“Two, back off! I have him-fox one!”
“Oh, hell no, girlfriend! I’m closer! Guns, guns from two!”
Again, yellow tracer envelops the enemy fighter, bringing fire and doom for the Syrian pilot. I see him eject as the MiG drops off my radar.
“Pitbull! Two, watch out!”
To be sure, I “freeze” the radar, ending all emissions so that the Sparrow will self-destruct.
“Colt 1, picture.”
“Hallo, Destiny Angel! Picture is clear. Well done!”
It is the British controller, who I know from previous missions.
“Destiny Angel?!” This from one of the F-15 escorts, coming up on our squadron common channel. “NOT! More like Spice! As in ‘Sugar and Spice and everything nice!’ You baaaad girl, Sugar!”
The squadron exec was flying on the escort mission for Captain Scarlet today.
“Good work, Sugar ‘n Spice! Now herd those Canucks back home, pronto!”
“Colt 12, join.”
“Enfield 1, Colt 12! Break left NOW! SAM launch!”
Two enemy missiles leap up from the ground at the Hornets, as they immediately maneuver hard to the left and up! I swallow and curse inwardly — this Eagle has no air-to-ground facility.
“We can strafe the cursed mujahid with cannon….”
“Veto!” Sugar was definite and continued, “It’d feel good to get our butts in a sling. Those guys can defend themselves just fine and I wanna be eating real food and not field rations in a hole someplace hiding from your pals down there tonight.”
She is right. The Eagle is an interceptor, not an attack fighter.
It is time to return home.