[Matt Wiser]

The next story, and yes, this is a multipart one.

Yeager's Arrival



335th Tactical Fighter Squadron HQ, Sheppard AFB, TX, 9 November, 1987, 1150 Hours Central War Time:

Major Matt “Guru” Wiser, the commanding officer of the 335th TFS, was in his office. He and his flight had flown two missions that morning, and all of them knew that there would be two more in the afternoon. “Same-old ,same-old,” he muttered to himself as he went over some paperwork that had come in while he had been in the air. Much to his disgust, the elves never took care of it when he was gone, so he attacked the papers. The CO had just put the last into his OUT box when there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Show yourself and come on in!”

The door opened and First Lieutenant Lisa “Goalie” Eichhorn, his Weapons-Systems Officer, and girlfriend, came in, with two plastic bags in hand, and a folder tucked in between her left arm and chest. “What's the old Star Trek saying? 'Beware Romulans bearing gifts?”

“You're not much of a Trekkie and neither am I,” Major Wiser said. “What's for lunch, and what's in the folder?”

“Fried chicken with Cole Slaw and mashed potatoes and gravy,” Goalie replied. “Lemonade to drink, and some not-so-good news about two WSOs,” she added. Her squadron job when not flying was as Senior WSO.

“The food can wait two minutes,” the CO said. “What's the, uh, not-so-good news?”

“For starters, Flossy needs a new WSO for a week. Digger, somehow, slipped and fell coming down the crew ladder after they got back. Sprained his ankle pretty good, and Doc Waters says he's lucky it's not broken.” Waters was their squadron's flight surgeon. “He's on light duty for a week.”

The CO was incredulous. “How the hell did that happen?”

“No idea, but he did it,” Goalie said. “Flossy has someone in mind to take Digger's place.”

“Who?”

“Jang,” replied. Goalie. She was referring to First Lieutenant Chloe “Jang” Winters. Jang had filled in for several WSOs who had been either on leave, or had been temporarily grounded due to medical issues, and was hoping to be assigned to a permanent crew.

Major Wiser thought for a minute. “Now, that gives us two 'unmanned' F-4s now. After Cosmo and Revlon. Which means our newsies are going to be all over them.”

“Two 'unmanned' F-4s in the same squadron? That'll make the news, all right,” Goalie said. “Run with it, or do you want me to find somebody else?”

“If Flossy wants Jang, go ahead. She's done good in temp slots, but you know as well as I do that the only way she'll get a permanent slot is if we lose somebody,” the CO pointed out.

“I'll tell Flossy, and have Jang ready to go,” Goalie said.

“How'd she get that call sign, though?” Major Wiser asked.

“Kingsley Field,” Goalie replied. Kingsley Field in Oregon was the West Coast F-4 Replacement Training Unit. “She was, uh, 'Just Another Non-Guy,'......”

The CO nodded. “And it stuck. Say no more. Okay, Flossy and Jang it is. What else is there? Because I'm hungry.”

Goalie looked at her CO-and lover. “Mark's GIB, Kicker, is with Doc right now. Doc thinks, but isn't sure, that Kicker has the Flu.” She meant First Lieutenant Kyle “Kicker” Edwards. He had gotten the call sign when his RTU classmates found out he had been a placekicker at the University of Nevada-Reno.

“The Flu?” Guru asked. “That's wonderful, and the last thing we need.”

“Doc's not sure, but...” Goalie said. “Hopefully, it's the 24-Hour kind.”

“Which can last three or four days, sometimes,” Guru added. “Okay, who does Mark want?

“Fridge.”

“Okay, he's asleep, right?” Fridge was alternating as Night-Shift SDO.

“He is. Want me to have a tentmate-and Brainiac is one of 'em, to wake him?” Goalie wanted to know.

The CO nodded. “Do it. Have him stay awake until 2100, then hit the sack with everyone else on the flight schedule. Zero-dark-thirty will be there before he knows it.”

“Will do,” Goalie said.

“Okay, let's eat.”


As they ate, they talked about the two missions they had flown that morning. And how the Libyans they had flown against on the second mission were “fat, dumb, and happy” with their supply convoys. Not to mention their habit of shooting Triple-A even after the last strike bird had egressed. “Those guys shoot like ammo's going to be outlawed in the next ten minutes,” Guru observed.

“Yeah,” Goalie replied. “And they won't stop.”

Then there was a knock on the office door. “Yeah? Show yourself and come on in!”

The door opened and Capt. Mark Ellis, the Exec, came in. “Boss,” he nodded. “Got a message here for you. And before you tear my head off, there's been com delays all morning.” He handed his CO a message form.

Guru took the form and scanned it. “Yeager's coming. Today.”

“Today?” Goalie asked. “That's some advance notice.”

Guru nodded, then checked the time on the message. “Mark, this message is three hours old. What's the SNAFU?”

“No idea,” the Exec said. “Who's replacing Kicker?”

“Fridge,” Guru said. “He'll be with you until Doc clears Kicker back. Hopefully, it won't be more than a day or two. Just hope it's not the Flu, or, if it is, he's the only one who gets it.”

“To be wished for,” Ellis said. “Anyway, before you ask, we've got billeting for General Yeager's people.”

“Good,” the CO nodded. Then there was another knock at the door. “Yeah?”

Captain Kara “Starbuck” Thrace, the CO's wingmate, came in. “Boss, Yeager's here.”

“Here?”

“In the traffic pattern. Four F-20s and two C-130s,” Kara replied. “Should be on the ground in a few.”

Guru looked at the ceiling. He was thinking, Why now? “Okay, Mark? Find General Olds and let him know. He ought to be there when Yeager's people arrive.”

“He already knows,” Kara said. “He was in the Ops Office when word came in.”

“Good. Oh, find our RAF Liaison Officer and bring him as well. Yeager's people might be here when the RAF comes, for all we know.” Flight Lieutenant Steve “Jack” Lord was representing the RAF until a RAF detachment came to their little corner of the war.

“Gotcha, Boss,” Kara said. “I'm gone. See you on the ramp.”

“Let's go, people,” Guru said. “Mark? Find Van Loan.” Capt. Don Van Loan was the 335's Ops Officer.

“He's out. Left ten minutes ago,” replied the Exec.

“Okay, find our news people and let them know. This isn't classified.” Guru was referring to an Australian news crew who was on base, and had done several stories about the 335th.

“Will do.”

The CO nodded. “Then let's go.” He picked up his squadron baseball cap and led Ellis and Goalie out of the building, where they found Major General Robin Olds standing on the lawn, binoculars to his face, while several other pilots and WSOs were watching the inbound aircraft and talking amongst themselves. “General,” Major Wiser said.

“Major,” Olds replied, pulling the binoculars down. “Looks like General Yeager's brought some nice airplanes.”

“Yes, sir,” the CO replied, putting on his cap. “Things will be....interesting while he's here. You do know, sir, that there is a directive from the Chief of Staff barring him from combat, and you, as well, sir?”

“I do, Major,” Olds said. “Nothing in that about taking a check ride, though.”

“No, sir. Just as long as it's behind the lines,” Major Wiser reminded the General. “Sir.”

“Boss,” Kara said. “Oh, General, didn't see you, sir. Brought our RAF cousin.”

“Sir!” Flight Lieutenant Lord said.

“Ready to meet the guy who was the fastest man alive at one point?” Guru asked.

Lord nodded. “Of course, though personally? I think Winkle Brown is the best test pilot of all time, in terms of types of aircraft flown.” He was referring to Royal Navy Captain Eric Brown, who was Britain's best test pilot, who also held the record for all-time carrier landings, ever.

“We can argue that in the Club tonight,” Olds said. He turned, and saw there was a decent group of 335th crews gathered. “Let's go meet Yeager.”

“Yes, sir.” Guru said. “You heard the man. Let's go.”