Viper Pilot_ A Memoi..

“FABLE One . . . Rifle.”
Holding steady a moment, I felt the cluster bombs kick off. Glancing over at my
wingman, I saw a single CBU drop from under his left wing. Pulling straight up to
the horizon, I rolled left to the north and snapped upright. FABLE Two floated past
my tail as I twitched to the left. Bunting over, I popped a chaff bundle, came hard
right, and stared back at the airfield.
For a second, all was quiet. A typical airfield with tin roofs shining in the weak
sun and clusters of brown buildings against the tan dirt of Iraq. But then I saw the
ground explode upward in dirty pillars of gravel and metal fragments. The plane, or
something flammable, blew up. Red flames shot up through the dust and almost
immediately turned into black smoke.
“Cool,” a voice said. My wingman, feeling his oats. This was my fifteenth
combat mission in this war, and I was too jaded at this point to get excited.
However, I did take a professional interest in destruction and noticed a smaller
blast a hundred yards east of mine in the dirt next to the runway. He’d pickled late
and missed the hangars. I zippered the mike and brought us around heading north.
“Two, at six miles turn back in for your re-attack. One will stay high, arc east,
and keep you in sight.”
So he did. The other F-16 ramped down in line with the runway as I stayed over
the Diyala River and looked out for Triple-A or SAMs. There were none, but I did
find three revetments with aircraft. As Number Two came off, he pulled away to
the west and began to climb. I continued to arc around the southern end of the
runway and watched his CBU impact in the middle of the fire. We rejoined to the
south, and my wingman remained high for cover while I dropped in and emptied
the gun out after four strafe passes. A pair of aircraft blew up and burned in their
revetments. I made a couple passes against the third one but never could get it to
blow. Either it was a decoy, or its tanks were empty, or I missed. Twice.
Personally, I’d go with options one or two. Still, anything’s possible.
Figuring we’d wrapped it up, Two and I went to the tanker and headed home.
Chucky had a good mission, and together we bagged at least three aircraft, a
hangar, and probably a bulldozer or two. What a Turkey Shoot. I remember
thinking that the war was about over.
Wrong.
APRIL 13 DAWNED CLEAR AND BEAUTIFUL, FOR A CHANGE . No clouds, light winds, and
maybe 200 miles of visibility. As AGNEW 21, I led the last two-ship of the