The Red Line

“Disengage from targeting the helicopters,” Morgan said. “Direct the system to attack the fighters.”

“Roger,” Fowler said. “Reprogramming the computer to engage the second formation.”

The MiGs were already in range.

“Paul,” Morgan said, “tell the Stinger teams there’s been a change of plans. They’re to engage all the helicopters.”

“But, Lieutenant, they’ve only got five Stingers, and there are twelve helicopters.”

“Never mind that, just do it. Then tell the communication van to get in touch with the 24th Infantry. See if any of their Stinger teams are in the neighborhood. Tell them we’ve got to have help, and we’ve got to have it now. The helicopters will be here in three minutes.”

Both enemy formations continued on their unwavering path toward them. There was no longer any question in either of the American air defenders’ minds. They knew the hostile triangles were coming to claim the Patriot battery.

Fowler directed the computer to target the enemy fighters and fire when they were thirty miles away. The flight of eighteen MiGs roared past the fifty-mile point. The helicopters were within eight miles.

“Lieutenant!” Paul said. “Regiment says F-16s are on the way. But there’s no way they’ll get here in time. “

“What about the 24th?”

Paul spoke into his headset.

“There aren’t any Stinger teams close enough to help us,” Paul said.

“Order the communication van to wake everybody up as fast as they can. Tell them they’ve only got a couple of minutes to get into the woods before this place is blown to kingdom come.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fowler and Morgan looked into each other’s eyes, hoping to find some reassurance. Both suspected there wasn’t going to be any last-minute reprieve this time.

• • •

It took only sixty seconds for the first of the MiG-29s to reach the thirty-mile point. A Patriot missile roared from its launch canister. Silhouetted by the darkness, its fiery form ripped into the black heavens. Right behind it, one after another, four more Patriots leaped into the sky.

Fowler glanced at his watch. “We have five confirmed launches at zero-six-forty-two.”

“Roger. Confirm five launches at zero-six-forty-two,” Morgan said.

“Notifying regiment of five launches,” Paul said.

They’d continue playing the game until the bitter end. And Fowler and Morgan were determined to keep fighting until the last possible moment. They’d every intention of taking out as many Russian pilots as they possibly could. For now, with five missiles in the air, all they could do was wait and watch their screens as the Patriots undertook their life-and-death duels in the star-choked German skies. Five Russian pilots were involved in a final hopeless struggle to see the coming sunrise. With the nineteen-foot killers hot on their tails, the MiGs broke from the formation. Using every trick imaginable, they fought to survive.

But the pilots’ frantic actions were wasted on the Patriots. With the computer countering the Russians’ every move, the missiles rapidly advanced toward their victims. The first flashing tic-tac-toe soon appeared. More were on the way. In rapid succession, the five missiles plucked their soaring prey from the heavens.

The remaining fighters continued on their unrelenting quest to destroy the final Patriot battery in southern Germany. Twenty miles out, the Russians began targeting the air-defense system. The MiGs were sixty seconds away from firing their missiles and ending the Patriot soldiers’ lives.

The attack helicopters were six miles from the battery. They skimmed over the treetops, intent on defeating the Americans.

The Stinger gunners stood in the darkness, waiting for the helicopters to come within the five-mile range of their deadly missiles. In another few seconds, a trio of Hinds was going to find out just how lethal the little killers could be.

The target-acquisition officers in the attack helicopters armed their missiles and rockets.

The Americans had seven Patriots left.

At one thousand miles per hour, the MiGs moved in for the kill.

Another Patriot fired, shattering the morning stillness. Seconds later, four more missiles roared skyward to meet the enemy.

Their radars beseeching them to take evasive action, five Russians begged their aircrafts’ powerful engines to save their lives. Once more, the mortal chase was under way in the blood-tinged darkness over Germany. It was another heart-searing drama the Patriots would soon win.

Straight and steady, the eight remaining fighters continued with their determined task. The helicopters neared.

“We’ve got two missiles remaining on the launch platforms,” Fowler said.

“Paul, notify regiment that we have two missiles left, and eight MiGs are nearing our position.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Paul spoke into his headset.

The helicopters were four miles away. The first of the Stinger gunners locked onto a Hind. The little missile leaped from the gunner’s shoulder. The Russian crew turned and ran. The Stinger was right on its tail. It wouldn’t be much longer before the helicopter would burst into flames. The remaining Stinger teams located the whirling enemy. Death spit forth from American shoulders once again. Two more Hinds were near their end. The Stinger gunners looked up. The surviving Russian helicopters were coming on much too fast. In seconds, they’d be right on top of them. There wasn’t enough time for the Americans to ready replacement missiles. They threw down their empty firing tubes and raced for the woods. Most of the men and women of the Patriot battery had already run deep inside its protective cover.

The leading missile in the second group of Patriots eliminated its target. On the screens, another tic-tac-toe flashed. The eight untargeted fighters were six miles out and coming on. Each was ready to fire. In another three miles, they’d unleash a fierce barrage of air-to-ground missiles. Fifteen seconds was all that remained before the attack would begin.

A Patriot soared from its launcher in search of prey. In seconds, one of the oncoming eight would reach its fiery end. There was a single missile waiting on launcher number four to bring death to a final pilot. In moments, the computer would order the missile to fire.

Another blinking symbol appeared on the screen. Another MiG had perished. The time had come for the computer to send the last Patriot skyward. That would be it for the air-defense battery.

In a mighty blast, the lone missile hurtled from its launcher. It rushed into the skies to seek and destroy.

As it did, air-to-ground missiles leaped from the now-leading fighter’s wingtips. The Russian pilot, targeted for destruction by the final Patriot, wouldn’t live long enough to see his missiles reach the ground.

On their screens, Fowler and Morgan saw the incoming Russian missiles the moment they were fired.

“Get out! Get out, now!” Fowler screamed.

Paul ripped off his headset. He tore at the small door behind him. Only five seconds remained before the air-to-ground missiles would reach them. The door flew open. In the darkness, Jeffrey Paul tumbled onto the frozen asphalt. He scrambled to his feet. On a severely twisted ankle, he hobbled toward the safety of the beckoning woods.

The passageway through the Engagement Control Station’s massive array of electronic equipment was so narrow that only one person at a time, turned partially sideways, could successfully navigate their way through it. Rapidly covering the eight feet to the rear opening was nearly impossible.

With death rushing to steal them away, Morgan froze in her chair. Fowler grabbed the front of her uniform and attempted to push her toward the door. She stumbled and fell faceup into the middle of the constricted aisle. On her back, she struggled to reach the opening. But it was no use.

Fowler leaped from his chair. His escape was blocked by the fallen lieutenant. He glanced at the rad

ar screen. The missiles were right on top of them.

He knew they had no chance.

In a futile attempt to shield the pretty lieutenant, Fowler dropped to the floor. With his body, he covered hers the best he could.

The effort was entirely symbolic. He realized he wasn’t going to be able to save her from dying. Her vivid green eyes stared into his in disbelief. He could see the terror in her beautiful features. It reflected the emotions present in his.

Both knew that in a fraction of a second, their lives would end. There was nothing either of them could do. At the last possible instant, Morgan accepted her fate. The terror suddenly left her.