[Matt Wiser]

Guru's F-20 ride, and a loathed figure finds out he's not getting the F-20:



335th TFS, 1045 Hours Central War Time:


Camaro Flight's crews were getting their debriefing done outside the squadron's offices. There were several picnic tables there, and not only were they a popular spot for those who wanted to eat lunch outside, but they were also handy for quick debriefings. Sin Licon, their Intelligence Officer, went over things, and when the debrief was finished, asked the CO, “Major, word's going around you're going up in the F-20.”

“Right you are,” Major Wiser said. He glanced over at the dispersal area the F-20s were using-which would soon be used by the RAF when they arrived. “Waiting on their own turnaround.”

“And I don't need to be a spook to figure out what you're going to say,” Licon nodded. “Nasty point-defense interceptor. Good for an F-5 replacement for those who can't afford an F-16, and a potent aggressor.”

“You picked that up fast,” Goalie said, glancing at the CO, who nodded.

“Word gets around,” the intel replied. “So....looks like you all did a number on that field. I'll check the strike camera footage once it's developed, then send it off to MAG-11 Intelligence.”

“Thanks, Sin,” Guru said. “I'll check the office, then all I have to do is wait for the F-20 guys to call.”

Kara grinned. “And since you'll be likely riding with Prada, she may not let you touch the stick.”

“You did 'splash' her,” as I recall,” Sweaty added with some relish. She was still smarting over losing to General Yeager, and not recording a training kill in their DACT round with the F-20s.

“He did,” Goalie smiled at her pilot and lover. “And something else's been on our minds. How'd Frank take the news?”

Licon shook his head. “Haven't heard anything on that.”

“Find out soon enough,” Guru said as he got up from the table. “Remember, check your desks before you all get some chow,” he reminded his flight. Then he went into the office, and after chatting with the Admin folks, went into his office. To his surprise, there wasn't much cluttering up his desk. The CO quickly took care of the two papers that required his attention, then went back out of his office. He ran into the Assistant Ordnance Officer, Capt. Kerry Collins. “Kerry.”

“Boss,” Collins replied. “Glad to see my bird getting worked on.” His mount had taken flak damage a couple days earlier, and now that the needed parts had arrived, the maintenance people were getting it back in shape-and getting the hundred-hour check done at the same time.

“How's the bird from Japan?” Guru asked.

“Just fine, Boss,” Collins said. “Nothing to complain about.”

“Good,” the CO nodded. Just then, a figure that was universally loathed in the squadron-if not the base-came in. Major Frank Carson was a pain in the ass to just about everyone, and had rubbed everyone the wrong way. His Frank Burns-type personality, Academy know-it-all attitude towards anyone not a USAFA graduate, and Boston Blue-blood arrogance earned him very few friends and a great many enemies in the squadron. Not to mention the CO's promise to kick him out by New Year's if he didn't shape up. Still, Guru felt it best to be polite to Carson when he wasn't pissed off. “Frank,”

“Major,” Carson nodded politely, though everyone in the office could hear the contempt in his voice. It was an open secret that Carson felt he was entitled to command the squadron, and resented that he had been skipped over and Guru confirmed in command instead. “Captain,” he said to Collins, then went to his desk. There, he found the envelope from General Yeager.

“Watch it...” Guru warned Collins as Carson opened the envelope.

Everyone in the office watched the Major scan the letter inside. Then he did it again. “This can't be...must be a mistake.”

“Good news, Frank?” Guru asked politely, though he knew full well what was in the letter.

Collins looked at his CO. “Boss?”

Carson looked at Guru as if the CO had suddenly grown another head and set of arms. His eyes then returned to the letter. Then he kicked the wastebasket next to his desk, stuffed the letter in his flight suit pocket, and stormed out the front door just as Chief Ross was coming in. The door was still open, and everyone heard a scream. “ARRRGH!”

“Let me guess, Boss,” Collins grinned. “He didn't get into the F-20 program.” It wasn't a question.

“General Yeager told me a few days ago. No way was Frank going to F-20s. With his record....” Guru's voice trailed off. “Do me a favor, Kerry.”

“You got it, Boss,” Collins said. He could tell the concern in his CO's voice.

“Pass the word to watch Frank. He just saw his hopes of getting a squadron, maybe even a wing, of his own, crash and burn. Lot of pressure on him, and he's going to pop sooner or later.”

Collins nodded. “And we had better hope he doesn't get anyone in the squadron-or other friendlies-killed.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Kerry,” Guru said. “You too, Chief. Pass it on about Major Carson.”

“Yes, sir,” Ross said. “Major, the F-20s are set to go. They sent me to get you, with General Yeager's compliments.”

Guru nodded. “Thanks, Chief.” He turned to Collins. “Let the Exec and Van Loan know about Frank.”

“Will do, and have a good hop, Boss,” Collins grinned.

“Thanks, Kerry,” Guru said. He nodded at Ross, and went out the door, with Ross behind him. His flight was still on the lawn, and he had had a slight scowl on his face. “What are you guys still doing here?”

“Well,” Kara said. “Wanted to wish you luck with the F-20s, then we saw Frank come out, and he was not in a good mood.”

Preacher nodded. “Was that what we think it was?”

“It was, and he's now going to pop,” the CO said. “The question is when? Goalie?” He turned to his GIB. “Find Brian Slater, that's his GIB, then find his wing crew. Give them the news, and tell them to watch Frank like a hawk, especially in the air. If he starts taking unnecessary chances, that's emotional instability and Doc can ground him for that.”

Goalie nodded. “On my way,” she said, going off to look for the crewers in question.

“And the rest of you? Pass the word about Frank, but get this: no razzing him or anything like that. Understood? Don't want him taking it out on anyone in the squadron. Clear?”

“As a bell, Major,” said Kara. Though she had her own issues with the man, that was the last thing she-or anyone else-wanted.

“Good. I'll tell him to get sloppy drunk tonight, and sleep it off tomorrow. Give him the day off, maybe two.”

“Gotcha,” Sweaty nodded. “Now, going to try out the T-20?”

“Now, now,” Hoser said. “But yeah, they going to get even with you for, uh, 'killing' two of them?”

“We'll see,” Guru grinned as he went to the pickup. “Let's go, Chief.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ross as they got into the pickup.


A quick drive brought the pickup to the F-20 area, and as Guru got out of the truck, he noticed the tech-reps busy about the aircraft, while the drivers were discussing something that had happened in the air, for there was quite a bit of hand gestures being employed. He picked up his helmet and said, “Thanks, Chief.”

“Have a good one, sir, and I'll be waiting when you get back,” Ross said.

“Remember what I said about Major Carson,” Guru reminded him.

“Yes, sir,” Ross said. “I'll pass that on,”

“Good man, Chief,” Guru nodded as he got out of the truck and went over to the F-20 crews. He sketched a salute as General Yeager recognized him. “General.”

Yeager sketched a return salute of his own. “Major,” he said pleasantly. “You'll be with Prada on this one.”

Guru nodded, and turned to the pilot in question. “Hope you don't mind flying somebody who 'splashed' you the other day.”

“Not at all, Major,” Prada replied, but he did noticed the slight evil-looking grin on her face.

“Ready, Major?” Clancy asked. “Now you'll see what these can do from the cockpit.”

“No doubt,” Guru grinned. “But...I'll tell you all what I told General Yeager earlier: you've got yourselves here a nasty little dogfighter and point-defense interceptor. It'll do all right in the ground-attack arena, especially for those who can't afford an F-16 or F/A-18, and the Aggressor Community will be glad to see this bird. And that's about all the positives.”

“And the negative?” Jeb Pruitt asked, though he already knew some of it.

“Endurance, for starters,” Guru said. “Your unrefueled endurance is about forty-five minutes, an hour with the centerline tank. More tanks means drag, and you all know what that means.” Seeing the three juniors nod, along with Yeager, he went on. “Northrop's squeezed just about everything out of the F-5 design it can. Maybe after the war, they can take a look at something new, but...we have to get to the 'after the war,' first.”

“That we do, Major,” Yeager said. Then one of the tech-reps came over to him and whispered in his ear. “We're good to go. Let's go back to the Scud Box and do some ACM. Hassle with each other, and maybe see if anyone passing through wants a fight. And yes, Major, if the bad guys come, I'll let you young ones handle it.”

Guru nodded. “That's good to hear, General.” The last thing he wanted was another talk with General Tanner, and then a tongue-lashing from the Air Force Chief of Staff. So far, the big brass hadn't called him on the carpet for the F-20s having encountered Red Air, but.....

Yeager grinned, then said in his West Virginia drawl, “Then let's fly.”


Prada took Guru to the F-20D, and gestured to the back seat. “Last time I was in the back seat was for my first orientation ride in an F-4, back at Homestead.”

“Prewar?” Prada asked as they got into their seats and the Crew Chief-who was Air Force, along with the Assistant-helped them get strapped in.

“Yep. Three years ago. Seems like that many lifetimes.”

“I know what you mean,” said Prada. “I was at the University of Maryland when it all started. Just started my junior year,” as she took care of the preflight checklist, then started the engine.

“Well, when this is all over, you get your sister back from Cuba, then go back to school on the Air Force's dime.”

“General Yeager used those exact same words last night,” Prada said. “Time to taxi.”

The F-20s taxied out of their revetments, and taxied to Runway Three-Five-Romeo. They were fourth in line, behind a C-130, two flights of Marine F/A-18s, and a two-ship from the 335th. By the tail numbers, it was Dave Golen and Flossy going back out. Once the F-4s had launched, then it was the turn of the F-20s.

“All set back there?” Prada asked Guru.

“Ready,” Guru said. This was new, flying in the back seat again after so long in the front.....

“Showroom Flight, Lead,” Yeager's drawl came over the radio. “Clear for takeoff.”

Both Prada and Guru saw the Control Tower flash the green light, then the first two F-20s, Clancy and Pruitt, rolled down the runway and into the air. Then it was their turn and General Yeager's. His C and their D were in formation as they thundered down the runway and then climbed skyward. Once airborne, they formed up and set course due west for the Scud Box.


The four-ship of F-20s had a ten minute flight to the Scud Box, then, much to the disappointment of Clancy and Pruitt, there were no transiting flights from Amarillo in the area. AWACS pronounced the area clear, so all they had at the moment was each other.

After a couple of fights where Clancy and Pruitt “killed” each other, always under the watchful eye of General Yeager, Prada charged in, with Guru in the back seat. For this one, he was just a passenger. On the way to the Scud Box, Prada had explained what the Multifunction Displays did, and he had played around with them. A moving map display, EW display, radar, HUD camera, ADI and HSI, digital compass display, weapons status, it put his F-4 cockpit to shame. For all of the gauges and dials were now available at the touch of a finger. “Prada, what do you want me for?”

“Clear six, and keep an eye out for any party-crashers.” Prada said as she rolled in on Pruitt.

“General Yeager referees these?”

“He does,” Prada acknowledged as she tried to line up Pruitt for a Sidewinder, but her quarry rolled away and dived to the right.

“Practical,” Guru nodded in the back seat, then had his head on a swivel. “Clancy at five,” he called, spotting an F-20 coming in.

“Oh?” Prada said. She broke left, then went into a vector roll as Clancy overshot. Then she came in behind Clancy. “Check six.”

“You're clear,” Guru said. “Take him.”

“Steady....and...” The tone growled in both their headsets. “FOX TWO on Clancy.”

“That's a kill,” Yeager ruled from his perch above.

“Fuck!” Clancy swore out loud in his F-20, but he was careful not to on the radio. Then he headed out for a minute, then came back in.

“So, Major,” Yeager said while Clancy was headed out. “What do you think?”

“General, Still unchanged, but I'll say this: I'm getting a sneak preview of what the F-15E will be for us,” Guru said.

“Glad to hear that,” Yeager said. “Clancy coming in.”

“I see him,” Prada called, turning to face him. Another kill this hop...

Guru turned his head and saw an F-20 coming down on them from above. “BREAK LEFT!” He called on the IC.

Without thinking, Prada broke just before Pruitt got Sidewinder lock. Cursing, he tried to turn, but overshot his opponent. He had kept her away from Clancy, but...

“Got you, Jeb,” Prada muttered as she rolled back in onto Pruitt's six. “FOX TWO on Jeb.”

“Kill,” Yeager ruled. “Sorry, son.”

As Pruitt headed out, Guru said to Prada on the IC, “Dave Golen told me these two take a lot of risks.”

“They do,” she replied. “They fly the -20 like they stole it. Kind of like you guys and your F-4s. Then again, probably because they're a little younger than I am, and a lot more foolish.”

“He also said you thought they had climbed the ladder a bit too fast for your taste.”

“I do, but given the losses the 474th took, I'm not surprised. And I'm not surprised that General Yeager's taken them under his wing, given the crazy stuff they pulled at Wichita and during PRARIE FIRE.”

“Two younger versions of himself?” Guru wondered as Prada did a barrel roll and tried to line up Pruitt again.

“Clancy is BINGO,” the call came over the radio. They watched as an F-20 turned east for Sheppard.

“Unless there's a tanker around, this little exercise is over,” Guru noted. He checked the MFD that showed the HUD view, and Pruitt was jinking all over, then he leveled out and made a left turn.

“Pruitt's BINGO,” the call came, confirming Guru's observation.

In his F-20C, General Yeager made the call. “Form on me and let's go home,” he said. “This one's in the book.”

The four F-20s formed up and headed for Sheppard. When they got to the base, they had a couple minutes' wait while a battle-damaged Marine F-4 came to the head of the line, then the Tigersharks had their turn. As they taxied in, Guru noticed a familiar setup: Jana Wendt and her news crew were filming again.

“Have they ever stopped?” Prada asked.

“You'd never guess how many times I've asked that, or Goalie,” Guru replied.

When they got to their dispersal area, and shut down, Prada asked as she did the post-flight checklist. “Well, change your opinion?”

“On this bird?” Guru asked. “No. But this was a nice sneak preview of what we'll be getting a year or two down the line.”

“You mean the F-15E?”

“I do.”

After the post-flight checklist, the canopies were popped and the ground crew brought the crew ladders. Guru and Prada climbed down from the D as Yeager, Clancy, and Pruitt got down from their Cs. Then Chief Ross came in his Crew-Cab pickup, and they gathered there. The three C drivers and the Chief watched as Guru and Prada shook hands. Then they came over to the truck. “General,” Guru nodded. “Wish she'd come over to F-4s. Thanks to your poaching, sir, my Exec and Ops Officer are now looking for new wingmen.”

“You trying to recruit, Major?” Yeager asked. “Your guys have two weeks until they report to Edwards.”

“Can't hurt,” Guru said. “Though I imagine Prada's going to take that IP job you offered.”

“I am,” said Prada.”Haven't talked to my folks just yet, with the land lines here. But when we get back to California?”

“Don't worry, Captain,” Yeager said. “I'll wrangle that call for you. Then you're taking the job.”

“Yes, sir. I'll have plenty of time to settle with the Cubans for Daria,” she said, referring to her sister who was a POW in Cuba.

“There is that,” Yeager nodded agreement. “Major? Your take on this little ride?”

“General, I'm not changing my mind,” Guru said firmly. “I'll stick with Double-ugly until the F-15E comes along. This was a sneak preview. And if you don't mind my saying so, I'll bet that Northrop tries to hire these two young pups”-he motioned to Clancy and Pruitt-to be company demo pilots. Lot of F-5 operators who can't afford to upgrade to the F-16 or F/A-18 are going to be placing orders.”

“That'll make the folks I work with back in California happy,” grinned the General.

“And if you two do take the job?” Guru asked. “Keep your bags packed and your passports up to date.”

“IF they hire a couple of crazies,” Clancy deadpanned.

“You never know,” replied Guru. “Looks like my ride's back to the squadron.”

“Looks like,” Yeager said. “Oh, by the way, Major. Did that....other officer get the word?”

Guru nodded. “Before I came over here,” he said. “Now we need to find some kind of pressure valve, because he's going to pop before too long.” And just hope he only gets himself killed, Guru thought to himself.

“He is a snotty asshole,” Prada declared. “Just glad I'm not going to teach him to fly the F-20. Uh, sir.”

Yeager knew what she meant. “Not to worry, Captain,” he said. “Worse has been said about him, no doubt.”

“It has, General. Thanks for the ride, and see you tonight, sir.”

“Glad you enjoyed it, Major,” replied Yeager, and they all shook hands.

“Thanks again, sir,” Guru said, then he walked over to Chief Ross. “Chief, anything going on I should know about?”

'”No, sir,” Ross said. “If you're referring to Major Carson? He and his element left twenty minutes ago. Everything seemed fine.”

“Hope so, and he takes his anger out on the enemy,” Guru said as he got into the truck. “Now I need some food, Chief. Let's head back.”

“Yes, sir!” Ross said as he put the truck in gear, and drove back to the squadron office.