Quoted By:
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">HOUR 9</span></span>
You watch as the Soviet interceptors fly over their country, fighter jets burning for all they’re worth and air defence missiles desperately tracking your bombers. But as you watch the screen, so abstracted from the real thing, you see hundreds, no, thousands of small, flickering white objects appear in front of your bombers, like somebody has thrown dust on the screen. But that can’t be what’s happening, it’s somehow part of the display.
>Frank? Albert? What’s this?
Albert turns in his chair to look at you.
“Countermeasures, Mr. President. Meant to dazzle and confuse the enemy. They won’t be able to see our bombers or where they’re going."
>Dammit, can’t we share what we’re seeing here? They’ll miss them completely!
Frank shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. This is only an approximation from our over the horizon radar. It’s not precise enough to share targeting data from over the Soviet Union, it was never built for that.”
You sit back down in your seat. You weren’t even aware you’d gotten up. You turn your eyes back to that damned screen that hangs in front of you, the 10 bomber groups moving inexorably on. The Soviet fighter groups and missiles get closer, and then several fast, quick moving objects shoot out from the bombers heading towards the Soviet defences. You look at Albert again, and he explains.
“Air-to-air nuclear missiles. Meant to intercept incoming fighters and missiles. Not meant for bombing cities.”
You nod and look again at the screen, and watch as the Soviets try to protect their home.
[POV shift]
It is quiet inside the cockpit. The men have spoken little, only to relay altitude and heading adjustments, and new targeting data. They know speaking will only make things worse. But they have their duty, and they will carry it out. Now the Soviets are shooting at them, and other bombers in the formation are calling out targets and incoming fire, the radio abuzz with chatter. They are the final words of men they’ve trained and flown with for years.
“I have 3 groups coming in, 2 o’clock. Fulcrums.”
“I see them too. They’re ignoring the chaff!”
“Jingo 12 is hit! Jingo 12 is hit! We-
“Our radar is being jammed! We can’t see! We can’t see!”
“Nuclear flash spotted. Good missile.”
“Our missile went off early! They’re still coming!”
“Fulcrum down. Your way should be clear Boxer 5.”
“Ground launches incoming. Deploying flares.”
“Taking fire! They’re everywhere!”
Suddenly the plane shakes, buffeted by something stronger than turbulence. Cpt. William Blakely fights with the controls to keep his plane straight, hands gripped tight to the stick. It takes a few seconds, but he gets his aircraft under control. He turns to his navigator, who’s eyes are glued to the radar screen.
