Tiger's Claw

SIX

OVER THE WESTERN PACIFIC OCEAN

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING

“Radar contact!” Patrick McLanahan heard on intercom. He was the copilot aboard a Sky Masters XB-1 Excalibur bomber, flying at thirty thousand feet over the Pacific Ocean a hundred miles northwest of the island of Guam. The pilot was Warner “Cutlass” Cuthbert, flying his first of a series of six checkout flights—along with all his other duties, he had passed the academic and simulator checks in record time and was now happily at the controls of the bomber that had always been his favorite. “Surface contact, ten o’clock, one hundred thirty miles.”

“Copy that,” Patrick said. “Karen, any ID yet?”

“Negative, sir,” said the DSO, or defensive systems officer, Karen Wells. Normally the DSO on a B-1 bomber sat in the systems officers’ compartment behind the cockpit, but in the Excalibur the manned systems officers’ compartment was on the ground back at Andersen Air Force Base on Guam, and the sensor data from the bomber datalinked by satellite. Wells was a civilian electronic warfare officer, an Air Force veteran of the B-1B and EF-111 electronic warfare aircraft; after leaving the Air Force after twenty-one years, the mother of four grown children had been flying regional airlines until joining Sky Masters Inc. for this project. “No radar . . .” And then she paused. At the same time a radar warning indication appeared on both Patrick’s and Cutlass’s multifunction displays. “Stand by, sir. It just popped up . . . got it, Golf-band long-range air search. I’d classify it as a Chinese Luhai-class guided-missile destroyer.”

“That’s the one we’re looking for, the one that sank that Taiwanese fishing boat and killed twenty crewmembers,” Cutlass said. “Let’s get configured to attack, crew.” Patrick made sure the cockpit was in “COMBAT” mode, then verified that the crew back at Andersen were configuring their systems. “What are the weapons aboard that destroyer, DSO?”

“Hong-Qian 9, radar-guided surface-to-air missile, maximum range sixty miles, sir,” Wells replied.

“That’s longer than the range of our Sniper targeting pod,” Patrick said. “We have to move in to at least ten miles to get a good visual ID.”

“Defense is ready for combat,” Wells reported. “SPEAR is in standby.”

“Offense is ready,” said George Wickham, the offensive systems officer, seated beside Wells in the air-conditioned container that served as their systems officers’ compartment back at Andersen. Wickham was a Navy veteran of eight years who retired as an avionics engineer for a major defense contractor before being recruited by Sky Masters—he had never been aboard an airplane except as a passenger, and this was the closest he ever aspired to being in one.

“My plan is to go in, stay at thirty thousand, take a look, and see how close we get so we can get a positive visual ID,” Cutlass said.

“If this is the guy we’re hunting for,” Patrick reminded him, “he’s killed innocent people before. He might try to do it again.”

“I guess if he takes a shot at us, we’ll know he’s our guy then,” Cutlass said. He tightened his ejection seat straps. “Everyone, stay on your toes. Patrick, double-check my configuration for low-level . . .”

“Attention, attention, unidentified aircraft, one hundred ten miles northwest of Guam at thirty thousand feet heading west,” a voice said in English on a discrete radio frequency, “this is the Sea Dragon, a destroyer of the Chinese navy. You are on course to overfly us. Turn away immediately. Stay at least twenty miles away or you will be fired on.”

“Sea Dragon, this is Masters Zero-Seven,” Patrick radioed back. “Your position is being relayed to the United States Navy and Coast Guard. I suggest you heave-to and prepare to be boarded.”

“Kiss our grits, Masters Zero-Seven,” came the reply.

“Echo-Foxtrot-band target illuminator!” Wells announced. “Solid lock-on!”

“Clear to engage SPEAR!” Cutlass ordered. “Knock that radar off the air!”

“SPEAR malfunctioned,” Wells said. “I’m reinitializing, but it’ll take several minutes!”

“Engage the TFRs and let’s go low, Patrick!” Cutlass said. Patrick’s fingers flew over his touch-screen MFDs, and soon the Excalibur was hurdling toward the ocean at ten thousand feet a minute. “Get SPEAR up and running soonest, Karen!”

“Wing sweep,” Patrick said on intercom. “Throttles. Watch your barber-poles.” The “barber-poles” were yellow-and-black warning indicators on the performance display, warning of airspeed limitations.

“Thank you,” Cutlass said. He swept the wings full aft and pulled the power back slightly to avoid going over Mach one as they did their steep computer-controlled dive.

“Passing ten thousand.”

“Range?”

“Coming up on ninety miles,” Wickham said.

“Can we forgo visual ID on this guy now?” Cutlass asked. “He’s getting ready to shoot at us.”

“The rules of engagement call for a visual ID,” Patrick reminded him. “Passing five thousand. Clearance plane set to one thousand. Starting to level off.”

“And the Rod Pod has a range of thirty miles?”

“Identification range of a ship-sized target is about twenty miles,” Wickham said.

Both Patrick and Cutlass monitored the Excalibur carefully as it did its level-off, and they quickly stepped the clearance plane down to five hundred feet. “TFRs are engaged.”

“Target illuminator and air search broke lock,” Karen reported. “SPEAR still initializing . . .” They heard a new radar warning. “X-band sea-skimmer detection radar has a lock-on,” she said. “They can slew the HQ-9 to that radar and use it to direct close-in cannons.”

“Range fifty miles. Missiles ready. Check five hundred clearance plane.” Five hundred feet was the minimum altitude from which they could launch a missile.

“Five hundred checks,” Patrick said.

“Forty miles.”

“Target illuminator is back . . . illuminator locked on,” Wells said. “With SPEAR initializing, you’ll have to do chaff and flares manually, General.”

“Copy,” Patrick said.

“Thirty miles.” The image from the Sniper targeting pod started to reveal the shape of their target—definitely a very large warship, but still too far for positive identification. “Target locked. Coming up on target ID . . .”

“Missile launch!” Wells shouted. “Break!”

“Left chaff!” Cutlass shouted, and as soon as he saw Patrick hit the touch screen he threw the Excalibur bomber into a steep right turn.

“Broke lock,” Wells said.

“Sniper still locked on . . . twenty miles!” Wickham said. “Positive ID, Chinese destroyer! Wings level, ready on bomb bay doors!” Cutlass rolled wings-level. “Doors coming open.” They all heard the rumbling as the middle bomb bay doors opened. “Missile one away . . . missile two away, doors coming closed. Left turn to three-zero-zero and center up for the photo op. Ten miles. Smile for the cameras.” Cutlass steered the bomber straight toward their target, angling slightly away so as to not fly directly over it going almost Mach one. Seconds later they overflew the “target” . . .

. . . but it was not a Chinese destroyer but the USS Sampson, a U.S. Navy Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer, one of a group of various cruisers, destroyers, and frigates the XB-1 bombers on Guam had been working with on extended overwater patrols. The story about a Chinese destroyer sinking a fishing boat was all part of the realistic scenario Patrick and Tom Hoffman had built for Excalibur crewmembers. The Sampson had been transmitting real signals of Chinese naval antiair and air search radars so the Excalibur crews could get even more realistic training. The missiles they “launched” at the Sampson were simulated AGM-65M Maverick ER extended-range attack missiles—the Excaliburs had not yet been cleared to carry any weapons.

“Very cool flyby, Masters Zero-Seven,” the skipper of the Samson radioed after the XB-1 flew past the destroyer. “It’s nice having company out here.”

“Thanks for the workout, Sampson,” Cutlass radioed back. “Masters Zero-Four should be out shortly to take up patrol stations.”

“We sure appreciate the eyes,” the skipper said. The XB-1 Excaliburs that had arrived at Andersen Air Force Base had been tasked to work with solo or small groups of Navy ships in the western Pacific, scanning out beyond the ships’ horizon for aircraft or other ships, identifying them, and relaying the information back to their charges. At altitude, the Excaliburs’ active electronically scanned array had a range of over two hundred miles for both surface or airborne targets and could precisely identify targets with great detail.

Cutlass started a climb and turned toward Guam. “Station and oxygen checks, crew,” he said, then knocked his helmet with the heel of his hand. “It’s easy for me to forget I’ve only got one crewmember,” he said.

“No, Cutlass, you still have a four-person crew—it’s just that two of them don’t need to do oxygen checks,” Patrick said. “They still have to reconfigure their stations.”

“Roger that,” Cutlass said. “Anything else?”

“It was very good overall, Cutlass,” Patrick said, checking his notes on his kneeboard. “Keep an eye on your airspeeds so we’re not returning without a Sniper pod. The flight control system should alert you, but it won’t retard the throttles for you. Also remember that when SPEAR fails, we have to deploy the ‘Little Buddy’ towed decoy manually, just like chaff and flares—I was waiting to see if you would have remembered that. It would’ve helped out fighting off the HQ-9.” The ALE-50 towed decoy system was an aerodynamic canister towed behind an aircraft that, because of its design, had a much larger radar cross section than the aircraft, making it a juicier target for radar-guided antiaircraft missiles—it was so effective that many combat pilots dubbed it the “Little Buddy.” The improved version of the decoy had infrared emitters that could decoy heat-seeking missiles, and the canister could also be reeled in for reuse.

“I did completely forget that,” Cutless admitted.

“Karen gave you a hint when she reminded us about manually deploying chaff. I don’t think you’ll forget it next time.”

“I hope not.”

“Masters Zero-Seven, Control,” the senior controller came up on the command channel.

“Control, Zero-Seven, go ahead,” Patrick replied.

“We need you to RTB as soon as possible,” the controller said.

“We’ll be on the ground in about twenty minutes. What’s up?”

“The you-know-what hit the fan out in the South China Sea, sir,” the controller said. “All tactical units have been placed on alert.”

Less than twenty minutes later, Cutlass taxied the XB-1 Excalibur to its shelter on the First Expeditionary Bomb Wing parking ramp, and he and Patrick emerged. Security on the ramp had been noticeably beefed up. After turning the jet over to the crew chief and maintenance technicians, they headed immediately for headquarters. They found that it was not much cooler inside the normally well air-conditioned building than outside. “Power go off again?” Cutlass asked.

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Colonel Nash Hartzell, the deputy wing commander, said. Hartzell wore command pilot’s wings, a product of over ten years flying transports all over the world, but the tall, bald, bespectacled officer’s real passion was computers. “Guahan Utility District says the fuel oil flow was briefly disrupted by a faulty valve, and once the vapor lock is clear power will be back on. Backup generators are working okay at the command post and security checkpoints.”

“That’s a common problem here, Patrick,” Cutlass explained. “Power and water to the base is provided by the municipal utility district, just like basic phone service is provided by Guam Telephone. We have our own backup sources for essential areas, but this base is so large that we can’t build our own power plant.” He turned back to Hartzell. “So what’s going on, Nash?”

“The Air Force detected a missile launch they suspect was a cruise missile from Hainan Island,” Hartzell said. “Several minutes later a Vietnamese frigate was hit by some unidentified weapon. PACOM thinks the launch from Hainan was a Chinese antiship cruise missile.”

“Christ,” Cutlass exclaimed. “China really seems to be on the warpath these days. Any orders?”

“Just a general alert and a change in Force Protection Condition to Charlie,” Hartzell said. Force Protection Condition dealt with the security level on the base; it usually was a response to terrorist threats, but it could be affected by any sort of disturbance or threat. Level “Charlie” was a heightened state of security against a nonspecific threat. “Outer security contractors are being augmented by our own security teams, and inner security has been upped.”

Cutlass nodded and thought for a moment, then said, “I want to go to FPCON Charlie Plus,” he said. “We’ve got too many planes out here, and with China firing cruise missiles out of nowhere, we could be next. Restrict all personnel to the base and all flight crews to the flight line. Two forms of picture ID at the gates, search all vehicles, and full alert badge exchange for the flight line. I want all the flight crews, especially the civilians, briefed on the evacuation orbit areas and emergency deployment procedures to Tinian and Saipan.” The international airports on the other two major islands of the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas Islands were used as alternate divert and emergency evacuation bases—the airstrips were too short to fly loaded bombers but were often used by fighters.

“Yes, sir,” Hartzell said. “I have to run to issue the orders, sir—the power outage took out the phones too.” He hustled off, followed by the commander’s staff.

“Things are getting dicey around here, sir,” Cutlass said to Patrick as they headed back to the maintenance hangar to debrief their training mission. “I have a feeling we’re going to be put on alert, including the Excaliburs.”

“I hope you’re wrong, Cutlass,” Patrick said. “It all depends on what China says and does next. But I don’t think this is going to blow over any time soon.” He clapped Cutlass on the shoulder. “I hate to do this to you, Cutlass, but after I debrief, I’m heading back to the mainland to launch the last Excalibur. That should be rolling off the line any day. You got one ride under your belt, and you did very well, but I don’t know when the next checkout ride will be.”

“That’s okay, sir,” Cutlass said. “I have a feeling I’ll be pretty busy on the ground. Things are stirring out there, sir, and I think we’re going to be in the middle of it . . . very, very soon. Got time to stay for the alert mission brief?”

“Absolutely,” Patrick said.

After Patrick and Cutlass finished their maintenance debrief, they went over to the command center briefing room. Lieutenant Colonel Nash Hartzell was onstage conducting the briefing, with a very large electronic monitor behind him. There were about fifty crewmembers in the room. Hartzell gave a time hack, then pressed a button that connected the briefing room’s monitor to the weather center, and they received a three-day weather briefing. The weather was virtually the same for all three days: warm and humid, with an almost 100 percent chance of thunderstorms in midafternoon. Typhoon season had ended a couple months earlier.

Captain Alicia Spencer, the First Expeditionary Bomb Wing’s intelligence officer, took the stage after the weather briefing. “The regional situation is still tense, as I’m sure you’ve all seen on the news,” she began. “Martial law continues in China. Civil unrest is widespread now as is the brutal military crackdown. As a result of the unrest, imports and exports have decreased about twenty percent, and there are widespread shortages of many commodities. The Communist government could collapse at any time—in fact, it may already have collapsed.”

Spencer changed the display to show China’s coastline, with several icons scattered along the entire length. “Because of the shortages and political instability, all of China’s ballistic missile submarines appear to be in port,” Spencer went on. “None have been detected in their normal patrol areas in the South or East China Sea or Yellow Sea. Same goes for China’s aircraft carriers: the Zhenyuan is in home port at Zhanjiang, the Zheng He is under way but near its home port of Zhongshan, and the helicopter carrier Tongyi is in its home port of Quanzhou and appears to be operational.

“The most alarming movement we’ve seen in strategic weapons has been the movement of two Dong Feng-21D antiship ballistic missiles from their storage facilities near Guangzhou to new field garrison locations near Huizhou, about a hundred miles east,” Spencer went on. “The area from Guangzhou to the coast is heavily fortified with surface-to-air missiles, so it’s likely this will be a new deployment area for DF-21s. We believe the movement of these missiles is in response to the announced transit through the South China Sea of the Nimitz carrier strike group later this month.”

“Not a very good time to be sailing through the South China Sea,” Tom Hoffman commented.

“The United States wants the world to know that we’re not afraid of whatever is happening in China, and that we expect to freely navigate the world’s oceans despite the building tension,” Alicia said. “You can bet those crews will be on a hair’s trigger alert, but they’re going to do it. Obviously this ratchets up the tension even more.”

“It’s coming up on reelection campaign season,” someone else commented. “President Phoenix wants to act tough for the voters, and to hell with the danger to our carriers.”

“Okay, okay, enough of the politics,” Hartzell said. “Anything else, Alicia?”

“Yes, sir. The last item is that the Russian aircraft carrier Putin along with eleven other escort and support ships has put in for what is being described as joint aircraft carrier flight training and underway replenishment training at Zhongshan with the Zheng He carrier battle group. They are expected to train closely together and explore interoperability with each other, including flight operations off each other’s decks, damage control exercises, joint underway replenishment, and so forth.” Alicia took a few questions, then turned the podium over to Hartzell.

“Okay, guys and gals, here’s the big picture,” Hartzell said. “Task force call sign will be Leopard. Everyone keeps their squadron call signs. Communications plan has changed, so be sure to check the date-time group when you upload flight plans and data.

“Obviously the area around Guangzhou, what used to be called Canton, is looking pretty busy these days,” Hartzell went on, “so that’s the focus of our alert missions. The XB-1’s primary responsibility is to take out the Chinese S-300 surface-to-air missile sites along the coast with AGM-158 cruise missiles, suppress any fighter coverage, and attack land and shipboard antiair radars with AGM-88 antiradar missiles. The B-2 and B-1B bombers will follow, head inland, and attack the DF-21D launch sites at Huizhou with AGM-158s and the DF-21D storage complex at Guangzhou. The B-52s’ primary target is the H-6 bomber base at Fushan with AGM-86Ds and -158s, the radar site and naval air base at Guangzhou, and the carrier Zheng He.”

“How about the Putin carrier?” Lieutenant Colonel Bridget “Xena” Dutchman, the B-52H Stratofortress expeditionary bomb squadron commander, asked. “Mind if we take a shot at it?”

“I haven’t heard anyone say no, but let’s stick with the Chinese targets first, Xena,” Hartzell said. “Now, we can’t expect any land-attack Tomahawk cruise missile support for these missions for the time being. Japan has deployed the Tomahawk on its ships, but they’re too far away for our sortie. The Taiwanese and Filipino air forces are on high alert, so our route of flight avoids overflying those countries while ingressing—on the way out you can contact them and request overflight or even help with pursuers. Any questions?” There were none. “Okay, alert preflights, update the Mode Two codes and the new communications rundown, report any squawks to Maintenance, and I’ll see you at the DFAC for chow. Dismissed.”

Patrick met up with the squadron commanders, Hartzell, and Cuthbert at the front of the briefing room. “That takes me back to my old days sitting alert in B-52Gs,” Patrick said. “I’m surprised the briefing isn’t classified top secret, Cutlass. You’re reporting the position of the Nimitz, position of submarines, communications plans, and readiness of allied air forces, and the room isn’t secure?”

“No, because it’s not a real mission briefing, Patrick,” Cutlass said matter-of-factly.

“Say what?”

“It’s not a real mission, Patrick,” Cutlass explained. “You think PACOM is going to allow us to fly a bombing mission over China with a handful of bombers? No way. We give these briefings so the crews stay sharp in real-world procedures, especially handling live weapons. We’ve practiced alert responses before, but we’ve never launched with full weapon and fuel loads.”

“What?”

“The last thing PACAF wants is for us to crash a bomber with a full load of fuel and bombs, Patrick, especially one of the few remaining two-billion-dollar stealth bombers,” Cutlass said, surprised at Patrick’s disbelief. “The Continuous Bomber Presence is a show of force, sir, nothing more. We brief real-world stuff, but it’s all open-source unclassified material.”

“So the DF-21 movement, the H-6 bombers, the Putin aircraft carrier . . . ?”

“Read all that it in Aviation Week and Space Technology a couple issues ago,” Hartzell admitted. “The crews get a kick out of the realistic-sounding intelligence briefing, and Alicia does a good job putting it together. We’ll probably see something on TV about the Russian carrier soon.”

“So the strike missions are . . . ?”

“We don’t have any authority to launch and go anywhere, especially with loaded planes,” Cutlass said. The squadron commanders were starting to smile at Patrick’s stunned expression. “We have the crews build real missions, get intel, write up flight plans, and program all the stuff into the computers on the planes, but they’re not meant to be flown.”

“So they’re not real targets?”

“They look like real targets, and they probably are real, but they’re not assigned targets from Pacific Command or PACAF—the crews find them themselves,” Cutlass said. “They have to update them every week, but that’s all practice for mission planning and programming the strike computers.”

“Pretty unbelievable,” Patrick murmured.

“You didn’t think your Excaliburs were the only planes that weren’t allowed to launch with live weapons on board, did you?” Cutlass asked. “Sir, except for the air defense fighters, we’ve never launched with live weapons aboard! We’ve done exercises in various countries, but only with shapes or practice bombs, not the real thing. We’re not even allowed to drag our own weapons from stateside—they fly them out on airlifters.”

The squadron commanders said their good-byes so they could proceed with preflighting their planes—Patrick could hear a few “Do you believe he thought all this was for real?” comments as they departed.

“Jeez, General, you look disappointed,” Cutlass said in a low voice. “I’m very impressed by the Excaliburs and your crews, sir—they’re working very hard and are remarkably proficient, given how long they’ve been out of the cockpit. But they’re not going to see any real action. Heck, if things get any worse in China, they’ll probably yank us all out of here and send us home, not plan real-world missions. Sorry, sir.”