Greasy's Viper (F-16) stories

[GreasySideUp]

Preface. All you older dudes might think its lame, for the others it's pretty long...

"Snipe check"

"2"

"Snipe Go Channel 3 Crank"

"2"

It's been a long time since I've been solo. An hour long brief on maintaining offensive advantage, gaining turning room, maneuvering to the WEZ and taking every available shot during the fight was overshadowed by one simple rule of engagement - Don't hit lead. He never said it but he knows in 30 minutes he'll have a cocky 2LT on his 6, fangs out, gun blazing oblivious to the fact that 200 knots of closure equates to a heartbeat from disaster at close range. He signs me off anyways knowing that a handshake and a bottle of Whiskey will be the reward for a safe solo.

We step off the bus and head our separate ways on the ramp only this time no one is tagging along behind me. I have a little swagger in my step now, the wings on my chest still wet they are so new yet I still can't help but think I'm a BadAss. The cockpit of the AT38 is exactly the same but it is always different somehow when you are on your own - especially for the first time dogfighting solo. No noise in the headset, no confirmation checks, no one secondguessing your decisions - the jet just plain feels like it has better performance while taxing without that dead weight in the back. Fighter pilots even taxi differently than everyone else. His right main is 3 feet right of the centerline, so I make sure mine is 3 feet to the left. Not 4, I got chewed out for that the other day so that is how it will be from now on. We take our places at the end of the runway for one final look over. He has no weapons on board yet but in a few months I'll be looking for streamers hanging from his AIM-9's and LGB's. A thumbs up from me and a head nod from him and we're off.

"Snipe check"

"2"

"Tower, Snipe 1 flight of two, number 1, 33 Center interval."

"Snipe cleared interval takeoff 33 Center"

About the only thing I'll say this entire fight is "2" That and let him know if he is on fire, otherwise my sole function is to shut up, back him up and be in position.

We line up together. I flash a nod, we run the engines up, he gives a sharp salute and then he's off. I watch his burners light and wait my 10 seconds. I press harder on the brakes holding back the jet now shaking from Mil thrust. She wants to go - NOW. I count off the seconds thinking this is the longest time I'll have to relax until we are back in the chalks. I was right.

I rejoin to tactical position off his left side. This formation is a few thousand feet apart and allows me to clear all around myself and more importantly around him and his 6 for traffic now and later bandits threatening from behind. Tactical formation is the culmination of my last year at UPT and a million dollars in training and it is now just a means to get from point A to B. The rest of my military career will be spent learning to fight.

We get to the area quickly and waste no time getting started. More so than the guy I'm going to fight, fuel consumption is my biggest enemy. If I'm not in place when I need to be, I'm wasting gas and that equals less engagements and more importantly less training for me. A few G turns to test my tolerance and equipment and we are set. I turn on the gun sight, and the camera and set the Master Arm switch to simulate guns and missiles.

"Next setup will be 6K bandit, Do for # two."

"2"

I'll be fighting a bandit starting from a six thousand foot perch and have to maneuver to a few thousand feet to employ my simulated ordinance - Today I'm loaded with 4 Aim 9 missiles, 7.5 seconds worth of gatlin gun, a HUD, a little knowledge of how to employ my ordinence and a video camera to verify when I was right or wrong.

I take a mile and a half separation and push it up to 400 knots. I can feel my heart starting to race as the adreneline starts to kick in. I turn towards my flight lead and pull him into the top of the Heads UP Display, decreasing the distance back to a mile.

"Fights On!" I call and immediately see him drop the nose and pull back into me. I roll wings level knowing if I try to get him right now I'll get a quick shot but a lot of aspect and multiple problems later on. Patience. A long 2 seconds of level go by and I check where I'm at. 400 knots and 18000 feet. The Floor today is 11000, if either of us go below we are considered a floor mort and a valid kill for the Top Gun award later on. His jet seems to stop turning and begins a Bee Line across my canopy. Thats my cue Big breath - Roll and WHAM! - 100 degrees of bank full afterburner and straight to 5.5g's. I weigh a little over a thousand pounds knowing I need to pull to 6g if I want to smoke him. I pull a little more and he slides towards the pipper when his plane violently rolls and pitches downwards. A Jink! He is trying to get his jet out of plane to keep me out of his chili. I check inside and see 420 knots and increasing, 20 knots faster than I thought I was and probably 70 more than I need right now. So thats what the dude in the back is for. I slam the throttles back to the idle stop, roll opposite him and pull up. Assess!! This is a chance for him to capitalize on my mistake in airspeed and reverse into me, possibly putting me on the defensive. Luckly my counter move worked and he starts to again move forward on the canopy. Back to Full Blower and try to turn back on him. At 5 gs he continues in a right hand turn and dives towards the floor trying to get away. He wasted a lot of energy on that jink. That extra airspeed is helping now and I'm quickly approaching the Aim9 WEZ - an imaginary cone 45 degrees wide from 2000 to 9000 feet deep where a heat seeking missile can lock onto his exhaust and send him home in a silk parachute. There it is. I hit the pickle with my right thumb and simultaneously call "Fox 2" over the radio, the call that says a Sidewinder missile just came spiraling off my rail at supersonic speeds. He's not dead yet, our Rules of Engagement say I need 2 valid missiles or 1/2 a second of gun track for a valid kill. 2 seconds go by and he is still at the top of my sight so I fire another heater in his direction. He's awfully close, that missile might not have had time to arm so I continue to pull him towards the pipper. I squeeze the trigger before he gets there knowing that the bullets take time to fly. I can imagine the plane begin to shake and the smell of chordite as that gun spits 30 mm shells at 6000 rounds a minute his direction. It will appear as though a water hose is streaming out the nose of my jet, curling and twisting with every small move I make on the stick. The point of impact is a tiny dot on my HUD the width of a pencil lead that I need to center over his ever moving aircraft. Way harder than it seems. He slides through the pipper for an instant but seeing my gun on him he jinks a second time. I poke my nose at him again trying to get a few more rounds and again he jinks. He cashes in all he's got puts the stick in his lap, and pulls away from me. His plane ceases to fly and cruises right out the side of my pipper.

A reverse!!! I'm slower this time so theres little chance it will work unless I screw up. The problem is I'm new to this whole thing and screwups are my speciality. I roll almost level and pull the stick as hard as I can towards his six oclock trying to keep from getting out in front of his guns. I still have some extra knots so I unload and pull two more times forcing the jet to fly belly first through the air. The race now is to see who can get the slowest the quickest and force the other out in the lead. The turtle wins the slow speed fight every time. I caught it in time and ever so slowly I begin to climb upwards and behind him. As he maneuvers left and right I mimic his moves and our motion scribes a pair of scissors sclicing in the sky.

The G's are off now so I can take some deep breaths and try to regain some composure as I try to get far enough away to bring the hurt on him some more. The whole battle thus far was only about a 540 degree turn lasting a total of maybe 30 seconds but I feel like I went a few rounds with Tyson - The old Tyson when he knocked people out with intimidation.

The spacing looks about right now for me to go get him, in fact it looks like he is a little to far below to just aim at him. If I did, the speed I would gain in the descent might put him behind me so I decide to try something I read about but have never been shown. I'm solo so it seems like the perfect opportunity to me. I throw out the boards, select idle and G up the jet in a lag roll figuring the extra drag shoud put me right behind him. I flip upsidedown and right side up again screaming downhill with very little forward motion gained and I end up smack dab at his 6 o'clock at 4000 feet. He is at the bottom of the airspace, in a shallow turn, out of speed and out of options.

"Fox Two" wait two seconds "Fox Two"

Holy cow I just shot down lead.

"Kill one T38 12000ft, left turn" I'm breathing hard but it feels good to say.

"Snipe Terminate"

A welcome sound from his radio. We climb back up to altitude and have a few more engagements. I shoot him sometimes and other times he gets away.

In the debrief we watch the HUD footage and spend a few hours talking about the engagements. We discuss every possible detail of the flight down to the fact that I am clipping my "2" radio call and one time it came out as just "oow" without the T. All the tiny mistakes I made and thought I got away with were caught by him, rightfully so, so I can learn and do better next time. I am not at all amazed by his thoroughness - that is what I have come to expect from this community. The attention is in the details is the motto of the fighter pilot.

"You know the beginning of the first engagement when you had too much airspeed I could have reversed and smoked you - Right?"

He was absolutely right. I was dead and barely knew it but he gave me a break. I'm not a badass yet but I have a pretty good idea what one looks like. I learned a lot today and we didn't scrape paint so tommorow he'll have a bottle of Tennessee's finest on his desk.

later on,

[ 07. June 2005, 22:45: Message edited by: GreasySideUp ]

Edited October 1, 2013 by GreasySideUp

[El Duderino]

Pure gold man. That was the best post I have seen on Baseops in about a week or two. Keep stories like this coming if you have the time - it's nice to hear something positive.

[zrooster99]

Wasn't lame to me, that's what I've been fighting for-for 6-10 years (depending on how you count it). Granted, I haven't even started phase I yet...

[Gravedigger]

Five big ones for that post! That was probably the closest I've ever come to wanting to fly fighters. :D

[B-O-double-Z]

Nice job Greasy...that's what it's all about brother!

[Guest pinko]

Posts like that make me re-think my selection of T-1s- Very nice description.

[Hacker]

Looks like you *have* learned something in the mighty Smurf!

There's still a long way to go after OB-4 solo, but looks like you've got the right sight picture, so good luck.

Let's hear an update when it's time for DB-4.

For what it's worth...you won't "smell the cordite" when you shoot the gun in real life (unless you're going to a Hog). As a matter of fact, the actual gun shooting is pretty anti-climactic -- it's the part where the bullets impact which is really cool.

[Guest Future15Driver]

Greasysideup,

That was an awesome post. I felt like I was right there in the jet with you. Keep up the work and I hope I will be there one day.

[Beaver]

Keep up the good work and the good attitude.

[Guest viper24]

Loved the story. It is great inspiration for a guy like me who has a few years until (God willing) I am in a T-38 doing dogfighting. Please keep stories like that coming.

[Guest Mary G]

Dude - that sounds AWESOME!!! Here I was thinking I was badass with my first ride in the mighty KC-135 - but you definitely win the prize on that one. Hehehe - take care, keep kicking ass, and I'll see you guys soon!

[ 08. June 2005, 16:52: Message edited by: Mary G ]

[Guest Rainman A-10]

Roger that, or a Gunship.

I never got an answer before, what track do you select to get an AC-130 and can guys get them right out of UPT?

[Guest Awol55]

Great Post...

[Guest SnakeT38]

Knocked off alot of "cob webs" in my "memory" locker. Good story.............remember all your rides like that and your mistakes become very few and far between.

One other thing...........don't get to 350,

but 380-420 gives a "bad turning" A/C, the AT-38,

its best chance.

[ 09. June 2005, 08:56: Message edited by: SnakeT38 ]

[Guest Awol55]

That rocked. God, I felt numb after reading it. good Post.

[GreasySideUp]

Whats up fellas. Another long post in story book fashion emailed to my family who know nothing about aviation, if you are currently qualified might be a boring read. Might want to check out my other posts about the 38 as a prequil for those not following my saga. I fully expect an update on the Pentagon to follow suit as well....

Enjoy....

"You are going to be some of the best fighter pilots in the world less than a year from now. You are about to fly a 4th generation, single seat, all weather day or night fighter that has never been beaten in Air to Air combat. It is the most versatile aircraft in the US inventory - in every country's inventory. By the end of this course you will be able to sort and track multiple bogies - kill them from up close or beyond visual range. You will be trained to fight your way into a target from any altitude and drop multiple bombs through the window of your choice. You will be versed in the latest in GPS and laser guided aerial artillery and be able to deliver it from your targeting pod or from one of our own rangers sitting on a camel with a laser pointer into bad guy land. The last war has been one of real time information requiring immediate action response and real time targeting solutions. You will be trained in close air support and have a chance to strafe with that 20mm cannon sitting on your left hip. During your training we'll bring some F-15 Eagles out for some target practice, I mean dissimilar air combat training. You will learn tactics to crush every other airframe out there in the air to air arena- less maybe the F-22 - but we're working out ways around those guys too. Shortly after leaving here, some will be HARM shooters, others will have the latest in helmet mounted sight technology - all of you will be top notch wingmen equipped with the tools needed to employ as an effective strike package.

You will be incredibly busy while you are here. This is an extremely demanding course and history has shown that some of you will not make it. There is no shame in that at all, just the facts. For the next nine months we need your total attention. You need to find your wives a new husband, your girlfriends a new boyfriend and your kids a new dad to play with - apologize now because you will not have time for them after today. Your education extends beyond the classroom, into the bar room, and into your homes. You are not expected to drink but you are expected to socialize. During every war more tactics are learned in the bar than ever were in a classroom. Listening to your lead tell a story of how he avoided 3 SAMs that night, and more importantly why he was shot at in the first place will save your life. Help each other out. The nine gentleman next to you will become your best friends over the same many months. Learn from each other, and help one another out because I guarantee you will struggle at some point and will not make it alone. You are about to become fighter pilots and fly the sexiest jet ever built. A pilots airplane. The F-16. Kids will look up to you, men will want to be you and women will want to be with you. You are embarking on the best job in the world. Gentlemen, Welcome to the B course."

The 10 of us new studs sat in a amazement at the speech we just received. Several very high time pilots in the room gave a few more words of encouragement - these guys absolutely loved what they were doing. They have thousands of hours of experience in the F-16 and a slew of other aircraft prior. They have dropped tons of iron, in peace time and in anger. They are masters of their craft and I can only dream of one day being the fighter pilot these guys currently are. And before I can daydream too long....

"Take a 5 minute break, Academics are upstairs."

And we were off. We have a cubicle set up for each of us with 11 four inch binders full of everything we need to know about the airplane and how it works. Over the next 4 weeks we went through them all. Some of our academic instructors have 4000 hours of fighter experience, with cutbacks an amount unheard of today. They have flown in multiple wars, been weapons school and Top Gun commanders, a few even helped design and test fly the original F-16. A wealth of knowledge was at our disposal. We spent countless hours in the simulator going through every possible emergency scenario resulting in bringing a crippled aircraft home or ejection. We had a test after the first two classes and a test about every other day after. We were in the classroom 8 hours a day covering 1 major system each lecture and at night we were in the vault learning local procedures, ops limits and general operating rules. In the next month I would have earned 60 PHD level credits had I been attending Harvard - we were learning at a fire hose pace trying desperately to keep up. And then out of nowhere, not nearly ready we hit the flight line.

Walking to the jet today was an experience I will never forget. I've been dreaming of this moment for more than 20 years. I was about to meet the lady I had a pre arranged marriage to and we were about on embark on a journey of emotional and physical highs and lows that will most likely last 20 more. I didn't sleep a wink last night, nervous as a kid on Christmas Eve with the expectations of what our first meeting would be like. A huge step that every kid dreams about but very very few live out. Today I'm going to become a fighter pilot.

The Viper looks like it is moving five bills even when it is sitting still. From every angle it is truely an incredible looking machine. From the front, a huge bubble canopy sits atop an enormous intake. From the aft it is all engine. The burner can is probably 4 feet wide, large enough for a grown man to sit in. It is well worn from the fire it throws out, at night a ten foot flame bellows out, rocketing the jet twice the speed of sound. The wings are razor thin and on the tip hang 2 missiles. Today I'll be flying with a heater on my left and a Radar guided 120 on my right. I have no idea how to employ them yet and barely know what that means but man do they look cool! Underneath sits a 300 gallon drop tank. That should be enough to get me out to the practice area and that's about it. The gas mileage of Uncle Toms suburban with the legroom of a Porsche. I love it.

I've got new gear on as well because we all know it's more about how you look than how you fly. I ditched the 40 pound chute in favor of a lightweight harness that buckles me into the ACES II ejection seat. The F-16 fits like a backpack. It is said that you strap the jet on rather than strapping into it. I'll find out in about 3 more minutes. Out of the MX hanger Jeremy by Pearl Jam is blasting on the speakers. A little theme music for todays flight. My heart is racing by this point. I've also got the latest in Combat Edge anti-g equipment. Under G it forces air into my legs, my vest and also down my throat to keep me conscious during the 9 g's well soon be pulling. Yep. 9 g's on my first flight.

Strapping the jet on is different than the sim - it always has been. The jet is always different than what you have practiced. The switches are all in the same spot, the cockpit layout is exactly the same but sitting in a new aircraft for the first time is always a surreal experience. I've played this moment out in the sim over the last few weeks dozens of times, I've had hydraulic failures, gear malfunctions, I've even been on fire, flamed out with multiple system failures and landed successfully - without a hitch. I can dead stick this thing in from 30 miles away in the sim but today its for real and I have no idea which switch to flip first. Absolutely no idea where to start. It has been that way in every aircraft I've flown and I can't say why.

A quick flip to the checklist and I'm off. Main power, that makes sense. 20 moves later and she fires up. The Viper growls to life on start. First an engine the size of the T-37's fires up which begins to rotate the massive General Electric. As it lights a rumble shakes the jet and you can hear the roar of the fire behind you. As it springs to life the thrust pushes against the chalks and compresses the nose strut. Soon after, the jet is put through a self test that violently moves the controls through their entire range. From the outside it is impressive seeing the movement. From the inside it is awesome. The massive ailerons and slabs rapidly move through their ranges snapping back and forth with incredible power. The whole jet tenses like a cheetah before the kill, it wants to fly today and on its own it shakes and twitches to let me know. 15 minutes later we taxi and even that is different. At idle there is enough thrust to propel the 29,000 pound jet over 30 knots. An inch forward on the throttle triples that thrust and can cause serious damage to equipment and can be fatal to crew chiefs and ground personnel. I once knew a guy callsign Ass Smasher for doing just that. Sent a Chief somersaulting across the pavement, luckily only leaving a bruised elbow on the chief and a bruised ego on the pilot. Won't be me today.

5 days have passed since I stopped writing, since then I had one more single ship and today I soloed. As cool as the first ride was, the only thing better than one Viper at the end of the runway is 2. For the rest of my career I will have very very few single ship rides. The rest of the story will reflect that.

Out in the EOR we park for the arming crew to pull the rest of the pins and give a last look over the plane. I still can't believe where I'm sitting and I'm just waiting for someone to pinch me. We get the clearance to go, I taxi to the right, lead takes the left and we and run up to 90%. The jet shakes and strains against the brakes. It wants to go right now but I've got to make sure everything is right. Any more throttle and the brakes would hold the rims but the rubber would spin right off the wheel. Everything looks good, I give a nod and lead pulls away. Today we are doing an afterburner takeoff - a truly eye watering event. Lead lights the wick and a 4 foot diameter fireball erupts in his engine. There is a fuel line the size of my arm pouring gas into the tail. It is burning 50,000 pounds of fuel an hour belting out 29,000 pounds of thrust. If the plane was standing straight up it could take off vertically and accelerate. His jet was off the ground faster than I have ever seen anything leave the runway. Unbelievable and now it's my turn. Brake release and into burner and I am pinned to the back of the seat. I hit 150 knots in about 1500 feet accelerating as fast as a top fuel drag car. The massive jet lifted off the runway and hurled skyward in 6-9 seconds, it was an absolute blur. Gear up as quick as I can before I overspeed. Half way down the runway I am at 350 knots and accelerating. Un real. From this point I could pull 60 degrees up and hit 30,000 feet in a minute but today our clearance is only to 3. Bummer.

I've got probably 15 hours in the sim by now but the feeling on the stick is truly remarkable. The sidestick is incredibly comfortable, human factors and ergonomics were a part of designing this aircraft. I'm chilling back at a 30 degree angle with my feet up flying almost by thought, my lazyboy back home is less comfortable. Breathing on the stick causes a lightning quick roll. I over control at first, the plane jerks back and forth faster than my brain can react to my own inputs. Quickly my head catches up and things smooth out. Unfortunately they don't slow down. We are at 3000 in no time and quickly cleared up to Flight level 230 and out to the area. The VVI is pegged at 6000 feet per minute and the green stuff has me climbing out at 15 nose high at 350 knots. I've never flown with a hud (Heads up Display) before the Viper and I am already falling in love. It is a flat screen directly in my field of view displaying everything about where I am and where I'm going. Later on it will display other aircraft and what they are doing without me ever looking inside the cockpit. It is all controlled with the 16 buttons at my fingertips on the stick and throttle. Hands on throttle and stick, HOTAS for short was designed so you never have to hunt for switches while you are fighting under G. Some of those buttons spin, a few are cursors and others 4 position switches. Combined they have 600 functions and subsets controlling my radar, stores, and displays. A piano is less complicated. Right now I can play the equivalence of Chopsticks - I only know what a few of the switches do. In a month my fingers will work in symphony together as if I was playing the Baby Grand in concert slewing missiles, tracking with the radar and sorting targets. Right now I can trim and turn the nose wheel steering on and off and quite frankly that is a bit over whelming.

The Viper has the best visibility of any aircraft ever built. Skydivers don't have a better view. I am sitting on the tip of a spear with a huge bubble canopy over me. I can look almost straight down and out to the sides ---- and out to the sides sit my livelihood. I have to take a second glance to make sure but I do have missiles on the wings. I am sitting in the picture that has been on my wall since I was a kid. I don't know how to use them yet but they are definitely there and it is a spectacular sight. I'm quickly catching up to lead and can't believe I am rejoining on another F-16. From the air the Viper is even more beautiful. With the gear up and the nozzle puckered closed it is stunning up close. In close formation the other F16 is alive. With no stick inputs the computers are constantly twitching and tweaking the flight controls to maintain steady flight. The front of the wing is alive with movement as it constantly adjusts for the optimum camber in the climb. I've never flown an aircraft capable of thinking - this was very evident from 3 feet away as we zoomed out to our airspace. Formation is surprisingly easy. Lead walks me up and down doing light wingovers, crossunders and echelon turns. Unlike the T-38 my jet automatically trims itself - speed changes and maneuvering in fingertip is effortless. I'm now using the fins of the missile for my correct formation position, another indication of the plane I'm now commanding.

We are in the area in no time. Today we have a 50 square mile chunk of airspace 40,000 feet thick with our own controller to tell us if any stray traffic enters. The G warm-up is a 4-5 then 6-7g turn to make sure my tolerance is good. On the first ride this was followed by an acceleration to .95 mach rack to 90 degrees and pull to the limiter. Full aft stick produced 8.8 g's - the computer won't let you pull the wings off this jet, it limits us to 9, it will however let you pull more than your body can handle. 9 g's is an incredible feeling. My body weighs 1800 pounds and the blood in my head is proportionally heavy. I strain and thanks to my new mask 40 psi of O2 is slammed into my lungs to help keep me conscious. The G suit swells with air and compresses my legs to keep the blood in my abdomen from pooling in my feet. This is my new world. Every time I break into a bandit is going to be this moment. I love it. After a few tactical turns my lead clears himself to chase. Today I am solo and this is how I am being evaluated - from another aircraft from 500 to 3000 feet away. I pull into a loop followed by 2 point roll inverted and split S down to the deck. This morning the area is perfect for BFM against the clouds. From 6500 feet there is a perfect sheet of clouds with random puffies pluming up to 15,000 with a hundred miles of visibility and I'm going to take every opportunity to see just how quick this thing turns and how fast she goes. At altitude, mach 1 feels just like 200 knots - there is no real sense of speed so far from the earth but at the deck..... I level out 10 feet above the clouds cooking at 520 knots, the sense of speed is unreal. I roll inverted and pause as the clouds scream past my nugget close enough to touch. I might as well be in a convertible with the top down with nothing obstructing the view. A puffy is off my left, a slight pull on the stick yields 7.5 g's and I wrap around the edge spiraling around and away. I am having more fun in this moment than I ever have had in an aircraft. A huge barrel roll brings me back down just above the clouds when over the radio comes my instructor. "Enough fun, let's head back" I was 100 pounds above my bingo and we still had more training to do.

Back to the pattern we do a few instrument approaches, a few touch and goes and the incredible SFO. If there is any weakness to the F-16 it is the single engine. Not often, but every now and then something happens, the engine takes a nap and you turn into a glider. In the T-37 and T-38 a dual engine failure led to an ejection and a ride home under a silk parachute. Apparently the government is not so eager to return the Viper to the tax payers so they teach us the Simulated Flame Out pattern. To practice these, on the go you accelerate to 350 and immelmann up to 8000 feet directly over the center of the runway. The feeling is surreal as I look back over my left shoulder at the earth disappearing below. It makes me laugh and a stripping of my mask would reveal a grin slightly larger than Texas. An aircraft should not be able to do this. An astronaut has a similar ride but the view is nothing like mine. With the huge bubble canopy it feels like a flying a rocket powered lazyboy half inverted over the city with absolutely nothing impeding my vision. It takes all of 10 seconds to reach that altitude and I am still cooking along at 350. Absolutely Unbelievable. I've still got enough juice to pull another loop over the top to 20,000 feet and all this is without the burner. Again - Absolutely Unbelievable. The power is pulled to idle and then you dead stick the thing back to earth. At this point it is all finesse, skill, judgment and practice to nurse the jet back to the runway. Unfortunately at this point I have none of those and I rely solely on luck and a little magic to persuade the old girl back to terra firma. Miraculously I bring her down at about the 2500 foot point on the runway, not perfect but we both would have lived. At 5 feet I push the power up, accelerate and repeat. Back up to 8000 - this is awesome. The whole patten takes a little over a minute and after a little practice and a few more flights I 'll be able to glide from over 40 miles out and touch down in the first 1000 feet of the runway. A few more touch and goes and I'm out of gas. In the last hour I burned 9000 pounds of JP8, flown 95% the speed of sound, Came within a few feet of another aircraft on purpose, pulled 9 gs, dogfought against those elusive clouds, did 5 touch and goes, 2 approaches and a deadsticked a few SFO's. I have not even scratched the surface of what this aircraft can do.

Back to the debrief I cue up the tapes and we analyze every detail of the flight. Although it was an incredible time there was a lot of work leading up to it and a lot of mistakes to go over. Even though the flight was only an hour, I've been at work 7 hours already and I was looking at another few for the post flight. My landings were scrutinized for being 5 knots fast, my heading was 2 degrees off on the recovery and my altitude dropped 10 feet low on the Tacan approach. I can no longer hide my mistakes from the instructors since it is all on video and able to be analyzed 1 frame at a time. There is no argument against the VCR, the cameras don't lie. Scrutiny is the pinnacle of a fighter pilots life and to be honest I am my own worst critic. Mistakes are going to happen but it is how you recover and learn from them that differentiates the average from the best. Over all it was a pretty good flight but at the end my flight lead asks "So what are the cloud clearances in the airspace"

"Sir?" My heart sank and I immediately knew where this was going.

He followed up with "Why do we fly in the clouds? What do we teach you instrument procedures for?"

"Umm, so we can take off and land when the weather is bad...."

He interrupted "So we can kill bad people. We fly in the clouds to reload and put ordinance on the Taliban. We penetrate weather for air superiority and to help the grunts on the ground who are getting shelled by our enemies. It is a means to put bombs on target and save American lives. Good flight, Any questions?"

I had none. He was absolutely right. I did have an incredible time on that flight, in all the flying I ever do it will be one of the ones I will remember forever but there are bigger things on the horizon. In a week I'll be checked out in the jet and we'll begin dogfighting and learning the art of aerial combat.

I've done countless simulators and endured 100's of hours of lectures and ground school and I've even flown a 30 million dollar jet on my own, an F16 Fighter Attack aircraft but I'm no fighter pilot yet, I do however know what one looks like.

Take care guys,

[ 05. November 2005, 13:59: Message edited by: GreasySideUp ]

Edited October 1, 2013 by GreasySideUp

[Guest lovelacm]

Nicely done, my man. I may be "just a herbivore," but I know the excitement in learnin' your "primary job" (yes, I said JOB)... and I sure can feel it in your words.

Remember that excitement, especially when you're chained to a desk for 80% of your time and flying becomes the escape!

Cheers!

Linda

[TacAirCoug]

That little bit of writing is going to inspire scores of young aviators to follow in your footsteps. Well done and congratulations!

[CrateOfThunder]

They say one won't know what type of aircraft you are suited for until you get half way through UPT... I am only 6 weeks in and just made up my mind after reading your post!!! Thanks and good luck!!

[AFCS_Actuator]

Wow. That was awesome. Thanks.

[GreasySideUp]

To all the Vetran pilots

Disclamer......Standard

So there I was protecting the O-club when the silence was broken....

"Viper 2, Break right! Bandit your 6 O'clock 2 miles level!" There is excitement in leads voice, a little from the adrenaline but mostly because that MiG 29's radar is locked firmly on my jet, the energy bubbling my skin, turning my future kids into girls and not his. While those thoughts go through my mind I react quickly, roll up knife edge and pull for all I'm worth. The power comes back and my fingers are working double time, one spitting out flares and two others slewing the radar to the spot I think he might be. 8 g's pile on the jet and I look straight back trying to pick up a tally on the enemy who is up in my chili in the perfect spot to paint a kill on his jet. A vapor cloud forms above the wing and as I look back a fireworks show of flares erupts behind me. As the flares ripple off they get caught in the wake of jet and their smoke trails eddy, swirling earthward as they fall away - under other circumstances it would make a great calendar picture under the clear blue sky but today there is more to worry about.

Even though this guy started in a huge position of advantage, he screwed up by attacking two of us. I've been in this position before several times on offense and in defense in 1vs 1. I've spent the last 2 months dogfighting, studying offensive and defensive tactics and employing them in the air. From an offensive position I can kill the opponent 90 percent of the time 100 percent of the time, my defense has similar odds ending up neutral or occasionally to a kill. I'm becoming an ER doc with the Sidewinder and a surgeon with the gun.

Today however is different. I am no longer alone and unafraid, I'm a 2 ship --- and unafraid. We are flying ACM, Air Combat Maneuvers, and I have a flight lead taking me to the fight. 2vs1 should make things easier but the workload is tripled trying to keep track of the extra aircraft in the 3 dimensional envelope in which we fly. Morty Feldman is the new technique to Waleye my eyeballs keeping 1 eye boresighted to each aircraft. New rules apply to keep us effective as a 2 ship but more importantly to keep us from swapping paint. The strength of the US Air Force is our ability to work as a team, and even though this guy started out behind us we were still dealt a better hand.

A third of the way around the turn I strain my neck and pick up the tally just in time to see a crack of the bandits wings as he turns away from me and goes after lead.

"Bandit Switched!" I shout to Viper 1 to let him know he is soon to be in a defensive position.

The bandit is in full blower towards lead, who by this time is nose on 1 mile apart with 1000 knots of head on closure. That distance closes in about 3 seconds, the fight progressing incredibly quickly. At these speeds a blink in the wrong direction is enough to get us killed.

"Viper 1 Engaged my nose 1 mile, ID HOSTILE!!" Lead spouts the magic words I need to take the shot by declaring him a bad guy. I slam the throttle forward to the stop opening a bloody gash in my ring finger knuckle, smashing it against the spider guard that holds the canopy closed. A bloody glove is the tell tale sign that a B course student had fun today, immediately noticed by the crew chief upon landing. Niagra opens as 50,000 ponies flood out my burner can as I sunder the nose low through the horizon to pick up some knots on my way back into the fight. The wick lights and I'm thrown back as I start to accelerate towards the ensuing furball between lead and the dude that wrecked our day. My fangs are out looking for what should be an easy shot but then the fight takes a turn for the worse. The brawl erupts on top of me as lead gets into a vertical rolling scissors back in my direction. A rolling scissors is a classic duel resembling two snakes battling each other, their bodies entwined and twisted around, both jets canopy to canopy spiraling skyward trying to spit the other out front for a gun shot. Imagine the jets winding up a chain of DNA angled 45 degrees high in my direction, the two strands separated by a 1000 foot bubble, in war that distance would be significantly closer. I don't have a shot and have to bail low to recoup. I was warned not to stick my nose into the fray, screaming past as a high speed cheerleader unable to help at all, so I get a little distance and a few more knots and I pitch back in....

Around the horn and a perfect picture unfolds in front of me - a tail aspect 1.5 mile Aim-9 shot. "Viper 2, Fox 2!" Code for a heater flying off my jet bringing me just 4 kills shy of being an ace. The missile times out and I call the victory.

"Viper 2, kill hostile left hand turn 16,000 Egress south."

And then the words that shook the world.

"Confirm kill left hand turn?" Lead queries, and doubt sets in.

"I think you'll be egressing alone, that's a lonely and unfortunate way to go home. Vipers terminate."

The problem is the MiG today was simulated by a gray cammo Viper - A Viper that looks exactly the same as mine and more importantly the same as my flight leads. Fratricide is taken seriously around the squadron, and by serious I mean payment with beer. Calling a kill on the hostile when it was invalid and taking a guy out of the fight prematurely costs a six pack and a little ribbing. Killing flight lead - a Keg for the bar, ridicule, and harassment until one of the other studs does something worse. Weeks down the road it will be brought up at random - "Remember that time when you shot me down....." It is horrible but definitely possible and has happened in war. Did I get them mixed up as they spired around each other? Did it happen again? Nooooo....

Last week on a 1v1 I ended up in a vertical stack going straight up, canopy to canopy 1000 feet apart, looking at the knee board of the dude in the other Viper straight out the top of my jet. As we rocketed towards space, screaming skywards better than 40,000 feet per minute, time compression set in and I was witnessing the coolest thing I have seen to date in an aircraft. While thinking about giving him the American peace gesture waiting for him to fall off I got an impossible lock and took the shot, called the kill and terminated the fight. Solo at the time my IP in the other jet was puzzled how I managed to kill him from that position but figured we would wait to analize in the debrief. Playing the tapes back at 1g and zero knots it was clear that I got a spurious lock on Full Bird Colonel in another jet, in another area, 30 miles away. I full up shot him down and he wasn't even in my game. The apology at the desk the next morning got some laughs.

"Sir, sorry for shooting you down yesterday."

"Did we fly together yesterday?"

O-6's are old and have forgotten more knowledge than I will ever have but are sometimes oblivious of everything that happened more than an hour ago.

"No Sir, I was in a different flight.... and again I apologize for shooting you down"

Everyone at the desk caught on in laughter and it didn't cost me a thing since he was red air that day and I had the global SA to shoot bad guys that weren't in my flight. It was brought up again on Friday for everyone to laugh at.

I was thoroughly debriefed on that shot and the importance of Q.C.ing every shot before letting them rip.

Turns out today the O-club was saved and my flight lead could join me for a beer. I did shoot the Hostile but mixed up the comm. The hostile was in a right hand turn, not left and that was debriefed in depth as well. I'm no fighter pilot yet, I did however write a big R and L on each glove so I wont make the same mistake again.

Later on,

[ 09. January 2006, 10:25: Message edited by: GreasySideUp ]

Edited October 1, 2013 by GreasySideUp

[Guest Aflyer]

Sick post man. Keep 'em coming.

[HuggyU2]

Great post!

[Guest ShortThrow]

Awsome post, I loved it. MORE MORE MORE!

[GreasySideUp]

Another long winded story. To those of you following my plight here's one about dropping a couple bombs. A little compilation of a few flights, I sat down to write a little about first dropping BDU's and before I knew it I shot down an F-5 in the LFE. time flies.

As always, First to find 5 mistakes I'll buy the first round.....

enjoy,

The only thing sexier than a clean F-16 is one laden with bombs.

"The Lymnadians have invaded to the south in an unexpected move against our allies. It is day 3 of the war and their small Air force has been destroyed, the remaining aircraft grounded by the lack of brave pilots to fly them. None the less the enemy is giving our army a tough time in the urban sprawl using hostage and terrorist tactics through urban warfare. The much needed Close Air support is unavailable due to this SA 3 SAM (Surface to Air Missile) site on the outskirts of town. The battery of surface to air missiles are limiting our ability to provide air cover to our special forces on the ground."

Our intel shop has prepared an excellent presentation and are leading the brief this morning for the threats and challenges we can expect on our mission today. A power point presentation outlines our route with the surface threats we will face along with satellite imagery of the target we are to attack. I am number 4 in a four ship of Vipers, #2 being another stud as well. Yesterday we spent 11 hours working out a plan to effectively strike the target including a plan to Air Refuel and ingress and egress the SA 3 GOA site in the low level structure at 500 knots and 500 feet to effectively remain below radar coverage and other SAMs along our route.

"Crossing the FEBA (Forward Edge of the Battle Area) you can expect MANPADS and light AAA including ZSU 23-4's"

The presentation zooms in to 2 saw-tooth lines, one red and one blue signifying the edge of the forward troops. This line is over a hundred miles from the target but the threat is very real. MANPADS are portable sams that can be carried by a single infantry man to protect the troops he is with. They have a small missile with short range, but inside the envelop they are very effective. The ZSU 23-4 has accounted for several aircraft kills itself with it's 4 machine gun barrels ripping a few thousand rounds a minute of 23 mm fire. Mounted on a tracked vehicle it is completely mobile and can be found anywhere behind enemy lines. There is also that ever so deadly golden BB that can bring down the fastest, most lethal aircraft simply with lucky placement. The ruskies tactics involved a thousand troops laying on their backs with rifles pointed skyward anytime enemy aircraft were overhead hoping for that one lucky shot. Even with sophisticated computer guided, rocket propelled SAMs and Radar guided missiles from aircraft, Triple A or Anti Aircraft Artillery has accounted for roughly 80% of ALL aircraft victories. Gunpowder and Lead, the same technology for over a hundred years, has brought down more planes than all the aces and all the million dollar missiles combined. It is simple, unguided and lethal and with that comes a healthy respect for anyone with a trigger on their finger.

"40 miles from the target in this town is an SA 6 Gainful, the 3 fingers of death that brought down O'Grady, just skirting your route. An SA 13 Gopher was spotted by a predator on the highway to the south so it could be a threat by your push. The SA3, your target, is revetted here on the west side of town. There are 4 launchers in a puppy paw configuration with a radar site and control van in the middle. Your target is that van, the flight after you will be tasked with the rest of the site with A-10's arriving shortly after to help with the ground war. If the first run is unsuccessful you will have to re-attack after you stirred up the hornets nest. There will be a bunch of angry men down there who will be expecting you again but we need this site to go down to save the lives of our boys on the ground. Make the first run count."

The satellite zooms in from a big overall picture to specifics of what we are going to hit. I've studied these maps and pictures for an hour this morning identifying landmarks and run-in features I'll recognize on the ingress. A few dirt roads lead towards a small creek bed that funnel me towards the site. A large wash, possibly a dried up lake is a good landmark for my action to the final run on the target. I'll have a pack in the jet with me,15 pages thick of all these images but I doubt I'll have time to open it so close to the ground. I flew the mission 100 times last night in my head recalling all the features and actions I would need today for a successful First Run Attack. If I mess up the first time, we'll have to go back in for a second pass, putting myself and more importantly the rest of my flight back in harms way unnecessarily.

We planned the attack using 2 each Mk 84 2000 pound bombs containing 945 pounds of tritinal high explosive. Lead will be delivering High Drags, the bomb equipped with a ballute in the tail, combination balloon/parachute to slow the bomb down after release to get more separation before the explosion. His will be armed with a proximity fuse set to detonate above the ground for max blast effect. A tiny pulse doppler radar is fitted inside the nose of the bomb to judge the altitude it will explode. A 10 degree delivery will keep him low to the ground, exposing himself no more than ~8 seconds before release. I'll be dropping slicks from a further higher 20 degree dive. The goal is to release my weapons before his explode so I can both see the target and escape the frag his will reign out. A 2000 pound bomb unleashes a sphere of destruction a half mile wide by the same distance high. Shrapnel can continue to rain for 30 seconds after initial impact, the smallest of which could FOD my engine and leave me on a one way ticket to the crash site. Considering the crash site is in close proximity to the folks I just unleashed devastation on this would be a bad thing. All these reasons are why we spent so much time yesterday planning the attacks. A coordinated attack has to be perfect, not only for your own bombs but for the others in the flight to be both effective, accurate and safe for egress. The plan is sound, now it is up to us to perform.

The jets are starting to look mean in the Air to Ground role. No longer the in the sleek low drag, high G, AA configuration they now have two 2500# drop tanks on the inner wings, 2 TER, Triple Ejector Racks for stores on the outer wings, a Heater and an AAMRAAM on the tips, a LANTERN targeting pod on the right chin station and a 510 round clip in the gun. A dozen bright red streamers hang from all the stores to safe them up on the ground - they'll all be removed just prior to takeoff. I've got the weight and price of a few Ferrari Enzo's on each wing and I can't wait to drop em off. The Viper has the ability to fight it's way in, deliver it's ordinance, and fight it's way out, unescorted and unafraid.

Even though we planned for the 2000 pounders, those things get a little pricey and there are only a few ranges that can actually handle explosions of that magnitude so today we're laden with 6 of his little blue cousins. The Blue Death. The BDU 33. The BDU was developed to mimic the flight characteristics of it's larger cousins without the hefty price tag or the risk of fragging yourself while training. We usually configure for 9 of the little fellas allowing 9 passes but today we just have 6 with a ripple two 75 foot allowing 3 passes. A 24 pound slick iron case houses a hollow tube containing a small pyrotechnic that explodes into a small puff of smoke upon impact. The ranger can then triangulate the point from his tower and give you a score in range and azimuth from the target you were trying to hit. These scores are then faxed back to the debrief so the winner can be paid. It is a huge set of rules but basically each bomb you get the best score on you get a little money from the rest of the flight. Have a bad day and your out a few bucks, ditto on the strafe passes so it encourages you to both take it seriously and hone your craft. Giving up money because you suck blows. I was in one of the last classes to Manual Bomb BDU's in IFF using an iron sight and Kentucky windage. All but one other in my class flew the T38C equipped with the latest in glass HUD technology, INS and GPS to find the target and a random number generator to determine if you hit. It is an absolute shame to have a computer decide your bomb score because you really have no idea how well your doing without dropping real, cold, hard, Pittsburgh Iron from the jet. Computers will be helping today but they definitely won't be deciding how close we got.

The weather today is broken around 4000 feet over the field so we opt for a 20" AB RATD. there will be 20 seconds between us using afterburner on a radar trail departure. this allows lead to fly the departure and the wingies to take a radar lock and form a line through the clouds with 2 miles between each jet. What seems simple, locking the guy in front of you, has occasionally proven a nightmare and even killed a few people. Locking the wrong blip on the screen can prove to be disastrous. The Thunderbirds locked up an airliner out of DC busting all kinds of restricted airspace, people have joined on corporate jets and even cars on the highway but today it goes just fine. We break out at about 8000 feet to a clear blue sky on a white sheet of puffies. Out in the distance a green square breaks out on the radar in front of us, lead locks him up and we're off for the rejoin.

The tanker is there right on time, exactly where he is supposed to be. We don't need the gas today but these guys have been lifesavers for more than one shot up bird in their day. Pretty much every IP who has been to war has a story of a tanker that saved their bacon. Low on gas, leaking fuel, using too much AB dodging SAMs, tankers have often crossed into enemy territory to help our boys out and bail a wounded bird out of trouble. Often under appreciated and under recognized, their mission is vital to the operations we run today. Off in the distance a menacing gray KC-135 StratoTanker emerges from the blue. Originally dubbed the Boeing 707 the military got a hold of a few, ripped out the seats and filled it with fuel. This one is the upgraded R model with 4 enormous engines, each one able to swallow the fuselage of the Viper whole. The 4 turbofans each produce 22,000 pounds af thrust and can propel the 322,000 pound behemoth near the speed of sound. There are only two windows I notice down the sides of the fuselage, and the cabin up front looks like chopped 32 Deuce with 6 skinny plates of plexi wrapping around the cockpit. A black nose cone is the only differing color adding to the angry look of the plane. For a heavy, this is probably the best looking of the bunch, mainly because of it's precious cargo. 200,000# of Jet A hiding in the belly. This is only my second time seeing one of these up close but we'll carry a close relationship the rest of my career dragging me across oceans and continents closer to the wars I'll be fighting.

Lead pulls up to the boom, 2 to the left wing, 3 and myself on the right. This is the picture that calendars are made of. A four ship of Vipers hooked up to a 135 on a clear blue sky over a broken puffy cloud deck. It does not get any better than this moment. I'm flying a loose route off my lead who is level with the giant tail peering off the other wing to keep proper spacing. The habits we build in clear day sky will help when I have to join up at night in the weather, going lost wing man when you desperately need gas can be fatal and it starts with discipline even when everything is easy. I'm the last to fuel, when 2 leaves the boom I move aft and down about 50 feet behind the tanker.

"Viper 4 Pre Contact, Stable Ready."

"Cleared Contact"

During war this will all be silent but today it's nice to have a little instruction. Looking up a few small windows bulge from the rear belly of the jet housing the 3rd member of the team. There the boomer lays on his belly with a couple of joysticks to control the boom. Unlike the Navy who uses a probe and basket approach, the boom actually has 2 small wings that the operator uses to fly the boom to our jet. It has a fairly wide range of motion and can move in and out as well, the limits of which I'll probably test out this flight. A few months ago another stud in my class did a few hundred grand in damages when the boom didn't disconnect fast enough. That looms in the back of all our minds and even though I have a bunch of time flying in formation I can feel my heart speeding up and my fingers clinching tighter to the stick. Wiggle the toes. Relax. I slowly inch up to within 10 feet of the boom lined up with a bright yellow line painted down the belly of the craft. 2 light bars just under the cockpit begin to blink telling me to move forward and down. Those lights will guide the rest of my movements, sometimes blinking and others steady, inching me up and down to the median height off the boom. As I move forward, the tip of the boom starts to fly around my bubble canopy, inches from my nugget, to the receptacle just behind my seat. I can't help but wonder what it would do to the canopy with a smack and would I be able to duck far enough if it did come through. This is the one time I wish my visibility was a little worse, knowing what I cant see shouldn't hurt me. The old ostrich approach definitely won't work here with the best bubble canopy on the planet. I can see every uncomfortable inch of the probe as it slowly moves around and aft. A small thunk and the boom plugs in.

"How's it goin?"

What in the heck is that. God just plugged into my mike. I'm breathing hard, tense as a rubber band and breathing heavy doing all I can to stay connected and completely forgot about the boomer, probably bored out of his mind, who now has a direct connection to my show.

"Uhhh, Hey dude what's up, got a lot goin on down here."

Before we got too much further I topped off only taking on a few thousand pounds of gas, disconnected and rejoined back to the right wing completely blowing off the guy in the tail. Soon enough I'll have a little less on my plate and we'll chat politics and supermodels but today I'm ecstatic I didn't fall off the boom and have to reconnect.

"Thanks for the gas fellas"

Lead calls to the tanker and we peel off for the rest of our flight. Those guys turn back towards home, maybe done for the day, maybe for a few hours of touch and goes but my day is just getting started. I'm already worn out and we haven't even started yet. the real excitement is just ahead.

The four of us peel off the tanker and are cleared to a fighting wing. This fluid position allows us freedom in the vertical and horizontal to swing back and forth while lead maneuvers.

"There's the hole, hang on" and the four of us roll quickly inverted, pull down 45 degrees and then upright chasing each other through a hole in the clouds. We break out to the desert terrain of Arizona below keeping our left hand forward raging on the low level. We do two turns in holding waiting for our push time. The computer in the Viper runs a carrot down the airspeed tape in the HUD giving us the precise speed we need to fly to hit the target on time. Back in UPT we used the Clock to Map to Ground method, hacking my timex over a pre planned spot on the ground and then adjusting speed according to update points along the way. This is the same method they've been using for years and can often times get you on a target a few hundred miles away within a few seconds. It is much simpler now with HAL doing all the work. Our bombs will be delivered to the second. Important for the Army to know when to quit shelling as their 100 millimeters go well above the 500 feet we are flying today.

The power of the GE at low altitude is indescribable. The thick air allows the wings to dig in, sustaining a 9 g turn is no problem down here but the stores we are carrying limit us to less than that. Our speed limit however is a measly 500 knots just 500 feet off the deck. I am line abreast with lead about a mile apart raging through the agave filled cactus desert. Low altitude gives us the ability to sneak in under enemy radar's, undetected and unafraid. The dry air gives us a hundred miles of visibility, the heat swirling dust devils 4 times our altitude. Dozens of little tornadoes dot the desolate landscape, flinging sand and gila monsters in miniature twisters a thousand feet high. A large one splits the formation as it curls around our jets unaware of the destruction we are about to unleash. The barren flat desert out here gives way to jagged red mountains, cut from the earth to ominous peaks thousands of feet high. The average civilian scared to death as their Cessnas have no ability to out climb the Martian landscape, but the Viper scoffs such obstacles. As a ridge line approaches we each pick a saddle across the rocky peak to keep from unnecessary exposure above the mountain. As the rocky face approaches I fight the urge to pull up too early. "Hold it ....Hold it.... and now!" A slight tug on the stick pulls me 45 degrees nose high to the apex of the mountain, rising 3000 feet as do the rocks below. Over the top, 135 degrees inverted and down the back side keeping the terrain never further than 500 feet away. The jagged mountain fills the canopy as I cross the ridge greasy side up, keeping a slight pull to plant me firmly in the seat. I get a glimpse of lead out the opposite side now rolling upright so I follow suit. That mountain marked the FEBA and almost instantly my flight lead begins a violent maneuver up and away from me. React and then talk is what we are taught and the words soon follow.

"Viper 3, Triple A south, defending 290!" His voice is excited, not unexpected since he is now inverted a thousand feet over the desert, heading down hill, less than 3 seconds from hitting the dirt. A whiskey bottle nudged from the kitchen counter wouldn't shatter any faster. An imaginary ZSU sends an arc of lead his way as the turret spins on axis to keep up with his jet. Bullets aren't guided yet so theoretically all you need to do is be unpredictable for the time of flight of that single golden BB. That theory, while sound, has still lead to the greatest nemesis to aviation, and rightfully so, I move my jet too.

"Viper 4 Supporting." My job is to call out additional threats that might be heading his way and more importantly stay out of the way of rounds that are missing him. Since this is a training flight I know I am next, so shortly after, that Gainful we were briefed about lobbed a few Surface to Air Missiles in my direction.

"Viper 4 Sam launch your left 7 o'clock!" At least he was nice enough to let me know.

My jet twists and turns skyward, if this was real I would give serious consideration to ditching my tanks for a little more maneuverability but instead I use the terrain to my advantage and duck behind a ridge line with the knowledge that granite will defeat the SA6 every time.

"Snipe 6 Magnum" Another voice breaks the radio as a block 40 flying cover armed with anti-radiation missiles locked on to the enemy radar site and rendered it useless. Iraqis quickly learned that turning on their radar was suicide, since shortly after a missile used that beam as a homing beacon to destruction. Many of my buddies will be learning the art of SEAD, Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses when they go to Block 40 school in a few months.

As I briefly dwell on my buddies future endeavors, a canyon quickly approaches forcing me back to a wedge behind lead. I'm free to maneuver in a 60 degree cone from 3000-6000 feet behind lead leaving me plenty of room to avoid the cumulo-granite and him the freedom to yank and bank without worrying about scraping paint. What unfolds in front of us is the scene I've been dreaming about since I was a kid. A panoramic imax picture brings two peaks into view with a mile wide canyon in between. About a mile inwards, a jagged precipus towers alone into the clear blue Arizona sky leaving a scene for the Discovery High Def channel. From a few miles out these 3 mountains line up to form something similar to the gun sight on my H&K 40 caliber handgun, and justly so , this is nicknamed the Gunsight Pass.

We **** our jets and unleash through the pass, undoubtedly causing the wild Chupacabras to look up from the jackrabbits they are feasting upon for brunch. I collapse just in time, moving quickly from a mile off his left side to 45 degrees off his right just as his jet carves left around the first mountain. I quickly follow suit rolling up knife edge as the far right mountain passes beneath my belly, the canopy filled up with the red rocks of the peak to the left. I am now well below the peaks of both mountains, swallowed up by the pass with my throttle hand in full mil loving every minute. We quickly roll back to knife edge right carving a hook turn around that giant pillar in the middle. I can imagine a rock climber's excitement, not hearing a sound for days being invaded by the sneak pass at the Thunderbird show as he looks down on the top of my jet as I rifle past faster than a bullet. Before he even has time to think what happened, we are gone behind the next set of rocks, a loud memory of dreams left behind in high school. Our little 4 ship is a scene from Iron Eagle, the only thing missing is the camera ship and a tape deck blaring Bon Jovi on my right Knee. Otherwise this is the scene that movies are made of and I am living things I could never dream of.

Just after the pass lies our IP, the initial point of our attack. From here on out it is an almost familiar scene, the mountains to both sides exact copies of the satellite imagery I have studied the last few days.

"Snakeye, Viper 1 IP inbound."

Snakeye is a ground FAC, a Special Forces Forward Air Controller nestled in camouflage on one of the peaks between us and the target. Several dudes fresh from IRAQ flew out here just to help out with our Close Air Support training. From the ground they'll guide our aircraft and even lase our bombs to enemy positions danger close to our own troops. FACs are providing the meat of the missions over in the desert right now with time sensitive targeting to specific windows housing terrorists. Their ability to talk a Viper on to an enemy position has saved countless lives in fire fights on the ground. Hogs own this close air arena but we can definitely hold our own.

They authenticate, we pass the secret handshake and they validate the E-Mail we received earlier on the flight. We now have the ability to get instant messaged on real time targets through the HUD. A dialogue box appears providing target coordinates, descriptions, and position of friendlies with no communications required. Since this is a live range, we back it up with the dudes on the ground and are cleared in for the attack.

I am now off the right side of my lead at a mile point five, about 20 degrees aft when we hit the action point five miles from the target. Lead checks into me and lights the wick hoping to keep every bit of that 500 knots on our ascent. I follow suit, rotating the throttle and slamming it forward over the stop putting that General Electric to work, then simultaneously we pitch to 60 nose high, afterburner at full tilt. This is not a stairway to heaven, rather a rocket ship on an unrestricted climb to 17,000 feet covering that distance faster than Ben Johnson on the 100 yard dash. Looking over my shoulder on the reclined seat gives me a vertical view of lead now collapsing the distance into me. The ground now getting rapidly smaller below reveals the target we are to hit. HE Hill is a moonlike surface on the otherwise nondescript Arizona Desert. This is where Mad Max fought the big war, and is designated as one of the live drop sites on the range. Millions of tons of iron have slammed into and around this area over the years leaving a black charred, crater laden hill that makes an asteroid surface look smooth. John Glenn would have an awesome time in the rover on that terrain for sure. By this time, the distance between lead and myself has diminished to a close formation all while maneuvering in the vertical. I wouldn't have believed this was going to work if I didn't see it with my own two beads but here I am looking now through the canopy of his jet stacked slightly lower than me at the target I'm about to unleash on.

"Viper 1, Target in sight!"

"Cleared Hot One!" The FAC's undoubtedly as excited as we are to see 4000 pounds of tritinol explosives go off in their vicinity.

"Viper 2, target in sight!"

I get the same response and we are off. From seventeen thousand three hundred feet we pull a Pappy Peel down to the wire. In all the WWII footage on TV you'll see the Corsairs "peeling" off one at a time, a move made famous by the Black Sheep Squadron commander, Pappy Boynton. Lead rolls inverted pulling 4g's away from me looking for that perfect 45 degree dive bomb, a small vapor cloud forming where the wings meet the fuselage. A split second later I peel off behind ending up in the chute together. The idea is to release my 82's before his explode, leaving a clear path to place my pipper. If I wait too long, the smoke from his weapons will leave a fog of war too thick to put my bombs accurately on target. It is an odd feeling dropping literally on top of him but today we are traveling much faster than gravity and there is no chance he will be hit. As I roll in a green square forms in the HUD off the pre planned coordinates indicating this is the proper target. With my right index, I button sideways selecting a CCIP delivery, changing the symbology to a long line with a circle and dot making a bulls eye at the end. The squirrels in my jet starting to run overtime with millions of new calculations of altitudes, pressures, winds and velocities slaved to the ballistics of 4 Mk 82's with a 75 foot interval - the two middle bombs bracketing the target at 32.5 feet each side rendering me a Continuously Computed Impact Point at the dot of that pipper. Bombing simply put -- Put the Thing on the Thing. I love the F-16.

And with the thing on the thing, "Viper 2, Weapons away!!"

I mash down the pickle button with my right thumb and the jet quickly rocks from side to side as the iron ripples off my jet alternating between each wing. Dink, Dink, Dink, Dink in quick succession, then 5 g's to get separation from the weapons in case of a midair explosion, and burner to get my knots back. Off target, at slow speed with my pants down is a bad place to be with a bunch of ticked off bad guys woken up by the noise. Off target, I weave for triple A veering off my shoulder for any Sams launched my way. 17 seconds after release the fires erupt. A chain of explosions 300 feet long produce 4 huge fireballs erupted from leads bombs followed shortly after by my own in close proximity. The fire, thousands of degrees, churning and bubbling with a hundred shades of orange and red, is clearly visible from the air. The FMU 139 fuse set off a reaction on impact instantaneously lighting off the tritinol inside. The scored innards of the iron separated into thousands of fragments dissipating a half mile in all directions. The over pressure compressing the air into a shock wave strong enough to topple cement buildings and bend palm trees to the ground. Anyone within a mile wouldn't be able to hear for a few days from the concussion of sound that 8 bombs left behind.... BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!! followed shortly by four more. Thick black smoke bellowed a few thousand feet skyward leaving an ominous cloud full of scrap metal and rock propelled buy the tremendous explosions. For a full minute after shrapnel will rain down fodding out the engine of any aircraft foolish enough to fly through it.

From the ground the sights and sounds and smells of the explosions were tremendous as evident from the FACs on the ground.

"Good Hits Both of You!!! That was Awesome!!!" You could hear the excitement in their voices at the fireworks show we just displayed.

From the air...... silence. A silence only interrupted by a few words and the steady breathing on my inter phone. You can see everything, the bombs impacting, the fireballs, the black smoke and the movement of the earth but there is no noise - not even a whisper. All hell can be breaking loose on the ground with marines taking fire from mortars and machine guns, frantically calling on the radio for air support to an enemy close enough to distinguish facial features, and somehow we are insulated from that in our air conditioned bubble canopy, insulated from the havoc and the chaos below. I never really thought about it until that moment. Many fighter pilots have a story about dropping bombs in combat, a few who witnessed them from the ground. A good buddy of mine in UPT was an Army Ranger on the front, in the thick of it in Afghanistan. They would call in strikes, watch the scene unfold as I just told and then watch the planes leave, the pilots back to a warm shower and sometimes a cold beer while they slept in the mud for a couple more weeks. "That was the motivation for me to get my degree." he said and now he's flying hogs, eventually helping out the grunts he once fought beside.

Those thoughts were quickly interrupted by our FACs.

"Viper 1, we have marines taking fire on the air field 10 miles to the north and need suppressing fire!"

"Viper one contact the air field."

We high tailed it to the airfield to the north. The ranges in Arizona have several mock targets, including entire airfields with buildings, support vehicles and even old aircraft hidden behind revetments made of sand. The training ranges have bridges and structures of every sort for us to learn on. Overhead the field we set up a wheel, a five mile circle from which to gain a tally on our target. I am in a loose formation to the outside.

"Viper one, use the runway as one unit of measure. At the midpoint of that runway is an intersecting taxi way. I want you to move 2 units south from that point and tell me what you see."

"Viper one contact two large hangers with silver roofs."

"Viper one, to the northwest of those hangers are two trucks oriented east/west with mounted machine guns. Do you see those trucks?"

"Viper one, contact trucks."

"Viper one, take those trucks out. Friendlies are one click north, I need an east west run in - how copy?"

"Viper one copies all, two do you see the trucks?"

The whole time I have had my targeting pod called up on the display over my left knee, following along with his directions with the cursor on my left thumb. Big to small, finding the airfield first, then the runway all the way down to the trucks. From five miles I have a clear infrared image of the vehicles below zoomed in enough to clearly see the outlines of doors and windows. With an LGB Laser Guided Bomb I could lase one right through the bed but fortunately today I'm only left with my gun. All these tools are great, but to be sure I verified with my Mark One Eyeball.

"Two's contact."

"All right two, I'll take the north one and you take the south."

"Two"

"Viper one's in."

"Cleared Hot one!"

He rolled in alone with me flying cover. If there is any movement or missiles launched his way it is for me to call out. Dirt flies as he nails the truck and rejoins the wheel. Another half circle around and it is my turn.

"Viper two's in!"

"Cleared Hot two!"

Like the outlaw Jessie James I'm off to unleash my cannon. Off my right shoulder is housed the M1A 20 millimeter gatling gun. Six barrels unleash 2000 rounds a minute of twenty mike mike armour piercing HEI (High Incendiary) rounds, each one about the size of a 6oz coke bottle. These little fellas leave the jet faster than sound and upon impact a shaped charge turns molten metal into an ice pick capable of penetrating steel. Once inside they bounce around and start fires rendering electrical components useless, many a burnt shell littering the deserts of Iraq.

Rolling in I call up the gun, with a giant pipper and a range scale forming in the HUD.

"The trick is to set the flight path marker just above the target and walk the death dot to it. You want to see the whites of their eyes before you shoot, and when you do smoothly pull the trigger to the stop. I don't want that stick to jerk at all. Don't let me see any mile long shots even though the gun is more than capable, I want you pressing the foul line every time." The foul line is 2000 feet at home, a line you should not shoot once across. This keeps pilots from being fixated on the target, more than one has driven right into the ground, spearing the target with the nose so intent on getting good bullets. Everything else falls out of the check, altitude, airspeed, and attitude are sometimes totally disregarded - the foul line helps bring those back into check. An old parachute is strung between two boards rigged with acoustic sound sensors measuring how many times the speed of sound is broken as the bullets tear through the chute. this gives a score out of how many bullets you have and a means to bet money with the others in your flight. Today there is no such foul line, no high tech scoring system, and no ranger to tell us if we are unsafe. Just a truck. We either hit is or we don't.

My gunnery was taught by a consistent top gun and his technique will most likely be the only one I ever use. As I roll in I put the pipper about a thousand feet shy of the target and let it slowly rise in the hud. A little forward pressure keeps the jet true, my breathing calm like Vacilli Sightsiev of Enemy at the Gate. With the range counting down from 12000 feet I move the pipper over the truck and wait. As the range encroaches around 4000 feet I hammer down and unleash the fury from my jet.

"WWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP!!!"

The jet shakes violently as the gun spins up over my shoulder. Bullets whiz past my head at an amazing rate, the hud shaking so much it is difficult to read. Track, shoot, track. Just like hunting dove, you continue to track the bird even after you squeeze the trigger. 2 seconds fly past and the gun winds down. 108 bullets that probably took 15 minutes to load are expended in a heartbeat riddling the truck with holes in front of me. Sand and metal and even some bullets ricochet into the air, small spires of dust ripple up just as water would upon impact.

I pull 5g's and back up to join lead just a few hundred feet from the deck, my jet wash undoubtedly stirring the dust below.

"Good hits 2, good work today and ya'll have a safe RTB."

"Thanks for the work today fellas, Vipers push 10"

And with that we were done. No lives were saved today, but I'm confident we could have if they were actually at stake. Our ability to work with ground crews to provide successful coordinated attacks is paralleled by no other Air Force in the world. Those guys on the ground definitely earned my respect this week, as we are finding out these past few years a war can definitely not be won by Airpower alone. Kudos to them. I'm no fighter pilot yet but I know a few on the ground who could be.

Don't settle for anything less than your dreams...

[ 17. May 2006, 21:35: Message edited by: GreasySideUp ]

Edited October 1, 2013 by GreasySideUp