The Chosen One

Finally, the lead controller spotted the immense threat to the fleet’s survival.

“What the hell?” he said. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

“What have you got, Commander?”

“Take a real close look, Lieutenant Boyles. Chief, give me your opinion too. Two hundred and ten miles west, right above the waves.”

The controllers focused their attention on the strange radar images. The trio stared intently at the scores of hazy reflections huddled together near the outer reaches of their screens. The objects, their speed and course constant, were moving east toward the ships.

“Oh God, as much as I don’t want to admit it, sir,” the lieutenant said, “there’s only one thing that flies so low at those speeds and could be launched in such great numbers.”

“Cruise missiles,” the chief added.

“Everyone’s been wondering why the Mahdi hasn’t used any of them. Well, now we know. He’s been saving them all for one big attack.”

“How many do you think there are, sir?”

“Impossible to tell for sure, Chief. The ground clutter’s distorting everything. My guess, from what I see, would be no less than fifty and possibly three times that. One thing’s certain: with so many on the way, we’ve got our hands full. No doubt they’re headed for the carriers. Lieutenant, notify the task force to prepare to repel a massive cruise missile attack. Get the cruisers and destroyers into position for an airborne assault coming out of Libya. Have the carriers get under way and initiate full evasive maneuvers. If all the cruise missiles have is their preprogrammed data to go by in tracking down the ships, they’re going to have a heck of a time hitting a carrier moving over thirty miles an hour. Without a GPS system to help adjust their flight paths, when they arrive the carriers will be fifteen miles away from where the missiles are headed.”

What the Americans didn’t know was that months earlier Mourad’s technicians had figured out how to hack into the American military GPS satellite system. Not only were they using American-made cruise missiles in their heinous task, but also the enemy’s GPS to hunt down their mammoth prey. No matter what the carriers did in the coming minutes, the cruise missiles would know right where to find them.

“Yes, sir.”

“How much time do you estimate before the missiles arrive, Commander?”

“With their present course and speed, I’d say no more than twenty-five minutes.”

“We’ve got to stop them, sir. Can the task force’s ships handle the attack, or should we call the fighters back to knock the missiles from the sky? If they return at top speed, many of the Super Hornets should be well within range before the threat reaches the carriers.”

“We don’t have a choice here, I’m afraid. The ships’ defenses will have to battle the missiles. We can’t expect help from our Hornets. At this point, that’s not even an option. If I call for fighter support and most of our F/A-18s withdraw from the air battle, the skies will be wide open. I’m afraid it wouldn’t take long for the Chosen One’s MiGs to find openings and pour through to attack both carriers. Better our ships tackle Mourad’s cruise missiles than face four hundred heavily armed fighters. I’d rather have the fleet fighting mindless machines coming in at a five hundred miles an hour than bandits with humans in control flying twice that fast. I don’t know if the escort ships can stop that many cruise missiles coming in so close together. We’ve never faced more than one or two in an actual combat situation. Even in the computer simulations the numbers have never been so great. Maybe we can handle them, maybe not. But one thing’s for certain. In the next half hour, we’re going to find out.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do to help the ships?” the chief asked.

“How many fighters have returned to the carriers to rearm?”

“Four F/A-18Fs and a pair of F/A-18Es are on the deck of the Lincoln, sir. Another handful are on the way back to the boats.”

“How long before they’re ready to launch?”

“Ten minutes, maybe a little less for the ’Fs. Fifteen for the two ’Es. None of those headed to the carriers can possibly rearm in time.”

“First priority is getting the ships ready. I’ll coordinate that part. Chief, once the Super Hornets launch, have them attack the oncoming missiles. You’ll handle the six fighters. We’ve got to get maximum use of their AIM-120s and 132s.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Boyles, you’ll continue to coordinate our efforts against Mourad’s aircraft. Lest we forget, we’ve still got that little problem on our hands.”

“Will do, Commander.”

“All right, gentlemen, let’s see how good at this we really are.”

* * *

—

The approach to security for the great ships was to layer the defenses. The Super Hornets normally comprised the first line of protection. Flying twice as fast as a cruise missile, they could easily close with an invader. Once the cruise missiles were in range, AIM-120s would be launched from over one hundred miles. After the AIM-120s were expended, the shorter-range AIM-132s would be sent to search and destroy. With plenty of luck, and much skill, a Super Hornet could eliminate six cruise missiles.

Under normal conditions the carriers’ fighters would have handled the oncoming threat with relative ease. Unfortunately, the initial element of the American defenses was tossed throughout the far-flung heavens. Nearly all were tied down by the air-to-air conflict. Fifteen minutes before the first cruise missile’s arrival, four Super Hornets would rise from the Lincoln. With ten minutes to spare, Blackjack Section would careen off the same deck loaded with four radar-guided AIM-120s, a pair of AIM-132s, and two heat-seeking Sidewinders.

Even if the six aircraft destroyed an incoming assailant with each of its radar-guided missiles, sixty-four undeterred thugs would be left unharmed. And with the targets small, close to the waves, and little time remaining to find and eliminate, the fighters might not come close to so great a number of successful engagements. At this early stage, it was evident the majority of the battle groups’ defenses would have to come from the support ships.

Each carrier was being escorted by two cruisers and four destroyers. Of the eight destroyers, three were equipped with Aegis air defenses. Among the potential threats it had been built to address, the Aegis system had been designed to defend against cruise missiles. The three Aegis ships had a Sea Sparrow quadpack ready to fire on a moment’s notice. Each also carried a five-inch air defense gun, one Phalanx gun capable of firing forty-five hundred rounds per minute for close-in defense, and two chaff launchers to fool the approaching missiles. The entire process was computerized and fully integrated to obtain the maximum from the system’s components.

The remaining ships of the task force, and the aircraft carriers themselves, also were equipped with ample weapons. The first to spring into action would be the eight Harpoon missiles on each of the cruisers. Seventy nautical miles was their range.

The ships bristled with air defenses. There were more than enough missiles and guns to destroy the intruders many times over. With each passing minute, another protective measure would become available to the fleet. The only question was whether there’d be sufficient time to use them before so impressive an arrangement of lethal armaments arrived. It was time, not missiles that was the Americans’ true enemy.

The task force sprang into action. The cruisers and destroyers aligned to confront the threat.

One hundred trudging missiles were headed their way. Death’s sadistic shadow skirted over the rolling seas. In twenty-five minutes, unless stopped, Muhammad Mourad would reach across the shimmering waters to claim his prize.

For the Americans, the seconds were slipping away. With each sweep of the clock, the Mahdi’s grand ambitions were nine miles closer to ending the game.

25

5:58 P.M., OCTOBER 18

/> BLACKJACK SECTION, FIGHTING SQUADRON VF-57

USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN

OFF THE COAST OF EGYPT

As Mitchell and Sweeney appeared on deck, four F/A-18Fs filled the catapults. In rapid succession, they ripped down the runway and tore into the sky. There was scarcely a quarter hour remaining before the first searching killer would arrive.

* * *

—

Mitchell’s Super Hornets rocketed off the Lincoln. Beneath both aircrafts’ wings, four AIM-120s and two AIM-132s glistened in the late afternoon sun. A Sidewinder hung from the end of each wing.

“Echo Control, this is Blackjack Section. Where do you want us?”

“Blackjack Section, cruise missiles are seventy-five miles out. Unless stopped, they’ll arrive in eight or nine minutes. The bulk of the attack’s coming from the southwest. Estimate approximately seventy missiles in that grouping. They appear to be heading for the Lincoln. First four Super Hornets are closing in to cut them down to size. All four cruisers are concentrating on that formation. If they have time after the Super Hornets are finished, the cruisers will fire thirty-two Harpoons at the survivors. Two Aegis systems are also going to be sent against this primary grouping, along with one of the five remaining destroyers. There’s another group of thirty that’s broken off from the rest. They’re trying to sneak in from the west. At the moment, with nearly everything we’ve got focused on the main body, we’re as concerned about the second formation as the bigger one. From their latest course change, we believe they’re aiming for the Eisenhower. All we’ve got left to stop them is one Aegis and three regular destroyers. And you. We want your Hornets to go after the smaller formation. You’ve got to handle as many cruise missiles as you can.”

“Roger, Echo Control. We’ll do everything possible to knock ’em down. We’re picking up both formations on our radars. We’ll drop this instant to hug the waves and hit them head-on. Intercept of thirty cruise missiles is estimated at three minutes.”

“Roger, Blackjack Section. Good luck.”