“Roger, Hydra flight, ‘Wicker’ Two-Zero-Zero at niner-five, medium, single ship,” the weapons director aboard the E-2C Hawkeye airborne radar controller responded. The “bogeydope” call meant that the Hornet pilot was not using his radar but was relying on the Hawkeye’s radar information for the position of the unidentified aircraft he had been sent to pursue. “Wicker” was the designation of the “bull’s-eye” they’d use for the intercept.
Of course, the pilot already had the target’s information, because the digital electronic datalink between all American aircraft around the world displayed the Hawkeye’s radar data on the Hornet’s primary flight display as if he was using his radar. The Hornet pilot was an old stick-in fact, he was the squadron operations officer-so he kept on using voice brevity codes even though his reports were all redundant. But the weapons director on the Hawkeye was a veteran, too, and he still liked the voice reports. As long as the radios weren’t saturated and the situation was routine, a little chatter was allowed.
The unknown aircraft had been detected by the E-2C Hawkeye while over five hundred miles from the aircraft carrier George H. W. Bush and its battle group, and the Bush had immediately launched the “Ready-5” F/A-18E Super Hornet fighters, put more fighters on the number one and two catapults, and prepared to launch buddy air refueling tankers as well. All of the alert Hornets were armed with two radar-guided AIM-120 AMRAAM air-to-air missiles under each wing, one AIM-9 Sidewinder heat-seeking missile on each wingtip, and 578 rounds of twenty-millimeter ammunition for its cannon, plus a 480-gallon fuel tank on a centerline stores station.
By the time the Hornets caught up with the bogey it was inside three hundred miles to the carrier and still closing. “Flying less than four hundred knots, Timber-gotta be a patrol plane, not a Sukhoi-34,” the wingman radioed, reading the datalinked information streaming from the Hawkeye. “It looked like a fighter, but he’s flying awfully-”
Just then the radar warning receiver bleeped. “Not so fast, Lego,” the lead pilot responded. “X-band radar-airborne fire control. He’s tracking us. Going active.” The lead pilot activated his APG-79 radar and immediately locked onto the aircraft. “Fence check, Lego, pull ’em tight.”
“I’m ready to rock-and-roll, Lead,” the wingman reported a moment later.
“Roger that. Take spacing.” As the wingman moved away to a higher altitude and dropped back a little to be able to launch an attack on the unknown aircraft if necessary, the leader switched his number two radio to the international UHF emergency channel: “Unidentified aircraft, this is U.S. Navy interceptor aircraft, we are at your eleven o’clock position and one thousand feet above you. You are heading toward an American warship. We are maneuvering around you for visual identification. Please acknowledge.”
“American Navy interceptor aircraft, this is Yu One-Four of the People’s Liberation Army Navy,” a heavily accented voice responded after a slight but disconcerting silence. “We have you on radar contact. Please identify type aircraft.”
“Yu One-Four, this is Hydra One-Two-One flight of two, F/A-18 Hornets, United States Navy.” Normally he wouldn’t say how many planes were in his flight, but that was a pretty powerful radar this guy had-no doubt he already knew. “Say your type aircraft, please.”
“Yu One-Four is a Jian Hong-37N, single ship.” The tone was conversational and pleasant, almost jovial.
“A JH-37?” the wingman remarked. “What the hell is that? Is that like a JH-7?”
“Yu One-Four, roger,” the leader responded. “Please say armament if any.”
“Repeat, please, Hydra One-Two-One?”
“Are you armed, One-Four? Any weapons?”
“Weapons. Yes. We have weapons. Am not permitted to reveal type.”
“Yu One-Four, you are headed directly toward an American warship in international waters,” the leader said. “We will conduct a visual inspection of your aircraft.”
“Please stay well clear, Hydra One-Two-One. Do not approach.” The tone now was still pleasant, like a friend gently reminding of possible danger ahead.
“If you continue your present course, Yu One-Four, we will conduct a visual inspection. Please reverse course, or maintain present speed and altitude for our visual inspection.”
“Close flying is not permitted, Hydra One-Two-One.” More officious now, but still pleasant.
“Hydra, Spinner, threat, ten o’clock,” the Hawkeye weapons director radioed on the number one radio, advising the Hornets that they were within ten miles of an unidentified aircraft.
“Hydra One-Two-One flight is ‘judy,’ going in for a closer look,” the leader radioed back. On the secondary radio he said, “I say again, Yu One-Four, do not make any sudden maneuvers.”
“Hydra flight, this is Armstrong,” a different, more urgent male voice from the space station cut in. “We got a better-angle look at his weapons, and we think they’re AS-17s, repeat, AS-17s.” The Russian-made AS-17 was one of the most feared air-to-surface weapons in the world, carrying a large high-explosive or small nuclear warhead over one hundred miles at speeds in excess of Mach 3. “I recommend you launch your alert fighters in case this guy is hostile.”
“Tallyho, Timber,” the wingman radioed. “Eleven o’clock on the horizon.”
“Tally,” the leader responded after spotting the target a moment later. “Armstrong, we’re tied on visual, we’ll take it from here, okay?” His voice was a little more irritable than he wanted, but this close to a Chinese fighter so far from the ship made things more and more tense, and the unfamiliar voices coming from space weren’t helping to make the tactical picture any clearer.
The bogey was a tiny light dot in the distance, about three miles away. The lead pilot took a quick glance out the starboard side to be sure where his wingman was-high and to his right, able to watch the bogey, his leader, his radar, and his instruments without having to concentrate on formation flying-then began a slow turn as the Chinese aircraft began to pass off his left. The Chinese fighter’s radar remained locked onto them the whole way, even from behind-that had to be sophisticated fire control radar to remain locked on even directly astern. That got the lead Hornet’s blood pumping even faster, and he kept the power up to quicken the intercept.
It was the first time either American had seen a Sukhoi-34 fighter, one of the newest and most high-tech combat aircraft in the world. It was a big aircraft, larger than an American F-15 Eagle or F-14 Tomcat-much larger than the Hornet-with twin vertical tails and a large cockpit area with a large bulge behind the canopy. It was painted in light blue gray, making it hard to see against the sky or the sea, with large bright red numerals on the side below the cockpit and a red star with red stripes on either side on the aft fuselage-definitely Chinese naval aircraft markings. The aircraft had canard foreplanes just below and behind the cockpit, and the Hornet leader could see cooling vents around what appeared to be a very large-caliber cannon muzzle on the right side. “I’ll be damned-it sure is a friggin’ Russian Sukhoi-34 Fullback,” the lead pilot exclaimed. “I’m pretty sure that’s what it is. But it’s in Chinese colors. And it’s carrying those two big honkin’ missiles. I’m moving in for a closer look.”
The closer the leader maneuvered his Super Hornet to the Chinese plane, the more shocked he became. “Lego, he’s got freaky huge missiles under the wings,” he radioed to his wingman. “They have to be twenty feet long and weigh three tons each. One under each wing. No other weapons visible.”
“If he’s got antiship missiles, he’s outta here.”
“Roger that.” On the secondary radio he said, “Yu One-Four, this is Hydra flight, you are carrying unidentified weapons that appear to be offensive long-range antiship missiles. You are not permitted to fly within two hundred miles of any United States warship with such weapons. You are instructed to reverse course and depart the area. Acknowledge.”