satellite is far out." Blanchard looked at her younger deputy and rolled her eyes. Fruntz, Blanchard thought, was another "techie" who believed that, whatever the newest technology was, it had to be better than any of the "older" technology, even if the older technology was only a few years old. Blanchard had been in the reconnaissance business for twelve years, mostly as pilot or copilot flying EC- and RC- 135 aircraft for the Strategic Air Command-this was only her second tour as recce section commander-and she had been dismayed at the new emphasis on space-based reconnaissance systems, or "gadgets" as she called them. Even the latest high-tech satellites had serious limitations that only well-equipped planes like the RC- 135 or the newer EC-18s could overcome. Blanchard had flown or seen just about every one of the sixty different iterations of the C- 135 special mission I reconnaissance/intelligence-gathering aircraft. The RC-135X, nicknamed

"Rivet Joint, " was the latest and best of the older RCseries aircraft; the newer series was designated EC- 18 and was a hundred times more cosmic than even the RC- models. Rivet Joint had been designed to map out precise locations of coastal enemy air-defense sites for targeting by Short-Range Attack Missiles or cruise missiles that armored long-range bomber aircraft. By combining sensitive radiation sensors with powerful radar and infrared images, one Rivet Joint aircraft could update three thousand miles of coastal air-defense sites in one day.

Blanchard used to fly reconnaissance missions in conjunction with SR-7 1

Blackbird spy planes-the SR-7 1 would fly "Radar four reports surface contact, " one of the radar operators suddenly called out. "Slow velocity... now showing ten knots, heading westbound."

"There's something that NIRTSat thing didn't find, " Blanchard snickered. "No matter how gee-whiz that satellite is, thirty.minute-old data is still thirty.minute-old data-and it's garbage to us." She turned to the radar operator and said, "I need a designation on that last contact, Radar. Get on it."

"Signal two shows primary search radar on that surface contact, "

another operator called out. "Showing C-band, three-seventy PRF . . .

calling it a Rice Screen air-search radar... "Radar four has an ISAR

probable on that return, calling it a EF4-class destroyer... now picking up escorts, probably as many as four, within ten miles of EF4." The ISAR, or Inverse Synthetic Aperture Radar, mounted in the two prominent fairings on the underside of the RC- 135's fuselage, could paint a nearly three.dimensional picture of a ship and, by combining it with a computer data base of thousands of such radar images, could usually match the radar image with a ship in its computer memory. The larger the ship, the more accurate the match, and a destroyer-class vessel was a very large radar return. "Jeez, they got some pretty fancy firepower out here, " Blanchard said. "A destroyer-class boat this far south."

She turned to the forward part of the aircraft. "Comm, code and send immediately to Andersen and Offutt on separate channels the position of that last contact. It's the biggest gun the Chinese have this far south-I want to make sure everybody knows about it." To the radar operator, she asked, "What's our range to that EF4?"

"Range, four-seven nautical miles, " the operator reported. "That's close enough, " Blanchard said to Fruntz. Fruntz was already leafing through pages of computerized text on the EF4 class of Chinese destroyers. "What's the scouting report on those things?"

"Antiship and antisubmarine missile destroyers, " Fruntz read. "About ten in the Chinese inventory, possibly with five more in ready reserve and five more overseas. Helicopter pad, big-time antiship launchers...

holy shit, listen to this gun fit: four 130-millimeter dual purpose, eight 57-millimeter or 37millimeter antiaircraft guns, and four 25-millimeter antiaircraft guns. Rice Screen three-D long-range air-defense radar system-they call it a 'mini-Aegis' system-X-band ERF-1 or X-band Rice Lamp fire-control radar for the guns. Some fitted with Phalanx self-defense guns, Ku-band radar."

"Anything about antiair missiles?" "Yes . . . helicopter pad removed from some vessels and replaced with various stern-mounted missile systems, ' Fruntz replied. "Some fitted possibly with HQ-6 1 missiles, one twin mount, Fog Lamp H- or I-band fire control, max range of missile, six nautical miles-pretty small missile. Others possibly with French naval Crotale, max range eight nautical miles, X-band fire control. Some with HQ-9 1 French Masurca dualrail mount . . . shit, max range thirty nautical miles, 5-band pulse-Doppler tracker."

"As far as we're concerned, we'll assume the worst case, Blanchard said.

"Forty miles out from that EF4 is perfect for now. She paused for a moment, then added, "But that Rice Screen radar has me worried. That's a no-shit early warning and fighter intercept radar system. Why have a boat with that kind of radar on board way out here unless "Flashlight, Flashlight, Flashlight, this is Basket, " the radio report interrupted.

Basket was the call sign of the E-3C Sentry Airborne Warning and Control System radar plane that had accompanied the RC- 135 on this mission. The AWACS plane could scan for hundreds of miles in all directions, locating aircraft at all altitudes and vector friendly fighters in to intercept.

Emergency reports from an AWACS controller were always prefaced by calling out a sortie's call sign three timesthe RC-135 was under attack.

"Bandits at your twelve o'clock, Blue plus five-five, flight level zero-niner-zero, speed five hundred." Range calls were always given in color codes in case the enemy fighters somehow were able to eavesdrop on the encrypted radio messages between aircraft; Blue meant fifty miles, Yellow meant twenty miles, Red meant zero miles, and Green meant subtract twenty miles. When a dogfight started, the controller would drop the color codes and issue warnings as fast as he could. All radar targets were being called "bandits, " or hostile targets, in this area with Chinese troops nearby-of course, anytime a target began flying over five hundred knots, it was automatically considered an enemy fighter until proven otherwise. "Showing four targets now, Blue plus forty, speed passing five-zero-zero. Bullet flight, take spacing and stand by." The AWACS plane not only issued warnings to Flashlight, the RC-135X

plane, but also to Shamu Three-One, the KC-10 aerial refueling tanker that was supporting both the Navy and Air Force planes on this mission; two KA-6 Navy tankers to use as tactical spare refueling aircraft; and four Navy F-14A Tomcat fighters of VF-2 Bullets from the USS Ranger, which was steaming about one hundred miles east of Talaud Island just outside Indonesian waters. The Tomcats were armed with four medium-range Sparrow radar-guided missiles and four shorter-range Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles; since they were along only as escorts and, according to the Rules of Engagement, not authorized to attack from long range, none of the escorts carried the long-range AIM-54 Phoenix missile. Two of the F- 145, Bullet Four and Five, were with the RC135

acting as primary escorts, and the other two, Bullet Two and Three, were shuttling to the KC-10 tanker for refueling. Four more F-14 fighters were ready aboard Ranger, loaded with long-range Phoenix missiles as well as Sparrows and Sidewinders, to assist the Air Force recon planes and defend the battle group in case of trouble. ... And it sounded like there was going to be trouble. With unknown aircraft heading their way, this was no place to be for one of the U.S. Air Force's most sophisticated spy planes. The data was important, but not important enough to risk the manpower or the hardware. "Time to leave, Grasshopper. We're calling it a night, " Blanchard said. Being flippant about a possible fighter attack usually wasn't her style, but she had found after pushing a crew for so long that the initial wave of excitement that hit a crewman who suddenly found himself or herself under attack sometimes caused costly mistakes; if you could relax a person during that initial fear-heavy period, he performed better.

"Pilot, this is Recce One, execute egress now, " Blanchard continued.

"Crew, this is Recce One, terminate all emissions, secure your stations and queue your data for transmission. Report by station when complete."

She watched her status board light up with coded intelligence-data packets waiting for transmission; Blanchard and Fruntz could pick out the most important ones for immediate transmission, or send them in all in one quick burst, or send them one by one in ordered, errorchecked bundles. They preferred the last method until the bandits got closer and posed a more serious threat. Then Blanchard and Fruntz would use the faster 57, 000-kilobit-per second routines, shoveling the data out as fast as the RC-135's computers could handle it. "Flashlight, turn left heading one-four-zero, " the AWACS controller called out. "Manado airfield will be at your twelve o'clock position, two-five-zero miles."

Manado, a good-sized city on the Minahasa Peninsula of northern Indonesia, was the first emergency landing site; on a southeast heading, they were also flying away from the Philippines and toward their tanker and the USS Ranger, which was stationed in the northern Molucca Sea about five hundred miles farther east. "Flashlight copies, " Blanchard's pilot replied. He unconsciously pushed the throttles up to near military power, trying to claw every bit of distance between himself and the unknowns. It took only a few moments for Blanchard and Fruntz to finish their primary job-safely transmit the reams of radar and sensor data collected on this short trip. They began yet another error-checking routine after all the data was transmitted, where the receiving station on Guam would compute check sums from each line of data from their transmission, then compare the sums with Blanchard's information. If it matched, Blanchard would erase the verified data and repeat the process with another data file. The verification process was the most timeconsumingsatellite transmissions even at the best of times were relatively slow and prone to interruptions but it was the safest way of ensuring that the information had been transmitted and received without errors before they would risk erasing it . . . and the information would all be erased before the enemy fighters got within striking distance. ABOARD THE NAVY F-14A TOMCAT FIGHTER BULLET FOUR This shit was happening too fast, Lieutenant Greg "Hitman" Povik thought.

Night carrier operations were the absolute worst. Flying combat sorties was bad enough, but a night cat shot was sheer terror. Strapped into a sixty-thousand-pound machine, blasted out into the darkness from zero to one hundred and fifty knots in two seconds. Hard enough to flatten eyeballs. Hard enough that the brain thinks you're in a steep nose-high climb, so your tendency is to push the nose down to the water-that will kill you in one second if you succumb to the feeling. You have no outside reference, no sign of up or down or sideways, no natural cues.

The ultimate in sensory deprivation, even though you're surrounded by instruments. So you keep full afterburner and back pressure on the stick until after the shot, after you've cleared the deck and established a positive rate of climb. Believe the instruments, because your brain will kill you if you let it. Positive rate of climb, positive altitude increase-gear up. Passing one-eighty, flaps and slats up. Passing two-fifty, wings moving back, turn out and listen up for your wingman.

Everything is still dark, so you stay on the instruments. You hear radio calls coming from everywhere, from planes hundreds of miles away and from planes just a few miles away. Slowly, the real poop starts to filter in: wingman's up, wingman's got you locked on his radar so he can catch up without the carrier's radar or the E-2 Hawkeye's radar operators vectoring in. Vector to the tanker-an F-14 sucks a lot of gas for takeoff, and the good guys are three hundred miles and a quarter-tank of gas away still. Check the cockpit, get a check from your RIO-Radar Intercept Officer, Lieutenant JG Bob "Bear" Blevin-check oxygen and pressurization, check weapons, check everything. Soon the sounds of the hostile area filtered in. An Air Force reconnaissance plane is less than a hundred miles from the Philippines, within pissing distance of Chinese warships. Intelligence says Chinese patrol planes, with fighter escorts, might be up. They say the Chinese ships might have antiair missiles and guns and might just shoot first and ask questions later. Great. With nothing but black surrounding you, you feel more alone than you've ever felt before-there's nothing but miles of ocean between you and dry land or deck. Things happen too quickly, even though the Air Force plane is hundreds of miles away. Blevin makes radio contact with the KA-6 tanker, and they maneuver to intercept. The small KA-6 will transfer only a few thousand pounds of fuel, but it's better to fly overwater with full tanks as much as possible in case of trouble. Night aerial refueling ranks right up there with night catapult shots in the anxiety department. Povik has to drive up behind the KA-6

tanker, find a tiny four-foot-diameter lighted basket, and stick a three-inch nozzle inside it by maneuvering his forty-five-ton air machine around it. Meanwhile, the KA-6 is turning in a racetrack pattern so it won't fly too far from the carrier, which makes the hookup even more difficult. With gentle coaching from Blevin, Povik made the hookup on the second try, and he managed to stay hooked up and made the transfer all at once. He maintained visual contact on the tanker while his wingman made contact and got his gas, and then they got a vector from their E-2C Hawkeye radar plane controller to the west. No sooner had they finished refueling, and they were transferred to the Air Force E-3 AWACS radar plane's controller, who was providing air coverage for all the planes operating near the Philippines. The Navy guys had trained a few times with Air Force controllers, but they still used different terminology and never seemed to shut u~they seemed determined to read off every number on their radar screens and let the fighter crews work their own navigation solutions. But after filtering out the chatter-obviously those AWACS guys were nervous too-Povik and his wingman in Bullet Five were vectored in to visual range of an Air Force RC- 135 reconnaissance plane. It looked like a KC-135 tanker, but without the refueling boom and with lots of odd bumps and antennas all over it. All that, from cat shot to now, took less than an hour. Now they had unidentified aircraft bearing down on them. Povik didn't even have time to get himself comfortably situated, get his heads-up display set up just right, and tighten his strapsthe fight was starting right now. "Bullet flight, take spacing and check your lights, " Povik radioed to his wingman. He turned to check that his wingman was configured properly-no missing missiles, lights off, nothing funny-looking out there-before he disappeared into the darkness. Now they were relying on the Air Force AWACS controller to keep them separated, yet working as a team as they prosecuted these bandits. "Bullet flight, this is Basket.

Four bandits twelve o'clock, Blue plus twenty, flight lev-er, angels fifteen. Possible second flight of two bandits, angels ten." The AWACS

controller was trying hard to use Navy terminology for this intercept, such as "angels" for "thousands of feet" or "port" and "starboard" for

"left" and "right, " but the more excited he got the more he was stumbling over his tongue. 'Starboard ten for intercept."

"Bullet flight copies." Povik's backseater could just as easily lock onto the incoming Chinese fighters with his AWG-9 radar, but the radar emissions could be detected at incredible distances and the longer he kept his radar off the more they kept the element of surprise. Just then they heard on the international Guard radio channel: "Unidentified aircraft at ten thousand meters altitudethis is fighter unit seven." The accent was heavily Oriental, not Spanish or Filipino-but Chinese. "You have violated restricted airspace. You will reverse course and drop your landing gear immediately."

"Bullet flight, additional bandits departing Zamboanga area, " the AWACS

controller radioed on the air frequency. "Number unknown at this time."

"Range from the bandits to Flashlight?" Povik said. "Range Blue plus zero, " the controller replied. Fifty miles. The fight was going to happen in a matter of seconds. Obviously the Chinese fighters weren't going to be content with chasing the American planes away-they wanted to intercept and capture them. "Unknown aircraft, you have violated restricted airspace, " the warning came again, more insistently this time. "You are not responding as ordei'ed. Decrease velocity, lower your landing gear, and follow us or you will be attacked. This is your final warning!" Povik considered shutting off the Guard channel, but he might need it later. This guy was getting on his nerves, but he would shut up very soon once the furball started. "Where's Bullet Two Flight?"

Povik radioed to the AWACS controller. "Departing Shamu at this time, range to you Blue plus ten." Sixty miles. It would take them too long to get in on the fight here-they would be in a position to engage just as the Chinese fighters caught up with the RC-135. That was far, far too late. Povik had a decision to make right now, but it really wasn't much of a chore to make it. Their primary mission was to protect the Air Force recon planes. They had plenty of firepower-all they needed was time. They needed to get those Chinese fighters turned away from the Air Force heavies. "Bullet Four's coming left forty-five. Bullet Five, stay with me. "Two."

"Go ahead and lock 'em up, Bear, " Povik said. They wanted the Chinese fighters to follow them-it was okay to hit them with the radar now.

Povik executed a hard left turn to a westerly heading and pushed his throttles up to full military power. "C'mon, you peckerheads, " Povik cursed to himself at the Chinese fighter pilots. "Do it, do it!"

"Bullet flight, four bandits turning to intercept, now at your two o'clock position, forty miles. Second flight of bandits confirmed at angels ten, trailing bandits maintaining heading onefour-zero." The tactic worked-sort of. Every degree the Chinese fighters turned, and every five seconds they interrupted their pursuit, meant another two miles of safety for the RC-135 recon plane. They were obviously going after the more glamorous prize-owning an RC- 135 was too easy. Downing a fighter was more macho. But the two extra bandits weren't going to be distracted-they were heading straight for theRC-135. "Bullet flight, two bandits peeling off from pursuit, returning to heading one-five-zero to intercept on Flashlight."

"Dammit!" Povik berated himself. After a few seconds of obvious confusion, the Chinese fighters decided to break into two groups and go after the RC-135. Well, at least they got the odds more in their favor-two-vee-two heading away from their heavies, and two-vee-four still closing. Another advantage: the farther the Chinese pilots flew away from their radar ship, the harder their job would be. "Bullet Two flight, can you get the four inbounds?"

"Affirmative, Hitman, " the pilot of Bullet Two replied, using Povik's call sign. "Bullet Two flight has a contact on the four southeast-bound bandits."

"Bullet flight, be advised, Bullet Six flight of two airborne, ETE ten minutes, " the AWACS controller reported. Two more Tomcats were on the way. Well, Povik thought grimly, everybody was paired up and the dancing was going to begin. "Check the gas gauges, Hitman, " Povik's RIO said.

"We got about ten minutes before we gotta start heading back."

"Thanks, Bear, " Povik replied. "Ten minutes max, then we split."

"Bullet Two flight, push Eagle for your controller." Povik switched to the new pre-planned frequency-as a security precaution, actual frequencies were never read over the air, no matter how secure the radios were-checked in his wingman, and checked in with the new AWACS

controller; now the Air Force controller could stop saying "Bullet Two flight" to differentiate them between the other two Tomcats. "Bullet, bandits at your three o'clock, thirty miles. Say your bingo."

"Bullet Two bingos in eight mike, " Povik replied. Povik's wingman reported the same-Povik knew he would do so unless his fuel state was worse than his own. The gauges actually said ten minutes, but always subtract two minutes for the wife and kids, he thought. The AWACS

controller, if he was worth a shit, would subtract another two minutes and start vectoring the Tomcats toward the carrier after six or seven minutes. If past experience were any indication, the fight would be over in less than two minutes.. . one way or another. STRATFOR COMMAND POST, ANDERSEN AFB, GUAM "Message from Basket, sir, " an operator reported.

"They report six enemy fighters, probable Chinese origin, engaging the F- 14 escorts, three hundred miles northwest of Mandao. Flashlight is southeast-bound, withdrawing from the area." General Stone was on his feet and beside the radio operator in a heartbeat; Elliott was behind him, listening intently. "Tell Flashlight to dump their data buffers and get the hell out of there. Shamu should stay available for emergency refueling, and Basket should stay to control the intercepts-but I want them as far away from the Philippines as possible."

"All units withdrawing from the area at best speed... Basket reports more fighters airborne from Zamboanga. No visual contact made, but Basket reports the enemy fighters made a warning-message broadcast ordering the aircraft to reverse course and follow them. Operators report the pilots spoke English and sounded Oriental." The operator flipped a switch and spoke briefly, then reported, "Communications center confirms a good secure data download via DSCS from Flashlight and Basket." Stone nodded with a silent sigh of relief. The lives of his crew members were vitally important, but it was also important to preserve any data they might have collected up to this point. "Carrier Ranger is launching two more fighters to assist, " the operator reported. "Reports of more fighters launching from Zamboanga area.

Ranger is declaring an air-defense emergency with a two-hundred-mile exclusion zone. "Verify that all aircraft are in international airspace,

" Elliott told Stone. "If any of the aircraft are attacked, we've got a case for retaliation." Stone nodded. To the radio operator, he said,

"Order Basket to download a radar map of the entire area and then verbally read off INS and GPS latitude and longitude, then range and bearing from radio and radar checkpoints to verify position accuracy.

Tell them to repeat the report every sixty seconds until they are clear of the attackers." As the radio operator relayed the orders, Stone said to Elliott, "The Chinese not only have attacked Zamboanga, it looks like they've fortified it and brought fighters in to seal the area. That was a major defense installation." Elliott referred to a chart of the Philippines that had been set up in the command post. "From there they can control access to the southern Philippines." A Navy captain, who was acting as the Navy liaison to the STRATFOR, said, "That EF4-class destroyer is definitely the key, sir. Flashlight reported a Rice Screen radar system in operation-it's the most sophisticated radar system in the Chinese fleet, and it's almost as good as an Aegis system but without the weapon systems. He can control almost the entire Celebes Sea from that one platform. With shore-based aircraft, he can control antiair and antisurface forces for hundreds of miles."

"What we need, " Stone said half aloud, as if daring himself to say the words, "is permission to launch an attack from Ranger on that EF4-class boat." Elliott and the others in the command post looked at the Air Force three-star general wordlessly; surprised at his reaction but silently wishing the same thing. "Unfortunately, that's pretty unlikely,

" Elliott said. "We're lucky Washington authorized this mission-I would think there's no way they'd approve a preemptive strike on a Chi nese naval vessel." He paused, then added grimly, "Unless, of course, one of our recon planes gets shot down ABOARD BULLET FOUR One of the hardest tasks for a fighter pilot, and the most important skill that every good pilot possessed, was situational awareness-the ability to instantaneously paint a picture of the world around him in his mind without the help of radar planes, fancy electronic displays, or even backseaters. Luckily Povik had that knack-he had been honing it during his twelve years as a naval aviator, all of them in carrier-based fighters. Bullet Two and Three, plus the extra Tomcats launched from Ranger a few minutes ago, would have to take care of the four Chinese fighters chasing the reconnaissance plane. That left Bullet Four and Five to deal with the two bozos that broke off to chase them. Bullet Five had closed back with Povik, but he was not right on his wing. They were in a combat-spread position that allowed either Tomcat to assist the other if they came under attack. It was a purely defensive position, but it could be quickly switched to an offensive one if necessary. Unfortunately, a more advantageous offensive stance was not authorized. Under the ROE, the Rules of Engagement which were carefully briefed to each pilot by the Carrier Air Group commander, the Tomcat pilots could not attack unless hey were attacked first or unless a hostile aircraft was within ne hundred miles of Ranger. The ROE then allowed them to se their weapons only to break up an engagement and allow Il friendly fighters to disengagealthough few commanders expected their naval aviators to deliberately miss or back away from a fight.

"Five minutes to bingo, " Povik's RIO said. "Time to get out f here."

Povik was continuing to maneuver on a more or less esterly heading, still trying to put as much distance between he two Chinese fighters and the RC-135 as he could until the wo extra Bullet fighters arrived. "Few more turns and then we'll bug out, " Povik said. "I eed to make sure those bozos on us can't go after that recon lane." The Chinese fighters were laying off for now-they were still out nine miles somewhere behind them, closing only when ovik tried a large turn but backing off again when he rerned to straight and level. Povik's ALR-45 threat-warning ceiver was showing the Chinese fighter's position as an "S" with a diamond around it on his rear hemisphere-that was e fighter's search radar, reported to be a Type 225 Skyranger nge-only radar. That meant the Chinese probably didn't have radar-guided missiles, which in turn meant they wouldn't attack unless they were within about five to six miles. According to Intelligence, these were supposed to be J-7

fighters, copies of the Soviet Union's MiG-21 fighter. The Chinese had another fighter, called the J-8 "Finback, " with an L-band multi-mode radar, but that would show on the threat warning receiver as an inverted V "bat-wing" symbol, not an "S." The Finback was supposed to be deployed only to protect cities and, the spooks said, would probably not be encountered way out here. "Bullet, Bullet Two flight of two is engaging the other two bandits, " the AWACS controller reported. "I show you two minutes to bingo. You've got two, possibly four more bandits northwest of your position at Blue plus forty, closing at six hundred knots." That was all Povik was waiting for. "Copy, Basket. I'm not getting any radar warning signals from these guys-they just might be sitting on us." Povik's older, less capable ALR-45 threat warning receiver was little more than a glorified fuzzbuster that could tell him that there was a threat out there but not reliably tell where or what.

"We're bugging out of here. Bullet Five, I'm coming left first. I'll take anybody who tries to get behind you. "Two, " came the usual wingman's reply. Povik had just started his hard left turn when he heard his wingman scream, "Missile launch! Hitman, missile on you!"

"Shit, " Povik cursed at himself, not one squawk from his threat-warning receivers-sometimes they were useless pieces of garbage. "Gimme chaff and flares, Bear. Find the missile!"

"I can't see it!" Blevin shouted. His oxygen mask was flattened against the right side of the canopy as Povik tightened up his left turn and the G-forces increased. "I can't see it!" He continued to hit the chaff-and-flare buttons; he could see each flare cartridge flying into the darkness, burning as bright as a welder's torch, but not the enemy missile. His F-14 was equipped with one ALE-29 pod loaded with thirty infrared missile-decoy flares and one ALE-39 box loaded with sixty chaff cartridges to decoy radar-guided missiles. The pods were supposed to be slaved to the AAR-47 IR warning sensor and the ALR-45 radar threat-warning receiver so cartridges would eject automatically, but the system had so many false alarms that the decoy dispensers were left on manual all the time. "Hitman!" his wingman shouted. "On your left!

Missile turning inside you! Hit your burners!" Blevin fought the G-forces and stared out the left side. He saw the missile immediately-a tiny yellow phosphorescent dot, growing larger as it spiraled in on them. Povik didn't hesitate-he jammed both throttles to max afterburner and felt the satisfying kick as eight gallons of raw fuel a second were dumped into the burner cans, creating a flame a hundred feet long behind the Tomcat. It was a lastditch move to defeat a heat-seeking missile that was locked onto your aircraft instead of on a decoy flare-light the afterburners and hope the long flame steered the missile away in time.

Blevin cried out, "Jesus, oh Jesus.. ." But just as he expected the missile to hit, he could see it veer to the right and pass behind them.

"It's turning away! Burners off, increase left break!" Blevin was thrown against his shoulder straps as Povik yanked the throttles out of afterburner and into 80-percent power, and he continued to hit the flare eject button until the Chinese missile was lost from sight. Thankfully, the missile did not explode after sensing it had missed-it had passed close enough that its warhead would have done considerable damage. God damn! It's past us . . . I can't see any more." He searched both sides of his Tomcat to make sure it wasn't circling to re-attack. "That damn thing was locked onto us, not just our tailpipe, " Povik said. When he spoke, he noticed his chest heaving as strongly as though he'd finished a wind sprint. So this is what real combat felt like. ... He remembered their intel briefings, which told them that the Chinese did not yet have infrared guided missiles with a sensitive enough seeker to lock onto an aircraft fuselage. The Tomcat's AIM-9R Sidewinder missiles were advanced enough to seek a fighter's hot wing leading edges, but the Chinese PL-2 and PL-7 Pen Lung missiles were supposed to be only capable of locking onto a hot exhaust dot. Bullshit. "We got some bad intel, I think.. "Bullet Four, bandits turning right away from you, range eleven miles, " the AWACS controller reported. "Bullet Five, bandit moving across your nose at six miles . . . Four is well clear at your five o'clock position low."

"Bullet Five, fox two, " Povik's wingman cried out. He looked up just as an eerie streak of light flashed out above them. A second streak lashed out-Povik's wingman was going for the jugular, not just to scare anyone off. The heat-seeking A1M-9R Sidewinder missiles curled to the right and dipped lower, chasing the fighters. Seconds later there were two explosions; the second explosion was much larger and more sustained as the damaged Chinese fighter began to cartwheel to the ocean. They caught the Chinese fighter in a perfect pincer maneuver, with the bandit so intent on killing the guy in front of him that he forgot about the second Tomcat slashing in from above. Luckily, the second Chinese bandit didn't try his own pincer move-it might have worked, because Povik's wingman was definitely tunnel-visioned in on his own quarry, and Povik's Tomcat was on the wrong side of the energy curve and 1 probably didn't have the speed to defend. "Bullet Five, splash one, " the AWACS

controller reported. 1 "Second bandit at your two o'clock position, high, looks like he might be extending. Heading zero-two-five to intercept. Additional bandits now at your eleven o'clock position, high, Blue plus thirty miles. Be advised, bandit number two heading northwest now, decelerating and descending rapidly, looks like he might be CAPing for his buddy." The second Chinese fighter was apparently going to set up an orbit over his damaged wingman to help out in a search and rescue effort-he was out of the fight for now. Will advise if he tries to reengage. Bullet flight, say bingo." That reminded Povik to check his own fuel state, and it was worse than he figured-even those few seconds in afterburner sucked up a lot of precious fuel. He was two thousand pounds below his bingo fuel level-he would be in emergency fuel levels in just a few minutes. They were in big trouble even without four more bad guys on their tail. "Bullet Four is bingo, give me a vector to home plate."

"Bullet Five is three minutes to bingo, " Povik's wingman added. "I can take a vector to Bullet Two flight if they need help."

"Don't think that'll be necessary, Bullet Five, " the AWACS controller said. "Bullet Two flight is engaging, Bullet Six flight is airborne, and Bullet Eight flight is reporting ready. Home plate wants you to RTB. Heading one-three-two, stand by for your approach controller."

"Copy, Basket, " Povik replied. That was perfectly fine with him, Povik thought. There was a time to fight and a time to run, and there was nothing ignoble about running now. ABOARD BULLET TWO "Take the shot, Banger!" Lieutenant Commander Carl Roberts shouted. "Take the damned shot!" Chasing down the four Chinese fighters-they still did not know what kind of fighters they were dealing with-was getting deadly serious.

While continuing warning messages on the Guard channel, the four Chinese fighters continued barreling straight for the RC- 135, not bothering to perform any diversionary jinks or heading changes. Although the four aircraft had split into two groups, with one group going high and the others a few thousand feet lower, they were just barreling in on the four Tomcats, not trying to maneuver or jink around at all. They were simply going balls to the wall-the higher group nearly at five hundred and fifty knots, the lower jets about five hundred knots. The threat to the Air Force plane was obvious to Carl Roberts, the radar intercept officer on Bullet Two. He had locked up the bandits on radar immediately, hoping that the squeal of the AWG-9 radar on the Chinese fighter's threat warning receivers might make them turn away. No such luck. The Chinese fighters kept coming. "You got no choice, Banger, "

Roberts shoutedagain to his pilot, Lieutenant James Douglas. "These guys will blow past us unless we slow 'em down, and a missile launch is the only way. Douglas was only on his second cruise as an F-14 aviator after spending several years in "mud pounders" like A-7s and A-6

bombers. Air-to-mud guys, Roberts thought, were much different than fighter pilots. Bomb runs took discipline, timing, strict adherence to the planqualities that were probably big minuses in fighter pilots. Real fighter jocks used the ROE as a guideline, but relied on their wits to defeat an enemy-you never went into a fight with the whole thing worked out in your mind ahead of time. Unfortunately, Douglas always did. "The ROE says... "Screw the ROE, Banger, " Roberts said. "You gotta attack.

Ranger's declared an air-defense emergency, and the bubble's out to two hundred miles now. These guys are too close already. Take the shot..."

"Bullet, bandit at twelve o'clock, twenty miles, " the AWACS controller reported. "Range to Flashlight, forty miles. Range to home plate, Blue plus seventy.. ." The controller kept on rattling off an endless stream of numbers at Douglas; the young pilot turned the litany out of his mind. They had the intercept, that's all that mattered now . "A head-on shot will miss. It's low percentage . "So what? If he jinks away from the Sparrow, we mix it up with him. Take the shot. "Gimme a few seconds to get an angle on 'em. "We don't have time for that, Banger-those bozos might 1 even hit each other. Either way, we keep them from driving right into the recon plane. Take the damned shot. "A nose-to-nose Sparrow shot won't do shit, " Douglas saidRoberts knew he was really confused when his young pilot used first names instead of his call sign. "We gotta try something else." On interplane frequency, Douglas said, "Lead's going vertical. Take spacing and watch my tail."

"Two." "Hang on, " he said to Roberts. "I'll try a vertical jink; maybe these guys will break off and go for me." Roberts was going to protest, but Douglas wasn't ready to listen: he pulled his F-14 Tomcat up into a 45-degree climb, a radical move but well within the 65-degree maximum-depression angle for the AWG-9 radar-losing a lock-on with the Chinese fighters would be disastrous right now-waited a few seconds for about a hundred knots of airspeed to bleed off, then began to level off.

The radar remained locked on with the range now closing to fifteen miles. "Shit. Nothing's happening..."

"You gotta take a shot, Banger. These guys won't stop." "Lead, this is Two. No dice. The Chinks aren't moving. I'm well clear." Douglas'

wingman was prompting him to take a missile shot as well. Just then they heard on their AWACS controller's frequency, "Bullet flight, home plate sends code Zulu-Red-Seven, repeat, Zulu-Red-Seven, proceed immediately.

Acknowledge."

"Jesus, Banger, get the sonofabitch.. ." Roberts knew they had screwed up. While Douglas was trying to decide whether or not to shoot, the Chinese fighters were about to blast within the one-hundred-mile

"bubble" surrounding Ranger and her escorts, which were demarcated by the Indonesian island of Talaud. Now the fighters were a clear threat not only to the Air Force reconnaissance planes but to the carrier itself, and the role of the Tomcats changed as well; now their job was to protect the five thousand men on Ranger and the other ships in its battle group. Ranger was ordering the Tomcats to engage and defend the carrier at all costs. The RC-135 and the EC might have to be sacrificed. ... "Bullet Six has a judy, " the third flight of Tomcats reported. "Clear Poppa." The third and probably the fourth flights of Tomcats were armed with AIM-54 Phoenix missiles, which were designed to kill enemy aircraft from ranges of over eighty nautical miles-as soon as the RIO locked onto a target, a Phoenix missile could probably hit it.

But a Phoenix usually shot into a "basket, " a section of airspace near the enemy fighter, and then the missile horned in on illumination signals from the launch aircraft-that made it very dangerous for any nearby fighters who might be in or near the missile's basket. Bullet Six could not engage as long as Bullet Two was in the area. "Bullet Two is engaging, " Douglas cried out on the interplane frequency. He snapped his Tomcat into a steep left roll ing dive, pulling on the stick to keep the fast-moving Chinese attackers on his radarscope. "Bullet Three, release, clear, and cover to the right." "Bullet Three's clearing right." Douglas' wingman made a hard climbing right turn, quickly moving up and away from the kill zone and accelerating back toward the fleet. If Douglas missed and the Phoenix missiles from Bullet Six and Seven missed, Bullet Three could make one last shot at the fighters with his Sparrow radar-guided missiles, it was up to Ranger escorts to get the bandits. Roberts coached his frontseater in as they completed the turn above and behind the Chinese attackers: "Range twenty miles . . .

seventeen miles . . . holding at seventeen miles . . . good tone, clear to shoot . "Fox one, fox one, ' Douglas called out as he pressed the button to launch a Sparrow missile. He was preparing to arm a second one for immediate launch when he saw a dim flash of light ahead of them, then another, then several more brilliant long tongues of flame slash across the darkness. Even at their extreme range, there was no mistaking iteight huge missiles, with exhaust plumes the size of spaceshuttle boosters, were being launched by the Chinese fighters!

"Missile launch! Bandits launching missiles . six . . . seven . . .

eight of 'em, big ones!" The plumes reared back and down as the missiles climbed skyward. Douglas thought he could hear the rumble and even feel the power of those huge missiles as they climbed nearly out of sight.

"Can you pick 'em up on radar, Zippo?" Douglas screamed. "Can you see those fuckin' missiles?"

"I'm tryin'! Shit! Get your nose up! I'll try for a lock-on!" Roberts cried out. Douglas hauled back on the stick and hit the afterburners as Roberts put the AWG-9 radar into range-whilesearch mode for maxinium range capability against the big, fast-moving missiles. "Contact! Got

'em! Got one at thirty miles! Locked on!"

"Fox one, fox one, Bullet Two, " Douglas called out on the interplane frequency. The big Sparrow missile slid off the rails and immediately went straight up, using its powerful firststage motor to gain maximum altitude. "It's not gonna make it, " Roberts said. He could feel an uncontrollable shiver coursing up and down his back. The Sparrow was launched near its extreme maximum range and it climbed too high, too fast, and he could see that the missile's motor had already burned out.

His AWG-9 radar showed the Chinese missiles already accelerating to six hundred knots, but the Sparrow was closing at only eight hundred knots because it had to climb so high to sustain its unpowered glide. "Shit, shit, it's not gonna make it "Bullet Three has ajudy on the missiles, "

Douglas' wingman suddenly shouted on the radios. "I got a lock-on! I'm going after them!" "Bullet Two is clearing off the missiles, " Douglas radioed to the inbound Tomcat fighters as he pulled into a steep left climb and turned away from the Chinese fighters. "Bullet Two is clear."

The incoming Tomcat pilots immediately let loose with a four-missile barrage of Phoenix missiles-some designated for the Chinese fighters, others for the missiles that were now headed for the Ranger and her escorts. With their heavy missile loads gone, however, the Chinese fighters really began to move. Seconds after the missiles were in the sky, the AWACS reported the Chinese going nearly supersonic and making a sweeping left turn back to the northeast. "Bullet flight, be advised, Basket's got music, " the AWACS radar plane reported-they were picking up jamming signals from the enemy fighter-bombers. "Bullet Two, bandits at your ten o'clock position, twenty miles. Bullet Three, bandits at your six o'clock, ten miles." Suddenly a huge explosion, followed by a ripple of orange and yellow fireballs, erupted in the sky ahead of Douglas as one of the Phoenix missiles found its target. "Splash one bandit, splash one! Bullet Two's got the other one, " Roberts cried out. The last remaining Chinese fighter had pulled directly into his line of fire as he made his postattack turn, and even at his present speed the tight turn bled off all his energy, which made the shot even easier. The steady warbling tone in Douglas' headset was replaced by a high-pitched tone as the AWG-9 radar switched from range-while-search mode to pulse-Doppler-single-target-track mode for missile lock-on, and Douglas squeezed the trigger and let fly his third Sparrow missile. But the jamming from the Chinese attackers was too greatthe missile tracked well for only a few seconds before veering right and beginning a death-spiral to the dark waters below. There was still one enemy fighter out there. Douglas found himself in a near-panic. He had only one Sparrow remaining-his Sidewinders were useless against a target so far away-and no fuel to continue the chase. He was helpless. If he jammed in the afterburners to chase down the last fighter, he would run out of fuel long before reaching Ranger. The decision was made for him moments later: "Bullet Two, disengage, " the AWACS controller called.

"Bullet Six flight is at your six o'clock, thirty miles. Clear up and starboard and RTB; I show you four past your bingo." Douglas checked their fuel, and it was worse than that-they were just a few minutes from emergency fuel-they needed an AK-6 tanker immediately. Douglas and Roberts could do nothing else but head back to Ranger and hope they still had a deck to land on as they listened to the chase unfold. .

ABOARD BULLET THREE "Bullet Three, contact home plate immediately, " the AWACS controller reported. Lieutenant Commander John "Horn" Kelly flicked his radios as fast as his shaking fingers could work the buttons. "Bullet Three, go." "Bullet Three, take a shot and clear, " the controller aboard Ranger said. "Five-two is ready to engage in sixty seconds."

"Five-two" was CG-52, the USS Bunker IIill, an Aegis-class guided-missile cruiser-escort that could detect targets out to 175 miles and track and engage sea-skimming targets out to 40 miles; it carried SM-2 Aegis vertical-launch surface-to-air missiles. In addition, a special system called BGAAWC, or Battle Group Anti-Aircraft Warfare Coordination, allowed the Bunker Hill to remotely control the SM-2

Standard antiaircraft missiles aboard the cruiser Sterett and the Sea Sparrow missiles aboard the destroyers Hewitt and Fife, which were the Ranger's other three escorts. Kelly's RIO, Lieutenant "Faker" Markey, sang out immediately, "Got a judy on the missiles, Horn. . . I got

'em locked up. Shoot away."

"Good work, Faker." On the Ranger's tactical frequency, Kelly radioed,

"Bullet Three, copy, fox. Suddenly, on the emergency Guard frequency, they heard, "Missiles! Bandits firing missiles! Horn, check six. . .

!" The AAR-47 infrared warning receiver beeped just then, and several flare cartridges shot off into the night sky as Markey's left index finger began to madly jab the "Flare" buttonthe supercoded electronic eye of the infrared warning seeker had detected the motor-ignition flash of a missile less than eight miles behind them. Kelly pulled the throttles to near idle power, rolled inverted, and pulled the nose to the ocean, trying to get his hot tail vertical and away from the missile's seeker. "Find that missile!" Kelly shouted. Markey's response was almost immediate: "I see it! I see it! High above us... it's passing over us... A flash of light caught Kelly's attention-to his horror, he noticed the flash was one of his own decoy flares. The hot phosphorus blob seemed to float just a few yards alongside the American fighter. It was bright enough to attract the enemy missile. "Stop ejecting flares!" Kelly screamed. "It'll follow us down. 1" But it was too late. In his panic, Markey kept on ejecting decoy flares as the Tomcat continued its break and dive, and the trail of flares caused the Chinese Pen Lung-9 heat-seeking missile to snap down in the wake of the Tomcat, where it reacquired the F-14's hot exhaust and finished its deadly voyage. The PL-9's twenty-two-pound high-explosive warhead detonated on contact, shredding both engines instantly and destroying the Tomcat long before the crew had a chance to eject. ABOARD THE

TICONDEROGA-CLASS CRUISER USS BUNKER HILL The Combat Information Center in an Aegis-class guided missile cruiser was like sitting in a giant big-screen video arcade. Four operators-the embarked group commander of the Ranger battle group and his assistant plus the TAO, or tactical action officer, and his assistant-each sat in front of two 42inch-square, four-color computer screens that showed the entire Ranger battle group, using computer-generated symbology and digitized coastal maps, creating a "big picture" of the entire battle area and highlighting friendly and enemy vessels and aircraft in relation to the fleet and any nearby political boundaries. The incredible MK-7 Aegis weapon system could track and process over one hundred different targets beyond five hundred miles in range by integrating radar information from other surface, land, or airborne search radars; the SPY-I phased-array radar on the Bunker Hill itself had a range of almost two hundred miles and could spot a sea-skimming missile on the horizon at a range of over forty miles. Aegis was designed to defend a large carrier battle group from dense and complicated enemy air and sea assault by integrating the entire group's air-defense network into a single display and control area, and then providing long-range, high-speed decision-making and automatic-weapon employment for not only the Aegis cruiser's weapon itself, but for all the ships of the battle group-Bunker Hill's Aegis system could control the weapons of all the Ranger's battle group. It all sounded complicated, very high-tech, and foolproofbut at that moment, staring down the barrel of a gun, it did not seem very foolproof. The Aegis air-defense system was designed to have the battle group commander and the ship's commanding officer direct fleet defense from the Tactical Flag Command Center, but with an aircraft carrier in the group and a rather tightly packed deployment of ships, the Ranger battle group commander, Rear Admiral Conner Walheim, was aboard Ranger consulting directly with the carrier's officers, so his deputy for antiaircraft warfare, Captain Richard Feinemann, was on the Aegis console. And because the Bunker Hill's skipper preferred to stay on the bridge during such operations, the ship's Tactical Action Officer was representing him on the Aegis console. Lieutenant Commander Paul Hart was the Bunker Hill's TAC, and the Aegis system was his pride and joy-while the captain preferred to stay on the bridge during these engagements and monitor them on his ASTAB automated status board monitors, Hart was in his element in the dark, rather claustrophobic confines on the CIC. Feinemann was a lot like Hart's skipper-he was a boat driver who had little patience for the dazzling and sometimes confusing array of electronic gadgets deep within the heart of a warship. He was an exdestroyer skipper and antisubmarine-warfare action group commander who had spent a length of time on shore studying newer antiair radar integration systems such as Aegis, but had little actual experience of it. Although Hart was the Aegis expert, Feinemann was still in overall command of antiair fleet defense and would command all antiair assets in the group from Bunker Hill. The big LSDs, or large-screen displays, were a bit intimidating for Feinemann, so he had his data-input technician give him a constant verbal readout of significant events on the screen while he tried to keep up. The data-input officer made a comment to Feinemann, prefaced with a short expletive, and the group AAW officer scanned the screen in momentary confusion-both because he couldn't spot the event and because no one in BunkerHill's CIC seemed very excited. "We've lost contact with one of our fighters?" Feinemann asked incredulously. "Yes, sir, " Hart responded. "That B-6 must've got him before Bullet Three could take a shot. It was a long-range crossing snapshot, too-he must've been carrying PL-9 missiles." Feinemann stared at Hart in complete surprise, wondering what in hell the young officer was babbling about. Hart continued. "Those C60 1 missiles got past both the Tomcats and the Phoenix missiles." He turned to the tactical alert intercom and radioed, "Bridge, CIC, I show four inbounds, altitude seven hundred feet, speed five hundred fifty knots, bearing two-niner-seven, range forty-two miles and closing, Charlie-601 antiship missiles. One bandit turning outbound, range now six-seven miles." To his communications officer he said, "I need all Bullet aircraft to stay clear. Have Basket take them northwest for their refueling and to counter the new inbound bandits, but tell Basket to keep them away from my engagement lane. If Ranger launches the ready-alert birds, make sure Hawkeye or Basket takes them well north."

"How do you know those are C601 missiles, and how do you know those were Chinese B-6 bombers, son?" Feinemann snapped. "You're making reports to your bridge on enemy aircraft that, as far as I can see, you have absolutely no information to make. You're also chasing away three air-defense fighters from possible engagements without knowing all the facts."

"The flight profiles, sir, " Hart explained patiently. "They launched two missiles each from over a hundred miles' range-that's too far for a C80 1. Those missiles climbed first, but now they're descending to about a hundred feet, and they're cruising at about six hundred knots-typical profile of a C601 missile. "It's also the profile of an Exocet, a Harpoon, or a Soviet ASS missile, or any number of antiship missiles, " Feinemann pointed out, his eyes narrowing on Hart. "If we were facing off against the French or the Soviets, I'd agree, sir, "

Hart replied. "The reports from the recon plane say that a Chinese EF4-class ship was in the area and that Chinese troops invaded Mindanao; I'd assume that the fighters and these missiles are Chinese. My guess is still a C601, and that's what I'll assume when we begin responding.

"As far as the carrier aircraft-each plane was carrying two missiles plus air-to-air weapons, and it was doing some heavy active jamming, not just uplink trackbreaking. That's too much payload for a J-7, B-7, or Q-5 fighter-it has to be a B-6 Badger bomber. "And as far as the Tomcats are concerned, I want them out of the way. Aegis can prosecute sea-skimming targets better than a Tomcat, and I'm not worried about enemy fighters right now-I'm worried about those missiles. In sixty seconds I'll start worrying about the inbound fighters." Hart was expecting a reply; when he got none, he added, "Sir, I need clearance to release batteries and engage when those missiles cross the horizon."

"Your captain might be impressed with your amateur intelligence analysis, Commander Hart, " Feinemann said irritably, "but the Admiral needs concrete data before he can commit any forces under his command.

He can't operate on guesses."

"Then you can tell him, sir that we've got four subsonic inbounds that broke the group's bubble a minute ago, " Hart said, trying to control his temper. He couldn't believe he was having an argument over target identification with this man, with four deadly-and possibly nuclear-missiles heading straight for them. "I make estimates on the threat based on my observations, but the bottom line is that I want weapons online to stop these things from hitting the carrier. In thirty seconds I start acting on my own authority; I'm requesting permission to commit now."

"You commit when the Admiral tells you to!" Hart had had enough. He hit the intercom button. "Bridge, CIC, emergency, request permission to release the batteries fore and aft and engage." The Bunker Hill's skipper did not hear the argument between his TAO and the group commander's AAW deputy, and he certainly knew the procedures with an embarked group commander, but with a threat this big heading in, he didn't hesitate. "Bridge to CIC, batteries released fore and aft, clear to engage." "Understand clear to engage. Clear forward and aft missile decks, clear forward and aft missile decks." From that point on, Hart ignored Feinemann-everything else was inconsequential except his radar, his console, and his weapon system. If the man had anything to say, it would have to wait until after he dealt with the inbounds. The Bunker Hill was the first Aegis cruiser to use the Mk 41 vertical-launch system, where missiles were loaded into individual canisters and then fired vertically-the system was far less complex, more redundant, faster, and required fewer guided-missile mates to operate the launchers than the older Mk 26, Mk 22, or Mk 13 "merry-go-round" launchers. Bunker Hill had two VLS launchers, one fore and one aft, each with sixty-one missiles-combinations of SM-2 Aegis antiaircraft missiles, Tomahawk shipand-landattack cruise missilessome with low-yield nuclear warheads-and ASROC antisubmarine rocket torpedoes. Hart had been extensively briefed on exactly what options were open to him as tactical action officer-he knew that the only weapon in his arsenal right now was the SM-2 Aegis missile, and his only job was to protect Ranger and its escorts. Even though this was probably the exact situation that the Chinese People's Liberation Army Navy was in when they launched their nuclear antiship missile at the tiny Philippine fleet near Palawan, Hart knew he would never be authorized to let fly with one of his nuclear-tipped Tomahawks, even in retaliation. Hart checked to be sure the Aegis system was in AAW COMMIT mode and used a trackball on his console to move a circle cursor to the data blocks representing the inbound antiship missiles. The ASTAB monitors instantly gave him performance data on the inbounds, displayed IFF radio-identification information-there was none-and classified them as hostile. If they were friendlies-unlikely but possible-they were flying without radios, without exchanging coded identification signals, and flying well off the established fleet approach procedures-and they were going to die. "Give me trial engage, " he told his data-entry technician. "Trial engage, "

the tech replied. Instantly the data block began to blink and a readout on the ASTAB monitor gave a list of the missiles that Aegis would select. On the LSD, a yellow line showed the computer's best guess as to the Aegis missile's track, the intercept points with the incoming missiles, and the positions of all the ships and aircraft in the battle group once the engagement was made. "Aegis wants to commit ten missiles, " the data-entry tech reported. "We got Bullet Two within twenty miles on impact." The number was significant because if there were nuclear tipped C601 antiship missiles, the Tomcats would fry in the blast. But if Hart waited any longer, Bunker Hill would be doing the frying. It was also significant because the Mk 41 launcher could rapid-fire only seven missiles at one time. He selected sixty-four nautical miles range on his LSD to keep careful watch on the intercept, then said, "Understood. We'll do six from the forward launcher and the rest from the aft launcher. Clear trial engage, sound the horn, engage weapon commit."

"Trial engage clear." A muted horn sounded throughout the ship, followed by, "Attention all hands, missile alert actual, missile alert actual, stand by for missile launch." The tech then reported,

"Launchers in the green and reporting clear. CDS enable. Weapon commit in three, two, one, now." The ASTAB monitors cleared, and they began to show the Mk 41 launcher status and the status of the missiles in the forward launcher that were being chosen by the Aegis system for the first ripple. A button marked "Hold Fire" was blinking rapidly in the lower-left corner of the communications panel, where both Hart and his data-entry tech could reach it-Feinemann had a blinking Hold Fire button as well, and he had full authority to use it. Aegis selected ten missiles and began a pre-programmed ten-second warmup and target-data transfer cycle. "Missile counting down, ten missiles in the green. . .

missile one forward in five... four... three... two... one... launch!

Missiles away. Up on the forward deck of the Bunker IIill, a twenty-fivesquare-inch white door popped open atop the Mk 41 VLS

launcher, and a cloud of white smoke engulfed the entire forward portion of the cruiser. Once every two seconds, an Aegis SM-2 missile lifted free of the Bunker Hill, climbed to ten thousand feet in just a few seconds, then arched over and began its intercept. The missiles'

autopilots steered them into an intercept "basket, " an area in which the incoming targets were predicted to fly. When the Aegis SPY-I radar detected the SM-2 missiles approaching the "basket, " the SPY-I would activate an SPG-62 X-band target illuminator which would "paint" the incoming Chinese missiles, and the SM-2 Aegis missiles would home in on the radar energy reflected off the enemy missiles. "Six missiles away forward, " the tech reported. "Forward launcher secure and reporting clear, plenum status normal, refire status normal. Counting down on aft launcher . . . in three... two... one... mark." The canister door on the aft launcher flipped open and the first SM-2 fired... But something happened. Instead of shooting skyward, the SM-2 rose about twenty feet above the launcher, the solid-propellant motor stopped running, and the missile slipped backwards, crashed to the deck, and exploded. The concussion threw half of the Aegis crew members to the deck. Feinemann was the only one able to react-he hit the Hold Fire button to ensure that no other missiles from the aft launcher tried to launch. "Status report!" he cried out. "Get me a status report!" The damage-control alarm was ringing throughout the Bunker Hill, and there were a few seconds of momentary panic as the CIC lights went out, the emergency lights finally clicked on, and a few purple wisps of smoke issued from the ventilators, "Status report, dammit!" Hart's ears were ringing hard-from the blast, the confusion, or the sudden disorientation of having the normally steady deck heaving beneath him, he couldn't tell which-but he managed to straighten himself in his seat and help his tech up. Several ASTAB monitors had gone down, and Feinemann's LSDs were blank. "Mark 7 system is faulted... both launchers shut down . . .

SPY-I is still on-line, " he reported. On the intercom, he shouted,

"Bridge, CIC, Mark 7 system fault, recommend immediate AAW command transfer."

"CIC, bridge, copy, command transfer to Sterett." With SPY-I still operating, the cruiser Sterett could act as pseudoAegis cruiser by receiving Aegis data via the Battle Group Anti Aircraft Warfare Coordination system on its Mk 76 weaponscontrol consoles. The transfer was made, but far too late. Three C601 antiship missiles, air-launched versions of the huge Silkworm missile, survived the Aegis counterattack made by Bunker Hill and the Sea Sparrow antimissile barrage by Sterett.

One missile was destroyed by combined Sea Sparrow missile hits by Sterett and Phalanx Close-In-Weapon System gunfire seconds before it reached Bunker Hill, and a second missile was destroyed by a last-second burst of gunfire from the Ranger's portside Phalanx gun just a few hundred yards before striking the carrier . The last missile hit the carrier Ranger just aft of the port bow. The missile's titanium nosecap pierced the outer hull of the carrier before the eleven-hundred-pound high-explosive warhead detonated, ensuring that most of the missile's deadly force was directed inside the vessel. ABOARD BULLET SIX "Bullet Six flight, say your bingo status, " the controller aboard the Air Force E-3C AWACS plane radioed. "Bullet Six is seven minutes to bingo, "

Lieutenant Jason "Razor" Penrose reported. "Ditto for Bullet Seven."

"Copy. Stand by... Bullet flight, code is 'slippery, ' repeat,

'slippery.'" Razor Penrose couldn't believe what he just heard. The code word "slippery" meant that their carrier Ranger was damaged, extent unknown, and no one would either launch or land. Dammit all to hell.

They missed and it had cost them! Because they couldn't get the fighters or the big missiles, Ranger was hit. Fortunately, there were other code words for more serious damage, so there was a possibility that they wouldn't have to divert-it could be something as noncritical as a damaged aircraft on the deck or foul arresting gear. There were a few nearby divert runways available, and dozens more as long as the K-10

tanker was still available. The closest landing facility was a small runway on the island of Sangihe, one hundred and thirty miles to the southeast. With a KC-10, however, they could reach and rearm on Guam, fourteen hundred miles to the northeast. They still had lots of options. . But Penrose had no plans on diverting right now. As long as he had gas and guns, he was going to stay aloft. Their primary job now was to protect their damaged carrier. "Three bandits at twelve o'clock, forty miles, high, northwest-bound at high speed, they appear to be withdrawing, " the AWACS controller continued as calmly as if he were reporting the weather. The three surviving first-wave fighters had done their job-deliver the big antiship missiles-so they were bugging out.

"Four additional bandits, one o'clock, Blue plus twenty miles, southeast bound, looks like they want to engage. "Basket, give me a SITREP. Who do we get up?"

"Bullet Two, Four and Five are emergency fuel and are rendezvousing with Shamu, " the AWACS controller reported. "They report nine AIM-7s and five A1M-9s between them. They will stay with Shamu and Basket after refueling." No report on Bullet Three, Penrose noted-the Chink bastards got Kelly, damn them. "Bullet Eight and Nine are airborne, ETE ten minutes; they are staying within a hundred miles from home plate for inner defense. They are max loaded with four AIM-54s, two AIM-7s, and two AIM-9s apiece. You've got two KA-6s up but they'll have to tank with Shamu before you can use them. One Hawkeye up, range one-niner-zero miles east. Flashlight is at your three o'clock, eight miles, low, southeast bound at vee-max." The big spy plane was on the deck, trying to lose itself in the radar clutter of the sea. "Basket is southeast of your position, one-one-zero miles. Say your load and fuel."

"Bullet Six flight of two, two -7s, two -9s, seven minutes to bingo."

"Copy, Bullet Six flight. Vector to join on Flashlight, starboard to heading one-one-zero, take angels eight."

"Negative. Bullet Six flight wants a vector to the inbounds." Penrose had had enough of screwing with trying to protect the Air Force's radar plane-his job was to protect the fleet and keep any more Chinks from lobbing missiles at his home. "Your OPORD says to escort the RC, Bullet flight "Fuck the ops orders, Basket. I want a vector to the inbounds."

On interphone, he told his RIO, Lieutenant Commander John Watson, "Lion Tamer, lock those inbounds up if this bozo doesn't give us a vector That was usually not very good practice-they would keep the element of surprise if Penrose's RIO kept his radar off-but if he had to, they would go it alone. . There was a brief pause from the AWACS controller, but he was obviously not in the mood or not authorized to argue. "Roger

. . . Bullet Six flight, four bandits at one o'clock, fifty miles, take angels three-five, that'll put you ten thousand above them."

"Six flight." Penrose held his heading and started his climb.

"Bogey-dope."

"Bandits at your one o'clock, level, fifty miles, closure rate eleven hundred. Be advised, Bullet flight, Flashlight reported naval radar and possible naval antiair at your twelve o'clock, two hundred miles. You may be coming within detection range. "Six copies." Well, if that happened, they'd be about even it was a two-vee-four, but there was not yet any sign that they'd been detected. Penrose wasn't going to turn on his radar until absolutely necessary. "Two."

"One o'clock, moving to one-thirty, forty miles . . . thirty miles, two o'clock, low . They weren't going in completely blind. Penrose's RIO was adjusting his IRSTS, or Infrared Search and Track System, a long-range heat-seeking imager that could detect and display hot targets at medium to short range; his was one of the few older F- 14A models with both an IRSTS sensor as well as the typical TCS telescopic camera system, in side-by-side chin pods. IRSTS allowed the crew to launch missiles against targets at long range and activate their AWG-9 radar only a few seconds before the missiles impacted-that was precisely what they were trying to do now. "Two-thirty position, thirty miles.. ."

Penrose corrected his course to keep the bandits within the 30-degree limit of the IRSTS seeker. "Cowboy, can you get an IR track on these guys?"

"We got 'em all the way, " Penrose's wingman, Lieutenant Commander Paul

"Cowboy" Bowman, replied. "Ready when you are. "Stand by." On interphone Penrose asked, "Got 'em yet, Lion Tamer?"

"Hold on... tally-ho, finally got 'em... IR track. Compiling data...

got a good data feed. Wish we had a laser ranger right now-their guys would be dog meat. Be advised, Razor, my radar's coming on three seconds after missile launch. We won't be invisible no more... okay. I got a firing solution. Clear to launch."

"Good. Lock up the rest as soon as the radar's on." On the interplane frequency, he called out, "Seven, give it to 'em. Bullet Six, fox one.

"Seven, fox one. Penrose squeezed the launch button on his radar, and the light-gray outline of his Tomcat fighter lit up again as the big Sparrow missile leaped into the dark sky. He could see a missile from his wingman slash through the sky just a few hundred feet away-the two missiles appeared to be flying in formation as they streaked toward their targets. The missiles seemed to track perfectly . But suddenly Penrose's missile seemed to diverge away faster and faster-his wingman's missile curved to the right, tracking all the way, but Penrose's Sparrow was going off in the weeds. "Lion Tamer, what's going on...?"

"Damn! Radar's not coming up!" Watson shouted. "Shit, it cooled down too much!" A status light to the right of the RIO's tactical information display read ENV STBY, meaning that the system would stay in nonradiating mode until the electronics fully warmed up. "Two! Take the lead! Six is gadget-bent!"

"Seven's taking the lead." Penrose began searching to his right, hoping he could see his wingman, but he made it easy for him: Bullet Seven had his left engine in min afterburner, both to help Penrose find him and start closing in on the Chinese fighters faster. "Cowboy, got a tally on you, kill your burner, " Penrose said. The burner flicked off. They continued their right turn to put themselves right on the four Chinese fighters' tails. Lion Tamer's APR-45 radar threat scope suddenly came to life. It showed first a friendly search radar directly aheadBullet Seven-and, seconds later, several bat-wing symbols appeared off to the right as the Chinese fighters, after detecting the Tomcat's radars, activated their own search radars to find their ambushers. All four bat-wings were superimposed, with a diamond around the closest one. As Penrose searched out his canopy bubble to see if he could see any of the enemy fighters, he saw a tiny puff of fire in the distance-Bullet Seven's Sparrow missile had exploded. One of the bat-wings promptly disappeared. "Bullet flight, splash one bandit, " the AWACS controller reported. "Dead bandit descending rapidly, turning right, decelerating.

Two bandits breaking left, same altitude, nine miles. One bandit looks like he's descending, heading straight ahead... lone bandit is thirty miles from Flashlight, appears to be closing on him."

"Six, go after the solo. I'll take these two."

"Negative. I'm bent. I'm staying with you. "I can take these two. Use your IR and the AWACS. Get the solo." "Dammit, Cowboy, if those two are bugging out, let 'em. Don't get sucked into a one-vee-two. Let's go get the solo together."

"We got these two locked up, no sweat. Take the solo. I'll be back in a flash." He punctuated his sentence by banking hard left in pursuit.

Penrose and Watson were suddenly right between two enemy cells. "You gotta protect the recon plane, Razor, " Watson told him. "Fuck the recon plane. My wingman might be in trouble..."

"So what happens when that bandit smokes that RC-135? There's eighteen guys on that thing." He was right-he had no choice. "Shit. We're going after the solo. Basket, Bullet Six, vector to the solo inbound."

"Bullet Six, bandit at your twelve to one o'clock, eleven miles, five thousand below you, airspeed six hundred thirty." Penrose shoved his throttles to full military power, anxious to get within missile-firing range but not enough to risk using afterburners and getting himself in a low-fuel situation-he fully intended to go back and see to Cowboy after dealing with the lone bandit. "Lion Tamer, what's with the radar? Can't you get it going?" "Keeps resetting. I'm recycling it . This is going from bad to worse, Penrose thought. On interplane, he asked, "Cowboy, how goes it?"

"We got one in the kill zone, " Penrose and Watson heard on the interplane frequency. "Looks like the other guy's bugging out-he's out of it. Thirty seconds and I'm back with you. "Don't get cocky, " Penrose said. "Shoot and clear. Basket, dammit, keep an eye out for Seven's trailer." "Basket copies. Second bandit on Bullet Seven is two o'clock, eleven miles, accelerating, descending. Bullet Six, your bandit is twelve o'clock, ten miles. Your bandit is twenty-five miles from Flashlight and closing. Watson manually slewed the IRSTS along the bearing given by the AWACS controller and finally found the Chinese fighter, a tiny green dot on his screen. He hit the "Lock" button, and a big square superimposed itself on the dot; a second later as the IRSTS

refined its aiming and stabilized its gyro platform, the square compressed to slightly larger than the dot, and a stream of tracking figures appeared on the screen. Watson slaved one AIM-9R Sidewinder missile to the IRSTS boresight, and Penrose heard a low, menacing growl as the missile's seeker head locked on. "Got the Chink on IR, Razor, "

Watson said. "Select a Sidewinder and nail this bugger. "Bullet Seven, second bandit climbing through your altitude, two o'clock, twelve miles

. . "Bullet Six, fox two . . ." Penrose shot one Sidewinder, decided against selecting his last one-Cowboy might need the extra missile. The tiny missile raced ahead, obliterating the IR sensor in the sudden glare, but the missile tracked straight and true this time and they were rewarded by a huge ball of fire far ahead of them. "Bullet Six, splash two." "Good shooting, Razor, " Penrose heard Bowman reply in between deep grunts-Bowman was performing his anti-G force grunts called M-maneuvers. He was obviously right in the middle of a hard-turning battle, but the cocky sonofabitch still found time to chatter on the radios. "Bullet Seven, fox one. . . die, sucker, die!"

"Bullet Seven, warning, second bandit four o'clock, high, eight miles, descending behind you... "Cowboy, dammit, get out of there!" Penrose shouted. "Cowboy, extend, extend!"

"Bullet Seven, starboard turn to evade . . . Bullet Seven, extend...

Bullet Seven heading zero-nine-zero, thirty degrees starboard to extend... Bullet Seven, check altitude... Bullet Seven, if you are in a spin, release your controls . . . Bullet Seven, if you are in a spin, release your controls and lower your landing gear. . . Bullet Seven, Bullet Seven, altitude warning . . . Bullet Seven only, Bullet Seven only, eject, eject, eject. . ." No use. Penrose never got another transmission from Bowman. "Basket, this is Six, vector to Bullet Seven's last position." Penrose could hear the panic, the gut-wrenching anxiety, in the controller's voice. "Er . . . Bullet Six, lone bandit at your nine o'clock, forty miles, he's northwest-bound at six hundred knots, altitude ten thousand and descending. Appears to be withdrawing. No other bandits detected. Say your bingo."

"I said, I want a vector to Seven's last known position, dam"No ELT, no transmissions. . . Six, say your fuel." Penrose finally curbed his anger long enough to check his fuel-he was well past bingo, and with a damaged carrier and his tankers more than a hundred miles away, he was in emergency fuel conditions now. "Basket, Six requests you vector a KA-6 over here, because I'm not moving from this spot until I make sure there's no ELT or distress calls. You better call Sterett or Ffe or somebody over here to investigate, because I'm staying right here until we find Cowboy."

"Bullet Six... Six, all group vessels involved at this time." The controller sounded as if he were trying to think of some detached, official-sounding terminology to tell Penrose that no one was likely to come and search for wreckage or survivors. Penrose suddenly remembered the Ranger and knew they weren t going to send any big ships anywhere near this area for a long time-the Chinese held it too tightly. "Shamu rendezvousing with Basket and Flashlight for recovery. Orders from home plate, return and prepare for divert recovery. Acknowledge." The battle was over. The Chinese lost four plus damaged a carrier, the Americans lost two. Penrose felt as if he had been beaten up by an entire street gang. Who won this one? Who the hell won this one? NATIONAL MILITARY

COMMAND CENTER THE PENTAGON, WASHINGTON, D.C. %30 SEPTEMBER 1994, 1319

HOURS LOCAL (1 OCTOBER, 0219 GUAM TIME) The National Military Command Center, located three stories beneath the inner ring of the Pentagon, was a large, sophisticated command post where members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, their senior staff officers, and members of the National Command Authority and National Security Council could monitor crisis developments anywhere in the world, receive real-time satellite imagery, and speak directly with anyone from foreign leaders to theater commanders to individual crew members via secure, high-tech worldwide communications gear. The place was much like the Strategic Air Command's underground command center, with uliratight electronic and physical security, several huge wall-size, fullcolor monitors, banks of telephones, a secure code room, and a huge support staff-except this was where national military strategy and command decisions were made and disseminated, not received and executed. A gallery above the main floor allowed high-ranking visitors to view the proceedings; a few persons were up there now. Most of the J-Staff and several other members of the Joint Chiefs were already present in the NMCC when General Wilbur Curtis trotted in and took his place in the front row center seat. Beside him, sitting in the seat reserved for the highestranking civilian present-usually Frank Kellogg, the President's National Security Advisor, or even Thomas Preston, the Secretary of Defense himself-was Paul Cesare, the President's Chief of Staff. Curtis gave him a brief nod but ignored him as he clicked on the microphone at his seat. He didn't care for Cesare. Never had. Shortly after Curtis had been dismissed from the last Situation Room ineeting on this crisis, he'd phoned Cesare, trying to get in to see the President alone, to privately make the case for more fighters to accompany the carriers as well as deploying the Air Battle Force. He'd gotten nothing from Cesare but a chilly "The issue is closed." He was Machiavellian and ruthless. He'd play either side of the fence as long as it was the side the President was on, and mow down anyone who got in his way. Curtis more than disliked him, he couldn't stand him. "Curtis here. Situation report, please." Navy Captain Rebecca Rodgers' voice came over the NMCC's loudspeaker: "Good afternoon, sir, Captain Rodgers here. This briefing is classified Top Secret, no foreign nationals, sensitive intelligence sources and methods involved. The command center is secure, with the gallery sound-isolated. Briefing contents describe a priority-two incident." She paused for a moment in case Curtis wanted to configure the NMCC any differently. He did not, and she went on. Damn, Curtis thought, here it comes. "About fifteen minutes ago the aircraft carrier Ranger, her escorts, several Navy fighters, and an Air Force reconnaissance plane were attacked by Chinese land-based fighters and bombers south of the Philippines." There was considerable murmuring among the assembled. Several of the Joint Chiefs shifted in their seats, bracing themselves for more. Paul Cesare sat there shaking his head, not believing what he'd just heard. Well, Wilbur Curtis thought, the shit's hitting the fan a lot faster than anyone expected. And with the President's Chief of Staff sitting right here, the news was going to travel faster than Curtis could respond. He needed to have a list of options prepared for the National Command Authority literally before the President knew about the crisis. Without a plan of action, the entire JCS might seem like a bunch of bumbling idiots. If things got out of control now, Curtis would be lucky to remain JCS chairman for the rest of the day. "Wait one, Captain." Curtis turned to Cesare. "Mr.

Cesare, what exactly are you doing here?" Curtis expected an argument out of the President's big aide-Cesare certainly had the security clearance and the need to know" for everything that went on in the NMCCbut to his surprise, Cesare was acting rather stunned, and not just from the news he had just heard. ....... I was notified that a group of senators was going to meet with the Secretary of Defense at one o'clock,

" he replied. "Something to do with the Philippine crises and the Chinese... our military options, something like that. These senators want to keep the President from committing any troops at all to Southeast Asia-they're afraid we might be starting another Vietnam conflict, or World War Three. They're pressing Secretary Preston-which means the President-into withdrawing all forces from the Philippines.

Preston's trying to walk a balancing act, but he thought the meeting here was at least a little further away from... the public eye and the press. . . than on the Hill or at Defense." Curtis couldn't believe it. Once again the White House was pulling the Pentagon into a political mudfight. It was typical. God, how he hated politics. He turned to Cesare. "That's all well and fine, Mr. Cesare, but that doesn't explain what you're doing here." ....... well, gathering information. So that, um, the President can make an informed response when the senators press him." Admiral Cunningham, the Chief of Naval Operations, discreetly cleared his throat behind him. Curtis could feel the gaze of his JCS colleagues and staffers on him, silently urging him to deal with the emergency at hand-Cesare would have to wait. "I'll provide you with whatever you need later, Mr. Cesare, but for this situation, your place is up in the gallery."

"I'd really prefer to sit here and-"

"Mr. Cesare-"

"General-" Curtis motioned to the NMCC's senior security policeman, Army Command Sergeant Major Jefferson, who stepped over immediately in front of Cesare. "Jake, please see that Mr. Cesare finds his way upstairs to the gallery with the other visitors, and double-check everyone's credentials up there." Cesare rose to his feet. "The President will expect a full report. "He'll get more than that, " Curtis said. He turned to his communications officer beside him. "Get the President on the line, priority two." Priority codes issued from the Pentagon were in numbers of non-nuclear threats and colors for nuclear ones; 'one" was the highest conventional code, associated with major military or terrorist actions against the continental United States, its bases or territories. "Two" was reserved for major attacks against American overseas bases, embassies, deployed vessels, or nonembassy citizens; and so on. Priority "red" was reserved for an all-out nuclear attack on the United States and was never used in simulations or exercises. Curtis then turned back to Cesare with a hint of a smile. This was Curtis'

game now. Have a nice day, Mr. Cesare. Sergeant Jefferson will show you upstairs." Curtis motioned to the door with his head, and the guard motioned to the door and escorted Cesare out. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff turned his attention back to the big screens and computer monitors before him, but the information Cesare had parted with lingered. The surveillance operation in the Philippines blows up right when there's a major congressional push to pull out. What the hell else could go wrong? When Cesare was safely gone, Curtis double-checked to be sure the intercom was shut off in the gallery-the ranking person in the command center could restrict all information dissemination, no matter what the other person's security clearanceand said, "Continue, Captain Rodgers. Casualty and damage report, start with Ranger."

"Current casualty report: forty-seven dead, two hundred injured." A ripple of anger and dismay spread throughout the room. Curtis felt sick. "Ranger is still afloat, heading to the port city of Manado in Indonesia at minimum speed, escorted by destroyers Hewitt and Ffe and cruiser Bunker Hill. Wounded have been airlifted to Manado as well." A chart of the area was put up immediately on one of the large computer monitors when a foreign city or nation was mentioned, so Curtis and his staff could get a look at the area in question. Curtis found his mouth going dry, his pulse quickening. Forty-seven dead... "Aegis cruiser Bunker Hill damaged during action, " Rodgers continued, "but sustained no casualties and only minor injuries. It is fully combat-capable and is assisting Ranger."

"Action approved, " Curtis said. Dammit, the Bunker Hill too. Two major warships damaged, with more casualties in one day than practically the entire 1991 Persian Gulf crisis. "Wait one. Wasn't there another ship with Ranger? Another cruiser?"

"Yes, sir. USS Sterett is en route to the Celebes Sea to attempt to recover two F-14 fighters downed in action with Chinese fighter-bombers.

The Tomcat crews are listed as missing in action." Two fighters? Jesus, four aviators. How many more were going to be lost? "Goddammit, Captain, give us the casualties all at once. Are there any more?"

"No, sir. American casualties only on Ranger and two Tomcats." "Thank you, " Curtis said, taking a deep breath. "Hold on that last action by Sterett. Can Ranger provide any air support for Sterett?" "Not at this time, sir, " Rodgers replied. "Ranger unable to launch or recover aircraft. Admiral Walheim advised that he does not suggest sending any heavy Air Force aircraft within six hundred miles of Zamboanga on Mindanao due to heavy Chinese fighter and antiair naval activity. He is trying to organize a fighter patrol using carrier-based tankers that were stranded from Ranger..."

"How can he rearm his fighters if they can't use Ranger?"

"His fighters received permission to land in Indonesia along with the medical helicopters, " Rodgers replied. "Admiral Walheim has organized land-based rearming for the fighters by transferring stores from Ranger by helicopter to Ratulangi Airport near Manado, Indonesia, but he has not yet received permission from the Indonesian government to allow those helicopters to land or to conduct offensive operations from Indonesia. In addition, the Indonesian government has requested that the armed aircraft not depart Ratulangi until their status has been confirmed." Pretty fast thinking, Curtis thought-Walheim, another youngster commanding his first carrier battle group, was already devising ways to continue the fight even without a carrier deck. An X

marked the spot on the chart where the fighters went down-about three to four hundred miles from Manado. Admiral Cunningham asked, "How many fighters are stranded off Ranger, Captain?"

"Six F-14 Tomcats, two KA-6 tankers, one E-2C Hawkeye, " Rodgers replied. "Weapons include total of four Phoenix missiles, fifteen Sparrow missiles, ten Sidewinder missiles, and full ammunition loads."

Cunningham nodded thoughtfully and said to Curtis, "Depending on fuel availability, Walheim can mount a credible air-defense operation from Ratulangi for a rescue operation if they could get full cooperation from the Indonesian government."

"It's unlikely, considering all the shit that's going on, " Curtis said,

"but we've got to find out." To Rodgers, Curtis said, "I want to talk with the State Department ASAP. Danahall himself if he's available, otherwise his Pacific deputy."

"Admiral Walheim suggested going ahead with search and rescue efforts anyway; a lone vessel broadcasting that it is part of a rescue effort might be allowed to proceed."

"The STRATFOR can organize a cover counter-air operation from Andersen,

" General Falmouth, the Air Force Chief of Staff, suggested. "PACAF has a number of fighters on Guam we can use . . "Action denied, " Curtis replied. "I want Sterett to stay out of the Celebes and outside six hundred miles from Zamboanga until I talk directly with State and Admiral Walheim. No vessels enter the Celebes without support. He thought of the four Tomcat naval aviators that were down, but he also knew the result of a damaged plane slamming into the sea from thousands of feet in the sky-unless someone saw parachutes, there were probably no survivors, and certainly there was no reason to risk hundreds of lives on Sterett to save four men. As much as Curtis hated to admit it, a rescue operation now was out of the question. "Continue. Status of the Air Force aircraft?"

"Minor injuries sustained during escape maneuvers when the crew thought they were under attack, " Rodgers said. "The RC- 135 refueled inflight and safely recovered at Andersen Air Force Base on Guam. The E-3C AWACS

plane and the KC-10 are still on station in the southern Philippine Sea north of Manado between the Philippines and Indonesia; the AWACS plane is keeping an eye on Chinese fighter activity and attempting to locate the two downed aircraft. They have four of the six Tomcat fighters with them for air cover; the other two Tomcats landed in Indonesia with the medevac helicopters. They estimate they can stay on station until daybreak, then they must withdraw for aircraft servicing." Curtis checked the row of world clocks below the NMCC's "big board"It was almost two-thirty in the morning Guam time. "I want the AWACS plane back on Guam by sunrise, " Curtis said. "Have them stay long enough to cover any naval flight operations in progress, but I don't want any heavy American military aircraft airborne during daylight hours, with or without escorts." He then thought of Dr. Jon Masters' satellite system-what the hell did he call them, NIRTSats?-and said, "I want to talk with General Stone on Guam immediately."

"Yes, sir. Curtis turned to Cunningham. "We got a satellite system up there that can find a Chevy in a parking lot full of Fords, on a cloudy night, from four hundred miles in space-now's the time to use it."

"Amen to that, " Cunningham said. "Sir, the Independence carrier group should be notified of the incident and briefed on their actions. I'd like to set up the two-hundred-mile exclusion zone and put fire-first provisions in the ROEs." "Two-hundred-mile exclusion zone approved, "

Curtis said. "Fire-first provisions only for aircraft on antiship cruise-missile profiles. Any other actions have to come through the NCA. "Get a full report from Admiral Walheim on Ranger, then brief me ASAP on what we need to send to Manado to assist our troops in Indonesia; I need a laundry list for the State Department. Find out what ships are available to replace Ranger-including submarines. I want to be able to take control of those waters as quickly as I can."

Cunningham turned to his communications console to begin issuing his orders. The orange light on his console illuminated, and Curtis donned a headset and plugged it into the phone jack. "Curtis here."

"Hold for the President, please." A moment later: "Yes, Wilbur, what's going on?"

"Mr. President, we have an incident near the Philippines. The aircraft carrier Ranger was hit by a Chinese air-launched cruise missile and damaged with loss of life. Two Navy fighter planes were shot down as well."

"Oh, no.. ." the President murmured, obviously not wishing his feelings to be heard by others with him. He was speaking on a scrambled cellular phone, but from the background noise Curtis heard, it sounded as if he were at a luncheon and were still right at the table. "I'll be out of here in ten minutes. Ask 'laddie' to come up and see me when he can." The line went dead. Curtis could not help but smile at the casual, almost backwoods code words the President liked to use during conversations like this: "laddie" was this month's code word for the National Security Council, whom he wanted assembled in the White House Situation Room immediately. To his communications officer, Curtis said,

"Call the White House communication office and get the NSC in the Situation Room ASAP." The phone line began to come alive at that moment, and Curtis motioned for someone to get him a glass of water as he settled in. Two or three calls to get a better picture of the situation, then formulate a plan of action during the car ride to the White House. It was as it always was: he was cut out of the loop for most of the really important policy decisions, but when the shit hit the fan, he was expected to have all the answers. Well, he told himself, he was going to have all the answers when the National Security Council met. The next call came from Guam: "General Stone here, sir."

"Rat, got a report for me?" "The Ranger got jumped by B-6 bombers and Q-5 or B-7 fighters, sir, " Stone replied. The exhaustion in his voice was obvious, even over the scrambled satellite link. "We didn't see them coming until about a hundred and fifty miles out. We had the radar planes bug out, and we thought the Navy fighters turned them away, but they weren't after the radar planesthey were going after ships right away. Only two of the first flight of six were armed for air defense; the other four were carrying two each C60 1 missiles as well as heat-seeking air-toairs. "Are you sure they were 601s?"

"Pretty sure, judging by the flight profile and the damage they caused.

They were a hell of a lot bigger than C801s or Exocets."

"No evidence of... special warheads?" It was possible that the C601

missiles were carrying nuclear warheads but they simply failed to go off. Curtis could hear a genuine sigh of relief even through the static-charged transmission: "No, thank God." The alternative, as Curtis well knew, could have been much worse. In 1946, during secret tests code-named OPERATION CROSSROADS, the Navy wanted to see the effects of a twenty-kiloton nuclear blast on an aircraft carrier. CV-3

USS Saratoga was towed out to Bikini Atoll and the device set off five hundred yards away. The blast of that one warhead threw the forty-thousand-ton aircraft carrier nearly fifty feet out of the water, pushed it sideways nearly a half-mile, crushed its seventeen-inch armor plating and caved in the flight deck, then sank it in seven hours.

Ranger would have suffered much the same fate. "We got pictures of the aircraft on the ground in Zamboanga after the attack-they were B-6

bombers all right, " Stone continued, shaking Curtis out of his reverie.

"The Chinese put their top-of-the-line maritime-attack plane in Zamboanga. Each one had two C601 missiles and two PL-7 or PL-9

missiles. No definite ID on the fighters-only the B-7, F-8, or the A-5

with air reftieling have the legs these guys had to go after Ranger from that distance. We also got pictures of Y-8 reconnaissance planes and PS-5 antisubmarine-warfare planes out there." The Chinese were moving a major naval air force into the south Philippines, Curtis decided. With this force they could seal off the entire area and conduct bombing raids on the government bases on Mindanao. Curtis asked, "Do they own the Celebes Sea, Rat Killer?"

"I'm afraid so, sir, " Stone replied. "Air, land, sea, everything. We gotta go in hard if we want to have access. Curtis knew what that meant-no more fucking soft probes, no more RC- 1355 no matter how many escorts they had. Sending Sterett into the Celebes Sea now would be a big mistake. "I copy. Looks like Doctor Masters' gadgets are going to be the only intel we get for a while." "He's giving us some great poop, sir, " Stone said. "His gadgets are working just fine. I've already transmitted some pictures to you via Offutt; they should be in your hands very soon. You should have some more detailed shots of the Chinese positions in Zamboanga within a couple hours."

"Good. I meet with the boss in thirty minutes; he's going to want to see them. What else have you got for me?"

"With Masters' gear set up here, General Harbaugh from Third Air Division, General Houston from Fifteenth Air Force, and I have already played out a couple strike scenarios for the south Philippines, " Stone replied. "We're definitely going to need the Air Battle Force-and then some-to dislodge our Oriental buddies."

"What kind of scenarios have you come up with?" Curtis asked. "Can you send me some of your data?"

"I sent the scenarios to you along with the photos, " Stone said. "It'll make interesting reading for you. Masters practically duplicated the entire Air War College and Naval Postgraduate School war-gaming computer models right here in my command post, complete with up-to-the-minute intelligence data, and we've built and revised data tapes for the B-52's Offensive Avionics System suite and for the B-1's AP 1750 strike computers for the Air Battle Force aircraft. We've fought the battle of Mindanao three times already." Curtis remembered the old saying, "Don't ask the question if you can't stand the answer, " but he asked anyway:

"Who won?"

"It depends, sir, " Stone replied. "Exactly how bad do we want the Chinese out of the Philippines?"

"What I want is to send a ship into the Celebes to search for the downed crews from the Tomcats we lost. I also want to get the Navy back in there just to tell the Chinese they can't lock us out. I need some air cover. The Navy planes are grounded for now. "Sorry, sir. Don't think we can help, " Stone said. "We've only got seven F-15 fighters on station-we'd need at least twenty to cover a rescue operation. None are modified for air-to-surface ops. Curtis swore to himself. With Ranger out of the fight, they were really stuck for both offensive and defensive punch. It would take time to send in another carrier group, and that would allow the Chinese to fortify their own sea and land forces. What they needed was real offensive and defensive power. They needed the Air Battle Force in there-right now. THE WHITE HOUSE

SITUATION ROOM THIRTY MINUTES LATER "You told me the carrier battle groups could protect themselves, General, " the President began. "One hit, and now we've got sixty dead and hundreds more injured." All eyes of the members of the National Security Council swung toward him. All but Thomas Preston. The Secretary of Defense believed that this confrontation was inevitable, but he obviously saw it not as the beginning of the end of tensions in the Philippines, but the beginning of dangerous hostilities. Like looking down the barrel of a nuclear-loaded gun. Curtis rarely agreed with him, but this time he very well may be right.... "Sir, there was a malfunction of one SM-2

Aegis missile during the cruiser Bunker Hill's response, Curtis explained. Thirteen more men had died of their injuries in the past thirty minutes alone; thirty more were given no better than a fiftyfifty chance of survival. It was hard for Curtis to formulate an objective, detached analysis of why and how so many men had died. He was numb, but pressed on: "Bunker Hill had positive control of the situation until the time of the mishap. Admiral Walheim's antiair-warfare deputy, who was in command of the engagement from Bunker Hill's CIC, terminated all the rest of the missile launches that, in all probability, would have destroyed the last incoming missiles. Control of antiair functions transferred to the cruiser Sterett, and the switch was made smoothly, but Sterett couldn't put enough firepower in the air to stop all the missiles."

"What about inner defenses? Didn't Ranger have any guns to protect itself?"

"Ranger's fighters shot down one of the aircraft carrying the antiship missiles and took shots at the missiles themselves, but F- 14 Tomcats are not really designed for chasing down cruise missiles, especially with enemy fighters in the area. Ranger itself had two operational short-range RAM launchers-heatseeking missiles mounted on a steerable box launcher-plus two Phalanx automatic Gatling-gun defense systems, but although both systems were functioning neither could hit the incoming missiles. We're investigating."

"We also lost two fighters. Why?" Curtis bristled at the notion that he was responsible for explaining the vagaries of aerial combat, but he explained. "Sir, the fighters faced multiple enemy aircraft at all times-at no time did we have better than a one-on-two match-up. The fighters were responsible not only for protecting themselves and their ship, but the Air Force aircraft as well . . "But why did we have such poor odds?" the Vice President, Kevin Martindale, asked. "Why did we have only eight fighters airborne? We should have had sixteen or twenty... There was a hushed tension in the room; Martindale fol lowed the furtive glances of those around him to the President. "We authorized only two escorts per aircraft, " Taylor explained to the Vice President.

Everyone could tell that the President's admission was a stab wound for him. "They were talking about thirty-plus fighter escorts up there.

"Sir, our objective from the beginning was not to get into a big furball with dozens of aircraft in this area, " Curtis explained. "If we had huge waves of fighters up there, it might've looked like an invasion force. Besides, we had no way of knowing the Chinese would not only send fighters to chase down our recon planes, but launch antiship missiles as well . "I should have known." The President sighed. "I should have erred on the side of protecting our troops. "Perhaps it would have been better to have more fighters up initially, " Curtis allowed, "but our aircraft were in international airspace and outside the established Philippine air-defense zone at all times. Our reconnaissance plane came no closer than forty miles to a Chinese vessel that was fifty miles offshore-well within the law. Our aircraft broadcast identification signals, they were in constant contact with international overwater flight-following agencies, and they used no type of jammers whatsoever. The Ranger was over three hundred miles away and never entered the Celebes Sea. We behaved as nonthreatening as we possibly could.. "It seems that we underestimated the Chinese, then, "

Thomas Preston said. "This is no mere foray they're involved in-this is a major military operation. They are prepared to defend their positions with everything they have and do whatever it takes-including attacking a United States aircraft carrier." "And that should not be tolerated, "

General Curtis added. "They're professing their innocence and at the same time blasting away at our reconnaissance aircraft and carriers-"

"Hold on, hold on, Wilbur, " the President interrupted. "I understand your anger-believe me, I share it. I need to hear some more options first before I consider a military response. He turned to Secretary of State Danahall. "Dennis, you said you had something for us on the ASEAN

meeting?"

"Yes, sir, " Danahall replied. "The Association of South East Asian Nations concluded its emergency session in Singapore yesterday. We've got Deborah O'Day over there as our observer." Curtis glanced quickly at Thomas Preston and detected a slight edge in his expression. O'Day was once Preston's Assistant Secretary of Defense for the Pacific-one of a multitude of positions she held in two White House administrations-and had been fired from that post for her outspoken advocacy of expanded involvement in Pacific affairs in general and specifically her opposition to the U.S. pullout of the Philippines. Curtis could imagine the reception O'Day got from the predominantly Moslem and generally anti-female men. "Miss O'Day reports, " Danahall continued, "that the vote to bring sanctions against China was defeated in the ASEAN

assembly."

"What?" the President asked, alarmed. "But they can't . . . The Chinese are tearing up the Philippines and ASEAN isn't going to do anything about it...?"

"That's not all, sir, " Danahall said. "After the meeting, O'Day was briefly kidnapped..." The room crackled with tension. "Kidnapped!" The President found himself sitting straight up. "Jesus, is she all right?

What happened...?"

"She's all right, sir. Not a scratch. Her assailant says he was sent by Second Vice President Samar to officially request military assistance from the United States-and O'Day reports that Samar had delivered a warning not to enter the Celebes Sea region because the Chinese Fleet Admiral was ready to attack." He held up a sheet of paper. "Here's her communique from the embassy in Singapore, dated sixteen hours before the attack began." The President scanned the communique quickly, then returned to his chair stiff with shock. He turned to Preston, then to Curtis. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes, sir, " Preston replied. "I immediately issued a message to Admiral Walheim about the warning, but we gave this warning little credence at the time."

"Why?" "Because the Ranger group was never scheduled to enter the Celebes Sea in the first place, per your orders, " Preston explained. "I decided to go ahead with the aerial surveillance, since the risk was far less and because we needed the 'eyes' up there to see what the Chinese were doing. We never expected the Chinese to attack our reconnaissance aircraft, let alone the Ranger carrier group. Preston looked decidedly uncomfortable, then added, "Miss O'Day has had a... uh, reputation for sensationalizing a situation, sir. I'm afraid I have to admit I gave her warning little credibility. It sounded like a fanatical tirade by a Filipino guerrilla soldier . "We did everything we could do to protect the fleet, sir, " Curtis said. "The proper warnings were issued, the commanders in the field knew the situation "I take full responsibility, sir, " Preston said uneasily. "I should have brought the matter to your attention immediately." The President stared at Preston but his eyes seemed dead. After a moment he shook his head and waved a hand at Preston. "It's not your fault, Thomas. If you had told me that the Chinese were ready to attack the fleet, I would've said you were crazy and told you to continue as planned." He paused, then said, "All right.

We've got several dozen dead sailors, a damaged aircraft carrier, and apparently a live Filipino vice president asking for our assistance.

What do we do about it?"

"JCS has devised an operation that we think can send a clear message to China, sir . The President was obviously still hesitating. That single nuclear explosion, a relatively small burst that occurred ten thousand miles away, was hamstringing this President, casting doubts that only served to increase his anger and frustrationlike Reagan's inner torment about the American hostages held in Lebanon, the nuclear explosion and the fear of an escalating conflict between the United States and China was plunging the President into indecision. "Sir, I've got to reiterate this point: every day we hesitate in sending offensive forces into Guam and put them into a position to act, the worse our situation will be. We will reach a point where we will be unable to respond at all to stop China. It's even more important to send the Air Battle Force in right now, Curtis continued, "because they now become the only offensive weapon we have against the Chinese in the Philippines, except submarines and long-range cruise missiles." He referred to a wall map of the area as he spoke: "We won't risk sending any more warships into the Celebes Sea, and the South China Sea region and the seas within the Philippines are too dangerous or shallow. China controls the south, west, and north sides of the Philippines, and they control the South China Sea itself.

"However, they do not control the east side of the Philippines, and that's their weakness. Air strikes from either carrierbased or land-based bombers can come in from the east and strike at Chinese positions "Using Doctor Masters' computer systems on Guam as well as the reconnaissance data from both the RC- 135 flight and his lightweight satellites, the STRATFOR has developed several strike options designed to achieve an entire range of results. The plans require using the Air Battle Force. Without Ranger or another carrier group available, we simply don't have the counter-air defensive capability on Guam right now. The Air Battle Force is the only unit we can send on short notice that has the firepower we need. "In short, I think Masters has developed a workable plan for dealing with the Chinese in the south Philippines.

We see a pretty good chance of success, even with anticipated Chinese reinforcements in the Celebes. The primary plan is relatively small, controlled, and does not directly involve any carrier battle groups or any Marine Expeditionary Units. Masters' war-game computer calls the plan Operation WINTER HAMM.R... "Winter?" Vice President Martindale retorted. "You're going to wait until winter to do something?" The Vice President was not known for being too swift. "The name was simply a random combination of words made by his war-gaming computer, and its use is strictly internal. We can pick a different name for media purposes if you wish "Just let me know what you're proposing to send over there,

" the President said irritably. "How much equipment, how many men. "The first Air Battle Wing, which is the only one currently organized, "

Curtis replied, "consists of eighteen B-52 bombers, ten F-111G bombers, twenty F-15B, C, and E-model fighters, twelve F-4 fighters, three KC- 10

tankers, six KC- 135 tankers, one E-3C AWACS plane, one RC-135 radar plane, one EC- 135 airborne command post, three C-5 cargo planes, and ten C-141 cargo planes. It totals about two thousand men and women. The current force includes three B-2 stealth bombers as well, which have been training for use with the Air Battle Force. We also have the use of the destroyers Hewitt and Fije and the cruiser Sterett, which were part of the Ranger battle group; the two destroyers carry Tomahawk cruise missiles that can go in ahead of the bombers and take out seaborne radars and large vessels. The Second Air Battle Wing has about twice as many troops and equipment, but can't be assembled for another thirty to sixty days. "According to our intelligence figures, the Chinese have approximately ten thousand troops in Zamboanga itself, plus another five thousand afloat in the Celebes, " Curtis continued,

"including a full Marine regiment on Mindanao and another afloat. "They have the equivalent of three surface action groups in the Celebes, which is twelve capital warships including submarines in each group. We have mapped out at least twenty different possible surface-to-air missile sites surrounding the Celebes. They have closed off or actively patrol all sea-lanes and all air routes around the southern Philippines for a radius of a thousand miles from Zamboanga. "In addition, they have another twenty thousand troops, thirty more ships, and at least a hundred more aircraft in Puerto Princesa, only five hundred miles away.

And this is only a quarter of what they have sent to Luzon: Clark Air Base and Subic Bay Naval Base both have as many Chinese troops and machines there as the United States once had there at the height of the Vietnam War-"

"Wait a minute, " the President said in complete surprise. "You want to take on fifteen thousand Chinese troops with only two thousand men?

That's it?"

"Sir, numbers don't make the difference here, " Curtis ex plained. "The Air Battle Force has the striking power of two, perhaps three aircraft-carrier battle groups, and they have speed and flexibility that the carriers themselves don't. We have the air power to force the Chinese out of Zamboanga and perhaps out of the south Philippines altogether. We need to activate this unit as soon as possible. I recommend to you that we activate the Air Battle Force and deploy them to Guam. Once they're there, we can present a more detailed plan to you. "I object to General Curtis characterizing this group as the ultimate solution to this problem, " Preston said. "I am very much in support of the Air Battle Force concept, but General Curtis is fantasizing, sir." To Curtis he said, "I'm on your side, Wilbur. I believe in the work you've done. The Air Battle Force concept is great, and you've implemented it superbly. No one is questioning it or you.

But we have to be more realistic or optimistic-we have to be ultraconservative. We've been surprised so many times in this conflict that we have to increase our requirements that much more to compose a credible picture." To the President he said, "We can build a fighting force to take the Philippines, sir, but do you want to pay the price to do it?"

"The Air Battle Force doesn't fight alone, Thomas, " Curtis said.

"WINTER HAMMER includes the Wisconsin battle group. Six ships, led by the battleship Wisconsin, are at Pearl Harbor ready to go. This group has trained with the Air Battle Force in maritime operations, so when you do decide to send the ABF, they'll operate well together. In the meantime they can act as an escort for the Ranger when they're ready to pull out of Indonesia, and they can monitor ship and submarine activity in the Celebes from long range. They also carry Tomahawk cruise missiles, which will be important if we do start hostilities with the Chinese. "The task force also includes the Second Marine Pre-positioning Force based on Mariana Island near Guam. One amphibious assault carrier, one tank landing ship, two escorts, two support ships, twenty helicopters, thirty armored vehicles, five thousand Marines and naval personnel. Half of the force is there now-the other half deployed by air from Hawaii, pick up their ships on Mariana, then embark to their standby positions in the Philippine Sea. It will take at least five days for this group to arrive on station. We send a flight of P-3 Orion sub hunters from Japan or Guam with them until they get some air support from shore or from a carrier group."

"An invasion force, " the President said. "You're recommending a full-scale invasion... A telephone in front of the President buzzed; Cesare picked it up and listened, then replaced it on its cradle. "Press release from the Chinese government, coming in from the wire services, "

he told the President. "Communications is sending down a copy. A few moments later a Secret Service agent on duty arrived and passed a computer printout to Cesare, who remained standing as he read it to the National Security Council: "'The Chinese government is claiming that an American military strike force was detected and intercepted over the Celebes Sea, ' "Cesare read." 'The strike force, composed they say of several large subsonic bombers believed to be B-52 bombers from the island of Guam, was escorted by fighters from an aircraft carrier. They claim the Philippine government requested that the Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force, some of whom were stationed at military bases in the southern Philippines at the request of the Philippine government, help defend them. "'The Chinese claim they launched a small defense force of fighters, which managed to drive the bombers away. They claim four Chinese fighters were downed and two American fighters were shot down Cesare read ahead, then added, "'No mention of the strike against the Ranger, except that American warships also threatened several Filipino coastal towns with bombers and rocket attacks, and that an unarmed Chinese supply ship carrying medicine and food to Filipino refugees in western Mindanao came under attack by an American bomber.

They go on to charge that the United States is trying to retake the Philippines by force and blames us again for the nuclear-weapon detonation near Palawan and for threatening the world with thermonuclear chaos.'"

"Those bastards, " the President grumbled angrily. Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned to Curtis: "We did not have any B-52s involved in this mission over the Celebes Sea, did we, General?"

"Absolutely not, sir. We have no bombers of any size stationed in Diego Garcia, Australia, Japan, or anywhere west of Guam... "Could it have been someone else? The Australians? Brunei? Vietnam? Australia has F-1 11 bombers, right . . .?"

"Unlikely, sir. Our AWACS radar plane picked up no other aircraft in the area. "What about ground forces? It wasn't a Marine or special operations attack? Anything like that?"

"Nothing authorized by me or any of my staff, sir, " Curtis said. His mind began running through a multitude of other

possibilitiesmercenaries, a rogue combat unit, perhaps even the downed Tomcat crews blowing things up to mask their escape-but he quickly discarded each one. "Sir, it's an obvious propaganda story. When the CIA investigates the story, they'll discover it wasn't a bomber attack-they'll probably find there was no attack at all. The Chinese released the story because of its propaganda value-they want to be the first to complain, because it shifts blame on the other party." The President had also discarded all other possibilities, for his face became darker and angrier by the second. "Those bastards, " he muttered.

"They attack our unarmed reconnaissance aircraft and an aircraft carrier, then claim we ye trying to start a war. And even if we admit that the Ranger was attacked by Chinese antiship missiles, it makes us look even worse-we're going to get blamed for trying to start a war, then criticized for not doing a good job of it. Bastards . . The President fell silent, as did the rest of the Council. This was the turning point, Curtis thought grimly: this was the point at which all presidents facing a conflict had to decide whether to explore more peaceful, less hazardous options, or go ahead with preparing for battle.

Like his famous relative, this President wanted to avoid a conflict-he would do almost anything to avoid going to war, or even doing something that might threaten war. It was simply not in his nature. But he had sixty dead sailors and two damaged warships to think about as well. When the American people learned about this incident, which was bound to happen at any minute, what would they say? Would they expect a military response? Would they understand if the President of the United States still tried to pursue a peaceful solution? "Mr. President, I'm ready to brief you at any time on WINTER HAMMER..."

"General, I can't consider sending in more bombers and fighters now, "

the President said angrily. "I'm supposed to stand up in front of the American people and deny that we sent bombers to attack the Philippines-and then the press learns of all those bombers sitting over there on Guam? I look bad enough as it is."

"We can disprove each and every accusation by the Chinese, " Curtis said. "We can prove we had unarmed reconnaissance planes up there, not bombers, and that the Chinese fighters attacked first. We can also prove that the Ranger was hundreds of miles from the Philippines and no threat to any coastal towns or Chinese positions, and that their antiship missile attack on the fleet was unprovoked." But the President seemed distant, worried, unreachable. "You don't have to submit to this blackmail, sir. We've got dozens of options. "I know, I know . . . He paused, his gaze scanning his advisers arranged around him, although it was obvious he didn't notice any of them-it was his way of making tough decisions. He made another glance at Thomas Preston, who was grim-faced but remained silent. The President was alone with his decision: "I know I'm being too cautious, Wilbur, but you've got to understand, " he said,

"I need cooperation with the other countries in the region before I commit American troops to fight the Chinese. The world is touchier than a warm bottle of nitroglycerin right now. If I send your bombers and fighters into the Philippines to square off against the Chinese, I need to make sure that the American people realize we've exhausted every possible option first. . "We've got the authorization you need, sir, "

Curtis said. "Second Vice President Samar."

"Samar? What does he have to do with this... ?" President Taylor asked. "Samar is a legitimate head of the government, sir, " Curtis said. "He is also the governor of the Commonwealth of Mindanao, which is virtually a republic of its own. His designated representative has formally requested assistance from the United States. That's the legal spark we need to move. Danahall sniffed aloud and shook his head.

"That's not even close to the truth, General . "It doesn't have to be the absolute truth, Dennis, " Curtis pointed out. "We're not talking about a court case here-we're looking for justification to act, and we have it "Unless Samar is dead, " the Vice President said, "in which case Teguina retains control of the government and becomes de facto governor of Mindanao. "Then we go in and rescue Samar, " Curtis said. "Ambassador O'Day was given information on how to contact Samarwe Il arrange for a specialzoperations group to go in and get him out so he can make an announcement to the world that he is resisting the Chinese."

"But we need to be in a better position to react when we get Samar out, sir, " Curtis said to the President. "Sir, you have to order the Air Battle Force into Guam and the Marines to deploy into the Philippine Sea, and have them prepare for action. If we wait too long, Samar's militia will collapse and Mindanao will fall-and then nothing short of a nuclear war will dislodge the Chinese from the Philippines." The President thought about this, scanning the faces around him; then, to General Curtis: "Okay, Wilbur, you got the green light. Get the Air Battle Force moving to Andersen as quickly as possible. You're also authorized to deploy the Army and Marine Prezpositioned Forces as you outlined earlier, and the destroyers and cruiser you mentioned before can go on standby with their Tomahawk cruise missiles. I want no offensive operations to begin without my specific approval. I want a full briefing on WINTER HAMMER within the hour, here... Paul, get the

'leadership' together for the briefing, and try to get as many of the allies notified as possible."

"And the B-2 bombers that are part of the Air Battle Force. . . ?" The President scowled his displeasure at the question, but replied, "That's up to you and your people. It's bad enough I'm ordering bombers and cruise missiles into the area-I might as well get all the protests packed into one order. If the crews have been training with your Air Battle Force and if they know their shit, you're authorized to send them." PUJADA PENINSULA, SOUTHEASTERN MINDANAO THE PHILIPPINES

SUNDAY, 2

OCTOBER 1994, 0430 HOURS LOCAL The only warmth United States Navy Lieutenant Commander Paul "Cowboy" Bowman had felt in two days came from a tiny burning white fuel tablet about the size of a quarter. He had lit the tablet with a match from a waterproof container, placed the fuel tablet in a small palm-sized aluminum cookstove from his survival kit, then folded a sheet of an old Tagalog-language magazine cover into the shallow pan-he had lost the original metal cup long ago during their mad races through the Mindanao junglesfilled it with brackish water, and set it on the stove. To Second Vice President Jose Trujillo Samar's surprise, the paper pan did not burn. "Why does the paper not burn, Bowman?" Samar asked. "Dunno, " Bowman replied. "Too cool, I guess."

He dumped a packet of soup mix into the water and began stirring it with a twig. This whole trip was actually too cool, Bowman thought. The escort mission for the Air Force, the dogfights with the Chinks, getting his ass shot down, splashing down in some unheard-of sea thousands of miles from home and hundreds of miles from his carrier-at night, no less-being chased through the swamps and jungles of the Philippines, running from Chinese infantry patrols, losing his RIO. And to top everything off, here he was with the Second Vice President of the Philippines, a man who was legally the Presi dent of the country, but was, in reality, on the run from his First Vice President. Bowman had been pulled out of the Celebes by a fishing boat and delivered to Samar's militia. His flight suit was crusted with dried saltwater and mud and he was dog-tired. He'd been unable to sleep before his patrol and had been awake nearly eighteen hours before his sortie, so he was going on almost three days of no sleep, not to mention that his left elbow was probably broken when it hit the cockpit sill on ejection. But that wasn't the worst part of this excruciating evasion. The worst part of the trip was lying in the sewn-up canvas bag a few feet away from him-the body of Bowman's RIO, Lieutenant Kenny "Cookin" Miller. Miller's parachute had apparently not fully opened, and by the time Bowman somehow found him in the dark, warm water, he had either drowned or had died instantly after hitting the water. He had dragged Miller's battered body into his one-man life raft with him, ignoring the horribly shattered neck and twisted limbs. Bowman and Miller had been together for three cruises, and the two bachelors had lots of shore-leave experiences. They were more than shipmates or fellow crew dogsthey were friends. Bowman was determined not to leave his friend alone, to be eaten by sharks in the Celebes Sea. As long as it was humanly possible, Bowman was going to carry, drag, or push Miller's body with him. Since being retrieved from the water, Bowman and his grisly companion had been on the move. They had been transferred to two more fishing boats, then between several groups, once being taken to shore. Their ID cards were taken immediately, he was kept tied up and blindfolded, and he was warned that if he disobeyed any order or did anything to arouse suspicion, he would be disposed of without remorse or hesitation. They had traveled uphill for two days, moving only at night or in bad weather; then they moved quickly downhill to the eastern shoreline-the sun was coming up somewhere over Samar's shoulder right now, in the direction of the sea. They were kept hidden in mud pits, the hollowed-out insides of huge tropical trees, or in rotting grass huts.

Food was usually a muddy green banana or some other undigestible piece of fruit, and rainwater. Samar himself had shown up only last night. His militiamen treated him like Caesar. He held several military councils, speaking Tagalog in low whispers. Bowman thought General Jose Samar had to be the most mysterious, enigmatic, unfathomable man he had ever encountered. Here he was, President of the Philippines, the leader of the Commonwealth of Mindanao, a powerful state in its own right, a wealthy plantation owner and industrialist. And what was he doing?

Hiding out in the middle of nowhere, wearing filthy fatigues, within minutes or mere yards of getting his head blown off, and leading a group of rebel soldiers around deadly Chinese air and naval patrols. Samar was a born leader, and he looked the part. Tall for a Filipino, light-skinned, broad-shouldered and powerful like a farmer, which he was on his family's Jolo Island estate before he entered politics. He was an Army Academy graduate and a former armored cavalry officer, advancing in grade to captain before joining Ferdinand Marcos' secret intelligence organization. He rose to the rank of general in very short order, commanding the ex-Philippine President's Mindanao intelligence organization. He had reportedly executed and imprisoned thousands of Moslem rebels in the prison at Puerto Princesa in his five years as chief of intelligence. ... until he got religion. Somehow, sometime, the teachings of Islam had penetrated that handsome head. Perhaps it was the tortured cries of his victims or their families; perhaps it was his Sulu heritage, which had been influenced for centuries by sailors and traders from the Middle East; perhaps it was Allah or the Prophet speaking to him in his dreams-whatever it was, General Samar became an avowed Moslem warrior. Bowman had heard his Islamic name, but had forgotten it-his men called him "General" or occasionally "Jabal, "

which meant "mountain." Samar had tried several rebellions against the Marcos regime-all had been put down violently and efficiently, and a huge price had been placed on his head. He learned to live off the land, fleeing from one isolated jungle village to another, always one or two steps ahead of his ex-colleagues in the secret police. His exploits as a hunted criminal and guerrilla soldier against Marcos had earned him a widespread heroic reputation on Mindanao, and many villagers regarded him as a modern-day Robin Hood, if not a god. He was very successful in rallying the Moslem faithful to his side and demonstrating to all Filipinos the cruelty and opprobrium imposed on the Filipino people by the Marcos regime. Samar was more than ready to continue the battle with Aquino and Mikaso of the new ruling UNIDO party, and he did stage several raids against army barracks in Cagayan de Oro and Davao, but times were changing. The Philippines were immersed in abject poverty, the Communists were veering out of control, and foreign investment was slipping away. To keep the republic from destroying itself from within, Corazon Aquino had held out her hand in peace to the two main warring factions, and Samar eagerly accepted it. In return for peace, and to prevent Mindanao from splitting off from the rest of the Philippines, Samar, once considered no greater than a dirty rodent in the wild jungles of Mindanao, became the Second Vice President of the Philippines, constitutionally third in line of succession for the presidency. Five provinces in central and eastern Mindanao-Cotabato, Davao, Bukidnon, Agusan, and Surigao-became one free state, with its own legislature and militia, and Samar became its first governor. Now this man was suddenly on the run again. He was as surprised as everyone by the Chinese invasion, and by the time he rallied his forces it was too late to save Zamboanga and Cotabato. But Davao had to be saved. The water in the paper pan began to boil-the paper would burn if he let it boil too long. Bowman took a sip. It was terribly salty, with a pungent, slimy aftertaste that stuck to the back of his mouth and tongue like grease, but the warm liquid in his belly made the naval aviator feel a million times better. "Try some, General?" he asked Samar. The rebel leader shook his head. "I have tasted your American emergency rations-I lived on it for several months once. I have had my fill." Even though the man was smiling, the tone of voice described a very unpleasant experience. It was Samar who had ordered Bowman to be untied and for him to be allowed to use the items in his survival kit. "What are you going to do with me... us?" Bowman asked Samar. "I do not know, " Samar said. "It may not matter in any case. We may all be captured at sunrise. The Chinese are all around us. "Then why don't you run?" Bowman said. "Head back for the hills and the jungle. I know we're near the coast-I can hide out until help arrives."

"Help does not appear to be at hand, " Samar said. "We took an awful chance coming here, and we have failed." He turned to Bowman and said,

"You must leave your crewman here."

"No way... "He will slow us down. The jungle will be too thick..."

"I'm not leaving him." Samar shoved a raised hand in his face to silence him, then stomped on Bowman's aluminum cookstove to extinguish the fire.

Bowman heard nothing, but after six years of flying F-14s off aircraft carriers, he wouldn't be surprised if his hearing had deteriorated. He moved to his feet and went over to hoist Miller onto his back, but two of Samar's troops restrained him and snapped handcuffs on his wrists, binding his hands in front of his body. "You can't do this, Samar. "Be silent." He raised his rifle, scanning the skies to the east... then stopped. Bowman followed his gaze. Far off on the horizon, toward the northeast, three specks, arranged in a tight diamond formation, were highlighted against the dawning sky. "Chinese patrol helicopters. Pray they haven't found us . . The diamond formation was heading south, about a mile offshore, but the specs suddenly began to wheel right toward the coastline. "Damn. They must have triangulated our radio transmissions..."

"Radio transmissions. "Silence. Stay here." Samar hurried off into the thicket toward his perimeter guards. He returned ten seconds later.

"Three men are running north to create a diversion. The rest say they will fight. I wanted you to know that. There's an inlet about three hundred meters away; we must reach it before the helicopters arrive. Run for your life." Samar wheeled and dashed into the thicket, keeping as many trees as possible between him and the oncoming helicopters. Bowman followed close behind but was immediately passed by four of Samar's soldiers. Soon Bowman lost sight of the five men and could do nothing else but trust his hearing to tell which direction they were heading. It seemed they had been running only for a few seconds when suddenly a ripple of explosions behind him threw Bowman to the slimy jungle floor.

Two of the helicopters were shredding the forests with rocket fire; the third was hovering offshore, scanning the trees for the rebel soldiers.

Bowman heard animal-like screams from the jungle as the Chinese rockets found their targets-the three rebel soldiers that were acting as decoys.

Bowman struggled to his feet. He was about to run when a dark figure body-tackled him to the ground. "Stay down!" Samar cried. He pressed something into Bowman's hands-it was his PRC-23D survival radio from his survival kit. "Use this when the time comes "Wait! What are you "Start crawling toward the heavy jungle. Stay as hidden as you can-they are using infrared scanners to find us." The third helicopter had started toward shore, bearing down on them-it was less than a half-mile away . A burst of rifle fire opened up to their right. "No!" Samar screamed in Tagalog. "Don't shoot!" But it was too late. Samar's soldiers had started to fire their rifles at the third helicopter, which was exactly what its pilots were waiting for. The chopper banked hard left, and a pod-mounted machine gun chattered to life, spitting a long tongue of flame at each one-second burst. "Our only hope is to get back into the heavy forest, " Samar said in English. "Run away from the sunrise. When you hear the rotors, find a mud pit or wet thicket and hide in it. When the sound goes away, run again. The chopper's fuel must be getting low, so we may have enough time." He was suddenly on his feet, dragging Bowman with him. "Now! Run!" Bowman had taken one step when he heard rotors. He found a patch of mud and dived onto it, but it was not deep enough to cover him. Samar was nowhere to be seen. He rolled to his back just in time to see one helicopter fly overhead and one hover nearby, less than a hundred yards away-the first two choppers had returned. It was close enough for Bowman to see the chopper's infrared scanner ball under the nose and an outrigger on each side holding a torpedo-shaped weapon pod. It had him... There was nowhere to run anymore. There was a scream from somewhere off to Bowman's left, some sort of battle cry, and a long staccato ripple of automatic rifle fire.

Several sparks flew off the nose of the chopper, and it suddenly nose-dived almost straight down into the jungle not fifty yards away.

Bowman needed no more encouragementhe turned around and raced as hard as he could away from the stricken chopper. But he could not escape. Bowman heard a short pwoooosh, and a split second later a terrific explosion erupted in the first level of jungle canopy only twenty feet overhead and a few yards ahead. The dimly lit jungle suddenly turned bright yellow, his head felt as if it had exploded, and he felt himself cartwheel several feet away from the concussion. He opened his eyes. The chepper was just a few dozen yards away, nose aimed right at him. Its rotors were whipping the foliage around as if they were in a hurricane, but Bowman could not hear or feel anything. The chopper was translating, lining up the blunt muzzle of the weapon pods directly on him. When he tried to move his arms or legs, nothing worked. His vision was blurring, growing dimmer, everything was going dark.... With the target flitting over the jungle, it would have made a difficult shot-not impossible, but very difficult-but the chopper suddenly stopped, obviously lining up for the kill, and now it made an easy target. Marine Corps Captain Fred Collins swung the nose of his MV-22A Sea Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft a bit farther left to line up the aiming "donut" of his Stinger missile system on the infrared image of the Chinese patrol helicopter, then waited until he heard the familiar "growl" in his headset, indicating that one of his heat-seeking missiles had locked on.

He lifted the protective cover off the safety release, pressed the release with his right thumb, got a "Ready Shoot" indication on his integrated helmet display system, then pulled the trigger with his right index finger. "Fox two, Able ZeroSeven." From less than a half-mile away, the kill was quick and spectacular. The Stinger missile flew directly into the unbaffied, unprotected engine exhaust of the Chinese Zhishengji-9 combat patrol helicopter, turning both engines and its fuel tanks into balloons of fire. The orange and yellow balloons seemed to hold the helicopter in midair for several seconds, but soon it dropped straight down and crashed into the jungle. "Splash one chopper, "

Collins radioed. "Where's the other two?"

"Lost contact with bandit two, " replied the controller aboard an Air Force E-3A Sentry radar plane from Andersen Air Force Base. "Bandit three is at your nine o'clock position, same altitude, range six miles, airspeed niner-zero and accelerating, turning south. He appears to be extending."

"I'm coming up on bingo fuel, Basket, " Collins said. "I either chase him or continue with the pickup. I can't do both. Where's he now?"

"Bandit three now heading southwest, your ten o'clock position, eight miles, airspeed one-zero-zero knots, altitude three thousand. Appears to be buggin' out." Collins knew that the guys could turn and re-attack quickly, but he had no choice-he was too far away to pursue. "All right, Basket, I'm staying. Give me a heads-up if he comes back.

Switching to Guard channel." To his copilot in the Sea Hammer's left seat, Collins said, "You got the aircraft." The copilot shook the control stick to acknowledge the order, and Collins released the controls. "Start an orbit over the area. I'll see if I can find him on the FLIR." Collins' copilot climbed to five hundred feet, stabilized, then began a slow orbit over the area. Collins activated the AN/AAQ-16

FLIR, or Forward Looking Infrared, sensor ball, which presented a thermal image of the forest below in his helmet-mounted sights. At the same time he keyed the microphone button: "Bullet, this is Able Zero-Seven on Guard. Bullet, if you read me, give me a tone on Rescue one. Over." A few seconds later, Collins heard, "Able Zero-Seven, this is Bullet on Guard. I read you loud and clear." The DF directionfinder read southwest. The accent was strange, the voice clipped and precise-too precise. There was also a lot of background noise. It could be his own rotors . . . or it could be someone else. Collins said, "Bullet, go to Rescue One and hold down for ten. Over."

"Able Zero-Seven, I cannot. Land on shoreline. I can see you. Land on shoreline."

"Bullet, go to Rescue One. Over." "Able Zero-Seven, I am injured. I cannot work my radio. Land on the shoreline. I am just a few meters inland. Hurry. Over." The DF readout still read southwest-but that could mean a hundred yards southwest or ten miles southwest. The Navy pilot was not following orders because he was panicking-or because it wasn't a Navy pilot talking. The term "meters" worried Collins, but more military guys were using metric measurements like meters and

"klicks, " so that wasn't a definite giveaway. On the Guard emergency channel, Collins said, "Stand by, Bullet." To his copilot, Collins said, "Swing west a few miles. Let's see if we can triangulate this DF

steer." The MV-22 swung west away from the coastline, keeping as close to the treetops as possible. "Able Zero-Seven, this is Bullet, come in.

Come in, Able." Bowman was groggy but awake. He had a pounding headache and completely washed-out vision. He felt paralyzed, and when he tried to move, a red-hot wave of pain rolled up and down his back.

Same for his left arm-it wasn't just his elbow anymore, the entire arm felt broken. His wrists were still handcuffed together and the survival radio was gone... No, not gone. He could hear faint voices coming from somewhere. Fighting through the pain in his back and arm, he scratched his fingers across the mud and foliage toward the sound. Just as he thought he was going to pass out from the pain, his fingers brushed the thick rubber of the short antenna. A spark of hope shot through his pain-tortured brain, and he was able to grab the radio and drag it to his body. "Stand by, Bullet, " Bowman heard. "Bullet, switch to Rescue One, if able. Over."

"Unable to switch. Help me. Land on the shoreline. I will find you.

Able... that was the call sign of the Navy rescue choppers on Ranger on the day that Bowman was shot down. The PJs finally found him! But who was he talking to? There was another Bullet crew member out here? Who was he talking to? Miller? Was Cookin' alive? He couldn't believe it-Miller had really made it! But he suddenly realized that wasn't right. Miller was dead. The voice on the radio didn't sound American-it sounded too smooth, too practiced. It had to be Chinese!

The Chinese were trying to coax the Navy rescue bird into landing. No downed aircrewman would ever do that-a downed aircrewman's responsibility was to first get himself located, then follow instructions from the rescue bird. He was not supposed to issue orders.

Bowman's radio was set to the Guard channel. On the PRC23D radio, there was a four-position rotary dial: full clockwise, toward the side with the antenna, was Guard, one click counterclockwise was Off, one more click was Rescue One, and one more was Rescue Two. With trembling fingers, Bowman depressed the rotary dial and twisted the knob once to the Off position; then, with a tremendous effort, twisted the dial to Rescue One and depressed a rubber switch on the side of the unit. ...

The DF readout on radio number one was moving slightly south. "Few more miles, " Collins said to his copilot, "and we can plot out his position Suddenly, radio number two came alive with a distinctive Piiinng!

Piiinng! Piiinng! Piiinng! tone. The DF readout on the second channel pointed directly east. "I got a tone on Rescue One!" Collins shouted.

"Coming from the area we just left!"

"That guy on Guard must be an eavesdropper, " the copilot said. "I almost fell for it, too. Follow the DF steer from Rescue One." Collins switched from Guard channel to Rescue One. "Bullet on Rescue One, I copy your tone. Give me a tone when we fly overhead." They were about sixty seconds on the new heading toward the east when Collins said, "I think I have something down there. PJs, stand by." In the rear of the MV-22 tilt-rotor aircraft were four pararescue jumpers, or PJs, two sitting on the port and starboard cargo doors, wearing rappelling gear.

Collins tracked the warm spot below him with the FLIR. Just before the object was directly beneath them, they heard another series of tones on Rescue One. The copilot flew past the spot, but Collins continued to track the warm spot and hit a button on the AN/AYK-14 mission computer, which would store the latitude and longitude of the spot they flew over.

"Bullet, this is Able Zero-Seven, authenticate Victor-Kilo.

Victor-Kilo." No response. "Bullet, this is Able, I say again, authenticate Victor-Kilo. Over."

"We're coming up on bingo fuel, " the copilot said, "and the Chinese are bound to bring reinforcements. We can't stay..."

"Once more, then we're outta here, " Collins said. On Rescue One, he said, "Bullet, I say again "Bullet . . . authenticates . . . Poppa Zero . . . PoppaZero..."

"He didn't give the whole response, " the copilot said. "Close enough for me, " Collins said. "But you don't know..."

"I'm taking the chance. I've got the aircraft." Collins took the controls, gave them a shake to verify transfer of control, then banked sharply to the left and lined up on the object he was tracking on the FLIR. When he was pointing at it, he moved a switch on the power quadrant, which rotated the twin rotor nacelles on the wingtips of the MV-22 vertically and transformed the Sea Hammer aircraft from an airplane to a helicopter. He maneuvered the big cargo~plane~turned~heli copter into a hover, then translated slightly sideways until he found a clearing beneath the airplane. On interphone, he said, "PJs, our boy's off the nose, about thirty yards. No complete ID, but I don't see a weapon and he's alone. Out." Using their rappelling gear, the PJs edged off the Sea Hammer and slid to the ground. Unslinging their rifles, they took a bearing from the MV-22 and proceeded toward the subject. A few cautious minutes later, they found Bowman. "Able, this is PJ One, I got him. Looks like one of our boys." The rescue technician quickly searched Bowman for hidden explosives or booby traps as the second PJ

stood a safe distance away, guarding the area. "Move in position."

Collins edged the Sea Hammer aircraft forward, and the crewmen in the cargo hold lowered a rescue hoist with a forestzpenetrat0r device down to the men on the ground. He unfolded the petal-like seats on the forest penetrator, lifted Bowman up, and secured him into the seat.

Bowman had enough strength to wrap his arms around the rescue device and do as he was told. "Samar... Samar. Don't forget Samar.. ." Bowman told the PJ. It was hard to hear over the roar of the MV-22 overhead, but the first PJ caught a snippet of Bowman's words. "He seems to be saying Sammy something, " the PJ said on a helmet radio to Collins.

"There might be someone else nearby."

"We don't have time to search for anybody else, " Collins' copilot said.

"We're past bingo already." Collins was using the FL1R scanner to search the area around the rescue site. Suddenly he stopped. "I got someone else, " he said. "Thirty yards to the right. He's not moving. Check it out. Hoist Robby on board." The first PJ on the ground climbed onto another seat on the forest penetrator, strapped himself on, then pushed Bowman's head down and wrapped his arms around him as the cargo hold crew hoisted them up through the foliage. The second PJ began moving toward the second object, taking directions from Collins, using the gradually brightening morning skies to find cover until he was close enough. The crew in the cargo hold of the MV-22 dragged Bowman inside and wrapped him in a blanket. One PJ shined a flashlight in his face, then compared the face to a sheet of ID-card photographs of downed crewmen from the Saratoga. "He matches, " the PJ shouted on interphone.

"Bowman. Bullet Seven's pilot." Collins let out a sigh of relief.

"Dammit, I don't believe it. We got one. The other guy might be his RIO." The second PJ on the ground reached the body. "He looks like a Filipino... wait. He's wearing general's stars. No name tag, but he's got two stars on his collar." Collins maneuvered closer to his ground crewman. "General's stars... a general? Named Sammy? Sammy... Sa~ar?

Holy shit, that might be General Samar, the fucking Vice President! Get him on board! Hurry!" ABOARD THE USS RANGER, IN THE PHILIPPINE SEA MONDAY, 3 OCTOBER 1994, 0600 HOURS MANILA TIME The Philippine national anthem played in the background. The television transmission showed a sign written in English, Tagalog, and Chinese, telling the viewer to stand by for an important message from the Philippine government. After two minutes, the scene dissolved, to be replaced by the grim face of Second Vice President General Jose Trujillo Samar. Most of his hair was burned off, and one eye was swollen shuthe had refused to wear any bandages, however, because he was afraid his countrymen might not recognize him, and because he wanted all the world to see what the Chinese military had done to him. He was wearing his uniform, freshly cleaned and starched, which hid a tightly wrapped separated shoulder and burns across most of his upper torso. "My fellow Filipinos and all others who can hear my voice. I am Jose Samar, Second Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines. I am speaking to you from a control room aboard the American aircraft carrier USS Ranger, which is en route to Guam after being viciously attacked by Chinese warplanes three days ago. This message is being broadcast to you at six o'clock A.M. on the third of October, Manila time, via Philippine TV channels two and three, on the Voice of America, the British Broadcasting Channel shortwave channel seventeen, and on other international radio and television channels. "As you can see, 1 am injured but alive. I was rescued on the second of October from the island of Mindanao by American Marines shortly after being attacked and nearly killed by patrols from the People's Republic of China. The Chinese patrols killed several of my militiamen while we were engaged in rescue operations, trying to save the life of an American Navy pilot shot down by Chinese fighter planes several days ago. "I am speaking to you today to tell you that, as the governor of the Commonwealth of Mindanao and Second Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines, that the People's Republic of China is engaged in a full-scale military invasion of my country. Do not be deceived by stories of cooperation with the Philippine government. The Chinese are believed to have murdered President Arturo Mikaso. Chinese warships have taken the Commonwealth cities of Puerto Princesa, Zamboanga, Cotabato, and Cagayan de Oro, and they are preparing to launch an all-out assault on the Commonwealth of Mindanao capital city of Davao. The Chinese are not liberators, nor are they assisting any legitimate Philippine government officials. They are invaders. They are moving large-scale military forces into my country with the intent of permanently occupying and annexing the Philippines. The Chinese invaders have attacked and killed Philippine citizens and have also attacked unarmed American reconnaissance planes. "1 am hereby urging all nations to impose economic and political sanctions on the People's Republic of China for their illegal invasion, and to do everything in their power to help remove all Chinese military forces from my country.

As Second Vice President and the only legitimate government leader of the Philippines, I hereby proclaim all incursions into the Philippines by the People's Republic of China to be illegal, and I formally order the People's Republic of China to remove all personnel, warships, and aircraft from our territories immediately. "My authority may be challenged by the Communist government in Manila, led by the murderer Daniel Teguina. Teguina has called me a traitor and a rebel, but it was he who conspired to assassinate President Mikaso, allow the Chinese Army to invade the country, and take power for himself behind the brutal arm of the Red Chinese. His allegations are unfounded, but only the Supreme Court and the Parliament of the Republic of the Philippines can decide our guilt or innocence. "But in the Commonwealth of Mindanao my authority is absolute, and I am still in command despite my injuries. My militia forces have denied the Chinese complete access to Cotabato Airport, we have continually routed them from the Cabagan, Davao, and Pulangi river valleys, and we have prepared a strong defense and a few surprises for them in Davao if they try to invade us there. This will be the greatest battle in Philippine history since World War Two. But we cannot hold off the Chinese hordes alone. "I am therefore formally requesting military and economic assistance from the government of the United States in helping me to repel the Chinese invaders. I hereby authorize the American government full overflight, landing rights, and sailing rights into all Philippine and Commonwealth territories, and hereby grant full authority to conduct military, security, safety, and other operations in my country. I also authorize the President of the United States and his designated representatives, civil and military, to act with full presidential authority in the Commonwealth of Mindanao, including full authority for all defense matters, and I order my state militia to obey all orders of the President of the United States or his theater commanders as if those orders were my own. If I die of my injuries or am killed by hostile forces, my orders here stated will remain in force until my state is returned to peace, with all foreign powers removed. "I hope that all loyal Filipinos hear my words. These are my standing orders to all loyal Filipinos: "All active, reserve, national guard, inactive reserve, and former militia members under the age of sixty are ordered to active duty immediately. Report only to a district or city militia commander; do not report to a federal, National People's Party, or New People's Army official, or to anyone you do not know personally. If it is not possible to contact a militia commander, attempt to travel to Davao and report to a militia outpost. "To all other citizens of Mindanao: Do not report for work. Do not surrender your weapons to anyone under any circumstances; keep them hidden. Report movements of Chinese or New People's Army troops, or anyone you suspect of aiding or informing to the Chinese or NPA, to a militia member known to you. My militiamen will attempt to contact all residents of Davao, Samal, Panabo, Santo Tomas, and other towns on the Davao Gulf and take your women and children out of any known battle areas. "If your town is under attack or is threatened, move toward the coast as quickly as you can. Do not move toward Davao, as you might move into the middle of a battle area, trapped between opposing forces. Avoid Chinese or NPA troops; travel on secondary or back roads, at night if possible. If you can travel by boat, do so only at night, stay hidden near the coastline, and avoid all large coastal towns. Do not assist any Chinese or federal government representatives or military personnel. If you are forced to assist them, do so to save your own life, but escape when it is safe to do so and resist to the best of your ability. Provide aid and comfort to any of my militia members known to you. "Above all, pray for the strength and courage we will need to resist the Chinese invaders. As long as I live, I will do everything in my powers to remove the foreign invaders from our homeland. May God give me, and you, my loyal brothers and sisters, the strength to continue fighting until our country is once again free. "This transmission will be recorded and repeated several times daily. Do not give up the fight. Allah akbar. God is great.

Good luck." The opening sign reappeared, along with the national anthem, and then Samar began to repeat the message, this time in Tagalog, the native language of the Philippines. ANDERSEN APB, GUAM

TUESDAY, 4 OCTOBER 1994, 0211 HOURS LOCAL "What do you mean, it's down?"

Brad Elliott asked. He kicked off the sheets, and his one good foot was hitting the floor milliseconds later as he readjusted the phone. "Sorry, General, but that's what it looks like, " jon Masters said over the phone. "Carter-Seven didn't download its last sensor pass over Mindanao. We're checking on it right now, but I think our ground equipment is malfunctioning. I can't poll the satellites."

"I'll be right there." Five minutes later, Major General Stone and Lieutenant General Elliott were racing for the command post. They found half of the back panels off the control consoles, the large-screen high-definition computer monitor was blank, and technicians scrambling everywhere. In the midst of it all was Jon Masters, wearing cut-off jeans and a flowered Hawaiian shirt, with his ever-present squeeze bottle of Pepsi in hand. "Doctor Masters, what's happening...?"

"We're finishing our checks, Brad, " Masters replied. "It's no problem.

We'll have the birds back on-line in no time."

"You mean we lost both of them...?"

"It's only temporary. "Can you launch another one?" Stone asked. "Do you have a backup?" Masters wore an uncomfortably pained expression.

"Ahhh... I might have a problem there, Dick, " Masters said. "I have the launch aircraft here, but I didn't bring a spare booster or payload.

They're all back in Arkansas."

"Big deal. Fly back to Arkansas and launch another one, Stone snapped.

"The EB-52s from HAWC will be here in less than fourteen hours, and the First Air Battle Wing will be here in less than eighteen..."

"You see, I got a problem back home, " Masters said. "My board of directors voted not to approve any more launches until our other contractual obligations are-"

"Doctor Masters, you have a contract with the United States Fucking Government!" Stone exploded. "I don't want excuses, I want your butt back on that plane of yours so we can get another satellite up there.

Now you either get me one or I'll fry your ass. "That's not necessary, General, " Masters said, totally unperturbed. "I can have the satellite back up shortly. Not one NIRTSat has ever failed, and this will not be the first, I promise you. Now let me get back to work." He did not wait for a reply, but turned and left Stone with a drop-dead apoplectic look on his face. Brigadier General Thomas Harbaugh, commander of the Strategic Air Command's Third Air Division, the headquarters responsible for all SAC's air operations in the Pacific, and the senior member of the Strategic Air Command's STRATFOR team for Pacific operations, had joined Stone in the command post. To Harbaugh, Stone said, "Tom, we just lost the N1RTSat system. Masters doesn't know when it'll be back up. I need some current intel of Mindanao, and I need it now."

"I can call DIA and Space Command and get a KH-11 or LACROSSE satellite overflight, " Harbaugh said, "and you should get the photos by the time your birds start arriving here."

"Hop on it, " Stone said. "But I want to discuss aircraft overflights as well. Unless we get Masters' system on-line again, getting satellite imagery from Washington out here is too long for a naval battle.

Besides, I want a few probes of the Chinese defenses. Let's go over the Air Battle Force plans for 'ferret' flights; I want several packages put together to hand to General Jarrel when his birds start arriving."

ELLSWORTH AIR FORCE BASE, SOUTH DAKOTA TWO HOURS LATER The officers in charge of each weapon squadron of the First Air Battle Wing were assembled in the Strategic Warfare Center briefing auditorium; the room was secured, the building closed down, and the doors guarded as the meeting began. "Orders are as follows, ladies and gentlemen, " General Jarrel began. "By order of the President, all elements of the First Air Battle Wing have been directed to deploy immediately to Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, and prepare for air operations under the direction of Pacific Air Forces and Pacific Command. Commander, First Air Battle Wing, will be myself, who will report to Major General Richard Stone, Chief, Strategic Forces deployed, Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, immediately upon arrival. Major General Stone becomes the overall Joint Task Force Commander effective immediately. First Air Battle Wing commander is dual-hatted as Joint Task Force Air Commander. The orders outline a few Marine Corps air units involved in the operation, along with naval air operations commanders. Rear Admiral Conner Walheim becomes Joint Naval Forces Commander. Joint Task Force Ground Forces Commander is Army Brigadier General Joseph Towle." Jarrel folded the message form and stuck it in a flight-suit pocket. "No other details were given in the message, but that's all we need to get going. "I have distributed copies of the list of today's nonflying crews and airframes; it composes about half of the force located here at Ellsworth, including eight B-52s, four B- Is, ten KC- 1355, two KC- 105, all twelve of our F-4Ds and Fs, ten F-15s, and six C-141s. That's about all Andersen can handle at one time anyway. "Crew rest is hereby waived for these crew members. They will pick up pre-planned mission packages, brief, and prepare for departure within six hours." There was a rustle of surprise throughout the audience-they had planned and discussed a rapid deployment of a large number of aircraft such as this, but it had never been done before. "The bombers, KC-135 tankers, and some of the cargo aircraft will deploy nonstop to Andersen; the fighters and KC- 1 0s will get crew rest at Hickam before proceeding. "All bomber aircraft will be fully loaded in ferry configuration; you have the list of stores they will carry. Deploying to Guam with weapons on board is always tricky because of the high fuel load needed for divert reserves, but we'll have lots of tankers to support us, so we will load the bombers to get as close to max landing weight as possible with normal IFR fuel reserves.

"Why was this decided, sir?" one of the squadron commanders asked.

"Andersen has weapons-why not load up on gas and supplies and upload the weapons once they arrive on Guam?"

"I want those bombers ready to fight the minute they arrive at Andersen,

" Jarrel replied. "My orders state that we are on combat alert as of right now, and the less time we spend getting ready for a mission after arriving on Guam, the more flexibility we'll have. We could be tasked for strike operations while the Wing is en route, so I want to be ready-our crews better be ready to get a few hours' sleep, mission plan, brief, pull the pins on the weapons, and go. If necessary, they will land, get their mission packets, pull the pins, do a hot refueling, and take off immediately. "The remaining aircraft at Ellsworth will deploy after six hours' crew rest under the same systembombers go direct with weapons in ferry configuration, fighters RON at Hickam. Our OPLAN

specifies eighty percent of the First Air Battle Wing on the ramp at Andersen within twenty-four hours. I think we can do better: I think we can have eighty percent of the Wing flying in combat in twenty-four hours. That is my goal. I know this is our first actual combat deployment, and we're bound to be inventing procedures as we go along, but this staff has practiced these procedures now for several months, so I think we can do it. Questions?" No reply. "Next meeting in one hour; that should be our last meeting before we start launching planes. I expect the first group to be ready to go by then. Let's get to it, ladies and gentlemen-move!" Jarrel watched as the members of the First Air Battle Wing rapidly filed out of the auditorium. He knew the danger these men and women were facing, and he didn't envy them. His own father had been killed in action in Korea in 1953, and he had flown over five hundred combat sorties as an F-5 and A-7 pilot during two tours in Vietnam. He'd seen a lot of battle, a lot of death. No, he didn't envy them at all. But they had ajob to do, just as he did. He turned and headed back to his office. "God be with them, " he said to no one but himself. OVER THE PHILIPPINE SEA, EAST OF MINDANAO THE PHILIPPINES

THURSDAY, 6 OCTOBER 1994, 0347 HOURS LOCAL (WEDNESDAY, 5 OCTOBER