Project: Night Lark-Chapter XII

The Mig-21’s were in full burner trying to close the distance between themselves and the unidentified aircraft. The Night Lark was now “Feet Wet” they had just crossed the coast line and were heading out to sea. If they could just get beyond the twelve mile mark friendly forces could render assistance by putting themselves between the Migs and the Night Lark.

To squeeze more from the Night Lark the Pilot push the nose down, picking up airspeed and shortening the time until they reached International waters and airspace. He didn’t dare inch the throttles any further forward as the fuel gauges for some of the tanks were either flat on zero or bouncing off the peg indicating they were close to being completely empty.

The Copilot had done a fantastic job of keeping the fuel management at its peak, most of the fuel remaining was inside the inner main wing tanks which meant that at their present power setting would just get them over the Korean coastline, enough to possibly reach Kunsan Air Base or any other suitable airstrip within their reach.

That was before the Pilot dove seaward to increase speed and distance to get away from the pursuing fighters. Even if they reached the coast, which now was pure speculation and that would now take a miracle. They didn’t have the altitude to glide at all. Of course the big Boeing 337 wasn’t exactly designed to do that. It was one level better than a home sick brick being dropped from the scaffolding of a ten story construction project on to the foreman’s vehicle.

“Both Mig pilots are confirming visual on target.” The Radio Operator said.

The Crew Chief/Observer and his recent volunteer Cryptographic Technician had their heads out into the observation blisters just aft of the main wing looking rearward trying to get a visual on the approaching fighters. Only the fighters were in a wide line abreast formation, each being directed by a ground radar controller. They were back there in the darkness giving chase to the Night Lark not using their radars but their infra red targeting systems only. This way the Night Larks radar detection gear could not pinpoint their whereabouts.

“They have requested permission to fire!” The Radio Operator reported.

“Their controller has just given them clearance to fire a warning shot.” The Radio Operator warned.

“They know we’re approaching the twelve mile limit.” Said the Copilot, who was nervously looking for something to do with his hands. He had checked everything so many times he knew watch each gauge was indicating and what position each switch was in.

In the observation blisters both observers saw the twinkling of red from the cannons as the Migs began firing. The tracers arched for the most part over and under the wings of the Night Lark but several rounds could be heard and felt impacting the outer sections of both wings. Suddenly the ailerons felt stiff, which meant that one or both had been hit.

“Radio let all of the line out on the stinger HF antenna reel.” Instructed the Pilot. One of the technicians quickly flipped the lever to release the brake on the cable spool which held the mile long cable. A funnel shaped device acted as a drogue chute at the end of the line. It slowly inched away from its receptacle from rear end of the stinger boom, once it was in the slipstream behind the Night Lark; it pulled more and more cable out. The indicator on the panel was spinning as it indicated how much line had deployed. It took less than a minute and there was another thud as the reel reached its stop. All of the five thousand plus feet of  HF cable was now in tow behind the Night Lark. Its drag slowed the Night Lark slightly but it was the only defense they had. The pilot started making shallow turns from right to left, and back right which cause the wire to move back and forth.

“With luck we’ll snag one of those Migs then hit the cable release and let it foul the jet.” The Navigator said aloud.

Again there was the tell tale indication that the Migs were again firing on the Night Lark. The observers didn’t even have time to say a word, the sound of the cannon shells ripping into the fuselage was indication enough. Fortunately no one was hit, thought some of the equipment racks were heavily damaged and sent pieces of metal and glass flying through the cabin.

As one of the Migs repositioned itself for a better angle directly behind the Night Lark the trailing HF cable smashed the Mig’s windshield and canopy as it fluttered in the air. With that the cable found just enough of a grasp to snag the large funnel on the end of the cable around a missile pylon under the right wing of the Mig tearing off the funnel. Now the cable having no drag other than itself began to whip and snap like a bullwhip. It lashed at the Migs wing and fuselage, its pilot disorientated from the cable smashing the canopy.

“Start dumping those canisters overboard! Pull the fuse ring as you toss them out, not before! The Pilot commanded. Everyone grabbed up two of the canisters each and ran back to the top of the stairs leading down into the observation area. As the first man reached the bottom of the stairs the Observer had the exit hatch open and took one of the canisters from the technician.

“What are these things anyway?” He asked.

“Something on the order of an aerial hand grenade.” The Crypto Specialists stated.

On the side of the large metal can was a large D ring. One the top of the canister instructions were printed, but they went unnoticed in the darkness of the cabin. “Hold it outside of the hatch with a finger through the D ring and let the canister drop while holding onto the ring. It should just drop away and you’ll feel a slight tug as the line goes tight and the igniter is fired.

The Observer slipped his index finger through the D ring as he held the canister just outside of the hatch. He let it go and the tape holding the D ring in place released allowing the igniter line to pay out. When the length of line reached its end, there was a slight tug and the canister separated and the igniter fired the device inside.

The Mig pilots had now idea what was about to happen. If they had they would have moved further way and most certainly not stayed in trail behind the Night Lark.  The Night Larks crew were passing as quickly as they could fresh canisters to the Observer who was repeating the process of releasing and pulling the D rings on each as fast as he could.

The first canister exploded producing a brilliant flash of light. It had immediate impact on its intended targets, the two Migs giving chase to the Night Lark. The pilot of the already damaged Mig was blinded and he drifted directly into the path of the dropping canisters. The second one exploded, this one produced a faint flash but send out metal spikes of steel and phosphorus in all directions. The third canister did exactly the same thing, which happened within six feet of the leading edge of the Migs left wing. The projectiles found their mark, first striking the pilot in his side as they pierced and entered the cockpit just aft of his throttle levers. The rest found their way into the wing tank causing it to erupt and burst into flames. The Mig pilot was trying to turn out of the path of canister exploding next to and forward of his position.

The Mig pilot was too late, as the Night Lark was zigzagging back and forth pitching slight up and down depositing canisters in an erratic path. The fifth canister entered the intake and detonated as it hit and wedged next to the radome in the center of the intake. This canister contained a high explosive charge that tore the Mig apart. Its pilot never had the chance to react or eject.

The bright flashes of light arouse not only the other Mig but that of the approaching F-8 Crusaders who were late getting off that night. They immediately locked onto the second Mig as it was well into International airspace. But the Mig pilot wanted to avenge his leader’s death. He pointed his radar guided gun pipper on the target and squeezed his trigger until all the rounds had been expended. As he turned he met his demise, a Sidewinder missile detonated just aft of his cockpit, a second one in close pursuit of the first did so under his right wing. The two missiles immediately turned the Mig into a hurling fireball.

Now safe and well out into International waters the flight of F-8s circle the Night Lark twice. They didn’t say anything on the radio they just orbited around it as it lumbered towards South Korean airspace and the land just beyond that. Once the F-8s were low on fuel they headed back towards their carrier.

On board the Night Lark things were not going well. The cannon fire from the second Mig had stitched the aircraft hitting it in some vital places. Again the number three engine took the worse of it, but number one too was coughing and sputtering as several cylinders were either blown off or severely damaged. The Pilot and Copilot were struggling to assess and control the Night Larks condition. She was loosing both airspeed and altitude slowly. Three of the technicians were dead, killed as the cannon rounds pierced the crew compartment. They were standing on the stairs or just forward of it leading down into the observation compartment passing canisters to the Observer.

The one standing on the stairs was holding a canister which was another flash bang type and it exploded in his arms. The sudden overpressure caused both observation blisters to exit away from the aircraft, which saved the others from death. Though the Observer and the Crypto Tech were burned badly and seriously injured. Their condition was critical as they lay unconscious on the floor of the compartment.

Others were tending to fires inside the main cabin. A tracer round had found its way into the stack of wood crates stashed in the galley and set them ablaze. The Navigator grabbed the fire extinguisher from beside his console and headed into the galley to battle the fire.

The Night Lark was now blind and without communications. The radar system had been damaged as had the main electrical buss to the communications systems.

One factor that was in the Night Larks favor was the fact that the sun was beginning to break over the distant horizon. There now was enough light to begin to distinguish sky from sea and sea from land. All they had to do was keep the Night Lark flying and heading towards Korea.

It seemed like it took forever but the crew managed to squelch the fires. Only one unused fire extinguisher remained and that was in the cockpit. The Night Lark was again holding altitude, about five hundred feet and was indicating one hundred and ninety something knots. The Navigator looked at the fuel gauges, through the windshield, then glance at his console and then at the pilot’s instruments. “We’re not going to make landfall.” He said.

“We got to get her as close as we can, close enough for at least the chance at being picked up by a fishing boat.” Replied the Pilot.

It was then that they noticed some small islands ahead. That meant they were approaching the coastal islands on the west side of the South Korean peninsula. If they could only make it to one with a runway large enough to accommodate the Night Lark. But the Night Lark was fatally damaged. Her main landing gear were heavily damaged, they would never extend out of their bays to use. The number one engine seized and its propeller couldn’t be fully feathered so it was causing the Night Lark to yaw towards the left.

Two Air Force F-102’s took formation near the stricken Night Lark. They relayed information about her apparent condition and location. They never referred to her specifically, but in code only.

A US Army CH-47A Chinook helicopter was dispatched to intercept the Night Lark, on board a special team of special ops personnel to recover the sacks and containers holding the secrets she carried. As word spread that the Night Lark was in trouble more rescue assets were alerted. A US Air Force HH-3 Jolly Green Giant was being launched from Osan Air Base with extra Para-rescue personnel on board to aide the Night Lark’s crew should it ditch or crash.

The sun had continued to rise illuminating clearly the islands ahead of the Night Larks path. She was waning though; the Pilot and Copilot were doing everything they could to keep her aloft and progressing towards the coast.

Suddenly the number two engine began to cough and backfire. It was running out of fuel. The Pilot spotted an island ahead; he could see the shoreline and the rice paddies just beyond it. He told the Navigator to advise the crew they were going to crash land on that island and to expect the worse.

The Night Lark’s last drop of fuel had been expended. Her propellers just cleared the highest point of soil along the beach. Then they began to dig into the soil as the rest of the Night Lark’s mass impacted and slid across the ground. She bounced upon striking the first dike, skipping over the next couple then impacting hard on top of one running along her track across the soggy ground. The farmers out early that morning who were preparing to tend their fields were suddenly surprised by the thunder of the big Boeing’s impact and tearing of her hull. The Night Lark broken into several pieces. Her tail section snapped off and tumbled through the air landing on in the middle of a flooded paddy.

The nose section torn away just aft of the flight deck’s rear most bulkhead. The crewman in the main cabin were tossed like rag dolls some ejected out of the aircraft as the center fuselage section spun sideways and came to a rest with the right wing still mostly attached and the left folded under and snapped away just outboard of engine number one.

A hiss was heard as the water and mud from the paddies that had sprayed over the engines boiled on the hot steel. It became eerily quiet, just the moaning of the injured. At first no one moved, they just sat or lay where they were. Some were unconscious from their injuries or just from the trauma of the impact itself.

Those farmers working nearby were outraged! Screaming curses at those who ruined their fields. What they didn’t realize at first was how lucky they had been by not being in those fields when the aircraft crashed.

As the crew came to their senses, they began to first take stock of their own physical condition then their situation. Several of the lesser injured went to help their fellow crewman which weren’t so fortunate. The locals too started to realize that there were survivors and they came to help.

The first helicopter landed and its crew paid no attention to the aircrew at all. Their first task was the recovery of the classified materials and equipment on board. The bags and containers were quickly located and accounted for, each being rendered safe so as not to explode accidentally. Once the classified material was accounted for, two of the team sat with it aboard the helicopter they had arrived on. The rest of the team began to assist the Night Lark’s crew with their wounds.

It took the better part of an hour for the rest of the rescue teams to arrive. The locals were of little use other than providing make shift mats and shade from woven rice stalk mats. An Army corporal stepped of an arriving Huey snapping pictures with each step he took. He and his camera were quickly detained and confiscated. The camera and its film were destroyed.

The Pilot and Copilot had sustained injuries but nothing life threatening. The Navigator had a broken arm and fractured pelvis, his injuries caused by his seat belt and his plot table at his workstation. Another of the crewmen died later at the hospital at Osan from blunt force trauma having been ejected out of the fuselage and striking the side of a rice paddy dike. The rest of the crew suffered various injuries some critical but they later recovered, the three dead from the cannon fire were bagged and transported away in a separate helicopter. Their families if the dead would be notified of a fatal training accident that occurred in Japan.

The Observer and Crypto Tech injured and burned by the flash canister detonating inside the Night Lark were first thought as dead when located in the tail section, but they too would recover from most of their injuries while recovering at a military hospital in Japan.

Over the next several weeks the Chinese protested the unauthorized over flight of their country by a spy plane. At first they levied the complaint against the Americans but later turned towards the South Korean government. This all ended when several of the Chinese spy trawlers operating off the Korean coasts mysteriously disappeared.

The shooting down of two Migs by a spy plane was dusted under the rug by the Chinese government as a training accident. Apparently the two fighters had inadvertently mistaken each other for the mysterious unidentified airplane.

Night Lark’s mission was listed as a complete success. The information it gathered on two over flights of China yielded more information than expected. It saved more lives than it lost. The two agents it dropped on its second run, emerged three years later, crossing the border into Thailand via North Vietnam and Laos. Carrying with them even more information to supplement what the Night Lark had collected. Including pictures!

The surviving aircrew of the Night Lark disappeared back into the military branches from where they were recruited and trained. The Navigator retired. The Copilot was promoted and given the task of flying similar missions elsewhere in the world. Only this time he flew much higher, being able to see the stars during the day time.

A cushy job awaited the Pilot/Aircraft Commander. He went into semi retirement, working occasionally to fly missions equally as important but over much friendlier skies, transporting agency personnel to US Embassies at locations around the world in the comfort of a sleek new business jet.

For the Night Lark or what remained of her, was cleaned up and turned into scrap metal which was made into car parts, appliances, bicycles and anything else her metal could be used for. No trace of her existence was ever publicized until now. Even to day if you check the records, you find her airframe number is listed as a derelict hulk sitting somewhere abandoned at a gunnery range in the state of New Mexico, now only home to lizards, snakes and the tumble weeds that nestle against her remains.

The farmers who owned the rice farm where the Night Lark didn’t crash. Well, those families now live in California where they own and operate a hotel and restaurant near a prominent theme park that features a mouse as its mascot.  If they are ever asked how they made their fortune, they simply reply being at the right place to receive money as it rained from the heavens.

Mission Complete.