Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 05 (34 page)

 
          
Jamieson
was still in shock at the reaction from the Disruptor flyover. “I can’t believe
it—they all opened up, all at once . . . it’ll take them two days to rearm
those air defense sites! ”

 
          
“Maybe
not two days,” McLanahan said, “but they’ll have to reload all those sites,
maybe replace some overheated gun barrels and burned-out launchers. But just
about the time they’re ready to fire again, the ‘screamers’ will reactivate,
and maybe they’ll launch against them again and waste some more missiles and
ammunition. Eventually the JSOWs will get hit or run out of fuel and crash
somewhere, but we hope not before our guys get in, poke around, and get out
again. And if we’re lucky, the ‘screamers’ caused enough overload damage to
take out a few older Hawk or Zeus-23 sites. It just increases their chances of
penetrating those air defenses. Now, let’s see if we can do it to their carrier
and that Chinese destroyer.”

 
          
Jamieson
had at first distrusted McLanahan’s Disruptor weapons—he’d wanted to see a
pretty big blast if they’d had to fly all this way!—but even he had to admit
that this next attack, if it worked, was going to nail the Iranians really
good.

 
          
“I’ve
got the final launch point fix in,” McLanahan continued. “Stand by for missile
launch ... ready ... doors coming open ... missile one away ...” One by one, McLanahan
counted down the weapon releases until four missiles had left the two internal
rotary launchers. With two missiles still in the bomb bays in reserve, the B-
2A bomber banked hard right and headed back toward the safety of UAE airspace,
away from the Iranian fleet and their deadly antiaircraft weapons.

 
          
Following
McLanahan’s programmed flight plan, the four missiles arced north of the
Iranian battle group, then turned south- southeast toward the
Gulf
of
Oman
, roughly following each other in trail 500
yards apart. The “screamer” missiles began their orbits just six miles east and
west of the carrier group. The four missiles did appear on the Iranian’s
radars, but they were so small and flew so slowly that they were electronically
squelched from the displays as non-hostiles.

The Islamic Republic
Revolutionary Guard aircraft carrier
Ayatollah
Ruhollah Khomeini

THAT SAME TIME

 
          
“Sir,
Bandar Abbas air defense sector reports unidentified aircraft inbound, bearing
two-five-zero, eastbound at five hundred knots! ” the combat information center
intercom suddenly blared. “Bearing now two-three-zero, last reported range from
us eighty-five kilometers and closing...”

 
          
“What!”
Pasdaran Major Admiral Akbar
Tufayli shouted. That jarring pain was suddenly back in his jaw, tripled in
intensity. The newcomers were over the
Trucial
Coast
—from the direction of the
United Arab Emirates
! Was this another GCC attack? “What speed,
what altitude?”

 
          
“Multiple
contacts . .. three, perhaps four formations, speed five hundred, altitude ten
K meters and descending.”

 
          
Major
Admiral Akbar Tufayli, commander of the
Khomeini
battle group and nominal commander of the carrier air group, swung on his
absolutely flabbergasted chief of staff, Brigadier General Mohammed Badi. “The
threat has been eliminated, you say? Those radar contacts are on an
attack profile
, Badi! Those are UAE
attack planes, and they are attacking Bandar Abbas and this battle group! ” “It
is ... it is unbelievable, sir! ” Badi stammered. “The UAE pilots or their British
mercenaries do not have the skill to perform night attacks against maritime
targets!” Like many
Middle
East
countries,
the
United Arab Emirates
hired pilots from all over the world to fly
their attack planes—but no skilled attack pilot would ever consent to fly a
suicide mission
such as this! “They have
no guided weapons, only gravity bombs and the cannon! Surely they know they
will be chopped into pieces long before they get within range to drop their
bombs?”

 
          
“That
is, if we successfully stop them! ” Tufayli cried. “Engage at longest possible
range! Then launch the alert fighters! I want each and every GCC fighter
destroyed and the wreckage strewn across the coastal plain for all those
reporters to photograph! I want to demonstrate the power of this battle group
to the entire damned
world,
right
now,
tonight
/”

 
          
“Hostile
aircraft turning!” The
Khomeini
s
radar operator screamed over the intercom. General Tufayli made a mental note
to tell his section chief to brief his men to remain calmer on the intercom—the
operator’s voice had gone up at least one octave in the past few minutes as the
unidentified attack planes closed in. “Range sixty kilometers, decreasing
slowly, altitude now below two thousand meters. Heavy jamming detected.”

 
          
“They
appear to be heading for Bandar Abbas,” Badi observed, “but they could turn in
our direction at any moment. No report on what type of weapon they are using.”

 
          
“We
must assume they have standoff weapons—unless they try a low-altitude suicide
bombing run,” Tufayli said. He stared out the observation windows at the
Khomeinis
flight deck. “How much longer
on the interceptor launch?”

 
          
“Just
a few minutes, sir.”

 
          
“Damn
you, Badi, I want air cover up as soon as possible to chase down those
attackers! I want those fighters airborne
now!”

 
          
“Yes,
sir,” Badi acknowledged. Badi could do nothing but pick up a phone and tell the
air operations commander to speed up the launch.

 
          
Tufayli
watched as crews raced for the rescue helicopters on deck forward of the island
superstructure. The rescue helicopters always launched before the fighters, and
took up stations beside and behind the carrier, ready to provide
search-and-rescue services in case a fighter had to ditch after takeoff. “If
any of those attackers penetrate within fifty kilometers of my battle group, I
will execute every last air defense on this ship! ”

 
          
The
first rescue helicopter was just lifting off the deck and taking position on
the portside, ready to rescue any crewmen who might have to eject shortly after
takeoff. It had taken more than five minutes to scramble a crew and get a
helicopter airborne—that was totally unacceptable, thought Tufayli. He was
going to whip this crew into shape first thing in the morning with nonstop
drills. ...

 
          
The
general turned from the helicopter deck forward to the short holdback point
near the center of the carrier in front of the island superstructure, where a
Sukhoi-33 fighter, loaded with two R-73 long-range air-to-air missiles and two
R-51 short-range heatseeking missiles, was readying itself for takeoff. This
fighter had a small missile load and a partial fuel load so it could use the
shorter 100-meter takeoff run, while another, heavily armed fighter could use
the 200-meter run along the portside of the ship.

 
          
Admiral
Tufayli was impatient, but he knew that night carrier operations were the most
dangerous and the crews were working at their best speed. “Range to those
fighters?” he asked.

 
          
“Range
to nearest air target, forty-seven kilometers. They appear to be attacking the
air defense sites at Bandar Abbas.”

 
          
The
GCC fighters had hesitated, Tufayli thought, they’d had second thoughts about
attacking the carrier. Two had already paid for the hesitation and had been
destroyed by missiles from Bandar Abbas. Soon the rest would be destroyed by
Khomeini
s fighters. Soon the world
would know of the power of this Iranian carrier.. ..

 
          
Suddenly
a warning horn sounded throughout the ship—the collision-warning klaxon! At the
same time, several missile and close-in weapon cannons began firing. “What is
it?” Tufayli shouted. “What is going on?
Report
/”

           
“Unidentified aircraft, range ...
range, indeterminate!” a combat officer responded. “They seem to be right on
top of us! Multiple contacts all around us! They are
everywhere!
Heavy jamming reported ... sensors are overloaded!”
Tufayli and Badi scanned the skies as missiles ripple-fired into the sky and
defensive guns roared, but no aircraft could be seen—wait,
there!
“I see a hit!” Tufayli shouted. “Off the starboard bow ...
we hit one!”

 
          
“No!”
Badi shouted over the roar of the erupting defensive systems. “That was
our
helicopter! We have accidentally
shot down our rescue helicopter! Cease fire, damn it! Cease fire!”

 
          
It
took several seconds for all of the
Khomeini
s weapons to stop. “Get another helicopter airborne immediately,” Tufayli
shouted, “and then get those fighters up! And find those enemy aircraft!” In
just a few moments, another Mil-8 helicopter had its rotors turning, and had
lifted off from the helo mooring pad aft of the carrier’s superstructure, and a
few moments later, two Sukhoi-33 fighters launched from the
Khomeini
s ski-jump flight deck.

 
          
But
then it happened again—suddenly every radio and every radar screen was
completely jammed, drowned out by noise, and the threat receivers and radars
reported enemy threats all around the carrier group. The battle group’s air
defense commander had no choice—he ordered his loaded and ready weapon systems
to open fire at the identifiable targets. In just a few moments, the
Khomeini,
the
Zhanjiang
,
and most of the rest of the larger warships
in the battle group had expended most of their ordnance.

 
          
“We
have lost radio contact with our fighter patrol,” General Badi reported. “His
radios have malfunctioned. And the carrier commander feels it is too dangerous
to continue flight operations.” “And Bandar Abbas is under attack as well,”
Tufayli said. “Order both fighters to continue their patrol for as long as
possible, then recover at Chah Bahar.”

           
“Yes, sir,” Badi said. Then,
stepping closer to his superior officer, he said in a low voice, “Sir, these
strange jamming signals and the false targets they have generated have severely
reduced our air defense capability. If we came under missile or bomber attack
now, we would be highly vulnerable—we are down to less than fifty percent
weapon load, and it will take almost an hour to service and reload some of our
mounts! ”

 
          
“So?
Get on it, General.”

 
          
“I
am suggesting, sir,” Badi said, “that perhaps it would be wise to evacuate the
Khomeini.
The battle group is virtually
defenseless right now—no long-range detection, limited short-range detection,
dwindling weapons stock, and limited or no fighter coverage. Even shore-based
defenses cannot assist us. If this is a prelude to an attack, you have time to
escape, perhaps with the prisoners.”

 
          
“I
will not!” Tufayli retorted. “It will seem as if I am running in the face of an
attack! ”        .

 
          
“Sir,
Chah Bahar can be notified that you are transferring prisoners to the naval
security facility there, to begin their interrogation,” Badi suggested,
emphasizing the word
transferring
so
that Tufayli would be sure to catch his meaning. “You could see to their
transfer
personally.
”

 
          
Tufayli
considered the idea once again, then nodded. “See to it, General,” the admiral
said. “Get the prisoners ready to transfer—I will see to their interrogation
personally.” He clasped Badi on the arm in silent thanks, as his chief of staff
hurried to carry out “his” instructions.

 
          
Surrounded
by armed guards and staff members, Admiral Tufayli was spared the ignominy of
looking into the faces of the sailors and Pasdaran troopers he passed as he
made his way to the fantail to take the helicopter to Chah Bahar. Already
waiting near the fantail was a group of men in ragged, oil-soaked clothing,
handcuffed, with black cloth bags over their heads.