Colonel Wu watched as five of the blips on his radar converged, moving
south toward U Feng. Those would be the Americans … and it was easy
to guess at their target. The radar returns from Dao’s Q-5 attack
Squadron were also clear, now passing some five miles south of U Feng as
they readied for their bombing run.
It was too late to help the bombers, but a tactical opportunity was
opening up for a decisive blow against the Yankee fighters.
“This is Dragon Leader,” he radioed. “All Dragons on me. I’m going
in!”
He lined up his J-7 on the American formation and cut in his
afterburner.
While they were concentrating on the bombers, he would strike from
behind.
0753 hours, 21 January
Tomcat 201, over U Feng
Tombstone saw U Feng flash beneath his Tomcat, but he was more
interested in the jungle-hopping aircraft five miles ahead.
“I’ve got them, Tombstone!” Dixie called. “Bearing one-eight-three.
They’re crossing in front of us, right to left.”
“Let’s get a lock on ’em,” Tombstone said. They had one Sparrow left.
He let the F-14’s AWG-9 radar pick out one of the planes in the tight
enemy formation, transferred the lock to the Sparrow, and pressed the
trigger. “Fox one!”
“Fox one, fox one!” Batman echoed.
“I’m in,” Garrison called. “With one for Price Tag. Fox one!”
0753 hours, 21 January
Nanchang Q-5 No. 70813, five miles south of U Feng
Group Commander Dao Zhu Qingtong saw the That staging area first, a
broad clearing several miles ahead. As he drew closer, he could see the
RTAF helos, dozens of them, arrayed in orderly ranks with their rotors
turning.
He flipped the arming switches for his payload and opened his bomb bay
doors. Each Q-5 carried four Chinese FAB-250 general-purpose bombs in
its internal bay, plus four more on wing and fuselage pylons. Eighty
bombs …
each weighing two hundred fifty kilograms … that helicopter assembly
area was about to become a slaughter pen.
There was a flash to Dao’s left. He snapped his head around in time to
see Aircraft 70816 crumple like paper in a blaze of white flame, as
fragments splashed across the sky. Two tons of high explosives
detonated in a shattering secondary blast that rocked Dao’s aircraft
wildly, forcing him to grip the stick with both hands.
They were under attack! The Q-5 had no passive warning receivers, and
the attack was literally coming in out of the blue. Another plane
exploded … and a third.
“Break off! Break off!” Dao shouted into his radio. Duty to the
People and to the Party was well and good … but death in support of a
minor military rebellion in this barbarous jungle country held no appeal
for the pilot. People and Party could be better served by intact
aircraft … and living pilots.
The seven surviving Q-5s swung toward the northeast, still flying at
treetop level as they raced for home at Mach 1.
Unfortunately, the Sparrow missiles already launched could not tell that
Dao had broken off the engagement. Two more planes died in fiery
eruptions.
Dao Zhu Qingtong never felt the blast which killed him.
0754 hours, 21 January
MiG 612
At better than Mach 1, Wu’s J-7 closed with the American planes from
behind. He’d already targeted the one he assumed was the leader.
The other MiGs of Dragon were scattered, but closing. If Wu could take
out the enemy leader, he might be able to break their formation.
0755 hours, 21 January
Tomcat 201, over U Feng
“Watch it, Stoney,” Dixie warned. “Bandit coming’ onto our six!”
“Right.” His last Sparrow gone and one Sidewinder in reserve, Tombstone
knew he would not be effective against the Q-5s ahead. But he could run
interference for the rest of the pack.
“Batman!” he called. “Stay on the bogies! I’ll block this clown.”
“Copy, Tombstone. Be careful.”
“Rog.” He pulled the Tomcat up, breaking clear of the F-14 formation.
The MiG closed.
“Still coming,” Dixie said. “He’s dropping onto our six, range two
miles.”
Tombstone glanced back over his shoulder. “I see him. Hang on and
we’ll take him for a ride.”
He put the F-14 into a left turn, waiting for the MiG to follow him into