John Schettler - Fallen Angels - 9 Days Falling, Volume II

“Sir, we just received a call from Kaspiysk Naval Base. They say they have radar returns on airborne contacts to our south”

“NATO planes?”

“We don’t know, sir. They are coming in very low, and quite slow, so they may be helicopters. Kaspiysk is activating the 847th Coastal Missile Artillery detachment.”

The young man’s worry was infectious. The war was now at their doorstep, but Dobrynin knew one thing about command that was an absolute necessity—a steady hand. The long years of patience and precision care in the operation of delicate and dangerous naval reactors would now stand him in good stead.

“Very well, mishman , return to your post.” His voice was calm and reassuring. He walked slowly to the operations center and gave the order to conclude the maintenance routine. He looked at his watch. They had dipped Rod-25 into the neutron flux over an hour ago. It was already being slowly withdrawn from the reactor core, but it would take another ten minutes for full extraction. If NATO was coming for them now he might not even get the mission underway, but he would have to leave that with the defensive units Volsky had provided. His job was to get Rod-25 in and out of the nuclear borscht, and hope for the best. Yet now he had need for haste.

“Increase rod withdrawal speed,” he said. “Use the number three rating.”

“Aye, sir. Increasing withdrawal rate to three.”

“Keep a sharp eye on those flux readings…” Dobrynin walked slowly to a chair and sat down, closing his eyes. He was listening to the music of the core. The score was different here, the harmonics and rhythm slightly varied from the music Kirov would sing to him, but the song remained the same. He could hear the subtle harmonies in the vibration of the system, and then he smiled. Yes…there it was…It was the same odd meter, the same rhythm and beat, He could hear Rod-25 conducting its nuclear chorus, and he knew the procedure would be a success, and very soon now.

“Sir!” The mishman was back again, his voice strained and urgent. “Kaspiysk says we are under attack! They are engaging with missile defense batteries!”

“Good for them,” said Dobrynin, slowly opening his eyes. “Let them do their work. We have already done ours.”

LieutenantRyan was not happy about his chances just now. They left one X-3 back at Baku as a reserve, as he had explained it. But he knew the real reason was that he did not want to risk losing all three helos and stranding the Argonauts there. Now his worse misgivings had come to pass. They had been spotted as they came in low from the south. The Russians were not sleeping as he hoped. His co-pilot Tom Wicks had just informed him the Russians had located his X-3s on radar.

“They’ll be painting us red in another few seconds,” he said.

“Bad manners, those Russians,” said Ryan. “Here we are just flyin’ in fast and low, and they get all miffed about it.” They were thirty kilometers out before they were seen. Yet they could not bring weapons to bear on the target ahead until they hit the 8 kilometer mark. Ryan had counted on speed and stealth to let him get in close to get the job done. The Russian radar system, code named Gravestone” was just too good.

“What do you figure they’ll be shootin’ at us,” asked Wicks?

“Missiles me boyo! Big fat missiles—probably S-300s, and maybe worse.”

“Not a whole lot worse out there than that mean fire stick,” said Wicks, but he was wrong. There was a whole lot worse, and the X-3s were about to meet it.

“Well you just get the jammers fired and be ready on ECM and chaff. That’s all we have between us and an early grave.”

The 847th Coastal Defense battery was firing the new Russian Triumf missile system, a vertically launched missile using the deadly 9M96E medium range SAM.

“There’s our target on radar,” he said. The two X-3s were riding very low now, right on the water, the churning wash of their rotors leaving a long mark on the sea as they came.

“Right, and I think they’ve still got us on radar as well. I have missile lock!”

“Evasive maneuvers and quick on those countermeasures!”Ryan pulled his X-3 up sharply as Wicks fired everything he had, the chaff littering the sky above them before Ryan dipped down low again. The first S-400 bought the ticket and they saw it streak high overhead and right through the chaff cloud like an angry shark attacking a school of fish.

“Damn!” Wicks shouted. “Did you see how fast that monster was? If they fire a few more of those, we’re toast for sure, Ryan.”

But the Lieutenant was so focused on his flying that he could not respond. He looked at his radar to check the position of his target…the signal was gone! The target should be clearly visible now on the horizon, but peering out the forward screen all he could see was a strange haze, like the shimmer of a mirage in a desert.

“What’s up Tommy? Where’s my target?”

Now it was Wicks turn to gape at the screen. “They must be jamming us,” he said quickly.

“Jamming us? Well the damn thing should be right in front of us by now, big as a beached whale!”

“Missile!” They saw a second SAM streaking up, then tipping over in a vicious high speed dive as it acquired a target. The two helos split apart, both firing chaff and blasting away with ECM countermeasures, but this time the missile was not fooled. It locked mercilessly on to the other X-3 and blew it to hell, striking the bird dead on and coming right in through the pilots cabin.

“This is madness,” said Ryan. “God bless you Wilson,” he said of the other pilot, and the sight of the fireball that had taken down the helo was enough to make him reconsider this ill planned mission. “We’re out of here, Tommy. Leave a string of hot flares and chaff behind us, and if you have any favors left with the old man upstairs, now is the time to call them in. Whatever we were after has run for cover. That had to be a damn submarine. It’s gone!”

It was no submarine, but Lieutenant Ryan was correct about one thing. The Anatoly Alexandrov was gone. Rod-25 had sang its song to infinity, and the big floating power plant had suddenly vanished.

For Ryan, his only thought now was to save his helo and the lives of all aboard before the Russians fired another missile at them. He streaked away, so low that his landing carriage was actually skimming the sea, his hand steady on the stick and a quiet Irish song and prayer playing in his head. “Guard us now, Lord. We could use a little of that luck of the Irish. And if this be the end of our journey, may we be half an hour in Heaven before the Devil knows we’re dead.”

The sudden disappearance of the Anatoly Alexandrov must have distracted the Russians at Kaspiysk. Or perhaps Ryan’s invocation was heard and answered, but no other missiles came for them that morning. The men at Kaspiysk had not been briefed as to the true nature of Dobrynin’s mission, and now they came to believe the enemy helicopters had gotten off a missile of their own and sunk the power plant. But they were wrong. Rod-25 had worked its magic again, and Anatoly Alexandrov vanished into the misty fog of time.

The mission was on.

Whenit happened, Bukin was on the bridge of the big hovercraft with Captain Malkin, number 609, moored off the port side of Anatoly Alexandrov. He was watching the battle unfold as the coastal defense battery began firing S-400 missiles. Something was attacking, coming in low from the south, and he saw that Captain Malkin was immediately engaging his short range SAM system as a last ditch defense. He quickly ordered a squad of Marines up to the roof of the facility with hand held 9K338 Igla missiles. The name meant “needle” and the needles were sharp. NATO called the infrared seeking missile the SA-24 Grinch , but by any name it was a very capable infantry operated SAM system. If NATO was coming for them, they would greet them rudely with a sky full of needles.