Shadow Flight

Sokolviy caught a glimpse of the line of MiG-25s and -23s taxiing in the opposite direction. He watched his airspeed increase rapidly, then raised the Fulcrum's nose wheel gently off the rough runway.

His wingman was halfway through his takeoff roll when Sokolviy snatched the landing gear up and banked into a rendezvous turn. He waited for the airspeed to build before deselecting afterburner, then checked in with the ground control intercept radar unit and armed his missiles.

Sokolviy was surprised when the radar operator informed him that numerous contacts were approaching San Julian from the northwest. The Soviet fighter weapons instructor waited for his wingman to join off his right wing. Both MiGs increased power and began a steep climb as Sokolviy talked to the radar controller.

Partway through the radio communication, Sokolviy heard static followed by a humming noise. He swore to himself, knowing that the American EA-6B ADVCAP Prowlers were jamming the airwaves. Sokolviy also knew that the U. S. ELINT aircraft would have a detrimental effect on the radar-controlled 57mm and 85mm antiaircraft guns.

The Soviet fighter pilot leveled the Fulcrum at 14,000 feet and carefully scanned the sky to the northwest. He vowed to avenge the death of his close friend and fellow pilot, Igor Zanyathov.

USS KITTY HAWK (CV-63)

The last strike aircraft, a VF-41 Tomcat sporting a black ace on the tail, thundered down the starboard catapult into the glare of the rising sun. The pilot left the F-14D in afterburner, accelerating above the speed of sound, as he pursued his flight leader. Two manned CAP Tomcats were towed to the bow catapults as the barren flight deck was respotted for the recovery cycle.

The catapult crews, keenly aware of the sudden silence on the flight deck, went below to have a cup of coffee and discuss the upcoming strike. Most of the crew in the coffee locker were in their late teens and. Early twenties. They had never actually seen aircraft launched with the intent of striking an enemy. The attack on the Wasp, along with the aerial engagements of the previous day, had cast a new feeling aboard Kitty Hawk. The crew of the giant carrier wanted Castro and Cuba blown off the map.

Commander Doug Karns, CO of the VF-102 Diamondbacks, led a flight of four F-14s toward San Julian. He had selected his two best pilots to lead another four-ship and three-plane fighter mission. Their job was to fly MiG cover for the A-6s and F/A-18s that would bomb San Julian. Each Tomcat had eight advanced AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles and 675 rounds of 20mm ammunition in the multi-barrel M-61 cannon.

Karns listened to the E-2C early warning controller vector another flight toward surface ships off the western tip of Cuba. The E-2C had the San Julian strike group turn to a new heading to avoid flying close to the Cuban ships and patrol craft.

Karns could see two of the attack elements 4,000 feet below his Tomcat. The lead A-6F Intruder was being flown by CAG, the Kitty Hawk's air group commander; his deputy led the escort F-14s. The cockpit load and communications intensified as the strike force approached the Cuban shoreline.

THE OV-10

Greg Spidel, climbing at a reduced airspeed of 120 knots, focused on flying perfectly straight until the agent was aboard. Wickham, dangling twenty-five feet behind and below the Bronco, watched the Mi-24 helicopter pass by the ascending lightstick and turn directly toward the OV-10. He knew that the gunship pilot could see the low-flying turboprop in the pale morning light.

Thirty seconds later, Wickham was in the grasp of the winch operator. After he was pulled inside the aircraft, Wickham leaned next to the sergeant. "We've got a gunship closing on us!" Wickham shouted, gesturing wildly out the back of the OV-10.

The startled sergeant looked at the helicopter, then turned to Wickham. "Strap in!"

Wickham scrambled forward and locked himself into a crew seat. The winch operator severed the elastic cord, crawled into his seat, secured his restraints, and keyed his intercom.

"Cap'n!" the sergeant yelled, "our man's aboard and we've got a shooter-a gunship closin' from five o'clock!"

Spidel, feeling his adrenaline surge, shoved the throttles forward. "How far out?"

"I can't see him now," the sergeant reported, checking his parachute straps. "He's comin' up your right side."

Spidel, glancing back to his right, saw the gunship. "Are you both strapped in tight?"

"That's affirm," the sergeant responded, bracing himself. Wickham, taking his cues from the gunnery sergeant, grabbed the handholds over his head.

"Hang tight!" Spidel ordered as he flipped on his master arm and wheeled the accelerating Bronco into a tight wingover. Coming down the inside of the face-sagging turn, Spidel saw a flash of flame and smoke erupt from the gunship. The pilot, recognizing the launch of an air-to-air missile, fired both of his Sidewinders and shoved the nose down violently.