Fourth Estate

[Matt Wiser]

Part 39: Ivan comes calling...and anyone who can take off scrambles...



Sheppard AFB, Texas, 1420 Hours Central War Time:


Heads turned to the CO. Even Kara stared at her flight lead open-mouthed. She'd never done this before. “Boss, we hear you right?”

“You did. Mount your birds! Remember Ken Taylor and George Welch at Pearl Harbor?' Guru shot back, running for his bird, with Goalie right behind him.

The rest of the flight looked at each other, then they scattered like human shrapnel, running for their respective mounts.

When Guru and Goalie got to 512, the ground crew hadn't even gotten started when the siren sounded, and they found Sergeant Crowley there, as if he knew what his CO would be doing. “Sir, you getting airborne?”

“You read my mind, Sergeant,” Guru said as he grabbed his helmet and climbed the crew ladder. “Soon as we're gone, get all of your asses to a bunker, Sergeant. That's an order!”

“Yes, sir!” Crowley said as Goalie got into the rear cockpit.

Both pilot and GIB got strapped into their seats in record time, it seemed, then they did a scramble checklist. “At least we're not wearing tuxedo pants,” Goalie quipped as she finished the checklist.

“What?” Guru asked as he gave the thumbs-up to the CC. “Starting engines.”

“Taylor and Welch. They didn't have time to change that morning, so they flew in what they were wearing.” she said. “Ready.”

Guru started the engines, and since the engines were still warm from the previous mission, it didn't take long to get them up and running. The ground crew pulled away the crew ladder, and Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Flight with four, requesting immediate taxi and combat takeoff.”

“Roger, Camaro Lead,” the controller replied. “Clear to taxi and takeoff on Runway Three-Three Lima. Winds are calm.”

“Roger, tower. We're rolling.” Guru replied. He waved to the ground crew and they pulled the chocks away. Crowley signaled him to taxi, and he taxied 512 out of the revetment, and as he did, the CC snapped a salute, as usual. Guru and Goalie returned it, then Guru taxied to the runway. He glanced behind him, and saw the other three in the flight, plus the two in Mustang, following him. Since the weapon safeties hadn't been put back on after landing, there was no need to hold prior to the active, he taxied onto the runway. “Canopy down,” he called.

“Got it,” Goalie said, pulling her canopy down. She glanced to the right, and east of the runways, eight fireballs erupted. “Holy.....” She looked around, not seeing any Soviet aircraft, then glanced up. “Can't see anything. Must be Foxbats.” referring to the MiG-25RBS reconnaissance bomber.

Guru nodded, then glanced at his Five O'clock. Kara and Brainiac had closed their canopies, and both gave a thumbs-up. Guru and Goalie returned them, then the Tower came over the radio.

“Camaro Flight clear for takeoff. Combat takeoff is authorized,” the controller said. “Good luck.”

“Roger, Tower. Flight, Lead. LET'S GO. Combat takeoffs are authorized,” called Guru. Then he went to burner, released the brakes, and 512,with Kara's 520 alongside, rolled down the runway and into the air. Barely fifteen seconds later, Sweaty and Hoser were rolling, and right on their tail were Dave and Flossy in Mustang Flight.

Colonel Brady had been getting ready to go on a strike of his own when the alarm sounded, and as he was taxiing himself to Runway 15-Charlie, he saw the six F-4s roll down the runway and into the air. He muttered, “Good luck, whoever you are,” then told his flight. “Knights, on me. GO.” Then four F/A-18s began their takeoff rolls.


Guru's lead element had just cleared I-44, northwest of the base, and had turned to the south when Goalie spotted the inbounds. “Got 'em! Bandits, Eleven O'clock and low.”

“Copy,” Guru replied. He saw them as well. “Going radar, and go boresight.”

“Got it,” Goalie replied.

“Flight, Lead. Let's go get 'em,” Guru called.

“Right with you, Boss,” Kara replied. Brainiac in the back was trying to lock up a target when she saw a bandit, which seemed to be an Su-17 Fitter, pulling in what appeared to be a lob-toss maneuver. Normally used for the delivery of tactical nuclear weapons, it was also used to deliver chemical bombs. “Go Boresight!” She told Brainiac. As her GIB did so, she set the pipper on the bandit, and got a missile lock. “FOX ONE!” Kara squeezed the trigger, sending an AIM-7E after the Fitter.

In that Su-17M4, the commander of the 2nd Squadron, 189th Guards Fighter-Bomber Regiment, was smiling. Though the escorting MiG-23s had run into a nest of F-15s, enough of the Su-17Ms and Su-24s following behind them had made it through. Though he wondered where the two Yak-28PP EW aircraft ahead of him had gone, for one had called out that it was taking ground fire, and the other had simply disappeared. No matter. His Vyuga targeting pod for the two Kh-58 (AS-11 Kilter) anti-radar missiles had picked out two I-HAWK radars and an air-search radar, and he decided to take one of the HAWKs and the air-search radar. The Lieutenant Colonel was just about to launch when his own RWR came on, and he saw a missile-probably a Sparrow, coming at him. The Colonel aborted his launch, and rolled down and away, hoping the Sparrow missed.

“Damn it!” Kara yelled over the radio. “Missed!”

“Easy, Starbuck,” Sweaty said. “I got him. FOX ONE!” Two AIM-7s came off of Sweaty's bird. One failed to guide and simply flew off to the south, but the second was running true. Then a missile came up from the ground and tracked the Fitter....

The Soviet Colonel was livid. Where was his wingman? And what in God's name did those MiG-25RBS clods hit? He had been told they were also going for the SAM sites, but it was clear they had not hit them. He saw Kara's Sparrow fly over him, then another Sparrow came his way. He rolled right, popping chaff, and as he did so, he wasn't paying attention to his Sirena-3 RWR display. Another radar had come up. The roll also ensured he didn't see the I-HAWK missile tracking his aircraft. The missile blew, and the Fitter was engulfed in a fireball. The Colonel never had a chance to scream.....and the AIM-7 that had been tracking his aircraft exploded in the fireball.

“What the hell?” Sweaty yelled over her IC. “Jarheads took our kill.”

Preacher was sympathetic, but he reminded his pilot. “That's what they're paid for.”


“Sweaty's going to have a talk with the Jarheads tonight,” Goalie noted. “Still trying to pick 'em up.”

“Try harder,” Guru replied. He saw another Fitter go down, this one from a late-scrambling Hornet, then he saw them. Tall tails, and wings swept back. It's been a while, he thought. Su-24 Fencers. “Flight, Lead. Fencers at Twelve O'clock.” He went back to boresight and used the auto-acquisition feature to get a full system lock. “Got him. FOX ONE!” Guru shouted as he fired two AIM-7s at a Fencer. Hoser followed suit, and Kara fired her remaining Sparrow.

On the base, those not involved with base defense or fire-fighting were taking shelter. With a few exceptions. General Olds had sent his aide into the 335's office, and the man came back with a pair of binoculars. “Sir, shouldn't you head for a bunker?'

“Never saw an air raid in World War II from this perspective, Major,” Olds replied calmly. “I have to see this.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” the Major replied, hoping he wouldn't have to explain to the Chief of Staff what happened if this went bad. A feeling of needing warm underwear went over him.

General Olds' feeling wasn't unique. Jana Wendt and her crew also scorned the air-raid shelters, preferring to remain outside and start filming. Kodak Griffith was amazed, and asked her, “Ma'am, shouldn't you be heading for the shelters?” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the 335th's office, which had a storm cellar beneath.

Wendt grinned. “Captain, times like this is what we came here for,” she said. Turning to Scott, her cameraman, “Get everything you can.”

“Got it, Jana.” He had gotten some footage of the F-4s scrambling, then four F/A-18s doing the same thing. Now it looked as if the Russians were getting close.

“Keep shooting,” she said. Wendt started to talk into a microphone, then she turned to Kodak. “Only one thing wrong with this.”

Amazed at the reporter's tenacity, the Marine asked, “What's that, Ma'am?”

“We're not live,” Wendt replied, then she resumed her commentary.

Shaking his head, the NFO turned temporary PAO picked up his own binoculars and scanned the sky to the south.


South of the base, the commander of the 89th Bomber Aviation Regiment was leading his Su-24s into action, as was his habit. He had hoped to mount a two-squadron strike on Sheppard, but Air Army had only authorized one. So he led the 1st Squadron, the best in the Regiment, personally. The Colonel was wondering where the Yak-28PPs were, and saw the Su-17s run into the SAM defenses, but no matter. The squadron was closing in on the target when their Sirena-3s went off. SAM radars and fighter radars ahead. His WSO turned on the internal ECM, only to see Sparrow missiles closing. He ordered the break, and got down even lower.

“God-damn it!” Guru yelled as first, his radar screen turned to hash as the Fencers' ECM came on, then both Sparrows missed. One went dumb almost immediately, flying through the Soviet formation, while the second appeared to track, then the jamming affected it, for the Sparrow flew past the intended victim and then fired its warhead. “Watch it, people! Their jammers are active.”

“You're telling me, Lead,” Kara replied. “Second miss.”

“Lead, Hoser. Ditto that.” Hoser said. His two Sparrows had also missed.

“Roger that,” said Guru. “Looks like we'll merge.”

Behind Camaro Flight, Dave Golen's Mustang Flight was trying to lock up the Su-24s. “Anything?” Golen asked his GIB.

“No joy,” the WSO replied. “Too much ground clutter, and they're jamming us.”

“Lead, Two!” Flossy called. “Floggers, Twelve O'clock high, coming down!”

“Camaro Lead, Mustang Lead. Break!” Golen called Guru.

Guru reacted at once. “Camaro Flight, break!” He went high and to the right, Kara low and to the left, while Sweaty and Hoser did the opposite.


In his MiG-23ML, the deputy commander of 3rd Squadron, 5th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment, was livid. A diversionary sweep by some MiG-21s was supposed to draw the F-15s away, but it hadn't worked, and the Eagles were all over his MiGs. Of a dozen aircraft, they had lost six to the F-15s, but the rest had stuck with their escort mission. Now, he saw the F-4s threatening the Su-24s, and he knew his duty. Turning on his Saphir radar, he picked out a target and tried to lock on. He didn't notice his Sirena-3 RWR warning him of another radar nearby.....

Guru heard the Beep-Beep over his headset and saw the radar strobe with a “23” on his RWR repeater, and reacted instantly. Turning on his ECM pod, he called, “Camaros, Lead. Music on and watch for Floggers.” He didn't wait for anyone to acknowledge, and then reversed, turning back into the threat. Then he heard a familiar voice on the radio.

“Knight Zero-one, FOX ONE!” It was Colonel Brady.

In his Hornet, Brady had locked up the lead MiG-23 as it dove onto the F-4s. Then he fired an AIM-7M. Unlike the older Es that his F-4s (and the 335th's) had been issued, this one worked on the first try, tracking to the MiG and spearing it just aft of the cockpit. The MiG fireballed, and both halves tumbled down in flames. To Brady, it looked like two miniature nuclear fireballs falling to the ground.

The SAF Major saw the F-4 and tried to lock on. Then his own radar turned to snow as the ECM affected it, He tried to pull around and get behind the F-4, but his wingman's panicked voice interrupted him. “Lead, Two, Crows at Nine O'clock!” Crows meant enemy fighters. He glanced to his right, saw an F/A-18 closing, and a Sparrow missile.....the missile hit, and the Major was engulfed in a fireball.

Brady smiled beneath his oxygen mask. Six for him now. “Knight Zero-one has a splash!”

“Thank you,” Guru replied as he pitched up, and saw Kara with him. He climbed, saw the Su-24s about to make their runs, then applied right rudder and rolled in, with 520 sticking tight. Good girl, he thought. He went to HEAT, and heard the growl of a Sidewinder in his headset. “Keep checking six,” he told Goalie.

“You got it,” she replied, scanning the sky for threats. Goalie winced as a MiG-23 flew right over them, with an F/A-18 hot on its tail. The Hornet fired a Sidewinder, which flew up the MiG's tailpipe and exploded. The MiG pilot bailed out, and given the attitude of the locals, he had better hope the Marines, Air Force CSPs, or Army personnel found him. If found by the Resistance, the usual welcome was a speedy lynching...

“Got a Fencer,” Guru said, rolling in behind the Fencers' Tail-end Charlie. The Sidewinder growled in his headset, then went very loud. Missile lock. “Good tone. FOX TWO!” He fired a Sidewinder, but just as he squeezed the trigger, the tone dropped off. “Oh, shit!”

“What?”

“Lost tone just as I fired,” Guru said. Both he and Goalie watched as the Sidewinder still tracked towards the Su-24, but halfway to the target, the warhead fired harmlessly behind the Fencer. Guru tried locking him up again, got tone, and squeezed the trigger. “FOX TWO!” A second AIM-9P left the rails.

Below, Captain Ryan Blanchard was next to her Humvee, and the CSP in the cupola was manning a .50 caliber machine gun. The Su-24s were coming in, and the Combat Security Police were doing what they had always done in an air attack: put lead in the air. Either small-arms fire or machine guns, you never knew if a “Golden BB” might find its mark,and bring down a multimillion-ruble aircraft. She was firing her own M-16, and gestured to an airman with a Stinger. The man nodded, raised the weapon and got lock on an aircraft, then fired.

“Stinger!” Kara called. “Lead, Break!”

“Roger that!” Guru replied, pulling up into a high-yo-yo. They were getting too close to the base perimeter, and that meant the CSPs and Marines with machine guns and Stingers. He never saw whether or not the Sidewinder hit as he climbed.

But Kara did. She saw the Su-24 put out flares, and the Sidewinder flew into one. She cursed, then saw the Stinger fly into the Fencer's right intake and the big jet exploded. “Stinger got him!” Kara called as the two crewmen punched out.

Ryan Blanchard was grinning from ear-to-ear. This wasn't the first time her CSPs had shot down an attacking aircraft, and she watched as another Su-24 came in, and the Humvee gunner sprayed it with .50 caliber fire.

Guru didn't hear her call, and only saw the Fencer's wreckage falling to earth. He pitched over to the left, then rolled down. As he did, Kara maintained position, like a good wingman. Guru glanced to the east, and saw the Su-24s making their runs. He saw another take a HAWK to the cockpit and explode, and the headless aircraft just dropped out of the sky. Then he heard Goalie make a call, and it chilled him.

“C-130 on final, and he's got bad company!”

Guru turned his head to the left, and saw a C-130B coming in to Runway Three-Three Right, just as two Su-24s made a run on the runway, and right behind the C-130 was an Su-17. The Fencers dropped their bombs on the runway, and just as the C-130 tried to pull up, the Su-17 sprayed the Herky-bird with 30-mm cannon fire. The C-130's left inboard engine caught fire, then exploded, and as the C-130 pancaked down on the runway, a bomb exploded in front of the right wing, snapping it off just to the right of the outboard engine. The transport spun around, then more cannon shells from a second Su-17 smashed into the tail, which broke off, and the plane began to burn. “Holy god.... Hope he was just a cargo run.”

“You're not alone,” Goalie said.

Furious, Guru rolled left, intent on getting one of the Su-17s. Then a call came over the radio.

“Camaro Lead, Cadillac Lead. This an invitation-only party?” It was the Exec, Capt. Mark Ellis.

“Mark, we're having all this fun, but come on in,” Guru replied. He glanced and saw several base buildings on fire, and the old control tower crumpling. Then an Su-24 took a hit from a Stinger, and the big Sukhoi tumbled out of the sky, and two parachutes blossomed behind it as the crew punched out.

“Roger that!” Replied the Exec. “Let's go get 'em.” And Cadillac Flight charged in. “FOX ONE!” Ellis called, sending a pair of Sparrows after a MiG-23 that was diving on an F/A-18.

Colonel Brady, meanwhile, was chasing a departing Su-24 when another MiG came at him, head-on. He locked up the MiG with his remaining Sparrow, and fired. The MiG fired a pair of AA-7 Apex missiles at Brady, but just after he fired, the AIM-7 connected, blowing the MiG's cockpit and right wing off, and what was left of the MiG-23 tumbled out of the sky. As it did, two AIM-7s came in to explode the shattered MiG.

Guru and Kara had latched on to a pair of retreating Su-24s, and Kara had actually gotten in front of him. “Two, Press to engage, I've got your six,” he called.

“Roger that, Lead,” Kara replied. She, too, went to HEAT, and got good tone on a Sidewinder. “FOX TWO!” An AIM-9P left the rail on 520, and both Su-24s split. They put out flares and chaff, and the wingman broke off from the leader, who was untouched when the Sidewinder went for a flare. “DAMN IT!” Kara yelled over the radio.

“Take it easy, Two,” Guru said.

“Calm down,” Brainiac added from 520's back seat.

“Steady,” Kara acknowledged. She lined up another Sidewinder shot, got tone, watched him first roll right, then left, then level out. Then she fired. “FOX TWO AGAIN!”

This Fencer was the Soviet strike leader, and the Colonel watched his wingman break away, but to his dismay, there wasn't an F-4 in pursuit. His attacker was still out there, somewhere, and he rolled right to try and get his WSO a good enough view. Nothing was seen, so he rolled to the left. Nothing. So he rolled wings level and put the nose down to get some more airspeed. Then there was a loud explosion to the rear, and every caution and warning light came on. Time to go. He ordered his WSO to eject, then he went himself. As he hung in his chute, he wondered if the U.S. Army would find him before those bloodthirsty bandits who called themselves the American Resistance did.

“SPLASH!” Kara called as the Su-24's crew ejected.

“That's what, nine?” Brainiac said.

“Think so,” replied Kara. She still had two Sidewinders left and a full load of 20-mm.


“Good kill, Two!” Guru shouted. “Drop back, I'll take the lead.” He, too, still had a pair of Sidewinders and a full cannon load. And the CO wanted to use them.

“Roger, Lead,” came the reply as 520 slowed so that Guru could get back in front. As he did, he saw the wing Su-24 turning south. And right into the waiting arms of Cadillac Two-three and Two-four. Two-three (Scorpion and Judge) took a Sparrow shot and missed, but Two-four (Cosmo and Revlon) rolled in behind the Sukhoi.

“Steady,” Cosmo said. She went right to HEAT and got tone. “FOX TWO!” The AIM-9P went right, then left, did a one-potato-two, flying up the Sukhoi's right tailpipe and exploded. The plane rolled to the right on fire, and the crew punched out. “Two-four's got a splash!”


“Whoo-hoo!” Goalie yelled from 512's back seat. “Cosmo and Revlon got another one.”

“Celebrate later,” Guru reminded her. “Still got a fight going on.” Then he got on the radio. “Good kill, Cosmo!”

“Thanks, Boss,” Cosmo replied.


Guru looked around, maintaining his visual scanning. “Where the hell are they?” He noticed several smoke clouds marking the funeral pyres of downed Soviet aircraft, but he saw no MiGs or Sukhois around.

“They must've run for home,” Goalie said. “Radar's clear. No jamming.”

It was Mustang Flight that answered the question. “Camaro Lead, Mustang. We've got a recon element coming in.” It was Dave Golen. “We're engaging.”

“Got them,” Goalie said. “Three hits at Twelve.”


Dave Golen grinned beneath his oxygen mask. He and Flossy were coming in on two more MiG-23s and a Yak-28R reconnaissance plane, and the Russians didn't know they were there. He went to RADAR, and locked up a Flogger. Though his American friends were swearing at the Sparrows they had, instead of by them, the Sparrow had its uses. And this was one of them. “FOX ONE!” He ripple-fired his two AIM-7s, and though one fell away, a dud, the second seemed to track, but the MiG went hard right, defeating the missile. But both MiGs had scattered, and cleared the way for Flossy to take a shot at the recon bird. “Flossy, press to engage. I'll cover.”

“Roger that, Lead.” Flossy replied. She asked her GIB, Digger, “Can you pick him up?”

“I'm tryin', baby,” he replied. “Too much ground clutter.”

Ignoring the 'baby' remark, Flossy went to HEAT, lined up a shot, and got tone. “FOX TWO!” She squeezed the trigger, and an AIM-9P went off 1569's rails. The Sidewinder tracked, flying up the port engine pod of the Yak, and exploded the engine pod. When it did, it tore off part of the left wing, and sent shrapnel into the Yak-28R's fuselage. The pilot tried to pitch up and give his navigator a chance to eject, Flossy and Digger watched as the navigator did punch out, and then the Yak, now trailing fire, pitched back level, and rolled to the left. Then the pilot ejected. Flossy flew past, and to the horror of 1569's crew, they saw the pilot's chute deploy-and it was on fire. “Holy shit!” Flossy called on the IC.

“Be glad it's not one of us,” Digger replied as the unfortunate Soviet airman fell to his death.

“Yeah,” she replied. “SPLASH!”

“Good kill! Good kill, Two!” Golen said. “Where's the escorts?” He had lost sight of both Floggers.


“Flossy's got another one,” Guru said in 512.

“She does,” Goalie replied. “That's what? Six?”

“I think so,” Guru replied. “Where's the other two Floggers?”


“Knight Lead, Knight three,” Brady's second element lead called. “Two hits headed south.”

“Let them run,” Colonel Brady said. “Camaro, Knight Lead. How's your fuel?”


“Stand by, Knight Lead.” Guru said. He checked his fuel gauge. “Seven hundred pounds. Two, say fuel state.”

“Camaro One-two,” Kara replied. “Six-fifty,” she said.

“One-three's got seven hundred,” Sweaty added.

“One-four has six hundred,” Hoser called.


Then Dave Golen came up. “Mustang Lead has six hundred,”

Flossy added, “Mustang Two six hundred fifty.”

“Copy that, all,” Brady said. “Looks like we still got a place to land. Camaro, Mustang, we can orbit for a while. You guys go in.”

“Roger that, Knight Lead, and thanks for the help,” Guru replied. 'Sheppard Tower, Camaro Lead. Say runway status, and request landing instructions.”

“Stand by,” the Tower replied.

“Can't stay up here forever,” Guru muttered. “How long?” He asked Goalie.

She was doing the math in her head, and came back with the answer. “Six minutes and we'll be skydiving.”

“Tower, Camaro Lead, We got six minutes or we're skydiving, fella.”

“Stand by,” the controller said. “Camaro Lead, Tower. Runway Three-three Lima and Three-three Charlie are clear. MOPP status is clear. You are cleared in.”

“Roger that,” Guru said. He didn't bother with the pattern, nor did the rest of his flight. They just came straight in and landed. As they taxied away from the runway, they noticed fire and rescue crews playing hoses on not only the C-130, but they also passed an Army CH-47 that had been hit, and burned in half. When Guru got 512 to the squadron's dispersal, he and Goalie saw people going around without masks, confirming the tower's MOPP status. And they noticed the camera crew, still filming as they taxied by.

“Did they even run for cover?” Goalie asked in amazement.

“If they didn't, they get some kind of award. For either bravery or stupidity. Or both,” Guru said, shaking his head. He taxied 512 into the dispersal area, and found his revetment. Guru was glad to see Sergeant Crowley waiting, and he taxied into the revetment. Guru got the “Shut down”signal from his CC, and he did. Then the ground crew brought out the chocks, as both pilot and GIB popped their canopies and raised them. The ground crew followed with the crew ladder, and both Guru and Goalie stood up in their seats. “That was a hell of a ride,” Guru said.

“That it was,” Goalie said.

Pilot and GIB climbed down and began looking at the aircraft. No holes, which was good, and Guru nodded as Sergeant Crowley came over. “Shit hot, sir!”

“Sergeant, that wasn't a fight; it was a brawl.” Guru said. “We may have gotten one, but a Stinger crew might have nailed him before we could.”

“Well,Major? Lieutenant? You guys did your job, because we're still here,” Crowley said, as an airman handed the CO and GIB each a bottle of water.

Guru nodded thanks, then promptly downed half of the bottle. “I guess so,” he said. “Any word on casualties?”

“No, sir. A couple of the ground officers and Chief Ross have been out. Haven't head a thing, sir.”

“No news is good news,” Goalie said, then she, too, drained half of her bottle. “Anything on that C-130?”

“No, ma'am,” Crowley said.

Guru nodded, then he noticed the prewar Control Tower. They had been using a field tower while waiting for EOD to clear the Tower, as it had been booby-trapped by the Cubans. “They got the old tower.”

“EOD was going to clear that,” Goalie said. “Or so I heard.”

“Not anymore, ma'am,” said Crowley.

“Okay, Sergeant,” Guru said. He finished his water, then nodded. “Get 512 turned around. We've got time for one more mission, and hopefully, we can pay back the sons-of-bitches who did this.”

“Sir, that's music to my ears,” Crowley said. “All right people! You heard the Major. Let's get this bird ready to go!”

Pilot and GIB left the ground crew to their business, and when they got to the revetment's entrance, they found Kara and Brainiac there, with grins from ear-to-ear. “Good job, Kara,” Guru said, shaking her hand.

“Too bad about that one Fencer,” Kara nodded. “Didn't you hear my call? A Stinger crew got him.”

“Was a little busy at the time,” Guru recalled. “That's what? Nine for you?”

“It is,” Kara said, then she nodded, “Not yet to Colonel Rivers' score. The late Colonel Rivers had a dozen kills before his death.

Sweaty, Preacher, Hoser, and KT came over as well. “Boss, that wasn't a fight, it was a barroom brawl,” Sweaty said.

“No kidding!” Guru replied. Hoser, you and KT?”

“No joy, Boss,” Hoser replied. “Don't want to do one like that for a while.”

“You, me, and everyone else in the squadron,” Guru told him.

“Dave and Flossy coming,” Kara said as Dave Golen and Flossy, with their GIBs, came over. “Good kill, girl!”

“Nice job, Flossy,” the CO said. “Got the recon bird.”

Flossy nodded, then said, “Yeah, but the pilot? He punched out, but when his chute deployed? It was on fire.”

“Ugh,” Goalie said, and others nodded. Enemy or not, that wasn't a good way for a fellow airman to die.

“Yeah,” Guru agreed. “Better him than us, though. Come on: let's get to the office. Check and see if everyone's OK.”

They were starting to walk that way when a Dodge Crew-Cab pickup pulled up, and out came Master Sergeant Ross. “Major,” he said, snapping a salute.

“Chief,” Guru replied, sketching a salute of his own. “We lose anyone?”

The squadron's senior NCO shook his head. “No, sir. Been checking, and Doc's not busy.”

“Good, “ the CO said.

“Need a ride to the office, sir?” Ross asked. He could see that the aircrews were tired.

“You are a mind reader, Chief,” Guru said. The crews piled into the cab or the bed of the truck, and Ross drove back to the office. “Where's Buddy?” Guru asked, referring to the squadron's mascot.

“He went to the shelter when the siren sounded, sir,” Ross said. “When the all-clear went? He went back outside as if nothing had happened.”

“Good, Chief,” Guru said. “Take care of that dog.”

“I'll second that,” Kara said from the back seat. “Lot of people in the squadron want to take him home when this is all over.”

Ross smiled. “You're not the only one to tell me that, ma'am.” He pulled up to the squadron's office and said, “Here we are, sir.” Those riding on the truck could see General Olds standing outside with his aide, talking with Hacksaw and Sin Licon, and Buddy standing next to the General.

“Thanks, Chief,” Guru said as the crews piled out.

“Anytime, Major,” Ross said.

Nodding, Guru went over to where General Olds was. “General?” He said, saluting.

“Major,” Olds said, returning the salute. “How was it out there?”

“General, that was more like a bar brawl than anything else,” Guru said. “Sir, may I ask if you were outside watching the show?”

Olds grinned. “Major, I will neither confirm or deny that,” he said. And the grin made Guru turn pale.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Major Wiser replied. The last thing he needed was something happening to the General, then he'd be packing for Goose Bay or Gander, instead of Frank. “Sir, if you, uh, were, outside? How was the show?”

“Well, Major, it was....interesting. Never saw an air raid from the ground before.”

“If you say so, sir,” Guru said. “Darren?” He turned to the Intel Officer.

“In five,sir,” Licon said.

“Okay, people,” Major Wiser said to his flight. “Get out of your gear, get to the briefing room, because we're doing this again in an hour.”

“We going to return the favor?” Sweaty asked.

“Hope so,” Guru said.

As he was getting ready to go inside, General Olds called Major Wiser over.”Major, how soon until you know where you're going?”

Guru thought for a minute. “Sir, at least a half hour to forty-five minutes. Why do you ask, General?”

“If it's an airfield, then you can pay back those bastards for what they just did,” Olds told the CO.

“Sir, we hit two airfields already today,” Major Wiser said. “We could go for three.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Major,” Olds said. “Get debriefed.”

“Yes, sir.”

[Matt Wiser]

Part 40: Mission Prep for the next one..


335th TFS Offices, Sheppard AFB, TX; 1455 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser and his flight were in their briefing room, talking over not just their strike mission, but the improvised scramble just completed. It had been a while since anyone had done so, and now, the room was buzzing. People were talking when Maj. Dave Golen, 1st Lt. Sandi “Flossy” Jenkins, and their GIBs came in. “Dave, Flossy,” the CO said. “Good work out there.”

“Guru,” Golen said. “Reminds me of the Yom Kippur War. Day one of that fracas. My squadron's operations officer and his wingman were at Sharm-el-Sheikh on alert when a dozen Egyptians in MiG-21s attacked the base. He got four, and the wingman got three.”

“And minimal damage to the base?” Kara asked.

“That's about right.”

“Nice job on the recon flight,” Guru said. “Flossy got her sixth.”

Hearing that, Flossy smiled. “Just another day's work, Boss.”

“Watch it,” Sweaty said, giving some advice. “Soon, you'll be in a rut. I'm in one right now, and Kara just got out of one.”

“First Fencer,” Kara said with pride. “Not that often we run into those.”

“Be glad we don't,” Goalie said. “Those things stay low to the ground, and even without their jammers, they're hard to pick out with radar,” she spat.

'Tell me about it,” said Preacher. “It was a bitch picking them out of the ground clutter.”

KT nodded agreement. “You said it, brother.”

“Not the first time,” Guru noted. “I've had run-ins with Fencers more than once. One of my probables is an Su-24. Jumped him just north of the Colorado-New Mexico line.”

“Before you and Tony Carpenter went skydiving,” Goalie said. It wasn't a question.

“Yep. Rolled in on him, couldn't get tone, so I took a gun shot. Put some 20-mm into his right engine, he starts streaming fuel and rolls down into some low clouds. Mr. SAM came up just then, and we were busy for a little while,” Guru said, recalling that engagement. “Never did see him crash.”

Then the Intel Officer came in. “Boss,” Sin Licon said. “This has been the wildest afternoon in a while.”

“Tell us about it,” Guru said. “Now that I think about it, I do feel like Taylor and Welch at Pearl Harbor.”

“But without the tuxedo shorts,” Kara laughed.

“Yeah, I can see you wearing those,” Hoser quipped, and there was some laughter all around.

The intel nodded, then said, “Boss, can we get this going?” He unfolded a map and brought out several photos, both high- and low-level imagery of the Hillsboro Airport.

“Made my run,” Guru said, and put my Rockeyes on a Hook or Halo on the east ramp.” He pointed to the new ramp area east of the runway.

“Get any secondaries?” Licon asked.

“Had a big one,” Goalie said.

Kara nodded. “I'll confirm that,” and Brainiac nodded agreement.

“All right,” the Intel said. “How about you, Kara?”

“Put my CBUs on the hangars, and there was an An-24 or -26 parked near them.”

“Secondaries?”

“Got one from the transport, and there may have been one in the hangars,” Brainiac said. “Something blew besides the plane.”

“We can verify that,” Sweaty said, looking at Preacher, who nodded. “Something in one of those hangars went up.”

“And what did you have?” Asked Licon. “The runway?”

“That we did, and put several Mark-82s on it.”

“Nobody tried to take off,” Preacher chimed in.

“And Hoser?” Licon asked.

“Fuel dump, here,” Hoser said, pointing to the location on a photo.

“And we had a big boom,” KT added. “Several of 'em.”

“Good,” said the intel, who was taking notes for his write-up. “Now, resistance?'

“Some flak, and some SAMs, but the missiles weren't radar-guided,” Guru said. “Weasels did their job.”

“Took care of a couple of gun radars, too,” Sweaty added.

“Any heavy SAMs come up?” Licon wanted to know.

“Negative,” Kara said. “Weasels must've kept them quiet.”

Guru nodded. “I'll second that. None of the Army-level stuff came up.”

“So, just guns and some SA-9 or -13?” Licon asked.

“Pretty much it,” Sweaty replied.

“MiG activity?'

“Had two flights chase us,” said the CO. “Four MiG-21s and four Floggers. Led them right to the Fence, and a wall of Eagles.”

Licon nodded, and asked, “How many did they get?”

“Two or three of each,” Kara said. “I think.”

“Okay, and now....the excitement just ended,” Licon chuckled. “Major, what happened?”

“I just told people to mount their aircraft,” Guru said. “And when I taxied out, they followed.”

“After clearing the field, what then?”

“We just cleared I-44 and turned south when we saw at least two Su-17s starting to do a lob-toss maneuver,” Kara said. “I locked one up and took a Sparrow shot. Missed,, though.”

“I took a double shot,” Sweaty added. “One burned out and fell away, the other was tracking, but a HAWK came up and blasted the guy before the second Sparrow hit.”

Hoser said, “Fencers came in right after that.”

“They did,” Guru acknowledged. “Took a couple of Sparrow shots.”

“Same here,” Kara said. “Shot my second one, and Hoser? You did, right?”

Hoser nodded. “Sure did, and then they started jamming. Nobody scored.”

“I'll go along with that,” Major Wiser said.

“Radar turned to snow,” Goalie added. “Those jammers did a good job on us. Then Dave Golen called for us to break, and MiG-23s came in.”

“We broke,” Kara said, then saw the Hornets come in on the Floggers. Rolled in behind the Tail-end Charlie of the Fencers, and Guru took a Sidewinder shot.”

The CO nodded. “I did, but lost tone just as I pulled the trigger. Got tone again, took a second shot, then had to pull up into a yo-yo. Didn't see what happened next.”

“I did,” Kara said. “Your missile took a flare, and that guy was dumping flares and chaff, then a Stinger flew down his intake and the plane blew up.”

“Based on that, Major,” Licon said. “The CSPs get credit for this one.”

Goalie patted her pilot on the shoulder. “Can't get them all,” she said.

“I know,” the CO replied. “We pulled up to get away from the ground fire, then Goalie called out a C-130 coming in. He tried to abort, but an Su-17 made a pass on him, then again after he crashed.”

“Any word, Darren?” Sweaty asked. “The crew, I mean.”

“No, and I did ask. They're clearing the wreckage, and filling in bomb craters. Runway should be operational by first light tomorrow,” Licon said. “They didn't use their anti-runway bombs for some reason. Either they're running low, or they're out.”

“Cadillac Flight came in, and the CO invited the Exec to the party,” Kara said. “Latched onto an Su-24 element, and locked up the leader. Fired a Sidewinder, and it tracked to a flare. They broke, and I stayed with the leader. Took a second shot, and it hit. Saw the crew punch out.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Both of us saw it,” Goalie said, and the CO nodded.

“Same here,” Sweaty added, and the rest of her element nodded as well.

“Okay, based on that, Kara has number nine,” the Intel said. “Sorry, Boss, but you're no longer tied for top gun in the squadron.”

Guru looked at Goalie, who shrugged. “We'll get out of this rut sooner or later,” he said. “Any word on downed Russians?”

“They've picked up a few, sir,” Licon said. “CSPs and Marines have some. So has the Army. The Resistance is out, and they've turned over a couple to the Marines-pretty much the worse for wear, but still alive. But a couple...”

“Got themselves lynched,” said Preacher.

“Yeah. We need to keep talking to those people, because it's kind of hard to interrogate a corpse. Just as they did with the Indian tribes. Anyway, after the kill?”

“Saw the wingie run into Scorpon and Cosmo. He missed, but she and Revlon didn't,” Guru said, and heads nodded at that. “Looks like the 'unmanned' team got another one.'”

“I'll talk with them, but since you guys are confirming it, yeah,” Licon nodded. “The recon flight?'

“Dave and Flossy jumped those guys,” Kara said. “Flossy got the recon bird and the Floggers broke for home.”

“Okay, I'll talk with them, confirm hers, and check the strike camera film. No word from the prisoners yet on where they flew from, but chances are, it's probably Bergstrom at least, if not San Antonio.”

“No way can we get that far south,” Hoser noted. “Not without tankers over Red territory.”

“SAC still owns the tankers,” Goalie pointed out. “No way will they let that happen.”

Licon nodded. “You're right about that,” he said. “Major, anything else jump out from you? Or anyone else?” The CO shook his head, and others did the same. “Thanks, everybody. I'll get this off to Tenth Air Force. After I talk to the Exec's and Major Golen's flights.”

“Okay, Darren,” Guru said. “You're a busy little worker bee today.”

“Tell me about it!” Licon said. “Uh, sir. They told us there'd be days like today.”

“No doubt,” the CO nodded. “See you later.”

The intel smiled, gathered his materials, and went off to talk to the Exec's flight.

Sweaty looked at her CO. “Now what?”

“Get something to eat, check your desks and clear any paperwork, because we're back at it. We've got time for one more mission, so be back here in forty-five.”

“Got it,” Kara said, and the others nodded.

“Good, and Kara?” The CO saw his wingmate look at him. “Find out if they already have something for us, and see if they have any ideas as to where these chumps flew from.”

“Will do,” nodded Kara.

As people filed out, Goalie saw her pilot thinking about something. “What is it?”

“Come with me to the office. I need to see a map, and I want your opinion on something,” Guru said. They both left the briefing room and went to his office. When they got there, Guru told his secretary, “No calls.” She nodded, and the two crewmates went into the office. Guru went to a filing cabinet and pulled out a TPC navigation chart and spread it on his desk. “Okay, you're Ivan's theater air commander. Where do your park the Su-24 force at night?”

Goalie looked at the map and whistled. It had been a long time since she'd done anything like this, and that was at the Academy. Guru watched as she went over the map. Then she unhesitatingly pointed at one city. “San Antonio area. There's three fields big enough: Kelly, Randolph, and San Antonio International. Too far south for us to hit, except with F-111s or maybe A-6s, and it's pretty well defended.”

“I'll buy that,” Guru nodded. “Now, where do you stage them from? They don't have tankers. At least, as far as I know.”

Goalie nodded back. “Bergstrom, Gray AAF at Fort Hood, the old Connelly AFB at Waco, Brownwood Regional. Then there's Austin and Temple airports, and Waco's as well.'

“I agree. Now, we can't hit their main field, but we can do something bad to their staging base, whichever one that is. Now, this is between us for now, but I'll talk to Mark and Van Loan. Dave Golen, too.”

“Kara?”

Guru nodded. “We'll need her. She thinks outside the box, and we'll need her anyway. I'll want you to talk to some of the other GIBs: Preacher, KT, Brainiac, Digger, Revlon, and so on.”

“What about General Olds?” Goalie asked. “Or Colonel Brady?”

“I'll talk to the General tomorrow, because he'll be at our table tonight, and we'll all be busy swapping stories. Tomorrow, though....and the same for Colonel Brady.”

“We're really going to do this?” Goalie asked.

“May not be for a few days at least. Hell, maybe a month or two,” Guru acknowledged. “But we're taking the twelve best crews in this squadron. And we're going to do this.” He looked at his GIB. “I don't want to just hit a staging area with our flight, put a few holes in a runway, and catch a couple of stragglers on the ground-along with whatever fighters are there. No. I want a whole fucking Fencer regiment, on the ramp, with their pants down as they're refueling and rearming. Think Nagumo's carriers at Midway when the SBDs came calling.”

An evil-looking grin came over Goalie's face. “I like it. This going to be our Operation BOLO?”

The CO grinned as well. “You got it. Now, don't talk to anyone until I get Mark and Don's input. And above all, don't talk about this if Frank is in earshot.”

“Got you.”

Guru nodded, then glanced at his IN Box. “Well, the elves didn't do their thing while we were gone. I need to take care of this. You need to check your desk, get something edible inside you, and get ready for the last one.”

“On my way,” Goalie said.

“All right. See you in thirty-five,” Guru said.


After she left, Guru attended to the paperwork, then followed his own advice. After a quick bite to eat, he went over to the Ops Office. There, he found Capt. Don Van Loan, the Ops Officer. He was getting ready to go and brief his own flight before going out. “Don,”

“Boss,” Van Loan said. “Heard you guys did a Taylor and Welch imitation.”

“We did,” the CO acknowledged. “Only without the tuxedo shorts, and Kara was the only one in the flight who got somebody. Flossy got another, though. Where were you?”

“Halfway through the turnaround when the sirens howled. Started to run for the shelter,” Van Loan said. “Then we saw General Olds and his aide, plus the reporter and her crew staying right where they were. Figured they were more brave or foolish than we were, so we stayed to watch. Hell of a show.”

“I'll bet. And I do want to see the news footage. Anyway, I have an idea about the chumps who did this to us, and want to return the favor. Not tomorrow, it'll be at least two weeks if not longer.”

“Got you,” Van Loan replied. “Who else knows?”

“Just Goalie. I'll talk to Mark when I get back,” Guru said. “You do not say a word to anyone. Clear?”

“Clear as a bell, Boss.”

“Now, what's next for me and my flight?”

Van Loan nodded, then handed the CO a briefing packet. “Right here: suspected missile support facility. Northeast of Morgan on Route 174.”

“This is in the East German sector, you know,” Guru replied.

“I do, and no Weasels are available. Just you guys and your ECM pods.”

Guru nodded. “Nothing new there. Okay, thanks, Don. And you be careful out there. Don't want to break in Kara as Ops Officer just yet.”

Hearing that, Kara rose from her desk with mock indignation. “Major, I resent that!” Hearing that, the ops people laughed.

“We all know paperwork's not your strong suit,” Guru said, and there was another round of laughter.

“Guilty,” said Kara. “But I'll get used to the job.”

“I know. Now, round everyone up in our flight.”

Kara got serious. “We have a mission.”

“We do. Get everyone in our flight to the briefing room in five,” Guru said. “Dave and Flossy aren't coming with us.”

“Got you,” she replied, then went out to get the CO's flight together.

“Don,” Guru said. “Remember what I said.”

“Will do, and Boss? You be careful. Don't want to be Exec yet,” the Ops Officer told him.

“You know what?” The CO asked. “I told Rivers that I didn't want to be CO yet, once I got the XO slot. Told him every time I could before a mission. Only one time I didn't say that.”

“When was that?”

The CO's face went serious. “Before he went down. So keep reminding me.”

“Will do,” replied the Ops Officer.

“You do that,” Guru said. “And good luck.”

“Same to you, Boss.”

They shook hands, then the two of them went to brief their respective flights. When Guru got to his flight's briefing room, Goalie was there, waiting. “We've got a mission,” he told her.

“Then let's get it done,” Goalie replied. “We've got company for the brief.”

Guru had an idea who it was, so he just shrugged and opened the door. The rest of the flight was there, and so was a now-familiar face. General Olds and his aide were also in the room. “General,” Guru said.

“Major,” Olds said. “I wanted to sit in on your last one for the day, if that's fine with the CO.”

“Not a problem, sir,” Guru said. “Gather round, people. Here's our last one of the day.”

“We going for an airfield?” Sweaty asked. “Pay those SOBs back for this afternoon?”

“Not today, but that'll be in the future,” Guru said. He opened the briefing packet and laid out the photos and map on a table. “We've got an unidentified missile support facility, two miles northeast of Morgan on Route 174.”

“Scuds?” Kara asked.

“Doesn't say, so it could be Scuds, or SAMs, SS-21s, FROGs, who knows? This is in the East German sector, by the way,” Guru told his flight. “They're using an old ranch for this, and see the brand-new buildings? Dead giveaway they're doing something here.”

“Swell,” Hoser said.

“The target's on the east side of Route 174, just past the intersection with F.M. 1140. There's a ranch airstrip to the west, and it looks like it's being used. So, Sweaty? If you and Hoser see that old ranch going up like the Fourth of July? Hit the airstrip and anything on it.”

“Got it. We don't bring ordnance back,” Sweaty nodded.

“That we don't,” Guru said. “Ordnance load is the same for all of us: twelve Snakeyes: six Mark-82s centerline, six M-117s on the wing pylons. Two fuel tanks, usual air-to-air load, ECM pod, and twenty-mike-mike.”

Heads nodded. Nothing new here. “Defenses?” KT asked.

“Just guns on these photos,” replied the CO. “ZU-23s or quad ZPUs by the looks of 'em, but assume they have heavier stuff as well. We are in the engagement envelope for Army-level SA-4, and are close to the edge for the Waco North and South SA-2s.”

Goalie looked at her pilot. “Weasels coming?”

“Negative,” Guru replied. “Watch for MANPADS, by the way.”

“Which the bad guys have in quantity,” Braniac said.

“They do,” Guru noted. “All right: bailout areas, MiG threat, tanker tracks, and weather? All unchanged from this morning.”

Kara looked at her CO. “You sure? After this afternoon's excitement?”

“This got laid on before that, so yeah, there might be more up than usual. Remember, though: we do not engage unless jumped or AWACS directs us onto a bad guy. Comprende?”

“Gotcha, Major,” Kara said, and the others echoed that.

“Good. One last thing, people! No room for complacency here. We fly it like it's the first one of the day. Understood?” Heads nodded. “Okay, that's it. Gear up and we meet at 512.”

As the group went to gear up,and Guru packed the briefing materials away, General Olds came over. “Good brief, Major. Short and sweet.”

“Thank you, sir,” the CO replied. “Try my best to keep things that way.”

“Good for you, Major,” Olds said. He regarded Guru. “You've got the look on your face, Major. I can tell. Someone told me I had the same look when I was thinking up BOLO. You've got a concept for a mission.”

“General, I'd be lying if I said no. Yes,sir, I've got a mission in mind. I need to talk with a couple people, then tomorrow, I'd like to discuss this with you and Colonel Brady.”

Olds nodded. “Fair enough, Major. Not only may you need Marine assets, but also help with General Tanner,if necessary. Not a problem. I'll be glad to lend an ear.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Major Wiser.

“You're welcome. Now, you've got a mission to fly. When you get back, we'll swap some stories.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said.

“Good luck, and be careful out there. And Major?” Olds said to Guru with due seriousness. “Bring everybody back.”

“Try my best, sir,” Guru said. He shook hands with the General.

“All you can do,” said the General. “Major, you have a good mission.”

“Will do, sir.” Guru said. He headed on to the locker room, and got into his flight gear. When he left the locker room, he found Goalie there, waiting. “Ready?”

“Time to go to work,” she said.

Nodding, Guru said, “Let's go.”

They left the building, and as they walked to squadron dispersal, the two found Dave Golen, Flossy, and their GIBs, going over their own mission. Golen spotted them, and said, “Guru. And Goalie.”

“Getting ready?” Guru asked. “It may be the last one of the day, but treat it like it's the first.”

“Always,” Golen said.

“Good. You have a good one. You still Mustang Flight?”

“That's right. And you are still Camaro?”

“You got it,” Guru said. “You hit trouble, holler.”

“Likewise,” the IDF “Observer” said. He'd done a lot more than “observe,” for which a number of people in the squadron, Guru and Goalie among them, were very grateful. “And good luck.”

“You too,” Guru replied. He turned to Goalie. “Let's go fly.”

“Ready,” Goalie said.

The two went to 512's revetment, and found their flight already there, waiting. “Boss,” Kara said. “You've got 'the look'. Like you've got a mission in mind.”

“I do, and I'll need to talk to you either today or tomorrow about it. The only other ones who know are Goalie and Ops. I need to talk to Mark as well. Then General Olds and Colonel Brady for sure. That's all anyone needs to know for now,” Guru said.

“What kind of mission?” Sweaty asked.

“I'll fill you in on it when it's time. Now, to the business at hand,” Guru said.

Kara nodded. “Usual procedures on the radio?”

“Yep. Mission code to AWACS and other parties. Call signs between us. Dave Golen and Flossy have their own mission, but they're Mustang Flight. If we hit trouble, I'll holler, and Dave will if they need help.”

“And MiGs?” Hoser wanted to know.

“We all saw how the Sparrows worked today,” said Guru, with a grim smile on his face. “Same drill as earlier: we don't engage unless we're jumped or AWACS tells us to. Now, if we jump a strike or recon flight, or come across a helo? Different story.”

Kara smiled. “Good to know,” she said.

“It is,” the CO acknowledged. “Now, remember what I said about complacency?” Heads nodded at that. “Good. Time to fly. Let's hit it.”

The group broke up as the crews headed to their aircraft. Guru and Goalie went to 512, where Sergeant Crowley was waiting for them. “Major, 512's ready to go,” he said, snapping a salute.

“Good, Sarge,” the CO said. He and Goalie did their preflight walk-around, then after Guru signed for the aircraft, pilot and GIB mounted their bird. They went through the preflight checklist, and as they did, Guru asked his GIB, “Wish we were hitting the Fencers?”

“I'd be lying if I said no,” Goalie replied. “But their time's coming.”

“It is that,” Guru said. “Just not today.”

“Too bad,” she muttered. “Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom. Check yours,” Guru replied. “Arnie?”

“ARN-101 up and running. Preflight checklist complete. We're ready.”

Guru replied, “Ready for engine start.” He gave his CC a thumbs-up, and Sergeant Crowley gave the “Start Engines” signal in reply. First one, then both, J-79 engines were soon up and running. Then he called the Tower, which, thankfully, had been working out of a small field tower, due to the prewar tower being booby-trapped. Until the Fencers had dropped it. “Tower, Camaro Flight with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Camaro Lead, Tower,” the controller replied. “Clear to taxi to Runway Three-three Lima. You are number four in line, and hold prior to the active.”

“Roger that, Tower. Camaro Lead rolling.” Guru then gave another thumbs-up to Sergeant Crowley, who then signaled the ground crew to pull away the chocks around the tires. Then Guru saw the CC give him taxi signals.
Guru taxied 512 out of the revetment, and after he cleared the revetment, Crowley snapped a perfect salute, and both pilot and GIB returned it.

As they taxied, the rest of the flight fell in line behind 512, and, as the Tower had told them, they were fourth in line. Van Loan's flight was actually number one, then two Marine Hornet flights, then it would be their turn. Van Loan's flight went, then the Marines, then it was their turn. Guru taxied to the holding area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties. Then he called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Flight requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Camaro Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are calm,” the controller replied.

“Roger, Tower.” Guru said. He taxied 512 onto the runway, and he and Goalie did a final check. As they did, Kara taxied 520 into his Five O'clock. Guru and Goalie glanced at their wingmates, and both Kara and Brainiac gave the thumbs-up. They returned it, and then it was time. “Ready?” he asked Goalie.

“Let's go,” she said.

“Canopy coming down,” he called, pulling down his canopy and locking it. Goalie did the same, and a quick look showed 520's crew having done the same. Now, it was time. “Tower, Camaro Lead requesting clearance for takeoff.”

As usual, the tower didn't reply, but flashed a green light. Clear for takeoff.

Guru ran the throttle to full power, and released the brakes. 512 rolled down the runway and into the air, with 520 right alongside. Thirty seconds later, it was the turn of Sweaty's element. Once they were in the air, the flight formed up and headed south towards enemy territory.

[Matt Wiser]

Part 41: Last mission for the day:



Over Central Texas: 1555 Hours Central War Time:



Camaro Flight was just south of the FLOT, and following the Brazos River. The boundary between the Nicaraguans and the East Germans was a natural ingress/egress route for strike birds going into this part of Texas, and the fact that the Nicaraguans' enthusiasm for the war had significantly cooled helped.

“Granbury dead ahead,” Guru called. He adjusted his course a little to the east, for though the Nicaraguan gunners at the U.S. 377 bridge might not shoot, the East Germans across the river would, in all likelihood.

“Got it,” Goalie said. “Flak to the west,” she called. Sure enough, the East Germans on the West side of the Brazos River were shooting, but the flak was well behind the strike flight. “Four minutes to Lake Whitney and the turn point.”

“Roger that,” Guru replied. “Arnie?” That meant the ARN-101 DMAS system.

“Still going.”

“Copy,” said Guru. He glanced at his radar repeater, then his EW repeater. Clear so far. “Crystal Palace, Camaro One-one. Say threat.”

“Camaro One-one, Crystal Palace,” the AWACS controller replied. This one was female, by the voice. “Threat bearing One-four-five, for eighty. Medium, going away. Second threat bearing One-six-five for eighty-five. Medium, closing. Third threat bearing One-nine-zero for ninety. Medium, closing.”

“Roger, Crystal Palace,” Guru said. Then he got on the IC. “Anything on our radar?”

“All clear,” Goalie said. “For now.”

“Yeah,” replied Guru. “How far to the Nemo Bridge?” That meant U.S. 67.

“One minute.”

In their cockpits, the pilots were concentrating on flying and keeping a visual eye out for threats. The GIBs, meanwhile, were watching their navigation equipment, checking the EW display, and also keeping up with their visual scanning. That had been something that their RTU instructors had drilled into them, whether peacetime in Guru's case, or wartime, like everyone else in the flight. It was an old fighter pilot maxim that “What you don't see is what kills you.” The strike flight headed on south, and they came close to the U.S. 67 bridge. “Flak at one,” Guru called. Sure enough, the East Germans across the river were shooting, while the Nicaraguans were silent.

“Got it, Lead,” Kara replied. “There's traffic on the bridge.”

“Not their time,” Guru replied.

“Wish it was a free strike?” Goalie asked.

“Catching a convoy on a bridge? You betcha.”


On the bridge, an East German Logistics Major was leading a supply convoy. Ordinarily, he'd be going to a supply dump in their own sector, but the verdammt Amis had bombed his usual depot, so his division had arranged a pickup in the Nicaraguan sector, and what he found had disturbed him. Oh, the Nicaraguans were only too happy to give him what he needed, but their attitude.....It had been “Please, take what you came for and leave. You might bring the Norteamericano aircraft back.” Clearly, these Nicaraguans had lost their enthusiasm for the war, and reminded him of what an uncle had told him about the Italians in the last war. Happy to serve when the Fascists had been winning, but when things went bad....they were hoping the war would end immediately, if not sooner.

Now that his convoy, a mix of IFA trucks from the DDR, Soviet models, and captured American ones, was now crossing the bridge. The Traffic Regulators had been Soviets, and that, at least, had been handled smoothly. His own UAZ-469 jeep had just reached the western side when the anti-aircraft batteries on the west bank suddenly opened fire. The Major turned around to look, and what he saw chilled him. Ami F-4 Phantoms, and they flew right on by. He waited for a moment, fearing that the Amis would spot his convoy on the bridge, then turn around and attack. Only after a minute had passed, and the aircraft did not return did he breathe a sigh of relief. But, he had noticed right away, the Nicaraguan guns on the east side had stayed silent.

“We're clear,” Guru said.

“Roger that,' replied Goalie. “Forty-five seconds to the U.S. 67 bridge.”

They flew past the Lake Granbury Dam, drawing some light flak that the strike crews didn't even see, as it all burst past the flight, then came the U.S. 67 bridge. So far, so good. The only radars now up were on the East German side, but none were a threat-so far.

“Coming up on the bridge,” Guru said. With the winding course of the river, they couldn't always stay on the Nicaraguan side of the river, but so far, no serious threats.

“Copy,” Goalie replied. “And.....now.”

Sure enough, the bridge came into view, and the flak on the east side stayed silent. The guns on the other side, though....

“Lead, Three,” Sweaty called. “Flak at Three O'clock.”

“I see it, Sweaty,” Guru replied.

The strike flight flew by the bridge, and kept on course. “One minute to the 174 bridge,” Goalie said.

“Roger that,” Guru replied. He was still looking out for threats, especially low-flying ones, or such things as radio or TV transmitter towers. You were just as dead if you hit one of those as opposed to a SAM or a AAA barrage. Though the prewar ones were marked on their navigation charts, Ivan had put up some since.....and as they came towards the Route 174 bridge, they flew over a bend in the river that put them over East German territory, then back over to the east side. No flak greeted them this time, as both the East Germans and Nicaraguans were caught by surprise. “That's the bridge. How long to the turn point?”

“One minute thirty,” Goalie called back. The turn point over the lake was opposite the Lake Whitney State Park.
“Steady..” she added. “One minute.”

“Copy,”said Guru. He was keeping an eye out.

“Thirty seconds...” Goalie called as the DMAS counted down both time and distance to the turn point. “And...and....Now!”

Guru put 512 into a right turn, and the flight followed. Fifteen miles to Meridian, One minute. “Meridan next turn point?”

“You got it. Forty-five seconds.”

The F-4s closed the distance to Meridian, and as they got there, Guru turned north. As the flight followed, unknown to them, the townspeople there were waving and even some were cheering. The local garrison was composed of Soviet Army troops from the 231st Rear-Area Protection Division from Minsk, the same unit that had been in the area prior to the arrival of the East Germans. A battalion from the division was headquartered in the town, and the battalion commander was arguing with an East German Police Regiment's Colonel over the proper way to handle insurgent activities. The East German wanted a more aggressive posture, while the Russian knew that there had hardly been any guerrilla action in his sector, and the last thing he wanted was for any of the counterrevolutionary bandits in the area to show themselves. The two were still arguing outside the City Hall when the F-4s flew overhead. Much to the Russian Major's surprise, the East German ran for a shelter, along with his men, while the Russians simply watched the aircraft fly by. And, as had become habit, he took no action against townspeople who had been waving and cheering as the American aircraft flew overhead.


“Morgan coming up,” Goalie said. “Thirty seconds.”

“Roger that,” Guru said. “Flight, Lead. Target coming up. Music on, switches on, and stand by.”

“Copy,” Kara replied.

“Three, Roger,” called Sweaty.

'Four copies” Hoser added.

“Set 'em up,” Guru told Goalie. “All in one pass.”

“Got it,” Goalie replied. It was a squadron rule about no multiple passes in a target area, unless a FAC requested it and the threat level justified it. She worked the armament control panel. “All set.”

“Copy,” said Guru as he turned on his ALQ-119 ECM pod. “Morgan dead ahead.”

“Steady....and...PULL!” Goalie called.

Guru put 512 into a climb, and as he did, radars began to come up. First an SA-4, then the Waco SA-2s also came up. But then he saw the airstrip, then the intersection, just as it was in the photos. And the ranch, which not only had the buildings, but military vehicles. “There it is. Flight, Lead. Target in sight. Time to go to work.”

“All set back here,” Goalie added.

“Roger that,” Guru called as he rolled in.


Below, an East German Army Lieutenant Colonel was fretting over his position. His Missile Technical Unit had been located at a bombed-out ranch, and much to his disgust, there were hardly any air defenses-or ground ones, for that matter. He reported directly to the Army's Missile Brigade, and when he raised the issue with the Brigade Commander, the Colonel was told flatly that there were insufficient air defense assets, and that he had to make do with what he had. Oh, he had a battery of ZU-23s manned by reservists, and a platoon of soldiers with Strela shoulder-fired missiles, and that was it, as far as his unit was concerned. The nearby 43rd Independent Motor-Rifle Battalion's air-defense platoon could help, but the Major commanding that unit was not very receptive. At least, his commander had told him, there was a 2K11 (SA-4) battery about twenty kilometers away, and his location was within the engagement zone for two V-75 sites. That would have to do.

Now, he was trying to get the R-17 missiles checked out and delivered to the launchers who would fire them. There were about forty missiles, along with propellant and warheads, there, and both warheads and missiles needed to be checked prior to delivery to the launch battalions. His technicians-almost all of whom were recalled reservists, went about their tasks, with the efficiency expected in the National Volksarmee, and yet, word was going around that half of the GDR's Expeditionary Force in America had been destroyed, and some had even asked that if they were really winning, why were they back in Texas? The Political Officer and his section, made up of volunteers from the Party's youth wing, were trying to explain that this was only a temporary setback. No more. The Colonel didn't believe it himself, but knowing voicing that was defeatist, and was dangerous, wisely kept such thoughts to himself. He had just gone outside for some fresh air when he saw two soldiers pointing to the south. First the smoke trails, then the black dots growing bigger as they approached. The Amis were coming. “AIR RAID! TAKE COVER!” He shouted, then jumped into a trench.


“Lead's in hot!” Guru called as he went in on the target. He identified the ranch buildings, and this time, the bad guys started shooting almost at once. It was light flak-either heavy machine guns or 23-mm, but there were plenty of tracers coming up. No way, he thought. Not today. Guru lined up one of the newly-built structures on the ranch-what had been ID'd as missile ready buildings. “Steady....” he muttered as one of the buildings came into his pipper. “Steady.....and.....HACK!” Guru hit the pickle button, releasing his bombs, and then he leveled out and began to pull away. “Lead off target,” he called.

In his trench, the East German Colonel huddled with some of his officers and men as Guru's F-4 flew by, then came the sound of bombs exploding. Debris rained down, and as the Colonel cursed the Amis who had the gall to attack his facility. Then two larger explosions followed. He worked up the courage to stick his head out of the trench and saw two of the missile ready buildings blasted apart, and fully ablaze. He started to stand up, then the sound of anti-aircraft fire to the south convinced him otherwise. The Colonel got back into the trench as a second Ami aircraft came in.

Goalie glanced to 512's rear, and saw two large secondary explosions in their wake. “GOOD HITS!” Goalie yelled from the back seat.

“How good?” Guru asked. He had gotten back low, below the SA-4's engagement envelope, and was jinking to avoid the flak.

“Pretty damned good!”

Guru grinned beneath his oxygen mask. “I'll go along with that,” he said as he set course north.


“Two's in!” Kara called as 520 rolled in. She, too, saw the flak coming up, and even saw an SA-7 come up. The Grail missile was just another piece of fireworks, as the missile just flew by without even guiding. No way, Franz.....Kara saw the CO's bomb run, and the secondaries that resulted from hitting two of the missile ready buildings. She grinned beneath her oxygen mask, and lined up a run that would take out two more. “Steady....and....and....”NOW!” Kara hit her pickle button, and released a dozen Snakeye bombs on the target. She pulled wings level and accelerated, jinking to avoid the 23-mm flak. “Two's off target.”

In his trench, the East German Colonel cursed again as Kara's plane flew past, and a dozen more bombs went off in its wake. Then, just as with the first Ami, there were large explosions after the bombs hit. The other two missile ready buildings, he knew. Shrapnel rained down, along with larger debris, and, much to his horror, body parts. The Colonel stuck his head up again, and saw the other two missile ready buildings fully ablaze. He glanced to his left, and saw that a bomb had blown apart the old ranch house, which he had been using as a headquarters. Shaking his head, he started to stand up when another officer grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into the trench. More Amis were coming.

“SHACK!” Brainiac called from 520's back seat. “We got secondaries!”

“How big?” Kara asked as she jinked to avoid flak, and noticed an SA-4 strobe to her Ten O'clock. She got down low, and the strobe blinked out.

“Big enough!” Came the reply.

“Righteous, as Preacher would say,” said Kara. She picked up the CO's smoke trail and accelerated to catch up with him.


“Three's in hot!” Sweaty called as she came in. She, too, ignored the light flak coming up, and had a pair of SA-7s come up. The shoulder-fired missiles didn't guide as Sweaty came down on the target. The missile ready buildings were well ablaze, but she caught a glimpse of some vehicles. Were they missile fuel trucks? You'll do, she thought. Sweaty lined them up in her pipper. “Steady....steady.....and....and...HACK!” She hit the pickle button, releasing her bombs. Sweaty pulled wings level, calling as she did so, “Three's off safe.”


In his trench, the East German Colonel heard Sweaty's F-4, then the sound of more bombs going off. Then there was sound of several large explosions. The missile fuel trucks! “MASK!” He shouted. The toxic smoke from the propellants was just as bad on you as if you'd been hit by a chemical attack. The Colonel put his gas mask on, but saw that some of those in the trench had no masks. Hopefully, they were upwind of the smoke.....

“RIGHTEOUS!” Preacher yelled. “GOOD HITS!”

“Secondaries?” Sweaty asked as she, too, jinked to give the flak gunners a harder time.

“Big ones!” The GIB shouted.

“The bigger, the better,” she replied. Then Sweaty headed north to pick up the CO's element.


“Four's in!” Hoser called as he came onto the target. He saw that the target area had been pretty well worked over, with numerous explosions and fires, and so he rolled in on the ranch airstrip across from the target. It wouldn't be a perfect run, but he saw what looked like a Hip helicopter parked there. Oh, well.....your turn, Hoser thought as he lined the helo up in his pipper. “Steady....steady.....HACK!” He hit the pickle button, and released his bombs. Ignoring the flak from the missile facility, he pulled wings level and headed out. “Four off target.”


“SHACK!” KT called as Hoser pulled away.

“We get the helo?” He asked, just as his EW repeater warned of an SA-4. He got down low, and the warning went off.

“Think so!”

“I'll take your word for it,” replied Hoser as he headed north, picking up his element lead.


The East German Colonel stood up in the trench and shook his head. The Verdamnt Amis had wrecked his missile facility, and right now, he had no idea how soon his unit would be back operational. His deputy, a Major, came over. “Major, I see you're still alive.”

“Unlike many of us, Comrade Colonel. The medical orderlies are out now, doing the best they can.”

“Where's the Political Officer?”

The Major gestured to a couple of soldiers carrying a litter. On that litter was a badly burned figure, and only the moaning showed he was still alive. “There, Comrade Major.”

No great loss, the Colonel thought. The party man thought that technical problems, or missile techs not having parts they needed, could be solved by Party dogma and a good dose of Marxism-Leninism. Lot of good that did now. “He won't be bothering us again,” said the Colonel. “Now, find a working field phone, and get me Brigade. I need to let them know what's happened, and see about getting us some help. Tend to the wounded, and see what's salvagable.”

“Comrade Colonel.”


“Four in, four out,” Goalie said. “EW shows clear.”

“Not done yet,” Guru said. He was headed for the Brazos River and the Nicaraguan sector. Those chumps had their radars off, looked like. “Crystal Palace, Camaro One-one. Say threat?”

“Camaro One-one, Crystal Palace,” the controller replied. “Threat bearing One-eight-zero for fifty-five. Medium, closing. Second threat bearing One-six-five for sixty. Medium, closing. Third threat bearing Two-zero-zero for seventy-five. Medium, closing.”

“Roger that,” replied Guru as he picked up the river, and got about a mile to the east, then turned north. The last thing the Nicaraguans would expect was American aircraft coming up behind them.

“Two's right with you,” Kara called as she pulled 520 into Combat Spread with Guru.

“Got visual, and glad to see you, Starbuck,” Guru said. “Sweaty, where are you?”

“On your six, about a mile in trail. Hoser's with me,” Sweaty replied.

“Roger that,” Guru replied. “How far to the fence?” He asked Goalie.

“Three minutes,” she replied.

“Copy. Crystal Palace, Camaro One-one. Threats still closing?”

“Camaro One-one, Crystal Palace. Threats still closing. First threat now One-eight-zero for forty-five. Medium, still closing. Bandits are Floggers.”

“Roger that, Crystal Palace. Can you arrange a reception committee?”

In the AWACS, the controller grinned. She looked at the senior controller, who also had a grin on his face. “Copy, Camaro. Stay on course, and there'll be Eagles waiting.” She then gave vectors to an F-15 flight orbiting north of I-20.

“Roger.”

“Two minutes,” Goalie advised.

Camaro Flight kept heading north, and two minutes went by fast. The twin ribbons of I-20 flew by beneath them,
and as they did so, the crews glanced upwards, and four F-15s went by above them, headed south. The crews heard the Eagle drivers on the radio as they engaged the MiG-23s, killing two. Then they joined up on the tankers for their post-strike refueling.

There, they were joined by Mustang Flight, and Guru was pleased to see both Dave Golen's and Flossy's birds there. Both flights headed back to Sheppard, and when they got there, Guru found that they were the last ones expected in. They got into the pattern and landed. As they taxied back to their squadron's dispersal, the crews noticed a C-141 sitting on the transient ramp, while the wreckage of the C-130 caught in the Fencer strike was being hauled away. And, of course, the news crew was filming them as they taxied in.

“They haven't stopped,” Guru noted.

“Did you think they would?” Goalie asked. “I'll bet the reporter's discovered she's an adrenalin junkie.”

“We may find out tonight.”

The fighters got to their squadron's area, and they taxied in to their revetments. When Guru taxied 512 into its revetment, he noticed not just the ground crew waiting, but the Exec. Something was up. He taxied in and shut down, and after doing so, popped the canopy. “Over and done for today,” he said.

“There's tomorrow,” Goalie reminded him. Normally it was the other way around.

“I know, but right now? I'm pooped. Hell of a day,” he said, standing up in his cockpit.

The ground crew brought the crew ladder, and after pilot and GIB got down, Sergeant Crowley was waiting. “How'd things go, sir?”

“Made some East German missile techs reconsider their occupation,” Guru nodded as he did the post-flight walk-around.

“The ones who lived,” added Goalie.

“Good to hear, sir, and ma'am,” Crowley said. “The Exec's waiting for you, Major. Says it's important.”

Guru nodded. “It usually is,” he said. Then he waved the Exec over. “Mark?”

“Boss,” Ellis said. “Our RAF liaison team is here. They came in on that C-141,” the XO said.

“Okay,” Guru replied. “They tell us who's coming?”

“They did,” Ellis nodded in reply as the rest of the crews came over. “74 Squadron. They fly the F-4J.”

“Js?” Goalie asked. “Thought the Brits just the Spey engined versions.”

“They do, but these Js were leased from the Navy prewar. They've been refurbished from AMARC, and wired for Sky Flash. They've been flying out of Bermuda since the balloon went up.”

Kara laughed. “That's some hardship station,” she quipped.

“That's what I said,” Ellis replied. “But they said that between Backfires out of Iceland, hurricanes, and somebody lobbing mortar rounds at them every once in a while, things got exciting. They weren't exactly sitting in a beach chair, sipping iced tea and waiting for the klaxon to sound.”

“Who'd be lobbing mortar shells on that island?” Preacher asked.

“They said something about a Communist cell, and probably whoever they were had Spetsnatz help,” Ellis said. “I told them you were out, and Don's showing them around.”

“Okay, Mark,” Guru said. “My flight needs to debrief. Have the afternoon admin stuff ready, then I'll see these folks. Remember all that stuff about two people separated by a common language?”

“Sure do, Boss,” Ellis laughed.

Something popped into Guru's head. “These people see Colonel Brady yet?”

“Saw him first thing.”

“Good,” the CO nodded. “I'll see you in a few.” He turned to his flight. “People, we need to debrief, and you all need to check your desks. Make sure your OUT boxes are full before anyone hits the Club. Got it?”

Heads nodded at that. “Clear as a bell, Boss.” Sweaty said, seeing Kara blush. Everyone knew Kara's attitude towards paperwork.

“All right, let's go.”

[Matt Wiser]

Part 42: Winding down, and meeting the RAF Liaison Officer:


335th TFS Offices, 1650 Hours Central War Time:


Major Wiser was sitting in his office, going over some papers. No matter what, when he came back, there was always something in his IN box, and the elves never took care of it like they were supposed to. He finished with what needed his signature, then scanned a directive from the Secretary of the Air Force, and also signed by the Chief of Staff. “Well, now. At least we're not avoiding the Marines' mistake,” he said out loud. Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Show yourself and come on in.”

The Exec, Captain Mark Ellis, came into the office. “Boss,” he said. “Got a few things for you.”

Guru nodded. “Just about to head on over, Mark. What have you got for me?”

“Aircraft status report for MAG-11,” Ellis said, handing the CO a paper. “We'll have twenty for the morning.”

“For how long?” Guru asked. “Doesn't take long for us to lose birds once we hit twenty or more,” he pointed out.

“Knock on wood, it'll be a few days. And we're getting two birds from Japan in a few days.”

A smile came over the CO's face. “And we'll have twenty-two. And then we will wind up losing birds. Never fails,” he said. “What else?”

Ellis handed Guru another paper. “Supply requisitions. Nothing major, and the scroungers will be out again.”

“Okay, but remind Ross to hold off on AIM-7Fs until we hear from General Olds,” Guru told his Exec. “That's munitions we're talking about, and I don't want anyone getting in trouble until we have official sanction to do so, and there's one other thing.” He handed Ellis the directive. “We're not pulling the same crap the Marines did.”

'I've seen the Op-eds on that,” Ellis nodded. “All of 'em pretty critical, and that's the mildest thing anyone said.”

“I know. Air Force Times, Stars and Stripes, and the civilian papers: Los Angeles Times, Arizona Republic, USA Today. All of 'em practically calling for the Marine Commandant's head.”

“So what's the procedure?”

“Anyone sixteen and a half or over? CO's discretion. Anyone under that? We send them to the numbered Air Force HQ we're serving under. And that means Tenth Air Force,” Guru said. “I'm not throwing anyone to the wolves. Especially anyone who came out of a refugee camp or escaped occupied territory. Chances are, those people have no one waiting for them, and no home to go back to.”

“And I've seen the news articles on those kids. Suicide rate's three times the prewar rate of teen suicide,” Ellis said, shaking his head in disbelief. “General Tanner say anything?”

Guru nodded, pulling out a paper from a desk drawer. “Says here in this memo on the subject he'd rather resign than be a party to anything similar in the Air Force. And, by what that directive says? He had company.”

Ellis looked at his CO. “So what do we do?”

“Like the directive says: anyone sixteen and a half or older? CO's discretion. Those under that? We send them to the numbered air force headquarters, in this case, Tenth. Things will be handled there.”

“For their sake, I hope it's a lot better than the Marine approach. If they came from unoccupied territory, we can just give them an admin separation and send them home. But for the others?” Ellis asked. “What then?”

“The next person who has an answer for that?” Guru looked at his Exec. “Will be the first. What else?”

“Weather report. Storm coming into the West Coast in a couple days. But it'll pass north of us.”

“So no effect on flying,” the CO noted. “The RAF liaison officer?”

“Waiting outside,” the XO said. “Send him in?”

Guru nodded. “Do that, and you might as well sit in. You'll need to know what we're getting. And this'll be a first for us.”

“Boss?”

“We've never worked with the RAF before,” Guru noted. “If there'd been no war, and no NATO breakup, we would've gone over for a REFORGER or a Crested Cap deployment.” REFORGER was the annual exercise practicing the reinforcement of Europe, while Crested Cap was the AF's sending fighter squadrons to the UK or West Germany for thirty-day deployments to become familiar with the bases and terrain that they were expected to use in a NATO-Warsaw Pact war. The former had gone away with NATO's breakup, but Crested Cap to the UK had gone ahead, thanks to the defense agreement with the British, and it had come in handy, as USAFUK's squadrons had flown on Day One and after.

“Right about that,” Ellis nodded. “Bring him in?”

“Yep,” Guru said.

Ellis went and opened the door, and a male RAF officer in woodland camo, with RAF pilots' wings on the left breast, came in. “Major, meet Flight Lieutenant Steve Lord, RAF. Flight Lieutenant, Major Matt Wiser, CO, 335th TFS.”

“Sir!” Lord said, saluting, open palm, in the British style.

“Flight Lieutenant,” Guru said, returning the salute. “Have a seat. I gather you've talked with Mark?”

Lord nodded. “Yes, sir. Your Exec's filled me in on some things.”

“Fine, then. So, you've come from Bermuda?”

“Some hardship duty station,” Ellis quipped.

“Yeah, sitting in a beach chair, watching nurses from the base, or stranded tourists, sipping ice tea and waiting for the klaxon to sound,” Guru said.

“There were times like that, but then again, there were some people there lobbing mortars at us,” Lord said. “Not to mention hurricanes, and add to that, the Backfires and Badgers from Iceland.”

Guru nodded. “And you've lost people and planes. Including some good friends.” And by the tone of his voice, it wasn't a question.

“Yes, sir. Including a classmate. The sea hides all traces well, and the Atlantic does a bloody good job of it,” said Lord, who was thinking about absent friends. “Wasn't all fun and sun.”

“We're on the same page, then,” Guru nodded. “Not that many of us left in the squadron who flew on Day One.. Just so you know, we're under Marine Operational Control. We have at least eighty percent, if not more, of our tasking as air-to-ground. Mostly CAS and BAI, but we do go after airfields and other high-value targets. We've also got our share of aces in this squadron. And for your information, this squadron's been fighting since Day One.”

“And you're one of the vets, along with your Exec, and Ops Officer,” Lord said. “Mark's told me. And I have met with your Colonel Brady.”

Guru nodded. “All right, How are you fixed for a weapon? And I'm not talking about that Browning Hi-Power in that holster of yours. Ever shoot a rifle?”

“It's been a while since RAF Cranwell,” Lord said, referring to the RAF's equivalent of the Air Force Academy.

Guru thought for a moment. “Okay. Mark? Take our new friend over to Supply and find him a CAR-15 at the very least, if not an M-16. Then have Ryan Blanchard or one of the CSPs give him a crash course in how to care, feed, and shoot the weapon.”

Ellis nodded. “Will do.”

“Since you've talked with Colonel Brady, then you do know the Marines take this 'Everyone a rifleman' mantra seriously. And we're not the only ones: there's a Navy A-7 squadron here, and so....” Guru said. “Just hope you never hear that 'Sappers in the wire', call. That means Spetsnatz or Cuban SOF. We haven't been hit here, but at a couple of previous stops. They didn't get far, but it just shows that we can be attacked anywhere.”

“Understood, sir,” Lord said. He glanced at the two AK rifles on the wall behind Guru's desk. “I see you'd be returning the favor with their own rifles.”

Guru nodded, and looked at him with due seriousness. “Pulled the AK-74 from a wrecked convoy northwest of here. We hit it during their bug-out from the Texas Panhandle, and it's not often you see your own handiwork from ground level. The Army hadn't gotten to that part of the road yet, and there were bodies and weapons everywhere,” the CO said, remembering the scene of carnage on U.S. 287. Blasted and burned vehicles-from tanks and APCs to stolen civilian vehicles, and everything in between. And then there were the bodies.....

“I see....better they had stayed in their home countries, then,” Lord noted.

“Yeah,” Guru said. “But that AKMS? Carried it out with me from the Colorado Mountains. Five months with the Resistance. Saw and did a lot. And saw a few things that no one should ever see, and did a few things that I'm not too proud of. If you want the details, it's in the SERE Bulletin. And I strongly suggest that you-and your crews when they get here, read up on that. There are Resistance groups in our AO, and the information in those issues could come in handy.”

Lord nodded. “I'll let them know.”

“Good. Now, you're bringing eight F-4Js, I understand?”

“Yes, sir. Wired for Sky Flash and the SUU-23 gun pod.”

Guru looked at him. “Okay, just so you do know. This won't be like chasing down Backfires or Bears. You'll be up against Frontal Aviation's Varsity. MiG-21s all the way up to -29s. And Su-27s. You guys just might be what we've wanted for a long time: dedicated strike escort.”

“That'll make my CO happy,” Lord said.

“All right. Looks like you guys will fit in. Okay, I need to warn you about two people. First, a friendly warning about my wingman. Captain Kara Thrace. We call her Starbuck after the Battlestar: Galactica character. She's also known as 'The Wild Thing.' She is the best pilot I've got, and is ahead of me with nine kills. Though that should be remedied shortly. Anyway, two pieces of advice: First, do NOT get in a poker game with her unless you can afford to. Second, do NOT play pool with her unless you can either afford it, or it's a friendly. And if you wind up owing her money and can't pay?”

“Sir?”

Guru looked at his Exec. “You want to tell him or should I?”

Ellis laughed. “I'll take it. Steve, if you can't pay her? She has an alternative payment plan. Think the supply shed, a sleeping bag, a camping lantern for ambiance, a radio tuned to AFN for some music, and, well, you get the idea.”

Lord thought for a minute. “She's a nymphomaniac, in other words.” It wasn't a question.

“If they gave out board certifications in that category?” Guru asked. “She'd qualify.”

“I see...And the second?” Lord asked.

“Stay away from one Major Frank Carson,” Guru said with due seriousness. “He's been a thorn in my side, and before that, my predecessor, for a while. A combination of Boston blue-blood snobbishness, a wannabe martinet, a feeling of 'privileges due the privileged,' and the fact that he's an AF Academy grad who thinks that because he went to the Academy, he's entitled to whatever he wants in the Air Force.”

“Insert whatever adjective you want,” Ellis added. “Loathed, despised, hated, whatever. We call him 'The 335th's Frank Burns.'”

Lord nodded. “He's a pilot?”

“Unfortunately,” Guru said. “We still need warm bodies in cockpits, and so....Just keep whatever interaction between the two of you to the polite minimum.”

“Very well, sir,”

“Enough of the 'sir'. We go by first names or call signs in this squadron, and keep the spit-and-polish to the minimum. We're in a war zone, and we can do without the jumping-up-and-down crap,” Guru said. “My call sign's 'Guru'. What's yours, or do you have one?”

“They call me 'Jack,' for some bloody reason,” Lord replied.

“You don't look like Steve McGarrett,” Guru quipped.

“You're not the first person to say that,” Jack said.

“All right: there's also this. We've got a reporter with us from a TV network in Australia, along with a crew. You don't have to talk to her unless you want to. Second, we've got Major General Robin Olds with us. He's been here for a few days, and will be for a few more. If you want to know what it was like to kill Me-109s and Fw-190s in WW II, then MiGs in Vietnam, be close to my table tonight. We'll be swapping stories.”

“Operation BOLO, then,” Lord said. “It'll be a honor to meet him.”

“And Chuck Yeager's coming in a few days,” Guru went on. “He's showing off the F-20, and may be recruiting people for that program. Which reminds me: if you want to fly with us? You need an Air Force Flight Physical.”

Lord nodded. “I'll take care of that as soon as possible,” he said.

“Mark? First thing tomorrow before you fly? Get him over to Doc Waters,” Guru told the Exec. He turned to Jack. “Doc's our Flight Surgeon. Listen to him, and do whatever he says, because he outranks all of us when it comes to anything medical.”

“Will do,” the Exec replied.

Jack nodded. “Just like the RAF, uh, Guru.”

The CO nodded, then stood up. “Welcome to the 335,” he said, putting out his hand.

Lord shook it.”Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Guru said. “Now, why don't you wait outside for a moment? The XO and I need to talk about a couple of things, then we'll head on over to the O-Club. You can meet the other animals in the zoo.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said. He recognized this polite form of dismissal, and saluted.

Guru returned it, and after Lord left the office, Ellis closed the door behind him. Then Guru asked his Exec. “Well?”

“He'll fit in just fine, Boss,” Ellis said. “Just hope his CO's the same way. Last thing we need is a stiff upper lip type.”

“Or a Colonel Blimp,” Guru reminded his XO. “Remind me to tell Kara not to fleece this guy his first night. Let him get settled in.”

The XO nodded. “Then he's fair game?”

“Just like the reporter and crew,” the CO said. “Anything else?”

“That's it,” Ellis replied.

“Good. Let's get on over to the Club. And introduce him to the other animals in the zoo.”

[Matt Wiser]

Last one: Blowing off steam, and some war stories get swapped:


Sheppard AFB Officer's Club: 1710 Hours Central War Time:


Major Wiser and Captain Ellis led their RAF guest into the Officer's Club, and the RAF officer was surprised at how a base that had half of its buildings either destroyed or off-limits due to EOD concerns had such an establishment. “You've done pretty well here,” Flight Lieutenant Lord observed.

“You could say that,” Major Wiser said. “Have to have someplace to blow off steam. When we retook the base, folks were hoping to use the prewar club, but it's a burned out shell. After Ivan took the base, they used it.”

“Until the Resistance, somehow, and don't ask how, because we don't, got a bomb inside the base and that building,” Ellis said. “Blew the place-and a bunch of Russians and Cubans-to hell.”

The RAF officer looked at both USAF officers. “And Ivan's reprisals were predictable,” he nodded.

Guru nodded agreement. “Savage would be the proper term. They took five hundred people. Half of 'em inmates from a 're-education camp', half people picked off the street at random, took them about a half-mile from here. They were made to dig a mass grave, then they were all shot.”

“One more score to settle,” Ellis added.

“Among many,” the CO said as they got to the bar. “What'll you have? What the barkeep says is what they've got.”

Lord nodded. “Got spoiled with Bermuda rum,” he said.

“Smitty,” Guru asked the barkeep. “What have you got today?”

“Sam Adams for you, Major,” Smitty grinned. “Bud, Bud Light, Michelob, Sapporo from Japan, and Foster's from Australia.”

“What the Aussies call, 'essential wartime aid,' Guru added, and they all laughed. Even the barkeep. “What'll it be?”

“Hmm.....not much,” Lord thought aloud. Then he nodded at the Major. “Whatever the Major's having.”

“Sam Adams,” said Guru, and the barkeep put two bottles on the bar.

“Bud for me,” Mark said, and after they paid Smitty, he asked, “What'll we drink to?”

Guru thought for a minute. “How about absent friends? We've all got too many of those.”

“Hear, hear,” Lord agreed, and three bottles met. Clink.

“Major,” a familiar voice said. “I see you've met our RAF guest.” It was Colonel Brady. “The usual, Smitty.”

“Sure have,” Guru said as the Colonel came up to the bar. “Sir, have you told him about your, well, extended tour in Southeast Asia?”

Lord looked at Colonel Brady. “Sir?” He knew Brady was a Vietnam vet.

“Hanoi,” Brady replied. “Five years and two months.”

“I see...” Lord's voice trailed off. “And, uh, sir? How would you rate, what's the place? The Hanoi Hilton? If there were a Fodor's guide to such establishments?”

The Marine Colonel smiled grimly. “Five scars,” he said as Smitty put a bottle of Bud in front of him. “Thanks, Smitty.” He turned to the RAF officer. “I'd rate the Zoo as four and a half. Plantation? One. And only because that's where those of us in the third release group were kept from the cease-fire to release day.”

“Ah.....” The RAF had had aircrew held from 1939 on in Germany during World War II, but compared to the Hanoi Hilton, someplace like Stalag Luft III was a real hotel by comparison. “Nothing like a Stalag...”

“Yeah,” Brady said. “That's what we were trained to expect going in. Something similar to that and Korea. Boy, were we wrong.”

Guru nodded. Wouldn't be the first time intel had screwed something up like that. It was one thing to sign the Geneva Convention, but expecting the North Vietnamese to honor it? And the same went for the Soviets and Cubans in this war. “Well..” he said, changing the subject. “General Olds should be here shortly.” Guru scanned the entrance, and noticed more people coming in, including a few from his squadron. And he noticed both Goalie and Kara with their camera and camcorder, respectively. “Excuse me, sir.” Guru went over to his GIB and wingmate. “Brought your cameras, I see.”

“Well, he's at our table,” Kara said. “Got to get this on tape.” And Goalie simply nodded.

“Not quite an Academy lecture, but....something to show our kids one day.”

“Assuming we live long enough to have any,” Kara quipped.

“There is that,” the CO said. “Okay, Goalie? Find us a table. A big one.”

“Got you,” Goalie nodded, then went to get one.

“Kara? Do me a favor,” Guru said to his wingmate.

She looked at him. “What?”

The CO pointed to the RAF officer, who was talking with Don Van Loan, who had just arrived himself. “The RAF liaison officer's here. Do not fleece him his first night here.”

Hearing that, Kara was indignant. “Major! You know me!”

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “Wouldn't look good to our British cousins when they get here. And one other thing: are you going to try and get your money back from General Olds?”

“Have to,” said Kara. “Just like with General Tanner, next time he comes.”

Guru nodded, recalling her defeats at the pool table at the hands of the general who commanded Tenth Air Force. She had lost two games, and $100.00, to the man. “Okay, just remember: He's been doing this since before you were born. And if you lose? Smile, nod, be polite, pay him, then go and get sloppy drunk before Twelve-Hour.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes,” The Major told her. “And be magnanimous in victory. You'll be even. And if, eventually, you do come out ahead? Then you can gloat.”

Kara grinned upon hearing that. “It'll be a pleasure.”

Just then, General Olds, with his aide, came into the Club, and with them were two familiar faces. Cosmo and Revlon, and they were going over a fight with their hands, and the General was paying attention. Then he matched their hand maneuvers. “Looks like the General is in touch with Cosmo and Revlon,” the CO noted. Then he saw Ms. Wendt and her crew following, and they were filming.

“Old habits die hard,” said Kara. “The old hands in touch with the new.”

“Twenty years from now, we'll be the old hands,” Major Wiser pointed out.

“Assuming we live that long,” his wingmate reminded him.

The CO agreed. “There is that one little detail.” Guru turned to Kara. “Get set up.”

“Got you.”

While Kara went to set up her Camcorder, the CO went over to where General Olds was talking with Cosmo and Revlon. “General,” he said. “Passing along your wisdom to the new generation?”

“Exactly, Major,” Olds said. “One more crew I would've been glad to have fly with me over Pack Six, and I mean that. Hell, I'd take your whole squadron.”

When Cosmo and Revlon heard that, they were beaming. High praise, indeed, from an Air Force legend.

The CO saw that, and was pleased. “Well, sir, said it before, but I'm glad to hear that. And your thoughts...”

“On female aircrew, Major?” Olds said, and he saw the Major nod. “Well, Major, like General LeMay said in Air Force Times: 'Times have changed, and the Air Force has to change as well,” or words to that effect. “

“Glad to hear that, sir,” Cosmo said, and Revlon nodded agreement.

“Good,” Guru said. “Because when he talks? Listen. He's been doing this since well before you two were born.”

“Yes, sir,” Revlon nodded.

Guru turned, and noticed that both Goalie and Kara were waving. “General, it looks like we have a table.”

“All right. I'll buy for these two Sukhoi killers, then I'll join you,” Olds said. “You coming?”

“In a few, sir,” the CO replied. I need to talk with our guests from the Fourth Estate.” He saw Ms. Wendt smile at that.

“All right, then, Major,” Olds said. “I'll see you in a few. Ladies?” He motioned to Cosmo and Revlon, and the two went with the General to the bar.

“Ms. Wendt,” the Major nodded politely to the reporter. “Doing two stories at once?”

She nodded back. “You could say that,” Wendt replied. “And I talked to both Cosmo and Revlon. They'll do a sit-down.”

Guru was surprised, then he replied, “Well, then. Just remember that there are things they can't talk about. Just like when it was with me and my back-seater.”

“Of course, Wendt smiled.

“And I understand you have an announcement to make?”

“Can you keep a secret?” The reporter asked.

“I'm cleared for Top Secret,” Guru said. “What is it?”

She lowered her voice. “I'm staying for a while.”

Guru looked at her as if she'd grown two extra arms and another head. “You're staying.” It wasn't a question.

“Surprised?”

“Yeah. To be honest, I thought you'd be on the first C-130 back to Nellis after your first Scud attack,” Guru told her. “You're made of more sterner stuff than I thought.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Wendt said. “I'll let everyone know shortly. And likely disappoint quite a few.”

Guru looked at her. “That, Ms. Wendt, is an understatement. But, we'll see...” He went to the bar and got another beer just as the mess people came in.

“Folks, we've got two choices: either fried chicken, or salisbury steak,” the Marine Warrant Officer-who was one of the local restauranteurs who'd come on to help in the chow tents, called. “With all the fixn's.”

“Real beef, or 'mystery meat?' Someone called.

“Came from Australia,” the Marine replied. “At least, that's what was on the inspection sticker.”

“That's 'essential wartime aid,' Ms. Wendt,” General Olds told the reporter, laughing as he did so. “Not Foster's.”

After people got what they wanted, it was chowtime. And as they ate, those at Guru's table and nearby listened to General Olds as he recounted his WW II experience.

“August 24, '44,” the General said. “P-38 escort flight over Northern Germany. I was on the far left of three P-38 squadrons escorting B-17s. Spotted bogeys at Eleven O'clock, and I knew they were enemy. Fifty to sixty Me-109s.”

“P-38 against Me-109? How'd that go?” Mark Ellis asked.

“Great fighter, fun to fly, and with a decent pilot, you could whip anyone down low. Well...firewalled the engines, and my wingman, B.D. Hollister, stayed with me, but three and four lagged behind because they were having fuel problems. Lined up the 109s' Tail-end Charlie, and called 'tanks.' Off went the drop tanks, and I was just about to shoot when the engines began to cut out.”

Several pilots recognized it at once. “You didn't switch to your internal fuel,” Don Van Loan noted.

Olds nodded, “Yep, but what the hell, I shot anyway, pilot bailed out, and the plane fell away. And to this day I claim to be the only fighter pilot to shoot down an enemy plane while in the glide mode.”

Hearing that, there were roars of laughter. “Try doing that in an F-4,” Kara said.

“You'd be the one who'd try,” Guru shot back. “Go on, General.”

“Started the engines back up,” Olds continued. “And we charged in, like a pair of hawks hitting a flock of pigeons. The Germans scattered in panic.”

Ms. Wendt was incredulous.“Two against sixty?”

“Put yourself in one of those 109s,” Colonel Brady said. “One of your buddies has just hollered over the radio that he's hit and is bailing out. Everyone in that formation's thinking that somebody's right behind him.”

The General nodded, then continued. “Got another, and B.D.? He got two more in one pass, then I saw a P-51 down below, and where he came from I don't know, but he was being chased by two 109s. So I dove, and dove right past them-too fast. Tried to pull out, and I couldn't.”

“Anyone recognize what this was?” Don Van Loan asked. His major at the Academy was aeronautical engineering, and he knew right away what was happening.

“Compressibility,” T-Bone said. He had gone to MIT and had the same major.

“What's that?” Cosmo asked. Being an astronomy major, that didn't come up.

Van Loan explained. “When you approach the sound barrier in a plane not designed for it, the airflow over the control surfaces is disrupted, the air's compressed, and a shock wave builds up. It's very hard to recover from.”

“It is,” Olds acknowledged. “But, as I got lower, and into denser air, the controls responded. Had the stick in my gut, and managed to pull out over a wheat field near Rostock.”

“In what's now East Germany,” Kara noted.

“Yeah, and as I pulled out, took so many Gs the rear canopy broke. I'd had enough, and started to head back to England, when tracer fire caught my eye. There was a 109 behind me. This isn't fair, I thought. All I want to do is go home.”

Scorpion asked, “How'd you get rid of him?”

“Couldn't try a climbing turn, as he'd have an easier shot,” the General explained. “So I flat-planed.” He demonstrated with his hands. “Pulled hard left, put the stick in my gut, and forced the 109 to overshoot. The guy did, and I rolled wings level and shot him down.” Olds paued, then went on. “Had two kills prior, so these three..”

“Made you an ace,” said Kara. “Sir.”

“That it did,” the General nodded. The General described some of his other WW II dogfights, then his postwar time, including commanding the RAF's No. 1 Squadron on an exchange tour in 1948-49. “Why did I miss Korea? I have no idea. But my first wife, who was an actress, may have used some of her Hollywood connections to touch base with the Air Force.”

“You guys may be too young to remember Ella Raines,” Colonel Brady said. “Not that many fighter pilots marry an actress.”

“No,” Olds said. “Did the usual staff and non-flying assignments, commanded the 81st TFW in England, and then got tapped for the 8th TFW in Vietnam.”

Guru asked, “How long did it take you to learn the F-4, General? That's normally a nine-month course for a newbie.”

The General grinned. “Did the fourteen-part syllabus in five days.” When he said that, jaws dropped. “Just had a lot more flying experience than the new guys. And when I got to Ubon? Told the guys “I'm the new guy here, but in two weeks, I'll be better than all of you.”

“And you were,” Goalie said. “I remember you saying that at an Academy lecture.”

“Yep. I taught them to dogfight, and then we had to handle the MiG-21s, as they were getting really frisky. Some junior officers had an idea, I bought it, then we planned BOLO. We would mimic F-105s, down to using their call signs, radio frequency, flight paths, radio chatter, even having my F-4s wired to carry an ECM pod.”

Everyone nodded, as the story was taught in fighter training. But the story went on, for the benefit of the RAF officer and the reporter.

Sweaty grinned. “And they fell for it.”

“They did,” Olds said. “My flight got three, Ford Flight got one, and Rambler Flight got three. Seven MiG-21s down for no losses. My only MiG-21, by the way. The other four were MiG-17s.”

“Four?” Jack Lord asked. “I thought you only had four kills in Vietnam, sir.”

Goalie turned to the RAF Officer. “He had a probable that was recently confirmed. So he's the AF's second pilot ace in Southeast Asia.”

“Ah....”

The General then related his other MiG kills, including the two MiG-17s down on 20 May 1967, along with a bridge strike that earned him an Air Force Cross. “The only time I didn't bring a wingman home,” he said, referring to the 20 May engagement, nodding at Don Van Loan, whose uncle had been Olds' wingman. The F-4 crew punched out, but spent the next five and a half years in Hanoi......”And that's my combat career. I”d like to hear some 335th stories, Major.”

“Yes, sir!” Guru said. “First, we've got a half-hour until the Twelve-Hour Rule kicks in, and I think people want to get another round. But before that, I believe our guests from the Fourth Estate have an announcement? Ms. Wendt? The floor is yours.”

The reporter stood up. “Thank you, Major. Everyone, well....what I'm about to say will probably disappoint a lot of you. I'll cut to the chase. My crew and I are staying.”

There was dead silence, as jaws dropped at the news. It was Colonel Brady who broke it. “Staying?”

“That's right, Colonel,” Wendt said. “Seeing what you people are fighting for? We see that on the news every night down in Australia. But seeing it firsthand is something else. Especially that mass grave.”

“Now we know what you people are fighting against,” Scott, the cameraman, added, and the rest of the crew nodded agreement.

“Besides, Major,” Wendt said. “You still owe me and Trevor a backseat ride in one of your Phantoms.”

Hearing that, Goalie turned to Guru. “That was the price of the interview?”

“It was,” Guru admitted. “But I didn't say who'd fly with her,” he replied. He glanced around, and found who he was looking for. “Kara? Next time 520 needs a check flight? You're taking her up.”

“Thanks a heap, Major!” Kara said. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Somebody's got to do it, and you got picked,” the CO said. “Mr. Scott? You can fly with me.”

The cameraman smiled. “It'll be a pleasure, Major.”

“Likewise,” Guru said. “Kara?” He motioned to his wingmate. “A moment, please.”

“Major, what'd I do?” Kara asked. “Why do I get to fly that prissy reporter?”

Guru looked at her. “Because, Kara, you are the best I've got. That's one reason. And there's another.”

“And that is?” She asked, looking at her CO with a skeptical eye.

“I want you to do your best to get her airsick. We can't take her on a combat mission, and this is the next best thing. I'll go with you, and have the cameraman in my back seat. Show them some ACT, and maybe she won't want to fly again,” the CO said.

Kara nodded. “I know what you're thinking. But...if she's turned out to be an adrenalin junkie, this may not work,” she reminded her CO.

Guru sighed. “ I know. But....if we give her an E-Ticket ride like at Disneyland, she won't want another one.”

“To be wished for,” his wingmate nodded.

“Yeah.”


After people got their drinks, many-AF, Marine, and Navy, gathered around General Olds' table. “Okay, Major. Like I said: let's hear some 335th stories.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said. “Ask and ye shall receive. First, though: the E&E is off-limits. The details are in the SERE Bulletin, and in my E&E report. There are a few things that I'd rather not talk about. Saw and did a few things that I'm not too proud of, and there's only a handful of people I've told the full story: Colonel Rivers, rest his soul, a SERE shrink, the intel officer who debriefed me, my GIB-” he nodded at Goalie.

“And if anyone asks me, my lips are sealed,” Goalie declared firmly.

“One other person I talked to, when I was home on leave after coming out. My Mom,” Guru said.

General Olds nodded. “Fair enough, Major.”

“Thank you, sir,” nodded Guru. He turned to Sweaty. “The MiG-29s?”

“Sounds about right,” Sweaty nodded. “First F-4 kills of MiG-29s in MAG-11, and they were AF, not Marines.”

General Olds looked at Colonel Brady, who nodded. “What happened?”

“We were coming back from a strike,” Guru said. “About 30-40 miles east of the Rio Grande, a few days before PRAIRIE FIRE. AWACS warned of bandits inbound, both Hornets and Eagles were busy, so we had to take them on.”

Sweaty picked up the story. “Got two bandits on radar, and Preacher, my GIB, got lock. Guru there couldn't, so he had me take the shot. Sent both Sparrows after him. One fell away, but the other smacked the bad guy in the cockpit, and just before impact, I saw the silhouette of a MiG-29 and called it.”

“That was the wingman,” Goalie said. And the leader does a hard right turn, and Guru pulls a high yo-yo.”

“We did,” Guru nodded. “Climbed up, rolled to keep visual, then stomped left rudder, and put the plane into a 135 degree turn to the left. Went past the Mach in the dive, and came in behind him. Don't think he knew we were there.”

Preacher nodded. “Looked to me like the Angel of Death coming in,” the ex-seminary student noted. He and Sweaty had watched their flight lead's portion of the engagement.

“Got Sidewinder lock, shot one, and it tracked a flare,” Guru continued. “Got lock again, and this one flew up his left exhaust. Blew the whole left tail and stabilizer off.”

Goalie picked it up. “He starts falling away on fire. The canopy goes, the seat fires, and poof! Here's a guy in a chute.”

“General, they all got DFCs for that,” Brady told the General, and it also made the Major-he was a Captain at the time-an ace.”

“It did,” Guru nodded. 'Kay....Kara? Your turn.”

“Uh-oh...” several people muttered.

“Theater indoctrination run,” Kara said. “First day in the squadron. Guru's running things because the CO's off at a conference, and 'tis a stand-down. He and Goalie take me and Brainiac-my new GIB, on my first flight in the squadron. Just north of Las Cruces, MiG-23s came to the party.”

Olds nodded. “How many?”

“Two, General. They wanted a fight, and we gave 'em one. We tangled, they died.”

“And General? First day in the squadron, first flight in the 335th, and she gets her first kill,” Guru said. “How many here can say the same thing?” By the silence, and the heads shaking no, nobody else could. “Okay, that's settled. Who's next?”

Hoser raised his hand. “I'll go,” he said, and related where the CO's flight had jumped a Soviet strike flight that had just attacked Sheppard a few days earlier. Though the CO and Kara had come up empty, he and Sweaty had each shot down an Su-17, and to his pleasure, he'd seen the Soviet pilot bail out into a lake-right next to an Army helicopter unit that was using a State Park as a FOL. “Better the Army caught him than the Resistance,” he finished.

“No way are those people turning in their guns anytime soon,” the General observed. “And I don't blame those people at all for keeping 'em.”

“Just like the Indians in Arizona or Western New Mexico,” Goalie said. “Remember? The Blinder that crashed on the San Carlos Reservation?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mark Ellis replied. “That one.”

Sweaty nodded agreement. “That one happened a few days after Preacher and I joined the squadron,” she said, and her GIB nodded. Sweaty turned to the RAF officer. “The Blinder crew bailed out after a run-in with an F-15. The Indians found them before the Army did.”

“They did,” Sin Licon added. “Scalped, staked out in the desert, and flayed alive. The desert critters were.....at work when the military got there.”

Hearing that, Jack Lord was a bit surprised. “That is a bit of a sticky wicket......And I imagine your intelligence chaps weren't happy.”

“Can't interrogate corpses,” Licon nodded. “Took some convincing, but the tribes did eventually go along with what we wanted.”

“Old habits die hard, Flight Lieutenant,” General Olds said. “Your Maoris from New Zealand had a habit of bashing in the heads of German wounded in North Africa with their war clubs.”

Mark went next, then Van Loan, and all around, Marines included, with the only break being when Doc Waters and his Navy counterparts invoked the Twelve-Hour Rule at precisely 1900.

After a while, it was Flossy's turn. “General? First kill was a Hip. But that's not all. I see the chopper falling in flames, Digger's shouting 'Good shot!' Dave Golen's saying the same thing, and I swear, sir, the next thing I heard was Colonel Rivers' voice, saying, 'Good kill, Sandi.' It's happened every time I splash somebody, and I can't explain it.”

“General?” Colonel Brady asked. “You've been around the block a lot longer than any of us. What do you think?”

General Olds paused for a moment, then raised his glass of club soda. “Lots of strange things happen in wartime. File this under that category.”

“I'll go along with that,” Guru said. He, too, had his own weird experience during the trek over the Rockies.....whatever that.....Snowbeast or Bigfoot was, it was welcome to stay right where it was.

Doc Waters then came over and whispered something to the General, and he nodded. “People, I've been told it's almost 2100, and that means Aircrew Curfew for those on the Flight Schedules in the morning.” He stood up and raised his glass. “Here's to all of you. If I could, I'd gladly lead you all into combat tomorrow. Guys like me, though....we had our turn, twenty years ago over Pack Six and Hanoi. Now, it's your turn.”

“Hear, hear,” Colonel Brady said. As a Vietnam vet who was still flying, he knew the sentiment. Even without that stay in Hanoi.....

After the toast (nonalcoholic), Olds went on. “I'll be around for a few more days. Because I want to see Chuck Yeager when he gets here, and see if those F-20s-along with the pups he's got flying them-are as good as they say they are.”

Guru exchanged glances with not only some from his squadron, but also his Marine counterparts. “Well, General, it'll be worth the wait.”

“I think so, Major. Now, if you're flying in the morning? Time to hit the sack. You've got a busy day ahead, if today's any guide.”

“You heard him,” Brady said.

As people who were flying in the morning headed on out, Kara came to Guru. “He'll be here for a few more days. Good.”

“You want your money back,” Guru noted. “Be careful. General Yeager will be here in a few days.”

“What do you mean?”

“General Yeager might take the both of you. Or General Olds might do it to you and Yeager.”

“I still want my money back,” Kara grumbled.

“Just remember what I said,” the CO told her. “And that tape?”

“I'll get it to the PAO sergeants in the morning.”

“Good. See you in the morning.”

“You too, Boss.” She headed off to female officer country and her bunk.

Goalie came by next. “See you in the morning.”

“0530, sharp,” Guru nodded. “The photos?”

“I'll take 'em to the PAO shop tomorrow. Their photographer can develop them.”

Guru nodded. “Good girl. Just hope tomorrow's not as.....exciting as today.”

“Back-to-back air raids are no fun,” she observed. “You never know. Just as long as we're not on CAS all day.”

“To be wished for.”

“What about this strike you want to fly? When you going to talk to the General?”

“Hopefully, tomorrow,” said Guru. “Have to talk to Colonel Brady first.”

“Think they'll get behind it?” Goalie asked. “And if they do, can we pull it off?”

“General Olds gets behind us? We'll do it,” Guru said firmly. “Our BOLO, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“Get some sleep. Zero-dark-thirty comes mighty fast,” Guru told her. “And I need to take my own advice.”


As the CO and his GIB headed off to their respective tents, Jana Wendt watched them go. “They're winning. But it's not over yet.”

“Jana?” Her producer asked.

“Long way to the Rio Grande, the Major said. Longer still to Mexico City. And how many in this squadron are going to be alive when it's over?”

“Three very good questions,” Scott, the cameraman, noted.

“Yeah. So, get used to Texas,” Wendt said. “Let's get to the truck. I want to send the CO's interview to Sydney. And they can see it on CBS in a couple of days.”


And the next day....MAG-11 and its squadrons got on with the war. With their guests from the Fourth Estate along for the ride.

[jemhouston]

September 3, 1985, Jem.

I was under the impression it was Reagan's first term.