“Fast and low, Tommy,” said Ryan. “That’s the recipe here. I’ll want both helos to go in tandem. There’s something on the wind today, and we’re out to give them a good sting.”
That last attack order he had received in the Caspian had been sheer madness when they had flown into the teeth of the Russian 847th Coastal Air Defense battery, equipped with the Triumf S-400, the same deadly long range spear that Kirov used against enemy aircraft. His wing mate, Matt Wilson, had gotten the wrong end of one of those, and when Ryan saw his intended target, a nice big fat floating power plant, simply vanish from his radar screen, he figured the Russians had some slick new jammer to spoof his electronics. Either way, it added up to a quick abort. That decision, and a little luck, was the only reason he and Tom Wicks were still alive that day. But this time things would be different.
This time there would be no enemy radar to paint them red, and no deadly volley of S-400 SAMs to confront. They would need no ECM jamming, only a steady hand on the stick and a good eye on the radar for target data. That was Tom Hicks’ job, and once they were inbound he saw a formation of five contacts soon enough.
“Five ducks up ahead, Lieutenant, and I don’t think they see us. At least they’re not shooting at us yet!”
“See us or not, we’re on their horizon now. But remember, Tommy, these fellows don’t have any missiles. This is World War Two, me boyo, and we’ve got the thunder this time out. Let’s not fool around. Put two missiles on each ship.”
“My pleasure!” Wicks tapped out his targets and the missiles were away, not the lightning fast supersonic darts that the ships would fire, but a decent high subsonic speed missile that could range out 25 kilometers, well beyond any danger of enemy flak. They would approach low, rise as they neared the target to acquire it with radar, and then bore in with a semi-armor piercing warhead that was enough to penetrate the thin skin of a destroyer. Once through the hull, the small 28kg high explosive warhead was still enough to do some serious damage.
Tempete and Tornade were the two ships to feel the X-3’s bite. One missile blasted the superstructure, and the second pierced the hull of the 1300 ton destroyer Tornade. Blast, shrapnel, smoke and fire were soon enveloping the small ships, and the second X-3 scored four more hits on two others in the formation. In one hot minute the X-3s had bludgeoned the destroyer flotilla, Mistral and Orage faring little better than Ryan’s targets.
“Well that’s that!” said Ryan with a smile. “Talk about an unanswered punch. They don’t know what hit them! Let’s use those Stingers to take out a few spotter planes and be done with this.” He pulled to get altitude, the other X-3 following smartly, but once they climbed, the radar was alive with new contacts.
“Blessed Savior,” said Ryan, staring out the wind screen when they got close enough to see the enemy fleet. “I told you there was trouble on the wind, Tommy. No wonder they wanted us out here. There must be twenty ships, and not this lot that we’ve been poking at. Look at the size of that big fellow! Let’s get back to the Argos Fire.”
“Aye,” said Wicks as the X-3 banked for home. The words of Kipling were suddenly on his lips, and he gave Ryan a smile as they sped away. “ While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind," But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind…”
John Schettler
Grand Alliance (Kirov Series)
Part IX
Strange Bedfellows
“This is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.”? Shakespeare: The Tempest, Act 2, Scene 2
Karpov had a new airship. He had ordered its construction shortly after he took command of the Siberian Air Corps, and now it was finally ready to join the fleet, larger and more powerful than any other Zeppelin in Siberia, if not the world. With airships named for every major city of note, he decided to christen this one with a regional name, derived from the river valley where the ship’s duralumin metal frame had been mined and forged, in the cold, inaccessible north. So it was that Tunguska joined the fleet in late January of 1941, with a full 225,000 cubic meter volume, and the best recoilless guns and most advanced radars that Siberian industries could produce.
