lesson if we’d had some more avgas.”
“Never mind, son,” Gates said. “They’ll be back. I guarantee!”
The Russians would be back … if there was anything left of the
American air base after this attack.
CHAPTER 14
Thursday, 12 June, 1997
0917 hours Zulu (0917 hours Zone)
Viking 704
Northeast of the Faeroe Islands
“Sonobuoy away. Come right to three-five-zero.”
Magruder banked the Viking in response to Lieutenant Commander Meade’s
order, trying to get the feel of the aircraft’s controls. The S-3B’s handling
was entirely unlike a Tomcat’s. Both were responsive and graceful in flight,
but where the F-14 was a sleek racehorse the Viking was more of a predatory
bird, swooping low over the water on outstretched wings. Today Tombstone was
having less trouble with the technical end of flying the plane–he knew the
layout of the controls now, and was less awkward in making the aircraft do
what he wanted–but he was still finding it hard to adjust to the difference
in style and pace. In a Tomcat slow loitering and circling were anathema.
Aboard the Viking everything went at a slower pace.
“Contact! Contact!” Curtis chanted. “Jezebel five is hot.”
“I’ll take her, Commander,” Harrison announced from the pilot’s seat. He
put his hands on the yoke. “I have control, sir,” he added formally, but with
a sidelong grin at Magruder.
His reply was just as formal. “I relinquish control, sir,” he said,
feeling relieved. For a moment he’d been afraid the ASW men would require him
to handle the Viking all the way through. Right now he preferred the job of
observer.
“Punching in new coordinates now,” Meade said. “Jezebel five is at
bearing one-two-four, range twenty-five.”
“One-two-four, range twenty-five,” Harrison echoed. He looked at
Magruder. “Always best to know the target even if the computer is supposed to
steer you,” he said.
Tombstone nodded. “So is this an attack run?”
Over the ICS, Meade laughed. “Hell, no. Jezebel five is one of the
omni-directional sonobuoys we’ve been laying. An SSQ-41. They use passive
sonar sensors to pick up underwater noise.” He chuckled again. “Nope, the
fun is just getting started, Commander. We know about where the bad guys
might be, but now we’ve gotta find the bastards.”
“And of course while we’re closing in they’re still moving,” Harrison
added. “That means the area we have to cover as we hunt gets larger as time
passes. We’ve got a nice long time to go before we start shooting at
anything.”
Magruder settled back into his seat, trying not to betray his
disappointment. It looked like it would be a long, boring morning.
0918 hours Zulu (0818 hours Zone)
Air Operations Center
Keflavik, Iceland
“Vampires! Vampires! Missiles inbound!”
Major Peter Kelso could feel the tension thick within the command center.
“What’s the status on the runways?”
“Four Eagles to go, sir,” someone said. “Then the Orions.”
“Damn,” he muttered to himself. “Not fast enough. Damn!” Each passing
second brought a wave of missiles closer and closer to the air base. Outside,
klaxons continued to blare warning, but everyone he could see on the field
below was staying at his post, trying to get those last few airplanes off the
ground.
“Christ Almighty, will you look at that!” someone yelled. “Captain
Blackwell just nailed two of the vampires with Sparrows!” That raised a cheer
in the room, though everyone, from Kelso down to the greenest enlisted man,
knew that taking out only two missiles from that swarm was about as effective
as trying to bail out a sinking battleship with a spoon. “He’s closing in …
what the hell?” The controller paused. “Blackwell got another one … I
think he rammed it.”
The room grew quiet for a moment before someone else broke the stillness.
“They’re tipping over.”
Far above Keflavik the missiles were reaching their maximum altitude and
starting their descent toward their targets. “Kill the radars,” Kelso
ordered. “Now!”
It was a long shot, but it might confuse the missiles enough to keep a
few of Keflavik’s radar installations intact. If they were radar-homers …
The first missile hit at that moment, striking near the far end of runway
two with a flash of light and an upwelling cloud of smoke and debris. The