Wolverine and Chiefs

[Matt Wiser]

The new day begins:



335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, TX, 16 February, 1988. 0530 Hours Central War Time:


Major-Matt Wiser walked over from 335th Officer Country to the Squadron's HQ. He glanced at the sky, and though there were still stars visible, the first faint hint of dawn appeared to the east. Now, will today be like yesterday, with Ivan's ground and air attack half-hearted, or would they be more prepared. Whatever happened, his squadron would be ready. All because of whoever decided that Chebrikov would do the world a favor by pushing up daises, and had missed his target. So that bastard decided to lash out, though they hadn't been real busy in terms of flying until the afternoon. Still, it could be a repeat of PRAIRIE FIRE, where in the first three days they had flown six or seven sorties a day, and had been so tired at the end of the third day people had to be lifted out of their cockpits. The same had gone for PRAIRIE FIRE II a few weeks later, he recalled.

When he got to the Squadron HQ, the bullet holes and other scars were still there. He had told Colonel Purcell, the base commander, his idea that scars such as those should be left, for when the war ended and the base resumed its Air Training Command mission, that reminders of the price of being unprepared for war should be there for the ATC people to take notice. Purcell, to his surprise, had been very welcome to the idea. He smiled at that as he came in and found 1st Lt. Kyle Potter, the night-shift SDO. “Kyle,” the CO said.

“Boss,” Potter replied. He had had some good news, as his pilot's case of the flu had improved, and two or three days from now, both would be back in the air. And this SDO shift could go to somebody else. “They had a second wave at the UK, AFN said. They missed Buckingham Palace again, and had a missile come down in the Thames across from Parliament. One did take out a building close to 10 Downing Street, though.”

“What kind?”

“CNN said it was the UK's equivalent of the IRS.”

“Well...maybe Dave Gledhill and his friends will have something to say about that,” Guru noted. “Anything happen on the East Coast?”

“Not yet,” said Potter. “And before you ask, the XO's in.” He nodded at the CO's office.

Guru nodded approval. “Good. Now, when your shift ends, Kyle? Find something to eat, then find your bunk. You'll be back flying in a couple days or so.”

“Doc told me.”

The CO nodded again, then said, “Good. Just remember this, though: you're not missing out on anything because you're grounded.”

“You've told me that before, Boss.”

“And I'm glad you remember that, Kyle. Part of being a CO is to give out reminders like this. Learned that from Colonel Rivers, when I was pissed about being grounded with a cold last March. Goalie, too,” Guru said, recalling their grounding due to colds, and both his and Goalie's frustration with being grounded.

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Anytime.” Guru then went to his office, and found Mark Ellis, the XO, waiting with clipboard in hand. “Morning, Mark.”

“Morning, Boss,” the XO said, handing Guru a steaming cup of hot cocoa. “Got the usual here.”

“Lay it on me,” Guru said, starting to down the hot chocolate.

Ellis nodded. “First off: Morning Reports for MAG-11 and then Tenth Air Force.” He handed the CO his clipboard.

Guru signed the reports, then asked, “Weather?”

“Good flying weather here and down south for two days. Then we get another storm coming in.”

“For which we can be grateful,” a voice from the office door said. It was Goalie. “For the usual reasons.”

Guru nodded as she came in with a pair of steaming cups of hot chocolate, and handed one to Guru. “Catching up on paperwork, maintenance, and sleep.”

“Among other things,” Goalie said, a coy expression on her face.

“And other things,” nodded Guru. “What's next?”

“Supply requisitions,” said Ellis. “Most of it's the usual.”

The CO scanned the papers. Mostly things for aircraft like brake fluid, hydraulic fluid, brake shoes, avionic components like radar parts, and so on. Then something caught his eye. “Prestone?”

“Spring will be here before we know it, Boss,” the XO reminded him. Having that coolant for their trucks and Hummers could only be a good thing.

Guru nodded as he went down further on the list. He found another piece of paper. “And someone's confused us with a medical unit again.”

“What?” Goalie said. “Again?”

“Again,” Guru nodded. “Among other things, there's some wound dressings, sulfa, and even some Benadryl.”

“What are we going to do with allergy meds?” Asked Goalie.

“Glad I don't have to worry about that,” said Guru. “But there are people in the squadron who do. Mark, have Doc go through this stuff and see if there's anything he can use.”

“And after that?” Ellis asked.

“Have Ross deliver it to the nearest civilian hospital. A donation from the squadron.”

“Got you.”

“Anything else?” The CO wanted to know.

“Guess you heard about that attack on London?” Goalie asked. “Looks like Chebrikov doesn't want to give up just yet.”

Ellis nodded. “He's still pissed that somebody tried to get him to push up daisies, and he's out for revenge.”

“Both of you are right,” Guru said. “Some folks serve the world best by leaving it, and he's definitely at the top of that list.” He looked at both of them. “And he's still lashing out.”

Goalie nodded. “That he is. And if yesterday's any guide, we're going to be busy.”

“Not PRAIRIE FIRE busy,” Ellis said. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” the CO agreed. “Anything else?” Both heads shook no. He glanced at the clock on his office wall, which read 0550. “Let's go eat.”


When the trio arrived at the Officer's Mess Tent, the usual crowd was already there, and they found Colonel Brady chatting with Erica and Colonel Hardegen. “Morning, Major,” Brady said. “Just offered our guest here a ride with the Marines.”

“Did you-” Guru started to say.

“Did I say 'no thanks' ?” Erica replied. “No. Colonel Hardegen offered to fly me, and I couldn't turn him down.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Mark Ellis asked.

“Yep, because I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon. Going up to Oklahoma City and then Tulsa.”

Guru and the others nodded. Those two were the largest cities, apart from Fort Worth, that had been liberated, and were starting the process of getting back to some resemblance of normality. Both had another thing going for them: there had hardly been any fighting as PRAIRIE FIRE went, and both cities had each fallen to a coup de main. Both had fallen so quickly the local KGB, or DGI in Tulsa's case, along with the PSD, had just managed to escape with their skins, leaving their archives behind intact. Those papers were now being used to identify and arrest collaborators and locate mass graves. More than one TV commentator or Op-ed writer had said that the war-crimes people would be pretty busy with all that material. “So, one more day in paradise,” Goalie said.

“You could say that,” said Erica. “That PAO who goes with me on these things wants me to go down to a few towns that have been liberated. Bowie, Decatur, Jacksboro, Mineral Wells, Graham. Maybe this afternoon, but he left it up to me. I might go to the first three, just to make him happy.”

“Ah,” Guru said as Kara came up. “Morning, Kara. Ready to earn your flight pay today?”

“And give back forty-five cents of each dollar to Uncle Sam on April 15th,” she laughed. “Hear the latest on the news?”

Guru nodded. “More cruise missiles aimed at London. They blew up the head office for the UK's counterpart to the IRS.”

Dave Gledhill heard that as he came up. “Heard that also on the BBC Shortwave. So some people on this side of the pond and over there are actually going to be thanking Ivan for that.”

“Getting back at the Tax Man?” Brady asked.

“Something like that,” Gledhill grinned. “Even if we still have to pay.”

“Even if,” Guru said. “Anyone know about Philly or Ottawa?”

Brady shook his head. “Not yet, Major. We'll know soon enough. Even if Ivan was supposed to to do a simultaneous time-on-target shoot. Besides, we got our corner of the war to worry about.”

People nodded, then Colonel Hardegen said, “We getting a PRAIRIE FIRE day, Colonel?”

“Hope not, because we flew six or seven missions a day each for the first three days,” Brady replied. “And people were so tired,” he nodded at Guru and the other 335th people, “aircrew were being lifted out of their cockpits. Those first three days were all-out.”

Guru then said, “They were, Colonel. Day Four we had to stand down for crew rest and let the maintenance folks take care of the birds. Then it was back at it.”

“That it was, Major. We're still on the ATO for now. If Ivan's ground troops move forward, though? We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Right then, the Marine Mess Officer came out of the tent and flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. “Chow's ready, people!”


After breakfast, Guru went to the squadron's Ops Office. There, he found Capt. Don Van Loan, the Ops Officer, waiting. He already had mission packets all set to go, and was waiting for the flight leads to come. “Morning, Boss.”

“Morning, Don,” Guru said. “What's on the agenda this fine morning?”

“Ask, and ye shall receive, Boss,” Van Loan said. He handed the CO a mission packet. “For what it's worth, there's two other packages from this squadron going after airfields.”

The CO opened the packet and scanned the Frag Order. Then he scowled at the Ops Officer. “You are shitting me. I've been there several times, and so have you.”

“I shit thee not, Boss-man.” Van Loan replied. “Somebody thinks that the FOLs for Ivan's CAS birds need to be hit. Today.”

“And with Chebrikov still pissed that someone tried to take him all the way out, this shouldn't be a surprise,” Guru observed. “Okay, Dave Golen's coming, and so are the Brits.”

IDF Major Dave Golen came in right after that. “Guru,” he said to the CO. “And Ops,” nodding at Van Loan. He saw the CO looking at him. “Let me guess: I'm coming with you.”

“That you are,” Guru said. He handed his IDF “Observer” the Frag Order. “And it's a place we're all familiar with.”

“Again?” Golen asked as he read the order. “When?”

“Get your people to the briefing room we use in ten.”

“Will do.”

“Be careful, Boss,” Van Loan said as the CO turned to leave himself. “Don't want to be XO just yet.”

“And we all don't want Kara as Ops,” Van Loan added as the object of the conversation came in.

Kara went into her fake “livid” mode. “Major, I resent that!”

Guru laughed. “Well, we all know paperwork's not your strong suit.” He paused, then added, “Get our flight together with Dave Gledhill's element. Briefing room in ten.”

His wingmate nodded. “On it and I'm gone.” She headed on out.

“Okay, Don,” Guru said as he turned to leave. “You be careful your own self. Don't want to have Kara as Ops just right now.”

“Always, Boss,” Van Loan said. “Good Luck.”

“You too,” the CO said, then he went to the squadron's briefing room. When he got there, he found the squadron's mascot, Buddy, sitting patiently outside. He smiled, then opened the door for the dog, who went in and found a place to curl up and nap. Just like Roscoe back in the day at Korat, Guru thought. Then he saw his flight waiting. “All right, people. Hold onto your breakfast, because they gave us an airfield straight out of the gate.”

“Which one?” Sweaty wanted to know.

“Stephenville Regional,” Guru said, opening the mission packet. Photos, maps,and the strike order came out. “I know, we've hit it quite a few times, but with this push, they don't want Ivan's CAS birds to have any working FOLs. For a while, anyway.”

“Boss, this is too much like Southeast Asia,” Hoser said. “You've said that yourself. We strike, they repair, then we hit it again.”

Guru nodded. “I didn't say it; you did. Anyway, here's how we get there: We hit the tankers at Track SHELL, west of Mineral Wells. Then we get down low, cross the I-20, then pick up State Highway 16, then find the Leon River.”

“Boundary for the East Germans and the Soviets,” Brainiac noted.

“It is that,” said the CO. “Going on, we follow the river to Proctor Lake, then turn east. Find the town of Purves on F.M. 219. Go northeast to Alexander on Highway 6, and keep going northeast. There's a hill south of Stephenville east of F.M 914 that's on a straight line from Alexander. That's the IP and pop-up point. Climb to attack altitude, make your runs, then get your asses north. Pick up your wingmates, then get to the I-20. We then hit the tankers and come on home.”

“And two hours after that, we do it all over again somewhere else,” Goalie observed. It wasn't a question.

Guru nodded. “That's about it.” He then picked up an SR-71 photo that showed the airport-and several aircraft on the ramp. “Kara? You and I each have a dozen Rockeyes. I'll take the north ramp area-the prewar one, while you take the south. Kill anything on the ramp.”

“Will do,” Kara said.

“Sweaty?” Guru said, seeing he had his second element lead's attention. “You've got six Mark-82 Snakeyes and six M-117Rs. Take the hangars west of the ramp area.”

“The ones they build out of wood, sheet metal, and roofing tin?” Sweaty asked. Seeing the CO nod, she added, “They'll rebuild those by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know, Sweaty,” said Guru. “They want them gone anyway. And you might just get a Frogfoot or a Hind in those.” Sweaty nodded, then he went on. “Hoser? You and Dave Golen have the same target and the same ordnance as Sweaty. The Runway's yours.”

Hoser and Dave looked at the photos. “How do you want it?” Hoser asked.

The IDF Major thought for a moment. “I'll take the south part of the runway.”

“And I'll get the north,” Hoser said. They shook on it.

“Fair enough,” Guru nodded. “Flossy? You and Jang get the best for last.” He looked at Dave's wingmate. “Fuel dump's yours.” He tapped a camouflage-netted area east of the runway.

“Same ordnance as the others?” Flossy asked.

“It is.”

“We'll take it out,” Flossy said, and Jang nodded.

“Good,” Guru said. “Now, defenses,” he went on, and saw he had everybody's attention. “MiGs are at TSTC still, both -21s and -23s. And that also includes Libyans.”

“They replace what we culled out on BOLO II?” Kara asked.

“Nothing here to say that,” Guru admitted. “So assume they've gotten at least some. MiG-23s are also at Temple Regional, while there is a regiment each of -23s and -29s at Gray AAF, Fort Hood.”

“Where's the Flankers?” Dave Gledhill asked.

“Good question,” Kara said.

The CO checked the intel summary. “Bergstrom is still Flankertown.”

“Nice,” said Gledhill. The RAF was still hoping for at least one fight with Su-27s. Even with the admonition that nobody in an F-4 should hassle with a Flanker.

“Now, Ground Defenses,” Guru added. “This is still the East German Army-level HQ, so expect SA-4s. The field proper has two batteries of 57-mm, one southwest of the field, another northeast. Then there's several 23-mm around the field, and expect MANPADS as well.”

“Lovely,” Brainiac said. “And this is just the first round.”

“It is that,” KT said. “We still on the ATO?”

“For now,” Guru said. “We'll find out if and when they pull us into CAS. Other than the listed air-to-ground, we've got four AIM-9Ps, two AIM-7Fs, full load of twenty-mm, ALQ-119, and two wing tanks”

“For us,” Dave Gledhilll added. “Four AIM-9Ls, four Sky Flash, wing tanks, and SUU-23.”

The CO nodded. “We're Mustang Flight on this one. Anything else?” He asked as an Ops NCO arrived to collect the briefing material.

“Yeah,” Jang nodded. “Buddy's still asleep.” That could only be a good thing, everyone knew.

Guru nodded. “Let him sleep. If that's it, gear up and I'll see you at 512.”


The crews went to gear up, and when Guru came out of the Men's Locker Room, Goalie was waiting, as usual. “Ready?” He asked.

“Let's go do it,” Goalie replied. “Just as long as they keep us off the CAS shift today.”

Guru nodded as they headed out the door. “You and me both.”

The Sun was just starting to come up as they got to 512's revetment, where the rest of the flight had gathered to get the CO's final instructions. “Usual on the radio, Boss?” Sweaty asked.

Guru nodded. “It is that,” he said.” That meant call signs between them, and mission code to other parties such as AWACS.

“And if we don't get CAS,” Hoser asked, “Just three more after this one?”

“That depends on Tenth Air Force and Comrade Chebrikov,” the CO reminded them. “I know, it's not our bread and butter, and we do get our share of 'Attaboys' for doing it, but...”

The crews understood what was left unsaid. If the call comes, we take it. “Maybe somebody in Moscow told him they went forward yesterday and got burned,” Sweaty said.

“And have your will probated and sins confessed before doing so,” Preacher added, and everyone nodded at how accurate the ex-seminarian turned WSO was.

Guru nodded. “You got it. Okay, time to go to work. Usual bailout areas apply.” That was anyplace rural and away from roads. “Any other questions?” Heads shook no. Then Guru clapped his hands for emphasis. “Time to hit it. Let's go. Meet up at ten grand overhead.”

The crews went to mount their aircraft, and as Guru and Goalie went into the revetment, and found 512 ready to go. Their crew chief was waiting. “Major, Captain,” Sergeant Crowley said. “Five-twelve's ready to rock this morning.” He snapped a salute, which both crew returned.

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Guru said as he and Goalie did their preflight walk-around. The CO then signed for the aircraft, then both of them mounted the aircraft and got strapped in. They plugged in their headsets and donned helmets, then began the cockpit preflight.

As they went through the Checklist, Goalie asked, “How soon do you think they'll move us into CAS? And Ejection Seats?”

“Noon, my bet,” Guru said. “Armed top and bottom, and check yours.”

“I'll take that bet,” replied Goalie. “Arnie's all set.” She meant the ARN-101 DMAS system.

“Roger that,” said Guru. “Backup INS?”


“Set as well. Checklist complete and ready for engine start.”

“That we are,” Guru said. He gave a thumbs-up to Crowley, who gave the “Start Engines” signal. First one, then both J-79 engines were up and running. When the warmup was finished, Guru called the tower. “Tower, Mustang Lead with eight, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Mustang Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi to Runway Three-Five-Lima. Hold prior to the active, and you are number two in line.”

“Roger, Tower,” Guru called. “Mustang Lead rolling.” He then gave the “Chocks” signal to Crowley, who waved to the ground crew. The wheel chocks were pulled away, then Guru released the brakes and began taxiing out of the revetment. When he cleared it, Crowley snapped a salute, which Guru and Goalie both returned. As they taxied to the runway, the rest of the flight fell in behind them.

When Guru got 512 to the holding area, he found a Marine four-ship of F/A-18s ahead of him, and he knew that it was Colonel Brady in the lead Hornet. The MAG-11 CO was dual-qualified in both the F-4S and the F/A-18, and it wasn't unusual to see him going out. The Marines' armorers pulled the weapon safeties, then the four-ship taxied onto the runway. A minute later, the four Hornets rolled down the runway and into the air. Then it was his flight's turn.

After taxiing into the holding area, armorers from the 335th pulled the weapons safeties from their own aircraft. Once they cleared, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Mustang Flight requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Mustang Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are two-seven-zero for five.”

“Roger, Tower.” Guru taxied 512 onto the runway, with Kara following in 520. A final check, then he and Goalie glanced over to 520, where Kara and Brainiac gave thumbs-ups. All set over there. Then he made another call. “Tower, Mustang Lead ready for takeoff.”

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

“Ready?” Guru asked Goalie.

“Ready back here,” she replied, adding, “Canopy coming down.” She closed and locked her canopy.

Guru did the same, and glanced over to 520. Their canopies were down and locked. All was ready. “Then let's go.” He firewalled the throttle, released the brakes, and 512, with 520 right with them, thundered down the runway and into the air.

The rest of the flight followed by pairs, meeting up at FL 100. There, they formed up and headed south for the tankers.

[jemhouston]

Until you put boots on the ground, you don't own it. Which is why the same airfields keep getting bombed.

[Poohbah]

Until you put boots on the ground, you don't own it. Which is why the same airfields keep getting bombed.

The time Roberta's platoon grabbed an entire airfield in a ten-minute coup de main--the first warning a Blinder doing an emergency landing received was when the crewdogs realized that was a Wolverine breaching vehicle rolling up after they got out of the bird. Didn't even have time to wipe the KEYMAT.

[jemhouston]

Until you put boots on the ground, you don't own it. Which is why the same airfields keep getting bombed.

The time Roberta's platoon grabbed an entire airfield in a ten-minute coup de main--the first warning a Blinder doing an emergency landing received was when the crewdogs realized that was a Wolverine breaching vehicle rolling up after they got out of the bird. Didn't even have time to wipe the KEYMAT.

How embarrassing. I hope nobody shot it up.

[Wolfman]

Until you put boots on the ground, you don't own it. Which is why the same airfields keep getting bombed.

The time Roberta's platoon grabbed an entire airfield in a ten-minute coup de main--the first warning a Blinder doing an emergency landing received was when the crewdogs realized that was a Wolverine breaching vehicle rolling up after they got out of the bird. Didn't even have time to wipe the KEYMAT.

How embarrassing. I hope nobody shot it up.

I think it was sent to Edwards AFB intact…

[Matt Wiser]

Guys, I have had RL be a bear the last couple of weeks, but the next segment is in prep.

[jemhouston]

Sometimes you get the bear, other times the bear gets you.

[Wolfman]

Sometimes you get the bear, other times the bear gets you.

Race Bannon in The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest, though I forget which episode…

[jemhouston]

Sometimes you get the bear, other times the bear gets you.

Race Bannon in The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest, though I forget which episode…

Also Riker in ST:TNG Data's Day.

[Wolfman]

Sometimes you get the bear, other times the bear gets you.

Race Bannon in The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest, though I forget which episode…

Also Riker in ST:TNG Data's Day.

That’s where I first heard it! I’d forgotten about that!

[Matt Wiser]

After a longer than intended delay-due to RL and some writer's block...


Over North-Central Texas, 0745 Hours Central War Time:


Mustang Flight was headed low, having come off the tankers and crossed the FEBA south of I-20. When they had hit the tankers, the AF F-4s hooked up with a flight of KC-10s, while the two RAF crews were pleased to join up with their own Tristar. After that, and a final check, it was time to get down into the weeds or as close to the weeds as possible.

Now, coming in at 450 Feet AGL, they were in enemy territory, with the pilots and GIBs maintaining their visual scanning, checking their instruments, and keeping an eye on the all-important EW display. All the while, the northern part of the Texas Hill Country flew by below them.

In 512, Guru was focused on flying while having his head on a swivel. Lessons learned at the RTU and over the past two and a half years of war were not forgotten. He checked his EW display. So far, all clear. Good. No Mainstay radar coming. Yet. “Goalie, anything?”

“One minute forty-five to Proctor Lake,” his GIB replied. She, too, was checking not just her instruments, but also looking outside, and checking that EW display. “EW still clear.”

“For now,” Guru said as he picked up the Leon River and turned slightly left to pick up, then follow, the river. A quick glance to the right still showed State Route 16, along with Kara in 520 right with him on his right wing. Then a strobe appeared on the EW display, along with the SEARCH warning light. Guru frowned beneath his oxygen mask. “Mainstay's up.”

“Lovely,” said Goalie. She then checked the radar. “Sky's clear.”

“Roger that,” replied Guru, then he called the AWACS. “Crystal Palace, Mustang Lead. Say threats?”

An AWACS controller got back to him right away. “Mustang Lead, Crystal Palace. First threat bearing Zero-nine-zero for forty-five. Medium, going away. Second threat bearing One-one-zero for sixty. Medium, closing. Third threat bearing One-seven five for seventy. Medium, closing. Fourth threat bearing Two-two-zero for sixty-five. Low and climbing. Fifth threat bearing Two-four-zero for eighty. Medium, closing.”

Guru let out a breath behind his oxygen mask. That many? Ivan's up to something. “Roger, Crystal Palace. Say Bogey Dope.”

“Mustang, Crystal Palace. First threats are Floggers. Second threats are Frogfoots. Third threats are Flankers, fourth are Fishbeds, and fifth are Fulcrums.”

“Roger that, Crystal Palace. Mustang Lead copies.”

Goalie had heard the conversation. “Honored?”

“They cared enough to send up their very best,” Guru replied. Except for the Su-25s.

“They did. One minute to Lake Proctor.”

“Copy.”

The Texas Hill Country flew by as first, the town of DeLeon flew past, as they overflew State Route 6. Much to the crews' disappointment, no military traffic appeared on the highway, but... who knew later on in the morning, if armed reconnaissance came up on the schedule. Then the river gave way to the lake.

“Lake in sight,” Guru called.

“Copy that, turn on my mark,” said Goalie as she checked the DMAS system.

“Call it.”

“Turn in five, four, three, two, one, MARK!”

Guru put the aircraft into a hard left turn, before steadying on a easterly heading. They were now headed into the East Germans' rear area as they overflew the small town of Proctor and U.S. 67.

Below, two separate patrols were rendezvousing at the Proctor Market. One was made up of Soviets from a Rear-Area Protection Division, with a platoon of old T-54s and equally old BTR-152s, while the other was composed of East Germans out of the Frontier Troops who were part of the East Germans' own Rear-Area Protection Forces. They, too, had tanks and APCs just as old-T-54s and BTR-152s, but the difference between the two was age. The East Germans were mostly young reservists, while the Soviets' average age was forty.

The two commanders met outside the market, and inside, some locals were wondering what was going on. Unknown to most of the locals, Mike Walker, the owner of the store, was involved with Resistance activities, and though he was under suspicion by the local PSD due to having a relative who was a Texas Ranger, so far, they had nothing on him. Though the activity outside did attract his attention, as he noted the two commanders seemingly having an argument.

Both commanders were, for the Soviet lieutenant and his EG counterpart were both under orders to patrol U.S. 67, and though heated, both were restrained-for now. Then shouts came, as eight F-4 Phantoms came from the direction of the lake and thundered overhead, heading northeast. It happened so fast that no one had time to either man a machine gun or get a shoulder-fired missile ready. Both officers exchanged worried glances, then resumed arguing. They did agree on one thing: where those F-4s were headed and who they were going to attack was none of their concern.

“Steady on,” Guru called. “How long to Purves?”

“Thirty seconds,” Goalie replied. “Still that Mainstay out there,” she added after a glance at her own EW display. “And no fighter radars.”

“I'll take that,” Guru said. “Crystal Palace, Mustang Lead. Say threats.”

“Mustang Lead, Crystal Palace,” the controller on the converted 707 replied. “First threat bearing Zero-eight-five for sixty-five. Medium, going away. Second threat bearing One-zero-zero for seventy-five. Medium, closing. Third threat bearing One-eight-zero for eighty. Medium, going away. Fourth threat bearing Two-three-five for eighty-five. Medium, closing.”

“Roger, Crystal Palace. Say bogey dope?”

“Mustang, First threats are Floggers, second are Flankers. Third threats are Fishbeds, and fourth are Fulcrums. Frogfoots have dropped off scope.”

Lovely, Guru thought. Had the Su-25s landed at Stephenville? Maybe they'd find out. “Roger that, Crystal Palace.”

“Where'd the Frogfoots go?” Goalie asked. “Fifteen seconds to Purves.”

“A very good question,” Guru replied as Purves, more a collection of ruins than a town, appeared directly ahead. “Turn coming up.”

“Roger that. In five, four, three, two, one, MARK!”

Guru turned onto a northeasterly heading for the next checkpoint. “Call it.”

“Alexander in fifteen seconds,” Goalie advised. “Watch for bad guys on Highway 6.”

“Copy that,” Guru replied.

“Alexander coming up.”

The little town-this one a few buildings and a general store, appeared, and so did a convoy on Highway 6. “Not their turn,” Guru said wistfully as they gave the locals-and the enemy, whether Soviets or East Germans, a morning air show.

“Maybe later,” Goalie said. “IP in forty-five.”


At the Country Store in Alexander, an East German Major of Transport Troops was checking his map. His convoy was moving towards Dublin, along this Highway 6, with supplies and some replacements for the 9th Panzer Division. His mix of GAZ, Zil, and Ural trucks, with some captured vehicles as well as a couple of BTR-152s fitted with ZU-23 AA guns was a ripe target for either a bandit attack or an Imperialist air strike, and the sooner he got to Dublin, the better. Though he didn't speak English, his second-in-command did, and when the store's proprietor came out, the Captain told the local to keep his distance.

Right after that was some shouting, as eight Fascist F-4s thundered right overhead. Where were the air guards? That was a concern to the Major, for the first warning of the aircraft was a shout from a soldier as the aircraft came by five seconds later. No one had time to open up with the ZU-23s, let alone get a Strela shoulder-fired missile up and ready. Turning his back on the local, the Major thundered at his men, ordering them to increase their vigilance against aircraft. For the next time, the aircraft coming in might be attacking them....

“Roger, IP in Forty-five,” Guru called. “Set 'em up.” Then he turned on his ALQ-119 ECM pod.

“Copy. All in one,” Goalie said as she worked the armament controls.

“Roger that.” Then Guru got on the radio. “Flight, Lead. Switches on, Music on, and stand by.”

“Roger, Lead,” Kara replied, and the others followed.

“All set,” Goalie said, tightening her shoulder straps as well. “Everything in one.”

Then a hill appeared right in front of them. That was the IP. Just as long as the East Germans didn't set up any flak or MANPADS shooters on that hill.... “IP Ahead.” Guru said.

“Copy,” Goalie replied. “Pull in five, four, three, two, one, PULL!”

Guru pulled back on the stick, putting 512 into a climb. As he did, with the others matching the climb, everyone's threat receivers lit up. A brief roll to the left revealed Stephenville and the airport as some AAA began to open up. “Target at Eleven.”

“Ready,” Goalie said.

“Flight, Lead. Target in sight, and on me.” Guru then rolled in on his attack run.


At the airport, the Soviet base commander was having a fit. He had been in the job only a week, after one of his predecessors had been killed in an air strike, and the man he had just succeeded had been wounded in another. The harried Deputy Commander had told the SAF Colonel that strikes were a common occurrence, and that the defenses had suffered quite a bit. The 23-mm, 37-mm, and 57-mm guns that were manned by Army personnel or V-PVO had been hit, while the V-75 (SA-2) site had been knocked out in the fall, and someone had decided not to return it to operational status. Then the East Germans gave out their own share of headaches, flatly refusing to place any of their 2K11 Krug (SA-4 Ganef) batteries or their own AA guns anywhere near the field, even though their own aircraft and helicopters used it. Only after a blast from Front Headquarters had gotten them to place one of the latter-and that was a 23-mm site. From talking to a SAF liaison officer with the East Germans, he got the impression that their fraternal allies were trying to defend what was important to them, and to conserve resources for the spring and the expected American offensives that would be coming.

Those were the least of his worries right now. For with these attacks that Moscow had ordered, air activity had picked up, and the field was starting to get busy. Right now there were eight Su-25 Rooks (Frogfoots) on the ramp, with several others having just refueled before going north, along with several Mi-24 attack helicopters and both An-24 and L-410 transports. The aircraft were fueling and the helicopters were being turned around for more combat missions when the Colonel saw the AA guns turn to the south, and people were pointing skyward in that direction. Smoke clouds with specks at their heads appeared, and were coming closer. Air attack! “TAKE COVER! AIR ATTACK!” The Colonel shouted, then he jumped into a trench.

“Lead's in hot!” Guru called as he rolled 512 in on the bomb run. As he came in, he saw the gunners beginning to react, with 23-mm, 37-mm, and some 57-mm fire coming up, and even a couple of MANPADS, either SA-7 or SA-14. No matter, for the SAMs weren't guiding, and simply flew past. The flak gunners, though, were aiming well, but not good enough. As 512 went through the flak, Guru saw the North Ramp, and several Su-25s parked on it. You're mine, he thought as he centered his pipper on the aircraft. “Steady.. Steady....NOW!” He hit his pickle button, sending his dozen Rockeye CBUs down onto the Frogfoots below. Guru then pulled up and away, jinking as he did, and not giving the flak gunners or anyone with a shoulder-fired missile an easy target, and even gave the East Germans and the locals an air show, thundering over Stephenville as he made his egress. Once clear of the town, he made his call. “Lead's off target.”

“Bozhe Moi!” The Base Commander shouted to no one in particular. Though not his first time under air attack, he was impressed at how hard the American aircraft pressed home the attack, and watched from the trench as Guru's F-4 came in and put down its CBUs. The Colonel watched helplessly as CBU bomblets exploded among the Rooks like so many firecrackers, then several of the Rooks exploded as the bomblets set off fuel and ordnance. Shaking his head, the Colonel first started to get out of the trench, but someone pulled him back in as the AA guns turned back south and resumed firing.

“SHACK!” Goalie called from 512's back seat. “We got secondaries!”

“How many?” Guru asked as he jinked to avoid an SA-7, then saw another one fly by below the aircraft.

“Several! And two are pretty big!”

“Righteous, as Preacher would say,” the CO said as he headed north.


“Two's in!” Kara called as she brought 520 down on its bomb run. She saw the CO's run, and the secondaries that followed his CBU drop on the Su-25s. Though she noticed two Frogfoots that had escaped the carnage begin to taxi, she ignored them, concentrating on her bomb run on the South Ramp. There, three transports-two An-24s and an L-410, were sitting out on the ramp, along with at least two Mi-8 Hip helos and what looked like a Beech King Air. Time to make you go away, Franz, Kara thought as she lined up the two An-24s in her pipper, hoping to cover most of the ramp with her CBUs. Kara, too, ignored the flak and centered the An-24s. “And...And...Steady....HACK!” She hit her pickle button and released her dozen Rockeyes onto the South Ramp. Kara then pulled clear, jinking as she did, and like the CO, overflew the town on her way out. Then she gave her call. “Two off target.”


The SAF Colonel ducked even further down as he heard Kara's F-4 come in. He heard the Rockeyes going off, and then two more explosions as something evidently blew up. The Colonel poked his head out of the trench to see two An-24s burning brightly, the L-410 missing a wing and also burning, along with the two Mi-8s and some PSD swine's Beechcraft. He shook his head again, then, seeing the AA guns swivel back south, ducked back into the trench. These Americans were nothing but persistent.

“GOOD HITS!” Brainiac shouted as 512 pulled clear. “And there's secondaries!”

“How many?” Kara asked as she jinked right, then left, seeing two SA-7s fly past her right wing, and another fly below the wing.

“Good and big!”

“Franz just had a morning wakeup call,” Kara grinned beneath her oxygen mask as she spotted the CO's smoke trails, then formed up with 512.


“Three's in!” Sweaty called as she came in on her run. She saw Kara's run, noting the secondaries that resulted, then centered the hangars in her pipper. Sweaty, too, saw the flak and ignored it, but also noticed the two Frogfoots approaching the south end of the Runway. Those are Hoser's, she thought. Ignoring two SA-7s that came up, unguided, she lined up the hangars in her pipper, selecting the largest one. “And.. Steady...And... HACK!” Sweaty hit the pickle button, with six Mark-82 Snakeyes and six M-117Rs coming off the racks. She then pulled up and clear, jinking as she did to give the flak gunners a bad shot, and the MANPADS an even worse shot. Like the CO and Kara, Sweaty egressed over the town, giving the East Germans a shock, and the locals a shot in the arm. Once clear of the town, she, too, made the call. “Three's off target.”


“This isn't happening,” the Base Commander muttered as he heard the rumble of Sweaty's F-4,f followed by the bombs going off. Some of them sounded close, then a larger explosion came as something inside one of the hangars disagreed with a bomb hit, sending pieces of hangar and aircraft flying in all directions. Some of that landed in the trench, and the Colonel watched in shock as one of his officers had his skull split open by a large piece of metal. The man was clearly done for, and all the Colonel could do was shake his head. It could've been me, he knew. Then the AA guns began firing again, and he ducked back down. How many Americans were coming? That thought entered his mind as someone fired a Strela-2 (SA-7) missile.

“SHACK!” Preacher shouted in Sweaty's back seat. “Good hits back there!”

“Any secondaries?” Sweaty wanted to know. She jinked left, saw an SA-7 fly past on the right, then jinked right, and saw another fly past high and to the left.

“A couple, and they're righteously good!” Said the ex-seminarian turned WSO.

“Fine with me,” Sweaty said as she spotted the CO and Kara up ahead.


“Four's in hot!” Hoser called as he came in on his run. He saw his element lead's run, and at least two hangars blown apart, as he got ready to line up the Northern part of the runway. Hoser, too, ignored the flak as it came up at him, and watched as a pair of SA-7s bracketed his aircraft, one passing left, the other right. As he lined up the runway, the two Frogfoots caught his attention as they began to roll. Not today, Ivan... “And...Steady....And...NOW!” He hit the pickle button and sent his own Mark-82s and M-117s onto the runway. Hoser then pulled away, jinking as he did, and, like the others, going out over the town. As he did, he watched as the rooftop gunners finally began to react, wildly spraying machine-gun and 23-mm fire. Once clear of town, Hoser made his call. “Four's off target.”


In the trench, the Colonel heard Hoser's run, then the CRUMP as the bombs went off. He poked his head up long enough to see the F-4 pulling away, and bombs exploding across from the ramp area. The runway, the Colonel thought right away. He then heard the two Rooks abort their takeoff roll, then came an explosion. Either a delayed-action bomb or one of the Rooks had crashed into a bomb crater. The Colonel shook his head, and just as he stood up in the trench, the AA guns swiveled back south. He ducked back into the trench. Just how many Americans were coming? That was the unspoken question he-and everyone else on the base, was now wondering.


“GOOD HITS!” KT shouted from the back seat. “And we got a Frogfoot!”

“You sure?” Hoser asked as he banked left and thundered over Downtown Stephenville, jinking as he did and drawing some flak as well as a couple of SA-7 shots.

“Sure as I'm back here,” KT replied. “He had a big fireball.”

“Good enough,” Hoser said as he picked up Sweaty and moved to catch up with his element lead.


Dave Golen then went next. “Five in hot!” he called as he took his F-4 down onto the target. He saw Hoser's run, and the two Su-25s. The IDF Major smiled beneath his oxygen mask as the lead Frogfoot crashed into a bomb crater just left behind by Hoser's run and the Russian fireballed, leaving his wingman stuck on the runway. You're mine, Dave thought as he angled his run to not only catch most of the southern part of the runway, but the now-parked Su-25. Ignoring the flak, and two or three MANPADS shot his way but not guiding, Dave lined up the runway in his pipper. “And. Steady on....Steady....and NOW!” He hit his pickle button, releasing his six Mark-82s and M-117s onto the runway. Dave then pulled up and jinked right, then left, before going out over Downtown, just as Hoser had done. When the IDF Major cleared the town, he gave his call. “Five off safe.”

“Sookin Sin!” The Colonel shouted in the trench. Son of a bitch. These Americans were nothing but persistent, and stubborn. He heard Dave's run, followed by the bombs going off, and a larger explosion that could only be that second Su-25. The AA fire continued, even after the F-4 flew past, and the Colonel stood up in the trench. More bombs on the runway, he knew. As he looked around, he saw the AA guns swivel back again....Another American was coming in, and the Colonel ducked back into the trench.


“BULLSEYE!” Oz shouted. “And we got the other Frogfoot!”

“You sure?” Dave asked as he jinked left, and an SA-7 flew past his right wing, then another flew by below that wing. Jinking right, another missile flew by on the left.

“Big fireball, and that wasn't the runway.”

“Sounds good,” Dave said as he spotted Sweaty's element up ahead.


“Six is in!” Flossy called as she took 1569 down on her bomb run. She, too, ignored the flak as she picked out the fuel dump, and saw Dave Golen's F-4 pull up. A smile came beneath her oxygen mask as the runway became a few craters, and she had the added satisfaction of seeing an Su-25 that had been stuck on the runway go up. Flossy saw the fuel dump, and lined up the drums and bladders of fuel in her pipper, along with an SA-7 that crossed her path a hundred feet or so below. Not today, Franz, she thought. “And...And... HACK!” Flossy hit the pickle button, and her Mark-82s and M-117s came off the racks. She then pulled up and applied power, thundering over Stephenville as she did, and jinking along the way. After she cleared the town, Flossy made her call. “Six off target.”

“Nyet!” the Colonel shouted to no one in particular. This time, he watched helplessly as Flossy's F-4 came in and planted its bombs on the fuel dump east of the runway. Multiple fireballs followed as the bombs went off, with sympathetic detonations coming as fire spread to other tanks and drums, along with several fuel trucks parked in the dump. He then saw two more F-4s thunder overhead, but these two didn't attack. Either fighter cover or reconnaissance, he thought. No matter, the Americans had already done enough for the day, and the morning was only just getting started! He found his deputy and started issuing orders for first-aid and firefighting parties to go out, and for engineers to start filling in the bomb craters in the runway. What a morning this is turning out to be, he thought as he started trying to get some order in this madhouse.

“SHACK!” Jang yelled over the IC. “And we've got big secondaries!”

“How big?” Flossy asked as she jinked to avoid an SA-7 coming head-on, then watched as another came by on her right, with another flying by harmlessly below. Then they felt a slight thump, as if something had exploded close by. Flossy checked her instrument panel and found no warning lights on.

“Big and bigger!” Jang said. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah, I did. No warning lights on, no change in engine temp,” Flossy said as she picked up Dave Golen, and got in with him in Combat Spread.


In 512, Guru and Goalie heard the calls. After Flossy's, Goalie said. “Six in and out.”

“Now we fly for ourselves,” Guru agreed. “One-seven and One-eight, get your asses clear and north,” he called Dave Gledhill's element.

“On our way, Lead,” Paul Jackson, Gledhill's pilot, replied.

Guru nodded, then looked to the left. All clear, then the right, where he saw 520 right with him in Combat Spread. “Kara's with us,” he said. “Sweaty?”

“On your six, and I brought Hoser with me,” Sweaty called back.

“Roger that. Dave Golen?”

“On Sweaty's six, and Flossy's here.”

“Copy all.” Then Guru called the AWACS. “Crystal Palace, Mustang Lead. Say threats?”

“Mustang Lead, Crystal Palace,” the controller responded. “First threat bearing Zero-eight-five for sixty. Medium, closing. Second threat bearing One-five-five for sixty-five. Medium, going away. Third threat bearing One-eight-zero for eighty. Medium, closing. Fourth threat bearing Two-four-zero for ninety. Medium, closing.”

“Roger that,” said Guru. “Any bogey dope?”

“Mustang, Crystal Palace. First and second threats are Floggers. Third are Flankers, and fourth are Fulcrums.”

“Roger, Crystal Palace.”

“One minute to the fence,” Goalie advised. That meant the FLOT and I-20.

“Got it,” Guru said. They were coming out roughly along the divisional boundary between the East German 9th Panzer Division and the 11th Motor-Rifle Division, and the East Germans were surprised to see eight F-4s coming from behind them. None of the East German AAA or SAM shooters were able to warm up their radar-guided weapons, let alone get a shot off. Then the twin ribbons of the Interstate appeared.

“Fence coming up,” Goalie said.

“I see it,” said Guru. “Flight, Lead. Music off and IFF on, out.”

The flight acknowledged the call as they flew over the Interstate, and began climbing to altitude. As they did, the Mainstay's radar went off their RWRs. “No more Mainstay,” said Goalie.

“For now,” Guru spat. Somebody needs to do something really bad to those, he thought. And the sooner the better.

After climbing to altitude, the flight headed for the tanker track and their post-strike refueling. They drank enough fuel to get to Sheppard and have a reserve, then headed home.

When the flight arrived at Sheppard, they were third in the pattern, behind a Marine four-ship of Hornets and the Westbound C-141 Shuttle. When it was their turn, the flight came in and landed, then taxied away from Runway 35R.

Guru led the taxi into the squadron's dispersal, and to the disappointment of those watching, no fingers were held up to signal MiG kills. And as usual, the News Crew was filming. “You know, I really do need to ask Ms. Wendt something,” Guru said as 512 passed the crew.

“What's that?” Goalie asked.

“Do they really get their pay docked if they don't shoot anything every day?” The crew had shot enough footage of aircraft taxiing out and back that documentaries about the war would have stock footage for a hundred years, it seemed.

The GIB let out a laugh. “Either that, or their assignment editor down in Sydney probably told them 'Shoot what you can, even on a slow day.'”

Guru shared the laugh as they taxied into 512's revetment, and the ground crew was waiting. Sergeant Crowley, the Crew Chief, gave them the “Stop” signal, then the ground crew replaced the chocks around the wheels.

Guru and Goalie did their usual post-flight checks and popped their canopies. As he took off his helmet, Guru said, “One and done,” just as the ground crew put up the crew ladders.

“And how many more?” Goalie asked as she did the same. “Hoping we stay tied to the ATO today.”

“No arguing that, but..” Guru said after climbing down from the aircraft. “Chebrikov's still pissed that somebody tried to get him pushing up daisies. So...”

“So we get shifted to CAS sometime today,” Goalie finished.

“Probably,” Guru nodded as Sergeant Crowley brought their bush hats and bottles of water for him and Goalie. “Thanks, Sarge.”

“Major, Captain,” Crowley said as both took the water. “How'd it go, and how's my bird?”

“Five-twelve's still truckin',” Guru said. “Whatever you're doing? Don't change a thing, and that's an order.” The CO then downed half the bottle.

“As for what we did?” Goalie asked after she downed most of hers. “Tore up an airfield and some Su-25s on the ramp.”

The CC was beaming. “Shit hot! Uh. Sir, Ma'am, you know what I mean.”

“You can use that kind of French on the ramp anytime,” Guru reminded his Crew Chief. “Just get her turned around for the next one. It won't be too long.”

Crowley smiled. “Yes, sir! All right, people! Let's get this bird prepped and ready!” And the ground crew went right to work.

When Guru and Goalie got to the entrance to the revetment, Kara and Brainiac were there. “Kara, Brainiac,” the CO nodded. “Those gunners were alert. As soon as I roll in, they start shooting.”

“Not arguing that,” Kara said. “No radar-guided stuff, but they were persistent. Got a couple of transports, and get this: a Beech King Air, too.”

“What?”

“A Beech King Air, or a captured C-12,” said Kara.

“That's a first,” Goalie nodded.

“Hey,” Brainiac said. “Doesn't the PSD use those to fly people around?”

Guru nodded, as did the others. “They do.”

“Then we made some PSD slug take some AT,” joked Hoser. “Alternative Transportation.” He held out his right thumb as if he was hitchhiking, and everyone laughed as Sweaty, Preacher, Hoser,and KT arrived.

“What's so damned funny?” Sweaty asked. Hoser repeated his jibe, and they joined in the laughter.

“How'd it go, Sweaty?” Guru asked.

“Boss, tore up those hangars, but I'm betting any amount of money that they've got the wood frames, sheet metal, and roofing tin already lined up. Those hangars will be back up this time tomorrow.”

“And the cycle repeats,” Preacher added. “Just like in Vietnam.”

Guru winced. The History Major that he was had read up a lot on the air war in Southeast Asia. “You said it this time, I didn't. But yeah. Just like the NVA. I don't like it any more than you guys do. But..... Until we start moving forward again..”

“I know,” Sweaty said as Hoser came up along with Dave Gledhill and his two crews.

“Boss,” Hoser said. “Got the runway, and a Frogfoot crashed into a crater.”

“Good for him,” Dave Gledhill said. “Nothing for us, but they were really shooting at you guys.”

“East Germans,” Sweaty spat.

“Where's Dave and Flossy?” Guru asked. Then his Crew Chief came up with a Walkie-talkie. “Sergeant?”

Crowley said, “Major, Major Golen and Captain Jenkins want you at 1569's revetment. They said you're going to want to see what they found.”

“They say what?” Asked the CO.

“No, sir, other than you'll have to see it.”

Guru nodded, then said to the crews. “Let's go.”

When they got to the revetment, a small crowd, including Colonel Brady, the MAG-11 CO, was there. “What happened?” Guru asked.

“Major,” Brady said as Dave Golen, Oz, Flossy, and Jang came up. “You'll want to see this.” A Marine EOD tech was there as well. “Show the Major.”

“Yes, sir,” the Staff Sergeant said. He laid out a 23-mm shell that had been opened. “It was a dud, and I checked it. Turns out there wasn't any explosive.”

Guru was incredulous. “No explosive?”

“No, sir.” The Sergeant showed him what he found. “This rolled up piece of paper was in it.”

Brady looked at the paper. “Let's see.”

After it was unrolled, the paper read “I'm sorry, but this is all we can do for you now.”

There was silence for a moment, then Flossy said, “Looks like I got a friend somewhere.”

“We all do, Captain,” Brady said. “I'll take this to Colonel Dennis and the S-2 shop.” Lt. Col. Gene Dennis was the MAG-11 Intel Officer. “He'll look at it, then send it to some folks who can tell us where the paper was made, where the round was made, and then the nationality of whoever wrote this.”

“This ever happen before?” Dave Golen asked.

Goalie nodded. “Heard this at the Academy: a B-17 came back from Germany in 1943 with an unexploded 30-mm round in it. They opened the round up and found a note. Just like this one.”

“Back then, somebody took a big chance with the Gestapo,” said Guru. “And now...”

“The KGB or somebody just as nasty,” Kara finished.

“Yeah.”

Brady nodded. “Okay, people! Let's get back in the groove. We still have missions to fly.”

As the crowd broke up, Guru found Flossy. “Your bird?”

She shook her head. “Crew Chief wants to be sure about the engine. Pull it, check, and reinstall. If it needs work...” Left unsaid was a new engine being put in.

“And that's most of the morning,” said the CO. He knew from firsthand experience that kind of situation. “Okay. Guru turned to Kara. “You're the Assistant Ops Officer. Any birds fresh out of maintenance?”

“Just one,” Kara said. “It's 659. Frank's old bird.”

Guru looked at Flossy. “It's yours until 1569 comes out of BDR. Any problems?”

Flossy had an evil smile. “Just let me and Jang have our pictures taken next to the bird and his name. And send them to that bastard when he's doing his long course in Leavenworth.”

“One can hope,” Kara said. She, too, had many issues with the departed and unlamented Major Carson. As did Goalie and just about everyone in the squadron.

“Okay,” Guru said. “Let's go debrief with Sin, get some food, and you, Flossy, need your new bird prepped and ready. Then in an hour or two, we're back at it.”

Heads nodded, then Dave Golen said. “You heard him.”

The crews then headed to the squadron office, and the debrief. For it wouldn't be long until the next mission in the ATO came.

[jemhouston]

Nice thing to read while Israeli is shooting at the Iranians.