Free B00DSDUWIQ EBOK by John Schettler

patrols and the Kazakh air force, and it was looking like the conflict
would get rolling on the ground any moment.
    They’re
just waiting on fuel and equipment, he knew. Once they do move, however, they’ll
come hard and fast, and that Kazakh Ready Brigade will have its hands full. Who
knows, perhaps this Spetsnaz outfit off the Caspian coast is figuring to be
part of that attack. Mack Morgan says they’re moving in a big fat helicopter as
part of the force. So I guess we’ll see what kind of sting my X-3s have after
all.
    He
looked at them, three of his four little darlings, one of the fastest helicopters
he’s ever flown. He could fly circles around the Apache in his X-3, but when he
thought about the Russian SAM batteries his bravado was quashed. There’s one
thing the damn Russians get right, me boyo, he thought, and that’s missiles.
We’re going to be out there alone with the gods, and the night will flame with
fire.
    And
that soon…
     

 
     
    Part III
     
    The
Bull
     
    “I never trust a
fighting man who doesn’t smoke or drink.”
     
    —Admiral Bull Halsey
     
     

 
    Chapter 7
     
    Airman J.D. Pickett was scouring the seas ahead in
his Helldiver , leading in a section of five planes that morning. Behind
him were the lines of the remainder of the squadron, two more flights of five
SB2C-5 Helldivers like his own, followed by three groups of five TBM-3 Avenger torpedo bombers. A thousand feet above them were the Hellcats , long
lines of fighters, and many with 500 pound bombs under their wings in the
fighter/bomber role. Others carried the HVAR Rocket System the men called “Holy
Moses” due to the reaction they had when the airmen first saw the weapons fire
and streak in towards their targets.
    They
were about to see something an order of magnitude better, and then some. Pickett
spotted it, coming up at the formation with impossible speed. “What in God’s
name is that?” he called through his headset. “Coming up on my twelve o clock!
Rocket! Rocket!”
    The
explosion said the rest as the rocket flashed in and struck a Corsair flying
off the rightmost wing of his flight. He craned his neck to see the bright
yellow fireball consume the plane and saw the smoldering remnant falling from
the sky.
    “Holy
shit!” he yelled, all thoughts of Moses blown from his mind by that fireball. “Did
you see that? Anybody see what fired that? I don’t have anything on radar. Can’t
see a thing.”
    The first missile was a warning
shot. Karpov had ordered Orlan to fire this single missile at the first
planes they could track inside 100 kilometers. He was back on the radio to see
if Iron Mike might have a change of heart, but the effect of the missile shot
was a bit like poking a stick into a hornet’s nest. The Americans quickly shook
off the shock and they were calling to one another, orders barked sharply over
the airwaves.
    “Louis!
Get your Avengers down on the deck! Pickett, you peel off to your left and swing
round on 290. Everybody upstairs get ready to rumble!”
    Vern
Higman heard the order and reached in to pat the dash board of his plane—‘Round
Trip Ticket.’ They were going in again, but even though he had seen planes shot
up pretty bad he always came through in one piece. This would be no different. He
looked out his cockpit window and saw Wendell Stevens and Lowell Chamberlain both
give him the thumbs up. The others were itching to dive the instant they laid
eyes on the target—Bob Nouall, Mike Hallard, J.G. Wheeler, who already had one
Navy Cross on his chest for blasting the Japanese Cruiser Tone a while
back.
    “Let’s
get down and dirty,” Higman called to his Helldiver flight mates. “I’ve got
me a round trip ticket to the action and a thousand pounds of metal in my belly
that I plan to put right on Ivan’s foredeck! You ready Pickett? Lead the charge!”
    Pickett
was ready, but so was Orlan .
     
    * * *
     
    “Fools rush in,” said Karpov, shaking his head as he
watched