Chapter 7
December 29, 1983
Naval Air Station Key West, Florida
Ever since the rioting flared up again in East Germany, the fighter pilots of NAS Key West had been on high alert. If something was going to happen, Key West would be amongst the first to notice, since Castro and friends were not that far across the Florida Straits. The base commander had been flying a standing CAP (Combat Air Patrol) 24/7 for the last two days, with four fighters up at a time to patrol the waters. Crew rest times were already getting stretched, but the base commander couldn't afford to let his guard down. Unfortunately, he was about to be proven right this morning.
The pilots of VA-12 were in transition. Deployed for the better part of the last two decades in F-4 Phantoms, they had come back from Lebanon two months ago after the USS Coral Sea's deployment was done, and were just beginning to transition to F-14 Tomcats. However, the growing emergency meant that instead of getting to learn the F-14's better, over half of them were flying their Phantoms on these patrols. If war came, they'd be fighting it from capable, but aging, Phantoms instead of gleaming new Tomcats fresh from McDonnell-Douglas. They were almost two months in to their transition this morning, for a timeline that was supposed to take 10-12 months to complete. It wasn't an ideal situation, but neither was a simmering threat of war.
The current four pilots in the air were Lieutenant Commander Brad Winters, Lieutenant (j.g.) Greg Cooper, Lieutenant Jamie Evans, and Lieutenant (j.g.) Tim Jennings. Winters was squad leader for this patrol. An E-2C Hawkeye was flying an AWACS mission higher up in the clouds, providing command and control for the four Phantoms below. They were armed to the teeth with 4 AIM-7 Sparrows (medium range) and 4 AIM-9 Sidewinders (short range) on each plane, giving them ample firepower to deal with any incoming threat, and they had just come across one as they were headed west in their racetrack pattern.
"Clincher Lead, Clincher Lead, this is Jupiter," the E-2's radar officer called out. "You have multiple bogeys at your nine o'clock, headed north-northeast. Repeat, bogeys at your nine, headed north-northeast." "Roger that, Jupiter," Winters said. "Clincher flight, this is Lead, let's turn back to 25 degrees, headed north-northeast. Eyes sharp, someone's paying us a visit, and they didn't have the courtesy to call ahead." The Phantoms banked hard to the left, swinging back around and headed north towards Miami. At Homestead Air Force Base, klaxons were sounding and the ready team was running to their F-16's, ready to take station above southeast Florida, giving cover over land while the Phantoms engaged over the water.
A few minutes later, the Phantom pilots saw the outlines of their targets. Four Cuban MiG-23s and a larger plane.....no, it couldn't be, Evans thought. Evans punched his afterburner and shot ahead of Jennings. As he closed, he could make out the tail clear as day. "Clincher Lead, Clincher Lead, this is Clincher Two. Those MiG's are escorting a Bear. Repeat, the MiG's are escorting a Tango-Ultra Nine Five, do you copy?" Evans asked. "Copy, Clincher Two. I'm going to give them a chance to think better about this," Winters replied. The lieutenant commander switched frequencies. "MiG flight, this is the United States Navy. You are in American territorial waters. Repeat, you are in American territorial waters. Do you copy?" No reply from the MiGs. Winters pushed his mic button again. "MiG flight, you are in United States waters. Please turn to 135 degrees and we will escort you back to international waters. Repeat, turn to 135 degrees and we will escort you to international waters."
The MiGs kept their silence, but started maneuvering about while keeping cover on the Tu-95 Bear bomber. Now all four pilots could see the Cuban markings, but they knew that Bear was Soviet. Cuba didn't own any Bears. The Soviets didn't want Castro getting any ideas. Winters was getting angry, but the naval Phantom didn't have a Vulcan cannon like its USAF counterparts to fire warning shots. Winters cued his microphone one more time. "Cuban aircraft, this is the United States Navy. Turn to 135 degrees and accept escort to international waters or we will shoot you down!" The MiGs began evasive maneuvers while the Bear started training its rear gun around. "Clincher flight, this is Jupiter, you are weapons free. Repeat, you are weapons free," said the combat officer on the Hawkeye as Winters began to pursue a MiG-23.
The battle lasted only a couple of minutes, as the four Phantoms shot down two Cuban fighters, while Winters went after the Bear. As he closed in, the rear gunner fired a burst at Winters' Phantom, which just missed his left engine, and Winters triggered off a Sidewinder that hit one of the Bear's inboard engines. "Sidewinder means I don't have to say sorry, you Red bastard," Winters whispered to himself. The damaged plane decided it was time to get out of this battle, and the pilot radioed the remaining MiGs to escort him back to Cuba. He was losing fuel fairly fast, and they'd all be floating in the Straits if they weren't quick about it. Seeing the MiGs break off, Jupiter directed the Phantoms to break off and hold station. Jennings was just about to fire when the order to disengage came. He toggled his mic. "Sir, what the hell just happened? Are we at war?" Jennings asked. Winters took a deep breath. "Maybe not now, but I don't think it's far off. They didn't just want to test our defenses. They were provoking a response, and we had to give it to them. Washington's gonna be pissed."
*****
Klima and Cárdenas had hit it off well over the past few weeks, and as they drove in their unmarked car en route to check out a potential location for drug processing, well, they were trying to stay loose. "Beat itttttt, just beat ittttt, no one wants to be defeeeeated. Showin' how funky strong is your fight, it doesn't matter who's wrong or who's right, just beat it, beat it, beat it." The two cops were singing along to one of Michael Jackson's big hits from the Thriller album, and as Eddie Van Halen's guitar solo kicked in, Klima played air guitar as Cárdenas drove, laughing at his partner. He'd thought him stiff when they first met, but lots of long nights on stakeout get men to open up to each other, and the two were fast becoming friends. Unfortunately, life intruded on their fun.
"We interrupt this music for a special bulletin. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Bo Walker here in the WCKO studios. The governor of Florida has ordered all beaches closed from Key West to West Palm Beach. I repeat, the governor of Florida has ordered all beaches closed from Key West to West Palm Beach. Anyone on the beaches must evacuate immediately, again, anyone on the beaches must evacuate immediately. All residents living on a beach or shoreline are recommended to take shelter. We hope to learn more about this order shortly, in the meantime, we are going to simulcast our AM news partner WNWS 790. This is Bo Walker, and now, here is newsradio WNWS 790."
Klima turned the radio off and the police radio back on. Orders were rapidly going out to all officers. Cárdenas put on the gumball red light and hit the switch to activate the siren as he hung a hard left and drove across the bridge to Miami Beach. People were already streaming off the beach. The hotels were at their busiest in years, with all the Nebraska fans in town for the big Orange Bowl showdown with Miami's trash-talking Hurricanes. Klima and Cárdenas parked the car and got out, running towards the beach to start checking for stragglers. "Hey, Luis, man, this don't look good right now. Something's up," said Klima, as they swept the shoreline. "No shit, hermano, I don't know what's up, but I don't like the looks of this," Cárdenas replied. Suddenly, two F-16s screamed overhead at low level, causing both officers to hit the sand. "Holy shit!" screamed Cárdenas. Jan looked up from the sand. "Luis, it's our guys, at least. F-16s. Jesus, man, what is going on out here?"
The officers brushed the sand off, and continued sweeping. The beach was empty now. If anyone had been defying the order, the F-16s had quickly changed their minds. It was a ghost town now. Jan and Luis started walking up to a hotel, and went inside to see if there was any explanation for this. Looking left as they came in the door, Klima saw two families, one white, one black, hugging their children. The black mother was saying, "...was very worried. You can't just run off by yourself!" Her child replied, "But I left a note on the nighttable..." Klima shook his head as he walked past, thanking God his family didn't live by a beach. Adriana and Rosa were probably safe. Inside the hotel's restaurant, the TV at the bar was on. Tom Brokaw's face was on screen, and a small crowd was gathered.
"We're just learning of a major incident in South Florida. The governor of that state has closed all beaches from Key West up to West Palm Beach, and there are reports of fighter aircraft over the skies of Miami. We're trying to..[Brokaw is handed a piece of paper]..we have a report from the Associated Press. There is, or has been, this is unsure, an aerial battle somewhere off the shores of the Florida Keys. Witnesses reported hearing multiple fighter jets, and several apparent explosions over the Florida Straits. Our Pentagon correspondent Jack Reynolds and our White House correspondent Chris Wallace are both working to confirm this story, as is our local Miami affiliate. Let's turn now to John Chancellor for more detail as to what this situation may be about. John?"
Cárdenas looked at his partner. "Fuck, man, are we at war?" Klima swallowed hard. He noticed his hands were shaking ever so slightly. "Luis, I don't know. I just don't know. I think I need to call my wife and make sure she's okay."
