[Matt Wiser]

Next one, and Yeager's people are getting ready to leave:



335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, TX: 14 November, 1987, 0530 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser walked from Officer Country to the squadron's office. He took a look to the east, and the first faint hints of dawn were breaking. Clear skies for the most part, and that meant good flying weather. With a storm due to hit the West Coast the following day, and in their Area of Operations the day after that, it was a given that Tenth Air Force would try and get in a maximum effort. Then the RAF was coming to their little corner of the war, and having dedicated strike or recon escort was a good thing. At least they speak Phantom, and not Tornado or Jaguar, the CO thought. That, and how two people separated by a common language would get along-especially with Frank likely to be in a foul mood-was on his mind as he went in the front door. The Night-Shift SDO, Hacksaw, was there, “Morning, Hacksaw,”

“Morning, Boss,” Hacksaw replied. “Cold's getting better.”

“Good to know,” the CO said. “See Doc yet?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Hacksaw said. “Still got the sniffles, though.”

“Been there, done that,” Guru said. “Listen to Doc, like I said. You'll be back flying after the weather stand-down.”

“Can't wait, Boss, and yeah, I know, I haven't missed a damn thing.”

Guru nodded. “You have been listening. You do know about Major Carson?”

“Word's gone around, Major,” said Hacksaw. “And the XO passed the word about not razzing him.”

“Good. Speaking of which, the XO in?”

“He's in your office.”

“Thanks,” Guru said. He paused to listen to the radio on Hacksaw's desk. “What's Wolfman Jack been playing this morning?”

“A mix. Little River Band, Journey, Rolling Stones, Blue Oyster Cult, that new all-female group, The Bangles, Wang Chung, Tears for Fears,” the SDO said.

“And that one was Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”

“That it was.”

“Okay, you do know Brian Slater's taking Digger's place as Day-Shift SDO?”

“XO told me, Boss.”

“Good,” Guru nodded. “Get him up to speed, grab yourself something to eat, then find your bunk.”

“Will do,” Hacksaw said.

“Thanks, Hacksaw.”

Guru then talked with the night-shift enlisted people, then went to his office. Sure enough, the XO was waiting for him. “Morning, Mark.”

“Morning, Boss,” Capt. Mark Ellis replied. “Got the usual stuff here,” he said, handing his CO a cup of cocoa. “Morning reports for Tenth AF and MAG-11.”

Guru took the clipboard from his Exec and scanned both reports, then he signed them. “That's done. What else do you have?”

“Weather update. No change in that storm. Hits the West Coast early tomorrow morning, and then we feel it the day after,” Ellis said.

The CO nodded. Nothing new there. “General Olds leaving today?”

“Nothing on that,” the XO reported. “He may be waiting until General Yeager's people go.”

“Speaking of which, when are they wheels-up?” Guru asked.

“Probably after the second round of missions,” replied Ellis. “1100 or 1130. General Olds probably wants to be here. He may want to stick around for the RAF's arrival.”

“He can do that,” said Guru. “Anything else?”

“Admin-wise? That's it. Kev O'Donnell says Kerry's bird will be ready tomorrow morning. It'll need a check flight before it can get on the schedule.”

“Let Kerry and Pat know, and tell them to hit Early-Bird tomorrow morning. They can get the check flight out of the way, then turn their bird around for combat.”

“Sounds good, Boss,” said Ellis. “And that's it.”

There was a knock on the door right after. “Yeah?” The CO said. “Show yourself and come in!”

The door opened, and Goalie came in, her blond hair already tied up in a bun, and her hands full with two cups of steaming liquid. “Morning, guys. Just bringing the CO's hot chocolate.” She handed one of the cups to Guru.

“Thanks. Now, you have a good night's sleep?”

“Sure did, and ready to get going. Now, when's the other shoe going to drop on Frank?” Goalie asked.

“Good question,” Guru said. “I'll bet any amount of money that what he's going to do is try and do something that he hopes will impress folks with stars on their shoulders.” He looked at his XO and GIB. “Not that he's done much with both General Olds and General Yeager, but he's probably heard talk that Sundown Cunningham may be paying us a visit.”

“And he thinks that if Sundown hears about him doing something, Sundown asks why Frank's stuck here and not where he can really do some good,” Goalie replied. “But we all know what's likely to happen instead.”

Ellis nodded. “Sundown kicks Frank's ass onto the first C-130 or C-141 out of here-and into a dead-end job someplace.”

“Happy day when that happens,” Goalie smiled.

“It will be,” Guru said. “Now, with this weather coming in, Tenth Air Force is going to have a maximum effort today and tomorrow. We're going to be pretty busy.”

“As long as it's not CAS,” Ellis said. “Had enough of that a few days ago.”

“Ours is not to reason why, ours is to go fly,” the CO reminded him. “But yeah, I'd rather leave CAS to the folks who specialize in it.” Guru glanced at the clock on the office wall. “0550. Let's go eat.”


When the three officers arrived at the Officer's Mess Tent, they found the usual crowd milling about, waiting for the Chow Tent to open up. Guru found General Olds talking with Colonel Brady, and he went on over. “General, Colonel,” he said, sketching a salute.

“Major,” General Olds replied. “Looks like a good morning to fly,” he said, motioning to the east, where the sky was turning more and more bright.

“Yes, sir,” Guru said. He scanned the crowd. “And a certain officer took my advice-for once.”

“That snotty Major?”

Guru nodded. “Yes, sir. I told him to get sloppy drunk, then sleep it off. Because I gave him today off, and tomorrow, as well. For once, I'm actually feeling sorry for him.”

“I've seen his file,” Olds noted, shaking his head. “And I know what you mean. If he'd been accepted, he'd be out of your hair, Major.”

“That he would, sir,” Guru replied. “But General Yeager did see both his 201 File and his Flight Record, and so...”

“And so, there's a ton of pressure building on him, and sooner or later, it'll pop,” Colonel Brady observed. “Just hope nobody but him gets killed, Major.”

“Sir, I told my people that. Now, all we can do is wait and see what happens. And how he'll get along with the RAF when they get here.”

“Speaking of which, Major,” Olds said. “I'll be here when they arrive, but will be departing that afternoon. When I get back to Nellis, I'll brief General Tanner on what you all have in mind for them, Colonel, and Major.”

Colonel Brady nodded, as did Guru. And both replied, “Yes, sir.”

“And Major?” Olds said. “Don't be surprised if you get a call to come to Nellis in a week or so. There's that little project of yours, and General Tanner will want to hear from the folks planning it. You and Lieutenant Eichhorn.”

Hearing that, Goalie gulped. Briefing a general and staff? “If you say so, sir.” She looked at Guru and nodded. He nodded back.

“Sir, that means space-available on a C-130 or C-141,” Guru pointed out.

“Not necessarily,” Olds replied. “If the orders say 'Fastest available transportation', you can take your bird.”

“Uh...yes, sir!” The CO said.

Just then, the Marine Mess Officer came out and flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. “Chow's on, people!”


After breakfast, the crews went to their briefing rooms while the flight leaders headed to Ops to get their mission packets. When Guru arrived in Ops, the Ops Officer was waiting. “Don,” Guru nodded.

“Boss,” Don Van Loan nodded back. “CO gets the first one, right out of the gate.” He handed Guru a mission packet.

“Where are we going?” Guru asked as he opened the packet.

Van Loan showed him on a JOG chart. “Town called Walnut Springs. Eleven miles north of Meridian and Twelve miles south of Glen Rose, on Route 144. There's a Soviet tank regiment that's set up shop there. Intel thinks they got mauled pretty good a few days ago, and they're reorganizing and refitting there. The battalion laagers are marked on the photos.”

“And somebody wants their HQ taken out as well. IF we can ID them,” Guru said. “In that case, if we can't ID them, then we drop on the battalions.”

“Just what I'd do,” Van Loan said. “Oh, this is the AO for 4th Guards Tank Army, so expect regimental level air defense on up, Sin Licon says.”

The CO shook his head. “Of all the things to get off to a good start in the morning. Thanks, Don. You have a good one, and be careful.”

“I know, you don't want to break in Kara as Ops.”

“That, and I'm not ready to be Exec yet,” the Ops Officer laughed. “Be careful out there.”

“Will do,” Guru said. He headed for his flight's briefing room. When he got there, he found the members of his flight ready, and with a visitor: General Olds. “General, everybody. Hope you all had a good breakfast, because with this storm coming in a couple of days, we're going to be busy.”

“Things usually are, Major,” General Olds said.

“Yes, sir, they are. Okay, here's our mission.” Guru tapped the town on a TPC chart. “Here's the town of Walnut Springs. In and around the town is a Soviet tank regiment. Intel says they got shot up during that fracas when we ran into the ZSU-30s, and they got pulled back there to rest and reorganize. We're making sure they don't have any easy days behind the line.”

Kara looked at him. “So who hits what?”

“Good question. The regimental HQ is one of the targets, but chances are, it's in the town itself. This is not a collection of ruins, people. So we hit the actual maneuver battalions-they're laagered outside of town.” The CO said, passing around some RF-4C imagery.

“Defenses?” Sweaty asked. “Let me guess: the usual regimental level SA-9s or -13s, and Shilkas.”

“Good start,” Guru nodded. “This is the AO for 4th Guards Tank Army, Intel says, so expect anything from regimental level to Army level. We're out of range for the Waco and Hillsboro SA-2s, so be glad for that. But SA-4 and possible SA-11 are in the area.”

Hoser looked at his CO. “Any Weasels coming?”

“Negative. Just us and our ECM pods. Give some phony 'Magnum' calls and we just might scare those chumps off the air.”

“MiG threat, Boss?” Kara asked.

“Same as yesterday. And the MiGs at the old Connolly AFB in Waco are the closest,” Guru reminded them.

“Aren't some of them Libyan?” Asked Brainiac.

The CO nodded. “Some are. Intel says some of the pilots, though, may not be. They may be coming from any number of 'Socialist' countries that Qaddafi bankrolls or supports.”

KT asked, “Weather and bailout areas still unchanged?”

“You answered your own question,” the CO smiled. “One other thing: Intel now says they may have as many as five Mainstays in theater.”

“Five?” Goalie asked. “Intel's full of good news today.”

“Yeah. And we're all familiar with their motto: 'We're betting your life.'”

Sweaty then asked, “What's the ingress route?”

“Coming to that,” Guru said. “After the pre-strike refueling, we follow the Brazos until we get to Lake Whitney. A mile short of the dam is when we turn right, at a place called Long Branch-and here's the coordinates for the INS.” Seeing as he had everyone's attention, Guru continued. “We go west until we pick up Route 22, then follow it to Meridian. Turn north, following Route 144. The pop-up point is just south of the town, where the road goes between two hills at a place called Corn Gap-and yes, they gave us the INS coordinates. Pop-up, ID your drop point, release, then get your asses back to the Brazos as quick as you can. Follow the river back north, and clear the I-20.”

“Sounds good,” Kara said. “Ordnance loadout?”

Guru checked the mission outline. “No CBUs this time-they're too close to the town. So we each get six M-117Rs on the centerline, and six Mark-82 Snakeyes on the inner wing stations. Plus the usual air-to-air, ECM, and wing tanks, with full gun.”

Heads nodded at that. Nothing new here. “And how many more today?” Preacher asked.

“Should be four,” Guru replied. “Emphasis on should, because if people start hollering for CAS.....”

“Lovely,” KT spat.

“Yeah. Anything else before we gear up? Because we're going to be first out the gate.”

“Anyone notice Buddy?” Hoser said. “He must've followed you in, Boss. He's sound asleep.”

There were some chuckles at that, then Guru said. “Good. That means it should be an easy one. Emphasis on should.” He then turned to General Olds. “Sir, anything you'd like to add?”

“No, Major,” Olds said. “Other than good luck, have a good mission, and bring everyone back.”

“Thank you, sir, and we'll do our best in the latter. No guarantees in this business,” Guru reminded the General.

“As I'm well aware, Major. Still.....” Olds said. “You can only do what you can.”

“Yes, sir.” Guru then said, “Anything else?” Heads shook no. “All right, we're supposed to be first out the gate. Time to gear up. We'll meet at 512.”

As people got up to head to their respective locker rooms, General Olds came over to Guru. “Major, good brief. Like I said: good luck, and bring everyone home.”

“Do my best, sir,” Guru replied. They shook hands. “And sir? Since tonight's your last night here, you can officiate when we give Buddy his honorary commission.”

“Be glad to, Major. Now get going.” Olds said.

After handing the briefing material to an Ops NCO who was waiting outside, Guru went to the Men's Locker Room to gear up. When he came out, Goalie was waiting as usual. “Ready to start the morning off with a Snakeye wake-up call?”

“As long as it's Ivan who's getting the 'Good Morning' presents,” she smiled. “Let's not keep them waiting.”

Pilot and GIB headed on out, and the sun was just starting to come over the eastern horizon. Just outside was the team of Dave Golen and Flossy, with their GIBs,and they were talking with the temporary members of their element, Capt. Sean Hennings and 1st Lt. Melissa Brewster, who were normally wingmates to the despised-and temporarily grounded-Major Frank Carson. “Dave,” Guru said. “Getting set with your new wingmates?”

“We're just about ready,” Golen replied. “They're good enough to have survived this long with Frank, and that's no mean feat, so I understand.”

“Okay,” Guru nodded. “Sean, you and Melissa listen to what Dave, Terry, Flossy, and Jang have to tell you. You may only be flying with them for a couple of days, but still...”

“Roger that, Major,” Hennings said.

“Good. Melissa?”

“Clear as a bell, Major,” replied Brewster.

Guru nodded. “That's good. All right, you all have a good one. Dave? Where are you all headed?”

“Someplace called Morgan, west of Lake Whitney. You?” Golen said.

“West of there, near Walnut Springs. You hit MiG trouble, holler,” Guru replied. He checked his call sign for the day. “We're Rambler Flight. You?”

“Mustang,” said Golen. “If they go for you, call out. We'll be there.”

Both Guru and Golen shook hands on that. “Be careful out there,” Guru warned.

“Likewise,” their IDF “Observer,” replied.

Guru and Goalie then headed to the squadron's dispersal area, and the revetment where his aircraft, 512, was parked. The rest of the flight was waiting just outside the revetment. “Okay, people,” Guru said as he got ready to give his final instructions. “Usual procedures on the radio.”

Heads nodded at that. Call signs between them, mission code to AWACS and other interested parties. “And this is just the first one,” Kara observed. It wasn't a question.

“Right on that. Just hope they don't holler for CAS, and personally, I'd rather leave that to the Hog and A-7 drivers, and the Apaches. Anything else? Okay, one last thing. Watch for those big tracers. We had ZSU-30 not too far from where we're going, so be careful. Call out if you see those basketball-sized tracers, and if they do appear at the target? Abort. Got it?”

“Got it, Major,” Sweaty replied. When his flight used his rank in reply, it was a sign the subject was a serious one.

“Good,” the CO nodded. “Meet up at ten grand overhead. Time to fly,” he said, clapping his hands. “Let's hit it.”

The crews went to mount their aircraft, and both Guru and Goalie went into the revetment. Their Crew Chief, Sergeant Crowley, was waiting. “Major, Lieutenant? Five-twelve's ready to rock.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Guru said. He and Goalie did their usual preflight walk-around, then after Guru signed for the aircraft, they mounted the Phantom and got into their seats. After getting strapped in with the ground crew's help, the pilot and GIB went through their preflight checklist. “At least Frank's off today,” Guru noted as they did the check.

“Which cuts down the chance of losing a perfectly innocent GIB and wing crew,” Goalie observed. “Ejection seats?

“Armed top and bottom,” replied Guru. “And you're quite right. Check yours. INS and Arnie?”

“Seat's ready. Arnie and INS ready to go,” Goalie called back. “Problem is, after the stand-down, they go back up together.”

“Unfortunately,” Guru said. “No way around that. Checklist complete?”

“Checklist complete and ready for engine start.”

“Roger that,” Guru said. He gave his CC a thumbs-up. Sergeant Crowley then gave the “Start Engines” signal. First one, then both, J-79 engines were up and running, and during the warm-up, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Rambler Flight with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

The tower controller came back at once. “Rambler Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi to Runway Three-Five-Lima. Hold prior to the active, and you are number one in line.”

“Roger, Tower. Rambler Lead is rolling.” Guru then gave another thumbs-up to Crowley, who waved to the ground crew. The Crew Ladder was pulled away, the chocks pulled from the tires, and Crowley then gave the “Taxi” signal.

Guru then released the brakes, and applied power. He taxied 512 out of the revetment, and as the big Phantom cleared the revetment, Sergeant Crowley snapped a salute. Guru and Goalie returned it, then Guru taxied towards Runway 35L, and the other three F-4s in the flight followed.

When they got to the holding area, sure enough, they were the first in line, though two Marine flights, and another 335th flight, were behind them. In the holding area, the armorers removed the weapon safeties, which made the ordnance now “live”. Then Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Rambler Flight requesting clear to taxi for takeoff.”

“Rambler Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are Two-eight-zero for five,” the controller called.

“Roger, Tower.” Guru taxied onto the runway, and Kara followed in 520, getting into position on his right. He and Goalie did a final cockpit check, then he called the Tower. “Tower, Rambler Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

The tower, as usual, didn't reply by radio, but flashed a green light. Clear for Takeoff.

“Ready?” Guru asked Goalie.

“All squared away back here,” she replied. “Time to go to work.”

“It is that,” Guru replied. He glanced to his right, and saw Kara and Brainiac in 520. They gave a thumbs-up, which 512's crew returned. Then a last check of his instruments. Time to go. “Canopy coming down,” Guru called as he closed and locked his canopy.

“Copy that,” Goalie said as she did the same.

“Time to go,” Guru said. He applied full power, released the brakes, and 512 rumbled down the runway and into the air, with Kara's 520 right with him. Thirty seconds later, it was Sweaty's and Hoser's turn. Once airborne, they met up at FL 100, then headed south for their tanker rendezvous.