“I think I have the man, Mr. President.” The President turned to Magruder. “And I think now we’re Ding to need your people more than ever now.”
CHAPTER 28
1225 hours, 26 March Intruder 500, west of Naya Chor
Lieutenant Commander Greene held the stick steady as warm air currents above the desert set the A-6 Intruder to bumping and shuddering. They were traveling at 400 knots, less than 500 feet above the hot gravel of the Thar Desert.
“Gold Strike Five-double-oh,” he called. “Coming up on Point Charlie. The clock is running.”
“Copy, Gold Strike, Five-double-oh,” the airborne controller on board the Hawkeye circling a hundred miles to the south
-replied. “Roger your Point Charlie. Good hunting, Jolly!” “Roger, Victor Tango. Thanks. Five-double-nuts out.” Point Charlie was the village of Naya Chor itself, a collec-of whitewashed walls and low buildings sprawled along :(he straight slash through the desert, marking the railroad and highway that crossed the Thar Desert from Jodhpur in India to Hyderabad on the banks of the Indus. Jolly banked the Intruder Heft, following the road that, in most places, was nothing more sophisticated than packed gravel.
– Smoke curled into the sky from the wreckage of a vehicle
close beside the railroad tracks. To Jolly’s experienced eye, it
iooked like a ZSU with most of the broad, open turret peeled
: back like a steel-petaled flower. Nearby was the broken ruin of
:$n SA-3 Goa launcher, the six-wheeled utility truck upended in
fttie gravel and overturned by a near miss from an air-to-ground
packet. It was evident that Lucky Strike had passed through the
£. area minutes before, smashing anything that looked like a SAM
> battery or antiaircraft vehicle.
303
304
Keith Dougiass
Desert sped past on either side as the Intruder raced west.
“Gold Strike Five-zero-zero, this is Five-one-one.” That was Coot Barswell, another member of VA-89.
“Copy, Coot. Go ahead.”
“We’re on your six, Jolly, range five miles. Save some of the good stuff for us, will ya?”
“Eat our dust, Coot!” He laughed. “No guarantees!” He switched to ICS, necessary for clarity even though his BN was sitting right beside him. “How we doin’, Chucker?”
“Range to primary, twelve miles,” Chucker replied. “I’m getting some ground radar now.”
“The primary” had been spotted by recon satellite at dawn, an enormous ground convoy moving west along the highway toward Naya Chor. It had passed the village earlier that morning, and by now was well on the way to Hyderabad, where Indian and Pakistani forces were gearing up for a major battle. Much of the convoy had been hidden by clouds of dust, but the satellite’s infrared scanners had suggested that (he convoy included as many as thirty or forty large trucks: huge Maz-537 flatbed trailers with tanks and heavy equipment, smaller trucks with ammunition and troops, and the all-important tankers carrying fuel or water.
The threat light blinked on, and Jolly heard the warning tone of an enemy lock-on.
“SAM!” Chucker warned. “I see it! Two o’clock low!”
Jolly glanced right and saw it, a white streak rising from the desert. The Hornets could not possibly have suppressed all of the SAM sites and launchers.
He pressed the chaff button five times in rapid succession and eased the stick forward, letting the Intruder settle closer to the ground, but he kept the strike aircraft steadily on course. As the chaff clouds expanded above and behind the plane, the threat warning stopped its incessant chirping.
“I think we lost “em.” Jolly’s mouth was dry, his heart hammering against his seat harness. He kept one eye on the missile as it rose past the starboard wing, traveling at Mach 3 a mile away.
His BN was leaning forward now, his face buried in the hood that shrouded his radar scope. “I’ve got a lock. Solid return . . . some serious heavy metal up there. Looks like the convoy. Come left a bit … more . . . there! Hold it!”
ARMAGEDDON MODE
305
, Chucker flipped a switch and Jolly’s VDI screen shifted to ^Attack Mode. Graphic symbols drifted across the display, ^outlining possible targets illuminated by the Intruder’s radar, Piafeowing position, drift angle, and steering corrections. Num-Ijjbers flickered off the last few thousands of meters to the release