“Just like the other night,” he commented. “Those blips tell you
anything worth knowing?”
“I read it as one big, two small,” John-Boy told him. “Like a B-52 with
a couple of Eagles for escort.”
“Or a Bear and two large MiGs,” Coyote mused. “They’re flying with an
escort. How sure are you?”
“I’m sure, sir,” Nichols said stiffly.
“Don’t get huffy with me now, kid,” Grant said. “I just want to be
damned sure I’m feeding CAG the straight dope. If those are fighters on
escort, the chances that the Russkies are just out for the scenery just went
down. Okay?”
“Yeah. I get you, Coyote. And I’m sure on the sizes.”
Coyote reached for the radio switch again. He hoped Nichols really did
know his stuff.
0907 hours Zulu (0807 hours Zone)
Escort Lead, Flight Misha
South of the Faeroe Islands
Captain Second Rank Sergei Sergeivich Terekhov cursed as the radar-threat
warning announced the American radar lock. He had been told in the
pre-mission briefing that the Americans were likely to try this tactic again,
but it still didn’t make it any easier to accept. Terekhov preferred strike
missions against the Norwegians to the uncertainties of escorting
reconnaissance patrols near the American carrier battle group. At least with
the Norwegians the situation was clear. Any target that presented itself was
fair game.
But out here it was different. The admiral had issued stern rules of
engagement aimed at limiting the chances of escalation. It meant that patrols
and their escorts had to accept the greater risks that went with giving up the
advantages of shooting first. Even maneuvering to break the radar lock could
be interpreted as hostile action. And that could be disastrous.
Terekhov forced himself to ignore the icy grip on his bowels. This was
just another routine encounter, nothing more. He had engaged in this same
kind of game when Soyuz first sailed from the Black Sea en route to her new
duty station with Red Banner Northern Fleet. Then it had been patrolling
aircraft from the carrier Eisenhower. This was just more of the same.
If all went as their orders had instructed the flight would not be
engaging this morning … not unless the Americans decided to play at being
cowboys and started something first. Flight Misha was supposed to test the
American air defenses, and their resolve, but without provoking an incident.
His orders from the commander of Soyuz’s air wing had been detailed and
specific: push hard, don’t back down, but under no circumstances arm or fire
weapons unless the Americans did so first.
“Cossack, this is Misha Escort Leader,” he said, keying in his radio.
Cossack was the call sign for the carrier. A controller there was monitoring
every move Flight Misha made. “I have radar-threat warning. Request
instructions. Over.”
“Misha Leader, Cossack,” the radio voice replied. “Fly minimum altitude
approach. Keep formation tight and remain on course as instructed. Update as
required.”
“Paloochyena,” he responded. “Message received.” Terekhov pushed his
stick forward as he switched frequencies. “Misha Flight, drop to minimum
altitude and follow me.”
Low clouds enveloped the MiG as he descended. He could not help but be
conscious of the intense scrutiny that would be focused on this mission. It
was rumored the admiral himself had issued the orders to keep the Americans
under observation.
Sergei Sergeivich Terekhov was determined to carry out Admiral Khenkin’s
orders to the letter … or die trying.
0910 hours Zulu (0810 hours Zone)
Tomcat 208 Redwing Flight
Lieutenant Gary Koslosky could feel the excitement building inside him.
This was what he’d joined the Navy for, what he’d become an aviator for …
the thrill of feeling his Tomcat slicing through the clouds on its way to an
encounter with the enemy. It wasn’t anything like duty with the RAG back in
the States. Nothing was likely to happen on one of those flights. But out
here, he could make a difference.
He’d often wondered if he would be afraid the first time he had to fly
blue-water ops with the chance of running into a live enemy. But there wasn’t
any fear, only a sense of purpose, the hope that he’d really get a chance to