in all, his own ship was in good shape. The few stray bomb hits that reached them hadn’t been serious. Ninety percent of his communication and command equipment was still working—and all his active radars were shut down. Even the troubling lack of the top mast radar wouldn’t be a problem for too long. His damage control parties had assured him that substitute radars were already working to pick up the slack.
And even now, he could see a repair crew was climbing to the top of the superstructure in order to mount a temporary radar dish near the top of the clipped-off mast.
It was these men who were the first to see the approaching F-16s …
Chapter 12
L IKE THE VALIANT A-10S before them, the F-16 Falcons came in just above wavetop level.
They would strike in two groups: Hunter, Rico and DuPont would go in first; a minute later, Crider would lead Christman and Samuels in for the follow-up.
“Cannon armed and powered,” DuPont radioed over to Hunter.
“Ditto here, Captain,” Rico confirmed.
Hunter checked and confirmed that his own big gun was ready.
“Roger, cannons ready,” he called back to them. “I read twenty and two miles to target …”
With their radars switched off, this would be an eyeball attack. But this didn’t worry Hunter—their target would be one of the biggest things afloat.
“There they are,” Hunter called out calmly, spotting the silhouettes of the Soviet ships just above the horizon. Also visible were the half-dozen plumes of black smoke coming from the damaged cruiser and destroyer.
“And there’s the big guy,” Hunter continued, spotting the massive outline of the carrier, Brezhnev. “Everyone got a visual?”
“Roger,” came the near simultaneous reply from his two wingmen.
“OK,” Hunter said, feeling an invigorating rush of adrenaline wash through him. “It’s showtime …”
With a kick of their afterburners, the first three F-16s were in amongst the Soviet ships within seconds. For the first wave of the attack, the carrier would be the sole target—the rest of the ships would be left alone for the time being.
Although the carrier’s SAM crews were not prepared to fight, the Soviet anti-aircraft gunners saw them coming. In seconds the air was filled with AA fire. But the nimble fighters, roaring in three abreast, were able to jink around the heavy stuff with aplomb, turning wing-tip up in order to reduce their target profile. They were heading toward a point off the port side of the carrier’s bow, rising above the waves ever so slightly to bring their noses level to the uplifted front ramp of the carrier’s flight deck.
“Ready …” Hunter yelled into his radio as the airplanes approached the 500-foot-to-target mark. “ Fire! ”
Instantly their cannons spoke with one terrifying voice. Spitting 20mm shells across the crowded flight deck, the exploding rounds gashed several waiting aircraft, then walked up the side of the superstructure to pepper it with holes. Then the three fighters screamed up and over the massive ship.
It took less than four seconds, but Hunter knew all three of them had inflicted damage.
But this was just the beginning …
No sooner had Hunter and the others gone into their steep near-vertical escape climbs, when Crider, Christman and Samuels roared in. They too found targets up and down the front part of the ship, including a direct hit on a Soviet Ka-25 Hormone ASW helicopter.
Despite the lightning quickness of his first pass, Hunter had spotted the two Forgers warming up on the carrier’s flight line. Once he, Rico, and DuPont were regrouped, he signaled them to concentrate fire on the first jet on their next pass. He would take the second jet alone.
The three of them did a tight 360-degree loop, and less than a minute later were boring in on the carrier again. The AA fire was now tripled in intensity as gunners on the surrounding escort ships were now joining the battle. Hunter knew the enemy SAM crews—their radar
And even now, he could see a repair crew was climbing to the top of the superstructure in order to mount a temporary radar dish near the top of the clipped-off mast.
It was these men who were the first to see the approaching F-16s …
Chapter 12
L IKE THE VALIANT A-10S before them, the F-16 Falcons came in just above wavetop level.
They would strike in two groups: Hunter, Rico and DuPont would go in first; a minute later, Crider would lead Christman and Samuels in for the follow-up.
“Cannon armed and powered,” DuPont radioed over to Hunter.
“Ditto here, Captain,” Rico confirmed.
Hunter checked and confirmed that his own big gun was ready.
“Roger, cannons ready,” he called back to them. “I read twenty and two miles to target …”
With their radars switched off, this would be an eyeball attack. But this didn’t worry Hunter—their target would be one of the biggest things afloat.
“There they are,” Hunter called out calmly, spotting the silhouettes of the Soviet ships just above the horizon. Also visible were the half-dozen plumes of black smoke coming from the damaged cruiser and destroyer.
“And there’s the big guy,” Hunter continued, spotting the massive outline of the carrier, Brezhnev. “Everyone got a visual?”
“Roger,” came the near simultaneous reply from his two wingmen.
“OK,” Hunter said, feeling an invigorating rush of adrenaline wash through him. “It’s showtime …”
With a kick of their afterburners, the first three F-16s were in amongst the Soviet ships within seconds. For the first wave of the attack, the carrier would be the sole target—the rest of the ships would be left alone for the time being.
Although the carrier’s SAM crews were not prepared to fight, the Soviet anti-aircraft gunners saw them coming. In seconds the air was filled with AA fire. But the nimble fighters, roaring in three abreast, were able to jink around the heavy stuff with aplomb, turning wing-tip up in order to reduce their target profile. They were heading toward a point off the port side of the carrier’s bow, rising above the waves ever so slightly to bring their noses level to the uplifted front ramp of the carrier’s flight deck.
“Ready …” Hunter yelled into his radio as the airplanes approached the 500-foot-to-target mark. “ Fire! ”
Instantly their cannons spoke with one terrifying voice. Spitting 20mm shells across the crowded flight deck, the exploding rounds gashed several waiting aircraft, then walked up the side of the superstructure to pepper it with holes. Then the three fighters screamed up and over the massive ship.
It took less than four seconds, but Hunter knew all three of them had inflicted damage.
But this was just the beginning …
No sooner had Hunter and the others gone into their steep near-vertical escape climbs, when Crider, Christman and Samuels roared in. They too found targets up and down the front part of the ship, including a direct hit on a Soviet Ka-25 Hormone ASW helicopter.
Despite the lightning quickness of his first pass, Hunter had spotted the two Forgers warming up on the carrier’s flight line. Once he, Rico, and DuPont were regrouped, he signaled them to concentrate fire on the first jet on their next pass. He would take the second jet alone.
The three of them did a tight 360-degree loop, and less than a minute later were boring in on the carrier again. The AA fire was now tripled in intensity as gunners on the surrounding escort ships were now joining the battle. Hunter knew the enemy SAM crews—their radar
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