[Matt Wiser]

In between strikes...



335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, TX: 1210 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser got up from behind his desk. He and the rest of his flight had debriefed their mission, then, much to the disgust of all of them, there was the war with the “armchair warriors”, their term for the AF bureaucrats who made everyone's life miserable or, on occasion, tolerable. After dealing with what had occupied his IN box, he was looking forward to lunch. After he got up, there was a knock on his office door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

Squadron Leader Dave Gledhill, the OINC of the RAF detachment from 74 Squadron, came in. “Major,” he said. “Sorry...Guru. Old habit, I'm afraid.”

“Habit to have in the rear area,” Guru nodded. “Not so much here. How'd your second one go?”

“Not much,” Gledhill said. “We went with Kerry Collins down to the East German sector. Had a TARCAP but nothing came our way.”

“But he got a kill,” Guru replied. “Somebody flying an L-410 crossed his path and he took a Sidewinder shot. Number four for him. Which reminds me: I need to warn him about trolling for MiGs.”

Gledhill let out a grin. “Ah, yes, the 'look out for the Ivan who's out for his fifth,' warning.”

“Something like that,” the 335th CO nodded. “So, your take on the first couple of missions?”

“About what I expected, though the MiG-29 encounter on the first one was a surprise.”

“Now you know,” replied Guru. “You guys can take on a Fulcrum with an F-4. Just don't try it with a Flanker.”

“Quite,” Gledhill said.

There was another knock on the door and it was Sin Licon, the 335th's Intel Officer. “Boss, oops, sorry, Squadron Leader, didn't see you.”

“No problem, Leftenant,” Gledhill said.

“What's up, Sin?” Major Wiser asked.

“Boss, heard this from Don Van Loan. Somebody took a shot at a Mainstay.”

The two senior officers looked at each other. “Well, now,” Guru said. “Anything about killing one?”

“No, Boss, but Ops did say he heard two 'Fox Three' calls, and something about TCS contact.”

Guru nodded, and so did Gledhill. Fox Three meant an active radar missile, and the AIM-54 Phoenix was the only one in the inventory so far, and only the F-14 carried those, along with the TCS system for long-range VID (Visual Identification) of targets. It could pick up a fighter-sized target at forty miles, and bombers, airliners, or transports at seventy-and the Il-76 transport was the platform for the Mainstay...... “Okay, Sin. Let us know if you pick up anything else,” Guru told his intel.

“You got it, Boss,” replied Licon.

“Could you let my people know as well?” Gledhill asked.

“Yes, sir,” Licon said.

“All right, Sin. Thanks,” Guru said.

“Boss,” Licon nodded. “Squadron Leader,” he added, then headed on out.

“Good news,” Gledhill said after a thought. “How many left?”

“Intel thinks there's five in-theater. Now there's four,” Guru replied. “So...maybe they can pull off another, and Ivan pulls the Mainstays further south. Makes it better for us.”

“That it does,” the RAF officer replied. “So, avoid the pork-tri-tip sandwiches for lunch?” Gledhill asked, changing the subject.

Guru nodded. “And if you don't take my advice and eat it? Like I told Karen McKay after we got back: see Doc Waters for the antidote.”

“I'll pass that on. Oh, by the way, so far, nothing from Flight Leftenant Bruce about any...problems with Major Carson.”

“Good.” Guru said. “Oh, to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. Frank thinks he's a blue-blood, being old money rich from Boston, and yet...”

“He's not that blue,” Gledhill grinned. “Bit of a shock, that.”

“It would. Anyway,” Guru said. “There's enough fools on this base that they keep making those sandwiches. So just stay away from those.”

“Will do,” Gledhill replied. He turned, and saw a now-familiar figure coming to the CO's office, two plastic bags in hand. “I see Goalie's here.”

Guru nodded. “We do eat lunch together, and with her as Senior WSO, it's a way to find out how the GIBs are doing. Speaking of which, any problems from your WSOs about dealing with a First Lieutenant in that slot? Or yourself, for that matter.”

“None at all. Commander's perogative and all that.”

“That's good to know,” Guru said as Goalie knocked on the door. “Yeah?”

The door opened, and Goalie came in, bags in hand. “Boss, and Squadron Leader,” she said.

“Please, Goalie, call me Dave when it's informal like this,” Gledhill said. “So, I'll leave the two of you.”

“Okay, Dave, and have a good lunch. We'll get the next mission in forty-five to an hour. Then we'll know if we're going back out together,” Guru said.

Gledhill knew this form of dismissal. “Right. See you then.”

After Gledhill left, Goalie turned to her pilot. “He comes across as a decent kind of guy. Not that stiff upper lip or Colonel Blimp type we were afraid of.”

Hearing that, Guru was pleased. “That he is. Any problems on your end? He said their guys didn't have any with you as Senior WSO.”

“Not a one.”

“On that happy note,” the CO said, nodding at the bags. “What's for lunch?”

“Western Bacon Cheeseburgers, with steak fries, cole slaw, and lemonade.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Guru said, opening one of the styrofoam containers.


After lunch, the two were talking about the morning's events. “Well?” Guru asked his GIB and lover. “How'd they do this first morning?”

“Not bad,” Goalie replied. “First trip out of the gate, and both Gledhill's crew and Napier's get MiG-29s. I'd say that's a good omen. But...”

“But what?”

“Bomber interception is one thing. They're in a whole new league, and so far, so good. They have to get past that ten-mission mark before we can say they're settled in. And you know as well as I do that seventy percent of our losses are people who don't get past those first ten missions.”

“Ain't that the sorry truth? ” The CO replied. “Day after tomorrow, they cross that threshold.” He paused for a moment, then asked his GIB, “Think they'll lose people?”

“I'd be surprised if they don't.”

“Hope you're wrong about that,” Guru told her.

Goalie nodded. “So do I.”


A few minutes later, there was a knock on the office door. “Yeah?” Guru said.

The door opened, and Kara came in. “Boss, we've got a mission.”

Guru stood up from behind his desk. “When?”

“Birds should be prepped and ready,” Kara replied.

“Then we'd best get going. You two?” Guru nodded at both women. “Round everybody up. Briefing room in ten. We going as a four-ship or...”'

“Gledhill and Napier are coming with us,” said Kara.

“Good. Once more unto the breach, dear friends.” Guru replied.

“Just as long as they leave out the 'close up the walls with our glorious dead,' crap.” Kara spat.

“Concur,” Goalie said.

“So do I,” the CO said. “Get going.”

Kara and Goalie nodded. “We're gone.” Kara replied, then the two left the office.

While Kara and Goalie rounded up the crews, Guru went to the Ops Office. He found Capt. Don Van Loan, the Ops Officer, waiting for him. “Don. Kara says you've got something for my flight.”

“Here you go,” the Ops Officer replied, tossing the CO a briefing packet. “Back down to the same guys you hit this morning. Well, their rear, anyway.”

Guru scanned the target summary. “Missile support and checkout facility,” he said. Then he looked at Van Loan. “You are shitting me. SS-23s?”

“That's what it says, and Sin Licon says those puppies are fucking deadly. Be glad they haven't shot any our way.”

“For now,” Guru reminded him. “Okay, we getting Weasels?”

“Joining up with you at the tankers,” Van Loan replied.

The CO nodded. “Okay, thanks, Don. You have a good one.”

“You too, Boss. And come back. Don't want to be Exec yet,” the Ops Officer reminded his CO.

“And you do that yourself. Don't want to break in Kara as Ops,” replied Guru. “Good luck.”

“You too, Boss.”


Guru then went to his flight's briefing room, and found everyone there, along with Buddy, the squadron's mascot. To his relief, the dog was already asleep. “Okay, folks. We've got a new one, and this one could be hairy.”

“What's the target?” Kara asked, though she already knew in her capacity as Assistant Ops Officer.

“Missile support and checkout facility,” replied Guru. At the F.M. 218/F.M. 573 intersection. Just south of it, on the east side of F.M. 573. There's a ranch Ivan took over and is using for the missile facility. The ranch buildings, here,” he showed a low-level picture, probably from an RF-4, are being used as HQ, Officer quarters, and so on. The EM quarters are in these tents, to the east of the ranch buildings. The missiles themselves are in the field to the north. And here's the kicker.”

“Which is?” Sweaty asked.

“They're not Scuds. These puppies are SS-23 Spiders. And they are bad news.”

Heads nodded at that. The crews recalled previous briefings on the SS-23. Namely, they were solid-fueled, meant as a Scud successor. Terminal guidance with either a thousand-pound HE warhead or a 1200-pound CBU warhead. And that was without the thousand-pound CW warhead likely filled with VX or the 50-to-100 Kiloton tactical nuclear warhead. “Who do they belong to?” Brainiac asked.

“This is a Soviet sector, so it's either 32nd Army, or Third Shock, which is known to be resting and refitting in the area,” Guru read from the intel summary.

“So how do we get there?” Hoser wanted to know.

“Same tanker track as this morning,” the CO said. Then we get down low, with Lake Comfort as our first checkpoint, then south to Proctor Lake. Cross U.S. 67/377, then State Route 36. Once clear of 36, head due south to the town of Center City. Once we hit Center City, it's southeast to the Colorado River. Then we turn due north. Just east of the town of Mulin, we cross U.S. 84. Eight miles due north is a pair of lakes-the large one just to the east of F.M. 573 is the pop-up point. ID the target to the northwest, make your run, then get back down low and your asses to the north.”

“Defenses?” Sweaty asked.

“Coming to that. This is an Army rear area, so SA-4s are likely, and before you ask, we'll be getting Weasels for this one. Two Gs will join up with us at the tankers. There's SA-11 reported but not confirmed, by the way. Two divisions are also in the area, and they have SA-6 or -8.”

“Which explains the Weasels,” KT said.

“It does,” Guru nodded. “At the target, it's the usual ZU-23s and MANPADS. But there could be armor and MRD types out on patrol, with SA-9 or -13, and ZSU-23s, so be careful,” the CO warned the crews. “Anything's possible down there.”

Dave Gledhill raised a hand. “And the MiG threat?”

“Brownwood Regional is still out of action, so that's good news. Other than that, it's unchanged from this morning. This is an army rear area again, and we might run across Hinds on patrol, Hips and Hooks on cargo runs, maybe even Su-25s or MiG-27s. If you can, take a shot. Otherwise, unless the MiGs get too close, say twenty miles? We lead them to the F-15s and F-16s.”

Heads nodded again. “Ordnance loads?” Goalie asked.

“Kara?” Guru asked his wingmate. “You and I are taking the missile storage area proper,” he said, pointing to a field on the imagery. “I'm taking the west side of the field, you take the east. We both have CBU-58Bs with incindary submunitions.”

“Got you,” Kara said. “So we make those bastards burn, bleed, and blow up.”

“That we do. Sweaty? You take the ranch buildings. Hoser? You've got the vehicle park. That's to the southeast of the missile storage area. Both of you have a dozen Mark-82 Snakeyes. Six of 'em will have the Daisy Cutter fuze extenders,” said the CO. “Other than that, it's the usual for air-to-air, and the usual ECM pods for the leads and wingmen.” That meant four AIM-9Ps, two AIM-7Fs, an ALQ-119 for leads or an ALQ-101 for wingmen, two 370-gallon wing tanks, and full 20-mm.

“Right,” Gledhill nodded. “And for us? Four Sidewinder Ls, four Sky Flash, SUU-23 gun pod, and two wing tanks.”

Guru nodded. “Sounds good. Other than that, weather is unchanged, and bailout areas are the same as this morning. Anything else?”

Flight Lt. Susan Napier asked, “One more after this one?”

“Unless somebody's hollering for CAS,” Kara said. “Then we run that until sunset.”

“Been there, done that,” Sweaty added. “A lot.”

“We have,” Goalie said. “And Buddy's still asleep.”

“Good omen,” Guru nodded. “Okay, time to fly. Gear up and meet at 512's revetment. We're back in the game.”

An Ops NCO came by to collect the briefing materials, then the crews went to gear up. After Guru went to the Men's Locker Room to do so, he came back out, and Goalie was there, as usual. “Ready?”

“Time to go back to work,” Goalie said.

“It is that,” the CO said. “Still hope you're wrong about what you said earlier.”

“I'm hoping the same thing.”


Pilot and GIB left the squadron's building, and they found Dave Golen. Flossy, and their GIBs, Terry McAuliffe and Jang, respectively, going over a mission. “Dave,” Guru said. “You guys take care and be careful.”

“Will do,” Golen replied. “Escort for a recon mission. We're meeting them at the tankers. You may know the lead pilot? Call sign Athena?”

Guru and Goalie smiled. They had flown escort for or had Capt. Sharon Valerri-Park do their post-strike recon more than once. “She's good. You bring her back, you hear.”

Golen nodded. “Will do. And she's got a wingman, so that's two we have to look out for. We're still Mustang Flight.”

“And we're still Rambler. You going anywhere near Comanche or Brownwood?”

“Near the latter,” Flossy said. “Post-strike recon for the airfield we busted up this morning.”

“Which means they're on alert,” Guru nodded. “You guys be careful. Don't need to start writing letters. If you hit MiG trouble, holler. We'll be there, and bring the Brits.”

Dave Golen nodded. “Will do.”

“Good luck, and bring everyone back,” Guru said, putting out his hand.

“Likewise,” Golen said as he shook the CO's hand.


Guru and Goalie then went to 512's revetment, and found the rest of the flight waiting, as usual. “Okay, any last-minute questions?”

“They sure these are SS-23s? Preacher asked. He was Sweaty's GIB.

“You saw the imagery,” Guru reminded him. “Those sure didn't look like Scud transporters.”

“Had to ask,” replied Preacher.

“Don't blame you,” Guru said. “Okay, usual on the radio.” That meant call signs between them, and mission code to AWACS and other interested parties.

“Gotcha, Boss,” Kara said.

The CO nodded. “Dave, anything to add?”

“I guess that's everything,” Gledhill replied.

“Anything else?” Guru asked the flight. Heads shook no. “Meet up at ten grand overhead, and let's hit it. Time to fly.”

The crews went to mount their aircraft, and Guru and Goalie went into the revetment to mount the CO's bird, 512. The Crew Chief, Sergeant Crowley, was waiting, and as usual, snapped a salute. “Major, Lieutenant? Five-twelve's ready to kick some more Commie ass.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Guru said. He and Goalie did the usual preflight walk-around, then the CO signed for the aircraft. Guru and Goalie then climbed the ladder and got into their respective cockpits, then got strapped in. Then it was time for the preflight checklist.

They were almost finished when Goalie asked, “Think this one's too hairy?”

“Had worse ones,” Guru replied.

“You know the intel folks and their motto. 'We're betting your life,'” she said. “Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom. You're right on that, and check yours. Arnie?”

“Arnie's up and running, and so is the INS.” That meant the ARN-101 DMAS and the INS system. “Preflight complete and ready for engine start.”

Guru nodded, then gave a thumbs-up to his Crew Chief. Sergeant Crowley returned it, then gave the “Start engines” signal. First one,then both, J-79 engines were on and warming up. Once the warm-up was complete, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Rambler Lead with six, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Rambler Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi to Runway Three-three-Lima. Hold prior to the Active, and you are number two in line.”

“Roger, Tower. Rambler Lead rolling,” Guru replied. He gave another thumbs-up to his CC, who signaled the ground crew to pull the chocks away from the wheels, then Crowley gave the “Taxi” signal.

Guru then taxied 512 out of the revetment, and as he cleared it, Crowley gave a perfect salute. Pilot and GIB returned it, and 512 taxied to the runway, with the rest of the flight following. When they got to the runway, Dave Golen and Flossy were ahead of them. Once Mustang Flight had taxied for takeoff, Guru taxied into the Holding Area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties. Then Mustang Flight rumbled down the runway and into the air, and it was their turn.

“Tower, Rambler Lead requesting taxi for takeoff,” Guru said to the tower controller.

“Rambler Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are two-six-nine for five.”

“Roger, Tower.” Guru then taxied onto the runway, and Kara followed in 520. “All set?” He asked Goalie.

“Ready back here,” his GIB replied.

Guru then turned to 520, right with him, and saw Kara and Brainiac give him and Goalie a thumbs-up. He and Goalie returned it, then Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Rambler Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

As usual, the tower never replied by radio, but flashed a green light. Clear for takeoff.

“Canopy coming down,” Guru said, pulling down and locking his canopy, and Goalie did the same. A quick look saw 520's crew had done the same. Everything was ready. “You ready?”

“All set,” Goalie replied.

“Then let's go,” Guru said. He applied full throttle, released the brakes, and 512 thundered down the runway and into the air, with 520 right alongside. Thirty seconds later, it was Sweaty and Hoser's turn, followed by the two RAF F-4Js. They met up at FL 100, then set course south for the tankers.