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His reply was instantaneous. “ELI Two . . . No joy on the SAM. Blind at 6,000<br />
feet . . .”<br />
So he’d lost sight of me and didn’t see the SAM. I was now heading south right<br />
off the end of Khan Bani Sad. Bottoming out at 3,000 feet, I yanked the nose up,<br />
slammed the burner in again, and rocketed upward.<br />
“ELI Two . . . climb up above ten thousand and head one-five-zero . . . ELI One<br />
is passing five thousand.”<br />
Staring right, to the west, I forced myself to quarter the sky rather than let my<br />
eyes dart back and forth.<br />
Off the wing . . . high . . . low. Check the HUD . . . Between the wing and the<br />
tail . . . high . . . low. Check the HUD. Fifty-five hundred feet and 400 knots . . . roll<br />
and pull. Inverted now, I looked toward where the SAM must be. Behind me and<br />
high.<br />
But there was nothing.<br />
“WARNING . . . WARNING . . .”<br />
I flipped the jet upright and glanced at the display. FUEL . . . FUEL . . . was<br />
blinking at me.<br />
Pulling hard with my right hand, I brought the F-16 back to the left. To the<br />
northeast, away from the airfield and away from Baghdad. If he was heading 150<br />
degrees southeast, he’d be off my right wing by four or five miles.<br />
Data-linking a position request, I pulled the throttle back to hold 400 knots and<br />
continued my left turn around to the south. Before Khan Bani Sad disappeared, I<br />
saw fires from my last pass glowing through the haze. I couldn’t see the hangar, but<br />
that was good. This meant the building, and whatever was inside of it, was burning.<br />
I never did see the SAM. Maybe it hadn’t really launched. Or maybe I’d reacted<br />
quickly enough to send it off into space. As I spiraled upward through a cloud<br />
break well east of Baghdad, the data-link came back. Zing was also alive and well,<br />
cruising about three miles behind me and to the west.<br />
Breaking through the clouds, the sunlight hit my face, and I blinked for a long,<br />
happy moment before lowering the tinted visor. Still several hundred miles deep<br />
inside enemy territory, I didn’t relax. But I felt the familiar rush of gratitude that<br />
always came on after an intense combat mission. Later on, lying on my cot in the<br />
darkness, I’d think of what could’ve happened. But for now, as the salty sweat<br />
dried on my face and the chaffing dampness under my harness cooled, I was<br />
grateful to be living and breathing.<br />
Gently banking the F-16 to the left, I noticed my chaff dispenser said EMPTY,<br />
and the decoy had been shot off. Wonder when that had happened So there had
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