mounted beneath the root of each wing. Effortlessly, the pair stayed inside
Crandall’s turn as he pulled his Tomcat into a hard left turn. They were so
close he could see the racks for six air-to-air missiles beneath the wings,
the mottled gray and green camouflage pattern, and the red stars outlined in
white painted on the stabilizers.
With a shock of recognition, Crandall realized that the Fulcrums were too
close for a missile shot. They were going for a kill with their guns.
Each Fulcrum carried a single 30-mm high-speed cannon, laser-aimed and
incredibly accurate. Crandall remembered a briefing he’d had on the Fulcrum’s
laser targeting system. In the early days of testing, an electrical fault had
kept shutting off the gun after only five or six rounds … and yet the
Fulcrum had continued to score kill after kill, hitting every target dead-on.
One of the plane’s designers had insisted that, had they known how deadly the
MiG-29’s targeting would be in practice, they would have halved the ammunition
load in order to incorporate larger fuel tanks in the design.
With that kind of accuracy, the Russian pilots would not be worried about
leading their target, not when they were assured a hit with their first
rounds. The only way to stay out of their line of fire was to fool them
before he was tagged, to pull a maneuver so sudden and unexpected that they
would be forced to break off.
And that would give him his chance to wax their tails.
“Keep them in sight, Jug!” he called. “Let’s see how they are at
barnstorming!”
Crandall yanked the F-14’s stick back to the left, breaking into a sharp
split-S that would leave the Fulcrums on the outside of his turn and heading
the wrong way. Somehow, as he’d almost expected, the Russians stayed with his
maneuver, switching into a port turn that rapidly drew them toward his tail
once more.
Before they were fully in position, though, he cut his throttles to sixty
percent, letting the Tomcat roll to the left until it was upside down … and
falling. Again, the mountains and the harsh glint of an icefield rolled past
the Tomcat’s canopy, twisting around until they filled the view ahead through
Crandall’s HUD. Wings sliding back, the Tomcat punched through the sound
barrier, hurtling toward the ground.
“That got ’em!” Juggler yelled over the ICS. “They flew right past like
they didn’t even see us.”
Crandall grinned behind his mask. By the time the Fulcrum duo had
figured out what had happened, he would be on the deck and lining up his shot.
To the west, another air-to-air missile crawled through the sky. “Fox
two!” sounded over the radio as Coyote loosed a Sidewinder at the third plane
of the trio dogging Scorpion and Juggler. “Scorpion! Coyote is in!”
“Roger, Coyote!” He started pulling back on the stick, feeling the
G-forces mounting on face and chest and stomach. He had to force each word
past clenched teeth. “Good … to … have … you … aboard …”
He glanced at his compass bearing, projected on his HUD. Zero-three-five
… roughly northeast. A valley sprawled across the landscape dead ahead, the
gleaming twist of a river shining from its floor. The two MiGs were breaking
toward the east, three miles ahead and a mile above. Drawing his pullout into
a shallow climb, he brought the Tomcat’s nose up until he could tag one of the
Fulcrums with a heat-seeking Sidewinder.
Target lock, fire …
1427 hours Zulu (1527 hours Zone)
The Romsdal Valley, Norway
“Do you have a target?”
“ja, Loytnant,” the staff sergeant replied. “Target lock! In range!
But we’re picking up none of our fighters’ IFF …”
Skynd Dem’s turret swiveled left, the heavy tubes on either side of the
massive, centrally mounted radar dish swinging up to meet the target. By
chance, the battle had carried several of the jets directly toward Snorisson’s
position. He could see the nearest plane now, a sleek, twin-tailed speck
growing rapidly larger. Fear thrilled in Snorisson’s veins. The plane was
plunging for an attack.
In combat, aircraft generally broadcast a transponder signal. Called IFF
for Identification Friend or Foe, it was the only way enemy could be separated