Repost: Meeting the Brass

[Matt Wiser]

Guru and Goalie head West, to brief Tenth AF on their plan for what becomes Operation BOLO II:

Part I



Meeting with the Brass



Sheppard AFB, Texas: 28 November 1987; 1220 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser, the CO of the 335th Tactical Fighter Squadron was not in a good mood. First, his squadron was stuck for the day doing a mission that was important, and yet despised, for Ivan had gotten active east of Dallas, and the call had gone out for CAS. Normally, the Dallas-Fort Worth area was usually a Ninth Air Force responsibility, but some activity further east, near Texarkana and in Arkansas had diverted their A-7s and A-10s, and the Ninth had asked for help. The Tenth Air Force answered the call, and though their own CAS-dedicated squadrons were busy themselves, two AF F-4 wings, along with Marine Air Group 11, which the 335th had been attached to since the early days of the war, had been sent in. Second, the day before, he'd lost a bird and a crew to a SAM, and another bird had come back shot up badly enough it would never fly again, and the maintenance people were stripping it for usable parts.

Having lost two people the day before, the CO had the sad task of letter-writing, and now, in his office, he was doing just that. He hoped the families of 1st Lts. Pat Erickson and Mark Walker would appreciate hearing from him, besides the usual visit from a Casualty Officer and Chaplain.

The Major had just finished the second letter when there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Show yourself and come on in!”

A blonde female officer with wavy hair just long enough for the reg maximum came in, with two Styrofoam containers. “Lunchtime,” 1st Lt. Lisa Eichhorn said. She was his GIB, as well as his lover. Both of which, prewar, would've been unheard of in the Air Force, but with a war for national survival taking precedence over a lot of peacetime regs.... “Burgers, fries, and Cole Slaw.”

“Good, because I need to eat. Said it before, and I'll repeat: this letter-writing business sucks. No training in what to say,” Major Wiser said.

“On the job training,” his GIB noted. Some things just weren't taught in the Academy, ROTC, or OCS. And everyone who had passed through those courses knew it.

The CO nodded. “Unfortunately,” he said. “Come on, Goalie, let's eat. Because we're back in the game before too long.” Goalie was his GIB's call sign.

Over lunch, they discussed squadron business, including wondering how long it would be before two new birds arrived. Given that the only source for F-4s was Japan's line at Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, it might be a while. “Guru,we've done all right with twenty-two birds,” Goalie pointed out. “Guru” was the CO's call sign.

“That we have,” Guru agreed. Then there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

A female Captain with cropped blonde hair came in. “Boss, this just came in for you. Off the fax,” Captain Kara “Starbuck” Thrace said, handing the CO a piece of paper.

“What is it?” Goalie asked.

Guru scanned the paper. “Well, now. Seems the brass at Tenth Air Force finally want to hear from us about that little mission we've been thinking on,” he said, referring to a plan to hit Ivan's Su-24s at their forward operating bases-or, at least, catch a regiment napping while it refueled and rearmed.

“When?”

“They want us in Nellis this afternoon,” Guru said, handing his GIB the paper. “Note the order says, 'fastest available transportation', and that definition is, and I quote, 'subject to squadron commander's interpretation.'”

Kara recognized what that meant. “So you're taking 512?” The F-4 with the tail number 512 was the CO's mount.

“That we are,” Guru said. He dialed up the maintenance officer, Capt. Kevin O'Donnell. “Kev, Guru. Hey, change in orders for 512. Get two travel pods, forget the air-to-ground stuff, and pull both Sparrows and the ECM pod, but keep the Sidewinders, wing tanks and the 20-mm. How fast? Good.” Guru then hung up. “Ready in thirty.”

Guru's wingmate grinned. “You lucky dogs. Even though it's a working trip, you two get at least one night in Vegas. Maybe two. Real beds, real sheets, hotel buffet, the whole nine yards.”

“She's right, you know,” Goalie said.

“Yeah,” Guru admitted. “We need to get packed. And bring your dress and undress blues. Just in case.”

“When's the last time we had to wear either one?”

“That is a very good question,” Guru said. “Kara? Find Mark and get him over here.”

“On my way.” Capt. Mark Ellis was the XO of the squadron.

“And stay for a minute when you bring him back. I've got a couple of things to tell you.”

Kara nodded, then went off in search of the XO. A few minutes later, she returned with Capt. Mark Ellis, the XO, who was in full flight gear.

“Boss, what's up?” The XO asked. “Kara wouldn't tell me.”

“Goalie and I got called to Nellis to brief the brass on that mission we're cooking up,” Guru said. “Which means we'll be gone for at least a day, more likely two. Three at the most.”

Ellis nodded. “So, I get to handle Frank? Thanks a lot.” He was referring to the most despised officer in the 335th, Major Frank Carson, who was often described as “Frank Burns in an Air Force uniform”, and that was the mildest anyone said about him.

“Screw Frank,” Guru replied.

“He's not my type,” Kara said firmly, and Goalie nodded agreement. Both had had multiple disagreements with the man, and did not hide their loathing for him. And that feeling was mutual.

“You know what I mean,” said the CO. He, too, had reasons. “Anything he gives you in writing? Feed it to the shredder.”

“Gotcha,” Ellis said. “And who takes your flight?”

Guru thought for a moment. Then he came to his decision. “Kara, you're element lead qualified, but not flight lead. Sweaty takes over. With Dave Golen's bird now stripped for parts, Flossy joins the flight for a couple of days.”

“She's my wingmate?” Kara asked, and she saw Guru nod. “Fair enough.”

“And Dave's still grounded?” Goalie wanted to know. Major Dave Golen, IDF/AF, was the pilot in question.

“For at least another day,” the CO confirmed. Though their IDF “Observer” had not been shot down, Guru had given him and his GIB, Lieutenant Terry McAuliffe, time off. They needed a couple of days, the CO felt.

“Understood,” the XO nodded. “What do I tell Ms. Wendt when she finds out you're not around? And Frank needs adult supervision.” He was referring to their attached reporter, Jana Wendt, from CBS and 9 News Australia, as well as that one despised officer.

Guru nodded. “Tell her I got called to some kind of conference, and as for Frank?” You took the words out of my mouth. Just because the CO's gone for a day or two is no reason to give him anything,” the CO said, and everyone heard the firmness in his voice.

Both the XO and Kara nodded, and Ellis said, “Who tells Van Loan?” Capt. Don Van Loan was the Squadron Ops Officer, and he was out on a mission.

“Whoever finds him first when he gets back,” replied Guru. “Okay, Goalie and I need to pack.” He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a large mailing envelope. “And this is what the folks at Tenth Air Force want to see.” Then he called up MAG-11 and informed Colonel Allen Brady, the MAG-11 CO, of what had come in from Nellis, and that he'd be gone at least two days. After that, it was MAG-11 Operations, to file the flight plan.

“And when you get back?” Ellis asked.

“We should get mission approval. Then we start serious planning.”

The XO grinned. “And that means I lead the second flight,” he said.

“It does. Okay, Mark? Get my flight gear and Goalie's. Get that stuff to 512. Kara?” Guru turned to his wingmate. “Get the rest of our flight and gather at 512 as well. I'll explain what's going down the next couple of days.”

“On my way,” Kara nodded. She then headed out the door.

“Okay, let's go. Goalie and I have someplace to be,” the CO said.

After they left the office, Guru and Goalie went to Officer Country to pack. They remembered to pack both their dress and undress blues, as well as their flight caps. And they also brought their sidearms and long guns. Nellis may be in the rear, but the Spetsnatz and PSD threat was everywhere. Then they went to the dispersal area and 512's revetment. Where the rest of their flight was waiting.

“Going somewhere?” Lieutenant Valerie “Sweaty” Blanchard asked.

“Yep,” Guru said. “And when we get back? We'll be busy with mission planning.” He turned to Dave Golen. “I'll want your input on this. Meanwhile? Flossy flies with Kara on her wing.”

“Got you,” Golen said. “So Terry and I get a couple days off?”

“Something like that,” Guru replied as he and Goalie began gearing up. The XO had brought their flight gear out to the aircraft. “Your reward for bringing that shot-up bird back, even though you could have bailed out. So take it easy and enjoy them,”

“We will,” Golen said. Namely, catching up on sleep, he thought.

The CO nodded. He turned to RAF Squadron Leader Dave Gledhill, who led the detachment from 74 Squadron attached to the 335th. “And you guys will be involved in this little party.”

Gledhill smiled. “A slight delay in giving our planes back to the Navy?”

“Something like that,” Guru said. “Even if they're worn out and only fit for parts.”

“It'll be worth it,” said Gledhill. “Anything for a chance at more MiGs.” Though the RAF officer knew that some of his people would be staying on in the States, going through the E conversion course, though he wanted to get up north into the Canadian Theater, or going to the new Tempest back in the UK.

Guru nodded, and so did Goalie. “It will be, especially if there's MiG-29s around,” the CO said. “Okay, Mark? This squadron's on loan. When I get back in a couple of days, I want it in the same shape I left it.”

The XO smiled, but it was a slightly grim one. “I'll try, but no guarantees in this business.”

Guru knew it, but had to ask. “As we all know. Okay, keep an eye on Frank. Because the last thing I want is to come back to a shit-storm because of something he pulled.”

People nodded, then Kara glanced towards the Squadron's offices, and saw a familiar-and despised-figure approaching. “Speak of the devil, but here he comes.”

Major Frank Carson and his element were headed to their aircraft, but while the other aircrew went on ahead, the Major stopped at the CO's revetment. “What's going on? Word's that you're going to Nellis?”

“I am, and Goalie's coming along. Seems Tenth Air Force has something in mind for the squadron,” Guru said, bending the truth a bit. “So they want to brief me and the Senior GIB.”

“And you're taking your fighter?” Carson wailed. “This is unheard of!”

“When the orders from a three-star say 'fastest available transportation', Frank,” Guru shot back. “Not much room for interpretation. And one other thing: I don't want to come back and find out you've pulled something that starts a shit-storm. Comprende?”

Carson looked at the CO, and knew that this...peasant from California was not kidding around. Even though he felt that Guru didn't deserve command, none of his efforts to change things had borne fruit, instead, he had some very bitter pills to swallow. “Yes, …..Sir.”

Guru could tell the loathing in Carson's voice, and the feeling was mutual. “I hope so. Now, get going. You've got your own mission.”

The Major looked at the CO, and spat. “Yes, sir.” he growled, then headed off to his own aircraft.

“That is not a happy camper, Boss,” Goalie said as she came up. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Just don't want to come back and find multiple investigations under way because of whatever crap he tried to pull,” Guru noted.

“Don't blame you,” Goalie replied. “And we've got someplace to be.”

Guru nodded. “That we do. Mark? Hold down the fort.”

“Do my best,” the XO said. “Safe trip.”

“Thanks. Sweaty? You and Kara cooperate, okay? And bring everybody back.”

The two looked at each other and grinned. “Will do,” Sweaty said, and Kara nodded agreement.

Guru nodded, then turned to Goalie. “Then let's go.”

They went into the revetment, and found Staff Sergeant Crowley, the Crew Chief, waiting. “Major, Lieutenant, heard you guys are headed to Vegas.”

“We are, and the brass wants to see us,” Guru said. He and Goalie did their preflight walkaround, and checked the ordnance. Two Sidewinders, two Sparrows, two wing tanks, along with the two travel pods mounted where a TER bomb rack would be beneath the Sidewinders. They then loaded the travel pods with their luggage and long guns, then mounted the aircraft. They then began the preflight.

“Ever think you'd be taking an F-4 on something like this?” Goalie asked as they went through the checklist.

“No, and I don't think Colonel Rivers did, either,” Guru replied. “It beats space-available on a C-130.”

“It does, and the orders gave you the leeway,” she said. “Arnie's all set,” Goalie added, referring to the ARN-101 DMAS. “Ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom, and check yours,” Guru said. “That they did,” he added.

“Preflight checklist complete and ready for engine start.”

“Roger that,” Guru said. He gave a thumbs-up to the Crew Chief, and Crowley replied with the “Start Engines” signal. First one, then both, J-79 engines were up and running. Once the warm-up was complete, Guru called the Tower. “Tower, Cougar One-one requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

“Cougar One-one,” a tower controller replied. “Clear to taxi to Runway Three-five-Charlie. Hold prior to the active, and you are number four in line.”

“Roger, Tower. Cougar One-one rolling.” Guru gave a thumbs-up to the CC, who waved to the ground crew. The crew ladder was pulled away, then the wheel chocks. Then Guru saw the CC give the “Taxi” signal. He released the brakes, and 512 started taxiing out.

When 512 cleared the revetment, Crowley snapped a perfect salute, and both Guru and Goalie returned it. Then Guru taxied to Runway 35C, and sure enough, he was in line. Two Marine F-4 flights, a 335th one, and sure enough, he recognized the tail number of the element lead. 657, which was Frank's. “Well, now...Frank might be glad for once we're behind him.”

“He'd better enjoy it, because that's probably the last time,” Goalie said.

“It will be,” Guru said.

The two Marine flights went in order, then Frank's, and if Carson noticed the CO's bird waiting behind his, no one noticed. Guru then taxied into the holding area, where the armorers removed the weapon safeties. Then it was time. “Tower, Cougar One-one requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Cougar One-one, Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff. Winds are calm.” Which was fine with Guru: when he talked with MAG-11 Ops, he had also gotten a weather update. No bad weather between Sheppard and Nellis, but some clouds were along the way. Good visibility all the way, and if they got above any clouds, it would be CAVU.

“Roger, Tower,” Guru called back. Then he taxied onto the runway. He and Goalie did a final cockpit check, then they noticed something strange: the first time in a while that they didn't have a wingman. Oh,well.... “Ready back there?”

“Ready,” Goalie replied.

“Copy that. Tower, Cougar One-one requesting clear for takeoff.”

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

“Canopy coming down,” Guru said, pulling his canopy down and locking it. Goalie did the same, and it was time. “All set.”

“All set. Let's go,” said Goalie. She was looking forward to a couple of nights in Vegas. Real bed, real sheets, and even with wartime, an all-you-can-eat buffet at whatever hotel on the Strip they were billeted in. Even if they did have to let those REMFs give whatever criticism of their mission plan.

“Let's.” Guru firewalled the engines, released the brakes, then 512 rumbled down the runway and into the air. Once airborne, he climbed to FL 150, then headed west, away from the war zone and towards Nevada.

[Poohbah]

Off to get things moving.

[Matt Wiser]

Part II: Nellis, and first meeting with ComTenthAF:


Over Southern Nevada: 1300 Hours Pacific War Time:


Cougar One-one was flying over the Nevada desert, southeast of Las Vegas, but below the now-highly restricted airspace near Hoover Dam. The Soviets had tried hitting the dam on several occasions, flying Su-24s up from Mexico, and had failed to make anything more than a few dents in the dam, or scorching the surface. And they had paid the price, for fighters from Nellis, or MCAS Yuma further south, made things very difficult for the raiders as they went in and on the way out. Now, there was an Army I-HAWK battalion guarding the dam, and every aircraft, whether military, CRAF airliners and air cargo, as well as even neutral airliners en route to or from Los Angeles, had to stay clear of the dam-or else.

In 512's cockpit, Guru turned his head in the direction of Lake Mead. Some memories of the flight to Nellis from Seymour-Johnson had come back, then the all-to-familiar memories of Day One came to him. “Two years or two lifetimes,” he said out loud.

“You were here on Day One,” Goalie said. It wasn't a question. “Memories?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Had a good weekend, then we were getting ready for Red Flag...”

Goalie knew what came next. “Instead, you got the real deal, no thanks to Ivan and Fidel.”

“That we did. The worst one wasn't losing the XO or hearing about the nuke strikes. Seeing an airliner get shot down with who knows how many people aboard was the worst,” Guru said, recalling the shootdown of a Republic Airlines DC-9 near Tucson. “The MiG driver who did it? The F-15s splashed him.”

“Find out what happened?” Goalie asked as she stowed her map.

“Heard he got lynched by some people on I-10,” Guru replied. “Time to get down,” He got on the radio to the Nellis Tower frequency, having already been in contact with the Approach controllers. “Nellis Tower, Cougar One-one with one Phantom, requesting landing instructions,”

“Cougar One-one, Nellis Tower. Come right to a heading of Zero-zero-three, and cleared for landing on Runway Zero-three Lima. Winds are Two-six-nine for five. Field elevation one-eight-six-seven.”

“Roger, Nellis Tower.” Guru then lined up for his approach, and as he came in, he noticed something on his EW display. “Have a look at that.”

“What?” Goalie asked. She thought he meant the crowded ramp area.

“EW. There's an I-HAWK active.” Guru then came in, flared, and brought 512 in for a perfect landing.

As he taxied off, the FOLLOW ME truck found him, and Guru followed the truck in to the transient ramp. Unlike the resident 57th Fighter Weapons Wing and the 83rd Tactical Fighter Wing, transient aircraft or those at Nellis for training-and the 57th FWW ran intense training courses for both RTU students as well as new squadrons working up-had to park out in the open. As they taxied in, both pilot and GIB noticed a dozen F-16s parked-with an “ST” tailcode. “That mean Stead?” Goallie asked. “Thought they just did training.”

“Maybe we'll find out in the O-Club,” Guru said. A line chief picked 512 up and directed him to taxi in. Then he got the “Stop” signal, and Guru did so, followed by “Shut down.” After popping their canopies, and the post-flight cockpit check, the ground crew put the wheel chocks in place and brought the crew ladder. Guru and Goalie climbed down, and found a Tech Sergeant waiting, who snapped a perfect salute. “Sarge,” Guru said as he returned it.

The Sergeant looked at Guru's oak leaves. “Major,” he said. “Tech Sergeant Phil Chrisman, sir. I'll be taking care of your bird while you're here.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Guru nodded. He and Goalie did a quick walkaround, then got their gear out of the travel pods. When he slung his AKMS, the Sergeant's eyes widened. “Sarge?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but where'd you get that?” He also saw Goalie's CAR-15, but that wasn't unusual in these parts. A Major packing an AK was.

Guru had a grim smile. “Colorado, year and a half ago. Did five months with the Resistance.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Chrisman said. He then saw the splitter on the left intake, with eight red stars painted. “These yours, Major?”

“They are,” Guru. “Made ace in her, and five of 'em are with the Lieutenant here.” He nodded at Goalie.

Then a Dodge Crew-Cab pickup arrived at 512, and out came a Captain wearing Nav wings, but with a scarred face. “Major Wiser?”

Guru turned to face the new arrival. “You found him.”

The Captain snapped a salute. “Major, Captain Jerry Harbert. General Tanner sent me to pick up you and your GIB and bring you over to Headquarters. With the General's compliments.”

Guru returned the salute. “Thanks, Captain.”

“That's nice of the General,” Goalie added. “Shouldn't we check in with Base Ops first?”

Guru nodded. “She's right. We need to take care of that first.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” Harbert said. He conducted the two to the truck, which had an airman driving. “Base Ops,” Harbert told the airman.

Guru and Goalie put their gear in the bed, then got in. “Saw the I-HAWK on the EW,” Guru said. “When's the last time you got hit?”

“May, just before PRAIRIE FIRE,” Harbert said. “Backfires and Fencers. Backfires did standoff, while the Fencers came in to drop iron. Not much the Aggressors could do about the bombers, but the Fencers, now? Different story.”

Nodding, Guru regarded the man. He saw the burns on his face. “Prewar crash or wartime?”

“Prewar: two months before, in fact. Not even military: I was riding with my Uncle in a Beech Bonanza,” Harbert replied. “He misjudged the approach to Elko Municipal, and crashed into a house. He and two in the house died, I got out with the burns. Arms, legs, and face. Six months in the hospital, and then the rehab.”

“Ugh,” Goalie said. “So you're grounded for good?”

“Docs say I'm good to go. Got orders to Kingsley Field in a month,” Harbert said, his voice showing pride at getting back in the cockpit.

“Where'd you fly from?” Guru asked.

“Moody, prewar. 69th TFS,” Harbert said just as the airman driver pulled the truck up to Base Ops. “Here we are.”

Guru nodded, then he and Goalie got out. “Be a few,” Guru said. They went in, and checked in with the ops people. They found out that 512 would get some TLC while here, and that Tenth Air Force would arrange billeting. However, while they could carry their long guns and sidearms openly on base, certain buildings, such as Tenth AF HQ and the Officer's Club, required those with long guns to check them at the door. And if billeted off base, as was likely in their case? They could keep the weapons in their rooms, but not carry outside, unless entering or leaving.

“Who decided that?” Goalie asked.

“City of Las Vegas,” a lieutenant replied. “They don't want a bunch of armed and drunk service people on the strip with automatic weapons turning the place into Dodge City West or Tombstone all over again. Even if ninety-five percent of the folks here on R&R show up unarmed and leave the same way.”

“Same drill up north?” Guru asked the man, meaning Reno.

“It is,” the officer replied.

“Not a surprise,” Goalie said. The further one got away from the front lines, the more concerns there were about such things. When's the last time a Spetsnatz team paid Vegas a visit? She was curious about that.

Guru nodded. “No. We've got a serious Spetznatz threat where we came from, and everybody packs heat.” He picked up his AK. “All right, thanks. See you when we check out.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said. “Sir, if you don't mind my asking.”

“Yeah?”

The young officer-he seemed like a teenager to Guru-wondered, “Where'd you get the AK?”

Guru showed his grim smile again. “Colorado. Killed a Cuban air-assault trooper to get it.” Then he and Goalie left the building. “Chief Ross said he might be able to get me a Heckler-and Koch HK-53. He said some chopper drivers-AF and Army-use 'em,” Guru told Goalie. “Might just take him up on the offer. “

“Tired of answering those kind of questions?” Goalie replied. If she had come packing an AK, people would be asking her, too.

“Yeah,” Guru said as they got back to the pickup. “It's pretty annoying.” He turned to Captain Harbert. “Let's get to Tenth AF.”

“Yes, sir.”


The pickup pulled up to Tenth Air Force Headquarters, which before the war, had been that of the 474th TFW. After the 474th deployed forward, Tenth AF moved in, and the facilities had been expanded. Now, it was the headquarters from which the air war in the Southwest was run, from Arizona and New Mexico, into Central Texas.

When the pickup arrived at the headquarters, a security fence, along with K-rails for anti-vehicle defense, surrounded the building, with Combat Security Police on guard, as well a as a checkpoint. After producing their ID Cards, Guru, Goalie, and Harbert went to the entrance, where there was a second checkpoint, and the two 335th crewers had to check their long guns at the door. Captain Harbert secured VISITOR passes for both Guru and Goalie, then he showed them to General Tanner's office. There, they saw the usual hustle of staff officers and NCOs going about their business, and some of them shooting looks at the two 335th people. “What's gotten into them?” Guru asked.

“Simple,” Harbert replied. “You're in sweaty flight suits, you've got those SEA-style bush hats, and you're packing sidearms.”

“Maybe seeing that makes 'em realize that, outside of Nellis and the Vegas area, there's a real war going on,” Guru noted.

“I'll second that,” Goalie said as a door opened and revealed the outer office.

General Tanner's secretary, who, to the surprise of the 335th crewers, was a civilian, saw them. “You must be Major Wiser and Lieutenant Eichhorn.”

“We are,” Guru replied. “Hope we're not late.”

“Not at all,” she replied cheerfully. “The General's expecting you. Go right in.”

“I'll be waiting for you, Major,” Harbert said.

“Let me guess: You're our babysitter when we're on base,” said Guru as he went to the office door. He saw Harbert grin, and that said it all. “Figures.” Guru nodded at Goalie. “Ready?”

“Let's do it,” she said.

With that, Guru opened the door, and found a two-star general sitting behind a desk, another two-star sitting in a chair near the desk, and two one-stars standing nearby. Guru gulped, never having been among so much brass. “Sir, Major Wiser reporting as ordered,” he said, snapping a salute.”

“Sir, First Lieutenant Lisa Eichhorn reporting as ordered,” Goalie said, also snapping an Academy salute.

The two-star stood up and returned the salutes. “Major, Lieutenant, glad you could join us,” Major General Robert Tanner said. Then he slapped his desk. “By god, it's good to see you again, Major, and this time, under much more ideal circumstances.” He then came over and shook Guru's hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Guru replied. “And it's a lot different than last time.” Guru was recalling Tanner's visit to Sheppard for Colonel Rivers' memorial service.

The General grinned. “That it is, Major.” He nodded at the other two-star, “You and General Olds know each other.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru nodded, as Major General Robin Olds came up. “Sir, good to see you again.”

Olds grinned. “Likewise, Major. I've told folks here about that 'check ride' and the grudge some of you have with those F-20 fellows.”

“General, I'm not holding anything back, but if I said we don't have any unfinished business with those punks, I'd be lying.”

Tanner laughed. “Major, you're not the only one to have that kind of business to take care of. The ROKs and the ex-IIAF guys, for starters. Then the F-16 drivers from the 474th, the 49th and their F-15s, and so on. They've humbled quite a few people, and made more than their share of enemies.”

“Sir, I may be out of my league,” Goalie said. “But those puppies are nasty. Small, nimble, and deadly in the right hands.”

“They are,” Tanner said. “Now, before we get down to business, I understand you guys were pretty busy yesterday.”

Guru nodded. “Yes, sir. Had a bird go down near Hillsboro, both crew lost with the aircraft, and my Israeli 'Observer' brought a bird back from a different strike, but this one was too badly shot up to fly again.”

“Hope you recommended him for a decoration,” Olds observed.

“Yes, sir. He's up for a DFC, as is his GIB.”

“I can approve DFCs up to a Silver Star,” Tanner said. “Don't worry about approval. And I'm sorry about the lost crew, but it's the price of doing business.”

“It is, sir,” Guru nodded grimly.

“All right, that's out of the way. Let's get down to brass tacks. General Bartlett is my S-2,” Tanner nodded at the first One-star. “And General Markham is my Ops Officer,” said the General, referring to the other officer. “General Olds tells me you have a mission concept in mind.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said. “What we have in mind is putting the hurt on Ivan's Su-24 force in our part of Texas.”

“They're based at Randolph,” General Bartlett pointed out. “Three Regiments or so, and it's pretty far south for you people.”

Both Guru and Goalie nodded. “Yes, sir, and we'd be stretching it. Three tanks, and only six Mark-82s or six CBUs, and that's not enough. What we have in mind is hitting them at one of their staging bases.”

“Which would those be, Major?” Tanner asked.

Guru asked, “Sir, can we show you on the map? It's always easier to talk with a map.”

“Certainly, Major.”

Guru and Goalie got out their materials and put them on the General's map table. “Sirs, here's what we have. There are three possible targets, but one of them we might be able to rule out. First, it's the old James Connolly AFB north of Waco,” Guru said.

“And why is that?” General Markham asked.

“Sir,” Goalie said. “It's not that close to the front lines, it's got two MiG regiments based there already, both -21s and -23s, and they've got decent defenses: an SA-3, the two Waco SA-2s, guns, and the 4th Guards Tank Army is headquartered in Waco, so there's Army-level air defense assets in the area.”

General Tanner turned to Bartlett, who nodded. “Sir, it's one place I'd put them.”

“Very well, Major,” Tanner said. He nodded at Guru. “Continue.”

Guru nodded at Goalie, who went on. “Sir, the second one is Gray Army Airfield at Fort Hood. There's a MiG-29 regiment there, and a -23 one as well. It's big enough, and it's also within the overlapping coverage for two SA-2 sites: the Lampasas one to the west, and the Temple one to the east. There's also an SA-3 site, and some guns.”

“General,” Guru added. There's also the possibility that if a division's using the ranges at Fort Hood to shake down, their divisional level air defense assets would be available.”

General Bartlett nodded again. “Gray's also on my list, Major. What else?”

“Sir,” Goalie went on. “It's Bergstrom, right by Austin. But, it's too close to Randolph to be a staging field, but it may be an alternative base if Randolph gets put out of commission for more than a couple of days.”

“I'll go along with that,” Tanner said. “We do know it's where they do bed down their Flanker force, and taking those guys out is a hell of a lot easier on the ground than in the air. We might revisit the Bergstrom idea for later. Any other possible FOLs?”

Goalie nodded. “Yes, sir. Goodfellow. They can range into West Texas, up into the Panhandle, and most of New Mexico from there.”

“We've run into MiG-29s out of there when hitting Brownwood Regional, General,” Guru added.

Tanner looked at the TPC and JOG charts, then at Guru. “Any other possible fields?” He knew already from having listened to General Olds' brief, but wanted to know if these two had kept that in mind. Youthful enthusiasm often overlooked things-which could bite in the end if not found in time.

“Yes, sir, there's four possible. First up is Waco-Madison Cooper Airport. It's mainly used by transports and helos, but MiGs do show up there. Second? Temple Regional. It's also mainly a transport field, but MiGs can and do use it from time to time. Third? Robert Mueller Municipal in Austin. It's used for the most part by transports, but the Quisling Government does use it as well, for VIP flights,” Guru said. “Last, it's San Angelo Municipal. Same as the others for transports, but I wouldn't be surprised if MiGs do use it, sir.”

Tanner nodded, then he studied the maps again. “Looks like you've got that covered. Now, how do you get in, and who's carrying what?”

Guru looked at Goalie, then at the General. “Sir, low and fast all the way. Get in, strike, and get out. As for ordnance?” He saw General Tanner nod. “The first two flights have CBUs, preferably Rockeyes along with the usual air-to-air. Twelve Rockeyes per bird, and that's a lot of CBUs on the target. The third flight has Mark-82 Snakeyes to rip up hangars and the ramp area, and the final flight? If it's possible, I'd like to have the lead element with either Durandals or, failing that, some Israeli-style Dibber Bombs to put some nice, deep craters in the runways. The last element has CBU-89s with GATOR mines to put the fear of God into repair crews.”

“We'll see about getting Durandals cleared for F-4s,” Tanner said. “If not, we'll get you some Dibbers for those runways. Why Durandals haven't been cleared, I have no idea. Now, Major, how do you get them north?” He knew already from what General Olds had told him, but now....

“Sir, there's three possible decoy targets, and if your Ops people have other ideas, we'd take a look at those. First, there's always a phony GLCM squadron,” Guru replied. “Ivan's still fixated on neutralizing any theater nuclear assets, in case anyone decides to open up that can of worms again.”

“Decoys, false radio traffic, that sort of thing?” General Markham asked, and he saw Guru nod. “What's the second, Major?”

“Sirs, there's a phony Pershing missile battalion,” said Guru. “We'd have to get some help from the Army, but same drill as the GLCM decoy.”

“And sir,” Goalie added. “May I suggest something?”

“Certainly, Lieutenant,” Tanner said. “Say whatever's on your mind.”

“General,” Goalie said. “Ivan'll pick this up on a Foxbat-R overflight, in all likelihood. Why not leave the high fliers alone, and splash any MiG-21Rs or Yak-28Rs they send to confirm what the Foxbat spots?”

General Bartlett nodded, then he let out a grin. “I like it. It'll make them think we're protecting something. Something important.”

“Important enough to commit a regiment of Su-24s on a strike,” General Olds added. “In our previous talk, Major, you mentioned a third decoy target?”

Guru nodded. “Yes, sir. That one's a phony corps headquarters. We'd need some help from the Army, but...”

“But they'd like to see some of the Fencers go away just as we would,” said General Markham. “Ivan might just hit that with Scuds or SS-23s, though.”

“And when the BDA from the Foxbat shows little or no damage?” General Olds responded. “They'll have to follow up with a strike, and that means the Fencers.”

“It's what I'd do,” Tanner said. “Major, Lieutenant? You two have thought this out with what little you had to work with. Leave all that material here, so my Ops people can have a look. But, I do remember what General Olds said,” he nodded in Olds' direction. “The folks who plan this are going to be the ones who fly it. Whatever suggestions the Ops people may offer are just that, suggestions. I'm telling you right now that you may use, modify, or ignore those suggestions as you see fit.”

Guru was pleased, but tried not to show it. “Thank you, sir. And sir, if you don't mind my saying so, when this is done, we do to a Fencer Regiment-and anyone sharing the field-what the Navy did to Nagumo's carriers at Midway, or the Israelis did to the Egyptians on 5 June 1967.”

Tanner broke into a grin. “Major, I like the imagery you suggest. I'll tell you this right now: we're going to do this. Now, a code name is needed. Did you come up with one?”

Guru and Goalie looked at each other. That hadn't even come up, then Goalie had an idea. “Sir? How about this? BOLO II?”

“Why that one, Lieutenant?” General Bartlett asked.

Goalie had a grin. “Sir, if Ivan hears this mentioned in any COMINT, they'll think it's a fighter sweep or similar operation to cull out their Flanker force,” she said. “It's natural they'd think we'd do something like that, and if they hear BOLO II on the radio, it adds to their self-deception.”

“I like it,” Tanner said. He turned to General Olds and saw the man who was the only ace in WW II and Southeast Asia nod his approval. “BOLO II it is.” He nodded, then the General regarded the two junior officers. “Now, one last thing.”

“Sir?” Guru asked.

General Tanner had a smile of his own. “Colonel Rivers, rest his soul, had quite a few recommendations for promotion before his loss, am I right, Major?”

“You are, sir,” Guru said. He suddenly had a good idea of what the General had in mind.

“Now, then. Lieutenant? You were one of those who didn't make the cut last month, correct?”

Goalie nodded. “Yes, sir. Along with a few of my friends.” Not making Captain that time had been a major disappointment, and she knew several others who'd been hoping to get from Second Lieutenant to First, and from First to Captain.

“I can't say much more, but the first week in December?” Tanner said, and both 335th crewers heard the conviction in his voice. “You can expect some much better news.”

“General, if it comes through,” Goalie replied. “I'll be thrilled.”

“Not if, Lieutenant, but when,” Tanner corrected her. “All right, you two, be back here at 1000, and we'll go over this mission.”

Guru and Goalie looked at each other again. “Yes, sir,” they both said.

“Talk to Captain Harbert, and he's got billeting arranged for you two. It's not a formal R&R, but enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“Is that an order, sir?” Guru asked.

“Make it so, both of you.”

“Yes, sir!”

After Guru and Goalie had left, the General was with the other three officers. “Well?” Tanner asked.

“It's a good plan,” General Markham said. “You sure this kid didn't go to the Academy?”

“OTS,” Tanner said. “And I do like this. Bart?”

General Bartlett nodded. “Whatever decoy or deception we run, we'll need some Army help. And we need to know exactly which field they're using for the Su-24 FOLs.”

Tanner knew what he was talking about. “That Chief Warrant Officer we got a few days ago will be in charge of that effort. If General O'Neil thinks the world of her, then we should as well.” General Tanner then turned to his Ops Officer. “I want your Ops people to have a look at this, and run it by Chief Henrix as well. However,” Tanner reminded everyone, “Any suggestions or modifications to this plan are just that: suggestions. Understood?”

“Clear as a bell, sir,” General Markham replied. Then something occurred to him. “What about the Durandals? They're not cleared for F-4s, and that's two years of trials at Eglin, and here, in peacetime.”

“We don't have that long,” Tanner reminded them. “Talk to the guys at the Fighter Weapons School, and have them send a couple of their best F-4 crews who specialize in moving mud. We'll do some trials of our own, and I'll clear this with the Chief of Staff.”

“Understood,” Markham replied. Two years to two months? For wartime, not unusual.

Tanner nodded again, then stood up. “Let's make it happen, people. I want this mission to go ahead.”

[Matt Wiser]

This photo from SEA is representative of the damage Dave Golen's bird took... His bird was only fit to be scavenged for spare parts.

[jemhouston]

F-4 = Timex watch, takes a licking, keeps on ticking

[Wolfman]

This photo from SEA is representative of the damage Dave Golen's bird took... His bird was only fit to be scavenged for spare parts.

Yeouch! Now that I have a visual reference to the damage Dave Golem’s bird took, I have to say that the Lord was looking out for him.

By the way, I said this on the previous incarnation of the board, but the Republic Airlines shoot down was a 727…

[jemhouston]

With the exception of a F-15 that landed with only one wing, I think these might be worse

[Matt Wiser]

Part III: Guru and Goalie run into recent acquaintances, and Guru meets up with his former GIB..


Tenth Air Force Headquarters, Nellis AFB, NV: 1415 Hours Pacific War Time:


Guru and Goalie, with Captain Harbert, came out of the General's office. “Well, now what?” Guru asked.

“Chances are, the Ops people have a go at whatever you've got cooked up, and they'll try and make it their own,” Harbert replied.

“Fat chance,” Guru nodded. “The General said that the folks who plan this are also going to fly it. Eat that, Ops weenies.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Harbert. He looked at both Guru and Goalie. “A word of warning: a lot of the ops people here-the ones who do mission planning? They're guys who, for various reasons, will never sit in a cockpit ever again. So they try and do things the way they'd do it.”

Goalie looked at him. “You're shitting us, right?”

“Wish I were,” Harbert replied. “These guys may be grounded-all of 'em for good-and they're out trying to relive past glories. And they don't care if anyone gets burned doing it. Pardon the pun.”

Guru winced. “Lovely. The General did say that whatever those weenies do, we're to take them as suggestions, and we can include, modify, or ignore them as necessary. They're not going to be on the flight schedule when we do this, so they should stay the hell away.”

“Just like on BOLO,” Goalie said.

“Just like on BOLO,” Guru agreed. “Now, where are we billeted?”

“I was about to get to that,” said Harbert. He handed Guru an envelope. “The airman will take you to VOQ-they have a car rental for you already, and there's a map of the base in the envelope. Your billeting arrangements are in there.”

“VOQ?” Guru wanted to know.

“That, or the Strip,” Goalie said. Though she was preferring the latter. Even if it was only for a night or two. A real bed and shower....

“The latter,” Harbert told them. “VOQ's full with the guys here for FWS and for workups.” He pulled a card out of his pocket. “Here's my card. Call me anytime, and the General did say to get whatever you need, within reason.”

“Thanks,” Guru said. “We'll let you know if we do need anything.”

“Enjoy tonight,” Harbert said, then he went back to his own desk.

Guru and Goalie then went and picked up their long guns, and left the HQ. Goalie asked, “And where are we staying?”

“Let's see.” Guru opened the envelope, and found what he was looking for. “Well, a chit for the Hilton.”

“Nice,” Goalie noted. “Been there before?”

“Once,” the 335th CO noted. “That's where the squadron was billeted for Red Flag 9-85, which got preempted.”

“By the real thing,” finished Goalie. “How's the food?”

“The steakhouse? It's fine, and so's the all-you-can-eat buffet,” Guru said, hoping to get some time at the latter. “The rest? The dress code and prices are a bit above both our pay grades.” Memories of some very good food came back, though seeing gamblers still at the slot machines when a MiG-21 crashed right outside was still something he didn't forget.

“Then let's go to the O-Club, then we can hit the Hilton, and get some good food, and some bedroom gymnastics in. On a real bed.”

“Always listen to your GIB's advice, my old flight instructor on F-4s said,” Guru grinned. “Let's go.”


After getting their long guns, the airman drove them to the VOQ, where Guru and Goalie picked up their car-a 1984 Camaro, then they drove to the O-Club. When they got inside, it was already getting full, from people who were done with their flying for the day. One thing about Nellis; the flying was around the clock, and thus the Club had to be open around the clock as well. Both 335th crewers bellied up to the bar. “What'll you two have?” The barkeep asked.

“What have you got?” Guru replied.

“Bud, Bud Light, Miller, Lite, Olympia, Coors-”

“They start up again?” Goalie asked.

“Just started,” the barkeep grinned.

“Any Sam Adams?” Guru asked.

“Sorry, Major,” the barkeep said.

“All right,” Guru said, glancing at Goalie, who shrugged. “Bud for me.”

“Same here,” Goalie added. “Add some nachos, too.”

“Comin' up,” the barkeep said. “Be a few on the nachos.”

After Guru paid him, the barkeep produced the beers, and the two went looking for a table. As they did, they passed a civilian in a polo shirt and slacks, meeting with a two-star and a light colonel. When they sat down, some distance away, Guru said, “I'll be damned if that civilian looks like Clint Eastwood.”

“Can't be,” Goalie replied. “Heard the name 'Gant' from that two-star. Reminds me of someone.”

“From the Academy?”

“Yeah. Ex-POW from Vietnam. Did nearly six years in Hanoi. Thud driver, they said. Gave a pretty good lecture, too. They say he moved to Alaska after Homecoming, but came back down for some reason.”

Guru winced. “Anyone coming out of Hanoi deserves to live whatever kind of life they want, even if it's dealing with bears, moose, elk, fish, and wolves.” Though if he had come back from Hanoi, he would've been more of a mind to buy a boat with his back pay and spend as much time as he could aboard it-when not flying.

“Probably used him for something, and kept him on retainer,” Goalie offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Guru said as a waitress brought the nachos. “Thanks, Miss.” He could see the waitress wasn't young, but had been around for a while.

“You're welcome, Major.” She replied. The waitress regarded both Guru and Goalie. “Mighty young to be a Major.”

“Believe me, Miss, you're not the first person to say that,” Guru politely replied.

After she left, the two talked about their planned mission-in guarded terms. “And if those Ops weenies look at what we've got, and try and make it their own?” Goalie asked.

“If they do, I'll do what the General said: use what I want, modify if I have to, and if I don't like what they suggest? I'll toss it. And if what Harbert said is right, and those weenies are guys who'll never fly again? I'll be glad to shove it to 'em. They're not going to be flying the mission, so...”

“So they can take their 'suggestions', and shove'em up their asses,” Goalie finished. She heard the contempt in Guru's voice, and had heard it before. Like all warfighters, they had a disdain-at the very least, if not outright loathing-for those in the rear. Especially those who had never been in any kind of combat, even if it was an air raid.

“Exactly.”

Then a familiar voice was heard. “So, what's the 335th doing here?” It was Captain Quinn “Prada” Morgandoffer, one of the F-20 pilots from General Yeager's demonstration flight.

“Prada,” Guru said as he offered her a seat. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, Major, and you too, Goalie,” she nodded. “General Yeager's showing the F-20 to the Aggressors, and the COs of both the Aggressor Squadrons-and the Fighter Weapons School, by the way, want the F-20 as an F-5 replacement.”

“And let me guess,” said Guru. “The F-5s will be worn out.”

“Which is what the Aggressors said,” Prada replied. “So, Tenth AF wants to see you guys for something.”

“Something like that,” Goalie said. “There's something in mind that might involve us, and the brass wants our take on it.”

Smart girl, Guru thought. Not quite a lie, but not the truth, either. For who knew who might be listening? “That's about it. Clancy and Pruitt around?”

“See for yourself,” Prada gestured towards the bar. Sure enough, Captains Matt Clancy and Jeb Pruitt were at the bar, cokes in hand. “And they're drinking the soda dispenser dry.”

“And General Yeager's close by,” Guru noted, seeing Brig. Gen. Chuck Yeager talking with another One-star.

“He's never far away,” Prada said. “So, last stop on the tour, then I get two weeks R&R before I take that IP job.”

“That's great!” Goalie beamed. “Where you headed?”

“Here, for a week, where I can hopefully win some money and lose my inhibitions,” Prada grinned. “Then down to San Diego.”

“Not quite Honolulu,” Guru noted. “But good enough.”

Prada nodded. “It is, but some folks do manage to get R&R in Hawaii. I did put in for it, but it didn't come, so...”

Guru understood. “So you make do.”

Then General Yeager came over. “Major, Lieutenant,” the General said in his West Virginia drawl. “What's got you over here?”

“Brass here has a mission concept involving the 335th, sir,” Guru replied. “So the weenies in Ops want us briefed in on it. Other than that...”

Yeager understood. Nothing like the Great God Security, he knew. “Well, that's that. Oh, is that snotty asshole of a Major still around?”

Guru and Goalie knew who the General was referring to: the despised and loathed Major Frank Carson. “Afraid so, sir,” Guru said.

“Hopefully, not for too much longer,” Goalie added. “Rumor has it that General Cunningham's going to swing by on a visit....”

Yeager grinned. Like just about everyone in the Air Force, he knew Sundown Cunningham's reputation. “And Sundown kicks said asshole off base, and onto a C-130 straight to Goose Bay or Gander.”

“General,” Guru smiled. “That will make the day of everybody at Sheppard.”

After some more conversation, Yeager and Prada left, and Guru looked at the time. “Let's go to the Hilton. Have a shower, then get a real steak dinner.”

“One can hope,” Goalie nodded. “Real steak, instead of bison or whatever.”

“Yeah. Let's go.”


Leaving the base was easy, though as Goalie drove their rented car, they noticed a long line of cars in both directions on Las Vegas Boulevard, and on Craig Road, which went west to I-15, waiting to get through base security. It wasn't just the Air Force's Combat Security Police, but Clark County SO and the Nevada Highway Patrol as well. Though the Air Force was in charge, and for good reason. There had been a Spetsnatz attack on Day One, right at the main gate, and though the attackers hadn't managed to penetrate the base, they had caused some mayhem before being wiped out. Though through traffic wasn't being kept away, as people did commute from North Las Vegas into Vegas proper via Las Vegas Boulevard, all traffic was still being stopped and searched. “You do know, prewar, the ACLU would be tossing a fit.”

“Yeah, well, I say to that, tough shit,” Guru grumbled. “Day one taught us a lot, and having Spetsnatz or Cuban SOF causing all sorts of hell meant that you need to have some good security. Israeli-style. Hell, even Dave Golen thinks we go a little too far.”

“The PLO's one thing, but Spetsnatz are a whole different bunch of players.”

Guru nodded. He'd had a couple of run-ins with Spetsnatz during his time with the Resistance, and though they were the bad guys through and through, they were tough fighters, asking for no quarter and giving none. And nobody doubted that for a minute. “They're tough bastards.”

“Yeah.” Though Goalie had never encountered Spetsnatz, either at Little Rock before pulling out, or with the 335th, the threat was still present, and where they were at Sheppard, a lot more dangerous than at Williams, their pre-PRAIRIE FIRE base.

After hopping onto I-15, and passing through downtown, they got off at Flamingo Road and headed to the Hilton. Naturally, since military personnel were staying there, there was security, namely MP and LVPD units. After parking and checking in, the two 335th fliers noticed that the Casino was full-as one might have expected. “Want to try your luck?” Guru asked.

“Maybe. But I have the same view to one-armed bandits like I do with Kara: I value my intact wallet,” Goalie replied.

“Just stick to the ones in the Nellis O-Club,” said Guru. He'd noticed the Club had a few slot machines.

“My thoughts exactly.”

After getting to their room, which was on the Tenth Floor, the two noticed something as they went in. Someone didn't know that they were getting a room for a male and a female officer. “Well, a King-sized bed,” Guru noted. “A real bed, for at least one night.”

“Maybe two.” Goalie had a grin on her face. “Been a while since a real bed. And not just for sleeping,” she added, with a coy expression on her face.

“I know what you mean,” Guru nodded. Their last R&R had been in March, to San Diego. Two weeks of sun and surf, along with some deep-sea fishing, had been a good way to unwind. They had hoped to go up and see their respective parents-in Fresno County and Lake Elsinore, respectively, but gas vouchers for long-distance travel outside San Diego County had been hard to come by. Oh, well. At least they could-and did-call and have time on the phone. “But first, I need a shower, then a steak dinner.”

“Call it,” Goalie said, producing a quarter. “Loser goes second in the shower.”

“Heads.”

She flipped the quarter. And lost. “Save me some water.”

“Will do,” Guru said. He went into the bathroom, got out of his clothes, then into the shower. Goalie, meanwhile, turned on the TV, and flipped it to ESPN. Not much sports-wise on this afternoon, but a football game with players who had NFL experience was coming up from Minneapolis, at the Metrodome, and the proceeds from the game would go to the American Red Cross.

“Awful nice of 'em,” she said aloud, then she heard the shower. Enough of this, she thought as she took off her clothes and went in. “Mind if I join you?”

“Now?” Guru asked, all soaped up.

“Right now, flyboy,” Goalie grinned. Then she got in with him.

Round one was in the shower. Round two was drying off. Then they got into their undress blues, and headed to the Rancher Steakhouse. It was preferable to a couple of the other establishments at the Hilton for two reasons: first, the dress code was casual, and second, the menu's affordability was within both of their respective pay grades.

They had just ordered their dinners-real Top Sirloin steak from California, when Guru noticed a face at a table across from them. “Hey, I know that guy. Very well, as a matter of fact.”

“OTS classmate?” Goalie asked.


“Later than that,” Guru said. He locked eyes on the guy in question, and that lock was returned. There was disbelief at first, then mutual recognition. After that, the fellow-in civilian clothes, came over. “Well, Tony, it's been a while.” Guru got up and shook his hand.

Captain Tony Carpenter shook Guru's hand, then nearly crushed him in a bear hug. “Matt, how the hell are you?” Carpenter then looked at Guru's shoulder boards. “Whoa, Major?” He saw his old pilot grin. 'When did that happen?”

“About a month ago,” Guru said. “Not the way I expected, though.”

“Let me guess: Colonel Rivers made you Exec, and made sure you had the rank to go with the job.”

“Guessed wrong, Tony,” Guru said, and his old friend heard the seriousness in his voice. “I was Exec, instead of that asshole Carson-”

“He's still there?” Carpenter asked, appalled at that thought. “He's still a snobby asshole, then.”

“He is,” Guru replied. “Anyway, the XO got himself killed-it was Boyd McLendon, another Day One vet. I was Ops Officer, and moved up to Exec. Mark Ellis took over, and a month ago, Colonel Rivers took the big hit, somewhere south of Dallas. He didn't get out.”

Guru's old GIB looked at him. “So you're CO now?” He saw Guru nod. “And the promotion?”

“Two days later. General Tanner shows up with a pair of gold oak leaves, and pins 'em on. Oh, by the way, introductions: Captain Tony Carpenter, meet Lieutenant Lisa Eichhorn, call sign Goalie.”

“Pleased to meet ya,” Carpenter said, putting out his hand.

“Likewise,” Goalie replied, shaking it. “Guru's told me a lot about you.”

“And some of those stories are true, I trust?” Carpenter said with a laugh.

“More than a few,” Guru nodded. “Some good times, and in Colorado, a lot of not-so-good ones...” The CO's voice trailed off, recalling some nasty experiences during their time with the Resistance. “Tony, what are you doing here? Last I heard, somebody told me you were on your way to the Philippines.” He was careful not to say who had told him that, however.

“I am,” said Carpenter. “Tomorrow, it's Nellis to Travis, then a Charter to Tokyo, and on down to Okinawa and Clark. Get to watch Ivan and the Viets at Cam Ranh Bay.”

“Somebody's got to do it,” Goalie observed.

Carpenter nodded, then had a frown. “Well, I'd rather that somebody not be me. So, what are you two doing here? R&R?”

“We wish.”

Guru said, “Tenth Air Force has a mission concept for us, and they want our take on it. See if it's worth risking a dozen aircraft and crews...”

“On something that can be done with a couple of F-111s or A-6s at night,” Carpenter finished.

“Something like that,” Goalie nodded.

“Hey, I've got to get back to my date, but how many of us are left? As in Day One vets.”

Guru had a serious look on his face as he told his friend and former GIB. “In the squadron? Ten. Not counting lost sheep like you. Guys who were shot up, and after they healed up, got sent either into the replacement pool and another squadron or to fly a desk.”

“Holy...” Carpenter started. “Ten of us left in the squadron?”

“That's right. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.”

Carpenter shook his head. “Lovely. We're this war's Churchillian 'few.'”

“That we are,” Guru agreed.

Carpenter nodded, then noticed the waitress bringing his meal to his table. “Hey, my food's here. One last thing: you guys aces?”

“Five with him,” Goalie grinned. “And he's got three more with you,” she added.

“Not counting probables,” said Guru. “And the kill that made me an ace? MiG-29.”

“The kill right after?” Goalie said. “Foxbat. We jumped him just after takeoff.”

“A Fulcrum and a MiG-25? That's great,” Carpenter beamed. “Hey, got to eat, but you two take care of yourselves. Guru? Glad to see you again, and Goalie? A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Goalie replied, shaking his hand again.

“Tony? You take care of your own self. And if you do go over the beach? Don't check into the Hanoi Hilton. They've had a few recent check-ins since this started,” Guru said, deadly serious.

“Will do. And we've all got some stories to share at the reunion. See you around, and Check six,” Carpenter said.

“Check six yourself,” Guru grinned.

After Tony went back to his own table, the waitress brought their salads, and soon after, their steaks. When the meal was done, Goalie said, “When's the last time we had beef like that?”

“Other than R&R?” Guru asked. “Seriously? It's been a while. Even with most of Texas still under Red Control, there's just enough.”

“Doesn't some come from Australia?”

“That's what they say in the papers,” Guru nodded. “That's essential wartime aid, unlike Foster's.”

“And what do we do if the skipper of a Red sub sinks a freighter loaded to the gunwales with said Foster's?” Goalie asked.

“Send the guy a thank-you card.”


After dessert, and paying for the meal, Guru and Goalie left the steakhouse, and went into the lobby. Guru bought a paper in the Gift Shop, and scanned the front page of the Las Vegas Review. “Not much happening,” he said as he scanned the headlines.

“How about overseas?” Goalie asked.

Guru skimmed the inside. “Not much there...wait a minute. Says here Cauceascu is 'reconsidering' membership in the Warsaw Pact.”

“They're the only ones who don't have troops over here, right?”

“Right on that, and he didn't join in the war. We still have an Embassy in Bucharest. If he quits the Pact, Ivan's going to have to think about the next step.”

“And they're kind of busy at the moment,” Goalie finished. “Good to see him stick it to Comrade Chebrikov.”

“It is, and you need to see this. Page seven.” Guru handed the paper to her.

Goalie read the piece. “Holy crap! Says here 'Former West German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt called on the Bundeswehr to 'restore the honor and integrity of the Federal Republic and its government.'” Goalie looked at Guru. “He's calling for a coup.”

“Only question is when,” Guru said. “That Bundeswehr 'exercise' is still going on. Won't be long now, though.”

“Yeah. Now what?”

Guru thought for a minute, glancing in the direction of the casino. “Care to feed the one-armed bandits?”

“Not tonight,” Goalie said. “Intact wallets are to be treasured,” she added. “Let's go back to the room. Real bed, real sheets, room service. We've got two nights here. So let's make the best of it.”

“Round three and more?”

She grinned. “You got it, flyboy.”

Guru had a grin on his face as well. “Then let's go.”



When they got back to their room, both felt that some kind of record for getting out of their clothes had been set, for it didn't take long to go after each other.


The next morning, the hotel room alarm clock buzzed. Guru's eyes opened, and he saw the clock. 0700. He looked at Goalie, who was barely covered by the sheets. How many times did we do it, he wondered. Well, it beat a camp bed any day of the week. And they had one more night here before flying back to Sheppard.... “Hey, sleepyhead. Time to get up and be human again.”

“What time is it?” Goalie asked as she sat up in bed, the sheets tumbling off her bare body.

“Zero-seven Hundred,” Guru said. “Time to get cleaned up, eat, then on the way to Nellis.”

“And a meeting with the Ops people,who want to take a simple concept and make it as complicated as they can,” Goalie observed. It wasn't a question. “And what are you going to say?”

“I'll say that, with all due respect, that unless you want to fly this mission, your suggestions are just that, suggestions.”

“And Tanner did tell you that you can do exactly that.”

“He did. Come on: time to get up and be human again,” Guru said, getting up and going right to the shower. “That all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet is waiting.”

“My stomach and my ears thank you for that,” Goalie grinned as she got up. One more round, even if he's not expecting it. Then who knows how long in a meeting room with people who'll never fly again, thinking they know better than us on how to plan a mission? Well, let's get on with it.... She followed Guru to the shower....

[Matt Wiser]

Part IV: The point of the Vegas trip: briefing Tenth AF on the mission proposal... And reinforcing the loathing both have for the Ops people...


Nellis AFB, NV: 0930 Hours Pacific War Time, 29 November, 1987:


In their rented car, Major Matt Wiser and Lieutenant Lisa Eichhorn sat at Craig Road and Las Vegas Boulevard, waiting to pass through the Main Gate at Nellis AFB. They had already passed through one checkpoint, and were waiting for their line of cars to enter the base. “Day one again,” Guru said.

“Memories?” Goalie asked. She was reading the Las Vegas Review. They had read the paper at the hotel over breakfast, but for her, the best part of the paper was the comics.

“Yeah. They were on some kind of modified alert because some nut who'd been turned down for the Air Force threatened to attack the base. They found him dead in Henderson with an AK-47 and 5,000 rounds of ammo. But they didn't cancel the alert.”

Goalie looked at him. “Maybe there was more to him that met the eye.”

“Maybe, because we're in the Officer's Mess, eating breakfast, when there's a couple of explosions and lots of small-arms fire. Right after that came the call to man aircraft. That's when we knew.”

“Little Rock wasn't like that,” Goalie said. “Lots of confusion and rumor, but no attack on the base. Somebody did blow up a couple of power lines leading to the base, though.”

Guru nodded. “Day One was different for everybody, but still the same. From peace to war in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah,” said Goalie. She went back to the paper. “How long have we been here?”

Guru checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes,” he said. Then he saw cars ahead of them being waved forward. “Here we go.”

“About damned time,” Goalie said.

The Camaro followed the other cars until they got to the Main Gate, where Combat Security Police were waiting. Both Guru and Goalie showed their ID s to the CSPs. “Sir, Ma'am, could you step outside the vehicle?” A male CSP Sergeant said.

They got outside and were given a going-over with hand-held metal detectors, while a Military K-9 checked the car. Guru showed the Sergeant their authorization for their weapons, and a CSP Airman checked the trunk, verifying an AKMS and a CAR-15, and two SiG-Sauer 9-mm pistols, while another airman scanned beneath the car with a mirror. “All clear, Sarge.”

The Sergeant handed the IDs back to Guru and Goalie, “Sir, Ma'am? Thank you. Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Guru said. They got into the Camaro and headed to Tenth Air Force HQ, where more security awaited. After clearing that, and checking in the long guns, Guru and Goalie went to General Tanner's office, where they were early. Both were in their undress whites and had doffed their side caps, as protocol required, and Captain Harbert was waiting for them. “Captain,” Guru said.

“Major,” Harbert replied. “And Lieutenant, good to see you. General Tanner sends his compliments, and says that we'll be in the SCIF this morning.”

Guru nodded, then asked, “So who all's going to be there,” as Harbert walked with them to the SCIF.

“General Tanner, of course, and General Olds,” Harbert replied. “Along with General Glosson, who's General Tanner's chief of staff. General Hurley, the deputy, won't be there.”

“Heard about General Glosson, but haven't had the pleasure,” Guru said. “And let me guess: the two one-stars we met yesterday, and some Ops weenies who want to take this little plan and make it their own.”

Harbert nodded. “You're guessing right. These guys showed a preview to the General this morning, and he wasn't happy.”

“They made it bigger?” Goalie asked. She'd heard about such things at the Academy, about mission concepts becoming bigger because the more who were exposed to a plan, they added their own ideas.

“They did,” Harbert replied. “Big time.” They got to the SCIF, which had CSPs guarding it, and showed their IDs. After being admitted, they found the conference table ready, with their material laid out, and two of the Ops people doing the same with their materials. “Anything you need right now? The General and the rest will be here in a few minutes.”

“Coffee,” said Guru. He looked at Goalie, then at the Ops people, whose faces had the expression of “We're making this our plan.” “The two biggest cups you can get.”

“Be right back,” Harbert said, and after he left, Guru and Goalie went over their material, and shot occasional glances at the Ops people. Both noticed that the senior man, a full Colonel, walked with a cane, while the other, a Major, had burn scars on his face, and had problems with his arms.

“Now we know why these guys are in the Ops section,” Goalie whispered.

“Yeah,” Guru replied. “Too shot up to fly again, but they find a way to stay useful.”

“Or become useless,” Goalie muttered. “Like that ATO crap where we rain four dozen Mark-82s on a target barely worth four.”

Hearing that, the Colonel came over, and both 335th crewers noticed the man's limp. “Major, I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Colonel Stewart, I run the Ops Cell.”

“Colonel,” Guru said politely, shaking the man's hand. “Major Wiser, 335th TFS.”

Ah, the young punk who thinks he can plan a mission, the Colonel thought to himself. “I couldn't help but overhear, but you've flown some of those missions?”

“Both of us have,” Guru replied, introducing his GIB. “More than once.”

“I see...Well, if you hit certain targets in certain ways that may seem, unorthodox, you may get results that are completely unexpected, and may even be a bonus.”

Guru and Goalie looked at each other. Does he really mean this? That was the unspoken word between them. “Well, sir, haven't seen much of those results.”

“Perhaps, if you were able to stay with us for a while and have a look how the Ops Cell goes about putting the ATO together, you might be able to see those results.”

“If you say so, sir-” Guru started to say, then he was interrupted by Captain Harbert. “Atten-shun!”

Everyone came to attention as General Tanner, with the other generals, came in. “As you were, people,” Tanner said. “Major, Lieutenant, hope you had a good evening.”

“Yes, sir, we did. Enjoyed the steakhouse, and this morning? The all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet was plenty good,” Guru said.

“Good to know, and you'll get one more night in Vegas before you have to jet back to Sheppard. Think of it as a reward for a job well done,” Tanner said. “Now, if you'll take your seats, we'll get this show on the road. Before we get started, a word to the Ops people,” the General said, nodding at General Markham and the Colonel. “I told Major Wiser yesterday, and I'll repeat it here for the benefit of Colonel Stewart and his associate. Any suggestions or recommendations to the Major's plan are just that. This is a mission that he'll be leading, and said recommendations and suggestions are just that. He is free to use, modify, or dispose of those as he sees fit. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” General Markham replied. His Ops people had a habit of making simple plans complex, and he'd been raked over the coals for it more than once. He was on thin ice, as was General Hurley, who had been his predecessor at Ops and was now the Deputy ComTenthAF. “Colonel?” He nodded to Stewart. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir!” Stewart replied.

General Tanner nodded. “Then let's hear it.”

“Sir,” Colonel Stewart said. He started to say “Gentlemen”, but remembered that Goalie was the only female in the room. “Everyone. Our concept for BOLO II involves strikes against every airfield in the Tenth Air Force Area of Operations with a runway greater than 7500 feet. This would ensure that not only would we cull out 16th Air Army's Fencer force, but make significant inroads into their overall fighter and ground-attack assets as well. Assets that, as we now know, will be much more difficult to replace now that both U.S and Royal Navy sea interdiction is beginning to bite the Soviets and Soviet-bloc forces in Texas.

“We would begin with diversionary strikes against fields supporting helicopter and Yak-36 Forger operations, while the big strikes would come at midday. These would be large strike packages at medium altitude, with extensive Wild Weasel and standoff ECM support, along with DC-130s launching RPVs to further distract enemy fighters and attract SAM attention so that the Weasels can suppress those SAMs. We anticipate that while the MiG regiments will scramble, and that the escorts-primarily F-15s and F-16s, will deal with them, while the strike aircraft attack their assigned targets. Losses are to be expected, but they will be acceptable. Sirs, this concludes my presentation.” Colonel Stewart then sat down.

“Any questions?” General Markham asked.

“Where do you get the extra strike assets?” Tanner asked. “Because we can't use the 48th's A-6s and F-111s on this, and we've only got two full F-4 wings in Tenth AF, not including MAG-11, which has two Marine squadrons and the 335th.” He was referring to the 48th Tactical Fighter Wing, with both F-111Fs and A-6Es-since the F-111 production line had been shut down since 1975, the Air Force had to operate out of necessity in the deep-strike mission alongside the F-111s.

Stewart replied, “Sir, we would have to borrow those from Ninth Air Force, or Twelfth. Possibly from Northern Theater.”

“And where, pray tell, do you get the DC-130s and the RPVs?”

“Either from the Navy on the West Coast, or from Eglin.”

General Tanner shook his head in disgust. “And getting those is about as likely as the Russians throwing any of us a birthday party,” he said. “Robin?”

The man behind the original Operation BOLO shook his head. “Too complex, too unwieldy, and there's no way the Theater Commander's going to release any assets from up North, or even from Ninth Air Force, for this version. Not to mention the Navy getting involved.”

“Buster?” Tanner asked his Chief of Staff.

“I'll go along with what General Olds said, and add this: They've taken a basically sound idea, and pumped it up on steroids.”

“Worse,” General Bartlett added. “No offense, Mark, but your people gave it an overdose.”

General Markham nodded. He knew his Ops people's reputation, and that they were starting to skate on thin ice with General Tanner. “Understood, but sometimes, you have to go big.”

“There's a difference between big and too big, and this is way too big,” General Olds shot back. “I trusted the guys who put BOLO together, and I flew it. This is one I wouldn't want to fly.”

“Agreed,” Tanner said. “It reminds me too much of SPRING HIGH back in '65,” he added, referring to the first strike on an SA-2 site in North Vietnam in July, 1965. The mission had been planned at the Pentagon level and at Pacific Air Forces in Hawaii, not at the wing level. Forty-eight F-105s went out, with six downed for no SAMs killed. Three pilots had been killed, and two more on their way to seven and a half years in Hanoi, and only one rescued. Tanner had flown that mission, and he vowed “Never Again” beginning to mistrust missions planned from way on high. “Major, Lieutenant? You two are the only ones here who'd be in the cockpit on this. Before you present your concept, I think we all would like to hear your comments.”

Guru nodded, then looked at Goalie. Both took a deep breath, then Guru spoke. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”

“Not a problem. Say whatever's on your mind. Both of you,” Tanner said.

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said. “General, with all due respect to your ops people-” He looked at Colonel Stewart dead center, then added, “Sir, whatever happened to the KISS Principle? The original BOLO succeeded because it was a classic bait-and-switch operation. This one can succeed because all we're trying to do is bait some of Ivan's Fencers north, then while they're refueling and rearming-and waiting for BDA, we catch them with their pants down. And they'll have a hard time-but not impossible-replacing what we cull out.”

“General, if I may?” Goalie asked.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” nodded Tanner. “I'll always respect the view of someone who'll be in the cockpit on something like this.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Goalie. “Sir, at the Academy, we did some mission planning exercises in one of my classes. They've not only forgotten the KISS Principle, but they've also confused what they'd like to have with what is really needed. Sir, there's no way we'd get a wing of Weasels on this, but we'd be happy with a four-ship, right?” She saw Guru nod, then went on. “And that's just the start.”

“All right, Major,” Tanner said. “Show the Ops People your mission concept.”

Guru and Goalie looked at each other and grinned. “Yes, sir.” They got their briefing set, then Guru began. “Sirs, we're using the old Connolly AFB at Waco as an example, but the mission profile is valid for all three potential targets. For General Glosson's benefit, the other two are Goodfellow and Gray AAF at Fort Hood.”

Glosson nodded. “I'm familiar with your concept, Major. Go on.”

“Yes, sir. It's a classic High-low-high penetration, and the time over hostile territory is spent entirely at low altitude. We rendezvous at the tanker track, depending on the target, then go in low. Bypassing the target and coming in from the southeast in Connolly's case, so that egress is straight to the Brazos River, then I-20.”

“Noted, Major,” Tanner said.

“Sir,” Guru went on. “I know I'm not going to get a squadron of Weasels, but I'll be happy with a four-ship flight. A second flight would be better, but I'll be happy with one. I already have a commitment from Colonel Brady at MAG-11 for Marine Hornets to handle flak and SAM suppression, with a secondary TARCAP mission, and the same goes for the detachment from 74 Squadron of the RAF: They're dedicated air-to-air, and those F-4Js can handle anything Ivan puts into the air, except for a Flanker. And to handle those? I either have the Hornets in that direction, or, if I can get them, one or two four-ships of F-15s to handle the Flankers at Bergstrom and the Fulcrums at both Bergstrom and Gray AAF.”

General Markham nodded. This kid knew the difference between what he'd like to have and what he really needed. “And your actual strike birds?”

“All from the 335th,” said Goalie. “Sir.” She added, “Sixteen F-4s, with four flights of four each. The first two have Rockeye CBUs to tear up the ramp area, catch aircraft out in the open, ordnance carts, fuel trucks, and anyone not running for a shelter.” She saw the generals nod, then went on. “The third flight has Mark-82 Snakeyes to tear up hangars as well as the ramp area, and the fourth? The lead element has either Durandals-if they're cleared for F-4s, or Israeli-style Dibber Bombs to make nice, deep craters in runways, while the last element has CBU-89s with GATOR mines to put the fear of God into runway repair crews.”

“And General, that means that regardless of whatever field we hit, that base is out of commission for at least a day, more likely two or three. Not only do we cull out some of the Fencers, but also the MiG interceptor and ground-attack elements as well. Not only the Flogger-Ds or Js, but also Fitters and Frogfoots-all three, as you know, sirs, are in 16th Air Army's OB,” Guru said.

“And your decoy plan?” Colonel Stewart wanted to know. Why was this...punk pushing something that would only get limited results?

“Sir, that would be one of three things,” Guru replied. “First, it's a phony GLCM squadron. Ivan's still fixated on neutralizing any nuclear assets they detect, so GLCMs in the field are a logical choice.”

Goalie added, “The second, sir? It's a phony Pershing II missile battalion, and we'd need help from the Army for that, and the same goes for the third: a phony Corps Headquarters.”

“Either one sounds good to me,” General Tanner nodded. “We may do two of these, the phony GLCM unit and the Pershing one.”

“That, General,” Glosson said. “Will draw them north.”

“All right, the Major's concept for BOLO II is approved,” Tanner said. He turned to General Bartlett, the G-2. “Get whatever they need in terms of Intel and forward it to Sheppard.”

“Yes, sir,” Bartlett replied. “They'll get it.”

“Good. Any other questions?” There were none. “Let's get to it. I want to make this happen.” Tanner slapped a hand on the table as he stood up. As people got up to leave, Guru and Goalie gathered their material. Then Tanner said, “Major, Lieutenant? A word, please.”

They went to the General, and both General Glosson and General Markham were there was well. “Major, you two can, and will, make this happen. When you two get back to Sheppard tomorrow, you can start real planning. And find a way to get that wild one-Thrace-involved. She's got a reputation for out-of-the-box thinking, and her input will be valuable.”

“General, we wouldn't have it any other way,” Guru said. Tomorrow? One more night in Vegas, then....

“Good,” Tanner said. “I know you need to get back to your command, but your Exec can run things for the rest of today. Consider it a reward for not only this, but a job well done overall.”

Goalie tried to conceal a smile. One more night in a real bed...

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said, glancing at Goalie, who nodded.

“Now, General Markham has something to say before you leave.” Tanner nodded at his Ops Officer.

Markham nodded, then said, “Major, Lieutenant, I'd like to apologize for my subordinates. Colonel Stewart used to be a good officer, but since he came here, he's been taking other people's mission ideas, and repackaging them as his own, the way he'd do it. Ignoring the fact that he's supposed to offer comments, suggestions, and ideas, and not making mission concepts his own.”

“Sir, thank you,” Guru replied. “It's not just that.”

“Major?” Tanner asked.

Guru looked at Goalie again, and she nodded. “We talked about this prior to the meeting, sir.” He outlined what they had told Colonel Stewart. “And with all due respect to the Ops people? Forty-eight Mark-82s is a waste of ordnance on a point target. I want to send a hate-filled candygram, not a five-hundred page political tract-sir.”

Tanner glared at Markham, who nodded. “I think I know what you mean, Major,” Markham said. Seeing Tanner's glare, he added, “We'll shake things up in Ops.”

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said.

“Now, Major, don't you worry about intel or the Durandals. We'll run some trials here, and get them qualified on F-4s,” Tanner said. “Just enjoy the rest of the afternoon and evening, and when you get back to Sheppard tomorrow? You'll be busy enough.”

Guru looked at Goalie, who nodded. “That we will be, sir.”

“You will. And as for security? I know you don't have an SCIF, but do the best you can, and I'll have OSI watch your backs.” He knew full well about the Spetsnatz and PSD threat in Texas and the Southwest. Things were still dangerous in the liberated part of Texas, along with both New Mexico and Southern Arizona.

“That, General, is good to know,” Guru said. He'd have to inform Capt. Ryan Blanchard, the OINC of the Combat Security Police detachment with the 335th about the OSI interest in the squadron.

“All right, I'll take care of things on this end. You take care of the Russians. If you need anything, or anyone starts getting in your way, you let me know. Understood?” Tanner wanted to make that quite clear.

“Perfectly, sir.”

“All right, that'll be all, and both of you enjoy the rest of the afternoon and evening.”

Guru and Goalie understood: this was a very polite form of dismissal. “Is that an order, sir?” Guru asked.

“Why not?” Tanner replied.

“Yes, sir!” Both Guru and Goalie said, then they picked up their materials, saluted, and left the SCIF, leaving the three Generals, who were soon joined by General Olds.

“Well?” Tanner asked. “What do you think, Buster?”

Glosson thought for a moment, then nodded, a grin on his face. “For a guy who never went to the Academy, or has any PME, he's got brains. How come nobody ever thought of this before?”

“Probably because it hadn't occurred to anyone,” General Olds said. “And he and his people did put together a dandy mission to clear out a flak trap, if you'll recall.”

Heads nodded at that. General Markham then spoke. “When my people looked at it, they started playing with it, not realizing it was being flown as they talked. And it was a nice piece of work.”

“It was,” Tanner said. “Now, Buster? Two things for you. Did the FWS come through for us?”

“Yes, sir,” Glosson replied. “Two F-4 crews who are specialists in air-to-ground will be reporting tomorrow. They'll report directly to me, and we can run the Durandal trials in a few days. UNODIR, if necessary.”

“Good, Buster,” said Tanner. “And the second? When the time comes, find at least four, preferably eight, Eagles to help out with the Flankers. With the Su-27s that close, they may need the help.”

“Will do,” Glosson said, making a note of it. If he was flying, he'd also want the Eagles around.

Tanner looked at the Generals, then nodded. “Then let's make this happen.”

[Poohbah]

I'm going to have to rewrite a chunk of Sophie's end to begin with, and this is giving me reason to do so and a path to head out in.

[jemhouston]

I'm going to have to rewrite a chunk of Sophie's end to begin with, and this is giving me reason to do so and a path to head out in.

Sophie's Go Big Plan, while big, was simply in execution. It looked big for the scope of it.

[Wolfman]

I'm going to have to rewrite a chunk of Sophie's end to begin with, and this is giving me reason to do so and a path to head out in.

I’ll be looking for the rewrite, Poohbah.

[Matt Wiser]

Sophie's version of this was also a Go Big-and IIRC it was turned down because many of the assets were not likely to be made available.

Part V: After the meeting, and noticing not just the F-20 jocks (or jerks, depending on one's POV), but also one Major Viktor Belenko, formerly of the Voyska PVO...along with Major Mitchell Gant, USAF.


Tenth Air Force Headquarters, Nellis AFB, NV; 1130 Hours Pacific War Time:


Major Matt Wiser and Lieutenant Lisa Eichhorn came out of the conference room, and both had smiles on their faces. “Glad that's over?” The Major asked his GIB as they walked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Now we get to plan.” And she was looking forward to planning the mission. A chance to put the hurt on Ivan's Su-24 force...

“Only trouble is: where do we plan?” Major Wiser asked. “Like the General said: we don't have a SCIF, and we've also got another problem.”

“What's that?”

He looked at her, and she recognized the seriousness in his expression. “We've got civilians working on base now. MAG-11 didn't hire them, but the Air Base Group did.”

“Holy....” Lieutenant Eichhorn thought. “Guru, we've had two PSD people caught in three weeks. You think we have a problem.” By the tone of her voice, it wasn't a question.

Guru nodded. “Either PSD or GRU, and the latter is the bigger problem. They have Spetsnatz under their control.”

“So what do we do?” Goalie asked.

“Touch base with OSI when we get back, and talk to Ryan Blanchard, too,” Guru said. “Her CSPs are going to pay extra attention to the Squadron's offices from now on.”

“And OSI sweeps for bugs, and they do it regularly until after we fly this mission.”

“You got it.”


When they got to the entrance, Captain Harbert was there, waiting. “Looks like you guys get to fly your mission, the way you want it.”

“It does,” Guru grinned. “They need us for anything else?” He wanted to know.

“Doesn't look like it,” Harbert said. “Just call in the morning to check back in. Unless you want to fly back to Sheppard today.” And fat chance of that, he thought. In their place, he'd stay an extra night.

Guru and Goalie looked at each other. “We'll check in tomorrow morning,” Guru said.

“Figured,” Harbert said. “And I don't blame you. Then have a good afternoon.”

“We will,” Guru said. It was time for lunch, then an afternoon to kill.


After the meeting, Guru and Goalie went to the O-Club, and like the day before, it was packed. Though the lunch crowd was there, they didn't have any problems finding a table. And just like the previous day, they found a civilian talking with a General Officer and a light Colonel. “I swear, that guy looks like Clint Eastwood,” Guru said as they sat down. “What kind of guy was he at the Academy?”

“Major Gant?” Goalie asked, and she saw Guru nod. “Over five and a half years in Hanoi would definitely change anyone. There were a couple things he didn't go into, but, he basically said 'This is what happened, and how I got through it.'”

“Like I said: anyone who came out of Hanoi deserves to have whatever kind of life they want,” Guru said firmly. “And the same goes for the POWs from this war.”

“Speaking of which,” Goalie said. She had picked up a Stars and Stripes from a newspaper rack, and was starting to read. “That POW rescue the Hell's Angels pulled off last Christmas?”

“Yeah?”

“They finally got their Presidential Unit Citation,” Goalie said. “SECDEF awarded it to 'em yesterday.”

Guru laughed. “Only in America. We're probably the only country that would recruit a regiment from an outlaw motorcycle gang.” The waitress came and they ordered their lunch. “Anything else?”

“Not much, though AP has an article about Buddy-they picked it up from CBS.” She was referring to their squadron's mascot, who not only was a valued companion, but also a weather vane as to whether a mission would be an easy ride, or a hairy one. More often than not, the dog was right.

“Seems fair,” Guru said. “How about overseas?”

“Hmm...” Goalie scanned the paper. “The President of Costa Rica says he's going to put together a peace plan. He's got the Prime Minister of India and the President of Algeria with him.”

Shaking his head, Guru snorted. “Good luck with that,” he said. “Nobody here, other than someone like McGovern, is going to be in favor of that.” Though the “Peace at any price” crowd had evaporated like a cup of water in Death Valley for the most part, there were a few voices still calling for a peace based on the prewar status quo. As far as Guru, Goalie, and just about everyone in the military, not to mention the President, his advisers, practically everyone in Congress, and just about everyone in the unoccupied parts of the country, those voices could be easily ignored. Even if they were a former Senator and Presidential Nominee, or an icon of the Civil Rights Movement. “Still would like to know what McGovern or Jesse Jackson were doing on Invasion Day.”

“Yeah,” Goalie said. “Something from West Germany. They had an anti-neutralist demonstration in Dusseldorf yesterday. Over 200,000.”

“Their Chancellor say anything?” Guru asked as the waitress brought their lunch: Roast Turkey and bacon sandwiches for Guru, and Turkey and Ham for Goalie.

“Other than he's not going anywhere? He says he still has the support of the people.”

“How much?” Guru asked as he dug in.

“Article says a Spiegel magazine poll said 65% want the Greens sent over the Wall to their Stasi and KGB pals,” Goalie said as she put the paper down to eat. “Not the words used in the story, but that's about it.”

“Here's hoping,” said Guru as he raised a glass of iced tea.

“Here, here,” Goalie said, doing the same. Clink.


After they ate, both Guru and Goalie had some nachos, and as they snacked, some familiar-and to the, despised, faces appeared. Yeager's F-20 hotshots, Clancy and Pruitt. “Oh, shit, not those two,” Guru moaned.

“Why?” Goalie asked. “You got both of them in that pickup DACT,” she reminded him. Even though it had been General Yeager who had “killed” both her and Kara in that little affair.

“I know, but they sure as hell weren't very humble,” said Guru. “Not that night in the Club, not even when they left.”

Goalie agreed. “Yeah. And it might take the Aggressors to make them humble,” she pointed out.

“If that's possible,” Guru nodded. “It might take a one-two punch: the Aggressors, and Kara.”

Nodding, Goalie agreed. “Yeah, but we all need to make it to the end before we can see that.”

“Always a factor,” a voice said. Both looked up, and found General Glosson standing in front of their table.

“General,” Guru said.

“Major, Lieutenant? Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all, sir,” Guru replied.

Glosson sat down, and waved a waitress over. She brought back a glass of Club Soda. “Still on the clock, but General Tanner wanted me to tell you, personally, that no matter what, anything you need for this, you're going to get.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And first off, you're going to get some Eagles. At least one four-ship, but two's more likely,” Glosson said.

“Well,sir, that'll make my drivers happy, and the Brits, too,” said Guru.

“No doubt,” Glosson said. “You ever run into Flankers, Major?”

Guru shook his head. “No, sir, and I'm glad not to have had the pleasure. You have no business messing with them if you're in an F-4.”

“Major, you're not the first person to say that,” General Glosson told both 335th crewers. “By the way, you'll get at least a four-ship of Weasels. Two would be best, but it depends on their tasking. And you'll need to know within minutes when the Fencers are on their staging field, because this'll be a no-notice mission for everyone involved.”

“We'll get the word, sir?” Guru asked. “Because the window to catch them on the ground is only an hour. Maybe an hour-and-a-half.”

“Intel told me the same thing,” said Glosson. Then he decided to cut to the chase-the main reason he wanted to talk with them. “General Tanner wanted your impressions of the Ops people again. I'd like to give you my own apologies for some of what they've sent you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said. “General, do you mind if we speak freely?”

Glosson nodded. “Not at all, Major, that's what I'm here for. Say whatever's on your mind. You, too, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said. “Sir, what's with those guys in Ops?”

“What'd Colonel Stewart say to you before the meeting?”

“Sir, he said that if we hit Target X with Ordnance Y, or words to that effect, we'd get unanticipated results other than taking out the target,” Guru spat. “Sir.”

“Same here, sir,” Goalie added. “Without saying it, they accused us of tunnel vision. But a lot of what they're sending down doesn't make any sense.”

Glosson nodded. Not only had he heard them this morning, but others who had been to Nellis from the forward squadrons had echoed their complaints. Some of those COs were more insistent than others. Usually in the choice of language. “They all look good on paper, and the senior ones are all SASS graduates. But did you notice one thing?”

“Yes, sir,” Goalie said, before Guru could speak up. She looked at him, and saw him nod. “Both Colonel Stewart and his assistant had disabling injuries.”

Glosson smiled. “You nailed it, Lieutenant,” he said. “They're all veterans of both Southeast Asia and this war, but apart from a couple of exceptions, they're all too shot up to get back into a cockpit. So when the guy who won PRAIRIE FIRE for us in the air got put on the shelf after a crash, we took on these guys.” He didn't add that General Hunley, the deputy Commander, had pushed for them, despite Glosson's advice against it, and General Tanner had reluctantly agreed. Now, the General was having second thoughts. “They do look good on paper, like that snotty Major you and Colonel Rivers have had to deal with.”

More than one Frank? Guru thought. Lovely, he said to himself. “Sir, these guys don't get out much.” He looked at Goalie and she nodded. “We got that much just by talking to them.”

“And, sir,” Goalie added. “They kind of, well, resented hearing stuff they didn't want to hear from two people who are out at the tip of the spear.”

Glosson (and Tanner) had heard the same complaint from others. “Again, you two aren't the first to say that. They'll be put on notice: shape up and stop using the ATO to push their theories. Or else.”

“Well, sir, that's good to know,” said Guru.

“General Olds told us you pulled an UNODIR mission,” Glosson told them. “What was that all about?'

“General, it was the mission I mentioned in the meeting. Forty-eight Mark-82s tasked against a target not worth four,” Guru said. “Liberation Radio facility, and I had the ordnance people pull the Sidewinders and Mark-82s off the birds in the lead element, then add a Pave Tack pod and two GBU-10s.”

“The other element?” Glosson asked.

“There was a truck park about a mile away, and they hit that,” Goalie said.

Guru nodded. “When we got there, sir?” Four drops, three hits. We got the transmitter tower with two, and my wingmate got the control building with one.”

“And your wingmate would be the crazy one, Thrace?”

“Guilty, sir.”

Glosson laughed when he heard that. “Major, she is the best you have. And General Olds did say this about her-and you two, for that matter.”

Guru gulped, as did Goalie. “Sir?”

“You all don't care about becoming generals. All you want to do is fly,” said Glosson. “One thing for sure: when this is all over, we'll be taking a hard look at that 'Career Enhancement' nonsense. I know, there will be people who will howl about not making people like you well-rounded officers, but they don't realize that in peacetime, that's what drives people like you out. You want to fly, period. Now, PME and maybe instructor duty at the Academy or ROTC will be a requirement, but other than that? If you've got wings, you'll be flying for the most part.”

“General, that'll be good to know.”

“Sir,” Goalie grinned. “Besides giving the go-ahead for BOLO II? You made our day.”

Glosson smiled. He had detested the same kind of assignments, putting people in staff assignments, recruiting duty, or being White House Fellows, to name three, simply because someone felt that kind of a tour would make a “Well rounded officer” out of someone who just wanted to fly. That, he knew, was one reason so many left the Active Air Force and went to the airlines, and still flew for the ANG. “Just wish we'd done this during SEA.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said. Enough ticket-punching, he felt. Then he noticed a Major coming up to the bar. He thought he recognized the guy from a book, but wasn't sure. “I think I recognize that guy, but I can't place him exactly.”

“Who, Major?”

“That one with the Aggressor patches on his flight suit, sir.”

Goalie looked, as did Glosson. But she recognized him at once. “Sir, I remember him. He lectured at the Academy once a year all four years I was there. That's Viktor Belenko.”

“The Viktor Belenko?” Guru asked. “As in ex-MiG-25 driver and Enemy of the Soviet People?”

“The same.”

Glosson took a look, and nodded at Belenko, who returned it, then went back to a table where several Aggressors were gathered. “Lieutenant, I'd be lying if I said you were wrong.”

“He did give a good lecture,” Goalie said.

“If he's flying with the Aggressors, he's still teaching.” Guru said. “Both in the air and on the ground.”

“He is, and that's all you need to know. Now, I've got to get back, but you two have a good rest of the day, and don't bother showing up here bright and early. You can leave whenever you feel like it. If that means sleeping in until Noon? So be it,” Glosson told both of them. “Check in at Headquarters before you leave, because the General might want to say a few words. Then you can fly back to Sheppard and get this thing rolling.”

“Yes, sir.”


After General Glosson had left, Guru and Goalie looked around and saw Yeager's pups holding court. Even Prada had joined in, and the faces on some of the Aggressors-and others wearing F-16 patches, were not good ones. “Want to join in on that?” Guru asked.

“NO,” Goalie replied firmly. “Had enough of those two punks at Sheppard, thank you very much,” she said, and Guru heard the anger in her voice. “Why do they have to rub it in?”

“Probably in their nature,” Guru said. “Then again, they've humbled quite a few jocks, and you could say they've earned the right. All three of 'em-Clancy, Prada, and Pruitt, are fighter aces, and nobody can take that away from them.”

“Yeah.”

An hour and a half, and another plate of nachos later, they were still watching the F-20 guys rub it in. Then Major Belenko came over to the F-20 people, who had been joined by General Yeager. Handshakes were exchanged, then the hand-waving began. “Wonder what that's all about?” Guru wondered.

“Thanking them for a backseat ride?” Goalie asked. “The Aggressors are the only ones who'd probably be interested postwar, because the F-5s will be worn out.”

“Yeah. And I'll also bet we'll need a MiG-29 and Su-27 equivalent,” Guru said. “I'd be more comfortable taking on a Flanker in an F-15E that's packing AIM-120 than I am in the F-4.”

Goalie looked at him. Aggressor duty was the last thing both wanted. But...he was a CO, and anything that would cut down the loss rate among FNGs, and reduce the number of letters written, would be a good thing, she knew. “That means using F-15s as surrogate Flankers, and...horror of horrors, we'd be buying F/A-18s to mimic MiG-29s.”

“You said it, I didn't,” Guru reminded her. “And Colonel Brady said that the Navy already uses some Hornets in their Aggressor squadrons.”

Goalie nodded. “Yeah. The last thing the Air Force will be doing is buying Hornets. They'd probably keep any captured birds as Aggressors.”

“Until the spare parts run out.”


An hour later, the F-20 people and the Aggressors were still at it. “Well?” Guru asked.

“They'll keep arguing until the cows come home,” Goalie said.

“Not disagreeing with you there,” Guru nodded. “Let's get out of here and back to the hotel. I want to get out of here before those F-20 guys recognize us, even if Prada knows we're here.”

Goalie knew what he was thinking. “And the last thing either one of us wants is to hear that 'F-20 is the greatest since the P-51' bullshit.”

“Exactly.”

They paid, then slipped out of the Club, and back into the sun. Then they got into their car and headed off base. Getting off base was a lot easier than getting in, as they had found out the day before. Goalie drove this time, and the traffic on I-15 was no problem, before they got to the Strip and then the Hilton. Passing by the Casino, Guru looked in. “Want to try your luck?”

“No thanks,” Goalie said. “Tried a one-armed bandit in the O-Club, and goose-egged.”

“Yeah. House has the advantage.”

They went up the elevator and found their room. “One more night,” Goalie said. “Then it's back to camp beds.”

“Too bad,” Guru said. “Who gets the shower first?” He pulled out a quarter from his pocket.

“I'll do the toss,” Goalie said. “Tails.” She flipped the coin-and lost again. “Save me some water.”

“Will do,” Guru grinned. He got out of his clothes and went into the shower.

As the shower got going, Goalie thought for a minute. “We are in a desert, and need to save water.” She grinned, then stripped down herself. Then she went to the shower. “Mind if I join you?”

“Why not?” Guru said.

Round one again was in the shower. Round two was drying off, followed by round three in the bed. Then they got back into their undress blues and went to the buffet.

As they ate, Guru noticed one thing. He looked up from a seafood platter. “We're at war with Mexico, and still, Mexican food's pretty popular.”

“Yeah,” Goalie said as she dug into some Enchiladas. “Here, though, they call it 'Tex-Mex'. Like in WW I, when they called Hamburgers 'Liberty Sandwiches?'”

“Yeah,” Guru agreed. “Here, we can live up to 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow...”

“They may not separate us from the rest of the airplane.” Goalie had a laugh as she finished.

“Not exactly. When we tell Doc Waters what we ate here? It's 'Eat, drink, and be merry. For tomorrow you diet.'” Doc Waters was the 335th's Flight Surgeon.

And both of them laughed.


When they got back to their room, quite full, Goalie asked. “When does Twelve-Hour kick in for us?”

Guru thought for a minute. “Midnight.” He hadn't thought much about when they were going to fly back, and yet..... “What's on your mind?”

“Champagne and hor dourves, followed by Round Four and more.”

“I'll call up Room Service.”


The next morning, the alarm clock didn't buzz. Instead, Guru opened his eyes and saw the time: 8:30 AM. Careful not to wake Goalie, he staggered out of bed and found the room's coffee maker. He made some coffee, and when it was ready, poured himself a cup. How many times again? He wondered. Plenty, he knew.

The aroma of coffee woke Goalie up, and she sat up in bed, the sheets tumbling off her bare body. “Coffee?”

“It's 8:40,” Guru said. “Time to get up and be human again.”

She didn't bother to get dressed, just as he had. She, too, staggered out of bed and poured herself a cup. “And when do we fly out of here, exactly?”

“After lunch, and whatever conversation the General wants with us. I'll call Harbert after breakfast and find out when the General wants to see us.”

Goalie thought for a minute, then sipped some coffee. “Got an idea to shake up those Ops weenies.”

“Yeah?”

“We show up in our flight suits. Remind those chumps that we're the ones at the tip of the spear, and hanging it out for their crazy theories.”

Guru thought, then a grin came over his face. “I like it. Then we don't have to change before getting ready to fly. And the General didn't mind when we got here we had our green bags on.”

A smile developed on Goalie's face, then she said, “Then let's do it.”

“Let's. That breakfast buffet is waiting,” Guru said. “Chicken-fried steak and eggs-twice.”

“Doc will be looking at you,” Goalie warned.

“What he doesn't know won't hurt him.” Guru poured her another cup of coffee. “You need this more than I do. I'll jump in the shower.” He went into the shower.

“Like hell,” Goalie said. She downed the cup, then jumped in the shower herself. Round one was there, then round two drying off. Might as well enjoy the last morning in Vegas.....

[Matt Wiser]

Part VII: Time to go back to Sheppard, after a last talk with the General:


Nellis AFB, NV: 1130 Hours Pacific War Time, 30 November, 1987:



Major Matt Wiser and Lieutenant Lisa Eichhorn got out of their rented Camaro at the rent-a-car on base, and found Captain Harbert and an airman waiting for them-with a Dodge Crew-Cab pickup. “Have a good time on the Strip?” Harbert asked.

“We did,” Guru said. “And we took a bite out of the breakfast buffet.”

“And now our Flight Surgeon's going to be looking at us weird,” Goalie added.

Harbert grinned when he heard that. “Not the first to say that,” he said.

“Let's get rid of the car first,” Guru nodded. He went into the office, and turned in the keys. When he came out, he nodded. “That's done. Let's get to Tenth AF and see what the General has for us, check out from Base Ops, then we fly.”

Harbert regarded both Pilot and GIB. Both were in their flight suits, and were packing sidearms. “You're dressed for that, I see.”

“We went to stick it to those Ops people,” Guru said. “If they're not willing to get on the flight schedule and fly the mission..” His voice trailed off as a two-ship of F-16s thundered overhead.

“They have no business meddling in the planning,” Goalie finished after the fighters disappeared into the northern sky.

Harbert nodded. With all the complaints he'd heard about the Ops people, that wasn't a surprise. And a sentiment not unknown, either on base or off. “It's your asses on the line, and you don't want anyone playing with your op.”

Smart guy, Guru thought. “That's about it.”

They got into the pickup, and were driven to Tenth AF Headquarters. After passing through both exterior and entrance security, Guru and Goalie went to General Tanner's office. As they went through the corridors, both noticed the stares again from several officers and NCOs. “Some of these folks don't get out much,” Guru noted.

“Some are veterans, and some aren't,” Harbert said. “It's the latter types who sometimes forget that there are people like you, out at the tip of the spear.”

Goalie nodded, then said, “Then somebody needs to remind 'em.”

“And you're the ones,” Harbert replied. “At least today.” It wasn't a question. He noticed that the only concession to normal AF regs was that they had their flight caps in hand, but other than that...they looked ready to go out and fly a mission.

“You could say that,” Guru nodded as they got to the General's Office.

When they entered, the General's secretary buzzed the General, then she said, “Go right in, Major.”

“Thank you,” Guru said. He and Goalie went in, and found General Tanner at his desk. “General,” Guru said. “Reporting as ordered.” He and Goalie snapped salutes.

“Good to see you,” Tanner said, returning the salutes. “And don't apologize for wearing green bags, ever. Major, Lieutenant, have a seat. I know you're both ready to get back, but I wanted a private talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Guru said.

“What is it, sir?” Goalie asked.

“First, Durandals,” Tanner said. “We'll be running trials here. And we'll make sure they're cleared for use on F-4s.”

Guru and Goalie looked at each other. “Sir, won't the test folks at Eglin raise a stink?” Eglin AFB in Florida ran the AF's Air Warfare Center, where operational tests of air-delivered weapons, both air-to-air and air-to-ground, were carried out.

“I've already cleared this with the Chief of Staff,” said Tanner. “You'll get your Durandals. I told him that the F-111s and A-6s aren't the only ones who bust up airfields.”

“Thank you, sir,” Guru said gratefully. “We'll put them to good use.”

“And you get to keep any you don't drop,” Tanner smiled. “Now, second, you'll get two Weasel flights, and General Glosson did tell you about the Eagles?”

“He did, sir,” Guru replied. “A four-ship of Eagles, possibly more.”

“Good. You'll get those as well. And don't worry about that hour-and-a-half window to pull this off. We'll make sure you've got plenty of time to get ready and have birds in the air while the Fencers are sitting on the ground.”

Guru nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He noted General Tanner's voice that also said, though the words were unspoken, “You don't need to know how.”

“Like I said yesterday, Major,” Tanner said. “I'll handle things on this end. You and your people,” He nodded at Goalie, who appreciated the General's attention, then went on. “Take care of the Russians.”

“We will, sir.”

“I know you will,” replied the General. “Now, that's finished. When you get back to Sheppard, you start detailed mission planning. I'll give you two weeks to give me a detailed Op Plan, and we'll go from there.” Tanner paused, then went on. “And changing the subject, I'd like your thoughts on the Ops people. Lieutenant? You haven't talked much, so I'd like to hear your thoughts,” he asked Goalie. “And again, you both can speak freely.”

Goalie nodded, took a deep breath, then said, “General, with all due respect to your ops people? They don't get out that much. They took a simple mission concept, and juiced it up on steroids. So much that the East German Olympic Team would be surprised.”

Hearing that, Tanner laughed. “Lieutenant, I think they would. That's a good description of them. Go on.”

“Sir, they've forgotten the KISS principle, as I said yesterday. And they're fixated on what they like to have in a mission, instead of what they really need.”

“I've heard the same thing: not just from General Glosson and General Olds, but other COs as well. You're not the first to raise the issue, rest assured.”

“Thank you, sir,” Goalie said.

“General, there's also this,” Guru added. “This fixation with hitting Target X with Ordnance Load Y, to get Result Z? It's something the Whiz Kids would drool over, if they were still around.”

“That they would,” Tanner agreed. He still had his loathing of MacNamara and his bunch from SEA days, and didn't hide it. “Go on.”

“Sir, with all due respect, we're not a lab experiment. That's for the range here, and down at Eglin. Not a front-line fighter squadron.”

“Or a wing,” Tanner nodded. “Again, you're not the first to raise the issue, but you've been the most polite. I've had two wing commanders-full Bird Colonels, mind you, come here with every cuss word in the book, complaining about the Ops section.”

Guru and Goalie exchanged looks. “Glad to see we're not alone,” she said.

“Believe me, you're not,” said the General. “One last thing: your UNODIR missions.”

Guru and Goalie exchanged looks again. Were they going to be called out on those? “Sir?” Guru asked.

“General Olds told me about that,” Tanner said. “Just make sure the message reporting the strike launch gets....delayed. By the time the Ops people know, you've already flown it. It's always a good thing to have four bombs do the work of forty. Just make sure you have a reliable pipeline for the Paveway kits.”

Guru nodded. “We do, sir. Chief Ross assures me that he can get what is needed.”

“I know Chief Ross,” Tanner said. “From Southeast Asia, and I have no doubt he can deliver. He also talent-scouts people in the 'Acquisitions' Department if I remember him correctly.”

“You do, sir,” Guru said. Ross had requested several enlisted people by name to be transferred into the squadron, not just in their regular capacities, but in their, well, 'extracurricular activities', he knew. And Colonel Rivers had okayed the requests. As XO, Guru had wondered why, but decided not to ask. Only after becoming CO did Ross tell him.

“Good to know.” Tanner said. He checked the clock on his office wall. “It's almost lunchtime, and today I have a staff lunch, and that's usually classified above your level,” he added. “Normally, I eat with the kids-either aircrew or ground crew, but once a week, I have a working lunch with the staff people.” The General stood, and Guru and Goalie did the same. “Don't worry about the Ops people. Soon, the deadwood will get cleaned out.” Then he shook both their hands. “And you two need to get back to Sheppard.”

“Yes, sir, and thank you,” Guru said.

“Safe trip back, both of you.”

“Sir,” Guru said, knowing this polite form of dismissal. He and Goalie saluted, then left the office.


After they left, Captain Harbert was waiting for them outside. He saw their expressions, and nodded. “Guess things went fine with the General.”

“They did,” Guru said. “Now we need to get back to Sheppard.”

“Don't want to eat?”

“Wouldn't mind at all, but it's almost noon, and I bet that place is crowded.”

“It is,” Harbert said. He produced a bag. “Two Grilled Turkey and bacon with cheese, cole slaw, and fries. With iced tea. You can duck into a break room if you want.”

“Thanks,” Guru said.

After eating, Harbert took them to Base Ops, where they checked out and filed their flight plan. They were told that 512 was ready to go, and got into their flight gear. Guru then thought of something. “I need to call Sheppard,” he told a sergeant in Ops.

“Sir, the phone lines are still iffy,” the Staff Sergeant said. “You can try.”

“Do it,” Guru told him.

After two attempts, the sergeant made the connection. “Here you go, sir.” He handed the phone to Guru.

“335th TFS, “ the voice on the other end answered. “Major, that you?”

“Yeah, Fridge, it's me,” Guru told the SDO. “Get the XO on the line.”

“Sorry, Boss,” Fridge replied. “He's out on a strike.”

“Ops available?” Guru asked.

“Same thing with him, Boss.”

Guru sighed. No avoiding the ATO, he knew. “All right, then let them know when they do get back that Goalie and I are on our way. Should be there in two hours or so.”

“Will do, Boss,” Fridge replied. “And in case you're wondering, no JAG or OSI guys swarming the base.”

“That's a relief. Thanks, Fridge. We're wheels-up shortly.”

“I'll pass the word, Boss.”

“Thanks.” After he hung up, Guru turned to Harbert. “Let's get to the Transient Ramp.”


After being driven to the Transient Ramp, Guru and Goalie noticed two F-8J Crusaders among the AF aircraft on the ramp, mostly F-16s from Stead and F-4s from Kingsley Field. The Crusaders bore the markings for VF-162, and both had several red stars painted on. “Those guys have been busy,” Goalie said as she noticed the kill marks.

“They've got their war, and we've got ours,” Guru said. “If the Air Force had said no to me going to OTS, I would've gone Navy.”

“And what would you be driving?”

“F-14s or A-6s.”

“Glad the AF made the right choice?” Goalie asked with a grin.

“You bet your sweet bippy I am,” the CO grinned back.

Hearing that, Harbert laughed. “Haven't heard that since a Laugh-In rerun on Late Night TV.”

“You're not the only one.” Guru said as the truck pulled up to 512.

As Guru and Goalie got out, and got not only their luggage, but their long guns, Sergeant Chrisman came up and saluted. “Major, your bird got some TLC, and she's good to go.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Guru replied, returning the salute. He and Goalie filled the travel pods, then did a preflight walkaround. Before they mounted their aircraft, they went back to Captain Harbert. “Captain? Thanks for everything, and hope you get back into the cockpit soon,” Guru said, putting out his hand.

“You're welcome, and if I don't see you, kick some and take some,” Harbert replied, shaking the hand, and doing the same with Goalie. “Good trip back.”

“Thanks,” Guru said, as did Goalie. “Ready to go back?”

“Do we have to?” Goalie said, tongue-in-cheek.

“Afraid so.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” Goalie nodded, then smiled. “Then what the hell. Let's go.”

Guru and Goalie mounted 512, then got strapped in. After putting on their helmets, they went through the preflight checklist. “Well, back to the old routine,” Guru said. “Arnie?”

“Arnie's up and ready,” Goalie replied, referring to the ARN-101 DMAS system. “Kara's going to want to know how much we won. And ejection seats?”

“Armed top and bottom; check yours. Well, we tried in the O-Club, and struck out. Spending five bucks there was enough,” Guru replied.

“It was for me,” said Goalie. “Preflight checklist complete, and ready for engine start.”

“It is, and we are,” Guru said. He gave a thumbs-up to Sergeant Chrisman, who gave the “Start Engines” signal in return. First one, then both, J-79 engines were up and running. Once the warmup was complete, Guru called the Tower. “Nellis Tower, Cougar One-one with one Phantom, requesting taxi and takeoff instructions.”

The Tower came back right away. “Cougar One-one, Nellis Tower. Clear to taxi to Runway Two-one Lima. Hold prior to the active, and you are number four in line.”

“Roger,Tower. Cougar One-one rolling.” Guru gave another thumbs-up, and Sergeant Chrisman signaled to the ground crew to pull away the wheel chocks. Then Chrisman gave the “Taxi” signal, and Guru released the brakes and began rolling. As he cleared the Transient Ramp, Sergeant Chrisman snapped a salute, which Guru and Goalie returned, then Guru taxied to the runway. Ahead of him was a four-ship of Aggressors, and both 335th crewers noted the white missiles on the rails. War shots loaded, and these F-5s were going out on a CAP, not to play Aggressor. Two F-16 flights with ST tailcodes meant Stead, and they were likely going back to Reno, and ahead of the F-16s was a C-141B.

“Want to bet he's headed east?” Goalie quipped.

“If he is, we'll beat him to Sheppard,” Guru said. The North C-141 shuttle started at Norton AFB near San Bernadino, California, then went to Nellis. After Nellis, it went to Kirtland, Cannon, Amarillo, then Sheppard.

The big Starlifter taxied onto the runway, then it rumbled down the runway and into the air. Both F-16 flights followed suit, then the Aggressor F-5s. It was their turn next. “Nellis Tower, Cougar One-one requesting taxi for takeoff.”

“Cougar One-one, Nellis Tower. Clear to taxi for takeoff.”

“Roger, Tower.” Guru noted the armorers, who came and removed the weapon safeties, then they signaled all clear. He then taxied 512 onto the runway, A final cockpit check followed, and everything was set. “Ready?”

“Ready back here,” Goalie called.

“Roger that,” Guru said. “Tower, Cougar One-one requesting clear for takeoff.”

“Cougar One-one, Tower. Clear for takeoff. Winds are Two-six-nine for ten.”

“Roger, Tower, and thank you.” Guru then called to Goalie, “Canopy coming down.” He pulled his canopy closed, then locked it. In the back seat, Goalie did the same.

“All set,” she called.

“Then let's go.” He firewalled the throttles, and released the brakes. 512 then rumbled down the runway and into the air. After climbing to FL 120, Guru turned southeast, and set course for Texas.

[Poohbah]

I've got to have Sophie get briefed by Stewart.

Either she goes Full Sheldon with three blackboards of math, or she asks when his last urinalysis was...

[Matt Wiser]

Colonel Stewart is probably wondering why those on the tip of the spear are so resentful. As mentioned, Guru and Goalie aren't the only ones expressing their displeasure with the Ops Cell. Then again, he doesn't get out that much. To quote one Grand Moff Tarkin: "We need a statement, not a manifesto."

[jemhouston]

Colonel Stewart is probably wondering why those on the tip of the spear are so resentful. As mentioned, Guru and Goalie aren't the only ones expressing their displeasure with the Ops Cell. Then again, he doesn't get out that much. To quote one Grand Moff Tarkin: "We need a statement, not a manifesto."

TR "Speak softly and carry a big stick."

[Wolfman]

Even Darth Vader understood that… Director Krennic didn’t, and paid the price for his lack of vision…

[Matt Wiser]

Part VIII: Back to Sheppard:


Over the Texas Panhandle, 1600 Hours Central War Time:


Major Matt Wiser took 512 into Texas, halfway between Amarillo and Lubbock. To him, it was familiar territory, having flown strikes into the Panhandle during PRAIRIE FIRE, and he'd inflicted his share of damage onto the ComBloc. Not just during Phase I of the campaign, but Phase II, when the Soviets and their lackeys had been pushed out of this part of Texas, and down to the I-20/I-30 line. Familiar landmarks, such as Palo Duro Canyon, passed by, as did familiar roads, such as I-27 and soon, U.S. 287. During Ivan's retreat from the Panhandle, the 335th had flown their share of strikes against retreating Soviets on the roads, and had contributed to what the media had called, “Highways of Death.” Though he wondered where the reporters who came up with that phrase had been on Invasion Day and after, when the Soviets and their lackeys had bombed and strafed refugees fleeing the advancing enemy. It was remarks like that which reminded him-and many others-why the military often detested reporters.

“Wasn't that long ago,” he said over the IC.

“When we flew here?” 1st Lieutenant Lisa “Goalie” Eichhorn said from the back seat. Normally, a GIB would be busy. But on a flight like this, there wasn't much for the backseater to do, other than double-check the navigation, and keep an eye out for aircraft, friendly and otherwise. Ivan was known for running fighter sweeps north of the front lines, so it was a good idea to keep an eye out.

“You could say that,” Guru replied. Memories of some hairy strikes came back, along with boring Scud Hunts, getting his first confirmed gun kill (so far), and a smile came to him as this was where Kara had made ace-and the follies that resulted.

Goalie nodded in the back seat, then she scanned the sky. So far, off to the south, she could just pick up some of the tanker tracks. She looked around, then up, and saw a high flyer, heading south. “Got a high flyer at Nine.”

“How fast?”

“Fast enough,” Goalie replied. “Can't tell who he is.”

Guru looked up just in time to see the bogey; he was leaving no contrails, and was just a blur as he headed south. “Either he's an SR-71 or a Foxbat recon.”

“And no way to catch him. Even if he's a friendly,” Goalie said.

“Yep.”


Soon, they were approaching Sheppard, and it was time to get into the landing pattern. “Sheppard Tower, Cougar One-one, requesting landing instructions.”

“Cougar One-one, Sheppard Tower. Clear to land on Runway One-seven Lima. Winds are Two-six-seven for ten, and you are number two in the pattern.”

“Roger, Tower.” Guru got into the pattern, and right in front of them was a Special-Ops MC-130. What are they doing flying in the daytime, he wondered. After the Herky-bird made its approach and landing, he came in. After landing and taxiing away, he and Goalie popped their canopies. Then Guru taxied 512 into the squadron's dispersal, and as he did, he noticed two of the RAF F-4Js were in, and that meant the others were still out. As for 335th birds? Two birds were in, but maintenance was going over them. So the squadron was busy. Good.

Guru then taxied into 512's revetment, and as Sergeant Crowley gave the “STOP” signal, then “Shut Down”. Pilot and GIB then went through the post-flight checklist, then the ground grew brought the crew ladder.

“We're home,” Goalie said as she stood up in the back seat.

“That we are,” Guru nodded. He took off his helmet, then climbed down from the cockpit. He and Goalie did a post-flight walkaround, and when they were finished, Sergeant Crowley came up, with the usual bottle of water for both of them.

“Major, Lieutenant, glad to see you back,” Crowley beamed. “How's my bird?”

“They took good care of her at Nellis,” Guru said. “No other problems, and it's back to the game tomorrow. Hope you and the guys enjoyed a day and a half off.”

Crowley nodded. “Not a problem, sir, and we'll get her ready for the morning.”

“Anything big happen while we were gone?” Guru asked as he emptied the port side travel pod, while Goalie did the same on the starboard.

“Just a Scud alarm this morning at Zero-dark-thirty, sir.”

“Scud alarm?” Goalie said. “A for-real Scud attack?”

Crowley nodded. “Yes, Ma'am,” he said. “They shot four, and one landed a few miles east of here, in some field. Two landed in Lake Arrowhead, and one blew a hole in Highway 277, they say, a dozen miles from here.”

Guru winced. “It's not the ones with your name on it that you have to worry about,” he said as he shouldered his AKMS. “It's the ones marked, 'To whom it may concern,' that you need to watch out for.”

“Heard that before, sir,” Crowley said. “Don't worry about Five-twelve, sir. She'll be ready for the morning, and you can take that to the bank.”

“Then let's do that,” said Guru.

“Yes, sir!” Crowley beamed. “All right, people! You heard the Major! Let's get this bird ready for the morning!”

Guru and Goalie went to Officer Country to unpack, then they headed to the Squadron Office. No doubt there was accumulated paperwork requiring both their attention, and the armchair warriors had to be slain before anything else today. When they arrived, 1st Lt. Terry McAuliffe was serving as the SDO. “Terry, what are you doing as SDO?” Guru said. “I thought I told you to take a couple more days off.”

“Got kind of bored, and wanted to stay busy,” McAuliffe replied. “Thought Fridge could use some help, so...”

“So you volunteered,” Goalie said. “Terry, the first rule in the military-”

“Is never volunteer for anything,” he finished. “I know.”

Guru nodded. “And where's Dave?” IDF Major Dave Golen, their “Observer” who did a lot more than that, was Terry's pilot.

“He's been with the jarheads, spending time on the range,” McAuliffe said. Everyone spent time there, keeping up with their rifle and pistol marksmanship. “He should be dealing with the paperwork he has to send to Tel Aviv every so often.”

Guru nodded. He wasn't surprised at that, and in fact, expected it. Even countries not directly involved in the war had an interest in how both sides fought, and for the Israelis, seeing how the U.S. (and its allies) did against the Soviets could be applied against the Soviets' Arab clients, such as Syria and Iraq. “All right. XO out?”

“Just about everybody's out. We haven't lost anyone, but have you heard about the Scud attack?”

“We did,” Goalie said. “From our Crew Chief.”

“And everybody's been out on Scud Hunts ever since dawn,” McAuliffe said. “XO left forty-five minutes ago, and Ops has been gone an hour.”

Guru thought for a minute. “Okay, when they get back? Send 'em my way. And my flight, along with Dave Gledhill.”

“Will do, Boss. And before you ask, no swarm of JAG and OSI types around.”

“Good. That meant Frank was on his best behavior, such as it is,” Guru noted. “Oh, one more thing: when my flight gets in? Send Ryan Blanchard our way.” Capt. Ryan Blanchard was the OINC of their Combat Security Police detachment.

McAuliffe nodded. “I'll get her over here, and before you ask? The XO filtered out the wheat from the chaff, so the pile in your IN Box should be manageable.”

The CO signed. No escape from the bureaucrats, no matter what. “All right, Terry. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Boss.”


“Well, no escaping the armchair warriors,” Guru spat as he headed to his office.

“Your pile's larger than mine,” Goalie said sympathetically. “What's the Army saying? Chairborne Ranger?”

Guru laughed. “Something like that. I'll attack my pile.”

“And I take care of mine,” Goalie replied. “See you in the Club.”

Guru then went to his office, and found his secretary, Staff Sergeant Trisha Lord, at her desk. “Trish,” he said. “Anything important?”

“Major,” Lord said. She gestured to the CO's desk. “Everything's on your desk, sir. And how was Vegas?”

Guru grinned. “It was more of a working trip, but we did fill up on the buffet at the Hilton. But we got what we went for.”

“Good to know, sir,” Lord said. “You'll be busy, I expect. No calls?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Trish,” Guru nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Guru then went into the office, made some coffee, then he checked the papers in his IN Box. Mark's shaping up to be a good Exec, he thought. The XO had gone over the papers, and left only what was really important for the CO's attention. Still, the papers had to be attacked, and Guru sat down to do so. He was at it when there was a knock on the door. “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

The XO came in. “Afternoon, Boss,” Capt. Mark Ellis said. “How was the trip?”

“General Tanner and the other brass went fine. It's the Ops people there who have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Ellis asked, and Guru explained. “Boss, we're not a lab experiment.”

“General Tanner agreed,” Guru replied. “He's going to give them some time to shape up, or the deadwood gets cleaned out. And he mentioned the UNODIR missions.”

Ellis looked at the CO. “And what'd he say about those?”

The CO grinned. “Just make sure that by the time the Ops people at Nellis know, we're already in the air and too late to be recalled.” He paused, then said, “How'd the Scud Hunt go?”

“Didn't find anything, and unloaded on an opportunity target,” the XO said. “Tore up a vehicle repair yard, but Scuds? They're hiding, and this time, they're good.”

“Where'd they come from?”

“East German sector,” Ellis replied. “Probably why we're not finding anything.”

Guru nodded. The East Germans were often better than the Soviets in many aspects, though camouflage and deception-maskrikova, the Soviets called it, was a Soviet specialty. “Anyone find any Scuds?”

“Not that I know of, but the opportunity targets? They're getting a boatload of ordnance on their heads.”

There was a knock on the door right after, and Guru said, “Yeah? Come on in and show yourself!”

Capt. Don Van Loan, the Ops Officer, came in. “Boss,” he said. “How was Vegas?”

“Ate our fill at the Hilton's buffet, and saw an old friend of ours,” Guru said. He related the run-in with Tony Carpenter. “He's on his way to Clark.”

“Tony's still kicking?” Van Loan asked. “And the brass?”

“He is. And it's a go,” Guru said. “I'll fill you in when my flight gets here.”

“They were just arriving in the pattern when I landed,” said Ops. “Fifteen minutes at the most.”

“As soon as they're debriefed, get them over here. Find Dave Gledhill and Dave Golen: I want them here as well, and get Ryan Blanchard.”

Ellis looked at the CO. “Why her, Boss?”

“Security,” Guru said firmly. “We need a place to meet and plan, and since we don't have a SCIF... Got any ideas?”

Van Loan looked at both the CO and XO. “How about the Storm Cellar in the basement? Nobody goes in there unless there's an air raid or Scud Alert.”

“Sounds good,” the CO agreed. “Mark?”

“Best we'll have, probably,” the XO said. “I'll get to Chief Ross, and find a small-to-medium sized office safe for the planning material.”

“Do that,” Guru said. Then the rumble of jets coming in sounded. “My flight?” He saw Van Loan nod. “Get them debriefed, and get Sin Licon over here as well.” Capt. Darren “Sin” Licon was the squadron's Intelligence Officer. Mark?” Guru looked at the XO. Get Dave Golen, Dave Gledhill, and Ryan Blanchard here. Fifteen minutes.”

“On our way,” Ellis said, before he and Van Loan went out.


Fifteen minutes later, the CO's office was packed. He had called Goalie over from her office, where she had already finished the paperwork that the Senior WSO had to deal with, and the others came in from their debriefing, or in Ryan Blanchard's case, right from a patrol along the base perimeter. “All right, people!” Guru said. “Before you ask, yeah, we had a good time in Vegas, and we also got what we went for.”

“The op's a go?” Kara asked. She looked at Sweaty, who was grinning.

“It's a go. Operation BOLO II has full approval from Tenth Air Force,” Guru said.

There were smiles all around, then Sweaty asked, “When do we go?”

“Not sure yet, but we have two weeks to plan a strike that might go to any one of three possible targets.”

“And those are?” The XO asked.

Guru nodded to Goalie, who said, “The old Connolly AFB north of Waco, Gray AAF at Fort Hood, and Goodfellow by San Angelo. Bergstrom's too close to Randolph as a staging field, but it's where their Flankers are bedded down, and they may not want their top fighters and theater strike assets on the same base.”

Sin Licon nodded. “Boss, we getting the intel we need?”

“General Tanner assures me we will be,” Guru replied. “Now, we'll be using the storm cellar in the basement for a planning room. Hardly anyone goes there unless there's a Scud alarm or an air raid, and since we don't have a SCIF, it'll have to do. Ryan?” He turned to his senior CSP officer. “OSI will be here to sweep the place for bugs, and they'll be here regularly,” he said. “You'll be working with them.”

Blanchard nodded “Not a problem, Boss.”

“Now, any civilian employees-the new ones the Air Base Group hired-work here?”

“A few, Boss,” the XO said. “They do at night for the most part. Janitors and cleaners.”

“Okay, Ryan? Have OSI check them again. And make sure the basement's locked at all times, unless the planning cell is there, or there's an air raid alarm.”

The ex-Deputy Sheriff nodded. “Will do, Boss.”

“All right, now. Whichever target we go for, I'll be leading the first flight, XO has the second.” Guru turned to Van Loan. “Ops has the third, and Dave Golen?” The CO nodded at their IDF “Observer.” “You've got the last one.”

“Four flights of four,” Golen said. This would be one of the largest strikes he would have flown in his whole career, going back to 1973.

“Exactly. First two flights have Rockeye CBUs to tear up the ramp area, parked aircraft, ordnance carts,
fuel trucks, and anyone foolish enough to be on the ramp during an air strike,” Guru said.

“What do I get?” Van Loan asked.

“Your people get Mark-82 Snakeyes. Rip up the hangars, and put some big craters in the ramp,” said Guru.

“And my people?” Dave Golen wanted to know.

“Dave, it's split,” Guru replied. “You and Flossy will have Durandals.”

“Are those cleared for F-4s?”

Goalie spoke up for the first time. “They will be,” she said, and saw Guru nod his approval. “General Tanner told us they'll be running trials at Nellis, and they'll be cleared with the Chief of Staff.”

“Good to know,” Golen said. “And the second element?”

“CBU-89s with GATOR mines,” said Guru. He grinned at Goalie, then went on. “We need those to put the fear of God in their repair crews.”


“We don't just cull out their Fencer force, but the field in question gets knocked out of business for a few days,” added Goalie.

“And they'll have a hard time replacing what we cull out,” Sin Licon said.

“Exactly,” Guru nodded. “Now, we'll be having Marines with us-and they'll handle some of the SAM suppression as well as flak suppression and TARCAP.” The CO nodded at Dave Gledhill. “Our British friends have the primary TARCAP, and General Tanner told us we'll have at least one four-ship of Weasels, possibly two, for their mission. As for BARCAP? One four-ship of Eagles, more likely two.”

“Expecting Flankers? Especially if it's Gray AAF,” Sweaty asked.

“Or Fulcrums,” Sin Licon added. “They're there and at Goodfellow.”

The CO nodded. “Either answer can be graded as correct,” he said. “Now, I'll ask for an EF-111, preferably two. One for standoff jamming, one for escort jamming. Questions?”

“Boss,” Kara said. “Why not have a couple more, loaded with Pave Tack or Pave Spike, and a couple of laser bombs? Kill the fuel storage while we're at it.”

Goalie looked at Kara, then at the CO. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Guru said after a minute. “But, we need to get in and out fast. I'll recommend to General Tanner that any follow-on Tenth AF lays on goes for the fuel storage.”

“It's good,” Dave Golen added. “Blowing that grounds whoever's left for a while.”

Guru nodded. “And they will be. It'll likely be that night,” he said. “Not us, though. Any other questions?”

KT raised her hand. “When do we fly this?”

“We've got two weeks to plan and submit a strike template for all three targets,” Goalie said.

“And several things-like a deception plan and more intel-need to fall into place before we can fly the strike. You don't need to know about those,” Guru said, and heads nodded. What they didn't know, they couldn't be forced to reveal if captured. “And we'll have enough notice that the Fencers are on the ground at the staging field to get this going.”

“So, at least two weeks?” The XO asked.

“At least,” Guru replied.

“I'll have the intel to give you guys?” Sin Licon wanted to know.

“That's what they told us,” the CO said. “Now, we don't talk about this outside the squadron. When we're planning, what goes on in that room stays there. I'll talk to Colonel Brady about getting the Hornet drivers over for their side, and our RAF friends will do their part in planning.”

“We'll be there,” Dave Gledhill said.

“All right,” nodded Guru. “We start planning tomorrow, when we're not flying, that is. Anything else?”
Heads shook no. “That's it. See you in the club.”

As the meeting broke up, Kara came to the CO. “We're definitely doing this?”

“We are,” Guru replied. “You've thought out of the box a few times, and I'll need you for this one.”

“I'll be there.”

“And we do to these Fencers what the Navy did to Nagumo at Midway.”

“Or the Israelis did to the Egyptians, back in '67.”

“Something like that,” Goalie said.

Kara nodded. “I like the imagery in that,” she said. “How was Vegas?” She saw Guru and Goalie look at each other, and their expressions went coy. “Figured. I'm a little jealous right now.”

“And why's that?” Guru asked.

“You guys got to do it on a real bed,” Kara grinned. “See you in a few,” she said as she left the office.

“Now, why didn't we bring Kara along?” Goalie wanted to know.

Guru shook his head. “If we had, there would've been fists flying in the Nellis O-Club.”

“Clancy and Pruitt?”

“Uh-huh, and then there's the pool table: last thing I want is to find out she found a place to, uh, 'collect' because some Aggressor driver couldn't pay up.”

Goalie understood. “To be avoided if possible.”

“Yeah,” Guru said. He looked at the clock on his office wall. 1703. “Come on: let's hit the Club.”

[Matt Wiser]

Conclusion: The O-Club:



Officer's Club Tent, Sheppard AFB, TX: 1710 Hours Central War Time:



Guru and Goalie went into the O-Club Tent, and the place was already buzzing. The Scud alarms earlier, and having most of the squadrons-Marine, Navy, and the 335th, going out on Scud hunts or other anti-Scud missions, had left people tired, but excited. Even though as word had gone around, that only one flight, a Marine one from VMFA-333, had killed any Scuds. The East Germans were smart, and in some cases smarter than the Russians, and today, it showed. Glad not to have been flying around burning gas and then hitting opportunity targets, they bellied up to the bar. “Smitty,” Guru said to the barkeep.

“Major,” Smitty replied. “Missed you for a couple days. Word was that you two went to Vegas.”

“Wasn't for R&R,” Guru said. “Brass wanted to touch base with us about something, and we had to go.”

“Drop any money in the one-armed bandits?”

“Not much,” Goalie said. “We demolished the buffet at the Hilton instead.”

“When this is all over, I need to get back there,” Smitty grinned. “Your usuals?”

“Sam Adams for me,” Guru said. “I'll pay.”

“Bud here,” Goalie added.

Smitty produced the bottles. “Here you go, Major.”

Both took the bottles, and Goalie asked, “So, what do we drink to?”

“How about just being back among friends,” Guru said.

“Good enough for me.” Clink.

Then Colonel Brady, the MAG-11 CO, came to the bar. “Major, Lieutenant,” he said. “How was Vegas?”

“Pretty good, sir,” Guru replied. He then got into a very low tone of voice, and quite conspiratorial. “Sir, I need a couple of your Hornet drivers-the ones who've picked up the SAM- and flak-suppression bug.”

Brady understood. “Got you, Major. I'll send a couple of 'em over your way. When?”

“Tomorrow, sir,” said Guru. “When we're not flying.”

“They'll be there,” Brady said.

“And sir? I'd like it if you drop in on a planning session or two. Just to go over things, and make sure we're not overlooking anything.”

Colonel Brady nodded understanding. “I'll be glad to, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The MAG-11 CO resumed a normal tone of voice. “You two missed all the fun.”

“That's what we were told when we got back, sir,” Goalie said. “Scud alarm, and all-day Scud hunts.”

Brady nodded again. “That's about it. Flew two of 'em myself. Didn't find any, and unloaded on a couple of opportunity targets. East Germans were smart.”

“Nobody said otherwise, sir,” Guru said. “If they're like their grandfathers forty-plus years ago, they'll know their camouflage.”

“They do,” Brady said as Jana Wendt and her news crew came in. “Those folks were on to Sydney, live, when the Scud Alarm came in. That was a first.”

“For them, anyway,” said Guru.

“It was,” Lieutenant Patti Brown said as she came up. Though a pilot herself, her job when not flying was as the squadron's Public Affairs Officer. “Almost everybody's running to the shelters, and they're on the air. They never left until after the all-clear sounded.” She got a beer, then said, “Then they're on the air an hour later, doing another piece.”

Goalie shook her head. “She's made of more sterner stuff than we thought.”

“If that 'check ride' you all gave her didn't scare her off, nothing will,” Brady observed. He was referring to a ride Guru and Kara had given Ms. Wendt and her cameraman a couple of weeks prior. Instead of scaring the reporter back to L.A and the CBS studios there, she had announced on the ramp then and there her intention to stay.

Guru grinned. “Well, Colonel? Maybe your Marines can do that, when she flies with you guys.”

“Maybe,” Brady said, though he sounded slightly disappointed. He still had a distrust of the media, from 1973 and Homecoming. Cameras everywhere, reporters sticking a microphone in his face when he got to his hometown, all of it. “If the Wild Thing over there-” he gestured in Kara's direction-”Can't? Then I doubt any of my people could.”

“Not as crazy in the air, sir?”

“That's about the size of it. Major, you let me know when you want those Hornet guys over your way. I'll make sure they get there.”

Guru nodded. “Yes,sir.”

“You two have a good rest of the evening,” said Brady. “And it's back in the saddle tomorrow.”

“It is that, sir, and thank you,” Guru replied. After Brady went to talk with two of his Marine squadron commanders, Guru and Goalie went to a table where the rest of their flight was gathered. “Well, people, we're getting our Marine help. And I'll leave it at that.”

“When?” Kara asked.

“Sometime tomorrow,” Guru said as he sat down.

Heads nodded at that, then Sweaty asked, “You two wish you were still in Vegas?”

“Now that you say it,” Goalie quipped. “Yeah. One more night at the Hilton, that all-you-can-eat buffet, and a real bed and shower.”

“Too bad we used up our R&R,” said Guru.

“There's next year.”

Nodding, Guru said, “Always.”

Don Van Loan came over, with the day's papers. “Boss, got the papers off the C-141. L.A. Times for you.” He handed the CO the paper.

“Orange County Register?” Goalie asked. That was her hometown paper.

“Yeah, and who wants Stars and Stripes or USA Today?”

“I'll take Stars and Stripes,” Kara said.

“USA here,” Sweaty added.

As they went through the papers, one thing was in common. It had been a slow news day,just like the Vegas papers. “Not much here,” Goalie observed. “Though there's something interesting from overseas.”

“Yeah?” Kara asked.

“It's from Madrid. Says here some Spanish tourists came back from Prague. There was some kind of protest-a silent one-in the center of Prague. About a dozen people standing there, with signs painted up with anti-war slogans on 'em.”

“Let me guess,” said Preacher. “The Czech cops busted heads, then ran them all in.”

“Right on the last, but not the first. When the cops arrived, they all went quietly.”

“First one there,” Sin Licon said from a nearby table. “There was one in Budapest two or three weeks ago.”

“That we know of,” Guru reminded everyone. “Here's one from the L.A. Times: the two POWs who escaped from Cuba on that homemade raft?”

“What about 'em?” Kara asked as she went over Stars and Stripes.

“They're going back on active duty,” Guru said. “One of 'em was a deck officer on a destroyer tender sunk at Gitmo on Day One, and the other was a pilot. The deck officer? She's going back to sea.”

Sounds about right, Brainiac thought. “What about the pilot?” He was reading the sports section from Stars and Stripes-such as it was. Some college sports, along with NBA and NFL stars playing in charity games to raise money for the Red Cross, Disabled American Veterans, or the USO, and that was about it.

“She's going back into the cockpit, but I'll bet not into combat.”

“Why's that?” KT asked.

“She's an escaped POW, and want to bet she's high on the list of people Ivan and Fidel want to grab?” Guru said. “For her own sake, they'll put her in as a flight instructor somewhere.”

“Or SERE,” Goalie added .

“Or SERE,” Guru agreed. “As added duty.”

Then the restaurateurs who ran the Mess Operation came in. “Folks, we've got Bison tri-tip, or beer battered fried chicken, with all the fixin's.” One of them said. “Come and get it.”

After people got their food, it was time for the CBS Evening News. Walter Cronkite was on from Los Angeles, and as with the papers, it was a slow day. Though the upcoming Presidential Election was of some importance, as a handful of Democratic candidates were going to New Hampshire and Iowa. And one of them was the Rev. Jesse Jackson, the Civil Rights activist. “Reverend Jackson, in Concord, was asked why he was running, and said, 'I want to bring about peace. A peace that America and her allies as well as Russia and their allies can live with.'”

“He's not going to last long,” Mark Ellis observed from a nearby table. “Thought that attitude had gone away last year.” He was referring to the 1986 midterms, which had still been held. In those elections, the GOP had extended its hold on the Senate, and had nearly taken the House. And almost all of the anti-war wing of the Democratic Party had been sent packing.

“Still a few around,” Don Van Loan said. “John Kerry, Gary Hart, Proxmire-”

“He may not be around for much longer,” Flossy said. “The spy scandal, remember?”

Van Loan nodded. “Forgot about that,” he said.

A few more segments came, including one from the Wichita area, where locals were busy picking up the pieces, and the Army was busy clearing away the remnants of the battlefield. Wrecked Soviet tanks, APCs, artillery pieces, and other vehicles were being gathered up and taken away to be scrapped, while Army Engineers were helping farmers get their fields ready for spring planting by clearing minefields and unexploded ordnance.

“And that's the way it is,” Cronkite finished. “For all of us at CBS News, Good night.”

After that, AFN switched to a rerun of a 1983 SF 49ers-L.A. Rams game. “Well, time for me to hold court,” Kara said. She got another beer, then went to the pool table. Two Special-Ops C-130 drivers tried their luck, and failed. Then one of the RAF Regiment officers who'd come over with the det from 74 Squadron tried his luck, and found his wallet lightened.

Flight Lieutenant James Bruce, one of the pilots from 74, stood up. “I'll try.”

“Your money,” Flossy warned.

“I'm game,” Bruce said cheerfully. A few minutes later, he came back sour-faced. “Where did she learn to play pool?”

“She took you,” Dave Golen said. He'd tried-once, and vowed never to play with Kara again, unless it was a friendly match.

Bruce shook his head. “She did.”

“Ask the people down at Auburn University,” Guru told him. “That's where she went to college, and she must've learned from folks down there.”

“In that case, I'll go and get slightly drunk,” Bruce said, heading for the bar.

“Or more than slightly,” KT noted. She, too, had tried her luck, and failed. Nobody in the CO's flight had managed to beat Kara when money was involved, and they all had promised not to try again.

Then MAG-11's Intelligence Officer, who happened to be a light Colonel, decided to try his luck. The Marine, who had been in Vietnam, put his money down, and so did Kara. This time, Marine tenacity held out, for Kara was out $50.00. She smiled, paid the man, then went to the bar in a fit of the sulks, while the Marine went back to Colonel Brady and other Marines, to much applause and back-slapping.

Ms. Wendt came over to the CO. “Major, let me guess: she's going to get drunk, then beat the next three or four just to show it wasn't a fluke.”

“You've caught on,” Guru noted.

That was exactly what happened, for two more Marines-both from VMFA-333, followed by a captain from the Air Base Group, tried and failed. Then Flight Lt. Karen McKay, from 74, went and laid down her money. “Uh-oh,” Dave Gledhill said.

“We'll see,” Guru replied as Kara laid down her money, and both went at it. This time, Kara lost to the RAF, and McKay came back to the table the RAF people shared to cheers and applause.

Kara, meanwhile, came back to the CO's table in a fit of the sulks. “Where'd she learn?

“Probably Bermuda,” Goalie said.

“Figures,” Kara spat. “I need to get another.”

Guru shot a glance at the bar. “Too late.”

“What?”

Then one of the Navy flight surgeons rang the bar bell. “Twelve-hour Rule now in effect!”

“Come back tomorrow night,” McKay said cheerfully.

“I'll be waiting,” Kara said. She went and got some club soda, then went back to the pool table.

“Well?” Guru asked Goalie.

“See the rematch tomorrow night, and there's something that just came to me.”

“And that is?”

His GIB had a grim smile. “Getting used to camp beds again.”

“You guys got used to the Hilton,” Sweaty chimed in. “And not just for the buffet,” she added, her expression getting coy. And with a hint of jealousy.

Guru and Goalie knew what she meant. “Something like that,” Guru said.

Things went on until 2100, when Doc Waters, the 335th's Flight Surgeon, rang the bar bell. “Aircrew curfew now in effect!”

Those on the flight schedule in the morning headed off to Officer Country and their bunks, for it wouldn't be long until 0430 and aircrew wake-up, with a full day of flying coming.