[Matt Wiser]

The next day dawns, and a joint AF-Navy strike: .


335th TFS Offices, 0535 Hours Central War Time; 12 November, 1987:


Major Matt Wiser went towards the squadron's office, and, glancing around, saw the first light coming from the east. A few bright stars were still visible, and the sky was clear. Another good flying day, he thought to himself as he went into the office. As he went in, rock music was coming from an office radio, and that meant Wolfman Jack's show was going strong. The NDO, Hacksaw, noticed him and came over. “Major.”

“Hacksaw,” Major Wiser replied. “How's the cold?”

Almost on cue, Hacksaw sneezed. “Damn cold and damn pills. I don't know which is worse.”

“Feeling better?”

Hacksaw nodded. “Doc says I may be flying again in three or four days. Five at the most.”

“Listen to him,” the CO said. “He outranks all of us-even me-when it comes to anything medical. So listen to him, do as he says, and you'll be flying again in no time.”

The SDO grinned. “Right, Boss. The XO's in. He's waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Major Wiser nodded. He had a few words with the admin folks on the night shift, then he went into his office and found the Exec waiting. “Mark.”

“Boss,” Capt. Mark Ellis nodded. He had a clipboard with some papers, and handed his CO a Styrofoam cup. “Got your morning admin stuff, and your cocoa.”

“Good,” the CO nodded. “Usual admin stuff?”

“Morning report for MAG-11 and Tenth Air Force,” Ellis said. The CO signed the papers. “And Supply came through-partially.”

“Parts for Kerry's bird?” Guru asked. They had a bird take flak damage the previous day, and he was anxious to get the bird back in the air.

The Exec nodded. “Got a rudder, rudder actuator, TIESO-”

Guru looked at his XO. “TIESO?”

“Yep,” said the Exec. “Took a 30-mm round right through it. They also have a new radome, canopy frame, and canopy.”

“No horizontal stabilizers?” Asked the CO.

“Still looking.”

Guru thought for a minute. “Okay. Ross on it?”

“He and the scroungers are on it. He's running down a few leads.”

“Remind him that those stabilizers are Priority One,” Guru told the Exec. “And have him touch base with our F-20 visitors. They may have run across F-4 parts during their own horse-trading or moonlight requesitioning expeditions.”

“Will do.”

A knock on the door followed. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

Goalie came in, and she had two more cups, one in each hand. “Morning, guys,” she said. “Hot Chocolate for both of us.” She handed one cup to her pilot and boyfriend, and kept one for herself.

“Have a good night?” Guru asked.

“Slept like a baby, and ready to get on with earning my flight pay.”

“Of which forty-five cents goes back to the Government on April 15,” Mark Ellis joked.

“Something like that,” Guru said. “Ready to fly with Kara today?”

“Boss?” Ellis asked.

Guru smiled. “We're taking General Olds up on a check ride after the second run of the day. And before you ask, no, we're not going anywhere near the front lines. The old Scud Boxes from last summer will do.”

The XO stared at the CO. “For what?”

“Just some ACM,” replied Guru. “We show him what we're doing, vaguely recall peacetime ACM rules, and just have at it. And before you ask, yeah, we'll be armed, but we sure as hell won't be trolling for MiGs.”

Ellis let out a sigh of relief. “That's good to hear. Last thing I want is an angry phone call from General Dugan asking what got an AF legend killed. Then packing for Loring or Gander.”

“Tha't's for Frank, and we all know it,” the CO laughed. “I'm taking General Olds, and Goalie flies with Kara.”

“And you'll just have a couple Sidewinders for self-defense.” Ellis nodded.

Guru shook his head. “No. Full air-to-air load. You never know, Mark.”

The XO nodded. He understood what the CO meant. “And what about Frank? He'll flip when he hears you're taking General Olds up.”

“Because in Frank's egotistical mind, he thinks an Academy grad should be taking General Olds-who is a West Pointer, up,” Guru said. It wasn't question. “In that case, Frank can go suck an egg for all I care.”

“Don't blame you for that,” Ellis said. “Oh, forgot. Weather.” He handed Guru a paper. “No real change for at least five days. That storm that went through Colorado is now in Kansas and Nebraska, but some down into Oklahoma. Just a few high clouds, temps drop a degree or two, and that's it.”

“Okay.” Said the CO. “Anything in the regs about enlisting Buddy?” He was referring to the squadron's Golden Lab mascot.

“Nothing that I could find.”

“Hey, I got a better idea,” Goalie said. “I remember an Academy lecture where a Thud driver was telling us about Roscoe, the 338th's Mascot at Korat. He came to Korat in the back seat of an F-105F, late '65 or early '66. When his master was shot down over North Vietnam, the whole wing adopted him. Made him an honorary Colonel, club card for the O-Club, even let him sit in on mission briefs. They say that if he slept through a brief? It would be an easy ride. If he woke up, or paid attention? You were in for a bear.”

Both CO and XO were intrigued. “What happened to him?” Guru asked.

“He died in '75, a few weeks before the 388th left Korat,” Goalie said. “They buried him with full honors next to the O-Club. His master never did come back-still MIA last I heard.”

“Hmm..” Guru said. Both XO and GIB noticed he was in thought. “Okay, we can either enlist him, or make him an honorary Captain. In that case, he can go into the O-Club. I'll talk it over with the General, and go from there. Anything else?”

“That's it,” Ellis said.

“Check ride aside, we got a busy day coming. Let's go eat.”


When Guru, Goalie, and the Exec got to the Officer's Mess Tent, they found the usual crowd gathered, waiting. They noticed General Olds talking with Colonel Brady.. General Olds noticed the three, and waved them over. “Major,” Olds said.

“Good morning, sir,” Guru replied.

“Ready to get back at it?”

“Yes, sir.” Guru looked around. “Where's General Yeager and his people?”

“Early-bird,” Brady said. “They're wheels-up at 0630, and have a full day.”

“Some more of my people, no doubt,” Guru said. “As long as those young pups don't wrangle another trip down to the front lines.”

General Olds nodded. “You're not the only one thinking that, Major. So I told him to go west, to the old Scud Boxes from last Summer.”

“General, that's good to hear,” Guru said. “And FYI, sir, that's where we're going this morning for your, uh, 'check ride.'”

“He's flying with you, Major?” Brady asked.

“Yes, sir, he is,” Guru said. “Captain Thrace-” he gestured to where Kara was talking with Sweaty, KT, Flossy, and Jang-will be flying as number two, with Lieutenant Eichhorn in the backseat.”

Hearing that, Goalie grinned. “Wouldn't miss this for the world, General.”

“And if we run into the F-20s?” Olds asked.

“Then, General, we have some DACT and teach those young hotheads a lesson,” said Guru. “Maybe. Those F-20s are small and nimble, like the F-5. These guys might give us a good run.”

“Well, we'll find out, won't we, Major?” Olds grinned. He had an idea that this might turn out to be a mini-Red Flag.

Guru nodded. “We will, sir.”

The Marine Mess Officer came out of the tent and flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. “Chowtime, people!”


After breakfast, Guru went to the Ops Office to get his mission briefing packet. His Ops Officer was waiting for him. “Don,” he nodded. “What have you got for me this morning?”

Capt. Don Van Loan handed him a briefing packet. “Going down to a Soviet-held sector,” he told the CO. Right next to the East Germans.” That meant the East German sector's western flank, held by the Soviet 32nd Army.

Guru scanned the material. “Sector boundaries are usually good defense-wise. Notice I said, usually.”

“But going out....” Van Loan said. He, like the CO, knew from experience that things could be nasty going out right over a division.

“At least it'll be from the rear, and they may not have any warning,” Guru said. “Okay, we getting Weasels?”

“No, but two VA-135 A-7s are coming with you. I sent them on ahead to your briefing room.”

“Two targets?” Guru said as he scanned the mission summary. “Fuel dump and a suspected C3 site?”

“Yep. They want both hit if you can,” Van Loan told the CO.

Guru frowned, then reluctantly nodded. “Do what we can. All right, then.” He gathered the material. “Don? You have a good one.”

“You too, Boss. Don't want to be Exec just yet.”

“And Kara doesn't want to be Ops,” the CO laughed. “Just be careful out there.”

Van Loan nodded. “Same to you, Boss.”


Guru went to the Briefing Room his flight used, and found the two A-7 drivers waiting outside. “Major?” A brown-haired, tough-looking fellow in a Navy flight suit with the gold leaves of a Lieutenant Commander asked. “Steve Kearny. I'm your IRON HAND lead.”

The CO nodded. He'd heard of the IRON HAND people: just like their AF Wild Weasel counterparts, they went in ahead of a strike to kill SAMs and AAA sites. But unlike the AF, the Navy had no specialized squadrons, just pilots within an attack squadron who drew that assignment. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking hands. “And your wingie?” He gestured to a blonde woman with cropped hair who had a silver bar on her flight suit, and that meant a Lieutenant (junior grade).

“Lynda Patrick,” she replied, shaking the CO's hand. “In case you're wondering, I've been in combat since May.”

“PRAIRIE FIRE,” Commander Kearny said. “She joined us just in time to kick that off.”

“And you, Commander?” Guru asked.

“Been with the squadron since we were formed up in March '86. Got to combat in September, and been there since. And we're either lucky or blessed. We still have half of our original pilots.”

“You're better off in that department than the 335th is,” Guru said as he opened the door. “Shall we?”

The rest of the flight was in the room, chatting when Guru came in. “Okay, people! Time to get serious and back to work. This time, we're going in with Navy help.” He introduced the two A-7 drivers. “And this time, we're going to a Soviet sector.” He took out the briefing materials and found a TPC and JOG chart. “Here's our two targets.”

“Targets?” Kara asked.

“Targets,” Guru said. “Here, southeast of Comanche, at the Route 36/F.M. 1476 intersection. On the Northwest side of the intersection, there's a fuel dump. Southeast, is a suspected C3 site. They don't know what exactly it is, but those trucks with van bodies behind the cab? That usually means a command post, com relay, or a SIGINT outfit.”

Sweaty asked, “Who gets what?”

“Kara and I will take the fuel dump,” Guru said. “You and Hoser have the C3 site.”

“And if it's not there, Boss?” Hoser asked.

“Good question. We don't get paid for bringing ordnance home. If it's not there, I'll call it out-or Kara will,” and he saw his wingmate nod. “In that case? Drop on the dump.”

“Got it,” Sweaty nodded.

“MiG threat?” Brainiac asked. He was hoping he and Kara would be able to add to their tally.

“Brownwood Regional is the closest,” Guru said. “MiG-21s and -23s. The former are East German, the latter, Soviet. San Angelo has -23s, and so does Grey AAF at Fort Hood. MiG-29s are there as well, and at Bergstrom. Which, by the way, has Flankers.”

Heads nodded at that. Nothing new there. “Defenses?” Goalie asked.

“Getting to that. There was an SA-2 there, but it's not listed as operational, but don't take that to the bank,” Guru told the crews. “This is a divisional rear area, so expect SA-6 or -8, plus either -9s or -13s as we head on out. MANPADS and 23-mm at the target as well. There's at least two 57-mm sites near the targets, so our Navy brethren? Take your antiradar shots, then kill the flak sites.”

“We'll take them out,” Commander Kearny said. “We're packing two Shrikes and four Rockeyes each bird.”

“They -45Cs?” the CO asked. Kearny nodded back. “Good. Now, as for us? Twelve Mark-82 Snakeyes each bird, and the centerline MERs have the Daisy Cutter fuze extensions. Other than that, the usual air-to-air: Four Sidewinders, two Sparrows, full 20-Mike-mike, two wing tanks, and ALQ-119s for the leads, -101s for the wingies.”

“Got it,” Kara said. “Ingress?'

Guru traced the ingress route on the JOG chart. “We come in over Lake Comfort, and follow the Soviet-East German boundary. Past Dublin, and south to the town of Lamkin, on Route 36.” He passed the INS coordinates around. “Then we go south to the town of Pottsville, turn west to the town of Indian Gap. Ten seconds after the town, we turn north. No visual checkpoint for our pop-up point, so it's all INS. Make your runs, then get your asses down low and headed north.” He surveyed his crews. “Any other questions?”

“Bailout areas?” KT asked.

“Down there? Anywhere away from the roads,” replied Guru. “Weather is pretty much unchanged, in case you're wondering.”

'It had occurred to some of us,” Sweaty nodded.

“I'll bet. Okay, first run of the day, and for Sweaty's element, and Brainiac? That's all. Kara and I are taking General Olds to one of the Scud Boxes we prowled last summer. Have some ACM, and maybe we'll run into those F-20 hotheads and teach them a lesson or two.”

Hearing that, Kara grinned. “It'll be a pleasure.”

“Hopefully,” Guru reminded her. “Okay, Commander? You guys meet us at ten grand overhead. Anything else?” Heads shook no. “Then let's gear up.”

The crews went to their locker rooms to change, with the Navy people heading off to their aircraft. Guru came out of the Men's Locker Room and found Goalie waiting, as usual.”Ready?” He asked.

“Let's get going,” his GIB replied.

Pilot and GIB went outside, and headed to the squadron's dispersal area. The sky was brighter, they noticed, and the sun had just risen. When they got to the revetment holding his bird, 512, they found the rest of their flight waiting for his final instructions. “Ready?”

“Time to make some Russians think they should've stayed home,” Preacher said.

KT nodded. “The ones who are still alive, that is.”

“It is that,” Guru said. “Okay, we're Corvette Flight for at least this one. Now, usual procedures on the radio. Call signs between us, and mission code to AWACS and other parties.”

“Any word on who these Russians are?” Sweaty asked.

“No info,” Guru said. “You know as much as I do.” He looked at his crews. “Anything else?”

Heads shook no, then Kara said, “Guess that's it.”

Guru nodded. “All right: time to mount up. Let's hit it.”

The crews broke up and headed to their aircraft. When Guru and Goalie went into their revetment, Sergeant Crowley, the Crew Chief, was waiting with the ground crew. “Major, Lieutenant?” Crowley said as he snapped a salute. “Five-twelve's locked and cocked. She's ready to go kick some Commie ass.”

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Guru said as he and Goalie returned the salute. They did their usual preflight walk-around, then he signed for the aircraft. That done, pilot and GIB mounted the aircraft, put on their helmets, and got strapped in. Then they went through their cockpit checks.

“Back to a Soviet sector,” Guru said as they went through the preflight. “Got used to East Germans, Nicaraguans, or Libyans.”

“Same here,” Goalie replied. “But we're going back to Public Enemy Number One,” she reminded him. 'Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom,” said Guru. “Check yours. And nothing wrong with that. Arnie?”

Goalie replied, “Arnie and INS all set.” That meant the ARN-101 DMAS and the INS. “Preflight complete and ready for engine start.”

“That we are,” Guru said. He gave a thumbs-up to Sergeant Crowley, who gave the “Start Engines” signal. Guru then started his engines. First one, then both J-79 engines were soon up and running. Then he called the Tower. “Tower, Corvette Flight with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

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

“Roger, Tower. Corvette Flight rolling,” Guru replied. He gave another thumbs-up to his CC, who motioned to the ground crew. They pulled the chocks away from the landing gear, and Crowley gave the “Taxi” signal. Guru released the brakes, and began taxiing out. He headed towards the runway, and the rest of the flight followed.

When the flight got to the holding area, they waited while a Marine flight of F-4s went ahead of them. As the Marines took off, Corvette Flight taxied into the holding area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties. Then Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Corvette Lead requesting taxi for takeoff.”

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

“Roger, Tower.” Guru called back. He taxied 512 onto the runway, and took a quick glance to his right. Kara and Brainiac in 520 were there in his Five O'clock, as they should be. They gave a thumbs-up, and both he and Goalie returned it. Then it was time. “Tower, Corvette Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

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

“Canopy coming down,” Goalie said, and Guru did the same. He glanced to his right again, and saw 520's crew had done the same. “Ready?”

“Time to fly,” Goalie replied.

“Let's go.” Guru put the throttles forward, released the brakes, and 512 thundered down the runway and into the air, with 520 right with them. Thirty seconds later, it was the turn of Sweaty's element, and after takeoff, all four joined up with the A-7s at Flight Level 100, and they headed south for the tankers.