[Matt Wiser]

Here's the next one, with General Olds getting a look at the F-20:



335th TFS HQ, 0945 Hours Central War Time:


Major Wiser was in his office, going over some paperwork. As usual, the elves never took care of it while he was gone, but fortunately, there wasn't much in his IN box. He dealt with the papers that the armchair warriors sent his way, then he got up and had a look outside his office window. The F-20s were back, he noticed. They seem to be good birds, he mused, but awfully short-legged. Why didn't Northrop think about giving them a thicker wing, which, in theory, meant more fuel in wing tanks, just like the F-4 did? He shook his head, then his Exec came into the office. “Mark,”

“Boss, got a few things. First, the eastbound C-130 came in. Had a few things for us,” the XO said.

“Such as?”

“A new ejection seat, and Ross is looking for another,” Ellis told the CO. “And miracle of miracles, the early editions of the West Coast papers. Well, the L.A. Times, Orange County Register, along with today's Stars and Stripes and USA Today.”

The CO nodded. “I'll have a look later. Like, say, over lunch. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Ross got some Vietnam-era style bush hats. You've seen photos of F-105 or F-4 guys wearing those, right?”

“Sure have,” Guru replied. “Ross got us some?”

“Enough for every officer in the squadron, and a few extras,” Ellis said. He tossed his CO a hat with oak leaves on it. “And the first goes to the CO.”

“Thanks, Mark.” Guru said. Though he preferred his squadron baseball cap, he'd wear this from time to time. Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

One of the ops NCOs came in. “Major? This came in for you, sir.” The Sergeant handed Guru a message form.

“Thanks, Sarge,” the CO said. He scanned the form. “Well, now.”

His Exec looked at him. “Anything you can tell me?”

Guru handed Ellis the form. “Just a message from the Chief of Staff and the Vice-Chief, who is Sundown Cunningham, by the way, reiterating the no-combat order for both General Olds and General Yeager.”

Ellis nodded. “Guess we'll have to tell them.”

“We will.” Guru checked his desk. The IN box was empty and the OUT box was full. “Know where the F-20 guys are?”

“They just got back from another demo.”

“Good.” Guru put on his new bush hat. “Then let's go.”



When the CO and XO got to the dispersal area the F-20s were using, one of the C models and the D two-seater had just shut down. Canopies popped open, and General Yeager came out of the C, while General Olds climbed down from the back seat of the D, and only then did Prada get out of the front seat. “Nice ride, Captain,” Olds said to Prada, shaking her hand.

“My pleasure, General,” Prada grinned.

“Not a bad little airplane, if I do say so,” Olds went on.

“General,” Guru said as he and Ellis came up, sketching salutes as they did. “How'd things go?”

“Major,” Olds said, “Not bad. This is a nice little airplane, and as a dogfighter, it's small, nimble, and deadly. But it's got some drawbacks. Endurance is one, and so is weapons capacity.”

Both 335th officers nodded. “How much endurance, sir?” Ellis asked. “If you don't mind my asking.”

“Forty-five minutes,” Olds snorted. “There'd be more if we had a pair of wing tanks, but all we had was the centerline. These birds will be useful as aggressors postwar, and maybe going to the Guard and Reserve, but that's about it.”

“I was hoping for more than that, Robin,” Yeager said. “The folks I work with back at Edwards won't be happy.”

“You mean the guys from Northrop?” Olds asked. He saw Yeager nod, then went on. “Being combat-proven means they'll get the overseas sales they want, and not just Korea and Taiwan. Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines, they'll probably line up, and so will some Middle East customers like Jordan, Saudi, and the Gulf States, along with anyone already flying F-5s. Here? Aggressor and ANG service after the war is probably the best you can shoot for.”

Yeager nodded. He knew Olds was probably right about this, but still....he knew that Northrop would fight hard after the war to have F-20s in the postwar inventory. “We'll see.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said. “In that case, I have something for both generals.” He handed the message form to General Olds. “It's from the Chief of Staff himself, along with General Cunningham.”

Olds perused the form, then turned to Yeager. “Well, Chuck. They're reiterating the no-combat order. And they added this: no flying within thirty miles of the front lines for both of us.'

Yeager took the form and read it himself. “Nothing like a directive from the Chief of Staff to liven up the morning,” he said in his West Virginia drawl. “Well, wouldn't want to get our hosts in trouble, now.”

“No, sir,” Guru said. “That makes me feel better, and probably Colonel Brady as well.”

“Speaking of which,” Ellis said. He pointed towards the Ops building, and Colonel Brady was coming towards them, in full flight gear. “Looks like he's expecting a ride.”

“He is,” Prada said. “I'm taking him.” She went back to her F-20D, where the AF ground crew and the Northrop tech-reps were finishing up the turnaround.

“Colonel,” General Olds said. “Taking care of some business?”

“You could say that, sir,” Brady replied. “The Marines and Navy might buy some of these as aggressors after the war. I'd be remiss if I didn't take a ride and pass on a report on these.”

The AF officers nodded. Both 335th ones, especially. Both of them felt the only F-20s the Air Force would wind up keeping postwar would be in the Aggressor Squadrons. “Well, General,” Guru said. “Just glad that's a decision above my pay grade.”

“And mine,” Olds said.

Colonel Brady climbed into the D, and got himself strapped in. As he and Prada did the preflight, the other two C models taxied in. “Those guys doing a CAP?” Guru asked.

“You could say that, Major,” Olds said. “But watch.”

The two 335th officers watched as Clancy and Pruitt's birds came in, only the pilots didn't dismount their aircraft. The ground crew did a hot turnaround in terms of refueling, since they had not expended any ordnance, then the two F-20s taxied back out. “Impressive, even for tech-reps,” the 335th CO noted.

“They all ex-Air Force?” Ellis asked.

“They are,” Olds said. “You two taking a ride later?” Olds regarded the two junior officers. A chance at a new bird, even with the F-20's shortcomings, was something young officers often drooled at.

“I'll get mine in before they leave, General,” Guru said. “But, like I told General Yeager when they got here, I'm a Phantom Phanatic, born and raised. The only thing I'm looking forward to is the F-15E, when those come around.”

“Same here, General,” the XO added.

Olds nodded. If he was in their shoes, and twenty years younger, he'd feel the same way. “I know what you mean.”

Then the 335th's Ops Officer came up. Capt. Don Van Loan sketched a salute. “General,” he said. “Boss,”

“Captain,” Olds said. “Looks like you're getting ready to go back out.” The Ops Officer was in full flight gear.

“Yes, sir,” Van Loan replied. “Just briefed my people, and I've got these for the CO and XO.” He handed both two pieces of paper.

Guru scanned it. It was the next FRAGO. He looked at Ellis, who nodded. “General, we've got business.”

“Good luck, all of you,” the General said with due seriousness. “Be careful out there.”

“Do our best, sir,” Guru said. He and Ellis saluted, then went back to the 335th's building, while Van Loan went to his aircraft. Kara came to meet both of them. “Kara,”

“Boss. We've got a mission, and so does the Exec.”

“Take care, Mark,” Guru said. “Don't want to break in Don as Exec.”

“Or Kara as Ops,” Ellis laughed.

Kara nodded. “Glad to see I'm not the only one feeling that way,” she joked.

“Okay, let's get back in the game,” the CO said.


The Exec went to brief his own flight, while Guru and Kara went to their flight's briefing room. When they got there, their RAF liaison officer was there. “Jack,” Guru said.

“Guru,” Flight Lt. Steve “Jack” Lord nodded. “Mind if I join the briefing?”

“Not at all,” the CO replied. “Come on in.”

They went into the briefing room and found the rest of the flight there, waiting. “Boss,” Sweaty said. “What's up?”

“We are, in about twenty minutes,” said Guru. He opened the briefing packet and spread out recon photos, a map, and had a summary in his hand. “Here's where we're going. Tolar. Southwest of Granbury on U.S. 377.”

“Been there before,” Goalie observed. “And not that long ago.”

“Weren't we busting up a supply dump or a dispersal field for Hinds?” Hoser asked.

“Something like that,” Guru said. “Okay, here's the deal. There's a regimental assembly area around the town. We need to disassemble some of 'em. And here's a restriction: no CBU use in the town.”

Kara looked at her CO. “Civilians still living there?”

“That's right. This is still a town, not a collection of ruins,” Guru replied. “There's four battalion assembly areas on the photos,” he said, passing the photos around. “We go after those.”

“And we're carrying CBUs,” Goalie said.

The CO nodded. “We are, so those are our targets.”

“Flak or SAM suppressors?” Sweaty asked. “Those places are usually well defended.”

Guru checked the frag order. “Negative. Just us.” Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah?”

Dave Golen and his element came in. “Guru, are you going down to Tolar?” He asked.

“We are,” Guru replied. “You going there?”

Their IDF “Observer” showed him a frag order, and both compared what they had. “We're going in ten minutes behind you.”

“Not anymore,” Guru said firmly. “You'd be going in on a fully alerted target. What's your ordnance load?”

“Six Maverick Cs, each airplane,” Flossy Jenkins said, and her temporary GIB, Jang, nodded.

The rest of the flight noticed their CO thinking for a moment. Then he looked at the photos. “Okay. Dave? You and Flossy are going with us. Launch under your own call sign. Join us at the tankers.”

“Got you,” Golen said. “And then what?”

“You guys go ahead of us,” Guru said. “Kill anything that looks like a SAM launcher or gun track. Run out of those or can't find any? Kill any command tracks you see.”

“Understood. With the Mavericks, we'll only have two Sparrows and gun.”

“We'll cover you.” Major Wiser looked at the rest of his flight. “We're all carrying Rockeyes, so pick a battalion assembly area and go after it. This is one of those oversized regiments, mind you. Fifty or tanks per battalion, instead of thirty. Expect regimental level air defense. And this is still technically the East German sector, so watch for SA-4s. And that division we smacked around yesterday? They may still have SA-11s around. Leads have an ALQ-119 pod, wingmates have the -101s. Four AIM-9Ps and two Sparrow Es each bird, and full gun.”

“Still Es?” Sweaty asked. “What about the Fs we're supposed to get?”

“Shouldn't be too long,” said Guru. “Now, the MiG threat is unchanged since early morning, and bailout areas are the same.”

Preacher asked, “How are we getting there?”

“Getting to that,” the CO replied. He pulled out a TPC map. “We follow the Brazos River again. Go past Granbury and watch for flak at the Lake Granbury Dam, by the way, to the U.S. 67 bridge. Then we turn west to Glen Rose. Turn north, and be careful for flak at the Commanche Creek Nuclear Power Plant. IP is just three miles south of Tolar, and there's no landmark. Once you hit the IP, pull up and pick your target area. Once you've released your bombs and jink to avoid flak? Make sure your last jink is to the right. Get your asses to the Brazos, then head back north to the I-20.” Guru looked at his flight. “Questions?”

“We the first going after these guys?” KT asked. “If not...”

“If not, they're alerted,” Goalie said.

Guru looked at the Frag Order. “Doesn't say here.”

“Those new guns still around?” Brainiac asked.

Kara nodded. “Good question.”

Guru checked his intel summary for the mission. “Doesn't say. Okay, that division we smacked yesterday had those, and there may still be some. If you see any of those basketball-sized tracers on your run? Abort. If you see any on your way out? Call them out.” He turned to Dave and Flossy. “You might want to save a Maverick or two for the trip home.”

“Good idea,” Golen said.

“Major, I've got an idea,” Jang said. “How about some 'Magnum' calls on the radio. Ivan usually shuts down radars to avoid eating an antiradar missile when they hear that.”

“We don't have any Shrikes, Sweaty pointed out.

“They don't know that,” Goalie said. “What do you think?” She asked Guru.

The CO had an evil-looking grin on his face. “I like it. Pick a beer for a phony call sign, then make a couple 'Magnum' calls. Every radar around is going to shut down when word gets passed somebody took an antiradar shot.” He turned to Jang. “Good thinking.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Anytime,” Guru said. He looked at the wall clock. “Jack, anything before we go?”

“That phony antiradar call. Won't they figure out that it's not real?” Lord asked.

Guru replied, “Ivan knows the Weasels use beer names for call signs. It doesn't have to work every time, but enough. And every time I've heard that, their radars do shut down.”

“Understood,” Jack replied. “No harm in a little radio deception, then?”

“No,” Guru smiled. “Any other questions?” He asked. Heads shook no. “All right, that's it. Time to gear up. I'll see you on the ramp.”

As the crews headed to gear up, and Guru gathered the briefing material, Jack came over. “Major, up north, this would be a Tornado mission.”

“Or F-111s and A-6s down here,” Guru noted. “Usually. But too many missions for those guys, and not enough assets.”

“So it's your turn,” Lord noted.

“It is.”

Guru then went to Ops and turned the briefing material in, then he went to gear up. When he came out of the Men's Locker Room, Goalie was waiting for him, as usual. “Ready?”

“Time to go back to work,” she nodded. “Once more unto the breach.”

“Just as long as that 'close up the walls with our dead' crap doesn't happen,” the CO said. “Time to fly.”

The two headed out to the dispersal area, and found the rest of the flight waiting at 512 so he could give his final instructions. “Boss,” Kara said. “Usual on the radio?”

“Usual procedure,” Guru replied. By now, they knew what he meant. “Remember what I said about MiGs and helos from this morning. They may lead you into a flak trap.”

“Not good,” Sweaty noted.

“They never are,” Flossy said.

Guru nodded. “Right on that. Now, remember what I said about those tracers. If you see those basketball-sized tracers coming, and they get too close? You abort. Nothing down there is worth getting killed over.”

“Gotcha, Boss,” Kara replied.

“Good. Anything else?” Heads shook no. He clapped his hands. “Then let's hit it. Time to go get 'em.”

As the crews headed to their aircraft, Jack Lord shook hands with Guru. “Good luck, Guru.”

“Thanks,” the CO replied. “This one could get hairy.”

The RAF officer nodded. “Hopefully not too sticky,” he said.

“Hopefully.”

Guru and Goalie then went to their aircraft, and found Sergeant Crowley, the Crew Chief, waiting. “Major, Lieutenant,” he said, snapping a salute. “Five-twelve's ready to go.”

“Ready to rock, Sergeant?” Guru said, taking off his bush hat.

'She's ready to kick some more Commie ass, sir.”

“Good,” Guru said, tossing the hat to a ground crew member and Goalie did the same. They did their preflight walk-around, then mounted the aircraft. After strapping in, they went through the preflight checklist. “How do you like Jack?” Guru asked his GIB.

“He's not bad for an RAF guy,” Goalie said. “He's likable, but still has some of that English reserve people talk about. Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom. Check yours,” replied Guru. “At least he's not a stiff upper lip type. Ever been across the pond?”

“Once, at the Academy. Went to Lakenheath for two weeks, to see how an overseas base worked. In between my Sophomore and Junior year,” she said. “Not a bad place, and a lot of history there. You'd like it, I think. Preflight complete and ready for engine start.”

“Maybe after the war. Okay, ready,” Guru said. He gave the thumbs-up to Sergeant Crowley, who gave the “Start Engines” signal. One, then both, J-79 engines were soon up and running, and during the warm-up, they watched as a C-141B came in to land. Then it was time to call the tower. “Tower, Camaro Lead with four, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Roger, Camaro Lead. Clear to taxi to Runway Three-Five-Lima. Hold prior to the active, and you are number three in line.”

“Roger, Tower,” Guru replied. “Camaro Lead rolling.” He then gave another thumbs-up to Crowley, who signaled to the ground crew. They pulled the wheel chocks away, then Crowley signaled the CO to taxi. Guru taxied 512 out of the revetment, and as he turned towards the runway, Crowley snapped a salute, which Pilot and GIB returned.

Guru taxied to the holding area, and found another 335th flight directly ahead of him, with two Marine flights-one of F-4s, one of F/A-18s, ahead of the Air Force. The Marines went, then the 335th flight, which the CO noted was the Exec's, then it was their turn. Prior to the active, they held up so that the armorers could remove the weapon safeties, then it was time. “Tower, Camaro Flight with four, requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Camaro Flight, clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are two-seven-one for six.” The controller replied.

“Roger, Tower.” Guru taxied onto the runway, and was followed by Kara in 520. A final cockpit check followed, then Guru and Goalie glanced over at their wingmates. Kara and Brainiac gave the thumbs-up, and it was returned. Then Guru contacted the tower. “Tower, Camaro Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

The tower flashed a green light. Clear for takeoff.

“Ready?” Guru asked his GIB.

“Let's go,” Goalie said.

“Canopy coming down,” Guru called. He pulled down his canopy, closing and locking it, and Goalie did the same. A quick look to their right found 520's crew having done the same. Then it was time. Guru applied full power on the throttles, released the brakes, and 512 thundered down the runway and into the air, with Kara in 520 right with him. Thirty seconds later, it was Sweaty and Hoser's turn. They formed up and headed for the tankers. A minute later, after a Marine F-4 flight went, Dave and Flossy followed, heading for the rendezvous at the tanker track.