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Old 03-29-2017, 07:30 PM
Matt Wiser Matt Wiser is offline
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Here's the next installment, and the F-20s go out again.....



Sheppard AFB, TX: 1540 Hours Central War Time:


Captain Darren “Sin” Licon went over from the 335th's offices to the dispersal area and found the F-20 pilots talking not only with the company tech-reps, but also General Yeager. “General,” he said, sketching a salute. “Just talked with the CO. Your guys probably saved his flight's asses this afternoon.”

“Well, now, Captain,” Yeager replied in his West Virginia drawl. “He glad my guys went out?”

“Sir, you could say that. I know what you guys claimed, but I need a debrief.”

“You want to debrief us?” Captain Matt Clancy asked.

“Might as well,” Licon said as General Olds came over. “General?”

“Major Wiser's people are getting ready to go,” Olds replied. He noticed the F-20s being turned around. “And so are your people, looks like.”

“If they're needed, my people will go,” Yeager said. “All right, Captain, what'd you all get?” He asked Clancy.

“We all took shots with Shrike,” Clancy said, and he saw the other two, Pruitt and Quinn, nod. “One went dumb, but the other two must've hit, because the SA-11s all dropped off the EW scope.”

Licon was taking notes. “Then what? You first, Captain,” he asked Clancy.

“Took two Maverick shots after the Shrike,” Clancy answered. “Both of 'em were ZSU-30s.”

“Hits?”

“Got one, then took another shot.”

“That one hit,” Pruitt said. “Got one myself, then had a dance with a Gopher.”

“You claiming the Gopher?” Licon asked.

Prada nodded. “He better,” she said. “He got it, but it shot a missile at him. Took one of his flares.”

“And you?”

She nodded, sipped from a bottle of water, then added, “My first shot was a -23. Then found a -30 with a recovery vehicle next to it. Shot the ZSU, and when it blew? May have gotten the recovery vehicle in the fireball.”

Clancy nodded. “That was a hit. Nail gave us a four-decimal-zero, then we got out of there.”

“Okay,” Licon said, checking his notes. “You're claiming four ZSU-30s, a ZSU-23, and an SA-13 launcher, then?”

“That's about it.”

“I'll pass this on to my CO,” Licon said. “You guys saved a bunch of our asses today.” He got up to leave, then headed off to the intel shop.

After the intel left, Clancy nodded. “Only wish we'd gone out sooner.” He looked at Generals Olds and Yeager. “Maybe those Marine crews would still be alive.”

“Can't change that, son, and you know it,” Olds reminded him. He thought for a moment. “You guys going back out again?”

Yeager nodded. “I need to talk with Colonel Brady,” he said. “He's in charge of the flying here.”
He regarded Prada. “If he says yes, you're taking my bird again. Yours isn't finished with the hundred-hour check, and won't be ready until after sunset.” He looked over the F-20s. The Cs were being turned around, while the ground crew was busy with the -D.

“Yes, sir,” Quinn replied. “General Olds, when it's ready, would you like to have a ride in the -D?”

“Mind if I tag along on a mission?” Olds replied. A chance at sneaking a combat mission....even if he did it once, he wanted to see for himself how the new generation was handling combat.

“Her bird, her call,” Yeager said.

“Sir, do you have a no-combat order?” Prada asked General Olds.

“I do,” said Olds.

“Then, sir, no tagging along. But...if you want a check ride in the -D, be my guest.”

“Deal,” Olds said, shaking her hand. He regarded both Clancy and Pruitt. “You guys have done this before.” It wasn't a question.

“After Day three of Wichita and through PRAIRIE FIRE,” Clancy said. “We flew against Third Shock Army. CAS and strike aren't our best options, but in that fracas.....no choice. Did a lot of hunting of those guns and missile tracks.”

“Didn't get to do much else that but that, and just take the odd shot at a ComBloc fast mover or helo,” Pruitt added.

“There was the first day,” Clancy reminded his friend. Not to mention Altus.”

Pruitt nodded. “There was that. That F-16 guy coming over?”

“You mean Masters? No. He's staying with Vipers. Just like a lot of these guys,” Clancy said. “Almost every pilot's a Phantom Phanatic, and forget about the WSOs. Every last one of them's waiting for the F-15E.”

“So are most of the drivers,” General Olds said. “And you guys went where help was needed.” How many pilots had been sacrificed by rushing the 474th-and others like it-into combat when they weren't ready? He wondered about that. Definitely, he'd have a talk with General Tanner, and if necessary, General Dugan, the Chief of Staff, about that. Somebody felt they were combat-ready, and the 474th got fed into a meat grinder. For sure, his old subordinate Sundown Cunningham would probably crunch some balls over that.

“That we did, General,” Clancy said.

“Going back out?”

Just then, Colonel Brady came over, and noticed the F-20s being refueled and rearmed. “Getting ready to head back out?”

“If you'll okay the mission,” General Yeager said.

Brady nodded. “Just wish you'd come to me three hours ago. Maybe Bill Poore and two of his guys would still be alive.” He was referring to the VMFA-134 CO, who had been killed by ZSU-30 earlier that afternoon. “If you're not flying, General, I'll okay the mission.”

“Done.”

“I'll notify MAG-11 Ops and the Tower. Good luck,” Brady said. He then went to the 335th, then he'd mount his own aircraft.

“General?” One of the Northrop tech-reps said. “Birds are ready except for centerline. How do you want it?”

“Clancy?” Yeager asked. “Your call.”

“If I were you,” a voice said. “I'd take the tank.” Heads turned, and Major Frank Carson was there. “Hope you don't mind my overhearing.”

General Yeager looked at the snobby major. “Just get back?”

“Yes, sir,” Carson replied. “Saw an A-10 get shot up, and a Cobra got splashed as well. West of Lipan? It's still hairy.”

“Well?” Yeager asked Clancy.

The flight lead thought for a moment. “We'll take the tanks. Go.”

“Ready in ten,” the tech-rep said, then he went off to see to the centerline tanks being loaded.

“Well, Major?” Yeager asked.

“Looking forward to my ride,” Carson said.

“Tomorrow, sometime.”

Carson nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He then headed off to the 335th's office.

Prada looked at him as the Major left. “What a snotty asshole,” she remarked. “Glad we don't have anyone like him.”

“What's his deal?” Pruitt asked. He saw the centerline tanks being loaded.

“If you saw what's in his 201 File and Flight Record?” Yeager asked. “You'd know why everyone on this base-and not just the 335th, pretty much hates his guts.”

“Join the club,” Olds said. “General Tanner warned me about him before I got here. Ask around in the Club, and they'll tell you why. The CO and this guy have a history, and they pretty much loathe each other. That's just the start. He's made an ass of himself to just about everyone.”

The three junior officers nodded. “ROTC vs. Academy?” Prada asked. She was AFROTC, University of Maryland.

“Close. Carson's Academy. And the 335th's CO is an OTS grad from prewar days. And speaking of which, I need to sit in on his brief.” Olds said. He shook hands with the three, then said, “Good luck.” Then he headed to the 335th's office.

“When do we go, General?” Clancy asked Yeager.

“When the CO's flight leaves,” Yeager said. “Just like last time. Get something to eat and drink, hit the latrine, then get ready to fly.”

About fifteen minutes later, the F-20 people were ready to go, when they saw the 335th's people heading to their own aircraft. And they recognized the CO and several others. “General,” Pruitt said. “They're heading out to their birds.”

Yeager nodded. “Mount up. Clancy? Bring everybody back, and I do NOT want any holes in my birds. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Clancy replied.

General Yeager shook hands with the trio, and said, “Good luck.” They then mounted their own aircraft.

Once the preflight was done, and engines started, Clancy called the tower. “Tower, Showroom Flight with three, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Showroom Lead, clear to taxi to Runway Three-three Charlie. Hold prior to the active, and you are number three in line,” the controller replied.

“Roger, tower,” Clancy replied. The three F-20s taxied out, and saw six SEA-painted F-4Es turn, one pair at a time, to Runway 33L, then rumble down the runway and into the air. A Marine Hornet flight was immediately ahead of them, then they taxied to the holding area prior to 33C. There, armorers removed the weapon safeties.

“Tower, Showroom Flight requesting taxi for takeoff.” Clancy called.

The tower replied at once. “Showroom Lead, clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are two-six-six for five.”

“Roger, Tower.” The three F-20s taxied, with Clancy and Prada leading Pruitt, then the lead pair was on the runway. “Tower, Showroom Flight requesting clear for takeoff.”

As usual, the Tower flashed a green light. Clear for takeoff. The first pair rumbled down the runway and into the air, and thirty seconds later, Pruitt's bird followed, bringing up the rear. All three meet up at FL 100, then headed for the tanker track over Mineral Wells.


Over Central Texas: 1625 Hours Central War Time:


Corvette Flight was orbiting in the holding pattern at 12,000 feet, and, as usual, were waiting to be passed off to a FAC. They had been handed off to Tampa, the EC-130E, by AWACS, and, as they orbited, had a bird's-eye view of the battle below. As the crews orbited, they watched as fireballs erupted on the ground and, on occasion, in the air. And as was usual, there was no way to tell whose they were. Just that everyone hoped it was Ivan taking the brunt of the casualties, both in the air and on the ground.

Major Wiser glanced around, and saw FACs orbiting, and occasionally marking targets, while off to the west, Weasels were orbiting, waiting for SAMs to come up, and the occasional “Magnum” call signaling a anti-radar missile launch came over the radio. The CO glanced to the west, and saw the sun getting lower and lower. “They'd better hurry up,” he said over the IC.

“You sound just like Kara,” Goalie replied. Then she, too, glanced to the west. “And they'd better.” Though they were trained for night strikes, the 335th's crews could count the number of night missions they had flown on one hand.

“Lead, Three,” Sweaty called. “Anything?”

“Not yet,” Guru replied. “Stand by one.” He switched over and called Tampa. “Tampa, Corvette Lead. Any tasking for us?”

“Negative,” the controller replied. “Descend to Flight Level One-One-zero and continue to hold.”

“Roger, Tampa,” Guru called back. He got back on the squadron frequency. “Follow me down to Eleven Grand.” He led the flight down to FL 110, and they kept orbiting. “Can't stay here all day, fella,” he muttered.

“Hurry up and wait,” Goalie added.

Just then, the F-20s came in. “Tampa, Showroom Flight with three checking in,” Clancy called.

“Oh, shit,” Guru said. “I knew it.”

“Hear that, Lead?” Kara said.

“I heard, Two.”




Aboard the EC-130, the TacCo and the senior controller looked at each other. The F-20s again? They had been notified that the F-20s might be coming back. The TacCo nodded at the Controller. “Showroom, Tampa. You guys have Magnum loaded?”

“Showroom Lead, Tampa. That's affirmative,” Clancy replied. “One shot, and two Rifle shots each bird. One radar, two heat, and full guns each.”

“Roger, Showroom. You go to the front of the line, fella. Contact Nail Five-one for tasking.”

“Copy, Tampa.”

“Showroom, Corvette,” Guru called the F-20s. “Rocket Man with you?” He knew it wasn't likely, but he had to check anyway. Visions of Goose Bay or Loring suddenly came to mind.

“Corvette, Showroom,” Clancy replied. 'That's a negative. Time for us to go to work. See you back at Home Plate.”

“Still afraid Yeager's going to go into combat?” Goalie asked.

“I am,” said Guru.


Below, the 144th Guards Motor-rifle Division was in a fight. In his command post, the Divisional Commander, Major General Sergei Lopatin, knew it, and realized he was in for it. He turned to the senior officer next to him, who had come over from 4th Guards Tank Army to have a look. “Comrade General....”

“I don't like this,” Colonel General Pioytr Suryakin replied. “You're in for it,” the commanding general of 4th Guards Tank Army replied. “Be prepared to pull back on my order.”

“Comrade General, my orders put me under the East Germans' command,”Lopatin reminded the general.

“I'll clear it with Front Headquarters,” Suryakin told him, and he shot an icy glare at the East German liaison officer in the divisional command post, who seemed to wilt under that glare.

“Comrade Generals,” the division's air-defense commander said as he came over. “More aircraft coming in.”


“Nail Five-one, Showroom,” Clancy called the FAC.

“Showroom, Nail,” the FAC replied. He was orbiting in an A-7K, and had taken the place of one of his best friends, who had been killed by one of those ZSU-30s earlier that afternoon. “Say aircraft and type of ordnance, please.”

“Nail, Showroom Flight is three Foxtrot-Twenty Charlies. We have one Magnum and two Rifle shots each, and one radar, two heat, and full guns each airplane.”

If he could, the FAC would exchange glances with his pilot. F-20s? Those guys had shown up earlier and had probably kept who knew how many from buying a farm in the sky? Too bad they hadn't been around when those Marines flew into a buzz saw. “Copy Showroom. Your target is mixed tanks and APCs with air-defense assets. Threat is divisional level, and be advised fast-movers and helos are in the area. Both friendly and enemy.”

“Roget, Nail,” Clancy replied.

“You're cleared in, Showroom,” Nail called. He silently added, Get some.


“Flight, Lead,” Clancy called. “Let's go in. Take your Magnum shot, then Rifle. Then we bust ass out of here.” He called up his Shrike, and picked up not only SA-11, but also SA-4 signals. Those meant Army, and that would be East Germans. The SA-4s were out of range, but not the -11s. Clancy fired. “Magnum!” he called. Right after that, his two wingmates did the same. Once again, a Shrike went dumb-whose, they didn't know, because right after launching, the F-20s turned away. Only one found a target this time, an SA-11 track, but it was enough, for the others all shut down. Then they rolled in for their Maverick shots.

“Looks like they're doing good,” Goalie said from 512's back seat.

In the front seat, Guru nodded. He took a look at the EW repeater, and saw that all the missile and gun warnings had dropped off. “Remember, we're buying for them tonight.” Then Tampa called. Drop to 9,000. That meant two more were ahead of them before it would be Corvette Flight's turn.

“Showroom Lead in hot!” Clancy rolled in for his Maverick shots. He noticed a full motor-rifle regiment on the move, coming up towards Lipan. Clancy called up Maverick, then scanned the area with the seeker, looking for any air-defense assets. He found an SA-13 vehicle, then fired. “Rifle!” He called. Then he called up his second missile, and found one of the guns. “Rifle again!” He took the second shot, seeing the first missile find its mark, shortly followed by the second. “Lead off target,” Clancy radioed as he turned north.

“Two's in!” Prada called as she went in on her run. She, too, scanned for targets for her Mavericks, and found two of what they were looking for. “Rife!” She called, sending her first Maverick after a ZSU-30, then Prada repeated the call after locking up the second vehicle and launched. As she turned away, Prada followed both missile trails visually, and saw both targets fireball as the missiles scored. “Two is off target.”

“Three's in hot!” Pruitt called as he came down. He, too, was looking for any gun or missile launchers he could find. He, too, used his Maverick to scan for targets, and it wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. Pruitt locked up a ZSU-30 and launched. “Rifle!” he called, then he banked around and called up his second Maverick. This time, he didn't see a gun or SAM vehicle, but did pick out a BTR-type APC with some funny antennas. That might be a regimental command vehicle or a FAC's vehicle, he knew from past experience, and those were definitely worth killing. Pruitt locked it up and fired. “Rifle!” Then he turned away, and saw a pair of fireballs on the ground as the missiles scored. “Three's off target,” was his call as he turned for the I-20.

“Showroom, Nail,” the FAC called. “I give you a four-decimal-zero. Nice work, fella.”

“Thanks, Nail. Showroom Flight is outbound at this time.” Clancy said.


“Well, now..” Guru said as he led the flight down to 8,000 feet. One more flight was now ahead of Corvette, then it would be their turn.

“Those things have their uses,” Goalie added.

“They do,” the CO admitted.

“Corvette Lead, Tampa. Contact Nail Five-one for tasking,” the EC-130 controller called.

“Roger, Tampa,” replied Guru. “Nail Five-one, Corvette Lead.”

“Corvette, Nail Five-one. Say aircraft type and ordnance load, please,” the FAC asked him.

“Nail, Corvette Flight is six Foxtrot-Four Echoes with twelve Rockeyes each bird, plus two radar, four heat, and full gun each airplane,” Guru told the FAC.

“Copy that, Corvette,” Nail replied. “We have a regimental-sized force moving north, towards the F.M. 4-F.M. 112 junction. The Army wants you to help make some of 'em go away.”

“Roger, Nail. Can you have the ground-pounders take out any air defense assets they see?”

“Can do, Corvette. Will mark the target.” The A-7K rolled in, ignoring some flak coming up, and fired several WP rockets, then it pulled up. “That's your target.”

“Nail, Corvette Lead copies. Can give you one run, south to north,” Guru told the FAC.

“Your call, Corvette,” Nail replied.

Guru clipped on his oxygen mask, then he called the flight. “Flight, Lead. Switches on, music on, and time to go get 'em.”

“Roger, Lead,” Kara replied, and the rest of the flight followed suit.

“Ready?” Guru asked his GIB.

“Switches set,” Goalie said. “Everything in one go.”

The CO grinned beneath his oxygen mask. “Good girl.” Then he looked down below. The tanks and BMPs were there, and the occasional fireball meant they were taking fire from the Army. Good. Maybe the treadheads took out the ZSUs the F-20s missed. Then it was time. “Flight, Lead. Follow me in.”


Below, the commander of the 482nd Motor-Rifle Regiment was not a happy man. Instead of moving ahead to exploit, along with the 228th Tank Regiment, the divisional commander had ordered him to move in and assist the 188th MRR. No matter, his BMP-2s and T-72Bs would be superior to any M-113s and M-60s his men encountered, and if they met the American paratroopers reportedly in the area? His regiment would run over them. Though many of the rank and file were Estonians, reservists from Tallinn, most of his officers were not. The regiment's junior officers-nearly all the Platoon Commanders and many of the company commanders, were fresh from their officer training, but his battalion commanders had experience, though that was in Afghanistan, and certainly not in America. Still, his regiment had done well in its predeployment training, but he knew the big unknown was how his regiment would perform under fire. Now he was seeing the results of their training. So far, so good, but the Americans to the east were taking pot shots at his regiment, and they were accurate, for two of his 2S6 air-defense vehicles had been hit and knocked out, and two more disabled, along with several tanks and BMPs, but no matter. The 482nd would accomplish the mission it had been given. Suddenly, the regimental air-defense battalion commander came on over the command net. “Air attack warning-South!”

The Colonel opened the hatch of his command BTR and looked in that direction. Sure enough, smoke trails were coming down on his regiment. Where had the Yankee aircraft come from? And where was the Air Force? “AIR ATTACK! DISPERSE!” The Colonel shouted into his throat mike.

“Lead in hot!” Guru called as he rolled in. The gun and missile warnings were off on his EW display, but optically guided flak or heat-seeking missiles were still a threat. At least there were no basketball-sized tracers coming up, and that meant ZSU-30s.....Guru picked up a regimental-sized force heading north, and that was the target. Tanks and BMPs, and artillery right behind them. Dealer's choice, so he picked out some armor in the middle, and selected them. Ignoring the flak coming up, along with a couple of missiles-which looked like SA-7 type MANPADS, he lined them up in his pipper. “Steady....Steady...and....HACK!” Guru hit his pickle button, releasing his twelve CBUs down onto the armor below. He pulled wings level and pulled away, jinking as he did so. “Lead's off safe,” the CO called.


Below, the Colonel watched as Guru's F-4 flew over his regiment, and cursed-and cursed loudly-when the F-4 released its bombs, and CBU bomblets fell onto his First Battalion's BMPs. Several of the vehicles took CBU hits and exploded, while several others fell out of line and were damaged. The Colonel was on the radio to his air-defense commander demanding to know where the 2S6s and Strela-3 launchers were, when one of the former took fire-from where, he didn't know-and exploded. Someone was shooting at them, and he had no idea where. The Colonel ordered his regimental reconnaissance company to his flank, to find the enemy to the regiment's flank. He was still giving orders when a second F-4 came in.


“GOOD HITS!” Goalie shouted from 512's back seat. “We got secondaries!”

Guru nodded as he jinked to avoid flak. Off to his left, there were some of those basketball-sized tracers, but they were wide of the mark. “How many?”

“Some,” she replied.

“Good enough,” Guru replied as he maintained his jinking and headed for the I-20.


Kara rolled in on her run. “Two's in!” she called. She, too, had some flak coming up, but it, too, was unguided as her EW repeater was blank. Good, those F-20s are good for something, she thought. As she came in, she saw the CO's bird pulling away, and where his CBUs had gone off. Kara saw some APCs and tanks behind that, and decided they had to go away. As she came in, more tracers came up, and so did a missile-a small one-but she ignored it and concentrated on the run. “Steady....and...HACK!” Kara hit the pickle button, sending a dozen Mark-20 Rockeyes down on the Russians. She pulled up and away, jinking as she did so, called out, “Two's off safe.”

“Of all the...” the Colonel muttered as Kara's F-4 flew overhead. It, too, released its ordnance, and CBUs showered down on the trailing elements of First Battalion. Several BMPs and even a couple of T-72Bs took CBU hits and fireballed, Several soldiers from the battalion's air-defense platoon got out of their BMPs and fired their Strela-3 (SA-14) missiles, but they failed to score as the F-4 flew away. Cursing again, he got on the radio, demanding to know where the fire from the right was coming from, but suddenly his radio was filled with static, and he knew why. Jamming.

“SHACK!” Brainiac yelled in 520's rear seat.

“Secondaries?” Kara wanted to know. She, too, saw some large tracers, but easily avoided them on this occasion. Then a missile, what kind she didn't know, flew past the right side, and another flew past them beneath the aircraft.

“Got some.”

“I'll take that,” she replied as she picked up the CO's smoke trail and headed north, jinking as she did so.


“Three's in hot!” Sweaty made the call as she came in on her bomb run. Once again, tracers came up, but she ignored them as she chose her targets. There were some tanks down there, alone, with no APCs, and those needed killing. Sweaty came down, lining some tanks up in her pipper, and as she did, more tracers came up. No matter. “Steady....and...and....NOW!” She hit her pickle button, and Rockeye CBUs rained down on the armor. Sweaty pulled wings level, and headed north. “Three's off target.”

“NYET!” Shouted the Colonel as Sweaty's Phantom flew past his position, and released its bombs. This time, the attackers had picked out his tank battalion, and though it was in full battle formation, enough CBUs rained down to catch a company's worth of tanks, and several of them took hits to their thin top armor, which exploded their fuel or their ammunition. Others were disabled, and fell out of formation. Where were the air-defense people?” He got onto the radio again and managed to find his air-defense commander. No response. What the....

“GOOD HITS!” Preacher shouted as Sweaty pulled away.

“How good?” She asked, jinking as she headed north, not noticing a missile that flew beneath the aircraft, but she did see the tracers coming up and falling short.

The ex-Seminary student grinned beneath his oxygen mask. “Righteous ones!”

“Good enough for me,” Sweaty replied. She was still jinking as she beat a path to the I-20.


“Four's in hot!” Hoser called as he rolled in. He saw where his element leader had unloaded, and as he came down, saw what looked like SP howitzers, the ones called SAU-122s. One battery looked like it was setting up to fire, and he decided to give them a Rockeye wake-up. Hoser, too, ignored the flak coming up, and even what looked like an SA-13 came at him, but it didn't track. More of those basketball-sized tracers came up as well, but they were falling short, as his EW repeater was dark. Nice try, Ivan....Hoser lined up the battery in his pipper. “Steady....Steady...and...and...NOW!” He hit the pickle button, and sent his dozen Rockeyes down on the artillerymen below. He pulled wings level and began jinking as he cleared the area. “Four off target,” Hoser called.

Explosions behind him caught the Colonel's attention, as did Hoser's F-4, as it flew by. He called his artillery battalion commander, and the news was obvious. Second Battery had been hit, damage unknown, but several guns and command vehicles knocked out. Two secondary explosions followed as it looked like ammunition trucks had also gone up-literally. The Colonel shook his head. He knew what the divisional commander and intelligence officer had told him about American air power, but the Colonel had faith not just in his own air-defense people, but also their Air Force comrades, who, he was sure, would control the skies. Where was the Air Force?. The Colonel was on the radio again, trying to get in touch with the Divisional Commander, not noticing more American aircraft coming in.


“Five in hot!” Dave Golen called out as he rolled in. He saw where those ahead of him had laid down their ordnance, and noticed some armor ahead and to the right. To him, it looked like a battalion that had not yet been attacked, and thus was worthy of attention. Golen, too, saw the flak coming up and ignored it, though the SA-13 that came his way and didn't track certainly caught his attention, for it flew by his left side by about fifty feet. He lined up the APCs in his pipper. “Steady....and....NOW!” Golen hit his pickle button, sending his Rockeyes down onto the armor. He pulled level and applied power, jinking as he headed north. “Five off target.”

“NYET!” The Colonel shouted as Dave's F-4 made its run. This time, the attacking aircraft hit the Third Battalion, and once again, CBU bomblets rained down on his men. Several BMP-2s took hits and immediately became fireballs, while several others were damaged. Again, several soldiers from the air-defense platoon did fire their Strela-3 shoulder-fired missiles, but their efforts were for naught, as none of the missiles tracked the target. He glanced around, and when he looked to the south, he saw another American aircraft coming in. Not again....


“SHACK!” Golen's backseater called. “We got some!”

“How many secondaries?” Golen asked as he jinked to avoid the unguided flak coming up.

'Got a few,” the backseater replied.

“I'll take that.” With that remark, Golen headed north, hoping to pick up the rest of the flight.


“Six is in hot!” Flossy called as she went down on her run. As she came down, Flossy ignored the flak coming her way. At least it wasn't guided, she thought, taking a quick look at her EW repeater. She picked out some more tanks and APCs, and as she got closer, decided they were hers. More tracers came up, even a few of the big ones, but she paid them no heed. Centering some APCs in the pipper, she lined them up. “And...Steady....And....And....HACK!” Flossy hit the pickle button, and sent her Rockeyes down onto the Russians. She pulled up and away, jinking as she did, and after a missile passed about fifty feet overhead, she called, “Six is off safe.”


“Sookin sin!” The Colonel yelled. Son of a bitch. Of all the....he saw Flossy's F-4 fly right overhead and lay its cluster bombs onto Second Battalion. More BMPs and tanks were caught in the hail of bomblets, and several of them died, going up in fireballs as CBU bomblets found their mark. What else could go wrong today? That thought was at the Colonel's mind as he came up to Second Battalion's position to rally the survivors. He sent his Zampolit over towards First Battalion to do the same, though they hadn't been hit as hard, and grimaced as the Party hack's BMP suddenly exploded, apparently after running over a CBU bomblet.....oh, well. No great loss. Then his reconnaissance company got on the line. M-1s and APCs to their right, and the tanks were engaging the reconnaissance vehicles, then his company commander's voice stopped in a burst of static....and the divisional commander was now on the line, his Chief of Staff said.....

“GOOD HITS!” Jang called from 1569's back seat. “Got some secondaries!”

“How good?” Flossy asked as she jinked to avoid the flak and any missiles. What looked like an SA-7 flew past her port wing, and another flew right overhead, only twenty feet above her canopy. Way too close for comfort....

“Several good fireballs,” Jang told her frontseater.

“I'll take those,” Flossy said as she headed for the I-20 and the FLOT.


“Nail, Corvette Lead. How'd we do?” Guru asked.

“Corvette Lead, Nail. Good job, fella. I give you a four-decimal-zero. All ordnance on target,” the FAC replied.

“Roger that and thanks.”

“Anytime, Corvette,” Nail called back.

In the back seat, Goalie grinned beneath her mask. “Six in and out.”

“Don't celebrate yet,” Guru reminded her. “Still got a game going.” Looking around, he saw Kara in 520 already with him in Combat Spread. “Two, good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Kara replied.

“Three, where are you?”

“Got you in sight, in your six,” said Sweaty. “Hoser's with me.”

“Roger that,” the CO said. “Five, you and Six there?”

Dave Golen's voice responded immediately. “We've got visual on you, and Six is with me.”

“Copy,” Guru said. He then called the EC-130. “Tampa, Corvette Lead. Six in and out. All ordnance expended, and we are out of here.”

The EC-130 controller replied, “Roger, Corvette. Good work, and maybe we can do this again.”

“Roger that, Tampa,” Guru said. Though hopefully not anytime soon, he said to himself. He'd had enough CAS for a while. And, no doubt, so had the rest of the squadron.


Corvette Flight joined up north of the I-20 and headed for the tankers. After they drank in their post-strike refueling, they headed back to Sheppard. This time, they had to wait as several Marine and Air Force flights were ahead of them, and as it turned out, Corvette Flight was the last one in. After landing, the flight taxied in towards its dispersal, and as usual, the news crew was filming them. “You'd think they've shot enough footage,” Goalie noted.

“Their job,” Guru reminded her. “Speaking of which, our interview should air in a few days.” He then popped his canopy and raised it.

His backseater did the same. “Thought it would be on by now,” Goalie said. “What's taking them so long?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” the CO said as he taxied 512 into the squadron's dispersal area, then into its revetment. After getting the “Shut down” signal from Sergeant Crowley, he and Goalie did their usual post-flight check, then Guru stood up in the cockpit. “Over and done for the day.”

“Another day, another round of flight pay,” muttered Goalie.

“They pay us for this?” Guru deadpanned as he climbed down from the aircraft.

“Not enough,” Goalie said as she got down from 512 and began a walk-around with her pilot.

After the walk-around, Sergeant Crowley came over. “Major, Lieutenant? How's my bird?” The Crew Chief “owned” the plane, and the crew merely borrowed it, and crew chiefs never forgot to remind crews of that.

“Five-twelve's working like a champ,Sergeant,” Guru said. “No damage, and do what you need to so that she's ready for the morning.”

Crowley nodded. “No bad weather?”

“Sorry,” Guru replied as he took a swig from a bottle of water a ground crew member had handed him. “Nothing due for a few days.”

“Too bad, sir,” said Crowley. “Don't you worry, Major. She'll be ready in the morning.”

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Guru said.

“All right, people!” Crowley told the ground crew as the CO and GIB headed out of the revetment. “Let's get the Major's bird ready for the morning.”

As Guru and Goalie walked out, she turned to her pilot. “Still want to bump him up in the R&R rotation?”

“Thinking about it,” Guru admitted. “It's the least I can do to thank him. If I have to, I'll make it an order.”

“'Go on R&R, have fun, and oh, by the way, that's an order?'” Goalie asked. “That's new.”

Guru nodded. “Always a first time for everything.”

They got to the revetment's entrance, and found Kara and Brainiac waiting. “Glad that's over?” Kara asked.

“You're not the only one,” Goalie said. “Six runs today, and one thing to be said about Fall.”

“And that is?” Sweaty asked as the rest of the crews arrived.

“Not enough daylight for seven or more.”

Preacher nodded. “For which everyone should be thankful. Now what, Boss?”

“Debrief, check your desks, then head on over to the Club,” the CO said.

Heads nodded at that. Even though they were flying several times a day, everyone still had a secondary ground job. “Too bad the elves don't take care of that while we're out,” Flossy joked.

“You, me, and everybody else wish the same thing,” Guru said. “Kara? The Ferry Crews and the F-20 guys are fair game tonight. The ferry pilots know you, but the GIBs may not.”

Everybody saw the grin on Kara's face. “It'll be a pleasure.”

“Come on. Let's get debriefed.” Guru said. They headed to the squadron office, and all wanted to get the debriefing-and any paperwork-done so they could head over to the Officer's Club and eat. It had been a busy day.
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Treat everyone you meet with kindness and respect, but always have a plan to kill them.

Old USMC Adage
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