Shadow Flight

"This should be worth the price of admission," Flannagan radioed, banking steeply over the center of the 8,000-foot runway.

"Yeah," Wellby answered. "I've watched them do this before."

Gunsmoke flight remained quiet, searching for MiGs. The Skyhawk pilots could hear other flights engaged in aerial combat, but the sky over Gitmo had remained clear of enemy fighters. The Guantanamo control tower and air traffic radar facility had been shut down minutes before, allowing personnel to reach the debarkation point before the rescue aircraft landed.

The six Skyhawks, joining with the Hercules F/A-18 fighter escorts, would accompany the KC-130s out to sea, refuel, then trap aboard the Abraham Lincoln.

Flannagan looked seaward, searching for the rugged transports. "I have a tally… three o'clock, low."

"I have 'em," Wellby radioed.

The nine aircraft, separated in trail at one-mile intervals, waited until the lead pilot, the CO of VMGR-252, was two miles from the end of the runway.

"Watch this," Wellby said over the fighter frequency.

The pilots of the nine KC-130s simultaneously pulled their power to idle, decelerated to flap speed, dropped the flaps and landing gear, then adjusted power to hold their interval at approach speed. Every transition was performed at the same instant by every pilot.

Flannagan and Wellby banked their Skyhawks tighter and watched the first Hercules cross the runway threshold and touch down on centerline halfway down the landing strip. The transport CO waited until he passed the 3,000-foot remaining marker on runway 28, then yanked the four Allison turboprops into full reverse. The speeding transport slowed quickly as the second Hercules landed a thousand feet behind the touchdown point of the commanding officer.

The first KC-130 reached the end of the runway and executed a right 180-degree turn onto the parallel taxiway.

"Here they are," Flannagan radioed, spotting the four Marine F/A-18s streak overhead in tight formation and enter the defensive circle.

The VMFA-323 Death Rattlers, on detachment to Roosevelt Roads Naval Air Station, Puerto Rico, checked in with the VC-10 Skyhawks. The Hornets would maintain high station during the evacuation.

Below, the last KC-130 was touching down as the first Hercules, crammed quickly with personnel, added power for takeoff from the taxiway.

The transport squadron CO passed the landing Hercules, accelerated rapidly past the control tower, then hauled the straining KC-130 into the air. The pilot, hugging the deck, raised the landing gear as the aircraft roared over the Hot Cargo area. The aircraft commander of the second Hercules was commencing his takeoff run when the first transport passed over the end of the taxiway.

Both groups of fighter escorts circled lazily overhead, watching the evacuation operation while keeping a vigilant eye open for MiGs.

The orderly scene was shattered by a frantic call from Frank Wellby. "Bogies! Bogies at… comin' in high from the northwest!"

"Weapons Hot!" the VC-10 commanding officer ordered.

SAN JULIAN

The stagnant air in the bomb shelter was thick with suffocating dust. Raul Castro, boiling with anger, stormed up the steps and kicked open the dented door. He was unprepared for the magnitude of destruction that lay around him. The hangars and support facilities, burning furiously, had been reduced to rubble.

The control tower had toppled to the ground, crushing the Cuban general's personal helicopter. Two fuel trucks at the base of the tower added to the inferno. Flames licked skyward from the fuel storage area, sending billowing clouds of coal black smoke rising over the ruins of San Julian.

Raul also noticed that the baseball stadium had been destroyed. The walls of the underground hangar had caved in, touching off a fuel tank fire. Castro walked a few steps and stopped as two MiG29s, followed by three MiG-25s, flew over the field to survey the damaged landing strip.

The contingent of Cuban and Russian military personnel, including Gennadi Levchenko, emerged from the underground shelter. They stared at the devastation, coughing as they brushed the dust from their faces. Levchenko, seeing the blazing fire, knew that the intense heat had melted the tapes containing the secret Stealth information.

The Cuban general, shaking with rage, lunged toward Levchenko. "The Soviet Union," Castro hissed in the Russian's face, "is responsible for this!"

The MiGs, looking for a divert field, added power and flew northeast.

THE KNEECAP 747

President Jarrett, wearing a blue windbreaker, sat across from two air force generals. He held a phone to his ear, listening intently to his secretary of defense.

"Mister President," Kerchner said over the secure net, "we have lost a number of aircraft, but the strike was successful… in our estimation."

Jarrett shifted around to glance at a message, nodding his head in agreement. "Bernie," the president replied, turning back around, "give me a quick synopsis."