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Feature
June 22, 2006
After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
by boNes
and Cat (text in gray)
“Despite the challenges that Strike Fighter Squadron One Zero Three faced, Commander Naczowicz never faltered and always rose to meet every challenge,” I continued, addressing the family and friends of Naz assembled at his funeral at Arlington National Cemetery. The day was sunny and a cool breeze flowed lazily amongst the trees and the garden of stone, a sharp contrast to the weather I was used to in the North Arabian Gulf. It was good to be back in the States again, but the reason why bothered me greatly. It was for a funeral for someone under my command. It wasn’t getting any easier knowing it was with one of the closest friends I’ve had in my career, and my XO.
“He was popular among all members of the squadron, from the enlisted personnel right up to the senior officers, as well as the air wing staff officers, but most of all, by me. As my XO, Commander Naczowicz was always there to give me support, to help me run the squadron, and was instrumental on many occasions in securing relief and aid for the Jolly Rogers. Not only that, but he was an encouraging force for those who were down and out and too tired to keep going on their own in this long campaign. I am deeply honored to have flown with him on his last mission, to have known him, and to have called him my friend.”
I looked at Naz’s flag-draped coffin, and saluted.
“Fair winds and following seas, shipmate.”
All military personnel present did the same. Curtly and with honor, they snapped to their salute. The 21-gun salute began as a section of four F/A-18E Super Hornets flew overhead, a single one pulling up hard into the sky.
Naz was then laid to rest, the tune of “Taps” fading in as the Super Hornets loud engines faded out. I held the folded flag in my arms and turned to Naz’s wife Roni. She had tears in her eyes as I walked towards her to present her with the flag. I could barely hold my tears back as I struggled to speak. “On behalf of the President of the United States and the Chief of Naval Operations, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to this Country and a grateful Navy.”
Roni mouthed out “Thank you,” the most she was able to muster under such sadness. I wasn’t doing that much better myself. As I stuttered through my words and held back tears, I added, “God bless you and this family, and God bless the United States of America.”
“You hungry?” said Pokey’s guard in broken English. No, he thought, but I want to friggin’ go home!
“Sure,” he replied. “And so is my friend.” Pokey motioned over to Coyote whose puffy face was still bleeding in some places. At least their new captors were consistent, thought Pokey. They probably figured we were used to the beatings and thought it best to not take away things that were familiar to us for so long. How long has it been anyway? It had to be months. Pokey had no way of knowing, and that sacred him more than he truly knew.
The guard left and came back with some chicken smeared over some rice and bread. “You eat now. We are your friends. You eat, come.” The guard motioned over to Pokey. Pokey suspiciously watched which hand he was using to tear the thin, puffy, white bread to scoop the chicken and rice up with. After all, he thought, anyone who eats with one hand and wipes with the other is bound to get the two confused once in awhile.
Pokey hobbled over to the bars and took the food from the man. “Thank you,” he said graciously to the guard. Pokey stumbled for the Arabic word for thank you and spit out, “Shakran.”
The guard pointed to himself, and again said, “Friend.”
Pokey nodded, smiled, and brought the food to Coyote who was sleeping soundly despite his wounds.
“The time is not good enough!” said Osborne sternly to his men. “Look people, we are Marine Force Recon, not some army infantry puke. Three minutes is NOT, I repeat NOT a good enough time for this man’s Corps!”
Osborne walked along the enlisted men assembled in line in front of him. None of them were below the rank of Staff Sergeant, and most were Gunnies. Only 3 of them were officers, and that included Major Osborne himself, who had personally hand-picked each one of the Marines under Colonel Spengler’s authorization. He wanted the best Recon Marines he could find, but also with enough experience, hence the NCO and above status. “You have to be able to form your sight picture, discriminate between your targets, and put two to the body, one to the head, as naturally as it takes for you to take a leak. Sergeant Ruiz?”
“Aye, sir!”
“Do you need to think when you take a leak?”
“No, sir, I do not!”
“Then why the hell are you thinking for something as natural as firing your weapon?”
“Sir, sorry, sir.”
“Well, this will be your chance to make up for it. The same with the rest of you Marines. Sergeant Ruiz here is not the only one off. Several of you are too — only worse than he. Sergeant Ruiz is consistently the best operator here, that’s why I picked on him.” Osborne’s expression suddenly changed into one of disgust and his voice reached a screaming level. “SO THE REST OF YOU BETTER SHAPE UP!!!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” yelled all the Marines.
Osborne went back to being quiet. “Then show me.”
“Hoorah!” they yelled as they plopped their helmets back on, picked up their rifles, and headed back into the killhouse.
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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Outside the Suhumi airbase operations center, Kemal Volkan took a deep breath, knowing that the last thing he could do now was lose his temper with the bearded, black-eyed Imam. Muqtadeh had become even more unstable these last weeks, since the Americans had been flown in from Bandar Abbas. The latest plan was the most insane yet and Kemal was sure it would precipitate action from the Americans before he was ready, before his plan was finished. Failure, as the Americans so often say, is not an option. I must stop this madness! He steadied himself to try again, and looked into those cold, black eyes once more.
“Holiness. I agree that it is Allah’s will, praise Him, to taunt the foolish Americans, to divert their attention from the Holy Father, peace be upon him. But this will not divert the air pirates from their assault on Tehran! All it will do is provoke a response not from the American carrier in the Gulf, but from either their air force at Sochi, or worse, from the Russians! Was it not the Holy Father’s instruction, praise and glory to Allah, that these American fliers be held safely here from the Americans until we could use them to return your son to the Holy Father’s side?”
Muqtadeh stroked his beard, staring off to the north. “I want them to come, Kemal. I want her to come. I want the leader of the air pirates to writhe in agony when he thinks that his men will suffer. I want him to see our power, and I want them to be angry. Allah wills it.” He smiled, looking critically at the big Turk. “Do you remember Abu Jihad, Kemal? Our Shoura took his life. Allah demands payment in her blood. Can you not see it?”
“Holiness, I do not understand...”
The Imam cut him off with a gesture. “You do understand, my treacherous Turkish friend. Do not lie to me. I know your heart. And I know why you Turks have forsaken us. You have convinced your countrymen to turn their backs on us.” He looked long and hard at the Turkish intelligence officer, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“It began when Abu Jihad fell, this cancer began to grow. Our Shoura is a devil. She is sent to test our faith. You failed the test of faith, when you helped her to escape me.” He nodded. “Oh, yes, I know, Kemal. I know. But I do not blame you. Do you think it a coincidence that the air pirates are her allies, and their leader is called ‘Bones’? He is another daemon. You have fallen under her spell, this Russian succubus, because your faith is weak. We must cut this cancer out before your soul is also consumed. Soon, we will bring them to us and you shall have a choice, and your choice shall be righteousness, or damnation. I will trust you to decide, Kemal. But first, I wish our enemies to know fear and uncertainty. So it shall be.”
Kemal swallowed. He knows, he’s known all along. But I live and I am not confined? Not killed? He wishes to save my soul! He is as mad as I feared. To him, it is more than jihad. It is obsession.
“Thanks for coming out to the funeral, Bones,” said Roni, Naz’s widow.
“Naz was one of my best friends, there was no way I was going to miss his funeral, war or no war,” I replied.
“I know, it’s just that...well, I know you are busy with the squadron and the war and the people you have already lost and had to come home for…” I could see that Roni was about to lose it.
“Hey, Roni, it’s OK. Everything will be fine. I wish that I could stick around, I really do. You don’t know how nice it is to be back in the US after being in the NAG for so long, but don’t worry it will be alright.” I took her in my arms and held her. I could feel her starting to tremble as she broke down into tears. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” I said, trying not to break down myself.
Roni hugged me back and said thanks again, and walked off with the rest of her family and friends to join the waiting motorcade. I was not going to be able to stay long at the memorial luncheon as I had a flight to catch to get back to the boat. I looked around for a moment and took the scene in: the crying relatives, the somber men in uniform, and the sound of—yes, “Taps.” It occurred to me for the first time here how many times I had heard this bugle call today alone. There were at least 5 funerals all going on today. Overhead, a section of A-10s flew overhead in missing-man formation, just as the Super Hornets had minutes before. People were dying in this war, many many people. It was best to not let them die in vain.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I got back into the car and headed off to the airport.
“Major Anderson?”
“Yes, that’s me,” answered the major as he walked around his KC-135, pre-flighting her. He looked up for a moment to see who was asking, and saw an Air Force captain standing there at attention with a salute. Major Anderson returned the salute and asked, “What can I do for you, Captain?”
“Sir, I’m under orders to inform you that you are to report to Colonel Hanley immediately.”
“What, now? I have a hop in a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir. Now. Please be advised that the colonel has put your flight status on suspension effective immediately. Now if you’ll come with me…”
“What does he want to speak with me about? Why was my flight status put on suspension?” asked an alarmed Anderson.
“You’re under investigation for an airborne incident a few weeks ago with the US Navy, sir.”
Anderson was taken by surprise. He had already put that out of his mind. The captain continued. “There has been some testimony and…”
“Testimony? Already? Who would be testifying against me? Everyone saw what happened and nothing was wrong.”
“I testified,” said a familiar voice from behind. Major Anderson looked with wide, surprised eyes to see his co-pilot standing there.
“Captain Peterson?”
“It wasn’t right, Major, what you did. I’m sorry.”
Anderson gave Peterson a disgusted look and turned on his heel, saying to the liaison officer, “Let’s go.”
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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“The weather over your target will be clear today. And, as a bonus, there will be no wind at all. Temperatures will be warm also, I think 25 degrees at least. You will have good weather even into Batumi, for your refueling for the trip to Baghdad.” Major Nicolai Stomsvik tipped his head back, sipping thick tea from a tall glass, and regarding his companion appraisingly. “The word from the operations center is that today you are playing journalist, lugging a camera to take pretty pictures of our Wahhabist friends in the south, and then off to the Americans with the film. They have an…unusual interest in Suhumi these days.”
Alexandra Andreeva munched thoughtfully on a slice of cucumber, studying the weather map that Stomsvik, the squadron meteorologist, had marked for her. “You are well informed, Kolya, as always. Yes, I must go to Baghdad to testify at a hearing for the American air force. The scrap that the American Navy had with the air force tanker, I had to lock my fire-control radar on one of the Hornet fighters to stop him shooting down an air force F-15, and the tanker pilot was escalating the dispute.” She shook her head in disgust. “Disgraceful.”
“Da.” Kolya was pensive, a cloud passing rapidly over his sunny face. “If you had been forced to kill that American… I do not like to think of the consequences to us all. But as for the rest, well, there it is. As you know, here in the badlands a man’s life often depends on a mere scrap of information.” He chuckled. “Or in your case, a woman’s life. And I have a tip for you, Sacha. Haze is forecast, and the optics on those cameras we use will be fogged. Suhumi airbase will be best photographed from 3000 meters or less, I think, for clarity.”
He grew more serious. “I hear other things also, that you may not know. A rumor has reached my ears that the IRLF holds prisoners from the war in Iran. Americans or British, I think. If I have heard this, others have also. And. Sacha, you know that the Wahhabist thugs have a bounty for you and for Vasily as well. Their latest propaganda on Radio Suhumi mentions you frequently.”
Sacha tried to hide a double-take and failed. “You can understand their gibberish?”
“Da, I was an advisor to the Iraqis when they fought in Iran. You of all people should know not to underestimate them, Sacha. And, you have some sort of special significance to them. They even know the types of aircraft you fly, they know you again fly the Su-27, and they know 11 Red by its board number. They speak often of your escape, and the theft of that Syrian MiG, in connection with these prisoners of theirs. You should be careful.”
“Yes. I will. This is an armed reconnaissance, after all, and I intend to take both air to air and air to ground ordinance, not just a camera.” She smiled, wolfishly. “S-8 rockets. I will tickle the Sheikh’s nose for him and see if he sneezes.”
Kolya shook his head, ruefully smiling at her. “That is not what I meant by ‘be careful.’”
“OK, people. Let’s settle down here. This mission is going to be pretty important,” I began. “Commander Phinin, want to start us off?”
“Thanks, sir. First off, I want to say welcome back Bones and again express my condolences regarding Naz. He was a great man and a fine pilot and officer.”
“Thanks, Commander.”
“Yesterday we got another good intel report that the Iranians have been stockpiling their reserve and remaining munitions in several buildings near Aghar Jan. In a nutshell, we need you guys to go in there and take them out."
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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“As you can see from the satellite imagery, the buildings are very distinct and we were able to clearly mark them with GPS markers..."
“So, without jinxing anything, this should be a straightforward mission. Get in, hit the 4 buildings, and get out."
“Man, those are some fat targets,” laughed Tickle in his characteristic Elmo laugh. “We ought to be able to stick it back to them good for Naz.”
“Yeah!” cheered Dill. “Let’s make them pay for Naz!”
I could see that the Jolly Rogers were getting pretty bloodthirsty. “I’m with you on that,” I said but in a more reserved tone. “But let’s not let it cloud our vision on this mission. We would be doing Naz no justice by serving ourselves up to the enemy simply because we were blind with revenge."
“That’s why I am making sure we don’t’ take any unnecessary steps. Weapons officer, what’s our inventory looks like for smart pigs?”
“We got more than enough JSOWs, sir. We haven’t been using many of them to boot.”
“Good, requisition some for us,” I ordered.
“Aw, c’mon!” moaned Dill. “I want to get in close. Give me JDAMs or something.”
“Negative, Dill. And Stow it. The only JDAMs anyone is going to get are for backup if the JSOWs don’t work. I can feel this campaign getting closer and closer to an end, and I don’t necessarily mean to the end of the war, but also the end of some good pilots’ lives and there is no way I am going to risk that.” I looked Dill straight in the eye. “Neither should you. You should be playing it safe and using the best weapons that keep you out of harm’s way. You shouldn’t be looking for trouble, because if you do, you dang well will find it.”
I motioned to the weapons officer. “Get it done, Lieutenant!”
“Sir!” he replied as he got the necessary forms together:
“OK, people. Get some yourself together and I’ll see you on deck in 45 minutes. Dismissed.”
The three pilots stood at attention then prepared to leave. “Not you, Dill,” I said, stopping him at the arm and pulling him aside.
Dill looked miffed, and gave me a slightly insolent look.
“Dill, didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone else, but that attitude of yours is going to get you killed. OK, if you don’t care too much about yourself, we’re all tired and frustrated here, but it threatens the rest of us too, and there is no way I am going to let you get us killed.”
“But Bones —“
“But nothing. I don’t want to see anything less than professionalism out of you. And just to make sure, I was planning on making you section leader on this one, but I think I’m going to put Blind in there instead.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I want to keep a very close eye on you. You’re on my wing, you got that?” I said with a deathly serious tone.
“Aye, sir,” said a disappointed Dill.
“Don’t take it personally, I know you’re a good flyer, and you did great, even the day I got shot down. I just can’t have us losing anymore people, nor do I think we should lose you.” For an instant the faces of our war losses flashed through my skull. Martin, Kegger, Simon, Naz... Faces to which lives were attached, lives that took 20 or 30 years to build and 20 or 30 nanoseconds to destroy. Too much waste. Too much. And now Coyote and Pokey were at risk. I couldn’t have us losing any others. You got your target assignment?” I asked as I handed him the satellite photo:
“Yes, sir.”
“OK, let’s get suited up. I’ll see you on deck, I need to talk to Phinin.”
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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Dill walked off to get his gear. In the solemnity of the coming mission, he did so in silence. Blind and Tickle were already there, getting their MBU-12s checked out and making sure the rest of their gear was in order. Dill double-checked his 9mm to make sure she was loaded up. 15 in the clip, none in the chamber. He didn’t like to have one in the chamber just for safety purposes. Besides, if he ended up on the ground, the last thing he wanted to do was use the pistol. It was best to maintain stealth and run for it rather than draw attention to yourself with gunfire and dead bodies.
“Hey, what’s with the long face, man?” asked Tickle.
“Tickle, you think the skipper’s getting soft on us?”
“What the hell do you mean, Dill?”
“Well, c’mon, man. JSOWs? What the hell sissy way is that to strike these targets?”
“Hey, man,” said a perturbed Tickle. “The boss has lost a lot of good people under his command, and not just in this campaign alone, you know that?”
Dill snapped and answered, “All the more reason to be sticking it to these guys! You know that! And I know that, and I can’t fight knowing that we’re not hitting them hard. Think of NAZ, man! Think of Pokey, think of Coyote.”
It was not common to see Tickle become visibly angry. In fact it was scary. “I AM thinking of those guys, as well as all of our guys, Dill! What you want them to be lost for nothing?” He put his hands on Dill’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Because you know that that is what will happen if you die, or anyone else dies, because of you. You know that don’t you?”
Dill knocked Tickle’s hands off of his shoulders and shoved him into the locker, making a huge clang that was heard throughout the room and made the petty officer PRs look up. “Get your hands off of me!” snarled Dill. An eternity seemed to pass as the look in Dill’s eyes changed to relative calm as he realized what he had just done. He said more calmly, “Yes, I do know that. I do. You’re right, Tickle. Hey, I’m…I’m sorry.”
Tickle moved Dill off of him and looked at the PRs and ALSE guys. “As you were, man your stations!” They quickly went back to work.
Tickle looked back at Dill and said. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re all under a lot of stress and pressure. Don’t worry about it.” Tickle smiled at Dill and he returned the smile. “Just keep your head in the game, OK?”
“Roger that,” smiled Dill who extended his hand to Tickle. Tickle took it and shook it. “C’mon, let’s go fly.”
“So, Phinin. What’s the word?” I asked when the area was clear. “Any word from our friends in the op?”
“It’s still on and I need you to be ready at a moments’ notice, Bones. First opportunity we have to extract your boys we’re going to take it, day or night.”
“OK, don’t worry, I’ll do what we gotta do.”
“Good. In the meantime, Major Osborne has been training up and we’re in the process of squeezing out the last bits of useful information from our friend Mohammed so when we turn him loose he will have been bled dry of intel.”
“He still buys it that you are none the wiser?”
“You would not believe. This boy thinks he’s sticking it to his old man and living large at the same time. We got him thinking he’s got it made.”
“Good. Let’s just hope that we can make this work.”
The jets were already armed by the ordies, and the APUs were connected up. We each did our walk around, checking the control surfaces and fuselage for anything out of the ordinary before climbing aboard.
“Childers!” I said to an old familiar face. “Looks like I’m borrowing your steed again!”
“Yes, sir, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with her like I trust you, sir,” he smiled as he helped strap me in.
“Even with my track record? I haven’t brought every aircraft back, you know.”
“Roger that sir, but this one… well, you’ve always brought her back alive and in one piece.” Childers’ words dawned on me in an instant. I never thought about it, but he was right. It seemed like this particular aircraft was my lucky charm, and it didn’t even have my name on it. I can’t recall getting so much as a scratch in this aircraft.
“You know Childers, I think you’re right. I hope I don’t break that precedent.”
Childers patted me on the shoulder and patted the aircraft on its canopy frame. “She won’t let you sir. She’s like a horse that knows its rider. She knows you.” With that he smiled, gave me a thumbs-up and climbed down the ladder, reinserting it into the canard that housed it..
I looked over to my right to see Tickle, Dill, and Blind strapping in and getting ready themselves. Something had changed on Dill’s face since I saw him last, and I saw Tickle smiling and cheerfully giving Dill a thumbs-up. Did I miss something here? I shrugged and went back into the tasks at hand.
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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After completing our run-up tests, Childers handed me off to the yellow shirt who directed me to the cat as per the Air Boss’ orders. Minutes later, I was launched…
…and forming up to lead the rest of the flight:
“Jupiter Lead to Jupiter Flight. Systems check, how we all doing?”
“Good to go,” replied Blind.
“All go,” answered Tickle.
“Two, acknowledge,” I said looking over my shoulder to Dill. Dill pulled up into his proper position tight on my right wing:
“Uh, roger, sorry, thought I had a slight problem with the HARMs, but it’s looking good. Nothing a swift kick to the servos couldn’t solve.”
“Two, roger. Keep an eye on that. If any system fails I want you RTBing. We have Rattler to help us out, after all.”
“Copy. Two.”
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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I looked around once more to make sure everyone was in position and accounted for. The sky was clear and serene; it was hard to believe that we were on our way to cause so much destruction. I realized I was focusing on my reflection in the canopy and snapped myself back into focus.
“OK, you guys, let’s hustle. We ran a little behind on the launch for whatever reason and we have to make it across the beach before that op window closes and sends us home. We don’t want those Charlie Hornets getting out glory now do we?”
I pushed the throttles forward and the rest of the flight followed me in.
“Looks like we’ve got some eyes up in the air looking for us,” I called as a Snow Drift radar appeared on my HARM page. “Everyone double check and make sure that you’re configured for EMCON.”
“Two, confirmed.”
“Three, EMCON still on.”
“Four same.”
“OK,” I said, looking down at my MPCD and HSI. “We’re about to cross into the beach and we’re on time. From this point on, observe radio silence unless absolutely necessary.”
Within seconds of that last transmission, we found ourselves crossing into Iran:
The Iranians knew something was up. More radar emissions were showing up on my EW page. The Snow Drift wasn’t alone; now a ZSU-23mm gun was looking too:
As we discussed in briefing, we got low to the deck and moved into a trail formation. I made a final radio call to the AWACS to make sure that we were clear of air threats.
“Panhead 11, Jupiter 11 is feet dry en route, request picture.”
We were good to go.
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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“Jupiter 11, Panhead 11, picture clean. Cleared a fragged, good hunting.”
With that, my wingmen and I switched our systems over to air to ground mode with a push of the A/G button on the left side of the cockpit dash. The MFDs instantly changed to their default screens, the stores management system on the left, and the silenced ground radar on the right. The JSOW I had selected was programmed in for my assigned target, as were the smart pigs of the other members of the flight. As was our usual tactic, we had assigned the targets to the appropriate JSOW and the programs set up to switch the target to the appropriate JDAM should we miss or should the JSOWs fail. That way we would be able to make a second attack with a simple flick of a switch:
The HUD display showed that we were still a good 15 miles to the launch point, but so far we hadn’t seen any resistance. The only thing was that at such a low altitude, the launch envelope for the JSOW is significantly reduced, so we get a longer launch point and TTMR reading. If we were able to get in closer, we’d be able to launch and get the hell out of Dodge, but at this altitude, it would make it much more hairy. Luckily, this was going to be made a bit easier by our buddies in the EA-6B Prowler that reported that they had arrived on station:
“Hacksaw 21, on station,” came the call as invisible waves of radar noise and electromagnetic bursts clouded the AAA and SAM radars, masking us from detection. With the electronic shroud cast over our aircraft, we were a bit freer to climb up to a higher altitude and increase our JSOW envelope. I led the flight to 10,000 ft and watched the TTMR and LP range shrink away:
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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Pushing the throttles forward increased the speed of our aircraft and thus the inertia available to impart upon the JSOWs. This also reduced the range to launching because the added potential energy could be converted to kinetic energy by tossing the JSOWs at the target. The LP was now cut in half again, and the time to launch went to zero.
I flung my JSOW off of its rail…
…and immediately switched the program to hit the next target with the remaining JSOW, which was actually Dill’s target, but the redundancy increased our chances of killing them all:
Dill, Tickle, and Blind also had redundant target assignments, and so I turned away to allow them to do the same, and to help clear the way, I locked up a radar target with the HARMs to help keep things off their minds:
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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The HARM launch went well, as it sped away to destroy the SA-11 Gadfly I had targeted:
I saw another SA-11 pop up on the EW page and immediately fired off my remaining HARM:
As Dill prepared to launch his JSOWs, my initial smart pig was nearly at its target. The munitions factory loomed ahead of it, beckoning to the JSOW as she made slight course corrections to zero in on the target building, as if the building was daring the JSOW to hit it:
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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“Two, bombs away!” called Dill as he let loose his pair of JSOWs. Blind and Tickle followed up in the same way. Good, that was the second wave. Two more to go and we can go home.
I turned hard to the right to form up with the rest of my flight, amazed at how little resistance we had met. I hadn’t even switched off EMCON mode to fight off any SAMs:
The Prowler was doing a good job jamming the radars and even firing off their own HARMs at SAMs as needed, but my big question was where were those Charlie Hornets? They were supposed to be on SEAD with us, but I never saw or heard from them. They must not have made their push time and were vectored back to the boat, the Prowler begrudgingly taking on their workload. This made the Prowlers less efficient and more susceptible to enemy threats, and being that they were the only ones covering our attack right now…
No matter. As I heard Blind drop her primary ordnance load, I knew this mission was pretty much done, that is, if the JSOWs didn’t fail and were packing enough of a punch to take down the buildings:
Tickle was getting into position to launch his JSOWs, turning hard to get lined up…
…before letting his JSOWs loose at buildings #4 and #1:
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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Only moments remained before my initial JSOWs found their targets. Following the direction of the satellites orbiting above, the JSOWs zeroed in on building one and two:
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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…accurate enough to single out a single window in high-tech fashion:
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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The JSOW penetrated the plant building and detonated inside. The interior of the building was pretty much vaporized, and without its internal structure, the building imploded upon itself like a human having his skeleton instantly reduced to ashes:
“Good kill, confirmed target one destroyed,” I reported.
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
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Dill’s JSOWs were the next volley to arrive. In a frightening scene, they obediently followed their programming and satellite direction into building #2 and #3, flying in scary yet orderly single file line to the plant…
…again entering into one of the windows and detonating:
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Feature: After Action Report:
Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
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This time, however, the building laughed at Dill.
“What the…?” called Dill. “My target has not come down. Repeat, she’s still standing. My JSOW must not have been big enough or didn’t detonate properly. Request permission to follow up with JDAM.”
“Negative, Dill. That’s why we have redundancy. Let the others hit first and we’ll see.”
“Copy.”
“Well, look who finally arrived,” called Blind, looking through her canopy to her 10:00. The call then came over the radio:
“Rattler 21, on station.”
Finally, the Charlie Hornet SEAD package was on station. “Rattler 21, Jupiter 21. You guys missed most of the party, but we can still use your help,” I called.
“Copy, we had a system failure and had to reboot the radar a few times. Annoying as all hell, but we’re here.”
“Copy,” I said. “Keep them off of us, we may have to go back for another run.” I set up my JDAMs just in case and turned toward the target area.
“Maybe not,” said Dill. “I think one of my targets are destroyed.”
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
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Jan 11.14.04
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“Blind, you have any kills on those redundants?”
“Jupiter 23,” she answered, “I saw some blasts in the target area, but I’m not sure if they were kills from here, there may be additional targets remaining.”
“How about you, Tickle?” I asked.
“4 same, Bones. I’m too far away to see.”
I wished we had brought ATFLIR along to be able to see from a safe distance, but it was too late for that now. I thought it over and made my decision.
“Jupiter 21, cleared hot for JDAM run.”
I could hear the excitement in everyone’s voice.
“Two in hot!”
“Three in hot!
“Four in hot!”
They really wanted to get some, and with targets that were not all confirmed killed, I figured we ought to be sure.
The JDAMs came off of the rails, and I watched toward the rear in case my JDAMs were also needed. The destruction below was showing that I might be able to save my JDAMs after all:
“Yeah! Target destroyed!” yelled an ecstatic Dill. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!”
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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“No such luck for me,” called Blind. “My JDAMs impacted at the face of the target, but didn’t take it down."
“Four same,” said a sullen Tickle. “I got some hits, but the buildings are still standing.”
“OK, you guys,” I called. “Start heading back. I’ve got two more JDAMs, I’ll clean it up. We’re going to take these targets down one way or the other!”
“Copy, 2 off to the south.”
“Three same.”
“Four same.”
I yanked my Super Hornet into a climbing right turn, the g-forces mounting as I sighted the target and began to pull my nose onto it:
Rolling wings level, the JDAMs stabilized and gave me the launch cue. “Bombs away!” I cried as I pickled them off:
I pulled hard to the right as my JDAMs sailed off to the left in the background as my F/A-18 peeled off to the right:
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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The whole point of redundancy was proved in a blinding flash of light as my JDAMs hit the remaining targets, obliterating them:
“Whoa! We saw that one too, Jupiter! We confirm that is a kill!” said the Prowler guys who were orbiting the area:
“Roger that. Jupiter Flight, you outbound?”
“Two is RTB.”
“Three same.”
“Four heading home.”
“Roger,” I added. "I’m forming up on you. Good job, guys. Let’s get outta here!”
Pushing the throttles forward and rolling my plane out to sea, we began to egress the area.
The flight back seemed a lot shorter coming in, and we still were above bingo by the time we had reached the Gulf.
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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A few uneventful minutes later, we returned to the Battle Group and the familiar white lines of churning water that formed the tails of our ships were visible and clear.
Entering into the break for downwind, I lowered my tailhook and Dill confirmed it was down and working for me. I did the same for him:
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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Calling up the landing checklist on the MFD, I verified everything was good to go and rolled into the groove for my trap:
The winds and seas were calm and the visibility unlimited, making for a spectacular view coming in for the trap…
…and the subsequent three-wire:
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
Munitions Factory at Aghar
Jan 11.14.04
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Taxiing clear of the landing area, I followed the yellow shirt’s direction to a position near the island…
…before heading to the parking area.
What we had seen from the air was confirmed by TARPS imagery from the Tomcats and recon imagery from the ground. The munitions dump was completely destroyed. Everyone in the flight performed as expected without any incidents and not even a scratch:
I stopped in the hangar deck to look up Childers, as I had something I needed to tell him. I found him walking around AA-220, with a smirk on his face. “I knew you’d be here, sir.”
“You were right, Childers,” I grinned. “There’s something about this bird. Not a scratch again.”
“She knows you, sir. I told you!”
I laughed, smiled and patted Childers on the back. “You were right, you were right!”
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Operation Persian Freedom Phase 3 Mission 17:
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“Stand!” yelled the guard to Pokey, grabbing him under the arm and pulling him to his feet. “You and your friend are going to be famous,” he sneered.
Famous? What in the world was he talking about? Pokey gave a look to a battered Coyote, slumped into a heap in the corner, who returned the same puzzled look.
The guards dragged Pokey and Coyote from their cell and into a room down the hall. One of the things that the two captives noticed was that they were not blindfolded and were not kept from seeing their surroundings like they had been in Iran. This scared them though, because it gave further support to the notion that they were so far behind enemy lines that it didn’t matter to the opposition that they could see where they were. Even worse, this could also mean that they didn’t care what happened to Pokey and Coyote. Add to that the fact that they had not heard or seen from Kemal, their supposed benefactor, since they were moved from Iran.
As they rounded the corner, Pokey and Coyote were not prepared for what they saw.
“Seagull, Magic.You are cleared hot, the range is hot.”
Sacha crossed herself as her mother had taught her, and flipped two switches on her left console, canceling out the terrain-following autopilot. Ramming the throttles into afterburner, she popped Su-27 11-Red up over a small hill, rocketing up through 1500 meters to steady out at 3000. She swallowed the lump in her throat, thumb hovering over the switch to activate the aircraft’s SPS-171 ‘Sorbtsiya’ jammer system, should hostile missile systems pick her up. So far, no emissions from the airbase, and she was fast approaching it from the northeast. Twisting a rotary switch, she put the aircraft into ‘zem-lya’ mode, the ground-attack mode, and aligning herself with the apron at the base, prepared to switch on the camera pack.
The lights were bright in their eyes, and Pokey had to squint to see without his eyes hurting him. Coyote’s eyes were already puffy enough to block some of the light, but his natural reaction was to squint, and this gave him considerable pain. He groaned, “Agghh, man, those lights!”
“Quiet!” yelled the nearest captor. Pokey was really nervous now. He had seen this kind of set-up before. Looking around, he saw the flag of Iran as well as Abkhazia. Men stood around them with AK-47s at port arms, with masks on. And the biggest guard stood there with a huge scimitar.
Through the brightness of the lights, Pokey could make out a television camera in front of them. Coyote and Pokey were then forced to their knees, and another masked captor pulled out a syringe from the kit on the table. He snickered as he walked toward the two men.
Check out all of Cat's "Sacha" chronicles here in the SimHQ Air Combat Zone.
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