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Feature
On Wings of Eagles
A Lock On: Modern Air Combat Mission Report
by Cat
Hello, my friends! I am honoured again
today by my selection once again to help the Americans prepare
themselves for missions in our operating area. Very few of
us are so trusted. In addition to the A-10s of Col. Martin,
over the last several weeks a detachment of the 27th Fighter
Squadron has rotated in-theater and is now under the tactical
command of the 586th. This is not a normal procedure for the
Americans; they are loath to allow foreign militaries to control
U.S. assets in the field. I do not know why, but these seven
crews, and eight of the marvelous F-15C Eagles, are now with
our Regiment. I have been temporarily detailed to them. I
was originally tasked to support this squadron at the beginning
of the war, but many other problems intervened. However, I
was able to check out in the marvelous F-15C, which is not
so very different from the F-16 with which I am familiar.
And as luck would have it, one of my Red Flag instructors
is the checkout pilot for the 27th Squadron! He is Captain
Troy Barker, who for some reason the Americans call "Slapshot."
I do not know why this is; it is one of the customs
of Western air forces to give their pilots strange names to
use as call-signs. They paint them on the canopy rails of
their fighters.  I
think this is a morale-booster, but it is odd how often these
names come from a mistake or gaffe the pilot made, no? It
is your American sense of humour?
We are briefed in my Commander's office,
with Major Kelly of the 27th, who is shadowing the Commander,
there. Unlike my sojurn with the A-10 squadron, the F-15s
are integrated into our own Regiment, and therefore the mission
planning is primarily ours, though the Americans are now with
us in every step. They are in great case our advisors, a strange
role for former enemies, no? But my grandfather, who fought
in the Great Patriotic War before he flew the Soldier's Aircraft
— the MiG-15-in Korea, would tell you that we should
be friends with the Americans. He was saddened by having to
fight his former comrades over Korea. And now, we are friends
again, with a common enemy.
The Turks have withdrawn from Georgia
for now, leaving Muqtadeh without air cover. After the destruction
of the supply train at Tkvarcheli and the loss of two more
F-16s, the Turkish government fell! They are proceeding with
new elections and the Turkish mullahs are in for a fight to
retain power. But still, they are committed to their jihad
against us; they have joined with Iran in providing Muqtadeh
munitions on the sly. For now, this will be all the help he
gets! But we have uncontested air superiority, and I am hoping
to go to the Su-25 squadron of the Regiment next, or back
to the A-10s, to get back into the action.
Today, the plan is familiarizing.
Me, with the F-15 again. For Troy, we will show him the IRLF
headquarters at Sukhumi airbase. The rumours abound that Muqtadeh
is receiving MiG-29 aircraft and air-defense equipment from
Saddam Hussein's old stocks, confiscated by the Iranians after
the Americans took Iraq. We will do an armed reconnaissance
to see if these rumours have any substance.
 We
each pick our own loadouts for this mission. For me, a mix
of two AMRAAM, four of the excellent AIM-7, and two Sidewinders
along with a fuel tank. Troy chooses six of the excellent
"Slammer," and two Sidewinders along with a fuel
tank. We have painted the F-15s with bright candy-cane stripes
on their noses and wings, and put the American national insignia
in full colour. This is to ensure that our antiaircraft gunners
see them clearly, and recognize them as friendly and not Turkish;
though the Turks have no Eagles, they are unfamiliar to our
people and clearly not of Russian origin.
We go to see the meteorological officer.
For Troy's benefit, we conduct the briefing in English. This
is strange for him, our ways are much more informal than he
is used to. The Americans generally do not take their weather
report over tall glasses of tea! As I always do, I munch on
slices of cucumber as I listen.
"There is not a cloud in the
sky, Sacha. Today, a high-pressure area is over the Black
Sea west of us. It will be at least 25 degrees at noon, when
you fly. However, clear-air turbulence is predicted. One meter
per second at sea level, and rising as you gain altitude.
Over 8000 meters... about 30,000 feet, for you, Captain, it
should be smooth sailing."
"What is the visibility, Kolya?"
"It will be somewhat hazy.
Sixty kilometers... roughly 35 or 40 nautical miles, I think."
Troy muses at that information.
"Sidewinders ought to be dead
on, then. No problems with IR missile firing, if we get into
any bandits. If we have to get in that close, anyway. Don't
hose one off vertical, if you can help it. No need to lose
one in the sun."
I took a sip of tea.
"In the mountains around Sukhumi,
ground clutter may make radar locks at anything outside visual
range difficult."
"At least we know the Turkish
air force isn't in the area."
"Da. But we do not know if
the IRLF has their own air force. We will find out, yes?"
"Hell, yeah. If they're dumb
enough to stick their heads up, we'll chop 'em right off!"
The GAZ jeep is waiting for us, its
enlisted driver looking bored. We clamber in over the sides
and chat quietly as he drives us to the flight line. As Kolya
said, the weather is marvelously warm and clear. The F-15s
await us at the flight line, their onboard power units whining
in the late morning haze. I find mine, AF82-711, and walk
around with its crew chief. I have come to know these Americans
well over the past weeks and this goes smoothly. They trust
me with their airplane. I climb into the cockpit and begin
strapping in with her help, then close the canopy and wait
for the signal to start engines. It is hot in all this gear!
I get the signal and punch the start for the left engine.
This enables me to turn on the cool air, at last! The crew
chief motions me through the preflight dance and I start my
right engine. A snappy salute to the crew chief, and I am
off to the runway, with Troy in tow. Today, I am flight lead,
Enfield 1-1.
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