said. “But I know better! That was sheer genius!”
“Coyote, this is Mustang!” a voice called over his headset. “Did you
see that Flagon score an own goal?”
“Rog,” Coyote replied.
“Looks like that last Flagon’s called it quits. He’s running.”
“What about those cruise missiles?” Cat asked.
“Nothing we can do about them now. That’ll be Shiloh’s headache.”
“Coyote, this is Mustang. Listen, Skipper, I’m down to fumes. Let’s
head for the farm. I think we’re gonna need to find a Texaco before we
start hunting for the Jeff.”
“I’m with you, pal. Let’s do it!” The two Tomcats vectored back toward
the fleet.
0730 hours
Off North Cape
The battle group’s cruisers, destroyers, and frigates had but a single
purpose in life: to protect the CBG’s carrier. To accomplish this, the
surrounding area was divided into three distinct defensive zones.
The outermost zone, between one hundred and three hundred miles from the
carrier, was patrolled by the air wing’s interceptors–F-14 Tomcats and
F/A-18 Hornets–which with their look-down, shoot-down radar capability
could take on any target from a Backfire bomber to a sea-skimming cruise
missile. The middle zone, from ten to one hundred miles out, was
covered by the frigates and destroyers, firing Standard missiles
designed to lock on to incoming cruise missiles and take them down. The
inner zone, out to ten miles from the carrier, was protected by surface
ships firing both Standard missiles and short-ranged AIM-7 Sea Sparrows.
Of course, with so many aircraft and missiles in the sky all at once,
confusion–even deadly mistakes–was always possible. Key to handling
so many ships scattered across so much empty water was the Aegis cruiser
and its remarkable SPY-1 radar.
0732 hours
Combat Information Center
U.S.S. Shiloh
Admiral Tarrant sat in the Aegis cruiser’s Combat Information Center,
surrounded by the subdued green glow of a dozen large radar screens and
electronic displays. From his post at one of four huge multi-colored
consoles, the unfolding course of the battle could be followed on those
screens, which separated sea from land and pinpointed both the
IFF-tagged blips of friendly ships and aircraft and the far larger
number of approaching hostiles. The SPY-1 radar had a reach of 250
miles, nearly to the limit of the carrier group’s defensive patrol
range, but it could also take data fed through an electronic data link
from E-2Cs or other far-ranging eyes of the fleet, extending its
personal space even farther, tracking everything on and over the sea.
The system was called Aegis after the magical shield of Zeus in Greek
mythology.
At the reductions necessary to compress so much data onto a single
screen, however, detail was lost … with potentially deadly results.
Usually, the Battle Group Commander’s screens were set to show ranges of
either thirty-two or sixty-four miles from the cruiser. For the moment,
Tarrant had set his primary display for 128 miles, a necessary
compromise between accuracy and what Tarrant liked to call “the big
picture.” The Battle of North Cape was sprawling across thousands of
square miles now. Several enemy bombers had penetrated to within eighty
miles before releasing their deadly cargoes. Most, fortunately, had
launched much farther out. The farther away from the carrier group a
missile could be killed, the better.
As Tarrant and his battle staff watched the incoming missiles, they
spoke in low, measured tones to communications and weapons officers over
their radio headsets, identifying missiles and assigning them to
specific ships. With so many shooters and targets, there was a real
danger that in the confusion of battle, ships might gang up on some
targets with more firepower than was necessary to destroy them … but
allow other targets to pass through the CBG’s perimeter unchallenged.
Battle management, it was called, but Tarrant was terribly afraid that
no one human could keep track of all of the variables, all of the moving
graphic symbols on those screens, and do more than nudge the
unmanageable conflict along in one stumbling direction or another.
“Tally Six, Hotspur King,” Tarrant said. “Designating Alpha Sierra
Five-three at one-one-eight. He’s yours.”
“Hotspur King, Tally Six, roger that. Alpha Sierra Five-three at
one-one-eight. Range six-three miles. Confirm lock-on. Firing number
one.”