As the 81st FS weapons officer during OAF, I was involved in most operational aspects of our squadron’s activities. We performed the Sandy CSAR role, one of our three OAF missions, which most notably included the rescue of an F-117 pilot near Belgrade on 27 March 1999 and an F-16 pilot on 2 May 1999. I had the exhilarating privilege of being the onscene Sandy flight lead during the pickup of the F-117 pilot. We were also the primary daytime AFACs and strikers over Kosovo, and I flew 25 of those missions from 30 March to 7 June 1999—19 of them as an AFAC mission commander.
The variety of strikers I worked during these missions was truly impressive. I controlled Air Force A-10s, F- 15Es, and F-16CGs (block 40s); Navy F-14s and F/A-18s; Marine Harriers and F/A-18s; British GR-7 Harriers; Spanish EF-18s; Canadian CF-18s; Dutch, Belgian, and Turkish F-16s; Italian Tornados and AMXs; and French Super Etendards. These fighters carried a wide variety of weapons, including LGBs and CBUs, as well as Mk-82 (500 lb), Mk-83 (1,000 lb), and Mk-84 (2,000 lb) general-purpose bombs.
Our AFAC mission wasn’t a new one for the Air Force. The first AFACs were the Mosquito FACs of Korea. Using slow, unarmed prop-driven planes, they were extremely successful in flying behind enemy lines, locating lucrative targets, and working strikers on those targets. During Vietnam the fast FAC was born with F-100F Misty FACs driving deep within North Vietnam searching for targets. In the nearly 50 years since the advent of the AFAC, it’s evident that FACing really hasn’t changed all that much. During Vietnam one key to survival was to stay at least 4,500 feet above ground level (AGL) to avoid AAA. Since Vietnam, with the improvement and proliferation of shoulder-fired, heat-seeking missiles, we now fly at over three times that altitude. The radar-guided SA-2s of Vietnam were also replaced by more capable and mobile SAMs in Kosovo. Given the threats and the operational altitudes these missiles dictate, the toughest task for a FAC remains that of finding the enemy. A good FAC can find viable targets—a skill not so much a science as an art. The good FAC always has a plan and, most importantly, is confident that he will always find something.
I relied heavily on the same skills it takes to stalk a trout. A successful fly fisherman understands the trout, is able to read the water, and therefore knows where to look. Kosovo is shaped like a baseball diamond, about 60 miles long and 60 miles wide. Twenty-five missions provided plenty of time to learn the terrain by heart and to develop a sense of where to search. The Serbs stopped using the roads openly and hid most of their equipment after they had been attacked day and night for close to a month. They even ceased to bring their SAMs out in the open during the day.
I have to admit that I was starting to feel invincible. At medium altitude we had begun to feel immune to the AAA and heat-seeking, shoulder-fired, man-portable air defense systems (MANPADS). On 2 May I went to the squadron to prepare for a FAC mission. It had been over a week since I had located a command post in western Kosovo and FAC’d three sets of fighters onto it. Since then, I had completed an uneventful three-night rotation of CSAR ground-alert and was raring to get back into country.
Arriving at the squadron, I was greeted by a rush of activity. Catching bits and pieces, I found out that an F-16 had been shot down two hours before and that Capt Richard A. “Scrape” Johnson and Maj Biggles Thompson had launched as Sandys for the rescue. I asked Lt Col Mark “Coke” Koechle, our topthree supervisor, if we needed to begin preparing a subsequent rescue attempt, but before that could get under way, we heard that the pilot had been successfully picked up.
I continued my preparation for the day’s mission. I would be the mission commander working eastern Kosovo (code-named NBA). I searched through the imagery and found a juicy new picture of artillery revetments in northeastern Kosovo. Other than that, there wasn’t much useful imagery. It appeared I would be on the slow side of Kosovo, with most of the Serbian activity being in the west (NFL). Still, I liked the imagery because it was of an area where we had not spent much time, and a tree line next to the revetments indicated a likely hiding place for self-propelled artillery.
As I “stepped” (departed the squadron at the prebriefed time—a critical milestone in the sequence of getting a flight airborne on schedule), the sun was just coming up on a beautiful Italian morning. I watched Scrape and Biggles return from their successful rescue and raised my arms over my head with clenched fists in a sign of triumph as they taxied by. My call sign that day was Lynx 11, and my wingman, Lynx 12, was Capt Andy “Buffy” Gebara. Andy had been a B-52 aircraft commander and had crossed over to fly A-10s. We took off for the tanker, refueled, and then waited.
The rescue delayed the arrival of the SEAD assets, including Navy EA-6Bs. The ROEs would not allow any aircraft into Kosovo without the presence of SEAD. I waited just south of the border for nearly 30 minutes. Finally, Magic (NAEW, NATO’s version of AWACS) called the SEAD on station, and I turned north for the target area. The artillery revetments were 30 miles north of Pristina. As I approached the revetments I took out my binoculars and spotted a 2S1 122 mm self-propelled artillery piece parked at the edge of the tree line. At the same time, Magic reported that the call of “SEAD on station” was only for the western area and that the NBA was closing down. I knew I had just one shot at the 2S1 and quickly rolled in from the east. Locking up the vehicle with my Maverick seeker, I waited for the steady cross to indicate a valid lock before I launched the missile. Unfortunately, the target was hot enough to lock up but not hot enough for a steady cross. Knowing that I probably wouldn’t get to work any more targets that day, I decided to test my luck and launch with the flashing cross. After all, I hadn’t missed on any of my previous Mavericks and knew there was a chance the missile would guide all the way to the target. So I hammered down until I felt the now-familiar sensation of a 500 lb missile accelerating off the rail. I pulled off target, watched the Maverick impact the 2S1, and proceeded as directed to the south. On Magic’s radarscopes it must have looked like I had simply made a U-turn.
The drive south took about 10 minutes. I was concerned about staying well clear of Pristina with its SAMs, particularly since Magic had just announced that I had no SEAD support. Still, my concern did not preclude looking for targets to attack later. As I climbed out to the southeast, I searched the roads and hillside for any signs of military activity.
I was about four miles north of G-Town. To avoid confusion and save time, we called towns with difficult pronunciations by their first letter. Gnjilane became G-Town, Dakovica became D-Town, and Urosevac was U-Town. I noted a narrow, jagged valley with what appeared to be man-made diagonal cuts through the trees alongside the road. I put the binoculars on the cuts and picked out two tanks. I marked my map, and as I continued to the tanker, started to come up with a game plan. While we refueled, I contacted Magic and coordinated SEAD support for a hasty attack. Magic was able to get SEAD but only 20 minutes’ worth. By the time I got off the tanker and headed north, I realized I would have less than 10 minutes on station for the attack.
I decided the best avenue of attack would be from the southeast. Due to the narrowness of the valley and the dirt revetments in which the tanks were hiding, the precision-guided Maverick seemed the best weapon. The attack went as planned, except for a small glitch. I had identified the tanks while looking from north to south. Approaching from the southeast, I misidentified the diagonal cutout and rolled in on an empty revetment. I recognized the mistake early and quickly came off target, climbing to the east to regain energy.
After aborting my first attack, I extended for another roll-in. This time I identified the correct cutout and tried to lock up the tank. Unfortunately, the Maverick locked onto a large dirt pile at the rear of the cutout, which was hotter than the tank. It was apparent the Maverick would not work against this target. The remaining options did not appear to have much chance for success. The narrowness of the valley and the protection of the cutouts meant a direct hit with Mk-82s would be required to kill the tanks—and that would be very difficult to accomplish. I didn’t have any available fighters with LGBs, and the only other option was to strafe the tanks. This was a riskier choice since I would have to dive to a much lower altitude to get in range.
I decided to let Andy drop two of his bombs to get their heads down, and I would follow up with a strafe pass. I was still low on energy and climbing to the north as Andy rolled in out of the northwest with a tailwind. His bombs landed just north of the tanks with no direct hits. From the radio traffic I knew my time was running out and this would be our last attack. I elected to strafe both targets on one pass, trying to get bullets on both tanks.
