No Kill Like a Gun Kill

[Matt Wiser]

Guru gets a gun kill....


No Kill Like a Gun Kill


2 June, 1987, Cannon AFB, New Mexico: 1100 Hours Mountain War Time



Captain Matt “Guru” Wiser of the 335th Tactical Fighter Squadron came out of the Operations Building. And he was not a happy camper. The 335th, along with the other Marine and even Navy squadrons that formed Marine Air Group 11, had moved to Cannon from their previous base at Williams AFB in Arizona two weeks earlier, and had helped with close-air support missions during the Battle of Clovis that marked the end of Operation PRAIRIE FIRE I. Now, PRAIRIE FIRE II was going, and the Army was hoping to crack Ivan's defenses in not only West Texas, but all along the Red River line, and push as far into North Central Texas as possible. But what got the Captain so upset was the lack of intelligence on possible threats. The Soviets and their various lackeys, whether Cuban, East German, or whatever, were still confused from PRAIRIE FIRE ripping their front apart, that the intel people were still trying to figure out which enemy units had been destroyed and which were still active. Their order-of-battle estimates prior to PRAIRIE FIRE had been good, but now.....

Shaking his head, Captain Wiser, who was the Executive Officer of the squadron, went over to a tent near the flight line, where aircrews rested between missions. The Soviets had left the base in a hurry, but still had left quite a few booby traps, and not all the buildings were safe, despite AF and Navy EOD personnel working around the clock. In the tent, he found the members of his flight. “Okay, people, gather around. We got a new one.”

“Where we going?” Captain Kara “Starbuck” Thrace asked. “Lubbock?” She had good reason to want to, having been run out of Reese AFB in '85 with her wallet, her student, and her T-38, and very little else, and in no particular order.

“Nope,” the Exec replied. “Armed reconnaissance this time, and no, I don't like this one.”

“Why?” First Lieutenant Lisa “Goalie” Eichhorn asked. She was Guru's WSO, or Weapons Systems Officer. More commonly called the GIB. The Guy, or in her case, Girl, In Back.

“Simple,” Guru said. “That old order-of-battle they had prior to this push? It got tossed. They don't have an idea as to where all the threats are, and that means trouble.”

First Lieutenant Valerie “Sweaty” Blanchard, his other element leader, looked at him with a scowl. “What?”

“The threats are so mixed, Licon told me,” Guru nodded. First Lieutenant Darren Licon was the 335th's Intelligence Officer. “We can run into anything. They're trying to build a new order-of-battle picture.”

Starbuck nodded. “But that takes time.”

“That it does,” the Exec nodded again. “So....we're going to do something we haven't done before. Scud-hunting.”

“What?” Several voices asked at once.

“Scud-hunts?” Sweaty asked. “Isn't that an A-10 job?”

“Yeah, it is, but the Hogs in this part of Texas are busy. So we got the job, along with the A-6s at night,” replied the XO. “Swell, ain't it?”

“Whose idea was this?” Goalie asked. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean, and it came down from Tenth Air Force,” Guru said. “There's been several Scuds shot at Amarillo, several into Oklahoma, and a few have come our way, in case you haven't noticed.”

Heads nodded at that. There had been several missile alerts in the past few days, and everyone had to run for shelters and get their MOPP gear on. So far, none of the missiles that had landed had CW warheads, but no one was willing to take the chance. “So, XO,” First Lieutenant Nathan “Hoser” West asked. “We're going to look for these guys? It's like a needle in the haystack.”

“Worse,” the XO said. “We have to find the right haystack.” He pulled out a TPC chart of the area. “Here, There's a box with Plainview, Childress, and then down to Paducah, then back to I-27.”

“Lot of area to search, XO,” First Lieutenant Kathy “KT” Thornton said. “We might come up empty-handed. What then?”

“We don't come back with full racks, let's put it that way,” Guru said. “Main tasking is Scuds, but if we can't find any, but find anything of military value, like a supply dump, chopper field, or a truck convoy? They're fair game.”

“Air threat?' Sweaty asked.

“Mixed. There are still MiGs at Reese AFB, as well as Lubbock International. Su-27s are reported at Dyess.”

“Flankers?' Goalie asked. “You know the brief on those.”

“Yeah,” Guru said. “Jettison your ordnance, get your asses down low, and scream for help from AWACS. Remember, they're still having trouble picking us up in the look-down/shoot-down mode, so get down low, and if you have to do a Doppler break, do it. Ivan's own anti-F-15 trick can bite them, remember.”

Heads nodded.

“Okay, there's also several municipal airports that Ivan has used to support MiG-23 and Su-25 operations, as well as helos, and we might pay one of those a visit if we can't find anything else.”

“Weather?” Kara asked.

“Hot, dry, and clear,” Guru nodded. “And bailout areas? Anyplace away from the roads. Anything else?”

“What's on tap after this one?” Newly-promoted First Lieutenant Byran “Preacher” Simmonds asked. He had been studying for the priesthood when the war began, and had joined the Air Force. When his classmates in the F-4 RTU found out his prewar background, they gave him the call sign.

“No idea,” the XO replied. “We'll take whatever we get. And we''ll eat after we get back from this one. Anything else?”

Heads shook no.

“All right,” Guru said as he grabbed his flight helmet. “Let's hit it.”


1250 Hours Central War Time: Over Occupied Texas:


Corvette Flight was now over their assigned “Scud Box”, and the crews were busy. Since their F-4s didn't have either Pave Spike or Pave Tack pods loaded, their scanning all had to be done visually, with the Mark I eyeball. While the pilots maintained a lookout for air-to-air threats, the WSOs were scanning the ground below with binoculars, and keeping an eye out for any surface-to-air threats. So far, nothing, other than a couple of air-search radars on their EW displays. “Anything?” Guru asked his GIB.

“Nothing,” Goalie replied. “Nada.”

“Maybe they hid?” Guru wondered aloud. “They like to hide in daylight and shoot at night,” he said as he banked his F-4 around in a 180 to head back west. They were near Childress, and that was the northeastern end of the Scud Box. “Starbuck, anything?”

“Negative, Lead,” Kara replied. “This might be a wild-goose chase.” She followed her flight lead into the 180, while her GIB, Captain Judd “Braniac” Brewster, scanned the ground below.

Guru nodded, and beneath his oxygen mask, he scowled.

“They do shoot in daylight,” Goalie reminded her front-seater. “Two days ago, remember?”

Guru nodded again. They had just taken off on a strike when there had been two explosions just south of the runway. Only when they cleared the field did the Scud alert come over the radio. “Tell me about it. Sweaty, anything?”

“No joy, Lead,” his number three said. “Found a couple of truck convoys headed north on U.S. 83, though. If we don't find what we're looking for...”

“If we don't,” Guru replied, “we'll make them burn, bleed, and blow up. Form up on us, and head west.”

“Copy,” Sweaty called. She brought her F-4 around, and Hoser West followed suit.

“Crystal Palace, Corvette One-one,” Guru called the AWACS. “Say bogey dope?”

“Corvette One-one, Crystal Palace,” the AWACS controller called. “Negative bogeys.”

“Copy that,” replied Guru. He was maintaining his visual scanning. Experience taught him that AWACS didn't catch everyone.

As the F-4 flight turned west, they saw two more Phantoms flying around. Guru's radio crackled. “Rhinos down below, need some Weasels?”

“Corvette One-one, authenticate. Alpha Six November,” Guru replied. This could be some ALA scum playing radio games.

“This is Coors One-three. Delta Five Echo.” the call came back.

“That's authentic,” Goalie said from the rear cockpit.

“Coors One-three, Corvette One-one, you guys trolling for SAMs?” Guru called.

“Roger that, Corvette,” the Weasel element lead said. “You guys out trolling for whatever?”

“Whatever, want to tag along? We launched with no Weasels.”

:Fine with us, Corvette,” came the reply. “We'll be on station above ya.”

Now a six-ship, the Phantom flight continued west, then when they found State Route 207, Guru led the flight south. About fifteen miles south of Silverton, Kara called it out. “Lead, Two, Got something down here.”

“Careful, Two,” Guru replied as he saw Starbuck bank her F-4 and roll down on something.

“Corvette, Coors. Got a radar coming up,” the Weasel element lead called out. “MAGNUM!” And a AGM-78 Standard-ARM missile left his rails.

Hearing that, Kara pulled up, but not before she saw them. “Lead, Two. Got what we came for. Four launchers, plus support tracks.”

“Copy that, Two,” Guru replied. “Goalie, set them up. Everything in one pass.” His F-4, and Sweaty's,carried ten CBU-59 cluster munitions, with incendiary bomblets, while Kara and Hoser each packed a dozen Mark-82 bombs with the “Daisy Cutter” fuze extenders.

“Got you,” Goalie replied.

“SA-4 up!” Came the call, followed by “MAGNUM!” as another AGM-78 went flying.

“Search radar's down,” Sweaty reported.

“Roger that,” Guru said. “Sweaty, you and Hoser follow us in. Starbuck, on me, and let's do it. Time to go to work, people!”

“Got the launchers,” Goalie said from the back seat. “Eleven O'clock.”

“Copy. Switches set?”

“All set.”

“Okay, hang on and here we go!” Guru said as he rolled in on the Scud launchers.


Down below, the commander of the Third Battalion, 26th Missile Brigade, was not happy with his orders. Normally, they fired their R-17 missiles at night, but his Brigade commander had ordered a launch in daylight, so as to make the Americans in their rear areas sweat a little in daytime. His missiles were targeted with high-explosive and fragmentation warheads on an air base in Eastern New Mexico, near some town called Clovis. He had arrived at a suitable launch site, which had not been pre-surveyed, and his men had to do all the prelaunch surveys, then get the missiles ready to fire, before awaiting the launch command. At least there was a nearby Krug (SA-4) missile battery to provide some air defense, besides a handful of BTR-152s with ZU-23 23-mm guns mounted on top of them. Then his deputy commander came up to his command vehicle, shouting, “AIRCRAFT ALARM!”

Guru picked out one of the launchers. The big MAZ-543 vehicle was familiar to him from several strikes into Southern Colorado, where the Soviets and their lackeys had fired Scuds into Denver. He came in, and smiled beneath his oxygen mask. Not today, Ivan....He hit the pickle button, and his ten CBUs came off the aircraft.

The Soviet commander watched as an F-4 came in out of nowhere, and released its bombs. His deputy pulled him out of the command vehicle, but before they could get to a trench, the CBU bomblets went off. And he was caught in the explosion as not only the launcher and missile exploded, but the command vehicle as well. His last sensation was the heat.....

“SHACK!” Goalie called as Guru pulled 512 up from the bomb run. “Good hits, and we got a secondary.”

Guru pulled the F-4 around as Starbuck went in. “Corvette One-two in hot!” She called. Her bombs hit another launch vehicle, and there was another large secondary explosion in her wake. “Two's off target.

“One-three's in!” Sweaty called. She rolled in on another launcher, and her CBUs ripped into the launch vehicle, exploding it, a nearby command vehicle and a truck which had a balloon rising from nearby. “Three's off.”

“One-four rolling in,” Hoser said. He saw the last launcher, and pickled his bombs. The Mark-82s landed all around the launcher, and the big launch vehicle exploded, and the missile went with it. A bonus was a couple of his bombs taking out nearby reload missiles that were part of the missile battalion, and they went up as well.

Orbiting, Guru watched with satisfaction. This Scud unit wasn't launching anything for a while, and with luck, was out of business permanently. “Corvette, form on me and let's get the hell out of here.”

“Copy, Lead,” the calls came back, while Coors One-three shot another missile, this time a HARM, at a radar that had just come up.

“Corvette, Coors. Nice doing business with you. Maybe we can do this again, fella.”

“Likewise, Coors,” Guru radioed back. “Corvette, on me and let's go.”

The four F-4Es formed up and headed northwest, towards the ingress/egress lane they had used on their way in. Near Plainview, they saw four A-10s headed in, but it was what was behind them that caught Goalie's attention.

“Guru, Eleven O'clock low.” she called.

“Yeah, Hogs, I see 'em.” Guru replied.

“Look behind them,” Goalie said.

Guru took a look, and sure enough, two MiG-23s were behind the A-10s, who apparently didn't know the MiGs were there. “Oh, yeah. Tallyho! Floggers, Eleven O'clock low!”

“Got 'em lead!” Kara replied.

“Sweaty,” Guru called. “You and Hoser stay back and cover us. Starbuck, on me. Crystal Palace, Corvette One-one.”

“Corvette One-one, go,” the controller replied.

“Two Floggers, down low and behind four Hogs, Going in,” Guru said. Then he rolled the F-4 into a one-thirty-five degree turn and headed down.

“Copy, Corvette,” Crystal Palace replied. Then the AWACS called the A-10s, who started jinking wildly. Sure enough, they didn't even know the MiGs were there.

As Guru and Starbuck rolled in, Guru noticed something. He was in perfect range for a Sidewinder shot, but this close to the A-10s, the Sidewinder's heat seeker might home in on a friendly aircraft. Right then and there, he switched to his internal M-61 Vulcan cannon. “Going guns.”

“What?” Goalie said. They'd been on strafing runs before, but guns air-to-air? This was a first for her.

Guru nodded, then pulled the trigger for a one-second burst. They were still out of range, but the tracers would get the MiGs' attention, and they did, for the leader broke left, and the wingman broke right. “I'm on the lead. The wingie's yours, Starbuck.”

“Roger that!” She replied as she banked to follow the MiG-23.

Guru was now in gun range...he lined up the pipper ahead of the MiG to draw lead, and gave the MiG a three-second burst, some 180 rounds of 20-mm High-explosive Incendiary and Armor-Piercing Incendiary ammo. First smoke, then fire came out of the wing root of the MiG, as the whole after half of the Flogger caught fire.

“Hey, we got him!” Goalie shouted. “We did it!”

“Good kill, Lead!” Sweaty called.

Guru nodded as he brought the F-4 in alongside the MiG. He and Goalie looked at their opposite number, who was sitting in the cockpit as flames advanced forward. He was sitting there, arms folded. Guru gave him the signal to eject, but the pilot shook his head no. Just before the MiG went in, Guru and Goalie noticed the insignia on the aircraft. Cuban. Then the MiG-23MF went down and slammed into a small hill, and the pilot didn't get out. “That's a kill,” Guru said as he pulled away from his opponent's funeral pyre.

At the same time, the MiG wingman tried to pull away, with Kara on his six. In her cockpit, Kara put the pipper on the MiG's tail, and the AIM-9P missile seeker was growling loud. Missile lock. “FOX TWO!” she shouted as a Sidewinder left the rails and tracked towards the MiG-23.

The Cuban pilot was looking all around, trying to pick up his pursuer when a loud bang came from the rear of the airplane. He looked around, then there was a second, louder explosion, and he was suddenly surrounded by fire. The last thing he heard before the aircraft exploded was his scream.

Kara and Braniac watched as the Sidewinder flew up the MiG's tailpipe and exploded. There was a small trail of fire, then a larger explosion, then the MiG blew apart. “Splash!” Kara radioed.

“Roger that, Two. Let's get out of here,” Guru radioed.

Corvette flight formed up and headed out of the battle zone. “Corvette, Crystal Palace, those Hog drivers say 'Thank you.'”

“Tell them 'You're welcome and they owe us. Splash two Floggers.” Guru replied. “We are RTB.”

“Copy, Corvette,” the AWACS replied.

The Phantoms flew on to Cannon, where Guru and Starbuck each did a victory roll before turning into the pattern and landing. As they taxied in, the pilots held up a finger to signal a MiG kill. The flight taxied into their revetments and shut down.

As Guru and Goalie shut down, both were exuberant. “No kill like a gun kill, they say,” Guru said.

“First for you?” Goalie said as she got out.

“Yep,” Guru replied. “Never got one with Tony Carpenter, confirmed, anyway.”

“One of your probables?” She asked as they did a quick post-flight check of the plane.

“Su-24,” Guru replied. “Hit him with a few shots, and he trailed smoke from an engine, but never did see him crash. SA-6 came up and we were a little busy for a minute or two.”

“Did he...” Goalie asked as Staff Sergeant Mike Crowley, their Crew Chief came up.

“No idea,” Guru said. “He might have crashed, or he put down somewhere.”

Sergeant Crowley was ecstatic. “Great job, Sir!” He looked at 512. “Sir, how'd you get the kill? Both Sparrows and all four Sidewinders are there.”

“Gun,” Guru said. “When you turn her around, give her a full load of 20-mike-mike.”

Crowley grinned, “Yes, sir!” Then a Dodge Crew-Cab pickup came up. And out came Lt. Col. Dean Rivers, the CO of the 335th, the SIO, Lieutenant Licon, and Maj. Dave Golen, their IDF “observer. “CO coming, sir.”

Colonel Rivers came up, just as the other crews arrived at 512. “XO,” he said.

“Boss,” Guru replied, sketching a salute. “Made some Scuds go away.”

“How many?” Licon asked.

“Four,” Guru replied. “And they were in launch mode. Looked like they were erected and were getting ready to fire.”

“I'll go along with that, Colonel,” Sweaty said. “Mine was all up and ready. Looked like they were about to launch.”

“How do you know?” Licon asked.

“Mine had a weather balloon going up,” Hoser said. “Don't they need one prior to launch?”

Licon nodded. “They do. How about you, Captain?' He asked Kara.

“No balloon, but mine was in launch position,” she replied.

“That it?” Rivers asked.

“No, Boss. Got two MiG-23s off of four A-10s. Some Hog drivers owe us,” Guru said.

Rivers nodded, and looked over 512. All of the Sparrows and Sidewinders were in place. “How?”

Guru smiled, then pointed to the muzzle of 512's 20-mm gun. “Got it the old-fashioned way.”

Hearing that, Dave Golen walked over and slapped both Guru and Goalie on the back. “My friends! Back home you would be the heroes of this engagement! Now you have a kill like it's done in our book!”

“Thanks, Dave,” Guru said, shaking Golen's hand.

“Any witnesses?' Licon asked.

“We saw it,” Sweaty said, and Preacher nodded. So did Hoser and KT.

“I got a Sidewinder shot,” Kara said. “No ejection.”

“Witnesses?' Licon asked, and he saw Sweaty's flight nod. “Okay sir,” he said, turning to Rivers. “That's seven for the Exec, and four for Captain Thrace.”

“One more and you're an ace, Kara,” Guru said. “And then you'll probably be too drunk to remember the celebration.”

Kara grinned. “When it happens, bring it on.”

“What's next, Boss?” Guru asked the CO.

“Get the formal debrief done, then head over to the chow tent, and get yourselves something to eat. It's now 1400. Mission brief in one hour,” Rivers said.

They were interrupted by the whop-whop of a CH-47 Chinook coming in. As the big chopper touched down, ambulances raced to the helo, and medics began unloading stretcher cases.

“Supposed to be quiet,” Sweaty noted.

“It wasn't somewhere,” Rivers observed.

After the stretchers were unloaded, and the ambulances left, the big helo shut down. After the crew left, the 335th people noticed Military Police leading a dozen or so EPWs over to the chopper. All carried mops, pails, and brushes. “What's that?' Kara asked.

“They're Czechs,” Rivers said. “All EPWs from the nearby camp, and they want to do this. Their way of sticking it to the Russians, I heard. Whenever a medevac comes in and shuts down, these guys come in and clean the chopper out. When they're finished? It's spotless on the inside.”

“Isn't that kinda bending Geneva?” Goalie asked.

“It is,” Rivers admitted. “But they want to do it, and get back at the Russians somehow. They blame the Russians for sending them over here to a war they didn't want any part of. So...”

“So it'll last until somebody complains,” Guru observed. “And I know who might.”

“We all do, XO,” Rivers said. “Carson always finds something to complain about.”

The CO was referring to Major Frank Carson, who was the most hated and loathed officer in the squadron. Not only was he resentful about being passed over for Exec, but he was despised for trying to blindly enforce AF rules and regulations, even if they made no sense in wartime. Everyone was wishing that either he'd be transferred out, or that something dreadful would happen to him-and no one else.

“Well, sir,” Preacher said. “When the good Lord passed out paranoia, Major Carson got in line twice.”

“That he did,” Rivers said. “And someone might take notice. General Tanner at Tenth Air Force won't, but the Inspector General? He might.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said. That was the last thing anyone wanted.

“Okay, back to business,” Rivers said. “Like I said, get debriefed, get something from the chow tent, and Mark Ellis will have a mission for you at 1500.” Captain Mark Ellis was the Operations Officer for the 335th.

“Will do, Boss,”

'And when we close down for the day? Celebrate in the O-Club tent. A gun kill's a reason to hoist a couple.”

“Yes, sir!”

Before he left with Rivers and Licon, Dave Golen came over again. “Now I must go out with the Colonel when he does. And I will show you how it's done!”

Guru's flight all looked at each other. They knew the IDF prized gun kills above all others. “If you say so, Dave,” Kara said.

“I do,” Golen said. “And I will buy you and Goalie a drink tonight,” he told Guru. “See you later.”

“They all like that?” Kara asked.

“The IDF guy we had before Dave?” Guru asked. Seeing Kara nod, he went on. “Yeah. He had fifty-seven missions and a pair of MiGs under his belt before his tour ended. But both were Sidewinder shots. He was pretty upset about that.”

“Maybe he'll get his gun kill,” KT wondered.

“Maybe,” Guru said. “Back to business: let's get over to the intel tent and debrief, get something to eat, because like the Boss said: back in the saddle at 1500.”

Heads nodded, and the eight crewers headed on over to the intel tent, while the ground crews went over their aircraft.


Officer's Club Tent, Cannon AFB, NM, 1750 Hours:

Captain Matt Wiser and the rest of Corvette Flight came into the Officer's Club tent, having come back from their final mission of the day. After a quick debriefing, they had headed on over to have a couple of drinks, because the twelve-hour rule kicked in at 1900. To no one's surprise, after she got her beer, Kara went over to a poker game. And the players suddenly realized to their sorrow that she was good.

“What does she do with her winnings?' Preacher Simmonds asked.

“Going to lecture her on the evils of gambling?” Goalie asked. “You know by now: 'Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow-”

“'They may not separate us from the rest of the aircraft,' I know,” Preacher said. “Still-”

“Her mom's in Michigan, or so she said,” KT noted. “She does send a check to her mom every so often.”

“At least her mom's safer there,” Guru noted as he bellied up to the bar. “What have you got?” He asked the barkeep.

“Not much, Captain,” the man replied. “Foster's, Sapporo, some Bud.”

“Foster's, then,” Guru said. “And one more for my GIB.”

The barkeep nodded and produced two bottles. “Here you go, Captain.”

“Thanks,” Guru said. He paid the man, then handed a bottle to Goalie. “Well?”

“How about a toast to no more Scud Hunts?” She replied.

“I'll drink to that,” Sweaty said.

After the toast, Guru and friends went over to the dart board, while Kara devoted her full attention to the poker game. And several of the AF officers there noticed the Army flight suits on some of the players. “Who are those guys?” Hoser asked.

“Dustoff,” Guru said. “Medevac guys who go in unarmed to pick up wounded.”

“They don't get paid enough,” Braniac said. “At least the CSAR guys have miniguns and can shoot back.”

“Notice the Dustoffs only have a small Red Cross insignia?” Guru asked. “Ivan shoots at 'em just like any other helo. Anything larger makes for more of a bulls-eye.”

“Yeah,” Hoser said. “Learned that the hard way back in '85.”

Guru nodded, and finished his beer. Just as he was going over to the bar, Colonel Rivers and Dave Golen came in. “Boss, Dave.”

“Guru,” Rivers said. “I'm buying for you, Goalie, Dave, and Oz.” Captain Brandon “Oz” Slater normally flew as Dave Golen's GIB when Golen flew.

“Why 'Oz'? KT asked Goalie.

“Born in Australia. American father, Aussie mom,” Goalie said. “RTU classmates.”

“Boss,” Guru said. “Did you guys score? And I don't mean air-to-ground.”

“We did, XO,” Rivers said. “Two MiG-21s.”

“It's nine for him,” Lieutenant Licon said from the bar. “And two so far here for Major Golen.”

“Gun kill?” Guru asked as the CO got the beers, and handed him and Goalie one.

“Yes!” Dave replied. “MiG-21, as the CO said, only....”

“Only what?” Goalie asked.

“Nicaraguan, and he acted like a Syrian,” said Golen. “He acted as if he knew he was going to be shot down and yet was in the air anyway.”

“They say the same thing about Libyans,” Hoser said.

“Last time we ran into Libyans, they got blown away by Ivan's own MiG-25s,” Guru observed. “Tough shit, Comrades.”

After a toast to the day's MiG killers, things quieted down, as several 335th people watched Kara clean up at the poker game. The Army helicopter pilots were shaking their heads as she took several of them to the cleaners. Then Doc Waters, the flight surgeon for the 335th, came in. And he wasn't happy as he ordered a stiff shot of Jack Daniel's. “What's wrong, Doc?” Rivers asked.

“I'd like to know who ratted on us using those Czechs and Poles to clean out Dustoff choppers. Red Cross said an hour ago we can't use them anymore,” Waters said, taking a slug of his drink.

“What?” Preacher said. “This on the level?”

“It is,” Doc replied. “Even though they want to, Red Cross said no. And people are pointing fingers at you-know-who.”

“Carson is a real-life Frank Burns,” Kara said. She had dealt herself out to get another beer. “I pity his kids.”

“Don't,” Guru said. “He's divorced. Remember six months ago, when he went on R&R?”

“Carson went on an R&R?” Kara asked, surprised. “So?”

“So, I had a look at his personnel file, when we moved forward,” Guru said. “I'm Exec, and can do that. Anyway, it says 'Divorced. Finalized November, '85.”

“Right after he joined the squadron,” Rivers said. “I asked him about his wife and family, and he said, 'Don't bother. They're okay, but I'd rather not talk about it. Then he showed me the divorce papers.”

“And ever since,” Guru said, “He's been like Frank Burns on steroids.”

“Yep,” Goalie said. “Remember when he tried to have the two of us on a fraternization rap?”

“Do I ever,” Rivers said. “When generals tell you to ignore things like that and get on with fighting the war, you listen. He sure doesn't.”

“I'm Academy, and I've got a few classmates who'd be just like him,” Goalie nodded. “But even those guys aren't as zealous as Carson is.”

“More like him?” Sweaty asked. “Perish the thought.”

Then Captain Don Van Loan, the assistant Operations Officer, came in. “Guys, guess what was on AFN just now?”

Heads turned towards him. “What?” Kara asked.

“Elton John. 'Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting.' And they played that just before this push got going.”

Heads nodded. “And we got a lot busy after that,” noted Rivers. “All right, finish up, people. The twelve-hour rule kicks in after that.”

“Be careful of what you wish for, Dave,” Goalie said as she finished her beer.

“What do you mean?” Golen asked.

“If you want to be an ace before your tour is up,” Guru said. “You might just get it. Three more to go.”

“At least you get to head home in a few months,” Kara added. “We're in for the duration.”

“But you're winning,” Golen reminded them. “Remember that.”

Then the barkeep rang the bell. 1900 on the dot. “Twelve-hour's in effect, people!” Doc Waters called. And from what everyone knew from experience, he enforced that rule with a vengeance.

“And people?” Rivers asked. “Curfew at 2100. Be in the chow tent, bright and early. Tomorrow's going to be a big one, in all likelihood.”

And as the crews went to whatever nonalcoholic drinks they chose, they knew one thing. When that particular song was played on AFN, something big was in the works. And it was.....