[Matt Wiser]

Thanks very much! There's a cameo by a real-life Russian AF officer in this next segment, and can anyone guess what the guy did in our timeline?



South of the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex: 1330 Hours:


Firebird Flight was at low-level once again, and headed east. They were south of Fort Worth, and had just crossed I-35W. The meetup with the Weasels had gone off, and Major Wiser had found that the lead Weasel, Coors One-three had two HARMs and two Shrikes, while Coors One-four had two HARMs and two Standard-ARMs. The Weasels were just ahead and above, while the F-4Es were tucked in tight, in two elements as they headed east.

“Two minutes to 35E,” Goalie called from 512's back seat.

“Copy,” Guru said. He was keeping his head on a swivel, watching the sky, watching his instruments, “Man, would you kill to have the displays in this bird that the F-15E's supposed to have?”

“I would,” Goalie replied. She, like the other GIBs, was handling the navigation. “Make my job a lot easier. One minute.”

“One minute,” Guru called. They were at 450 feet AGL, and doing 500 Knots. So far, there was no sign of SAM or MiG activity, but he knew from experience that could change in a heartbeat. Then another interstate appeared. It was I-35E. “Thirty-five E dead ahead.

“Roger. Your next turn point is I-45. One minute.”

“I-45 in one,” Guru acknowledged.

It didn't take long until the twin ribbons of I-45 appeared, and right then and there, Guru was wishing armed reconnaissance was their mission, for there was a supply convoy headed north. “And turning.”

“U.S. 175 in one minute forty-five,” Goalie said. “Right past Kaufman.”

“Copy.” Guru said. So far, no SAMs or MiGs. But soon, it'd be time to go to work. He looked around, and saw Kara's bird tucked in nice and tight, at his Four O'clock.

“Kaufman dead ahead,” Goalie called. That was the IP. Twelve miles to target, forty-five seconds.

“Roger that,” Guru said. Then he made the call. “Firebird flight, ready, ready...PULL! Switches on, music on, and time to go to work.”

“Two copies,” Kara.

“Three, roger,” Sweaty.

“Four,” Hoser.

“Firebird lead, Coors,” the Weasel leader called. “Time for us to go to work.”

“Copy that, Coors. Get some.” Guru said. He turned on his own ECM pod. “Switches set?” He asked Goalie.

“All set. Everything in one pass.”

“Good girl,” Guru said as he pulled up to 1200 feet AGL. That was bending it for the SA-2, but the Weasels should be able to kill the SA-2's Fan Song F radar.

Up ahead, Coors One-three fired his first HARM missile, and that HARM took out a nearby P-40 search radar that not only served the SA-2 site, but the AAA batteries near the airport. A second HARM forced the SA-2 to shut down, while he began to orbit. His wingmate, Coors One-four, fired a Standard-ARM at the SA-2, unknown to him, and unfortunately for the Soviet SAM operators, the AGM-78 went right to the Fan Song radar, and the AGM-78's big 214-lb warhead blew the radar apart.

Just then, the AAA batteries near the airport came up, and fortunately for the inbound raiders, only one had a Firecan fire-control radar, and as it came up, a HARM came down on it, killing the radar, and causing casualties among the AA gunners.

At Terrell Airport, the MiG-23MLAs of the 85th Guards Fighter Regiment (GIAP) were sitting on the ramp at the west side of the field. Their three squadrons had only just arrived in Texas, and it was proving to be everything they had been told about the place. And all of it bad. From locals who hated their guts, guerrillas who took pot shots at sentries at night, and could be counted on to mortar the field on a regular basis, and then there were the Americans in the air, whose F-14s, F-15s, and F-16s were every bit as dangerous as their intelligence briefings had told them. Some of the pilots were wishing they'd paid more attention to what the Su-25 pilots of the 452nd Independent Ground-Attack Regiment (OshAP) had told them about “this wonderful place called Texas.” Then the alert siren sounded, and the alert pilots ran for their aircraft. They were just getting strapped in when one of them looked to the south. The smoky trails and the chevron tail were obvious. F-4s were coming in.

“Lead's in!” Guru said. He'd pulled up to attack altitude, lined up the runway and ramp area in the pipper, and rolled in. “Steady, steady....”

“Flak coming up,” Goalie said. She'd noticed the 57-mm guns starting to shoot.

“Not this time, Ivan...” Guru muttered. “And...HACK!” He hit the pickle button, and walked his dozen Mark-82 Snakeyes across the field. He pulled away, and called, “Lead's off target.”

At the airport, the sirens were sounding and those personnel still out in the open were running for cover as Guru's F-4 came in. Two of the 2nd Squadron, 85th GIAP's MiG-23s were taxiing to takeoff when the F-4 walked its bombs across the field, and not only had several of his bombs hit either Su-25s or MiG-23s, but at least two had blasted holes in the runway. The leader taxied to the end of Runway Three-Five, but didn't notice the second F-4 coming in...

“SHACK!” Goalie said as Guru pulled off target. She could see several fireballs as parked aircraft exploded. “We got secondaries!”

“Save it for later,” Guru said. He turned north for I-30.

“Two's in hot!” Kara called. She rolled in, and as she did so, she saw two MiG-23s attempt a takeoff roll. Ignoring the flak, she released her bombs and pulled away to the north. “Two's off.

The two MiG-23s had started to roll down the runway as Kara's F-4 came in. The wingman saw the bombs exploding ahead of him and aborted his takeoff, but the leader didn't. As his MiG went down the runway, his MiG got into a bomb crater and crashed, going up in a fireball.

“Good hits!” Brainac called to Kara from 520's back seat. “And we got a couple of fireballs.”

“Good enough,” Kara said. She turned to follow Guru north. The sooner they were north of I-30, the better.

“Three's in hot!” Sweaty called. She came in, and put her bombs to the right of where Guru had. Not only was most of the Su-25 regiment exposed, but several warehouses next to the airport were as well. “HACK!” She called as her twelve Mark-82s came off the airplane. As Sweaty pulled away, she saw her bombs rip into two of the warehouses, while several Su-25s were blasted apart by a couple of Mark-82s landing among them, and at least one of her bombs landed right on the runway for good measure. “Three's off.” She, too, headed north.

“Good hits!” Preacher said. “And there's secondaries.”

“Four's in!” Hoser called. He saw where his element leader had made her run, and he laid down his bombs perpendicular to hers, namely, going right down the runway, and though he was taking a chance with the AAA coming up, he wanted that runway. “HACK!” Hoser called as he flew down the runway. His bombs came off his F-4 as he overflew the runway, and both he and KT saw a MiG-23 parked on the runway, while a fire burned in the middle of a bomb crater. Not your day, Ivan....

The MiG pilot saw what happened to his leader, and with the tower not answering his calls, he decided to get out of the plane. He'd seen Sweaty's F-4 make its run, and ran for a slit trench west of the taxiway. He had just jumped in when Hoser made his run, The bombs marched down the runway, and when one of the bombs found his MiG-23, the plane blew apart. He ducked into the trench as the F-4 pulled up and away.

“Four's off,” Hoser called.

“Got a secondary,” KT said. “Must've been that MiG.”

“He didn't have a good day,” Hoser said as he headed north.

“Firebirds,” Guru called. “Form on me and let's egress. Coors, how's it going?”

“Keepin' 'em busy, Firebird,” Coors One-three said. “You guys get clear.” Clearly, the Weasels were living up to their motto of “First in, last out.”

“Copy that,” Guru said. Just then, Kara pulled her bird close to him in combat spread. Then both of them heard a call from Sweaty.

“Lead, Sweaty, BREAK! Bandit in your six.”

Guru and Kara immediately broke. Guru pulled up and did a cross-turn to the right, while Kara stayed low and did a turn to the left. As they did, both could see an Su-25 that had been right behind them. “Sweaty, Guru. You have him?”

“Got him, Lead,” Sweaty said. She lined the Su-25 up in her pipper and selected HEAT. She got a loud growl in her headset as the AIM-9P3 was tracking. “FOX TWO!” Sweaty called as she squeezed the trigger.

In that Su-25, Lt. Col. Alexander Rutskoi was cursing his luck. He'd had several chances for air-to-air action in his combat time in America, and had actually shot down two CH-47s and two Hueys, along with taking a shot several times at A-10s. Now, he'd been getting ready to land when the tower waved him off. The base was under attack. Colonel Rutskoi seized his chanced and got in behind the first two F-4s as they formed up. He armed his R-60 AAMs and checked his cannon ammo status. Enough. He was trying to lock up one of the Phantoms when he saw them suddenly break. How'd they spot him? Then he saw a missile trail fly past his aircraft. Now he was the hunted.

“Damn it!” Sweaty cursed. The first Sidewinder had simply “gone stupid” and not tracked. She lined up the Su-25 again and got tone. “Fox two again!” This time, the missile flew straight and true into the left engine of the Frogfoot and exploded. To her surprise, the Russian was still flying, though trailing smoke.

Colonel Rutskoi let out some curses of his own as the Sidewinder exploded ahead of him. He was turning his head, looking for his attacker, when a loud bang exploded behind him. Then his left engine light went on, along with a couple other warning lights. But the Rook, as the Su-25 was known to its pilots, was built to take punishment, like its American counterpart.

“Tough mother,” Sweaty muttered. She got good tone on her third missile. “FOX TWO!” Again, an AIM-9P shot off the rail. This one went right, then left and tracked the Su-25. As it did, she did a high yo-yo to maintain position behind the Russian. This time, though, it wasn't necessary, for the third missile flew right into the Su-25's right engine and exploded. After the explosion, she saw the canopy come off, the seat fire, and the pilot was in his chute. Then the Frogfoot just flew into the ground, exploding on impact. “SPLASH!”

“Good kill, Sweaty!” Hoser called.

“Whoo-hoo, Lead!” Kara called. “Looks like we got another new ace.”

“Save it for later,” Guru reminded her. “Let's egress. Coors, we're out of here.”

“Copy that, Firebird. We're on the way out.”

Colonel Rutskoi had felt and heard the second strike on his Rook. He knew he'd be ejecting for the third time in America when the right engine exploded and every light on his control panel came on. He pulled the handle on his K-36D ejection seat, and he was soon hanging in his chute. Rutskoi watched as Sweaty's F-4 pulled up and rolled, apparently so the crew could verify the kill, then the F-4 rolled back and headed north, followed by a second F-4, obviously the wingman. Now, as he drifted to earth, he saw Soviet soldiers converging on his parachute. Shouting every cuss word in Russian that he knew, the Colonel saw the soldiers put their weapons down. These motor-rifle blockheads thought every parachute was a downed American.....He landed, and the pain that shot through his ankle meant he'd broken it. As he stood up, though in pain, a Kazakh private came up, shouting “Stoi.” He replied with several choice cuss words in Russian, along with his rank, and the private lowered his AK-74 and motioned for him to follow.

Sweaty and Hoser joined up on Guru and Starbuck, and the Weasels were right behind them. It wasn't long until I-30, and the Weasels, just like the morning strike, they broke off to head for the tanker track. Firebird Flight, though, didn't need to refuel, and they headed back to Sheppard. After waiting in the pattern for two Marine flights and another 335th flight to land, and two more Marine flights to take off, they came in and landed.

Guru taxied 512 to its revetment, and popped the canopy. “Good one.”

“It was,” Goalie said. “We need to get one more, then I'll be an ace.”

“In time,” Guru replied as Sergeant Crowley brought the crew ladder. “Get some buckets of water, Sergeant. Lieutenant Blanchard's now an ace.”

“Yes, sir!” Crowley said. After attaching the ladder, the crew chief ran to fill a couple of buckets, while Guru and Goalie climbed down from the aircraft. They did a quick postflight check, then picked up the buckets. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thanks, Sergeant.” Guru said. He and Goalie headed towards the revetment where Sweaty's aircraft was parked. Kara and Brainac were waiting when they got there, and they, too, had water-filled buckets. Hoser and KT showed up just afterward, and all six converged on Sweaty and Preacher, who were demonstrating the kill with hand signs to their crew chief. The Staff Sergeant saw those bearing buckets,and backed away. “Sweaty,” Guru said.

“Major?” She asked, then she turned, seeing the six close in on her and her GIB. “Oh, shit.”

“For which we are about to receive, we thank you, “ muttered Preacher.

“Congratulations, Sweaty and Preacher!” Guru yelled as Sweaty and Preacher were drenched by their flight mates.

“Welcome to the club,” Kara said. “Like the Major said a while back: 'you only make ace once.'”

“Thanks, guys,” Sweaty said. “Guess we'll be celebrating something else tonight.”

“We will,” a voice said from behind Major Wiser. It was General Tanner, who was there along with his aide, and Colonel Allen Brady, the CO of MAG-11. “Looks like we've got another ace team.”

Guru and the others turned, and saw the three. “Whups,” Guru said, sketching a salute. “General.”

“Another pair of aces?” Tanner asked.

“Yes, sir!” Guru replied. “Looks like someone's buying a round for these two.”

“I'll take care of that one,” Colonel Brady said. “By the way, congratulations, Major.”

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said. “Been pretty busy today, and haven't had much time to notice.”

Both General Tanner and Colonel Brady nodded. “Understandable, Major,” Tanner said. “Get debriefed, and you've got time for one more mission today. Get that done, and get back here by 1700. Two hours before twelve-hour ought to be enough.”

“Yes, sir!' Major Wiser said,

Everyone got back into game mode, and on their way back to the squadron's offices, Guru stopped by 512 and informed Sergeant Crowley of his aircraft's condition. The crew chief was pleased that no problems or issues had come up, and that there was no battle damage. Then they went into the classroom they used, and found the SIO there, waiting. “Major,” Lieutenant Licon said. “How'd it go?”

“Tore up the airfield,” Guru said. “And Sweaty got her fifth.”

Licon nodded, then asked everyone to show their strike paths on a recon photo, and on an FAA chart of the field. “So you guys hit both ramp areas?”

“We did,” Kara said. “Got bombs on both the MiGs and the Su-25s. Too bad they don't credit ground kills like they did in World War II.”

“I'll go along with that,” Goalie said.

“Same here,” Sweaty added.”

“Okay,” Licon asked. 'How about resistance?”

“Just triple-A,” Guru said, and the others nodded. “Didn't have any SAMs, so the Weasels did their thing.”

“Flak optical or radar?”

“Optical, .looked like,” Sweaty said. “There was smoke coming from the center of the west battery. They had the radar, and must've taken a HARM or Standard-ARM.”

Licon nodded. “And the kill?”

“Su-25,” Sweaty nodded. “He pulled in right behind the CO's element, and I called the break. They broke away, and took the first shot with AIM-9. It missed, so I gave him two more.”

“Both hits?” Licon asked, and Sweaty nodded. “See a chute?”

“Canopy went off, and the seat fired. Then he was in his chute,” Preacher said.

“Witnesses?” Asked the SIO, and six hands shot up. “Okay,” he smiled. “I'll write that one up as confirmed, and it's official: you're now an ace,” Licon said to Sweaty.

Sweaty smiled back. “Thanks, Darren.”

“You're welcome. I'll see you guys later,” he said, then went to debrief the next mission.

“Now what?” Kara asked.

“I'll check with Van Loan and see what Ops has for us,” the CO said “Get something to eat, get some rest, and check your squadron paperwork. Be back here in an hour.”

Heads nodded. “Where you headed?” Goalie asked.

“Taking my own advice on the last,” Guru said. “This CO thing takes getting used to.” He reminded the flight to be back in an hour, then went to his office. He was pleased to see that there wasn't much, and after taking care of what there was, he decided to see what was in the special packet Colonel Rivers had left for him. After Rivers' death, Sergeant Ross had come to Guru the following day, with a key to one of Colonel Rivers' desk drawers. In a letter in a packet Rivers had left for him, Guru had been told to get the key from Ross. Though he'd done so, he hadn't had time to see what was in the drawer. Now Guru did.

He went to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, then unlocked the drawer. He got the packet, and opened it. There were a couple of Manila folders, and a note from Rivers. Guru, if you're reading this, get Carson's 201 File. Curious, Guru went to a file cabinet which had the officers' records and got Carson's file. He opened it, and went back and forth between the file and Rivers' material. “Son of a....this can't be right.” Guru went back and reread it. Then he read the other two folders. His jaw dropped. “Mother of God...” And the bile was forming in his stomach. “Of all the...” He'd had good reason to loathe Carson before, but now....And what to do?

Guru got up and thought for a moment. Nodding, he opened his office door and saw the Exec there. “Mark, I need to see you.”

“Getting ready to brief and then go,” Ellis replied. “What's up?”

“This can't wait, Mark.” The CO replied. “Push your mission back by an hour. Then come in here.”

Curious, Ellis nodded, and went to the Ops desk to postpone his mission. Then he came to the Major's office. “What is it?” Ellis asked, seeing the expression on Guru's face.

“Close the door,” Major Wiser said. “First, we never had this conversation, and you did not see this material. Understood?”

Ellis was curious. “Okay, what are we, uh, not talking about, and what am I not seeing?”

“Have a look,” Guru said, indicating the material on his desk.

Ellis gave a nod, then sat down and went over the material. It didn't take long for a look of revulsion to come across his face. “Now what?”