[Matt Wiser]

And in the Club: anyone recognize the female F-20 pilot?



Sheppard AFB Officer's Club, 1510 Hours Central War Time:


Guru and Goalie went into the Officer's Club tent, and the place was already buzzing, as usual. There hadn't been much paperwork after the debrief, but both waited until they were off the clock before going to the Club. The last of the 335th's sorties had come in, and there were no losses, the CO was glad to see. And that was always a reason to celebrate.

Guru and Goalie went to the bar, and found Colonel Brady already there. “Colonel,” Guru said.

“Major,” Brady nodded. “And Lieutenant. Have a look at that table.” He pointed to a table where the F-20 jocks were arguing with a mix of aircrew-AF, Marine, and Navy. By the looks of the hand gestures and raised voices, no one was in the mood for polite disagreement. “Looks like the arguments are in full swing.”

“Nobody's going to be convinced of anything tonight,” Goalie observed. “Uh, sir.”

“No,” Brady agreed. “And you're absolutely right, Lieutenant. We won't see any minds changed, either way, until they start flying. And that starts tomorrow.”

Guru nodded, then scanned the crowd. “General Olds and General Yeager aren't here yet.”

“They'll be here,” Brady said, just as the bartender came over.

“Smitty?” Guru asked the bartender. “Bud for my GIB, and Sam Adams for me.”

“You got it, Major,” Smitty replied. He put the bottles on the bar, and Guru paid him.

“So, how'd things go on that last round?” Brady asked.

Guru took a drink from his beer, then said, “Not bad, Colonel. Just hope the Army cleans up those East Germans tonight, then we can get back to BAI. Don't mind CAS, but we'd rather leave it to the folks who live and breathe it, like the A-10 people.”

“Or Marines,” Brady grinned.

“Or Marines,” Guru admitted. Then Generals Olds and Yeager came in, and they were in an animated conversation, with much hand-waving. Clearly, combat of some sort was the object of discussion. “What's that about?”

The two generals bellied up to the bar, and after they got their drinks, continued the conversation. “Generals, if you don't mind my asking, what's this all about?” Colonel Brady asked.

“Well, Colonel,” Olds said. “Just having a friendly discussion over how Chuck here got an Me-262, and I didn't.”

“Wasn't your 262 a probable, sir?” Goalie asked. She had heard the story at the AF Academy.

“It was,” Olds admitted. “Wish I had been able to check the Luftwaffe records held in the National Archives, but.....”

Heads nodded at that. “Well, sir, maybe after this war's over, you can check,” Guru said. “Then AFHC can give you credit if it did crash.”

“Jet kills in two wars,” Olds said. “Only Israelis have that distinction,” he nodded in Dave Golen's direction. There, their IDF “Observer” was with Flossy and their GIBs, talking with one of the F-20 jocks.

“Dave's got kills in three wars now, General,” Guru reminded him. “He scored in '73, '82, and with us. He's good, General,” Guru added, nodding in General Yeager's direction. “Dave's shot MiGs off our ass at least twice, and he's saved the bacon of quite a few people in my squadron.”

Both generals nodded. “When his tour's up, Major,” Olds said. “You might want to recommend him for a decoration.”

“I'll do that, sir,” Guru said. “Oh, before I forget. I suggest, sir, that you may want to pay attention to one Major Frank Carson. He's up to something, and I think it's no good.”

“What do you mean, Major?” Olds asked.

“This that snotty Major that General Tanner warned us about?” Yeager added. “From what I was told, he's been a pain in your ass, and that of your predecessor, for some time.”

Guru nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “General, I think he's angling to try and get a squadron of his own. As in volunteering for the F-20, and hoping that a new squadron that's forming up comes his way.” Fat chance of that happening, Guru thought, but he wanted to hear what General Yeager felt. He already knew General Olds' view on the subject.

“Check his flight record, Chuck,” Olds said. “From what's in it? No way he'd make the cut.”

“I'll start taking requests tomorrow,” Yeager said. “And for certain, I do want to see what's in his file.”

“Sir, it's not just his flight record, but his 201 File as well,” said Guru. “A look at that only reinforces the loathing everyone in this squadron has for him.”

General Yeager nodded. “I usually have a look at both of those, Major. Just so I know who I'm getting.” He thought for a minute, then continued. “Tomorrow, Major. Find some time when we're both not busy, and I want to see what's in his 201 File, along with his flight record.”

“Yes, sir.” Guru nodded. Though he was slightly dreading Frank's reaction when and if any request for the F-20 was denied.

“All right: you two have a good evening. Tomorrow night? You'll hear some stories.”

“Combat and test flying, sir?”

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” Yeager grinned.

“Be worth the wait, sir.” Guru said.


Guru and Goalie then went and found the rest of their flight at a table, and Kara was curious. “Saw you guys with Olds and Yeager,” she said. “What was that all about?”

“They were having a disagreement at first,” Guru said. “About why Yeager got himself an Me-262 back in the day, and Olds didn't. Then the conversation shifted to Frank.”

“What?”

“Frank's putting on his good face,” Guru explained. “He's got an angle, and I think I know what it is.”

Heads looked at their CO. “What do you mean, Boss?” Hoser asked.

“Simple: Frank knows he's never getting the 335th,” said Guru. “But...he applies for the F-20 program...”

“And that's his route to a squadron of his own,” Sweaty finished for the CO. “You know, it might work.”

“No,” Goalie said firmly. “Yeager told us: he reviews every applicant's 201 File and flight record. Just so he knows what he may be getting.”

Preacher knew what the next would be. “And General Yeager tells Frank 'Request Denied.' And Lord knows what's going to happen next.”

“Don't want to think about that,” Kara said. “Then again....what could he do?”

“Think about it: he'd probably try something, anything, to get someone to notice him. That attention gets him a transfer, on his terms and not mine,” said Guru. “But, if Sundown Cunningham swings by on a visit?”

“Then Frank goes, period,” KT nodded. “Be a good sight to see.”

“He goes, period, after New Year's, if he hasn't shaped up,” Guru reminded them.


A few minutes later, Cosmo and Revlon, along with Flossy and Jang, came in, along with Ms. Wendt and the news crew. They found a table and sat down, with Mr. Scott, the Cameraman, filming them, and Ms. Wendt talking. Clearly, an improvised interview was underway. “Guess who's going to be on the news in a few days,” Goalie noted.

“Two 'unmanned' F-4s in the same squadron?” Kara asked. “That's going to spread like wildfire.”

The CO nodded. “And watch as more reporters show up, wanting to talk to the four of 'em,” Guru said. “And that makes Kodak Griffith busier than a one-armed paperhanger.”

“Any word on an Air Force PAO?” Brainiac asked. “You've been looking.”

“And Chief Ross,” said Guru, none too happily. “Both of us have struck out so far. So, if you all know anyone who went down the PAO route after the Academy, OTS, or ROTC? I'd like someone with PAO experience, who's now a rated pilot or nav.”

“So that can be their ground job when not flying,” Sweaty observed.

“Right.”

Then the mess people came in with dinner. “Folks, we've got pork chops, or Salisbury Steaks, with all the fixings. Come and get it.”

After getting their food, people dug in, and conversation not only dealt with the day's missions, but also the new guests.

“Boss,” Kara said, how long these guys going to be here?”

“Three days, maybe four,” Guru said after taking a bite of steak, or was it really “Mystery Meat?” He looked at her. “And you want to fleece these folks as long as you can.”

She let out an evil-looking grin. “You read my mind.”

“Just remember,” Goalie added. “General Yeager's been doing this about as long as General Olds has. If you think he's an easy mark? Forget it.”

“And that hangout for test pilots near Edwards? Panchos?” Guru said. “Want to bet that he won his share of pool at that place.”

“That place real?” Preacher wanted to know. “Or was that something cooked up for the movie?”

“It was real,” nodded the CO. “I read the book The Right Stuff back in college.”

Goalie added,”And he got his steak dinner. That became a rule at Pancho's. Set a new record, get a steak dinner on the house.”

Then the CBS Evening News came on. Walter Cronkite was on the air again from L.A., but today? Not much happened in the war, though a new GI Bill had passed the Senate, and was awaiting action in the House. Then there was another On the Road segment, with Charles Kuralt, and this time, it was from Lake Placid, New York, the site of the 1980 Winter Olympics. There, life was going on as it had been after the Olympics and before the war, though some enterprising locals had just up a sign outside the Olympic Ice Hockey arena, where the U.S. Hockey Team had beaten the Soviets in the “Miracle on Ice.” The sign read: “Squaw Valley 1960, Lake Placid 1980, Wichita, Pueblo, El Paso, 1987.” When Mr. Kuralt asked the Mayor about the sign, the response was, “Why not?” After Cronkite signed off, Smitty, the barkeep, switched the TV to ESPN, which was showing a rerun of a 1982 Raiders-Chiefs football game.

“Any newspapers today?” Mark Ellis wondered out loud.

“Probably tomorrow,” Sweaty said. “We didn't get much on the C-141 today.”

“No kidding,” Flossy said from her table.

“Tomorrow,” the CO said. “We may be getting two new birds from Japan. If not, the next day.”

“New crews?” Hoser asked.

“Don't know yet.”


After dinner, people headed for either the pool table or the poker games that always sprung up, and General Yeager noticed that what he had heard about Kara was quite true. For he saw several Marines and Navy challenge her at the pool table, and all had come out with their wallets lightened. When Guru went back to the bar to get another round for his flight, Yeager tapped him on the shoulder. “Major.”

“General?” Guru asked.

“I see some of what they told me about your Captain Thrace is dead on,” Yeager said in his West Virginia drawl. “She really that good?”

“She's that good, sir. Good enough that nobody in the squadron takes her on unless it's a friendly game,” said Guru. “Sir, I'd pass the word to your people to stay away from her unless they have the cash. She doesn't take checks, and doesn't do IOUs. And if you can't pay? Well, uh, she has an....alternative payment plan.”

“Which General Tanner told me about. Word's gotten around about her.....antics. I'll let my people know. Thanks for the warning, Major.”

“You're welcome, sir,” Guru nodded. He got the second round, then went back to the table. “I just warned General Yeager about Kara.”

“What'd he say?” Brainiac asked.

“He thanked me for the warning.”

Dave Golen came over, and asked, “Are we going to hear some of his stories?”

“Tomorrow night,” Guru noted. “He and his people want to get settled in. The General didn't say, but I'll bet any amount of money they do some flying tomorrow.” He glanced over at the table occupied by the F-20 pilots., which still had quite a few AF, Marine, and Navy pilots talking with them. “They're still arguing.”

Sweaty nodded. “Talked to them a few minutes ago,” she said. “They think the F-20's the greatest thing since the P-51.”

“I imagine folks who fly the F-15 or F-16 are going to have something to say about that,” Hoser nodded. “Then there's us, and everyone else who flies the Rhino.”

“No arguing that,” Guru said. “I asked General Yeager where in the cockpit was the slot for the quarter, and he laughed.”

Heads nodded at that, and Sweaty added, “Said the same thing to one of those young pups. Clancy, I think. He just shrugged and said, 'You get used to it.'”

“With us, it's the F-15E, when it gets here,” KT pointed out. “WSOs aren't going out of style anytime soon when those puppies show.”

“Here's to that,” Goalie said, raising her beer bottle.

“Hear, hear,” the others chimed in.


About twenty minutes until twelve-hour kicked in, Guru and the others noticed one of the F-20 drivers had left that conversation and found a table for herself. They also noticed she already had had two beers and was working on a third, and Guru recognized her as Quinn, the one he and General Yeager had talked about. Collaring Goalie, Sweaty, and Preacher, he went over to talk to her. “Captain,” he said. “You look kind of moody. Care to talk about it?”

She nodded, just as General Yeager came over. “Might as well,” she said. “Misery loves company. Especially today.”

“What's so special about today?” Sweaty asked.

Quinn took her wallet out of a flight suit pocket and showed the 335th crews and the General a photo of her and another woman. “My older sister, Daria,” she said. “She was in the Air Force already when this all started.”

“Nice looking girl,” Preacher said, and both General Yeager and Guru nodded.

“What happened?” Yeager asked.

“Sir, she was a T-37 IP at Vance AFB in Oklahoma when the war started. She and the rest of them got out, some east of the Mississippi, others west of the Rockies. She was one who went west. When combat was opened to women, she volunteered for F-111s.”

The General and the 335th people exchanged glances. That was nasty flying, going in on the deck in the deep-strike mission. “Where'd she go?” Goalie asked.

“After F-111 training? Florida. When one of the two wings in England came back, they sent a detachment down to Florida to fly strikes into Cuba. Quinn said. “She had four months of F-111 training at Mountain Home, then they sent her there.”

“She's MIA?” Yeager asked. “Or....”

“The former, sir,” Quinn said. “She and her navigator were shot down someplace near Havana. Place called Bejucal. They said it was a Soviet HQ complex.”

Guru nodded sympathetically. He'd flown his share of hairy missions. “The escape capsule fire?” He meant the F-111's escape capsule instead of ejection seats.

“It did,” Quinn nodded back, in between slugs of beer. She had nearly finished the bottle, and with ten minutes to twelve-hour, she wanted another, and waved to Smitty.

“That's enough, Captain,” Yeager said. In his voice, everyone recognized the firmness of command. “You're flying tomorrow, and you've had enough.”

“Yes, sir.” she replied. Though right now, Quinn felt she wasn't drunk enough.

Goalie looked at Quinn. “So that's it? Just the capsule firing?”

“The beeper, too,” replied Quinn. “But....that's all. No voice contact, nothing. They went in as a two-ship, and apart from a couple of F-105 Weasel Thuds, and an F-4 flight as MIGCAP, that's it.” She finished her beer, then went on. “They told Mom and Dad a few months later that a POW identified herself as Daria read a 'confession' over Havana Radio, and someone who said she was Jane did the same thing. Other than that? Nothing. They're not on the POW list.”

Sin Licon, the intel officer for the 335th, came over. “Sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear.” He introduced himself. “They don't just rely on radio broadcasts. Intel usually needs photos or video before they'll transfer somebody to the POW list.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Yeager said, just as Doc Waters announced that the Twelve-hour Rule was now in effect. “Quinn? When aircrew curfew sounds, go find your bunk, get a good night's shut-eye, and be ready to fly in the morning. We'll be giving some of these Phantom Phanatics a taste of what we can do.”

“Yes, sir!” Quinn's face brightened. Flying was the best therapy, it seemed.


With two more hours to kill before aircrew curfew, people tried their luck at the pool table or poker games, and Kara held court at the former this night. And to her surprise, General Olds came over. Both laid down their money, then people stopped what they were doing to watch. It didn't take long for experience to show its worth, for the General took Kara for $50.00. She came over to Guru's table in a rage. “Well?” The CO asked.

“I want my money back,” Kara grumbled. “And with twelve-hour, I can't get sloppy drunk.”

Guru nodded sympathetically. “Make up for it tomorrow, and make those F-20 guys pay. They're fair game, remember?”

She let out an evil-looking grin. “My pleasure. And I'll get my money back from General Olds while I'm at it.”

“Be careful,” Goalie said. “Remember, he's been doing this since your parents were kids.”

“Don't remind me.” Kara said.


Time flew by, then Doc Waters announced, “Aircrew Curfew now in effect!” It was 2100. Those on the flight schedule headed off to their billets, for soon, it would be 0430, and that meant another day on the firing line.