A tactic used by Willie Driscoll, a famous Navy jock, came back—“Turn to kill, not to engage.” Now he had the F-4s visually in his HUD. They were still flying straight and level, in echelon, not maneuvering, coming straight at him, still high, holding their altitude. “Hold on, Byers.” He turned forty-five degrees to the left and dropped still lower. Just before the two F-4s came by him on his right he reefed the F-15 into a hard right turn and pulled up and into them. It was a stern-conversion and the bandits had not yet seen him. With his thumb he toggled the weapons-select switch on his throttles to the rear and selected his 20mm cannon. He surged into the bandits’ right rear quarter, still below them, and sent a short burst of high-explosive shells into the lead F-4 on the right. Two puffs of smoke trailed from the Iranian F-4 and a tongue of flame licked out from under its belly. Then it pitched nose down, tumbled, and exploded.
Jack pulled back to the left and up, again using the vertical to reposition for a reattack or to disengage, whichever looked better when he was on top with energy to maneuver and choose his options. The other F-4 had buried its nose and was reversing course, running away. Jack let him live and headed for the prison, and mentally went through the switchology that would allow him to call up a Maverick missile …
“Cowboy,” the fighter controller’s voice was more rapid and high pitched now. He had never directed fighters into an actual engagement before. “Bandits at zero-niner-zero degrees, seventy nautical miles.”
“Burners, now,” Snake ordered. His three flight members shoved their throttles forward into the fourth-, then fifth-stage afterburner, and the F-15s accelerated straight ahead. He had worked out a mental map of the C-130’s position and the converging bandits. He had to hurry to get between them.
“Multiple hits, zero-eight-zero, sixty-five miles,” his wingman sang out. He had a radar contact on the bandits. The F-15s started to sort them out, deciding who would engage who. But above all, Snake was determined to keep the bandits off the C-130. He had learned his lesson.
Jack flew past the prison, monitoring his TEWS. It was quiet. The Iranian tanks had reached the airfield. “Byers, put the crosshairs for the Maverick smack in the middle of the admin building. Got it?” Byers asked if the admin building was the one with the smouldering fire that had been hit by a bomb. “That’s it, we’re in. “Jack rolled the F-15 up onto its left wing and rolled out into a shallow dive. Byers had the knack now and drove the crosshairs onto the admin building and locked on. Jack hit the pickle button and launched the first Maverick. He called up another Maverick. “Lock on again.” Byers did, and it was sent on its way …
Mokhtari was in the first-floor office of the main cell block trying to reconnect the telephone a Ranger had ripped out of its connection when he heard the F-15. Instinctively he dived for cover under the desk and threw his arms over his head. The blast from the two Mavericks momentarily deafened him. Then a hard look of satisfaction spread over his face when he realized the attacking plane had hit the wrong building …
Jack came off the target and repositioned. He selected bombs, ripple and started his second run, placing his target reticle on the edge of the prison. He would walk his five remaining bombs across the main cell block and into the admin building …
The sound of the returning F-15 pounded at Mokhtari. Fear was numbing. At first he had an overpowering urge to urinate, then panic drove him from the office. He ran down the short flight of stairs and out the main door heading for the reinforced concrete tunnel that served as the prison’s entrance …
Jack saw the lone figure running across the exercise yard. “I hope to hell that’s you,” he said aloud, designating with the pickle button. His right foot feathered the rudder pedal, skidding the F-15 onto a new path …
Terror had replaced hate as Mokhtari realized the F-15 was pointed directly at him, freezing him in his tracks. He lost control of his bladder when he saw the five bombs separate cleanly from the aircraft. He raised his head and watched the F-15 pull off. And watched as the first bomb exploded only fifteen feet in front of him…
“Cowboy, Delray,” the AWACS transmitted. “Bandits are now at zero-two-zero degrees, twenty miles.”
“Rog, Delray,” Snake replied, “Judy.” With the Judy-call he told the AWACS they were taking over the intercept. As flight lead, Snake was still working on how best to engage the six bandits they were closing on. He and his wingman were going to attack the lead aircraft while his other F-15s, the second element of F-15s, were going to attack the rear aircraft. He had to keep the bandits off the C-130, but his weapons could only be fired forward. So he had to have his nose pointed at the enemy to be a fighter. Otherwise he could easily become a target. Even the most advanced fighter was at a disadvantage against an old, obsolete jet that had maneuvered to the six o’clock position and was firing.
Snake updated his three-dimensional image of the relative position of the bandits. The F-15s were closing from the bandits’ front-left quarter and the C-130 was behind him. He was in time.
Now he entered the attack phase of the engagement. Snake understood the psychological advantage an aggressive attack gave him — no matter the odds, put your opponent on the defensive and keep him there — otherwise, get the hell out of there. But since he couldn’t disengage and leave the C-130 unprotected, he was going to make the bandits turn away from the Hercules. At the same time he wasn’t going to be sucked into a turning dogfight — like Jack, he would only turn to kill, not to engage.
“Cowboy flight, deploy now,” he ordered. It was a simple command but one they had worked out in repeated training flights. Houser man and his wingman pulled up into the sun, gaining altitude, while the second element dove for the ground. They would attack in a pincers movement, Snake from above and in front, his second element from the rear and below. The contract they had worked out between themselves was to launch AIM-7M radar missiles when they were inside fifteen miles, then to blow on through the formation and reposition for another attack. Only this time, Snake and his wingman would go low and the other element would go high.
“Bandits are Floggers,” the leader of the low element whooped over the UHF. The MiG-23 the Iranians were flying was a good jet but it couldn’t turn with an F-15 and the pilot couldn’t check his six-o’clock position.
The MiGs first realized they were under attack when their radar-warning gear started screaming that a hostile radar was locked on them. That was immediately followed by the sight of two smoke trails coming at them from out of the sun. Hard to ignore a brace of AIM-7s when pointed at you, and the MiGs broke formation as they turned — scattering across the sky.
Snake’s AIM-7 missed, but his wingman’s came within a few feet of its target and the proximity fuse did as designed and detonated, sending a shower of expanding rod-core into the underside of the MiG, ripping into the lower half of the pilot. The Iranian saw his fire light come on and felt the flight controls go dead, but all he could do was watch the ground rush up at him…
The two trailing MiG’s never saw the low element of two F-15s but reacted to their radar-warning gear and broke hard for the ground, evading the missiles shot at them. The AIM-7 was well-named the Great White Hope.
Cowboy flight blew on through the turning MiGs as they had planned and repositioned for another attack.
Now Snake and his wingman came back into the fight from below. Although Snake was going almost straight up it looked like he was porpoising as he maneuvered on his next target. The MiG buried its nose toward Snake and turned under while Snake did a loop over the top and fell in behind the MiG. Now they were going straight down with the AIM-9 seeker-head tracking the Flogger’s afterburner. Snake fired a Sidewinder and broke away, leaving the fight. The Sidewinder flew up the MiG’s tail pipe and exploded.