Chapter 1895 - 1406: Mission Terminated_4

The pilots' fingers hovered above the weapon release buttons on the sticks; the bombing sequence had entered its final countdown.

All they needed was one word from the lead, and the Grim Reapers would scream off the racks, diving toward the not-yet-fully-awake ground below.

Major Mike's eyes swept across the cockpit displays, confirming all systems green and the formation in an ideal position. He took one last look at the real-time video feed of the target area—utterly silent, no abnormal activity, seemingly oblivious to the annihilation about to descend.

He drew half a breath, ready to exhale that decisive word—"Release."

At that very instant!

A completely different call, with the highest possible priority, overrode the current tactical comm channel!

"All units in 'Anvil' formation, attention! This is 'Black Hawk' Command! Abort bombing mission immediately! Repeat, abort the attack immediately! All aircraft, cease all attack actions, safe your weapons, maintain current airspace security, and await further orders!"

The order came so abruptly, so out of place, that Major Mike's mind went momentarily blank. His finger froze above the release button, muscles snapping tight. He almost thought he'd misheard, or that some bizarre interference or error had hit the comms.

"Black Hawk, this is Bayonet."

Mike thumbed the transmit switch at once, his voice slightly higher than usual from the shock: "Please repeat and confirm the order? We have verified suppression of all known air-defense threats, all aircraft are in final attack position, target is clearly locked. Request confirmation of the directive!"

He had to confirm; this could not be a mis-route or a test. Dozens of tons of precision-guided ordnance were primed, the target almost within arm's reach.

"Bayonet, order is confirmed!" Black Hawk's voice was unusually crisp: "All attack actions are to be aborted immediately! This is a highest-priority directive, issued directly by the President! Repeat, direct presidential order! Cease attack, safe all weapons, RTB at once, await further instructions!"

Those six words—"direct order from the President"—hit Mike square in the chest, and made every pilot monitoring the net hold their breath.

It meant the mission abort didn't stem from tactical reasons, but from direct interference at the highest political level.

Such a situation was extremely rare; it usually meant something fundamental had happened outside the battlefield, enough to alter the entire course of operations.

Shock, confusion, incomprehension, and a flash of frustration at a mission about to succeed and now ruined all surged up inside the pilots.

But rigorous training and discipline let them crush those feelings almost instantly.

Major Mike took a deep breath; he knew any hesitation or questioning now was out of the question.

He had to execute immediately, and ensure the entire formation complied without a single error.

"Copy, Black Hawk. Abort attack confirmed, direct presidential order."

He acknowledged to the command center first, then immediately switched back to the formation's tactical channel:

"All aircraft, this is Bayonet 01. We have received a direct order from the highest command authority: abort mission immediately, RTB immediately. Repeat, abort attack at once…"

He paused, then used clearer commands to cut through any potential confusion:

"Wild Horse flight, all units: revoke weapon release authorization, set all guided weapons to SAFE. Repeat, weapons SAFE. Shut down target pod laser designators, exit attack run."

"Wild Horse 02 copies, aborting attack, weapons SAFE."

"Wild Horse 03 copies, weapons to SAFE, exiting attack run."

The pilots and WSOs in the other two F-15Es reacted quickly, starting a series of complex actions—taking bomb fuzes out of arm state, resetting laser codes, and gently changing aircraft attitude to break out of their dive or bombing run.

Immediately after, Mike continued: "Evil flight, terminate SEAD standby. Safe all HARM missiles. Maintain high-altitude CAP stations, cover formation rejoin."

"Evil 01 copies, SEAD terminated, HARMs SAFE. Holding CAP." Captain Daniels' voice came through, clearly puzzled but executing without delay.

"Evil 02 copies… order confirmed." Another voice chimed in, with a slight rise at the end betraying his doubt.

"Evil 03 roger, weapons SAFE. Sir, what's going on?"

The pilot who had just taken out the Dao'er system voiced the question that represented what most of them were thinking.

"Evil 04 copies… climbing now. This is… unbelievable."

The fourth Evil pilot added quietly.

The channel began to show brief, restrained chatter.

The pilots weren't challenging the order; in the face of such a drastic turn, they were instinctively seeking understanding and confirmation.

"Who knows, maybe the guys on the ground suddenly waved a white flag?"

One voice tried to mask the doubt with a joke.

"Direct order from the President… damn it, I've never had a CAS mission scrubbed at the last second, let alone a strike this big."

Another voice muttered.

"Evil 03, does this mean your missile was for nothing?"

Someone asked.

"At least the jamming wasn't for nothing." Lieutenant Larson cut in: "Reason for abort is unknown, but Ghost will maintain EM environment monitoring. All units, maintain channel discipline."

Major Mike listened to the scattered exchanges on the net, his own emotions churning.

He'd flown countless missions, including ones cancelled at the last moment due to weather, intel changes, or collateral damage risk—but having the President personally abort a high-intensity strike that was already on the brink of execution was a first in his career.

It meant that in Washington, in President Obama's office, something more important than destroying this underground command center and degrading the Tenth Division was happening—or had already happened.

As a soldier, he had no time to dig into it; his priority was to ensure the entire formation withdrew from the attack position safely and in good order.

"Stay focused, everyone." Mike said over the net. "The reasons will be briefed later. For now, execute the order. Wild Horse flight, form on me, climb to RTB altitude, heading zero-niner-zero. Evil flight, provide cover as planned. Ghost, continue EM situational awareness."

"Copy, Bayonet."

"Roger."

"Turning now."

The seven fighters, as if pulled by invisible cables, began to move in unison.

Their noses slowly lifted, vectors shifting, and they headed back toward the bases outside Iraq, in the direction of the Persian Gulf.