Shadow Flight (1990) (30 page)

"Goin' for knots," Bellvue replied as he forced the Hornet into an 8-g "Bat Turn," followed by a zero-g unload. The fighter accelerated downward, then snapped straight up when Bellvue sighted two of the Foxbats attempting to turn inside his leader.

"Vince!" Bellvue shouted. "Break left now! Fox Two!"

Bellvue waited a second, then fired two of his Sidewinder missiles in a head-on pass at the two MiGs. The advanced air-to-air weapons, three seconds apart, slammed into the first Foxbat. The doomed fighter emerged from the orange fireball trailing debris, smoke, and blazing jet fuel.

The second MiG popped up instantly to miss the colossal explosion and raining debris. The pilot caught the upper edge of the black cloud, disintegrating his right engine with foreign object damage. The MiG, turning tight, unloaded and raced for Cuban airspace.

"Reverse, Chuck!" Cangemi ordered, working the remaining MiG into a vertical scissors. "Set him up--I'm going to disengage. Call it!"

"Stay on him a couple of seconds," Bellvue responded, rechecking heat while he rolled into a firing position. He searched the sky quickly for other bandits, then heard his AIM-9 missiles track the MiG-25. "Turn him loose!"

Cangemi snatched the stick back violently, then rolled the agile Hornet 180 degrees and unloaded the g forces. Going supersonic, Cangemi snapped into the vertical again and watched both of Bellvue's missiles miss the Foxbat. He stared, transfixed, as both heat-seeking missiles tracked straight at the blazing sun low on the horizon.

"Shit!" Bellvue said, selecting his 20mm M-61 cannon. "I'm guns!"

"Wrap him up," Cangemi shouted, watching Bellvue close inside the tight-turning MiG.

Suddenly the Foxbat snapped out of the punishing turn, allowing the Hornet pilot to fall into trail--a perfect firing solution.

Cangemi's mind sounded a warning a split second before the Soviet missile erupted from under the MiG's tail. "Break, break!" Cangemi radioed as he watched the Hornet explode into a million flaming pieces. His eyes witnessed the carnage, but it took his brain a second to record the blazing image.

"Chuck!" Cangemi shouted, flashing by the black puff, "get out! Eject! Eject!"

Three seconds passed as Cangemi looked frantically for the Foxbat. He spotted the MiG turning tight and diving toward the water. "Sonuvabitch!" Cangemi swore to himself, realizing that his wingman was part of the smoking wreckage falling toward the ocean.

The MiG had disengaged and was running for home. Cangemi eased the Hornet's nose slightly in front of the Foxbat, selected another missile, waited for it to lock on, then squeezed the trigger gently.

"Fox Two!" Cangemi radioed as he watched the missile undulate toward the bastard who had killed his friend. "Go . . . go . . . be there . . ."

The heat-seeking weapon missed the MiG's twin exhausts, hitting the left wing root. The wing separated from the fuselage, sending the Foxbat spinning out of control. Cangemi watched the MiG pilot eject as he heard a Mayday call from one of the F-14 pilots. Stunned and absorbed in the drama, Cangemi made an age-old mistake. He allowed his F/A-18 to fly through the debris of his kill.

Seven armed guards surrounded the partially dismantled Stealt
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omber. All activity had ceased in the hangar while everyone involved in the secret operation was interrogated by the KGB director.

The technicians, scientists, and KGB personnel were sequestered in two adjoining rooms. Gennadi Levchenko, sitting in his small office, was questioning each man individually.

Natanoly Obukhov, the assistant KGB director, approached Levchenko's door.

"Have you found the infiltrator?" Levchenko barked. "Comrade director," Obukhov bowed slightly in a highly respectful manner, "our men are scouring the base and surroundin
g a
rea. We have three helicopters and two spotter planes in the air, and we are-"

"Don't give me long-winded reports," Levchenko spat. "Give me results."

"Yes, comrade director," Obukhov replied, averting his eyes to the colorless concrete walls in the spartan office. He always felt apprehension when his eyes crossed the Mongolian features of Levchenko's face.

"What did the guard see?" Levchenko asked, dismissing a technician with a wave of his arm.

"He never saw the assailant," Obukhov answered, then added quickly, "he doesn't remember anything after he bent over."

Levchenko fixed his eyes on his assistant. "I want every inch of this base searched again."

Major Vince Cangemi, turning toward his carrier, USS America, looked back at his right wing. He could clearly see two deep slices in the leading edge, along with numerous dents and scars close to the fuselage.

The marine pilot quickly scanned his annunciator panel and engine instruments. "Oh, shit," Cangemi muttered when he noticed the right engine was cooking at the maximum temperature limit. The damaged F/A-18 had ingested the MiG's debris through the starboard engine.

Cangemi waited while the outbound combat air patrol pilots talked with the E-2C Hawkeye, then keyed his radio switch. "Phoenix, Animal One is inbound with engine damage."

"Copy, Animal One," the controller responded in a professional, low-key manner. "You have a ready deck. Come port fifteen degrees."

"Port fifteen," Cangemi radioed, watching the right engine gauges cautiously.

The Hornet continued flying, rock steady, for another minute and a half. Cangemi was just starting to relax when the F/A-18 yawed violently to the right.

"Ah . . . Phoenix," Cangemi radioed as he checked the hydraulic pressure. "Animal One has a problem."

"Roger, Animal," the controller said in a detached tone. "Say nature of your problem."

Cangemi watched the main hydraulic pressure fluctuate, then drop rapidly toward zero. "I'm losin' my hydraulics."

"Are you declaring an emergency?" the controller asked with an edge in his voice.

"That's affirm, Phoenix," Cangemi answered as he watched the primary hydraulic pressure reach zero. "Animal One is declaring an emer--"

Without warning, the Hornet's nose pitched up seventy degrees. Cangemi shoved in full left rudder, forcing the aircraft into knife-edged flight. The nose fell through the horizon as Cangemi pushed in full right rudder, bringing the fighter wings-level.

The nose pitched skyward again, forcing the pilot to repeat the unusual procedure to control the Hornet. During the third rudder roll maneuver, Cangemi selected emergency hydraulic power and recovered control of his wounded fighter. He also noticed that he had lost more than 2,000 feet of altitude during the wild gyrations.

"Understand emergency," Phoenix radioed. "Can you make the ship?"

Cangemi studied his instruments and checked his DME. Forty-two nautical miles to go. "I think so. Looks okay . . . at the moment."

"Do you want the barricade?" the concerned controller asked as he rechecked the flight deck status.

Cangemi raised the nose slightly and mentally reviewed his NA-TOPS emergency procedures. "Ah ... negative. Not at this time." "Roger."

Cangemi glanced at his fuel gauges, knowing he needed to plug into a tanker. He also knew he could not risk close formation flying with a questionable control problem.

The pilot rechecked his DME, fuel burn, and rate of descent. He would arrive over the carrier with 700 to 800 pounds of fuel--only a few minutes in the thirsty fighter. He could not afford a bolter. He had to trap aboard America on his first pass.

Cangemi watched the right engine parameters as the seconds ticked away. He listened while Bullet Two Oh Two, the sole returning navy Tomcat, checked in for a push time. He eased back on the left throttle, held his breath, then pulled the right throttle slowly back to match the reduced power.

"Animal," Phoenix radioed, "your deck is eleven o'clock, twenty miles."

"I have a visual," Cangemi responded, squinting through the early morning haze. He could see the long white wake of the fast-moving carrier. "I'm setting up for an overhead two-seventy."

"Roger," the controller replied. "CAG paddles will wave you." The senior landing signal officer (LSO) would guide the marine aviator through the emergency landing. "Switch button five," the controller instructed.

Cangemi clicked his mike twice to acknowledge the radio transmission, switched to the Carrier Air Traffic Control Center (CATCC), then switched again to the LSO standing on the side of the flight deck. The LSO platform was adjacent to the arresting gear at the stern of the carrier.

"Animal One with a sick right engine, and ah . . . hydraulic problems."

"Okay, Animal," the senior LSO said in a reassuring tone, "hang onto it. Left two-seventy into the grove."

"Animal One," Cangemi replied a second before the right engine fire warning light flashed on and off momentarily.

"Oh . . . no," Cangemi said to himself as he approached the carrier at 3,000 feet and 360 knots. "Just two more minutes . . . give me two more minutes."

The fighter pilot watched the ship pass under him as he started slowing and banking to the left. "I'm going to trap on this pass," Cangemi said to himself, "if I have to taxi to the one wire." He lowered the flaps as the leading edge slats deployed automatically.

The F/A-18 continued to decelerate as Cangemi lowered the landing gear and tailhook. He increased power on both engines to compensate for the drag, glanced at his angle-of-attack indicator, then looked out at the wake of the carrier.

Concentrating on his approach, he did not see the right engine fire warning light flicker twice, then glow steadily.

"Animal One," the LSO radioed urgently, "you have smoke-negative, you're on fire! You're burnin' Vince!"

Cangemi snatched the right throttle to cutoff and activated the fire extinguishing system. The fire light remained illuminated as he tightened his turn toward the carrier.

"Hornet ball!" Cangemi radioed as he added more power on the left engine. The angle-of-attack indicator continued to rise, forcing the pilot to ease up the port throttle further.

"Roger, ball," the LSO replied, trying to quell his apprehension. "You're lookin' good."

Cangemi, concentrating intently on the bright orange meatball, angle of attack, and lineup, did not detect the drop in emergency hydraulic pressure.

"You're going low. . . too low!" the LSO shouted. "Power! POWER!"

Animal One, seconds from touchdown, shoved the left throttle forward. The stricken fighter plane climbed through the glide slope as Cangemi tried frantically to force down the Hornet's nose. He recognized that the controls were frozen as the carrier deck rushed up to meet him.

"Oh, god, I'm sinking like a rock!" Cangemi yanked the left throttle to idle and shoved on the control stick, diving for the deck. The burning fighter sank toward the end of the mammoth ship as Cangemi fought desperately to salvage the landing.

"Wave off! Wave off!" the LSO shouted as the F/A-18, flying left wing low, slammed into the rounddown at the aft end of the flight deck.

The fighter shed its landing gear, along with the left wing, then caught the number one arresting wire. The crushing impact, followed by the violent arrestment, separated the fuselage three fee
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ehind the cockpit. The Hornet's nose and cockpit, minus the canopy, continued up the flight deck on its left side, stopping four feet from the angled deck edge.

Cangemi, rendered semiconscious during the 160 mile-per-hour crash, struggled to free himself from the smoking wreckage. He could see waves passing almost directly below him.

Three hot-suit firefighters and a paramedic reached Cangemi at the same time. They assisted the stunned aviator out of the remains of his cockpit, then placed him on a stretcher. The paramedic helped remove Cangemi's helmet, then placed it on the fighter pilot's chest.

Cangemi looked at the helmet in astonishment, then said a silent prayer. The left side of the marine red and gold helmet had been ground paper thin where Cangemi's head had slid on the rough flight deck.

Chapter
Nineteen

The CNN anchorman adjusted his tie for the third time, smoothed back his hair, and waited for his cue.

"Tensions in the Gulf of Mexico continue to escalate as President Jarrett attempts to resolve the B-2 hijacking. CNN has learned that another air battle has taken place, this time over the Straits of Florida. Initial reports indicate that American carrier planes were attacked only minutes ago by Cuban-based MiG fighters.

"A Pentagon source confirmed that two fighters from the carrier America were lost. The fate of the crews is unknown. Cuban losses are unconfirmed at this time.

"Premier Fidel Castro has issued a harsh warning to the White House, prompting legislators to call for immediate sanctions against Cuba. In a statement released minutes ago, Premier Castro stated that any further aggression on behalf of the United States will result in a state of war being declared by his government.

"The official newspaper of the Cuban Communist party, Granma, announced that any airplanes, including civilian aircraft, violating Cuban airspace will be shot down.