[Matt Wiser]

Here's the next segment, and the F-20s get in some air-to-air:



335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, TX: 1145 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser was in his office, going over some paperwork. Though not as much as one may have expected in peacetime, or so Colonel Rivers had told him when he was Exec, there was enough to make him despise and loathe bureaucrats and anyone who thought they were a good thing. He had just cleared what was in his IN Box when there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

The door opened and the squadron's Flight Surgeon, Doc Waters, came in. “Major,” he said. No matter what, Doc was always formal when on the clock. “Got two or three things to talk about.”

“Go ahead,” the CO said. No matter what, Doc outranked everyone-including him-when it came to things medical.

“First of all, I'm extending Kicker's grounding for a full week. I know, he's got a mild case of the flu, but I want to be sure he's ready to go before I release him.”

Guru looked at his Flight Surgeon. “I thought you said it was the Twenty-four Hour kind of flu.”

“So did I, but he hasn't gotten better. He's stable, and should improve over the next couple of days,” Doc said.

“Noted, Doc,” replied Guru. “Well, that makes Fridge happy, because that gives him more time in the cockpit.” He was referring to Kicker's replacement in the Exec's back seat. “And what else?”

The doc looked at the CO. “I know you guys have been hitting it pretty hard, but try and find some time to spend in the fitness center.”

“Doc, sometimes the Reds have a say in that,” Guru reminded him. “Days like yesterday, we don't have much time.”

“I know, but still, make an effort, okay?” the medical officer asked. He had been a general surgeon in private practice and had been a Captain in the AF Reserve before he had been called to active duty. And he wondered if being a pediatrician was like this? Especially dealing with prima-donna fighter pilots and GIBs.

“I'll pass it on, Doc,” Guru said. Though he did know the sawbones was right. “Sometimes, it's only two or three times a week we can get that in.”

Doc nodded. “I know, just try, Major.”

“Will try, Doc,” the CO said. “Anything else?'

The Flight Surgeon grinned. “I know about you and Goalie.”

Guru stared at the Doc. “It took you how long?”

“Just haven't had time or reason to talk about it,” Doc replied. “It doesn't take much to figure out: you two going off with each other on nights prior to a stand-down, and sometimes on others. Not to mention passing by your tent on such nights, and hearing sounds of passion. High, loud, and repeatedly.”

“Oh, boy.....” Guru shook his head. “And we're not the only ones,” he said. It wasn't a question.

“You're right.”

“Okay, I do know Don and Sweaty are seeing each other. Kerry Collins and Ryan Blanchard are as well, and Flossy and Scorpion also. And this doesn't count Kara's one-night stands.”

“You're dead on,” Doc said. “And there's four or five couples in the enlisted folks. Before you ask, Chief Ross knows.”

Guru sighed, then nodded. “All right, then. Any problems?”

“Nothing so far, a couple breakups, but the parties involved were....amicable.”

“Good. FYI there's only been one breakup among the officers, and that was Kyle Radner and Ryan Blanchard. Two weeks after our R&R escapade, Kyle was shot down. He didn't get out.” Guru said. “She took it hard for a couple of weeks, then she bounced back and moved on.” Just like a lot of people, the CO thought to himself.

“Good to know. I'll be, well, talking to the other couples, unofficially, just to see how they're doing. Sort of off-the record counseling if they want it.” And an article in a journal postwar, Doc thought.

“All right. Now, Doc, what I'm going to tell you does not leave this room under any circumstances,” Guru said, pointing a finger at his Flight Surgeon.

“Doctor-patient privilege, in other words,” Doc replied. He knew full well how serious that was. “What's up?”

“You're one of Frank's few friends. Now, between you and me-and a few others in the squadron, he is not getting into the F-20 program. When he finds out, there's no telling how he'll react, so keep an eye on him.”

'You think he'll pop? Doc asked. That wasn't unusual.

“No idea, but just in case, watch him,” Guru ordered.

“Will do.”

“That's settled. Anything else?” Asked the CO.

“That's it.” Doc said.

“Okay, see you later, and enjoy lunch-other than the pork tri-tip.”

“I'll bring the antidote,” Doc joked, and both laughed.

“Do that.” Guru said as Doc headed on out.

Just as Doc left, Goalie came in. “Doc,” she said. She had two bags in hand and two cups full of liquid.

“Goalie,” he nodded politely, then he left.

Guru nodded as his GIB put lunch on his desk. “What have we got?”

'”Barbeque chicken, with Cole Slaw and French Fries,” she replied. “And lemonade. Now, what'd Doc want?”

Guru took one of the Styrofoam containers. “Three things. First, Kicker's grounded for a full week with the Flu. No improvement, but he should be getting better in a couple of days.”

“Good to know,” Goalie said. She was Senior WSO, even though there were several WSOs who did outrank her. “He the only one sick?”

“So far, and Doc would've told me if there were other cases,” Guru said. “Second? Doc wants us to try and get some more time in the Fitness Center.”

She looked at her pilot and lover. “He does know that sometimes, the Reds decide things like that?”

“He does, and I did remind him of that. Doc wants everybody to make the effort. We'll just have to try.”

“Swell,” said Goalie. “And what else did the sawbones have to say?”

“He knows about us,” Guru said.

“Great,” she shook her head. “And how?”

“Simple,” explained the CO. “He's been walking through Officer Country at night, usually the night before a stand-down, and he hears passionate sounds from my tent. And he knows about three other couples.”

“Let me guess: he knows about Don Van Loan and Sweaty, Ryan Blanchard and Kerry Collins, and he's also caught on to Flossy and Scorpion now dating.”

Guru nodded. “And he's also mentioned several couples among the enlisted people.”

“Swell.”

Then there was a knock at the door. “Yeah?” Guru said.

His staff sergeant secretary came in. “Major, got these for you,” she said, handing him two message forms.

“Thank you,” Guru said. After she left, the CO let out a smile. “The RAF will be here in five days.”

“When do Yeager and his people leave?” Goalie asked, in between bites of chicken.

“Day after tomorrow. And be glad for that, because Chuck Yeager and RAF guys do not get along much,” said Guru, who then finished off a chicken breast.

“Too many stiff upper lip types, or Colonel Blimps,” was Goalie's comment. By her tone of voice, it wasn't a question.

Guru nodded. “Something like that,” he said. “And the second? Formal notice of when the tech-reps will be here to tweak the EW gear.”

Goalie's eyes perked up at the news. “Good. Now we'll know when those guns are painting us, instead of waiting to see those damn basketball-sized tracers.” She paused, then asked. “When?”

“Two weeks. And we're not the only ones hollering for that,” Guru reminded his GIB.

“I know, but still...good to know.”

“It is,” Guru said. Then there was another knock on the door. “Yeah? Show yourself and come on in!”

Kara came in. “Boss,” she said. “We got a mission coming up in thirty minutes.”

“No rest for the weary,” Guru said as he stood up.

“There's something else,” said Kara.

Guru took a look at his Assistant Ops Officer and wingmate. He could tell the expression on her face was serious. “What?”


Over Liberated Texas, near Wichita Falls, 1210 Hours Central War Time:


General Yeager was leading Showroom Flight, and this time, it was a flight of four. He was in his C model, as were Clancy and Pruitt, while Prada was in the D two-seater, and in the back seat was Capt. Don Van Loan, the 335th's Ops Officer. They had gone out on a demo flight, and had given Van Loan some DACT, and the Ops Officer was impressed.

“Prada, these birds might just have a use in this war. But, once it's over...” Van Loan said. “The guys at Nellis and their Navy counterparts might be the best you can shoot for. Maybe the Guard and Reserve, too.”

In the front seat, Prada smiled beneath her oxygen mask. “Well, we aim to please, and maybe we'll change some minds.”

“Doubt it,” Van Loan said. He had been in the Officer's Club when one of the F-20 drivers-either Clancy or Pruitt, had declared the F-20 the “Greatest thing since the P-51”, and that had made quite a few of the 335th's pilots and GIBs boiling. As in boiling mad. Though the F-20s had proven themselves in the air-to-ground arena since their arrival, there had been no encounters with Red aircraft. “You'd have to work on people with stars on their shoulders.”

“Flight, Lead,” Yeager called. “We're ten minutes from Bingo fuel, so form up and return to Home Plate.”

“Roger, Lead,” Clancy replied.

“Three copies,” Pruitt added.

“Four, roger,” Prada called.

The four F-20s had just joined up, when a call came from AWACS. “Showroom Lead, Crystal Palace. Bandits bearing Two-six-zero for twenty-four, low. You are closing.”

“Lead, Four. Just a reminder; if we run into bandits, drop back and let us handle them,” Prada called. She was politely reminding General Yeager of the no-combat order. In a way, she was a mother hen-though Clancy and Pruitt probably wouldn't mind if the General got into a fight. If it was unavoidable, fine. If not....

“Copy that, Four,” Yeager replied.

Beneath his oxygen mask, Capt. Matt Clancy muttered, “Yes, mother.” Why couldn't the Air Force let the General, who was first and foremost, a fighter pilot, be one if necessary?

“Two, make that four, hits at Twelve O'clock,” Capt. Jeb Pruitt called.

“I have five,” Prada added. “That doesn't make sense.

In the D's back seat, Van Loan had been watching the radar display. “It does if it's a recon flight. Four escorts and a recon bird.”


To the south, Capt. Mark Ellis was leading his flight back to Sheppard. They had struck an ammo dump near Glen Rose, and were heading back. Then he got a call from AWACS.

“Cadillac Lead, Crystal Palace. Bandits bearing Three-four-zero for fifty-five. Low, going away. Kill. Repeat: KILL. You are clear to arm, clear to fire.”

“Copy, Crystal Palace. Three-four-zero for fifty-five,” he replied. “Flight, Lead. Light'em up and follow me.” And four F-4Es headed in at full military power.


“Lead, Two,” Clancy called Yeager. “Now ten miles.” Just then, two of the bandits turned towards the F-20s. “ Picking up MiG-23 radars.” That meant MiG-23 Floggers with High Lark radar and AA-7 Apex radar-guided missiles.

“They've turned into us,” Pruitt called.

“Flight, Lead,” Yeager said. “Go get'em,” he called. Then he dropped back, flying wing to Prada. “Two, you and three take the lead.”

“Roger that,” Clancy replied. He called up an AIM-7M, and it didn't take long to get a lock. “And...FOX ONE!” He squeezed the trigger and sent a Sparrow missile after one of the MiGs.

“Three has one....FOX ONE!” Pruitt had locked up one of the MiGs and fired.

Clancy's first missile, though an AIM-7M, acted like an E, for it fired its warhead only halfway to the target. He cursed, then fired his second. “FOX ONE AGAIN!”


In the lead MiG-23, the commander of the Second Squadron, 905th IAP, was leading the escorts. He had decided to show the new pilots in the squadron how things were done, and went out leading an escort for a Yak-28R on a reconnaissance mission. Now, he had picked up hostile radars to his right, and had turned, along with his wingman, to face the threat. Then his Sirena-3 RWR indicated missile lock, and he began searching for crows, which, to a Soviet airman, meant enemy fighters. Then, as he closed, saw a missile track his wingman then it exploded well short. The Lieutenant Colonel swept the sky, trying to pick up visual contact, just as his RWR indicated another missile lock. Just at his Twelve-O'clock, he saw what looked like an F-5. F-5's didn't carry radar-guided missiles! Then a Sparrow missile speared his MiG, and he was engulfed in a fireball. The Colonel never had a chance to scream.

“SPLASH ONE!” Pruitt called. He had shot at the leading MiG.

“Good kill, Three,” said Yeager.

Then Clancy's second Sparrow found the MiG wingman. “SPLASH!” Clancy shouted as the MiG fireballed.

“Nice shooting, Two,” Yeager called.

In Four's back seat Don Van Loan was looking at one of the MFDs, and this one was showing the radar picture. Then he scowled. “Prada, if I read this radar right, we've got a problem.”

“What?” Prada asked. She was intent on protecting General Yeager.

“There's not one pair, but two, plus the recon bird.”

She checked her own radar display, then made visual. “Oh, shit! Lead, Four. We've got two pair left. Repeat, not one, TWO!” She then selected RADAR for a Sparrow, locked on one of the MiG-23s, then shot. “FOX ONE!”, Prada called, sending an AIM-7M on its way.

Yeager called the AWACS. “Crystal Palace, Showroom Lead. Need some help here.”


“Copy that, Showroom,” the controller replied. “Cadillac Flight inbound. Break, Cadillac Lead, Crystal Palace. Bandits on your nose, thirty-five and medium. Friendlies engaged, and they need some help. Go gate.” That meant afterburner.

“Roger that, Crystal Palace,” Ellis replied in Cadillac Two-one. “Flight, Lead. Go gate, NOW!” Cadillac Flight's four F-4Es went to afterburner. “One minute out.”


“Showroom Flight, Lead,” Yeager said. “Verify IFF is on, out.” He knew the F-4s might be taking BVR shots....

“Two, I need some help here,” Prada called.

“Little busy now,” Clancy replied. He and Pruitt had their hands full with two MiGs, and these were being flown by experts, or “Honchos” to use an old Korean War phrase. Clancy was in a vertical rolling scissors with one of the MiGs, and he thought, but wasn't sure, that he saw the Guards insignia on the side of the MiG. He was close enough to the driver that he could've picked him out of a police lineup, though all he saw was the white helmet with visor down, and the green flight suit.

Then the MiG pilot, thinking he was facing an F-5, got out a little too far ahead, and that was all Clancy needed. Too close for a Sidewinder, but not for guns. He squeezed the trigger, sending a hundred rounds of 20-mm from his two M39 cannon after the MiG. Most of the rounds flew up the MiG's exhaust, and the MiG-23 exploded in a fireball. To Clancy's surprise, the MiG pilot ejected from the fireball, and had a good chute. “SPLASH!”

Pruitt heard that call, just as he turned inside his MiG. Then this MiG pilot also made a mistake. He, too, thought he was facing an F-5, and he saw his leader explode. He reversed his turn, and Pruitt got on his tail. “And...FOX TWO!” Pruitt's AIM-9L flew right up the MiG's tailpipe and exploded the Flogger. As the MiG came apart, Pruitt saw the canopy come off, the seat fire, and quickly thereafter, there was a parachute. “Three has a splash!'

In the D, Prada cursed as her Sparrow missed, and the MiGs came into the merge. She and Yeager broke, and one of the MiGs turned for her. Prada lost sight of Yeager, but Van Loan didn't. He saw Yeager break low and to the right, then saw the second MiG turning towards them.

“Prada, break!” Van Loan called from the right seat.

She broke right, forcing the first MiG to overshoot, and Prada did a 180, went into the vertical, then rolled in behind the second MiG-23. She selected HEAT, and was quickly rewarded with the growl of a Sidewinder in her headset. The growl went loud. “FOX TWO!” She squeezed the trigger, sending an AIM-9L after the MiG.

In the MiG wingman's cockpit, a SAF Senior Lieutenant was looking around. He had lost sight of his element leader, as well as the American he had been chasing. Like the others, he thought he was facing F-5s at first, but he had picked up the warning on his Sirena-3 RWR, and knew this was something new. Cursing the poor rear visibility in the MiG-23, he was looking around when there was an explosion behind him, and every warning light came on in the cockpit. The Lieutenant shrugged, then jettisoned his canopy and fired his K-36 ejection seat. Hanging in his chute, he saw the American fly past. It looked like a two-seat F-5, and it blew past. Now, he was hoping the U.S. Army would find him before those bloodthirsty savages who called themselves the American Resistance did.

“SPLASH!” Prada called as the MiG pilot ejected. She had watched as the Sidewinder flew up the MiG's tail and exploded.

“Good kill!' Clancy shouted.

“Good one,” Van Loan said from the back seat. ”Now, where's that other MiG, and where's General Yeager?”

The two scanned the sky, above and below, and didn't see the MiG leader. But they did see the recon bird, and an F-20 in pursuit. “I think I see him. He's right behind the recon bird,” Prada said. “Fuck me.”

“Is that an offer?”

“It might be, with the storm that'll come.”


General Yeager had lost sight of his wingmate, and he had picked up the recon bird. A Yak-28R, he saw, and it was approaching the Wichita Falls area, which included Sheppard. Can't have that, he thought, and he heard the radio calls of the others as they were engaged. Oh, well, can't be helped. He selected HEAT, then rolled in behind the Yak. He got good tone on a Sidewinder and shot. “FOX TWO!” Yeager called in his West Virginia twang.

“Oh, shit.” Pruitt said as he regained contact. He had been hoping to roll onto the recon bird.

Go, General, Clancy said to himself.

Yeager's Sidewinder flew true to the right engine, and exploded. The engine pod itself exploded, tearing most of the right wing off the aircraft. Still, the pilot tried to pitch up, to give the navigator a chance to use his downward firing ejection seat, and after the navigator went, the pilot ejected. Yeager saw the chutes, then watched as the Yak rolled inverted, then plunged into the ground. “Showroom Lead has a splash.”

“Lead, good kill!” Clancy shouted.

“Oh, shit,” Van Loan said in the D. “There's going to be a storm over this.”

“No kidding, Sherlock!” Prada shot back. “Where's the other MiG?”


“Cadillac Flight coming in,” Mark Ellis called. “Got a Flogger going south.” His temporary backseater, Fridge, locked him up. “FOX ONE!” Ellis sent two AIM-7Es towards the MiG, but the MiG-23 broke hard left, breaking missile lock, then he reversed. “Two-three, Two-four, take him.”

“Copy that,” Scorpion called in Two-three.”Where is he?” Scorpion asked his GIB, Judge.

“Three O'clock, going south,” Judge replied.

“Two-four has him.” That was Cosmo and Revlon. “Clear to engage?”

“Four, press to engage. I'll cover,” Scorpion called. He was element lead, but now, he was giving Cosmo the lead in the fight, and he would support her.

Cosmo grinned beneath her oxygen mask. “Going heat,” she called. She called up a Sidewinder, and got good tone. “FOX TWO!” She squeezed the trigger, and an AIM-9P4 shot off the rail. The missile tracked right, then left, and flew up the MiG's tailpipe. Both pilot and GIB were rewarded with the sight of the MiG-23 exploding, and then cartwheeling all the way to the ground. “SPLASH! Two-four has a splash, and no chute.”

“Shit hot!” Revlon yelled from the back seat.

“Good kill, Four,” Scorpion called.

“Crystal Palace, Cadillac Lead. Say bogey dope.” Ellis called the AWACS.

“Cadillac Lead, Crystal Palace. Negative bogeys inbound.” Replied the AWACS controller.

“Roger that,” Ellis replied. “Flight, Lead. Form up and head for home.”


“Showroom Flight,” called Yeager. “Form up and head for home plate.”



335th TFS CO's Office, 1215 Hours:


“Okay, Kara. Correct me if I'm wrong,” Major Wiser was saying. “They were coming back from Don's orientation flight, DACT and all, when they got jumped by MiGs escorting a recon bird?” He saw Kara nod, then continued. “General Yeager got separated from his wingmate, and he wound up splashing the recon bird?”

“That's about it,” Kara replied. “No friendlies lost. And Mark's people came in at the end. One of them splashed a MiG as well.”

Guru nodded. “Okay, before we go to the ramp, I need to call General Tanner.” He was referring to Major General Robert Tanner, the Commander of Tenth Air Force, which handled the air war from California to Central Texas. “If he finds out from me, it goes a whole lot easier than if he heard via message traffic.”

“And thus cools necessary tempers,” Goalie observed.

“It should,” Guru said as he made the call. “I have a direct number to him. Bypasses the ADC, Chief of Staff, any flunkies.” He waited as the phone rang on the other end. Then a female voice asked,

“General Tanner's office. May I ask who's calling?” It was the General's secretary.

“Major Wiser at the 335th TFS.” Guru said politely.

'One moment,” the secretary said. Then another ring, and a firm, male voice came over the line.

“Tanner.”

“Sir, this is Major Wiser at the 335th,” said Guru, trying to be calm himself.

In his office, Tanner was beaming. “Major! Heard some great things about your squadron from General Olds. What's up?”

“Sir, General Yeager and his people were returning from giving one of my pilots an orientation ride, when they got jumped by MiGs escorting a recon bird. No friendly losses, and a full report is being prepared for you on the incident. However, General Yeager got separated from his wingman, and wound up splashing the recon bird.”

There was silence on the other end, then Tanner asked, “You do have the directive from the Chief of Staff, Major?”

“I do, sir, and it's right in front of me,” said Major Wiser. “It says that they're not to initiate combat if they encounter the enemy, and the added restriction of no flying within thirty miles of the FLOT.”

“Where were they, Major?”

“Sir, my deputy Ops Officer says between Gainesville, Texas, and Ardmore, Oklahoma is where they went to. That's just about due east of here.”

“And right on the boundary between Ninth Air Force and Tenth,” Tanner noted. “So, they were on the way back to Sheppard when they ran into the bad guys.”

Major Wiser said, “Yes, sir. We should have a full report on this within the hour.”

“Good,” said Tanner. “I'll notify TAC HQ, and I do have a direct line to the Chief of Staff's office.” That meant General Michael Dugan, the AF Chief of Staff. “Get me that report by Fax, and I'll send it to him. He should have it within two hours.”

“Sir, we'll get that to you.”

“All right, Major. You've rode a storm like this when Colonel Rivers was killed, and came out fine. You'll do the same here. You've got news media there, right?”

Guru replied, “That we do, sir. The Aussie crew's still here.”

“Okay, they can prep whatever story they want, but tell them to hold off on sending it to CBS or Sydney until you hear from me. I'll send you a directive in writing via fax in case they squawk. This is something Air Force Headquarters is going to have to decide.” Tanner said, waving in his own Chief of Staff and PAO.

“Will do, sir.” Guru said.

“All right, Major. I'm glad you told me this way, instead of my finding out through message traffic. My reaction would be a lot less calm, if you get the idea,” said Tanner.

“I do, sir.”

Tanner said, “Major, I've got every confidence in you. I'll take care of the brass and the PAO side of this. You take care of the Russians. Get me that report, and then you get on with the war. Got it?”

'Yes, sir.” Major Wiser said.

“All right: I'll get that directive to you ASAP, and get me that report. Within two hours, I want it on General Dugan's desk.”

“Understood, sir.” said Guru.

“Get with it, Major, and then you get on with the war,” Tanner told Major Wiser. “I'll be in touch.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good rest of the day, Major.” Tanner said.

“Sir.” Guru said, then he heard the CLICK as General Tanner hung up.


“Well?” Goalie asked.

Guru had a grim smile, then it improved. “Well, General Tanner was glad to hear from me, instead of via message traffic. His reaction would be less than calm, he said.”

“Good news,” Kara said. “Well, back to the old advancement-by-assassination plan, then.” She snapped her fingers at that.

“Yeah,” Goalie added. “So, what else?”

Guru looked at both of them. “After whatever celebration on the ramp, we need to debrief this. Request General Yeager's presence in the Main Briefing Room, along with everyone involved, in Fifteen. Because we need to debrief this, get a report prepped, and then faxed to General Tanner within the hour. In two hours, that report will be on the desk of the Chief of Staff himself, General Dugan.”

“Got you,” Kara said. “What else?”

“He said he'd take care of the brass and the PAO side. We take care of the Russians. But....Push our mission back by a half-hour. We go at 1330,” the CO told her. “This may take a while.”

The Assistant Ops Officer nodded. “Will do. They should be in the pattern anytime.”

Guru nodded, then got up from his desk. He went and grabbed his bush hat. “Then we have somewhere to be.”



When the CO, Kara, Goalie, and several others got to the ramp, they noticed General Olds was there, already watching. Clearly, he'd found out fast, and then Colonel Brady, the CO of MAG-11, arrived, along with Jana Wendt and her news crew. “General, Colonel,” Guru said, saluting. “Hell of a day.”

“It is that,” General Olds said. “Not every day a general officer scores a kill. Don't think this happened in WW II, though.”

“It may have, sir,” someone said, and people turned to see the despised and loathed Major Frank Carson there. “Jimmy Doolittle may have gotten one in WW II, and General Eisenhower wanted to possibly court-martial him for flying combat missions after being briefed on Ultra.”

“Really?” Olds said. This was a first for him, hearing about this.

“Yes, sir. He almost fired Doolittle for allowing his Ops Officer, a one-star by the name of Vanaman, I believe, fly combat missions after he got an Ultra brief. The fellow was shot down and captured by the Germans. Though Ultra wasn't compromised.” Carson said. “At the Academy, we explored this in a debate at the Academy, my third-class year. I thought Doolittle could have been court-martialed.”

Court-Martial Jimmy Doolittle? Olds wondered. “Well, Major, Ike didn't do it, and I think history has been the judge on that.”

“Yes, sir.” Carson replied.

General Olds slipped away to find Colonel Brady, Major Wiser, and several 335th and Marine officers watching as the F-20s and F-4s taxied in, canopies raised, and pilots showing fingers to signal kills. “Major, that snobby officer has book smarts, but can't translate them to real-world experience.”

“General,” Guru said. “With all due respect, you're not the first to say that. And General Tanner found out when he was here for Colonel Rivers' memorial service.”

Olds nodded. “If you can't send him packing, then General Cunningham might, if he comes by.”

“General, it'll be a happy day on this base when that skunk leaves,” said Colonel Brady as General Yeager's F-20 came in.

“Not just the F-20s,” Kara noted. “Cosmo and Revlon got a kill.”

“The 'unmanned' crew?” General Olds asked.

“One of two, sir,” Guru said. “Lieutenant Sandi Jenkins has a female GIB filling in for her regular one, who is grounded with a severe ankle sprain.”

Brady looked at the Major. “When those two make ace? Those newsies will be all over them.”

“Yes, sir. Speaking of which, I need to talk to Ms. Wendt.” Guru then went over to where Jana Wendt and her 9 News Australia crew were setting up. “Ms. Wendt?”

“Major?' Wendt asked. “What's your take on all this?”

Guru had a smile. “Not every day a general goes out and scores a kill. Something like this probably last happened in World War II. This isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. I have verbal orders from General Tanner at Tenth Air Force for you to hold the story on this. For twenty-four hours at least, more likely forty-eight.”

The reporter looked at him with an exasperated expression on her face. “What?”

“Not just the Russians we need to worry about here. Air Force brass as well. They need to find out, and digest this before we send it out. You'll still have the 'exclusive', but not right away.”

Ms. Wendt looked at Kodak Griffith, the Marine PAO, who nodded. “I see...oh, well. What's a day or two?”

“You can talk to Cosmo and Revlon some more,” Guru said. “They got a kill today, and might soon be aces. How's that for an exclusive? The first all-female ace team in the Air Force. I'll let you know when that happens.”

The reporter extended her hand. “Deal. But you still owe me a backseat ride in one of your Phantoms.”

Guru shook on it. “Okay, but there's someone ahead of you in that department.”

“Who?”

Guru let out a smile. “General Olds.”

“Rank has its privileges, then?” Ms. Wendt said, and Guru could tell she wasn't too happy with that.

“It does.”


Guru came over to the celebration, and found General Olds and Colonel Brady with General Yeager. “Chuck, “ Olds was saying, “I wish you'd taken me up this time.”

“Well, Robin,” Yeager replied. “Remember what you said to one of your flight leaders on BOLO?”

“What was that?” Olds wanted to know.

“Go find your own.” And that drew some laughter from General Olds.

“Now that's being selfish, Chuck,” Olds said, unconsciously saying what John B. Stone had thought when Olds had said the same thing on 2 January 1967.

Guru then came to General Yeager. “General, congratulations are in order. First flag officer to get a kill since WW II, I believe.”

“Thanks, Major. You still want a ride?” Yeager asked. “We'll be here tomorrow and the next day. Then we head on to our next stop.”

“Day after tomorrow? That'll be fine, sir,” Guru said. “Sir, we need to cut this short. A proper debrief is needed, so that a report can be faxed to General Tanner within the hour.”

“In ten, Major,” Yeager said. “I need to talk with the newsies.” He indicated Ms. Wendt and her crew.

“Yes, sir.”

Yeager went over to the news crew, and started to chat, while Guru went to General Olds.

“Major, I need a check ride with you guys. And I am well aware of the no-combat directive,” Olds told him.

“General,” Guru replied. “We'll find some time tomorrow, if that's all right with you, sir. I'll fly you in my back seat. If that's acceptable to the General.”

Olds smiled. “It is, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.” Guru turned to Kara. “Everything set?”

“Main Briefing Room's ready when you are.”

“In...”he checked his watch. “Eight minutes.”

“Got it,” Kara replied.

“And one other thing: I'm taking General Olds up on a 'check flight.' You're coming as my wingman.”

Kara's jaw dropped. “Thanks a heap! What'd I do?” She asked.

“Nothing,” said Guru. “Just that you are the best I've got, and want to show that to General Olds. Goalie?” His GIB turned to him. “On this 'check flight?' You fly back seat with Kara.”

Goalie had a grin from ear to ear. “Wouldn't miss this for the world.”

“Good.” Major Wiser turned to General Olds. “Sir, we need to get Cadillac and Showroom flights in the Main Briefing Room.”

“Understood, Major,” Olds said. “All right! Cadillac and Showroom Flights? Main Briefing Room, right now” He said in a voice of command that anyone would recognize.

With that, those involved, plus several others from the 335th, including the CO, along with General Olds and Colonel Brady, went to the 335th's Main Briefing Room to debrief the flight, then get the report prepped. The sooner that was done, the sooner they could get on with the war.