Arctic Fire by Keith Douglass

Author:Keith Douglass [Douglass, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Naval battles, Bering Sea, Action & Adventure, Fiction, Aleutian Islands (Alaska), Technological, Thrillers, Espionage, Naval aviation
ISBN: 9780515120844
Publisher: Jove Boooks
Published: 1997-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Thursday, 29 December

1800 Local

Tomcat 201

“A fucking invasion,” Bird Dog breathed. “Oh, deep holy shit, Gator.”

“Don’t get happy with the weapons yet,” Gator said tightly. “Mother’s having a fit on the other end. A MiG they know what to do with. Same thing with a Bear. But an amphibious landing—or an airborne one—is a little outside of our marching orders. The admiral’s on the circuit, yelling that if we so much as twitch wrong we could start an international incident.”

“Like the Russians haven’t?” Bird Dog asked. “Putting paratroopers on American soil seems to be a hell of an unneighborly thing to do. Not to mention shooting at our P3 aircraft.”

The Tomcat was circling at seven thousand feet, monitoring the progress of the paratroopers down to the ice. They blended quickly with the landscape, and were invisible after they landed to the aircraft above.

“Hell, I wish we had some Rockeyes,” Bird Dog said, referring to the ground munitions missile that carried a payload of tiny bomblets that exploded on the ground. They were the weapons of choice for use against enemy troops.

“You think you’re gonna get permission to drop bombs on U.S. soil?” Gator demanded. “Think, man, think! For once in your life, just consider the consequences.”

“We drop bombs on American soil at the range,” Bird Dog argued. “What, you want us to sit up here and watch these bastards invade?”

“And just who the hell are they, do you think?” Gator snapped. “What insignia did you see on that aircraft they jumped out of?”

“You know who they are.”

“When are you going to understand that your gut-level instinct isn’t enough, not in today’s world, Bird Dog. You’ve got no proof that that was a Russian aircraft—nothing at all. No transponder, no aircraft insignia, no Russian being spoken on International Air Distress—IAD. Just how do you think we’re going to look?”

“They shot at our aircraft. What more do you want?” Bird Dog exploded. “Am I the only one in this battle group that’s getting tired of every terrorist in the world taking a shot at American troops?”

Gator’s voice turned colder than Bird Dog had ever heard it before. “If you can’t get it through your thick skull that we follow orders first, then you’d best find some other way to make a living. This isn’t about barrel rolls and Immelmanns, you asshole. This is about a very nasty situation and a world the rest of the country thinks is at peace. Hold it-” he said suddenly. “Mother’s talking.”

Bird Dog leaned forward against his ejection harness, feeling the straps cut into his shoulders. The pain gave him the feeling that he was doing something, which he desperately needed right now. The sight of invaders tromping across American soil—American soil, even if it was ice and frost and rime—touched some fundamental core of his being. It was one thing to watch the Chinese invade the Spratlys, the Russians take on the Norwegians, or any one of a number of nations attack a neighbor, but this was different.

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