CARRIER 2: VIPER STRIKE By Keith Douglass

fuse.

The missile exploded less than five meters from the Falcon, sending

jagged chunks of metal tearing through the fighter’s thin skin like

rocks through tissue. The concussion slammed Vasti’s helmeted head

against the left side of his canopy. His instrument panel lit up with

warning and failure lights. A harsh buzz and a brightly pulsing red

light warned of a fire in his starboard engine. Numbly, he struggled to

adjust the Falcon’s trim.

No good. He was losing it. “Trapdoor, Trapdoor, this is Trapdoor

Leader! I’m hit! I’m hit! Major Kraisri, take command!”

“Eject, Colonel!” He heard Major Kraisri’s voice say. “Eject!”

He was reaching for the ejection handle when his stabilizer tore free

with a jolt that felt like a second explosion, and Vasti was slammed

into the right side of the cockpit. Stunned, he tried to focus on the

view forward through his windscreen, a swirl of green rushing up to meet

him.

Spinning wildly, the Falcon slammed into the side of a mountain. The

explosion tore a fifty-foot gap in the jungle and sent a fireball

uncoiling into the morning sky.

Then the sky seemed to catch fire as more SAMs rose from hiding.

0743 hours, 21 January

Tomcat 201, Point Lima

“Victor Four Delta, this is Eagle Leader,” Tombstone radioed. “From

here it looks like Trapdoor is falling apart. Can you confirm the

situation, over?”

“Ah, roger, Eagle Leader,” the Hawkeye CIC officer replied. “Looks to

us like they’ve stepped in a snake’s nest.”

It took less than two seconds for Tombstone to arrive at a decision. The

revised plan called for all aircraft, That and American, to hold at

Point Lima until Victor Four Delta gave them the go-ahead. But Trapdoor

had gone in alone, chasing the bogies which had appeared over the

captured airfield.

Operation Bright Lightning’s whole reason for being was to support the

Thais. He couldn’t stand back and watch the less experienced That

pilots get cut to pieces by whatever it was that Hsiao had waiting for

them up there.

“Let’s hit it.” He keyed the tactical frequency. “Eagle Leader to

Eagles. Let’s give our That friends some help. Lead in.”

“Eagle Two,” Batman echoed. “We’re in.”

One by one the other Eagles called in.

“Eagle Three, in.” Army Garrison in Tomcat 204.

“Eagle Four, us too.” Price Taggart in 203.

“Five, yo!” Shooter Rostenkowski in 248.

“Eagle Six, count us in.” Nightmare Marinaro in 244.

Six pale gray arrowheads, wings swept back against their flanks,

streaked toward the north.

As they closed, Tombstone’s RIO described the trap’s closing as it

unfolded on his Tactical Information Display. “Looks like a heavy SAM

concentration in the Taeng Valley,” Dixie said. “Trapdoor is reporting

casualties … at least three planes down. And the bogies are turning.”

“How many bogies you got, Dixie?”

“Hard to tell, Tombstone.” Distance and friendly jamming would be

confusing the picture. “At least twenty … maybe more.”

“Okay.” He keyed his mike to squadron tactical. “Eagle Leader to

Eagles. We’ll go in low over the airstrip. If you catch any MiGs, on

the ground or taking off, nail them.” It would be easier to whittle

down the odds if they could hit the enemy planes before they were

airborne. Not as sporting, perhaps … but despite the popular concept

of winged warriors and man-to-man combat, there was little room for

chivalry in war. “Stick together for the fast pass,” he continued.

“Tight deuce.”

While the Navy’s loose-deuce tactics provided the greatest flexibility

in air combat maneuvers, Tombstone wanted the formation to stay close

together until they knew for sure what they were up against. There

would be so many planes in the air over U Feng that it would be easy for

the American Eagles to bee widely scattered, unable to support one

another.

“I’m counting twenty-two bogies now, Tombstone,” Dixie reported. “Looks

like they just splashed another Trapdoor.”

“Rog.” The odds were not good. Trapdoor had gone in with sixteen

aircraft. Four, so far, had been shot down. Eagle numbered six. The

Hornets of VFA-161 numbered eight more, but they were still a long way

off and dedicated to SAM suppression, though they would take on the

fighter role once again after they’d dropped their ordnance. The

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