their wings, though.”
“Roger that. I’ll yell the second I even smell fire control radar.”
“That’ll have to do. Don’t know that I like it, but it’s how we planned
it.”
And if I don’t like it, Batman thought, it’s for damned sure that E-2C
Hawkeye doesn’t. Nothing like being tied to a stake as a sacrificial lamb to
make a pilot feel unwanted and unloved. Damned smart plan of Tombstone’s. He
knows the Chinese would never expect us to leave the Hawkeye up here alone.
Ergo, they’ll come to one of two conclusions. Either we’re not worried
because we know we’re not responsible for the attacks, and we’re proving it by
putting the E-2C up alone–or they’re not alone. And with the JAST low
observability characteristics, Batman didn’t expect to be detected by any damn
Soviet-built airborne radar!
A cold smile crossed his face, hidden by his oxygen mask. Now let’s just
let them try to figure out which it is, he said to himself.
2230 local (Zulu -7)
Chinese Flanker
Off the coast of Vietnam
“We execute our orders,” the pilot commanded. “You see how this was all
planned out? Our advisers knew exactly what we would encounter near the
American battle group.”
“I admit that I doubted their assessment. Leaving one of their six
surveillance birds unprotected did not seem reasonable,” his backseater
admitted.
“Which is why we’re just paid to fly. Just ensure that your fingers stay
off the targeting functions. We are to give them no cause for alarm.”
“Understood. How close will you approach?”
“Just to the edge of our weapons envelope.”
“But tell me–what would we have done if their fighters had appeared?
Four Flankers against all the aircraft that they can launch? It would be a
difficult tactical position, to say the least!”
The pilot smiled, a cruel edge to his mouth. “They will not attack us,
that much is clear. They cannot risk starting a war so close to our homeland.
Should their fighters appear, we will do exactly what we are doing now. Fly
straight and level, in a nonthreatening fashion, and proceed toward their
Hawkeyes. We would simply fly the same escort pattern on their Hawkeye that
they would intend to fly on us.”
After all, the pilot thought, it was their sea. Not the Americans’.
CHAPTER 20
Wednesday, 3 July
2230 local (Zulu -7)
Spook Two
“Homeplate, they’re getting mighty damned close!” Batman radioed.
“Roger, Spook Two. No deviation from authorized plan,” Tombstone’s calm
voice replied.
Batman clicked his button in acknowledgment. He’d rather be up here,
where he could fight and maneuver as necessary. Whatever they paid a rear
admiral–and Batman had a good idea of what that was–it wasn’t nearly enough.
To have to stand by and watch fighters approach an unprotected aircraft,
praying that you’d read their intentions correctly and that you wouldn’t lose
aviators and an aircraft on a stupid hunch–could he have done it himself? As
much as he’d disliked it initially, the political infighting and maneuvering
at the Pentagon rarely got anyone killed. A career or two, maybe. It was too
easy to forget, trapped in the massive rings of the Pentagon, that men and
women were still out here on the front lines.
Did the Navy know somehow? he wondered. Know which aviators had the
guts to make the kind of calls Tombstone was making this very second? Did
they test us somehow? And have I got what it takes to risk the lives of men
and women on a plan like this? Tombstone does.
This year, Batman’s record would go before the rear admiral promotion
board. For years, he’d dreamed of putting on those broad gold stripes and
silver stars. Now, for the first time, he wondered whether he was ready for
it, and whether he’d accept it if the promotion were offered. Listening to
Tombstone’s calm voice on the tactical circuit, he tried to convince himself
that he would have been able to maintain the same solid presence that brought
reassurance to the crew of the carrier and the Air Wing.
“They’re joining on us, Homeplate,” he heard the E-2C copilot say.
“Straight and level, Snoopy,” he heard Tombstone reply. “They’re not