1994,

1447 ET) There was no mistaking its identity or its purpose-few airFhcraft in the world could fly like this. "Identity confirmed, sir, "

the Combat Information Center officer on the Chinese People's Liberation Army Navy destroyer Feylin reported. "American subsonic spy plane, bearing zero-six-five, altitude two-three-thousand meters, range ninety-two kilometers and closing. Probably a U-2 or TR-1." The commander of the Feylin shook his head in amazement. "Say speed and altitude again?"

"Speed six-five-zero kilometers per hour, altitude... altitude now twenty-three thousand meters." The destroyer captain could do nothing but smile in astonishment. Twenty-three thousand meters-that was almost twice the altitude that any Chinese fighter could safely go, and very close to the upper-altitude limit of the Hong Qian-61 surface-to-air missile system on the Chinese frigates stationed in the Philippine Sea.

"No response to our warning broadcasts, I assume, " the captain said.

"None, sir. Continuing west as before, on course for Davao."

"Then we will make good on our promise, " the captain said eagerly.

"Have Zhangyhum and Kasjeng moved into position?"

"Yes, sir. Destroyer Zunyi ready as well." "Very well. Let us see if we can get ourselves an American spy plane. Range to target?"

"Eighty-three kilometers and closing." "Begin engagement procedures at seventy-five kilometers." The frigates had only the shorter-range HQ-61

SAM system, but four of the five destroyers in the Philippine Sea and eastern Celebes Sea area had the Hong Qian-91 surface-to-air missile, with four times the range of the HQ-61-and the U-2 was coming within range of Feylin 's system right now. Undoubtedly the U-2 would be able to evade the first missile, but two more destroyers, Zhangyhum to the north and Kazjeng to the south, were surrounding the U-2, so that no matter which way it turned, it would be within range of someone's missile system. The U-2 was being tracked by another destroyer, Zunyi.

This destroyer carried only surface-to-surface missiles, but it had the Sea Eagle radar system, which could direct missile attacks launched from other ships without using the telltale DRBR-51 missile-tracking radars.

They would not have to activate target-tracking radars until a few seconds from impact, so the U-2 would have no chance to react. They were going to make their first kill since October first, which, ironically, was Revolution Day. This would serve as a warning to all other American aircraft: stay away from the Philippines. "Bomb doors coming open, stand by... bomb doors open. This had to be the first time in Patrick McLanahan's recent memory that he was going to open the bomb doors on his B-2 Black Knight stealth bomber-and not attack something. He and Major Henry Cobb had already flown their B-2 nearly two thousand miles, right into the heart of what seemed like half the Chinese Navy, all to carry two bulbous objects that would not go "boom." They were flying at two thousand feet over the dark waters of the Philippine Sea, threading the needle through what apinside detection range now-if we lower the pods, we'll definitely be in range. "Then let's get it over with, " Cobb said. It was one of the few words he had said throughout the entire flight-obviously he wished he were someplace else right now. "Rog. Pods coming ....... True to his word, the second the two pods were deployed, the computer re-evaluated their new radar cross-section, remeasured the Sea Eagle radar's output power, and redrew the radar's effective detection range "dome"-this time placing it squarely over the B-2 icon at the lower center part of the SMFD. The radar cross-section of the two pods was so large that Patrick estimated they'd have to fly at least forty miles to get out of enemy radar coverage. "Air-search radar got us, three o'clock, range . . . range forty miles." As the UPD-9 pod finished its first circular sweep, more details of the area surrounding them appeared-including one very unwelcome one. "Surface target, nine o'clock, ten miles, no radar emissions, looks like a patrol boat . . .

shit, we got another patrol boat at twelve miles, two o'clock position.

Jesus, we're surrounded by Chinese patrol boats . . ." McLanahan commanded the pods to retract immediately before any one of them got a lock on the B-2. "Air target warning! Bearing one-eight-eight degrees, range seventy-four kilometers... no speed or altitude reading available

. . . search radar active . . "What? Are you sure? Get a track on that last contact!" the skipper of the Feylin shouted. "Negative track.

. . target disappeared, sir. Lost contact." The new radar contact puzzled the destroyer commander, but it was obviously an anomaly or a very small target, like a flock of birds. The real quarry was still driving closer. "Status of the U-2."

"Range approaching seventy-five kilometers... now. "Very well. Combat, bridge, commit forward HQ-91 system, stand by on DRBR-51

missile-guidance radar... now. Order Kazjeng and Zhangyhum to prepare to engage." At that order, two HQ-9 1 missiles were fired from the forward twin launchers of the destroyer Feylin at the U-2 spy plane, lighting up the deck with brilliant flashes of light and a long tongue of flame as the missiles shot skyward. The big supersonic missiles reached full speed in seconds, exceeding twenty-five kilometers per minute in the blink of an eye. There was no other radar that came up, but even at a range of forty miles the sudden glare of the HQ-9 1

missile's rocket motor streaking off into space could clearly be seen.

The Chinese patrols were going after the U-2 spy plane. The fortyyear-old U-2 used a new aerial camera, the CA-990, which could take high-resolution pictures from long standoff distances, but to get pictures of Davao, the U-2 had to fly as close as possible to the Mindanao coast-very close to the Chinese warships. McLanahan risked it: he deployed the reconnaissance pods again to get more photographs-and perhaps to divert the Chinese warship's attention away from the vulnerable U-2, although he realized that was a real long shot-and at the same time hit the "Transmit" switch on his scrambled command radio:

"Kelly, this is Shadow, Giant Zero, Giant Zero. Out." "Giant Zero" was a standard code name to warn an aircraft of a missile launch without an associated missile-guidance radar appearing first. McLanahan let the pods out for two spherical radar scans, about fifteen seconds, then quickly retracted them once again... But even as he did, the yellow dome surrounding them turned briefly to red, with riblike lines through it.

"Sea Eagle radar switching to target acquisition mode... they may have found us. Pods retracted, bomb doors closed. Suddenly, more radar domes appeared north and south of the B-2. "Air-search radars from those patrol boats!" McLanahan shouted. He looked on in horror as the southernmost radar dome engulfed them, then changed from yellow to red.

"Target-acquisition radar got us, bearing one-six-three, range eleven miles. No missile-tracking radars yet, but he might be radioing our position to his big sister out there. Henry, take us down to two hundred feet, and let's hope these bozos can't lock onto us "New radar contact aircraft, bearing from destroyer Zunyi, two-zero-zero, range seventy-four kilometers, speed nine-three-zero kilometers per hour, altitude six hundred meters." Curse it! the skipper of the destroyer Feylin thought furiously. An aircraft somehow managed to sneak past their gauntlets. "Order all patrol boats to begin air search immediately..."

"Sir, target number one turning north, appears to be disengaging . . .

altitude of target one increasing to twenty-four thousand meters, speed increasing to eight hundred." "Activate DRBR-51 missile-tracking radars.

Do not let the U-2 get away."

"Sir, patrol boat 124 reports radar contact on air target." The technicians at the vertical-plot board on the bridge of the destroyer Feylin drew in the location of the contact-it was between two patrol boats, heading northwest, near the Indonesian archipelago called Nenusa.

"Sir! Destroyer Zhangyhum reports radar contact north of his position, intermittent contact, low altitude. He suspects an American stealth aircraft." That was it! Stealth aircraft, probably stealth bombers launched from Guam. Obviously they were on reconnaissance runs, because if they were carrying antiship missiles they would have sunk a half-dozen vessels by now. So... a U-2 and a stealth bomber . "Alert all task force vessels, inbound stealth bombers, suspect at least two inbound toward Davao Gulf. No weapons fired at outer gauntlet vessels, but suspect an attack against inner defenses. Warn all patrol aircraft to search the area north and northwest of Nenusa Archipelago for low-altitude bombers. "Sir! Destroyer Zhangyhum reports engaging with HQ-91 missiles... they may have hit the U-2. Dispatching a frigate and patrol boat to investigate."

"One down, " the destroyer commander said with a quiet smile-"two more to go. . "Mayday, Mayday, Kelly is hit, heading east, no- The radio transmission from the U-2 went dead. "Fuck, " was all Cobb could say.

"Patrick, let's get out of here."

"Few more seconds and we should get all the ships near Davao Gulf, "

McLanahan replied. They had flown over a hundred miles farther west than they had planned, within thirty miles of the mouth of Davao Gulf itself. The closer they got to Mindanao, the more ships they saw-ranging in size from huge destroyers, frigates, and amphibious assault craft, to small liaison and patrol craft-even a return that the UPD-9 pod classified as a submarine periscope could be seen. One more radar sweep, two minutes, and they had all the data they needed. As Cobb began a turn south to head toward the relative safety of the radar clutter around the Nenusa and Talaud islands, the Super Multi Function Display seemed to light up like an old-style switchboard, with radar domes popping up everywhere. It was as if every vessel with a transmitter had flipped it on. "Christ almighty... Charlieband search radar at our twelve o'clock... another one at our two o'clock... now I've got X-band fire-control radars at our ten o'clock position. You're going to have to take us right over Talaud Island, Henry. We're surrounded."

"Fuck, " Cobb muttered. On this trip, that seemed to be the veteran pilot's favorite reply. "Fifty miles to Talaud, " McLanahan said. With the reconnaissance pods stowed, the radar dome belonging to the vessel to the northeast no longer reached them, but they could still watch it as it changed modes. It had changed from target acquisition mode, to air search, and now back to rapid-scan air search, which was displayed as a yellow-striped dome now. "Fast PRF scan on that Charlie-band radar, "

McLanahan reported. "They might be vectoring a fighter in. "Fuck..." The miles seemed to crawl by. More ships had their search radars on to the west, well inside Indonesian waters but still broadcasting Chinese radar signals. A few vessels even activated fire-control radars-Patrick guessed they might have been mistakenly fired on by their own fighter!

"Twenty miles. Nenusa Archipelago is on the left, Talaud is right of-"

Suddenly a yellow radar dome appeared right in front of the B-2 icon on the SMFD. The dome instantly turned red, and the two crewmen could see gunfire popping on the horizon directly in front of them. "Break right!"

Patrick shouted as he hammered the "Chaff" button for the left ejector racks; the electronic countermeasures jammers activated automatically.

"Descend!" Cobb threw the big bomber into a 45-degree bank turn, letting the sudden loss of lift over the wings pull the nose down. He rolled wings-level at one hundred feet above the sea-just one wingspan above the dark waters below. Patrick could see tracers lashing out into the darkness, firing at the chaff blob that he had just released. "Where the hell did he come from?"

"Fuck..." The terrain-following computer began to command a climb to clear the tall, spirelike mountains ahead, and the two crewmen could start to see the island on the forward-looking infrared scanner. The largest island in the Talaud archipelago, Karakelong Island, was a lush green island with gently rolling hills through the middle, but the central hills were studded with two tall rock spires, one that towered seven hundred feet above the forest and the other that rose an incredible twelve hundred feet above the ridge. The tracers swung farther to the west as the chaff blob cleared and the Chinese patrol boat reacquired the B-2. "Can't go too much farther west, " Patrick said. "There's another group of ships just forty miles west of this island."

"They were waiting for someone to try to sneak in over these hills, "

Cobb said. "They knew we'd try it, even though these islands are in Indonesia. That means "Shit. That means we don't want to fly over these islands...!" As if someone on Karakelong Island heard him, just then on the infrared scanner they could see a sharp flare of light, and a missile arced skyward, then heeled over and headed straight for them.

"I see it!" Cobb cried out. "Stand by on flares right!" They had a little room to try a hard break, so Cobb began pushing and pulling the control stick, beginning a fifty-toone-hundred-foot vertical oscillation. The closer the missile got, the more they could see it mimicking that oscillation. As soon as the motor on the missile winked out, Cobb yelled, 'Now!" then threw the B-2 into a hard turn to the left. Simultaneously, Patrick pumped out flares from the right ejector, keeping his finger on the button. The missile passed directly over the cockpit, missing the Black Knight by just a few scant yards. Luckily, there was no explosion-either the missile failed to fuze or was still locked on the flare decoys. "Altitude!" Patrick shouted. "Climb!" The bomber had entered initial buffet to a stall in the steep turn and had lost precious altitude-the radar altimeter, which measured exact distance below the bomber's belly, was faulted because the distance was less than fifty feet. Cobb rolled wings-level, let the airspeed build up, then gently pulled back on the sidestick controller, careful not to throw the bomber into a full stall by pulling back too fast. "Screw this, " Cobb muttered. As soon as he had his airspeed back, he pulled back on the controller, starting a steep climb. "I'm getting out of here." The Super Multi Function Display was alive with radar domes-one was right ahead of them, a Sea Eagle search radar was highlighting them from the right, and far to the north another Sea Eagle radar was about to envelop them. "Descend, Henry, we've got radars all around us. "Let

'em try to get us, " Cobb said. Tracers lit up the sky ahead of them as they drove through the red-colored radar dome ahead of them. Cobb kept the bomber climbing at full military power-the nose was higher than Patrick could ever remember it as Cobb traded every knot of available airspeed for altitude. He made a few hard turns, no more than 20

degrees at a time. Antiaircraft artillery shells began exploding all around them, and several were close enough to pummel the B-2. "Airspeed, Henry!" Patrick shouted. "Watch the stall . . . !" But Cobb held the nose up, kept the airspeed right on the edge of initial buffet to stall, and kept the climb going. Moments later, Patrick noticed that the shells were exploding well below them. As he looked down, he could see a blanket of fireworks below them as tracers and exploding shells lit up the night sky. Cobb began to decrease his climb rate at twenty thousand feet, but he kept the throttle in full military power and kept climbing at five thousand feet per minute until they passed forty thousand feet. The destroyer to the south of them tried one missile launch on them, but the B-2's jammers and laser countermeasures system reported that the missile never approached within lethal range. As they climbed, the red radar dome shrunk until it was a tiny inverted teacup well behind them. Patrick looked over at his aircraft commander. Cobb had returned to his typical flying position-oxygen mask on, hands on stick and throttles, staring straight ahead, unmoving as a rock. Patrick turned the cockpit lights up a bit so he could do a careful cockpit check to investigate for damage-except for a few popped circuit breakers, he found nothing. As he swept his tiny red-lens flashlight across his partner, he could see that the only evidence there was that Henry Cobb had just saved their butts from crashing in a huge fireball in the Philippine Sea was a tiny trickle of sweat dripping from the edge of his oxygen mask. But save them he did. "Cabin check complete, "

Patrick reported. Then: "Thanks, Henry." The only acknowledgment he got was two clicks on the interphone button. OFFICE OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY

ADVISOR, THE WHITE HOUSE FRIDAY, 7 OCTOBER 1994, 1005 HOURS LOCAL "We had better start talking about a peaceful settlement to all this, Mr.

Ambassador, " Secretary of State Dennis Danahall said, "or things will surely go out of control." The Deputy Charge d'affaires of the People's Republic of China's embassy, Tang Shou Dian, serenely folded his hands on his lap as he regarded the three American government officials before him: Secretary of State Danahall, National Security Advisor Kellogg, and the President's Chief of Staff, Paul Cesare, along with interpreters and confidential secretaries. The ambassador had brought an assistant and interpreter as well; because the ambassador's "assistant" was a known Chinese intelligence operative, Secret Service agents were posted outside the office and in the anteroom to Kellogg's office. "I would be pleased to promptly report any requests or proposals to my government, Mr. Danahall, " Tang said without his interpreter. The interpreter would bend forward and speak in Tang's assistant's ear as if she were translating for him, but everyone knew he spoke and understood English very well. "These are not proposals or requests, Mr. Ambassador, "

Frank Kellogg said. "These are statements of policy. The United States will regard any further aggressive acts on the island of Mindanao as hostile acts against the United States, and we will respond accordingly to counter the threat, including the use of military force. That is the message we want to convey to your government. "That message was made very clear by your President's television announcement yesterday, " Tang said. "As we indicated in our response, the Teguina government has stated that Jose Samar has no authority to conduct foreign policy or dictate military terms anywhere in the Philippines, including Mindanao or the separate southern state. Therefore, Samar's words have no meaning and your position is illegal and completely without merit."

"The Philippine constitution granted Samar's state the right of self-defense, " Danahall pointed out. "Samar is completely within his powers to delegate that responsibility."

"That is a matter for the United Nations to decide, " Tang said. "They should be allowed to deliberate the matter. "We agree, ' Danahall said.

"But the survival of the autonomous government of Jose Samar is in the best interest of the United States, and the position and strength of Chinese forces threaten their survival. Will the Chinese military agree to cease all hostile actions and pull its forces back until the matter of Mindanao sovereignty is decided?"

"I think that would be an important consideration, " Tang said, "except for Jose Samar's rebel forces. President Teguina maintains, and my government agrees, that a cease-fire will only allow the rebels to consolidate their position and stage more and deadlier attacks on innocent citizens. We have tried to negotiate with Samar, with no success-we have even sent envoys to Guam to attempt to talk with Samar there. He will not speak with us. He ties our hands..."

"Your military forces are much more powerful than his, " Kellogg observed. "You have nearly a hundred warships in the south Philippines alone; your forces outnumber his ten to one. It's reasonable to assume he's afraid of being crushed to death by the sheer size of your forces."

"A cease-fire has to be made in the spirit of cooperation and fairness,

" Tang said. "We will hold our present positions and stop all new troop additions if Samar agrees to withdraw his forces and come to the bargaining table." "You must withdraw your forces from the Philippines first..."

"We are in the Philippines by invitation of the legitimate President, "

Tang said calmly. "We need not deal with rebel leaders such as Samar, or for that matter with the American government. "Samar is also a member of the Philippine government, " Danahall said pointedly. "I understand Samar has been brought up on charges of treason and corruption by the government, " Tang said. "He has been stripped of his authority until his trial-if he ever surrenders himself to justice . . "The United States does not recognize the Teguina government, because we have no evidence that President Arturo Mikaso is dead, " Cesare said. Tang shifted his interlaced hands slightly, as if gesturing that, yes, Mikaso was really dead. "Can you confirm Mikaso's present situation? Is he dead?"

"I cannot confirm that, sir. . "If you cannot confirm it, we will not recognize Teguina's presidency, " Danahall said. "In which case the constitution is still valid and Samar has equal power and authority as Teguina "Samar appears to be fleeing from justice-he is acting like a common criminal, " Tang said. "He is hiding in the jungles, he refuses to speak with his own government, he is inciting the people to revolt.

Stories I have heard say that he has the backing of several Islamic terrorist organizations to help him win the presidency by violence. How can the United States back such a man?" Those rumors about the terrorist groups, unfortunately, were true-several Moslem terrorist groups had pledged themselves to Samar to help him overthrow the Chinese, the Americans, and the Manila government. It was a major source of embarrassment for President Taylor right now. But Danahall replied,

"Samar is understandably in fear for his life, especially with Chinese troops in Manila. He is not in hiding; he is en route to Guam under the protection of the U.S. government until this matter can be resolved. "I think the best option right now is for all foreign troops to get out of the Philippines and leave that government to itself. If we can have reasonable assurances that the will of the people is being done and that peace is being restored, then we will not object to any further Chinese incursions. But the United States regards the current level of Chinese military involvement as an invasion, and we are now in a position to stop it. Will the Chinese pull out of the Philippines?" Tang made a few notes in a small notebook. "I will deliver your query to my government, the ambassador said, "along with your earlier statements and concerns.

'Tang then closed his notebook, as if signaling an end to their meeting; it had lasted only a few minutes. "Have you any messages from your government, Mr. Ambassador?" Secretary Danahall asked. "Does your government simply request that the world allow you to occupy the Philippines with large military forces? Or do you want nothing more than to be a willing mercenary for Daniel Teguina's first coup?"

"We are not seeking conquest, only stability for my coun try, " Tang said. "We see the unrest in the Philippines as extremely injurious to Chinese trade, foreign relations, and social and political stability in our own country. As you know, gentlemen, the Philippines has many ethnic Chinese in its population, as well as loyal supporters of the world socialist movement, all of whom have suffered in past years. If we fail to support Communist leaders overseas and allow those with common beliefs and heritage to be slain and dominated by others, how would my government appear in the eyes of its own people?" Danahall, Cesare, and Kellogg refrained from replying or voicing their outrage at Tang's flamboyant, rhetorical remarks. Finally, after all these weeks of waiting, all these days of threats of military conflict, the Chinese were going to get around to their demands-it would not be useful at this point to interrupt, no matter how offbeat or disagreeable his words were. "We are also very concerned about other problems in the South China Sea region, namely the dispute over the Spratly Islands and Palawan. China has claimed possession of those islands for hundreds of years; we feel we have the right to develop those islands, all of those islands, as we see fit. The current inequitable division of the Spratly Islands will no doubt cause much bloodshed in the future. "The Philippine island of Palawan also once belonged to China, as evidenced by the large number of ethnic Chinese living there." Tang paused knowingly, making eye contact with the Americans before him, and said,

"If Chinese claims to the Spratly Islands and Palawan could be resolved in a way favorable to all concerned, perhaps a way might be found to avert disaster and bloodshed." So that was it, Danahall thought: China wanted the Spratly Islands and Palawan. Danahall and his staff had had to do some serious cramming in recent days to reacquaint themselves with those two island chains that China seemed ready to go to war over. And, historically, Tang was right-several hundred years ago, before European explorers ventured to the Orient in large numbers, Chinese merchantmen, fishermen, and refugees did populate most of the islands in the South China Sea, including the Spratlys and most of the Philippines. Like the Spratlys, Palawan had been occupied and claimed by many Asian, Polynesian, and European nations over the centuries. At least a dozen countries had claims for these rugged, dangerous islands. But all that was rather ancient history. China might have a fairly solid claim to the Spratly Islands-which they had already reportedly traded to Vietnam, at least for the time being-but whether they had any modern claim to Palawan was another thing entirely. What possible use China had for Palawan was a mystery to Danahall. The island was mountainous, sparsely populated, and useless as a shipping or trading port because of its proximity to the "Dangerous Ground, " the shallow waters of the South China Sea, so hazardous to commercial freighters. It might make a strategic air-base location from which to threaten islands and waters belonging to other ASEAN countries, but even that was doubtful. Was this some sort of new manifest destiny for China-or a cover for something else. . .? "I think negotiations over these two areas of concern are important and can be implemented immediately, Mr.

Ambassador, " Secretary Danahall said. "Of course, other affected nations will have to participate-and an immediate cessation of all hostilities must be declared "If that can include Samar and his Moslem rebel militia, I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Secretary, " Tang replied.

"I think we can be helpful in securing Vice President Samar's cooperation, " Frank Kellogg said, "but it would be a waste of time to try to begin negotiations without first calling for an immediate cease-fire and a pullback of all forces . . "If we can receive assurances that your naval and air forces will not try to fortify or assist the Samar rebels, and promise not to attack any Chinese forces at any time, a cease-fire might be possible. But it would be supercilious for us to abandon our agreement with President Teguina and simply leave him alone and unprotected without first guaranteeing that his government will remain intact during our negotiations. Now, if Samar's rebel forces would give up their hold on the city of Davao and the Samar International Airport, perhaps my government would be more amenable to encouraging a dialogue with the Philippine government." This time all the Americans paused. They were afraid this might happen. Promising not to attack Chinese forces was no problem-the President didn't want to do it in any case-but they knew that Davao was the last pin keeping the Philippines from falling apart. If Samar's people abandoned the city, the Philippines would fall forever-if not to the Chinese, then to Teguina's Communists. Samar might be a Moslem, but he also believed in a unified Philippines. It was obvious that Teguina believed in nothing but himself and his power. Tang was asking assistance from the U.S.

government to destroy the last obstruction to total domination by the Communists. "I think that discussion can wait for more detailed negotiations between our representatives, " Danahall said-he didn't want to encourage him with even a veiled "maybe, " but he didn't want to indicate that it was out of the question, either. "We're getting ahead of ourselves here. Let's get our respective governments to agree on an immediate cease-fire first..." But Tang recognized Danahall's hesitation and had obviously concluded that the Americans would agree to nothing here. "Why do you support this Moslem Samar?" Tang asked. "He is nothing but a rabble-rouser. He is a definite hindrance to peace, Mr.

Secretary. He is not deserving of your country's support."

"We support a peaceful solution to this crisis, Mr. Ambassador..."

"I truly hope so, Mr. Secretary, " Tang said. "It appears to my government, however, that the United States wishes to regain its lost military dominance in the Philippines. You are aligning yourself with a traitor and criminal, blinding your citizens to Samar's violent and revolutionary past, in an obvious attempt to gain some sort of legitimacy for a military invasion of your own. That is not the way to solve this crisis, sir."

"There are those who feel that China is trying to exert its influence in the region by the use of force, " Kellogg said, "and that you will stop at nothing to achieve it. They fear China may use another nuclear weapon to obliterate Samar's militia. Tang bristled at the mention of the word "nuclear, " and the Americans knew that the meeting was at an end. He rose to his feet, his hands still folded before him; his face was just as impassive and expressionless as ever. "I believe we have discussed all pertinent topics. With your permission, we will deliver your messages to my government with all speed."

"Include this message, Mr. Ambassador, " Danahall said coldly. "If the United States detects any further activity in the Davao Gulf or on Mindanao to suggest that Chinese troops are moving to take the city of Davao, its airport, or the towns around the northern part of the Davao Gulf or delta, the United States will consider that a hostile act against an ally and will respond appropriately." Danahall and the others rose. "Good day, Mr. Ambassador." Danahall kept his fingertips on the table, without extending a hand. Tang gave a short bow, as did his interpreter and assistant, and they departed. "God, I must be getting old, " Danahall said. He dropped into a chair, letting Kellogg take his desk back. "I can't sell it like I used to." Kellogg's outer office phone buzzed. "Yes?"

"Staff meeting in five minutes, sir, " his secretary said. Kellogg acknowledged the call and hung up. The message was a simple code to let them all know that the Secret Service wanted to come in to sweep the office, hallways, and anterooms for newly planted listening devices before the men began talking about anything of substance. "I wanted to avoid giving the man a damned ultimatum, and that's exactly what I ended up giving him, " Danahall said. "Dumb..."

"I'm sorry I mentioned the 'N' word, " Kellogg said. "I guess I'll never make much of a diplomat."

"We're all thinking about it, and he knew it. It had to come out sooner or later." Danahall paused, then said, "But I think he did leave us a few cracks we can explore-not very big cracks, but at least it's something to work on. "I hope something happens in the next twenty-four hours, " Kellogg said grimly as they stood to allow the Secret Service to begin their work, "because otherwise I think the diplomatic side has just run its course." SANTA CRUZ CHANNEL, NEAR THE CITY OF ZAMBOANGA THE

PHILIPPINES SUNDAY, 9 OCTOBER 1994, 0715 HOURS LOCAL aboard the Chinese Liberation Army Navy destroyer ong Lung for the day watch and flag staff began at five A.M. with reveille shortly before sunrise, prayers for those who were so inclined (Admiral Yin Po L'un, and therefore most of his flag staff, were not), a thirty-minute exercise period, cleanup, and breakfast, which usually consisted of chicken or fish soup, rice, tea, and hard candy or caramel squares for the enlisted men. Morning inspection began at six-fifteen, and the reports from each section aboard ship were received by the captain by ten minutes to seven. By seven A.M. the executive officers of each ship of the fleet escorting the Hong Lung reported to the Admiral's chief of operations, as did the group commanders from the three other naval battle groups in the southern Philippines; Yin's chief of operations then compiled the morning report for the Admiral for presentation precisely at seven-fifteen. The Admiral first received a synopsis of incoming-messagetraffic from Beijing or South China Sea fleet headquarters in Zhanjiang (important messages would of course have received his immediate attention), then a theater situation briefing and intelligence briefing. Yin's chief of operations, Captain Sun Ji Guoming, bowed deeply as he began: "Sir, I am pleased to provide you with the following theater briefing summary at this time, updated as of five A.M. local time: "The primary threat to People's Liberation Army Navy's forces involved in the Philippines conflict currently is the United States Navy's aircraft carrier Independence battle group from Japan operating in the Luzon Strait, the U.S. Army Twenty-fifth Infantry Division deployed to Guam, elements of the U.S. Marine Corps Third Marine Amphibious Force mobilized on Okinawa and deployed with the Independence carrier battle group, and the deployment of the Air Force First Air Battle Wing to Andersen Air Force Base on Guam. It is important to point out that these all represent partial deployments of each unit, with approximately thirty to forty percent held in reserve at their home bases. "Major elements of the U.S. Army's Twenty-fifth Infantry Division were recently relocated to Andersen Air Force Base from Hawaii, with approximately eight thousand troops. It is designed to be a light, quickly deployable force. Our intelligence estimates state, however, that insufficient air or sealift capability exists to move this force from Guam to the Philippines with any speed. However, if they did move this force, we would oppose them with twice the number of infantry troops already in place on Mindanao and four times the number on Luzon and other areas of the Philippines. Elements of the Second Infantry Division in South Korea and Japan have also been mobilized, but we estimate they are still several days from being called into action and at least a week after that to see action in the Philippines. "The Third Marine Division and elements of the First Marine Aircraft Wing have been deployed with the Independence carrier battle group, which is now stationed offshore approximately sixty kilometers northeast of Y'ami Island in the Luzon Strait; this is approximately three hundred and fifty kilometers north of the Philippines. In our estimation, the carrier battle group is not in position to strike into Luzon at this time, al though they can be in position to strike with their aircraft within twenty-four hours and in position to begin ground operations on Luzon within forty-eight to seventy-two hours; this is what is currently driving our threat condition status throughout the People's Liberation Army. The total American naval force includes approximately sixteen warships, ten support ships, four to six submarines-perhaps more, the exact number is uncertain-twenty fighter aircraft, and fifty fixedwing strike aircraft. "The Fifth Marine Pre-positioning Force from Hawaii has been activated and is deployed in the Philippine Sea with approximately five thousand Marines and forty helicopters, including the MV-22 tilt-rotor transport aircraft that was apparently used in the rescue of Samar and the American pilot on Mindanao. This force can strike in the central Philippines within twenty-four to forty-eight hours' notice as well. This force includes two landing-ship carriers, four tank-landing carriers, and four support vessels. "The greatest naval threat to our forces in the southern Philippines was the Ranger carrier battle group, " Sun continued. "The carrier itself is still heavily damaged and considered out of commission; it is being towed to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and except for vertical takeoff and landing aircraft is unable to conduct any flight operations." A rustle of approving voices filled the conference room.

"However, the latest report has shown that a destroyer and a guided-missile cruiser from the Ranger group are en route to the Celebes from Indonesia and will be within missile range of some of our ships within the next four to five hours. They are being joined by a six-ship surface action group led by the battleship Wisconsin, en route from Hawaii, which our estimates say will be in position to attack in three to five days; these groups carry land-attack Tomahawk cruise missiles.

Our embassy has received word that the Ranger's support ships intend to conduct search and rescue operations for their downed crew members lost in the air battle last week-"

"They will not be permitted to enter the Celebes Sea, " Admiral Yin said solemnly. "That I can promise. When Davao has been taken, Group One and Group Two will form to oppose these task forces until additional forces arrive from the mainland."

"Yes, sir, " Sun continued. "This leaves the greatest threat to the southern Philippines task force, in the estimation of our intelligence section: the American Air Force. The First Air Battle Wing currently deployed on Guam reportedly has two dozen B-52 heavy bombers, perhaps eight long-range supersonic B-1 and F-1 11 bombers, nearly a dozen medium-range F-15 supersonic bombers, two dozen F-15 and F-16 fighter escorts, and various support aircraft, including reconnaissance, early warning, intelligence, and aerial refueling aircraft. Unverified reports from our patrols in the Philippine Sea say that the Americans might have sent B-2s as well. "This force can strike within three hours with enough standoff weaponry to devastate large sections of our deployed battle groups. They have been flying reconnaissance flights as far west as Talaud Island, within radar range of our warships outside Davao Gulf. One U-2 spy plane was shot down last night by the destroyer Zhangyhum. we estimate the U-2 was able to get pictures of our vessels in Davao Gulf itself."

"It does not sound like much of a threat to me, Captain, " Admiral Yin said. "Only thirty-two long-range strike aircraft, most of which are over forty years old? I see no substantial threat."

"Their medium-range bombers and fighters are also a threat because of their aerial-refueling capability, sir, " Captain Sun replied. "And we should not underestimate the payload capability of the B-52. Fully armed, they can carry twenty-four Harpoon antiship missiles, which can strike from as far as one hundred and fifty kilometers-"

"Yes, the heavy bombers are a threat, Captain, " Admiral Yin said, "but once we secure Davao Airport, we can launch twenty fighters for every one of their bombers. The odds are clearly in our favor. The closest American air base on Okinawa is almost sixteen hundred kilometers from Manila, and the American air base on Guam is over two thousand kilometers from Davao. Even if the Americans were granted permission to use the British air base at Bandar Seri Begawan in Brunei, that is still eight hundred kilometers to Zamboanga and twelve hundred kilometers to Davao-plenty of time to organize our air, ground, and surface defenses.

Once reliable radar earlywarning networks are established around the Philippines, no American planes would be able to approach any Chinese positions without being detected.... "The key, however, is our impending attack on Davao. What is the status of our forces and the status of our operation against Davao?" Yin asked. "The Admiral's headquarters fleet afloat reports fully operational, " Captain Sun replied. "All vessels report fully manned, ready, and combat-capable, with no operational defects. "The schedule briefed yesterday is still valid, sir, " Captain Sun continued. "At two A.M. tomorrow morning, Marine paratroopers will land on the coast outside the city of Davao and secure the Subasta and Sibuyan highways. Other Marine units will take Talikud Island and seal off the coastal towns of Samal and Bangoy on Samal Island. This will allow the minesweepers to enter Dadaotan Bay ahead of the destroyers and landing craft transports, without fear of attack in the narrow channel."

That was the same objective during the invasion of Zamboanga, when the heavily populated Santa Cruz Channel had to be sanitized before Yin's fleet could take up positions, except then they had more air power flying from Puerto Princesa and the element of surprise. That was gone now-unlike Zamboanga, Davao was ready for a siege. Many things were different between Davao and the relatively easy siege of Zamboanga.

Davao was the heart of the Samar government and the capital of the autonomous proIslamic government on Mindanao. Few officials and residents here were from Luzon-although Davao had as much natural beauty as Zamboanga and was the largest city on Mindanao, with a population of over seventy-five thousand, it was considered an isolated, remote, untamed frontier town and never gained the popularity of its more contemporary sister city to the west. Davao had no large military base, so there was no large-scale government facility from which to stage a

"popular revolt." Nevertheless, Yin was determined to see Davao fall.

"By five A.M. the destroyers should be in place, and the LSTs will begin deploying landing craft, " Sun continued. "The Air Force will move in to soften the beach area, and the destroyers with their escorts and shallow-draft patrol craft will secure the bay and harbors and provide gun support for the landing craft. The landing should begin at six A.M. and should be complete by eleven. Sometime tomorrow afternoon, perhaps earlier, Samar International Airport will be ours. "The Air Force will continue to patrol the area, especially the six private airstrips within fifty kilometers of Samar International-these are known marshaling areas and resupply points for the Samar militia. Army troops should have these areas secured by day after tomorrow, along with the Cadeco River valley. General Yuhan's forces should have also secured the radar site on Mount Apo and the Cagayan Highway to the north. With the Mount Apo radar site, we can scan the region for almost five hundred kilometers in all directions-we can detect a flock of birds or a group of whales approaching the Philippines. "Once this is accomplished, Group One can begin patrols of the east Celebes Sea and provide escorts for supply vessels entering Davao Gulf. Group Three can begin resupply sorties to Davao via sealift until the Davao-Cotaban Highway is secure or until the area around Samar International Airport is secure and we can begin airlifting in supplies. We have no firm timetable on this as of yet, however. Our best option is to secure the sea-lanes for resupply until substantial numbers of troops are in place on Mindanao-it may take as long as a month. "We can reasonably expect the fall of Davao to split the rebel forces into at least three separate groups, located roughly on the east coast, the southern coast, and the north-central parts of Mindanao, " Sun concluded. "This will reduce their ability to fight and dramatically disrupt their own resupply chain. We will force them into more and more austere conditions and reduce their ability to fight." Yin nodded thoughtfully. He was impressed with Sun's briefing.

If Sun had started briefing tactics and weapons, Yin would have been upset and concerned. Tactics and weapons did not win invasion campaigns-logistics won invasions. Everything his fleet and ground troops did ultimately had to open and secure supply lines or the invasion was doomed to failure. They were going to pour thousands of men and millions of tons of warships into Davao just to be able to land a few cargo aircraft at the airport or dock a supply ship in the harbor.

Sun's briefing emphasized resupply-that was the way it should be. If the supply lines were cut, he was doomed. "Excellent, Captain Sun, "

Admiral Yin said, bowing from the neck. "I congratulate you and your staff for a well-organized plan, and I wish us all success. Now tell me about areas in which we are weakest."

"I see two areas of concern for this operation, sir, " Captain Sun replied. "Both relate to the remote possibility of counterattack from American or ASEAN forces. "First, our close air support and fighter aircraft must launch from Zamboanga Airport-Cotabato Airport is still not secure enough for aircraft operations because of rebel activity.

This means our fighters must fly four hundred kilometers one-way to reach Davao Gulf, and almost six hundred kilometers to intercept bombers carrying antiship missiles capable of hitting our warships in Davao Gulf. With the return trip and combat reserves, this leaves almost no loiter time for all our aircraft."

"Why was a plan not developed to secure the airport at Cotabato?" Yin asked angrily. "It was a major part of our invasion operation. You had several days and plenty of support, Captain-why am I now being told it is not safe to use this airport?"

"Sir, as I mentioned before to you, we depleted the reserve forces of Group Two to dangerous levels during the assault on Cotabato, " Sun replied. "As you know, we had to abandon our patrols of most of the Sulu Archipelago and create the hundred-kilometer safe zone around Zamboanga to form the invasion fleet for the Cotabato operation. It was barely enough for the job. We have taken the airport at Cotabato, but the staff and I agree that it is not wise to count on using it for the Davao operation. It is suitable as a landing base, and our aircraft recovering there can be refueled, but. . "Can we not rearm our fighters and attack planes there as well?" Sun shook his head reluctantly. "We deemed it too danger ous to ship massive amounts of rockets, bombs, and missiles to Cotabato, sir, " he replied. "Fuel trucks and bladders make poor targets for guerrillas with mortars or RPGs, but bomb dumps or parked cargo aircraft make convenient and inviting targets. Guerrilla attacks are too frequent "Curse you, I should have been advised of all this sooner!" Yin exploded. He waved his hand irritably at Sun.

"Continue, Captain. What other difficulties do you envision?" Sun swallowed hard before continuing: he had previously briefed Admiral Yin on the problems with air cover if Cotabato was not secured, and now he was being blamed for not telling him; he had also briefed Yin on the next topic, and it appeared likely that Yin was going to forget about being advised of this as well. "Sir, with the destroyers moving to the north Davao Gulf and their escorts taking their positions to support the landing, we have decreased our air coverage of the eastern Celebes Sea to a dangerous level, " Sun said. "What air attacks are you concerned about, Captain?" Yin asked. "The American aircraft carrier is out of position, it cannot launch its strike aircraft, and no other carriers are within range... "The land-based bombers are our biggest threat, sir,

" Sun replied. "The American Air Battle Force has been on the island of Guam ready to strike..."

"The Americans will not use the heavy bombers against us, " Yin said.

"Our intelligence reports stated that the American President did not even want those bombers there. Besides, you reported that the Americans had only a handful of bombers there, less than thirty-is that not so . .

?"

"The count is accurate, sir, " Sun acknowledged, "but each can carry a number of Harpoon antiship missiles and bombs..."

"They have to get close enough to use them first, " Yin snapped. "Even one of our small patrol boats can destroy a Harpoon missile in flight.

And the closer those bombers come to Davao during the invasion, the more effective our antiaircraft guns become." Sun paused momentarily. Yin seemed to have an answer for everything. Sun did not dispute his commander's thoughts, but he was being extraordinarily confident of his own fleet's power and recklessly unconcerned about the American Air Force's power. I agree with you, sir, " Sun said slowly, "but I think it would be wise to augment our air-defense preparations by moving the Hong Lung and some of its antiair-equipped escorts to the eastern Celebes Sea area. That would give us four ships with surface-to-air missiles and four more ships with large-caliber radar-guided antiaircraft guns. Zamboanga is secure-our presence is not needed here." Yin thought about the suggestion, and he liked it-Sun would make a fine fleet commander one day. The Hong Lung was one of the most powerful ships in the world, well suited for both antiair as well as antiship operations. It was also a very potent weapon for simple show-of-force, but since Yin liked to keep his warships mostly out of sight of the local population, it wasn't doing much good as a weapon of intimidation in Zamboanga. His shore setups here were in place and operating well-it was time the Hong Lung, the Red Dragon, got back into the fight. "An excellent suggestion, Captain, " Yin said. "I want one vessel to remain here, positioned so residents of the city can see it clearly; the rest of the Fleet Master will accompany the ong Lung to the battle area. Choose your escorts and alert the fleet: we sail immediately for the eastern Celebes Sea." Sun looked much more pleased-it was obvious he disagreed with Yin's estimation of the American air threat-and he owed to acknowledge the order. "If there is nothing else, ublish the orders and proceed." His flag staff stood, bowed, nd exited the office. Yin was alone in his office for several minutes when his xecutive officer knocked. "Sir, you have a visitor: Philippine resident Daniel Teguina. He is requesting a short meeting with you in private." Yin had to struggle to maintain his composure.

What in hell oes Teguina want with me... ? Since the coup, Teguina had ealt exclusively with the People's Liberation Army Supreme ommander, High General Chin Po Zihong, on any military atters; otherwise he dealt with Dong Sen Kim, the ambassa dor to the Philippines, or to the Foreign Minister directly. Just a few weeks earlier, Teguina would have gladly kissed Yin's feet if he had helped him with his coup-now that the coup was completed, Teguina was actually starting to believe the myth about China just assisting Teguina to defeat the "rebels" and save his country. "Tell him I'm too... never mind. I'll meet him. Have this room cleaned and coffee and pastries served. . . and put his flags back, too, his stupid Aguinaldo flag and the Sulu flag. And make sure our conversation is recorded and the video cameras ar derision if the coup fails. Accompanied by a heavily armed Marine guard, Admiral Yin made his way to the quarterdeck and onto the receiving area. He was kept waiting as several escort vessels made their way toward the Chinese destroyer, under the careful scrutiny of deck-gun crews. An honor guard was quickly assembled, and several crewmen were positioned on the port rail, standing at parade rest, as Teguina's liaison craft approached.

Teguina's boat was stopped several times and inspected before being allowed to dock at the Hong Lung's boarding platform, and the new Philippine President started up the stairs. The honor guard snapped to attention, and a broadcast was made on the public address system announcing the arrival of the Philippine President. Yin forced himself to raise a hand to the brim of his cap in salute. Teguina ignored the Chinese colors and Yin's salute. "I must speak with you immediately, Admiral, " Teguina said without preamble. "By all means, Mr. President,

" Yin's interpreter replied. He quickly translated both Teguina's words and his own hasty reply for the Admiral, and Yin scowled darkly as he followed Teguina through the quarterdeck doors. A few moments later they were in Yin's flag briefing room. "The Admiral wishes to extend his warmest greeting to the President of the Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo, " Yin's interpreter said in English. "The Admiral considers it a great honor that you have come for a visit and wishes to offer you... Teguina started talking, a long, completely unintelligible diatribe. The interpreter tried to tell Yin what the man was saying but was stopped by a sudden outburst of anger as Teguina angrily spit out his words. "He said he wants an explanation of why the Chinese government has made an alliance with Vietnam for the Spratly Islands, "

the interpreter finally said. "He is angry that his country has lost all rights to the Spratly Islands to the Vietnamese."

"What is he talking about?" Yin asked angrily. "We did not make a deal with Vietnam for anything!"

"Mr. Teguina says that Vietnam abstained in a recent vote of the Association of South East Asian Nations, " the interpreter said, "and the rumor that was passed to the Aguinaldo government was that the Chinese government made a deal with Vietnam to give them rights to the Spratly Islands in exchange for blocking a key vote." Yin was about to rebuff the accusation, but the words died in his throat. That had to be the reason why he had heard the tremendous outcry from the ASEAN nations concerning the Chinese invasion, yet nothing had been done-because two nations, Thailand and Vietnam, abstained. High General Chin Po Zihong must have lost a key argument in Beijing if he allowed the Nansha Dao-what the world called the Spratly Islands-to fall back into Vietnam's hands... Chin would never have allowed that to happen unless his voice was firmly stilled by Premier Cheung. "I assure you, " Yin calmly told Teguina, "that our alliance is firm and there is no duplicity involved. The vote to censure us was defeated in ASEAN

because the members believe in what we're doing, not because of any back-room deals, especially with the reprehensible Vietnamese government..." But Teguina didn't seem to be waiting for the interpreter to finish; he began lashing out more accusations. "He is saying that his alliance is ruined, that the Chinese are out to get him, that he can trust no one... "Calm yourself, Mr. President, " Yin said via the interpreter. "We will brief you on our preparations for assisting your forces to retake Davao, and we will give you a tour of our flagship. You may even speak to our officers. They will all tell you that they fully support your government in this struggle." That seemed to mollify Teguina a little, and he allowed himself to be escorted out of Yin's office to the Battle staff briefing area. But as they were leaving, with Teguina well out of earshot, Yin grabbed Captain Sun and hissed, "Get headquarters' political section on the line immediately. I want to find out about the ASEAN vote and the status of Nansha Dao. Do it immediately." THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE SATURDAY, 8 OCTOBER 1994, 0627

HOURS LOCAL The President of the United States had extended his hand to greet United Nations ambassador Deborah O'Day as she walked into the Oval Office, but by some sort of sudden urge he found himself giving her a cordial hug. "Welcome back home, Deborah, " the President said, guiding her to a chair. Secretary of State Danahall, Secretary of Defense Preston, Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Curtis, and several members of the House and Senate armed services committees stayed on their feet until O'Day was seated, then took their place around her.

"You've had a hell of an ordeal, haven't you?" "Dealing with the ASEAN

representatives and the Chinese delegation has been tougher than getting kidnapped by Samar's rebels, " O'Day admitted. She extended a hand, and her aide placed a leather-jacketed folder into it. "Mr. President, I've been given a communique by the Chinese government, a reply to your last message requesting withdrawal from the Philippines. "I take it by your tone that it's not good news."

"I haven't read the letter itself, sir, but the Chinese ambassador was not cordial. I think it's bad news." The President took the folder, broke the seal, initialed the original Chinese-language version of the letter and placed it aside, then read the United Nations and State Department translations. "Just as we thought, " Taylor said wearily.

"China rejects our demands for an immediate withdrawal. They say they are in the Philippines with the permission and full sanction of the Philippine government, and the American involvement there is illegal meddling in the internal affairs of another government. They say they do not know the whereabouts of Arturo Mikaso and said we should make inquiries with the Filipino government as to his status, but as far as they are concerned Daniel Teguina is in charge and Jose Trujillo Samar has no authority in the government. "They regret the attacks on our aircraft and warships, but in the current unstable world climate such interference should have been anticipated and therefore we should carry as much of the blame for the loss as they . "Bullshit, " Curtis murmured. "They further regard the deployment of heavy bombers and carrier battle groups around the Philippines as an extremely hostile act and they will use any and all means at their disposal to protect their citizens and property." The President tossed the communique aside and regarded the advisers around him. "Well? Thoughts?"

"Samar's rebels come under attack in less than five hours, sir, " O'Day said. She glanced at Wilbur Curtis. "Is that right, General?"

"Yes, it is, " Curtis said. He referred to the pile of mounted satellite photos on the coffee table before him-the photos taken from the B-2 and U-2 reconnaissance flights. "It may have begun already.

Chinese warships were in position to bombard Davao by sundown. When their landing craft get into position, they'll start the invasion."

"Five hours? So you're saying it's too late ~"

"No, sir, I'm not, " Curtis said. "As we discussed in the tactics briefing, the Chinese troops are most vulnerable while they're still in their troop transports. They've already begun unloading troops along the Buoyan peninsula east of Mount Apo to secure the coastal towns, but the main force still hasn't landed in Davao yet-Samar's rebels are mining the straits and inlets, trying to slow the convoys up. We still have time to stop them." The President nodded to Curtis. "Thank you, General." To Secretary of Defense Preston, he asked, "Thomas? What do you have for me?"

"Only my wish that we wait and bring the Lincoln and Nimitz carrier battle groups, and the Wisconsin surface action group, forward into position first, " Preston replied. "But I know if we still desire to support Samar and his Islamic rebels that we must act quickly." The President seemed to consider his words for a moment. "Thank you." He continued around the room, getting last thoughts from Danahall and the congressional leadership. A few voiced hesitation, but all seemed to want to act. From the front of his desk, the President withdrew a redcovered folder and opened it. Below large dark letters that read Top Secret were the words Executive Order 94-21, Air Operations, Strike, Island of Mindanao, Republic of the Philippines. Without any further hesitation, the President signed the order and several copies, then replaced it in the folder and resealed it. Wilbur Curtis was on the phone thirty seconds later to the National Military Command Center.

ANDERSEN AFB, GUAM SUNDAY, 9 OCTOBER 1994, 1915 HOURS LOCAL

(SATURDAY, 8

OCTOBER, 0815 WASHINGTON TIME) Patrick McLanahan awoke thirty minutes before his alarm rang. Two hours before the first daily standby situation briefing-he needed rest, but he knew his mind was not going to let him have any more. His bedroom was a maintenance office on the top floor of hangar building number 509, on Andersen's expansive north parking ramp, which he shared with his aircraft commander, Major Henry Cobb. Down below them in the huge hangar were two very unusual machines-Patrick's B-2A Black Knight stealth bomber and an EB-52C

Megafortress strategic escort aircraft-the same Megafortress that had

"saved" their tails from the F-23 Wildcat fighters during General Jarrel's training sorties three weeks ago in Powder River Run. The hangar also housed all the other flight, maintenance, and support crews for the HAWC aircraft, as well as a full squadron of heavily armed security police. Careful not to disturb his aircraft commander, Patrick pulled on his flight suit, picked up his socks and boots from their place under his canvas folding cot, and tried to tiptoe out. "Up already, Colonel?" Cobb said from his cot. "Yep. Sorry to wake you."

"You didn't. I never went to sleep." Cobb threw off the sheet covering him and swung his feet onto the floor. "Never slept in a hangar before.

Don't think I want to again after this."

"Amen, " Patrick said. "The smell really gets you after a while. I started to have... bad dreams." He wasn't going to say what those dreams were like or what mission he was flying in his dreams. He got the same dreams every time he was exposed to kerosene-like fumes-a morning long ago and far away... a tiny snow-covered fighter base at Anadyr, Siberia, in the Soviet Union, when he pumped thousands of gallons of kerosene into a B-52 by hand in subzero weather so they could take off again before the Soviet Army found them. David Luger had sacrificed himself to make sure they could escape, driving a fuel truck into a machine gun emplacement-and Patrick relived that horrible moment every night after smelling jet-fuel fumes. He would probably do so for the rest of his life. Henry Cobb hadn't heard all the stories about the Old Dog mission-he had of course met all the survivors of that mission, most of whom worked-some called it "exiled"-at the HAWC, and he had seen the first Megafortress itself after Ormack and McLanahan flew it from Alaska back to Dreamland-but he could guess that it was some event in that mission that starred in McLanahan's bad dreams. Both men quickly washed up in the lavatory down the hall, then returned to their rooms to dress. Despite the warm, muggy afternoon, they donned thin, fire-resistant long underwear and thick padded socks under their flight suits. Under the long underwear were regular cotton briefs and T-shirts. They wore metal military dog tags next to their skin so they wouldn't rattle or fly loose during ejection. Many crew members laced dog tags into their boots as well, because many times lower body parts survived aerial combat better than upper body parts. They both carried survival knives in ankle sheaths, lightweight composite-bladed knives with both straight and serrated edges, a built-in magnetic compass in the butt cap, and a watertight compartment in the handle that carried waterproof matches, fishing line, sunscreen, a small signal mirror, and a tiny first-aid and survival booklet. In thigh pockets they carried another knife, this one attached to their flight suits by a six-foot-long cord-this knife was a legal switchblade knife with a hook blade for cutting parachute risers. The thigh pocket also contained a vial with earplugs, which were often mistaken by curious nonflyers for suicide pills. They carried no wallets, at least not the same ones they carried normally. Into a specially prepared nylon "sortie" wal- let they placed their military identification cards, some cash, credit cards, and traveler's checks-these were many times more valuable than the "blood chits" used to buy assistance during earlier wars. During the intelligence briefing before a mission, they would receive

"pointee-talkee" native language cards and small escape.and-evasion maps of the area, which both went into the sortie wallet. Just about every pocket in a flight suit contained something, usually personal survival items devised after years of experience. In his ankle pockets, Patrick carried fireproof Nomex flying gloves, extra pencils, and a large plastic Ziplok bag containing a hip flask filled with water and a small vial with water purification tablets. Cobb took a small Bible, a flask of some unidentifiable liquid, and included an unusual multipurpose tool that fit neatly inside his sortie wallet. They packed up their charts, flight manuals, and other documents in a Nomex flying bag, picked up a lightweight nylon flying jacket-which had its own assortment of survival articles in its pocketsand departed. While they were up on the upper-floor "catwalk" in the hangar, they had a good opportunity to look at the EB-52C escort bomber that was in the hangar with their B-2.

Unlike the B-2, where there was little activity, the technicians and munitions maintenance crews were swarming around the Megafortress like worker bees in a hive. It had to be the weirdest plane-and the most deadly looking plane-either of them had ever seen. The long, sleek, pointed nose was canted down in taxi position, with the aerodynamically raked windscreens looking Oriental and menacing. The dorsal SAR

synthetic aperture radar radome, which ran from just aft of the crew compartment and ended in a neat fairing that blended back into the fuselage and the diagonal stabilators near the aft end, made the Megafortress seem broad-shouldered and evil, like some warlock's hunchbacked assistant. The pointed aerodynamic tip tanks, two on each wingtip, looked like twin stilettos challenging all corners, like lowered lances held by charging knights on horseback. Short low-drag pylons mounted between the inboard engine nacelles and the ebony fuselage on each side held six AIM-I 20 Scorpion air-to-air missiles, their red ground-safety streamers still visible. Faired under the wings were sensor pods that contained laser target designators, infrared scanners, telescopic cameras for long-range air-target identification, and millimeter-wave radars to scan for large metallic objects hidden by trees or fog that normally could not be picked up by other sensors, such as tanks and armored vehicles. This was one of the older Megafortress escort bombers-it still had the older, conventional metal wings that drooped so far down that the wingtips were only a few feet above the ground and had to be supported by pogo wheels. The new Megafortress wings were made of composite materials and wouldn't sag one inch, even fully loaded with fuel and weapons. Other weapons were just being uploaded, and Henry Cobb, who had had little experience with the Megafortress project, could only shake his head in amazement. The forward section of the bomb bay contained two four-round clip-in racks that held AGM-136 TACIT RAINBOW antiradar cruise missiles. The aft bomb bay contained a Common Strategy Rotary Launcher filled with smooth, oblong-bodied missiles-eight TV-guided AGM-84E SLAMs, or Standoff Land Attack Missiles. "Looks like the Megafortresses are getting loaded for bear, " Cobb remarked. They could also see the loading procedures for the Stinger airmine rockets in the tail launcher. Watching this Megafortress getting ready for combat made McLanahan feel strange-a crashing wave of deja vu was descending on him. The hangar in a remote location, the weapons loaded and ready, the plane fueled and ready to go-it was horribly like the last time he had taken a B-52 into combat all those years ago. But that wasn't his bird now. He had a new one, a bigger, darker, more lethal one-the B-2 Black Knight, modified like the EB-52 to be a strategic escort bomber. All of the B-2's weapons were internal, and the sophisticated sensors were buried within the wing leading edges or in the sensor bay in the nose under the crew compartment. The reconnaissance pods were gone, to be replaced by rotary launchers that would carry much more lethal warloads than cameras and radars. The B-2's ground crew had just arrived for the pre-takeoff inspection, and since the two crewmen were awake at least an hour before they intended, they had time to look over their Black Knight before reporting to the briefing room. They found little changed. The maintenance crews were going through a normal pre-flight as if the plane were going on another training sortie-they were less than four hours from takeoff and no weapons had been uploaded yet. "Where are the missiles?" Cobb asked McLanahan. "I thought we were loading up on Harpoons or SLAMs for this run. "Won't know what we'll be doing for at least another two hours yet, " Patrick replied. "We don't know yet if we're going after ships, or radars, or ground targets-it could be anything. Once the Joint Battle Staff decides, it'll take them just a few minutes to snap those launchers and bomb racks in and do a ground check. They can probably do it while other planes are launching." They completed a casual walkaround inspection, chatting with the maintenance crews along the way. It was apparent that each and every one of them was just as apprehensive, just as nervous, just as concerned for what was happening on Andersen Air Force Base and in the rest of the Pacific as Cobb and McLanahan. One of the munitions maintenance men stopped inspecting a SLAM missile seeker head when McLanahan greeted him. "Think we'll be flying tonight, sir?" the man asked. The "we" was not just a demonstrative-ground crews were just as emotionally and professionally tied to their aircraft as the flight crews. When McLanahan's B-2 rolled down the runway, a hundred other minds and hearts were right in there with him. "Wish I could tell you, Paul, " Patrick said. "They tell us to be ready, that's all." The man stepped closer to McLanahan, as if afraid to ask the question that had obviously been nagging at his consciousness: "Are you scared, sir?" he asked in a low voice. Patrick looked back at the man with a touch of astonishment at the question.

Before he could reply, however, some other technician had pulled the man away. "That's McLanahan, you butthead. He's the best there is, "

Patrick heard the second tech tell him. "He's too good to get scared."

None of the other crew chiefs dared to speak with the two aviators. Cobb and McLanahan finished their inspection, checked in with the security guard, who inspected their bags before allowing them to leave, and then the two B-2 crew members stepped out of the hangar into the twilight.

Unlike the controlled, calm tension inside hangar 509, outside it was sheer bedlam. The ramp space in front of the hangars was the only clear space as far as either man could see-the rest of the base was filled with aircraft of every possible description, and the access roads and taxiways were clogged with maintenance and support vehicles. The north ramp to their far right was choked full of cargo aircraft-C-141

Starlifters, C-5 Galaxys, and C-130 Hercules planes, all surrounded by cargo-handling equipment offloading their precious pallets of spare parts, personnel, weapons, and other supplies. Like a line of ants along a crack in a sidewalk, there was a steady stream of forklift trucks, tractor-trailers, flatbed trucks, and "mules" carrying supplies from the aircraft to the inspection and distribution warehouses. Every few minutes, another cargo plane would arrive on one of the Andersen AFB's twin parallel runways, taxi off to a waiting area, then be met by a "Follow-Me" truck which would direct it to another parking spot. Empty cargo planes that had crews with duty day hours remaining went to a refueling pit on the south side of the base and were immediately marshaled to the end of the runway for takeoff; planes that were not due to take off until later were directed to waiting areas along the northeast side of the base, at the edge of the steep cliffs of Pati Point. West of the north ramp, near the north end of the east runway, were the parking spots for the aerial refueling tankers. These were perhaps the most important aircraft on Guam. The KC-135 Stratotanker, KC-10 Extender, and KC-130 Hercules tankers provided the only means for most of the Air Battle Force's aircraft to conduct strike operations from Guam-indeed, most of the aircraft there could not have arrived without the tankers supplying them fuel. Tankers were airborne almost continually in support of flight operations, and several tankers were on

"strip alert" status to respond to emergency requests of fuel. The tankers also acted as cargo aircraft themselves-one KC-10 tanker could deploy all of the support personnel, equipment, and spare parts for six F-16 fighters from Hawaii to Guam, and refuel those six planes, all on the same trip. Directly ahead of the hangars were the parking spots for the air-defense fighters. Only half of the Air Battle Force's twenty F-155 and fifteen F- 1 6s were parked there, because the rest were either flying escort missions with the "ferret" bombers or were on air-defense alert on the south parking apron. Four F-15s and six F-16s were fueled, armed, and ready to respond should the Chinese attempt an air raid on Andersen Air Force Base itself. The complement included four F-23

Advance Tactical Fighters, deployed for the first time out of the fifty states. A few of the F- 145 stranded from the stricken aircraft carrier USS Ranger were also parked there. Each fighter carried relatively few weapons, only two radar guided and two heat-seeking missiles total: the most prominent store on each fighter was the huge seven-hundred-gallon centerline fuel tank. When flying from Guam, where alternate landing bases were hundreds of miles apart, fuel was a very precious commodity.

The incredible offensive power of these fighters was severely limited by fuel availability-if one aerial refueling tanker failed to launch or could not transfer fuel, it could take dozens of fighters out of the battle. Cobb and McLanahan waited near a group of soldiers until a civilian contractor-hired "Guam Bomb" jeepney bus, its body rusting and its broken leaf springs squeaking with every movement, trundled by, then stepped on board-the bus was so full it looked as if the fat native Chamorro driver had to sit sideways to let riders on. The sea of men and machines on Guam was simply amazing-it seemed every patch of sandy lawn, every square foot of concrete or asphalt, every empty space was occupied by a vehicle or aircraft. Lines were everywhere-lines to the chow hall, lines to maintenance or radio trucks, lines in front of water trucks.

Traffic crisscrossed the streets and access roads, ignoring security-police whistles and traffic guards-being a pedestrian on the flight line was a definite health risk. The cloying, stupefying smells of burning jet fuel, hydraulic fluid, sweat, mildew-and, yes, fear-were everywhere. The noise was deafening and inescapable-even with earplugs or ear protectors, the screams of jet engines, auxiliary power carts, honking horns, yelling men and women, and public address speakers could not be reduced. The bus had no windows, so those without ear protectors stuck fingers in their ears to blot out the din of the parking ramp.

McLanahan had never felt so insignificant. He had participated in lots of aircraft generation exercises, when his unit's fleet of bombers and tankers was fueled and armed in preparation for a strategic war, but this was at least twenty times greater in magnitude than he had ever seen before. Even during Air Battle Force generation exercises at Ellsworth Air Force Base-which, even in these few days since arriving on Guam, seemed a billion miles away and years ago-things seemed to go in a smooth, orderly fashion: here, it was like some kind of controlled riot, or like the world's largest exhibition hall with thousands of participants milling around from building to aircraft and back again.

Parked south of the air-defense fighters and on the other side of base operations were the support aircraft. They had one E-3C Sentry Airborne Warning and Control System radar plane, one EC- 1 35L radio relay plane, and one Rc- 1 35X reconnaissance plane parked there; an E-3 and another EC135 were already airborne, participating in intelligence and "ferret"

flights near the Philippines-obviously Masters' NIRTSats were still down. There were also three EF-1 11A Raven electronic countermeasure aircraft, two Navy EA-6 electronic warfare aircraft, another U-2R spy plane like the one that was shot down near the Philippines, and a Navy E-2 Hawkeye radar plane from the Ranger. A few small "liaison" jets and supply helicopters were parked in front of base operations-these were fast transport jets that flitted all across the Mariana Islands, carrying urgent supplies or staff officers from base to base. On the other side of the support planes was the "Christmas tree" parking area for the alert fighters and tankers, situated so they could quickly and easily take off in case of emergency. Barely visible across and in between the runways were the parking areas for the strike aircraft, surrounded by twelvefoot-high corrugated steel revetments to protect each other from damage should a bomb go off on one parking area. The smaller fighter-bombers-the F- 1 5E Strike Eagles, the F-4 Phantoms, and the F-1 1 1G bombers, along with a few Navy A-6 Intruder bombers, were in the infield parking spots between the parallel runways, while the

"heavies"-the B-52, B- 1, and B-2 bombers-were on the west parking areas. Construction crews had built huge shelters for the three B-2

Black Knights to protect them as much as possible, not only from the elements-with their nonmetallic composite construction, the B-2s were more resilient to the harsh tropical climate and corroding effects of salt air than the other planesbut from the prying eyes of spy satellites and newsmen. Although the B-2 had been operational for some years and was no longer the oddity it first was when it was unveiled in 1989, it still attracted a lot of undue attention. Just beyond the aircraft parking areas to the west, McLanahan could just barely make out the Patriot air-defense-missile canisters poking just above the treeline, already erected and ready to fire in case of an air attack. Air defense of Andersen, as well as the Seventh Fleet combat groups, Okinawa, and the other island bases supporting the Philippines operation, was a very important consideration. The primary concern was attack from submarine-launched weapons. The Chinese Navy operated six Wuhan-class cruisemissile submarines that fired antiship missiles with ranges varying from twenty to one hundred nautical miles; these missiles were thought to have a secondary land-attack role by programming the missile's autopilot to impact a selected set of geographical coordinates. Navy and Air Force radar planes were used to scan the skies around Andersen for any low-flying aircraft, while Navy ships and antisubmarine aircraft patrolled for signs of submarines. The Patriot missile was somewhat effective against low-flying cruise missiles, and even the F-16 fighters with their AIM-120C Scorpion missiles were fairly effective at chasing down subsonic cruise missiles. China also possessed four sea-launched ballistic nuclear missile submarines, all of which had been deployed into the Pacific and were thought to be a threat to all American forces. These submarines were being located and shadowed as best as could be expected-the diesel-powered submarines were hundreds of times quieter submerged than their nuclear-powered counterparts-but the feeling was that if the fight escalated to a nuclear exchange, the weapons being used in this battle would be quickly supplanted by the full strategic nuclear might of the United States anyway. The two B-2

crew members edged their way through the crush of bodies off the jeepney at the headquarters building and stepped inside, feeling the uncomfortable chill as the building's heavy-duty air conditioning instantly turned the thin layer of sweat over their bodies to ice.

McLanahan went immediately to the command post, waiting patiently as his ID was checked by the security guards and a metal detector was swept over his body-he had to unstrap his survival knife and keep it with the guards. He went and checked in at the room where the PACER SKY

satellite system had been installed. "Patrick?" a surprised General Brad Elliott asked as the young navigator-bombardier walked in. Elliott checked his watch. "You're early-about an hour and a half early." The veteran aviator looked at McLanahan's hardened, concerned, somewhat distracted eyes. "Couldn't sleep, eh?" Patrick shook his head. "Henry either."

"It always happens that way, I think, " Elliott said. "The time you need sleep the most is when you can't do it." He regarded his younger colleague with an inquisitive expression; McLanahan seemed to pick up on the pause right away. "We got the order, didn't we?" Patrick asked.

"Couple hours ago, Elliott said. "They wanted to be sure the three Navy ships in the Philippine Sea could get into position; we just got the word that they reported ready. They may wait one more day to see if we get the NIRTSats back on-line, but the recon photos you got last night are pretty good quality so we might do it tonight." Strangely, Patrick felt no fear, no apprehension, not even a trace of nervousness-his churning stomach and restless mind had kept him from sleep all afternoon, but now his body was quiet. It was as if he had already been told they were going to fly, that Elliott had somehow given him secondhand information. He nodded wordlessly to Elliott; then his eyes sought out the large high-definition monitor on which the NIRTSat reconnaissance data was usually displayed. "I can't believe these are still down..."

"Yeah, well, nothing is ever guaranteed, as you know. Even the best stuff." Patrick stepped over to a large chart on which was drawn the positions of the known Chinese warships that he, Cobb, and the dead U-2

pilot had photographed a few nights earlier. A second board had the intelligence section's best guess as to how the ships were going to be deployed when the strike aircraft were set to go over the target.

Elliott was amazed by the flyers he encountered in all his years of flying, but Patrick McLanahan had to be the most... admirable. His expression, his demeanor, his attitude were constant-distant, unshakable, almost detached. It was the same whether he was meeting the President of the United States or when getting promoted-unflappable coolness. Was it an act or was it real? Was McLanahan really such a cool character or was he destined for some huge heart attack or ulcer down the road for keeping all those emotions locked inside? He didn't want to guess. He was just glad McLanahan was on their team. Elliott noticed Patrick's eyes on the briefing board behind him. "Can't wait to see what you're up against either, eh? We have one more NIRTSat pass before the mass briefing, so this won't be the final picture-and hopefully PACER SKY will be working by then-but the pictures you got us are spectacular and very useful." They stepped toward the screen. "The Chinese are not only continuing on with their invasion plans, but they've set up a pretty sophisticated naval defense network around eastern Mindanao. It's all being controlled from the radar installation here. "Don't tell me, " McLanahan said wearily. "The Chinese got Mount Apo."

"Took it yesterday and set up shop immediately. They've got big-picture coverage of all Mindanao now-almost unlimited fighter-intercept coverage, early-warning, maritime, even ground and fire control. Samar's boys held out for days against a huge Chinese task force-the word is, it took five thousand Chinese and New People's Army troops to take Samar's two-hundred-man garrison. Samar's men were wiped out completely."

McLanahan felt his throat go instantly dry. "Here's the easternmost ship-it's a destroyer, extensive airsearch radar, early-warning capability, long-range HQ-91 SAM coverage, " Elliott continued. "There's a line of six frigates two hundred miles offshore, giving them four-hundred-mile early warning-a good thirty- to forty-five-minute warning at least. Nothing sophisticated but still effective. "One hundred and twenty miles offshore is the real gauntlet-three destroyers, six frigates, twelve patrol boats, in a three-hundred-mile-wide band around eastern Mindanao. The destroyers are spaced so that their anti air-missile lethal ranges don't quite overlap, but they put a frigate with massed triple-A guns on it in the gaps. That's how the U-2 was hit-they used one destroyer with an air-search radar to herd the U-2

into missile range of another destroyer that wasn't transmitting. A few of these southern ships are in Indonesian waters, but there's not a darn thing Indonesia can do about it. Between the missiles and guns, it's overlapping, layered antiair coverage over all altitudes. "Inside that first band is another layer of frigates and patrol boats-no destroyers, thank God, but the frigates are bad enough. They stay in basically a semicircular band around the mouth of Davao Gulf. There's one destroyer and six escorts sitting in the Sangihe Strait in the south Celebes Sea to oppose the two Navy cruisers we got moving up from Indonesia. "The main body is already in Davao Gulf itself, and it's a real mess-the Chinese have one major warship for every ten square miles. That means they can theoretically shoot a shell or launch a missile and hit every part of Davao Gulf and every spot three miles above it." Despite the ominous information, Patrick had to smile-it was very much like Elliott to describe such firepower, even the enemy's, in such weird terms.

"We've counted twelve minesweepers, ten frigates, two destroyers, about thirty fast guided-missile patrol boats, twenty amphibious-assault ships, tank-landing ships, dock ships, amphibious-landing craft everywhere-over a hundred vessels, " Elliott continued. "To make matters worse, a battalion-sized airborne unit may have landed at one of the small airfields north of Davao and are making their way south. We don't think the airfield is big enough to land fighters or transports, but if they can air-drop armor and artillery pieces there, Davao has had it. "To cap it all off, they also may be sending another destroyer surface-action group from Zamboanga to reinforce this armada-the Hong Lung battle group this time. It's their most powerful warship. It's escorted by three frigates and six patrol boats. Hong Lung was also the vessel that reportedly fired the nuclear-tipped antiship missile near Palawan, and of course the staff feels the Chinese task force commander might just do it again. "Their fighter coverage is pretty good, "

Elliott continued, "good enough that the Joint Task Force commander, General Stone, has decided not to risk sending the AWACS or tankers within two hundred miles of Mindanao.z." "That means no combat air patrol for the strike packages?" McLanahan asked. "So far it looks unlikely, Patrick, " Elliott replied. "We may be able to send up a few F- 155 to cover the withdrawal, but we can't send a tanker close enough to cover the strikers going into the target area. The Megafortresses will have to take on the fighters." Patrick felt his throat go dry-the Megafortresses were well equipped for air-to-air combat, but not against massed numbers of fighters. They would have to contend with the naval threats, too. The odds were looking worse every minute. "The Chinese have at least a hundred fighters in the area, half of which have the endurance for long overwater patrols, " Elliott continued. "The Chinese can effectively layer their defenses-warships, fighters, warships, fighters, then warships, in the target area. If they take Samar International Airport near Davao and start using it as a forward staging base, it definitely means no AWACS or tankers-and it may mean no Air Battle Force over Mindanao."

"You got any good news on that screen, General?" McLanahan asked wryly.

"Sort of. The New People's Army and the Chinese lost a big battle for the city of Cotabato, here on Moro Gulf. We think the Chinese wanted to use the airport there to stage fighters to support their upcoming assault on Davao. Samar's guerrillas held out-for a while. But it was long enough, because they demolished the airfield before they were driven out by Chinese air raids. Pretty clever how they did it, too-instead of just cratering the runway, which would have made it easy for Chinese engineers to repair, they stripped out sections of runway, buried stolen bombs in it, then cemented trucks over the bombs. It's going to take the Chinese two or three days to repair the runway and another few days to make it a usable staging base."

"So what do we do, then?" McLanahan asked. "This is what might be called a target-rich environment. What's first?"

"General Stone and the Joint Task Force still haven't decided, " Elliott replied. "They have a general outline to work with, but they'll wait for the latest satellite data from Washington before going ahead with a frag order. If Jon Masters' setup was working, we'd be done by now-it only takes a few minutes to build a frag order from PACER SKY data. We get flight plans, data cartridges, computer tapes, charts, briefing boards, even slides from his system here. Now we have to program all this stuff by hand." McLanahan saw Masters on the master console.

"Masters, how are you doing?"

"Cool, Mac, my man, real cool, " Masters said. Masters was dressed in white shorts, a flowered Hawaiian shirt, and sneakers with no socks-it looked as if he had just returned from Tarague Beach, Andersen Air Force Base's recreation area. "Brad, we got ten more minutes until the data comes in... "Is it back on-line, Doctor Masters?"

"Not quite, " Masters admitted. "But, hey, you gotta think positive.

Everything looks good so far. Say, Mac, you ready to kick some Chinese butt out there tonight?" Patrick stared, not believing what he had just heard. "Excuse me, Doctor?"

"Yeah, man, you're gonna clean up, " Masters enthused. "We got spectacular photos and data, and we've got ingress and egress routes scoped out so well that the Chinks won't even know you've just kicked their sloped asses "I don't think we better-"

"Hey, loosen up, " Masters said, taking a big swallow from his ever-present squeeze bottle of Pepsi. "Just sit back in that big B-2

cockpit of yours, put on some tunes, turn on the BNS, and send Uncle Cheung's squids to the bottom of the Celebes Sea. You can come back and we'll check out the Japanese babes out on Tumon Beach . . Patrick noticed General Elliott take a step toward Masters, but Patrick was already moving by then. Without another word, Patrick had taken Masters' skinny left arm in his big left hand and had pulled the young scientist up out of his chair and out of the battle staff area. "Hey, Mac, I can't leave the board quite yet. The adjacent office near the Command Post was unoccupied and unlocked, so McLanahan took Masters right inside, closed the door behind him, and deposited him unceremoniously onto the worn Naugahyde sofa. "Let's get something straight, Doctor. First, the name is Lieutenant Colonel Patrick McLanahan. Second, you've got a big mouth." Masters stared at the looming, six-foot blond pilot. He looked a lot bigger standing over him than he had a moment ago. "Look, Colonel, I know you're a little nervous about-"

"You don't know jack-shit, including when to keep your mouth shut about classified material and when to conduct yourself in an appropriate manner Masters smiled weakly. "Hey, who are you, Dirty Harry?" He tried to rise, but McLanahan pushed him back down. "Get this straight, Doctor. While you're in this command post, you'll not wear shorts or sneakers, you'll address the senior officer in the room as 'sir' or by their rank, not their first name, and you'll keep your bigoted comments to yourself. You're supposed to be a professional, so start acting like one." McLanahan looked at his watch. "You've got about ten minutes before your satellite data comes in-that's plenty of time for you to go back to your barracks and change."

"Hey, man, you're not my father, " Masters complained. "Get off your Clint Eastwood act and off my case. McLanahan leaned over the couch, putting his face within an inch of Masters' own. They were but eight years apart in age, but worlds apart in experience. McLanahan looked directly into Masters' eyes. "I shouldn't have to be on your case, Doctor. But if you'd open your eyes, you might learn a thing or two about what's going on here." Masters cleared his throat and tried to look away from McLanahan, but couldn't. "Hey, " he said calmly, "I know what's going on. I know the weapons you're going to use, the routes you'll fly. I wrote the friggin' scenarios, for Godssake."

"You may have, " McLanahan said, moving back a bit from Masters, "but you don't know anything about combat. About what it's like to be in a war machine facing your own mortality. Have General Elliott or Ormack or Cobb tell you sometime about combat, about life in the cockpit.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before-your secret society, your brotherhood of aviators. Brad-General Elliott-and his B-52s during Vietnam, out at that Arc Light Memorial, he tried to get into it, but he couldn't explain it. He says, 'You gotta be there." Stone, Jarrel, and all the others, even you-you've all been in combat before. But you treat it like a game, so why shouldn't I?" McLanahan bristled. He pulled out his dog tags from under his flight suit. "A game? What are these, Doctor? Tell me." Masters rolled his eyes. This was boring.

"Dog tags. Next."

"You're partially right. Out here, Doctor, we have them for more than ornaments on a key ring. See how one is on the neck chain and one's a small chain all by itself? There's a reason for that. One they bring back to headquarters to prove you were killed in action-f they find your body, that is. The other they keep on the body, usually clamped shut in your mouth." He pulled out his water bottle from his left leg pocket.

"You see this? Emergency water supply in case I lose my survival kit after ejection-this could be the only fresh water for a thousand miles if I have to punch out over the Philippine Sea." He ripped off his unit patches and name tag from their Velcro strips on his flight suit.

"Patches Velcroed on and removed before we take off in case we get shot down and captured-so the enemy won't know what unit we're from. Some chaplain will come around and collect them before we go out to our planes. They'll check if we made out a will, check to see if they know who our next of kin are. "Take a look at that data you're generating sometime, Masters. Those ships your satellites are locating represent hundreds of sailors whose job it is to find and destroy me. There are thousands of sailors out there waiting for us-"

"But we know where they are . . . we know who they are. . "We know where they are because men risked their lives to get that data, "

McLanahan said. "A man died getting us those pictures... "Well, once the NIRTSat comes back on-line, that won't happen again "It doesn't matter, my friend. Combat isn't a series of preprogrammed parameters on a computer monitor-it's men and women who are scared, and brave, and angry, and who feel hopeless. It's not a clear-cut engagement. Anything can happen. You gotta realize that the people around you don't think in absolutes, because they know that anything can happen... "Maybe in wars past that was true, " Masters offered. "When the enemy was a mystery, when you couldn't see over the horizon or through the fog or under the ocean, maybe it wasn't so clear-cut. But things are different now.

Hell, you know more than anyone else how different it is-you fly the most advanced warplane in the friggin' universe! We know exactly where the bad guys are. Once the NIRTSats are working again, I can steer your weapons, I can warn you of danger, I can tell you exactly how many weapons you need to win, and I can tell you how long it will take you to achieve any objective. "Then tell me this, Doctor Masters, " McLanahan said, affixing his steel-blue eyes on the scientist and letting his glare bore into him: "Tell me who's going to die out there." Masters opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it suddenly, thought a moment, then replied, "I estimate your losses at less than five percent for the duration of this conflict . "No, I didn't ask you how many. I asked who."

"Well, how the fuck am I supposed to know who? If you follow the plan and put your weapons on target, no one should die. "You said should die, Doctor. That means that even if everything turns out perfectly, someone may still die. Right?" Masters shrugged. "Well, it's very unlikely, but-anything can happen."

"You're damned right it can. Now tell me how to deal with that. Tell me how a highly trained professional pilot or navigator can climb into a bomber or fighter and fly into the teeth of the enemy and know that even if everything goes perfectly, he may still end up at the bottom of the sea, and I'll let you act like a cocky little punk peacock all you want in my command post. Until then you will give this campaign and the people who fight it-all the people who fight it, the combatants on both sides-the proper respect." Masters was finally silent. McLanahan backed away from Masters, allowing him to get up, but Masters stayed where he was. "So what you're saying is-you're scared, " Masters said after a few long moments. He looked at McLanahan, and when the officer didn't reply for several seconds, Masters' eyes opened wide in surprise. "You're scared? You? But you're the-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, " Patrick said. "I'm supposed to be the best. But it's bullshit. I know my shit, and I'm lucky. That doesn't make me invincible, and it doesn't give you or anyone the right to think this is going to be easy-for any of us. Nothing is cut and dried. Nothing is certain. We know our equipment, know our procedures, but when you go into combat we learn not to trust it. We trust ourselves. We look to ourselves to find the strength to get through the mission." Masters rose and stood before McLanahan, afraid to look into the Air Force officer's face but respectful enough to want to be able to do it. "I never realized that, Patrick. Really. I always thought, 'Well, the gear's in place, everything's running, so everything's going to be okay." I guess... well, I don't work with people that much. I'm really so used to dealing with computers and machines. McLanahan shrugged.

"Hell, listen to me. A few years ago I never gave a shit much about people either. I wasn't exactly what you'd call a team player. I did my job and went home. I hate to say it, but we were a lot alike back then." Masters smiled at that. "Oh yeah? Dirty Harry was laid-back and mellow? You drank beer and chased girls and got stupid?" It was McLanahan's turn to smile this time. He remembered the B-52 crew parties back in California, the weekends rafting down the American River-one big twelve-person raft for crew dogs, wives, and girlfriends; another slightly smaller raft for the numerous ice chests full of six-packs-the bar-hopping in Old Sacramento till two in the morning, the ski trips to Lake Tahoe when they'd get back to base just minutes before show time for a training mission. "All the damned time, Jon."

"What happened to you?" McLanahan's smile vanished, and all his fond recollections of life back home exploded in a bright yellow fireball called reality. He put his dog tags back under his shirt and put his water flask back in its pocket. The pungent odor of jet exhaust and the roar of a plane on its takeoff run invaded the office, and the horrors of another impossible mission thousands of miles away flooded back into his consciousness once again. "Combat, " was all he said, and he turned and walked away. CHINESE DESTROYER HAIFRNG TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES

SOUTHEAST OF THE CITY OF DAVAO MINDANAO, THE PHILIPPINES MONDAY, 10

OCTOBER 1994, 2351 HOURS LOCAL had been hanging around for so long now, big, slow, and I gt~~~~p~~~g, that they had humorously dubbed it Syensheng Tz, Old Gas. They could see the thing easily, almost a hundred miles away and at high altitude-a single, unescorted, vulnerable B-52

bomber. It was cruising westward at a leisurely four hundred and twenty nautical miles per hour. Although it was definitely getting closer, on its present course it would pass well out of HQ-9 1 missile range of the Chinese People's Liberation Army Navy missile destroyer Kaifeng. It was obviously giving the Chinese ships a wide berth. Even so, if the aircraft carried antiship missiles, it was still a substantial threat: it was within Harpoon missile range of the destroyer, yet outside the range of the destroyer's missiles, and there were no fighters nearby that could reach it. The commander of the destroyer Kazfeng, a Luda-class destroyer with over three hundred men on board, wanted very close tabs kept on this intruder. "CIC, bridge, status of that B-52, "

the commander of the Kazjeng requested. "Bridge, CIC, air target one still at seventy-eight-nauticalmiles range, altitude ten thousand meters, speed four-twozero knots, offset range six-zero nautical miles.

No detectable radar transmissions from aircraft. It is within Harpoon missile range at this time."

"Copy." The commander was carefully trying not to let his frustration and impatience show. American B-52s had been flying these "ferret"

missions for many days now, passing just inside missile range of the destroyer's missiles, then hightailing it out when missile-guidance signals were aimed at it. It was always one bomber, always at thirty thousand feet, always challenging in this same location. It stayed high and relatively slow-very nonthreatening despite being within extreme range of Harpoon antiship missiles it might be carrying. It was obviously collecting intelligence information-it was probably crammed with sensors and recorders, hoping to intercept radio messages or analyze missile fire control radar signals... ... or it was crammed with antiship missiles, ready to strike. "Comm, bridge, any response from that plane about our airdefense warnings?"

"None, sir, " the communications officer replied. Kafeng, as well as other ships in the South Philippines Task Force commanded by Admiral Yin Po L'un, had been warning all aircraft to stay away from this area for days now. The area over the Celebes Sea had been a very well used airway for travelers heading to Brunei, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore through Samar International Airport, but the People's Liberation Army Air Force had refused all access to the region, and air traffic to and from Manila was tightly controlled. All air traffic was forced to fly farther south through the sparsely populated islands of northern Indonesia. Philippines supply routes in the South China Sea were virtually isolated. But with the nuclear explosion near Palawan and the extreme danger of radiation poisoning and contamination, these areas were being studiously avoided anyhow. The American Air Battle Force, however, was obviously ignoring all warnings. "CIC, bridge, position of our fighter coverage. "Sir, Liang-Two flight of eight J-7

fighters are over Nenusa Archipelago, one hundred eleven kilometers northwest of the B-52. They are less than ten minutes from bingo fuel and have already received permission to return to Zamboanga for refueling. Sichuan-One-Zero flight of four Q-5 fighters are three hundred kilometers northwest of the B-52, headed southeast to take over for Liang-Two flight." Damned sparse fighter coverage, Kafeng 's commander thought to himself. Because that bomber was a "ferret, "

running away at the first sign of trouble, they were not giving it as much fighter attention as they should. Well, that was going to stop right here and now. "CIC, bridge, chase that damned plane out of here,

" Kaifeng 's commander ordered. At this point chasing "Old Gas" out of antiship-missile range was more important than revealing radar frequencies. "Hit them with the fire-control radar." That was usually plenty to make the B-52 turn and run. "Yes, sir, " the combat information officer responded. "Shall I recall Liang-Two flight to provide air cover?"

"Get a fuel state from them. If they have not reached bingo fuel yet, have them engage. If they have reached bingo, engage with the HQ-9 1

system. Then vector in Sichuan-Ten flight and have them chase that B-52

out past two hundred kilometers." The warning tone over the interphone system for a missile acquisition radar was different from a search radar-in general, the more serious a threat, the faster and more insistent the tone. The appearance of a "Search" radar gave a rather leisurely "Deeedle... Deeedle... Deeedle. "When the Chinese Golf-band air-search radar changed to an India-band missile acquisition radar, the tone was a fast, loud "Deeedledeeedledeeedledeeedle!" At the same time,

"Missile Warning" lights illuminated at every station of the EB-52C

Megafortress bomber orbiting at thirty thousand feet over the Philippine Sea. "Missile warning, twelve o'clock, " the electronic warfare officer, First Lieutenant Robert Atkins, announced. "Indiaband radar... 'Fog Lamp' SAM director for an HQ-91 missile. This'll change to missile launch at any second." Atkins' voice became squeakier with every passing moment-he was an engineer, not a crew dog, and he never thought he'd be taking these behemoth modified B-52s into battle. "Don't sweat it, " Major Kelvin Carter, the Megafortress's pilot, said, trying to project the most confident voice he could. "They're just trying to scare us out. Easy on the jammers until the shit starts rollin'."

Carter's words did little to calm young Atkins down, so he turned back to the peace and security he usually got from the one thing that he knew he could trust in this screwed-up world-his equipment. Designed at the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center several years ago by a near-mythical engineer named Wendy Tork, Atkins had improved on Tork's groundbreaking designs and produced what was probably the best electronic warfare suite ever to leave the ground. Atkins was sitting before a complex of multi-function displays on the Megafortress Plus's upper deck, scanning the skies for enemy radars and programming the bomber's array of jammers against each one. His ECM system automatically processed the electronic signals, analyzed them, identified them, pointed out their range and bearing from the Megafortress, and selected the appropriate jamming packages to use against them. It could do the same with a hundred other signals from very long ranges. The system would also automatically dispense decoys against radar or heat-seeking missiles to protect them from missile attacks. A B-52G or -H Stratofortress bomber had performed all the other

"ferret" flights from Guam in the past few days, but tonight it was an EB-52 Megafortress pulling the unenviable task of drawing the attention of the Chinese Navy and assessing the threats present around eastern Mindanao-a regular B-52 was hardly qualified to take such a risk. All in all, the system relegated Atkins to a "verbal squawk box" role-what the others called "crew coordination" was still a foreign concept to him, since everything on the Megafortress was so automated-as it should be, of course. Why risk an extra human life on board, when a computer could do the job faster, better, and cheaper anyway? His directed defensive weapons were designed to operate automatically as well. The Megafortress had eight AGM-136A TACIT RAINBOW antiradar cruise missiles in clip-in racks in the forward part of the bomb bay, plus a rotary launcher with eight AGM-88B HARM High-Speed Anti-Radar Missiles in the aft bomb bay. The electronic countermeasures system would automatically program both the HARM and TACIT RAINBOW missiles for a particular enemy radar system they encountered. In case that particular radar was shut down during a TACIT RAINBOW attack, the missile would stay aloft for several minutes, search for just that radar, home in on it, and destroy it after reactivation. If another ship tried to shoot down the subsonic TACIT RAINBOW cruise missile with radar-controlled guns, Atkins could launch supersonic HARM missiles at the radar and destroy it. The bottom line: he had designed all this to be totally automatic, and it was obvious that he didn't fit in with this crew. Why in hell then was he here? Seated beside Atkins was the Megafortress's "gunner, " Master Sergeant Kory Karbayjal. Karbayjal and the other noncommissioned officers flying that position still liked the name "gunner" or "bulldog,

" although the term was an anachronism-the old .50-caliber machine guns or 20-millimeter Gatling gun of other, more conventional BUFFs were gone, replaced by the EB-52's array of defensive missiles. The Megafortress carried twelve AIM-120C AMRAAM missiles on wing pylons, and it carried fifty small Stinger rear-firing heat-seeking antiaircraft missiles in the tail launcher. That was another job that could be done by computers, too, although Karbayjal obviously enjoyed his work.

Karbayjal, a twenty-six-year veteran of the B-52, had flown the old D-model BUFFs, the ones where the gunner sat in the tail in a tiny compartment with his machine guns and used only his eyes to spot enemy fighters. He took it upon himself to look after young Atkins just as much as he looked for enemy fighters, something that Atkins resented as well. The navigators, Captains Paul Scott and Alicia Kellerman, were downstairs keeping track of their position and preparing for fighter combat-the four Megafortress strategic escort bombers on this mission carried no ground-attack weapons because they were all designed to blast through enemy defenses and give the other strike aircraft a better chance of reaching their targets. Scott could use his attack radar to designate and track targets for their AIM- 120 air-to-air missiles, while Alicia Kellerman controlled the dorsal ISAR radar and kept track of all other aircraft and enemy ships in the area. The pilots, Major Kelvin Carter and Lieutenant Nancy Cheshire, were very quiet-they were obviously steeling themselves for the battle that was about to begin.

Using the large dorsal side-looking radar in ISAR (inversesynthetic aperture radar) mode, Kellerman had already identified the largest ship ahead as a Luda-class destroyer even before its weapons radars came up, so Atkins had already anticipated what kind of radars and weapons the vessel had and how to deal with each one. The Megafortress's ISAR

system had also mapped out the locations and movements of the other vessels in the south and west groups of Chinese ships and had passed that information to other aircraft. The "Missile Warning" light was still on, and they were driving closer and closer to the Chinese destroyer. Atkins still had nojammers on the missile acquisition radar-jamming the signal too early would surely elicit a very angry response from the Chinese. "We gotta shit or get off the pot here, kids. . . a few more miles and we'll be under attack "Sixty seconds,

" the crew navigator, Captain Alicia Kellerman, announced. Like most of the crews from the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, Kellerman was an ex-crew member-formerly on KC- 135 tankers-who put their engineering degrees to good use at the Dreamland research facility.

Although flying was part of their job descriptions, flying into combat was completely unexpected-but Kellerman loved it. "Start countermeasures in forty seconds, release configuration checks completed. . . thirty seconds." Suddenly Atkins got an inverted "V" bat-wing signal on his radar threat-warning scope. The computer monitor hesitated momentarily, then issued a stream of identification data. "I've got a fighter, twelve o'clock, range... range is undetermined yet, but he's outside forty miles. Stand by, Paul." Paul Scott was ready to use the EB-52's attack radar to lock onto the fighter and provide fire control instructions for their AIM- 120 air-toair missiles, but it might not yet be necessary. "I've got a range-only radar. Skyranger type 226, probably a J-7 fighter, Chinese copy of a MiG-21F. Max range of the radar is only twenty miles, and he's well outside that . . . fighter radar's down." The Skyranger radar was useless for searching for targets because it supplied only range information to the fighter's computers-this J-7 fighter needed ground-controlled intercept radar to attack targets. It was still deadly, but it was not very sophisticated-Atkins' tiny AIM-120C missiles had a better radar than the J-7 fighter. "There could be more than one out there." Great, Carter thought. Here's where the shit hits the fan. "Paul, get a range and a firing solution on them, " Carter said. "We can't stay radar-silent forever."

"Copy, " Scott said. He slaved his attack radar antenna to Atkins'

threat-warning receiver bearing and switched it to "Radiate." "Got 'em,

" Scott called out, switching off the radar immediately. "I counted at least four fighters, forty-five nautical miles, slightly above us. Could be four groups of two." LIANG-2 FIGHT, CHINESE PLA NAVY j-7 FIGHTER

GROUP Aboard the lead JS-7 fighter of Liang-2 air-defense group, the threat radar suddenly lit up with a fighter-style threat symbol-but it was from one of his own fighters. "Liang flight, lead, keep your damned radars off." The radar indication quickly disappeared. He was leading a group of rather young, inexperienced pilots on their sixth overwater air-defense mission, and they were constantly flipping switches in their cockpits to keep from getting too bored. The JS-7 fighter was one of the newest and best fighters in the People's Liberation Army Air Force.

Originally offered only for export as the Super-7, but later purchased in small numbers by the Chinese government itself, it was a major upgrade of the J-7 fighter, incorporating a lot of imported technology to bring it up-to-date with the rest of the world's best fighters-a French-made multimode attack radar and heads-up display similar to the American F- 16 Fighting Falcon, West German] British] Italian-built high-performance Turbo-Union RB199 engines, additional weapons racks to carry ECM pods, and greater fuel capacity. Because there were so few, and because they were so far advanced over their older J-7 cousins, they were used only as flight leads for fighter patrols, where they could vector other J-7 fighters in on targets while attacking targets of their own. Another radar threat indication flashed on his ThomsonCSF BF

screen. He was about to chastise his charges once again. . . before realizing it was from in front of him instead of beside him this time!

There was another fighter out there! An American fighter-out here?

"Fayling, this is Liang flight, " the leadJ-7 pilot radioed, using the universal call-sign for all Chinese seaborne radar controllers instead of broadcasting the destroyer's name. "Fighter warning. Twelve o'clock, type unknown. What are you tracking?" The Sea Eagle radar operator aboard Kafeng replied, "Liang flight, we have been tracking a B-52 bomber at your twelve o'clock position, not a fighter. Over."

"I have a fighter-type radar, not a bomber." Curse it, the destroyer had been tracking this intruder all this time thinking it was a bomber.

How could he be so stupid... ? "Request permission to close and identify. Over."

"Liang flight and Sichuan flight, you are clear to close and identify.

Liang flight, say your bingo."

"Liang flight is two minutes to bingo, " the flight leader reported.

"Request permission to send all but myself and one wingman back to base.

We will identify the aircraft and engage until Sichuan-Ten flight is in position. Over." After a short wait, the radar controller aboard Kazfeng replied, "Request approved. Homebound Liang elements, climb clear to twelve thousand meters on heading two-nine-zero, vector clear of inbound Sichuan-Ten flight. Liang-Two flight of two, your target is at twelve o'clock, seventy kilometers, altitude ten thousand meters, climb to twelve thousand meters to intercept. Sichuan-Ten flight maintain heading one-five-three. Low patrol, descend to five thousand meters and go to frequency yellow. High patrol, descend to nine thousand five hundred and meet your controller on frequency yellow-5. Target is four-four-zero bull's-eye. Good hunting." The lead pilot aboard the JS-7

fighter quickly determined the target's range by the bull's-eye call-the distance from Davao Airport, a common navigation point for all Chinese fighters-and found that he was within radar range. The JS-7 fighter used an upgraded French radar system called CyranoIV, which was very close in capability to the amazing American F- 16 fighter radar-it could lock onto multiple targets at fantastic ranges and could attack several targets at once with missiles or guns. "Liang flight, take combat spacing and stand by to engage Up in the cockpit, Major Kelvin Carter took a firm grip on the Megafortress's sidestick controller. This was not going to be an easy run. A million things were zipping through his head: G-limits on the composite fibersteel structures, angle-of-attack limits, airspeed warnings, pitch-angle versus airspeed . "Fighter!"

Atkins suddenly screamed out. "Twelve o'clock... Jesus, very close, X-band pulse Doppler... calling it a Chinese JS-7 fighter. Man, he's right on top of us "Lock him up and engage, " Carter cried out. He doublechecked the rows of consent switches on his left panel. "Stand by for descent, crew. Scott reacted first, hitting the "Transmit" button on his attack radar and letting the radar lock onto the fighters ahead.

"Two targets, twelve o'clock, closure rate eleven hundred... additional targets, climbing and going away, looks like they're disengaging... I've got a lock on the two heading for us Atkins reacted next, activating his forward jammers to shut down the X-band fire-control radar. He readied other jammers to get the Skyranger radar when it came up as well. .

Karbayjal activated his weapons computers and watched as each AIM-I 20

Scorpion missile completed its split-second built-in checks. "BIT

checks completed, data transfer... missiles away." Two bright streaks of light flashed past the cockpit as two radar-guided missiles sped into the darkness. Just then Kellerman noticed several low-flying objects on her ISAR side-locking radar display, overtaking them from the left. They formed a slowly dispersing trail of subsonic missiles, all traveling northwestbound. "Tomahawks away, Tomahawks away!" she cried out.

"Missiles tracking... active seekers on... bad track on one Scorpion, looks like a tracking fault, " Karbayjal called out. Carter could see the missile plume from the right pylon wobble a bit, seconds before exploding. "Lost track on one missile."

"Descending, crew, " Carter called out. "Nancy, watch my redlines. Here we go . . ." Carter pulled the Megafortress's eight throttles to 70-percent power, waited for fifty knots of airspeed to bleed off, raised the airbrakes, then tipped the Megafortress into a steep 70-degree right bank, keeping forward pressure on the control stick but keeping the long, pointed 5ST-style nose on the horizon. With no more lift being developed by the huge wings, the four-hundred-thousandpound bomber descended like Lucifer cast into Hell.... The radar target on his Cyrano-IV fire-control radar had suddenly started descending, so fast the radar could hardly keep up with it-it looked like it was crashing, and no one had shot a missile yet . Just then his radar threat-receiver flashed a "Missile Launch" indication. "Liang flight, break!" he shouted on the radio. In a pre-determined sequence, the J-7 fighter climbed and turned right, and the JS-7 fighter, because it was more powerful and could climb faster to re-attack, descended and turned left.

The JS-7 fighter also carried radar-jamming and chaff and flare pods, and the pilot made sure all were activated as he brought his weapons on-line and prepared to attack. "Fayling, Fayling, Liang-Two flight under missile attack!" He dumped chaff and flare bundles, rolled right, went to military power, and raised the nose to re-acquire the bomber. .

. or whatever it was. Just as he did, he saw a flash of light above and a bit behind him, then a growing trail of fire, and he knew his wingman was hit. "Fayling, Liang-507 is hit. 507, 507 can you hear me? You are on fire. Repeat you are on fire. Eject! Eject! Eject!" No response.

The trail of fire began to grow as the J-7 fighter spiraled to the sea and disappeared. CHINESE DESTROYER EAIFRNG The radar blips first appeared as helicopters and were classified as such by the destroyer's Sea Eagle three-dimensional search radar, but it was quickly obvious that the air target was climbing and accelerating much too quickly for a rotary-wing machine. The radar operator aboard the destroyer Kazjeng immediately rang his superior officer in the ship's Combat Information Center. "Sir, rapidly moving air target launched from a vessel in the Sterett surface-action group, bearing one-four-eight, speed . . .

speed approaching four hundred knots and accelerating, altitude decreasing to below one hundred meters, range five-zero nautical miles."

There was no aircraft carrier out there, so it could only be one thing-Suspected Tomahawk cruise missiles in flight..." The officer in CIC reacted immediately: he hit the alarm button and rang the line direct to the bridge: "Bridge, CIC, missile alert, missile alert, we have suspected American cruise missiles being launched from the Sterett surface action group."

"Bridge copies, " came the reply. "Give us a count and stand by to engage."

"CIC copies." "Sir! Aircraft warning, attack warning, Liang-Two fighter group reports they are under fighter attack "Fighter attack!" the commander shouted. "Whatfighters? You said there was only one bomber up there!"

"Liang-Two reports a missile attack, sir. He reports his wingman has been hit by a missile. Sir, the B-52 bomber aircraft rapidly decelerating, range closing to sixty nautical miles, airspeed six-one-zero and accelerating, altitude now seven thousand meters. ..

six thousand meters. . . five thousand.. . sir, heavy jamming on my scope... attempting frequency jumping... heavy jamming persisting on all search frequencies. I cannot hop away to clear frequency!" CHINESE

DESTROYER JINAN, IN THE CELEBES SEA, NEAR DAVAO GULF "Sir, destroyer Kaifi'ng reports incoming Tomahawk cruise missiles from the southeast and has issued an air-defense warning for all vessels. He also reports a suspected B-52 bomber in a rapid descent heading northwest, and heavy radar jamming on all frequencies. There was also a report about a fighter attack, number and type unknown." Captain Jhijun Lin of the People's Liberation Army Navy destroyer Jinan nodded resolutely. "Sound general quarters, alert the task force, begin intermittent radar search pattern. We can expect our own air threats any-"

"Sir! Frigate Yingtan reports radar contact, aircraft, bearing two-zero-five, range forty-seven nautical miles, altitude . altitude three hundred meters, sir, speed four hundred seventy knots. No IFF

codes observed. They report possible multiple inbounds on this bearing."

"Understood, " Captain Jhijun acknowledged. As the combat-readiness alarm sounded throughout the ship, the manual track operator on the bridge of the EF4-class destroyer Jinan drew in the position of the radar contact on a large grease board. "I want a positive identification immediately." It was finally beginning, Captain Jhijun told himself. Although the intruder aircraft were detected very late-seaskimming targets should be detectable at twenty miles by the frigate Yingtan 's Sea Eagle radar, but targets at three hundred meters should be seen easily at fifty miles-he wished it were starting a bit more dramatically. After learning what the American Air Battle Force had in their arsenal on the island of Guam, he would have expected an attack by B- 1 or FB- 111 bombers, flying supersonic at seaskimming altitudes.

From these radar contact's flight profiles, these appeared to be nothing more than B-52 bombers lumbering in. And they were coming in from the south, which was totally expected as well-the two layers of destroyers, frigates, and patrol boats in the Philippine Sea east of Mindanao were designed to herd the American bombers in the only "safe" flight path they could take-fly in from the south right into the mouth of Davao Gulf. "Sir, missile warning. Yingtan 's escorts report missiles inbound, no count, all sea-skimmers. Patrol boats maneuvering to intercept. Good radar track on all inbounds, intercept confidence is high. Identity now confirmed by flight profile as B-52 bombers." So it was confirmed-not B- Is, only B-52 bombers. An easy kill. The B-52s were flying right into a trap. Four frigates, one destroyer, and sixteen antiaircraft escort patrol boats were waiting for anyone stupid enough to allow themselves to be steered around by surface threats. Two of the frigates, Yingtan stationed on the southern perimeter and Xiamen on the northern side, were armed with short-range Hong Qian-6 I surfaceto-air missiles-deadly within their limited range-but his destroyer Jinan, in the center of the two-hundred-kilometerlong gauntlet, had the HQ-9I surface-to-air missile system, a licensed copy of the French Masurca medium-range SAM system. The HQ-9 1 was deadly out to forty-five kilometers even to low-flying supersonic aircraft-this B-52 would be an easy kill. Jinan had already seen action-it was that ship that had successfully guided the fighters in on the arrogant American Navy fighters over the Celebes Sea not too long ago. The little patrol boats were deadly as well-their guns could knock down any antiship missile in the American inventory and throw up a cloud of lead in front of any aircraft stupid enough to stray within a few kilometers of them. But even the B-52s could carry a big punch. "Radio to all attack-group ships and to Task Force Master, we are under attack, request air support against incoming B-52 bombers, " Jhijun said.

Obviously Harpoon antiship missiles, he thought. They were lucky-they did not start their attack until they had a radar fix on Yingtan. That meant the Americans had no other radar aircraft in the area spotting targets for the B-52s. Jhijun checked the plot board. The B-52s will be coming within range ofjinan 's radars in a few minutes-if they survived that longand the longer-range HQ-91 missiles would not miss. But Jh jun fully expected the B-52s to turn tail and run after all thei1r Harpoon missiles were expended. "Patrol boat 682 engaging antiship missiles. .

patrol boat 688 engaging missiles... Yingtan now reporting six incoming aircraft, all from the south, range to closest aircraft twenty nautical miles. Same flight profile, reported as B-52 bombers on low-level antiship attack." The reports began coming in as one by one the Harpoon missiles were destroyed. "First B-52 turning west, appears to be disengaging."

"Lost contact with patrol boat 642, sir, " the combat information center officer onjinan reported. "Patrol boat 688 reports two vessels afire, suspect the other as patrol boat 651. Frigate Yingtan reports minor damage from antiship missile, but is still under way and combat capable." With six B-52s on the loose, each with the capacity to carry twelve Harpoon missiles, they had to expect some attrition. "Second B-52 disengaging So the B-52s were going to be content with launching a few Harpoon missiles and fleeing. The fighters would be able to mop them up then, Jhijun thought-they still had to contend with the Harpoon missiles and Tomahawk cruise missiles, though. ... This was incredible, the Chinese pilot of the JS-7 fighter thought-one moment he was leading an eight-ship attack group on a routine night patrol, the next moment he was alone and under attack by an unseen, unidentified foe. "Fayling, Fayling, " the pilot radioed to the destroyer Kaifeng~ which was controlling the intercept in this sector, where is the target? I need a vector."

"Liang flight, target is in a rapid descent at your eight o'clock position, thirty kilometers, altitude four thousand meters, " the radar controller reported-apparently he was too excited to remember that the other J-7 fighter had been destroyed. "Turn left heading two-niner-five and descend to three thousand meters to intercept." Four thousand meters? Less than sixty seconds ago he was at ten thousand meters! The JS-7 pilot threw his fighter into a steep left turn and pushed the nose down, using his airbrakes judiciously to avoid ripping his PL-7 and PL-2

missiles from their pylons. "Liang, your target is at your eleven to twelve o'clock, twenty-seven kilometers." He was getting heavy jamming, but his French-made radar was sophisticated enough to frequencyhop and avoid most of it. "Intermittent contact, " the JS-7 pilot reported. The lock-on was good enough for a radar range and firing solution, so he quickly selected a PL-7 radar-guided missile. "Liang shooting radar one... He waited a few seconds, then fired his second one. "Shooting radar two... Atkins was so sure the fighter back there was going to take a shot that he found himself staring at the threat-indicator light. As soon as it illuminated, he shouted, "Missile launch! Level off!" He found himself crushed into his seat by G-forces as Carter pulled the B-52 out of its high-banked dive, the fuselage and wings creaking so loudly from the stress that it seemed they would shatter like a crystal champagne glass. "Break left!" Atkins shouted on interphone as he ejected chaff out the right ejector racks. Carter heeled the EB-52

Megafortress hard left, so hard that Atkins' helmet banged against his left instrument panel-but he kept his finger on the chaff button long enough to create a good-sized cloud. Carter shoved the Megafortress's nose down below the horizon to regain his airspeed, and the negative-Gs he created caused dirt, loose checklists and papers, and all sorts of unrecognizable garbage to float around the cabin as if they were suddenly weightless in orbit. Atkins felt his stomach go up with the floating junk, and he ripped off his oxygen mask to keep from filling it up with vomit. "You OK, E-dub?" Karbayjal said. Atkins turned and saw his gunner with a worried expression on his face and one hand on his shoulder. The plane was in a gut-wrenching turn, they were under attack by a Chinese fighter-but Karbayjal was worried about him. "Sure . ' .

sure . . . Atkins moaned. "Good, " Karbayjal said. He settled himself back into his seat as calmly and as easily as could be, as if being tossed around and squished by four times Earth's gravity were a normal occurrence for him. "You're doing good, E-dub, " Karbayjal added.

"Keep it up and let's get that sucker. Set up your jammers and take care of the uplink." Atkins struggled to refocus his eyes on his threat display. His automatic jamming system picked out the best frequency range and applied it to the correct antennae for the threat-in this case, an X3-band uplink signal driven to the tail antennae-and it would pump out chaff as well, but it would not tell the pilot when or in what direction to turn to avoid the missile. Tracked on the tail radar, the Chinese missile appeared to be wavering from the chaff to the EB-52, not entirely fooled. This close-in, the missile might lock onto the Megafortress if they made another turn. "Pilot, roll out!" Atkins called out. "Guns, stand by with Stingers!" Karbayjal smiled at Atkins-he was finally taking charge of this intercept. "Roger, E-dub."

Karbayjal already had a good lock on the incoming Chinese missiles and was waiting for them to close in. It was a risky move-hoping that the Megafortress's low radar cross-section would defeat the missiles more than maneuvering would. They needed to build up a new speed reserve as well, since even the Megafortress bled off a lot of airspeed in tight turns. But thejammers weren't completely shutting down the Chinese fighter's uplink-the missiles were still tracking. "Missiles still coming!" Atkins shouted on the interphone. "I'm ready with Stingers, "

Karbayjal told him, "but you gotta do it. My Stingers are strictly last resort . . ." Atkins took another calculated risk-as he began pumping out chaff once more from the left ejectors, he overrode the automatic jammers and reduced the transmitter power in half, letting a strong fighter fire control lock on the bleedthrough, then shouted, "Pilot, break right!" The missiles continued to bore in. . Now there were three radar targets out there, the Chinese JS-7 pilot cursed. The first was obviously a chaff cloud-it had begun to dissipate very quickly, and his PL-7 missiles weren't fooled. His radar seemed to get a firm lock-on just then on the real target, but it turned out it was a firm lock on another chaff cloud. The target was scooting right at nearly a thousand kilometers an hour, while the big, bright, original target was dead ahead-at zero kilometers per hour. Obviously a chaff cloudand his missiles were both going for it. A clean miss. "Fayling, Liang, where is Sichuan-Ten flight? I have no radar missiles left."

"Liang, Sichuan-Ten flight has been separated into two flights of two, high patrol diverting north to intercept air targets under control by destroyer Zunyi. Your helpers will be designated Sichuan-3 I flight of two, now at ten thousand meters, range two-one-five bull's-eye."

"What about the rest of my Liang-Two flight?"

"Liang-Two homebound are still at twelve thousand meters, northwest-bound."

"Are you crazy?" the JS-7 pilot shouted. "Turn those bastards around!

Liang-Two flight of six, reverse course, descend to three thousand meters, prepare to engage!" There was a scratchy reply on the radio-they heard him, although they probably wished they did not. If they turned around, there was no chance they'd land back at Zamboangabut ditching in the Celebes Sea or landing at Cotabato was better than allowing this B-52 or whatever it was to head in toward the fleet unopposed. He had one more chance before he had to return to basethrottles to max afterburner, close in fast, two PL-2 heat-seeking missile shots, a gun pass with his 23-millimeter cannon, then abort. The JS-7 pilot pushed his throttle to max afterburner, watched the range quickly decrease to less than fifteen kilometers, got a seeker lock-on from his two remaining PL-2 missiles, then launched them both at once. ... "Bandit at six o'clock, crew, descending behind us, " Karbayjal called out, carefully watching the Chinese fighter on his tail radar. The Chinese fighter was sending out jamming signals, but at this range even the Megafortress's smaller tail radar burned through it easily. "Bandit's accelerating... Jesus, stand by for missile attack . . . E-dub, stand by for flares on the right The infrared tail warning receiver's "Missile Warning" light in all crew stations, which detected the heat of a fighter in the rear quadrant and locked onto it, was immediately replaced by a high-pitched tone in everyone's headset and a "Missile Launch" warning light. "IR missile attack!" Atkins shouted. "Break left!" Atkins immediately released four bundles of flares simultaneously from the right ejector. But Karbayjal had seen the missile launch and was ready. Careful not to aim the Stinger airmine rockets at the flares, he waited until the missiles tracked, then ejected the flares and re-acquired the Megafortress's hot engine exhausts, then opened fire with a stream of missiles. He launched six Stingers, then watched for any sign of pursuit. When he saw at least one Chinese missile survive, he shouted on interphone, "Reverse! Climb if possible!" When Karbayjal made his call, Atkins had switched ejector racks, selecting the left ejector, and pumped out four more flares.

Simultaneously, Carter immediately threw the Megafortress into a screaming right bank and held it until the stallwarning horn came on.

"Can't climb, guns!" Carter shouted. "Disregard, " the gunner said as the last missile disappeared from his radarscope. "Fighter's coming in, four miles... three miles... Stingers firing.. ." The Megafortress crew could hear the heavy Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! and a rumble throughout the bomber as Karbayjal fired four more missiles at the fighter closing in. ... It had to be a fighter, the JS-7 pilot thought, since only a fighter could possibly move thatfast. The flares that the target was ejecting seemed as bright as the sun in the complete darkness of the Celebes Sea. His PL-2 missiles obviously thought so, because they tracked and destroyed the flares with ease. He was now weaponless except for his twin-barreled 23-millimeter cannon. But the stream of flares pointed to the target's location, even if it wasn't apparent on radar, so the pilot kept his throttle at min afterburner and closed in to cannon range. Suddenly four bright bursts of light erupted right in front of his fighter, stretching from his left wingtip all the way across the nose. His JS-7 fighter began to shudder, as if shivering with fear, and the shudder continued right into a full-blown stall. "Fayling, Fayling, Liang-Two, Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, I'm hit, I'm hit. . ." He saw the "Engine Overspeed" and "Hydraulic Press" lights illuminate and pulled his ejection handle seconds before his controls locked and his fighter began a death spiral to the sea. DESTROYER JINAN "Sir! Destroyer Zunyi reports he is under attack by antiship missiles from the east, "

another report suddenly came in. "Zunyi is engaging. Sichuan-Ten flight of two Q-5 fighters are engaging suspected B-52 bombers at low altitude."

"Where's Zunyi?" Jhijun shouted. The answer came a few moments later-only one hundred nautical miles east ofjinan. Zunyi was an older Luda-class destroyer, part of the Philippine Sea cordon; it carried no surface-to-air missile system because it was designed to engage surface ships and submarines, not aircraft. "Get a feed from Zunyi's CIC and integrate their plots on our-"

"Sir! Incoming missiles! Bearing two-six-five, high altitude, range twenty nautical miles, speed subsonic, multiple inbounds, intercept course!"

"What?" Jhijun resisted the urge to swivel around in his seat and look at the west-it was pitch black outside, with a light overcast sky, and he knew he wouldn't see a thing. "How the hell could missiles get that close? Radar, get your heads out of your asses or I will have you on deck when those missiles hit! Report on fire-control statusimmediately!"

"Fire control reports fully operational, good track on all inbounds, intercept confidence is high." Jhijun wished he could be more confident himself-first contact at twenty miles was far, far too close. "Targets maneuvering slightly, " the CIC officer reported. "Range to air targets, mark, fifteen nautical miles, bearing two-six-five, speed five hundred The targets weren't maneuvering. . . offset range was decreasing . . . bearing was constant . . . Antiradar missiles!"

Jhijun suddenly shouted. He knew all about the Americans' radar-homing missiles, especially the loitering cruise missilesthis was probably a flight of them coming in now. But how in hell did those missiles get so close before being detected...? Pushing the big Megafortress bomber to descend at over twelve thousand feet per minute, it took less than three minutes to descend to two hundred feet-yet with Chinese warships all around them, it felt like an eternity. "Golf-band search radar at eleven o'clock . . ." Atkins shouted on interphone; "India-band gun fire control radar now at one to two o'clock position . . . Christ, Golf-band radar changing to Charlie-band missile director . . .

another Indiaband fire control radar at two-thirty . . . dammit, are we in range of that destroyer yet? We're going to get nailed... ! I've got a possible fighter GCI signal from that destroyer now, he might be vectoring in more fighters."

"Ready in range with the first TACIT RAINBOW missile, " Kellerman called out after checking the information on the side-looking radar display once again and updating her map of all the ships in the area. "Right turn thirty degrees to escape, next target will be off the nose at twenty miles." Atkins rechecked the weapon indications one more timemissile engine, guidance, autopilot, data link, warhead continuity all reporting ready. "Doors coming open... missile one away. . .

missile two away. . As the Megafortress banked away to the right, the AGM136A TACIT RAINBOW missiles sped off to the left and descended to less than one hundred feet above the sea, then continued their left turn until they were aiming directly at the Chinese destroyer. At the same time, Atkins programmed another missile on the next target, what ISAR

reported as a Huangfeng-class guided-missile patrol boat transmitting with an India-band gun fire control radar. "Missile three reporting ready."

"Left turn ten degrees to escape, " Kellerman called out. "I'll take us within ten miles of that patrol boat unless a missile radar comes up."

In which case, Kellerman thought, Atkins better hold it together long enough to warn the crew. She knew it was a big mistake to send that scrawny little BB-stacker on this mission-Atkins might have an IQ larger than the national debt and could modify a wristwatch to jam half of Cleveland, and he seemed to do OK with Karbayjal holding his hand, but he simply wasn't cut out for combat. "Pilots copy, " Carter acknowledged. "Missile three counting ....... missile three away...

doors closed, clear left turn." DESTROYER JINAN "Sir, destroyer Kazfeng reports their patrol boats are engaging inbound cruise missiles. Admiral Feng is recommending frigate Yingtan move east to help cover the southeast approaches."

"Negative, " Captain Jhijun shot back. "My vessels are under attack by antiradar missiles-they are right on top of us. Yingtan will remain where it is until And then he realized that if antiradar missiles were appearing out of nowhere-it had to be a stealth bomber attack. The stealth bomber itself would not show on radar right away, but the antiradar missiles would show once they were launchedthe missiles would have a smaller radar cross-section than the bombers that launched them Radio to all task force vessels, suspect stealth bomber attack, number unknown, " Captain Jhijun cried. "CIC, directed search for carrier aircraft by visual and infrared scanners. Find that damned bomber! Find it!"

"Sir, Kaijeng reports B-52 bomber is launching subsonic missiles . . .

no successful hit on any Tomahawk missiles because of heavy radar jamming. B-52 bomber closing to within thirty miles of Kafeng. "Sir, destroyer Kafeng reports one hit by a Tomahawk cruise missile." No one spoke on the combat bridge. They couldn't believe it. What was going on? 'Kazjeng radioing for assistance. Task force group commander dispatching frigate Yingtan to assist. . . Kazfeng reports additional hits by antiradar missiles from the B-52, sir! Destroyer Zunyi now reports under attack by sea-skimming antiship missiles... patrol boat 6114 hit by Harpoon antiship missile, extensive damage . . . lost contact with patrol boat... Zunyi reports contact with B-52 bombers east of their position, number unknown Damn them! With Yingtan moving out of position and Kaifeng damaged, Jinan was now the southernmost warship guarding Davao Gulf. Ships as large as destroyers needed a frigate for heavy close-in air support, and Jhijun was losing his! Well, he was not going to suffer the same fate as Kafeng. "Emitters in standby!" the commander of the destroyer Jinan shouted. "Turn the radars off! Use all available personnel with infrared and electro-optical spotters, but find those bombers!" The nightmare was back. Only two days since first stirring up the hornet's nest with their reconnaissance overflight, McLanahan and Cobb were back at it again in their B-2 Black Knight stealth bomber-only this time they not only had to examine and count the hornets coming out of the hive, they had to swat at them. To make things worse, there appeared to be more hornets than ever out here, and they seemed mad as hell and ready to inflict some serious stings. "Radar down on that destroyer... fire-control radars going down on all area vessels, " Patrick McLanahan reported to Henry Cobb. "Fourteen miles before impact-they figured it out pretty fast. Most operators won't figure out their radars are under attack until the first few hit." He expanded the God'seye view on the Super Multi Function Display before him, inundating his screen with NIRTSat satellite data received only a few minutes earlier. "I've got a few fire-control radars still up from those patrol boats, but most don't have anything but surface-search radars." Cobb clicked his mike in reply, still seated in his usual frozen position-hands on stick and throttles, eyes straight ahead, unmoving. How the hell could Cobb stay so calm? McLanahan wondered to himself. He sees everything that goes on, he studies the Super Multi Function Display, he sees the threat warnings, yet he sits as calmly as ever, staring straight ahead. He looks the same on training flights as he does in combat. "TACIT RAINBOW

missiles are entering their holding pattern until the radar comes up, "

McLanahan added. "Go to five-twenty on the airspeed and let's get out of here before the radars come back up." Cobb clicked again and pushed power up to full military thrust-the faster the B-2 could get past these ships, the better. McLanahan's B-2 Black Knight had a few stings itself this time around-no more reconnaissance pods, now that the NIRTSats appeared to be working again. The B-2 carried four AGM-I36A TACIT

RAINBOW antiradar cruise missiles and four AGM-88C HARM antiradar missiles in clip-in racks in its left bomb bay, plus a Common Strategic Rotary Launcher with six AGM-84E SLAM TV-guided missiles in the right bomb bay. The TACIT RAINBOW antiradar missiles horned in on radar transmissions, and they had turbojet engines, wings, and autopilots that allowed them to stay aloft and, if an enemy radar was turned off, orbit a suspected target area to wait for the radar to be reactivated. The four TACIT RAINBOW missiles that McLanahan had launched from thirty miles away would remain in their orbits for another ten minutes within a few miles of the last-known position of the radars-this would give all the strike aircraft the chance to get past the Chinese warships and move into the target area. FRIGATE YJNGTAN, FORTY MILES SOUTH OF DESTROYER

JINAN Several minutes had passed, and no hits reported by any ships since Kazfeng. If the carrier aircraft were the same speed or a bit faster than the antiradar missiles, the carrier aircraft would be very close by now. They had sailors with night-vision goggles and infrared scanners looking for the missiles, but unless they heard it or got lucky there was almost no chance of their finding a tiny loitering cruise missile up there without radar. A few of the larger patrol boats had low-light TV cameras and infrared fire-control sensors on their 57- and 37-millimeter guns, but their field of view was very small, and getting a lock on a fast-moving target was difficult. The intercom clicked on:

"Bridge, CIC, request permission to activate search radar for two sweeps. There was a slight pause; then: "Acknowledged." To the radar operator, he said, "Two sweeps. Shut down immediately if there's a target within five miles. Call out bearings to contacts for gun control."

"Acknowledged. Radar coming on in three, two, one. now. One sweep, twelve seconds, and they knew the awful truth: "Bridge, CIC, multiple small targets within five miles, all bearings. Additional air targets, two large targets in trail formation, bearing two-seven-eight, range to closest target ten nautical miles. Radar down." The commander of the frigate Yingtan was on the all-stations call intercom immediately. "CIC, all thirty-seven gun stations, all thirty-seven gun stations, fire defensive pattern, multiple inbound missiles, all quadrants. Attempt visual acquisition. Release radar decoys. Shut down all radars and verify." Almost immediately the frigate's four twin 37-millimeter antiaircraft guns began firing, sweeping the sky with shells in predetermined patterns that would cover all but the ship's centerline area-fortunately the patrol boats were dispersed at least six kilometers away to avoid being hit by the frigate's barrage. "Helm, forty degrees starboard. CIC, ship turning starboard, shoot portside chaff rockets."

From the sky, the barrage of gunfire might have looked like a fireworks-show finale, with winks of muzzle flashes and tracers shooting out in all directions. The frigate meanwhile began a series of sharp turns and accelerations designed to get as far away as possible from the last spot where the radar was turned on-they knew that was where the loitering missile was headed. Yingtan also had mortars that fired radar-decoying chaff rockets into the air, launching them on the side opposite the ship's turn-they would act as decoys if the missiles carried active radar seekers. Yingtan 's gunners were rewarded with several spectacular flashes as the guns found targets, and missiles could be seen splashing down in their wake-a few dangerously close, less than a dozen meters away-but none hit. Two missiles went after the tiny radar-emitting decoy buoys dropped overboard by the frigate, and the bridge crew was treated to a good-sized explosion just a hundred meters aft as the missile impacted. In just a few seconds, all of the antiradar missiles were defeated by the frigate Yingtan. But all that gunfire only saved them from the small antiradar missiles-the aircraft that launched all those missiles were getting away. "CIC, concentrate one hundred-millimeter guns at the last position of that bomber. Maybe we will get lucky. Prepare to engage with HQ-6I missiles. Comm, radio to all patrol boats and to Fleet Master, suspected heavy stealth bomber aircraft inbound to Davao Gulf, number unknown." The sudden flurry of gunfire into the night sky was spectacular and frightening at the same time. It looked like a dome of sparklers had formed over the frigate in the distance, like some unearthly glittering spaceship half-submerged in the oceanexcept they both knew that those pretty sparklers meant death to any aircraft that strayed too close. Cobb instinctively banked farther west to avoid the area where most of the gunfire was being concentrated, even though McLanahan estimated they were at least ten miles abeam the closest ship. "Jesus Christ, " McLanahan muttered.

"Look at that. . Cobb said nothing. "And we're only seeing about one every twelve tracer rounds . . "It's not the guns I'm worried about, "

Cobb said. "I'm waiting for the SAMs from that frigate."

"He hit us with a radar sweep powerful enough to paint us, " McLanahan said. "He must know we're out here." McLanahan used the tracer rounds to find the frigate with his forwardlooking infrared scanner, and the imaging heat-seeking telescope locked on easily to the huge vessel. "I got a lock on the big mother ship. That must be the frigate. Laser rangefinder on . . . laser firing . . .' Immediately the laser rangefinder computed the precise distance to the target, completed the firing solution for the B-2's complement of weapons. McLanaz han touched the right-bomb-bay icon on the bottom of his Super Multi Function Display, and the weapons computer picked a SLAM TV-guided missile, automatically reducing the SMFD screen in half and using the right side of the big screen to display SLAM seeker video transmission.

"The shit's going to hit the fan as soon as this puppy goes, " McLanahan reminded Cobb, then he moved the Bombing System Switch from "Manual" to

"Auto."

"Missile Counting ....... missile one away... The right bomb-bay doors slid open, and the single CSRL launcher ejected a SLAM guided missile into the slipstream. The missile fell about fifty feet as its gyroscope stabilization system steadied the fifteen-hundred-pound missile; then, when the air data probes detected the proper airflow and deceleration parameters indicating a clean release from the Black Knight bomber, the powerful turbojet engine kicked in. Following the initial heading from the B-2's master computer, it descended to less than one hundred feet in the blink of an eye and steered immediately on course for the frigate, taking it on an "over-the-shoulder" trajectory as the B-2 sped away.

Seven seconds later, the launcher had rotated and ejected a second missile. The radar operator on Yingtan had just reactivated the Sea Eagle air-search radar at that precise moment-and what he saw caused stars to shoot through his head. "Two aircraft, bearing two-eight-one, altitude two hundred meters, speed. . incoming missiles, incoming missiles, bearing two-eight-one, range fifteen miles, speed six hundred twenty knots, altitude twenty meters!" And then he made a fateful mistake-he shut down his radar a second time, thinking they were under attack by antiradar missiles again. The CIC officer in charge realized the Sea Eagle radar was down again, but hesitated a few seconds before ordering it reactivated so the antiaircraft guns could train on the supersonic targets. There were other supersonic antiradar missiles in the American arsenal, such as the HARM missile-this could be one of them. "Deploy decoys. Bridge, CIC, incoming missiles, evasive action, radar down." He waited a few seconds for the antiradar-missile decoys to be ejected, then ordered the Sea Eagle radar reactivated and the antiaircraft guns brought on-line. But at almost Mach one, it took only sixty seconds for the first SLAM missile to reach its target. With less than thirty seconds left in the first missile's flight, they had just enough time to acquire the missile and let the Sea Eagle search radar slave the I-band "Rice Lamp" fire-control radars on the incoming missiles. The 37-millimeter guns on the Yingtan were just as accurate as on the TACIT RAINBOW missiles, but only the two starboard mounts were committed this time. . The left half of the Super Multi Function Display was displaying video transmitted from the imaging infrared camera on the first SLAM missile, and even Henry Cobb, who normally sat with eyes caged straight ahead on his instrument panel, couldn't help but take a few glances at the picture as the missile bore into its target. The image was incrediblethe sea, seen as shimmering green streaks along the bottom of the picture, whizzed past like some sort of early sci-fi warp drive; and, in the center, the hot dot slowly enlarged and took the shape of a huge warship. The missile was right on course.

Suddenly, several flashes of light could be seen popping from the warship. "They got a lock on the SLAM, " McLanahan said. On the right side of the SMFD, he touched the spinning circular cursor on the 3-D

image of the destroyer, spoke "Change target, " then slid his finger to the left. The SLAM missile veered left in response. Just as the video image of the destroyer was about to disappear off the screen, McLanahan slid the cursor to the right, and the missile followed. A few seconds later, McLanahan replaced the cursor on the destroyer. "Thirty seconds to impact, " he told Cobb. "C'mon, baby, you can do it..." But his efforts were useless. As soon as the missile settled back on course to the destroyer, another large flash erupted, and the video went dark.

"Dammit! Lost the first SLAM." The words SLAM 1 NO CONTACT flashed three times on the left half of the SMFD, then the video from the second missile filled the screen. "You're not getting this one, " Patrick said.

Using the touchscreen, he pre-programmed a zigzag course for the second SLAM. "Hit that, you peckerheads..." The ship's defensive guns successfully hit the first SLAM seconds before it hit them, but the second missile was impossible to hit-it was all over the sky, skimming just a few meters above the water, and the guns could not keep up with it. The missile finally plowed into the starboard gunwale just below the number six 37-millimeter gun turret. The penetrating warhead cap, propelled by the missile's powerful rocket motor, drove the missile through the numbertwelve lifeboat on its davits and barely managed to pierce the heavy armor of the number-six gun turret before detonating the five-hundred-pound high-explosive. The blast ripped a gaping hole in the side of the frigate, killing the gun turret's ten-man crew and instantly knocking the gun out of commission. "Good hit!" Patrick McLanahan cried out. "One impact . . . only minor secondaries, good hit but no kill." The Super Multi Function Display automatically switched back to full integrated "God's-eye" view, and Patrick scanned the area. "Search radars ....... cancel that, search radars back up.

Everybody's transmitting... I've got air-search radars at five o'clock and a new one at two o'clock. India-band missile radar's still up at five o'clock. Damn... we didn't knock out that frigate yet. So he can still launch missiles . Just then a "Missile Warning" light began to blink on both the Super Multi Function Display and the pilot's center CRT monitor. Patrick said, "Now I've got another Charlie-band missile director radar at one to two o'clock-that must be from the center destroyer." He was about to touch the electronic countermeasures icon on the bottom of the SMFD, but the computer had already brought the ECM

status panel forward on the screen-and what he saw caused his throat to go instantly dry. "Charlie-band missile director . . . computer's calling it a DRBC-51 radar directing an HQ-91 SAM system... "A -91?"

Cobb asked. "Shit, we're well inside that mother's range!"

"I know, I know, " McLanahan moaned. He had spent too long screwing with the SLAM missiles and lost track of all the other warships around them. "All trackbreakers active, missile warning system and HAVE GLANCE

jammers ready, chaff and flares ready, HARM missile programming against that radar... shit, shit! Charlie-band tracker changing to Charliethree command.. The "Missile Warning" indication changed to a

"Missile Lock" warning. "Missile radar locked on!" McLanahan shouted.

"Trackbreakers on... descend and accelerate if possible They were already as low as they could safely go at nightthe huge B-2 was less than one hundred feet above the Celebes Sea, with Cobb hand-flying the Black Knight, since the terrainfollowing computer would not fly the bomber overwater below two hundred feet. "C'mon, you guys, where the hell are you.... McLanahan was rewarded a second later with precise range and bearing information from his B-2 to the destroyer displayed on his SMFD. He knew he was not using radars or lasers to get that data-that meant that his wingman, the second B-2 stealth bomber in his attack formation, was ranging on the destroyer and data-sharing the information with him. The question was, who was going to get there first? CHINESE DESTROYER JINAN "Locked onto first air target, " the operator of Jinan 's aft HQ91 missile fire control radar reported.

"Slight jamming on lower bands, switching to frequency-agile mode...

Temporarily clear of jamming, ready with missile detector, sir."

"Understood, " the chief of the Jinan 's Combat Information Center replied. "Aft launcher, report." In the large aft missile magazine, a large eighteen-missile rotating drum dropped an HQ-9 1 onto a rail and fed it forward to an open station, where four missileers snapped large triangular fins on the nose and tail sections of the missile body. Two other technicians made a fast check of the finning process, and the missile was sent forward, erected, and rammed upwards onto the launcher rails. A second magazine crew had done the same with a second missile for the twin-rail launcher. As the missiles clicked into place on the launcher, a continuity check was automatically performed and an electronic report received from each missile-if the "report" was missing or erroneous, the launcher would immediately swivel over and down and spit the bad missile down an armored safety chute for examination or disposal. Thirty seconds after the alert was sounded, the aft launcher was loaded and ready, with two more missiles belowdecks finned and ready. "Aft launcher reports ready, sir, " the aft launch operator reported. "Deck clear, stand by to launch on three, two, one, launch...

"The HQ-91 missiles operator checked his readouts, gripped the launch handle, squeezed the safety grip, pulled the trigger, and hit the launch button with his thumb. "Missile one away . . . missile two . . .

!"

"Incoming missiles!" one of the Sea Eagle radar operators suddenly shouted. "High-speed, bearing two-four-one degrees.. ." Two AGM-84E

SLAM missiles from the second B-2 Black Knight in McLanahan's attack formation had detected the HQ-9I missile fire-control radar and horned in on it just after missile launch. But like the TACIT RAINBOW

missiles, the SLAMS were big, subsonic targets, and easy for the destroyer to lock on radar. The vessel's guns began firing, and with full radar tracking and fire control, they could not miss-both SLAMS

were destroyed well before they reached Jinan. But that left them vulnerable to two HARM missiles fired from McLanahan's B-2. Like TACIT

RAINBOW, the HighSpeed Anti-Radar Missiles horned in on enemy radar transmission, but instead of cruising to their targets over long distances and being very inviting targets for enemy gunfire, HARM flew at speeds over Mach three and were often untouched or even undetectable.