Cangemi shoved the Hornet's nose down further, streaking across the water at sixty feet and 510 knots. He checked his switchology — air/ground in master mode, inertial navigation system set to display the target offset point in the heads up display — then kicked in the afterburners.
The F/A-18 accelerated to 530 knots as the coast rapidly filled Cangemi's windshield. Forty seconds to "feet dry." Cangemi saw the piers approach, then flash under the Hornet in a blur as he snapped into a 6-g knife-edged turn and looked for his target. He resisted the insidious g-LOC (g-induced loss of consciousness).
Eight seconds later, Cangemi saw the San Antonio de Los Banos Air Base appear in his canopy. Concentrating on altitude, he waited until he was abreast of the pop-up point, then snatched the stick back and shot skyward. The tight-fitting g suit squeezed his abdomen and legs, then deflated as he unloaded the Hornet.
Cangemi, simultaneously rolling inverted and turning ninety degrees to the left, let the nose fall through until the pipper was on the main runway.
The radar-guided 57mm and 85mm antiaircraft guns opened up in unison, filling the sky with black shrouds of flak. The ground and pavement rushed toward the marine pilot at a breathtaking speed. Cangemi finessed the Hornet's pipper up, capturing the first third of the runway, held it a second, then pickled the twelve Mark-82 bombs.
The 500-pound explosives came off the racks in timed sequence, blasting twelve huge craters in the runway as Cangemi pulled out of the dive. Clouds of dust and debris boiled into the sky as Animal Two laid his twelve bombs down a row of hangars.
The third Hornet was blasting an assortment of parked aircraft as Cangemi snapped into another "fangs out" turn to the left. The Hornet bounced upward when a shell exploded under the fuselage. Cangemi checked his warning lights. They remained blank as he let out his breath.
He rechecked the gun position for a strafing run on the egress portion of the attack mission. The flight had been briefed to hose down the San Pedro and Ciudad Libertad military airfields on the way out. The sky was filled with black puffs of flak and red tracers slashing past the fighters.
Cangemi lined up with the first field, approaching from the south at 480 knots, then spotted two MiG-23 Floggers on their takeoff roll. They were pointed straight at him, one gaining speed and the second beginning to roll.
Cangemi lowered the Hornet's nose four degrees and pulled the trigger. The M-61 cannon spewed more than 320 rounds into the runway, through the center of the MiG-23 leader and across the right wing of Dash Two.
The first MiG, with a dead Cuban pilot in the cockpit, veered off the runway, crossed the ramp under full power, and plowed into a maintenance hangar. The explosion created an enormous fireball that engulfed four additional aircraft.
The wingman, stunned by the sudden attack, aborted his takeoff roll and stood on the brakes. His Flogger, damaged heavily by the cannon fire, had jet fuel pouring out of the right wing root.
Cangemi yanked the stick into his stomach as he passed over the explosion, jinking as hard as he could. The antiaircraft fire was devastating and concentrated. "Oh, Jesus!" the marine fighter pilot said to himself as three lines of tracers crisscrossed in front of the Hornet's canopy.
Cangemi lowered the nose for a pass across the third airfield. He knew he was pushing his luck well beyond the boundaries of reason. The Marine banked the agile F/A-18 to the right, placing the nose straight at Ciudad Libertad, then glanced around. The morning sky, clear and blue, was filled with aircraft and rising plumes of black smoke.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Karns tuned out the wild chatter in his earphones. There was total confusion as each pilot, straining to keep track of all the hurtling aircraft, snapped his head continuously from side to side.
"Skipper," Ricketts said over the intercom, "break right! We've got two gomers comin' down from four o'clock."
Karns tightened his stomach muscles to counter g-LOC, then whipped the Tomcat into a painful 6 1/2-g turn and slammed the throttles into afterburner. He switched from missiles to guns, worried that a Sidewinder might miss so close in and hit another F-14 or Hornet.
Transonic vapor appeared over the wing roots as the Tomcat dug into the savage turn. "I… have 'em…," Karns groaned in agony, easing off the crushing g load. "They're reversing… coming over… the top. Come on, just a few more seconds."
Karns slapped the stick hard to the left and yanked the nose up, placing the pipper just behind the second MiG-25 Foxbat. Two camouflaged MiGs flashed below the Foxbat, firing missiles at two F-14s engaged with three MiG-23s. One of the Tomcats erupted in flame and smoke, breaking hard into the pursuers.
Karns squeezed the trigger and let the M-61 Vulcan roar, vibrating the Tomcat. A blazing reddish white streak walked up the MiG's fuselage, tearing off pieces of metal. The Foxbat headed for the deck, diving steeply while trailing white smoke and jet fuel vapor.
Karns rolled inverted and let the F-14's nose drop, following the wounded Foxbat. He switched back to missiles, heard the tone, waited, and punched off a Sidewinder.
"Fox Two!"
The missile tracked straight to the MiG, exploding on the right side of the fuselage. A brilliant flame trailed down the side of the Foxbat.
Karns recognized the magnesium fire at the same instant the pilot ejected. "We got him!" Karns said to his RIO as he pulled the throttles out of afterburner. "We'll extend and pull back into this furball."
"Yeah," Ricketts responded, scanning the sky above and below the Tomcat.
They could see two distinct groups of aircraft engaged in separate fights. Ricketts spotted three sections of MiGs, high above the melee, traveling supersonic.
"Skipper!" Ricketts warned, snapping his visor up for a better view. "Bogies… oh, Jesus… MiG-29s at eight o'clock. They're comin' right down the tube."
Karns was shocked by the sight of the high-performance Fulcrums. They had superior armament and look-down, shoot-down capability. He wrapped the Tomcat into a crushing bat turn, placing the nose on the MiG-29s.
"MiG-29s high!" Karns warned the other fighter pilots over the radio. "Fulcrums — MiG-29s high to the east!"
"Lock 'em up, skipper!" Ricketts shouted.
Diamond One looked up at the diving MiGs, heard the tone, then fired two Sidewinders. His wingman fired one missile, waited a second, and fired a second missile.
Anatoly Sokolviy saw the missiles come off the Tomcats. He punched the chaff button, sending out bright flares to deflect the onrushing Sidewinders, then broke hard to the left. His Cuban wing-man, unprepared for the sudden attack, hesitated a second before he yanked his Fulcrum around. It was a costly mistake for the experienced pilot.
The American missile hit the wingman's tail, blowing off the entire aft section of the MiG. The aircraft tumbled end over end, then exploded at the same instant the pilot ejected. His parachute, engulfed in the horrendous fireball, was partially destroyed when the pilot separated from his ejection seat. Strapped in the streaming parachute, the flash-burned fighter pilot fell four miles to his death.
Sokolviy completed his evasive maneuver and banked the Fulcrum around, tracking the elusive Americans. He fired two AA-11 Archer missiles at Diamond One, then shot into the vertical and snap-rolled the Fulcrum 180 degrees. Shoving his throttles to the stops, he arched his head back to follow the two missiles. The Russian was surprised to see the two F-14s facing him canopy to canopy.
Raul Castro, enraged and shouting orders to everyone in sight, heard the antiaircraft guns start firing. He dashed to the control tower windows and shook his fist at the A-6Fs and Hornets approaching the airfield.