CARRIER 10: ARSENAL By: Keith Douglass

miles, it gave the F-14 Tomcat, controlling with an AWG-9 post Doppler

radar, an extended standoff engagement range.

The primary problem with the Phoenix was that it required continual

guidance from the Tomcat and had a long history of unreliable fusing

problems. But even with its shaky performance, the Phoenix had one big

plus going for it. It made any intruder stop and think and go on the

defensive. The expanding continuous rod and control fragmentation

warheads did work sometimes, and when they did, the results were

devastating. An adversary aircraft could not afford to count on the

Phoenix’s not working. It did, just often enough.

Bird Dog listened to the chatter of tactical engagement over the

circuit as Red Dog Three sighted the missile in on the two lead

aircraft. At the last moment, both MiGs jigged violently, shaking the

Phoenix off. Hard thrust maneuvers coupled with chaff and jamming were

often enough to confuse the post-Doppler radar terminal homing.

“Well, what did you expect?” Gator said when it became obvious the two

missiles had missed.

“Yeah, but check their combat spread. It threw them on the

defensive.

Now Red Dog can close in with Sparrows and Sidewinders. Maybe take out

a couple of them hell, two Tomcats can take on six MiGs any day.” Bird

Dog tried to sound confident.

It was a bold statement, and one that had little basis in fact. The

MiG was a smaller, more maneuverable aircraft.

At best, the Tomcats could possibly take out two MiGs each, and that

was only if everything went well. The possibility that the MiGs would

down a Tomcat was not even mentioned.

“Fox Two, Fox Two.” The second call indicated that Red Dog Two had

launched a Sparrow, a radar-guided, medium-range air-to-air missile.

The Sparrow was not the dog-fighting missile of choice, and was much

more effective in a nonmaneuvering intercept. Though more reliable

than the Phoenix, there were still problems with the solid-state

electronics and the missile motors.

“Fox Three, Fox Three.” And now the Sidewinders.

Bird Dog nodded in approval. It was every pilot’s choice of weapon for

a close-in dogfight. The annular brass fragmentation was wrapped in a

sheath of preformed rods and used infrared homing to provide all-aspect

tracking for the missile. It was a fire-and-forget weapon, one that

could be off the rails and on target without distracting the firing

pilot from critical evasive maneuvers.

“Got one!” Red Dog Three’s voice was jubilant. “And there’s another

oneoh, shit, Fred, he’s on my ass! Get him, get him!”

“I can’t” The transmission ended abruptly but without the noise blast

and squeal that would have indicated a deadly shot on the Tomcat.

“Damn it, why aren’t we in that?” Bird Dog swore.

“We’ve got more combat experience than all of these other pilots put

together.”

“Don’t even consider it, asshole,” Gator snapped. “You’re flight

leader your job is to get them in, all of them, and put ordnance on

target. Not pick off fighters on your own.

Get used to it, buddy.”

“But I could’ve” “You don’t know what he did until the debrief,” Gator

cut him off. “Get your head back in the ball game.”

Gator was right. Bird Dog tamped down his temper and concentrated on

the tactical mission around him. “Red Dog Four, roll off and assist

Red Dog Two.” An odd feeling of heaviness settled into the pit of his

stomach. He hadn’t expected this, being left out of the actual fight,

ordering other crews off on an intercept. He knew he shouldn’t feel so

bad so guilty. Still, sending men and women off to die in dogfights

while he bore in on the grand target? It shouldn’t be like that.

“They’re down to three MiGs,” Gator reported. “One Sparrow, two

Sidewinders. Red Dog Four just took a Phoenix shot at the trail

aircraft.”

“Where are we?” Bird Dog demanded. In concentrating on the air battle

going on to the east, he’d temporarily lost the big picture.

“Feet dry in ninety seconds,” Gator answered.

Hearing the familiar voice of his RIO provided an unexpected amount of

comfort. After all the missions they’d flown together, the MiGs they’d

shot down over China and the hair-raising assault on the Aleutian

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