But even the B-52s could carry a big punch. “Radio to all attack-group ships and to Task Force Master, we are under attack, request air support against incoming B-52 bombers,” Jhijun said.
Obviously Harpoon antiship missiles, he thought. They were lucky — they did not start their attack until they had a radar fix on Yingtan. That meant the Americans had no other radar aircraft in the area spotting targets for the B-52s. Jhijun checked the plot board. The B-52s will be coming within range of Jinan’s radars in a few minutes — if they survived that long — and the longer-range HQ-91 missiles would not miss. But Jhijun fully expected the B-52s to turn tail and run after all their Harpoon missiles were expended.
“Patrol boat 682 engaging antiship missiles… patrol boat 688 engaging missiles… Yingtan now reporting six incoming aircraft, all from the south, range to closest aircraft twenty nautical miles. Same flight profile, reported as B-52 bombers on low-level antiship attack.” The reports began coming in as one by one the Harpoon missiles were destroyed. “First B-52 turning west, appears to be disengaging.”
“Lost contact with patrol boat 642, sir,” the combat information center officer on Jinan reported. “Patrol boat 688 reports two vessels afire, suspect the other as patrol boat 651. Frigate Yingtan reports minor damage from antiship missile, but is still under way and combat capable.” With six B-52s on the loose, each with the capacity to carry twelve Harpoon missiles, they had to expect some attrition. “Second B-52 disengaging…”
So the B-52s were going to be content with launching a few Harpoon missiles and fleeing. The fighters would be able to mop them up then, Jhijun thought — they still had to contend with the Harpoon missiles and Tomahawk cruise missiles, though…
This was incredible, the Chinese pilot of the JS-7 fighter thought — one moment he was leading an eight-ship attack group on a routine night patrol, the next moment he was alone and under attack by an unseen, unidentified foe.
“Fayling, Fayling,” the pilot radioed to the destroyer Kaifeng, which was controlling the intercept in this sector, “where is the target? I need a vector.”
“Liang flight, target is in a rapid descent at your eight o’clock position, thirty kilometers, altitude four thousand meters,” the radar controller reported — apparently he was too excited to remember that the other J-7 fighter had been destroyed. “Turn left heading two-niner-five and descend to three thousand meters to intercept.”
Four thousand meters? Less than sixty seconds ago he was at ten thousand meters! The JS-7 pilot threw his fighter into a steep left turn and pushed the nose down, using his airbrakes judiciously to avoid ripping his PL-7 and PL-2 missiles from their pylons.
“Liang, your target is at your eleven to twelve o’clock, twenty-seven kilometers.”
He was getting heavy jamming, but his French-made radar was sophisticated enough to frequency-hop and avoid most of it. “Intermittent contact,” the JS-7 pilot reported. The lock-on was good enough for a radar range and firing solution, so he quickly selected a PL-7 radar-guided missile. “Liang shooting radar one…” He waited a few seconds, then fired his second one. “Shooting radar two…”
Atkins was so sure the fighter back there was going to take a shot that he found himself staring at the threat-indicator light. As soon as it illuminated, he shouted, “Missile launch! Level off!” He found himself crushed into his seat by G-forces as Carter pulled the B-52 out of its high-banked dive, the fuselage and wings creaking so loudly from the stress that it seemed they would shatter like a crystal champagne glass. “Break left!” Atkins shouted on interphone as he ejected chaff out the right ejector racks. Carter heeled the EB-52 Megafortress hard left, so hard that Atkins’ helmet banged against his left instrument panel — but he kept his finger on the chaff button long enough to create a good-sized cloud. Carter shoved the Megafortress’s nose down below the horizon to regain his airspeed, and the negative-Gs he created caused dirt, loose checklists and papers, and all sorts of unrecognizable garbage to float around the cabin as if they were suddenly weightless in orbit. Atkins felt his stomach go up with the floating junk, and he ripped off his oxygen mask to keep from filling it up with vomit.
“You OK, E-dub?” Karbayjal said. Atkins turned and saw his gunner with a worried expression on his face and one hand on his shoulder. The plane was in a gut-wrenching turn, they were under attack by a Chinese fighter — but Karbayjal was worried about him.
“Sure… sure…” Atkins moaned.
“Good,” Karbayjal said. He settled himself back into his seat as calmly and as easily as could be, as if being tossed around and squished by four times Earth’s gravity were a normal occurrence for him. “You’re doing good, E-dub,” Karbayjal added. “Keep it up and let’s get that sucker. Set up your jammers and take care of the uplink.”
Atkins struggled to refocus his eyes on his threat display. His automatic jamming system picked out the best frequency range and applied it to the correct antennae for the threat — in this case, an X3-band uplink signal driven to the tail antennae — and it would pump out chaff as well, but it would not tell the pilot when or in what direction to turn to avoid the missile. Tracked on the tail radar, the Chinese missile appeared to be wavering from the chaff to the EB-52, not entirely fooled. This close-in, the missile might lock onto the Megafortress if they made another turn. “Pilot, roll out!” Atkins called out. “Guns, stand by with Stingers!” Karbayjal smiled at Atkins — he was finally taking charge of this intercept. “Roger, E-dub.” Karbayjal already had a good lock on the incoming Chinese missiles and was waiting for them to close in. It was a risky move — hoping that the Megafortress’s low radar cross-section would defeat the missiles more than maneuvering would. They needed to build up a new speed reserve as well, since even the Megafortress bled off a lot of airspeed in tight turns.
But the jammers weren’t completely shutting down the Chinese fighter’s uplink — the missiles were still tracking. “Missiles still coming!” Atkins shouted on the interphone.
“I’m ready with Stingers,” Karbayjal told him, “but you gotta do it. My Stingers are strictly last resort…”
Atkins took another calculated risk — as he began pumping out chaff once more from the left ejectors, he overrode the automatic jammers and reduced the transmitter power in half, letting a strong fighter fire control lock on the bleed-through, then shouted, “Pilot, break right!”
The missiles continued to bore in…
Now there were three radar targets out there, the Chinese JS-7 pilot cursed. The first was obviously a chaff cloud — it had begun to dissipate very quickly, and his PL-7 missiles weren’t fooled. His radar seemed to get a firm lock-on just then on the real target, but it turned out it was a firm lock on another chaff cloud. The target was scooting right at nearly a thousand kilometers an hour, while the big, bright, original target was dead ahead — at zero kilometers per hour. Obviously a chaff cloud — and his missiles were both going for it. A clean miss.
“Fayling, Liang, where is Sichuan-Ten flight? I have no radar missiles left.”
“Liang, Sichuan-Ten flight has been separated into two flights of two, high patrol diverting north to intercept air targets under control by destroyer Zunyi. Your helpers will be designated Sichuan-31 flight of two, now at ten thousand meters, range two-one-five bullseye.”