spotted three tanks lined up in the factory’s parking lot and rolled in for a medium-altitude Maverick attack. Unlike a real tank, this target disintegrated when the Maverick hit it. Kimos concluded that the tank was a decoy and that the factory complex was likely producing decoys. He then directed me to set up for a CBU attack on the western end of the factory complex, which also contained mortar positions and lighter vehicles. I knew from studying CBU ballistics that I could get a HUD solution only if I bombed with a tailwind. The winds were strong out of the west, so I set up and rolled down the chute from west-northwest. I say “rolled down the chute,” but at our gross weights and altitudes we did not have the thrust or aerodynamic authority to do much more than smoothly coax the jet to fall to the correct dive angle. With my pipper on the target and at the desired combination of altitude, dive angle, and airspeed, I hammered down on the pickle button and felt the familiar clunk of ordnance being released. However, something wasn’t right—I felt only one clunk. Sure enough, only one can of CBU came off, and my other station was still showing a “green ready.” Since my thumb was still on the pickle button, I knew it had to be an aircraft malfunction. I initiated my safe-escape maneuver and began the climb back to altitude. Much to my chagrin, the CBU hit well short of the target. I discussed the problem with Kimos, and we decided that I should check all of my switches and try to deliver it one more time. I rolled down the chute and pickled on the target, but nothing came off the jet. With the end of our vul time approaching, Kimos decided to attack the target with his CBUs. Those, unfortunately, also hit extremely short of the target. We then departed the KEZ for home.
I had a “hung” CBU, and, depending on the circumstances, I would either land with it or attempt to jettison it over the Adriatic. The weather for the approach and landing was good. The CBU appeared secure on an inboard station and did not pose a problem for landing. We decided that I would land with it. I flew a straight-in approach with Kimos flying chase to monitor the CBU and warn me of any problems he might detect. The landing was uneventful, but Kimos later told me that he was relieved when I touched down and the CBU didn’t fall off. A subsequent inspection reveled that the ejection carts had correctly fired when I had attempted to release the CBUs. However, during much recent use, some cart-generated carbon had been deposited on the mechanical linkage and ejector orifices. Those carts’ hot gas would normally be used to overcome the forces required to open the two mechanical suspension hooks and release the CBUs. When I had hammered down on the pickle button, a firing pulse had been generated; the ejection carts had fired, but the generated gas pressure had been insufficient to open the hooks and release the CBU. Nonetheless, Don Trostle never forgave me for “breaking” our jet and ruining 992’s streak of flawless performances.
During the debrief Kimos voiced his disappointment with our bombing. However, he admitted he couldn’t very well downgrade me on my bombing accuracy when both of our CBUs had hit short. We reviewed the tape, and everything appeared normal with both of us pickling on the target. I discussed the problem with Maj Goldie Haun, our weapons officer. He stated that anomalies in our bombing computer’s algorithms often cause CBUs to hit short when bombing with a strong tailwind—we had 70 knots at altitude.
4 June 1999
Capt Scott R. “Hummer” Cerone, a member of the 74th FS out of Pope AFB, and I were paired up for a mission. Hummer and I had gone through our initial introduction to fighter fundamentals and the A-10 replacement training unit courses together. In addition, we both recently had pinned on captain rank and passed our flight-lead check rides on the same day, 31 May 1999. Hummer was an AFAC, so according to the rules, he was the only one in our flight qualified to pick out and direct strikes on targets. We decided that I would be the flight lead for the sortie. I would give him the tactical lead in the KEZ so that he could find targets and comply with the ATO. We were young flight leads and flew that day with our “fangs out”—happy to be flying on our own and not with some older, more staid member of the squadron.
Hummer and I got a handoff from an excited Foghorn who had apparently located 12 APCs in a field. Foghorn talked louder than ever over the radios and was hair-on-fire as he departed for gas. When Hummer and I arrived, we looked for something other than bales of hay. We used binos and our Mavericks but finally asked an F-14 AFAC to recce the area with his pod—all with no luck. Hummer and I gave up on those targets and proceeded to an area north of D-Town. We dropped our Mk-82s on some small revets before I spotted a large revet, which I was convinced contained an arty piece. I talked Hummer’s eyes onto it and got clearance from him to launch one of my Mavericks. I hammered down, and the Maverick hit the target less than 30 seconds later. Hummer, unfortunately, lost the missile at burnout, from his viewing angle he thought the Maverick had “gone stupid” and had flown towards the west. I guess he was trying to see if it hit northern Pristina, probably thinking, “How are we gonna explain this one!” I got his eyes back into the target area, but for a few minutes I was unsure whether he had actually cleared me to hit that target. We talked about a possible miscommunication during our debrief but, with some map study, became convinced that we had been looking at the same target. Later that year, after I had been reassigned to the 74th FS, I ran into Hummer at Pope. He kiddingly said, “We both had hit ‘bags of dirty diapers’ that day.”
6 June 1999
Hummer and I were paired again. After checking in with all the appropriate agencies, we entered the KEZ and proceeded to an area north of D-Town. We got a handoff from an F-14 AFAC who was trying to talk a flight of Hogs (Corvette 71) onto several APCs that he had located with his targeting pod. We called contact on the targets, and the F-14 departed. Hummer told me he was going to use his binoculars to visually ID these targets. With Corvette 71 flight orbiting to the north, Hummer took a couple of laps around the field. After a minute of silence, he came over the radio and told me he’d cover me while I got a visual: “Tell me what you see down there.”
In a less than a minute it became obvious to me that the APCs were actually a red car and a white pickup truck. I told Hummer what I saw, and he agreed. Hummer then did a lower pass, confirmed that the targets were invalid, and sent the other Hogs home.
During the rest of the sortie, JSTARS personnel had us on a wild-goose chase, trying to talk us onto a convoy they believed to be in a creek bed south of Pec. For 20 minutes, we unsuccessfully tried to find the vehicles corresponding to the radar contacts that an increasingly frustrated controller so clearly saw on his scope. As we exited the AOR, I pointed out to Hummer that Pec was burning. We learned later from the news that the peace talks had stalled and that the Serbs were buying time as they withdrew. A few of this mission’s remarkable events have now become some of my most enduring memories.
The personal stories in this book are reflective of the challenges, frustrations, and triumphs experienced by dedicated warriors—combatants who exhibited human emotions as they did their best in the crucible of combat. We wrote this book with the humble understanding that our success in OAF was built on the contributions and sacrifices of aviation giants. Those giants—pilots, maintainers, and support personnel—faced greater personal discomfort and family sacrifice during their service in Korea, Vietnam, and the Persian Gulf than we did during OAF. The heroes that today’s A-10 community holds high include the Raven, Misty, and Nail FACs, as well as the Sandy CSAR warriors of previous wars.
Our objective in this book was to help document the A-10’s contributions to achieving US, NATO, and UN objectives in Kosovo. The primary application of force in the KEZ flowed through the AFAC’s direct control of all
