second SAM launch.
As they closed the range, the Phalanx CIWS system took over. A 20-mm
Vulcan Gatling gun mounted near the stern of the frigate, CIWS–standing for
Close-In Weapon System and pronounced Sea-Whiz in the technical jargon of the
Navy–would fire fifty depleted-uranium shells every second, tracking and
locking on to its targets automatically using Pulse-Doppler radar. But the
angle of the incoming missiles wasn’t ideal for the Phalanx to intercept the
three remaining targets. Two of them, both targeted on the Jefferson, passed
overhead and into the firing arc, and the Phalanx hummed like an angry
buzzsaw.
The last missile, though, struck Gridley just above the waterline only a
few feet forward of the Mark 13 launcher, the explosion ripping through the
hull and setting off secondary blasts in the SAMs remaining in their launch
tubes.
Within seconds, U.S.S. Gridley was ablaze from midships to bow.
0953 hours Zulu (0953 hours Zone)
Tomcat 201
Northwest of the Faeroe Islands
“The Russkies are running! Hot damn, Coyote, they’re actually running
away! We beat the bastards!”
Coyote Grant couldn’t believe Batman’s excited shout any more than he
could believe the symbols crawling across his radar screen. Yet both told the
same story. The Russian MiGs were withdrawing.
The fresh blips on the radar, the Hornets from the first wave of
reinforcements, were the real reason for the enemy retreat, of course, but
Coyote could understand how Batman felt. Despite the odds, Viper Squadron had
stood up to a savage attack and escaped with their lives … some of them, at
least. Eight men wouldn’t be going home, including Stramaglia.
“Lancelot, Lancelot, this is Galahad. Stand down, boys, and let some
real birds take over from those turkeys of yours.” The voice belonged to
Commander Bobby Lee “Tex” Benton, CO of VFA-161, the Javelins. Benton, his
broad Texas accent even more pronounced than usual, sounded eager for a fight.
Letting out a long, shuddering sigh, Coyote cut back on his throttle and
turned southeast. “Galahad, Lancelot. Good to see you, Tex, even if you guys
are flying Tinkertoys.” Even after everything they’d been through, he
couldn’t resist the chance to needle his counterpart. There was a
long-standing rivalry between the Tomcat and Hornet squadrons aboard
Jefferson, focused on the relative merits of the heavy but sturdy F-14 versus
the versatile, light weight F/A-18.
“Ninety-nine aircraft, ninety-nine aircraft.” The voice of Lieutenant
Commander Owens interrupted him with the general signal directed at all
aircraft. “RTB. That’s Return to Base. All aircraft return to base.”
“Ah, shit,” Benton said. “Guess we don’t get to party with the Russkies
after all!”
“Suits me fine,” Coyote responded. “Vipers, you heard the man. Let’s go
home.”
“You think you can make it, Coyote?” Batman asked.
“I’ll sure as hell try!” he said. Coyote didn’t relish bailing out this
far from the carrier and waiting for a SAR chopper.
“I’ll stick with you, man,” Wayne said. “Just to keep an eye on you.”
He started to thank him, then had another thought. “Thanks anyway,
Batman, but that’s not your job. My wingman’s supposed to be looking out for
me.” Powers had screwed up at the beginning of the fight, but it must have
taken guts to get back into the battle the way he did. “Tyrone, you copy?”
When Powers answered, his voice was choked with emotions. “Copy,
Two-oh-one. I’m with YOU.”
The joystick was mushy, the Tomcat sluggish, but Coyote barely noticed.
He was still getting used to the idea that he had lived after all.
CHAPTER 19
Thursday, 12 June, 1997
0953 hours Zulu (0953 hours Zone)
Soviet Guided Missile Submarine Krasniy Ritsary
Northeast of the Faeroe Islands
The hull echoed with the deep, bell-like tolling of sonar pings, so loud
that the source had to be close by. Naumkin looked up from the plotting board
as the sonar operator reported, unnecessarily, what the captain already knew.
“Comrade Captain! Active sonar, bearing one-one-two!”
Naumkin swung around. “Identify!”
“Sonobuoy. American SSQ-53 DIFAR type!” The sonar operator’s voice was
tense. The man knew what that meant as well as Naumkin did. The DIFAR
(Directional Finding and Ranging) sonobuoy was employed by ASW hunters to get
an exact fix on a target prior to making an attack.