RA2 Novel- Crimson Red Arrows

Chapter 3

"Shotgun, fox one!"

"Smokey, fox two"

"Xena, fox two!" Was heard as each pilot pushed the launch button for his or her respective missle. Each missle streaked forward at extreme speed, trailing white smoke over the deep blue water. It looked like some kind of deadly light and smoke show. John's Harpoon anti-ship missle streaked over the water at low altitude, just barely visible to those onboard the soviet ships. The missle then flew headlong into the side of a dreadnaught, detonating on impact and causing a large explosion as it's 400lb warhead ripped into the hull of the ship. Two seconds later, another explosion rocked the ship as the fire raging inside reached the ammunition magazine, igniting the many cruise missles therein. The ship was torn in half and men could be seen jumping off the decks in all directions, prefering to take their chances in the river rather than be burned to death.

John, however, was paying no attention to the commotion in the water. After his first missle was away, he immediately switched targets and fired again. Have to do as much damage as possible before the reds have a chance to retaliate, he thought with a determined face.

"Group, continue firing! Take out as many as you can! Scorch fox one!" He yelled into his mouthpiece as he flew past the Soviet fleet, made a tight left turn, and loosened off another Harpoon. He had switched weapons to his AGM-65 Maveric anti-tank missle and was about to use it on another ship when cloud of thick black smoke suddenly appeared dangerously close to his aircraft. "FLAK! Break formation! Evade and destroy!"

"Taco to group! I see him! It's a flacktrack-four o'clock!"

"Roger, I got him!" Scorch retargeted his Maveric and fired, pulling up and just barely avoiding the cliffs on the New Jersey side of the river. The missle left the pylon at Mach 1.4, heading towards the flacktrack with precise corrections in course. The maveric is known for it's accuracy, earning from pilots the nickname "gopher zapper". When it was within 3000 yards of the target, it pulled up and streaked down in an arch, detonating its 300lb shaped charge warhead into the roof of the vehicle exactly in the center, and ignting it's fuel tank, causing a massive explosion. Nearby infantry were scatterd and ran for cover. All of a sudden, another burst of flack filled the air. John swerved crazily, thanking god he didn't just fly into that evil black cloud. However, not everyone was so lucky.

"This is OJ I'm hit! Sea scorpions!"

"Shit! Engine fire! I'm bailing!"

"Help! Under fire!"

"EJECT EJECT EJECT!" Screamed John into the radio, cursing himself for not attacking the flack ships first. "US Navy fleet, we require assistance! their chewing us to pieces, he yelled over the noise of his 20mm. Vulcan cannon firing depleted uranium rounds at a nearby Soviet Sea Scorpion.

"I'm on it!" A female voice shouted over the radio. Who the hell is that? he thought when he heard this. The voice sounded like she was having a good time in this insane battle. A second later, however, a gigantic explosion took place and John saw the ship that had been targeting him the whole time explode and begin to sink, showering debris all over the harbor. "Nice shot!", he yelled into the radio.

"Anytime, boss." Replied the voice.

The tide of the baltle had been turned. As John fired off his last air to ground missle, the radio crackled to life again-

"US Marines aircraft this is US Navy aircraft Salty asisting. Sir, what would like us to kill?"

"Anything I don't care just get rid of this danm flak!"

"Yes sir!"

At that moment John saw 6 US Navy Raptor aircraft lift off from the USS Wasp and zoom toward the Soviet fleet. These aircraft were the new variants of the Joint Strike Fighter and could carry up to six rapid fire missliles which were surprisingly accurate for their size. He turned and zoomed though lower Manhattan and came out on the other side, and then turned again, facing the Statue of Liberty. At least she's stil standing, he thought as he scanned his radar for more targets. I guess those Navy pukes are good for something. He suddenly noticed something on his radar that was extremely odd. He saw the ships, and the frienly planes, but what were these other blips over there? They're gigantic, as big as the ships, but the display says that they are about 2000 feet over the water. And then he had a sudden realiztion- Zepplins. He had heard rumors of gigantic floating battleships that the soviets had made out of the plans for the zepplins from the thirty's, but didn't think that they actually built any. I guess I was wrong, he thought with a grimace.

"US Navy, Incoming airships vector 93 mark two!"

"Roger Scorch USS Ticonderoga moving to engage!" The Ageis cruiser slowly turned and began to target the blimps with their SM-1 Standard missles.

"Ticonderoga Firing!" Shouted the weapons officer as he pressed the fire button twice. On the deck of the cruiser, sirens sounded as the doors of the missle bay flipped open, and a huge plume of smoke arose, out of which shot two misles, which streaked up vertically and then arced directly toward the airship, exploding in huge ball of flame on impact. John was about to cheer, when-

"Sir, it appears that the missle has not seriously damaged the airship! It's still moving!"

"What? How?"

"I don't know sir, must have really heavy armor or something!"

"This is Scorch! All available aircraft seek out and destroy the blimps!" As he said this he rolled the aircraft towards the blimps and armed the Vulcan cannon. Let's see how they deal with depleted uranium, he thought with an grim smile. As he pulled the trigger, the gun began spitting bullets out of the barrel at an incredible rate, sending crimson streaks of death toward the Kirov at high speed. Just like arrows, he thought, as he saw the tracers drew a great red line from his aircraft to theirs. The resulting explosion lit up the city like a second sun, a gigantic ball of flame falling at high speed into the ocean, causing a large splash and sending up steam as the searing metal hit the cold water.

"WOOHOO!" yelled one of the pilots upon glimpsing the fireball. It appeared, as of now, that they had won the battle. John was about to request permission to land on the Wasp and was heading in that direction when-


"I got em!"


"hold on!"


"Splash 1!"

"Fox 3!"

"goddanmit where is he?!?"

"Im HI-"

The battle had become a full blown furball. Planes zipped left and right, missles streaked in all directions, and red tracer shells flew by like fireflies on an early summer night. It became hard to tell who was who, and John nearly locked onto one of his squadronmates twice.

"This is Scorch, Winchester, landing on wasp" he yelled giving the codeword for 'out of ammo', and maneuvered almost too fast for comfort toward the deck of the carrier, decelerating and slowing to a hover just seconds before he would have slammed into the ship. Once he touched down, he saluted the deck ordinancemen and looked around, surveying the damage the Soviet attack had caused. Several parts of the New York skyline were burning, particularly in downtown manhattan, where it appeared that a Soviet paradrop plane had made an ungainly descent into a large building. He then looked up toward the air battle. It appeared that his squadron was mostly intact, but he couldn't be sure. It looked like there were only a few MiG's left. As he watched, the Ticonderoga launced another SM-1, which zig-zagged through the sky and flew at the tail of the last mig and exploded, causing one of the wings to fall off. John watched and a parachute with a big red star appeared near where the plane was. He hit his transmit button. "Scorch to rescue helo, prisioner opportunity, 11 o'clock, mig pilot. Group, dont fire on the 'chutes, we might be able to grab some intel from them. Over."


"Roger" He heard in response to his call. He got a salute back from the deck personell, and was about to take off once again, when he reccieved a radio call again.

"This is Ticonderoga to all units in the area, hostiles repelled, you can come home. Good work, Ticonderoga out."

John breathed a sigh of relief, and then released the canopy, sliding it back. As he climbed out, he had to conciously keep himself from thinking about the whole battle that just occured. Keep himself from thinking about who might have died, or the people he just killed. Its just part of the job, he told himself, and having put all those thoughts out of his mind, he hoped that the admiral had decided to suspend, at least temporarily, the 'no drinking' rule that plagued the modern navy. He could use a drink right about now.