[Matt Wiser]

Some squadron business, those who tried for the F-20 get notified, and prepping for the next mission:



335th TFS HQ; 0850 Hours Central War Time:


Major Wiser sat in his office, going over some papers. Fortunately, most of what was in his IN box was for his information only, not action. Though one of the former did surprise him. Didn't they shut this down in '69? And yet, in the Club, and elsewhere, he'd heard stories from pilots, navigators, and other officers, who swore such things had happened. Even at Kingsley Field, during his requalification following his E&E, there had been a few swapped. Though he'd never had such an experience in the Air Force, he'd read the usual books while in High School and College, and had wondered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the office door. “Yeah? Show yourself and come on in!”

The SIO, Capt. Darren “Sin” Licon, came in. “Major, just had a talk with the Weasel intel folks about your mission.”

“And?” Guru asked. The debriefing had been straightforward, though no one had seen what had happened to the Weasel leader.

Licon had a folder with him, and opened it for the CO. “Got some photos that came with the early eastbound C-141,” he said. “Too late for your brief, by the way. Took a while to get these analyzed, but it looks like SA-11.”

“No radar detected,” Guru commented. “So they shot in optical mode.” It wasn't a question.

“Afraid so, Boss,” the Intel nodded. “And before you ask, no word on the survivor. He may have been too close to the town.”

The CO nodded. “Well, then, that's that.” He took out the papers he'd been going over. “You're the Intel, get anything like this in your mail?” Guru showed them to Sin.

Licon scanned the paper. “Yeah, Boss. Got mine today in the morning mail. Thought it was a joke. Then I called Tenth Air Force Intelligence. No joke, they said.”

Guru went over the paper. “Point of Contact is a Major Jake Gatlin at Wright-Pat. NAIC's Foreign Technology Division.” That meant the National Air Intelligence Center. Though busy with wartime work on Soviet and Soviet-bloc aircraft, missiles, and electronics, they no doubt had the staff to handle.....other projects.

'Thought they did away with this in '69,” Licon said. “Guess I was wrong.”

“You, me, and probably a whole bunch of others,” the CO said. “Read the usual books in High School and College, saw Close Encounters, then that Project UFO show on NBC, but still....”

“Yeah. Seen anything?”

“Once, in college. That's all I'll say. Though I did have an RTU Instructor at Homestead back in '84 tell me he'd seen something really strange. Twice. Once on his way to Vietnam for LINEBACKER I. The other? With a student only three months before I arrived. Both times, he said, there was a ton of paperwork to fill out. And the last item was a nondisclosure form,” siad Guru. “He did tell me, though, that at any time when you're flying, you may run into something weird.”

“Hmm. Anyway, let's hope we don't have to call these folks,” Licon said.

“You and me both. That's that. Anything else?”

“We may be getting a two-ship of RF-4Cs here soon. No word on who or when.”

“Mark know?” Guru asked.

“He does, but I thought you should hear from me first.”

“Okay. Sin? Those SA-11s? How close were they to the target area?”

“Four or five miles,” the Intel said. “And with no radar on, nothing for the ECM to work on...Sometimes you find out things like this the hard way.”

“Ain't that the sorry truth?” Guru replied. “Okay, not blaming you. It could easily have been one of us. Anything else?”

“Nada, Boss.”

“Thanks, Darren.”

After the Intel left, the XO came in. “Boss,” Mark Ellis said. “Saw you talking with Sin. The mission?”

Guru nodded. “You got that right. Beware of SA-11s with optical backup, he said. That's what killed the Weasel Lead this morning, in all probability.”

The Exec shook his head. “Lovely.”

“Yeah. Just pass the word to keep their eyes peeled. Somebody down there was smart.”

“No doubt about that, Boss. Anyway, General Yeager's either notified people or will be shortly,” Ellis said. “Lost my wingman to the F-20.” First Lieutenant Glen “Firefly” Markham was the Exec's wingman. Until now.

Guru let out a grimace. “Didn't he originally want F-16s? That was what he said when he joined the squadron.”

“Yeah. And Don lost his as well,” replied Ellis. Their Ops Officer's wingman was 1st Lt. Bill “Rabbit” Mason.

The CO nodded. “And we all know about Frank. Has he been told?”

“Not yet,” said the XO. “He's still out.”

“Remember to keep an eye on him. When he finds out.....There's going to be a ton of pressure on him, and it'll be waiting to pop.”

Ellis winced. “Ain't that the truth.”

“Yeah,” Guru admitted. “General Yeager say how long until the lucky stiffs have to report?”

“Two weeks.”

“Good. Gives us time to find replacements,” the CO said. He then showed the papers he'd discussed with Licon to the Exec. “Guess what was in this morning's mail.”

Ellis scanned the papers once, turned to the CO and said. “Is this a joke?”

“Nope,” Guru said. “Sin got a copy himself, as he's the intel officer. He called Tenth AF Intelligence. No joke: this is the real deal.”

'”So,” the Exec observed as he went over the papers again. “Not just the Russians and their lackeys to worry about.”

“Something like that,” Guru said. “Let's just hope nobody sees anything, and we don't have to call those guys.”

“You and me both. You ever see anything?”

“Once, back in my college days. That was an interesting two minutes, I'll grant you. All I want to say,” Guru said. “You?”

“Never had the pleasure-or fright-I'll admit,” the XO replied. “Had an RTU instructor say he'd had two sightings.”

“Same here. The name Jim Meyers ring a bell?” Both CO and XO had passed through Homestead AFB's RTU, the 31st Tactical Training Wing, though both had been one class apart.

“Major Jim Meyers?” Ellis asked. “You betcha. Vietnam vet, Tough but fair as an IP.”

“You got it. Wonder what he's up to?” Asked the CO. “Okay, that it?”

“It is for now,” Ellis said. As he turned to leave, he noticed General Yeager putting a letter on a desk in the office. “Looks like General Yeager's giving the bad news to Frank.”

“How?”

“By letter.”

“Remember what I said: Keep an eye on him. When Frank reads that letter, no telling what he'll do.”

Ellis looked at his CO and had a grim look on his face. “No kidding, Boss. Want me to get Doc?”

Guru thought for a minute. “No, not yet. But tell him that Frank's about to get some bad news.”

“Gotcha,” said Ellis. Then he went to notify Doc Waters.

A few minutes later, Goalie came in. “Just had a talk with Brian Slater,” she said. First Lieutenant Brian Slater was GIB for Frank. “He says Frank's been taking a few chances last few days.”

“What kind of chances?” Guru asked. “Bad enough to ground him?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Goalie said. “He'll drop half of his load on the assigned target, then come around and go after a flak battery or a SAM.”

The CO shook his head in disbelief. “One of the first things you learn at the RTU is not to get into such pissing contests.”

“No kidding. Brian thinks he's trying to impress visiting brass. With two Air Force legends on base...”

“Sounds like it. Okay, I'll have a talk with Doc. Maybe ground him for a day or two. You did pass by his desk?

“On the way here,” Goalie nodded. “Saw the letter, and we all know what that is.”

“We do,” Guru agreed. “No telling how he'll react. Might just tell him to get sloppy drunk tonight and sleep it off tomorrow. Give him the day off.”

“Just hope he doesn't go off half-cocked, and take friendlies with him. We don't want to lose a perfectly innocent GIB and wing crew,” Goalie pointed out.

Guru looked at his GIB and girlfriend. “You and I are thinking on the same lines. Okay..” He was interrupted by a knock on the door, then Kara came in. “Kara?”

“Boss, we've got a mission.”

“All right, then. Round everybody up. Briefing room in ten,” Guru ordered.

“On my way,” Kara replied, then she headed out the door.

Goalie nodded. “Back to the grind.”

“Back to the grind,” Guru admitted. “Okay, talk to Brian and tell him to come to me if he thinks Frank's taking way too many chances. If he is....”

“You can ground him.”

“Or Doc, and we can send him away for some tests, and they put him in a non-flying job.”

“To be wished for,” Goalie said wistfully.

“Yeah. Let's get back in the game,” said Guru.


Pilot and GIB went to the Ops Office, and found Don Van Loan there, waiting. “Don, heard about you losing your wingman.”

“Thanks,” Van Loan replied. “Don't know whether to congratulate him or beg him to stay. He's good.”

Guru nodded. “He did want F-16s instead of F-4s, and the -20 is the next best thing. So, what have you got for me?”

The Ops Officer handed the CO a briefing packet. “You're headed to Dublin. The Municipal Airport is the target. Ivan's flying some helos and Forgers there. Transports, too.”

“And we get to take them out,” Goalie observed. “Forgers? Didn't we put the hurt on some of these guys a while back?”

“We did,” said Guru. “Guess they got some replacements. Okay, thanks, Don.”

“Boss? Has Frank been told? If the two lucky stiffs are on Cloud Nine...” Van Loan asked.

“Not yet, but there's a letter on his desk, unopened,” Guru told the Ops Officer. “When he finds out, he'll pop.”

Van Loan nodded grimly. “And we get to see the fireworks.”

“We do,” Goalie observed.

“Yeah,” sighed Guru. “Okay, Don. You be careful out there. Don't want to break Kara in as Ops.”

“And I sure don't want to be Exec,” Van Loan finished. “You be careful yourself.”

“Will do,” the CO replied. Then he turned to Goalie. “Let's go.”


The two wen to their briefing room and found the rest of their flight already there. “Okay, people!” The CO said. “We've got a new one.”

“Where to?” Kara asked.

“Dublin, twelve miles southwest of Stephenville. We get to put the hurt on the municipal airport.”

Sweaty nodded. “What's there?”

“A mix. Helos, some transports-think An-24s or -26s, and Forgers as well.”

“We killed a bunch of those not that long ago,” Brainiac pointed out.

“That we did,” Guru nodded. “But there's some more. And Intel says some of them may have been fitted with the MiG-29's radar. So those pieces of shit-and they are, pretty much-just got to be potentially dangerous to us, and not just their users.”

Heads nodded at that. The Yak-36, according to Intel, had the worst accident rate of any Soviet tactical aircraft, but in the right hands, it could be deadly. The Soviet Naval Air Force flew them, and they were mainly confined to the COIN role. “Any idea what kind of Forgers these are?” KT asked.

Guru scaned the intelligence brief. “Negative. Now, the ingress route is this: we go in along the Brazos down to Lake Whitney. Just before the dam, we turn west, and head for the town of Olin, on U.S. 281. We turn right five degrees and head for the town of Purves. It's eight miles southeast of the target. That's our IP. We pull up and make our runs.”

“Good so far, Boss,” Kara said. “Ordnance loads?”

“Getting to that,” Guru said. “Element leads have a dozen Rockeye CBUs. Wingies have a dozen Mark-82 Snakeyes. Now, aimpoints? I'll take the north ramp area.” The CO passed around a photo, probably from an RF-4C. “There's a couple of Forgers there. And some of the CBU bomblets will cover the runway. Kara? You take these hangars to the south. Just walk your bombs among them, and that'll take care of those.”

Kara grinned. “Got it.”

“Sweaty? South ramp,” Guru tapped the photo, and he had her undivided attention. “And Hoser? Fuel dumps seem to be your specialty. East of the runway, here,” said the CO, pointing out the fuel area on the photo. “Make those guys go away.”

“Will do, Boss,” Hoser said.

“And egress?” Sweaty wanted to know.

“Simple,” Guru said. Head west to the Leon River, then turn north. Get your asses to the I-20 quick as you can.”

Kara then asked, “Air-to-air load?”

“The usual,” replied the CO. “Two AIM-7Fs, four AIM-9Ps, usual ECM pods for lead and wingmates, full gun, and two wing tanks.”

“Good to know,” Goalie nodded. “And defenses?”

Guru nodded back. “Glad you asked. There's a pair of 57-mm batteries-one north, one south, of the airport. Three ZU-23 batteries at the target, and you can expect lots of guys with small arms and MANPADS. This is still the East German sector, with the Soviet 32nd Army to the west of the Leon River, so you can expect SA-4s, and there's a division to the north that didn't get caught up in that fracas between Stephenville and the Brazos, so they have their air-defense assets-Sixes or Eights.” He meant the SA-6 Gainful or SA-8 Gecko SAMs.

“We getting any help on this?” KT asked.

“Affirmative. Two A-7s will go with us, and do the IRON HAND thing. Each with two Shrikes or HARMs and some CBUs. They meet us at ten grand overhead.”

“MiG threat?” Asked Kara. Everyone knew she was looking for kill number ten, which would make her a double ace.

“Unchanged since this morning. Nearest MiGs are at Brownwood Regional, and those are both Soviet and East German. Bailout areas also unchanged: anyplace away from the roads and rural.”

“Got you, Boss,” Sweaty nodded.

“Anything else?” Guru asked. Seeing no answer, he went on. “Let's gear up.”


After returning the briefing material to the Ops Office, Guru went to the Men's Locker Room to gear up. When he came out, Goalie was waiting for him, as usual. “Well, this one and then it's F-20 time.”

“Just glad the F-15E's coming,” she said. “Otherwise, I'd be out of a job.”

“Can't have that,” Guru chuckled. “Let's go.”

The two left the office and headed to the dispersal, and on the way, came across IDF Maj. Dave Golen and 1st Lt. Sandi “Flossy” Jenkins, along with their GIBs. “Dave, where are you and Flossy headed?”

“Town called Hico,” Golen said. “You?”

“Dublin, west of there,” Guru replied. “If you hit trouble, holler. We'll be there.”

“Same with you,” Golen said, and the two shook hands.

Then Guru turned to Flossy, and her temporary GIB, Jang. “You two going great?”

“Jang here needs a permanent slot,” Flossy said. “But, if anything ever happened to Digger, I'd fly with her anytime.”

“Can't wait for that slot, Major,” Jang said. She and Flossy were one of two all-female crews in the squadron.

Guru nodded. “Be patient. Your time's coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dave? You all have a good one,” the CO said.

“You too,” said Golen.


Guru and Goalie then went to their revetment, where their mount, 512, was waiting. The rest of the flight was there. “Gather 'round, people.” He gave his final instructions. “Usual procedures on the radio.”

“Got it,” Kara said. “Boss, can anyone do something about that Red AWACS?”

“I'd like to know that myself,” Sweaty added.

“You're not the only one,” the CO replied. “Everybody in this AO wants them to go away. Anything else?”

“Looking forward for that F-20 ride?” Hoser asked.

“First things first, but yeah,” Guru admitted. “Anything else?”

Preacher said, “Two more after this one?”

“At least,” Brainiac reminded them. “No CAS, though. Had enough of that for a while.”

Guru nodded. “We're on the same page. That it?” Heads shook no. “Time to get it done, people! Let's hit it.” He clapped his hands.

The crews headed for their aircraft, and Guru and Goalie went into the revetment, where their mount, 512, was waiting. The Crew Chief, Sergeant Crowley, was waiting. “Major, Lieutenant,” he said, snapping a salute. “Five-twelve's ready to kick some more commie ass.”

“Always good to hear, Sergeant,” Guru replied as he and Goalie returned the salute. Then pilot and GIB did the usual pre-flight walk-around. Then they climbed the crew ladder and mounted the aircraft. After strapping in, they went through the pre-flight checklist. “Frank should know shortly.”

“He should,” Goalie affirmed. “Then we watch any fireworks,” she added. “Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom. Check yours. Just hope he doesn't crash and burn-and take friendlies with him,” Guru replied with due seriousness. Arnie?”

“Arnie and INS all set,” Goalie said, referring to the ARN-101 DMAS and the INS. “We're set.”

“That we are,” Guru agreed. He gave a thumbs-up to his Crew Chief, who gave the “Start Engines” signal. First one, then two J-79 engines were up and running, and after the warm-up, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Flight with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Camaro Lead, Tower,” a controller replied at once. “Clear to taxi to Runway Three-five-Lima. Hold prior to the active, and you are number two in line.”

“Roger, Tower. Camaro Lead is rolling.” Guru gave another thumbs-up to his CC, who waved to the ground crew. The wheel chocks were pulled away, then Sergeant Crowley gave the “taxi” signal.

Guru taxied 512 out of the revetment, and as he cleared it, Sergeant Crowley snapped a perfect salute, and both Guru and Goalie returned it. As they taxied out, the rest of the flight followed. When they got to the holding area, a Marine F/A-18 flight was ahead of them, and they were waiting on an inbound C-130. After the Herky-bird landed and taxied clear, the Hornets taxied for takeoff, and Guru taxied into the holding area. There, the armorers removed the weapon safeties, and once that was done, Guru called the tower. “Tower, Camaro Lead requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Camaro Lead, Tower,” the controller said. “Cleared to taxi for takeoff. Winds are two-six-eight for five.”

“Roger, Tower.” Guru called. He taxied 512 onto the runway, and Kara followed in 520. Guru glanced back, and saw them in position. The crews exchanged thumbs-ups, then went through a final check. “Ready?” Guru asked Goalie.

“All set back here,” Goalie replied.

“Tower, Camaro Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

As usual, the Tower flashed a green light. Clear for takeoff.

“Canopy coming down,” Guru said as he pulled down and locked his canopy. Goalie did the same, and he glanced over at Kara's bird, and they were ready as well.

“We're locked and cocked,” Goalie called. “Ready.”

“Then let's go,” Guru said. He went to full power on the throttles, released the brakes, and 512 rumbled down the runway and into the air, with 520 right with him.

It was Sweaty's and Hoser's turn thirty seconds later, and after climbing to FL 100, the flight met up with the two Navy A-7s, and they set course south for the tanker track.