Razor Penrose couldn’t believe what he just heard. The code word “slippery” meant that their carrier
Fortunately, there were other code words for more serious damage, so there was a possibility that they wouldn’t have to divert — it could be something as noncritical as a damaged aircraft on the deck or foul arresting gear. There were a few nearby divert runways available, and dozens more as long as the K-10 tanker was still available. The closest landing facility was a small runway on the island of Sangihe, one hundred and thirty miles to the southeast. With a KC-10,
however, they could reach and rearm on Guam, fourteen hundred miles to the northeast. They still had lots of options…
But Penrose had no plans on diverting right now. As long as he had gas and guns, he was going to stay aloft. Their primary job now was to protect their damaged carrier.
“Three bandits at twelve o’clock, forty miles, high, northwest-bound at high speed, they appear to be withdrawing,” the AWACS controller continued as calmly as if he were reporting the weather. The three surviving first-wave fighters had done their job — deliver the big antiship missiles — so they were bugging out. “Four additional bandits, one o’clock, Blue plus twenty miles, southeast bound, looks like they want to engage.”
“Basket, give me a SITREP. Who do we get up?”
“Bullet Two, Four and Five are emergency fuel and are rendezvousing with Shamu,” the AWACS controller reported. “They report nine AIM-7s and five AIM-9s between them. They will stay with Shamu and Basket after refueling.” No report on Bullet Three, Penrose noted — the Chink bastards got Kelly, damn them. “Bullet Eight and Nine are airborne, ETE ten minutes; they are staying within a hundred miles from home plate for inner defense. They are max loaded with four AIM-54s, two AIM-7s, and two AIM- 9s apiece. You’ve got two KA-6s up but they’ll have to tank with Shamu before you can use them. One Hawkeye up, range one-niner-zero miles east. Flashlight is at your three o’clock, eight miles, low, southeast bound at vee-max.” The big spy plane was on the deck, trying to lose itself in the radar clutter of the sea. “Basket is southeast of your position, one-one-zero miles. Say your load and fuel.”
“Bullet Six flight of two, two -7s, two -9s, seven minutes to bingo.”
“Copy, Bullet Six flight. Vector to join on Flashlight, starboard to heading one-one-zero, take angels eight.”
“Negative. Bullet Six flight wants a vector to the inbounds.” Penrose had had enough of screwing with trying to protect the Air Force’s radar plane — his job was to protect the fleet and keep any more Chinks from lobbing missiles at his home.
“Your OPORD says to escort the RC, Bullet flight…”
“Fuck the ops orders, Basket. I want a vector to the inbounds.” On interphone, he told his RIO, Lieutenant Commander John Watson, “Lion Tamer, lock those inbounds up if this bozo doesn’t give us a vector…
That was usually not very good practice — they would keep the element of surprise if Penrose’s RIO kept his radar off — but if he had to, they would go it alone…
There was a brief pause from the AWACS controller, but he was obviously not in the mood or not authorized to argue. “Roger… Bullet Six flight, four bandits at one o’clock, fifty miles, take angels three-five, that’ll put you ten thousand above them.”
“Six flight.” Penrose held his heading and started his climb. “Bogey-dope.”
“Bandits at your one o’clock, level, fifty miles, closure rate eleven hundred. Be advised, Bullet flight, Flashlight reported naval radar and possible naval antiair at your twelve o’clock, two hundred miles. You may be coming within detection range.”
“Six copies.” Well, if that happened, they’d be about even — it was a two-vee-four, but there was not yet any sign that they’d been detected. Penrose wasn’t going to turn on his radar until absolutely necessary.
“Two.”
“One o’clock, moving to one-thirty, forty miles… thirty miles, two o’clock, low…”
They weren’t going in completely blind. Penrose’s RIO was adjusting his IRSTS, or Infrared Search and Track System, a long-range heat-seeking imager that could detect and display hot targets at medium to short range; his was one of the few older F-14A models with both an IRSTS sensor as well as the typical TCS telescopic camera system, in side-byside chin pods. IRSTS allowed the crew to launch missiles against targets at long range and activate their AWG-9 radar only a few seconds before the missiles impacted — that was precisely what they were trying to do now.
“Two-thirty position, thirty miles…” Penrose corrected his course to keep the bandits within the 30-degree limit of the IRSTS seeker. “Cowboy, can you get an IR track on these guys?”
