Wolverine and Chiefs

[Belushi TD]

Looks like there's a little problem with the numbers of planes.

“Nail, Chevy Flight is four Foxtrot-Fours. Six Echoes with antiarmor Rockeyes, and two Juliets loaded for air-to-air,” Guru said. “Any Red air around?”

Shouldn't the bolded part be eight? Or do I not understand what's going on?

Belushi TD

[Wolfman]

Good catch, Belushi!

[Wolfman]

What were you trying to say, Matt?

[Matt Wiser]

Was trying to delete a duplicate post. I saw the error and corrected it, btw.

[Matt Wiser]

Sucks to be a Soviet mobilisation unit!

Yes, it does. But the Rear-Area Protection Divisions are worse: T-34/85s for Armor, though if lucky, T-54s; BTR-152s as APCs in one regiment-and trucks in the other two, towed 122-mm guns left over from WW II in the artillery regiment, mortars only at the regimental level. and oh, just a battalion of tanks, not a regiment. Average age of those serving in those outfits is 40.

[clancyphile]

Sucks to be a Soviet mobilisation unit!

Yes, it does. But the Rear-Area Protection Divisions are worse: T-34/85s for Armor, though if lucky, T-54s; BTR-152s as APCs in one regiment-and trucks in the other two, towed 122-mm guns left over from WW II in the artillery regiment, mortars only at the regimental level. and oh, just a battalion of tanks, not a regiment. Average age of those serving in those outfits is 40.

IIRC, Suvarov noted that Russian motor-rife divisions had divisional tank battalions that were 50 tanks, as opposed to the 30 in a normal tank battalion.

[Matt Wiser]

Those were the divisional independent tank battalions-and not every regular MRD had such a battalion. Only those stationed in the WARPAC countries and a few Cat 1 in the Western USSR had them.

[Matt Wiser]

Next chapter is in work, fellows.

[Matt Wiser]

And the next chapter, with the 253rd MRD in a world of hurt....



Over North-Central Texas: 1600 Hours Central War Time:


Chevy Flight had come off the tankers and was orbiting north of the FEBA. They had drunk enough fuel, then checked in with the AWACS. As usual, Crystal Palace had acknowledged the check-in, then they were passed on to Hillsboro, the EC-130 ABCCC. This time, the controller-the same one the CO could tell by the sound of his voice, told them, “Get in line at 16,000 and wait your turn.”

Guru thought about that. Maybe the high OpTempo that the squadrons had been experiencing was biting. Last time it had been 25,000, he knew. Ground crew were tired, aircrew were tired, all of it, he knew. That added up to getting out of their bases-whether it was Sheppard, Reese, Altus, Amarillo, or wherever-longer than they should have been.

He looked off to the south as calls came for them to descend. There were fireballs in the air, and as the flight got lower, those on the ground became visible as well. Ivan made us busy today, the CO thought, and some folks wouldn't be coming back, as he watched an explosion in the air and what he could tell was a plane plunge to earth. Ours or theirs, he wondered.

“This has been a bitch of a day,” he observed over the IC. The tempo of the day's flying was catching up to the CO.

“I'll go along with that,” Goalie said. They had just been told to go down to 10,000 Feet. “Comrade Chebrikov's still going to be pissed. Not just that somebody tried to kill him, but...”

“They tried going after leadership on this side, and so far, that hasn't worked, and this ground attack hasn't either.”

Then a call came over the radio. “Lead, Sweaty. Anything?”

“Negative, Three,” Guru replied.

“Just asking, Lead,” his second element lead said with a slight bitterness in her voice.

Guru picked that up, and he sympathized with her-and everyone else. We bust our asses to get down here, and they make us wait. “Copy that.”

Then the EC-130 controller came on the line. “Chevy Lead, Hillsboro. Drop to FL 09 and continue to hold.”

“Roger, Hillsboro,” Guru replied. “Flight, Lead. Follow me down to Nine Grand and keep holding.”

“Roger, Lead,” Kara replied, and so did the others.

In the back seat, Goalie was scanning with binoculars. She picked up some fireballs on the ground to the southwest. “Lots going off down there.”

“Theirs or ours?” Guru asked.

“Good question. I think they're Reds, but hard to tell this high.”

The flight ahead of them-Marine Hornets from VMFA-451-went in, then the Controller called. “Chevy Lead, contact Nail Four-Nine for tasking.”

“Roger, Hillsboro,” Guru replied. “Nail Four-Nine, Chevy Lead, How copy?”

The FAC called back right away. “Chevy Lead, Nail. Good copy.State your aircraft and type of ordnance, please.”

“Nail Four-Nine, Chevy Lead has six Foxtrot-Four Echoes with Rockeye Charlie Bravo Uniform, and air-to-air, and two Foxtrot-Four Juliets with full air-to-air.”

“Roger, Chevy. Got something for you. Target is a suspected command post or field COMINT Station. Multiple trucks with antennas, camo netting, the works. Target is at the intersection of Foxtrot-Michael Three-zero-three, Five-three-two,and Two-six-eight-nine. Southwest corner..There are two ranch ponds, and a large field,” Nail called.

“Roger that,Nail. Can you mark the target, and say Sierra-Alpha threat?” Guru asked.

“Can mark, and bad guys have 23s and 37s, plus MANPADS.”

“Chevy Lead copies all.” said Guru “Flight, Lead. Switches on, Music on, and stand by.”

Then the FAC asked the universal question, or so it seemed. “Chevy, Nail. How many runs can you give?”

How many times do they have to ask, Guru wondered.

“They ought to know by now,” Goalie said as she worked the armament controls. “Switches set.”

“Music on,” Guru said as he turned on his ECM pod. “Chevy, Nail. One run only. South to north.” He saw the A-7 orbiting below and to the left.

“Your call, Chevy. Be advised negative Red Air, and marking the target.” Then the A-7K rolled in and fired four rockets, which exploded near the vehicles with streams of WP. “There's your target, Chevy.”

“Roger, Nail. Flight, Lead. Follow me in, and One-seven and One eight? You kill any party-crashers.”

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

“Ready back here,” Goalie said, tightening her shoulder straps.

Guru nodded, then said, “Ready here. Time to do it.” Then he rolled 512 in on the bomb run.


Below, just west of the intersection and south of one of the ranch ponds, the Commander of the 253rd MRD had just arrived in his command APC with the divisional forward HQ element. The man had been a senior instructor at the Kharkov Guards Tank Officers' Training College, until the “War Emergency” he had been pulled out of that billet and sent down to Tiblisi. There, he originally had been assigned to the 100th Guards Motor-Rifle Division (Training), but the sudden death of the commander of the 253rd MRD had opened up a vacancy. A Colonel at the time, the man received a prompt promotion to Major General, which he had accepted gratefully. He was less than grateful when he found that the division was a Mobilization-only formation with third-rate equipment and personnel that was a mix of new draftees, reservists with an average age of thirty-five, and junior officers fresh from training. Still, he plunged into his task, hoping that the division would be reequipped prior to deployment.

Those hopes were dashed in late 1986, when the division moved to Sevastapol, and was loaded on ships bound for Cuba. The trip through the Mediterranean could be very calm or very frightful, the captain of the freighter the Divisional HQ and Reconnaissance Battalion had sailed on told him. Either the Americans, British, and Israelis wouldn't notice the convoy, or they would. And if they did... “Expect half of your command to be sunk,” the Captain had said.

Fortunately, the trip to Cuba was uneventful, and after disembarking in Banes', the division had resumed training, for at the time, going to Louisiana and the swamp country there was a distinct possibility. Instead, the division loaded up again in August of 1987 and sailed to Texas, offloading at the Port of Houston. There, he and his men found out just how hated they were, with anti-Soviet graffiti everywhere, angry stares shot at them by the locals-often with extended middle fingers, and even a few shots by snipers.

Then their orders were changed and instead of Louisiana, the division was assigned to 32nd Army in Central Texas. After arrival, the division had settled in, helping to secure, or at least make the attempt to do so, the Army's immediate rear, before being called forward. General Sisov, the Army Commander, informed the General his division was to attack and push forward as hard and far as possible, before either the 78th TD or the 155th MRD passed through to continue the attack. Was this related to what had happened in Moscow the previous evening, the General asked. To his surprise, the Army Commander had replied. “I think so, General. Do what you can and get on with it.”

Now, the General was furious. Two of his regiments had been badly mauled by air attack before coming into contact with the Americans on the ground, and seeing the aftermath of those air strikes had been a shock. His divisional reconnaissance battalion had pushed on ahead, only to warn of tanks and APCs ahead, strength unknown, but at least two battalion's worth. That meant a brigade-sized formation was ahead of his division. The General ordered the 983rd MRR, which only had one battalion in APCs, the rest in trucks, and the divisional tank regiment, the 1889th, forward, while trying to see who was on his left flank, which, to his shock, was clear. Before he could get on a radio to talk to the Divisional Chief of Staff at the Main Command Post, shouting, and both machine-gun and 23-mm AA fire attracted his attention, followed by rockets exploding in the field and an aircraft pulling away. White Phosphorous, he knew. And smoke trails coming in from the south. American aircraft, he knew. Shaking his head, the General found a ditch and jumped into it, dragging his aide with him.

“Lead's in hot!” Guru called as he took 512 down on the bomb run. He saw the cloud of WP, and the vehicles just to the north of it. They had either just arrived or didn't care about the lack of camoflauge netting, for there was none. As Guru got lower, he saw a mix of APCs and trucks, and that meant a command element. Good, he smiled beneath his oxygen mask. Ignoring the light flak and machine-gun fire coming up at him, along with at least two SA-7s, he lined up several trucks in his pipper. “Steady... And.. Steady....NOW!” The CO hit his pickle button, releasing his dozen Rockeyes onto the Russians below, before pulling up and away. He began jinking as he did, to give any SAM shooters down there a harder shot, and as he cleared, Guru made his other call. “Lead off safe.”

“This isn't happening,” the General muttered aloud. Apart from his aide, a few other soldiers had joined him in the ditch, along with one man who always went with him: the Zampolit. They all ducked as Guru's F-4 flew overhead, and they heard as the CBUs went off. Several explosions followed, along with the accompanying screams. Knowing from after-action reports that American aircraft didn't attack alone, he stayed in the ditch and ordered those with him to follow his example. The sounds of the AA guns opening up again told him he was right, and more were coming...


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

“How many?” Guru asked as an SA-7 flew by on the right just a hundred feet or so.

“There's a few, and they're good!”

“Fine with me!” Guru said as he jinked one last time, then headed north.


“Two's in hot!” Kara called as she took 520 in. She saw where the CO had laid his CBUs, and noted several APCs to the west of the ranch pond, along with several burning vehicles She adjusted her run and lined up the APCs in her pipper. Just like the CO, Kara ignored the flak coming up, along with somebody's SA-7 shot that was head-on, but failed to guide. Not today, Ivan... “And... And... HACK!” Kara hit the pickle button, sending her dozen Rockeyes down onto the Russians. She pulled up and away, jinking as she did and drawing a couple of failed SA-7 shots. Once clear, she called, “Two off target.”


“Not again,” the General said as Kara's F-4 came in. He took a quick glance up, and saw the big Phantom thunder past after it had released its bombs. Then the cluster bombs went off, and he knew that his command element's APCs were there. Several sympathetic detonations in the middle of the CBUs going off told him that his command BTR and at least three others had gone up, and the others were likely damaged. Shaking his head, the General got back down when the AA gunners resumed firing. More Americans were coming in.

“BULLSEYE!” Brainiac shouted in 520's back office. “And there's secondaries!”

“What kind?” Kara wanted to know. She jinked left, and saw an SA-7 fly overhead, followed by one to the right and below.

“Three or four good ones,” replied Brainiac. He looked around, checking for any heavy missiles or, if lucky, any Red Air that they could jump on. Nothing...

“Good enough for me,” said Kara as she picked up the CO and accelerated to form up on his wing.

Sweaty took her bird in next. “Three's in!” she called as she went down on the bomb run. Sweaty noticed several trucks that looked like they were trying to get away, and one of them had tracers coming from it. Gun truck with a machine gun or a ZU-23, she thought. No matter. Sweaty lined them up in her pipper and selected the gun truck as the aim point. It stopped, seemingly to give the gunner a better shot at her. Big mistake, Ivan... Sweaty ignored the tracers and at least two SA-7 shots as she lined up the target. “Coming, coming.... And... NOW!” Sweaty hit the pickle button, releasing her Rockeyes, before pulling up and getting clear. She, too, jinked to avoid the flak and any other SA-7s. Once clear, it was time for Sweaty to make her call. “Three's off target.”


“Not again,” the General muttered aloud. He heard the AA fire and the WHOOSH of several Strela shoulder-fired SAMs, but the F-4 came on in. The General heard Sweaty's F-4, then glanced up to see it pulling away, with more of those infernal CBUs going off in its wake. More of those small explosions-followed by several larger ones, meant that the Americans had scored again. Shaking his head, the General felt he had to stand up, only to get pulled back into the ditch by both his aide and the Zampolit. Before he could say a word, the AA guns, though slightly diminished, opened up again.


“GOOD HITS!” Preacher shouted from Sweaty's back seat. “And there's secondaries!”

“Good enough?” Sweaty asked, She kept jinking and watched as an SA-7 flew by on her left, followed by another.

The ex-seminarian turned WSO replied, “Rightously good!”

“Good enough for the guy upstairs, good enough for me,” Sweaty called as she saw the CO's and Kara's smoke trails, and proceeded to follow.


“Four's in!” Hoser called as he dropped down on his run. As he did, he saw armor coming north on the F.M. 532. “Got some armor on 532,” he added. Seeing that the first three in the flight had done a number on the vehicles in that field, Hoser decided that the tanks and APCs moving north were a more suitable target. He lined up the head of the column-tanks and some APCs or armored cars, looked like, and their wrecks would block the road, or so he hoped. As Hoser came in, machine guns and what looked to be 23-mm on gun trucks came up at him, but he ignored it. “Steady... Come on... Steady.....And.. And... THEY'RE OFF!” Hoser hit the pickle button, sending his dozen Rockeyes down on the armor below. He then applied power as he pulled up and away, jinking as he did, knowing that some folks down there didn't appreciate being bombed. As Hoser got clear, he called, “Four's off target.”


In the ditch, the General heard Hoser's F-4 come in, but it seemed to be further away than the previous three. Then he realized what the Phantom was going after. The tank regiment, he said to himself. The General stood up, shaking his aide and Zampolit away, and watched as the F-4 pulled up, having just released its bombs, and the usual multitude of small explosions were left in its wake. Then a number of larger ones followed, as CBU bomblets had hit tanks and APCs. Using his binoculars, the General saw it was the Regimental Reconnaissance Company that had just been hit, and now the road was blocked. With his command APC knocked out, and several other vehicles that had radios having shared that fate, the General was powerless to warn the regiment. Was the regiment's commander aware? Only one way to know as another F-4 came in, and it was aiming for the same road as this last one.


“SHACK!” KT shouted from the back seat. “Secondaries back there!”

“What kind?” Hoser asked. He didn't even see the SA-7 that flew over his left wing as he jinked right, but saw one pass underneath and go ahead.

“Good ones!”

“We'll take those,” Hoser said. “And maybe Dave Golen and Flossy can clean those guys up.” He then picked out his element lead and added some throttle to join up with Sweaty.


“Five in hot!” Dave Golen called as he went down on his bomb run. The IDF Major saw Hoser's strike and the armor he had hit, Dave saw the explosions as vehicles exploded, and picked out the rear of the colunn-well, at least the lead battalion, and went in. He, too, drew machine-gun fire, some 23-mm, and he also noticed some 57-mm from a battery of ZSU-57s. That meant this was a tank regiment, Dave knew. So much the better. As he got towards release altitude, the tanks beame more clearer, and they appeared to him to be T-54s or -55s. Just like in '73, the Yom Kippur War vet thought. Then it was time. “Steady.. And... BOMBS GONE!” Dave hit his pickle button, sending his dozen Rockeyes onto the tanks below. Just like the others, he pulled up and away, applying power and jinking as he did. When the big F-4 got clear, Dave called, “Five off target.”


The General watched, standing now, as Dave's F-4 went in on the tank regiment's lead battalion. Right now, he made a mental promise to relieve the regimental commander on the spot if the man survived, for moving a regiment on a road march when this farmland, most of which hadn't seen a tractor since the invasion, had plenty of space to disperse armor. The General saw the F-4 attack the trailing elements of the lead battalion, releasing its Cluster Bombs, and showering the trailing company in bomblets. Once again, hundreds of small explosions surrounded the tanks, then several T-55s became oily fireballs as their fuel and ammunition exploded. Then, to his surprise, a T-55 with a large antenna, followed by a pair of BTR-50 APCs with several antennae each, drove up to the stricken battalion. The Commander had decided to rally his lead battalion himself. That might be mitigating circumstances, the General thought. Then the AA guns swiveled back south and opened up again. Another F-4 was coming...

“BULLSEYE!” Oz shouted. “And there's secondaries!”

Dave smiled beneath his oxygen mask. “Just like old times, Oz.” He was recalling strikes flown with his old backseater the previous summer. “Any secondaries?”

“Several good and big ones.” Oz, too, was having flashbacks. Not here, though. Not now.

“Good enough,” Golen said. He jinked a couple more times, avoiding an SA-7 that flew over him, then he turned due north and picked up the others.


“Six is in!” Flossy in 1569 called as she went in on her strike. She saw where her element lead had put his CBUs, and where Hoser had done, and decided to hit Ivan in between. Flossy, too, drew machine-gun and 23-mm fire, and Jang called out some 57-mm fire as well, but she ignored the flak and a couple of missile trails as 1569 approached release altitude. The tanks grew larger in her pipper as she came in.. “And... And... HACK!” Flossy hit her pickle button, and more Rockeyes were on their way down onto the Russians. She pulled up and began jinking, applying power as she did, before clearing the area. Then she gave her call. “Six off target.”


“Not again,” the General said, not caring if the Zampolit heard him or not. Even the Party man would be feeling the same way, he felt. The General watched as Flossy's F-4 came in and released its ordnance, and the second company in that lead battalion was the target. Again, CBUs opened, and bomblets fell onto the T-55s, exploding several, along with that command tank and one of the APCs. The F-4 pulled clear, pursued by some 23-mm fire and a pair of Strela shoulder-fired missiles, but the aircraft got clean away. Then two more F-4s followed this last one out, but they didn't attack. What they were doing was not his concern. Getting what was left of his division able to fight was.


He would be even more worried if he knew that to the east of his location, on a nearby hill, the commander of the 9th ACR was watching. The 9th ACR had moved in as the lead of II Corps as III Corps had shifted further east, and was Ivan taking advantage of that? If he was thinking that, he'd soon have an education, for his regiment was waiting, while the 14th AD had moved south of the I-20. A little sooner than expected, but this attack had forced Sixth Army's hand, but the Soviet 32nd Army would find out that a fresh Corps had moved into the area, and would be giving out lessons. That division in front of him was a Mobilization-only unit, Corps had told him. Good. Though his Fourth Squadron didn't have Apaches, only AH-1s, an Apache Battalion from III Corps was working the area, and had been chopped to his regiment for today. Time to turn them loose, and raise hell. Then his Regiment would move forward and clean up. He motioned to his RTO, who handed him the receiver from a PRC-77 radio. He contacted his Regimental CP and issued orders. Time to get going...


“SHACK!” Jang called from 1569's back seat. “And we've got secondaries back there!”

“What kind?” Flossy asked as she dodged an SA-7 to the right, then after a jink to the right again, another one to the left.

“Good and big on those tanks! And they're still shooting back there.”

“Their problem,” Flossy said. “And I'll take those.” She then saw her element lead ahead, and moved to join up in Combat Spread.


“Flossy's out,” Guru noted. “Time to fly for ourselves. One-seven and One-eight, get your asses down and north.”

“Roger, Lead,” Paul Jackson replied for Dave Gledhill. “We're on our way out.”

A quick glance to the right of 512 revealed Kara and Brainiac in 520 right with them in Combat Spread. “Sweaty, you and Hoser with us?” Guru called.

“Right with you, Lead,” Sweaty replied.

“Five and six behind Sweaty,” Dave Golen added.

“Seven and eight are clear,” Jackson called.

“Roger that,” Guru said. “Nail, Chevy. How copy?”

“Chevy Lead, Nail,” the FAC called from his A-7K. “You got a four-decimal-zero on that. And thanks for hitting that armor that came up.”

Guru smiled beneath his oxygen mask. About time they give us some extra pats on the back. “Nail, we aim to please. We are Winchester and RTB.”

In the A-7's back seat, the FAC checked his map and the time. A few more flights were coming in, then VFR flying would be out. “Copy, Chevy. Have a nice evening, fella.”

“Roger,” Guru said. He then called the EC-130. “Hillsboro, Chevy Lead, We are Winchester and are going RTB.”

The controller replied at once. “Roger, Chevy Lead. Clear to RTB.”

Chevy Flight formed up north of the I-20 and headed for the tanker track. They hooked up with the KC-135s, and the RAF was pleased to do the same with their Tristar. After drinking some fuel, they headed back to Sheppard.

Upon arriving, the Flight was second in the pattern, behind a Marine Hornet flight from VMFA-314, before they were able to come in and land. As they taxied clear, those watching saw the canopies popped, but no fingers held up to signal kills. The crews also noticed that the TV crew wasn't filming as they taxied clear. The gentlepersons of the press, though Ms. Wendt and her crew were now widely accepted in MAG-11, were still downtown at the rally... Oh, well. “Guess they had something better to film instead of us,” Guru said as he taxed into the squadron's dispersal.

“Still at that rally,” Goalie noted. “Gives 'em something different for a change.”

“Guess so,” Guru said as he taxied into his revetment.

Sergeant Crowley gave the “Stop” signal, then the “Chocks” as the ground crew put the wheel chocks into place. Then the “Shut Down” signal came from the Crew Chief.

After shutting down, the post-flight checklist ritual went ahead, while the ground crew brought the crew ladders. Then Pilot and GIB climbed down from the aircraft. After the post-flight walkaround, Guru and Goalie came up to the Crew Chief. “Sarge,” Guru said as Crowley handed him and Goalie each a bottle of water. “Any news?”

Crowley nodded. “No ordnance guys coming, which is good. If you guys were going back out, they'd be here.”

“Always good to see,” Guru noted. “No guarantee of that, though.” They could be yapping, and the ordnance people pick that time to show up. It had happened before. “All right. Five-twelve's still truckin' like a champ. Get her prepped so that if the ordnance guys do show, she's ready. If not, get her ready for the morning.”

Crowley smiled. “Yes, sir!” Before he turned to the ground crew, he then asked the CO. “Major? When are we going to put another red star on that airplane?” He pointed to 512's scorecard on the left intake spitter.

Guru nodded. “Next time a MiG or Sukhoi gets in front of me to pose for a Sidewinder,” he said. “Haven't had much luck of that lately.”

“In time,” Goalie said as she saw Kara and Brainiac show up at the revetment's entrance. “They'll know when we do.”

“They will,” Guru nodded again. “Get her prepped.”

“Yes, sir!” Crowley said. “Okay, people! You heard the Major! Let's get this bird ready!”

As the ground crew went to work, Guru and Goalie walked to Kara and Brainiac. “How'd you do,” Guru asked.

“Hit the same place you did, pretty much,” Kara replied. “Saw your run, and the secondaries.”

“And you guys had some,” Sweaty chimed in as she, Preacher, Hoser, and KT arrived. “And Hoser there tore up some tanks.”

“They were coming up that road to the east of the target,” said Hoser. “So I took them instead.

“Always good to show initiative,” the CO said as Dave Golen and Flossy arrived. “You guys tore up some tanks?”

“We did,” the IDF Major grinned. “Saw Hoser's run and we finished up. That lead battalion, anyway.”

“And no Red Air,” Guru said. It wasn't a question.

“Too bad,” Dave Gledhill said as he and the rest of the RAF crews arrived. “Karen would like a definite kill to end the day.”

“There's always tomorrow,” Karen McKay said.

“It is that,” Guru agreed. He had similar thoughts himself, and wanted to make his Crew Chief's day by putting another red star on 512. “Okay, we need to get debriefed, and-” He was interrupted by Chief Ross showing up with a Crew-Cab pickup. “Chief?”

“Major,” Ross said. “Captain Licon sent me over to pick your flight up. The XO and Ops are still out, he says, but he got a message from MAG-11. Anyone back isn't going out again today.”

No more flying, the CO thought. Good. “All right, Chief.” He turned to the crews. “Okay, let's go debrief. You need to check your desks before heading to the Club.”

“Do we have to make the armchair warriors happy?” Sweaty asked.

“Unfortunately,” Goalie said. She was senior WSO, and had her own paperwork to deal with.

“And tomorrow, we do this all over again,” Flossy said. It wasn't a question.

Guru nodded. “You said it, I didn't. Let's go make Sin happy, then clear desks. Then we can knock off.”

Kara nodded. “You heard him.”

With that, the crews piled into the Crew-Cab, and headed back to the Squadron's office. A quick debriefing, then the armchair warriors needed to be fought... Only then could they unwind.

[jemhouston]

No letters to write, so decent day.

[Matt Wiser]

Always a good day when there's no letters to be written.

[Belushi TD]

OOC - Here's a question I've been wondering about for a while.

The 335 always seems to hit their targets VERY well. And, unless doing a scud hunt, the target is always where they say it will be.

Is this for literary reasons, or is the 335 just that damn good, or is the intelligence just that damn good?

That being said, I greatly enjoy reading this and all the other stories posted here.

Thanks

Belushi TD

[Wolfman]

There’s been times when they had to hit something else (and one time they found a SAM site in the middle of setting up and dealt with it while on the way to a prebriefed secondary target)…

[Matt Wiser]

There's been at least one time where the CO's flight was rolling in on what was briefed as a command post, only to have it turn out to be a SAM trap (Someone shot an SA-11 too soon), and they aborted, with a divert to opportunity targets. Dave Golen's had a couple of times where the target his element was tasked against wasn't there, and they had to go for an opportunity target or join up with the CO's flight if close enough and go with them. From the CO's perspective, the intel is good. It could be better, but it's good enough.

[Matt Wiser]

Working on the next piece: RL has been a big obstacle...

[Matt Wiser]

After knocking off for the day:


335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, TX: 1655 Hours Central War Time:


Major Wiser sat behind his office desk, going over the last of the paperwork before putting papers in his OUT box. One thing that he had found out not long after getting the CO's job was that running a squadron was no bed of roses, though he had had a sneak peek as Colonel Rivers' XO for a few months, and running the squadron a couple of times when Rivers was either at a conference or on R&R. At least I have a good XO, Guru thought. For Mark filtered out the wheat from the chaff, leaving the really important stuff for the CO's attention, and taking the rest himself. Just as I did, not that long ago, he remembered. Then a knock on the door to his office got his attention. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

Goalie, his WSO and girlfriend, came in with some papers. “Looks like I beat Mark here,” she said.

“That's a first,” Guru replied. “What's those papers?”

She handed them to the CO. “One of my airmen wants to go to Airman to Pilot.”

Guru took the application. “Airman First Class Brianna Howard. AA in Business...” He looked up at his WSO. “Math Minor?”

“Don't ask me about that, but she's a whiz with numbers,” Goalie said. “But check where she went, and what she's applying for and why.”

Guru scanned the application. “Mohave Community College in Kingman, and... Arizona State. Two semesters, and let's see.. Navigator?”

Goalie nodded. “She's got 20/30 vision both eyes. She looks good with contacts, and hates glasses. Especially the BCD type.” A common saying in the military was that if one wore the heavy and ugly black glasses one had wear in Basic Training full-time, no one of the opposite sex would try to pick you up.

Guru grimaced at that. He was glad to have 20/20 vision both eyes, and not have to worry about that, but if he had had to go to Nav school instead of flight training... “She does realize that if she earns her commission and wings, and the day after the latter, the war ends, there's still an eight-year commitment to the Air Force?”

“She does,” said Goalie.

“Just so that she knows what she's getting into,” Guru said. He found the line that said APPROVED and signed his name there, before tossing the application into his OUT box. “Tell her to expect to pack a bag for Vandenberg in about a month. The Review Board will want her for Nav Training just like that,” said Guru, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

“I'll tell her,” Goalie said, just as someone knocked on the door.

'Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

The XO, Mark Ellis, came in. “Boss, got the usual end-of-day stuff before we can knock off.”

“Lay it on me, Mark,” the CO said. It had been a busy day, and he was just glad the flying day was at an end.

“Aircraft status report,” the XO said, handing Guru a clipboard with some papers. “We'll have twenty for the morning.”

'Twenty?” Guru asked as he scanned the papers.

“Two are down for battle-damage repair. Small-arms fire both birds, but we should have them back by noon.”

Guru thought for a moment. “Tell Kev O'Donnell before you get over to the Club and have him light a fire under the BDR people. See if they can't have those birds up and ready earlier than that.”

The XO nodded. “Will do.”

“Anything else?”

“Weather's unchanged for the next two or three days. Then another storm's due in.”

Guru checked the weather report. Highs in the low to mid 50s, lows upper 30s, then the storm... “At least three inches of snow possible, highs mid 30s and lows mid to upper 20s....Possible fog in low-lying areas.” Lovely, the CO thought. No flying that day.... “Well, we can use the break.”

“For maintenance, catching up on paperwork, and sleep,” Ellis said. “In no particular order.”

Goalie had a grin on her face. “Among other things,” she said with a coy expression.

“Among other things,” Guru nodded. “Anything else?”

“That Army PAO who babysits Ms. Mason on these trips? He said 'thanks for the flybys of the rally.'” Said the XO.

“Flybys?” Goalie asked. “We did one, so who else?”

“He didn't say, but he did thank us and the Marines for them, because they were all F-4s,” Ellis replied.

“Tell him 'you're welcome,'” Guru said. “That it for now?” Seeing Ellis nod, the CO added. “Talk to Kev about getting those two birds done earlier.”

Ellis said, “I'm on it.”

“Okay, see you at the Club,” Guru said.

After the XO left, Goalie asked, “How much longer is Erica going to be here? That rally's done.”

“Probably depends on what that PAO has in mind for her. Visiting a MASH, having a look at towns closer to the front lines, that sort of thing. Then it's probably off to OKC or Tulsa,” said Guru. “Then we can get back to normal.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“So do I.” Guru looked at the clock on his office wall. It read 1705. “Now we're off the clock. Time to hit the Club.” He stood up and grabbed his flight jacket and bush hat.


Guru and Goalie went over to the O-Club tent, and as they did, the rumble of jet engines was clearly heard as both AF, Marine, and Navy aircraft came in from their last missions of the day. Though the sun was still visible on the Western Horizon, it just got harder to use the Mark 1 eyeball to pick out targets on the ground as it got darker. Though the Night Hogs-assuming they were around-had no such issues, being some of the first fast-movers to be routinely equipped with Night-Vision Goggles. Both Guru and Goalie were actually glad not to be using them, for at the speeds they often flew at low level, missing something could be one's first-and last-mistake, as the field of view with the goggles wasn't as wide as they could be.

When they got inside, the place was already busy as the two bellied up to the bar. “Smitty,” Guru said to the barkeep. “What's on tap?”

The barkeep grinned. “Sam Adams for you, Major, and Bud for your GIB, as usual.” He produced the bottles.

Guru pulled out his wallet. “I'll pay.” Then he noticed Goalie had her eyes on the big-screen TV. “What's on?

She frowned. “I'd like to fire whoever's in charge of programming at AFN.”

“Why's that?” Smitty asked as he handed her a bottle of Bud.

“Who thought it was a good idea to put The Greatest American Hero on before the news?”

Guru wasn't happy at that himself. “I never got into that show, but if they were going to put Sci-fi on before the news? Put Battlestar: Galactica on, or Buck Rogers. Not this crap.”

Just then, Colonel Brady came up. “Major, Captain,” he said. “How'd things go today?”

“Two birds with small-arms damage, but they'll be back up by Noon, and the RAF may have a double ace.”

“I heard something about that,” Brady said as he got his beer. “But no eyeballs on target is what's going around.”

Guru nodded in the affirmative. “Afraid so, sir. Karen McKay took the shot when Dave Gledhill and Paul Jackson were out of position, and with the gun-camera film not yet developed...”

Brady knew the rest. “Say no more, Major. Intel gave them a probable, and nothing more until the gun-camera film's developed, and that won't be until tomorrow at least.”

“Yes, sir. And in two to three weeks, we lose the RAF, for they have a date in San Diego about that time.”

Brady nodded.”Bound to happen sooner or later, Major, but all good things do come to an end. Though their services will be missed.”

“Yes, sir.”

As people came in, they saw both Kara and Karen McKay engaged in hand-waving. It was obvious that the kill claim the latter had filed was the point of discussion. “They'll be arguing for a while,” Goalie noted. “One's Top Gun on this base, and another may share that title by this time tomorrow.”

“To be determined,” Guru said. “If that gun-camera footage doesn't come out...”

“Well find out tomorrow, Major,” Brady said as more crewers came in. They were followed by their VIP guest with Ms. Wendt's news crew in tow, along with Ranger Cordell Walker and Major Barzanian. “Did you guys buzz her rally?” Brady asked, referring to Erica's engagement earlier in the day.

The 335th CO nodded. “My flight did, and so did a couple of others. Not sure who else, though.”

“Well, as long as it makes that PAO who babysits her happy,” Brady said.

Guru nodded, then asked, “Any word on what happened elsewhere? Ol' Chebrikov was vowing revenge last night, and that cruise missile strike on London was probably the opening act.”

“They also shot some at Philly and Ottawa, didn't they?” Goalie asked.

“That they did, Captain,” Brady replied. “Not much came of it, and they tried pushing in both theaters, here and up North. The good guys were waiting, though.”

“Good to know,” Guru said as Lt. Col. Richard Hardegen, the VMFA-134 CO, came towards the bar.

“Looks like the two of us are going to have a chat,” said Brady. “You guys have a good rest of the evening.”

“Yes, sir,”said both Guru and Goalie. They knew this form of dismissal very well. As they left, the two Marines started to talk.


Guru and Goalie found a table their flight had claimed. “Well, this was an interesting day,” the CO said.

“Could've been worse,” Sweaty noted. “They could've gone all-out, like in '85 and '86.”

“Well, they didn't,” Kara replied. “And that should tell some folks something.”

Heads nodded. The day could've wound up having the same OpTempo as Day One of PRAIRIE FIRE, but it didn't. “Trying to take Sin's job?” Guru asked his wingmate.

Kara laughed. “No, Boss, but you do pick up things.”

“And that was likely Chebrikov wanting his generals to go all-out,” Dave Golen said. “But when the generals told him 'This is the best we can do right now,' he had to listen.”

“Even there?” Preacher asked.

“Even there.”

“Still,” Hoser said. “It took a guy with a lot of balls to go to Chebrikov and tell him that.”

Guru nodded. “It did. Just like in Stalin's day, or in the failed art student's bunker.”

Just then, Mark Ellis came in with the newspapers. “Boss, got the papers. L.A. Times for you, and Orange County Register for Goalie.”

“Thanks, Mark,” Guru said as he took the L.A., and Goalie got her hometown paper.

“Who's up for USA Today and Stars and Stripes?” Kara grabbed the former, while Hoser took the latter.

“Anything leap out?” Guru asked as he read the L.A Times front page. “Other than 'Chebrikov Assassination Attempt Fails', mind.”

“Not much,” Goalie said. “Granted, it's the O.C. Register, but they have one about the DNC calling on Jackson to drop out of the Presidential race.”

“After the drubbing he got on Super Tuesday?” Kara asked. “No surprise there. “USA Today has it,too. And there's still no clear front-runner. Babbitt's ahead, but not by much. Bill Bradley's right with him, and both Gephardt and Collins are close behind.” The latter was former Kentucky Governor Martha Layne Collins, and she was turning into a serious candidate.

“Says here,” Hoser said, “A Soviet sub sank an interisland freighter between two French islands in the Caribbean. French called in the Soviet Ambassador in Paris, and so on. Nothing out of the Kremlin.”

“Probably a little too busy after last night,” Dave Golen observed.

“Not arguing that,” Guru said. “MLB's already planning for the postwar world,” he noted from another article.

Then the restaurateurs who ran the Mess Operation came in. “People, we've got Dinner. Salisbury steaks or real Texas Barbeque Chicken. All the fixin's, so come and get it!”

As people got their food, the CBS Evening News came on AFN. “Good evening from Los Angeles,” Walter Cronkite began. “The Enemy today launched a series of air and missile attacks, along with several on the ground, in apparent response to the assassination attempt on Soviet Premier Chebrikov. We begin our coverage with our Defense Department Correspondent, David Martin.”

“The Soviets began the day with two attacks against London, apparently targeting the British Royal Family. Several air or sub-launched cruise missiles struck close to both Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle, but the Queen and Prince Philip, along with the rest of the Royal Family who are not in the military, were unhurt, and little damage was done to the Palace or the castle.

“Next, the Soviets tried again with attacks on both Philadelphia and Ottawa, and though none of the missiles came close to either the President or to Prime Minister Mulroney, the missile impacts were seen and felt all over both cities. At least one Soviet missile failed, and the weapon landed in a family's back yard in a Philadelphia suburb.” Images of a Soviet weapon that looked similar to a Tomahawk missile followed. “While the Soviet attacks seem to have paused, no one knows if they will resume tomorrow, but Defense sources I've been talking to say the military is ready. David Martin, CBS News, the Defense Department.”

Several people looked up from their food to see the missile and AF EOD techs on camera. “What the hell?” Colonel Brady asked. “That looks too much like a Tomahawk.”

“Not the only one thinking that, Colonel,” Guru said, and several others nodded. Especially Lt. Col. Gene Dennis, the MAG-11 Intel Officer.

“Could be either an AS-15 or an SS-N-21,” Dennis said. “They were thought to be nuclear-only.”

“Until now, looks like,” said Brady.

“On the ground, Soviet forces launched a number of attacks in both theaters,” Cronkite continued. “Allied ground forces were ready, and though the attacks were serious in many locations, enemy gains were minimal, and casualties were heavy. Richard Threlkeld in Central Texas has more from that theater:”

“Here, in Central Texas, the Ninth Armored Cavalry, with help from the Air Force, met a determined Soviet push coming up from the south,” the reporter said, with footage of Army M-60A3 tanks and M-3 Bradleys engaging Soviet armor. “The enemy here was poorly equipped, but in sectors further east and west, the Soviets, Cubans, and East Germans sent in their best.” Footage of wrecked T-54 tanks and burned-out or blasted BTR-50 or -60 APCs followed by a fire-fight in the ruins of what had been a ranch. “But that didn't mean the Soviets just rolled over. Here, some Russians fought it out.” More footage rolled, with Cav Troopers shooting into the wrecked house and barn, and then dragging several wounded Soviets out, along with hustling two others off as POWs. “In this part of Texas, Chebrikov's offensive failed. Richard Threlkeld, CBS News, with the Ninth Cavalry.”

More followed, with a report from London on the missile attack that morning that started the whole thing, and another using footage from Swedish TV about the assassination attempt in Moscow. Then came a report, no doubt just cleared, from a crew aboard a destroyer on the Atlantic Convoy Lanes, before Cronkite signed off. “And that's the way it is, from all of us at CBS News, Good night.”

“Now what?” Goalie asked. “Chebrikov's offensives fizzled out, pretty much, so what's next?”

“Good question,” Guru said. He'd been wondering the same himself. The day could have been a lot busier than it had been....

“Maybe we'll find out tomorrow,” Sin Licon said from his table. “Today might have been laid on too fast, and they might try something more determined tomorrow.”

Gene Dennis nodded. Not the first time he'd seen Ivan try something hard, have it fizzle out, then try again the following day or two later. “We'll just have to see.”

After finishing up, Kara went to the Pool Table. She challenged Ranger Walker to a match, and the Ranger accepted. Soon, the Ranger was out $50.00, and he went back to the table where he'd been with Erica and Major Barzanian. “She's good. Haven't been outplayed like that since Vietnam.”

“General Olds said the same thing, Patti Brown said. “Only he wound up beating her.”

“Three times,” Braniac added. “And she was right pissed about those.”

“My turn,” Major Barzanian said. She got up, went to the table, and laid down her money. Kara smiled, accepted the challenge, only to regret it a few minutes later, as the SOF Major's skills were superior this night Kara smiled, paid the $50.00, then came to the table with her flight in a rage.

“That's another strike,” she said.

Sweaty nodded. “She may have been doing it longer than you have.” She and the other 335th people watched as the Major defeated one of the RAF Rockapes before losing to Colonel Hardegen.

“Just do what you usually do,” Guru reminded his wingmate.

Kara smiled, downed the rest of her beer, then challenged the Marine. As in their previous matchup, Kara's skills were superior, before she proceeded to defeat a visiting C-130 navigator, and VMFA-333's XO.

A few minutes before Twelve-Hour, Colonel Brady rang the bar bell. “Okay, People!” The Club went silent. “Today was a busy day for everyone on this base, as Ivan lashed out after somebody tried to make the world a better place without Comrade Chebrikov.” Applause followed, then he went on. “We had a few people go down, but no empty chairs, and we're all grateful for that,”

Guru and the other squadron CO s nodded. “No letter-writing today, and that's always a good thing,” he observed, and Dave Gledhill nodded agreement.

“While our VIP Guest had an appearance Downtown,” Brady went on, motioning to Erica to get up. She did, to another round of applause. “And some of us crashed her party.” Brady nodded in Guru's direction, along with the CO for VMFA-333.

“Now we know who else was there,” Goalie muttered.

“Thanks, Colonel,” Erica said. “That Major who baby-sits me on these things is happy right about now.” She was thinking to herself that same Major would want those flybys to be a regular part of her rallies.

Thinking on those lines, Don Van Loan muttered, “And he's going to be asking for flybys every chance he can.”

“You've got that right,” the XO replied.

“On that note, drink up before Twelve-Hour!” Brady said. “That's an order!”


Kara grinned, got another beer, and took a challenge from Karen McKay, who might still be Top Gun on base-if her kill claim could be confirmed. This time, though, Kara's skills won out, and the RAF ace was out $50.00.

Just then, one of the Navy flight surgeons rang the bar bell. “Twelve-Hour's now in effect!”

After turning in their drinks and getting something nonalcoholic, talk turned to what might be coming down the pipe come morning.

“We going to have a PRAIRIE FIRE day tomorrow?” Sweaty asked her CO.

Guru nodded. “Maybe. If we do, it'll come when we least expect it. Then watch out.”

“As long as Chebrikov's still pissed that somebody tried getting him to push up daisies, he'll be in a mood to lash out,” Sin Licon said.

Things went on until 2100, when Doc Waters rang the bar bell. “Aircrew Curfew for those flying in the morning!” With that, crews got up and headed off to their bunks, for 0430 and Aircrew Wakeup would come before too long, and another busy day in the air would beckon.

[Poohbah]

Kathy learned the art of billiards at Aztec Lanes, which was in the lower level of Aztec Center at San Diego State University. It's a useful skill for a psychology major turned intelligence operator.

[jemhouston]

My father had a misspent youth at the local pool hall. In order to spare me that fate, he didn't get a pool table for the basement until after I moved out.

[Bernard Woolley]

Always glad to read a new chapter.

[Matt Wiser]

Working on a new chapter: should be up over the weekend if all goes well.