CARRIER 2: VIPER STRIKE By Keith Douglass

spectacularly blazing fireball.

Garrison and Marinaro both reported kills as well. The MiGs were

frantic now, and Tombstone thought he detected a new pattern to their

movements.

Though spread now across twenty miles of sky, all the way from U Feng to

the green line, they appeared to be trying to close with the American

planes, forcing them into close combat.

“This is Eagle Two, Eagle Two!” Batman called. “I’ve got two on my

tail.

Correction … four on my tail! Four on me! Jeez, where’re they

coming from?”

Under that kind of pressure, the Americans’ luck wouldn’t hold for long.

There were at least eight That aircraft still in the area, but they were

not understanding–or responding–to Victor Four Delta’s calls, and the

battle was quickly collapsing into a slugfest, eighteen MiG-21s ganging

up on six Tomcats.

Tombstone saw Batman ahead, a black speck pursued by four smaller

specks, weaving and twisting back and forth, working to shake his

pursuers.

Tombstone checked his position, then swung left, positioning himself so

that the morning sun was squarely behind his Tomcat. “Eagle Two, Eagle

One,” he called. “Coming in on your four, right out of the sun. Give

’em a high speed yo-yo!”

“Copy, Tombstone,” Batman replied. “Give the word.”

“Ready …” Tombstone studied the rapidly swelling MiGs. They showed

no sign that they were aware of the Tomcat stooping on them out of the

sun’s glare. “Do it!”

Batman’s plane started to turn left, then pulled up sharply just as

three of the four J-7s on his tail were committed to the turn. They

shot past him as he went high, inverted, then dropped again, pulling in

behind the former hunters.

The fourth MiG had been lagging behind and countered Batman’s maneuver,

sticking to the American’s tail.

But Tombstone had assumed that the tail-end charlie would be the one to

cause trouble … and had already locked on with a Sparrow radar homer.

“Fox one! Fox one!” The heavy missile slid out from under the

Tomcat’s wing.

Tombstone was already concentrating on his next target, a J-7 which was

now turning sharply across his line of fire, still in a tight break

after passing Batman.

“Target lock!” Batman yelled. “Fox two!”

Tombstone locked onto his target and triggered a slim, heat-seeking

package of death. The Sidewinder arrowed away.

The Sparrow caught its target behind the cockpit. Eighty-eight pounds

of high explosive shredded the MiG’s starboard wing. Fuel in the wing

tanks ignited.

Seconds later, Batman’s AIM-9 made its kill, followed by the flash and

billowing debris cloud of Tombstone’s Sidewinder. The surviving MiG was

already fleeing, throttled up to full afterburner and lunging for the

far side of the green line.

Tombstone dropped onto Batman’s wing. “Good to have you back,” he

radioed.

“Good to be back. Watch it! Three more, nine o’clock!”

“Let’s take ’em. Break left.”

“Eagle Two in!”

The Tomcats stood on their port wings, turning toward the new targets.

The MiGs, aware that they were being stalked, abruptly broke off and

fled north.

“This is Eagle Four!” Taggart called suddenly. “I’m in trouble!”

“Eagle Four! Where are you?”

“On the deck! Two bandits on my six. I’ve taken a hit!”

Tombstone looked down, saw Taggart’s 203 aircraft streaming smoke low

above the treetops. VF-95’s luck had just run dry. The MiGs on his

tail were too close to use missiles. Tombstone could see the puffs of

smoke from their cannons dotting a pair of long, straight lines behind

them.

“Let’s go, Batman!”

“With you, Boss.”

Tombstone brought his Tomcat over, plunging toward the ground. He let

the lead MiG slide into his targeting pipper as he switched his selector

switch to radar homing. Target lock! He heard the familiar growl in

his headset and fired. A Sparrow homer shooshed toward the enemy plane.

“Fox one! Fox one! I’m on him, Price! Hold on!”

“Hear you … Stoney …” Taggart’s voice was straining against the

G-forces as he pulled up. The J-7s followed.

Tombstone’s Sparrow started to follow … then swerved erratically and

slammed into a jungle-covered ridge.

“God damn it …!” Either the Sparrow had accidentally locked onto the

ground … or the MiG had decoyed it with chaff. He opened the F-14’s

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