Each F-14B Tomcat was similarly equipped for this medium-range Force CAP night patroclass="underline" two 1,110-liter external fuel tanks on the pylons under the engine air inlets; two radar-guided AIM-120A AMRAAMs (Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missiles) and two AIM-9M Sidewinder short-range heat-seeking missiles, on the wing glove pylons; and four huge AIM-54C Phoenix long-range radar-guided missiles on the fuselage stations. With the Lincoln battle group so far out in the Arabian Sea, the primary threat to be countered by the F-14 air patrols was from Iranian long-range fighter-bombers and long-range patrol aircraft, so these Tomcats carried two extra Phoenix missiles per fighter—the Phoenix missile had a range of over ninety miles, well within radar detection range but far enough out of the range of most of the Russian-made air-launched anti-ship cruise missiles that Iran had in its inventory.
A few minutes after receiving their vector from the E-2C Hawkeye radar plane, from VAW 117 Wallbangers, orbiting 200 miles northwest of the Lincoln carrier group, Crowley’s radar intercept officer had the bogey on radar: “Radar contact, one-seven-five miles, off the nose.”
“Aardvark flight, that’s your bogey,” the Hawkeye radar officer said, verifying the RIO’s report. The Tomcats now took over primary responsibility for the intercept.
It was a cat-and-mouse game that had been played every night for the past few nights. These were “ferret” flights, probes of the Lincoln’s air defense capability, by a wide variety of Iranian aircraft, from top-of-the-line MiG-29 Fulcrum, MiG-25 Foxbat, and MiG-31 Foxhound supersonic fighters to giant lumbering P-3 Orion and EC-130 surveillance aircraft. The smaller Iranian combat aircraft—already at the limit of their fuel reserves, because the Lincoln was still very far offshore—would simply drive in as close as they dared toward the carrier group and watch to see what sort of response the Americans would make. With one E-2 Hawkeye orbiting over the carrier and one Hawkeye stationed between the carrier and the Iranian mainland, the carrier group had “eyes” out at least 200 miles around the ship, and a narrow corridor of radar coverage on a straight line from the carrier to Chah Bahar Naval Base, over 400 miles away.
Most times, the Iranian “ferret” planes would zoom in—probably recording all of the electronic signals generated by the Lincoln, its escorts, and its patrol aircraft—then, once it was “paired” with a Tomcat, it would turn around and head for home. The Iranians knew all about the F-14 Tomcat and the AIM-54 Phoenix missile—because they still employed both of them. In the mid-1970s, when the Shah had been in power, the United States had transferred 100 of the advanced fighters to Iran; the exact numbers were unknown, but Iran probably still had a dozen operational Tomcats and about 100 Phoenix missiles in good condition. The Iranians knew to give the Phoenix missile a lot of respect, so at the first squeak of the Tomcat’s AWG-9 radar, they usually turned tail.
But not this time Wallbanger picked this guy out at almost three hundred miles—that’s the limit of his radar,” Crowley observed, thinking aloud. “He’s gotta be a big guy. You got numbers on him, Sunrise?”
“Range one-five-zero miles, still closing fast,” Crowley’s RIO, Lieutenant Adam “Sunrise” Lavoyed, reported. “Altitude angels forty, speed … shit, speed seven hundred.”
“He’s not an Orion then,” Crowley said. Iran flew American-made P-3 Orion sub-chasers—another leftover from the Shah’s regime—which were capable of carrying Harpoon or Exocet antiship missiles, but Orions were big, lumbering turboprop-powered planes, max cruise speed about 380 knots—this one was going almost twice as fast. “What’s our bull’s-eye?”
“Coming up on three hundred bull’s-eye,” Lavoyed responded, giving range back to the carrier.
“What are we up to tonight, asshole?” Crowley muttered on interphone to the unknown aircraft. “Who are you? What are you?”
Just then, Lavoyed shouted, “I’m picking up a second bogey …
shit, Crow, second bogey climbing through angels forty … angels fifty, speed twelve hundred … I’m picking up a third bogey, right behind the second, passing through angels forty, speed eleven hundred knots … bandit one turning northwest and accelerating!”
“Kitchens,” Crowley shouted, jamming his throttles to max afterburner and raising the nose to pursue. On interplane frequency, he yelled, “Home plate, Kitchen, Kitchen, I am tracking two fast-movers passing angels fifty, speed Mach two”
“Go weapons hot, go weapons hot,” came the reply. The call “Kitchen” was an all-inclusive call warning of the launch of a large anti-ship missile. For years the standard Soviet bomber-launched anti-ship missile, the AS-4 Kitchen, was a 14,000-pound liquid-fueled cruise missile that could fly at over three times the speed of sound for more than 200 miles—and the Tu-22M Backfire bomber could carry as many as three of these huge weapons. The AS-4 was armed with a 2,200-pound conventional high-explosive warhead, big enough to sink a small warship with one missile …
… or, in Cold War days, a 350-kiloton nuclear warhead, big enough to destroy an entire carrier battle group.
“Shine, you got the second Kitchen, I got the first,” Crowley shouted on interplane frequency.
“Two!” came the strained reply—Matte’s heart was in his throat right now, just like Crowley’s—you could hear it in his voice.
In the blink of an eye, Crowley was in range, and he fired his first Phoenix missile—the first time in his career he had launched the big P. He squinted against the glare as the Phoenix raced off its rail and arced to the right and skyward, the huge blast of the Phoenix rattling his Tomcat’s wings and shaking the canopy. Crowley had to pull his Tomcat in a hard right turn to keep the AWG-9 radar locked onto the Kitchen missiles long enough to guide the Phoenix until its own radar could lock on. When he was sure he was locked on, he fired a second Phoenix, now on a tail chase. Crowley considered firing his third and possibly even his fourth Phoenix, but by then the Kitchen missiles were out of range—they were flying well over Mach two, twice the speed of sound and faster than the Phoenix missile itself!
Crowley watched the rest of the incredible chase in complete fascination. He saw a bright flash, then another, far off in the distance. “Clean misses,” Crowley’s RIO reported. “Bandit two heading straight for home plate at Mach two-point-four, angels sixty and still climbing.” Crowley could see that Lavoyed still had the AWG-9 radar locked on to the first Kitchen missile, but they were well outside Phoenix range. It was up to any other fighters airborne and the Lincoln’s air defense screen to stop the first Kitchen now.
Matte was more successfuclass="underline" “Splash one Kitchen!” he shouted happily. “Got it!”
“I missed,” Crowley admitted on interplane frequency. “C’mon, Lincoln, nail that bastard!”
Far off in the distance, Crowley could see a few flashes of light, and he could even see a faint streak of light shoot up in the sky—it was the Lincoln’s escorts, the outer air defense screen ships, launching missiles. A split second later, they saw a huge lightbulb POP! of brilliant white light very high in the dark sky. “Splash one Kitchen,” the combat officer aboard the E-2C Hawkeye reported.
“Lake Erie got it.” The U.S.S. Lake Erie was one of Lincoln’s AEGIS guided-missile escort cruisers. “Aardvark-121, bandit one is retreating, fly heading one-one-zero, maintain angels thirty, this’ll be vectors back to your tanker. Aardvark-122, squawk normal … 122, radar contact at angels three-five, 121, your wingman is at your two o’clock, thirty miles, above you.”