tc.redstormrising-第77部分

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The　escort　mander　still　had　not　authorized　a　missile　launch。　Better　to　have　Ivan　shoot　his　missiles　first；　before　he　knew　what　lay　in　his　path。　Data　from　the　carrier　battle　was　already　out　to　the　fleet。　The　big　Russian　air…to…surface　missiles　were　not　especially　hard　targets　to　hit；　since　they　ran　straight　for　their　targets；　though　you　did　have　to　react　in　a　hurry：　they　were　mighty　fast。　He　figured　that　the　Bear　was　still　doing　a　target　evaluation　and　did　not　yet　know　the　strength　of　the　escort　force。　The　longer　he　was　kept　in　the　dark；　the　better；　because　the　Backfires　would　not　have　much　time　to　loiter　this　far　from　their　bases。　And　if　the　Bear　came　in　just　a　little　closer　。　。　。
〃mence　firing！〃　the　TAO　shouted。
Pharris's　gun　mount　went　to　full…automatic　mode；　firing　a　round　every　two　seconds。　The　Bear　was　barely　within　range　of　her　gun；　and　there　was　scant　chance　of　a　kill；　but　it　was　time　to　give　him　something　to　worry　about。
The　first　five　rounds　fell　short；　exploding　harmlessly　a　mile　from　the　Bear；　but　the　next　three　came　closer；　one　exploding　only　two　hundred　yards　from　his　left　wing。　The　Soviet　pilot　instinctively　turned　right　to　evade。　That　was　a　mistake。　He　didn't　know　that　the　nearest　row　of　〃merchantmen〃　carried　missiles。
Seconds　later；　two　missiles　launched　and　the　Bear　immediately　dove　to　evade；　a　shower　of　chaff　in　her　wake　as　she　headed　right　for　Pharris；　which　gave　the　frigate's　gun　crew　another　chance　to　score　a　kill。　They　fired　off　twenty　new　rounds　as　the　plane　approached。　Perhaps　two　were　close　enough　to　damage　the　bomber；　but　there　was　no　visible　result。　The　missiles　came　in　next；　tiny　white　darts　trailing　columns　of　gray　smoke。　One　missed　and　detonated　in　the　chaff　cloud；　but　the　second　detonated　a　hundred　yards　away　from　the　bomber。　The　warhead　expanded　explosively　like　a　watchspring；　breaking　into　thousands　of　fragments；　and　several　ripped　into　the　Bear's　port　wing。　The　massive　propJet　lost　power　in　one　engine　and　suffered　major　wing　damage　before　the　pilot　regained　control　just　outside　Pharris's　gun　range。　She　headed　off　north；　trailing　smoke。
The　other　Bear　remained　discreetly　out　of　everyone's　range。　The　raid　mander　had　just　learned　a　lesson　that　he'd　pass　on　to　his　regimental　intelligence　officer。
〃More　radars　ing　on。　Down　Beats！〃　warned　the　ESM　technician。　〃I　count　ten…count　is　increasing。　Fourteen…eighteen！〃　the　air…search　radar　operator　sang　out　next。
〃Radar　contacts；　bearing　zero…three…four；　range　one…eight…zero　miles。　I　count　four　targets；　now　five…six　targets。　Course　two…one…zero；　speed　six　hundred　knots。〃
〃Here　e　the　Backfires；〃　TAO　said。
〃Radar　contact！〃　came　the　next　call。　〃Vampire！　Vampire！　We　have　inbound　missiles。〃
Morris　cringed　inwardly。　The　escorts　all　switched　on　their　radar　transmitters。　Missiles　trained　out　on　the　ining　targets。　But　Pharris　was　not　part　of　that　game。　Morris　ordered　his　ship　to　flank　speed；　turning　north　to　race　away　from　the　missiles'　probable　target　area。
〃The　Backfires　are　turning　back。　The　Bear　is　holding　position。　We　have　some　radio　chatter。　Now　twenty…three　inbound　missiles。　Bearing　changing　on　all　contacts；〃　TAO　said。　〃They're　all　headed　for　the　convoy。　Looks　like　we're　in　the　clear。〃
Morris　could　hear　the　crew　in　the　bat　Information　Center　take　one　deep　collective　breath。　He　watched　the　radar　display　with　marginal　relief。　The　missiles　were　streaking　in　from　the　northeast；　and　the　SAMs　were　ing　up　to　meet　them。　The　convoy　was　again　ordered　to　scatter；　the　merchantmen　racing　away　from　the　center　of　the　target。　What　followed　had　an　eerie　resemblance　to　an　arcade　game。　Of　the　twenty…three　Soviet…launched　missiles；　nine　broke　through　the　SAMs　and　dove　into　the　convoy。　They　hit　seven　merchantmen。
All　seven　were　lost。　Some　disintegrated　at　once　under　the　hammering　impact　of　the　thousand…kilogram　warheads。　The　others　lingered　long　enough　for　their　crews　to　escape　with　their　lives。　The　convoy　had　left　the　Delaware　with　thirty　ships。　Only　twenty　were　left；　and　there　was　almost　fifteen　hundred　miles　of　open　ocean　between　them　and　Europe。

GRAFARHOLT；　ICELAND
Two　Backfires　ran　short　of　fuel　and　decided　to　land　at　Keflavik。　Behind　them　was　the　damaged　Bear。　It　circled　Reykjavik　waiting　for　the　Backfires　to　clear　the　runway。　Edwards　reported　it　in　as　a　propeller　aircraft　with　a　damaged　engine。　The　sun　was　low　over　the　northwestern　horizon；　and　the　Bear　gleamed　yellow　against　the　cobalt…blue　sky。
〃Stay　on　the　air；　Beagle；〃　Doghouse　ordered。　Three　minutes　later；　Edwards　saw　why。
This　time　there　was　no　standoff　jamming　to　warn　the　Soviets。　Eight　FB…111s　swept　in　over　the　rocks；　southwest　from　the　island's　rocky　center。　They　skimmed　down　the　bottom　of　Selja　Valley　in　elements　of　two；　their　green　and　gray　camouflage　making　them　almost　invisible　to　the　fighters　circling　overhead。　The　lead　pair　turned　due　west；　with　another　pair　half　a　mile　behind　it。　The　remaining　four　went　south　around　Mt。　Hus。
〃Holy　shit。〃　Smith　saw　them　first；　two　fast…moving　tail　fins　to　the　south。　Just　as　Edwards　found　them；　the　lead　aircraft　popped　up　and　launched　a　pair　of　TV…guided　bombs。　The　wingman　did　the　same；　and　both　attackers　turned　north。　The　four　bombs　homed　in　on　the　transformer　station　below　them；　and　all　landed　within　the　fence　perimeter。　As　though　a　single　switch　had　been　thrown；　every　light　in　view　went　out。　The　second　pair　of　Aardvarks　roared　low　over　Highway　1；　blazing　over　the　rooftops　of　Reykjavik　to　line　up　on　their　target。　The　leader　lofted　his　own　smart…bombs；　and　his　wingman　broke　left　for　the　airport　tankfarm　on　the　waterfront。　Moments　later；　the　control　tower　exploded；　along　with　a　hangar；　and　Rockeye　cluster…bombs　blew　the　fuel　tanks　apart。　Caught　by　surprise；　the　Russian　gun　and　missile　crews　fired　too　late。
The　defense　troops　at　Keflavik　were　surprised；　too；　first　by　the　sudden　loss　of　electrical　power；　then　by　the　bombers；　which　arrived　only　a　minute　later。　Here；　too；　the　control　tower　and　hangars　were　the　primary　targets；　and　most　came　apart　under　the　impact　of　two…thousand…pound　bombs。　The　second　team　found　two　parked　Backfires　and　a　missilelaunch　vehicle　for　their　Rockeyes　to　hit；　and　sprinkled　more　softballsized　bomblets　over　the　runways　and　taxiways。　Meanwhile；　the　FB…111s　continued　west　on　afterburner；　with　gunfire　and　missiles　chasing　them…and　fighters。　Six　Fulcrums　dove　for　the　retreating　Varks；　whose　protective　jammers　filled　the　sky　with　electronic　noise。
Free　of　their　ordnance　loads；　the　American　bombers　blazed　away　at　seven　hundred　knots；　a　scant　hundred　feet　over　the　wavetops；　but　the　Soviet　fighter　mander　would　not　turn　away　from　this　one。　He'd　seen　what　they　had　done　to　Keflavik；　and　he　was　furious　at　having　been　caught　unaware　despite　having　his　fighters　aloft。　The　Fulcrums　had　a　slight　speed　advantage　and　closed　the　gap　slowly。　They　were　over　a　hundred　miles　offshore　when　their　missile　radars　burned　through　the　Americans'　jamming。　Two　fighters　immediately　launched　missiles；　and　the　American　aircraft　jinked　up；　then　down　to　lose　them。　One　FB…111　took　a　hit　and　cartwheeled　into　the　sea；　and　the　Soviets　were　preparing　a　second　volley　when　their　threat　receivers　came　on。
Four　American　Phantoms　were　waiting　in　ambush　for　them。　In　a　moment　eight　Sparrow　missiles　were　diving　toward　the　Fulcrums。　Now　it　was　time　for　the　Soviets　to　run。　The　MiG…29s　wheeled　and　ran　back　for　Iceland　on　afterburner。　One　was　felled　by　a　missile；　and　another　damaged。　The　battle　had　lasted　all　of　five　minutes。
〃Doghouse；　this　is　Beagle。　The　electrical　station　is　gone！　The　Varks　knocked　it　flat；　guy。　One　hell　of　a　fire　at　the　southwest　edge　of　the　airport；　and　looks　like　the　tower　got　chopped　in　half。　Two　hangars　look　shot　up。　I　see　two；　maybe　three　burning　aircraft；　civilian　types。　The　fighters　got　off　half　an　hour　ago。　Damn；　that　tank　farm　is　burning　like　a　sonuvagun！　Lots　of　people　running　around　on　the　ground　below　us。〃　As　Edwards　watched；　a　dozen　vehicles　with　headlights　blazing　ran　back　and　forth　over　the　roads　below　him。　Two　stopped　a　kilometer　away　and　dismounted　troops。　〃Doghouse；　I　think　it's　time　for　us　to　leave　this　hill。〃
〃That's　a　roger；　Beagle。　Head　northeast　towards　Hill　482。　We'll　expect　to　hear　from　you　in　ten　hours。　Get　moving；　boy！　Out。〃
〃Time　to　leave；