Flight Deck B-36H “Texan Lady”, 50,500 feel over the Russian-Chinese Border
“Entering hostile airspace now.” The voice from the bombardier section in the nose had a slightly tense note to it This was the first time Texan Lady had been in hostile airspace since The Big One more than a year before. The flight plan here was very different from the Russian reconnaissance mission a few days before. There, the Russians had used a quirk in the border to create a plausible “navigation error”. The B-36s hadn't bothered with subterfuge, they'd flown straight to the border, crossed it without a shred of pretense and would swing parallel to it almost a hundred miles inside Japanese-occupied China.
The three B-36 bombers were flying in a loose Hometown, two thousand feet below the lone RB-36 whose cameras were already turning, recording every detail of the ground below.
“Does this mean I'm going to get shot again?” The female voice had a distinctly dubious note to it. Phil Clancy patted his control stick.
“Don't worry, Texan Lady, we're far above any defense the Japanese can put up. We'll be OK.”
“That's what you all said the last time.”
Dedmon raised his eyebrows. They were used to the odd comments coming over the intercom now and then but that was the first time they'd actually had what amounted to a conversation. He shot a glance at Clancy, grinning in the co-pilot's seat. “That's new. Never had an answer before.”
“Ever talked to other pilots about our voice Bob?” Dedmon shook his head; he'd always looked on it as being a bit of private crew business. “I mentioned it to a few guys, jokingly you know? All of them laughed, but about a quarter of them were faking it. Some looked real shifty. My guess is we're not the only crew that has this and the shifty-looking ones talk back. So I thought I'd try it.”
“Electronics Pit here. We're picking up ground based radars from inside China. Japanese air surveillance radars. Two types, range and bearing and a height-finder. Guess the crew of that one must be doing double-takes about now. We're in evasion mode?”
“Sure thing Dirk. Revs and spacing all set as per specs. They won't get an accurate fix on us.” Phil, take her up to 51,500. Just to ease Texan Lady's mind. Tell Dixie Cupcake to make the appropriate change as well if her cameras won't object. We'd better do it now, this high, it'll take at least a quarter of an hour to make the climb.
Dedmon relaxed in his seat as the engine notes changed with the shift from level flight to climb. Technically, according to regs, they should all be in partial pressure suits but none of the bomber crews bothered. Most of them didn't even carry the suits. If pressurization went, they'd all pass out almost instantly without them but if that happened, they'd have far more to worry about than just being unconscious. One day, General LeMay would get around to reinforcing the pressure suit regulations but, now, they were politely ignored.
From up here, the ground had lost most of its individuality to a human eye. It needed the cameras to make sense of what lay below. Far below them, isolated clouds posed like islands on a strangely colored sea. It was very different to the packed terrain of Europe they'd flown over a year before. And, Dedmon reminded himself, this time if the mission went right, they wouldn't have to end up destroying everything. They had a couple of lessons for the Japanese today. If they learned the first one, there would be no need to proceed to the second.
“We're being painted. Fire control radars. Anti-aircraft type.” The voice from the electronics pit was calm, matter-of-fact.
“Roger. All Hometown aircraft, evasive action, no need to make it extreme. Follow my lead unless they get real close.”
The anti-aircraft fire didn't. The black bursts were way below them and scattered all over the place. Even if they'd been at the right altitude, they were too scattered. None of them would have come close.
“Hey, guys, we have the altitude of the bursts at 32,000 and 36,000 feet.” The voice from Dixie Cupcake sounded almost amused. “The Eyes in the Sky believe they are 130mm and 100mm guns. No sign of the I50mms we've heard about. Not that it would matter much.”
“Dixie, thank the Eyes for us. We can expect to see some fighters soon. Got the New Thing loaded?”
“Sure have Texan Lady. Locked and loaded, ready to go.”
Clancy looked down at the black flowers far below them. ''That's pretty pathetic. Why do they even bother,”
“Might be pathetic Phil but its better than anything we can do. You know how many heavy 3nti-aircraft guns are operational back home? One battalion of 90mm guns at Camp Roberts in California. There are probably more anti-aircraft guns firing at us now than the US even has. We've got a bit of light stuff around the cities on the East Coast, left over from the V-l attacks, but heavy stuff? We're as wide open as Germany was. As for why do they bother, they're trying. Just as our guys would try under the same circumstances and hoping against hope they get lucky. They don't know they don't want to get lucky of course.”
And that was the truth. That would be Lesson Two. Lesson One was “You can't touch us”. Lesson Two was “OK, so you could touch us. You really didn't want to do that.” The mission orders for that eventuality were in Dedmon's document pouch. Today, the flight tactics were different from The Big One. Then, only one aircraft had been loaded with a nuclear device. Now, all three bombers were carrying, in this case, two devices each. If one of the four B-36s was shot down, the rest would proceed to a point in Japan and laydown on a series of targets. Four in Tokyo, two in Yokohama. Open skies. SAC goes where it wants, when it wants.
“Bombardier Compartment here. We're picking up fighters, way below us, no threat. From performance, we think they're Kendras. That'll mean they top out at about 39,000. Guess is they were out anyway and just vectored in because they were available.”
“Agree. Keep an eye on them though. They may have those guided air-to-air things we saw over Berlin.”
The formation carried on, swimming serenely through the azure blue of the skies high over China. Far below them, the countryside was smudged by brown. A town with its haze of smoke and dust. Once again, the sky far below them erupted into a crazy pattern of black blobs. Scattered and far, far below them. No threat. That was the pattern for hours as the B-36s flew along the Russo-Chinese border.
“Barbie Doll here. We have two formations coming in. One very fast, estimated speed 600 miles per hour. Designating Bandit-One, provisional identification Layla. Other is much slower but is climbing steadily. Can't be sure but we have them as certainly piston engined. Designation is Bandit-Two, our guess is Fran.”
“Thank you, Barbie Doll. Well, let's see if Herr Tank's reputation survived his very timely demise.”
There was a snort of laughter around the flight deck. The Japanese Layla was a version of the German Ta-183, a swept-wing German jet that had “been on the verge of entering service” for two years before The Big One. Quite a few of the newer Japanese aircraft showed a lot of German influence, obviously there had been a pretty rapid flow of information from the Nazis to the Japanese. Probably bribes to get the Japanese to attack Russia from the east. Some of the aircraft were pretty good. Technical Air Intelligence had suggested that the Japanese designers were quite a bit smarter than their German equivalents. Once the Germans had pointed them in the right direction, they'd taken the ball and run with it. The Flying Tigers had confirmed that; they'd found the Kendra was a little bit faster, flew a bit higher and turned quite a bit tighter than its German ancestor. Better armed too.