The Red Line

Without the four batteries, the remaining sixteen stood poised with slightly under five hundred missiles to engage seven hundred MiGs. The Patriot batteries knew they’d be the enemy’s first objective.

Nevertheless, the Patriot was going to be a difficult target for any attacker, no matter how determined, to kill. It couldn’t be said they were impossible to destroy, for the Patriot could be conquered. What they were was hard to discover from the air. With their passive radar systems, they didn’t put out any easy-to-track radar emissions. Yet given enough time, the Russians would detect the Patriot’s signal. And once that signal had been discovered, the MiGs would move in for the kill.

The Patriot needed nine seconds after launching for its huge missile to activate and kill. It was far too large to handle close-in targets. If a fighter could get inside the system’s defenses, the Patriot would be unable to defend itself. From that point on, the MiG would stand an excellent chance of fooling the little Stinger missiles and destroying the Patriot. All it would take was a single air-to-ground missile into the Engagement Control Station, and the Patriot, no matter how many missiles still waited on its launchers, would be out of the war forever. For that reason, in wartime a Patriot battery never stayed anywhere for more than eight hours. Four hours was even better.

From this moment on, nearly one-quarter of the Patriots that survived the initial attack would be unavailable as they shut down, moved, and reinitialized.

Early in the century, the American military had phased out the Hawk Missile System. But when the threat reappeared in the East, with a Hawk battery costing one-tenth the price of a Patriot, the decision was made primarily for budgetary purposes to reactivate them for use in Europe by both the Germans and the Americans.

The seven older Hawk systems, each with eighteen missiles, made for an even easier target. With its three radars emitting strong signals, the Hawk provided a clear beacon for the Russians to follow straight to their objective. The Hawk batteries were twenty to fifty miles in front of the Patriots. It was Hawk that would engage the first wave of Russian fighters.

The MiGs came on.

The Americans waited. Their missiles were at the ready. While they steeled themselves for the attack, they were unaware the Russians had mapped each Hawk and Patriot battery.

The moment the war began, just as the Russians had anticipated, the air-defense units moved from their permanent locations to new firing positions. Russian operatives watched every battery move to its new location.

Sitting in an ancient car on a distant hilltop overlooking Rhein-Main, three men in worn overcoats had used night-vision equipment to detect the new Patriot battalion’s arrival at a little after midnight. From the moment the three batteries drove out of the air base’s main gate until they arrived at their destinations, they were never out of sight of a vast web of Russian spies.

Thirty minutes prior to the launch of the Russian armada, the last message on the American and German air defenses had been transmitted. As the MiGs broke through, they knew exactly where every Hawk and Patriot battery was emplaced.

The three American and four German Hawk units prepared to fire. Normally, they’d have sat with their radars off until the last possible moment, depending on the AWACS to tell them the precise instance to turn on their systems. But with the AWACS’ ground communication capabilities destroyed, the Hawk batteries were on their own. Without the AWACS, the only way they could see the enemy was through their own radars.

As the Russian fighters burst deep into Germany, the Hawk batteries turned on their equipment. Their radars started putting out loud, clear signals. Each unit knew they’d signed their own death warrants. The air-defense crews were well aware that their radars’ strong emissions would lead the enemy right to them. Still, they had no choice.

The outer net of Hawks began to die. The American battery at Wurzburg was the first to fall. Its crew fired two missiles—two successful kills—before a MiG-29 broke through and rammed a rocket into the Hawk Engagement Center. The rocket had followed the homing beacon the Hawk radars had provided straight to the target.

One hundred miles north, a dozen MiG-29s demolished the German battery at Cuxhaven. Not a single Hawk missile had been fired. The MiGs then turned their attention to the German battery fifty miles south at Friesing. One, and then another, and finally a third of the MiGs tumbled from the sky from the determined German battery’s missiles. The fighters fought their way through the beleaguered Hawk’s defenses. The battery succumbed in a hail of air-to-ground missiles.

The remaining four Hawk firing batteries remained in the fight. At least for the moment.

The Russians roared deeper into Germany. The time had come to challenge the immense power of the Patriot.

Scores of westward-moving triangles headed toward their targets.

CHAPTER 27

January 29—8:11 a.m.

Charlie Battery, 1st “Cobra Strike” Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery Regiment

A Deserted Parking Lot on the Eastern Edge of Stuttgart

Six triangles leaped from the melee. They raced toward the southwest. Unless stopped, they’d reach their objective in the next five minutes.

“Here they come!” Morgan said. “I’m starting the interrogation.”

“Ready to target as soon as they’re identified,” Fowler said. “Paul, it’s too early to tell if the MiGs are heading for us. But just in case, notify the three Stinger teams to get ready to repulse a fighter attack. Then tell the communication van to direct everyone to get away from the launchers and take cover.”

“Roger.”

“First two aircraft have been identified as hostile,” Morgan said. “Authorized to engage when they are within fifty miles.” She could feel the first sticky beads of sweat rolling down her spine.

“Roger, Lieutenant. Verify on my screen, first two aircraft are hostile. Beginning targeting information. Hostiles are approximately eighty miles out and closing. Am locking into the computer.” Fowler started typing on the keyboard in front of him. “Will intercept the moment they’re in range.”

Less than thirty miles, and the enemy fighters would be within the giant missile’s reach. With their present speed and course, that would occur in precisely ninety seconds.

“Roger,” the lieutenant said. “Verify engagement procedures have begun on first two targets. Last four aircraft have also been identified as hostile. Final four are cleared for engagement.”

“Locking in coordinates on the final four targets. Computer has been directed to engage the moment they’re within range.” Fowler’s mouth was so dry that his lips clung to his teeth and fought against his anx

ious words.

“Verify four additional targets are locked in and engagement sequence has been initiated,” Morgan said while staring at the symbols on her screen.

“Paul, notify regiment that we’re in the process of engaging six hostile aircraft,” Fowler said.

“Roger. Notifying of ongoing engagement.”

There was nothing more to do. The computer would take it from here, automatically selecting the missiles and firing once the targets came within fifty miles of the Patriot.

The Patriot’s nearly flawless kill rate might be slightly lower at so great a distance. But at this moment, the air-defense team didn’t care. They were far more concerned with another problem. Nearly all of the American Patriot air-defense systems had received a software upgrade more than a decade earlier. Each Engagement Control Station could now engage up to nine aircraft simultaneously. Unfortunately, the missile system that Fowler and Morgan were controlling had been repurchased from the Japanese a few months earlier. The system had never received the updated software. All four of the battalion’s Engagement Control Stations were scheduled for the upgrade within the next three months. At the moment, however, that was of little comfort to the air defenders. During the coming war, the Patriot computer they were controlling could only fire at and engage five targets at any one time. And six were on the way. Any way they looked at it, one of the rapidly closing aircraft wasn’t going to be attacked until a first had been destroyed.

If they waited too long to engage the MiGs, there was a real possibility of the final aircraft breaking through. It was a chance they dare not take.

Fowler and Morgan stared at the screens. One by one, the seconds ticked by. The triangles continued their unyielding march across the ever-brightening heavens. With each passing instant, they grew closer to the battery. The determined MiGs inched ever nearer to the Patriot’s firing point. The Americans could do nothing but watch as death crossed the skies intent on claiming them.