Craig Thomas's 1977 Firefox is a Cold War technothriller of the 3.5- to 4-star variety. The novel is dark and tense, though sometimes disbelief has to be suspended a tad more than I would prefer, and style and mechanics have some quicks that grate for me as well.
In a way, Firefox presages Tom Clancy's 1984 The Hunt for Red October: A technological advance--a combination of them, actually--has leapfrogged over what the West has fielded militarily, and NATO needs to acquire the new goodies or be completely vulnerable to possible attack. Although... Well, this twin-engined jet whose monstrous powerplants can drive it at an astonishing Mach 5, whose special paint absorbs and also redirects radar to make the plane impossible to detect except by lucky random visual or infrared or aural glimpse, and whose thought-activated air-to-air missiles and cannons and electronic countermeasures are more quickly deployed than that of any opponent is a fighter.
That is, the Firefox would make a fine bomber-killer, and apparently it can dogfight to defeat other fighters, but never is there the suggestion that this technology could be applied to produce a deep-penetration nuclear bomber, or even that the existing aircraft would be useful for tactical ground attack on the battlefield. Yes, of course the American way of war is to prefer air supremacy, such that lacking it during any potential Soviet invasion into Western Europe would be devastating, but why doesn't Thomas say this? And why doesn't he suggest the possibility of an unstoppable super-bomber either? As it is, the need for the almost literally incredible mission at the focus of the book--to sneak a crack pilot into the heart of the USSR and steal the revolutionary new MiG by flying it out--is simply taken for granted.
Mentioning this bold plan, by the way, is no spoiler: My 1978 Bantam paperback with Lou Feck cover art, after all, already gives it away on the back blurb and also in the blurb on the two-page illustration inside the front cover. There are, of course, plenty of things the plot will obscure until the time is right. How will Mitchell Gant, former USAF fighter ace over Vietnam and now contractor for the CIA, a washed-out loner with tantalizing nightmares and yet the almost pathological drive to prove himself the very best flyer, ever get in to the heavily guarded airfield where the Firefox is about to take the first of its test flights to include full weapon load? Once there, how will he gain access to the ship? If he can get away, how and where can he refuel, undetected even as the Red Air Force and Red Navy search for him, so that he can bring his prize home? And what about the second Firefox prototype that his dissident Soviet accomplices need to disable? We shall see...
Despite the twists and turns, though, and the uncertainty regarding the alternatively shaky and then coolly confident Gant, noticeable things occasionally have to be overlooked by the reader. Working on the Firefox project, for example, and preparing it for the test of its weapons systems, are three skilled technicians who have been smuggling information to the British SIS...and the KBG knows about it. It is, according to the KGB security officer--another character who vacillates between overconfidence and foreboding dread--essentially "the devil ya know." That is, he can keep an eye on these three and supposedly can keep their intelligence leaks under control, whereas he is afraid of new, less detectable agents infiltrating. But come on... Yes, these semi-secret dissidents are good, but they're no Oppenheimer, Teller, and Kistiakowski at Los Alamos--they are replaceable. Without this over-confident KGB dingus leaving the project's enemies in place, however, we don't have a chance of getting Gant to the Firefox.
When the distracting fire at the hangar blazes up but doesn't work quite as planned, we have to hold our objections again, as the three dissidents, armed, are surrounded by a "semi-circle of closing guards," and when one of the three shoots, making "a guard drop, and another lurch sideways" (page 145), somehow the soldiers do not shoot. Whaaaaat...? And it's not as if the dissidents are standing in front of one of the aircraft either, and hence can't be shot at--they aren't. But apparently for some reason the author wants a standoff so he can make the commander can give a dramatic "Drop your weapons, or I shall order them to open fire!" (page 145)...which obviously is ridiculous, as no group of soldiers ever will hold fire after someone has started shooting at them point blank. Ever.
Once Gant gets away with the Firefox--you know he will, right? or else the book would end with a sudden clunk--there are other incongruent oddities. First, in the getaway itself, Thomas tells us that Gant is "[u]sing the rudder and differential braking" in "turn[ing] onto the runway" (page 150). No. No, definitely not. As one learns in ground school, the rudder has zero effect at taxiing speed; steering a non-multi-engined aircraft on the ground is controlled solely by differential braking, meaning pushing the brake pedal on the side one wants to turn. Later, though, after Gant's crucial refueling in an icy location, Thomas tells us that "he couldn't use brakes to steer on the ice" and that "[t]he rudder would not operate effectively until he reached a speed of eighty-five knots. At the moment he was at a little more than fifty" (pages 282-83). Whether the author has just learned this or just remembered the fact, it is odd that neither he nor the editors compared the different places.
Once aloft, the aircraft responds just as in the simulator Gant trained on...but it is very, very difficult to believe that anyone could slip out enough data to predict the handling characteristics of a brand-new Mach 5 fighter this precisely. And yes, ex-Major Gant has his paralyzing flashback dreams sometimes, but despite his psychological fragility, he still is an absolutely top pilot. So when he knows he needs to stretch his fuel consumption, would he really have those moments of panic--two of them, even--where he throttles up to profligately wasteful high-speed dashes that shorten his range to his unknown refueling point? Hard to believe. And since the Firefox is invisible to radar, why does it have its own radar activated...which somehow no one can track? The Wild Weasel missions over Vietnam homed in on enemy radar, after all; surely someone should think of that here.
And why is the feel of the novel so British? Yes, I know the author is British, and I don't meant the narrative voice in general--that is appropriate. I mean the speech and interior monologues of characters of other nationalities. I really, really doubt that Soviet officers would use the word "bloody" as a curse, just as I know an American pilot thinks of the transparent plexiglas humped over a fighter's cockpit as a "canopy" rather than a "hood," and I really, really doubt than an American would ask, "Have we x?" rather than "Do we have x?" I'm rather iffy, too, on the British-seeming affirmative response to a superior officer with the crisp "Sir" rather than "Yes, sir." A Brit, yes. A Russian...doubtful, though I could be wrong. An American serviceman?--I don't believe so.
Oh, and commas as odd, too. Many are the times where a sentence starts with "But," or some other construction that doesn't need a comma...and yet the author just loves to put one there.
As I read back through these quibbles, it seems as if I must be giving a 2-star review. I'm not. Craig Thomas's Firefox is pretty good, and pretty fun. Shakespeare it ain't; even Tom Clancy it ain't. Clancy is Shakespeare compared to this. But so long as one can shrug at the occasional oddity, the book is decently entertaining escapism from the Cold War way back in the 1970s, almost a decade and a half before the fall of the seemingly impervious Soviet empire.