[Matt Wiser]

Here's the next one:



Over Central Texas, 1025 Hours Central War Time:


The Six-ship of F-4s flew south, generally following the Brazos River, but staying east of the river if at all possible. For that was the Nicaraguan II Corps sector of the ComBloc line, and the Nicaraguan air-defense people didn't shoot at American aircraft unless they were the ones actually being attacked. Which was something that Tenth Air Force was only too happy to exploit.

In Camaro One-one, Major Wiser had his head on a swivel. Not only was he keeping his eye on the instruments, but was also on the alert for any threats. Though the RWR was silent, optically aimed AAA or MANPADS could be a threat, thus he and the other pilots kept their eyes open. While he flew the plane, Goalie was handling the navigation and also keeping an eye out. Experience had shown that two sets of eyes in the cockpit had often been a crew-saver. “Granbury dead ahead,” he called.

“Copy that,” Goalie replied. “Should be out of range of the flak at the bridge.” She meant the U.S. 377 bridge over the Brazos. The Nicaraguans had the guns on the east side, while the East Germans had the guns on the west side-and often shot at passing aircraft even if the Nicaraguans held fire.

“Should be,” he reminded his GIB. Just then, the flight passed Granbury to the west, and hardly any flak came up from the east bank. Some East Germans, though, did shoot some 57-mm at the strike flight, but the flak exploded short of the F-4s. “That's that,”


“Copy. ETA to U.S. 67 bridge: one minute thirty,” Goalie called.

“Roger that,” Guru replied. So far, so good. “Flight, Lead. Watch for flak at the dam,” he called. That meant the Lake Granbury Dam.

“Roger, Lead,” Kara replied, and the others followed suit.

It wasn't long until the strike flight passed close to the dam, and this time, the AAA gunners on both sides of the river opened fire. Fortunately, none of the 23-mm or 57-mm fire was accurate, though the golf-ball sized tracers coming up from the 23-mm sites did raise eyebrows.

“Bridge dead ahead,” Goalie called. That was their next turn point, and they would be taking fire for sure. “Fifteen seconds.”

“Flight, Lead. Music on,” said Guru on the radio. That meant to turn on their ECM pods. “And....turn.” Guru called as the U.S. 67 Bridge appeared. He put 512 into a right turn, and the rest of the flight followed, dodging the flak the East Germans sent up.

“Steady on,” Goalie said as Glen rose appeared. “Twenty seconds.” That meant the next turn.

“Copy,” Guru replied. Even as they flew towards the town, light flak-probably 23-mm, came up.

“Steady...and....NOW!”

Guru put 512 into another right turn and headed north, and the rest of the flight followed. “Time to IP?”

“Two minutes.” Goalie replied.


In Glen Rose, the East German garrison commander, a Major, had several problems on his plate, and he was wondering how he'd deal with them all. First, the Soviet 74th Tank Regiment's rear support echelon had established themselves in the town, with a regimental hospital, tank maintenance workshop, and supply point setting up, and the Soviets had simply moved in, showing the Major their orders from 4th Guards Tank Army. Then there was the Stasi Police battalion in the town, as part of the Kampfgruppe's rear security element, and the “Sword and Shield” men were insistent on searching for any “Counterrevolutionary Bandits” in the area, though he could have told them there was hardly any resistance activity, and did so. Nevertheless, the Stasi insisted on finding out for themselves. Which meant arrests and the occasional execution, and that made his problem with the local population, who knew full well the U.S. Army was to the north, and were eager for the fighting to get closer to the town, a lot worse. Then there were his allies on the east side of the river, and that didn't just mean Nicaraguans, but Libyans as well. His relations with the former were cool, and frankly, given what had happened to half of their Expeditionary Force up in Colorado, he didn't blame them at all for having a change in attitude towards the war. The Libyans, though, came across as being too eager, and when at the front, had a reputation for being more interested in looting than fighting.

Now, as he was coming out of City Hall, the Major was hoping to meet with his Stasi counterpart, Though he worked with the Stasi, as a good officer and Party member should, he felt that their activities had created as much or more Resistance activity than they had managed to stamp out, and frankly, he didn't blame the Americans at all if they put a bomb or two on the County Courthouse, where the Stasi had set up. Then he heard cheering from some of the townspeople, whose attitude had been surly ever since the invasion, and glanced up. Six American F-4 Phantoms flew over the town and turned north, and the Soviet rear-services troops, along with his own men-reservists who had previously served in the Frontier Troops, had been caught by surprise, even with the anti-aircraft fire to the east, at the Brazos River Bridge. Now, he wondered, will that Stasi swine decide to shoot five or ten locals just for waving at the aircraft? Waving at American aircraft happened all the time. And he also knew that such things had a habit of creating resistance activities, not suppressing them.


“Time to IP?” Guru asked. This had been their last turn before going for the target. “Flak up ahead.” That was the nuclear power plant.

“One minute,” Goalie replied. “Those guys just start shooting?”

“They did,” Guru said. “Mustang Lead, Corvette Lead. Time for you guys to go to work,” Guru called Dave Golen in Mustang One-one.

“Roger,” Dave replied. “Two, on me,” he called Flossy, and the two Maverick-armed went on ahead. They pulled up, and began taking AGM-65 shots as they did so. “Rifle” calls came over the radio, then came a call they had talked about.

“Olympia One-one, MAGNUM!” Everyone in the strike flight recognized Flossy's voice as she gave a phony antiradar missile call.

“Flossy's calling,” Guru noted. He took a quick glance at his RWR. Several radars that had come up had suddenly gone off the air. “And Ivan was listening.”

“Hope so,” Goalie replied. “Set 'em up?” She was referring to the armament control panel.

“Do it,” Guru said. He noticed Dave and Flossy still orbiting, and taking Maverick shots. “Flight, Lead, Switches on, and stand by to pull.”

“Two copies,” Kara replied, and the others did the same.

“All set,” Goalie called from the back seat. “Stand by to pull....ready, ready... PULL!”

Guru pulled up, and as he did, he saw the two Maverick-armed birds still orbiting, but clear of the target. Then one, whose he didn't know, fired a missile, which tracked down a target and exploded it. “Mustang Lead, how's it going?”

“Cleared the way for you,” Dave replied.

“Copy that. Flight, Lead. Target in sight.” And he rolled in on his attack run.



In Tolar, the Regimental Commander of the 74th Independent Tank Regiment was in a good mood. Though the 144th GMRD and the East Germans were falling back, and in good order, he was on ten minutes' notice to take his regiment forward, and give the Americans a bloody nose. After getting mauled at Wichita, and the retreat south-which at times, the Colonel knew, could have turned into a rout-his regiment had been refitted, and was now once again combat-ready. Though the American aircraft overhead wanted to have a say in the matter, for just a minute earlier, two F-4s had shown up, and were shooting missiles at his regimental air defense vehicles. Despite the air attack, and fortunately for him, the American aircraft hadn't yet shown an interest in his battalions' assembly areas. Just that these two were taking missile shots at his air defense.....and that, he knew from experience, meant more American air strikes would be coming. Now, what was taking Army so long? His regiment was ready to move, and the sooner he got the order, the better. He got to his command vehicle and was about to get inside when his orderly, a young Corporal, tapped him on his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Comrade Colonel, aircraft coming in!” The man said, pointing south.

“What...” the Colonels said, then he saw a smoke trail coming towards him. He'd been hit from the air before, and knew what these were. F-4 Phantoms. “AIR ATTACK! TAKE COVER!” The Colonel then jumped into a freshly-dug slit trench, dragging his orderly with him, and several other officers piled out of the command vehicle and jumped into the trench as well.


Guru rolled in on his bomb run. “Lead's in hot!” he called. As Guru rolled in, he spotted the battalion assembly areas, and picked the one northeast of the town. From the intel briefs, this was one of those independent tank regiments Ivan was fond of, and was oversized. Forty to fifty tanks per battalion, instead of thirty. Well, he'd help this battalion lose some of that. Guru lined up one of the companies in his pipper, and decided. Your turn today, Ivan.....He noticed some flak coming up, but it was unguided, and also heard Flossy's voice, calling a fake 'Magnum' shot. Hope it keeps working....”Steady....Steady..
And...NOW!” Guru hit his pickle button, releasing a dozen Mark-20 Rockeye CBUs on that battalion. He pulled up and away, jinking as he did so, only seeing an SA-13 that had been launched after it had passed his bird. “ He made his final jink, then turned for the Brazos. “Lead off target,” Guru called.

“What the...” the Colonel said as Guru's F-4 flew by. The American didn't attack the town, but then he realized what was going on. The Americans were going for his battalions in their assembly areas. But as he climbed out of the trench to get to a radio, someone pulled him back in. It was his Chief of Staff. Before he could open his mouth, there was an explosion close by, and a ball of flame came very close. His own command vehicle had been hit.

Overhead, Dave Golen smiled. His GIB, 1st Lt. Terry “Breaker” McAuliffe, had found a command track, and locked it up. A quick squeeze of the pickle button had sent a Maverick on its way, and it exploded the vehicle. “Rifle!” Dave called.

In 512, Guru and Goalie heard that call. There were some tracers coming up, but they appeared to be machine guns at most. “SHACK!” Goalie called. “We got hits!”

“Secondaries?” Guru asked as he jinked again, and an SA-7 or -14 flew by, and the CO winced. Somebody was shooting too close for comfort.

“Got some!”

“Roger that!” Replied Guru as he headed for the Brazos.


“Two's in!” Kara called. She saw the CO make his run, and decided to take the assembly area to the southwest. She wasn't sure what was there, just armor or APCs, and it was just west of the High School. Hope nobody's in class, she thought as she went down on the armor. Kara, too, ignored the flak that was coming up, and this looked like 23-mm, for the tracers were like baseballs flying by. Nothing on the RWR, so it was unguided. She picked out some tanks in her pipper and lined them up. “Steady....And...Ready, ready...”HACK!” Kara hit her pickle button, sending her CBUs onto the Soviets below. She then pulled up and away, jinking to avoid flak as she did so, and hoping to pick up the CO as she egressed. “Two's off safe,” she called.

“DAMN!” The Colonel shouted. His command vehicle had taken a hit from a missile and exploded, but contacting Army was not on his mind at the moment. Where was the Air Force? The Colonel got out of the trench and ran towards another BTR-60 command vehicle, and an Air Force officer poked his head out. “Comrade Colonel?”

“Get some fighters here, now!” The Colonel demanded. “Did you hear me? NOW!”

“I'm trying, Comrade Colonel.”

“Keep trying,” the Colonel replied, then he ran back to the trench as another F-4 came in.

“GOOD HITS!” Brainiac yelled as 520 jinked to avoid some flak.

“How good?” Kara wanted to know as an SA-13 flew over her bird about fifty feet above.

“We've got secondaries!”

“I'll take those.” Kara said as she flew towards the Brazos.


“What in the...” the Colonel wondered as Kara's F-4 had made its run, this time, his Third Battalion had been the likely target. Several fireballs and smoke columns indicated that the American had found targets, and though the Regiment's air defenders were fighting back, no one had yet been shot down. The Colonel shook his head as another F-4 came in, then he ducked into the trench.

“Three's in hot!” That was Sweaty's call as she came in on her run. She decided to take the northwest assembly area, and the recon photos had shown tanks there. Sure enough, they were there as she made her run, and Sweaty put her pipper on a small cluster in the middle. That might just be the battalion's command group, she knew. She ignored the flak as Preacher called out altitude, and she centered the vehicles in her pipper. “Steady...and...and....NOW!” She hit her pickle button, releasing her Rockeyes onto the Soviet tank battalion, and then she pulled away, jinking to avoid the flak, which was wild, but inaccurate. Sweaty banked right and headed north, jinking as she did so, for there was still flak and missiles coming up. “Three's off,” she called.

“NYET!” The Colonel wasn't happy at seeing his link to the Air Force taken out, for one of the orbiting F-4s had fired a missile and taken out his Foward Air Controller. Shaking his head, the Colonel looked around, and saw plumes of smoke coming from three of his maneuver battalions' assembly areas. He started to get up when he froze, then got back into the trench. Another F-4 coming in....


“SHACK!” Preacher called as Sweaty pulled away. “You got secondaries!”

“How many?” Sweaty asked as she jinked to avoid the flak, and she watched as an SA-13 flew down the right side of her aircraft.

“Got some!”

“I'll take some,” replied Sweaty as she headed for the Brazos.


“Four in hot!” Hoser called as he came in on his run. He came down on the southeast assembly area, and noticed missile trails coming from that headed after his flight mates. Your turn, Hoser decided as he centered that area in his pipper. Again, there was flak coming up, but he and KT ignored it as Hoser came down on the target area. He could see that they might be APCs, and they didn't stand up to CBUs the way tanks could at times. “And...and....HACK!” Hoser called as he hit his pickle button, and released his dozen Rockeyes onto the Soviet battalion. He pulled up, and began jinking as he turned north for the Brazos, hoping to avoid the flak and any missiles. “Four's off target.”

“NYET!” The Colonel was apoplectic as he saw Hoser's F-4 make its run, release its CBUs, and in its wake, left several secondary explosions in its wake, which signaled strikes on armored vehicles. The Colonel knew that area was where his motor-rifle battalion had set up, and sighed. He got up out of the trench and had a look around. Several command vehicles or air-defense vehicles had been hit, and were blazing furiously. The Colonel waved, and his Regimental Command tank, a T-64BK, came up. At least he still had the radios there. He noticed the two orbiting F-4s make final missile runs, then they, too, headed north. Shaking his head, he gathered his staff around. This was shaping up to be a bitch of a morning, and the regiment hadn't even been committed into combat yet!

“GOOD HITS!” KT called from Hoser's back seat.

Hoser grinned beneath his oxygen mask. “How good?” He wanted to know, as he jinked to avoid flak and any missiles coming up.

“Got a few secondaries!”

“That's righteous, as Preacher would say.” Then Hoser picked up his element lead as he headed north.


“That's it,” Goalie said in 512's back seat. “Four in and out.”

“Got it,” Guru replied. “Still got a game on. Mustang, Corvette,” he called Dave Golen. “We're on our way out.”

“Roger,” Dave replied. “We are now Winchester. Mustangs coming out.”

“Copy that,” Guru said as he hit the Brazos River and crossed it north of Granbury. “Two, you with me?”

“Right with you,” Kara replied.

Guru took a look and 520 was right with him in Combat Spread. “Got you,” he replied. “Sweaty?”

“On your six, and Hoser's with me.”

“Copy that,” Guru said.

“Two minutes to the fence,” Goalie called. That meant the I-20. Though they were in friendly territory now, over the 11th Airborne's sector, nobody considered themselves really out of enemy territory until crossing the I-20.

Guru did a quick check of his map. Just east of the Brazos, and thus the I-20 bridges. Those had an Army I-HAWK battery in attendance, and the Army air-defense pukes had a habit of shooting first and interrogating afterwards. “Flight, Lead. Verify IFF is on, out.” He reached down and turned on his IFF transponder. Then I-20 shot by below, and only then did the flight climb to altitude and head for the tanker track.

After the post-strike refueling, the six-ship headed back to Sheppard, and when they got there, the flight found the pattern crowded. Several Marine, Navy, and 335th flights were inbound, and several more were outbound. Once their turn came, the flight came in and landed, and as they did, a C-141B took off on an adjoining runway. “That the westbound -141?” Guru asked.

“Maybe,” Goalie said. “Corinne and her friends have a safe, but boring, trip back to Travis.”

“Then it's a 747 on the TransPac route to Okinawa and they do it all over again.”

“They do, but sometimes it's MAC. You still going to get her into the squadron?” Goalie asked.

“She's combat qualified and even if she never fired a shot, is a Day One vet,” Guru replied. “You bet I'm going to try.”

They taxied in, and as they did so, the TV crew was out again, filming, and this time, both General Olds and General Yeager were with them. “Want to bet that they're doing a piece on both of them?”

“No takers,” Guru replied. “That's a bet even Kara won't take.”

The flight reached the squadron's dispersal area and the planes taxied to their individual revetments. Guru taxied to 512's revetment, and after taxiing in, got the “Shut down” signal from his Crew Chief.
“Two and done for the morning,” he said after shutting down, and the ground crew put the chocks in around the wheels.

“And we do it again in the afternoon,” Goalie said. It wasn't a question. Unless it was CAS, they usually flew four sorties a day. Just like the guys who'd flown CAS in South Vietnam: they usually flew three or four missions a day. But they didn't have SAMs or heavy-caliber flak coming at them, nor MiGs....

“That we do. At least we're earning our flight pay,” replied Guru as they went through the post-flight checklist. As they did that, the ground crew came with the crew ladder. Then they climbed down from 512, and Sergeant Crowley, the CC, was waiting. “Sarge,”

“How'd it go, Major?” Crowley asked as the CO got down. “And Lieutenant?”

“Not bad, Sarge,” Guru replied as he did a quick walk-around with Goalie. “No damage we can see. Put the hurt on a regiment. Or some of 'em, anyway.”

“As long as they burn, bleed, and blow up, it's fine with me, sir,” Crowley said.

“Five-twelve's working like a champ, Sarge. Get some food inside you all, then get her ready for the next one.”

“Yes, sir!” Crowley said. “She'll be ready.”

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Guru said.

“Keep it up, Sarge,” Goalie added.

“Yes, Ma'am!” Crowley said.

As pilot and GIB headed to the entrance of the revetment, Goalie asked Guru, “When's he up in the R&R Rotation?”

'I'll have to check. He did go on his last one,” Guru said. “I still may order him to take an early R&R, because he deserves it.”

“No argument there,” Goalie agreed.

When they got to the entrance, Kara and Brainiac were there, and Sweaty and Hoser, with Preacher and KT were coming up. Then Dave, Flossy, Breaker, and Jang followed. “Well?” Guru asked. “No Zoo-thirtys.”

“Didn't see any basketball-sized tracers,” Sweaty noted.

“All we saw were Shilkas,” Dave Golen said. “Killed a couple, and some SA-13 tracks.”

“And command tracks,” Flossy added.

Kara grinned. “And your phony 'Magnum' calls. Every radar shut down when we heard those.”

“For now,” KT said. “Want to bet they might catch on and just leave their radars on when nobody gets hit?”

“They might,” Dave noted. “Then again, how many of their SAMs have optical backups? SA-6, SA-8, SA-11, and the IR ones.”

Guru thought for a moment. “Well, their problem, because if they ignore those calls and real Weasels show up with real HARMs or Standard-ARMs?”

“Then they're back to Square One in that department,” Kara nodded. “They eat a few antiradar shots instead.”

“Good for them,” Hoser said. “Boss, did you notice we got the Bush hats?” Everyone in the flight was wearing one now.

“Sure did. Ross found some. Enough for every aircrew member in the squadron,” Guru said. “Nice little way to connect with the guys who flew in SEA.”

“It is that,” Sweaty nodded. “Now, what's Frank going to say?”

Guru shook his head. “Frank can suck an egg for all I care,” the CO replied. “Just hope he doesn't do something foolish when General Yeager tells him he's not going into the F-20.”

“He might,” Flossy warned. “Just hope he doesn't do something that gets one of us, or other friendlies, killed.”

“I know, Flossy,” Guru said. “I can't kick him out still because it's too soon after I took command, and the two of us have a history. He can go to JAG and claim retaliation.”

“Even if it's frivolous?” KT asked.

“Even if,” Guru said. “Okay, if and when Sundown Cunningham pays us a visit, problem solved.”

“Happy day,” Flossy grinned.

“It will be,” Guru said. “Okay, back to business. Let's debrief with Sin, and we all need something to eat. Check your desks, then in an hour, hour and a half, tops, we're back at it.”

Kara smiled. “Well, we do have to earn our flight pay,” she quipped.

“They pay us for this?” Hoser asked.

“Not enough,” Sweaty reminded everyone.

There were laughs all around, then Guru said, “Let's go. Debrief, eat, and get ready to do it all over again.”