tc.redstormrising-第155节

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ttalion…sized　blocking　forces　occupied　the　major　crossroads　while　the　NATO　manders　reinforced　the　regiment　at　Alfeld。　Probably　two　full　tank　divisions　lurked　in　the　forests　north　of　R乭le；　but　for　the　present　they　had　not　attacked　Beregovoy。　Instead　their　inaction　both　dared　him　to　cross　and　invited　him　to　counterattack　north。
Alekseyev　remembered　an　important　lesson　from　the　Frunze　Academy：　the　Kharkov　Offensive　of　1942。　The　Germans　had　allowed　the　advancing　Red　Army　forces　to　penetrate　deep…then　cut　them　off　and　chewed　them　up。　High　mand　＇meaning　Stalin＇　ignored　the　objective　realities　of　the　situation　（hence　violating　the　Second　Law　of　Armed　bat）；　concentrating　instead　on　subjective　perceptions　of　apparent　progress　that　unfortunately　proved　false；　the　lesson　concluded。　The　General　wondered　if　this　battle　would　be　an　object　lesson　for　some　future　class　of　captains　and　majors　who　would　then　write　their　test　answers　and　essays　in　bluebooks；　pointing　out　what　an　ass　General　Colonel　Pavel　Leonidovich　Alekseyev　was！
Or　he　could　pull　them　back　。　。　。　and　admit　defeat；　and　perhaps　be　shot；　and　then　be　remembered；　if　at　all；　as　a　traitor　to　the　Motherland。　It　was　so　fitting。　After　sending　so　many　thousands　of　boys　into　fire；　now　he　faced　death　as　well；　though　from　an　unexpected　direction。
〃Major　Sergetov；　I　want　you　to　go　back　to　Moscow　to　tell　them　in　person　what　I　am。　up　to。　I　am　going　to　detach　one　division　from　Beregovoy　and　drive　it　east　to　open　the　way　at　Alfeld　again。　The　attack　on　Alfeld　will　be　from　two　directions；　and　after　it　succeeds；　we　will　be　able　to　continue　the　Weser　crossing　without　fear　of　having　our　spearhead　cut　off。〃
〃A　skillful　promise；〃　the　major　said　hopefully。
That's　just　the　thing　I　need　to　hear！

BITBURG；　FEDERAL　REPUBLIC　OF　GERMANY
Twelve　Frisbees　were　left。　Twice　they'd　been　pulled　out　of　action　briefly　to　determine　what　new　tactics　would　lessen　the　hazards…with　some　success；　Colonel　Ellington　told　himself　A　few　of　the　Soviet　systems　had　proved　to　have　unsuspected　capabilities；　but　half　of　his　losses　were　unexplained。　Were　they　the　kind　of　accidents　that　acpanied　flying　heavily　loaded　aircraft　at　minimum　altitude　or　simply　the　laws　of　probability　catching　up　with　everyone？　A　pilot　might　think　a　1…percent　chance　of　being　shot　down　on　a　given　mission　acceptable；　then　realize　that　fifty　such　missions　made　it　a　40　percent　chance。
His　flight　crews　were　unnaturally　quiet。　The　elite　Frisbee　squadron　was　a　tight　family　of　men；　a　third　of　whom　were　gone。　The　professionalism　that　allowed　them　to　shut　this　out　and　do　their　weeping　in　private　had　its　limits。　That　limit　had　been　passed。　Mission　performance　was　down。　But　bat　requirements　were　not；　and　Ellington　knew　that　sentiment's　place　in　the　great　military　scheme　of　things　fell　below　the　need　to　hit　targets。
He　rotated　the　aircraft　off　the　pavement　and　headed　east　alone。　Tonight　he　carried　no　weapons　save　Sidewinders　and　antiradar　missiles　for　self…defense。　His　F…19A　was　burdened　with　fuel　tanks　instead　of　bombs。　He　settled　to　an　initial　flight　altitude　of　three　thousand　feet　and　checked　his　instruments；　making　a　slight　adjustment　in　the　aircraft's　trim　before　starting　a　slow　descent　to　five　hundred　feet。　That　was　his　altitude　on　crossing　the　Weser。
〃Got　some　activity　on　the　ground；　Duke；〃　Eisly　reported。　〃Looks　like　a　column　of　tanks　and　troop　carriers　heading　northeast　on　Highway　64。〃
〃Report　it　in。〃　In　this　sector；　everything　that　moved　was　a　target。　A　minute　later；　they　crossed　the　Leine　north　of　Alfeld。　They　could　see　the　distant　flashes　of　artillery；　and　Ellington　banked　left　to　keep　clear。　A　six…inch　shell　in　its　ballistic　arc　didn't　care　if　the　Frisbee　was　invisible　or　not。
This　ought　to　be　safer　than　a　strike　mission；　Ellington　told　himself。　They　flew　east；　two　miles　from　a　secondary　road　that　Eisly　kept　under　surveillance　with　their　nose…mounted　television　camera。　The　threat…warning　receiver　was　lit　up　from　SAM　radars　sweeping　the　sky　for　intruders。
〃Tanks；〃　he　said　quietly。　〃Lots　of　'em。〃
〃Moving？〃
〃Don't　think　so。　Looks　like　they're　sitting　alongside　the　road　near　the　treeline。　Wait…missile…launch　warning！　SAM　three　o'clock！〃
Ellington　pushed　the　stick　down　and　to　the　left。　In　a　matter　of　seconds　he　had　to　dive　his　aircraft　one　way；　turn　his　head　the　other　to　see　the　ining　missile；　then　turn　back　to　make　sure　he　didn't　plow　a　furrow　in　the　dirt　with　his　fifty…million…dollar　aircraft。　All　he　saw　of　the　SAM　was　a　yellow…white　gout　of　flame；　and　it　was　heading　for　him。　As　soon　as　he　leveled　out；　he　wrenched　the　Frisbee　into　a　hard　right　turn。　In　the　back　Eisly　had　his　eyes　on　the　missile。
〃Veering　off；　Duke…yeah！〃　The　missile　leveled　out　at　the　treetops　behind　the　F19；　then　dipped　and　exploded　in　the　woods。　〃The　instruments　say　that　was　a　SA…6。　The　search　radar　is　one　o'clock　and　very　close。〃
〃Okay；〃　Ellington　said。　He　activated　a　single　Sidearm　antiradar　missile　and　fired　it　at　the　transmitter　from　a　range　of　four　miles。　The　Russians　were　slow　to　detect　it。　Ellington　saw　the　detonation。　Take　that；　Darth　Vader！
〃I　think　you're　right　on　how　they're　getting　us；　Duke。〃
〃Yeah。〃　The　Frisbee　was　designed　to　defeat　overhead　radars。　Something　looking　up　had　a　much　better　chance　of　detecting　them。　They　could　defeat　that　by　flying　very　low；　but　then　they　couldn't　see　as　well　as　they　wanted　to　see。　He　turned　for　another　look　at　the　tanks。　〃How　many　you　think；　Don？〃
〃Lots；　over　a　hundred。〃
〃Tell　'em。〃　Ellington　turned　back　north　while　Major　Eisly　made　his　report。　In　minutes　some　German　Phantom　jets　would　visit　the　tank　assembly　point。　That　many　tanks　sitting　still　probably　meant　a　fueling　point；　he　thought。　Either　the　fuel　trucks　were　already　there　or　they　were　en　route。　Fuel　trucks　were　now　his　primary　targets；　a　surprising　change　after　weeks　of　going　for　supply　dumps　and　moving　columns　。　。　。　What's　that？
〃Trucks　dead　ahead！〃　The　Duke　watched　the　enhanced　view　on　his　Head…Up　Display。　A　long　line　of　。　。　。　fuel　trucks；　traveling　in　a　tight　column；　blacked　out　and　moving　fast。　The　curved　metal　tops　made　the　identification　easy。　He　turned　the　fighter　again　to　circle　two　miles　from　the　road。　Eisly's　infrared　picture　showed　the　glow　of　engines　and　exhaust　piping；　hotter　than　the　cool　night　air。　It　was　like　a　procession　of　ghosts　down　the　tree…lined　road。
〃I　count　fifty　or　so；　Duke；　and　they're　heading　for　that　tank　park。〃
Five　thousand　gallons　per　truck；　Ellington　thought。　Two　hundred　fifty　thousand　gallons　of　diesel　fuel　。　。　。　enough　to　fill　every　tank　in　two　Soviet　divisions。　Eisly　called　that　one　in　also。
〃Shade　Three；〃　the　AWACS　controller　radioed　back。　〃We　have　eight　birds　en　route；　ETA　four　minutes。　Orbit　and　evaluate。〃
Ellington　did　not　acknowledge。　He　put　his　aircraft　right　down　on　the　treetops　for　several　minutes；　wondering　how　many　trees　had　Russian　soldiers　standing　nearby　with　their　SA…7　hand…held　missiles。
A　long　time　since　he'd　flown　over　Vietnam；　a　long　time　since　he'd　first　realized　that　random　chance　could　reach　up　into　the　sky　and　end　his　life　despite　all　his　skill。　His　years　of　peacetime　flying　had　allowed　him　to　forget　that…Ellington　never　thought　an　accident　could　kill　him。　But　one　man　with　an　SA…7　could；　and　there　was　no　way　to　know　when　he　was　flying　over　one　。　。　。　Stop　thinking　about　that；　Duke。
The　Royal　Air　Force　Tornados　swept　in　from　the　east。　The　lead　aircraft　dropped　his　cluster　bombs　in　front　of　the　column。　The　rest　swept　over　the　road　at　a　shallow　angle；　raining　the　bomblets　on　the　convoy。　Trucks　exploded；　sending　burning　fuel　high　into　the　air。　Ellington　saw　the　silhouettes　of　two　fighter…bombers　against　the　orange　flames　as　they　headed　west　for　home。　The　fuel　spread　out　on　both　sides　of　the　road；　and　he　watched　the　undamaged　trucks　stop　and　turn；　desperately　trying　to　escape　the　conflagration。　Some　were　abandoned　by　their　drivers。　Others　steered　clear　of　the　fire　and　tried　to　continue　south。　A　few　succeeded。　Most　bogged　down；　too　heavily　loaded　to　move　on　the　soft　earth。
〃Tell　'em　they　got　about　half。　Not　bad　at　all。〃
A　minute　later；　the　Frisbee　was　ordered　northeast　again。
In　Brussels　the　radar　signals　downlinked　from　the　ground…search　radar　aircraft　plotted　the　fuel　convoy's　path。　A　puter　was　now　programmed　to　perform　the　function　of　the　videotape　recorder；　and　it　traced　the　convoy's　movements　back　to　its　point　of　origin。　Eight　more　attack　aircraft　headed　toward　this　patch　of　woods。　The　Frisbee　got　there　first。
〃I　show　SAM　radars；　Duke；〃　Eisly　said。　〃I'll　call　it　one　battery　of　SA…6　and　another　of　SA…11。　They　must　think　this　place　is　important。〃
〃And　a　hundred　little　bastards　with　hand…held　SAMs；〃　Ellington　added。　〃ETA　on　the　strike？〃
〃Four　minutes。〃

Two　batteries　of　SAMs　would　be　very　bad　news　for　the　strike　aircraft　〃Let's　cut　those　odds　down　some。〃
Eisly　singled　out　the　SA…11　search/acquisition　radar。　Ellington　headed　towards　it　at　four　hundred　knots；　using　a　road　to　travel　below　the　trees　until　he　was　two　miles　away。　Another　Sidearm　dropped　off　the　airframe　and　rocketed　toward　the　radar　transmitter。　At　the　same　moment；　two　missiles　came　their　way。　The　Duke　applied　maximum　power　and　turned　hard　to　the　east；　dropping　chaff　and　flares　as　he　did　so。　One　missile　went　for　the　chaff　and　exploded　harmlessly。　The