The rise of nationalist, neo-Communist leaders like Valentin Sen’kov had changed all that. Russia had reasserted its influence in deciding the fate of Bosnia, Serbia, and Kosovo, and it had used considerable military force to subdue the breakaway republic of Chechnya. Ukraine, because of its domineering location on the Black Sea, its large Russian population, and because it hadn’t been properly brought into line during the 1995 conflict, clearly saw itself as next in line if it refused to toe the Russian line.
Ukraine’s answer: stop acting like a target, and start being a true European power and member of the world community. It started a conscription program — every high school student received ten weeks of military basic training as a condition of graduation, and every able-bodied person had to belong to a reserve unit until age forty — and increased defense spending tenfold. Ukraine had beefed up its Black Sea fleet, started training its ground forces using German, Turkish, and American doctrine instead of Russian, and rebuilt its air forces — including reactivating the Tupolev-22M fleet. Since the 1995 conflict with Russia, twelve of the surviving twenty-one Backfire bombers had been returned to service.
The most important change: increased integration with NATO military command structure and doctrine. Full integration would take many years, but the beginning of this important step in NATO’s push toward Asia was taking place now. Two of the supersonic swing-wing bombers were at Nellis Air Force Base in southern Nevada, participating in U.S. Air Force-sponsored joint NATO air combat exercises. They were the most powerful, most anticipated, ex-Soviet warplanes ever to come to America.
“How about we have a little fun, guys?” Captain Annie Dewey asked. The thirty-five-year-old brunette B-1B aircraft commander from the One-Eleventh Bomb Squadron, Nevada Air National Guard, was sitting in the right seat of the Tupolev-22M supersonic bomber. Per United States regulations, a U.S. military pilot had to be on board every multi-crew-member combat aircraft landing on an active military airbase. The nonstop flight from Ukraine to Las Vegas had taken only nine hours, including two aerial refuelings.
“What do you have in mind?” Colonel-General Roman Smoliy, the crew commander, asked. With his square jaw, gray flattop, piercing blue eyes, square nose, and broad shoulders tapering to thin ankles, Roman Smoliy looked like he had been cast for a Hollywood movie. Smoliy was the chief of staff of the Ukrainian Air Force. Before the conflict with Russia, Ukraine had had a force of two hundred intercontinental bombers, equal to that of the United States, a mix of Tu-95 Bear turboprop bombers, Tu-22 Blinders, and Tu-160 Blackjack supersonic bombers, along with the Tu-22M Backfires. After the war, only fifty had remained. It was General Smoliy’s job to decide if Ukraine should have any long-range bombers at all, and that meant learning how to employ them in battle. “Nothing boring, I take it?”
“How well you know me already, General,” Annie said. She spoke briefly on the radio, got the clearance she was looking for, then said, “Escorts, you’re clear to depart. See ya on the ground.” The two F-16C Falcon air defense fighters, who had been escorting the big Russian bombers on their flight across the United States, wagged their wings and split off. “Okay, General, one-time good deal — all the airspace within thirty miles of Nellis, including over Las Vegas, is yours. Show us what these babies can do.”
General Smoliy broke into a wide grin, then reached across the center console, took Annie’s hand, and kissed it. “Thank you, Captain.” He secured his oxygen mask with an excited SNAP! and took a firm grip on the control stick. “Doozhe priyemno, Las Vegas,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” He then jammed the throttles all the way to full military power and swept the wings back as far as they could go. He started a tight left turn back toward Las Vegas, his wingman in tight fingertip formation. It did not take long for the formation to overfly the Strip. They had descended to just a thousand feet above ground level. They did two three-sixties over the downtown, using the Stratosphere tower as their orbit point.
After the second orbit, just to make sure as many folks as possible were watching, Smoliy called out, “Dvee, drova, tup!” and he plugged in full afterburners. The two Tu-22Ms easily slid through the sound barrier, booming all of downtown Las Vegas. He then aimed directly for Nellis Air Force Base. Still traveling well past the speed of sound, both heavy bombers flew down the runway only two hundred feet above ground, creating a double rooster-tail from the supersonic shock wave that could be seen twenty miles away.
At the north end of the runway, Smoliy pulled his throttles back to military power, yanked his bomber into a hard ninety-degree right-bank turn, and swept the wings forward, quickly slowing the big bomber down below the sound barrier. By the time they rolled out on the downwind side, they were at the perfect altitude and airspeed for the approach, and Smoliy and Dewey began configuring the bomber for their overhead approach. The second Tu-22M was precisely thirty seconds behind him.
“That was awesome, General!” Annie shouted, after she double-checked that the landing gear was down and locked. “Totally awesome!”
“Thank you, young lady,” Smoliy said. “I do enjoy watching young excited women.” He nodded to her, then said, “The aircraft is yours, Captain.” Surprised but excited, she put her hands on the controls, and Smoliy patted her on the shoulder to tell her she had the aircraft. “Make us proud.”
She did. Annie Dewey made a perfect touchdown on Nellis’s main runway and taxied to their parking spot, the applause of the huge crowd audible even over the roar of the idling engines. When both aircraft swept their wings partially back and shut down their engines simultaneously, the applause replaced and then easily surpassed the noise of the engines. After the crew stepped out of their aircraft, General Smoliy drove the cheers and applause to even greater heights when he stepped out to the end of the red carpet laid out for him on the tarmac and kissed the ground. The greetings, hugs, handshakes, and shoulder-slapping went on for a long time. General Smoliy greeted the Air Warfare Center commander, Major-General Lance “Laser” Peterson, and most of the others in the reception party like long-lost brothers.
The Ukrainian bomber crew members also met other foreign aviators, including the commander of the Turkish Air Force, Major-General Erdal Sivarek, who had arrived with several of his aircraft and two jet transports carrying equipment and spare parts earlier in the day. The big Backfire bombers were parked directly across from the Turkish F-16s, and the size difference was astounding. The size difference carried over to the two commanders — the Ukrainian general was almost a foot and a half taller than the Turk. The meeting between the two commanders was cordial but icy; General Smoliy did not reserve the same jovial friendliness for the Turkish officer as he did his American hosts.
“General Sivarek, merhaba,” a voice behind Sivarek said after the encounter ended. “Gunaydin. Nasilsinizz?” It was Rebecca Furness, recently promoted to full colonel, the commander of the One-Eleventh Bombardment Squadron of the Nevada Air National Guard, based at Tonopah Test Range northwest of Las Vegas. “Do you remember me, General?”
It took only a moment for the Turkish officer to recognize her, and his face, which had been dark with moodiness, brightened considerably. “Major … no, Colonel Rebecca!” Sivarek exclaimed. “Siz nasilsiniz? I am glad you are well.”
“It’s been a long time,” Rebecca said. “It’s nice to see you, but it’s a time I’d sooner forget.”