Mother made a face as he keyed the mike. “Hell, it’s a missile! White…. Milton, can you identify?”
“Lookout, Panther Two, I’m joining in trail on a sea skimmer heading zero-six-two. Wings deployed… subsonic.”
“Roger, Two. Are there others in the vicinity?”
Mother and Milton each scanned about and saw nothing but ocean swells and low scattered clouds. Far down on the horizon was a merchant ship — no factor. Mother was now on the deck with Milton and gaining on him. Ahead, the missile continued along at less than 100 feet.
“Milty, I’ve got the lead,” Mother growled.
“Two,” Milton responded, fighting to keep his disgust from showing. That sonofabitch is going to shoot my target!
The missile was now inside 50 miles of Iwo Jima. Lookout alerted the control tower which also served as the tactical command post. Inside the E-2, a lieutenant served as mission commander, and Mother sensed time was running out. A decision was required, now.
“This is Panther lead. You guys gonna give us permission to splash this thing?”
“Stand by, Panther,” the harried controller answered. Knowing there was no time to get approval from anybody, and with Iwo now coming into view, Mother took matters into his own hands.
“No time, Lookout. I’m taking it out. Tapes on.”
He selected Sidewinder and, at once, had a screaming tone as his heat-seeker begged for release. Mother lifted the MASTER ARM switch and, skimming the waves from near min-range behind the missile, pulled the trigger.
The Sidewinder shot ahead off his left wingtip with a sharp whoosh and two seconds later slammed into the tail of the cruise missile, blowing it apart and sending what was left of the Chinese weapon careening into the sea. Mother pulled off up and right to avoid debris. He then overbanked to see the flaming hulk splash into a swell.
“Just splashed it, Lookout,” Mother announced. Milton frowned under his oxygen mask. His CO had just elbowed him away from his kill.
“Roger, Panthers, splash one. Do you have a tally on any others? We’re getting some indications there are more behind you.”
Mother pulled his jet around and Milton followed, their radars sweeping down a line to the southwest. Milton got a lock at once, ten miles at his one o’clock.
“On my nose, ten miles. Heading northeast!”
Mother knew just what to do. “Eyeball shooter! I’m shooter!”
Milton put the radar lock on his nose and counted down the range as he accelerated into it. At three miles, his radar was locked on something, but he still couldn’t see it. Dammit!
At one mile, and with almost 1,000 knots of closure in a right-to-right pass, he picked up the missile.
“Missile! Shoot, shoot, shoot!”
Mother still didn’t have a lock on it and looked ahead of Milton’s nose to gain a tally. He picked up the missile as it passed his wingman, and turning hard into it, fished for a lock. As soon as he got it, his other Sidewinder sang out with a good tone. Mother kept his pull in for a sweeter shot.
Then, blue-hot flame erupted from the missile’s tail.
Mother saw the missile pull away, and he popped his throttles into burner to keep up with it. He was amazed to see it sprint ahead of him, and with alarm noted his AIM-9 was at the edge of the envelope as his target opened on him. He shot, and the Sidewinder lifted into a shallow climb as it sped ahead. He flinched as a seabird appeared out of nowhere, tucked in its wings, and passed over his right wing, avoiding a 500-knot impact by mere feet.
Mother’s missile tried, but, even with a high launch speed, it could not catch the cruise missile that was now just a faint blue dot. His radar remained locked, and Mother was astonished to see the symbology fly up the scope faster than anything he’d ever seen.
“Mother, you splash it?” Milton called.
Still disbelieving his eyes, Mother didn’t answer until Milton called again. “Negative, it just ran away like a scalded ape. Lookout, one just got through.” Mother could see Suribachi on the horizon as it dominated the rest of Iwo’s low volcanic mass. Fuck me, he thought.
“Roger, Panthers, and we think there are others coming up from the southwest. Weapons free on low fast flyers!”
Now it was up to Milton to employ his heatseekers in the forward quarter, with no time to visually ID a contact. If a radar lock showed something transonic, on the deck, and heading toward the island, he would shoot as soon as he was in range. He had two ‘Winders and half a load of bullets. How many more missiles were coming at them?
Milton whipped his jet around to the southwest and, with his radar scanning in AUTO, got a lock at once inside 20 miles. The symbology met parameters, and he called out to Lookout.
“Lookout, Panther Two. Contact on my nose for twelve, on the deck, hot. Declare!”
The E-2 controller answered. “Unable Panther. Engage at pilot’s discretion.” Mother jumped in to help.
“Shoot the damn thing, and we’ll ask questions later!”
Inside ten miles, Milton couldn’t see anything in his target designator box, but with a good tone, squeezed the trigger. The AIM-9 whooshed away and soon disappeared. Milton took a cut to the left and then reversed right to shoot again — if his first missile missed.
As soon as he brought his target box back into the HUD field of view, Milton was rewarded with a bright flash and a flaming trail of fire that arced into the Pacific a few miles ahead of him.
“Splash one!” Milton cried out.
“Vector southwest for more. I’m at your six for three miles!” Mother directed him.
At Iwo Jima, word came into the tower that a cruise missile was inbound. Wilson was below in his makeshift office when someone shouted, “Cruise missile attack! Take cover!”
He looked out his window and saw nothing except his jets parked close to each other on the flight line. His mind raced with questions. Where? What kind? When will it get here?
The YJ-18 had accelerated and stabilized at just under Mach 3 as it passed Suribachi toward its target. Six seconds later, as it followed its inertial guidance to a target coordinate that had one digit entered incorrectly, it exploded over the golf course. The shrapnel killed a flock of geese on the third fairway; they heard no sound as the missile appeared over the trees.
Wilson heard the explosion, and dozens of American and Japanese personnel scrambled to find what cover they could. Wilson figured the cinderblock walls of the building were better protection than nothing, and he crouched next to a metal secure storage safe in the corner. When he heard others scrambling outside in the hallway, he shouted, “Take cover!”
Milton stabilized at 500 feet and saw Mother coming up at his left eight o’clock. Mother took charge. “Lookout, we’re down to one missile and some bullets! We need help out here!” After Lookout acknowledged him, Mother had Milton take combat spread formation and headed them southwest, as if mowing the lawn to cut any more pop-up contacts. How many more were coming?
More than a depleted section of Hornets could handle.
CHAPTER 37
Mother slowed to 300 knots and instructed Milton to concentrate on sanitizing right while he looked left. The low airspeed allowed them to conserve fuel and react to anything their radars — or eyeballs — picked up. Both had plenty of bullets left, and Milton had one Sidewinder.