The pilot of the lead U.S. Air Force F-15C Eagle air superiority fighter, from the 366th Wing at Mountain Home Air Force Base, Idaho, started a turn to the northeast and keyed his throttle-mounted mike button: “Roger, Avalanche. Bullrider’s in the turn.” He took a quick look out the right side of his canopy to be sure his wingman in another F-15 fighter was starting his rejoin.
Pretty damned strange, the lead F-15 pilot thought. The B-1B bomber crews must be playing it safe, or else they were getting soft. The Nellis range complex was open, and they were within the time allotted for the fighter intercept exercise, so this must be their target. But what was he doing just starting his descent to low altitude? Most bomber guys were already low, or at least screaming hell-bent for the ground whenever fighters were nearby. He was going slow too — way too slow.
These Guard guys from Reno were supposed to be the most successful, most outrageous bomber unit in the business. Their recent accident, the pilot surmised, must’ve softened them up a little. The 366th Wing was an Air Expeditionary Wing, with a mix of several different aircraft — F-16s, F-15s, F-15E bombers, KC-135R tankers, and B-1B bombers — all located at one base, ready to deploy and fight as a team. The fighter guys from Idaho knew bomber tactics, knew what a Bone could do. So far, these Guard guys from Nevada weren’t showing them much.
“Hey, lead, what do you think?” the F-15 pilot’s wingman radioed.
“I think we got a faker,” the lead pilot responded immediately. They were thinking alike, the way a good hunter-killer team should. He had heard of Air National Guard guys decoying themselves by bringing their KC-135 aerial refueling tankers all the way to the range complex and having them fly the inbound strike routing, buying precious time for the bombers to sneak in low at very high speed to try to make it to their targets. “Avalanche, Bullrider. You got any low targets entering the range complex? We think we got a faker up high.”
“Stand by, Bullrider,” Avalanche, the controller aboard the E-3C AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System) radar plane, replied. There was a long pause; then: “Bullrider, this is Avalanche, we’re clean. Negative contact on any other bogeys at this time.”
That wasn’t definitive. A B-1 was hard to see when it was flying really low; visual contour at two hundred feet above the ground or lower would make it tough to detect at long range even for a skilled crew in an AWACS radar plane. This guy up high couldn’t be a bomber, flying this high and this slow, so the real targets still had to be out there. But killing a tanker was worth a lot of points too, and a tanker in the hand was almost as good as two bombers in the bush. “Copy, Avalanche. We’ll continue with this intercept.”
He didn’t need his radar to make the intercept, and the longer he kept his radar off, the closer he could get to his target without being detected. He knew the B-1B had a tail-warning radar system, called TWS, that would warn of any aircraft or missiles behind them, so as long as he stayed in front of the B-1 with his radar off, he could approach without being detected.
“Roger, Bullrider. Bogey’s at your one o’clock, eighty miles low.”
The lead F-15 pilot interrogated the unidentified aircraft, checking for any friendly IFF — identification friend or foe — signals, and found none. The rules of engagement, or ROE, for this mission profiled an area defense scenario, which meant that any aircraft not electronically identified using IFF or radio was to be considered hostile, even if many miles away from the defended area. Inside sixty miles — the approximate maximum range of a standoff weapon dropped from high altitude — he was authorized to “attack” any unidentified aircraft.
“Bullrider, lead, take the high CAP,” the F-15 pilot said, directing his wingman to climb up to the “perch” so he could watch the entire area for more attackers. He knew that B-1 bombers always attack in packs, usually two or three bombers in trail offset a few miles or a few seconds so they cross the target area with at least ten seconds’ spacing. “I’ll make the first pass, climb up to the perch, and then you can take a shot. Keep an eye out for trailers.”
“Two,” the wingman acknowledged, starting a fast climb.
The bogey was increasing its rate of descent, but still not traveling anything near the speed of a B-1 bomber. It had to be a decoy. “Avalanche, bogeydope,” the lead F-15 pilot called.
“‘Clean,’ Bullrider. Only bogey is at your one o’clock, sixty miles.”
It didn’t seem likely, but it could be that the Air National Guard B-1 guys were just taking it nice and easy. This was only the first day of their annual evaluation — they had another two weeks of this coming up. Maybe it was better to get the feel for live air-to-air combat the first day before…
“Bullrider, Bullrider, Avalanche has a new bogey, three-three-five degrees bull’s-eye, range seven-zero miles, low, airspeed three hundred!”
There it was! the F-15 pilot said to himself. No wonder the AWACS guys couldn’t find it — it was flying only three hundred knots, about half its normal speed. To reduce clutter on their radarscopes, some AWACS radar technicians “squelched” out targets flying below a certain speed. “I’ll take that bogey, Avalanche!” the F-15 lead pilot radioed.
“Roger, Bullrider, left turn heading three-five-zero, bogey will be at your two o’clock, fifty miles.” That was a close one — the B-1 almost got by him as they chased down the decoy up high. “Descend to angels ten, advise when you can maintain visual terrain clearance.”
“I’m VMC, Avalanche.” “VMC” meant that the F-15s were in “visual meteorological conditions”—they could visually see the ground. The AWACS controller could concentrate on setting up the intercept instead of keeping his fighters from hitting the ground. “Bullrider flight, rejoin on me.”
“You want me to check out the high bogey, lead?” the second F-15 pilot asked.
“Negative. I need you to look for trailers.” Because B-1s always fought in groups, the second and third aircraft awere usually within ten miles of the leader. Killing a KC-135 tanker was too easy. Although they certainly got points for shooting down a valuable force multiplier like a tanker, they’d lose many more points if they allowed a bomber to sneak by and bomb a defended target.
“Roger.”
“Twelve o’clock, forty miles,” the AWACS controller reported. “Be advised, bogey is faded. Losing him in ground clutter. Come left twenty degrees to stay out of his TWS.” But only a few vectors later, the AWACS plane was having trouble staying locked on. “Bullrider, bogey faded. Last solid contact twelve o’clock, twenty miles.”
“Roger, Avalanche.” He interrogated the target for an IFF signal — nothing. It was a bad guy, all right. High-speed bombers like the B-1 could elude even an AWACS radar plane the farther they got, so the lead pilot activated his APG-70 look-down, shoot-down radar and immediately locked it onto the newcomer. Got him! “I’m tied on radar, in high trail. Let’s hook this sucker.”
“Two!” the wingman crowed. Killing a B-1 bomber, especially with a short-range heat-seeking missile or with guns, was second only in excitement to killing a B-2 stealth bomber. B-52H Stratopig bombers, the few that were left, were such easy targets that they were left for the newbies, the new guys in the squadron, or killed with a BVR (beyond visual range) missile shot. Even chasing down and killing a cruise missile was considered poor sport these days.
Sure enough, the minute he locked in the low-flying plane with his radar, it sped up. Too late, chumps, the lead F-15 pilot thought.
Procedure for max kill points: maintain radar contact through at least two defensive maneuvers, close within twenty miles, shoot a radar-guided missile, maintain radar lock through one more defensive maneuver, close to within eight miles, shoot a heat-seeking missile, close to within two miles, make a cannon shot, then make and announce a visual ID within one mile. Piece of cake. Easy…