Eagles Against Falcons
"Perhaps they're waiting for the army's SAM batteries to come active, so they can fix those positions."
"You think we should engage?" the general asked. He was not a proud man and was always willing to listen to advice.
The question put the group captain in an awkward position. Part of him did not want to see Hassan's kill count keep climbing, but this was plainly not a matter for personal sentiment. On the radar screen, No. 5 Squadron's four-ship formation was closing on the Indian MiG-21 four-ship from the rear quarter. If it were as simple as it looked, within two minutes the F-16s could fire six to eight AIM-120s and bring down most of the MiG-21s. An irresistible temptation.
"If there's an opportunity, don't hesitate. It may not be a trap. Perhaps their two-dimensional surveillance radar is simply blocked by the Siachen ridgeline."
"Falcon reports: enemy aircraft have not dropped ordnance. They are turning back."
"Continue tracking. Prepare to engage."
The four F-16s trailed the enemy, gradually leaving the Afghan-Tajik border zone and turning into the depths of Kashmir. On the surface this looked like an instinctive pursuit, following the unwitting enemy's heading change. But Sami was an old battlefield fox, and he suddenly caught a scent of hidden danger.
"General, tell Hassan he must watch for horizontal radar pulses. At all times."
"You're worried the Indians have deployed an air-surveillance radar near the glacier?"
"No. I just feel something isn't right."
The general hesitated, then picked up the handset. He relayed Sami's warning to the F-16s and to the Erieye AWACS loitering to the rear, but he did not go so far as to call off the attack.
"What's troubling you, old friend?"
"It feels wrong. Whatever these MiG-21s were supposed to do, they've clearly accomplished nothing and are heading home."
"Maybe a fuel problem." The general said, carelessly.
"If that were the case, every officer in Indian Air Headquarters should be shot. In my years of dealing with them, their efficiency isn't high, but they rarely make that kind of elementary blunder."
"Falcon calling base. No sustained tracking detected. But intermittent radio sweeps from the southeast."
"Your Falcons may have been spotted. Best to call them back." Sami said. He was not certain his advice was free of self-interest. He was not in the air and could not know the real situation. In truth, an aircraft in flight would always be scanned from multiple directions; intermittent sweeps alone did not prove detection. But the unease was genuine, because the southeast was the most dangerous quarter. Then again, if he himself were sitting in Hassan's cockpit, he too would have chosen to pursue. That was beyond question.
"Falcon, I recommend you and your flight abort the attack." Major General Islam said.
"Falcon flight, ground command orders you to abort. Return to base." The AWACS relayed the instruction. Hassan's radio went quiet for a moment.
"Base, give me one more minute. I can get at least two." Hassan pleaded. It was not an empty boast; the four MiG-21s were now fully within weapons range. A little closer and a kill was virtually guaranteed.
"Very well. High-speed approach, fire, then withdraw through the western Kashmir mountains." The irresolute Islam was immediately swayed by Hassan's argument.
Events were unfolding exactly as Sami had feared. The danger was approaching from the southeast.
Southeast of the Siachen Glacier, Captain Goyal1 led his Su-30MKI flight, hugging the snowbound ridgelines. For twenty minutes he had known exactly where Hassan's F-16s were, because an A-50EI2 Phalcon from No. 50 Squadron "War Gods," orbiting above Leh, was guiding his formation into position. The Phalcon's enormous detection range, dwarfing the Erieye's, was what made this mantis-stalks-the-cicada ambush possible.
Goyal's flight had not used its own radar. There was no need. The data link fed them a complete tactical picture. Every pilot could focus entirely on threading through the terrifying mountain walls on either side. On the Su-30's HDD, not only the four F-16s but even the Saab AWACS lurking 150 kilometres to the rear at Skardu was displayed. This advanced data-link-based tactic, owing to compatibility issues, worked within the IAF only between the A-50 and a select few platforms such as the Su-30 or the Mirage 2000. In the wake of the Tiger flight's destruction twenty-four hours earlier, the Ministry of Defence had finally committed the most expensive A-50 Phalcon and the Su-30 to the battlefield simultaneously, seeking to crush Pakistan through technological superiority.
"Gentlemen, I am quite certain this is Pakistan's No. 5 Squadron. Their most elite unit. They are habitual ambush artists, but today is an exception." Goyal said over the radio. In the space of a few days he had been promoted to captain, and this was his moment.
"Do you know how many Indian Air Force aircraft this squadron has shot down in thirty years? Twenty-seven. That is a fact. I personally confirmed it with Minister Singh's director when I was at the Ministry. That is what the director told me. And their losses, to date, are zero."3 Goyal spoke slowly over the radio. He knew exactly how to stoke morale; he was far better at this than his overly cautious squadron leader Mosin.
His words took immediate effect.
"We can catch them off guard. Four on four. Eagles against Falcons." A pilot in the formation said excitedly.
"Good. A fair reckoning. That's what I want. Eagles slaughter Falcons."
"Eagle flight, this is War God. Enemy aircraft accelerating through the Kashmir Line of Control. Heading unchanged." A voice from the A-50. Everything appeared to be proceeding smoothly. Four advanced F-16 Block 52s had taken the bait completely.
Fifty kilometres away, Hassan's flight remained oblivious. Deep-penetration operations were not his forte. No. 5 Squadron's closely guarded secret to its legendary record was, in truth, rather inglorious: they always fought at long range, never venturing deep. These oddly shaped F-16s had tremendous endurance and precision, but their medium- and low-altitude dogfighting performance was only comparable to an F-16A or a MiG-29C.4
Hassan's RWR kept registering L-band pulse sweeps from roughly the southeast. The altitude was unknown. His electronic-analysis system could not produce a definitive classification. He thought it was probably a phased-array radar, though he could not recall India operating such a type in the air. The source seemed very far away, which gave him some comfort. But the MiG-21 formation was barely forty kilometres ahead. With his acquisitive nature, he was incapable of abandoning such easy prey.
"Falcon flight, accelerate to Mach 1.5. Prepare to power up the radar."
As the Falcons accelerated, the MiG-21s ahead accelerated too, making Hassan's attempt to close the gap impractical. The pieces were coming together. Hassan finally allowed himself to believe what part of him had already known: his position had been compromised.
"Falcon Two, prepare to fire." Hassan activated his radar. Instantly it locked onto a MiG-21 fleeing at Mach 1.1, thirty-eight kilometres out. The range was not ideal, but pressing further seemed unwise.
"God willing. Fox Three. Firing."
Hassan and his wingman each launched two missiles. At this distance, one hit would satisfy him. He still had to guide the missiles for some time, until the AIM-120's own active seeker acquired the target. Since the MiG-21s were simply running in a straight line, the guidance phase was longer than usual.
His RWR began to flash. He glanced down and saw a radar beam at his nine o'clock, trying to track his aircraft. Because the Falcons' heading was perpendicular to the source, the track was struggling to hold. Hassan was now certain: fighters were closing from that direction. Perhaps MiG-29s. Perhaps worse.
"Radar emissions from the northeast. Seem very close."
"Falcon lead, I do not see them." The AWACS replied. Which meant the enemy was hiding behind the mountains.
1. Captain Goyal (戈亚上尉): Now promoted from Flying Officer (Chapters 5–8) to Captain (Flight Lieutenant). His transformation from a somewhat reluctant propaganda subject into an aggressive combat leader has been rapid. His citation of No. 5 Squadron's 27-kill record, confirmed through Rujadnahan, directly echoes the information chain established in the New Delhi propaganda chapters. ↩
2. A-50EI Phalcon (A-50EI预警机): The Beriev A-50EI, an Ilyushin Il-76 platform fitted with the IAI/Elta EL/W-2090 Phalcon AESA radar. India operates three. Its detection range significantly exceeds the Erieye's, enabling the kind of deep-ambush tactic shown here. No. 50 Squadron "War Gods" (战神中队) operates the type from Agra. ↩
3. Twenty-seven kills, zero losses: Goyal's statistic about No. 5 Squadron is presented as fact obtained from Rujadnahan. Whether accurate or inflated for motivational purposes is left ambiguous. The detail that he "personally confirmed it with the Minister's director" connects this combat chapter back to the propaganda machinery of Chapters 20–23. ↩
4. F-16 Block 52 limitations: The novel makes a pointed observation: No. 5 Squadron's legendary record rests on BVR ambush tactics and long range, not close-in superiority. The F-16 Block 52's conformal fuel tanks and heavy weapons load degrade its instantaneous turn performance to roughly the level of earlier F-16 or MiG-29 variants. This is the vulnerability Goyal's Su-30MKI ambush aims to exploit. ↩