As the Rhinos thundered past, their lofted and laid-down weapons soon covered the aimpoints with blast and frag as more black smoke burst from targets on the sandy surface. At close interval, the trailing division altered their pops to sow confusion, and the SLAM jets had their missiles inbound to ensure the high-value warehouse and ops building were destroyed.
“I’m hit!”
Recognizing Breeder’s voice, Wilson snapped his head left and saw white mist trailing behind his wingman. With the west clear, Wilson took charge.
“Snake one-two extend west! Whatcha got?” Wilson radioed. With heart pounding and mouth open against his mask, he continued to jink along the surface, whipping his head left and right to pick up threats. A row of geysers from spent AAA rounds erupted on the water next to him, and he jinked away.
“I’ve got HYD 1 and flight control cautions, but it’s flyable!” Breeder radioed.
Despite the damage to Breeder’s hydraulic system, the jet was flyable. However, they were deep in enemy territory — closer now to Vietnam than Palawan — and either direction meant a transit over hundreds of miles of open sea. PLA fighters chasing after the Les Aspin jets were another factor. Sandwiched between the western bandits and Blood Moon, Wilson directed Breeder to turn easy left and egress southeast in section behind the others, avoiding Blood Moon to the north and Song Ca to the south.
With the Americans jinking for their lives, Blood Moon took another salvo of hits from the second division as intact targets were destroyed and the runway strewn with debris. One tactical SAM battery remained untouched as did several AAA guns waiting for more Americans.
The last division launched their Standoff Land Attack Missiles in a loft, and, at close range, the seeker heads opened up to see smoke and flame the length of the island. The Weapons Systems Officers in the FA-18Fs controlled the missiles in the endgame as their pilots kept the Super Hornets outside the threat. As the SLAMs neared the atoll, more intact targets came into view. Using their judgment, the WSOs flew their missiles into them as Gumby’s Growlers jammed the defenses and shot them with their last AARGMs.
Bai saw a wing flash over the burning atoll — his home! — and, in fury, boresighted the Super Hornet some five miles away. He would kill it for sure, and another with his second missile, and more with his gun. The entire outpost was smoking and burning, and Bai ignored the AAA as he flew toward it, supersonic.
He lost sight of the FA-18—Blast! — and his radar was unreadable with all the American jamming. They would probably egress the way they had come, and he cut the corner east of Blood Moon. The island was in shambles, and probably unsafe for landing. The short airstrip at Song Ca was good for emergencies, but, looking south, his heart sank when he saw a pall of smoke on the horizon.
It was just him now. Even when they were “up,” the panic-stricken controllers were no help, and they were now silent after the American strike. Using his IR search-and-track seeker, he picked up some contacts and banked into them to pursue. However, something to his right caught his eye.
Super Hornets!
Bai saw two Americans and scanned the sky around them for more. They were low but not tactically low or fast, and one was streaming something.
Blood in the water!
Bai tightened his muscles and yanked the jet right to conceal himself in the roiling smoke of Blood Moon in order to come out behind the American wing line. As he crossed close to the outpost and unloaded, he saw that Liu Qi’s dormitory was burning.
“The Americans kill defenseless women!” he raged, possessed with an animal fury.
Clear of Blood Moon at his 9 o’clock, Wilson slowed to join on Breeder who was still misting from his left side. The others were sprinting back into the low sun and away from the burning atoll. Breeder came up on the radio.
“CAG, I’ve got a HYD 1, A and B now, left leading edge flap X-ed out. My state seven-point-one.”
The damage to Breeder’s jet was critical. The Super Hornet could still fly on one hydraulic system, but, if the left engine was running the HYD 1 pump, without fluid, the pump could overheat and cause a fire. The manual called for landing, and, if that were not possible in a reasonable time, to shut down the left engine. But Breeder — and Wilson — needed that engine to get them out of danger. The natural reaction was to slow to a cruise airspeed. With threats all around and one Rhino already lost, Breeder would keep flying his wounded jet for as long as he could. The “get-well-point” of relative safety was well over 100 miles away.
Wilson slid next to Breeder to get a better look at the damage and saw holes under his left flap. Just then, Breeder sang out.
“Bandit left eight! Three miles. Hot!”
By reflex, Wilson’s head and hands jerked left as he pulled into the threat. He picked it up immediately, and the Flanker’s engines were generating smoke as the Chinese pilot bore in. With his cueing system, Wilson locked the jet, mashed to select Sidewinder, and got a weak tone — but good enough. Wilson unloaded for a count and pulled the trigger. The AIM-9X came off like a bottle rocket. Fascinated, he watched it turn the corner and track the J-11.
Bai saw the missile come off — the fearsome Sidewinder—and broke away from it, making it turn harder and fly farther. At the edge of the envelope, the latest-model Sidewinder needed a cooperative target and Bai was the opposite of that.
Wilson kept his turn in and saw his missile fall off. Fuck!
“Breeder, I’m engaged with a single Flanker! Egress east!” Wilson ordered.
Now Bai had the advantage in this missile duel. At the moment he saw the American missile lag behind him, he pulled back and into Wilson. However, the low sun was a more tempting target for his heatseeker, which glommed on to it. He pulled the trigger anyway, and his missile came off, twitched right, and went stupid.
By instinct, Wilson popped out flares and unloaded away, then felt the g grab him again as he pulled into the threat, now across the circle inside a mile. Both jets were pulling and bleeding knots below 500 feet, a place neither pilot had trained.
Bai saw the damaged American jet flying into the sun up ahead and unloaded for airspeed. Without an IR shot, he selected his lone radar missile and tried to lock the FA-18E, whipping his head left to track Wilson coming down his left wing. The jamming was too intense; his screen had dozens of contacts and he could not tell which was which. Seeing Wilson turn through 90 degrees, Bai had to break it off and honor the threat he presented. I’ll kill this one first, then use the last of my fuel to take the remaining cowards with me!
Wilson had a bite and locked his other AIM-9X on him, but it was too tight a turn, and he saw the J-11 pull back into him hard to re-engage. It was now an energy fight, and keeping knots up meant taking one’s nose off. Wilson sensed Bai’s nose fall off a bit, and he popped the stick forward to gain some airspeed. When vapor reappeared on the top of the Flanker, Wilson traded his newfound airspeed for a few extra degrees of angles.