Star Girl (8 page)

          After we land and are assigned revetments for our birds we are taken to our BOQ rooms, and told that the indoctrination briefing will begin at fourteen hundred hours, and where to go for it.

A single star General leads the briefing. “Welcome to Red-Flag officers. I hope you all came prepared to have your full range of operational skills tested to the limit, because it will be twice as intense as that. Now for some protocol issues first. On all of the digital flight maps we will provide for each mission, you will see areas to the north of Nellis listed as no fly zones. Any entry into these zones will result in severe disciplinary issues. There are no exceptions, period. Secondly, anything you may or may not see in these areas is to be considered classified information, and you will treat it as such. This means keep your damn lips sealed people! This is no joke! Third item, absolutely no fly overs of Las Vegas are allowed during the exercises. Four, keep clear of the no fly zone over Hoover Dam. Other than that, you have the whole desert to use. Let’s keep safety alertness officers, we cannot afford the loss of one of you.”

          He goes on to explain some of the rules of engagement. All the strike missions will be live fire missions, but no air to air missiles will be carried, or gun rounds. Instead sensor pods will be installed on the pylons that instantly calculate a missile hit or miss and it informs the data link with command control. If we are shot down we will be told to return to base, and are out for the rest of the day. Simulated cannon shots are calculated similarly. There is a hard deck of a hundred feet AGL, or Above Ground Level, meaning we are not supposed to fly below this. That’s pretty low, so it sounds fun. Then he tells us certain flights may be allowed to go supersonic, but that will be as the scenario dictates. This could be very interesting indeed.

          At evening chow the whole squadron is excited, and we talk with another couple of squadrons in the hall also. Many of the officers, including in our own squadron, have been through Red-Flag before, and they tell us it is a lot of fun, but to watch for those damn aggressors as they are real good.

          At oh four hundred we are marshalled to mission briefing. Colonel Hall explains our mission for this morning’s sortie is Mig CAP. We will only be armed with the pods to simulate missiles. The squadron will split into two elements of three flights each. Each element will perform Combat Air Patrol in different areas as listed on our digital maps. It’s a pretty simple sounding mission, I wonder what they are going to throw at us.

          In minutes we are airborne and heading north, and I form up tightly on Major Hoyt’s wing. We are starting to skirt the big no fly zone north of the base, and ahead in the darkness I see the bright lights of the mythical Area 51. Everyone in the briefing knew exactly what the general had been referring to. I wonder if we’ll see a UFO? It makes me laugh.

          Soon we are at forty thousand feet as the mission parameters dictated, and we have our radars in full search mode. Every now and then I dip my radar to look straight down, I know Major Hoyt also is doing this as he’s the one who taught me the trick. We also have all sorts of passive emission detectors we are using to look around.

          We cruise on station for about twenty minutes, when we see the sun start to think about rising. Then the next time I do a downward search, I pick up a blip.

“Radar contact directly below major, altitude five K. Heading two eight three.”

“Rodger.” In a moment he comes back, “Let’s go have a look. Follow at half a click.”

“Rodger that sir.” I watch as he rolls over and dives away from me, following after a couple seconds, and staying right on his tail.

          We drop after the boogie, gaining speed. I see the major’s engine exhausts open further meaning he is easing off the throttle a bit, so I do too. On my radar scope the blip is right ahead of us about ten miles out, and closing. I am straining my eyes to look for it, we need visual confirmation to score a kill. Then finally, I see it below us several thousand feet and about half a mile ahead. As we get a little closer I see it has red stars as insignia, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t an old Mig twenty one. We are dropping down on his six so this should be an easy kill.

          Just as I think this, the Mig pilot has seen us somehow, and he pulls up sharply, near vertical, but he doesn’t light his afterburners off. Major Hoyt is trying to pull up, keeping the Mig in his firing arc, but we are going way too fast, and we zip right past the enemy aircraft. Major Hoyt lights his afterburners off, and he goes pure vertical trying to gain precious altitude that we had lost. I follow, and quickly look back for the Mig. I see him, right behind us with his afterburners lit off. Then my text screen alerts me that I have been shot down.

“Mike Charlie twelve, this is master control. You have been shot down, RTB.”

Damn it!

          I pull over from the climb and head back to Nellis. I don’t feel so bad when in another moment Major Hoyt is also shot down. Whoever that Mig pilot is, he’s one hell of a Honcho. Damn, we were right on him, and so quickly he was then all over us. Holy shit.

          After I land, I am taken to the KIA lounge to wait until the days’ sorties are over to rejoin my squadron. Fortunately there are already two other pilots there from another squadron. Major Hoyt joins us shortly, looking sheepish.

“Sorry Romero, I blew it. That guy was something else wasn’t he?”

I nod with wide eyes.

“Was it a camouflaged Mig twenty three?” One of the other pilots asks.

“No it was a little camouflaged twenty one. Did a twenty three get you?”

“Both of us at the same time. Damn that guy could fly.”

“Ditto. We were on our fellow’s six, and he sure turned the tables quickly.”

It surprised me too, and I think back to exactly what I saw him do. Then I see a solution, if I would have been further back from the major, I might have had a shot. I will learn from this, I want to face that guy again. It will make me a better combat pilot.

          By then end of the first day there are three more pilots from our squadron in the KIA lounge. We all exchange stories of how we bought the farm. In debriefing we are each asked if there was anything we can think of to have changed the outcome. I tell them of my thought of being further behind my wing commander may have allowed me to get a shot off. The colonel performing the debriefing agrees with me, and I see Major Hoyt think about it, then nod in agreement.

          Day two begins with another Mig Cap mission for us, and I want a piece of that Mig so badly; I can taste it. Sure enough we are bounced by two Mig twenty threes that our radar sees coming a long way off, but since we have to visually verify before we can engage; we simply fly right at them at just under the speed of sound.

“On my wing twelve keep a mile separation.” The major radios, and I drop back.

          The Migs blaze right by us, and Major Hoyt breaks left hard. I wait several seconds and do the same. I am looking back at what the Migs are doing too, and both break right, coming back around into us. Then one goes high, and the other fellow low, and it comes to my mind that they will attempt to do a vertical Thach Weave. I ease up on the throttle to gain some more separation from the Major, that way I can foil their plan. Major Hoyt goes for the fellow who went high, so I follow at distance. He does some really nice maneuvering to get on the Mig’s six, and the Mig is jinxing like crazy, and dropping flares. Sure enough the low Mig goes for the Major, to help his wingman, and I pull in behind the second Mig a mile and a half back. I use the bore sight acquisition to lock onto the second Mig and I trigger off a simulated AMRAM. My text alert tells me that the target is destroyed. I shot down a Mig! It flies off home to their own KIA lounge I am sure. In a moment the Major shoot his Mig down too, and right as I am about to congratulate him, my text alert tells me that I have been shot down. Just then the little Mig twenty one pulls up on my close starboard side, and the pilot salutes me just before he lights off his after burners to shoot the Major down again. The bastard snuck up on us. The top two Migs were just to keep us occupied while sneaky comes up and zaps our asses. Damn it!

          I am real tired of the KIA lounge by now. It’s for losers, dead losers. I hate it here.

“I’m sorry Romero, I did it to us again.” I can tell that Major Hoyt is sincere with his apology.

“It wasn’t your fault sir. I let you down. I should have been checking my damn six!”

“We both should have. Bastard got us with one of the oldest tricks in the book.”

“I want a piece of that little Mig’s ass so bad.”

“Yeah, that would taste real good.” He grimaces. “Look, the next sortie, I want you to lead. Show them what you got Romero.”

“Yes sir.” I grin.

          By the end of the day there are over a dozen other dead officers there. Over half tell of a deadly little Mig twenty one that they just couldn’t escape. Whoever he is, he’s mine. I have a new mission in life, and very little time to accomplish it, just two more days.

          The next morning we are on Mig Cap again, and we are bounced by what looks like the same Mig twenty threes as the day before, but this time the little Mig twenty one is hiding right behind them as we all pass, I watch him break vertical, and I do the same, lighting off full afterburners as I do. I keep my canopy facing him, so I can see what he’s going to do. He pulls over completing the Immelman, and heads towards us. Past him I see the twenty threes coming back around, and they are in my firing arc as I complete my Immelman too. I have lock on and I trigger a simulated AMRAM at the rear twenty three. Instantly I break to the left as the twenty one passes below us a thousand feet. He is going vertical again, and my turn won’t be sharp enough to target him. So I pull vertical again too, and we are both facing our canopies at each other. He’s only a hundred yards from me. I watch him wave bye-bye to me, and he cuts his after burner. I pull over hard cutting my engines way back, and he almost gets a shot at me as I sail past him. I know he will be right on my tail. I hope the Major has kept up, and has a shot. I dive into a Split-S and check behind as I pull out, he’s coming. I dive right into another Split-S, and I know it’s risky because I barely have the altitude to do it now. The ground is rushing up at me as I pull back hard on the stick, and I level off at fifty feet AGL, oops. I quickly punch it and pull up, looking behind me for my nemesis. He’s there but he’s now at a high angle off from me, I pull vertical for a quick Immelman to aim me at him. Just as I come level he is about to pass me at a high angle off. I cut the throttles way back and use my rudder to point my nose at him while I activate the heat seeker pod. It is growling loudly and I touch off the launch button. My text alert tells me ‘target destroyed’ just after he passes me. Oh hell yeah!

“Twelve, two; we are all clear. That last Mig is bugging out. Nice shooting Tex, you got him, and that other one too.”

I watch as the Mig twenty one corkscrews like he is really going down, then he levels off, and wags his wings at us as he flies home to his KIA lounge. Yeah, sit down a while there pal. See how you like it.

          When get back to base for the first sorties debriefing; the Colonel in charge asks, “First, who is piloting number twelve of the Seventh Squadron?”

I raise my hand proudly high.

“Kudos on your twin kills Lieutenant. Your aggressor opponents said that your flying today was some of the very best they have ever seen. They are eager to face you again as well.” He chuckles.

All the other pilots cheer me as he does. My head is pretty damn big at the moment I guess, but mister slippery wants a piece of me now… good.

          Our second sortie is completely benign as we seem to have swept the sky clear of the enemy, and achieved air superiority. I wish the Air Force allowed call signs like the Navy does, like Goose, or Iceman. Mine would be Jet Girl. That’s who I am after all.

          Colonel Hall makes sure to eat evening chow with me and the major. He is very proud of our accomplishment today, and he tells us so in no uncertain terms. It seems that it reflects well on him too, as it should. I tell him that his simulated Mig kill of the previous day was just as impressive, not to mention his real Mig kills. He assures me what I did was indeed special.

          The last day begins with us heading out past Area 51 again, in route to our Combat Air Patrol station. As we pass the secret base at twenty thousand feet, I see a bright light come streaking down from above at incredible speed, like at Mach six or something crazy. It streaks down to rapidly slow, and land at the base. It freaks me out, that was ungodly fast! Those boys have some real fun toys to play with it seems. Something I dare not mention.

          As we patrol we pick up two blips bouncing us again, so I head right at them. It’s the two twenty threes again, and just as we blaze past them I see that damn little twenty one hiding right behind them again. This time they all dive as if to disengage. Something is not right here, I sense it.

“Emcom x-ray sir.” I broadcast, and then I turn my radar off. I am not following the Migs; that is what they want us to do. It’s a trap.

“Rodger.”

          I watch my passive sensors closely, and sure enough I catch a real quick broad band search emission coming from our left. The frequency matches a Mig twenty nine Fulcrum. I don’t want to broadcast so I hand signal to the Major to follow me at the ready. I point the nose at the very occasional signal and find it is above us slightly. I punch the after burners and climb hard, then I level out at fifty thousand. The signal comes again, stronger and slightly below us. In a few moments I see them ten miles out. I keep the burners going until just before we blaze past each other. Then I cut the throttle back, and break hard to my right. I know that the Fulcrum has more power, and is more maneuverable than the Raptor, except at high altitude and then the Raptor can out turn the Fulcrum slightly. They are breaking the same direction, to their left. One is going high and one low, it’s a deadly tactic I can see.