The plan was for Coral Sea to operate southeast of Barbados, launch two hours after sunset, form up, tank, push south for 30 minutes, then turn west and accelerate for the run in to San Ramón. After they hit the airfield, they would come off south, regroup, and transit back to tank those who needed it and recover around midnight. Another strike was scheduled to launch at 0300 with a dawn, “pinky,” recovery.
It was critical that Wilson’s strike succeed in grounding the Venezuelan fighters in the eastern part of the country and preclude the FAV from transferring fighters to San Ramón to defend their port at Río Salta. Wilson’s jets would be loaded up with 1,000 pounders to produce large craters. At least his formations would be coming in high with a running start. Annie’s mining birds would be carrying mines weighing well over 1,000 pounds. The mines had no nose cones: it would be as if Annie’s pilots were lugging large trash cans under their wings. They would have to come in slow over the gulf to deliver them close to shore in the Río Salta delta. Because there was no way the mining birds’ raid could succeed with a significant fighter threat nearby, Wilson’s strike had to eliminate that threat.
Each strike built upon another, and the leads, having a working knowledge of the aimpoints and expected degradation each mission would achieve, had to make assumptions on the success of the previous strike. They also knew not to bank on it, knew they would have to have contingencies to deal with a stronger threat than expected. First in combat, Wilson didn’t have to worry about that… but he was under no illusion that the Venezuelans would just roll over. They would fight back, and hard.
The launch sequence, the tanking, the weather… every possible detail had to be accounted for with dozens of contingency plans. Wilson had today and tomorrow to imprint them on this brain and to consider every what if with his team. He then had to brief it to CAG and Admiral Davies who would pepper him with questions on those details. Without their verbal okay the strike would not proceed. Not a good thing.
Wilson felt the ship pitch and roll and was reminded that they were pretty much alone in the open Atlantic, even with Gettysburg a few miles away in escort. He wished he had a “lily pad,” in the form of a destroyer, to launch a quick reaction combat SAR if the situation arose. Somebody’s louder voice had gotten the small boys sent to the vicinity of Curacao and Aruba, and he doubted the Rustlers and their MH-60 Sierras could use Trinidad as a forward base. He would ask, though.
As Wilson studied the tactical charts of San Ramón, other strike team members met him in CVIC to begin their long day of planning. Deputy CAG Kay was going with Wilson, flying on his wing, but Wilson’s assistant strike lead was his Ops Officer Stretch Armstrong. Dusty Rhodes would fly on Stretch’s wing. Representatives from all the squadrons were there, each with a responsibility in this lethal cross-functional team. DCAG Kay, though, was too senior to be part of the planning; he would show up at brief time tomorrow evening.
Shane brought the team an updated order-of-battle chart. F-16s were imaged at San Ramón, and tactical SAM launchers were spotted in the vicinity of the airfield, but the Venezuelans could easily disperse them. A fixed SAM site was located near Río Salta, and another one south on the Orinoco River. Wilson saw that the “seam” from the radii of both sites fell near San Ramón. He shook his head in wonder that the Venezuelans allowed for such a thin SAM umbrella over their main fighter base in the east. It would allow the Americans to come right at it. He surmised they didn’t anticipate an attack from the sea. For Wilson, the mobile SAMs and AAA of all calibers were threat enough.
By 1000, CVIC was full of aviators in flight suits grouped at tables, poring over charts. Billy Martin would lead a follow-on strike after Wilson to hit the naval base at Río Salta, and the following day Army logistics sites would be destroyed to preclude resupply of the port and oil terminal. Then Annie would come in. Meanwhile, Air Force bombers and Strike Eagles with F-22 escort would deal with the threat to Aruba and Curacao from the Caracas region, and Theodore Roosevelt was expected to help them in another three days.
Wilson was measuring the distance between the initial point and the roll-in when CAG entered and caught Wilson’s attention, motioning him over. Wilson got up and right away noticed CAG’s pained expression. Oh, oh, Wilson thought.
“Flip, we just got word. This strike is going tonight.”
Apprehensive, Wilson blinked at Matson. “Tonight, sir?”
“Tonight…. Time on target in ten hours.”
CHAPTER 46
Wilson couldn’t believe it. “CAG, you gotta be shittin’ me.”
“Nope. You and Billy Martin are flying tonight, and we’re moving everything up after that. Just us. No Air Force fighters. We think they have the Yakhont missile from the Russians, a supersonic sea-skimming ship-killer. We’ve imaged a possible launch site here on the Paria Peninsula, and they may have an air-launched variant. If so, they could have fit one to their Flankers, so we’re running south now to a position northeast of Barbados, using the island as a shield. We’re not going any further.” Wilson knew this doubled his range to San Ramón, and the sheer magnitude of what had to be planned and briefed in the next ten hours—no eight… less! — was daunting. He tried to find a reprieve.
“CAG, ten hours from now is dusk. You want us to hit them at dusk? Too early for NVGs, flying into the sun. Why, sir?” Wilson knew he was whining, but dusk and dawn were the worst possible times on target. At least dawn would give him ten extra hours to plan.
“We are concerned about the Yakhont. We have to hit them tonight.”
Not giving up, Wilson persisted. “Dusk, sir? CAG, please.”
Matson’s face tightened into a frown as he locked eyes with Wilson.
“The White House wants to go on national TV in the eight o’clock hour to announce the strike — after it happens. As soon as you go feet wet on the egress, the President informs the nation.”
Wilson shook his head in disbelief and frustration. Now he had to inform his fellow strikers, his squadronmates, his friends, about this flawed plan, his flawed plan. He had to sell it to their disbelieving faces. Matson continued.
“Flip, if you had two days to plan you would take the full two days. If you had a week, it would take a week. An 81 % good plan tonight, executed with violence, is better than a 95 % plan in two days. Now, you have my word that my staff and I are going to support you fully. I’m going to the bridge now to run interference for you. Whatever Commander Wilson needs, he gets. What is your game plan?”