When Things Work Out
It was a bright, clear morning. We approached our target from the southwest and visually picked up the revetted APC while we were still more than five miles out. We circled south to compare and confirm the target with the photo. I set up and executed a tip-in from the east. It sounds so simple, and sometimes it was if I could ignore the fact that I was being shot at. To get to that point usually took quite a bit of work.
This story really starts one and one-half days prior to that bright, clear morning. Our A-10 squadron was flying from Gioia del Colle AB, where several Italian squadrons, some British GR-7 Harriers, and we were based. The GR-7s occasionally flew with a reconnaissance pod and took pictures of areas of interest. The Brits were nice enough to share those photos with our intel folks. The photo for this mission came in one night while I was working a 12-hour top-three tour. Those of us who pulled top-three duty, especially the night tours, were not thrilled with the task. But this night we were lucky. Pictures of an APC and several other interesting targets came in just after dark, and I briefed them to all the pilots on the morning schedule. At the end of my tour, I went to bed knowing that the guys walking out the door to fly had several good targets. Like everyone who pulled a night top-three tour, I was given a day off to sleep and then scheduled in the first flight of the following day.
I arrived in our operations area at about 0230, sat down for the intel brief, and was handed a couple photos and the usual target list. To my surprise the same photos of APCs were still in the package. Intel said no one had reported hitting the target, so they were passing it out again. The weather had been poor in the area where the APCs were located, and the AFACs had looked for targets in areas with better weather. Although day-old target photos are often worthless, my wingman and I decided we would take a look since we would be the first planes in Kosovo and we hadn’t worked that area in many days.
When I studied the targets, including the APCs, I plotted them all on a large Joint Operations Graphic (JOG) map, drawn to a 1:250 scale, that I used in the cockpit to work the entire Kosovo area. I plotted the most promising targets on a smaller 1:50 scale map so I could get a good feel for those areas and accurately determine target coordinates and elevations. (While these maps are normally referred to as 1:50, 1:250, or 1:500, their scale is actually 1:50,000, 1:250,000, or 1:500,000.)
The elevations had to be converted from meters to feet, and the coordinates put in several formats to satisfy the various navigation systems used in the different aircraft we might control. We often did this while circling over a target, but it was much easier to do ahead of time on the ground. I then used a computer that contained photomaps of the area in various scales. With this I could look at each target area from different altitudes. Although neither the photos on the computer nor the maps were current, they gave us a good perspective of the surrounding area—the lay-of-the-land, so to speak. With this situational awareness, we could choose an attack axis that would give us the best chance of success while limiting damage to anything but the target. With our planning complete, I briefed my wingman on the plan to attack this target and search for others in our assigned area.
The flight to the tanker was quiet, and I was encouraged that the weather would cooperate. Our tanker track was over southern Macedonia, and from there I could see that the sky over our target area was bright and clear. We got our gas, departed Macedonia, and proceeded northeast into southeastern Serbia above the Kumanovo Valley. While en route to the tanker, I had tested my two Maverick missiles, and now I reapplied power to start what I hoped would be the last warm-up cycle for at least one of them. We headed for our target, which we expected to find just a few miles west of Vranje. The larger target area was easy to see from far off, and the APC came into view as we drew near. I checked with my wingman to confirm that he saw the target, and then I started to circle south to make a final check to ensure that we were at the right spot. I put the jet’s head-up display (HUD) in the proper mode for attack and checked the other settings. The scene below was surrealistic.
A small single-story house was located on a small dirt lane that connected to the valley’s main road. The backyard of the house, which the sun was just beginning to hit, was fenced and contained the usual scattering of possessions one has become accustomed to expect. In the front, a dirt driveway led from the road to a small attached garage. I could not detect any movement in the area—not unusual that early in the morning. This was a scene that could have been repeated anywhere in the world, except for two things. This scene matched my target photo exactly, and just 15 to 20 feet north of the driveway was a recently dug revetment in which sat an APC—not your average family roadster. To arm my weapons, I flipped the final switches. I got a good picture and the green lights that indicated the missiles were ready. I checked the position of my wingman and set up for a tip-in from the east. I made one last check of my switches, rechecked the HUD, and rolled into a dive for the attack.
The IIR Maverick picture that I saw in the cockpit was about what I expected. Different parts of the house indicated various temperatures. The rear wall and one window were cold, while another window and the chimney were hot. Most importantly, the APC was cold—very cold. It had not been run that night. Our observations up to this point indicated that lucrative targets that didn’t move were often decoys. However, I was confident that was not the case this time. I slewed the Maverick seeker to the target and got an immediate lock. I waited a moment for the missile’s brain to signal me it could distinguish the target from the background. It was ready. I took one last look through the HUD and pushed the pickle button.
The sound of a 500 lb Maverick coming off the LAU-117 launcher is exciting. I shot many of these missiles during the war and still was amazed by each launch. Once it was on its way I started to pull out of the dive. I had lost less altitude than expected during the attack since the missile lock-on process had gone so quickly. The first few seconds of the missile’s flight are usually indicative of whether or not it will hit the target. This one flew as expected, and I monitored it until it disappeared below the nose of my jet. I then looked up to locate my wingman to make sure that I would not climb into him. He was where I expected, watching for possible ground fire. I continued to maneuver in the climb although neither of us saw any reaction from the surface. I looked back at the target as it sat there doomed. A Maverick missile never arrives early or even when one expects it to hit. No matter how long I thought the time of flight would be, I would still have to wait when I looked at the target to see the impact. I waited—then it was over. I saw a bright flash of orange and yellow flame followed by a growing cloud of dark gray smoke. A small shock wave emanated from the revetment in a growing circle and quickly dissipated. We saw small flashes at the base of the smoke plume—probably detonating ammunition inside the APC. This was no decoy. The house was untouched.
We proceeded southwest down the valley to move away from the area we had just attacked. The Kumanovo Valley was full of revetments, trenches, and other obstacles the Serbs felt would help them if an invasion came from the south. All of them we saw that day were empty. Forty minutes later, as we departed the area to get more gas, the APC was still burning.
When Things Don’t Work Out
We pilots lived by ROEs. They told us what we could strike and what we could not. We had to become familiar with a stack of documents several inches thick in order to fly missions over Kosovo. The ROEs were a small—but important—portion of these documents. Early in the conflict the rules were fluid and changed quite often for many different reasons. After a couple of weeks into the war and a major shift in focus, the ROEs settled down and remained fairly constant except for a few silly, and often politically driven changes. During the last couple of weeks of OAF, the rules again began to change frequently. It was not uncommon when we flew on two consecutive days to use different rules on the second day—sometimes they even changed during a mission.
In Kosovo and during the period from a few weeks after the war started until a couple weeks before it ended, we AFACs were given a fairly free rein to attack whatever military targets we deemed worthy. It was a bold move by Lt Gen Mike Short, commander of AIRSOUTH in Vicenza, Italy, to relinquish control of tactical decision making to the lieutenants, captains, and majors who were on scene and had the best available information. While it was a big responsibility, it was also a godsend and allowed us to kill many more targets than would have been possible under different rules. Our freedom to observe the situation, apply the ROEs, and make decisions was taken
