Debt Of Honor by Clancy, Tom

phone.

“That’s probably an ASW helo from the destroyer we just sunk-splash

him, splash him now!”

“Aerial radar to the north!” an ESM tech called a second later. ‘ ‘Helicop-

ter radar close aboard!”

“Two, take him out now!” Richter relayed the order.

“On the way, Lead,” the second Comanche responded, turning and dip-

ping his nose to increase speed. Whoever it was, that was just too bad. The

pilot selected guns. Under his aircraft the 20-millimeter cannon emerged

from its canoelike enclosure and turned forward. The target was five miles

out and didn’t see the inbound attack chopper.

It was another Sikorsky, Two’s pilot saw, possibly assembled in the same

Connecticut plant as his Comanch’, the Navy version of the UH-6o, a big

target. His chopper bla/ed directly at it, hoping to get his kill before it could

get a radio call out. Not much chance of that, and the pilot cursed himself for

not engaging with a Stinger, but it was too late for that now. His helmet

pipper locked on to the target and he triggered off fifty rounds, most of

which found the nose of the approaching gray helicopter. The results were

instant.

“Kill,” he announced. “I got him, Lead.”

“Roger, what your fuel state?”

“Thirty minutes,” Two replied.

“Circle and keep your eyes open,” Lead commanded.

“Roger, Leader.” As soon as he got to three hundred feet came another

unwelcome surprise.’ ‘Lead, Two, radar to the north, system says it’s a Navy

billboard one.”

“Great,” Richter snarled, circling the submarine. It was large enough to

land on, but it would have been easier if the goddamned thing wasn’t rolling

around like the beer barrel at an Irish wake. Richter brought his chopper into

hover, approaching from straight aft, and lowered his wheels for landing.

“Come left into the wind,” Claggett told Lieutenant Shaw. “We have to cut

the rolls down for ’em.”

“Gotcha, Skipper.” Shaw made the necessary orders, and Tennessee

steadied up on a northwesterly heading.

“Stand by the escape and capsule hatches!” the CO ordered next. As he

watched, the helo came down slowly, carefully, and as usual, landing a heli-

copter aboard a ship reminded him of two porcupines making love. It wasn’t

lack of willingness; it was just that you couldn’t afford any mistakes.

They were lined up like an army of mounted knights now, Sanchez thought,

with the Japanese two hundred miles off Saipan’s northeast tip, and the

Americans a hundred miles beyond. This game had been played out many

times by both sides, and often enough in the same war game centers. Both

sides had their tracking radars on and searching. Both sides could now see

and count the strength of the other. It was just a question of who would make

the first move. The Japanese were at the disadvantage and knew it. Their

remaining E-2C was not yet in position, and worse than that, they could not

be entirely sure who the opposition was. On Sanchez’s command, the Tom-

cats moved oft first, going to afterburner and climbing high to volley off

their remaining Phoenix missiles. They fired at a range of fifty miles, and

over a hundred of the sophisticated weapons turned into a wave of yellow

flames climbing higher still before tipping over while their launch aircraft

turned and retreated.

That was the signal for a general melee. The tactical situation had been

clear, and then became less so as the Japanese fighters also went to maxi-

mum speed to close the Americans, hoping to duck under the Phoenix

launch to launch their own fire-und-f’orget missiles. It was a move that re-

quired exquisite timing, which was hard to do without expert quarterbacking

from a command-and-control aircraft, for which they had not waited.

It hadn’t been possible to (rain Navy personnel to do it quickly enough,

though a party of sailors did hold the wings up as I ho trained Army ground

i rewmen attached them to hardpoints on the side of the first Comanchc.

I’lien the fuel hoses were snaked to the openings, and the ship’s pumps were

switched on, filling all the tanks as rapidly as possible. Another Navy crew-

man tossed Richter a phone on the end of an ordinary wire.

“How did it go, Army?” Dutch Claggett asked.

“Kinda exciting. Y’all got some coffee, like hot maybe?”

“On the way, soldier.” Claggett made the necessary call to the galley.

“Who was that chopper from?” Richter asked, looking back at the fuel-

ing operations.

“We had to take out a ‘can about an hour ago. He was in the way. I guess

I he helo was from him. Ready to copy your destination?”

“Not Wake?”

A

“Negative. There’s a carrier waiting for you at twenty-five north, one-

lit ty east. Say again, two-five north, one-five-zero east.”

The warrant officer repeated the coordinates back twice, getting an addi-

lional confirmation. A whole carrier to land on? Damn, Richter thought.

” Roger that, and thank you, sir.”

“Thanks for splashing the helo, INDY.”

A Navy crewman stepped up and banged on the side of the aircraft, giving

a thumbs-up sign. He also handed over a Tennessee ball cap. Then Richter

saw that the breast pocket on his shirt had a bulge in it. Most impolitely, he

reached down and plucked out the half-pack of cigarettes. The sailor laughed

over the noise and tossed a lighter to go along with it.

“Stand clear!” Richter shouted. The deck crewmen retreated, but then

another man jumped out of the hatch with a thermos bottle, which was passed

up. With that, the canopy came down and Richter started his engines back up.

Barely a minute later, the Comanche lifted off, making room for -Two as his

lead aircraft took an orbit position over the sub. Thirty seconds after that, the

pilot was sipping coffee. It was different from the Army brew, far more civi-

lized. A little Hennessey, he thought, and it would be about perfect.

“Sandy, look north!” his backseater said as -Two came down on the deck

of the submarine.

Six Eagles fell to the first volley of missiles, with two more damaged and

withdrawing, the AW AC’S controllers said. Sanchez couldn’t see. its he vs.is

heading away from the advancing enemy fighters, the Toinniis milking

room now for the Hornets. It was working. The Japanese were put suing,

coming away from (heir island at high-power settings, driving the Amen

cans away, or so they thought. His threat receiver said thai meir were enemy

missiles in the air now, but they were American-designed missiles, and Ik-

knew what they could do.

“What’s thill?” Ore/a wondered.

Jiisl ii shadow at first. The airfield lights were still on tor some reason or

other, und they saw a single white streak crossing the end of Kobler’s run-

wily It bunked sharply over the threshold and tracked down the center of the

single strip Then il changed shape, the nose blowing off, and small objects

sprinkling down on the concrete. A few exploded. The rest just disappeared,

UK) small to sec unless ihcy were moving. Then came another, and another,

all doing the same thing, except for one that headed straight for the tower,

and blew the lop right oil of it, and along with it, the fighter wing’s radios.

Farther south, the commercial airfield was also lit up still, four 7475 sit-

ting at the terminal or elsewhere on the ramp. Nothing seemed to approach

the airport. To their east, several more missile launches lit up the Patriot

battery, but they’d shot off their first load of missiles, and the crews now had

to creel additional box launchers, then connect them to the command van,

and lhal UM>k lime. They were getting kills, but not enough.

“Nol going l()l mc SAMs,” Chavez noted, thinking that they really ought

to be under cover for all this, but … but nobody else was, as though this

were some sort ol glorious Fourth of July display.

“Avoiding civilian areas, Ding,” Clark replied.

“Nice nick. Uy the way, what’s this Kelly stuff?”

“My real name,” the senior officer observed.

“John, how many of (he bastards did you kill?” Oreza wanted to know.

“Huh?” (‘have/ asked.

“Hack when we were both children, your boss here did a little private

hunting, drug dealers, as I recall,”

“It never hap|>eiied. Porlagec. Honest.” John shook his head and grinned.

“Well, not lhal anylxnly tan prove.” he added. “I really am dead, you

know?”

“In that case you got (he right set of initials for the new name, man.”

Oreza paused. “Now what'”

“Beats me, pal.” Ore/a wasn’t cleared for his new orders, and he didn’t

know that they were possible anyway. A few seconds later it occurred to

someone to switch off the remaining electrical power on the south end of the

island.

Mutsu’s helicopter had announced ihe presence of a submarine on the sur-

face, but nothing more. That had caused Kongo to launch her Seahawk, now