[Matt Wiser]

First part of the stand-down....



335th TFS, Sheppard AFB, Texas; 23 November 1987: 0725 Hours Central War Time:

The sound of rain hitting the roof of the tent finally woke its occupants up. Sort of, anyway. Guru opened his eyes, then looked at his watch, then the clock on the nightstand he had next to his camp bed. 0725, he saw. He turned in bed, and found Goalie still asleep, or at least, trying to get back to sleep, the covers having slid off her chest and belly during the night-and what a night it had been. How many times did they do it, Guru wondered, before they did fall asleep. Then at least once during the middle of the night, and again an hour or so before. Well, we did want to make up for lost time, he thought as Goalie finally woke up, sitting up in bed. “And good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied, still groggy. “What time is it?”

“It's 7:25,” he said. “And it's still raining.”

“Gee, I left my ten-gallon hat at home,” she joked. “Feel worn out?”

Guru chuckled. “Very. And we'll probably get worn out again tonight, knowing both our moods.”

“Eat, drink, and be merry...” Goalie started.

“For tomorrow they may not separate us from the rest of the airplane,” he finished. “Yeah. First things first, though. Got to slay the armchair warriors.”

“Ugh,” Goalie said. “Don't those people ever give up?”

“No. Then we've got the alert stint from Noon to 1400, then Kara and I are taking the reporter and cameraman up.”

“And seeing the reporter puking on the ramp would be worth seeing,” Goalie laughed. “I'll bring my camera.”

“Do that, and doesn't Kara have a camcorder?”

“She does,” Goalie said. Though she wondered what Kara had videotaped with it. Then again, did she want to know? Probably not.

“Tell her to bring it. Twenty years from now-if we're all still alive-we can relive that at squadron reunions.”

Goalie nodded as she got out of bed and began to get into her flight suit. “Will do.”

“Okay, see you at breakfast. And if Kara's not there....” said Guru.

“Then we know where she is and what she's up to,” Goalie smiled as she finished dressing. “See you in a few.” Then she headed out, into the rain and for her own tent, then a shower.

Guru nodded after she left. “Yeah.” Then he got up, threw on a raincoat, got his things, and ran for the shower.

After the shower, he went to breakfast, and found Don Van Loan and Sweaty sharing a table, with Kara and Hoser already there. “Well, Boss,” Kara grinned. “Now I know why Goalie didn't come home last night.”

“How about you? Have a, uh, 'collection'?” Guru asked as he dug into his breakfast; chicken-fried steak (well, bison steak, really), eggs, hash browns, and toast.

“Nope, strictly voluntary,” Kara said. “But we did use the supply tent.”

“This time it was voluntary,” Sweaty muttered.

“This time,” Van Loan agreed as Goalie and Dave Golen came. “Morning, Dave,” he said.

“Morning,” the IDF “Observer” said as Goalie sat down next to the CO. “I see everybody's a little tired this not-so-fine morning. Does it always rain like this in Texas?”

“When it does, it does,” Guru said, sipping his coffee. “Be glad it's not hurricane season. When one of those slams into the Gulf Coast? Half the state can get a good soaking.”

“Be glad it's not tornado season,” Mark Ellis added as he came over. “First Cav was about to attack a town in the Panhandle-Hereford, I think it was, and the Russians there were going to make a stand. Storm developed, and a tornado smacked into the town. Killed some locals, killed some Russians, and both groups were still picking up the pieces when 1st Cav arrived. By the time the Russians realized the Cav was there, it was too late. So they ran up a white flag, and after they were disarmed, the Cav kept them at work, clearing the debris and searching for survivors.”

“I'll take the hurricane, thanks,” Dave Golen said. “That, you have advance notice, and can fly away from.”

“We are in Tornado Country,” Don Van Loan said. “They had one here in '79 that killed a few people, and tore up quite a bit.”

“And if we get warning of a tornado?”

“Clear the field of everything that can fly,” said Guru. If we can, he silently added.


After breakfast, the CO went to his office, and when he got there, he found Digger, Flossy's regular GIB, taking his turn as SDO. “Digger,” Guru said. “How's the ankle?”

“Comin' along fine, Boss,” Digger replied. He had been grounded due to a severe ankle sprain several days prior, and Jang had taken his place in Flossy's back seat.

Guru nodded. “That's good. Doc clear you?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, when he does, you may not go back to Flossy. She and Jang are doing mighty good together.”

“I heard, Boss,” Digger said. “Saw she got Jang to backseat ace. Flossy say anything about wanting me back?”

Guru shook his head. “No, and to be honest, I haven't thought about asking her. I'll talk to her today and see if she does want you back. If so, fine. If not, I do want to pair you up with a newbie pilot.”

“Babysit a new pilot?” Digger asked. He knew that vets did get paired up with new pilots or GIBs, because they had a habit of keeping both of them alive long enough for the FNG to become a veteran.
“Did it myself when Goalie reported,” Guru reminded him. “Colonel Rivers had the same policy when he was CO.”

Digger nodded. “And that turned out fine,” he said. “Okay, who?”

“Not sure yet. Make that call in a day or so.”

“Fair enough, Boss.” Then he got down to business. “XO's in your office, and folks have been sitting alert.”

“All right, thanks.” Guru then went to his office, saying a few pleasant words to his secretary, then he went in. “Mark,”

“Boss,” the XO said. “Got the usual admin stuff for you.” He handed the CO a clipboard and a pen. “Morning report for both Tenth Air Force and MAG-11.” The 335th was still a USAF squadron, and so they sent the AF admin stuff to Nellis, and the OPCON-related material to MAG-11.

Guru signed both papers. “That's done. What else?”

“Weather,” Ellis nodded. “Here's the update.” He handed the CO the weather report.

“Turning to showers, clearing by afternoon. Cloud tops out at 15,000.” The CO grinned. “Then I can give our friends from the news media a check ride.”

“And I'll be there on the ramp when you get back,” said Ellis. “Seeing the reporter puke.”

“One can hope,” the CO smiled. “Anything else?”

“Supply requisitions.” The XO handed the CO the forms. “How they managed it, I have no idea, but two refurbished J-79 engines are coming to us,” he said. “Plus the other stuff.”

“Hmm....” Guru said, scanning the list. “Fifty cases of fruit cocktail?”

Ellis said, “I saw that myself. The scroungers need it for horse-trading.”

“Fair enough,” said Guru. “Oh, before I forget. Get Chief Ross and Airman Kellogg over here.”

“Now?”

“Might as well get this over with,” the CO said, dreading some of what he'd have to say to the young airman.

“Will do.”

“And stay when they get here.”

The XO nodded. He knew what would be happening, and having a shoulder for Kellogg to cry on-if necessary-or two, would be a good thing. “I'll get them.”

A few minutes later, Chief Ross and Airman Kellogg came in. “Reporting as ordered, sir,” Ross said as both saluted.

Guru returned the salute, and nodded. “As you were. Kellogg, I'm afraid I have some bad news.”

“My folks?” Kellogg asked. His parents had stayed behind when the Soviets were approaching Wichita Falls during the drive north to the Red River and beyond, and had been arrested during the occupation.

“Nothing definite,” the CO said. “But it looks like they're in that mass grave.”

Kellogg said nothing for a moment, and Guru, the XO, and Chief Ross were expecting him to break down and start crying. But he was sterner than that. “What do they know, sir?” He said, showing some maturity beyond his sixteen and a half years. Maybe the time in the refugee camp in Wyoming and AF basic training had drilled that into him.

“All we know is that, thanks to the Chief's OSI contact, Ivan kept records of those they arrested, and those they either sent off to a labor camp somewhere, or even released. And your folks are on the arrest list, but not the labor camp or release one.”

The XO looked at the Chief. “They destroyed the execution records?”

“My OSI guy says it looks that way, sir,” Ross said. “The local KGB and DGI were pretty thorough in destroying what they wanted to destroy.”

“And the bodies, sir?” Kellogg asked.

“Captain Blanchard had a look at the grave-she's an ex-cop, by the way. She said the FBI told her that Ivan made everyone strip before being bound, blindfolded, and shot. So no ID on the bodies. And the deeper you go in the grave? The more decomposed the bodies are,” Guru said. He didn't add that the more recent bodies all showed signs of torture before they had been shot, but no need to tell Kellogg that.

“So they're in the grave?” Kellogg said, his voice shaky.

Guru nodded, then came and put his hands on the airman's shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Kellogg. “Sir, next time you go out on a mission? Make those bastards pay.”

The CO nodded. “We'll do just that,” he said. “Chief, any word on the siblings?”

“Mixed, sir,” Ross said. “No word on your brother, but there may be a lead on your sister. My OSI friend says a Jennifer Kellogg, who gave her home state as Texas, joined the Air Force a week after the invasion, out of Little Rock.”

“It might be her....” Kellogg said.

“Maybe,” Guru said. “Chief, your OSI pal certain of this?”

Ross nodded. “Not enough to take into court, but he's pretty certain. He hasn't gotten a reply on the SSN, but should in a week or so.”

“All right,” the CO said. “Kellogg? If you want to take the rest of the day off? You have my permission to do just that. In fact, you may also want to talk to a Sky Pilot, if that's what you think you need to do.”

“Sir, I'd like to stay busy, because work keeps my mind off of that, but...” Kellogg said. “I'll see a chaplain after lunch.”

“Good,” Guru said. “Now, why don't you wait outside for a minute or two? The XO, Chief, and I have a couple of things to talk about.”

“Yes, sir,” Kellogg said, saluting.

Guru returned it, and after Kellogg left, he turned to both Ellis and Chief Ross. “Keep an eye on him. Both of you, and pass that to Kev O'Donnell.” Capt. Kevin O'Donnell was the squadron's Maintenance Officer.

“Will do, Boss,” the Exec replied.

“Yes,sir,” Ross added.

Guru nodded. “Thanks, Chief.”

“Sir,” Ross said, then he left the office, taking Kellogg with him.

“Well?” Guru asked his XO.

Ellis shook his head. “Not so sure I would've been as calm. Then again, this is something they don't teach in any officer training.”

Guru nodded, this time grimly. “No. Now, to brighter things. You've got an alert stint in ten minutes.” He looked at the clock on his office wall, which said 0950. “Time to round up your people, gear up, and sit around hoping that siren doesn't sound.”

“And your people relieve us in two hours.”

“That we do,” said Guru. “Just stay away from the suggestion of pork tri-tip. There's been a few fools around here who seem to like that crap.”

“They brave, foolish, or suicidal?” Ellis asked as he opened the office door.

“Any of the three can be graded as correct,” Guru said dryly. He did wonder about that F-20 guy, Pruitt, who seemed to enjoy those. Did the kid-and he certainly looked like an eighth-grader in a flight suit-have a cast-iron stomach or a death wish?


While the Exec gathered his flight, and started his alert stint, Guru called up the members of his own flight, and told them to go ahead and get lunch when the Officer's Mess opened back up at 1100. For if the siren sounded, and they did have to scramble, he wanted everyone to have eaten already. While waiting, he finished attacking his paperwork. The CO was finished just after 1100 when there was a knock on his door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

The door opened and it was Goalie, with two plastic bags in one hand, and a carrier with drinks in the other. “Beware Romulans bearing gifts.”

“You said it yourself: you're not much of a Trekkie,” Guru said. “What's for lunch?”

“Bison burgers,” she replied. “With fries and lemonade.”

“Good. Let's eat,” said Guru. “Because we relieve Mark's people in less than an hour.”

Over lunch, they discussed squadron-related matters, including those who had already taken their turn on alert. “Any word on how Frank's element did?” Goalie asked.

“No, and I'm tempted to find out,” Guru said, in between bites. Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Come in and show yourself!”

1st Lt. Brian Slater, Frank's GIB, came in. “Major,” he said, sketching a salute.

“Brian,” Guru said. “Anything wrong?” Anything dealing with Major Frank Carson, in his view, warranted serious attention.

“No, Major, everything's fine,” Slater replied. Though using Guru's rank while talking indicated how serious the subject was.

“How was the alert stint?”

“Fine, no problems, and he was busy writing a letter, and reading a couple,” Slater said. “Don't know who he was writing to.”

Goalie scowled. “Probably a letter to his dad, who'll then show it to Teddy Kennedy, complaining how a son of Boston is being treated by these....peasants in the Air Force.”

“No doubt,” Guru sighed. “Have you talked to him?”

You mean confronted him?” Slater asked. Seeing the CO nod, he said, “No, not yet.”

“Talk to him politely. Do it at lunch,” said Guru. “Remind him that he's not the only one who pays the price if he fucks up.”

“Will do,” Slater nodded. “And if he doesn't listen, I can confront him more forcefully.”

Smart guy, Guru thought. “Something like that.”

“I'll do that, Major.”

“Good. You have a good lunch, and good luck talking to Frank.”

“Thanks, Major,” Slater said. “I may need it.”

“You just might,” Guru replied.

After he left, Goalie looked at her pilot and lover. “Now, what's going to happen if he does confront Frank, and gets physical? You know, the old movie line of shoving Frank against the wall and saying 'What the hell are you doing?'”

Guru nodded. “Like I said: any write-ups Frank sends me get fed to the shredder.”

“Think Frank will wise up?”

“That, I doubt.”


The clock ticked on, and soon, it was 1145. “Getting close,” Goalie said.

“It is,” Guru noted. “Okay, pass the word to our flight. Time to gear up. Meet outside and we'll do a preflight of the alert birds.”

“And for you and Kara, you two stay geared up because of your, uh, 'check ride' with the gentlepersons of the press.” Though she respected the reporter and crew, Goalie's voice gave some contempt for the media as a whole.

“It'll be fun,” Guru grinned as he got up. “Just bring your camera, and Kara's camcorder, and you'll see the reporter at least stagger out of Kara's bird, looking for somewhere to puke.”

“Half the squadron's going to be waiting,” Goalie pointed out.

“More the merrier.”


Guru went to the Men's Locker Room to gear up. He was joined by the other male members of his flight, and when they came out, the women were waiting. They then went outside and found the four alert birds, locked and cocked. All four were new birds from Japan, The Ops Officer was there, waiting, as he had been there for the others doing alert. “Don,” Guru said.

“Boss,” Van Loan replied. “I see you're here to preflight.” It wasn't a question.

“Right you are,” the CO said. “So who gets what if the horn sounds?”

“You get the first on the left, then Kara, Sweaty, and Hoser, going down the line.”

Nodding, Guru went to “his” bird, 86-1476, and both he and Goalie did a preflight walk-around, then they mounted the aircraft, to make sure all the cockpit switches were set. That done, they got out, and with the rest of the flight, went back inside to the Main Briefing Room, where the alert crews sat. The Exec's flight was there, waiting. “Mark,” Guru said. “It's a couple of minutes early, but we're here to relieve you.”

“Then we stand relieved,” the Exec replied as he and his people got up. “How's lunch?”

“Bison burgers are an option.”

“Sounds good,” Ellis said as his flight left.

“Anything I should know?” Guru asked.

The XO shook his head. “Nada.”

With that, the CO's flight sat down and found ways to kill time. Guru had brought a paperback book, as did Goalie, while Kara sat down to play solitaire. Brainiac took a nap, while Hoser and KT attacked crossword puzzles, and Preacher had a Walkman. “Two hours of this,” Goalie said as she looked up from her book.

“Whatcha reading?” Sweaty asked. She was going through the Sears Christmas Catalog, doing her shopping.

“Splinter of the Mind's Eye, by Alan Dean Foster,” Goalie replied. “Star Wars, set between the original movie and Empire Strikes Back.”

Guru looked up from the book he was reading: The First and the Last by Adolf Galland. “I'd like to see more of that. Stuff set between the movies, before, or after.”

“Well, maybe after this war's over, Lucas'll get off his ass and do some more-or let authors do some writing.”

“Here's hoping. I'd love to see how they found out Boba Fett had delivered Han to Jabba's Palace, for one. And how did Vader find out not only that Luke was his son, but also took down the Death Star?”

Sweaty nodded agreement. “Good questions,” she said. “Maybe we'll find out in a few years.”

“If we all live that long,” Kara added.


While they were sitting alert, various people came in to talk to Guru about squadron business, and the same for Goalie and Kara, for they were Senior WSO and Deputy Ops Officer, respectively. Don Van Loan came in about 1330, and said to Guru, “Boss, your flight's regular birds are out of maintenance. How do you want 512 and 520 for the, uh, media's 'check rides'?

“Kara?” Guru asked. “What do you think?”

Kara thought for a moment. “No Sparrows, since they don't know how to work the radar controls,” his wingmate replied.

“I'll go along with that. How about four Sidewinders, full gun, and a centerline tank?”

“Works for me,” Kara said.

“All right, Don, tell Kerry Collins and get 512 and 520 set up,” Guru told the Ops Officer.

“Done,” Van Loan said. “When do you want Ms. Wendt and Mr. Scott?”

“1400 on the dot,” Guru said firmly. “Have 'em waiting outside the respective locker rooms. We'll get them geared up-and brief outside. No time for a leisurely brief, unlike a peacetime incentive ride.”

“On my way,” Van Loan replied. He headed out to inform the Ordnance Officer, and the two newsies.

The clock wound on, and it wasn't long until Van Loan and his flight came in, a few minutes early. “Don, you're early,” Guru said. The wall clock said 1355.

“Birds are checked out, you and Kara have an upcoming engagement, and you guys need to get ready for that,” Van Loan replied. “Kerry says your birds are ready to go.”

Guru nodded. “Thanks, Don. Then I stand relieved.”

“Too bad we're stuck here, otherwise I'd love to see you guys when you get back.”

“Kara, have Sweaty get your camcorder. We'll want this for the reunion.”

“Again, if we live that long,” Kara replied dryly. She nodded at Sweaty, who headed out-along with Goalie, who went after her personal camera.

Nodding, Guru and Kara then left the briefing room, and went to the locker rooms. They found Ms. Wendt and Mr. Scott waiting, in generic flight suits with no nametag. “You two sure you want to go through with this?” Guru asked the both of them as Lieutenant Patti Brown, the PAO, arrived with an airman carrying the squadron's camcorder.

“Wouldn't miss this for the world,” Ms. Wendt said.

“I've been in choppers, but never in a fighter,” Scott added. “Make an interesting comparison.”

“Fair enough,” Guru said. “Then let's get you two geared up.”

They went into the respective locker rooms, where the newsies were fitted with harnesses, G-Suits, and helmets. Then they went outside, where Guru and Kara gave a brief rundown on SAR procedures, and on how to use the PRC-90 survival radio. It was then time to walk to the aircraft, and when they got there, there was quite a crowd, for word had gone around. AF, Navy, Marine, and RAF aircrew were gathered around, waiting. And among them was Colonel Brady. “Major,” Brady said. “Just wanted to see how this starts.”

“Well, sir,” Guru replied. “Not much at the start, but when we get back...” He looked at the two civilians. “Seeing how they handle turning and burning, that's going to be worth seeing.”

“No doubt, Major,” Brady grinned. “Now get airborne.”

“Yes, sir!”

Guru and Mr. Scott went to 512, and Scott showed the CO a Sony 8-mm camcorder, small enough to hold in one hand, and able to fit in the cockpit. Guru nodded approval, and Kara came over, for Ms. Wendt had a similar camera. Seeing the CO approve, she went back to 520.

Guru then did the preflight walk-around, and Scott shot some footage, then it was time to mount the aircraft. After Mr. Scott got in, he got his helmet on, then both the CO and Sergeant Crowley, the CC, helped him get strapped in. “Okay, Mr. Scott. Don't touch anything, hang on, and you'll be fine. Now, if we have to bail out, I'll say 'Eject, eject, eject.' You've got a handle on either side of the seat, and the face curtain. Understood?”

“Understood,” Scott replied.

“Major?” Sergeant Crowley said. “Captain Thrace wants you over at 520.”

“On my way,” Guru said. He walked over, and found Kara helping Ms. Wendt get strapped in. “All set?”

“Just about,” Kara said. “Ready, Ms. Wendt?”

“Ready, but what if we have to eject?” The reporter asked.

“I'll say 'Eject, eject, eject,” said Kara. “You know the ejection handles or the face curtain. Pull either one and out you go.”

The reporter looked at Guru, then Kara. “Do I say 'roger,' or 'will do', or what?”

“If that happens, you'll be talking to yourself,” Kara grinned, and she saw the CO do the same. “Because I'll be gone.” Then she helped Ms. Wendt close the canopy.

“She will be,” Guru said, grinning himself. “Kara? We're Corvette Lead and Zero-two, respectively. Meet at ten grand overhead.”

“As usual,” Kara replied as she got into her own seat. “See you up there.”

Guru nodded, then went back to 512, noting that the crowd had gone back, clear of the ramp. He saw that the CC had helped Mr. Scott close and lock the rear canopy. Then he climbed into his own aircraft, put on his helmet, and went through the preflight. When Sergeant Crowley gave the “Start engines” signal, he started one, then the other, J-79 engines. When the warm-up was complete, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Corvette Lead with two, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Corvette Lead, Tower. Clear to taxi to Runway Three-five-Lima. Hold prior to the active, and you are number one in line.”

“Roger, Tower. Corvette Lead rolling.” He gave a thumbs-up to Crowley, who gave the “Taxi” signal. Guru gave him another, and the CC signaled to the ground crew, who pulled away the wheel chocks. The CO then taxied out of the revetment, and as usual, Crowley snapped a salute. Guru returned it, then he taxied to the runway, with 520 right behind. They got to the holding area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties.

“What's their job?” Mr. Scott asked.

“They take care of the weapon safeties,” Guru said. “Those Sidewinders? They're now live.” Then he called the Tower. “Tower, Corvette Lead requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Corvette Lead, Tower,” the controller replied. “Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are two-seven-one for five.”

“Roger, Tower.” Guru taxied onto the runway, and Kara followed in 520. He did a quick cockpit check, and glanced over to 520, where Kara gave a thumbs-up, and the reporters did the same. “Ready?” He asked Scott.

“Whenever you are, Major,” Scott replied. He was bracing for the takeoff.

“All right,” Guru said. Then he called the Tower. “Tower, Corvette Lead requesting clear for takeoff.”

As usual, the Tower flashed a green light. Clear for takeoff.

“Canopy coming down,” Guru said. He closed and locked his own canopy, and saw that Kara had done the same. “All set back there?” He asked Scott one last time.

“Ready,” Scott said.

Guru then looked over at 520, where all was ready. Kara gave another thumbs-up to show she was ready to go. “Then let's go.” He firewalled the throttles, released the brakes, then 520 thundered down the runway and into the air, with 520 right alongside. They met up at FL 100, just beneath the cloud deck, then headed west for the old Scud Box.