Dave had tried to argue he wasn’t even needed on the trip. But Perri had insisted he needed to come along to keep an eye out for Russian patrols. Perri wanted to be sure there were no foot or vehicle patrols near the dump when he set it off. He was pretty sure any buildings near the ammo dump were empty now, with all the residents being held at the school a few hundred yards away, but he didn’t want to accidentally kill any Russian soldiers and give them an excuse to retaliate against the townsfolk.
Not yet, anyway.
Once again, they’d navigated their way around the nesting Auklets. Finding their previous position in the dark hadn’t proven as easy as he thought, but eventually Dave spotted the two upright stones they had hidden behind while scouting out the town, and using them for reference they scrambled up the side of the bluff to give themselves about another twenty feet in vertical distance, without adding too much to the lateral.
“What about the flash from the barrel?” Dave asked. “Won’t it be like a big old strobe light saying hey, up here, come up here and kill us?!”
Perri looked up at the sky. The cloud had come in thick and low, and Dave was right, it was a dark night, with only a faint diffuse glow from the moon making its way through.
“Maybe,” Perri agreed. “If anyone is looking in exactly this direction at exactly the right time. I’m going to put ten rounds into that building as quickly as I can, then we’ll run for it. Nothing blows up, then they’ll arrive tomorrow morning and wonder who the hell used their ammo dump for target practice and maybe we at least put some holes in some of their missiles.” He smiled, teeth white in the dark night, “But if that shed goes up, I don’t think they’ll be looking up here amongst the rocks and birdshit for the reason. They’ll probably think it was a cruise missile or something.”
He sounded completely confident, but Dave wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, right. We are so going to die tonight.”
During the Cold War, lone sorties by strategic bombers or surveillance aircraft from both sides of the Bering Strait had ‘strayed’ into opposition airspace and provoked a response. Sometimes deliberately, to test enemy capabilities and response times, other times innocently, due to navigation failures. As the newly reinvigorated Russian air force had shown in the Middle East that it was more than a match for its old foe, it had also begun to be more brazen in its provocations in the Pacific Far East, more than once resulting in the US threatening to shoot down wayward Russian aircraft, though they never had, and Russia had not chosen to push them that far.
Never though, had one side put so much air power into the Pacific Far East theatre as the US was doing right now.
Bondarev’s eyes flicked from his tactical display to his instruments to the night sky around him in a constant circle. His heads-up display was showing that two other squadrons from his 6983rd Air Brigade were forming up as ordered, above and beside him. But this still gave him only 54 aircraft to nearly double that number of US fighters. The A-100 AI was still designating the bulk of the approaching aircraft as American F-47 drones, flying out front like a silicon shield — no doubt armed with the newest Cuda missiles — with piloted F-35s behind them, probably carrying the long-range engagement weapon which was too large to fit into the drones’ weapons bays.
Against these his 54 Sukhois and Migs were each armed with two long range and four short-range missiles, but only about a third of them were carrying the new KM-77 phased array missile because Operation LOSOS had come in the middle of an upgrade cycle. The KM-77 had a slightly greater range than the Cuda, otherwise they were an even match. Not for the first time, he regretted Lukin’s direct order not to field his Okhotniks. It would have been advantageous to be able to put his own drones out in front of his piloted aircraft to meet the incoming US armada.
In any case, they might be about to see how the vaunted American Fantom performed in air-to-air combat against a real flesh and blood enemy. And they would know in about 30 seconds as the American force reached missile range!
“Gold Control to Gold Leader: enemy aircraft approaching stand-off missile range in five, four…” the A-100 AWACs announced. The first test would be to see whether this was a direct attack. If it was, the US F-35s could launch long-range air-to-ground missiles aimed at targets on Saint Lawrence from within Alaskan airspace, and then turn around and flee under the protection of the cloud of drones surrounding them.
“Silver leader to Gold leader, Silver airborne and én-route,” he heard a voice say over the radio. Having seen the size and apparent intent of the US attacking force, he had scrambled the 36 remaining Sukhois and Mig-41s he had at readiness in Lavrentiya. It had taken them a precious 20 minutes to get airborne and formed up. Too slow. Someone would have to get their butt kicked for that. They wouldn’t be able to climb to altitude in time for the coming engagement.
“Roger Silver leader, vector zero three zero, nap of the earth please. Passive arrays only. Take your targeting from the data net,” Bondarev ordered, telling his reserve flight to stay low and try to hide. He would use them as a surprise attack force, hoping if he kept them down at wave-top level the enemy aircraft wouldn’t know they were there until their missiles started tracking. “Gold leader out.”
“…two…one…mark,” the air controller continued to count down the range to possible standoff munitions launch. Bondarev had his eyes fixed to the threat display, listening for the warning tones indicating enemy air-to-ground missiles were on their way. The KM-77 was also an efficient standoff missile killer and he knew the pilots fielding it would be prepared to switch their targeting from the US aircraft to US missiles if they appeared. But the board stayed clear, there were no tones.
“Gold squadrons, hold station,” Bondarev ordered his pilots. On his heads-up display he saw that while they might not have fired any missiles, the US armada was still boring in, straight at Saint Lawrence. “Flight control, ROE update please?”
“Rules of Engagement unchanged Gold leader,” the controller replied. “You are free to fire if US aircraft cross the no-fly perimeter.”
Bondarev cursed under his breath. Their rules of engagement hadn’t changed since day one of Operation LOSOS. They were hemmed in behind an invisible line in the sky, giving the US fighters a clear tactical advantage because they could choose the time and place of their attack.
“Enemy aircraft approaching US air-to-air missile range in ten, nine, eight…” the controller stated, unnecessarily. His pilots would soon be within range of the US long-range air-to-air missiles. So be it.
The Americans might get the first missiles away, but they would not go unanswered.
“Gold aircraft, lock up targets but hold your fire,” Bondarev told his pilots. “Keep your heads people. Anyone who fires without my express order will be court-martialled.”
“Two..one…mark…”
Once again, the missile threat warnings stayed clear, but the US aircraft pushed forward, hitting the Alaskan coast now. They would be on top of Bondarev and his men within minutes. Could it be they were going to try to overfly Saint Lawrence, just to test Russian resolve? To prove they were masters of their own skies still?
“Gold Control, requesting permission to engage with K-77s before enemy aircraft reach Cuda missile range. Please advise.”
Tactically, the US full frontal attack was insane. Dozens of their aircraft would be swatted from the sky within minutes if Bondarev was the first to engage. Could they be that stupid?