"Shotgun, this is Tango Three-seven." The voice crackled in Tombstone's headset. "We have multiple bogies, repeat, many bogies, bearing from you two-seven-five at angels three, range twenty-two thousand."
"I got 'em, Tombstone!" Snowball said. "I see sixteen… eighteen…"
"Uh-oh, the shit's hittin' the old fan now," Batman said.
"Can it, people," Tombstone said. "Assemble at angels five over the harbor. Let's catch them as they come down the slot."
"The slot" was the aviators' name for a valley twisting down out of the mountains northwest of Wonsan. A major road and railway wound up into the Taebaeks along that valley, heading toward the small town of Majon-ni farther west. The attackers must be coming through that pass.
"Twenty-one bogies now," Snowball called. "Coming in high, above the pass."
Twenty-one… and Tombstone had three Tomcats in his flight besides himself, plus four more somewhere down on the deck, riding herd on the Sea Stallions ferrying wounded out to the Chosin. He opened a channel to Jefferson. "Homeplate, Homeplate, this is Shotgun. Advise me on status, Javelins and Fighting Hornets."
"Shotgun, Homeplate. Be advised flight deck is still out of commission. Fighting Hornets will not be able to launch for another ten minutes at least. Javelins are tanking up at Point Echo and are at least fifteen minutes out."
Shit! "Copy, Homeplate. We… uh… have a problem."
"We are tracking your problem, Shotgun. We are redeploying War Eagle CAP to cover helo operations over Nyongch'on and the beach. The other four birds of your squadron will be with you in a few minutes."
Great, Tombstone thought. That makes it eight to twenty-one, just about what we had the other day.
"Shotguns, this is Shotgun Leader," he said. "Come to new heading, two-seven-five, and take 'em up to angels six. Let's see if we can get the drop on our playmates up in the mountains."
"Roger that," Batman said cheerfully.
Tombstone felt the familiar stirrings of doubt and pushed them aside. "Ready… break!"
CHAPTER 30
Tombstone pushed his F-14's stick forward and watched the mountains behind Wonsan rise in front of his canopy. He could see the valley notch in the ridge line which led toward Majon-ni. North Korean aircraft would be bursting through that opening and into the skies above Wonsan in seconds now. "Weapons armed!" he snapped. "Snowball! Gimme a range!"
"Uh… eighteen, no! Sixteen bogies now. Range eight thousand."
"What happened to twenty-one?"
"Lost 'em, Stoney. Lost 'em in the ground clutter!"
So some of the enemy aircraft were hedge-hopping, funneling through the mountain canyons like the spaceships in a sci-fi thriller. Somebody on the opposing team had balls. Tombstone's heart was hammering now, the adrenaline flowing. He licked his lips. "Shotguns' We have some guys sneaking through the pass at low altitude. Keep your eyes peeled." In the twisted gray and dun patchwork of stone and forest, spotting low-flying fighters was going to be a bitch.
Worse, he didn't dare try for a lock with his Phoenix missiles, not if the targets were going to vanish in the ground clutter. Better to wait and be sure.
"Shotgun Leader, this is Homeplate. Come in, Shotgun."
"Shotgun here. Go ahead, Homeplate."
"Tombstone, I thought I'd better pass the word." It was Commander Barnes in Jefferson's CIC. "The wounded off Chimera have just gone on board Chosin. The rest of Chimera's crew is at Blue Beach, loading onto the LCACs." There was a hesitation. "Stoney, they're going to be naked out there if those MiGs break through!"
Tombstone fought the rising, ice-cold feeling in his gut. Marine LCACs and helicopters would make prime targets; hell, you couldn't miss the damned things.
If a boatload of rescued POWs died during the final leg of their flight to safety…
"I copy, Homeplate. Send us what help you can. We'll hold the line."
"Tombstone!" Snowball yelled. "Eight bogies, going high!"
"Tag 'em! We'll go Phoenix!"
"Locked on! Tone!"
Tombstone heard the chirp of a radar lock in his headphones. "Six missiles, six targets. Ready to launch!"
The Tomcat's AWG-9 could track six targets simultaneously, guiding a radar-homing missile to each one. It could even pick targets for itself, selecting those radar bogies which posed the greatest threat to the Tomcat.
The machines, Tombstone reflected, were getting more efficient at war than the men who used them.
"Fox one! Fox one!" His Tomcat lurched as a blunt-nosed Phoenix slid clear of the starboard wing with a gush of white smoke. Five seconds later, a second Phoenix followed the trail of the first, twisting into blue sky ahead.
"Targets are breaking, Tombstone," his RIO reported. "Solid locks. Missile three away… missile four away…"
"Target lock!" Army Garrison called. "Fox one!"
Tombstone noticed that Batman was holding back, that he had not yet launched. He wondered if Wayne was having trouble again, face to face with the need to kill another man.
He decided to say nothing. Batman would click in, had to click in… or he was dead. Anything Tombstone said to Batman over the radio might cause more trouble then it solved. He remembered how things had started going to pieces for him during the last dogfight… culminating with his repeat bolters on the Jefferson.
If Batman was having trouble, he'd have to resolve it himself.
Missiles five and six slid clear of the Tomcat and Tombstone rolled left, heading for the deck. He pulled up seconds later as concrete buildings blurred beneath the F-14's belly. Tombstone glimpsed roads, bridges, factories, and apartments. This is a hell of a place for a dogfight, he thought. I hope the civilians have already bugged out.
Orange flame blossomed ahead. "Hit!" Snowball exalted. "Splash one MiG!"
The other MiGs scattered across the sky, their contrails interpenetrating with the twisting white lines of Phoenix AAMs. Missile two steered into the side of a mountain seconds later. Several MiGs were scrambling for the deck now, attempting to lose the radar-locked hunters among the rocks and crags of the valley.
The notch in the mountains became a valley of death. A second explosion hurled flaming chunks of MiG across the canyon. Tombstone pulled up and arrowed into the valley as half a dozen silver delta-winged aircraft lashed past above his canopy heading in the opposite direction. One MiG exploded, the concussion rocking the F-14.
"Splash two! Splash three!" Snowball yelled. "Holy mother, it's raining MiGs!"
"Lining up nice… Fox one!"
Fire blazed in the sky. "Splash one for Two-oh-four," Army announced.
"Fox two! Fox two!" That was Taggart. If he'd gone to Sidewinders, he was close.
Tombstone pulled back on the stick, climbing from the valley in a loop which took him up to five thousand feet. MiGs were everywhere now, above him, behind him, and spilling out of the pass over Wonsan. From a mile in the air, Tombstone could see the morning sun glint off the harbor ahead, could see the black silhouettes of the big Marine amphib ships far out toward the horizon.
"Shotgun Leader, this is Two-two-one. We're in the game. Where's the action?"
So Snake Hoffner had arrived, along with the three other Tomcats which had been escorting helicopters. "Two-four-four in," Nightmare Marinaro said. "And Two-four-eight." That was Shooter Rostenkowski.
"And Two-nine-five," Paddy Padden added. "Upping the ante with Fox two!"
"Welcome aboard, guys," Price Taggart said. "Ain't we got fun?"
Another MiG blossomed into flames, the wreckage tumbling end for end as it streaked into the valley below and slammed into the face of a cliff. Atoll missiles were crisscrossing with Phoenixes and Sidewinders now. "Splash one for Two-nine-five!"