Dauntless: Wild Blue serves up a few outlines of the most spectacular or influential aerial battles in the Ascension Epoch timeline, and one of the weirdest must certainly be the Battle of Mt. Shasta during the last stages of the Pan-American War.
The year is 1979. The better part of the seventies have been consumed in a sprawling war that, though it began with a dispute between Imperial Japan and Holy Russia, has embroiled nearly every country in balkanized North America. The Pan-American War spurred a great deal of military development, forcing the relatively outdated and poorly equipped air forces of the continent to surpass the Eurasian military giants. At the war’s beginning, some of the combatants still had piston-engine relics flying missions. The war’s end saw the proliferation of supersonic fly-by-wire fighters, precision-guided missiles, ‘Eerie Ermine’ electronic/psychic warfare aircraft, and the first use of remotely piloted aircraft. But the skies over Shasta would be rule by a totally new form of flying weapon.
Prelude: The Jefferson Turkey Shoot
Between the declaration of independence in March 1976 until early 1979, the Jeffersonian secessionists had significantly curbed both the tempo and effectiveness of Californian air operations in the Klamath theater. Previously, California’s numerically and technologically superior aviation had proven the decisive factor in the slow campaign to dislodge the tenacious Cascadian army from its well-fortified frontier. The sudden loss of forward air bases slashed both the number of sorties and the endurance of air cover. Not only were Jeffersonian rebels able to capture several of these forward air bases in early operations, with all of their munitions, fuel, and several squadrons worth of F-93 Thunderbird strike-fighters and AO-102 Coyote close support aircraft, but also scores of anti-aircraft installations scattered throughout the southern Cascade range. This dense network of SAM sites, augmented by a flood of MANPADs from Cascadia and Severnyy Veter anti-aircraft tanks from Russia, turned the skies of Jefferson into a kill zone that had claimed 130 Californian aircraft and dozens of irreplaceable pilots by January 1978 -- 20% of total losses suffered during the previous five years of war. It was a dark period for Californian military aviation, to be known forever afterwards as the Jefferson Turkey Shoot.
Rather than run this lethal gauntlet, Californian air strikes were forced to divert far out to sea, significantly decreasing the range and endurance of their land-based strike aircraft. While there was a crash program to convert many of the Republic’s long range maritime patrol aircraft into land bombers, these never proved successful in the role. Ultimately, land-based strike missions proved so ineffective that the burden of air operations against Cascadia fell entirely on the shoulders of the Californian Navy right up until the ceasefire.
The Hypergolic Men
With the official end to hostilities between California and Cascadia in February 1979, supplies of fuel and anti-aircraft missiles to the Jeffersonian rebels quickly dried up. Now able to focus all their attention on the secessionists, California gradually reclaimed dominance over the skies of the breakaway republic, achieving air superiority in May of ‘79. From that point up until the September assault on the Mount Shasta Vril-Ya temple, Californian air raids went essentially unopposed. When the list of viable military targets was exhausted, the Californian air force turned to bombing cities and towns, resulting in the complete destruction of the capital at Yreka. These war crimes made California the target of international outrage, and actually ended up stiffening resistance on the ground, however, so they were eventually curtailed by the high command. Still, many of Jefferson’s defenders had gotten the message loud and clear: there would be no surrender. They would win or they would die.
Such was the attitude of the many desperate, embittered men drawn to the Vril-Ya Temple on Mount Shasta, one of the last unbroken redoubts of Jeffersonian resistance. Exhausted and running low on supplies as the harsh mountain winters drew nigh, they were only too eager to accept sanctuary and aid from the Vril-Ya. And some were willing to believe in the fantastic promises of power the cult offered, the power to transform themselves into living weapons, with strength enough to turn back the Californian onslaught. All they needed to do, spake the Secret Masters of the Mountain, was to hear the tolling of the Sky Bell.
LIke their previous thrusts into Jefferson, the Californian assault on the Shasta redoubt was to be preceded by bombing runs to soften up enemy artillery emplacements and scatter defenders from the heights. Once the air defenses were silenced, an airborne infantry assault would follow; a ground assault was deemed unacceptable due to Shasta’s steep slope and extremely rugged terrain, requiring infantry to make a slow and exhausting climb up one of the tallest peaks in North America without fire support, all while under attack from some of the best mountain fighters in the west. While an airborne operation faced considerable difficulties of its own, it was deemed much more likely to succeed. While the summit of Shasta was above the operational ceiling of the transport helicopters they would normally use in an operation like this, the middle slopes, which contained at least two entrances to Shasta’s fortifications, were well within range. The new Douglas-Draper Cyclone hoppers would also ferry mountain guns and Pronghorn armored cars to support the infantry, while other Cyclones dropped teams from the elite 1st Bear Commando regiment on the summit to distract and divide Shasta’s defenders.
That was the plan, anyway. The assault, dubbed Operation Mountain King, started to go awry almost immediately. After the initial air attack on the morning of September 10th went unopposed, a second sortie was diverted and a third postponed by the sudden development of a ferocious snow storm centered on the mountain, obviously of paranormal origin. Two F-93 Thunderbirds were downed by windshear and control surface icing. Operations were continued by the more rugged, all-weather Coyote and Skywolf attack aircraft until the storm finally abated that evening, but these slower craft were more vulnerable to enemy missiles: one Coyote was shot down, while five other aircraft limped back to base with heavy damage. When Thunderbird raids resumed that night and into the following morning, enemy air defenses were unexpectedly heavy, and another three Thunderbirds were shot down. Surviving pilots reported that they encountered hypersonic SAMs that behaved like nothing they’d ever seen before, rocketing off at incredible speeds in a straight line, then suddenly decelerating, plummeting, and rocketing off at new angles. These missiles, they reported, intercepted their aircraft from the bottom, or straight into the cockpit, rather than chasing their engines as heat-seeking missiles do; moreover, they were entirely unaffected by chaff or flares.
Air strikes were halted for a few hours while ECA-16 Gremlin electronic warfare craft were scrambled. Each Gremlin could put out enough static to render useless every radar and non-Gridley wireless communication device within 20 miles. If that weren’t enough, each one had two technopaths in the crew, psychic combat veterans capable of neutralizing any modern electronics. But they weren’t enough. A half dozen more aircraft, including three Gremlins, were lost over the next few hours. The Jefferson Turkey Shoot was back on.
While the Californian brass debated calling off the attack, sleepless intelligence analysts tried to figure out where these missiles had come from and how to defeat them. While playing back the cockpit cameras of a downed Gremlin in slow motion, they discovered the horrifying truth. They weren’t missiles at all, but men: kamikaze talents hurtling their bodies into the Californian aircraft at four times the speed of sound. They were the Hypergolic Men, the fruits of the Sky Bell that transformed desperate men into living weapons. And they were only the beginning of the vengeance that the secret, subterranean masters of Shasta had planned for the Republic of California.
A nice big slice of Alt-History Adventure pie with a big dollop of Superhero whipped cream!
Great stuff!