I come from the sea. Vasily, from the mountains.
The “Straight Flush” is looking away from me; Vasily is calling defensive again, meaning the SAM is locking him for another shot.
I line up my B-8 rockets and trigger two long salvoes, using the flaming wreck of two 3M9M launcher vehicles from my last pass as the aim-off point. As I do, my SPO-15 locks and gives a steady tone. I glance down, and see it’s a short-range lock-on — it’s the Shilka! He’s tracking me across the airfield! Ohmigod! I punch in afterburner, not waiting to see what the rockets do.
“One, defensive triple-A! Vasily, watch the…”
The B-8 rockets were in the air as the 23mm rounds burned neat lines through the speeding MiG over Sukhumi airfield. Intent on their prey below, they took no notice as the fiery pile of duralumin, unfired munitions, and JP-5 fell from the sky it had just commanded, blasting a crater across the end of the base’s only runway.
“Sacha! No! No!”
They flew, as Vasily Sandakchiev watched Sacha’s jet fall, impacting all around the beleaugered mobile radar.