[Matt Wiser]

Blowing off steam and celebrating MiG kills...Remember, even though it's a stand-down coming, it's "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow they may not separate us from the rest of the aircraft." And a very......inquisitive flight surgeon:



335th TFS CO's Office: 1655 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser sat behind his desk, clearing out his IN Box. Fortunately, there wasn't much, and what was there was rapidly dispatched to the OUT box. Silently cursing the AF bureaucracy, the CO got up and looked out his office window. Another day done, he thought as the first signs of dusk came. How many more, before this is all over, he mused. Too many, that was the answer that popped into his mind. He went to his desk and made sure it was tidy, before a knock on the door interrupted him. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

The office door opened and the Exec, Capt. Mark Ellis, came in. “Boss, got a couple of things for you before we hit the Club.”

Guru nodded. “Okay, Mark. What have you got?”

“First, the storm's coming in, right on schedule,” the Exec said, handing the CO another weather update. “Rain starts after 2200, and we should be wet until noon at least.”

“Lovely,” Guru spat. “F-111s and A-6s down low for us, Su-24s for the bad guys, and up above at Angels twenty, it's anyone who's a fighter or recon bird. But...”

“I know what you mean,” Ellis nodded. “Anyway, Doc's going to supervise the drawing for who sits Zulu Alert tomorrow. He'll do it before 1800.”

The CO nodded approval. “Good. Because for some people, twelve-hour kicks in then, and it also means Early-Bird. Flight leads draw. Anything else?”

“The Scroungers have been busy, Chief Ross says. They found us three dozen more kits for laser bombs.”

Guru let out an evil-looking grin. “About time. Next time we get a point target, we pull the assigned ordnance and hang GBU-10s instead, and somebody gets to use either Pave Spike or Pave Tack,” the CO said, referring to the two laser designators the squadron used. Not that much, he knew, but that would change.

“Understood. And they also found three dozen Maverick-Ds,” said Ellis.

The CO's jaw dropped. AGM-65Ds? “The IIR Mavericks?” Seeing the XO nod, he went on. “I take it the paperwork regarding all of these-and this includes the GBU kits-has been....created?”

Ellis said, “It has.”

“That's a relief. Because I don't want somebody showing up wondering where his laser bomb kits or Mavericks are when we've used half of 'em. What's next?”

“That's it,” said the XO.

Guru was pleased. Now they could hit the Club. He got up and grabbed his bush hat. “The bar, and food, await.” Seeing Ellis nod, Guru added, “Let's go.”


When Guru and the Exec got to the Club, the place was already buzzing. Word of Jang becoming a backseat ace-and thus forming an all-female ace team with Flossy-had traveled fast, as did something that both 335th officers heard when they got there, namely, a Marine crew from VMFA-333 had made ace themselves, but there was a catch that had people's eyes perk up. For all five kills the crew had made were all helos. Either Hips or Hinds, much to the crew's chagrin. No matter: a kill's a kill, that was what fighter pilots all over thought. Still, starting out with one's first five kills as helos was unusual. Though both Guru and Ellis had heard of A-7 and A-10 drivers who were aces-and had killed helos to do it.

The two bellied up to the bar, and found Smitty there, waiting for them as usual. “Smitty, what have you got this evening?” Guru asked the barkeep.

“No Sam Adams, Major, sorry about that.” The barkeep replied.

Guru nodded. Oh, well....not the first time. “So, what's available?”

“Bud, Bud Light, Miller, Lite, Olympia,” Smitty recited what he had.

“Bud for me,” Guru nodded again.

“And for me,” Ellis added. “I'll pay for both.” Seeing Guru turn to him, he said, “Only fair I buy for you once in a while, Boss.”

“Fair enough,” Guru said. Ellis paid the barkeep, and both raised their bottles. After they drank, the two noticed Flossy and Jang coming in, with the reporter and cameraman following. “Well, now,” Guru observed. “If Flossy and Jang weren't targets already, they are now.”

The XO nodded, just as Colonel Brady came over. “Major, Captain,” the MAG-11 CO said. “Smitty, the usual.” After the barkeep handed Brady a Bud, he said to Guru. “Major, you've got an all-female ace team. Isn't that a first?”

“First in the squadron, for sure,” Guru admitted. “Maybe in the whole Air Force for all I know. And Ms. Wendt's all over them.” He indicated the reporter, who was talking to both crewers, and there was much waving of hands as they demonstrated the kill that made Jang an ace.

Brady nodded. “Speaking of that reporter, tomorrow's her check ride, if I heard you from last night.”

“It is, and Kara's taking her up,” Guru said, indicating Kara, who was talking with Dave Golen.

“And you've got the cameraman, Boss,” the Exec grinned. “Going to make him puke?”

The CO smiled. “Maybe, or see which one's made of sterner stuff,” he joked. “Seeing both of them puking on the ramp after it's over would be worth it.”

“I'd love to see that,” Ellis said. “Then again, maybe I will.”

“I'd like to see that as well, Major,” Brady added.

“Don't worry, sir,” said Guru. “One way or another, it'll be on film.”

Brady laughed. “No doubt, Major.” Then they noticed Frank coming in, and both he and Flossy exchanged looks. The glare she sent his way spoke volumes. “Those two don't like each other, I've heard.”

“No, sir,” Guru said. “They do have a history, and it's not good.” He explained for a minute. “And everytime she sees him, it's the 'Don't fuck with me again' look.”

“And if looks were daggers, he'd be bleeding,” Ellis added.

Colonel Brady shook his head. “Major, If I were you, I'd shit-can him and send him packing. I do know why you can't, though.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru nodded. “But...if either my flight surgeon finds something that requires him to be sent away for some tests-and after that, he's flying a desk someplace. Or, Sundown Cunningham pays a visit sometime between now and Christmas? Frank gets booted off this base so fast he never knows what hit him.”

“To be wished for, anyway,” Mark Ellis said. “Or he has a fuckup in the air, and winds up in front of a General Court-Martial. Or gets himself-and only himself-killed.”

“Either answer can be graded as correct, sir,” said Guru.

Brady gave a sympathetic nod. “No doubt, Major. You people have a good rest of the evening, and if you're not on Zulu Alert, sleep in tomorrow.”

“Here's hoping,” Guru said. “Thank you, sir.” He then shook hands with his Exec, then went to the table his flight used. “Looks like Jang's getting some attention.”

Kara nodded. “Not every day you get just a backseat ace only,” she said. “Wonder if it was like this for Chuck DeBellevue or Jeff Feinstein?” Kara was referring to the AF's top aces in Southeast Asia, both of whom had six kills-all from the back seat.

“Probably,” KT said. “Where's Goalie?”

“She went to get the papers,” Sweaty replied as Goalie came back to the table.

“Got the L.A. Times for the CO, Orange County Register for me,” Goalie said, tossing the papers on the table. “And who wants USA Today and Stars and Stripes?”

“I'll take USA,” said Hoser. And as he did, his flightmates watched as the first place he went was the sports section. Even though pro and college sports had been curtailed due to the war, there was still enough to keep sports fans interested, as well as entertaining those on the Home Front as well as the front lines. But he did give the front page to his element lead.

“Stars and Stripes for me,” Kara said, and Goalie handed her the paper.
“Not much happening,” Sweaty said, reading USA Today's front page. “Though Proxmire's scandal got a little wider.”

“Got that here,” Guru said. “Page one in the L.A. Says here one of his aides turned, and he's cooperating with the FBI.”

“Wouldn't you?” Brainiac asked. “Especially when not flipping means life in Marion or a needle.”

“No-brainer there,” the CO admitted. “Jerry Brown's making an ass of himself again. We didn't call him 'Governor Moonbeam' for nothing, you know.”

Goalie looked at him, then the Orange County Register's front page. “Same here. Says he's going to run for the Democratic nomination next year.”

“If he wants to commit political suicide, he's welcome to do it,” Guru replied. “Your story say he's running as a peace candidate?”

“It does. He's saying that someone needs to run as a peace candidate, and he's going to be one.”

“Well, he made an ass of himself in '80,” said Guru. “Might as well do it again.” With those expected to run staying out, and for good reason, Guru knew, the ones who didn't get much traction in normal years were probably going to run. Though anyone who went up against Bush was going to regret it. Very.

Kara looked up from Stars and Stripes' international news section. “They had a free-for-all in West Berlin.”

“A riot?” Sweaty asked, and Kara nodded. “How big?”

“Pretty big rumble, I'd say. The pro-neutralists-and they were waving red and black flags, mind-had about 50,000. The anti-neutralists had about the same. Lots of property destruction, and the usual arrests.”

“Of the pro-Reds, I'll bet,” Goalie said. “Speaking of Germany, the Bundeswehr exercise is still going.”

“The coup's coming,” said Preacher. “When?”

“That's the question for Final Jeopardy,” Guru quipped.

Dave Gledhill then came over. “Heard this on the BBC's shortwave. The Italian Prime Minister was assassinated.”

“What?” Sin Licon said from a nearby table.

“That's right. Seems the chap was wavering, thinking about tossing the neutralist partners in their government. The Red Brigades claimed they did the job.”

“Meaning the KGB issued the hit,” Goalie said. “And they pulled the trigger.”

“That's about the size of it.”

Then the Mess crew arrived, bringing the meals whose prep had been supervised by the restauanteurs who had taken over the Marines' mess operation-with Colonel Brady's blessing. “People, we've got Bison meat loaf, or Chicken done Tex-Mex style, with all the fixin's. Come and get it.

After people got what they wanted, it was time for the CBS Evening News. After Walter Cronkite came on, the lead was about the Proxmire scandal. “Why doesn't Proxmire just quit?” Don Van Loan asked.

“The farmers in Wisconsin do like the milk subsidies he gets them,” the XO replied. “If he has any sense, he'll just announce he's not running for reelection.”

“If,” Cosmo spat. She had good reason to despise the Senator, even more than those who had been in the military prewar.

Then the news turned to the stalled battle lines in Texas, where, from the desert of West Texas all the way to the Louisiana and Arkansas state lines, things had settled down to a stalemate. That was followed by a carrier raid on Alaska, and the riot in West Berlin. After that, news from Rome, where the pro-neutralist Italian Government was running into trouble-namely, the Interior Minister and the Finance Minister quitting due to a sex scandal in the FM's case, and the Interior Minister's brother being arrested as a member of the Red Brigades terrorist group.

“About time,” Guru observed. “When West Germany and Italy go, the neutralists are finished.”

“That'll be the day,” Colonel Brady said.

The newscast concluded with an On the Road segment, with Charles Kuralt visiting Cape Hattaras, North Carolina. There, a Coast Guard station was keeping watch, not just for hazards of the sea, but also Soviet subs and Spetsnatz swimmers. “Found a few of those guys a month or so ago,” a Coast Guardsman said. “Kept 'em occupied until some Marines from LeJune came to finish the job.”

Kuralt then visited a British Cemetery at Ocracoke Island, where four British sailors whose armed trawler had been sunk by a U-Boat off the Cape in 1942 had been laid to rest, and several new graves had been added-for a British frigate escorting a convoy bound for Charleston had been sunk by a Soviet sub, and eight bodies had washed ashore. Just as in 1942, the locals had opened their hearts to their country's allies. So eight British seamen now joined their fellow sailors at rest on American soil, far from home.

Cronkite then gave his trademark closing. “And that's the way it is. For all of us at CBS News, good night.”

After the newscast ended, Guru stood up. “Colonel, if you don't mind, I've got some squadron business to take care of.”

“Go right ahead, Major,” Brady said.

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said. He then nodded to Doc, who produced a hat. “For one flight, Twelve-Hour starts now. Then another in two hours, and so on. For these are the stiffs who are going to pull Zulu Alert tomorrow. Yeah, I know, it's a stand-down, with wind and rain most of the day, but up at Angels Twenty, it's CAVU. Doc's got the hat, and the flight leads draw.” Guru then went over to Doc, and as CO, drew first. He read the slip of paper. “Noon to 1400,” he said.

“Last Call's at midnight, so..” Kara grinned.

“It is. “XO?”

Mark Ellis came up, and drew. “1000 to Noon,” he said.

Guru nodded, then turned to Van Loan. “Ops?”

Don Van Loan came up, and drew. “Great. 1400 to 1600.”

“My turn, and please let it be 1600-1800,” Kerry Collins said as his turn came up. No such luck. “0800 to 1000.”

Guru grinned, then said, “Okay, now two elements will handle the last two: 0600 to 0800, and 16 to 18. Your turn, Dave,” he said to Dave Golen.

The IDF Major came up, and Doc stirred the pot. Then it was time to draw. “I'm lucky. 1600-1800.”

“That leave two element leads left. T-Bone and Frank,” the CO said. “Frank, you're senior, so you first.”

There was silence-even from the Marines and Navy there-as the most hated man in the 335th, as well as MAG-11, made his draw. A groan followed. “0600 to 0800,” Carson said.

“Okay, T-Bone and the rest? Congratulations. You all get the whole day off,” Guru said. “Doc will remind each element or flight when Twelve-Hour kicks in for you.”

Doc Waters spoke next. “Frank, that means now for your people.”

The snotty Major nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Understood, Doc.” At least the order came from someone who he actually respected, and not that upstart who was CO.

“One other thing, people!” Guru said. “Jang, stand and be recognized.”

“Uh-oh...” several people muttered.

Jang stood up, with Flossy, Dave Golen, and Terry McAuliffe close by. “Major,” she nodded.

“All right, folks, Jang, here, became a backseat ace today. Thanks to Flossy's flying and some East German who thought at low level, he could take on an F-4. The two of you proved him wrong, and he became Flossy's seventh, and your fifth,” the CO said. “So, that means, Jang, you're now a certified, card-carrying aerial assassin, and nobody can take that away from you!”

“Thanks, Major,” Jang beamed. She then laughed as Buddy, the squadron's mascot came to her.

“ARF!” The dog barked, and everyone laughed.

“Even the dog approves,” Dave Gledhill observed.

“He does,” said Guru. “Except for Frank's element, drink up!” Guru then went to the bar and got a plate of nachos and another beer. When he got back to the table, Kara had already left. “Kara's gone to hold court.”

“She did,” Sweaty replied. “One of the RAF Rockape officers challenged her.”

“This I have to see,” Guru said, and then Dave Gledhill came up. “Dave,” he nodded.

“I warned you about the Rockapes,” the Squadron Leader reminded the 335th's CO.

Both combatants laid down their money, and though it was close, the RAF officer won out. Kara paid him, then came over in a rage. “Where'd he learn to play?”

“You'd have to ask him that,” Gledhill said. Though he was pleased to see the Wild Thing taken by one of his people.

“Watch it,” Guru told him. “She'll get slightly drunk, then challenge another to show it wasn't a fluke.”

Almost as if she had heard her CO, Kara went and got another beer. She downed half of it, then went back to the pool table. Another RAF Regiment officer challenged her, and again, she accepted. This time, her skills were superior, and the RAF man was out $50.00. “Next!”

Karen McKay turned to Goalie. “She's always like this?”

“Especially after she loses,” said Goalie. “Kara goes and beats the next three or four to show that the guy who beat her was lucky.” And I'm glad I never played with her after the first night, Goalie silently added. How many student hangouts near Auburn banned her because of her skills, she wondered.

True to form, Kara then dispatched a transiting C-130 driver doing an RON, his navigator, and to top things, VA-135's XO. “Are you satisfied?” She asked the crowd, echoing one Wild Bill Hickock after a gunfight.

“Anyone beat her more than once?” McKay asked.

“Three have. And all three have stars on their shoulders,” Goalie grinned. “General Tanner, General Olds, and you missed him by a day, General Yeager.”

The night went on, and when it was almost 2200, Goalie came to the table and found Guru there, nursing his fourth beer. “Well?”

“Been a long day,” Guru said. “Some air-to-air, Jang an ace, and oh, by the way, we still haven't lost anyone, the one RAF loss excepted.”

“Yet,” Goalie said. “Sooner or later, though....”

“Yeah.”


A few minutes later, Kerry Collins and Ryan Blanchard got up to leave, with Ryan slinging her M-16. “I think I know what they have in mind.” Guru said.

“So do I,” said Goalie. She was looking forward to some of that herself.

Then Don Van Loan and Sweaty went by, and their expressions showed to anyone watching what they had in mind. Guru nodded, finished his beer. “Well, I'm done for tonight.”

“Not necessarily,” Goalie reminded him as her own expression grew coy, and Flossy and Scorpion left, with similar intentions.

“I know what you mean,” said Guru. “Mark? You all have a good night, and sleep in. Get up when you feel like it.”

“That an order?” Kara asked.

“Why not?” Guru said. Then he and Goalie left the Club and headed to the CO's tent. On the way, they passed Don Van Loan's, and the sounds of passion could be heard from it. High and loud. “They're getting it on.”

“Can we be as loud?” Goalie wanted to know.

“One way to find out,” Guru said as they went into the CO's tent. When they got in, Guru went to an ice chest and got out some 7-UP, thanks to Chief Ross and the scroungers. “Still can't get any champagne, Ross said.”

“Enough of that,” Goalie said. She unzipped her flight suit, and Guru saw there was nothing beneath.

“You came prepared,” he said as she came to do the same to him.

“Always,” said Goalie, then when finished, they went after each other.


In the shadows nearby, a figure was listening. All four couples among the aircrews were....together. He smiled, and jotted down some notes. Doc Waters grinned, for he had told the CO what he planned to do after the war. Namely, do a journal article, and someone might find how wartime romances went with fighter pilots to be....interesting. Doc smiled to himself, took a few more notes, then left for his own tent and rack.