shouldn't commit any aircraft unless he received some sort of
authentication, and yet... what he was seeing, hearing, looked very real
indeed. Horrific, in fact. "Bear flight, coming left, " Tamalko radioed
on interplane frequency. "Take spacing, line abreast. Wide area
search. Find the damned aircraft." Moments later, Borillo had moved
alongside Tamalko, spaced far enough apart to search a greater section
of the sky but not far enough to lose visual contact. Tamalko's weapons
system officer began a procedural radar sweep of the skies. "Search
plus one to plus ten degrees, " he told his inexperienced WSO just in
case, like Borillo, he was getting too caught up in the action to think
straight. "Fuentes will search zero to minus ten degrees." The search
took only a few moments: "Lead, radar contact, one o'clock, twenty
miles, altitude one thousand feet, airspeed three hundred knots, "
Fuentes reported. "Looks like it's heading south toward the frigate."
"Can you find it?" Tamalko called out to his backseater. "Not yet, sir
. "Two, take the lead, " Tamalko radioed to Borillo. "Center up and
let's go see who it is. I'm in fighting wing position. Go!"
Cautiously, Borillo moved forward until he was ahead of Tamalko's plane.
Tamalko swung out a few more yards to let Borillo pull ahead, then eased
behind and above him so he could see all around his new leader. "You've
got the lead, Two, " he radioed to Borillo. "I've got the lead, "
Borillo replied hesitantly. "Bear flight coming right."
"Don't tell me, Two, just do it. I'm on your wing, " Tamalko said. He
followed Borillo easily as the young pilot made a ridiculously slow
15-degree bank turn to the right-apparently he was overly concerned with
how his squadron commander was doing. They began a slow descent to six
hundred feet, which allowed the radar beam to angle up at the target and
away from the radar clutter caused by shallow waters of the Palawan
Passage. Meanwhile Fuentes had locked the radar target on his attack
radar, which gave Borillo steering commands to an intercept position.
Borillo eased his F-4E farther right, keeping the radar image on the
left part of his radar screen-this kept his fighter's nose aimed ahead
of the target, along the target's flight path and not directly on the
target itself. "Bear lead judy, " Fuentes radioed, advising the
formation that he had radar contact on the air target. Just then they
heard on the naval fleet common channel: "This is PF4 Rajah Lakandula to
all units, we are under attack by Chinese aircraft! Bear flight, Bear
flight, this is Cowboy! Can you help us? Can you find the aircraft!" All
attempts at radio discipline were gone now-whoever was on that radio now
was crying out for the life of himself, his crew, and his ship. This,
Tamalko knew, was no fucking drill. "Cowboy, this is Bear flight. We
do not have visual contact. We are at five miles and closing. Stand
by."
"Bear flight, don't wait for visual contact! That plane is on a
torpedo-attack profile! You've got to destroy that plane!"
"I don't have proper identification, Goddammit!" Tamalko screamed. "I
can't open fire on an aircraft without identification and
authorization!"
"This is an emergency, Bear flight!" the radio operator-it was a
different person again, which only intensified Tamalko's doubts-yelled
on the radio. "If you are locked on to him, attack! If he gets within
five miles of the ship, he'll drop torpedoes! Attack!"
"I need authorization!" Tamalko screamed back. This was a setup,
Tamalko told himself over and over, it was a tremendous setup. Someone
wanted his job at Puerto Princesa, he decided. Someone wanted him to
screw up so he could be replaced and sent to some other Godforsaken
base. Well, he was going to play this one by the book, dammit. By the
book all the way... And that's when Borillo opened fire on the airplane.
In a blinding streak of light, Borillo pumped out all eight of his
five-inch unguided Zuni rockets at the Chinese patrol plane, at a range
of about three miles. It was doubtful that Borillo had ever fired a
4~m, rn'ere was no way the rocket could guide on its intended target or
glide into a kill like most air-to-air missiles. Trying to hit the
plane with a Zuni rocket was like trying to shoot down a bullet with
another bullet. "Cease fire!" Tamalko shouted. "Cease fire, you fucking
idiot..." But somehow one of the big rockets found its target. A huge
cloud of fire erupted off into the distance, and a trail of flames
peeled off to the right and spiraled down into the darkness. "What the
hell did you do?" Tamalko screamed on the interplane frequency. "What
did you do?"
"They were calling for help, sir, " Borillo replied, trying to force a
bit of righteous authority in his voice. "They were under attack...
we... I had to do something... "Start a left turn, see if you can find
where the plane went down, " Tamalko ordered. "Jesus Christ, Borillo,
that could have been one of our planes, don't you understand that?
Unless we are under specific, positive direction from ground controllers
or we have positive ID on an intruder, we are not authorized to open
fire on anyone. God, I don't believe it. . ." He gained a few
hundred feet to stay away from the ocean-he knew he was less than a
thousand feet above the water-then banked gently to the left and stared
hard out his canopy to try to get a visual check on the target. He saw
nothing but empty darkness. "Pilas, did you see what it was?" Tamalko
cried out to his WSO. "No, " Pilas replied. "I saw a couple hits and a
flash of fire, but no identification." His backseater's voice was high
and cracking, and when his interphone mike opened he could almost feel
the tortured breath of his terrified crewman-until Tamalko realized that
he was listening to his own breathing. I'm a dead man, he said to
himself as Borillo began a gentle turn. I am a dead man. ... ABOARD THE
CHINESE DESTROYER H0NG LUNG "Lost contact with Talon Eight-One, sir."
Captain Lubu Vin Li reported solemnly. "The pilot reported that he was
ditching. Crew reported under attack by enemy aircraft." Admiral Yin Po
L'un rested a hand under his chin, resisting the urge to swear aloud on
his combat bridge as he did when he learned the results of the first Fei
Lung-7 missile attack. The downing of the Shuihong-5 patrol plane was a
serious loss, almost as serious for Admiral Yin's fleet as the loss of
the patrol boat would be to the Philippine Navy. This battle was
beginning to unravel right before his eyes, like a magician's magic
knot-it seemed strong and unbreakable, yet was pulled apart by the
slightest touch.... "The Shuihong-5 might survive the landing, " Yin
muttered. "Send Wenshan and Xingyi to investigate. Be sure they
maintain data link with us at all times." Wenshan had an excellent
surface and air search capability, along with the ability to transmit
radar data to Hong Lung; it would act as radar warning vessel until Yin
decided what to do. Xingyi carried six C801 antiship missiles that could
be targeted by Wenshan 's firecontrol system. He had a decision to
make. He had two choices left. His first option: run and regroup. Yin
doubted that the Philippine vessels would follow him back to the Spratly
Islands-they had only one PF-class frigate and a small LF-class patrol
boat nearby, with two other major ships damaged or destroyed. Even
though they were only fifty kilometers from shore and there were already
Philippine aircraft in the area, he believed that the fight was over.
Both sides had taken their tolls, got in a few good hits, and now they
were disengaged. The second option: stay and fight. Yin could press the
attack by moving closer to get within radar range of the Philippine
vessels and launch another missile or gun attack. He had finally scored
a big hit on the Philippine frigate Rajah Humabon with the last of his
Fei Lung-7 missiles, so he was out of antiship missiles except for the
Fei Lung-9 missiles. Again, unbidden, the thought of using those
weapons entered his mind, and he immediately quashed the idea. But he
still had a sizable force in position: two Huangfen-class fast attack
missile boats, four Hegu-class patrol boats, two Hainan-class patrol
boats, and a minesweeper. His Huangfen-class ships carried a full
complement of Fei Lung-7 and C80 1 antiship missiles, and all of his
ships had dual-purpose guns to use if he moved into knifefighting range.
His flotilla still had a lot of fight left in it. But Yin's battle group
had been hit hard by the upstart Philippine raiders-one minesweeper, one
attack boat, the fast attack missile boat Chagda, and the Shuihong-5
patrol plane. In exchange they got one frigate and a patrol boat. A
very poor performance for the world's largest navy versus a virtually
nonexistent navy. . "What are your orders, Admiral?" Captain Lubu
asked him. "Once Wenshan and Xingyi get into position to assist the
Shuihong-5 crew and reconnoiter the area, what will we do?" Yin looked
at Lubu, then at the other crew members on Hong Lung's bridge. He did
not see much fight in their faces. What he saw was fear-plain old fear.
Should he take these youngsters into combat again? Should he decimate
the Philippine Navy with guns and missiles, risking the safety of his
already hard-hit fleet for a hollow victory? "Withdraw, " Yin heard
himself say in a low, tired voice. "Twenty knots, then twenty-five as
soon as the fleet is reformed. Maintain contact with Wenshan and
Xingyi, but plot a course out of this shallow water and prepare"Radar
contact aircraft!" Lubu suddenly shouted, relaying reports via headset
from Hong Lung's Combat Information Center. "Bearing zero-three-zero,
turning toward us, range fifteen kilometers and closing! Radar now
reports two aircraft in formation, altitude one thousand meters,
airspeed foureight-zero. Combat estimates aircraft on missile-launch
profile!" He was quickly running out of options now. A severely damaged
fleet, a dangerous depletion of long-range antiship weapons, shoal
waters all around them, and now armed Philippine aircraft nearby with
the threat of more just over the horizon. They could withdraw, back to
the relative safety of the Spratly Islands, but they would have to fight
their way out. "Signal to all ships: release all antiair batteries, "
Yin ordered. "Protect yourselves at all cost." ABOARD BEAR ONE-ZERO
"Close it up, Two, close it up, " Tamalko shouted to Borillo on
interplane frequency as he watched the second F-4E slowly drift in and
out off his right wing. "Don't get sloppy on me now. Tamalko was
maneuvering back to the lead position. They had climbed back to a safe
altitude of three thousand feet, executing circles over the area where
the unidentified plane appeared to have gone down. Borillo was so
erratic that Tamalko's backseater frequently lost sight of him. It was
some of the worst formation flying he had ever seen. The short air
battle had really rattled the kid. Tamalko was ready to send the kid
home, or perhaps even put him in the lead and tell him where to go, but
he needed the word from Headquarters first before anything else. In
between yelling at Borillo to stay in close to avoid going lost wingman,
Tamalko was on the UHF radio to Puerto Princesa, trying to set up a
relay from Palawan to the Philippine Air Force headquarters at Cavite,
near Manila. It was not going well. Meanwhile, aboard Bear Zero-Two,
Lieutenant Borillo's weapons system officer, Captain Fuentes, was
dividing his time between coaching Borillo on night-formation flight and
checking his radar, searching for other aircraft that might be in the
vicinity. By depressing the antenna angle on his attack radar, the WSO
could paint several ships ahead of them at twelve miles. His RHAWS
indicator, the screen that showed the direction, intensity, and type of
enemy radar threats in the vicinity, showed several search radars all
across the horizon to the west. The threat-intensity diamond shifted
between "S" designations on the scope as the system tried to decide
which was the greatest threat. "Lead, looks like several ships at
eleven o'clock, twelve miles, " Fuentes radioed to Tamalko. "Search
radars only."
"Copy . . . Two, close it back in, will you?" Tamalko said
irritably. "If you go lost wingman it'll take a damned hour to rejoin
back up again."
"Suggest a turn back to the east, " Fuentes said. "I don't want to get
any closer to those ships."
"Stand by, Two, " Tamalko snapped. "I'm trying to talk with the command
post." Fuentes looked up from his radarscope just in time to see his
plane's wingtip drift ever so slowly toward Tamalko's right wing. "How
you doing up there, Lieutenant?" he asked Borillo. "Fine... fine, "
Borillo answered hesitantly. "I'm moving in closer."Judging by how the
control stick and throttle quadrant in the backseat were wobbling
around, Borillo wasn't fine. But he was closing in nicely, so Fuentes
took another look in the radar. "Surface ships still at eleven o'clock,
now ten miles, lead, " he radioed to Tamalko. "We can't stay on this
heading, sir."
"Just stand by, " Tamalko radioed back angrily. "Just stay in route
formation and-" Just then several of the "S" symbols on the RHAWS scope
changed to blinking "6" and "8" symbols, and a slow wavering tone could
be heard on the interphone; red "Missile Warning" lights were flashing
on the threat-indicator panel. "Acquisition radar, eleven and one
o'clock positions, " Fuentes radioed to Borillo. "Naval SA-6 and -8
systems. We need to get out of this area. The tone suddenly shifted to a
fast buzzer, and "Missile Launch" lights illuminated in both front and
rear cockpits. "Missile launch!" Fuentes screamed. "Descend and
accelerate! Now!" Fuentes searched the sky ahead of them, and he felt
his face flush as he saw two bright yellow dots streaking toward
them-antiair missiles. Thank God it was so easy to see them at night.
"I see them! Right off the nose, just below the horizon! Aim right for
them and
get ready to break!" But Borillo panicked. With a missile
launch off the front quarter, the best defense was to point the
fighter's nose at the missiles, presenting the smallest possible radar
cross-section, then jink away from them at the last possible moment.
Young Borillo did exactly the wrong thing-he heard the word "Break" and
started a hard right turn away from the oncoming missiles at 90 degrees
of bank. With the full outline of the big F-4E presented belly-out
toward the missile and its tracking radar, it was an easy target.
Fuentes tried to wrestle the control stick back over to the left, but he
was far too late-one of the Hong Lung's HQ-91 missiles, a copy of the
Soviet Union's advanced 5A-I1 antiaircraft missile, hit Borillo's
fighter and instantly turned it into a huge fireball. Tamalko never got
a verbal warning from his backse~teryoung Pilas was too scared or had
the volume turned down on his threat-warning receiver, Tamalko didn't
know-but when the "Missile Launch" warning sounded he promptly forgot
about trying to contact Cavite and looked up to see the second HQ-91
missile streak past him, less than a hundred feet behind. He banked
right, toward the threat indications, just in time to see the first
missile destroy his wingman. Pilas was screaming in the backseat as the
shock wave from the explosion crashed over them. Tamalko tried to
ignore the screaming as he pushed his fighter down in a
six-thousand-foot per-minute descent, yanking it level as he passed
three hundred feet. "Shut up, Pilas-shut up!" Tamalko roared. The
screaming finally ceased. "Borillo got hit! Christ, they're shooting at
us!" Pilas shouted. "I thought this was an exercise!"
"Well, it's not a fucking exercise. Those are Chinese ships out there,
and they're attacking." And then Tamalko realized that Borillo really
did shoot down an attacking Chinese patrol plane-it was he who probably
saved hundreds of lives on Rajah Lakandula. And since Pilas never
warned him of the threat until after missile launch, Borillo also saved
Tamalko by banking away from the missiles. Even though he screwed up
most of the flight, the young pilot was a damned hero. "Give me a
heading to that ship, " Tamalko told Pilas. "We're attacking."