Sigh. What is the world coming to? Frogs attacking an airbase? Why, why would they do such a thing?
It's an important question, one we'll answer, along with several others. First, here we are, ready for takeoff. We're armed with six OFAB 500 bombs. Now, I don't know what that means or what they are, but I know there's a "6" in there, and that's all that counts.
Climbing out, I head away from home, and away from the assigned waypoint. Why? Because I don't know what I am doing, that's why. The SU-25 Frog is a foreign aircraft to me. I can't read the instruments, don't know the words, I'm lost. I do know there's a little mileage counter down by the HSI. It's supposed to be going down. It's going up. I turn around 180 degrees and me and my wingman, good ole # 12 truck on past the airbase, over the nearby town, and on to our destiny.
Did I mention our mission? Oh. Well, I read the briefing briefly before we left. We were supposed to drop some bombs on an airbase. That's all I remember. Important? Na.
Fine, the distance thingie is counting down as we drive our trucks over the ocean. Up ahead I see missles arcing up from the ground, AAA fire, aircraft spiraling out of the sky trailing smoke and fire. At the center of the maelstrom, an airbase. Aha!
Not only that, but some parked C-17A's come into view. Even better, now I have my target. I arm the bomb stations, turn on the laser rangefinder and head on in, my trusted wingman by my side. I really like him. Bombs away!
The AAA is getting thick, SAMS are firing off right and left. But down below, aircraft have bombs landing on them:
Shack! Yeah baby! Shack? What does that mean, and why do I know the word? No matter, the second C-17 goes ka-boom as my wingie and I climb away and pop flares:
Now, for some reason, the folks down there do not share my enthusiasm over the events I have just described. In fact, they're mad as heck, and to prove it, they launch a missle. At me!
I don't know about you, but whether it's a Frog or a Hog, when a SAM is in-bound, you take defensive measures pronto:
Yip, yip, yahoo, I survive, my wingie too. But, I have now noticed he didn't drop his #6 bombs. Maybe he wants to make another pass and take out the last C-17. But no, he stays with me, and keeps his bombs to himself. Fine, be that way, I'll do it myself!
And so, I followed in the footsteps of another fine pilot, a Viper pilot, from a different part of the globe, and a different war. One who, when faced with the fact that he had expended all his A2G ordnance except for one, decided to turn and attack. He came roaring down the middle of the enemy runway, in a horrible crossfire of AAA, and fired his cannon into the heart of the enemy.
I decided it was time to "go
Beach" on them.
"
which is why FC will suit me down to the ground.