Bender laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit. How’s your family? I remember your daughter. She was just an infant. What a beautiful baby. She must be, what? Seventeen now? Do you still call her Little Dove?”
THIRTEEN
The weather was unusually clear for mid-November when the Ilyushin Il-76 passed over Minsk. The city lights twinkled in the early dark as its citizens finished work and streamed into the streets, some to relax and enjoy the weekend, but most to work their second job. Few looked up at the sound of the descending military transport aircraft. But a taxi driver duly noted its time of arrival and made a phone call. Within minutes, the information was passed to the third floor of the American embassy in Warsaw.
The Il-76 was cleared for a straight-in landing at Machulische, the old Soviet air base ten miles south of the city. A follow-me truck escorted it to the parking ramp that had once been occupied by an air regiment of MiG-23 Floggers. Now only the blackened scorch marks left by exhaust plumes of jet engines were left, marching in rows of exclamation marks. A procession of three trucks and a bus packed with soldiers made its way out of the shadows and stopped behind the Il-76. A line of young women carrying their luggage filed off the aircraft and were told to wait under the wing.
There was no delay in loading the aircraft as the men went about their duties in a well-rehearsed drill. No sooner was the cargo onboard than the bus pulled up and let the soldiers off. They trooped aboard the aircraft, lugging their weapons and equipment with them while the women climbed on the bus. The pilots started engines and the big plane taxied for the runway. But this time, the tower read a clearance for them to proceed as filed to Modlin Air Base in Poland. Four Sukhoi Su-35 fighters taxied out of nearby bunkers and awaited their turn to take the active. The tower cleared the Il-76 for takeoff and the four Su-35s rolled onto the runway. Three minutes later they took off in twenty-second intervals, chasing the big cargo plane.
The radar operator at Crown East, the Polish radar early-warning and ground-controlled intercept site outside Bialystok, Poland, started tracking the Il-76 the moment it climbed through 4,000 feet. He dutifully noted that its radar transponder was squawking the correct code for a diplomatic overflight. But it did not have a flight plan. He spoke to the tactical-threat officer who immediately called sector command.
“We have a target tracking inbound from Minsk,” the tac officer said. “It’s squawking the correct IFF code for a diplomatic flight, but I don’t have a flight plan.”
On cue, a voice with a heavy Russian accent came over the radio. “Crown East, this is Vnukova inbound for Modlin Air Base.”
The radar controller’s fingers flew over his controls patching the radio frequency onto the communications net before he acknowledged the call. “Vnukova aircraft calling Crown East, be advised we do not have a flight plan on your flight. Do not penetrate Polish airspace without clearance.”
“Crown East, be advised a flight plan is not required.” The pilot’s tone mimicked the controller’s. “We are under treaty clearance.”
The tac officer spoke to sector command over a discreet land line. “I don’t like this, sir. It is similar to September eighteenth.” The Poles referred to the loss of their two F-16s by the date of the incident.
The silence from sector control was painful. Finally, “Standby. Keep monitoring their track while I contact headquarters.”
“Good luck,” the radar controller muttered to the tac officer. “They’ve all gone home for the weekend.” He fine-tuned the old P-50 Barlock radar. Something was wrong. The return was far too strong for an Il-76 at that distance. He called the tac officer over. “Sir, I think we’re dealing with two aircraft flying in formation.”
“What game are the stupid Russkies playing now?” the young man said. He keyed his microphone and relayed the radar controller’s suspicions to sector command.
“I have no response from headquarters,” sector answered.
“We need a decision,” the tac officer said.
Again, the silence was painful. “I do not have enough information,” sector said. “You are authorized to respond as the situation warrants.” Sector command had just bailed out.
The young tac officer did not hesitate. “Scramble alert”
“Scrambling now,” sector command said. He hit the Klaxon button, relieved that a subordinate unit had made the decision for him. In a nearby bunker, two pilots raced for their aircraft and clambered up the boarding ladders. The doors clanked open as each pilot settled into his seat and turned on the battery for radios and engine start. But only the lead aircraft cranked to life. The second aircraft had a dead battery. The pilot gave his lead a helpless look as a crew chief ran for the auxiliary power unit. But it was missing. In disgust, the lead pilot taxied alone and raced for the end of the runway. He was airborne two minutes later.
The climb-out and handoff to Crown East was routine and within minutes, the F-16 pilot was vectored onto the Il-76. He got his first radar paint at sixty nautical miles and locked on. Almost immediately, his radar broke lock and started to strobe. But for a fraction of a second, the F-16’s antijam circuits burned through the strobing. Then the strobing was back. But in that brief quarter-second, the pilot saw five distinct radar returns clustered in a tight vee formation. What he didn’t see were two of the radar returns peeling off and heading for him.
The loss of the two F-16s had been much discussed among the Polish pilots and each had come to his own conclusions about what to do if they were caught in a similar situation. The Polish pilot immediately turned his radar to standby and let Crown East run the intercept. His eyes kept dancing back to his radar-warning receiver. The chirping tone in his headset warned him of a hostile attack radar but there was no symbol on the scope. The pilot was not a coward nor was he a fool. It was time to run for cover. He stroked the afterburner and did a split-S for the ground. The split-S is an inverted half-loop and the F-16 pulled six Gs at the bottom as the pilot pulled out. He kept the throttle in full afterburner as he raced for home.
The maneuver saved his life and the two Su-35s that had been converging on him broke off their attack run and rejoined on the Il-76 which was in a descent for landing at Modlin Air-Base outside Warsaw. The Il-76 called the tower for landing clearance.
“Vnukova aircraft calling Modlin,” the tower replied. “Be advised the runway is closed.”
“Modlin tower, be advised we are on a diplomatic clearance and will be landing in six minutes.”
“Do not attempt a landing. There is a vehicle on the runway.”
“Please clear the runway,” the Ilyushin pilot replied. Two of the Su-35s raced ahead in tight formation. They made no attempt to configure for landing and flew down the runway at five hundred feet. At midfield they pulled up and stroked their afterburners. They went through the Mach going straight up and the characteristic double-boom shock wave shook the tower and the small truck parked on the runway. The truck driver got the message and quickly drove onto the grass, clearing the runway. The truck mired down in the soft earth but the driver was a very focused man. He bolted out of the Cab and kept running, leaving the engine running.
The Il-76 pilot shaded his landing to the opposite side of the runway and his left wingtip missed the truck by thirty feet. The big cargo plane taxied to parking and shut down engines. The ramp at the back of the aircraft lowered and soldiers streamed out. They ran into position, establishing a defensive cordon around the aircraft. They waited.
Almost immediately, a lone black Mercedes-Benz drove up and a lean and ravaged-looking figure emerged from the backseat. It was Jerzy Fedor from the Council of Ministers. He walked up to the soldiers as bolts slammed home, charging the weapons. He spoke to the first man he approached. “Let me speak to the officer in charge.”