Bai was surprised at his instinctive ability to avoid fire and press his attack. None of the PLA(NAF) pilots had ever experienced anything like this sensory overload, not in scripted training and never against an adversary flying modern aircraft. At 12,000 feet, he steadied to determine his dive angle and the ship’s speed. He then overbanked the jet as he pulled the stick into his lap and sucked the throttles to idle.
Rolling out in a 60-degree dive, he assessed the rate closure and how fast the vessel was moving across the surface. As he dove through 9,000 feet, he aimed for a spot well ahead of the corvette, making smoke with all guns blazing. His cluster weapons would come off and fall for the spot before opening and blooming into a pattern that would pepper the vessel with deadly bomblets, devastating the soft antennas and aluminum superstructure of the coastal patrol craft — and any exposed sailors. Four blossoming patterns of cluster munitions would be an imprecise but lethal shotgun blast on top of the corvette — if Bai’s human aim could release the weapons at the proper airspeed and altitude and on the exact patch of water the ship would occupy when the bomblets hit.
Bai held his thumb on the weapons release switch as he noted 6,000 feet pass in his heads-up display. Brilliant muzzle flashes from guns on the bow and near the bridge caught his eye. A row of tracers zipped underneath him, and then a graceful row curved above. All he heard was the transonic slipstream over the canopy and excited shouts on the radio from the other elements.
Bai had sounded no alarm over the loss of his flight leader.
He passed his release altitude and continued in his steep dive with nothing but water in front of him. At 3,000 feet, in a 55-degree dive, he realized with fear he needed to release and recover. With his eyes wide with alarm, he sensed the water rush up to him and, in panic, he mashed down on the red switch.
After four quick and welcome jolts, he yanked back on the stick as the jet spiked to 8.4 g’s, the crushing force squashing every square inch of him into his seat. His vision grayed and tunneled as he pulled out and rolled away from the corvette, now sensing splashes from AAA rounds erupting on the sea below him. In full burner, he jinked hard above the waves and, for a moment, felt as if he were flying formation on an ordered stream of tracers to his right.
Bai’s mouth was dry from fear, but he had to know. At over 500 knots, he rolled and pulled hard left, twisting in his seat and bending his neck up to see the horizon. On it, the corvette, burning and smoking from stem to stern, emerged from a churning surface of white splashes as the bomblets tore into the sea and the ship without bias. With flashes of flame all over it, Bai could not tell if the corvette was still firing at him, but he sensed he had scored a direct hit! Unguided cluster weapons on a speeding warship!
Once he felt safe, he pulled up to the right. With fuel to spare and two missiles, he kept the turn in and headed to Phan Rang.
Now climbing off the coast, he listened and could tell the PRC fighters were having their way with the Vietnamese. Five miles to his right, he saw a flash followed by a black smoke trail south of the harbor. By instinct, he snapped the jet right and lit the burner cans as he climbed into the furball from below.
The Vietnamese must have had their entire squadron of Fitters airborne as Bai saw at least ten turning and twisting jets ahead of him against the cumulous backlighting. A missile from one found its mark on another, but Bai could not tell who shot at whom. He then identified a J-11 planform and another following it. Across the circle were two Fitters flying formation with their wings swept back. Easy pickings, Bai thought.
Inside three miles, the smaller VPAF jets were clear to discern, and Bai knew he had to keep his scan going to keep track of all the aircraft in the swirling three-dimensional mêlée. All the fighters had forward-quarter missiles, and simply having a nose placed on you could lead to a shot with little to no chance of escape. With burners plugged in, Bai was supersonic as he climbed at a shallow angle toward the trailing Su-22.
Locking the Fitter with his helmet-mounted sight, Bai was rewarded by a screaming missile tone. He squeezed the trigger and the heat-seeker whooshed off the rail. With 400 knots of closure, the Fitter didn’t have a chance to defend, even if he had seen the missile streak toward him. Bai’s shot blew the enemy’s tail off, and the forward fuselage and wings entered a violent roll as it arced across the sky. Bai saw a Fitter at his right four o’clock low begin to pull lead. He chopped power and pulled into it, as much as he and his J-11 could handle at over 600 knots. The Vietnamese didn’t fire.
Bai exited the fight to the west, re-engaged afterburner, and unloaded for airspeed, craning his neck and pushing off his canopy to keep sight of the fight behind him. He extended toward a cloud buildup to hide, at once cursing himself that an enemy radar missile could follow him inside. You idiot!
Bai punched through the white column and popped his speed brake to slow below 500. He retracted it and pulled hard to avoid another buildup and to pitch back into the fight for another slash at the Fitters. He then realized his gun camera was still off! Stupid idiot! He flicked the camera on as he berated himself.
Another Vietnamese SAM fired from the north rifled through the swirling fight and clipped a J-11. The radio came alive as Bai’s mates screamed for break turns and for their comrade to eject from the burning fighter. Bai was now between the turning fight of at least six jets and Phan Rang, and checked his scope clean as he whipped his head left and right over his shoulders to check his six. His IR seeker found a contact and again Bai locked up a Fitter with wings extended and in a rolling scissors with a Flanker.
“In the scissors with a Fitter! I will have a shot in ten seconds!” Bai called as he selected his remaining PL-8 heat-seeker, the high-pitched tone signaling it was ready for him to fire.
Without anything near a J-11’s powerful thrust-to-weight, the Su-22 could not follow it up as the Bai’s mate looped above to flush the older aircraft out front. The pilot was eager to claim a victory for himself, and, after Bai’s call, was quick to respond. “Negative! The Fitter in the scissors low heading north is mine! Will have a shot in five seconds!”
Bai heard the call, but in his determination and blind will to claim another victory — this one recorded — he again squeezed the trigger. The missile shot forward and jerked up, then down, before tracking the Su-22, now in a desperate attempt to gain separation from the J-11. As the J-11 got a tone, Bai’s missile slammed into the Vietnamese jet. Engulfed in flames, the Fitter nosed down to the jungle below.