[Matt Wiser]

And the next one:



335th TFS CO's Office, Sheppard AFB, TX; 1700 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser was at his desk, going over some paperwork that had accumulated while he'd been off on his last mission of the day. He quickly took care of it, placed it in his OUT box, then glanced at his office clock. 1701? Good. Time to get over to the Club. Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

Capt. Mark Ellis, his Exec, came in. “Boss, before you head over to the Club, got a few admin things to take care of.” He handed his CO a clipboard with several papers.

“What have you got?” Guru asked as he scanned the papers. “Aircraft status update?” The CO checked the sheet. “Only twenty? We've got twenty-two birds now.”

“Two are down for hundred-hour checks. Mine, and Frank's.” Ellis replied. “So we'll take the two new ones.”

“Enjoy Euro One,” Guru replied. “What else?”

The XO showed him another paper. “Supply update. The scroungers have a couple of requests for their horse-trading.”

Guru looked at the request. “More canned hams? That I can understand, Mark, but the fruit cocktail? What do they need thirty cases of that for?”

“Don't know, but Ross says the folks they deal with have that on their lists, and if we can give them some of what they want...”

“We have a better shot at getting what's on our list,” The CO finished. “Okay. Oh, tell Ross to hold off on any further deals involving Sparrow missiles. We're getting AIM-7Fs next week.”

“The deal he's got already?” Ellis wanted to know.

“Go ahead. We can use the Sparrows from the Marines in that three-way deal,” Guru said. “And before you ask, General Olds talked with General Tanner. The logjam's been broken, and we'll be ditching our Es for Fs. And we get new ALQ-119 jammer pods.”

“Hello,” Ellis smiled. “Guess somebody put the fear of God into certain people, especially with those ZSU-30s now in-theater.”

The CO nodded. “Guess so.” He scanned another paper. “We're released from CAS, I see. Back on the ATO tomorrow.”

“People'll be cheering when they hear that. CAS is the A-10s' trade.”

“Down, boy. We fill in for them when they're busy elsewhere, or it's an all-hands effort,” Guru reminded his Exec. He checked the next paper. “Weather....storm coming into Colorado, Nebraska, and Kansas, we're on the southern fringe of it. No adverse effect on flying, just some high clouds.”

Ellis frowned. “That's a bummer. We could use another stand-down day.”

“We'll get another one sooner or later,” Guru said. He checked the last two papers. “Application for Pararescue School, and another for Airman to Pilot?”

“Yep. Airman Dale Morgan wants to go Pararescue.”

“He does know that if he washes out, he's coming back here?'

The XO nodded. “He does, Boss.”

“Fair enough. Hope he enjoys Hill,” the CO said as he signed his name on the “Approved,” line. Hill AFB in Utah was where the Pararescue School had been reconstituted after being overrun at Kirtland AFB during the early days of the war. “And the Airman to Pilot?”

“Airman First Class Janet Nelson,” Ellis said. “She's one of Don's people.”

Guru went over the application. “Four semesters at Nevada-Reno, still 'undecided' as for major, but she does have the Physics class the review board likes.” He went on. “She's asking nav?”

“She's got 20/30 vision in one eye, 20/20 in another.”

“That'll do it,” Guru said. “She does realize that once she finishes knife-and-fork, then nav, she's got an eight-year commitment to the Air Force?”

“She does, Don said.”

Guru nodded as he approved the application with his signature. “Here you go,” he said, handing the clipboard back to the exec. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Ross took Airman Kellogg into town this morning. They found what's left of Kellogg's house.”

“Any issues with squatters?” The CO asked.

“Nobody's squatting there, Boss. All that's left is the fireplace and one wall. Along with a burned out BMP in the front yard,” said Ellis. “They did find what he and his dad buried in the backyard, though.”

“Good. What'd they do with the box?”

“Ryan Blanchard has it for safekeeping, until we can find out a way to secure it somewhere until the war's over and he can reclaim it.”

“All right. Anything else?” Guru asked.

“One last thing: Frank formally applied to the F-20 program,” Ellis told the CO. “And we all know where that's headed.”

“Dead-end alley,” Guru nodded. “And when Frank finds out? He'll whine again to Daddy back in Boston.”

“All he can do,” the Exec said.

“His problem,” Guru said. “All right, that's it?”

“That's it.”

“All right, then,” Guru said as he got up from behind his desk. “Let's go to the Club.”


Sheppard AFB Officer's Club, 1715 Hours Central War Time:


Guru and his Exec walked into the Club, and found it already buzzing. It didn't take long for the two to find out that the F-20 pilots and their combat sorties that afternoon were the object of discussion. When they got to the bar, they found Goalie and Kara already there. “Ladies,” Guru said. “I see the F-20 jocks are strutting around.”

“They've got every right to,” Kara said. “One of 'em, Pruitt, I think, when he got his drink, said that a bunch of us are alive because of those guys.” She took a drink from a bottle of Budweiser.

“Hate to say this, but they're probably right,” Goalie nodded. She looked at Guru. “You said that earlier.”

“I did,” Guru replied. “And I'm not going to argue with success. The other thing I'm glad about is that General Yeager listened when reminded of the no-combat order.”

A familiar voice spoke up from behind them. “Major, You're not the only one to say that,” It was Colonel Brady. He came up to the bar. “If he'd wanted to fly, no way would I have authorized their going. Simple as that.”

“Glad to hear that, Colonel. You said that earlier, but I'm sure glad you didn't let him go,” Guru said. He motioned to the bartender. “Smitty? Sam Adams for me, and Bud for the XO.”

“Running low on the Sam Adams, Major,” Smitty replied in his Texas twang. He'd been a barkeep in Wichita Falls prewar, and had been one of the first civilians to get a job on base after liberation. “Might want to think on an alternative until we get some more.”

“In that case, Bud for me as well,” Guru said. Smitty put two bottles on the bar, and Guru paid him. Then he turned to Colonel Brady and Goalie, just as General Olds and General Yeager came in, and both were talking. “Wonder what that's about?”

“How they'll both get around the no-combat order?” Kara said, still nearby.

“Don't even say it, Captain,” replied Colonel Brady. The last thing he wanted was a sudden transfer to NAF Argentia in Newfoundland, heading up the Marine Detachment there.

Both generals went to the bar and ordered. After getting their drinks, they came by where the 335th people, and Colonel Brady, were. “Colonel, and Major,” General Olds said. “Enjoying the evening?”

“Looking forward to some of General Yeager's stories from Edwards, back in those days,” replied Brady, and the 335th people nodded agreement.

Yeager nodded. “You'll hear a few. And not just Edwards. Damn near got myself killed testing a MiG-15 a defecting North Korean flew to Kimpo in September, '53.”

“And the movie, General?” Goalie asked. “The Right Stuff?”

“That, and I did some of the flying for the John Wayne movie Jet Pilot,” Yeager said.

“Looking forward to it, sir,” Guru said.

“General,” Brady said. “Thanks for what your people did today. Quite a few of us are probably alive because of your guys in the F-20s.”

Yeager smiled. “Wasn't my idea, Colonel. Clancy and Pruitt-” he nodded in their direction, at a table where AF, Navy, and Marine pilots were waving hands-and still arguing the F-20 versus their respective mounts. “They sold me on it.”

“General,” Guru said. “Just glad that, (a) you weren't flying, and (b), they got some of those guns.”

“Thanks, Major,” Yeager said with a smile. He went off to be with his people, and got into some of the discussions (or arguments) going on.

General Olds watched the goings-on, and observed, “I don't think anyone's mind is going to be changed. Either you're committed to the F-20, or you're happy flying the bird you're in now. Whether it's the F-4, F/A-18, or for the Navy guys, the A-7, it makes no difference.”

“No,sir,” Guru nodded. “And for the record, we've only had one applicant to the F-20 from my squadron. And, sir, I think you know who it is.”

“That snobby major?”

“Yes, sir.”

Olds nodded back. 'Well, Major, look at it this way: when he finds out that he's not getting in, he may just have that case of the stupids you can use to kick his ass out of your squadron.”

“Wouldn't mind that at all, General,” Guru said. “Problem is, hope he doesn't get any of his element killed, or any friendlies, for that matter, and when I do kick him out? I'd be inflicting him on a fellow officer who'd be wondering what he's done to deserve the new arrival.”

“Collateral damage, Major,” Olds told the CO. “Can't be helped, especially in situations like this.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru nodded. “Unintended consequences.”

“My thoughts exactly, Major.”


Guru and Goalie then found most of their flight at a table. Then Sweaty came in, with some newspapers. “Got some new ones. USA Today, Stars and Stripes, the Los Angeles Times, and the San Diego Union.”

“Give me the L.A.,” Guru said. “Closest thing to a hometown paper for me.”

Sweaty tossed a paper to her CO, then passed out the rest. “Well, anything new?”

“Says here they're still investigating Proxmire,” Guru said as he handed the Sports section to Hoser. Even with the war, there was still some College sports going on. “FBI's checking on at least one more aide, maybe two.” He was referring to a Senator from Wisconsin who had made no secret of his anti-military views from the 1970s onward, and had also been a critic of NASA. One of his aides had been arrested for suspected ties to the Cuban Embassy in Paris, and the FBI was only beginning its investigation.

“Serves him right,” Cosmo said from a nearby table. “After all that anti-NASA and anti-Science stuff he pulled back in the '70s?”

“Take it easy, girl,” Goalie said. “He was against almost every weapons system we're using now to save the country. We've all got reasons to despise him.” She was checking the local news section, though for her, the Orange County Register was the home paper.

“Steady,” Guru reminded them both. “Whoa...this is hot.”

“What?” Kara asked as she skimmed USA Today.

Guru smiled. “The West German Defense Minister resigned. First of the rats there to go.”

Heads nodded at that. The Neutralist coalition that governed West Germany had kicked out U.S, British, and other Western forces, and had caused NATO's breakup. An event that many in the U.S., Canada, and Britain, felt had directly led to the war, and the attitude of some of the West German press, calling stories of Soviet atrocities in the war zone “Grossly exaggerated,” only fueled anger at the Neutralists. “Hope that starts the ball rolling, now that half of their government got exposed as Stasi or KGB assets.”

Jena Wendt, the Australian reporter attached to the 335th, came in. “I see you guys are seeing our competition. Here's something you may not know. Got the news from Sydney a few minutes ago. Seems the West German Vice-Chancellor got killed earlier today.”

“WHAT?” Several people said at once.

“Run that again, Ms. Wendt,” Guru said. “The Vice-Chancellor of West Germany is dead?”

“That's right, Major. His car was in a traffic collision with a large truck. The reports from Bonn say he didn't want any bodyguards, and all he had was his driver,” Ms. Wendt said.

“Mighty convenient for certain parties,” Kara noted. She'd had some International Relations while at Auburn. “Somebody arranged an 'accident, I'd say.”

Dave Golen nodded. “Okay, the Chancellor got exposed a few days ago as a Stasi asset, right?” He saw heads nod. “The Defense Minister resigned, and now this.”

'Why'd he resign?” General Olds asked. He'd been paying attention to the conversation.

Guru checked the article. “Doesn't say here.”

“What the news from Sydney said,” Ms. Wendt added, “It was a sex scandal.”

Then their RAF Liaison Officer, Flight Lt. Steve “Jack” Lord came in.”Fellows, I just finished listening to the BBC on shortwave. It's more than that. Seems some photos of the chap got sold to Der Speigel.”

“What's that?” KT asked.

“Think Time or Newsweek, now. Or Life back in the '50s and '60s, Lieutenant,” Olds said. “Go on, Flight Lieutenant.”

“Yes,sir,” Lord said. “Anyway, seems the chap in question got involved with underage girls. Several of them.”

Mark Ellis nodded. “And somebody had pictures, sold them, then sat back and watched the fireworks,” he observed.

“Better,” replied Lord. “Speaking of which, they had demonstrations in several West German cities. In Munich? 75,000. Same in Hamburg. Frankfurt and Stuttgart had 40,000. So did Mainz and Nuremberg. All had one demand: the Neutralist Coalition Government's resignation.”

Just then, the Marine mess people came in, with the Wichita Falls restauranteurs who helped run the mess operation as well. “People, we've got grilled ham steak, or Santa Fe Chicken. With all the sides.”

After people got what they wanted, conversation turned back to the news. “Well, that means those Commie-lovers in Bonn are getting what they deserve,” Sweaty noted.

“Not yet,” Dave Golen pointed out. “They can appoint replacements, but it's only a matter of time.”

Lord nodded as he ate. “One other thing, Major. Seems the Bundeswehr, the West German Army, canceled all leaves and was put on some kind of alert. Same thing for the Luftwaffe and the Navy.”

Sin Licon, the 335th's Intel Officer, was with some of his USMC counterparts from MAG-11. “That's another piece of the puzzle,” he said after he took a bite of ham. “If this was some third-world shithole in Africa or Asia, I'd be thinking one word right now.”

“What's that?” Don Van Loan asked.

“Coup.”

People looked at each other, and there were smiles all around. Most Americans, along with their British and Canadian allies, blamed the Greens and their cohorts in West Germany for starting the whole chain of events that led to the war. “Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch,” Guru said. “About damned time those Commie-lickers got shown the door.”

“I'll drink to that,” Goalie said, raising her beer bottle.

“You sure, Captain?” Olds asked. “This is Europe, not some shithole in Asia or Africa.”

Colonel Brady nodded agreement. “They don't do coups in Europe, Captain.”

“Sirs, it fits. A week or so ago, their whole government got exposed as KGB or Stasi assets,” Licon said. “Then the protests started. Now they're growing. Then the Defense Minister walks to avoid a sex scandal. Today, the Vice-Chancellor got crunched in his car by a truck. Now the West German military's on some kind of alert. Only one thing to do next: tell the government to take a hike, or the next thing that happens is the Leopard 1s and 2s in the streets.”

There was silence for a minute as people digested that. Then it was Kara who said, “Well, let's hope the Bundeswehr does better than the Valkyrie plotters did in '44.”

“They will,” General Olds said. “They'll do their homework, seems like folks are on their side, and maybe the Neutralists see the handwriting on the wall, and beat feet to their masters in East Berlin.”

Sin Licon nodded. '”Don't think it'll be long. A week, at least. At most? A month.”

“Good riddance,” Flossy said.


As people were eating, The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite came on, and “The Most Trusted Man in America” spoke. “Good evening from Los Angeles. Today, U.S. Forces in Central Arkansas repelled a major Soviet and Cuban attack south of Pine Bluff. Our Bernie Goldberg has a report from the fighting.”

On the TV screen, images of M-1 tanks and M-113 APCs engaging targets, AH-1 Cobras as well as fixed-wing air going in, burning tanks and BTRs, and both Cuban and Soviet prisoners being escorted to the rear. “The Soviets and Cubans tried moving north up from Louisiana and along the Arkansas River,” Goldberg was saying, “But the Army was waiting for them. The unit I'm with, the 42nd “Rainbow” Division from New York, set a surprise for the enemy, and the Soviets and Cubans fell for it.” More images of combat followed, and when a powerfully built Black officer climbed down from an M-1 tank, several sets of eyes widened. But it was Hoser who spoke first.

“Recognize him?”

“Sure do,” Scorpion said. “That's Bo Jackson. Drafted for baseball by the Royals, and football for the L.A. Raiders before the war.”

“How'd he ….?” Cosmo asked.

“I think he was still at Auburn,” Scorpion replied.

“He's probably counting his lucky stars,” Digger said. Bum ankle and all, he was in the Club with everyone else.

“No kidding,” Kara said.

“And, at the end of the day, the Rainbow Division moved forward, trapping a Soviet Motor-rifle Regiment against the Arkansas River and wiping it out,” Goldberg said, his voice over imagery of wrecked T-55 tanks and BTR-60s. “Bernard Goldberg, CBS News, with the Rainbow Division, Southern Arkansas.”

Other reports on the war followed, with one from the 3rd Marine Division in British Columbia, and another from the 40th Infantry Division in West Texas, then things shifted to Philadelphia. “Problems continue to mount for Senator William Proxmire, as another staff member has been taken into custody by the FBI, While Senator Proxmire continues to deny knowledge of staff contacts with the Cuban Embassy in Paris, Senate Minority Leader George Mitchell is very concerned, Senate sources indicate.”

“Bye, bye, Proxcreep,” Cosmo spat.

“Down, girl,” Guru said. “But I'm not arguing with you.”

“Overseas, the investigation into the death of West German Vice-Chancellor Hans Schroder continues, as the Green Party openly blames the CIA, BND, and British Intelligence for his death,” Cronkite said. “Denials have come swiftly from both Philadelphia and London, as more protests continue for a fifth day against the Neutralist Coalition government. Demonstrations have now occurred in a dozen cities in West Germany, this on the heels of the revelation that several members of the West German Cabinet, including the Chancellor himself, have links to the KGB and Stasi. Yesterday's resignation of the Defense Minister only adds to the pressure on the government. Informed sources in Philadelphia and London give the Bonn government's time as 'short' with 'weeks, if not days' as the Neutralist Coalition's hold on office is becoming frail with each day.”

Cheering followed, as people at several tables raised their bottles or glasses in toasts.

Then there was another Charles Kuralt On the Road report, and this one was from several coastal communities in Massachusetts. He started in Gloucester, where the fishing boats went out, as they always did, but as they returned, a Coast Guard patrol boat would hail them, asking if anything unusual had been spotted, or if they had seen any submarine periscopes. A far cry from when fishing boats would see U-Boats off the East Coast in 1942, but still, fishermen reported anything they saw to the Navy or the Coast Guard. Then Kuralt went down to Salem, where he stopped at the office of the city's official witch, who also had a picture of the cruiser U.S.S. Salem on her office wall. She had been at the recommissioning ceremony, and had not only cast a spell to protect the ship and crew, but “I also put a curse on the entire Soviet Navy”, she said. He then met members of a State Beach Patrol, who were checking the coastline for any signs of enemy activity. All were either too old for military service, as several were Vietnam or Korea vets, or were 4-F. One young man, who looked very fit, and carried an M-14 rifle, was almost ashamed to be there. “I tried joining up after Invasion Day, and failed the physical.”

Kuralt was curious, “Why'd you fail?”

“I'm diabetic. I don't need insulin, but have to take four different pills every day,” the young man said. “I can't go into the military, so this is the next best thing, I suppose. I wanted to go, but....”

“And so, this young man found a way to serve. Charles Kuralt, CBS News, On the Road again, Salem, Massachusetts.”

“And that's the way it is, November 10, 1987. For all of us at CBS News, Good Night.”

After that, Colonel Brady stood up. “People, I know you all want to hear from General Yeager tonight, but today is a special day. 10 November, 1775, is the day the Marine Corps was founded, at Tun Tavern in Philadelphia. If this was peacetime, we'd be having a unit formal, dinner and dance, and so on. Now, it's wartime.” He waved some Marine mess people in, who brought in several large cakes. “I'd like to have the youngest Marine officer here come up, but first, the guest of honor. He may not be a Marine, but he was not only a World War II ace, but was the fastest man alive not just once, but several times. And he also represents the Air Force people who fly with us. General Yeager? Would you please come up and accept the first slice?”

Yeager stood up. “I'd be honored, Colonel,” he said in his West Virginia drawl. After taking the slice, Brady asked the youngest Marine officer to step forward. A bespectacled young woman with Second Lieutenant's bars came up. After Colonel Brady took a slice, he handed it to her.

“What's that all about?” Ms. Wendt asked. Her cameraman, Scott, was filming the whole thing.

“This is the Marine Corps' birthday,” Kodak Griffith said. “The first slice of that cake goes to the guest of honor. He's not a Marine, but nobody can deny what General Yeager's done.”

“And the second?”

“It goes to the oldest Marine present, in this case, Colonel Brady, then he gives it to the youngest one. It signifies the passage of the Corps' traditions from one generation to the next.”

“People,” Brady continued. “There's several cakes here, enough to give everyone present a slice; Marines, Air Force, Navy, and our guests. Now, I'll be going to the Enlisted Mess, to do the same with the NCOs and enlisted folks, but I'll be back before Twelve-Hour. Because, General,” he nodded at Yeager. “I want to hear some of your stories.”

Yeager grinned. “I'll be here, Colonel.”

“One last thing. Today, we lost Major Bill Poore and two other Marines from VMFA-134. It's just a reminder of the price we've paid so far, and we're going to have to pay, before this is all over.” Heads nodded at that. After a moment of silence, Brady said, “I'll be back. And you all have some fun. That's an order.”

After he left, people got their cake, then Kara went to the pool table. To no one's surprise, one of the F-20 pilots, Pruitt, went to challenge her. Both combatants laid down their money. It didn't take long for Kara's skill to show, for Pruitt found his wallet lightened by $50.00. “Who taught her to play pool?” He grumbled.

“She's been doing this longer than you have, son,” Yeager said. With that, he went over and challenged her to a game. Again, both combatants showed their money, but this time, it was General Yeager whose skills were superior. “All those nights at Pancho's.” He smiled.

Kara shook her head. “That's three generals who've done this. General Tanner did it to me twice, and I still want a rematch with General Olds,” she grumbled.

“I'll try,” Prada said.

“Your money,” Guru warned her.

This time, Kara was superior, and she grinned as Prada paid her after the game. “Good to see I haven't lost my touch.” She said as she worked on her second beer of the night. “Who's next?”

“Clancy?” Yeager said. “You want to have a go?”

The young Captain gulped, took a drink of Mountain Dew, then went over to the pool table. He put down his money, and it didn't take long for Kara to make him regret doing so. “I want my money back,” he muttered.

“Try again tomorrow night, Captain,” Guru said to the F-20 driver. “By the way, thanks for killing those guns today.”

“Just doing our jobs, Major,” Clancy replied.

“Maybe,” Guru nodded. He waved to the barkeep. “Smitty? Another soda for the young pup, and a Bud for his two wingmates.”

“Comin' up, Major,” the barkeep replied. After producing the drinks, Guru paid him.

“Major...” Clancy said.

“It's the least I can do. I don't have to write any letters because of you guys,” Guru said, and Clancy noted the serious tone to his voice. “I'll talk with Chief Ross tomorrow, and see if he can get a case of soda for you-Coke, Pepsi, whatever, and a case of beer each for your wingmates.”

“Major, we just did our jobs,” Clancy protested.

“Captain, I'm still here, and so is half my squadron. Nobody in the 335th is writing any letters to next-of-kin because you and your two pals killed those guns. Keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” said Guru. “You have a good rest of the evening, Captain.”


It was 1830 when Colonel Brady returned, and after getting another beer, nodded to General Yeager. “General? If you're ready, the floor is yours.”

“Just a few minutes, Colonel,” Yeager said. He had been talking with one of the ferry pilots who'd brought the two new birds for the 335th. “First, we should hear from Captain Corrine Cassidy. She was at Laughlin AFB down in Texas when the war began, and she's one of a handful of people who escaped from there on Invasion Day.”

Brady nodded. “General, your call,” he said. “Captain?”

Goalie turned to her old friend and Academy roommate. “Showtime, girl.”

Cassidy stood up, brushed back her short brown hair, and said, “Been a long time since I've had to get up and talk like this.” There was some laughter, then she started. “Well, I was a flight instructor down at Laughlin with the 47th Flying Training Wing. Now, prewar, there were refugees crossing from Mexico, saying there were Soviets and Cubans near Piedras Negras, that's just south of the border from Del Rio, and nobody paid much attention. Until a friend of mine saw Hinds flying on their side of the Rio Grande, and not far from the base. That got people's attention. So did reports from the Border Patrol of tanks and APCs south of the border, and I mean within visual range of the Rio Grande.”

“Somebody was asleep,” General Olds noted.

“No arguing that, sir,” Cassidy said. “Anyway, on that day, I was told by my CO to take a T-38 up on a check flight as it had just come out of maintenance. I'm taxiing out, and I hear on the tower frequency they're trying to contact a bunch of choppers that have crossed the border. I'm thinking 'Somebody's made a big navigational error, and they'll head back once they hear the Tower. They clear me for takeoff, and the next thing I see are Su-25s coming in on attack runs.”

“Holy shit...” Brainiac said. “And you with nothing.”

“Yeah,” Cassidy replied as she took a drink from her beer bottle. “The Frogfoots make their runs, then the Hinds, and the next thing I see are the troop carriers. Hips and Hooks.” Hooks were the Mi-6 heavy lift helo. So I did what I could to break them up. Tried going through them like a hawk onto a flock of pigeons.”

Some of the fighter pilots recognized the tactic at once. “So you were trying to knock them down with your jetwash?” T-Bone asked.

“Sure was,” Cassidy nodded. “Might have caused a Hip to run into some power lines, but that's it. I thought about climbing, but knew that if there were Frogfoots around, there'd be MiGs as well. So I headed towards San Antonio, and there were several others following me. T-37s and T-38s. There were a dozen of us all told, and when we got there, there was smoke coming up from Kelly, Brooks, San Antonio International, Fort Sam Houston, and Randolph. We had to put down somewhere, and wound up at Randolph.”

“On fumes?” Kara asked. She remembered her escape from Reese a few days later. She also looked at Cassidy. Where have we seen each other?

Cassidy shook her head. “Not me, but a couple of the other -38s were, and the -37s as well. After we put down, there was mass confusion. Finally found somebody we could report to, a Bird Colonel, who told us to refuel and get north. Altus or Vance. So that's what we did. And when the bug-out from there came? Us T-38 drivers wound up at Salt Lake International.”

“We may have crossed paths there and not known it,” Kara said. “Made a bug-out from Reese when the line in West Texas blew.”

“Maybe. Anyway, wound up at Beale eventually, then Kingsley Field where they wanted me to be an F-4 IP to free up men for combat, then when the law was changed....”

“You got to do it for real,” Goalie said. “Corinne, how'd you wind up on the Ferry Run?”

“One of the instructors wanted a night in bed.” Cassidy replied. “I told him to fuck off, and when I graduated? Opened my orders and found out I was on the ferry run. Turned out the instructor was a friend of that SOB who runs the place, Tigh.”

Heads nodded at that. Nearly everyone there knew Kara's story of “Pissing off a superior asshole.” Flossy asked, “How's the ferry run?”

“Long and boring,” was the reply. “You do build up your formation flying, plenty of instrument time, especially at night or bad weather. And you're always with a tanker for navigation assistance. And right now? I've had enough. Two more months, then I finally get to do what I was trained to do with an F-4.”

“Maybe sooner than that, Captain,” Guru said. He looked at General Olds, who nodded approval. “Don't be surprised one of these days if you check your mail and find transfer orders. Might even be to us.”

“Major, I'll be waiting.” Cassidy grinned.

“General Yeager? Your turn.” Brady nodded in Yeager's direction.

“Well, started out as a private and aircraft mechanic,” Yeager said in his West Virginia drawl. “Pearl Harbor meant I could apply for flight training, I got accepted, and was winged in February of '43. Flew with the 357th Fighter Group, first in P-39s, then when we got to England, P-51s. Got my first German on March 4, then got shot down the next day. Spent some time with the French Resistance before they got me and another evader to Spain.” His eyes focused on Guru. “So I'm not the only one around who's 'been there and done that.'”

“General, you went there well before I did,” Major Wiser replied. “Didn't you have to appeal to Eisenhower to get back into combat?”

“Sure did, with another fella, and since it was after D-Day, he approved it. Got promoted to Lieutenant, then Captain, and while doing that, got ace in a day.”

“How's that?” Ms. Wendt asked. She had her microphone out, and her cameraman was getting this on tape.

“Got behind a Me-109, but before I could shoot, he panicked, and took out his wingman in a midair,” Yeager smiled. “The other three I got the old-fashioned way. By gunning them. Got an Me-262 later on.”

Flossy looked at the General. “How many kills?”

“Eleven and a half, and yeah, before you ask, they did give out half and even third and quarter credits,” replied Yeager.

General Olds smiled. “At least he had proof of his 262 kill. Didn't see mine crash, so....”

“And when my combat tour was over? Came home, got married, and asked to go to Wright Field in Ohio. That's how I got into test flying. Then all that was sent to Muroc, which became Edwards.”

Colonel Brady then stood up. “All right, people! How many here have either read the book The Right Stuff or seen the movie?” Many hands shot up. “General, how accurate was the movie?”

“Pretty close, though there never was an X-1 crash like they showed in the beginning. And yeah, I did do the first supersonic flight with two broken ribs. The X-1 flight? They got it right,” said Yeager.

“And you got a steak dinner at Pancho's,” Guru said. “She really did make that offer?”

“She did, and after my trip? She extended it for anyone who broke a speed record. Scott Crossfield got one for being the first to go Mach 2. Nearly got killed in the X-1A after going Mach 2.44. They got that part right as well. Even had a cameo.”

One of the Marines asked, “Where, General?”

“The guy tending bar at Pancho's?” Yeager grinned. “You're looking at him.”

Goalie turned to Guru. “You have that movie on tape, right?”

“I do. Guess we'll have to rewatch it and look for him,” said Guru.

“Didn't you fly in that John Wayne movie, Jet Pilot?” Asked Kara.

“Sure did,” Yeager replied. “A dog of a movie, but at least I got to meet John Wayne and Janet Leigh,” he grinned.

Don Van Loan then asked, “General, what about the MiG you flew?”

Yeager nodded. “Flew a MiG-15 that a defecting North Korean flew to Kimpo in September, '53. They took it to Okinawa, and I was part of the flight test program. It had some good points, and some bad, and I think you all know what those were.”

Heads nodded again. The F-86 vs. MiG-15 duels were taught in fighter training, still. “Any memorable moments, General?” Mark Ellis asked.

“Nearly got killed in a dive,” Yeager said. “You couldn't control a MiG-15 in a dive, and I only pulled out when it got into denser air. I went to Russia a couple years after I retired, and when I talked to several of their test pilots, I told them about the MiG. They were surprised I was still alive.”

Then Colonel Brady glanced at the clock. “Two minutes to Twelve-hour people! Finish your drinks if you're flying in the morning.”

“One last story before then. I took an NF-104 up to 104,000 feet and got into a flat spin. Bailed out at 11,000 and got burned by the ejection seat's rocket motor. Wasn't my fault,” said General Yeager. “The plane went into the spin from excessive angle of attack and the lack of aircraft response. There wasn't any input into the controls. The engine spooling from the J-79 shut down for the rocket-powered zoom climb phase caused it. Last time I tried setting that kind of record.”

The clock then struck 1900, and one of the Navy flight surgeons rang the bell. “Twelve-Hour now in effect!”

People who were flying in the morning turned in their drinks and switched to something nonalcoholic. Guru went and got a plate of nachos and some Seven-up for himself and Goalie, and when he returned, he was surprised to see General Yeager sitting down with Ms. Wendt and her camera crew. “That's new.”

“General Yeager with a camera crew?” Goalie asked.

“Yeah, he's got....issues with Brits, but Aussies? Don't think so.”

“They'll have to say he's on some kind of tour of the war zone,” Goalie noted. “No mention of the F-20.”

“That's a given.”

Their RAF liaison officer came over. “Major, excuse me, Guru.” Jack Lord nodded. “And Goalie.”

“Jack,” Guru said. “Pull up a chair.”

“Don't mind if I do.” Lord said. “I see the General's getting cozy with the media.”

“You didn't ask any questions,” said Goalie. “What's up with that?”

“They say General Yeager has had....issues with RAF personnel in the past,” Lord said.

“Yeah,” Guru said. “Too many Colonel Blimp or stiff upper lip types, or so the stories go. Don't worry, because by the time your guys get here? Yeager and his people will be gone.”

“Good to know, but in the meantime? That girl F-20 pilot? Prada? I'm going up with her in the morning.”

“Just remember this, Jack,” Guru said. “Ask where the slot in the cockpit is for the quarter.”

The RAF Flight Lieutenant smiled. “I'll have to remember that.”

After Lord went to go and talk with General Olds, Goalie asked, “Isn't Frank getting a ride?”

“Yeah, but General Yeager told me this: that ride he gets will be his first-and last-in an F-20,” Guru told his GIB and lover.

Goalie let out a grin. “Happy day. Or it will be.”

“It will be,” Guru agreed. “But there's this: when Frank gets that letter saying 'Your request to transfer to the F-20 program has been carefully reviewed. However.....' no telling how he'll react.”

Goalie nodded. “You're right. Holy....he'll get a case of the stupids, and who knows what'll happen?”

“Don't even want to think about it.”

Time marched on, and it was soon 2100. “Aircrew Curfew now in effect!” Doc Waters announced. With that, those who were on the morning's flight schedule headed off to their tents, and that included the F-20 people. For the 335th and their Marine and Navy colleagues, another day, another ATO. For the F-20 pilots, their first real day of demonstrations was on the agenda.