The subs launching the missiles were seen from space and Tu-22 Backfires were already on their way to deal with them. They traveled a good distance. Once the subs were in sight the backfires hit the deck and put their afterburners into high gear. The ocean parted, as if Moses were in the cockpit, from the wake of the low flying supersonic Russian marvel. Eighty took off, but only ten were separating the water to the promise land. The rest had another mission. The ten planes made their way and got in range to fire their missiles. Once that high pitched tone filled the cockpit the bombardier flipped the switch to release hell on the US subs. The two large anti-submarine missiles loosened their grip from the bottom of the jet. They dropped five feet and ignited. At that exact moment the Tu-22 snapped its wings forward and jutted the slats out while the pilot pulled hard on the control coluom. The action made the backfire rear back like a snake as the afterburner was blasting the water and creating a large disturbance in the water. The disturbance alone made the sub's SONAR operator deaf. The plane snapped back and the wings were put back into their originial swept position and the afterburner took over. The bomber, like a rocket bound for the moon, thrusted into sky and leveld out at 40,000 ft. The submarines were caught completely off guard and met the missiles with panicing crews. Billions of dollars shattered and exploded apart within seconds.
The other seventy bombers slowly made their way for the American fleet. Their targets were the carriers and cruisers causing trouble for the Russian ground forces.
"Sir I think there's something wrong with the radar..."
"What now?"
"There's a huge blip approaching from the east, but not identifiable contacts..."
"Hows the weather?"
"If we weren't in the middle of the ocean I'd be golfing today sir..."
"Well better safe than sorry, we'll send a few fighters out there."
"...if this is an attack were going to need more than a few..."
"Yeah, but I'm not wasting the fuel when we could use it to attack them."
"I understand, but..."
"But nothing...just sit down and tell me if anything comes up."
"aye sir..."
Four JSF fighters left the deck of the USS George Bush and headed for the mysterious, "big green thing in the sky", that's what the pilots called it. Each was equipped with four missiles, but the pilots were bored and there had been numerous drills and false alerts. They were told the blip was at 30,000 ft and traveling slowly. The pilots went up to 20,000 so the if there was something they could come from under it. They got in formation and started to navigate towards the interception point.
"Hey 'Romeo' how's 'Juliet'?", one of the pilots said over the secure frequency. Romeo was Jack's nickname, because he had just gotten his first girlfriend before shipping out. Juliet, of course, was the nickname for his girlfriend. The flight leader loved to make fun of him.
"Not good she hasn't talked to me in few weeks and if she does it's quick and not like our old conversations..."
"Uh oh! Looks like someone lost their girlfriend!", all the pilots started laughing.
"Yeah yeah, but now I can have fun when we hit port!"
"True that! Port call should be called booty call!", the pilots laughed at that too.
"Who'd of thought there'd be this much humor in war, this is fun, not hell..."
"Oh my god! Captain!"
"What? You're going to tell me you lost your girlfriend too are ya?", the captain smiled.
"No sir look at your nine o'clock! There must be hundreds of 'em!"
"Look at that! Holy shit!", the captain's smirk immediately dropped with his jaw.
"George this is Willy", those were the names for the ship and the captain, "you guys are in for some trouble...there's tons of Tu-22's heading your way!"
"Thank you. Take a few out if you can and we'll do our best...may God be with us..."
"Alright boys have at!"
The fighters opened their bays, dropped the auto-seeking missiles, and made a hard turn to head back to the ship; hoping it would still be there.
The missiles streaked into the bomber formation and rocked fifteen backfires, one managed to get away. What seemed a fraction, fell behind the horde and the pilots jumped out waiting for a rescue. The other fifty-five, however, stayed true to their course. The catapult on the carrier was acting up and none of the fighters could take off. All the ships started to manuever and scan the sky. They all waited for what seemed a lifetime. Finally, the bombers were overhead, but directly overhead wasn't where they were looking.
"Comrades you know what to do..."
"Yes comrade may the glory of Russia remeber this day!"
The bombers pitched up and deflected their rudders. they were all facing the sea now heading down at an incredible speed. The 110 missiles locked on their targets, dropped, and hunted for both men and steel. The fleet noticed the meteors from hell the bombers pulled up only a few hundred feet above the fleet. Flak, bullets, missiles, screams, and flames filled the air. The missiles were obviously fired in desperation and didn't lock, but made a few lucky hits and the guns made a wall of lead. Only a few bombers didn't make it through that wall. The Russian missiles struck hard snapping some ships in half. Only one destroyer made, but lost it's ability to move. Twenty-three bombers made it through the hell and rejoined the other ten. They returned to their base and the flight was a silent one.
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