Fighter Wing: A Guided Tour of an Air Force Combat Wing by Tom Clancy
RESOLUTION 1397
The Security Council,
Recognizing the belligerent status of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Vietnam,
Alarmed by the bombing of Saigon by aircraft of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, and continuing attacks on civilian targets in southern Vietnam by land, naval, and air forces of the DRV,
Determining that there exists a breach of international peace and security by the DRV,
Acting under Articles 39 and 40 of the Charter of the United Nations:1. Condemns the DRV attack on the Republic of Vietnam;
2. Demands the immediate and unconditional withdrawal of DRV forces to positions North of the 17th parallel;
3. Calls upon the Provisional Government of the Republic of Vietnam and the Government of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam to begin immediately intensive negotiations for the resolution of their differences and supports all efforts in this regard, and especially those of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations;
4. Orders that the DRV shall be the object of a UN-sanctioned air, ground, and naval quarantine of all products considered supportive to military efforts against RVN;
5. Authorizes that member nations providing forces for the quarantine may use military force consistent with their own security, and the enforcement of the previously mentioned action;
6. Decides to meet again as necessary to consider further steps to ensure compliance with the present resolution.
The motion had been proposed by the ambassador from France, the one-time colonial ruler of the region. It called for a UN-enforced isolation of the South until such time as UN-supervised elections could be conducted. Some speculated that the French proposal was offered in order to soothe old feelings of guilt going back three generations. The other Security Council members barely had time to call in to their various departments and ministries of State to obtain instructions. The surprise came when the vote by the permanent members was taken.
“The United States of America?”
“Yes.”
“The United Kingdom?”
“Affirmative.”
“The Republic of France?”
“Oui.”
“The Russian Federation?”
“Da.”
“Japan?”
“Hai!”
“The People’s Republic of China?”
There was a long, tense pause while everyone waited for the simultaneous translation. “Madame Chairman, China abstains.” In capitals around the world, the great and powerful sucked in their breath.
The White House, Washington D.C., May 5, 2000, 0015 Hours
“How the hell does the UN Security Council expect us to back them up when they won’t even tell us what they want ahead of time?” the National Security Advisor raged to the President, the Cabinet, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“Mitch,” the President said in his best soothing fighter jock voice, “we have a unique opportunity here with regards to Southeast Asia, and I intend to take full advantage of it.”
“I agree, Mr. President, but what do we use for bases and deployment support? We’ve gutted our forces in the region and have almost zero influence within the governments that run those places,” the National Security Advisor pointed out correctly. “And on top of that, we’re down to zero carrier battle groups in the Western Pacific, after that little problem with the Eisenhower battle group last week.”
A Cypriot supertanker outbound from the Persian Gulf had plowed into the side of the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-68), killing over fifty U.S. sailors and causing a massive hole in the supercarrier amidships. The tanker sank. With the big ship under tow to Newport News, Virginia, for repairs at the builder’s yard, it would be at least three weeks until another battle group could be assembled and dispatched to the Western Pacific.
“This is going nowhere,” thought the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and he noisily cleared his throat to gain the attention of the assembled group. When he spoke, it was with the controlled authority that had made him the first Marine to ever hold the post. “I should point out that nations do not have allies, but common interests. Things are getting a bit crazy over there. Which means a lot of people over there are eager for the craziness to go away. Which means I think we can count on the leadership of that region offering us some options, if we’re just ready to make use of them. Let me make several suggestions.” As he spoke, and wrote ideas on a white board at the end of the conference room, a few thin smiles began to crack on the faces of the attendees. The National Security Advisor was among those smiling.
Communist Party Headquarters, Hanoi, May 6, 0345 Hours
It had been a long night for the Leadership Council of the Communist Party of Vietnam, and the meeting was still not over. A bunch of elderly, has-been revolutionaries, thought General Truong Le, the Vietnamese Defense Minister, trying to hold on to the memory of a war long since gone, with ideals long since dead. The Premier himself may have been a veteran of Dien Bien Phu and Hue, but even those in this room did not have the personal courage to point out that his service had been as a staff headquarters political officer. Now these old men were going to decide the fate of two nations, and they were not viewing the situation with any sense of reality.
“We will not stand for this interference in our internal politics by the capitalist powers,” stated the Premier flatly.
“What would you have us do against the power of nations like America and Russia?” asked the Defense Minister. “We are a third-rate power facing the most technologically advanced societies in the world.”
“Precisely the kind of negativism that our Great Leader Ho had to overcome during the Liberation decades ago. Where would we be now if they had listened then to defeatist drones like you?” barked the Premier. “I’ll tell you what we are going to do to the weak-willed dogs that call themselves the leaders of countries,” he continued. “We’re going to declare a blockade around the whole of the so-called RVN, just like the one the UN thinks they can slap around us. Then we’ll see who chokes first!” He finished the statement by slapping the meaty palm of his hand on the polished conference table, stunning the assembled members of the council.
“But that means that we are granting de facto recognition of the RVN in the process,” protested the Foreign Minister.
“I should also point out that this action carries with it certain international responsibilities, and is almost certain to place our forces directly into conflict with the UN forces that will be deployed to this area,” said General Truong Le calmly, “and that their so-called rules of engagement will never be as insane as the ones they imposed on themselves during the Wars of Liberation.”
“I speak for the Council,” said the Premier coldly. “The action will go forward as I have ordered it!” Nobody on the Council tried to protest.
Mountain Home AFB, Idaho, May 6, 2000, 2300 Hours
No Vietnam veterans flew tactical aircraft for the U.S. Air Force . . . they hadn’t in years. A few senior officers remembered going “downtown,” but these were generals; and if they were allowed in fighters at all, they had to satisfy themselves with two-seaters. But the colonels and the majors were veterans of another air war. They knew what it was like to fight where their targets were not picked by a politician in the Oval Office.
Now the 366th logistics officer took her place in front of the map. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to run another no-fly-zone operation with a possible air offensive somewhere in the rub,” she said. “Now, where the hell are we going?”
“The F-16s and tankers will bed down initially at Takhli, about one hundred miles north of Bangkok. Seems that the Thais got real cooperative when the bombing in Saigon started a few days ago. In fact, everyone has been that way.” The officer grinned. “Good facilities. The Royal Thai AF has operated F-16s there for years. Excellent runway—it was built long enough to handle ‘hot day’ takeoffs of F-105s. The rest of the wing, for now, will go to U-Tapao, right on the coast abo
Brigadier General Jack “the Knife” Perry, the 366th commander, looked at the map, and memories flooded back. For the first time in years, he desperately wanted a cigarette. “Thank you, Colonel,” he told his logistics officer, who seemed much too young for the silver eagles on her shoulder boards. “Now how do we get there, Kurt?” He turned to his operations officer.
“The State Department guys are still twisting arms over some of the overflight rights, but it looks like we can do a Great Circle.” That was the shortest and hence most economical route between any two points on the globe. “First stage: Mountain Home to Elmendorf, Alaska. If the weather permits, we can put some tankers at Shemya for refueling, but the ramp space there is tight. Second stage: Elmendorf to Yokota and Misawa, Japan. The Russians will let us base a squadron of ANG tankers at Petropavlovsk, as long as we buy the fuel from them and pay in hard currency. In emergencies they say we can divert to any of their fields in Kamchatka or Sakhalin. No diplomatic problem with Yokota and Misawa so far, but the Japs want us in and out fast, with no publicity. Third stage is Misawa to Taiwan. The ROC Air Force is rolling out the red carpet. We can use the civil airports at Taipei International, Tai Chung, Kao Hsiung, and all their military fields. No way to maintain OPSEC”—Operations Security—“on such short notice, but the ROCs will try to keep the media camera crews out of the landing patterns. The last stage gets complicated. We had planned on staging tankers out of Kai Tak Airport at Hong Kong; but the Chicoms said, not just no, but Hell, NO! Seems they don’t ever want to be accused of a stab in the back, like Poles accused the Russians back in ’39. So, we have to pre-position tankers at Manila, Kota Kinbalu in Malaysia, and Brunei. The Filipinos are gouging us for landing rights, so we can’t count on Manila. We can get some Australian tanker support out of Singapore, but we’re still working on how much.”
The general nodded. Good staff work on short notice. His scarred index finger traced a line on the map, skirting the Chinese mainland air-defense buffer zone. “How about a shortcut across Vietnam?” he said, with a wicked grin.
“No way, sir. That’s not the way we’ve trained to deploy,” the ops officer said with an answering smile. “By that point our crews will be tired, and we don’t want to risk tangling with their air defenses before we’ve had a chance to knock them down a little. It would be a bad start for the mission if we lost a few planes just to save a couple of hours’ flight time.”
The general reluctantly nodded. There was no point in staging another “Doolittle Raid” as a stunt. The way to win an air campaign was by the book.
Over the South China Sea, May 7, 2000, 1500 Hours
It had been a long trip, and double issues of “piddle packs” had been the order of the day. For the aircrews of the 366th’s A+ Package on their way to Thailand, it had been a day of contrasts. From the desert of Idaho, to the cold mountains of Alaska, now down to the equatorial jungles. They had one more refueling to go in about an hour, and were looking forward to seeing the tankers. The eight F-15Es of the 391st TFS, in two four-ship formations spaced a few miles apart, were cruising southwest at their most economical speed and altitude, about 470 knots/859.5 kph. at 20,000 feet. The Strike Eagles were combat loaded with a mix of GBU-24 LGBs, AGM-65 Mavericks, GBU-15s, and three 630 gallon/2,377 liter fuel tanks, as well as the usual load of two AIM-120 and two AIM-9 air-to-air missiles. They were accompanied by eight F-16Cs of the 389th, each armed with a pair of AGM-88 HARM missiles, an AN/ASQ-213 HARM Targeting System (HTS) pod, an external ALQ- 131 jamming pod, two AIM-9s, two AIM-120s, and a pair of 370 gallon/1,396 liter fuel tanks. These two groups were being escorted by eight F-15Cs of the 390th FS, armed with a full load of four AIM-120 AMRAAM and four AIM-9 Sidewinder AAMs. These last were headed “downhill” to 18,000 feet/5,486 meters, where they would meet up with a pair of KC-10A tankers to top off for the final run into Thailand.
At the moment, each group was doing different things to prepare the aircraft for the planned embargo of the North, as well as staying ready for any trouble from the Vietnamese off to the west. The ROE were Warning Yellow—Weapons Hold, which allowed the fighters to defend themselves if they were threatened in any way. The UN resolution clearly allowed them to do so, though everyone in the formation was quietly hoping that this contingency would not involve any expenditure of ordnance or loss of life. The F-15Es were testing their LANTIRN targeting pods, and were using their APG-70 radars to shoot a series of radar maps to help with the target planning that was already going on in Fast-3, the command-and-control KC- 135R of the 22nd ARS, which was already coming in to land at U-Tapao. The F-15Cs were testing their JTIDS data links to make sure that they functioned as advertised. And the F-16Cs of the 389th were calibrating their HTS pods and Improved Data Modems (IDMs) on known SAM sites along the Vietnamese shore to their right. The F-16s were all “netted” together, and the leader of the second flight had just turned on his gun camera video recorder when the radar warning receiver began to bleep. “What the ****,” Captain Julio “Frito” Salazar, lead pilot of the second flight of F-16s, said. “Somebody down there is tracking us!” The frigates Dau Tranh (“Struggle”) and Giai Phong (“Liberation”) were the pride of the Vietnamese Navy. Originally built for the Soviet KGB as heavily armed Krivak-III maritime patrol vessels, they had been acquired by Hanoi for little more than their scrap value and carefully refitted with French weapons systems and Japanese electronics, though they retained the twin ZIF-122/SA-N-4 Gecko missile launcher forward. The cost of maintaining the ships was high, but the Party leaders judged that the political cost of conceding control of the Gulf of Tonkin and the South China Sea was even higher. Following standing orders, the ships fired up their gas turbine engines and raced out to sea at the first sign of trouble, lest they be trapped in Haiphong harbor by mines. Rear Admiral Vu Hung Van, flying his flag in Dau Tranh, had mission orders to blockade the southern Vietnamese coast, isolating the rebels while the People’s Army crushed them.
“Admiral, aircraft bearing thirty degrees, at least ten, maybe more, in tactical formation. Definitely not friendly. If they maintain course and speed they will be within missile range in about five minutes.”
“That will be our old friends the Americans,” said the admiral, as an enigmatic smile crossed his weather-beaten face. “Let us prepare to welcome them.” CNN had provided live coverage of the first movements of the American aircraft, and he knew what was coming. He also knew his duty and orders, and punched the button on the console for General Quarters.
Things began to happen at electronic speeds, beyond the range of human reflexes. As the fire control computers on the Vietnamese frigates began to develop target solutions, they commanded the tracking radars to switch to a higher pulse rate. At the same moment, HTS pods on the F-16s immediately detected this ominous development and alerted the pilots flashing the code STA 8 in two spots in the corner of the digital display of their ALR-56M radar-warning receivers (RWRs). It also told them that the Pop Group fire control radars of the two ships were in a firing mode, ready to launch. Captain Salazar reacted quickly. He immediately called a warning to the other aircraft of the package, and began to rapidly move his fingers over the HOTAS controls on his contro
Ten seconds after the General Quarters alarm sounded, four SA-N-4 Gecko/4K33 missiles rose from the ships, while the four HARM missiles descended from the planes. The range was down to 5 miles/8.2 km. as the 100mm gun turrets of the frigates began slewing toward the black specks in the clear tropical sky. Diving in at over 4,500 feet per second/1,372 meters per second, the HARMs won the race. The proximity fuzes detonated above the ships, showering them with thousands of tungsten fragments and chunks of still-burning rocket motor fuel. Admiral Vu and his bridge crew were dead before they knew what had happened. The fragments from the HARMs’ warheads virtually shredded the two frigates, starting fires in the forward weapons magazines of both ships, as well as rupturing the fuel tanks. The SA-N-4s, deprived of terminal guidance, followed a graceful ballistic arc until the fuzes timed out and they self-destructed.
The lead Strike Eagle had captured the whole engagement on the videotape recorder of his LANTIRN targeting pod. Two hours later, just a few minutes after he touched down in Thailand, the imagery of the first shots fired in what was now being called Operation Golden Gate was being relayed by satellite datalink to Washington. The good parts were rushed through declassification by a rather sharp Pentagon PAO, just in time to make the evening news. The Vietnamese would regret firing the first shots at the 366th. Giai Phong limped into Cam Ranh Bay, where the surviving crew mutinied and joined the rebellion. Dau Tranh blew up and sank when the fires reached the forward missile magazine. A Chinese freighter picked up the survivors a few days later. They were neither grateful for the rescue nor well treated by their rescuers.