have been impossible with the old AIM-7.
“I’ve got a target,” CAT told him. “Bearing one-eight-five at three-one
nautical miles.”
Coyote pulled back on his stick, easing out of the turn. “Got him!” he
said. “Set the next one for AMRAA.M.”
0719 hours
Off North Cape
At first, as the long-range Phoenix missiles streaked in from the U.S.
fighter screen, the Russian fighters escorting the bombers couldn’t even
hit back. The best air-to-air missile they possessed was the
semi-active radar-homing AA-9 “Amos,” carried as a stand-off interceptor
by the MiG-31 and having a range of about eighty miles. Production of
the AA-9 had been plagued by problems even worse than those endured by
the AMRAAM, however, and they were not as reliable as the AIM-54 Phoenix
they’d been designed to emulate–especially in a hostile ECM
environment.
Nor were there as many of them. Most of the air-to-air missiles
protecting the Russian bomber force were big AA-6 “Acrids,” carried by
MiG-25 Foxbats and having a lock-on range of about sixty-two miles, and
the modern AA-10 “Alamo,” with a thirty-mile range.
As the two air armadas closed with one another, more and more of the
Russian weapons began coming into play. But if the Russians were
beginning to concentrate their forces, so too were the Americans. While
the basic unit of naval warfare was the carrier battle group, a common
strategy involved combining two or more CBGs into a carrier battle
force, or CBF. During the Gulf War of 1991, four separate carrier
groups had united in the Persian Gulf, forming a single battle force of
unprecedented firepower.
Now, off the northernmost tip of Norway, two carrier battle groups were
in the process of joining forces. Though the surface elements of CBG-7
and CBG-14 had not yet merged, the moment orbiting Hawkeyes had spotted
the approaching Russian air armada, the Eisenhower had thrown her
defensive cordon of Tomcats and Hornets into the sky along Jefferson’s
threat axis, combining and bolstering the defenses for both carrier
groups. Tomcats from the Eisenhower loosed their AIM-54Cs at targets
still deep in the Kola Peninsula; Hornets vectored in to provide air
protection for Jefferson Tomcats that had already expended their
missiles.
Despite the reinforcements, however, the battle was still so scattered
that it was in reality a large number of separate, isolated clashes
between tiny groups or even individuals, all fighting for their lives.
0719 hours
Tomcat 201
Over the Barents Sea
“Tone! Fox one!”
Their second AMRAAM slid from its launch rail, tracking a Russian bomber
that had already passed Tomcat 201’s position and was now almost thirty
miles ahead, between Coyote and the fleet.
There were more aircraft in the sky now. All of Jefferson’s Tomcats
were in the air, and more and more of the Hornets from her two F/A-18
squadrons were arriving in the battle zone.
In addition, new Tomcats were vectoring in from the northwest, F-14s
launched earlier from the U.S.S. Eisenhower.
Coyote was glad to see the extra talent arrive, but there was scant time
for celebration. Seconds after his second AMRAAM struck home, Cat cut
in over the ICS.
“Coyote,” she said, sounding worried. “I’ve got a threat tone here.”
He glanced down at his own console and saw the glowing light on his
threat-warning receiver. A radar-guided missile had just locked onto
his aircraft, was tracking them now from astern. “I see it. Do you
have it on your TID?”
“Wait one …” She was checking her Tactical Information Display, the
round screen centered on her NFO’s console. “Yeah! Got it. Bearing
zero-nine-five, range four-two and closing … shit, Mach three point
five.
Coyote, I think we’ve just picked up an Amos.”
“Stay on it. We’ll let it get closer.”
“It’s close enough for me right now.”
“Yeah, but if we break, it’ll break with us. Stay frosty.”
“I’m so frosty I’m freezing to death.”
“Mustang! You there?”
“Right here, Coyote. Loose as a goose on your four.” Navy aviators
tended to fly in widely spaced, flexible tactical formations, referred
to as “loose goose,” rather than the tight wing-and-wing approach used
by most of their opponents.
“Rog. Let’s go ballistic before that thing kicks us in the ass.” At