Part: III Final Flight
144404, 'Yogi 11' lifted off from Doha with little fanfare, as was the intent of the Air Vice-Marshall. There was a momentary confusion in settling in prior to the take off. The co-pilot had offered his seat to the Air Vice-Marshall, which was gratefully accepted. Confusion arose when the jump seat was offered to the Chief. He declined, and the co-pilot had thought to claim the seat for himself... when the Chief offered the opinion that "Perhaps the Lieutenant would like to sit there?" The co-pilot deferred with seeming grace, but private disappointment. He had hoped to rub shoulders with "The Boss". The Chief sat in the rear, but tied his headset into the electronic warfare panel like he used to in a long ago past. The tech crewman was momentarily taken aback, the Chief had plugged in to the crew slot and not into the normal guest slot. Functionally there was little difference, except that the guest slot would usually have it's external communication toggled off. The Chief corrected that with a grin to the Tech before finding a seat.
Climb to altitude and the cruise across the Persian Gulf was uneventful until just short of the point where Yogi 11 would make radio contact with Bandar Abbas. First came word that Rattler Flight (4 CF-163 Airacobras) was under attack by Chinese-supplied Flankers. Two other contacts with Flankers were quickly reported. First, a pair of USMC F-35B's had got jumped by 4 Flankers. The Flankers had come in at tree-top level and had reached a point where they could track and engage the Lightnings using only the IRST systems. The pair of Lightnings reacted quickly, but the attack had come from the rear quarter where the Lightning was most vulnerable. Sixteen seconds after the first howl of warning in a Lightning cockpit and both Lightnings were down. The second attack fared less well. Again it was 4 Flankers against a pair of Lightnings, and again they managed to maneuver into rear-quarter positions seemingly without being detected. The two USN F-35C's seemed nonchalant and completely unaware of the danger they were in.
In truth they were in no danger at all. DDG-1000 USS Zumwalt had been tracking the Flankers for the last 6 minutes. The older Radar Warning gear fitted to the "gifted" Flankers was not even capable of detecting the sophisticated radar of Zumwalt. USS Zumwalt let them close to gun range, then smashed them from the sky with contemptuous ease. She had fired 8 rounds from her 5" guns... 3 of the first 4 rounds fired were direct hits.
Aboard Yogi 11 crew, and guests were discussing everyone regaining their normal seats. The aircraft was potentially under threat and this was no time for crew coordination compromised by unfamiliar bodies in unfamiliar places. The seven men aboard Yogi 11 had just made a crew motion plan when the EWO sat bolt upright and literally screamed into his mike "Flankers! Tracking, attempting to switch to high PRF lockon!" High Pulse Repetition Frequency was the radar mode whereby the radar would 'look' at it's target more often in order to maintain a target lock.
For the younger crew of Yogi 11 there was a shocked moment of inaction. That didn't extend to the older members. Mike Shea yelled "Speed, cleared 2?". Speed was the callsign given his old Tech so many years ago, based on his initials. "Cleared 2?" was a request to know if the aircraft was secure for level 2 evasive flight, all cargo secure and all passengers in their assigned places. Speed didn't hesitate for a moment, "2 clear, 10 seconds for 3!". Old habits had the Chief, "Speed", automatically checking the status of the cabin at frequent intervals. The Chief spoke to his cabin mates "Kid, grab the handholds and brace yourself. Sir, lock your seat into the operator position." The two younger men responded with indecent haste. The voice of assured confidence and authority had steadied them. The Chief spoke again "Clear 3! Two Flankers 7 O'clock, locked on and closing!" The Chief smashed down on the chaff dispenser controls, letting out a 2 second burst of the radar jamming fibres.
In the cockpit Mike Shea heard the clearance to maneuver followed by the faint hum of the chaff dispenser. He smashed the control yoke hard over to the right, turning into the attacking fighters. The EWO, shock replaced by determination to carry out his duties, said to the Chief, "I've got it." The Chief backed off the primary panel and watched the EWO set it up for automatic response to threats. Next the EWO got on his radio and called "Artemis", the E-46 AWACS bird covering the lower Persian Gulf.
"Artemis, Romeo Charlie Alpha Foxtrot Actual under attack!" He slugged the aircraft position, course and altitude to the transmission. The myth of Yogi 11 was gone, there could be no confusion as to who was actually aboard.
"Foxtrot Actual, Artemis. Acknowledged. Saber Flight one hundred ten miles astern, supersonic and closing. Hold on!"
Neither Artemis nor Saber held any illusions. A lone VIP transport facing two Flankers in close combat stood no chance of surviving long enough for Saber to reach them and engage the Flankers. Hopeless or not, the pilots of Saber Flight pushed the throttles up on their F-22's and rocketed toward the battle. Saving Foxtrot Actual might be out of the question, Saber Flight held a grim determination that no live heroes would be available to show on Iranian TV.
Aboard '404, now officially RCAF Actual once again, the crew performed with grim purpose. The aircraft commander set the Master Arm switch to 'ON' in the faint hope that one of the Flankers might overshoot and slide in front of the hard maneuvering Challenger. Mike Shea had put the Challenger into a hard spiral, twisting down into denser air where the enormous speed advantage of the Flankers would be eroded. They would still be more maneuverable, but any mistake would cost them greatly if the overtake speed could be limited. It was a faint hope, but the only realistic hope that the seven men aboard the Challenger had.
In the cabin The Chief remembered an incident from the First Gulf War. He spoke to the young Tech crewman "Kid; lower rear antenna, set up the secondary jammer for radar altimeter jamming!" The secondary jammer was relatively low power, and very unsophisticated, but more than up to the task of jamming a radar altimeter. Radar altimeters were simply not devised to operate against hostile electronic warfare. With just a bit of luck, what had worked once would work again...
RCAF Actual plunged into darkness as it's headlong flight brought it below the Sun's horizon. Mike pulled the Challenger out of it's dive and felt the airframe protest at the abuse it was suffering. Levelling off at 100', Mike started to edge downward until he could feel the aircraft bounce as it entered ground effect. "Almost lost it" he thought, got to be careful. "EWO, secondary jammer on!" Mike called, and the EWO respond instantly. He hadn't heard the stories... but he did know what the older men had in mind.
Aboard the Flankers the hard maneuvering of the target had thrown the two pilots off. They had expected an easy target and this one had started to evade even before they had managed to lock it up. The pilots were inexperienced, the lead pilot had less than 200 hours total flight time, and only 20 in Flankers. His number two had only 75 total hours, and only 8 of those in the Flanker. Lead was unsure of himself so close to the water and after one near miss where he could actually see spray thrown up by the waves cloud his canopy he set his terrain avoidance radar to 100' and engaged the system. The Flanker was over 700 knots when it smashed into the water in a 30 degree dive. The radar altimeter never varied from the 800' reading it had started with.
"Crew. EWO. One radar terminated. We may have got one!"
The crew had a brief moment of relief before getting back to the deadly serious task of surviving the remaining Flanker.
Aboard the second Flanker the pilot was panicked. Lead was down and he didn't even know why. Seemingly he had just decided to splash his aircraft into the Persian Gulf without even saying a word. Now he saw his radar was malfunctioning as well. His radar lock on the target kept breaking off and shoals of static and false targets kept sweeping across his display. He switched to using his IRST system where he could at least see his target. He never thought to shut down his radar and stop it from giving away his position.
The Flanker pilot pushed his throttles forward, eager to close the target and destroy it. He wasn't sure that a missile would function so close to the water so he was going to move into gun range and do things the simple way. He never realized just how much overtake speed he was building up until it was far too late to correct the error.
Aboard the Challenger the Chief saw the telltale signs of a radar closing fast, and still accelerating. "Mike, Flanker closing. He's got a lot of smash on!" Smash was the aircrew's way of saying that the plane was moving fast. Mike firewalled the throttles and the rookie Flanker driver reacted just a expected, pushing his throttles into the stops and lighting his afterburners. Mike waited 5 seconds and then chopped his power, causing the Challenger to decelerate rapidly.
The Flanker was almost in gun range when the target seemed to stop. The pilot realized his mistake and moved to the side to clear his target. He would go around and loop back to kill the target with more patience. Passing the target, he crossed in front and pulled up. The Chief saw the flare of the afterburners through the starboard windows and called "Flanker Starboard!"
Mike saw the Flanker surge past his window and race out in front. Shaking the yoke he called "Pilot's aircraft, take the heater shot!" The pilot took control and looked at the Flanker through his helmet-mounted display. He heard the growl of the AIM-9X missile as it saw it's target and he pressed his thumb down on the release button. The Sidewinder missile rocketed off the wing and immediately started to track the Flanker. A second missile followed one second later.
It wasn't needed.
The first missile impacted the Flanker's port engine. It pushed the aircraft's nose down. The inexperienced pilot was too slow to recover and his plane tumbled and broke up as it bounced off the water.
The crew aboard the Challenger was slow to react. Both Flankers were down and for a few seconds no one could believe it. Mike broke the moment by announcing "Crew, time to put that motion plan into operation. Let's all get back into our normal seats." There was little confusion, the last few minutes had welded the men into one crew. Once everyone was where they belonged, and the aircraft established in a safe climb the EWO made one last call to Artemis.
"Artemis, Foxtrot Actual. Splash two. Vectors please to join on Saber for escort to our destination."
Both Artemis and Saber flight were confused. Not only had the Challenger survived, but the Flankers hadn't.
Someone, it seemed, had one hell of a story to tell.
