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his belly as Juice racked the jet up and away across the river to the east.<br />
“AGNEW Two . . . Rifle . . . Tikrit.”<br />
As I orbited, I saw his missile impact. It wasn’t a huge explosion, but the<br />
amount of smoke and fire suggested he’d hit one of the big transport trucks. He<br />
must’ve seen it, too, because he almost immediately said, “AGNEW Two, request<br />
a reattack to strafe.”<br />
“On what”<br />
“Two is visual . . . uh . . . tally some missiles on a truck. At the far north corner<br />
near the road. I think they’re trying to pull out.”<br />
“Cleared.”<br />
“AGNEW Two’s in from the northeast.”<br />
There wasn’t time to go back out and hit it with his last Maverick. The kid had<br />
good eyes. This should be interesting. There was now a lot of smoke over the target<br />
area from our previous attacks, and I never saw him come back in. To my horror, I<br />
saw a long, burning trail of fire smear itself across the ground where my wingman<br />
was attacking.<br />
No . . . no. It couldn’t be.<br />
Swallowing, I keyed the mike and watched the flaming mess spread out.<br />
Whatever was at the front was pointed and moving very, very fast.<br />
“AGNEW Two . . . status”<br />
Nothing.<br />
Ah, shit. I brought the <strong>Viper</strong> around just east of the road and stared through the<br />
smoke. He’d hit the ground. He’d fucked up his strafe pass and hit the ground. My<br />
eyes flickered up above the smoke, looking for a parachute. Maybe he’d ejected<br />
just before impact. Maybe—<br />
“AGNEW Two is off west. Didja see that”<br />
I exhaled and squeezed my eyes shut for a second. Rolling back out heading<br />
south, I replied, “Good hit.”<br />
Shaking my head, I managed a weak grin. I’d tell him about that later. We<br />
loitered around for ten more minutes while I strafed my cannon empty. I destroyed<br />
another truck that was trying to escape and got the FANSONG trailer.<br />
“MUSKET, STAB . . . AGNEW flight is off for the tanker. SA-2 site south of<br />
the city is dead. Happy hunting.”<br />
“AGNEW from MUSKET One . . . great work guys. And thanks!”<br />
Zooming up above the burning city, we headed south. Passing 20,000 feet, I<br />
glanced back at the black fingers of smoke that rose, twisting and fading, from the<br />
brown desert far below. My wingman seemed motionless against the clear, blue sky
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