“Enemy missile!” the surviving H-6 pilot shouted after witnessing the explosion of his wingman on his left. He then threw his aircraft into a sharp, nose-low escape maneuver none of the crew had ever experienced and scooped out of a right-hand turn with the airframe shuddering under the g overstress. The pilot’s right hand, with the copilot’s left hand helping, pushed on the throttles as hard as they could. They dove to the water, fearful of the high vibration as much as of a missile impact from behind. As if bracing for impact, they held their breath. They were soon below 5,000 feet and at their redline airspeed. The pilot realized he still had his four missiles attached; he could have jettisoned the 14,000 pounds of ordnance to gain some airspeed, but having survived so far, he felt he was out of danger. After flying ten minutes to the southwest, he energized his search radar and began a shallow climb for home. Once their breathing returned to normal, the bombardier behind him reported his pants were soaking wet.
Once they crossed into the near sea and in line-of-sight radio range, they contacted Southern Theater controllers. In their turn, they reported to Shaodong that one surviving H-6 was inbound — after reporting to Beijing that the mission was a failure. With no indications of enemy emissions, the report caused the spines of bomber crews to quiver in fear. The Americans are invisible!
CHAPTER 40
Wilson found Hancock where she was supposed to be, fifteen miles off the coast of Honshu as she stood out from Sagami Bay. The ship had cast off from the pier at Yokosuka with the tide and turned right toward the sea at a normal pace. Then Blower “pulled the rods,” and Hanna roared through the bay at 30 knots, kicking up a huge wake which left small Japanese fishermen, and even Yokohama-bound containerships, changing course to evade. After an hour, Blower turned southeast into the blue Pacific. Once stabilized, he launched and recovered two Rhinos to test Cats 1 and 2. The tests were completed without incident. Thirty minutes later, Wilson showed up overhead with twenty jets. Hancock was back on the line as a fighting ship.
Wilson led his formation overhead the ship at 2,000 feet and saw the “Foxtrot” and “Charlie” flags flying. He dropped his tail hook and noted his wingmen do the same. They closed up into parade formation as Wilson led them in a tight circle behind the carrier and into the break. In his descending turn, he glanced at the majestic green coastline of Japan. Rugged hills and mountains rising out of the blue water were dotted by settlements with dozens of fishing boats scattered about. To the southwest, the gray silhouettes of far-off volcanic islands jutted out from the sea as sharp teeth in defense of the land of the rising sun.
Hancock lifted and fell in rhythmic motion on the powerful swells as her four screws churned the sea behind her into a white froth that allowed Wilson and the others to gauge her speed. Sierras and Romeos darted about as plane guards and to keep surface traffic away. Blower instructed the crews to kick up spray in a hover if any boats got too close, and failing that, to have the door gunners stitch a line of 7.62 rounds into the sea in front of their bows. Today the Japanese knew to give the American carrier a wider berth than usual.
Wilson led his division into the break and, at the bow, kissed off his wingmen. He then snap rolled and pulled hard left as he brought the throttles to idle. The force of five g’s squeezed him as he held his pull while the aerodynamic forces around him bled off chunks of airspeed.
He was still clean off the 180 before he could slap the gear and flaps down, stand on the nose-up trim, and set the auto-throttles. Airspeed continued to bleed as he kept a tight angle-of-bank through the 90 and assessed his position on the wake. He slid across it as his Rhino captured on-speed, and on the port deck edge saw a steady green light above the lens. With a quick glance, he noted Hancock had nothing on deck but two MV-22 Ospreys parked aft of the island.
The wake behind the carrier, moving at 30 knots, resembled raging whitewater rapids. Wilson crossed it and intercepted the glideslope, making tiny adjustments to his nose and wings as he flew the ball, concentrating on nothing else. His 17-ton jet dropped to the deck as his hook snatched up the two-wire, throwing Wilson forward against the straps as his left hand pushed the throttles to military, his Rhino straining against the cable as it roared at full power. The deck edge rushed up with calm blue water beyond it, and when forward motion stopped, Wilson’s hands, in practiced routine, folded the wings, engaged nose-wheel steering, raised the hook on signal and flashed a thumbs up to the Sniper Flight Deck Chief: 100 was an up jet.
Inside Hancock, the 1MC sounded. “Carrier Air Wing Fifteen, arriving.”
Wilson was led to a parking spot and shut down while the rest of the air wing trapped aboard in order. He opened the canopy and scrambled down, saluted the plane captain, and gave his bag to a waiting sailor to take it below. Wilson entered the island and made his way to the bridge. As he suspected, The Big Unit was with Blower, waiting for Wilson to arrive. As soon as he entered the bridge, his admiral walked up to him with extended hand.
“Welcome home, Flip! Now, we’ve got work to do.”
Over the next hour, Air Wing Fifteen’s fixed-wing aircraft returned to Hancock after their long transit. The whole world knew the American carrier had left port and had recovered her air wing. Inland Sea observers also saw two Super Hornets catapult off the carrier. Within hours Beijing knew that USS Hancock was once again a threat, and they knew her exact position. Without slowing, the carrier turned her bow south and disappeared over the horizon into the barren Pacific wastes.
In flag plot, The Big Unit assigned tasks.
“Blower, I want us in position to take aboard the helos and air wing personnel on Iwo tomorrow. Fill up the helos and Ospreys with our kids, and get them back here. Flip, I want a rollback plan for us and John Adams to begin chipping away at Chinese we encounter. That is going to put us in a position off Samar to strike throughout the SCS. The Chinese own it now, and we have indications they are going to cut off tankers to Japan and South Korea. Maybe they’ll capture them, or maybe they’ll sink them. Don’t know. The Spratly chain is their center of gravity to control the SCS and Malacca; they are well fortified and supplied. It’s going to be a high-end fight of attrition, and it begins right now. What do you guys have on alert?”
Wilson answered. “Sir, we’ve got four loaded jets on ready alert, with four more loaded and waiting. We are flying the helos hard, especially the Romeos, to sanitize around us. Line-of-sight comms are going to be a problem, and if we can get Triton UAV or P-8 coverage, we can radio relay to Yokosuka or Guam.”
Blower spoke up. “How about the MH-60s on Solomon Islands, sir? How can we leverage their assets in the sea control fight?”
“Yep, they’re going to be divvied out as needed, and so are the F-35s. Expect them to recover here from time to time. We’re going to get down there and join up with them and John Adams… more like a same-day/same-way rendezvous spread out over a few hundred miles. Everything hinges on us moving — fast — and staying off the damn radios as much as possible. Flip, you’ve got to convey that to your people. We are in no-shit EMCON — call it double-secret EMCON if you want. The guys in Hawaii are damn near catatonic about DF-21s hitting us, and if they are, I am, too!”