McLanahan said, “Still got two India-band control radars at two o’clock. Give me thirty degrees left, let’s give these guys a wide berth.” He opened the left bomb bay and readied two more HARM missiles of his own to engage the patrol boats. “Search radar only, six o’clock… that destroyer must still have its air-search radar on…” Patrick considered turning back to get within range of one more HARM missile launch at the destroyer’s big search radar, or perhaps even a SLAM missile launch at the destroyer itself, but the patrol boat’s gun-control radars ahead were a bigger threat now. With the destroyer’s big threat, the HQ-91 surface-to-air missile, gone, the B-52s could take care of the destroyer now…
“Tracking air target at bearing three-four-two, range eleven miles and increasing, altitude less than eighty meters…” The radar operator quickly checked the track history of that target; it had none. It had literally appeared out of nowhere, right in the middle of the Chinese fleet, and it was about to disappear once again…
So this is what a stealth bomber looked like on radar!
“Commit aft HQ-91 missiles,” the CIC officer aboard Jinan ordered.
“Yes, sir… aft HQ-91 missiles showing faulted, track error.”
“Bypass it. Slave to the Sea Eagle system for command guidance.”
“Copy… fault log cleared, HQ-91 slaved to air-search radar only, no target illuminations, beam-riding mode only… launcher crew reports ready.”
“Four-missile salvo… shoot.”
It was the definition of a long shot all the way — a faint radar return from the suspected stealth bomber, no solid lock-on, heavy jamming, no target illumination for the HQ-91 to follow, no lead-computing mathematics or sophisticated intercept trigonometry, no proximity detonation — the missiles were going to either miss or hit the target square-on.
The second B-2 had the unfortunate luck to make a slight turn to line up on a Chinese patrol boat that had locked onto it with a fire-control radar. The first HQ-91 streaked by just to the left of the bomber, but the second of the four-missile salvo hit the Black Knight on the left wing, exploding and turning the entire left side of the high-tech bomber into a huge yellow fireball in seconds.
The bomber hit the warm waters of the Celebes Sea with the force of a car crusher, killing the crew instantly. The boomerang-shaped aircraft cartwheeled edge-on across the water for several thousand yards before plunging into the waters and disappearing from sight forever.
“Target hit! Good hit on number-two aircraft!” A cheer went up in Jinan's Combat Information Center…
….but it was very short-lived. “Warning! Incoming missiles, multiple contacts, bearing… opposite side, one-four-three, range thirty miles, altitude… altitude less than fifty meters, speed six hundred knots!”
It had to be the Tomahawk missiles, the ones that had survived Kaifeng's counterattack. “Radio to all vessels, missile warning, direct defensive fire on…”
“B-52 bombers launching missiles, bearing two-zero-five, range fifty-one nautical miles… encountering heavy jamming now, all frequencies…”
Missiles coming from two sides now… one, maybe more B-2s roaming around… a B-52 that everyone has lost track of… things were not going well all of a sudden. At less than thirty miles’ range, the Tomahawk missiles were his first priority. Captain Jhijun screamed so loud into the intercom that it probably didn’t need an amplifier: “CIC, bridge, I need an intercept estimate. Can you get the Tomahawk missiles?”
“Jamming is heavy, but I think we can manually maintain a lock. Intercept confidence is good. But the number of inbounds is unknown…”
“Engage as many as you can,” Jhijun said. “Our close-in weapons should get the rest.” Along with its 130-millimeter, and 25-millimeter antiaircraft guns, the destroyer Jinan carried two American-made Mk 15 Phalanx cannons, one on each side, which were automatic radar-guided Gatling guns designed to destroy incoming missiles at close range. Ironic that they would be used to engage American missiles…
“Sir! Three B-52 bombers that were reported turning west and disengaging — they are now turning northbound and appear to be re-engaging. They are at forty-three nautical miles, at extreme HQ-91 range.”
Damn them! Jhijun cursed to himself. There were just too many of them. Well, the bombers were out of range — at least he still had a chance to get the cruise missiles before they started attacking the landing ships. “Message to all units: at least three, perhaps as many as six B-52s and at least one B-2 inbound from the south of Davao Gulf. Destroyer Jinan is unable to engage because of Tomahawk cruise missiles coming in from the southeast. Request fighter and surface support.”
He received a reply moments later: “Sir, destroyer Hong Lung will provide support. Admiral Yin sends his compliments and advises you that the Tomahawk missiles are your priority… your personal priority.”
Captain Jhijun swallowed hard when he heard the name Hong Lung, but when he got the message from Yin himself, his skin turned to ice. Every cruise missile he allowed to pass him, he knew, would mean a year in prison or a full reduction in grade. His career — more precisely, his life — rested on his performance now.
Aboard the flag bridge of the flagship of the South Philippines Task Force, three large grease boards were kept constantly updated on the deployment of warships in this operation. It was beginning to resemble a child’s crayon-drawn rendering of a beehive — Mindanao — with swarms of angry bees surrounding it. And the bees were getting closer and closer to the hive every minute…
Admiral Yin Po L’un could easily see the American tactic now: strike at the Chinese fleet from simultaneous, multiple axes of attack. Along with the reported B-2s and B-52s coming in from the south and the Tomahawk cruise missiles from the southeast, he had also received word of more B-52s from the east and B-1s from the northeast, followed by more B-52s and faster bombers, possibly F-111s, accompanying them. Jamming was heavy in all areas, so obviously a few of the aircraft were not strikers but electronic-countermeasure planes.
Captain Sun Ji Guoming, Yin’s chief of staff, said, “A rough estimate so far is twenty-six B-52 bombers, six B-1 bombers, four B-2 bombers — one reportedly shot down already by Jinan — possibly two EF-111 electronic-countermeasure planes, and perhaps four to six F-111 fighter-bombers involved in this raid. If this is so, the First Air Battle Wing has committed at least three-fourths and possibly as much as four-fifths of its force on this one escapade.” Sun smiled knowingly. “We can crush the American Air Force in one night’s work.”
“Is that so, Captain?” Yin asked in a low voice. “You say we have shot down only one plane so far, yet they have sunk one destroyer and one frigate, damaged two other frigates, and sunk or damaged nearly two dozen patrol boats. In less than thirty minutes they can be over Davao Gulf itself. I see no evidence of anyone being crushed so far.”
“They have suffered a great loss well before striking the target area or even coming within range of concentrated firepower,” Sun explained. “They will suffer tremendous losses when they come within range of the destroyers Yinchuan and Dalian near Davao itself. The American forces are undisciplined — they are launching antiradar and other guided weapons at every small patrol boat they encounter, without bothering to save their weapons for the frigates, destroyers, or landing-craft carriers. It was sheer luck that they sunk Huangshi and Kaifeng, and Yingtan is still operational…”