Dale Brown - Sky Masters

“You get it!” Cobb yelled-he dared not take a hand off the control stick. McLanahan released the inertial reel lock on his shoulder harness and reached across the forward instrument panel to a row of yellow-and-black-striped handles labeled “Emergency Fuel CutoffPull.” He laid his left hand on the first handle, stopped, double-checked that he had the right oneagain, to avoid shutting down a good engine and killing them for sure-then pulled the handle. “Number one T-handle, pull. Fire lights.” McLanahan checked the row of engine fire lights near each T-handle-all four were out. He hit the “Press to Test” button to doublecheck that the bulbs were still good-they were. Fire lights out. Engine instruments.” The pilot’s right multi-function display was black, so McLanahan ran his fingers across the standby engine instrument gauges at the bottom center of the forward instrument panel. “TIT and EGT high but coming ……. EGT below redline. I think we got it. Number-one primary hydraulic system is out. Electric system is reset-turn the number-one generator off when you can. “I can’t.” McLanahan was going to continue reciting the rest of the emergency checklist, but all of the critical “bold print” items were done-the rest of the items were double-checks. The Black Knight bomber apeared to be wings-level, and finally Cobb was able to take his left hand off the control stick. He spent a few moments shutting off equipment that ran off the number-one engine, then slowly resumed his usual stony position-one hand on the throttle, one hand on the sidestick controller, eyes caged straight ahead, although this time with a few more noticeable glances around the cockpit. It was hard to believe, but it had taken only ten seconds from the missile explosion to wings-level-to McLanahan, it seemed like a slow-motion eternity. He had once again experienced Death creeping toward him, and it was even more horrifying the second time. The feeling of utter helplessness was so overwhelming that it often threatened to shut crews down. Only their long hours of drill, training, and simulator sessions pulled them through it in time. “Bring us right if you can, ” McLanahan said. He put his SMFD in reset, then reactivated it and found to his surprise that the navigation system was still running. “Mount Apo is at our two o’clock position, eight miles. It’s our last hope. Heading zero-three-five.” The single bright flash of light was followed by a long tongue of flame that lasted for several seconds, and part of that flame seemed to shoot out forwards as well as backwards. “Good hit! Good hit!” the A-5K pilot cried out. “Strike . . . !” But in his exuberance, the pilot again forgot he was in formation. When the trail of fire began to arc to the right he immediately banked right in response, directly into the path of the JS-7 fighter. With the excitement of the missile launch, the blood pounding in his head, and the adrenaline rushing through his brain, theJS-7 pilot immediately broke right and climbed away. ‘han Zero-Nine, lost wingman, ” he cried over the command radio. Suddenly realizing that he didn’t know where he was-except that he was at three hundred meters altitude, flying near a 3, 200-meter-high mountain-he immediately began a climb to his area minimum safe altitude, which in this sector was 3, 300 meters. “Zero-Nine climbing to min safe altitude.”

“Get back here!” the pilot of the A-5K shouted furiously on the radio. “I have no more heat-seekers. You have to engage!”

“Zero-Nine is lost-wingman, no contact with the terrain, ” the JS-7 shouted. “I do not have a TV camera to watch for terrain. I will re-acquire. Stand by “EGT is back below redline, ” McLanahan said. “Try a restart.” Cobb pushed the fuel cutoff T-handle back in to reopen the fuel lines, selected the “Engine Status” menu on his left MFD, selected “Restart, ” and advanced the number-one throttle when directed by the computer. It was a mistake. As soon as the engine began spooling up, the bright-red “Fire” light came on. The computer immediately began shutdown procedures, and this time Cobb manually activated the fuel cutoff T-handle himself and hit the number-one engine’s fire extinguisher system to make sure the fire was out. The “Fire” light extinguished immediately, and all other systems remained normal. “Must be hydraulic fuel leaking into the engine or a serious fuel leak, ” Cobb said. “Looks like we finish this mission on three engines.” He put the B-2’s infrared scanner image on his right MFD and resumed his usual position, staring straight ahead, unmoving. “Where are those fighters?”

“One still on our tail; he’s dropped back to eight miles, and he hasn’t taken another shot yet, ” McLanahan said. “The other guy broke off to our five o’clock position and went high-he might be setting up for a high gun pass or a home-on-jam missile shot if they got a missile that’ll do it. All trackbreakers are still active.” He quickly switched to the data-link channel for the SLAM missiles, but the screen on the left side of his SMFD was blank. “Shit, looks like we lost contact with the missiles when the power dropped out. I’ll try to reacquire it . . “What do we do when we reach Mount Apo?”

“Fly around it… and pray, ” McLanahan said. “It’s our only hope of losing these jokers.” McLanahan expanded his SMFD display back to its normal God’s-eye display-and then he saw 46over to Cobb. “Turn right to onetwo-zero and climb to nine thousand seven hundred feet. Fly right over the peak of Mount Apo.”

“Nine thousand feet!” Cobb said. “We’ll be exposed! Half the Chinese fleet will be able to see us!”

“But we’ll have some help if we make it on time, ” McLanahan said. “Do it.” Cobb pulled back on the control stick and maintained as steep a climb as the stricken bomber could manage. The Black Knight barely held two hundred and fifty knots as Cobb put the nose right on the infrared image of the radar dome atop Mount Apo and headed straight for it. … The B-2 momentarily disappeared from the narrow fieldof-view image on the low-light TV screen, and the pilot of the Chinese A-5K fighter-bomber hurriedly expanded his screen and searched frantically for the intruder. He was surprised to see it climbing, not descending-in fact, it had passed two thousand meters already and was still climbing. He was also heading right for the radar site on Mount Apo. What was he trying to do? Kamikaze himself onto the radar site? Launch another missile? Eject? Nothing made sense. But one thing was certain-high and slow, it was an easy kill now. He pushed up his throttles to min afterburner-he was getting low on fuel, but that certainly didn’t matter now-and began to close to cannon range. At about ten kilometers’ range, he activated his laser rangefinder. Immediately his fire-control computer began computing lead angles and aimpoints for his two 23-millimeter cannons in each wing root; unfortunately he had only one hundred rounds in each gun, so he had time for only two one-second bursts. But that would be all that was needed here. The B-2 was trailing black smoke from its leftmost engine, and the crew was obviously trying to trade airspeed for altitude in preparation for ejection or self-destruction. They were not going to get the chance. The huge B-2 made a sudden right turn at a very steep angle-possibly a last-ditch effort to evade destruction. The A-5 pilot simply pulled his nose around tighter, leading the bomber’s turn, and put his aiming reticle back on the target. The TV camera clearly showed the Mount Apo radar site not twenty meters below the B-2-he had turned a fraction of a second before plowing into the radar dome. The pilot was indeed skillful, but that was not going to save him. He closed to within one kilometer, squeezed his gun trigger, and let the first one-second burst rake the B-2s ungainly fuselage. And at that moment it seemed as if the entire universe erupted into flames. Two Tomahawk cruise missiles had actually flown over the two aircraft and had hit the captured Mount Apo radar site, just a few hundred feet away from the Chinese fighter. The explosion tossed the Chinese fighter-bomber nearly a half-mile sideways in the air, blinding the pilot and sending him crashing into the lush green valley below. The explosion on the Mount Apo radar site rattled the B-2, but compared to the pounding they had taken when the Chinese PL-2 missile hit, it was minor. Cobb lowered the big bomber’s nose once again, trying to build up his waning airspeed and regain full control. And at that instant a horrifying sight filled his forward-looking infrared scanner scene on his right MFD-the sight of a large Chinese vessel, only miles ahead of them. They had turned east too far, and now they were exposed to the entire southern Chinese invasion fleet. “Holy shit, we gotta get out of here!” Cobb shouted. “As long as we’re here, let’s start the party, ” McLanahan said dryly. As Cobb continued his tight right descending turn, McLanahan quickly programmed his last two SLAM missiles on the fleet ahead of them, ran through the release checklist, and launched the missiles at the Chinese warships. “Missile one away. . . launcher rotating . . .” At that moment, warning lights illuminated on the forward instrument panel. “Damn, we just lost the primary hydraulic system-but I think the launcher still moved to launch position. .. missile two away. Closing bomb doors electrically.” Cobb was busily running through emergency-procedure menu items on his MFDs. “I switched to the auxiliary hydraulic system, ” he told McLanahan. “Autopilot’s off, flight-control computers switched to secondary mode. No more automatic terrain following or jinking for us-a full-scale flight-control deflection will kill our entire hydraulic system. We’ve got fuel leaks on the left wing as well, and I think we’re losing cabin pressurization. He shot us up pretty bad.” But at least they were still flying, Cobb thought, and they were still fightin…. and they were still under attack. “Bandit at our four o’clock position, range ten miles, turning right and coming around behind us, ” McLanahan shouted. “Descend as low as you can… “I’m going, I’m going… hell, if we descend too much we won’t be able to climb back up.” Cobb was straining on the control stick, since the auxiliary hydraulic system provided only 70 percent of the primary system’s power, and the flightcontrol system was no longer assisting. “I’m having trouble controlling, Patrick. If that bozo attacks, we’ve had it. I can’t maneuver… I can barely hold it as it is. Tighten your shoulder straps again. Get ready to jump out if he attacks . “He’s got to find us first, Henry, ” Patrick said as he pulled his shoulder straps as tight as he could stand it. “Range seven miles… turning on our six… keep descending, Henry. We’re still jamming… maybe he won’t be able to see us… five miles and closing…” The Black Knight bomber began to rumble, and the nose began to oscillate as Cobb fought to hold it steady. “Get ready to go, Patrick. It’s still flying, but I don’t know how. “Just hang in there, Henry-” But McLanahan watched the SMFD as the fighter icon closed mercilessly-the Chinese fighter was coming in for the kill, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. … The JS-7 pilot was more experienced in air-to-air engagements than his former leader-A-5 pilots did more groundattack training than dog-fighting-and he knew, judging by the B-2’s slow airspeed and erratic flight path, that he was in danger of crashing at any moment anyway. The A-5 pilot-he did not even know the man’s name-rushed his shots, not closing in enough for the inherently poor PL-2 missiles to get a solid lock-on. A boresight missile launch was the best way to go-the PL-2 missile was especially prone to decoys, so if the seeker head was bypassed it was more deadly. He switched the attack system to “Boresight” and kept his power high, closing the distance rapidly. A boresight launch made the missile nothing more than a big, powerful bullet-far more deadly than his 23-millimeter cannon, but with the same effective range. It had to be led on target just like a gun, but that was easy in this case, since the B-2 wasn’t maneuvering and seemed virtually incapable of doing so. He had no laser rangefinder, no TV camera, and no usable radar to judge distance, but when he could see the ghostly shape of the American B-2 highlighted against the faint glow of the sky, he knew he was close enough… His radar warning receiver suddenly screamed to life. There were no warning beeps, no search radar, no hint of the approach of any fighter-just an enemy fighter symbol superimposed on the center circle of his threat scope, meaning that it was already within lethal range. He was distracted away from the B-2 for only a split second after deciding he was going to attack instead of taking evasive action, but that split second was all that was needed-the B-2 made a gentle 30-degree bank turn to the west, and it took several seconds of frantic searching to reacquire it again in the darkness of the forests of Mindanao below. The boresight launch was spoiled. With a fighter somewhere on him, there was no time to line up another boresight launch. The JS-7 immediately switched to seeker guidance and received a lock-on indication with a few seconds . … but he never got to fire the missile. Two AIM-I30 Scorpion missiles from Major Kelvin Carter’s Megafortress bomber ripped into the Chinese fighter, slicing it into three pieces and flinging it across the Padada River valley below. “Keep it coming to the right, Horse, ” Major Kelvin Carter told Cobb and McLanahan. “We’ll take it over central Mindanao and try to escape to the northeast. Is this Horse OneSix?”