2018 hours, 24 March IAF Fulcrum 401
Lieutenant Colonel Munir Ramadutta watched the two bogies that had just appeared on his radar screen, well beyond the tight knot of Jaguars his flight was escorting. American CAP aircraft, certainly, probably Tomcats.
He felt a shiver of anticipation. Only the day before, his Fulcrum squadron had been stationed at Jamnagar, escorting bombing strikes against Pakistan from the Kathiawar Peninsula. The transfer to Kurla had been completely unexpected. The orders to escort a strike against American ships off the coast had been more unexpected yet.
Long ago, Ramadutta had decided that it never paid to question the decisions of the politicians who set the country’s course. America could prove to be a formidable foe in war, but New Delhi must have decided that it was necessary to take them on, even while full-scale war was unfolding along the Radcliffe Line.
There were rumors of an Indian sub sunk by the Americans. He wondered if they were true.
“Mountain, this is Krait Cover Leader. Two contacts, probably enemy fighters.”
ARMAGEDDON MODE
79
“Roger, Krait Cover. Proceed with intercept. Engage and destroy.”
That was it, then. “Krait Cover, this is Leader,” he said. “Come to two-five-eight and deploy, wing-and-wing. We’re going in.”
Breaking away from the Jaguars, the four Fulcrums thundered into the night.
2019 hours, 24 March Tomcat 201
The aircraft, two Tomcats and four MiG-29 Fulcrums, closed with each other in the darkness. As Tombstone watched the blips drifting across his VDI, he felt again the eerie sense of unreality that came with engaging an enemy he could not see directly. The night outside die cockpit seemed deceptively clear and quiet.
“Okay, Batman,” Tombstone said. “Just like a football play. Bravo’s the offensive line, Alpha’s their quarterback. We punch past Bravo and go for the guy with the ball.”
“You think the fighters’Il let us go through?”
“I guess that’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?”
Was he reading the enemy formation right? Alpha had to be attack planes, probably Jaguars. Bravo would be MiGs, running interference for me ship hunters.
And somehow, he and Batman had to get to the Jaguars before they could launch their Exocets.
Still invisible to one another, save as glowing pinpoints of light, the two groups of fighters grew closer . . . merged . . .
“Stoney!” Dixie called over the ICS. “Alpha’s changing course too! New heading one-seven-niner . . . it’s the Biddtel They’re lining up for an attack on the Biddle\”
Clever. Tombstone could trace the tactics in his mind. Four attack aircraft, four fighters, all dead on course for the carrier. The carrier’s BARCAP puts itself between them and the carrier, and the fighters break off and crowd the Tomcats to keep them busy. Meanwhile, the attack flight changes course toward another target—less tempting but much closer—die Perry-class frigate U.S.S. Biddle.
“Dixie! What’s the range of Alpha to the BUtdleT’
80
Keith Dougtass
“Coming down to … three-five miles, Stoney.”
Almost within Exocet range. Too close! “That’s it, Dixie! We’re not going to screw around with these guys. Select Phoenix, target Alpha. Batman! You copy?”
“Copy, Tombstone. Weapons hot.”
“Maintain combat spread. Dixie, inform Homeplate that we are engaging Alpha.” He pressed the throttle controls forward to full military power, then clicked past the detents into Zone One afterburner.
2019 hours, 24 March IAF Fulcrum 401
Lieutenant Colonel Ramadutta heard the warbling tone in his headset which meant the Americans had just activated their powerful AWG-9 radar. That could mean only one thing, that the Tomcats were preparing to fire on the Jaguars, now fifty kilometers behind his flight and preparing to launch on the American frigate.
His orders were concise and explicit, to protect the Jaguars at any cost. Swiftly he armed one of his deadly Apex radar homers, listening for the warning buzz of target acquisition. There!
“Mountain, this is Krait Cover Leader. Engaging!”
His finger closed on the trigger and the missile leaped away from his aircraft, trailing white flame. An instant later, his wingman fired a second Apex.
Battle was joined. . . .
2019 hours, 24 March Tomcat 201
“Homeplate, Homeplate, we are under attack!” Tombstone fought the vibration in his Tomcat as he jinked high and left. “Repeat, BARCAP One under attack!”