Viper Pilot_ A Memoi..

12
Endgame
IT LOOKED LIKE A GIRAFFE.
I blinked.
Then blinked again and raised my visor. Rolling up on one wing, I skirted along
at 400 knots just over the Baghdad rooftops and stared at the thing loping across
the road below me.
It was a giraffe. No shit.
This was the morning of April 8 and I’d just crossed the Tigris River in southern
Baghdad and was heading north toward the al-Quds district to kill tanks. The river
made a huge, thumb-shaped loop near Dora Farms and the old Baghdad Muthenna
airport. Just above it lay the Baghdad Zoo, from which the animal had evidently
escaped.
Grunting against the Gs, I reefed the fighter into a hard level turn back toward
the west. Below me was a huge, semicircular complex dedicated to Saddam’s
megalomania. At the far end lay a wide boulevard with arches at both ends. Letting
up on the Gs, I realized the arches were actually enormous arms, each grasping a
sword.
Saddam’s Arches of Victory.
Smirking a bit at the irony, I reversed the turn and came back around, heading
northeast toward the Tigris. Arches of Victory—well, there wouldn’t be much of
that for Hussein, since infidels like me were buzzing overhead and wild animals
were running loose in the street.
Just ahead, the sluggish, seaweed-green river cut startlingly through the browns
and grays of Baghdad. There were a half-dozen bridges I wanted to scope out,
because enemy troops were using the northern suburbs as a safe haven. If they
tried to come south to fight, they’d have to cross those bridges. Two of them, the
Sinak and Jumhuriya, were right at the center of the action.
This particular morning, the Gamblers had three two-ships roaming about
looking for trouble. We each took different killboxes and flew around trying to
draw fire. When we found someone dumb enough to shoot, we’d mark the position
and figure the best way to attack. This would depend on the battlefield, how many
weapons we had remaining, and the terrain. Environmental factors were actually a