Foxbat (26 page)

Richter stopped talking and eyed the men sitting in front of him. None seemed particularly
perturbed by anything he’d said so far, but he hadn’t expected they would be. Harrier pilots are among the elite of the fast-jet world, used to handling a difficult aircraft under
the most demanding conditions. And, as was comprehensively demonstrated in the Falklands War, the aircraft itself is enormously capable. In that conflict the Harrier was both outnumbered and
outperformed by the aircraft flown by the Argentine Air Force, but despite this suffered no casualties in air combat and shot down twenty enemy jets. Richter wasn’t worried about air
combat – he thought the Harrier could hold its own against anything the North Koreans flew apart from the Foxbat – but the sheer number of SAMs scared him.

‘Any questions?’ Four heads were shaken in unison. ‘Above all, remember to
watch out for the SAMs.’ Richter held up three envelopes. ‘Right, these are data packs listing the frequencies, squawks and so on. They’re classified Secret because of the
information they contain on South Korean airfields, so remember to dispose of them correctly once you get back from this little excursion. The EMCON policy is unrestricted whilst we’re
under South Korean control, but keep communications on our discrete frequency to a minimum, as the last thing we want is to alert the North Koreans by unnecessary radio chatter.

‘Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll shred this lot here and meet you in the
ACRB for a plate of low-cholesterol bacon butties in five minutes. We should aim to get airborne in about three quarters of an hour.’

Kim Yong-Su was awoken by the telephone ringing. Like most other North Korean senior
officials, he’d taken to sleeping in his office so that he could be contacted immediately by the leadership.

‘Kim Yong-Su,’ he announced, glancing at the wall clock.

‘It’s Pak Je-San,’ the caller replied.

‘Yes?’ Kim’s voice was noticeably more abrupt now he realized he wasn’t
addressing the ‘Dear Leader’. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m not sure it’s significant, but two of our radar units – the
stations at Ongjin and Haeju – have detected the launch of four aircraft from the British warship that’s been operating west of Seoul.’

‘That ship has been flying aircraft regularly for the last two days.’

‘I know, but all those flights have remained within patrol areas over the Yellow Sea.
These aircraft have climbed to high level and headed into South Korea. None of the aircraft have done that before. Judging by their secondary radar returns, they’re now being controlled
by the radar unit at Seoul.’

Kim Yong-Su sat down at his desk and thought for a few seconds. ‘You were right to call
me, Pak. If the British were intending a preemptive strike against our missile bases, they’d probably cross into the Sea of Japan and then launch an attack from there.’

‘But we have no quarrel with the British.’

‘No,’ Kim replied, ‘but they’re still the best friends the imperialist
Yankees have. If Washington says “Jump”, all the spineless British ever say is “How high?” It looks as if you were right, Pak. The only surprise is that the British
are doing the Americans’ dirty work for them. I must pass on this information at once. Ensure that all our southern radar stations are warned about these aircraft, then launch our
interceptors and alert the missile bases.’

Kim put down the phone and reached out a hand for the red telephone. Before picking it up he
looked again at the clock. It was
very
early, but he knew the information couldn’t wait. The high command had to be informed.
The next phase of the plan was about to be implemented.

‘Climax, this is Alpha Three.’ ‘Climax’ was the USS
Enterprise
’s tactical voice radio callsign.

‘Alpha Three, Climax. Go ahead.’

‘Climax, we’re feeding you data through the JTIDS and we’re not seeing much we
didn’t expect north of the DMZ. But we’ve just picked up four contacts in the Yellow Sea, heading east towards Seoul and wearing South Korea-block squawks. It’s subjective,
but they looked to us like carrier-launched aircraft. We were briefed to expect one contact in that area sometime this morning, not four. Can you check with Intelligence and get an
update?’

‘Alpha Three, stand by.’ There was a short pause while the radar operator in the
Combat Information Center on the
Enterprise
consulted someone, then he replied. ‘Nothing known by us or the JIC, Alpha Three.
We understood
one
aircraft. We’ll request a flash check with Homeland Intelligence.’

‘Roger that.’

William Rodgers was, like the captains of all US Navy carriers, a highly experienced aviator.
He had over three thousand hours in the F-14 Tomcat, an aircraft he’d been sad to see finally retire, though he had to acknowledge there were undeniable advantages to the new F/A-18
Super Hornet. And, though his craft now displaced ninety-four thousand tons, he still thought like a pilot.

The moment he heard the exchange between the Hawkeye and the radar operator he strode across the
CIC and peered at the officer’s display. It was linked to the E2-C’s sensors through the JTIDS (Joint Tactical Information Distribution System) and the four contacts, now well
into South Korea and still heading east, were clearly displayed.

‘That’s them?’ he asked, bending forward to point at the returns on the radar
screen.

‘Yes, sir. The Hawkeye reported them first appearing over the Yellow Sea, pretty much
where that little British carrier is supposed to be operating.’

‘Those carriers may be small, Lieutenant,’ Rodgers growled, ‘but they still
pack a serious punch.’ For a few seconds he just stared in silence at the screen.

The signal that was still tucked in his hip pocket was absolutely unequivocal: he was to do
nothing that might provoke or irritate the North Koreans, just in case they decided that hitting Los Angeles with a nuclear weapon was the most suitable response.

That was one factor.

The other factor was right there on the radar screen in front of him: the tiny, relatively
slow-moving returns that he knew represented four British Harriers embarking on a mission that wasn’t quite suicidal, but certainly came close. Four subsonic single-pilot aircraft
trying to carry out strike missions – strike missions actually requested by Washington – and facing not only an air force on high alert that could field in excess of eight hundred
fighters, but entering territory that was guarded by one of the highest concentrations of surface-to-air missile and gun systems in the world.

Rodgers knew what his orders were, knew that they were clear and concise and absolutely
specific, and knew what the consequences were likely to be if he ignored them. But he couldn’t forget his hours in the driving seat of a Tomcat, the feeling of loneliness and
vulnerability when approaching a hostile environment, and knew that the four men in the Harriers would be feeling exactly the same.

He stood up straight, his decision made. It was, he hoped, the right one, but he’d accept
the consequences later if it turned out he was wrong. He muttered something under his breath that sounded to the radar operator suspiciously like ‘Fuck Washington’, then issued
his orders.

‘OK, we were expecting a single contact to follow a similar track to that. My guess is
that the Brits decided to fly more than one aircraft. Get the Prowlers and the Hornets warmed up in case they need any help. Advise me the moment they clear the coast and start to
drop.’

The Senior Pilot in Cobra One was to the right and ahead of Richter’s GR9, Viper One
and Two half a mile behind. From just over thirty-five thousand feet, the mountainous countryside of the Korean Peninsula looked starkly beautiful, the early-morning sun casting enormous
shadows that turned whole valleys into black pits. They were approaching the coastline about ten miles north of Kangnung, and preparing for descent.

They’d contacted Seoul as they approached the coast and received immediate clearance to
climb and cross the peninsula. They’d also confirmed with the controllers that other Sea Harriers might be landing in South Korea during the morning, but obviously hadn’t
explained why.

‘Cobra Two, Vipers, switch to tactical on stud four.’

Richter switched frequency and checked in. ‘Cobra Two.’

‘Viper One.’

‘Viper Two.’

‘Roger, Cobra Two, Vipers. Stand by for rate one right turn onto one four zero in thirty
seconds.’

‘Roger.’

‘Cobras, Vipers, turn now, now, now.’

As the Senior Pilot finished the sentence, all four aircraft swung gently to the right – a
rate one turn being comparatively slow – and steadied on their new heading.

‘Cobras, Vipers, this is November Alpha.’

‘November Alpha, Cobra One, you’re loud and clear.’

‘Roger, Cobra Lead. You’re identified, Picture Alpha.’

Just under six minutes later the four Harriers throttled back and began a cruise descent.
Passing twelve thousand feet, their Radar Warning Receivers showed the last of the North Korean surveillance radars beginning to lose contact, and by the time they reached eight thousand, the
RAWs were silent.

‘Cobras, Vipers, stand by for a hard port turn onto north. Turn now, now,
now.’

The moment they steadied, and passed five thousand feet in descent, Long ordered them to
accelerate. Their comparatively slow speed and turn away from North Korea might have fooled the DPRK radar controllers, but none of them felt like betting on it. Their best weapons now were
speed and surprise.

In the CIC, the radar operator called out to the captain. ‘Sir, those four contacts
have cleared the east coast of South Korea, but they turned south-east and they’ve just started to descend.’

‘Of course they’re heading away from North Korea. They’re not stupid. If
they’d turned towards the north, every radar station above the DMZ would have been tracking them, and feeding their coordinates to their SAM sites. Just keep watching. When
they’re low enough, they’ll head north.’

‘Sir,’ the voice of the radar supervisor at the coastal radar station sounded
calm and controlled, ‘those four aircraft are now heading away from us, and they’ve started descending. I suggest they’re probably just on a regular patrol, and therefore no
direct threat to us.’

‘You could be right,’ Kim Yong-Su replied, ‘but your orders are perfectly
clear. We still believe they may be planning an attack, so continue watching the areas out to the south and east, and inform me the moment you see any sign of them returning.’

‘You’re right, sir. They’ve turned north and increased speed. They’re
not squawking Mode Charlie, but the Hawkeye estimates they’re down below two thousand feet.’

‘Got that,’ Rodgers said, and opened the intercom link to PriFly. ‘CAG, this
is the Captain. What’s the state of play with the Hornets?’

‘Ready to go, sir. I’ve eight interceptors fully prepped, plus four fitted with
refuelling pods that I’ll send off about forty minutes afterwards to pick them up on the way back.’

‘And the Prowlers?’

‘Two waiting on the bow catapults, sir, as you ordered.’

‘Very good. Launch the Prowlers and get the Hornets ready to follow.’

The deck was a scene of frantic but organized activity. The deck of any aircraft carrier at
launch or recovery is one of the busiest, and certainly one of the most dangerous, places in the world. The
Enterprise
has four steam
catapults, two on the foredeck and the other two amidships, and each would be used twice in quick succession to get the eight Super Hornet interceptors airborne.

But first the flight deck crews were going to get the two Prowlers into the air. The EA-6B has
been around since the early 1970s, and is still the American Navy’s primary electronic attack aircraft, scheduled to be replaced in about 2010 by the EA-18G Growler, the electronic
warfare version of the Super Hornet.

The
Enterprise
began a gentle turn as
flight deck crew members checked that the Prowlers and their pilots were ready for launch. The moment the massive ship steadied, PriFly issued clearance to launch both aircraft. The blast
deflector lifted behind the EA-6B on the starboard bow catapult and the pilot ran up the two Pratt and Whitney turbojets to full power. The J52 engines are non-afterburning, but are still
powerful enough to give the Prowler a maximum speed of nearly six hundred miles an hour. The aircraft was heavy: although it wasn’t carrying drop tanks, it had a maximum load of four
AGM-88 HARM anti-radar missiles and a single ALQ-99 TJS external pod.

Once the Prowler pilot indicated he was at full power, the steam catapult was triggered and the
EA-6B shot along the deck. Thirty seconds later the second Prowler launched from the port catapult. Both aircraft took up a south-westerly heading and began climbing to their pre-briefed
altitude of thirty-two thousand feet.

‘Climax, Zapper formation is switching to discrete.’

‘Zapper, Climax. Roger.’

The Prowler crews switched frequencies simultaneously.

‘Zapper Two.’

‘Two from One, roger. Break, break. Alpha Three, this is Zapper formation in the climb to
three two zero heading two three five and squawking mode three alpha code four three two one.’

‘Zapper, Alpha Three, you’re identified. Maintain heading and call level at three
two zero. Squawk standby. No traffic at present.’

‘Roger, Alpha Three.’

On launch, they were over five hundred miles from the Korean Peninsula, and at that height they
were still well below the radar horizon of any DPRK surveillance sites.

The range/height calculation as it relates to radar coverage is simple enough: because of the
curvature of the Earth, an aircraft at an altitude of five thousand feet will paint on a surveillance radar at a range of about fifty miles. To ensure the Prowlers stayed undetected, the
Hawkeye would instruct them to begin descent before they reached the theoretical radar horizon, and set them up in a holding pattern at least one hundred miles from the east coast of the
peninsula. From that point, they would be able to hit the first of the North Korean radar sites, assuming their assistance was needed, in less than twelve minutes.