Free Area 51: The Grail-5 by Robert Doherty Page B
Authors: Robert Doherty
gap. The lieutenant reported the intruder making a course adjustment to the north, over the Tarim Basin while also dropping in altitude, apparently trying to escape the detection of radar. But by now, Jimsar's own radar had picked up the strange image from his higher altitude. The intruder was fifty miles straight ahead.
Standing orders dictated that the pilots aim their air-to-air missiles at any intruder and, once they received a lock-on signal from the radar homing device, to fire.
70
There was to be no reconsidering those orders, no initiative displayed, no hesitation. The Chinese military believed in one thing above all else—obedience.
When the Chinese bought the Su-27 Flanker aircraft from the Russians in 1992, they'd also purchased 144 AA-10 air-to-air missiles to arm the craft with. Jimsar knew that renaming the missiles R27 didn't change the country of origin for the weapons. Of course, he had never uttered that thought aloud.
The Chinese government was desperately afraid of the corrupting influence of foreigners, yet it didn't draw the line at buying their weapons.
At twenty-five miles, Jimsar received lock-on confirmation that the on-board radar had acquired the target. Still out of visual range, he and his wingman armed their missiles.
Twenty miles and still closing, Jimsar flipped open the small red cover over the fire button. He thought briefly of the Russians downing KAL Flight 700 and the American navy ship shooting down the Iranian airliner. He knew if he did not fire there was a good chance he would be shot down on approach back to Kashi airfield by his own anti-aircraft batteries. His only other option was to try to fly to freedom, but he had a limited amount of fuel on board—not enough to reach a decent airfield to land the plane, and without the prize of the plane he doubted he would be granted asylum in any of the countries within reach. Also, if he fled, he had been told in no uncertain terms that his family would be sent to prison for the rest of their lives.
Jimsar pressed down, and a missile leapt from beneath each wing. Seeing that, his wingman followed suit and four missiles raced forward at four times the speed of sound toward the target.
Jimsar watched the action play out on his display.
71
"We have multiple hits," he announced, watching the trail of his two missiles abruptly disappear. This was followed by the second two at a slightly further location, which was strange, but Jimsar didn't report that.
"Confirm wreckage location," the lieutenant ordered.
In the time it had taken the missiles to fly twenty miles, the jets had flown ten. The short conversation at Mach 2 closed the gap another five miles.
The Flankers dipped down and slowed until they were cruising at a relatively slow five hundred miles an hour, less than eight hundred feet above the desert floor.
Jimsar loved flying close to the ground, the terrain flashing by, emphasizing the speed and power of the jet. His eyes were glued forward. A tall sand dune over a hundred feet high rapidly approached.
For a second, Jimsar froze in shock as the strangest thing he'd ever seen rose from behind the sand dune. At his speed all he had was a glimpse, then he was by, but there was no doubt of the form—a dragon, open mouth pointing directly at them!
"Break and circle!" Jimsar ordered.
There was no response from Hanxia.
"Break and circle." Jimsar already had the Flanker in a steep left-hand turn.
"Roger, breaking and circling right," Hanxia replied in a shaky voice.
As his hands worked the controls, Jimsar replayed the image in his mind. "It was metal," he said out loud. He forced himself to snap back to reality.
"Captain!" Jimsar ordered. "We're going to circle back. Do you understand?
Over."
"Yes, sir."
"It's a machine," Jimsar said as he leveled off, heading back toward the dragon. He checked his display. Nothing. The dragon had to be using the sand dune to
72
mask its radar signature. "Keep your eyes open," he
Standing orders dictated that the pilots aim their air-to-air missiles at any intruder and, once they received a lock-on signal from the radar homing device, to fire.
70
There was to be no reconsidering those orders, no initiative displayed, no hesitation. The Chinese military believed in one thing above all else—obedience.
When the Chinese bought the Su-27 Flanker aircraft from the Russians in 1992, they'd also purchased 144 AA-10 air-to-air missiles to arm the craft with. Jimsar knew that renaming the missiles R27 didn't change the country of origin for the weapons. Of course, he had never uttered that thought aloud.
The Chinese government was desperately afraid of the corrupting influence of foreigners, yet it didn't draw the line at buying their weapons.
At twenty-five miles, Jimsar received lock-on confirmation that the on-board radar had acquired the target. Still out of visual range, he and his wingman armed their missiles.
Twenty miles and still closing, Jimsar flipped open the small red cover over the fire button. He thought briefly of the Russians downing KAL Flight 700 and the American navy ship shooting down the Iranian airliner. He knew if he did not fire there was a good chance he would be shot down on approach back to Kashi airfield by his own anti-aircraft batteries. His only other option was to try to fly to freedom, but he had a limited amount of fuel on board—not enough to reach a decent airfield to land the plane, and without the prize of the plane he doubted he would be granted asylum in any of the countries within reach. Also, if he fled, he had been told in no uncertain terms that his family would be sent to prison for the rest of their lives.
Jimsar pressed down, and a missile leapt from beneath each wing. Seeing that, his wingman followed suit and four missiles raced forward at four times the speed of sound toward the target.
Jimsar watched the action play out on his display.
71
"We have multiple hits," he announced, watching the trail of his two missiles abruptly disappear. This was followed by the second two at a slightly further location, which was strange, but Jimsar didn't report that.
"Confirm wreckage location," the lieutenant ordered.
In the time it had taken the missiles to fly twenty miles, the jets had flown ten. The short conversation at Mach 2 closed the gap another five miles.
The Flankers dipped down and slowed until they were cruising at a relatively slow five hundred miles an hour, less than eight hundred feet above the desert floor.
Jimsar loved flying close to the ground, the terrain flashing by, emphasizing the speed and power of the jet. His eyes were glued forward. A tall sand dune over a hundred feet high rapidly approached.
For a second, Jimsar froze in shock as the strangest thing he'd ever seen rose from behind the sand dune. At his speed all he had was a glimpse, then he was by, but there was no doubt of the form—a dragon, open mouth pointing directly at them!
"Break and circle!" Jimsar ordered.
There was no response from Hanxia.
"Break and circle." Jimsar already had the Flanker in a steep left-hand turn.
"Roger, breaking and circling right," Hanxia replied in a shaky voice.
As his hands worked the controls, Jimsar replayed the image in his mind. "It was metal," he said out loud. He forced himself to snap back to reality.
"Captain!" Jimsar ordered. "We're going to circle back. Do you understand?
Over."
"Yes, sir."
"It's a machine," Jimsar said as he leveled off, heading back toward the dragon. He checked his display. Nothing. The dragon had to be using the sand dune to
72
mask its radar signature. "Keep your eyes open," he
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