Impossible. There was no Soviet SAM battery in the North Sea. Unless there was a Krivak out here, or a Kirov, or something the intel weenies had missed. Vex didn’t have time to solve that puzzle. The SA-6 was a telephone pole that thought for itself, and it was screaming up from the wave tops at Mach 2.8.
He broke hard, dumping altitude, drag chutes of chaff blooming behind him. The missile’s radar locked onto the chaff cloud, wavered, then re-acquired the hot metal of the Tomcat’s exhaust. Pro