“So, let’s look at the mission profile,” Tombstone continued. “You can
expect heavy triple-A and SAM fire. The Hornets will be tasked with
opening a corridor through for the Intruders, but we all know that
they’re going to miss a hell of a lot. The Russians will keep lots of
their stuff in reserve, switched off so they can surprise us later. With
luck, though, their local fighter defenses will have been whittled down
a bit by the actions of the past couple of days. Our satellite
reconnaissance of their bases shows they’re pretty weak in aircraft. But
don’t let yourselves get complacent. There’re sure to be several
regiments of Soviet Frontal Aviation still on tap, hidden somewhere in
camouflaged casements, and you can expect them to throw everything they
have against us.
“We’ve got the first watch. By tomorrow morning, the Marines will be
going ashore. They’ll be covered by the Tomcat squadrons off the
Nimitz, and by their own Harriers. You should be able to stand down
then, or at least take a little breather.” He hesitated, then gave a
haggard grin. “At least, we can hope so.”
Chris had never seen the CAG looking this beat. Judging from the
condition of his khaki uniform, he must have been up all night … and
probably most of the previous few nights as well. Did the man have a
breaking point?
Tombstone continued with the briefing, laying out the specifics of
VF-95’s part in the mission. The first elements of the raid would start
launching within the hour, and VAQ-143’s Prowlers, armed with HARM and
Tacit Rainbow antiradar missiles, would make their turn toward the
Russian coast at 1715 hours, launching at stand-off distance to begin
clearing the way for the squadrons to follow. Mixed flights of Tomcats,
Hornets, and Intruders would fly through the radar-blind corridor,
accompanied by Prowlers providing ECM cover and flying “close enough to
the ground to sandblast your bellies,” as Tombstone put it. Each flight
would be vectored in by Hawkeyes orbiting offshore, which would also
warn them of enemy aircraft in the vicinity.
Combat. Lobo shook her head. She was going to be flying into combat.
Oh, she’d had her fill of combat flying CAP over the carrier group
during the past few days. They’d all had. Somehow, though, the thought
of taking the fight to the enemy, attacking him over his own territory,
was intensely exciting, exciting enough to banish her fatigue in a warm
flush of adrenaline.
Both of her kills so far had been at a range of ninety miles; hell, she
hadn’t even pushed the button. Vader McVey had done that, trackin the
targets and launching the big Phoenix missiles when he had a lock. That
engagement with the Fulcrum had been scary, but anticlimactic; the MiG
had just tagged her with his radar when Slider and Blue Grass dropped in
on the bad guy’s six.
There’d been a confused few moments of high-G maneuvers … and then
the MiG was dead and she and McVey were in the clear. And the cruise
missiles they’d downed could hardly shoot back.
Chris loved the idea of danger, though she’d kept her feelings carefully
hidden throughout her Navy career. Hot-dogs and thrill-seekers never
made it far as aviators. But–she could admit it now–it was the danger
that had led her to try bungee jumping and rock climbing back when she
was a teenager, then flying, and skydiving after that. She’d joined the
Navy when she heard the Navy was accepting female aviators. To learn
how to fly jets …
Now she was flying jets, F-14 Tomcats, and she loved it. But the
thought of hitting the Russians inside their own territory left her
feeling warm and weak, her heart hammering inside her chest.
This was why she’d worked and trained and fought to become a Navy
aviator!
“Okay, people,” Tombstone said, ending his briefing. “You know your
jobs. Fly safe, stick close with your wingmen, and don’t be heroes. We
don’t care about you, but your airplanes are extremely expensive pieces
of equipment. Your plane captains will have your heads if you get them
dinged up. So bring ’em back! And God fly with you all!