Viper Pilot_ A Memoi..

his wingtips as he dropped into formation.
“ELI Four . . . stand by data.” And I zapped him a data-link with the SAM
coordinates as we headed due north along the Tigris River. Zippering the mike, I
brought us around the right, heading northeast. This would keep us well clear of
Highways 1 and 2, which were full of retreating Iraqi military units. We’d also skirt
south of Baqubah, a good-size and undefeated town north of Baghdad. The terrain
was better out here, too—there was much more room to maneuver. The ground
was low and wet, with fewer roads, so there’d be less of a mobile SAM or Triple-A
threat.
LAPEL 77 was the other four-ship with us that morning, so I changed to his
Victor freq. “LAPEL One, this is ELI Three.”
“Go.”
“ELI Three flight is engaging an SA-3, Bull’s-eye zero-two-zero for nine.
Posit”
“LAPEL One and Two are southeast Bull at twenty-five thousand, headed for
the tanker. LAPEL Three flight is coming off the tanker in DOG South.”
I zapped him the SAM coordinates. “LAPEL One, have LAPEL Three ingress
from the south and stay west of the river until we sort this out.”
“Wilco.”
My two-ship was on a twelve-mile arc due east of Baghdad. We were now
heading north at 8,000 feet and directly abeam the SAM site. It was a good
position. Operating on the fringe like this made us a tantalizing target, something
you can almost reach. So they’d be watching and waiting. If the tracking radar got
nervous or tried to lock on us, then our own systems were in the best place to
locate it exactly.
The LAPEL flight would also be in area, so if I was attacked and wriggling
around, he could find the SAM and put a bomb through it. Or vice versa, if he got
targeted. The biggest problem with Weaseling were unknown threats, and this was
a graphic example of that point. We really didn’t know what was down there. It
could be a more deadly SAM, or a Triple-A nest, or an entire battery.
Turned out, it was all of that.
“ELI Three’s 6.4.”
Sixty-four hundred pounds of gas and no reply from my wingman meant he was
within five hundred pounds himself. I touched the RWR volume, countermeasure
panel, and tightened my harness a bit. Glancing outside, I saw the two snub-nosed
cylinders beneath my wings and called up the weapons display. Today, in addition
to the normal cannon and air-to-air missiles, I had two CBU-103 canisters—cluster