejecting the gums
silver wrapper.

“That will have to do.” He muttered to
himself, resigned to fate.

Severe vibration was shaking
Zero Four
,
severe enough to throw off her captain’s voice, giving him an induced
stammering which at another time would sound a little comical.

“Fifteen degrees flap…gear down.”

Had the circumstances been different he
would have overflown the runway in order that the control tower confirm the
right gear was fully down, but the nose and left gear had green lights.

The starboard engine was aflame,
consuming itself, the flames streaming behind.

Ahead of them the tarmac was lit up, and
emergency vehicles were sat off to one side, well clear of the runway but
awaiting their arrival.

Zero Four
crossed the outer marker, the approach lights whipped
below them and suddenly there was the threshold.

He missed the touchdown zone, holding off
as he allowed the left gear to touch first, sweeping along with the nosewheel
and right gear just clear of the tarmac. There was no chance of going around
again, no chance of reaching the ocean for a ditching now either, too late to
change his mind. The right gear touched and the nose settled, he chopped the
throttle and held the aircraft to the centre line. All there was to do now was
stop the damn thing before they ran out of runway.

The wind was blowing the flames along the
wing toward the fuselage but captain and co-pilot were busy standing on the
brakes.
One life threatening crisis at a time,
s'il
vous
plaît
.

At the far end of the runway the
threshold markers were beneath the front wheel as he pivoted the aircraft left
with the last bit of momentum, to buy a little more time before the flames
reached fuel tanks that were still filled with vapour.

With brakes applied the captain pushed
out the left side window as he unbuckled.

The cabin was filling with choking fumes
but he had to check the crew.

Crewmembers were vacating the aircraft
rapidly; the senior operator was last, coughing on toxic fumes. His co-pilot
exited through the captains opened window and the captain himself followed the
senior operator, dropping to the tarmac and running as fast as he could.

As the fire trucks arrived the open
hatches were belching smoke. Fire could be seen inside the cabin as internal
fittings caught alight. A thunderous bang sent flames and pieces of the
starboard wing soaring as the vapour filled fuel tank gave way. A pair of less
violent explosions announced the tyres of the right gear bursting.

The damaged wing sagged and the
Atlantique leaned to the right, grey smoke pouring from the pilots open side
window like a chimney, the fuselage completely engulfed in flame
..

Cayenne airports fire crews had at least
a proper subject to test their skills on now.

A signaller handed Li a message form, the
Bao
had sustained damage to her forward pressure hull where the depth charge
had struck the casing. Submerging in that condition was possible but not
advisable in ordinary circumstances. She had a double hull, but that pressure
hull was not just there by idle design.

“Damn all we can do about that now,
anyway.” He mused.

Bao
was still on diesels but
Dai
remained on electrical power despite the chief
engineer complaining the batteries were down to a 72% charge.

He used the radar sparingly as that was a
double edged weapon, but he could hear the approach of threats without the enemy
using that against them.

A flash off in the jungle caught his
attention and a fraction of a second later he heard the sound of mortar rounds
detonating.

Those damn bloody French mortars again!
He thought.

They had to be firing blind though,
possibly alerted to their approach by the sound of
Bao’s
noisy diesel engines.

Two more rounds landed, well short, one
on the bank and the other splashing into the river without going off. There was
only mud and silt where that particular mortar round had landed, nothing solid
enough to crush the soft nose cone and fire the fuse there.

Captain Li gave a moment’s thought to the
weight of a mortar round. How many could those helicopters carry?

Jie would have known of course.

To be on the receiving end of a mortar
attack was doubly hazardous as they made no sound, no advance warning to dive
for cover, unlike the mournful drone he know heard!

Bao’s
radar mast was fully extended and rotating.

A 100mm shell from a naval gun smashed into
the bank between the two submarines, digging deep into the soft earth before
exploding.

Li shouted down the open hatch.

“Make to
Bao
…they are ranging in on
your radar energy, but at least we know there is a surface warship in gunfire
range.”

The rotating radar ceased but three more
rounds impacted in the vicinity, white hot steel fragments striking the
Dai’s
conning tower.

He raised his night glasses once more,
looking back towards the river mouth. The river was widening now.

Dirty water sprayed over the conning
tower from more mortar rounds landing in the river.

A
round struck the bank beside
Bao
, the air sentry on the Kilo’s after casing screamed
and fell, sliding down the curved steel pressure hull into the river.
Bao
did not
heave-to, and the rating was floating face down as the
Dai
reached him. Li watched the corpse disappear behind them in the darkness.

“Engine room…switch to diesels once more.
We need to run on the surface for a little once we regain the estuary.”

The mortar rounds continued to harass,
raining down around them but the naval gunfire had curtailed with the cessation
of the
Bao’s
radar sweeps.

A rating appeared at the top of the
ladder looking a lot like a caricature of a Mexican bandit, draped across the shoulders
with belted ammunition for the 23mm.

“This is the last cannon ammunition, sir.”

Li nodded in acknowledgement and
instructed him to start throwing empty cases over the side once the new belt
was attached to the end of the existing one.

If they had to run silent it would not do
to have brass shell cases rolling around and knocking into each other and the
steel sides at such times.