Agazzi gave permission to launch. His mind meshed the two theories of Bernardo and Gentron. What was his theory? Both of theirs made sense. But the best case for determining who was right would be whether the submarines remained on sonar. As Agazzi thought about the problem, searching for a third alternative, he was unaware that in Combat, Garcia had already reached the conclusion that the first salvo were live torpedoes that had run out of fuel.
Topside within Combat Information Center, the ASW air controller continued vectoring SH-36 helicopters with their torpedoes along the lines of bearing provided by Agazzi.
“Black Leader, Raptor Leader!” shouted the voice of the RC-135 controller. “I have multiple bogies bearing one-nine-zero and two-one-zero from us.”
“Roger, Weasel,” came the calm voice of Tyler-Cole. “We see them on our heads-up display. I think you have found the missing J-12s, sir.”
“Black Leader, this is Mother; we are showing multiple air targets emerging off the coast of mainland China. We are turning into the wind to launch the ready CAP. Recommend a quick escort of the heavy away from the area.” Aircraft carriers in times when a quick reaction against an approaching hostile force might be required kept two fighters ready for immediate launch. This pair was usually referred to as the ready combat air patroclass="underline" CAP.
“Roger, Mother; that is what we’ve been doing for the past few minutes,” Tyler-Cole replied in a sharp tone.
Franklin listened as Tyler-Cole discussed a new flight course. A course that took the Royal Navy fighters and the American reconnaissance aircraft closer to the Taiwan land-mass. On his heads-up display, the data link showed the six contacts behind them in formations of two. He didn’t have them on his radar, but the data link from the Rivet Joint was providing the locations. “How are you doing that?” he asked aloud.
The Chinese aircraft had almost encircled Weasel and Black Formation before they had been detected. He smiled. Their stealth technology wasn’t as good as ours.
As suddenly as they appeared, they disappeared. In their stead, twelve smaller bogies appeared.
“This is Weasel; we have multiple missile seekers and radar returns. Long range, but heading our way.”
“Have they locked onto you?”
“That is a negative, Black Leader. We are being painted, but the seeker is still searching. Activating countermeasures at this time.”
“This is Mother. I have control of all aircraft within my area of responsibility. Weasel, come to course zero-six-zero, and descend to three thousand meters altitude. Taipei control has been notified of your approach. You can expect a flight of Taiwanese F-16s to pick you up by the time you reach the coastline.”
“Tight End, this is Pickles; you copying this?”
“Affirmative, DETCO. We are about one hundred miles behind you. Go for it and we’ll catch up.”
“Roger. Captain Franklin, let’s put some speed on and join them.”
Franklin looked up as Johnson’s aircraft pushed the afterburner to maximum. A second later, she was a mile away as he pushed the throttle forward. The jolt of speed pushed him back into his seat.
“Black Leader, Mother; reform and prepare to engage.”
Franklin’s attention switched between the heads-up display showing him the changing air scene and keeping visual track on Johnson, who seemed hell-bent to be in the middle of the action even if she was alone. This could be the first air combat action between three sets of stealth fighters from three different nations. He took a deep breath. Someone else would have to write this history.
“Weasel, Mother; continue descent to five hundred meters altitude.”
“Roger. Let me know when the paint of the missile seekers disappears.”
“Roger, Mother.”
The F-35 Joint Strike Force Fighter flown by the British was a stealth fighter like the United States Air Force F-22A, but not on a technological par with the Raptor. The U.S. Navy and Marine Corps flew the F-35 fighters also. Franklin allowed himself a slight smile. Just ask any Air Force pilot if you wanted the truth. It was only right the Air Force had the better fighters. Franklin’s eyebrows lifted for a moment. The air was their sea and they controlled it.
“Weasel, this is Mother; do you have missile identification yet?”
“That is a negative, Mother. These missiles are not in our database. They were fired long range, subsonic, active mode. They are continuing to paint us. No lock-on at this time. Diving past cloud layer — ten thousand feet at this time.”
“Roger, continue on to five hundred meters — make that fifteen hundred feet. Report when missile seekers have been lost.”
When air-to-air missiles are fired, they are usually configured with an infrared seeker designed to home in on heat signatures. Those type missiles are very effective for rear-hemispheric attacks against a fleeing aircraft or against an enemy where the shooter pilot is behind his or her target.
The other type of seeker was one with high-frequency band radar in the cone that put out a directional beam, searching for a return to guide it to its target. These missiles employed active seekers that searched for their target and once it was found, the radar signal locked onto the target and wherever the target went, the missile followed.
Then, there were missiles with both capabilities, such as the venerable American Sidewinder that could switch between active-seeker radar and infrared-seeker. Those were the hardest missiles to defeat.
Aircraft had antimissile capabilities. The Air Force RC-135 Rivet Joint reconnaissance aircraft could drop magnesium flares to draw away the infrared missiles. Other countermeasures included decoying the active seekers with radar countermeasures such as jamming or deflecting the return. Stealth fighters such as the F-22A and F-35 Joint Strike Fighter depended primarily on their stealth technology to defeat the active seeker, but even they had flares and electronic countermeasures in their basket of defense.
“Do you have a jamming capability against the missiles?”
“We are scrambling now, Mother. No joy at this time.”
“Mother, this is Black Leader; Black Formation reformed and ready for direction.” After the Royal Navy aircraft carrier Elizabeth acknowledged Tyler-Cole’s report, the commander passed the fuel and armament status to the controller.
“Roger, Black Leader; come to course two-zero-zero for intercept. Be advised we have nothing on radar to guide you toward the targets except last bogie location. Estimated range to interception is one hundred kilometers. Descend to five thousand meters.”
Franklin’s eyebrows wrinkled as he tried to convert five thousand meters into feet. The rough estimate used by American pilots was 3K feet for every meter, even though everyone knew a meter was 3.28 feet. The British formation was descending to around seventeen thousand feet. Close enough for air combat, he figured.
As if reading his mind, the British Air Intercept Controller on board the Royal Navy aircraft carrier Elizabeth came on the circuit. “Raptor Formation, this is Mother. Black Formation is being vectored for interception of hostile targets. They are descending to five thousand meters, which is about 16,500 feet. Request you take altitude angels twenty-five; 25,000 feet or about 7,500 meters. I am showing two Raptor formations about seventy-five miles apart on the data profile. Third Raptor formation has been launched from Sea Base. We have control of it also.”
“Roger, Mother; this is Raptor Leader — lead formation. We are on intercept course to the heavy,” Johnson broadcast using the cover term “heavy” to describe the RC-135 reconnaissance aircraft. “Second Raptor formation is Raptor-30 Formation.”