Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06 (27 page)

 
          
“Stand
by, Headbanger,” Samson replied a few long, agonizing moments later. “We’re
waiting for word from Wrangler.” That was Admiral Balboa, chairman of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff—this decision was going right to
Washington
.

 
          
“Screw
Balboa, Earthmover,” Elliott shouted on the radio, forgetting all
communications security procedures. “That Taiwanese frigate is going to be
blown out of the water in about sixty seconds if we don’t do anything.”

 
          
“Check
your fire—and your mouth, Headbanger!” Samson responded angrily. “If no one has
opened fire yet, you don’t open fire. And maintain proper COMSEC procedures!”

 
          
Suddenly,
McLanahan’s God’s-eye view on his large supercockpit display picked up a new
flying target. “I got missile launch detection—and it’s from the Taiwanese
frigate! ” he shouted. “Subsonic, low-flying, probably a Harpoon anti-ship
missile . . . Taiwanese helicopter lifting off. . .now picking up several more
missile launches from the
Kin Men
...
I’ve got missile launch detection from the newcomer as well, subsonic missile
launch, probably Harpoons.”

 
          
“Dammit,
the Taiwanese frigate attacked,” Elliott said. “Why in the hell didn’t he
wait?”

 
          
McLanahan
heard that comment, but he was too busy to ask about it: “I’ve got six missiles
in the air, all aiming for the Chinese carrier and destroyer,” he reported.
“Lead PLAN destroyer now opening fire with missiles now, subsonic, probably
HY-2 anti-ship missiles.”

 
          
“Commit
all countermeasures!” Elliott shouted. “Clear for wing pylon weapon release! ”

 
          
“We
don’t have authorization yet, Brad,” McLanahan shouted.

 
          
“Patrick,
that Taiwanese frigate is going to be Swiss cheese unless we do something,” Elliott
retorted. “Get on it right now! DSO, stand by on the Wolverines.”

 
          
“Brad,
wait. ...”

 
          
“We’re
only launching decoys, Patrick,” Elliott said. “What in hell are you waiting
for? You’re clear for wing pylon release.”

 
          
Vikram
looked over at McLanahan, his finger poised over the launch commit button.
McLanahan hesitated for a moment; Vikram considered that approval and pressed
the buttons on his keyboard. “Roger. Stand by for pylon launch, crew,” Vikram
announced. He launched two defensive Wolverine missiles, one from each wing
pylon pod. McLanahan knew he should halt the launch, but decided not to
interfere.

 
          
The
turbojet-powered Wolverine cruise missiles set up a protective orbit around the
Taiwanese frigate and activated its powerful electronic jammers, creating an
intense blanket of jamming and decoy signals. When the Chinese Hong Yang-2 Sea
Eagle anti-ship missiles activated their terminal homing radars in the
preprogrammed target “basket” area, they suddenly found not one, but hundreds
of radar targets. The seeker heads merely picked out the electronically largest
radar target and aimed right for it, descending from two hundred feet above the
water to twenty feet to make it harder for anti-missile weapons to stop it.

 
          
But
every Chinese Sea Eagle missile had locked onto a false target created by the
Wolverine missile’s jammers. When it lost radar contact, it immediately turned
and locked onto the next largest radar target. Every time the Sea Eagle missile
turned, it slowed down, making it easier for the
Kin Men’s
guns and Standard missiles to hunt them down; the ones
that were not destroyed by the Taiwanese frigate were detoured farther and
farther away until they simply ran out of fuel and crashed into the sea.

 
          
“All
right, everyone, check fire,” McLanahan shouted on interphone after both
Wolverine cruise missiles were on their way. “Brad, turn us away from the
Chinese battle group before they backtrack those Wolverine missiles.”

 
          
“We
can’t stop now, Patrick,” Elliott shouted. “Get the Rainbows and Strikers out!
That Taiwanese frigate is still unprotected!”

 
          
“Negative,
pilot,” McLanahan responded. “Everyone standby.” He switched his radio to the
scrambled satellite channel: “Buster, this is Headbanger, we’ve got Screamers
in the air, repeat, Screamers in the air. Advise if you want seconds.”

 
          
“Say
again, Headbanger?” Samson responded. “You launched? On whose orders?”

 
          
“Let’s
get with the program, Earthmover,” Elliott cut in. “We’re the only thing
standing between that carrier battle group and the Taiwanese navy. Let’s send
the Tacit Rainbows and Strikers and end this right
now”
“Headbanger, you check your fire until we get word from the
boss,” Samson said. “Stay nose cold. You hear me, pilot? Noses
cold.
If you’re still in contact with
the Taiwanese frigate, tell him to disengage and get out of the area. I’m
getting permission for you to cover his withdrawal.” “What if he attacks
again?” Elliott asked, but Samson had no reply. He swore loudly into his oxygen
mask and switched to the secondary secure radio channel:
“Kin Men,
this is Headbanger,” Elliott radioed to the Taiwanese
frigate. “We showed PLAN missile launches on your position. We recommend you
get the hell out of there. Do you copy? ”

           
There was no response, but, seconds
later, McLanahan shouted, “I’ve got missiles in the air, high-speed,
high-altitude ballistic, from the
Kin Men
again. Multiple high-speed missiles, probably Standard missiles programmed for
anti-ship attack. Targeting the lead destroyer and the carrier . . . looks like
the destroyer took a couple hits . . . can’t tell if the carrier got hit. It
might’ve taken one hit or a near miss . . . frigate
Kin Men
launching missiles again, subsonic sea-skimmers, probably
Harpoons, a couple at the destroyer and the rest at the carrier . . . the
Taiwanese frigate is reversing course, looks like he’s heading back to Quemoy .
. . about sixty seconds to Harpoon missile impact...”

 
          
“PLAN
destroyer launching antiair missiles,” Vikram announced. “Targeting the Harpoon
missiles, not the Taiwanese frigate.”

           
“Anything still tracking the
Kin Men?”
Cheshire
asked.

 
          
“They’ve
got everything up and transmitting,” Vikram said. “The PLAN fleet is still
alive and probably mad as hell. Sungs never going to get out of there.”

ABOARD THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER
MAO ZEDONG

           
“Launch commit on all battle group
anti-ship missiles! ” Admiral Yi ordered after the report of inbound Taiwanese
missiles was relayed to the bridge. “Sink both those ships!
Now!
Radio
South
Sea
fleet headquarters, request air support for
possible follow-on surface and submarine attacks. Full countermeasures! I
want—”

 
          
“Bridge,
combat, radar contact aircraft,
close
aboard
, bearing three- zero-zero, range three-five kilometers and closing,
altitude two thousand meters, speed four hundred knots, turning! ” the first
officer shouted, relaying the message from the Combat Information Center.

 
          
Suddenly,
the reports stopped. Yi fairly lunged for the intercom mike. “Combat, continue
report! Where is that plane?”

 
          
“Bridge
. . . bridge, combat, we have lost contact!” the first officer reported in a
high, squeaky, panicked voice. “No contacts. Attempting optical and thermal
contact, still negative. Heavy jamming on search and uplink frequencies, all
bearings.”

 
          
Just
then, the unit-to-unit radiophone buzzed, and Yi picked it up himself: “Speak.”

 
          
“This
is the
Kang”
came the reply. It was
the captain of one of the destroyers, Commander Xiao Rongji. This was Xiao’s
first major command, and he was known in the Chinese navy as a bold, even rash,
young boat commander; it was no surprise to Yi that he was the first to break
tactical radio procedures. “We have detected a small aircraft just over the
horizon, bearing two-three-four, range ten kilometers, altitude approximately
five hundred meters.” Xiao had detected one of the Wolverine “Screamer” decoy
missiles that had strayed within range of the frigate’s sensors. “Are we
cleared to engage?”

 
          
“You
will protect your ship and this carrier with everything you have got—including
your life! ” Yi shouted in reply. “Full air defense screen. Stand by to launch
another missile salvo on my command. And keep this channel clear!” Yi hung up
the radiophone in disgust.

 
          
“Carrier
Mao,
this is the
Kin Men”
the rebel skipper radioed again.

           
“All of your weapons missed their
targets. The bomber is now targeting you and your capital warships. If you do
not reverse course, they will attack.”

 
          
“Bomber?”
Yi shouted. “Did he say ‘bomber’? Combat, any contact on that aircraft?”

 
          
“No,
sir,” the first officer replied. “Lookouts report occasional contact with dark
contrails low on the horizon, possibly from a formation of small aircraft or a
few large aircraft, but we have no visual or electronic contact.”

 
          
“Check
your systems, make sure everything’s working properly. Find whatever’s out there
now\
” Yi swore loudly, then fell
silent once again.

 
          
It
had to be an American stealth bomber, he thought. The American stealth bombers
almost destroyed the
Mao,
then known
as the
Khomeini,
in the
Gulf
of
Oman
just a few weeks earlier. It stood to reason
that the Americans would track the carrier with the same stealth bomber so it
could strike. If so, there was nothing he could do. His radars couldn’t detect
it—the intermittent contacts were probably when the bomber was releasing attack
missiles.

 
          
“Bridge,
Combat!” the intercom buzzed to life, “the
Kang
locking fire control radars on unidentified aircraft!” Yi swung around to
starboard and raised his binoculars to his eyes—just as the frigate opened fire
with its 100-millimeter dual-purpose guns.

 
          
“Sequence
the fighter launch and get Interceptor One off the deck before the P-500 or
M-ll missile launches,” Yi shouted. “Find that American bomber! ”

ABOARD THE EB-52 MEGAFORTRESS

           
“Drum Tilt fire-control radar up
from the northwest destroyer,” the EB- 52 Megafortress’s DSO, Emil Vikram,
called out on interphone. “Drum Tilt radar ... radar locked on, looks like he’s
tracking one of our Wolverines ... or he could be tracking
us l
”

 
          
“He
can match bearings back to us—we’ve got to turn!” McLanahan shouted on
interphone.

 
          
At
that same instant, they heard on the secure radio channel, “Headbanger,
Headbanger, this is
Kin Men,
northwest Communist destroyer just opened fire!”

 
          
“Emitter,
what do you got?” Elliott shouted.

           
“Just the Drum Tilt fire control,”
Vikram responded. “Constantly changing bearings—I don’t think they have a
lock-on, or they’re locking on false targets and have to manually break lock to
try to reacquire a real target.”

 
          
“Good
enough, DSO,” Elliott said. “Don’t fire up our jammers unless we become an item
of interest. Patrick! ”

 
          
“We
don’t have authorization to launch Striker missiles,” McLanahan said
immediately, anticipating Brad Elliott’s order. “Besides, we’re not an item of
interest. My nose is cold.”