[Matt Wiser]

The next morning dawns....


335th TFS Offices, Sheppard AFB, TX; 0530 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser walked from his tent to the squadron's office. A building that housed a T-38 training squadron as part of Air Training Command prewar, he noted the bullet holes in the walls, left over after the 23rd ID had taken the base. Something that needed to be taken care of, especially with winter coming, he knew. Making a mental note to ask Colonel Brady about that, he glanced skyward. Some middle-level and upper-level clouds, were visible in the predawn sky as the eastern horizon grew lighter, and that meant good flying weather. The CO went into the office, and found the night-shift SDO there. “Hacksaw,” Major Wiser said. “How's the cold?”

“Getting better, Major,” Hacksaw replied. “Not sneezing as much. Doc says it'll be another four days before I'm cleared.”

“Been there, done that,” Guru replied, remembering a cold that had kept him grounded for two weeks back in March. “Doc say anything else?”

“Just that I'll be back flying then. Other than that? Have to bear it.”

“Listen to him,” the CO reminded Hacksaw. “And keep in mind that if you think you're missing anything?”

“Boss?” Hacksaw asked.

“You're not,” the CO said firmly. He glanced towards his office. “XO in?”

The SDO nodded. “Waiting for you, Boss.”

“Good,” said Guru. “What's Wolfman Jack playing?” He gestured to the radio on Hacksaw's desk.

“Little bit of everything,” Hacksaw replied. “Journey, Van Halen, Rolling Stones, Otis Redding, Had Nancy Sinatra on a few minutes ago.”

Guru smiled. “Let me guess: These Boots are Made for Walkin'.” It wasn't a question.

“Four-oh, Boss.”

“Okay. Now, someone from General Yeager might come by and leave a letter on folks' desks. Three people applied for the F-20, and two got in. He may notify by letter, and so...”

Hacksaw nodded. “Gotcha, Boss. And when Major Carson gets one....”

“Let me know,” Guru said, and Hacksaw noticed the firmness in his voice. “No telling what's going to happen when that goes down.”

“Will do, Boss, and I'll pass it on.”

“Do that.”

Guru then headed to his office, and found the Exec waiting with a cup of steaming liquid. “Morning, Mark.”

“Morning, Boss,” Capt. Mark Ellis said pleasantly as he handed the CO a cup of hot cocoa. “Not much paperwork wise.”

“That'll change,” Guru noted as he started on the drink. “What's up?”

“Morning reports for both MAG-11 and Tenth Air Force,” the XO said. He had a clipboard with the papers for the CO's signature.

Guru signed, then nodded. “Next?”

The Exec checked the papers. “RAF guys will be here in three days.”

“Good, and we'll have some dedicated strike escort, for once. They can also cover the recon birds. Dave and Flossy flew escort for Athena and Helo yesterday,” the CO noted. “And General Yeager and his people will be with the ROKs then.”

“They will,” said Ellis. “Next? Weather. Good weather for the next three days. In four....”

The CO finished for him. “We're due for a storm. Nice way for our British cousins to get a welcome to Texas.”

“One way to put it,” the XO replied. “Ever fly with the Brits?”

“No, but if there'd been no war, a REFORGER or a Crested Cap exercise would've come along. Ross told me that if the balloon had gone up in NATO? We were supposed to go to Bentwaters in the UK,” said Guru.

“Like in those two Hackett books? Boy, did he get World War Three wrong.”

“Everybody did,” Guru reminded him. “What about our two sick birds?”

“Maintenance is working on Kerry Collins' bird as we speak. They did an all-nighter, and Van Loan's bird is good to go. His element ate at Early-Bird, and they'll be up shortly on the check flight.”

Guru nodded. “Okay. Now, anything else, besides General Yeager notifying people about their applications to the F-20 program?”

“Nada, Boss,” Ellis said as there was a knock on the door.

“Gome in and show yourself,” Guru said.

His GIB, First Lieutenant Lisa “Goalie” Eichhorn, came in bearing two cups of hot liquid. “Morning, Boss,” she said. “And XO.” She handed the CO a cup. “More hot chocolate for the Boss.”

Guru grinned. “And you want me alert and awake,” he said.

“What's wrong with that?” his girlfriend replied. Everyone in the squadron knew about their relationship.

“Nothing. Now, Mark? Any idea when General Yeager informs the lucky two, and the unlucky Frank?”

The XO shook his head. “Nada, Boss.”

“Speaking of F-20s,” Goalie asked. “When's your ride?”

“Today, after our second run,” Guru said. “Get a little perspective on those after yesterday,” he added, recalling their DACT with Yeager's people.

“And?”

“I'll tell the General that the F-20's a nice little interceptor, good for air forces that can't afford anything better, and maybe Aggressor and ANG use postwar is probably the most they can expect,” said Guru.

“Good, because GIBs aren't going out of style,” Goalie replied. “Everybody else here is waiting on the F-15E.”

Guru let out a grin. “You're not the only one with that in mind. Now, Mark. Anything else?”

“Not now,” the Exec replied.

“Good. Tonight, we'll make Buddy an honorary Captain, get him a card for the O-Club, all of that. I'd like to do it while General Olds is here. And he's leaving day after tomorrow.”

“Will do, Boss,” Ellis said.

Guru nodded, then looked at the wall clock. 0555. “Let's go eat. We've got a busy day ahead.”

On their way out of the office, the three officers paused to listen to Hacksaw's radio. “Well, haven't heard that in a while, Boss,” Hacksaw said.

“What?” Guru asked.

“Petula Clark's Downtown.”

That had been the song from which the phrase “Going Downtown” had come during Vietnam. “Want to bet an oldies station in Miami gets that requested a lot?” Goalie quipped. “The guys at Homestead Go Downtown to Havana all the time.”

“No bet,” Ellis said. “This is one Kara wouldn't take.”

“I'll go along with that,” the CO said. “Let's go eat.”



When they got to the Officer's Mess Tent, people were milling around, and General Olds was talking with not only Colonel Brady, but the news people and their RAF liaison officer. “General,” Guru said, sketching a salute.

“Major,” Olds replied. “Just touching base with our friends from the Fourth Estate.”

“Be warned, General,” said Guru. “Ms. Wendt there can be a sneaky bitch. She'll have you in front of the cameras again before you know it.”

Hearing that, Ms. Wendt smiled. “He's already paid that compliment to me already, General.”

“Once was enough, thanks,” Olds grinned. “After General Yeager leaves, it'll be time for me to move on.”

Brady and the other officers nodded. “At least, sir, you'll see tonight who got into the F-20 from this base.”

“Two lucky ones, sir,” Guru added. He glanced around, looking for Major Carson. The skunk was nowhere to be seen. Good. “And one who's not going to be too happy, and we all know who that person will be.”

“A certain snotty major?” Olds asked, and he saw Guru nod. “Good.”

“Speaking of General Yeager, you have a hop today with him, Major?” Brady asked.

“Yes, sir. Right after my second strike. Debrief, then jump into the D, then go,” replied Guru. “And I'll be polite. They're nice little interceptors who'd make a decent aggressor bird, and Northrop will be happy with FMS sales postwar, but other than that....”

“Guard and Reserve?” Olds asked.

“Yes, sir. Unless the Congress-Critters tell the Air Force otherwise.”

Olds shook his head. “Politics.”

“Yes, sir,”

Then the Marine Mess Officer came and flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. “Chow Hall's open.”


After breakfast, the crews headed to their respective briefing rooms, while the flight leads got their missions. When the CO got to the Ops Office, he found his Ops Officer already back from his check ride. “Don,”

“Boss,” Capt. Don Van Loan replied. “Check ride went good, before you ask. No issues, and 564's back on the schedule.”

“Always good to hear,” the CO said. “What have you got on tap for me?”

Van Loan handed Guru a briefing packet. “Town called Morgan, on Route 174, about a dozen miles west of Lake Whitney. Southeast of the town, there's a helo dispersal field. Ivan's been using it for Hinds and Hips.”

“And we get to take it out.”

“Not just that: the Hillsboro SA-2 site is back up, and you're within range of at least the Waco North SA-2 as well,” Van Loan said.

“We're getting Weasels, I hope?” Guru asked. Two SA-2 sites in range? Lovely.

“You are, and they'll join you at the tankers,” the Ops Officer replied.

Guru nodded. “All right, Don. Thanks.”

“Good Luck, Boss. Don't want to be XO yet,” Van Loan told his CO.

“And Kara doesn't want to be Ops just yet,” Guru reminded his Ops Officer. “You be careful yourself.”

“Will do.”

Guru then went to the briefing room his flight used, and when he got there, there was a four-legged guest. Buddy. He opened the door to the room and said, “After you.” Guru followed the dog into the room and found the rest of the flight there. “Okay, people! Settle down, because we've got our first mission.”

Goalie looked at him. “And where to this morning?”

The CO opened the briefing packet, and maps, and photos, along with some intel sheets, came out. “Here, about a dozen miles west of Lake Whitney, along Route 174. Town called Morgan. Just southeast of the town is a helo dispersal field. Ivan's been using it for Hips and Hinds.”

“And we're taking it out,” Kara said. It wasn't a question, from her tone of voice.

“That's it. Now, ordnance load is twelve Mark-82 Snakeyes each bird. I know, this is usually a target for CBUs, but not this time.”

“Too close to the town?” Hoser asked.

“Um-hmm,” Guru replied. “This may be a field that kids play in, or it's used for farming. If this was away from the town, no problem on CBUs. However....not this time.”

“Fair enough, Boss,” Sweaty said. “Air to air?”

“Uusal: four AIM-9Ps, two AIM-7Fs, thanks to the F-20 folks, usual ECM pods for lead and wingmates, full gun, and two wing tanks.”

Kara nodded at that. “Ingress?”

“Getting in the back way,” Guru said. He traced the route on a TPC chart. “Cross the Fence near Lake Leon, head south to Proctor Lake. Head east to Hico, then Meridian. Turn north for thirty seconds and we're at the target. Meridian is the IP for all intents and purposes.” He saw he had his flight's full attention. “Once you make your run? Head north for the Brazos and get your asses to the I-20.”

Hoser nodded. “Good way in. What's the defenses?”

“We're getting Weasels as this area is under 4th Guards Tank Army, so SA-4s are possible, along with the usual divisional level defenses. Throw in the Hillsboro and Waco North SA-2s. At the target? There's ZU-23s and MANPADS, plus small-arms fire,” said Guru.

Brainiac asked, “When do the Weasels come?”

“Good question,” KT added.

“Miller flight joins us at the tankers, and we're going to Tanker Track CHEVRON, north of Hubbard Creek Reservoir,” Guru replied. “As for MiGs? Same threat level from yesterday. And we do have Intel confirmation of Mainstays in theater.”

There were scowls at that. “They need to tell us something we don't already know,” Preacher said. “This 'we're betting your life' can be a pain.”

“No kidding, Preacher,” Guru said. “Just remember, Sin Licon's only passing on what they give him. Don't blame him.”

“We know,” Kara replied. “Just that he's convenient.”

“Yeah, and I've blown my stack on him once or twice,” Guru admitted. “Okay, weather: unchanged. Good flying weather for four more days. Then we get a storm.”

The rest of the crews looked at each other and grinned. About time. “So, we get a stand-down?” Preacher asked.

“We do, and the day before? The RAF comes.”

Kara let out another grin. “And we get our strike escorts.”

“That we do. Now, one last thing: bailout areas are anyplace away from roads. And stay sharp, because we've got four missions today, unless CAS rears its ugly head.”

Sweaty frowned at that. “Lovely.”

“You're not the only one feeling that way,” Guru said. “Anything else?” Heads shook no. Then he glanced at the dog. Buddy was sitting up and alert. “Uh-oh...”

“I was about to say that,” Hoser said. “This might be a rough ride.”

“Hope he's wrong,” Goalie added.

“Seconded,” Guru nodded. “All right. One last thing: we're Camaro Flight. Now let's gear up. We've got a full day coming.”

The crews headed to their locker rooms, and as Guru left, an NCO from Ops was waiting to collect the briefing materials. That done, he went to the Men's Locker Room to gear up. When he came out, Goalie was there as usual. “Ready?”

“Time to earn our flight pay,” she replied.

“It is that,” Guru nodded as they went out. As they did, the dog followed and then laid down on the sidewalk outside. “Hope he's wrong about this one.”

“You and me both,” Goalie said as they walked to the squadron's dispersal.

“Roscoe was wrong on occasion,” said the CO when they got to their revetment, and the rest of the flight was there. “All right: gather around.”

“Usual procedures on the radio?” Kara asked.

“You got it,” Guru replied. That meant mission code to AWACS and other parties, call signs between them. “All right, if you see those basketball-sized tracers on the way in or out? Evade. If you see them at the target? Abort.”

Heads nodded. “Got it, Major,” Sweaty replied.

“We meet at ten grand overhead. Any other questions?” Guru asked. Heads shook no, then he added, “Then let's go. Time to hit it.” He clapped his hands.

The crews then headed to mount their own aircraft, as Guru and Goalie went to 512. “Sergeant,” he said to Sergeant Crowley, his Crew Chief.

“Major, Lieutenant,” Crowley replied, snapping a perfect salute. “Five-twelve's ready to rock.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Guru said. He and Goalie did their usual preflight walk-around. After signing for the aircraft, Guru and Goalie then mounted up. After getting strapped in, they went through the preflight checklist.

“Arnie?” Guru asked. “And today's the day Frank finds out he's not in the F-20.”

“He'll pop his cork,” Goalie replied. “Arnie's all set. So's the INS.”

“Good. He'll whine and complain, especially to his dad, then what?” Guru wanted to know.

“That is a very good question, and I doubt you know the answer,” Goalie said. “Ejection seats?”

“You're right on not knowing,” replied Guru. “Armed top and bottom. Check yours.”

“All set. Preflight complete and ready for engine start,” said Goalie as she put away her checklist.

“Roger that,” Guru said. He gave a thumbs-up to his CC, who gave the “Start Engines” signal. First one, then two, J-79 engines were up and running. As they warmed up, Guru called the Tower. “Tower,
Camaro Flight with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Camaro Flight, Tower,” the controller replied. “Clear to taxi to Runway Three-Five-Charlie. You are number three in line, and hold prior to the active.”

“Roger, Tower. Camaro Flight rolling.” Guru then gave another thumbs-up, and Sergeant Crowley waved to the ground crew, who pulled the chocks away. Then Crowley gave the “Taxi” signal, and Guru released the brakes, taxiing out of the revetment.

Guru taxied Five-twelve out of the revetment, and as he taxied to the runway, the rest of the flight followed. When they got to the runway, they found a Marine Hornet flight first, then a flight of Marine S model F-4s second. After the Hornets launched, the Marine F-4s taxied onto the runway, and Camaro Flight taxied into the holding area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties.

After the Marine F-4s departed, it was their turn. “Tower, Camaro Flight requesting taxi for takeoff,” Guru called the tower.

“Camaro Lead, clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are calm,” the controller called back.

“Roger, Tower,” Guru called as he taxied onto the runway. Kara and Brainiac followed, taxiing into their Five O'clock position. Guru glanced over, and found 520 in position. Thumbs-ups were exchanged, then Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

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

“Ready?” Guru asked Goalie.

“Let's go,” Goalie replied.

“Let's,” said Guru. “Canopy coming down.”

Both pilot and GIB closed and locked their canopies, and a quick look saw 520's crew had done the same. Guru then applied full power on the throttle, released the brakes, and 512 rumbled down the runway and into the air, with 520 right with them.

Thirty seconds later, it was the turn of Sweaty and Hoser, then Camaro flight met up at FL 100. They then headed south to their rendezvous with the tankers and their Weasels.