“All right, Layton,” Eyers relented. “Just try to keep this quiet, all right? Don’t screw it up. I’ll call CENTCOM and advise them of what you want to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Layton said, thankful that Eyers finally wanted out of this business. With his precious “final solution” mission in shambles, he was looking for ways to cover his ass, forgetting that he still had men and machines to return safely. He said to his radio operator, “Okay, Lieutenant Cassenelli, let’s bring that rascal home:
“I want a KC-135 from refueling orbit HOLLYWOOD to set up a point-parallel rendezvous with Breakdance.” A point-parallel rendezvous was the standard join-up procedure for aircraft coming from different directions; the tanker would offset itself a few miles off the receiver’s nose, then turn in front of the receiver, putting the receiver a mile or two behind the tanker and ready for hookup.
“A whole lot of receivers coming off targets aren’t going to like losing their tanker,” Cassenelli pointed out.
“They can get another strip-alert tanker from King Khalid Military City to cover,” Layton said. He didn’t know that for sure, but the Strategic Air Command had sent half of its entire fleet of aerial refueling tankers to the Kuwaiti theater of operations, and he knew that standby tankers were available. Even so, Layton added, “Try to find one that won’t have too many receivers scheduled with it — but get one. If the crew needs confirmation, refer them to General Eyers immediately.
“Then I want an F-111 from Tabuk scrambled immediately to join on Breakdance for emergency recovery … nope, cancel that last.” There were no F-111s at Tabuk — the closest base was Incirlik to the north, but it would have to fly through heavily defended west Iraq to rendezvous with Breakdance. The other F-111 base was Taif to the south, but it would take several hours for a plane to get that far north.
“We could get an F-15 from Tabuk to join on him,” Cassenelli suggested.
“If we need to, we will,” Layton said, “but to get Breakdance back safely I’d like a more similar aircraft, and one with a second set of eyes to look our guy over. Pull up the ATO for Tabuk.”
The second monitor on console fourteen showed the computerized version of the ATO, or air tasking order, the “game plan” for the entire Coalition air armada in the Kuwaiti Theater of Operations. Broken up into three eight-hour blocks, the ATO showed what each and every aircraft would be doing — what time and from where it would launch, when and where it would refuel, what targets it would hit and when, which poststrike refueling it would make and where, and its approximate recovery time. Only with a computerized ATO, and with well-disciplined crews, could the Coalition ever hope to get two-thousand-plus combat sorties per day — half of which were armed aircraft striking targets in Iraq or Kuwait — off and safely home again.
Tabuk Air Base, in northwestern Saudi Arabia, was home to mostly allied air defense units guarding the northern part of the Red Sea and the southern portion of the Suez Canal, as well as keeping an eye on one of Iraq’s few allies in the region, Jordan, should they or the Iraqis try to open a second front into Saudi Arabia or stage an attack on Israel. Tabuk had USAF F-15 fighters, Royal Air Force Tornado Gr.Mk 1 fighter-bombers, Royal Saudi Air Force F-5E fighters, and U.S. Navy HH-60 rescue and assault helicopters — Tabuk was the Navy’s main abort base for planes that couldn’t land on the carriers in the Red Sea. By checking the ATO, Layton found that the F-15s were scheduled for air patrols all day, escorting the British Tornado bombers on attack missions. The F-15s were scheduled for “hot turns”—land from a sortie, rearm, refuel, and take off again, all within ten to twenty minutes and with the pilots never leaving the cockpit.
“I think we got something, George,” Layton told his radar operator. “Several Tornados are coming off targets at Al Asad, Al Taqaddum, H2, H3, and H4 airfields in western Iraq right now.” The British Tornado was very similar to the F-111G bomber — both had started out as fighters (the British still had an air interceptor version, the F.Mk 3, in service in the Gulf); both had two engines and two crewmembers; they were of similar size and weight; and both had variable geometry “swing wings” and similar flight control and high-lift surfaces such as all-moving tailplanes, spoilers, flaps, and slats. Could this really work …? “Can you call up these Tornados on the radar and find out where they are?”
Cassenelli punched in the sortie numbers from the ATO and asked the computer to locate the aircraft — there were hundreds of aircraft on the screen right now, all with data blocks showing their sortie number and flight data, and finding one particular aircraft manually would have been impossible. Seconds later he had his answer: “Got ’em, sir. Coming off targets now, at Breakdance’s three o’clock position, sixty-one miles, climbing to one-five thousand feet. The ATO shows four flights of four, but I see only three flights. They’re scheduled to tank at track Hollywood.”
“Shit, this may work,” Layton said. “Put in a call to those Tornados and ask them to divert toward Breakdance.”
“Might be difficult, sir,” Cassenelli said. “Those Tornados will need to refuel first, and there’s”—he counted aircraft on the ATO scheduled to refuel in Hollywood aerial refueling track—”at least fifty planes scheduled to tank in the next hour. If they do their refueling, they’ll be far behind Breakdance, and they’ll have to hustle to catch up. I don’t think you can afford to make Breakdance wait.”
Cassenelli checked the ATO for the roster of tankers at the refueling orbits in northern Saudi Arabia, clapped his hands excitedly, and said, “Wait, sir, I have the answer. Shamu Two-Two, a KC-10 with buddy pods. They’re supposed to exit the refueling track for a crew swap now, then climb to a higher altitude in the block. I can divert them to MARVEL to meet up with Breakdance. I’ll just send the Tornados over and have them hook up with Two-Two. If it gets close, they can even hook up together.”
“Perfect.” Layton grinned. “Give them a call.” The KC-10 refueling tanker was a converted DC-10 airliner, configured for aerial refueling and cargo transport. Unlike the KC-135, the KC-10 could do two different types of refueling in one mission, but normally not both kinds at once. But with “buddy pods”—pods attached to the wingtips with refueling hoses and rogues — the KC-10 could do both types of refueling at one time, with a boom-type receiver on the boom and a probe-and-drogue receiver on each wingtip. It could refuel both the F-111G and the Tornado at the same time. “I’ll get on the horn to CENTAF and to Vice Marshall Wratten in Riyadh.” Wratten was in charge of all British air assets on the Arabian Peninsula; although General Horner of USAF’s Central Air Forces (CENTAF) was the Coalition’s overall air commander, it was proper and expeditious to give the British counterpart a “heads-up” before committing his forces to a mission.
“Get the CO of Bandanah highway airstrip on the line and let me talk to him,” Layton continued. “Let’s get a mobile aircraft-recovery team heading out from Taif or Tabuk, preferably with an arrester cable crew. Everything on a secure scrambled channel — if it has to go unsecured, let me know right away.” He paused, then added, “And let’s get Admiral Mixson of the Red Sea naval task force on the carrier Kennedy on the line. We may need his help to recover the -111 and the weapons if we have to ditch Breakdance in the drink.”
FIVE
Air Force captain Rebecca C. Furness grasped a handhold and tried to pull herself out of the pilot’s seat in the cockpit of her KC-10 Extender tanker. “Jeez, my ass thinks my legs have been cut off. They’re like Jell-O.” She stepped over the wide center console, gave the new first lieutenant copilot a crewdog pat on the shoulder, slid between the pilot and copilot seats, and eased out of the cockpit. She felt wobbly and weak and tried to rub her legs to restore some circulation. She’d been sitting in that one seat, without a break, for eight hours.