Battle Born (15 page)

“You have something else in mind, General?”

“Sir, we did a successful boost-phase antimissile test this morning,” Hayes said. “We built the weapon they
wanted us to build. We have a victory, not a failure. I think the Navy and the Army both know it, or at least suspect it. Let’s capitalize on it. We are ready to begin operational tests of the new ‘Coronet Tiger.’”

Secretary Mortonson shook his head in some confusion. He was very familiar with the program—he had almost lost his confirmation to be secretary of the Air Force because of his overwhelming support of the expensive, controversial weapon system. “Coronet Tiger” was the classified code name of the Air Force’s new antiballistic missile defense program, starting with the airborne laser and continuing on to the new Skybolt space-based laser system.

But in this day and age of military “jointness,” every branch of the service had to be involved or nothing would ever get approval. The airborne laser was the Air Force’s one and only contribution to the new fifty-billion-dollar antiballistic missile program; its designs and plans—and funding—for the space-based laser were all transferred to the Navy.

“I don’t understand, General,” he said irritably. “Coronet Tiger is dead.”

“You can blame Lieutenant General Samson at HAWC for this one too, sir,” Hayes said. “The air-launched antiballistic missile system was Samson’s lab’s invention. He wants to put the Lancelot ABM system on a dozen B-1 bombers and create an antimissile attack squadron. Lancelot is teamed up with cruise missiles to destroy not only enemy rockets but the launchers as well, and Lancelot even has an antisatellite capability. Fast, deployable, survivable, and effective. I’ve got a full report, and I can brief you and the Joint Chiefs whenever you’d like.”

“Forget it, General,” Mortonson said. “There is no way that’s ever going to be approved now. Even if I can keep all our asses out of the fire—which I’m not confident
I can do—there’s no way in hell the Department of Defense will authorize funding for a new squadron of B-1s to carry these weapons. Hell, we’ll be lucky if they let us keep Dreamland open, let alone allow us to keep those missiles.”

“Samson has already drawn up an organizational chart and preliminary budget proposal,” Hayes said. “He suggests we fund and equip the unit through the Air National Guard. We share the cost of the conversion, training, upkeep, and basing with the Guard. He’s got it laid out pretty well, sir. I think it’s worth a look.”

Mortonson scowled at Hayes, then glanced at General Gregory Hammond. “You seen any of these numbers, Greg?”

“Yes, sir,” Hammond replied. He shrugged noncommittally. “It’s workable. It’s certainly cutting-edge, so the states might actually
compete
to get such a unit. Kansas, Georgia, Nevada—they can all afford to invest in the conversion. A popular, needed technology, lots of deployments, maybe a training center in the future for the first unit that gets the weapon—the states see an opportunity for big revenues from this. And each state has nationally known congressmen, so interest and visibility will be very high.”

“Who has the best package?”

“Hard to say exactly, sir, but—no pun intended—I’d put my money on Nevada,” Hammond replied with a slight smile. “They have two possible facilities other than the Reno-Tahoe Airport: Tonopah and the old Tuscarora Air Force Base near Battle Mountain. Both have first-class runways, taxiways, construction areas, and weapons storage facilities—they just need major work on buildings and infrastructure, which the state would fund to our specifications.”

“The Nevada Air Guard, eh?” Mortonson remarked. “The Reno B-1 bomber unit? Not only do they
not
deserve an upgraded unit, they probably deserve to be
disbanded.
What’s the latest on that crash investigation?”

“The investigators are now saying crew error and possibly a dummy missile hit them,” Hammond replied. “The crew was performing a ‘scram’ maneuver, which is a tight turn to get away from a ground threat. The finding is unofficial right now because we have a lot of new information, but it’s been demonstrated in two different B-1 simulators.”

“How did it happen?”

“A flight manual procedural ‘Warning’ violation,” Hammond responded. “The final report will be out in a few days, sir, but it appears the pilot initiated a steep bank turn over sixty degrees during a high-G low-altitude maneuver—in fact, he may have exceeded ninety degrees. The bank automatically causes the terrain-avoidance system to do a fail-safe fly-up. At the same time, the crew is trying to slow the bomber down . . .”

“Slow it down? Why? Isn’t going slower dangerous?”

“No, because the B-1 turns faster at a slower speed,” Hayes explained. “It’s called cornering velocity. Every crew computes that speed for the altitude and gross weight it’ll be at during the bomb runs. If they decelerate to cornering velocity, they can turn faster without fear of stalling.” He paused, considering, then added, “They’d have the bomber at max Gs and throttles idle. This crew popped their speedbrakes to slow down faster. Deploying speedbrakes also decreases roll efficiency, which is why bank angles are limited by procedure to forty-five degrees.”

“The theory presented by the unit said that several of the little papier-mâché rockets the Navy uses to simulate surface-to-air missile launches flew into the speed-brakes,
causing them to not fully retract,” Hammond went on.

“And?” Mortonson asked.

“It was confirmed by Navy range officers,” Hammond said. “They didn’t expect the B-1 to make that tight turn, thinking they were firing well clear of the plane. Several of the rockets came close enough to the bomber so that they might have hit it. Combine that with low speed, crossed-up flight controls adding more drag, and low altitude, and you have your accident. The papier-mâché rockets would leave no trace, so there was no evidence at the crash scene. Engineers are going over this scenario, and so far we think it’s the most likely explanation.”

“The bottom line is, our crews screwed up,” Mortonson repeated bitterly. “That is unacceptable. Totally unacceptable.”

“It happens to the best crews, sir,” General Hayes said somberly. “In the heat of battle, the crews react. Most times their training takes over, and they come out of it okay. This time it didn’t happen.”

“That doesn’t cut it, General,” Mortonson said. “Losing planes in combat is one thing. Losing a two-hundred-million-dollar bomber in a training exercise in good weather is not acceptable.”

“Fly low and fast, and even one small mistake can be deadly,” the chief of staff said. Hayes had lost too many good friends in aircraft accidents—he knew that it could happen even to the best of the best. “The crews train hard. And these were the best Air National Guard bomber crews in the force—and one of the best in the entire world. They were aggressive . . .”

“They screwed up, General,” Mortonson emphasized. “I don’t care how aggressive they were or how many trophies they’ve won. Something happened. Someone lost it. In war, I can understand that—but in
peacetime, no. We have rules, don’t we, General? We have rules of engagement? The crews are briefed not to push it to the edge, right? Train hard, I know, but they aren’t encouraged to be unsafe just to win a training exercise, are they, General?” When Hayes hesitated, the secretary of the Air Force looked as if he was going to explode in rage. “Well? Are they?”

“The crews are briefed on the rules of engagement, yes, sir,” Hayes responded. “But both sides play it as if it’s the real thing. They use every bit of their skills and experience to win . . .”

“So I noticed,” Mortonson said. “Reminds me of you and Samson, pulling that stunt today with that plasma-yield weapon. You do anything you think you need to do to win. Well, I think you’ve screwed yourselves this time with that kind of thinking.

“General, this is not a failure of our crews—it’s a failure of our training, which is a failure of command,” Mortonson went on. “After the stunt you pulled out in the Navy test range, I’m not surprised that our crews have the same attitude. Win at all costs, right, General? Forget the regulations as long as the bombs are on target, right?”

“Sir, I am the senior uniformed officer of the United States Air Force,” General Hayes said. “I am responsible for each and every man and machine under me, and I include the Air Guard and Reserves. If you need a sacrificial lamb, sir, I’m your man.”

“General, I goddamn guarantee that all of our necks are on the chopping block right now,” Mortonson said. “Your head will just be the first one to roll.” He knew he should fire Hayes right now, do it before Congress and the White House questioned why he waited so long. But he realized he couldn’t do it. Hayes was wrong, dead wrong . . . but he was wrong for all the right reasons.

And he did have Coronet Tiger. The real antiballistic missile systems—the airborne laser, the Navy’s Aegis Tier Three, and the space-based laser called Skybolt—were all many years in the future. Congress was so frustrated with the delays, failures, and cost overruns that they were ready to either cancel the entire program or, worse, buy an inferior system.

This Lancelot system might save their bacon, even from something as serious as setting a subnuclear device off in the Navy’s face.

Mortonson thought for another moment, then asked, “Why a Guard unit, General? Why not an active-duty unit?”

“Money, sir,” Hayes replied. “Right now this project is totally off the books, buried in HAWC’s black research budget. Brad Elliott bounced enough checks and wrote enough IOUs to get a handful of his creations flying—it’s the way he always did things. But Terrill Samson doesn’t want to play it that way. He knows it’s not his job to create tactical units—his job is to test hardware. If he gets full authorization, he’ll turn over his technology and weapons to whatever unit we want and provide training for that unit. Otherwise, he’ll put it all back on the shelf where it came from.”

“If we decided to deploy an active-duty antimissile squadron, we would need to either convert a unit or stand up a new unit, both of which will take time and money,” said Mortonson.

“With the Air National Guard, we use the states to help fund the program, sir,” Hammond pointed out. “The states will pay the bulk of the costs—the physical plant, the personnel costs, and the cost of daily training and upkeep. We give the states the planes, pay for the upgrade equipment, and we pay the costs of certifying each unit to our standards. If the President federalizes
the unit, we pay the states a fixed fee. It’s a good deal all around.”

“But the main reason General Samson suggested using the Air Guard is performance,” said Hayes. “The bottom line is, the Air Guard guys are good. Their personnel are as well trained and as knowledgeable as any active-duty unit. The unit that lost the plane won the last Bomb Comp trophy. They are the best around.”

“Why the hell is that?”

“It’s a completely different world in the Air Guard, sir,” General Hammond said. “Flying for the Guard is treated as a special privilege, like belonging to a special club. It’s more competitive because there are fewer slots, so they only take the best of the best. Each candidate is handpicked by the adjutant general and the governor. To weed out candidates, most units require their members to be longtime residents of the state, so you really have to make a long-term commitment to the unit. Some Guard members serve with the same unit and fly the same planes for years. They don’t get uprooted every few years or worry about promotion or reassignment like the active-duty troops do. They have to compete every year to keep their jobs, so they’re aggressive. They take pride in their units on an entirely different level than the active-duty force does, because they represent their hometown and their state.”

“You know about all the criticism we’re getting about Guard and Reserve units flying these planes, don’t you?” Mortonson asked Hayes. “Part-timers can’t handle sophisticated war machines. What do you think? Should we do away with the Air National Guard bomber program?”

“You know that talk is all bullshit, sir,” Hayes replied. “These guys are only replacement units, not frontline fighters. They train hard and work hard, but they’re not the equivalent of the active-duty force. They
exist to give us a reserve fighting force that can be mobilized and ready to fight in a matter of weeks or months. It’s a trade-off. We don’t spend as much money keeping their men and machines in the inventory, but we don’t have those forces available quickly or at such a high state of readiness.”

“You’ve given me the politically correct reply, Victor,” Mortonson said, “but I want to hear what you
think
. Is it a good idea to let part-timers fly the fast jets?”

“They’ve been flying the fast jets for years, sir,” Hayes replied. “The Reserve forces account for about one-third of all the missions flown by the Air Force. In some missions, like air defense, they account for
one hundred
percent. There’s only two weapon systems they don’t fly, the stealth bomber and stealth fighter, and that’s because we don’t have that many of those to begin with.”

Mortonson glared at Hayes. “Dammit, General,” he said, “are you ever going to give me a straight answer? Do you think it’s a wise move, a wise investment, to have the Guard and Reserves flying planes like the B-1 bombers?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Hayes replied resolutely. “I believe in the concept of the citizen soldier. I’d rather see talented, highly trained crews get out of the active-duty force and fly in a Guard or Reserve unit for a few years than be sucked into the civilian market where we can’t use their skills. The Guard and Reserves preserve a good bit of the hundreds of thousands of training dollars we spend per crewman—if he didn’t fly in the Guard or Reserves after active duty, we’d waste all the investment we made.”

Mortonson carefully considered that argument. “Point taken,” he said, nodding. “That’s too big an issue to handle right now anyway. General, I’m not going
to consider your antiballistic missile squadron idea at this time. We’re going to have our hands full trying to convince the Joint Chiefs, SECDEF, and the President that we’re not a couple of maverick nutcases ready to plunge the world into a nuclear holocaust . . .”