Wall of Night

78

Twenty-five thousand feet above the river in which Tanner and his party had just crashed, the flight of thirty F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets, two EA-6B Prowler electronic-warfare planes, and two E-2 Hawkeye AWACS from John Stennis were arriving on-station three hundred miles north of the Chinese-Russian border.

Having made contact with their Russian ground controllers, the fighters left their Hawkeyes behind and climbed to their sustained combat ceiling of 52,000 feet — almost ten miles above the earth’s surface — then throttled back into an energy-saving loiter and began their waiting game, mere ghosts at the edge’s of the Chinese ground and AWACS radar.

Thirty thousand feet below them and two hundred miles to the south, the leading edge of the Chinese fighters was approaching the border. As predicted, it was four regiments strong, almost two hundred fighters spread across a fifty-mile front, led by a spearhead of aging MiG and Sukhois designed to entangle the defenders and absorb their punishment. Above and behind them, the two remaining regiments of J-10 and -12 interceptors circled with their AWACS, waiting to be directed into the fight.

Sixteen minutes after sunrise, they crossed the border.

Five miles into Russian airspace they encountered their first defenders, a squadron of Floggers and Flankers climbing from their bases to intercept. Three miles from one another, forces exchanged their first missile volley, but within seconds they had closed to dogfighting range. The Chinese’s three-to-one advantage quickly began to take its toll. As ordered, the Russian pilots put up a brave fight before reluctantly turning tail and heading north, drawing the Chinese force with it.

Orbiting at the rear of the attacking wave, the Chinese AWACS detected a second flight of Russian MiG-25 Foxbat interceptors one hundred miles to the northwest. Seeing the classic pincer movement unfolding, the AWACS planes vectored half of the J-10s and -12s toward the approaching Foxbats.

Fifty miles into Russian airspace, the Chinese force left the periphery coverage of their ground radar stations. Safe in their assumption of coverage from their orbiting AWACS, the spearhead of the wave pushed on, the leading edge pursuing the retreating Floggers and Flankers while the split force of J-10s and -12s closed on the still-unsuspecting Foxbats.

At a prearranged signal from the Russian ground controllers, the two Navy Prowlers that had been loitering fifty miles southeast of the Chinese AWACS loosed a volley of four HARMs — or High-Speed Anti-Radiation Missiles — each of which was designed to home in on the radar signatures of the Chinese AWACS. Even as the HARMs left their rails and began streaking toward their targets, the Prowlers turned on their powerful jammers.

Focused on the battle below them, the four Chinese AWACS failed to react quickly enough to the cloud of white noise suddenly filling their radar screens. It took a precious ten seconds for them to burn through the interference and see the missiles coming. Hoping to throw the missiles off their scent, the AWACS shut down their radar.

It was too late. The HARMs had already switched to terminal homing mode. No longer a mere radar signature inside each missile’s electronic brain, but rather physical targets, the HARMs ignored the ploy and kept going.

Each HARM found its target, and ten seconds after the first explosion the Chinese attack force found itself without radar coverage, naked, and virtually blind.

At a signal from the Prowlers, the E-2 Hawkeyes turned on their radars. Having already been fed the location of each of the Chinese J-10 and -12 fighters, it took only seconds for the Hawkeyes to sort out the radar picture and give the Tomcats and Hornets their attack vectors.

Twenty thousand feet above the Chinese wave, the navy fighters moved into firing position, made one last check of their targets’ locations, then fired their first volley of missiles.

Having lost not only their protective radar umbrella but also their source of stand-off targeting information, the Chinese fighters were forced to depend on their own short-range targeting radars. Even so, whether from bravery or confusion or overconfidence, the Chinese wave pressed on toward the last known location of the MiG defenders.

Well beyond the radar range of the Chinese fighters and traveling at three thousand miles per hour, the fifty-four Phoenix missiles launched from the Tomcats and Hornets tore into the split force of Chinese J-10s and -12s, instantly blotting forty-six of them from the sky and leaving the remaining forty-two in disarray.

With a go signal from the Hawkeyes, the earlier decoy force of Russian Foxbats turned hard east and went to after-burner, closing the distance to the Chinese interceptors in less than ninety seconds. Though at a slight numerical disadvantage, the Foxbats used the attacker’s confusion to quickly make up the difference. One by one, Chinese fighters began, plummeting to earth.

Meanwhile, the Tomcats and Hornets launched their remaining missiles at the leading edge of older Chinese fighters still in pursuit of the first Russian defenders. In groups of twos and threes, the older MiGs and Sukhois were blown from the sky.

Twelve minutes after the battle began, it ended. Of the two hundred fighters that crossed into Russia, only thirty-two returned to Chinese airspace.

“It worked!” David Lahey boomed and clapped Cathermeier on the back. “General, it worked!”

“Yes, sir, it did. This time.”

“What do you mean?”

Cathermeier pointed to the Keyhole image on the big screen. “Unless I’m mistaken, those black shapes south of the Hinggan Mountains are more fighters. Commander?”

“I agree,” said the duty officer. “I make it at least two divisions coming north from Beijing.”

“How many planes?” Lahey asked.

“Another two hundred fifty.”

Mason said, “Replacements for their losses. They aren’t wasting much time.”

“If we had any doubt about their commitment to seeing this through to the end, we don’t now,” Dutcher said. “We just decimated four regiments and it didn’t phase them.”

The duty officer called, “General, I have Defense Minister Beskrovny on the line.”

Cathermeier picked up the phone and said, “Congratulations, Marshal.”

“And to you, General. It seems we’ve bought ourselves some breathing room.”

“I fear that’s all we’ve done.”

“We’ve seen them. How long do you estimate before they’re ready to launch the next wave?”

“Five hours, no more,” said Cathermeier.

“I agree. Not enough time for your fighters to return to Stennis, reload, and return.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, we’ll have to make due with what we have.”

“Will it be enough?”

“I wish I could say yes, but I’d be lying. We’ll do our best, however. I’ll be in touch, General.”

“Good luck.”

Cathermeier disconnected and turned to the group. “I don’t envy his position.”

“There’s nothing we can do to help?” Lahey asked.

“Not in the near term. We have to face facts: the Chinese are going to see this through to the bloody end, and right now there’s not much we can do about it.”