[Matt Wiser]

And the mission:


Over North-Central Texas, 0720 Hours:


Firebird Flight was headed east, south of the D/FW Metroplex, They had met up with their two F-4G Weasels at the tanker track, and had penetrated enemy territory. Now, they were headed east, towards the IP. “I-35W?” Guru called as twin ribbons of interstate highway passed beneath his F-4.

“Copy,” Goalie called. “Two minutes to 35E.”

“Roger that,” Guru replied. He called the AWACS. “Crystal Palace, Firebird One-one. Say bogey dope?”

“Firebird, Crystal Palace. Negative bogeys,” the reply came.

“Copy,” replied Guru. The crews were flying with their visors down as they were heading into the rising sun. While the GIBs handled the navigation, the pilots were concentrating on flying the aircraft, as threats could come from anywhere, and their heads were constantly swiveling between the cockpit view and their controls. Which the RTU had drummed into their heads.

The time went by fast, and they were just south of Waxahachie when I-35E came into view. “Mark, 35E,” Goalie said.

“Copy,” Guru replied. “Next nav point?”

“I-45, north of Ennis. One minute forty-five seconds,” Goalie said.

Guru nodded, then checked his Three O'clock. Kara's F-4 was tucked in formation, as she should be. And the Weasels were just ahead and slightly above the strike birds. It didn't take long until I-45 appeared. “I-45 in sight.”

“Roger that,” Goalie said. Turn now, zero-four-five.”

“Copy, zero-,four-five,” Guru said, putting 512 into a left turn to head north towards U.S. 175 east of Seagoville.

“One minute thirty to IP,” Goalie said.

“Copy, set the ordnance up. Everything goes at once.”

“Roger that,” Goalie said. “Switches set.”

Then U.S. 175 appeared. That was the IP Time to go to work. “Firebirds, Lead. Switches on, music on, and pull.” That meant arm ordnance, turn on the ECM pods, and pull to attack altitude. “Weasels, go to work.”

“Copy, Firebird Lead,” Coors One-Five called. The two F-4Gs pulled up to 2000 feet AGL, daring the radars down below to come on. And they did. “SA-4 up. MAGNUM!” And a HARM missile left the rails. “Firecan up, MAGNUM!” That meant a 57-mm AAA radar. And this time, a Standard-ARM was shot off.

“Weasels going in,” Guru said as he pulled back on the stick. He leveled off at 900 feet AGL and saw the target just as one of the AAA radars ate a missile, and the site went off the air. Then the site on the west bank came up, and a HARM went after it. “Target in sight. Lead in hot.”

As Guru rolled in, the F-4Gs were doing thair job. Coors One-Five shot his two remaining missiles at the 57-mm batteries near the I-20 bridge, while One-Six killed a search radar. Then an SA-4 launched, and One-Six sent another HARM after that radar, killing it.

Down below, on the old Wiser farm, two of Guru's cousins, Ned and Linda, were outside. They had moved into the old family home after the matriarch of the family had passed on, and so far, they had been relatively untouched by the war. Ned' had been raising some livestock, such as pigs, chickens, and even a few cattle, and so far, he and his wife were able to eat relatively well, along with a number of other nearby families. Linda, though, had worked as a bank teller in Forney, and when the Russians came, they had interrogated everyone who worked at the bank. She had to convince the KGB and PSD that she was just a teller, who handled customers' deposits and withdrawals, cashed checks, and so on. They had let her and most of the other employees go, but as they left, they were made to watch as the bank manager, the assistant manager, and the head of the loan department were all taken out and shot. Linda had made a vow right then to never forget, and though there were those in the area who were involved in resistance activity, she was more a passive resister, putting up posters, that sort of thing. Now, they were out doing their morning chores as the attack came in. They watched as two fighters seemed to be circling, and occasionally fired a missile at some target. Both of them had seen the two antiaircraft batteries open up, and then stop shooting as they took missile hits. Then they saw the Russians pointing to the south. More planes coming in.

“Steady, steady,' Guru said as he lined up the westbound bridge in the pipper. He knew he was only a mile from the old farm, where his Grandfather's mother had lived. Try not to think about that now.....”and...HACK!” He pressed the pickle button, and a dozen Mark-82 Snakeyes came off the racks. He pulled level, and headed north.

Guru's bombs smashed into the bridges, ripping apart both the eastbound and westbound pontoon bridges, and smashing up what was left of the structure the Soviets had built as well. Goalie managed to get a brief rear view as the bombs exploded. “SHACK!”

“Good hits?”

“Good hits,” she confirmed. “No secondaries, though.”

“Not every time,” he called as he put 512 back down low, and buzzed the I-20 bridge, forcing the KGB troops guarding the bridge to scatter for cover. “Lead off target.”

“Two's in!” Kara called. She put her bird in, and lined up on the smoke left when Guru's bombs had exploded. So what if her bombs did nothing but make the scrap metal fly farther? Good riddance. “And HACK!” Her bombs came off the racks, and a dozen more Mark-82s landed among what was left of the pontoon bridges, ripping apart what Guru hadn't been able to destroy. “Two's off.” Kara then followed Guru north.

“Three's in,” Sweaty called. She came in just east of the bridge, and found a truck convoy lined up along the I-20 right of way. Not your morning, Ivan. “HACK!” She called as a dozen CBU-58/Bs came off the airplane, and the CBUs tore into the convoy, ripping apart a number of trucks and a couple of BTR-60P APCs. As Sweaty pulled away, she didn't notice the tracer fire coming up from a couple of BTRs, nor did she (or Preacher for that matter) see an SA-7 come up after their aircraft. She took the big Phantom back down low, and called, “Three's off target.”

“Four in hot!” Hoser called. He had seen the fire coming up at his element leader, and mentally changed his mission from “strike” to “Poststrike flak suppression.” He lined up the APCs and several intact trucks in his pipper, then hit the pickle button. Again, a dozen CBUs came off the aircraft, and ripped into the convoy. These BTR-60s were open-topped, and unfortunately for their crews, completely vulnerable to the CBU bomblets, and were easily set on fire. Hoser's strike killed several APCs and trucks, and as he pulled away to the north, he called. “Four off target.”

“Copy that,” Guru called. “Form on me and let's egress.”

As Firebird flight headed north, the two Weasel Phantoms finished their work, killing another search radar and also a solitary ZSU-23-4 that had come up from somewhere. Both Coors One-Five and One-Six went back low, and followed the Firebirds north.

Back near the bridge, Ned and Linda picked themselves up. They heard shouting from the Russians on the road, and from the bridge area. They knew from past experience that the Russians sometimes made nearby locals clean up after an air raid, so they simply went about their chores. This time, though, the Russians didn't bother anyone living near the strike area.

In his F-4, Guru smiled as he flew over Lake Ray Hubbard. Kara had tucked into his Four O’clock, and Sweaty and Hoser were right behind them. They overflew the I-30 bridges, and thankfully, the Army pukes down below held their fire. They flew on, clearing Lake Ray Hubbard and then over Lavon Lake, and only when they had cleared that lake did Guru call for the flight to get back to altitude.

“Firebird Lead, Coors One-Five. We need to hit the tankers. Nice doing business with you, fella.” The Weasel element leader called.

“Likewise,” Guru replied “Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

The two F-4Gs peeled off and headed for the Red River and the tanker track, while the F-4Es headed west towards Sheppard. After contacting the tower, they got into the traffic pattern, and waited for several outbound flghts-AF, Marine, and Navy, to take off before they were able to come in to land. After landing and taxiing back to their revetments, the crew chiefs were waiting.

Guru shut down, and popped his canopy, and Goalie did the same. Sergeant Crowley came up with the crew ladder. “How'd it go, sir?”

“Made some bridges go away, Sergeant,” Guru said as he got down.

'Great, sir,” Crowley said. “We'll have her turned around in a half-hour.” He indicated the ordnance guys waiting with a mix of napalm tanks and Mark-82s.

“Shake'n Bake,” Goalie observed.

“That means CAS,” Guru said. He turned to Crowley. “Pull the strike camera film and send it off. 512's working like a champ, Sergeant. No issues, and no battle damage.”

“Thanks, sir,” Crowley beamed. “Oh, sir, do you want her painted up as the CO's bird?”

“No, Sergeant. Colonel Rivers didn't with his bird, and I'll do the same,” Guru said. “Don't want anyone to see who was flying the bird if she goes down.”

“Understood, sir,” Crowley said.

“All right, Sergeant, get her turned around,” Guru ordered. He turned to Goalie. “Let's get debriefed.”

Goalie nodded as they walked to the edge of the revetment, and found the rest of the flight coming over. “How'd it go for you guys?”

“Weasels did their job,” Kara said. “No flak or SAMs.”

“Same here,” Goalie said. “Made some trucks and APCs go away.”

“You sure about no flak?” Hoser asked. “Some came up after Sweaty, but she didn't see it.”

“Come on,” Guru said. “Save it for the debrief, because we're going back out in an hour or so.”

They nodded, and headed back to the squadron's offices. When they went into their building, which had belonged to a prewar training squadron, they found people acting nervous. Then Capt. Don Van Loan, the new Operations Officer, came over. “Don, what's up?” The CO asked.

“Some lieutenant came in after you left, been around asking a bunch of questions, not just about us, but the rest of the units on this base,” Van Loan replied. “He's not from JAG or OSI, though.”

“Let me guess,” Goalie said. “Inspector General's Office.”

“That's a fair bet,” Guru said. “Okay, if he comes back before we go back out, have him see me. If he's got anything specific, I'll listen to him. Before I tell him to take his complaints to General Tanner. Who will tear him a new asshole.”

Van Loan nodded. “Speaking of which, Base Ops called. His C-130's inbound. ETA fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, we need to debrief,” Guru said. “If he comes here before we have to brief and launch, let me know when he arrives.”

“Will do. Mark's due back shortly, by the way.”

“Okay,” Guru said. He turned to his flight. “Let's debrief. Won't be long until we go back out.” He led them to the old classroom that his flight used, and found 1st Lt. Darren Licon, the Intelligence Officer for the 335th, waiting. “Darren.”

He stood up. “Boss, how'd it go?”

“Made those pontoon bridges go away,” Guru said.

Licon pulled out a TPC map, and asked them to indicate their flight paths. “Okay, what'd you get?”

“Put my bombs onto the westbound bridges,” Guru replied.

“Hits?”

“Got a few,” Goalie said. “Couldn't see much, though. He was getting us north as fast as he could.”

“Captain Thrace? You were right behind him. How'd he do?”

Kara smiled. “Bombs on target,” she said. “I put mine where the eastbound bridge would've been, but there was so much smoke I couldn't really see. No secondaries, though.”

“I'll go along with that,” Brainac said. “No secondaries means no traffic on the bridges.”

“Okay, Sweaty?” Licon asked.

“Hit a truck convoy east of the local road,” Sweaty said. “APCs and trucks.”

“Any resistance?”

“The flak guns were firing,” she replied. “But not radar-guided.”

“Weasels shut down those guys,” Kara added. “They had antiradar missiles in the air first thing.”

“Sweaty had some tracers come up after her,” Hoser said. “From the rest of the convoy.”

“What kind?” Licon wanted to know.

“Either machine-gun or 23-mm,” Hoser said. “Even an SA-7, but it didn't guide. I put my CBUs on those guys.”

“Get any secondaries?”

“Sweaty's bombs got some, And we did, too,” KT said.

“Any MiGs?”

Heads shook no. “Not a one,” Guru said.

“Okay,” Licon said to sum up. “I'll check the strike camera footage, and pass that up to Tenth Air Force Nice job, and from your description, that crossing's out of business for a few days. Thanks, guys.”

As Licon got up to leave, Guru nodded. “Darren, how are you holding up?”

“When I go to the CO's office? Half the time I think I'll see Colonel Rivers. Instead, it's you.”

“Well, when I open that door, I think I'll see him, and it's empty. Then I remember that's mine now. Takes some getting used to.”

“I guess so,” Licon said. He'd joined the 335th after Rivers took over the squadron, and hadn't been around when two previous squadron CO s had been KIA.

“Oh, Darren?” Guru asked the Intel as he got ready to leave. “You have a right to know. Rivers recommended you for Captain. He forwarded the paperwork..”

“Captain?” Licon asked, and his voice showed the surprise. “You're serious?”

“Yep,” Guru said. “Don't know when it'll go through, but you're not the only one.” He turned to Goalie. “Goalie, Sweaty, and a few others.”

“Thanks, Boss,” Licon said, while Goalie and Sweaty were beaming.

“Don't thank me, thank Colonel Rivers. And Darren?”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“If you want to talk, in fact, spread the word. That includes all of you,” Guru told his flight. “If anyone needs to talk, get things off their chest? If I'm not flying, my office door is open. Colonel Rivers did the same, and I'm following his example.”

“Will do, and thanks,” Licon replied.

“Anytime.”

After Licon left, Sweaty asked, “So what's next?”

“You saw the ordnance,” Kara replied. “Shake'n Bake. That means CAS for somebody.”

“Yeah,” Guru said. Then there was a knock on the door. “Come on in and show yourself.”

It was Capt. Don Van Loan, the Ops Officer. “Boss, we got a problem. Not just this squadron, but this entire base.”

“What do you mean?” Guru asked. “You can talk.”

“Somebody from the Inspector General's Office. Poking around, asking a bunch of questions. Wondering why not just the 335th, but MAG-11 and everyone else on this base is pretty loose militarily.”

Guru shook his head. “Where is this guy?”

“In your office.”

Guru scowled. “Okay, let me know when General Tanner arrives.” He went to his office and opened the door. He found a First Lieutenant in dress uniform sitting in a chair. The man came to attention. “Lieutenant, and you are?”

“Richard Ellison, sir,” the man replied. “I'm from the Inspector General's office. I was sent here to check out a complaint from an officer on this base. Not just the 335th, sir. But how every unit on this base is run.”

“Let me guess,” Guru said as he came in and leaned against the desk. “You're responding to a complaint from Major Frank Carson.”

“Sir, I....”

“Lieutenant, I've got two bars. You've got one. Tell me,” Guru said. “Now.”

“Yes, sir. From his standpoint, things are pretty loose around here from a military standpoint,” Lieutenant Ellison said. “I've seen officers calling each other by first name or call sign, for starters.”

Guru rolled his eyes. Clearly, this guy didn't get out much. “Did it ever occur to you that every unit in MAG-11 is a combat squadron, whether it's AF, Marines, or Navy? We're flying four, five, six times a day, if you haven't noticed. Fly, land, refuel and rearm, take care of whatever squadron business you have, then go back out. We don't have time for snappy salutes and other protocol. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war on.”

“Sir, I realize that. Another thing is how poorly dressed ground personnel are. Instead of undress whites, everyone's in BDUs and is packing weapons. And the mechanics are in the dirtiest uniforms I've ever seen.”

Guru got into the man's face. “Okay, you ever hear of Spetznatz?” He pointed at the AKMS rifle on his wall. “See that rifle? I carried it out with me after five months with the Resistance. It's loaded, always. If I hear the call “Sappers in the Wire,” that means Spetsnatz is here. And I'd rather face them with a weapon than without.” He glared at the junior officer. “As for the mechanics? It never occurred to you that they work with hydraulic fluid, oil, grease, and a lot of other crud? You should've been at Williams or Cannon back in Summer, or Amarillo. Hot and sometimes humid on the flight line. If they got things done wearing only gym shorts, or shorts and sports bras for the women? I wouldn't mind at all. If it keeps them comfortable while they're doing their jobs, I could care less how they're dressed.”

“Sir, there's such a thing as Air Force standards,” Ellison pointed out. “They're there for a reason.”

“And a lot of that goes out the window when the shooting starts,” Guru said. “Did that ever occur to you? It happens in every unit. What else?”

Ellison nodded. “Three more things, sir. First, there's a lot of scrounging. Some would call it rampant-”

Guru got into his face. “When supply's flat on its ass, and won't give us the things we need to keep these birds flying, I could care less how my supply people acquire those items. As long as there's no felony arrests, no one gets hurt or caught, it makes no difference to me.”

The lieutenant looked at the CO. Clearly, the respect for proper procedures and the necessary protocols had gone away. And this wasn't the first unit he'd seen where this was happening. “Then you have a tech sergeant in the CSPs using an unauthorized weapon.”

Guru rolled his eyes again. “I guess you don't get out much. Did it ever occur to you that a CSP would want a sniper's rifle with a little more range than a standard 7.62 NATO round? Tech Sergeant Danielle Tucker's dad didn't want his little girl to have to worry about Spetsnatz snipers. He sent her one of his own rifles, a Winchester 700 in .300 Winchester Magnum. I never argue with results: she's got twelve confirmed kills and seven unconfirmed with that weapon. If we have to go through other channels that the Air Force has set up-or did you even bother looking-to get the ammo she needs? So be it. What's the last thing?”

“Sir, there is an officer ranked above you, and yet you are in command of this squadron. Why is that?” Ellison asked.

“Because my predecessor made a judgment that the officer you're referring to wasn't fit to command anything higher than an element. We award positions in this unit based on experience, not rank. And I might as well tell you right now: I'm not as rank as he is.” Then there was a knock on the door. “What?”

Don Van Loan opened the door. “Guru, General Tanner's here.”

“He just landed?”

“No, he's here. Right outside.” Van Loan said. Then a voice shouted “Ten-shun!”

“As you were, people,” another voice said. “We're on a base at war, and we can do without the jumping up and down nonsense.”

“Hear that?” Guru said to the Lieutenant. “That should tell you a lot.”

Then Major General Robert Tanner came into the offices. Not in dress uniform, but in BDUs. To Captain Wiser, he looked like an older version of Harrison Ford, the actor. He shook hands with several of the officers and NCOs, then came to Guru's office. “Captain,”

“General,” Guru said, saluting. “Welcome to the 335th.”

“Glad to be here,” Tanner said, shaking Guru's hand. “I only wish the circumstances were less,well, unpleasant.”

Guru nodded. He knew that Colonel Rivers had been an aide to Tanner when the latter was a one-star. “Yes, sir. The memorial service for Colonel Rivers is tomorrow morning at 1000. Sir, there's no time for dress uniform as we'll be flying all day.”

Tanner nodded as well. “No sense getting dressed up for that when you'll have to get back into flying gear.” He looked at Guru. “I made plans to be here all day, and if necessary, tomorrow, in case there was a service.”

“Sir, I know he'd appreciate that,” Guru said. “He told us that he was your aide some time back.”

“He was,” Tanner said. “And he wasn't just an aide, he got to be a good friend. And who's this?” He regarded Lieutenant Ellison.

“Sir, this fellow's from the IG's office. Seems a certain Major that we've all gotten to know, loath, and despise made a complaint to the IG, and he got sent to check into those.”

“Is that true, Lieutenant?” Tanner asked. And by the tone of his voice, he wasn't too thrilled with what Guru had said.

“Yes, sir!” Ellison replied. “And I have found quite a bit to verify those complaints. If the General would like to hear what I have to say-”

Exasperated already, Tanner turned back to Guru. “Captain, have you explained how we do things in Tenth Air Force?”

“I started to, sir, but wasn't able to finish before your arrival,” Guru said.

Tanner nodded, then shot a withering glance at the Lieutenant, then turned back to Guru.. “I'll take care of that, Captain. And I'll make sure you won't have to worry about frivolous complaints to the Inspector General. All you need to worry about is getting on with the war. Is there someplace private I can discuss this?”

Guru smiled. “My office is available, sir,”

“Good. Close the door on your way out. After I'm finished with this chap, I'd like to talk to you and your squadron leadership team. I've got some good news.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru replied.

“And Captain? Do you have a mission coming up?”

“Yes, sir. Mission brief in thirty minutes,” Guru said.

“I'd like to sit in, if you don't mind,” Tanner said.

“Not at all, sir.”

“Good. I'll see you in a few.” Tanner said.

“Yes, sir.” As Guru turned to leave, he whispered in Ellison's ear. “Your ass is grass, and he's going to mow it.” Then he left the office, closing the door behind him. After he did, Guru and those outside could hear shouting from inside.

“Well?” Kara asked.

“If Frank or anyone else thinks they're getting the squadron today, they're sadly mistaken,” Guru said.

Mark Ellis snapped his fingers. “Oh, well. Back to the old advancement-by-assassination plan, then.”

“Guess so,” Kara grinned. “Now what's up?”

“Tanner's going to want to talk to us shortly, then sit in on the mission brief. He'll be here all day. Not just with us, mind, but the whole base. And he'll RON. He wants to be here for Rivers' memorial service.”

“That's at when? 1000 tomorrow?” Goalie asked.

“Yep,” Guru said. “You did arrange things, Don?” He asked his Ops Officer.

“I did,” Van Loan nodded. “Everyone should be back by 1000, and we've got an hour before the next set of sorties launches just after 1100.”

“Good,” Guru said. “Come as you are, and chances are, we'll have people fresh out of the cockpit showing up.”

Sweaty nodded. “That we will.”

“Come on, let's get something out of the break room, the General will see us in a few, and we've got a mission brief,” Guru told his flight. They went to the break room, and found Master Sergeant Michael Ross, the 335th's senior NCO, coming out. “Sergeant. What do the Jarheads have to offer us?”

'Sir, the usual: Chicken, Ham, Turkey, Roast Beef, Tuna, and something brown that just sits there,” Ross said. “And one of the brown sandwiches just moved.”

“Well, at least it's not a BLT where the tomato looks back at you,” Kara quipped.

“It is that, Ma'am,” Ross said.

“Okay, thanks, Sergeant,” Guru said. “Oh, and Sergeant?”

“Sir?”

“Please let us know when the General wants to see us, if you would.”

“Yes, sir.”