Chapter 67
THOUGH Yossi wished he could have said that Grover’s announcement had no effect on his Zen-like fighter pilot’s concentration, that would have been a lie.
In the world of air-to-air combat, it was always best to assume that your opponent had access to technology that equaled yours.
In this case, that meant if Grover could see the fast movers on his radar, the new bogeys could also see him.
And by extension, Yossi and his strike package.
“Deal with the threat,” Yossi said after thumbing the transmit button. “I’m proceeding with the attack run.”
“Roger that. Good hunting.”
Yossi clicked the transmit button twice in reply before turning his radio selector switch to the frequency linking him with his fellow F-16s.
Though the aircraft could all monitor the common air-to-air frequency, as per standard operating procedure, separate channels had been designated for the Baraks and Bazs.
This would allow each group of aircraft to talk among themselves without cluttering up the radios if things got busy.
Like now.
“Lion flight, Lion One is IP inbound. Starting attack run now.”
The chorus of acknowledgments washed over Yossi before receding like a wave cresting the shore.
He was aware of the trailing two aircraft confirming that they were right behind him and in position, in the same manner in which he was half monitoring Grover’s transmissions on an adjacent radio as the F-15s prepared to splash the fast movers heading their way.
This wasn’t so much because he was in the zone as it was that he was intently focused on the formation of vehicles scrolling across the feed from his Litening targeting pod.
In another sign that the stars were aligning, the convoy’s vehicles were ordered exactly as briefed.
The first two gun trucks were meant to provide security for the precious cargo.
Ditto for the pair of trail vehicles. In the middle were the tankers and flatbed cargo trucks Yossi had transited the airspace of three sovereign nations to find.
Zooming in another field of view, he narrowed his sensor’s focus.
The high-explosive warhead contained in the Mark 83 thousand-pound bomb was overkill for a single truck, but this overmatch was intentional.
As the first aircraft in the stick, Yossi’s job was to rupture and then incinerate the entire convoy’s chemical munitions so as to keep the poison leaking into the air to a minimum.
The shock wave produced from the Mark 83 would probably toss any vehicles not destroyed to either side of the road, meaning that the second wave of aircraft would have to hunt for targets through the dust and debris produced by the explosions.
“Lion, this is Shepherd. I’m going to visually ID the fast movers.”
Yossi frowned inside his oxygen mask.
Grover’s unusual radio call broke through his concentration.
Once the flight entered Iraqi airspace, the F-15s’ rules of engagement changed to weapons-free, as any aerial contact would be assumed to be the Iraqi or Syrian Air Force.
This meant that Grover could fire first at any target he deemed hostile.
While the approaching helicopters probably weren’t a threat, the same couldn’t be said of the fast movers.
The most conservative option for dealing with the unknown aircraft would be to splash them now, presumably before their airborne radars detected the Israeli strike package.
But Grover had elected not to shoot.
Instead, the F-15 driver had decided to visually identify his targets.
Like a boxer with a longer reach than his opponent, the F-15’s superior radar and air-to-air missile load allowed Grover to knock the opposing aircraft out of the sky before they could launch their own missiles.
Flying closer to first visually identify the targets negated these overmatch advantages and would put the Israeli aircraft on even footing with the bandits.
For the life of him, Yossi could not imagine why Grover would elect to place his life, and those of his fellow aviators, in danger this way.
No matter.
His job was to destroy the convoy. Grover’s was to keep them safe from Iraqi aircraft.
Sometimes, combat really was as simple as engaging the enemy in front of you and trusting that your wingman would do the same.
Like a pianist preparing to play a concerto, Yossi stretched his fingers.
The move was purely symbolic. Moving the aim point onto the target took about as much dexterity as changing the channel on his car’s radio, but the consequences of his actions were vastly different.
Aligning the back crosshairs on the trailer, Yossi engaged the autotrack system.
A box enclosed the truck as the computer confirmed Yossi’s instructions and began tracking the target.
After pausing another second to ensure that the auto-track feature was functioning correctly, Yossi triggered his laser range finder.
An instant later, a second box appeared on his screen, signifying that the seeker heads on the Mark 83 and incendiary bombs “saw” the laser energy.
His weapons system was hot, his target identified, and the laser was functioning. Only one thing left to do.
Keying the air-to-air radio, Yossi transmitted three words. “Lion One pickle.”
Then he depressed the weapons release button.