[Matt Wiser]

Here's another, and a tribute to the late Chuck Berry:



335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, TX; 11 November, 1987. 0530 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser came into the squadron's office, and heard the familiar voice of Wolman Jack on the radio. When he came in, he noticed Hacksaw, the Night-Shift SDO, at his desk. “Hacksaw,” he nodded.

“Morning, Major,” the SDO said. He started to rise, but then remembered.

Guru regarded the SDO. “You do know we've got two new birds. Since we didn't get replacement crews....”

“Looking forward to that, Major,” Hacksaw grinned. With new birds, that meant getting a permanent slot as a pilot was highly likely.

“Good,” the CO said. “Anything happen overnight?”

“Not much,” Hacksaw said. He motioned to the CO's office. “Exec's waiting for you.”

Guru noticed Capt. Mark Ellis there, waiting. “Thanks. And what's been on the radio overnight?”

“Well, Boss, he was going back to 1976 for a while. Not quite Kasey Kasem, but he's been doing the 'Top Ten', say, July, for the past few nights.”

“So, what was number one in July?” The CO asked, “Just out of curiosity.”

“You remember Afternoon Delight?” Hacksaw replied. “If you were old enough, you knew what they were singing about.....”

“Do I,” Guru nodded. “Well, eleven years or eleven lifetimes ago. Things were different then.”

“They were.”

“Okay, well, happy listening.”

“Thanks, Major,”

Guru then went and talked to some of the night-shift admin folks, then went to his office. “Mark,” he nodded as he came in. “What's up this fine morning?”

“Morning, Boss,” the XO replied, handing the CO a cup of hot chocolate. “Got a few things for you before breakfast.” Ellis had a clipboard in hand.

Guru nodded and took the cup. He had a sip, then said, “All right, what have you got?”

“Aircraft Status Report. Still twenty for the morning due to two having hundred-hour checks.”

“They're not finished?”

“Just got started, and that'll take most of the day,” Ellis reminded his CO.

“All right,” the CO said as he signed the form. “What's next?”

“Morning Report for both MAG-11 and Tenth Air Force.”

Major Wiser scanned the reports, then signed them. “Okay, that's done. What else?”

“General Yeager and his people went to the Early-Bird breakfast. They're getting their F-20s ready for their demo runs. And I do know who's going up first,” Ellis said.

“Let me guess: Frank,” Guru said. It wasn't a question.

“You got it,” the XO replied. “At least that's being taken care of first thing.”

“Good. Because that's all he'll get out of the F-20,” Guru reminded his Exec. “Who else is going up today?”

“Colonel Brady, for one. Just to get a feel for the -20, and maybe see if it'll be good as an Aggressor postwar, he said. “I'm going in the afternoon, and guess who else has a check ride?”

“General Olds,” Guru commented. “That's a no-brainer. Tell me, though: who is flying him on his check ride?”

Ellis checked his notes. “Prada.”

“Good. Because we don't need General Olds and General Yeager in the same bird. Not to mention either of those two young pups taking General Olds on his ride. What we know of those two.....”

“They might give General Olds a trip down to the front lines, because they know he'd appreciate it,” Ellis finished for his CO.

“And I wouldn't,” Guru said. “Okay, Prada will stay away from the shooting, unlike those two. Next?”

“Weather report,” Ellis handed his CO the paper. “Getting a little cool and a little cloudy, but...”

“But nothing that'll keep us from flying,” said Guru. He sighed. “Anything else?”

“Supply requisitions,” the XO said. He handed the CO the papers. “You want the scroungers to go after this stuff as well?”

Guru scanned the list. “Brake fluid, hydraulic fluid, radar parts, spare main gear and nose gear tires.....” His eyes widened, then he stared at the Exec. “A couple of spare ejection seats?”

“You'd have to ask Kev O'Donnell about that.” Capt. Kevin O'Donnell was the squadron's Maintenance Officer.

“The way things are, a bad seat means a bird off the schedule until we get one,” Ellis reminded his CO. “Be nice to have one or two spares around, Kev says.”

Guru nodded. “If he says we need a couple? I'm not disagreeing with him. Tell the scroungers the usual: if Supply can't get what we need, they do.”

“Got you, Boss,” said Ellis “Chief Ross says we may have a new PAO.” He handed the CO a paper. “You want her?”

Major Wiser scanned the paper. “With this kind of flight record? Tell Ross to get her here. Now, Kodak Griffith's a good man, but he's a Marine, and sooner or later, he has to go back to the Jarheads. Having one of our own who can handle PAO duty as well as flying is something we need.”

“I'll talk to Ross. Oh, one last thing: I ran into Goalie's friend from last night, Cassidy. The ferry pilots were leaving Early-Bird and are waiting for the westbound C-141. Anyway, she told me she wants to transfer to this squadron when they get back to Travis.”

Guru nodded approval. “Talk to Ross again. Having another Day One vet in this squadron, even if she wasn't technically flying combat? The more, the better.” He looked at his Exec. “He does know people in Officer Detailing. Make it happen.”

“Will do, and that's it for now.”

There was a knock at the door, and the CO responded, “Yeah? Come in and show yourself!”

The office door opened, and Goalie came in, with a cup of coffee and one of cocoa in her hands. “Morning, guys,” she said. Between the three of them-and Don Van Loan as well, they were quite informal. She handed Guru the cocoa. “And hot cocoa for my pilot.”

“Thanks. I actually get a better zing from the chocolate anyway,” Guru said. “And what's up this morning?”

“The F-20 guys are what's up,” Goalie said. “They were awake before I was. Saw Prada coming back from Early-Bird when I was headed to the shower.”

“They're going up shortly. While the rest of us are eating, and guess who's first up?”

“No guess. Frank,” Goalie nodded. It wasn't a question.

Guru nodded. “Mark and I were talking about it. And guess who may be joining us before too long?”

Goalie's eyes widened. “Corrine?”

“Yep. Day one vet, even if she never fired a shot,” the CO said. “She's going to request a transfer to us when she gets back to Travis, but if that goes south, her tour's up in a couple months anyway.”

Goalie let out a grin. “And Ross knows people in Officer Detailing. The orders are cut and ready when her tour's up.”

“That's it,” the CO nodded as he drank his cocoa. “Anything from the Ops people?”

“Getting the packets together. Which means we're not on CAS today.”

This time, it was the XO's turn to smile. “Boss, we should all be grateful for that,” he noted.

“We are,” Guru said. He noticed the wall clock read 0550. “Got an idea to run by you before breakfast. Is there an Air Force reg that says we can't enlist our mascot in the service?” He was referring to the squadron's Golden Lab, Buddy. “Never came up in OTS.”

“Don't think it came up in ROTC,” Ellis replied. “Academy?”

Goalie shook her head. “To be honest, guys? I have no idea.”

Guru nodded. “Okay, then. Mark? This'd be a good thing for morale. Chief Ross and the NCOs take care of that dog, and somebody's going to be taking him home when this is over. Find out. And if there's nothing in the regs? We go ahead and do this. Backdate the enlistment to the day we got him, make him an E-3 or so, and that'll be that.”

“And this is something General Olds would like, and to him, it's another example of thumbing your nose at authority when they get in your way,” Ellis finished.

“I like it,” Goalie said.

“So do I,” Ellis agreed. “I'll check it out and get back to you.”

“Do that,” Guru said. “Let's go eat.”

As they left the CO's office, another familiar song was coming over the radio. “Well, now...we need to get him on a USO show,” said Goalie.

“Who?” Ellis asked.

“Chuck Berry,” Guru replied. He recognized the song at once. “That's Johnny B. Goode.”

“An oldie but a goodie,” Goalie smiled.

“It is. Come on and let's go,” the CO said.


When the three officers arrived at the Officer's Mess Tent, there were quite a few Marines, Navy, and 335th people waiting. Among them were General Olds and Colonel Brady, plus most of the 335th's flight crews, though Guru knew some early risers preferred the Early-Bird because it was less crowded. “General, Colonel,” Guru said, sketching a salute.

“Major,” General Olds replied. “Looks like we'll get the 'official' F-20 debut today.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru nodded. “Word's gotten around about who you're flying with, and for the record, General? I'm just glad you're going up with Prada instead of those two young pups. They might just indulge you on a trip to the front lines.”

Olds grinned. “You did figure that out, Major. And in case you're wondering, so did she. Prada insisted that I go with her.”

“For that, General, I'm glad,” Guru said. “General, there's something else.” He explained what he wanted for the squadron's mascot. “Sir, you've been around the Air Force longer than anybody here, General Yeager excepted. Anything you know of why we couldn't do this?”

“I don't think so, right off, Major,” General Olds replied. “It's a good idea to improve unit morale, and for sure, I'll raise this with General Tanner. Make sure there's some kind of directive to make things like this official. And other units probably want to do this, so you're not alone.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then the Mess Officer came out of the tent and flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. “Chow's ready, people!”


After Breakfast, the flight crews gathered in their respective briefing rooms. When Guru got to the room his flight used, he found his people there, waiting. “All right, people, ready to get with it?”

“Ready, Boss,” Kara said. “Just as long as it's not CAS.”

“Same here,” Hoser added, and the others nodded.

The CO grinned. “We're not on CAS, but...” He opened the briefing packet. “We're going to the same general area. Star Hollow Lake, just west of Granbury.”

Goalie looked at him. “What's there?”

A copy of a TPC chart and a JOG chart came out of the packet, along with some recon photos. “Says here it's a suspected divisional headquarters. Some command vehicles on the imagery, so we get to kill a general. Maybe more if somebody's paying a visit from higher up.”

“Well, now...” Sweaty nodded. “Not that often we get to kill some of Ivan's brass.”

“Easy girl,” Guru said. “They won't make it easy for us. There's some air-defense assets here. Looks like SA-9 and ZSU-23-4, and you can bet there's grunts with MANPADS.”

Heads nodded. “Any of those ZSU-30s around?” Kara asked.

The CO scanned the intel summary. “None indicated, but good question. Assume they are. If you see those big tracers coming up? Abort.”

“Got you.”

“That's not all: SA-11s are in the area, along with Army-level SA-4s, thanks to the East Germans. We are also in the engagement zones for the Hillsboro and Waco North SA-2s,” Guru said. “Before you ask, yes, we are getting Weasels. Coors One-five and One-six will join us at the tankers.”

There was a sigh of relief from everyone, and that included the CO. “Good news to start the morning.” KT noted.

“It is,” Guru agreed. “Okay, Element leads have a dozen Snakeyes-six Mark-82s, six M-117Rs. Wingmates have a dozen Rockeyes. ALQ-119 pods for the leads, -101s for the wingmen. Two AIM-7s, four AIM-9Ps, full guns, and two wing tanks, each bird.”

“So how do we get there?” Brainiac asked.

“We follow the Brazos River, and stay on the east side. That's the Nicaraguans, as we know, and they don't shoot at us unless they're the ones being attacked. Turn west at Granbury, and follow U.S. 377 down to Tolar. Go NNW to the lake, which is the pop-up point. Hit the target, then get your asses north as fast as you can,” Guru told his crews. “Intel says there may be Ivan's own CAS birds and helos, so watch out. IF you can, take a shot, but otherwise, don't go out of your way. They may lure you into a flak trap.”

“Happy thought,” Sweaty said. “Not.”

“Not a good thing,” agreed the CO. “Now, MiGs are reported at James Connelly AFB near Waco, Gray AAF, Temple, and Bergstrom. Flankers are also at Bergstrom, so be careful.”

“Lovely,” said Kara.

“In case you're wondering,” Guru went on. “Dave and Flossy have their own mission, so that's why they're not coming with us. Any other questions?”

“First of four, right?” Preacher asked.

“To be hoped for,” Guru replied.

“Bailout areas?” Kara wanted to know.

“Usual,” the CO replied. “Any place away from the roads. Anything else?” Heads shook no. “All right. Let's gear up and I'll see you at 512.”

The crews left the briefing room and went to gear up. When Guru came out of the Men's Locker Room, Goalie was waiting for him, as usual. “Ready?”

“Time to earn our flight pay,” Goalie said. “They do pay us for this, you know.”

“Of which, forty-five cents of every dollar goes back to Uncle Sam,” said Guru. “Wars are expensive, my dear.”

“And not just in terms of blood,” Goalie finished.

“They are,” the CO and History Major agreed.


Guru and Goalie went out to the squadron dispersal area, and heard the F-20s warming up. They dismissed that from their thoughts as they went to 512, and found the rest of the flight waiting. “Usual procedure on the radio?” Kara asked.

“Mission code to AWACS and other parties,” Guru nodded. “We're Camaro Flight this time. Call signs between us.”

“Got it,” Sweaty said, and the others nodded.

“Good,” replied the CO. “Any other questions?” There weren't any. He clapped his hands. “Time to go. Let's hit it.”

The sun had cleared the eastern horizon as Guru and Goalie went to 512. “Major?” Sergeant Crowley, the Crew Chief, asked. “She's all set. Five-twelve is ready to rock and kick some Commie ass.”

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Guru said. He and Goalie did their usual walk-around, then after signing for the aircraft, they mounted their bird and got strapped in. They went through their preflight checks, and as they did, the F-20s taxied past. Guru saw them as they did, and Guru was glad to see no air-to-ground ordnance loaded.

“Glad they're not going where we are?” Goalie asked.

“Very,” Guru replied as he went through the checklist.

“Don't blame you,” she said. “Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom. Check yours. Last thing we need is Sundown Cunningham or worse, the Chief of Staff showing up. Not now, anyway.”

Goalie knew it. “No way. Not right now,” she agreed. “Preflight checklist complete. Ready for engine start.”

“Ready,” Guru replied. He gave a thumbs-up to the Crew Chief, and Sergeant Crowley gave the “Start Engines” signal in reply. First one, then both, J-79 engines were up and running, As they warmed up, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Flight with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

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

“Number two?” Goalie asked, curious. “Who's Number One?”

“F-20s, I'd bet,” said Guru. “Roger, Tower. Camaro Flight rolling.” He gave another thumbs-up to the CC, who waved to the ground crew. They pulled the chocks away from the wheels, then Crowley gave the “Taxi” signal. Guru released the brakes, and he taxied out. Once he cleared the revetment, the CC snapped a salute, and both pilot and GIB returned it. The rest of the flight followed as Guru taxied towards the holding area, and sure enough, the F-20s were ahead of him. And right behind him were two Marine flights, one of Hornets, one of Phantoms.

After the F-20s taxied onto the runway, Guru taxied 512 into the holding area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties. The F-20s then rolled down the runway and into the air. Then Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Flight requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Camaro Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are Two-six-eight for five,” the call came back from the tower.

“Roger, Tower.” Guru called. He taxied 512 onto the runway, and Kara brought 520 in alongside in his Five O'clock. As usual, Kara and Brainiac gave their flight leader a thumbs-up, and Guru and Goalie both returned it. Then Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Camaro Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

The tower flashed the green light. Clear for takeoff.

“Canopy coming down,” Guru told Goalie as he pulled down his canopy. She did the same, closing and locking it. A quick glance toward 520 saw Kara and Brainiac had done the same. All set. “Here we go.” Guru said. He ran the engines to full power and released the brakes, and Kara did the same. Both 512 and 520 rolled down the runway and into the air. Thirty seconds later, it was Sweaty and Hoser's turn to go. Once airborne, the flight formed up at 10,000 feet for the trip to the tanker track over Mineral Wells and the rendezvous with the Weasels.