It was hard to estimate the difference that having these frequencies could mean to the North Koreans. It was information that could provide them with a decisive advantage. And it was worth a huge amount of money.
Except for one thing. The codes which Ammon carried were more than three years old. Since then, the CBU-15 had undergone a major upgrade in avionics. Part of the upgrade included a change in software. As a result, the codes that Ammon carried out of the wing intelligence building were completely useless. They were of no value to anyone. And Ammon knew it.
Just over four hours later, Capt Ammon found himself circling over the western coast of Korea. It was a beautiful night; clear with a full moon and not a cloud in sight. That was very unusual for August. When the weather briefer forecast clear skies for the air refueling track, Ammon had not believed him. During the day, thunderstorms would usually develop over the mountains of central Korea. They then would move eastward and blow out to the Yellow Sea, reaching the ocean by nightfall.
But here he was, level at 23,000 feet, with nothing but twinkling stars and the bright yellow moon.
Seventeen minutes earlier, Ammon had taken off from Osan and climbed immediately to 23,000 feet. He was a little early for his air refueling and had spent the last five minutes in a lazy orbit while he waited for his tanker. Sealed inside the cockpit, the earth passed silently below him, interrupted only by the sound of his breathing and an occasional radio transmission from Air Traffic Control.
To pass the time he tried to identify as many constellations as he could, but his gaze was continually drawn to the water below. He noticed the sparkle of the moon as it reflected on the sea. Following the coastline, he could see the lights of Seoul sprawIed along the Han river. Further to the north, P’yongyang, the capital of North Korea, caused a dim glow on the distant horizon.
As he circled, the KC-135 tanker that was scheduled to refuel his fighter was enroute to his position. It would be there in a little less than five minutes. Ammon had already talked to the tanker pilots on the preassigned radio frequency. He reported that he was orbiting over the start point of the air refueling track at flight level 230. Once the tanker was within thirty miles of Ammon’s position, it would descend from its cruise altitude of 29,000 feet to 24,000 feet. As they met over the start point, they would both begin to fly eastbound along their designated refueling track.
In the tanker’s tail lay the “boomer,” an enlisted crewmember whose job it was to maneuver the air refueling boom into the fighter’s refueling port. He lay on his stomach on a padded board that looked very similar to a weight bench. From this vantage point he could look out a large bubble window and watch the thirsty aircraft maneuver behind the tanker as they moved into position for gas.
The boom extended twenty feet below the belly of the tanker and had small winglets and hydraulic actuators that allowed the boomer to move it into position and connect with another aircraft’s refueling port. Once a “contact” was established, fuel could be transferred at a rate of 3,000 pounds per minute.
When Capt Ammon had the lights of the tanker in sight, he would begin a gradual climb to tuck himself under the tanker’s tail. Once in position, he would open his refueling door to allow the tanker’s boom to hook into his F-16’ s fuel port.
On a dark night it could be fairly difficult to maneuver into position for refueling. The tanker’s lights would blend in with the starry background, making it nearly impossible to see the outline of the aircraft or refueling boom in the darkness.
But as Capt Ammon looked around him at the bright moon and clear sky, he realized that it would be easy to refuel tonight.
“No problem,” he muttered to himself through his oxygen mask as the tanker flew into view. At three miles, Capt Ammon could clearly see the outline of the tanker as it positioned itself ahead of him. He completed his air refueling checklist, checked his own airspeed and altitude and added a little power to begin his climb up to the tanker. Thirty seconds later, he was in position twenty feet behind and slightly below the tanker’s extended boom. This was considered the “pre-contact” position and it required a final radio check prior to moving any closer.
“Kingdom two-two, Devil six-seven is established precontact,” Ammon transmitted over the radio.
Inside the tanker’s belly, the boomer had watched as Ammon had maneuvered his aircraft into position. Now he could clearly see the outline of the pilot sitting inside the cockpit, illuminated by the moon and the lights of his instrument panel. The boomer keyed the radio switch in his left hand and replied.
“Roger, Devil. You’re cleared in. Are you going to want all five thousand pounds? That’s a lot of gas for such a little plane.”
The tanker was scheduled to offload 5,000 pounds of fuel. But like most tankers, they were feeling a little stingy. Their thirty-year-old engines were very inefficient and burned enormous amounts of fuel, so they figured it never hurt to try to keep a little extra gas. They especially hated to give away fuel to unappreciative customers. Their attitude was, if Ammon didn’t really need the gas, then maybe they would just keep it for themselves. Unfortunately for them, tonight Ammon needed it all.
“That’s affirm, Kingdom two-two, I’ll need all five thousand pounds.” Ammon replied.
“Okay Devil, we copy,” the boomer said. Then after a short pause he commented, “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“It really is. Kind of makes you sad to think of landing and losing this view.”
“Roger that, Devil. Well anyway, if you’re really going to steal our gas, then come on in to Mama.”
Before closing the final distance between the two aircraft, Ammon scanned his instruments to complete a final safety check. He would not be able to look inside the cockpit once he hooked up to the boom, and he wanted to know everything was normal before the refueling began. He also reached up with his right hand to brighten his exterior lights. That would make it easier for the boomer to see his refueling port against the backdrop of his gray painted aircraft. Finally, he nudged the throttle forward ever so slightly and moved in on the tanker.
Now there was only one thing left to do. He had to open his refueling door so that the boom could make a contact. But before he opened the door he lifted up his left hand and gave the boomer the customary wave. He saw the boomer return his wave, then give him a thumbs up signal.
Not until then did Ammon reach down to his side console to find the switch that would open the refueling door. He felt for the switch and found it without looking, keeping his eyes on the tanker above him. He hesitated for just a second, then moved the switch to the open position.
The boomer could only stare in bewilderment when the aircraft exploded before him. The dazzling flash filled the night sky with a white-hot ball of fire and burning metal. For several seconds, he was completely blinded by the searing explosion, leaving him confused and disoriented, his mouth hanging open in silent horror. He was only eighteen years old, and his young mind took a moment to comprehend the fact that he was in the process of watching a man die.
When the boomer could finally speak, he forgot to key his microphone switch, and no one heard him screaming. “What! No! Climb! Climb! Get away from the fireball!”
Capt Ammon’s F-16 was now a dazzling ball of flying fire. However, the pilots in the tanker had no idea what was going on. They didn’t see the flash of the explosion or feel any of the shock wave it produced. Their only indication that something was wrong was a slight bump and lift in the tail. The boomer was the only one to witness the fighter as it descended and rolled inverted, its left wing and fuselage completely engulfed in flames. As the fighter’s engine flamed out, it quit producing thrust. With its airspeed decreasing rapidly, the aircraft began a near vertical fall. Spinning wildly, it descended to the ocean more than four miles below.