O515 Local (+5 GMT) Fulcrum 101
Santana snarled at the radar picture reflected in his heads-up
display.
He’d halfway expected it, hoping against crazy hope that his first
maneuver in angles fighting would win the battle, but clearly the
American was too well trained to fall for it. Still, he had started
his ascent too late. Now, nose to nose with a closure speed in excess
of Mach 2, the American would undoubtedly expect him to use his greater
maneuverability to turn out of the confrontation.
The American had made one mistake maybe he could be enticed into making
another. Santana held the MiG on a steady course and bore in, waiting
for the right moment.
0516 Local (+5 GMT) Tomcat 201
“Inside minimums!” Gator screamed. “Bird Dog, you can’t shoot now.
It won’t fuse.”
The pilot swore, damning his overconfidence. He’d been so sure the MiG
would turn. The MiG had to turn to take advantage of its aerodynamic
advantages and maneuverability. It made no sense for the MiG to have
continued on. Bird Dog had been waiting for the turn, intent on
shooting a Sidewinder up the bastard’s ass. Instead, he was facing the
equivalent of two freight trains roaring toward each other on the same
piece of track. And now he’d lost his opportunity no way to take a
Sidewinder shot now. Well, he’d have to pull out of this engagement,
or at least go for the overshoot and come back for another maneuver.
What had made the Cuban undertake this game of chicken? Maybe they
weren’t as well trained as doctrine had taught, and didn’t really
understand how to use every advantage of the more nimble fighter in a
furball. If that were the case, then he could count on the other pilot
making another mistake sometime soon. And it would be his last one.
0516 Local (+5 GMT) Fulcrum 101
“Now.” Santana had already toggled the weapons selector to gun, and
knew that this opportunity was just moments away.
The American would still be expecting him to break, waiting for that
moment to shoot a Sidewinder on the oh-so-attractive heat source
flaring out of the engines. What he wouldn’t expect was this.
Santana jinked the aircraft up, correcting his angle for approach on
the Tomcat from a near miss to guaranteed collision. If the American
wanted to play chicken, Santana would find out what he was made of.
Seconds later, he saw it begin. The angle on the Tomcat changed
slightly, indicating that the American was attempting to maneuver away
from certain midair collision. Santana grinned, jogged the MiG
slightly nose up, and shot a brief burst from his 30 mm GSh-301 gun in
the port wing root.
The depleted uranium pellets saturated the air directly in front of the
Tomcat.
The American had no chance. The Tomcat-streamed right through the
barrage, and Santana saw, in the American’s last moments, a delicate
tracery of black holes spout up along the starboard wing and
fuselage.
Seconds later, the night flared into brilliance as the fuel streaming
out of the wing tanks ignited. The light blinded him, just as his
flares had earlier. However, a satisfying dull thud followed
momentarily by a rocking wash of air over pressure told him the attack
had been a success. The Tomcat exploded.
0516 Local (+5 GMT) Tomcat 201
For five seconds. Bird Dog and Gator operated on instinct rather than
training. Bird Dog saw the angle change, realized with a sickening
rush of fear what the MiG intended, and reached for the ejection handle
above his head.
Gaitor beat him to it. The Older, more experienced aviator activated
command eject. The canopy shot off, the explosive bolts severing the
connection between hardened Plexiglas and steel fuselage. Bird Dog
felt one gush of wind, a flash of heat as Gator’s ejection seat shot
away from the aircraft at an angle, then the hard,
unconsciousness-inducing motion of his own ejection seat parting
company with his aircraft.
He was less than fifty feet away from the aircraft, the seat already
starting to respond to the inexorable pull of gravity, when he heard
the soft crump of the Tomcat’s disintegration.
The fireball reached out for him, its outer edges clawing hungrily for