Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

Venezuela was by no means friendly, in bed with any and all enemies of the United States, sworn or disguised. The country was a powerful narco-state that fomented revolution in the region, welcomed Iranian influence, undermined American initiatives at every turn, and had a modern air force that faced no regional threat. While Wilson couldn’t explain their behavior, he was also at a loss to explain why Washington was moving so fast, not trying deterrence or economic measures before pulling the trigger.

Wilson reviewed the flight schedule: Blade on a test hop, Ripper and Jumpin doing 2 v 2 intercepts with the Raiders , Ghost on a sea surface search, Annie and Dusty on a night intercept hop, Olive and Macho providing intercept training for one of the strike group small boys before their night trap. Routine training hops. Tomorrow would be the real thing.

After a quick breakfast, Wilson checked on things in the ready room and went to CVIC to begin a long day of planning for his strike the following night. It was foremost in his thoughts: forty jets, dozens of weapons required to “cut” two parallel runways and a taxiway, the fighter sweep package, the radar suppression package with jammers and escorts, the command and control plan, tankers, all manner of radio frequencies, a night launch in order, the join-up, the weather, en route formation, the air threat, surface-to-air threat, SAR assets and positioning, the ship positioning, and a night carrier landing in the wee hours. Then, he had to plan to do it again the next night, and the night after that, striking new targets, each one designed to attrite the FAV and gain air supremacy. Tomorrow night he would have to settle for superiority.

The plan was for Coral Sea to operate southeast of Barbados, launch two hours after sunset, form up, tank, push south for 30 minutes, then turn west and accelerate for the run in to San Ramón. After they hit the airfield, they would come off south, regroup, and transit back to tank those who needed it and recover around midnight. Another strike was scheduled to launch at 0300 with a dawn, “pinky,” recovery.

It was critical that Wilson’s strike succeed in grounding the Venezuelan fighters in the eastern part of the country and preclude the FAV from transferring fighters to San Ramón to defend their port at Río Salta. Wilson’s jets would be loaded up with 1,000 pounders to produce large craters. At least his formations would be coming in high with a running start. Annie’s mining birds would be carrying mines weighing well over 1,000 pounds. The mines had no nose cones: it would be as if Annie’s pilots were lugging large trash cans under their wings. They would have to come in slow over the gulf to deliver them close to shore in the Río Salta delta. Because there was no way the mining birds’ raid could succeed with a significant fighter threat nearby, Wilson’s strike had to eliminate that threat.

Each strike built upon another, and the leads, having a working knowledge of the aimpoints and expected degradation each mission would achieve, had to make assumptions on the success of the previous strike. They also knew not to bank on it, knew they would have to have contingencies to deal with a stronger threat than expected. First in combat, Wilson didn’t have to worry about that … but he was under no illusion that the Venezuelans would just roll over. They would fight back, and hard.

The launch sequence, the tanking, the weather… every possible detail had to be accounted for with dozens of contingency plans. Wilson had today and tomorrow to imprint them on this brain and to consider every what if with his team. He then had to brief it to CAG and Admiral Davies who would pepper him with questions on those details. Without their verbal okay the strike would not proceed. Not a good thing.

Wilson felt the ship pitch and roll and was reminded that they were pretty much alone in the open Atlantic, even with Gettysburg a few miles away in escort. He wished he had a “lily pad,” in the form of a destroyer, to launch a quick reaction combat SAR if the situation arose. Somebody’s louder voice had gotten the small boys sent to the vicinity of Curacao and Aruba, and he doubted the Rustlers and their MH-60 Sierras could use Trinidad as a forward base. He would ask, though.

As Wilson studied the tactical charts of San Ramón, other strike team members met him in CVIC to begin their long day of planning. Deputy CAG Kay was going with Wilson, flying on his wing, but Wilson’s assistant strike lead was his Ops Officer Stretch Armstrong. Dusty Rhodes would fly on Stretch’s wing. Representatives from all the squadrons were there, each with a responsibility in this lethal cross-functional team. DCAG Kay, though, was too senior to be part of the planning; he would show up at brief time tomorrow evening.

Shane brought the team an updated order-of-battle chart. F-16s were imaged at San Ramón, and tactical SAM launchers were spotted in the vicinity of the airfield, but the Venezuelans could easily disperse them. A fixed SAM site was located near Río Salta, and another one south on the Orinoco River. Wilson saw that the “seam” from the radii of both sites fell near San Ramón. He shook his head in wonder that the Venezuelans allowed for such a thin SAM umbrella over their main fighter base in the east. It would allow the Americans to come right at it. He surmised they didn’t anticipate an attack from the sea. For Wilson, the mobile SAMs and AAA of all calibers were threat enough.

By 1000, CVIC was full of aviators in flight suits grouped at tables, poring over charts. Billy Martin would lead a follow-on strike after Wilson to hit the naval base at Río Salta, and the following day Army logistics sites would be destroyed to preclude resupply of the port and oil terminal. Then Annie would come in. Meanwhile, Air Force bombers and Strike Eagles with F-22 escort would deal with the threat to Aruba and Curacao from the Caracas region, and Theodore Roosevelt was expected to help them in another three days.

Wilson was measuring the distance between the initial point and the roll-in when CAG entered and caught Wilson’s attention, motioning him over. Wilson got up and right away noticed CAG’s pained expression. Oh, oh , Wilson thought.

“Flip, we just got word. This strike is going tonight.”

Apprehensive, Wilson blinked at Matson. “ Tonight, sir? ”

“Tonight…. Time on target in ten hours.”

Wilson couldn’t believe it. “CAG, you gotta be shittin’ me .”

“Nope. You and Billy Martin are flying tonight, and we’re moving everything up after that. Just us. No Air Force fighters. We think they have the Yakhont missile from the Russians, a supersonic sea-skimming ship-killer. We’ve imaged a possible launch site here on the Paria Peninsula, and they may have an air-launched variant. If so, they could have fit one to their Flankers , so we’re running south now to a position northeast of Barbados, using the island as a shield. We’re not going any further.” Wilson knew this doubled his range to San Ramón, and the sheer magnitude of what had to be planned and briefed in the next ten hours— no eight… less! — was daunting. He tried to find a reprieve.

“CAG, ten hours from now is dusk. You want us to hit them at dusk ? Too early for NVGs, flying into the sun. Why, sir?” Wilson knew he was whining, but dusk and dawn were the worst possible times on target. At least dawn would give him ten extra hours to plan.

“We are concerned about the Yakhont . We have to hit them tonight.”