Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 05 (33 page)

 
          
“Lucky
for us,” groused Jamieson. “What in hell was the second shot for?”

 
          
“Watch.”
Jamieson watched the big supercockpit screen—and was amazed at what he saw.
Overlaid on the chart of
Hormozgan
Province
was a radar picture filled with tiny blips.
“Here’s all the small cultural returns we picked up,” McLanahan explained.
“Since an SA-10 or Hawk on its transporter-erector-launcher might be stationary
or moving, we’ve got to check both, so all are displayed. I simply instruct the
computer to search for returns that match the size of a Grumble or Hawk TEL,
either in road-march configuration or in launch position . .. now.” In a matter
of seconds, all but a handful of the dots disappeared. There were about two
dozen blips remaining.

 
          
“We’ve
got a few, but not as many as before. From here, we can just pick one, and we
check it out. The SAR will not pick up decoys unless they’re close to the same
mass as a real missile, so inflatable decoys or decoys made out of wood won’t
show. But before we search, I’ll be looking for a few other items. According to
our intel guys, a presurveyed launch point will have a fence surrounding it.
I’ll tell the computer to pick out any returns that look like that.”

 
          
“This
radar will pick up something as small as a
fence
?”

 
          
“With
ease,” McLanahan said. Sure enough, several such objects were selected.
McLanahan rolled a cursor over one blip that was sitting a few hundred yards
off a small secondary highway, then entered in some voice commands. The blip
began to grow in size until it filled the supercockpit screen—and to Jamieson’s
amazement, he could easily identify the return. “Holy shit, it looks like a
cattle car! ”

 
          
“I’d
say that’s what it is, too,” McLanahan agreed. It was easy to do—the image was
as sharp and clear as a black-and-white photo in daytime. He entered a command
and the image disappeared and switched to the next blip. After automatically
enlarging again, they finally found their quarry. “We got one.”

 
          
Jamieson
was astounded. There it was, a nearly photographic radar picture of an SA-10
Grumble surface-to-air missile on its transporter-erector-launcher, similar in
size and appearance to a Patriot missile system. They could clearly see every
detail—its fins, the shape of it nose cone, even that the driver’s side door of
the tractor truck pulling the TEL had been left open. “This is unbelievable!”
he exclaimed. “We goddamn found a mobile SA-10 missile deployed in the field!”

 
          
McLanahan
was typing commands into his supercockpit terminal. “And now NSA and the
Intelligence Support Agency know where it is, too,” he said. “We’re
flight-planned to be in the orbit for the next fifteen minutes—let’s see if we
can find some more.”

 
          
For
the next fifteen minutes, McLanahan systematically checked the blips on the
supercockpit display, changing the search parameters after every search—blips
on the road, blips on the rail lines, blips inside fences, blips out in the
open, blips moving, blips not moving—then went back, rechecked the original
size parameters, expanded them out slighdy to get more returns, then searched
again. In fifteen minutes, they had charted six new air defense missile sites
near Bandar Abbas—including several decoys set up close to the real missile
sites. The Iranians had set up a piece of steel sewer pipe on a flatbed
tractor-trailer, very close to the size and appearance of the real SA-10
Grumble.

 
          
“Threat
scope’s clear,” McLanahan said. “Search radars only. Ready to stir up some
dirt?”

           
“Go for it,” Jamieson said.

 
          
“Stand
by for bomb doors,” McLanahan said. “Doors coming open ... now...” Jamieson and
McLanahan felt a rumble in the B-2A bomber’s normally rock-solid fuselage as
the four massive “barn door” bomb doors opened. Just as the doors opened, a
“10” symbol with a diamond symbol around it appeared, and they heard a low,
slow
“Deedle
. ..
deedle
. ..
deedle
...”
sound in their headphones. “SA-10 searching...”

 
          
“C’mon
dammit,” Jamieson muttered, “launch, son of a bitch,
launch!”
The B-2A bomber was now at its most vulnerable position:
with its bomb-bay doors open, its radar cross-section was just as large as any
major aircraft. And as it launched missiles, the missile’s track through the
sky would point directly back at the retreating B-2A, showing the way for enemy
gunners to take a shot and bag a billion-dollar bomber.

 
          
“Launcher
rotation completed, stand by for missile launch ... missile one away... two
away...” Jamieson expected to feel a lurch or a bump or something as the
4,000-pound missiles left the plane, but there was nothing, except for the
graphic depictions of shapes leaving the little bomb-bay drawing on his MDU.

 
          
The
diamond around the “10” symbol on the threat scope began to blink, and they
heard a higher-pitched, faster
deedledeedledeedle
warning sound. “Height-finder active!” McLanahan shouted. He put his
fingers on the supercockpit screen on the buttons marked MAWS and ECM.
“Launchers rotating ... stand by... three away ... four .. . five ... six
missiles away . . . bomb doors moving . . . bomb doors closed....”

 
          
Just
then, both the diamond and the “10” symbol began blinking, and a
computer-synthesized voice announced, “MISSILE LAUNCH ... MISSILE LAUNCH ...”
McLanahan immediately hit the MAWS and ECM buttons. The Missile Approach and
Warning System was an active missile defense system on the B-2A bomber designed
to actually protect the bomber, not just jam a missile’s tracking systems. As
soon as the SA-10 missile launch was detected, a small radar dome extended from
a compartment near the B-2A bomber’s tail, the radar slaved itself to the
azimuth of the SA-10 missile site, and the radar began scanning the sky for the
missile itself.

 
          
The
MAWS’s ALQ-199 HAVE GLANCE radar tracked it, displayed its position to the crew
on the pilot’s main screen, and a computer suggested which way to turn to evade
it by making corrections to the terrain-following autopilot. The computer also
ejected bundles of chaff—thin slivers of metal that would create huge radar-
reflective clouds in the sky and hopefully decoy the Hawk radar—and also
sequenced the ECM (electronic countermeasures) track breakers’ jamming signals
to allow computer-controlled jammer-free “corridors” that would “point the way”
for the Grumble’s radar to lock on to the cloud of chaff.

 
          
As
the SA-10 missile rose through the sky toward the B-2 A bomber, the next and
most high-tech aspect of the MAWS system activated—MAWS shot high-powered laser
beams at the approaching missile, blinding its seeker head and overheating the
missile’s guidance electronics. In less than three seconds, the Grumble was
deaf and blind, flew harmlessly behind the B-2A, and then self-destructed as it
began its death plunge toward the
Persian Gulf
.

 
          
“Good
connectivity on all missiles,” McLanahan reported. “Good signal... I’ve got
flight-control surface deployment on all missiles, good guidance. They’re on
their way.”

 
          
In
thirty seconds, the first attack was over—and Jamieson realized he hadn’t done
a thing, hadn’t even touched the throttles, and his right hand was resting only
lighdy on the control stick. They’d needed no evasive maneuvers, no threading
their way around terrain trying to hug the ground to hide from enemy radar, no
coordinated defensive maneuvers.

 
          
It
was so sterile, so robotic—almost inhuman. Shadows of steel, death from
nowhere, from everywhere ...

 
          
But
it didn't stay quiet for long. Seconds later, the search-radar signal had
changed, and Jamieson saw a bright yellow arc on the threat scope, aimed very
close to the B-2A, slowly becoming narrower and narrower until it was a line.
Fortunately, the line also began to offset behind the center of the scope,
meaning that it was not locked onto the B-2 A. “Height finder active again,”
McLanahan said. “Looks like they're locked on to one of the JSOWs. JSOWs have
responded ... looks like missile number two is tracking.”

 
          
The
missiles McLanahan and Jamieson released were called AGM-154 Joint Standoff
Weapons, or JSOWs. They were small, lifting-body cruise missiles that could be
fitted with a variety of warheads, payloads, avionics, sensors, guidance
packages, or propulsion units, so they could mix a number of these missiles on
the bomber and perform many different missions. These JSOWs had special Dis-
ruptor payloads on board called “screamers” that would transmit high-frequency,
high-powered jamming signals across the entire frequency spectrum and
completely overload any antenna system within range. The JSOW missiles would
orbit over the air defense missile and radar sites, broadcasting high-intensity
“screamer” signals, blanking out radar scopes and overloading radio networks
for as long as sixty-minutes—plenty of time for the Intelligence Support Agency
teams to enter the area.

 
          
The
B-2A crew again heard a slow, low pitched
Deedle
.
..
deedle.. . deedle
. . . warning
tone in their headsets, and saw the “10” symbol with a diamond around it:
“SA-10 acquisition radar at Bandar Abbas ... cruise missiles one and three
locked on ...” As each antiaircraft missile system came up, the JSOW missile’s
seeker head would lock on, plot the emitter's location, and reprogram its
internal autopilot to fly to that point and destroy the radar. Another warning
tone, this time with an “H” symbol: “Hawk system acquisition radar . . .
missile four tracking ... looks like the Iranians already got another Hawk set
up on
Abu
Musa
Island
. They didn’t waste any time.”

           
“Forget the commentary, McLanahan,”
Jamieson said. “Just make sure none of those sites locks on to
us.
”

 
          
“Our
track breakers are in standby, search radars only sweeping us,” McLanahan
reported. He typed on his keyboard, and the bomber turned slightly south. “I’m
heading a bit more to the right to stay away from that Hawk on Abu Musa,”
McLanahan said. “If they sneaked an SA-10 on that island, too, I want to stay
far away from it. The screamers should activate in a few seconds.”

 
          
The
effect was frightening and surprising at the same time—as if on cue, every
Iranian air defense site within fifty miles opened fire. Eight SA-10, four
Hawk, at least a dozen Rapier, and a handful of ZSU-23/4 and ZSU-57/2 sites
appeared to be firing guns or launching missiles.

 
          
“Jesus
H. Christ, I don’t believe it! ” Jamieson muttered. Out the cockpit windows,
McLanahan and Jamieson could see the sky below ablaze with missiles flying
aimlessly through the sky, and boiling red and yellow from the clouds of
antiaircraft artillery shells sweeping the skies. The “screamers” had activated
all of the Iranian air defense site’s attack response systems, and the sites
had reacted as if a massive air invasion were under way. In seconds, every
missile on its launcher was in the sky, and every shell had been fired .. . and
they had hit nothing but empty air. Several warships docked at Bandar Abbas had
also opened fire, and they even detected an anti-ship missile launch from one
of the docked ships—where that missile was headed, McLanahan had no idea.
Jamieson could not believe the concentration of antiaircraft systems active
right now: they were flying less than forty miles south of that massive
concentration of weaponry.

 
          
The
scene looked much the same ahead as they continued eastward toward the
Khomeini
battle group in the Gulf of
Oman—the carrier was lit up like a Christmas tree with threat radars, and the
destroyer
Zhanjiang,
several miles
farther southeast, was radiating as well. The threat scope clearly outlined the
defensive box around the carrier: smaller vessels with short-range antiaircraft
systems were surrounding the carrier, and the long-range systems of the larger
escorts overlapped those of the carrier itself, forming several layers of
antiaircraft protection for
Iran
’s prized possession.

 
          
“We’ve
got four ‘screamer’ JSOW missiles programmed for the
Khomeini
group, with two in reserve,” McLanahan summarized. “I’m
getting ready for the SAR exposure.”