radio. “They must’ve been down on the deck to stay off our radars. Hiding in
close to the bombers too.”
“I make it twenty … no, twenty-two aircraft, sir,” Russell reported
from the backseat position. “They’re going supersonic.”
“Too small to be more bombers,” another voice chimed in. Stramaglia
thought it was Wayne’s RIO, Lieutenant Commander Blake. “Looks like we got us
one awesome batch of fighters to play with, compadres.”
“Cut the chatter,” Stramaglia snapped. He was having trouble
concentrating with all the talk. “Paddles, what’s the status on the
Phoenixes?”
“Still on target, CAG,” Russell answered. “First wave is twenty-five
miles from Red Raid One.”
Frowning, Stramaglia knew a moment’s indecision, something he’d never
felt in years of Top Gun dogfights. With all of the squadron’s Phoenixes
already expended on the Backfires, the American planes would be short of
ammunition to meet the new threat. Eight planes with two Sidewinders apiece
couldn’t take out all the enemy aircraft, even assuming every missile found
its intended target. And dueling with guns, up close and personal, was always
chancy … especially against an enemy with plenty of missiles to throw away.
The prudent course would be to call off the pursuit of the Backfires and
retire to the vicinity of the battle group, where they could link up with the
Hornet squadrons and Jefferson’s Combat Air Patrol planes before risking an
engagement.
But there was still a chance those Backfires could turn back and strike
the carrier with the missiles they hadn’t fired already. And Soviet Fulcrums,
like the American F/A-18 Hornets, were designed as dual-role fighter/attack
planes. They couldn’t mount any of the larger Soviet antiship missiles, but
they could carry bombs and rockets. Letting them get in close to the battle
group was an open invitation to disaster.
Which should he choose? Stramaglia closed his eyes, trying to focus,
trying to decide. He had never realized before now just how different life on
the front lines was from the simulations at Top Gun. Technically, the
experience a pilot racked up at Miramar was superb, and the aviators who came
out of the course, the best of the best, really were equipped to squeeze every
last ounce of performance out of their machines. But all the technical skill
in the world couldn’t prepare a man to make decisions like the one that faced
Stramaglia now.
0933 hours Zulu (0933 hours Zone)
Tomcat 201
Northwest of the Faeroe Islands
“CAG? CAG, do you copy?” Coyote fought down a queasy feeling in his
stomach when Stramaglia didn’t respond to the radio call. “Stinger, this is
Coyote. How do you want to take these little red buggers?”
There was a long pause before Stramaglia replied. “Two-oh-one …
engage. Engage at will. Hold ’em ’til the Hornets get here.” CAG’s voice
sounded ragged, like he was nervous … or confused.
Coyote bit his lip. He had been afraid CAG might not be up to this. Now
it looked as if his fears had been well-grounded. There was no room for
indecision in the fast-paced action of air-to-air combat.
“Roger that, Stinger,” he responded, trying to maintain an outward air of
calm. “All right, Vipers, time to earn our pay. Batman, Trapper, you guys go
left. Big D, Loon, go right. Tyrone, you stick with me. We’ll go in right
up the middle.” He hesitated. “CAG, may I suggest you back us up here unless
you have another idea?”
“No, I’m with you and Tyrone.” Stramaglia’s voice sounded a little
stronger, a little surer. Maybe he was snapping out of it.
Coyote knew the odds were against them but he’d seen Viper Squadron
tackle tough odds before and come out on top. With a little bit of luck they
could dish out more punishment than the Soviets were willing to take.
“All right, John-boy, give me the straight dope,” he said over the ICS.
“What’ve you got?”
As the RIO started to talk, Coyote thumbed his selector switch to ready a
Sidewinder.
The outnumbered American fighters streaked toward the Soviets, ready for
battle.
CHAPTER 16
Thursday, 12 June, 1997
0932 hours Zulu (0932 hours Zone)
Soviet Attack Submarine Komsomolets Thilsiskiy
Northeast of the Faeroe Islands