[Matt Wiser]

Here's the next one, and call signs get bestowed on the FNGs:



1705 Hours Central War Time: Sheppard AFB Officer's Club Tent:


Guru and his Exec walked into the Officer's Club, and found the usual crowd already there. They bellied up to the bar next to Colonel Brady and Maj. Lee Dutton, who commanded a four-ship VMFP-3 detachment attached to MAG-11. “Colonel,” Guru nodded. “And Lee. How's the photo business?”

“Major,” Brady replied. “How'd things work with you guys?”

“Made some Scuds go away, but did we get 'em all?” Guru asked. “That's what I'd like to know.”

“Good question, and one I'd like to know myself,” Brady said. “I was here for the attack, and getting into my MOPP gear was no fun, I'll grant you.”

“Well, we got some of the aftermath of your strikes on film,” Dutton said. “Not bad for a day's work.”

“Always nice to create a couple of junkyards,” Ellis nodded.

“That it is, Mark,” Guru said. Then the barkeep came up. “Two Sam Adams, and I'll pay for whatever the XO's having.”

“Bud,” Ellis nodded.

The barkeep produced the bottles, and Guru paid him. “Thanks,”

“Anytime, Major,” the barkeep smiled.

“So, tomorrow's another day, and then we get a stand-down,” Guru commented.

Colonel Brady nodded. “You got that right. So, hoping for the usual, or what?”

“Colonel, I'll take smashing up some airfield, or blowing a supply dump over Scud hunts or CAS any day. I know, the guys and girls on the ground depend on us for the CAS, but that's not our primary tasking.”

Brady nodded. “I know; you guys are mainly BAI and counter-air, but you've done your share of CAS.”

“When we have to,” Guru admitted. “But I'd rather leave it to the folks who specialize in it.”

“Can't be choosers,” said Dutton. “I flew F-4Js and the S before getting the photo-bird.”

“So, Major,” Brady said to change the subject. “Word's going around that you're getting an 'unmanned'
F-4 in your squadron.”

“Yes, sir. Squadron rule is to pair up a new pilot with an experienced GIB, and the other way around. In Revlon's case,” Guru motioned to a table where Revlon was talking with her new pilot, “that means pairing her up with one of our FNGs. And that's Jodi Taylor.”

“Good thinking, Major,” Brady nodded approval. “And when our news media guests find out?”

“I'll have Kodak Griffith keep them at bay with a horsewhip if necessary. And if that doesn't work? Our CSPs will do the job.” Then he saw Goalie and the rest of his flight at a table. “Excuse me, sir.”

“That they will, Major,” Brady laughed. “You have a good evening.”

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said. He then went over to the table. “Here you go,” he said, handing Goalie the second bottle of Sam Adams.

“Thanks,” Goalie said. “So, word's spreading that we'll have an all-female crew? Thought you weren't going to break up that second crew?”

“Remembered squadron policy: new pilot-veteran GIB and vice versa.” Guru replied. He gestured to the table where Revlon and Jodi were busy talking things over. “And we've got some other business to take care of.”

“Such as?” Kara asked.

“Call signs. Not just for the FNGs, but for Sandi and Ken,” the CO reminded his wingmate.

“When?” Preacher asked.

“After dinner, but before twelve-hour kicks in,” the CO said.

Sweaty looked at her CO. “And when the newsies get a hold of an 'unmanned' F-4?”

“I'll have Kodak Griffith use a bullwhip if necessary to keep them away. If that doesn't work? Ryan Blanchard's CSPs do the job. Capt. Ryan Blanchard headed up the 335th's Combat Security Police detachment, and the former deputy sheriff was very good at her job.

“Anyone looking forward to flogging reporters?” Kara asked, half-jokingly.

“Serves the bastards right,” Hoser said.

“Now, now,” Guru said. “They're our guests, remember?”

“We can dream, can't we?” Goalie asked.

“Why not?”


The Marine Mess people arrived with dinner, and as everyone ate, The CBS Evening News came on. Nothing about the Air Force this time, though there was footage from the Kola Raid that DOD had finally released, including scenes of the cruisers Salem and Des Moines, along with a couple of destroyers, throwing eight-inch and five-inch shells into a Soviet naval base along the Kola coast. A sneak preview of an interview with British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher came up as well, and then there was the usual stories from the Home Front, with a segment of Charles Kuralt's On the Road, where the reporter traveled the country, showing how the Home Front was going in various parts of the country. This segment took him to Bar Harbor,Maine, where the fishermen were going out, not only looking for their catch, but also looking out for Soviet subs. After the news came a replay of an L.A. Raiders/San Diego Chargers game.

“Not again,” Guru said with disgust

“What's up, Boss?” Kara asked. “Not into football?”

“College, yeah. Pro? The Cowboys are my team, and with them playing in Phoenix due to the war, at least they're going. But no matter how often it's rerun, the Chargers win. I don't care much for the Raiders or San Diego.”

“Down at Auburn, SEC football is God,” Kara grinned. She had graduated from Auburn, where the rivalry with Alabama and Georgia Tech was well known.

“Same thing around here,” Goalie said. She was reading a copy of USA Today. “Says here they're starting up High-School football again. In the liberated parts of Texas, anyway.”

“Any of that around here?” KT asked.

“From El Paso to Amarillo, and down this way, the article says,” Goalie replied.

“Didn't Ivan make that illegal?” Kara said. “I remember hearing things about that.”

“They did, but the article says there's enough places off the beaten path where you can get together for a pickup game.”

Guru nodded. He had relatives in Texas, though they were still in the Occupied Zone. “Well, that's one sign of things getting back to normal. Now, we've got some squadron business to take care of.”

“Such as?” Kara wanted to know.

“Introducing the FNGs, and giving them-along with Sandi and Ken, call signs,” the CO reminded his wingmate.

“Oh, boy...” Goalie said, while Kara blushed slightly. At least her old call sign from Kingsley Field had followed her here.....


Guru went up to the bar, got himself another beer, then rang the bell. “People! Got some 335th squadron announcements to make!” People stopped what they were doing to listen. “Okay, we got our FNGs today, and I'd like them to stand up and be recognized.” The four new aircrew did so. “And we need to bestow call signs on them. But, one of them's already got one. Bob Gatlin?” Gatlin nodded. “Tell them what yours is.”

Gatlin addressed the crowd, AF, Marine, and Navy. “Well, it's T-Bone.”

“How'd you get that?” Don Van Loan wanted to know.

'I kinda put a practice bomb onto a water buffalo at the Crow Valley Range near Clark in the Philippines.” Roars of laughter followed.

“Anyone think we need to change it?” The CO asked. Lots of heads shook no. “All right: T-Bone stays.”

“Thanks, Major,” Gatlin said, sitting down to slaps on his back.

“Okay, Jody Phelan? Front and center!” Guru said.

Phelan got up and went to the CO. “Major?”

“Okay, Jody. Anything in your background that might help?”

“Uh, I got nailed for doing 102 MPH in a 55 my Junior Year in college,” Jody replied.

“How about Bandit?” Kara suggested.

“He sure don't look like Burt Reynolds,” Sweaty shot back. “Got a black Trans Am back home?”

“No,” Phelan replied.

“How about Scooter?” Judge asked.

“Scooter?” Guru replied.

“Yeah. He was scooting down the road,” the pre-law major said.

“Sounds good, Judge,” Guru said. “All in favor?” Nearly everyone's hand shot up. “Opposed?” None. “All right: Scooter it is. And remember: if you don't like it, we'll come up with one even more embarrassing.”

Phelan, now Scooter, nodded understanding. “Yes, sir.”

“All right: Jodi Taylor?” Guru said. “Come on up.”

Jodi left the table she was sharing with Revlon and went to the CO. “Major?”

Guru smiled. “Okay, you're an astronomy major, right?”

“That's right, Major,” she replied.

“Okay, any suggestions?” Guru asked the crowd of 335th crew.

“How about Scope?” Don Van Loan asked.

“'Scope'?” Kara replied. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“She uses a telescope when she's studying the stars,” Van Loan shot back.

“Any others?” Guru asked.

“Cosmo,” 1st Lt. Craig Stevens, who was Mark Ellis' GIB, said. “She's looking up at everything: the sun, moon, stars, planets, the whole nine yards.”

“All right: all in favor of 'Scope'? Show your hands.” Only two or three were raised. “How about 'Cosmo'?” Many more hands rose. “Okay, Cosmo it is,” Guru said.

“Thanks, Major.”

“You and Revlon getting along?” Guru asked.

“Yes, sir,” Cosmo replied.

Guru nodded. “When she tells you what it's like in combat, listen. Revlon's got 127 combat missions on you and has been shot down once already. So pay attention.”

“Got it, sir.”

“Okay,” Guru said as Cosmo went back to the table. “Keith Byrant.” The ex-University of Hawaii linebacker went to the bar.

“He's built like a football player,” Mark Ellis muttered.

“He was one,” Goalie said.

The CO nodded. “You played football at where?”

“University of Hawaii, sir.” Byrant said.

“Fridge!” Don Van Loan shouted.

“'Fridge?'” Kara asked.

“Yeah. He's not as big as the real Refrigerator Perry, but he's still big enough to just run over a quarterback. And stomp him into the ground,” Van Loan said.

“Any objections?” Guru asked. There were none. “Okay, Fridge it is.”

“Thanks, Major,” Bryant said, then he went back to the table he was sharing with T-Bone.

Guru nodded, took a drink, then said, “Sandi Jenkins, front and center!”

“Uh-oh,...” several people muttered.

Sandi smiled, then went up to the bar. “Major,” she smiled at the CO.

“Sandi,” Guru said cheerfully. “You came to us without a call sign, so we're going to rectify that. Floor's now open, people!”

“Yang?” KT suggested.

“Yang?” Preacher asked.

“Yeah,” replied KT. “Yet Another Non-Guy.” And there were howls of laughter.

“Oh, boy...” Sandi muttered.

Guru nodded. “Yang is one, any others?” He saw Kara raise her hand. “Kara, you have an idea?”

“Snag?” Kara said. “Still Not a Guy.” More howls of laughter followed.

“Kara...” Sandi muttered.

The CO nodded. “Steady, girl,” he reminded her. “If you don't like what we give you, we'll get you another one that's even more embarrassing.”

“How about Flossy?” Cosmo asked.

“Care to elaborate?” The XO replied. “You're one of the animals in the zoo, now.”

“She has no noticeable tan lines.”

“And how do you know that?” Guru asked. “Let me guess: you two were roommates for a while.”

Sandi looked at her CO. “We were....”

“Steady,” Guru said. “Any others?” He noticed T-Bone talking with Fridge. “You two have a suggestion?”

“Uh, Major, how about Lamb?” T-Bone asked.

“Lamb?” Don Van Loan asked. “What's that all about?”

“Well, we went down to Stead for a week of weapons training,” T-Bone replied. “When we went into Reno for some down time? Sandi there likes low-cut civilian attire.”

Sandi's face turned red when she heard that. “Major....”

“Let me guess: Look at My Boobs.” Mark Ellis said.

Guru had a grin on his face, then he asked the 335th's crews, “All right: the suggestions are on the table. Let's start with the last one: Lamb? A show of hands.” Hardly any came up at that one. “Okay, 'Flossy'?” This time, though, many hands came up. “'Snag?” Only Kara's and Goalie's hands came up at that one. “And 'Yang?” KT and Hoser were the only two. “Sorry, Lieutenant, but your squadron mates have spoken.”

“I guess so, Boss,” Flossy replied. She glared at Cosmo. “And you were one of my friends,” she said jokingly.

“All right, we got two more. Ken Dahlberg, come on up,” said the CO as Flossy went back to her table.

When she sat down, Dave Golen looked at her. “Uh, how?”

“Long story, Dave,” Flossy replied.

“Okay, Ken,” Guru said. “Anything in your background that you're not entirely proud of?”

“Well, Boss, when it didn't interfere with ROTC Summer Camp, I, uh, had an unusual summer job.” Ken replied.

“And that was...?”

“I, uh, worked in the business of one of my uncles. I worked in the office of a cemetery.”

Jaws dropped at that.”A cemetery?” Sweaty asked, “You have got to be shitting us.”

“Nope. Worked in the business office. Wasn't doing anything else.”

“Okay, Major,” Doc Waters said. “How about 'Ghoul'?”

“I'll go along with that,” Kara said. “You'd have to be one to work in a cemetery.”

“How about 'Digger”?” Hoser suggested.

“Any others?” Guru asked. “Okay, show of hands: all those for 'Ghoul.” About half the squadron's crews raised their hands. “And for 'Digger?” This time, it was just over half. “Ken, your squadron mates have spoken. Enjoy your call sign.”

“And when I tell my uncle...” Digger said. “I'll tell him not to hire anyone who's going into the military later.”

“You do just that,” Guru said. After Digger went back to his seat, where Flossy slapped him on the back, Guru went on. “Now, we've got a special one. Normally, ground officers don't get call signs, but this is special. Stand up, Darren.”

The intel officer was sitting with Doc Waters, Kev O'Donnell, and Ryan Blanchard, and he gulped. “What'd I do?” He asked.

“You're the best intel officer this squadron's had since the balloon went up. Now, Colonel Rivers, rest his soul, got him promoted to Captain. But I think the squadron ought to give him an additional honor. How about a call sign, and I've got one. Sin.”

Preacher looked at his CO. “Sin?” The ex-seminary student asked.

“Sin. Stands for Super Intel Nerd,” the CO grinned.

“Makes sense,” Don Van Loan observed. “Boss, I move it be awarded by acclimation.”

“Sounds good,” Guru said. “All those in favor?” A round of applause came from the 335th crews. “Well, Darren, it's official. Enjoy it, Sin.”

“Thanks, Major.” Sin replied as he sat down.

“Okay, next item. T-Bone, you and Scooter are with the Exec's flight. Hoser? You and KT are back on the schedule tomorrow, and you get a new bird from Japan.”

Hoser and KT were grinning. “Glad to be back, Boss,” Hoser said.

“Now, Scorpion and Judge?” Those two looked at the CO. “That means you go back to the Exec's flight.”

“Thanks, Major,” Scorpion said.

“Now, Captain Thrace has an announcement. It concerns the Scud Pool. Captain?”

Kara got up and went to the bar. “Okay,” she took out her notepad from a flight suit pocket. “Scud pool..... 3 November, 1415 Hours...REVLON!”

Revlon stood up and had a grin from ear-to-ear. She went up to Kara, and happily collected her winnings. Then she used some of it to buy a round for her table, then she went back.

“Not bad for someone who just became part of the only 'unmanned' F-4 in the squadron,” Kara said.

“No, and she did share with her new pilot and the others,” Guru said. “Revlon? Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Major!” She yelled over the din.

“Now, we've got some weather coming in tomorrow night. An all-day stand-down the following day. So there's going to be a maximum effort tomorrow.” The CO looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes until twelve-hour. Drink up, people! That's an order.”

As people went to obey, Colonel Brady came over with Ms. Wendt. “Major, nicely done. It's been a while since I've had to officiate at such a ceremony,” Brady said.

“Thank you, sir,” Guru replied.

Ms. Wendt had a confused look on her face. “What was that all about?”

“Part of being a fighter pilot is having a call sign,” Guru explained. “All part of the world of military aviation.”

“And if they don't like the call sign?” Ms. Wendt asked.

Colonel Brady laughed. “Then they'll find one even more embarrassing.”

“That we will, sir.” Guru smiled.

“And since you've got a stand-down, how about that interview?” Ms. Wendt asked Guru.

Guru nodded politely. “If I'm not too busy with paperwork, sure.”

“And the backseat ride?”

“If we've got birds coming out of maintenance, and they have to have a check flight? Remind me and we'll get that done,” replied the CO.

“Thank you, Major.” Ms. Wendt smiled. “I noticed you've now got an all-female crew. Any chance I can talk to them?”

“Go through Kodak Griffith,” Guru said. “If they want to talk to you, fine. If not, just accept it. It's their choice, remember.”

“Of course, Major.” She knew full well that the crew might not want to talk to her, but when she ran the story, as she now intended to, they might change their minds.

Just then, Doc Waters rang the bell at the bar. “Twelve-hour now in effect!”

Guru turned to Ms. Wendt. “That doesn't apply to you, ma'am, but us?” He went to the bar and not only got a plate of nachos, but also a couple of cans of Coke and went over to his table. “Here we go,” he told Goalie.

“Kara's holding court at the pool table.” Goalie said, nodding in that direction.

“She went to work fast. And her potential victims?” Guru asked.

“C-130 guys. There's a couple of Herky-birds that came in after we did.”

Guru looked in that direction. Sure enough, a female C-130 driver quickly found her wallet lightened by $50.00. Then the male navigator tried his luck, and also found out to his sorrow that Kara was very good indeed. She pocketed her winnings, then came over to the CO's table. “Boss.”

'Teaching our MAC brethren a lesson?” Guru asked.

“Always,” Kara grinned. “Always a pleasure to clean out a pair of trash-haulers.”

“Be careful,” Guru warned. “Some of those trash-haulers fly HC-130s. The ones who refuel Jolly Greens and also carry Pararescue? Be nice to 'em.”

“Not these guys, Boss,” Kara replied with indignation. “Vanilla C-130 types.”

“Just reminding you,” the CO said.

“Noted, Boss,” Kara said. She then went and got in onto a poker game.

“So,” Goalie asked. “What's on tap for the stand-down?”

“Stay in bed half the morning,” Guru said.

“Good idea.”

“And sleep.” Guru told his GIB.

Her expression grew coy. “Wanna bet?”


The evening went on, until one of the Navy Flight Surgeons rang the bar bell at 2100. “Aircrew Curfew now in effect!” With that, those on the flight schedule the following morning headed off to their tents, and all hit the sack. For it wouldn't be long until 0430 and the beginning of another day.