"Try recycling your radar, Dave," McLanahan told him Luger furiously switched the radar controls from STBY to TRANSMIT The radar scope would paint a picture for only a few sweeps, then blank out again.
"It's not working, we're blind down here."
"You said we were clear of terrain-the pilots should be able to see enough out the cockpit windows to keep us from hitting the ground.
We'll use the radar as much as we can law on. Keep the radar down until we make our escape turn."
"Two fighters at six o'clock," from Angelir@; then, "M3 radar's failed, I can't see them anymore…
McLanahan shook his head, then slapped his hands excitedly as a green NAV light illuminated on the computer monitor a his workstation. "Nav computer's back on-line. Pilot, center up on the target and try like hell to hold your airspeed steady Dave, get a groundspeed and mileage to the target and start watch. We might have to start the glide-bomb and decoys witf a dead-reckoning position. "Luger immediately wrote down the mileage to the Kavazny target and the groundspeed and started the timer on his wristwatch. When he rechecked it a moment later he found that his electronic LCD watch, like the three radar scopes on the Old Dog, had failed. He started the tiny forty-year-old wind-up ship's clock on his front panel and made a mental note to compensate for the extra twenty seconds lost.
"Reloading terrain data," McLanahan said, but before he could move the cartridge lever from LOCK to LOAD the navigation computer failed again.
"Four minutes to go," Luger announced.
"It's not going to come back up," McLanahan asked. "The Kavaznya radar's interference is just too strong."
Ormack and Elliott had managed to get the Old Dog's nose down after the flyup, but after flying with a terrain-following computer for so long they weren't ready to fly at the same low altitudes. Ormack trimmed the bomber for level flight at about a thousand feet altitude and rechecked his instruments before the actual weapon release, Unfortunately the effect of the change to higher altitude was to make the Old Dog an all-tooeasy target for the two Soviet fighters chasing it.
Taking vectors from interceptor radar operators at Ossora Airfield near the laser complex, the MiG-29 Fulcrum interceptor pilots didn't need their sophisticated look-down shoot-down A equipment to launch their missiles. The controller gave the pilots range and azimuth information to ideal launch positions.
once they visually acquired the huge bomber, they maneuvered around it to stay away from its deadly tail and turn their missiles' seeker-heads away from the glare and heat of the city beyond it.
"We can't drive into the target like this," Wendy said.
"Colonel, I need you to make random maneuvers all the way toward the target-" "We've got to program the weapons in a D.R position," Luger interrupted. "We can't-" "She's right, Dave," McLanahan asked. "We'll get hosed if we drive straight and level all this way. Clear to maneuver."
"Random jinks," Wendy asked. "Not left and right…
left twice, right once, random all the way. I'll eject chaff just before each reversal."
Ormack nodded and began the first j ink to the left. "Now we sound like a fighting-" Suddenly a blinding flash erupted from just beyond OrMack's right cockpit window. Ormack, who was staring out the front windscreen, with the cockpit lights turned down so the pilots could start visually picking out terrain, caught the flasl full intensity.
"I'm blind "Easy, John," Elliott said, took a firm grip on the yoke a trimmed it for level flight about five hundred feet abo ground.
"We just had a missile explode off our right wing," Elliott said over the interphone. "The co-pilot got flashblinded. But the engines look okay "Three minutes to go," Luger said, flicked his radar in TRANSMIT and took a fast range, azimuth and terrain chec before the scope went blank again. "Four degrees right. Cleof terrain, General. You can descend, slowly.
"The radar altimeter should be good for terrain clearan now that we're clear of the mountains," McLanahan saic "How can they still be shooting at us?" Luger said, puzzle "if Kavaznya's radar blotted out our radar-they should', taken out the fighter's radars too.
"Infrared search-and-track system," Wendy told him "They use an airborne I.R tracker for azimuth and elevation data and the Kavaznya radar for range data. They can take shots at us all night like that.
"Well, we're running out of time, Dave," McLanahan said He punched in range, elevation and azimuth data into the Striker glide-bomb's initial vector catalog. "We'll launch the bomb at maximum range-twelve miles, ninety seconds to go I've set the initial steering data for twelve miles at twel-, o'clock. Give me a countdown to the two minute point."
"Roger," Luger said.
"Amplitude shift in the Kavaznya radar signal," Wendy suddenly announced. "Looks like… looks like a targe tracking mode. The laser… it's locked onto us… " McLanahan reacted as if he had been rehearsing the actio although he never had. In one fluid motion he moved Weapons Monitor and Release Switch from the Striker forward center position to forward left, the weapon-rac position of one of the weapon decoys, moved the bay doc control switch to MANUAL, hit the DOOR OPEN switch at reached down to his left knee and hit the recessed black button on the manual release "pickle" switch.
"Bay doors are open," Elliott announced as a large yello, BOMB DOORS OPEN light flared on the forward instrume panel. A moment later a similar light marked WEAPON RELEASE flicked on-then off.
"What the hell?"
"The decoys," McLanahan told Elliott. "We can't jam the laser's radar, but the decoys should draw it away long enough for us to get within range.
A moment later Elliott flinched as an object resembling a huge blue-orange meteor burst to life and flew diagonally away from the Old Dog. The mass of fire spit tiny, blinding balls of light from its flaming body, and streams of gleaming tinselradar-decoy chaff-poured from behind the drone. The glare from the decoy was almost blinding, but Elliott squinted anyway and watched the decoy fly earthward, jinking left and right as it burned away.
The next instant McLanahan moved the weapon-select switch to forward right and punched out the second decoy.
Elliott noticed the WEAPON RELEASE button light once again; then, as the second decoy ignited and flew awa to the right, Elliott's gaze was drawn to the right cockpit window.
The launch of the second decoy, and Elliott's attempt to spot it, saved the general's eyesight-and the life of the crew.
Although the tiny Quail decoy-an improved version of an old bomber defensive drone used on SAC bombers for yearswas many times smaller than its parent B-52 bomber, its design made its radar, infrared and radiation signature more than tentimes larger than the Old Dog. Its refrigerator-size body had dozens of radar-reflecting nodules surrounding it, and even the design of the wings and tail, as well as the fifty pounds of chaff-bundles it ejected in regular intervals, enhanced its radar reflectivity. Its shape alone made it a more appealing target than the quarter-million-pound bomber.
But there was much more packed into the tiny drone. It automatically broadcast a wide spectrum of radio transmissions < to attract anti-radiation and home-on-jam missiles. To heatseeking missiles and infrared trackers the phosphorus flares and burning jelly oozing along its surface made it appear as hot as a nuclear reactor.
The Kavaznya radar, even with its solid nuclear-powered lockon, was drawn off its intended target. The first Quail bloomed like an electromagnetic stain across the target-tracking radar scope of the Russian laser weapons officer. The tracking computer quickly locked onto the larger return, and the tar officer did not override the shift.