is Post Fifty. We have a lot of movement, looks like infantry, on the north slope of Rice Ridge. Estimate regimental strength,” his earphones crackled.
“How many high-explosive shells do we have?” Komanov asked.
“Thirty-five,” the loader answered.
And that was a goodly amount. And there were fifteen heavy guns within range of Rice Ridge, all of them old ML- 20 152-mm howitzers, all sitting on concrete pads next to massive ammo bunkers. Komanov checked his watch. Almost three-thirty. Ninety minutes to first light. The sky was cloudless. He could look up and see stars such as they didn’t have in Moscow, with all its atmospheric pollution. No, the Siberian sky was clear and clean, and above his head was an ocean of light made brighter still by a full moon still high in the western sky. He focused his eyes through his binoculars again. Yes, there was movement on Rice Ridge.
So?” Peng asked.
“At your command,” Wa replied.
Peng and his staff were forward of their guns, the better to see the effect of their fire.
But seventy thousand feet over General Peng’s head was Marilyn Monroe. Each of the Dark Star drones had a name attached to it, and given the official name of the platform, the crews had chosen the names of movie stars, all of them, of course, of the female persuasion. This one even had a copy of the movie star’s Playboy centerfold from 1953 skillfully painted on the nose, but the eyes looking down from the stealthy UAV were electronic and multi-spectrum rather than china blue. Inside the fiberglass nosecone, a directional antenna cross-linked the “take” to a satellite, which then distributed it to many places. The nearest was Zhigansk. The farthest was Fort Belvoir, Virginia, within spitting distance of Washington, D.C., and that one sent its feed via fiberoptic cable to any number of classified locations. Unlike most spy systems, this one showed real-time movie-type imagery.
“Looks like they’re getting ready, sir,” an Army staff sergeant observed to his immediate boss, a captain. And sure enough, you could see soldiers ramming shells into the breeches of their field pieces, followed by the smaller cloth bags that contained the propellant. Then the breeches were slammed shut, and the guns elevated. The 30-30-class blank cartridges were inserted into the firing ports of the breech-blocks, and the guns were fully ready. The last step was called “pulling the string,” and was fairly accurate. You just jerked the lanyard rope to fire the blank cartridge and that ignited the powder bags, and then the shell went north at high speed.
“How many guns total, Sergeant?” the captain asked.
“A whole goddamned pisspot full, sir.”
“I can see that. What about a number?” the officer asked.
“North of six hundred, and that’s just in this here sector, Cap’n. Plus four hundred mobile rocket launchers.”
“We spotted air assets yet?”
“No, sir. The Chinese aren’t nighttime flyers yet, least not for bombing.”
Eagle Seven to Zebra, over,” the AWACS senior controller radioed back to Zhigansk.
“Zebra to Seven, reading you five-by-five,” the major running the ground base replied.
“We got bogies, call it thirty-two coming north out of Siping, estimate they’re Sierra-Uniform Two-Sevens.”
“Makes sense,” the major on the ground told his wing commander. “Siping’s their 667th Regiment. That’s their best in terms of aircraft, and stick-time. That’s their varsity, Colonel.”
“Who do we have to meet them?”
“Our Russian friends out of Nelkan. Nearest American birds are well north and—”
“—and we haven’t got orders to engage anybody yet,” the colonel agreed. “Okay, let’s get the Russians alerted.”
“Eagle Seven to Black Falcon Ten, we have Chinese fighters three hundred kilometers bearing one-nine-six your position, angels thirty, speed five hundred knots. They’re still over Chinese territory, but not for much longer.”
“Understood,” the Russian captain responded. “Give me a vector.”
“Recommend intercept vector two-zero-zero,” the American controller said. His spoken Russian was pretty good. “Maintain current speed and altitude.”
“Roger.”
On the E-3B’s radar displays, the Russian Su-27s turned to head for the Chinese Su-27s. The Russians would have radar contact in about nine minutes.
Sir, this don’t look real nice,” another major in Zhigansk said to his general.
“Then it’s time to get a warning out,” the USAF two-star agreed. He lifted a phone that went to the Russian regional command post. There hadn’t as yet been time to get a proper downlink to them.
General, a call from the American technical mission at Zhigansk,” Tolkunov said.
“This is General Bondarenko.”
“Hello, this is Major General Gus Wallace. I just set up the reconnaissance shop here. We just put up a stealthy recon-drone over the Russian Chinese